#Wish l.a. had more late night spots though

[olimabelss]

it's 4:45 am. Do I or do I not order doordash right now?

[diazboys]

i like watching the days go by with you | 2k words | buddie | pre-relationship, domestic fluff | ao3

written for Eddie Diaz Week 2021 | Day 2: “This is nice.” + soft

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A quiet but persistent buzzing noise coming from somewhere behind his head is what startles Eddie awake. He peaks one eye open but his vision is still fuzzy from sleep so he almost knocks over the lamp as he tries to locate his phone. Eventually, he manages to silence the alarm. With a sigh, he falls back onto the pillow, blinking and waiting until he feels awake enough to roll out of bed. The curtains are slightly parted and the already bright L.A. sun is creeping up the floorboards, painting a narrow path across the bed and widening up on the wall behind Eddie. He smiles to himself. 

At the beginning of their group sleepover — or quarantine, if you wish — in Buck’s apartment Eddie made a small comment that getting blinded by the sun first thing in the morning wasn’t really his favourite thing to do. Since then, the curtains were kept shut every morning. Sometimes, when Eddie stirred awake as Buck was getting up, he saw his friend walk towards the window to peek outside. And every single time he parted the curtains just the tiniest bit, mindful of Eddie’s half-serious comment. The thoughtfulness made Eddie’s heart soar. 

This whole living at Buck’s place thing has been… interesting so far. The sleeping arrangements seemed like a challenge at first but they’ve dealt with it pretty quickly. On the first day when they showed up on Buck’s doorstep, he had an argument with Hen about giving her the bed. Unsurprisingly, Buck lost and Hen happily took the couch. Chim, only slightly less happily took the mattress they've placed downstairs. There was a perfectly good mattress waiting for Eddie in the loft as well. 

But the problem was that… he never really used it. That first night they were all tired after their shift, Chim and Hen already snoring quietly downstairs. Eddie moved over to the corner of the room, with every intention of crashing there for the night. But then Buck made a casual comment about the bed being big enough and that they could share if Eddie wanted.

And Eddie wanted. For a lot of reasons. Though the one that sounded the most reasonable at that moment was the fact that the bed was way more comfortable and required much less preparation than the mattress. And Eddie’s brain was too tired to tell him why sharing a bed with Buck was a dumb idea. ‘Having some kind of not-strictly-platonic feelings for Buck’ would definitely make it to the top of the list. But there was no list at the time, so Eddie just snuck under the covers on the left side of the bed that Buck left for him. They were both out within minutes. 

And then Eddie just… didn’t bother with the mattress. Even though — or maybe because — on that first morning he woke up well rested and content, with Buck’s arm thrown loosely across his waist. It was nice. It took all of Eddie’s willpower not to roll over, closer into the warm embrace. Neither he, nor Buck commented on it and they let it be. Eddie was more than sure that Hen and Chim noticed — they noticed everything — but except a curious glance or five every now and then, they didn’t say anything. They kept up the whole thing even when Hen decided to go back home to Karen and the kids. Chim took the couch instead, his mattress had been put away. And Eddie stayed in Buck’s bed.

So here Eddie is now, sprawled on said bed with a stupid smile on his face, staring at the curtains like it’s the best thing ever. It certainly is great and lets him wake up without feeling like someone’s flashing a torch into his eyes. But it’s not directly responsible for the stupid smile, he must admit. 

It takes him another minute before he finally wills his body to move. The right side of the bed is already vacant when he rolls over onto his stomach. He sends a glance downstairs. Buck is bustling around the kitchen, earphones in so he won’t disturb anyone. Eddie is pretty sure that he’s listening to this science slash comedy podcast he’s been obsessed with lately. He can’t really remember the name but he’s pretty sure there was a “fish” in it.

With one more content sigh, Eddie rolls out of bed and makes his way downstairs barefoot. As he walks closer, his brain recognises the scents coming from the kitchen. Coffee and something delicious that smells of tomatoes and fresh basil. His smile grows even bigger. He’s spent enough mornings here to hope that there’s a cup of freshly brewed coffee waiting for him as well.

Before Eddie can make a beeline for the coffee machine and check, Buck turns to take something from the kitchen island. His eyes skip to Eddie and his whole face lights up in a smile. Eddie’s breath hitches but he reciprocates the gesture. How can he not when Buck is looking like that, all happiness and soft curls? Eddie’s right hand twitches by his side. There’s a sudden need in him to run his fingers through Buck’s hair, to see if it’s as soft as it looks like. To stop himself from doing something stupid, Eddie grabs the barstool and sits down. He stuffs his hands under his tights, for good measure.

“Morning,” Buck greets, taking his earphones out and putting them in his pocket.

Before Eddie can say anything, a cup of coffee is placed right in front of him. He inhales the scent and lets out a happy little hum that makes Buck laugh.

“Hildy sends her regards,” Buck jokes, laughing even harder at the unimpressed look on Eddie’s face. 

Really, it’s about time Buck let that go. It wasn’t Eddie’s fault that he had been startled, hearing a strange voice saying “Hello, Eddie” as he walked into the kitchen that first morning. And he already apologised for the mug he dropped. To Buck’s credit, he did disable the voice greetings after that. Now the cursed machine was just… quietly lurking from its place on the counter.

“Thanks, Buck,” he says sincerely after all, deciding to ignore the comment. 

Buck only shrugs with a smile and turns back to whatever is sizzling on the pan. Eddie wraps his hands around the mug and takes a sip. Another content hum escapes his lips before he can stop it.

“This is nice,” Eddie says.

He’s not even sure what exactly he’s referring to. The coffee, the slow and calm atmosphere of the morning, the sight of Buck in a soft hoodie, pushing an omelette towards Eddie? The domesticity of it all that makes Eddie’s heart ache? It’s all of it and probably more. If only Christopher was around to join them in the kitchen right now, to ask for pancakes for breakfast and complain about his online classes or tell them about the dream he’s had. Then, Eddie would be completely and thoroughly happy. 

And this is a thought that both excites and terrifies him at the same time.

But it’s a bit less scary when Buck is standing right in front of him, his big arms resting against the counter as he leans forward. He’s looking at Eddie with those soft eyes and a beautiful smile on his lips. The only thing Eddie can do is to stare back and hope that his face is better at controlling his emotions than his heart is.

It would be so easy to just lean forward a little and—

“God, you two make me miss Maddie even more,” Chimney says from somewhere behind Eddie’s back.

His sudden appearance startles Eddie enough that he pushes a fork off the counter. It falls to the floor with a loud clatter and he quickly ducks to retrieve it.

“I’ll start giving you plastic utensils at some point, I swear,” Buck says, shaking his head at Eddie. His eyes are laughing, though, so Eddie knows he’s not being serious.

“Oh fuck off, I apologised for that mug already. And it was just a fork this time, don’t be dramatic,” Eddie rolls his eyes at him but he’s smiling as well. Then he turns and adds, “Morning, Chim.” 

Chimney is freshly showered and pours himself a cup of coffee. He’s also watching them with a raised eyebrow and an amused smile on his face. Eddie tries his best to ignore that, just like he ignored Chim’s comment. 

“Um, so,” Eddie starts, wanting to steer the conversation onto a different track. “What facts did they have today?” he asks, pointing his chin at Buck’s phone laying on the counter. Just like he expected, there’s a paused episode of that No Such Thing as a Fish podcast.

“Oh, did you know that there is a type of pasta that only 3 women in the world can make?” Buck’s eyes light up in excitement. “It’s some fancy one they make in Sardinia and it’s called threads of God. The recipe has been passed from mother to daughter for ages.”

“What if they run out of daughters and have a son?” Eddie asks.

“It’s fine, cause the recipe isn’t even secret or anything,” Buck says, pointing the spatula at him. “It’s just a pain in the ass to make. They’ve been trying to teach people how to do it but it’s just hard enough that most of them just give up.”

Chimney chuckles at that around a mouthful of omelette. "You should totally try. I wouldn't be surprised if you'd manage to do it, out of sheer stubbornness."

And Buck — both because he's interested and because he rarely steps down from a challenge — reaches for his phone and starts googling for the recipe and reads out whatever he finds.

It sounds really interesting. And not only because Eddie has a soft spot for Buck and the little tidbits of information he gathers and then excitedly shares with everyone who wants to listen. Eddie always does. Some people just shrug or roll their eyes at Buck, but Eddie really admires his interest, the childlike curiosity about the world that Buck has. There are so many things Eddie admires about him.

All things considered, Eddie shouldn’t be surprised that somewhere along the way he has fallen in love with his best friend.

It catches him a bit off guard, being able to put a name to the feeling that has been blooming in his heart for so long. But it doesn’t make him panic, at least no more than having feelings for his best friend already did. It’s more of a relief, really. It all makes sense now. 

Eddie doesn’t even realise that he’s been smiling and staring at the half-eaten omelette in front of him until his phone buzzes with a new text message. It shakes him out of his thoughts and he opens it to find a photo from Christopher.

"Everything okay, Eddie?" he hears Buck ask.

Raising his head, Eddie is met with a slightly worried gaze. He smiles, showing Buck the text he's just gotten.

"Yeah, Christopher's just complaining about his history assignment," he explains.

Buck chuckles at the photo of Chris' pouting face as he holds a history textbook and 'There's too many dates!' with a row of angry emojis written underneath. "We should FaceTime him later. I miss that little rascal."

Eddie doesn't point out that they've done that barely two days ago. Instead, his smile grows bigger as he agrees. He knows for a fact that Chris misses his Buck just as much and that the two of them have been texting a lot.

For some reason, Chimney sighs, rolls his eyes as Eddie glances at him, and leaves the kitchen with his coffee cup still in hand. Eddie's not sure what that was about. He doesn't have time to dwell on it though, because Buck drops on the barstool next to him with his own breakfast, their knees knocking together as he makes himself comfortable. Sipping the last of his coffee, Eddie bites the inside of his cheek to stop a smile.

He really could get used to spending all of his mornings like this.

[preciouspeterbparker]

the warmest bed i’ve ever known

finally got this bitch finished! 

based on “tis the damn season” by taylor swift. i was also listening to the phoebe bridgers cover of “christmas song”, “last christmas” cover by pale waves (recorded @ spotify), and “home alone, too” by the staves 

also this is only my 2nd time writing starker so lmk what you think plz?

happy holidays! - bloo

word count: 6.07k. this was intended to basically be a porny blurb...instead there’s so much fucking plot it’s probably overwhelming and minimal porn. i’m sorry

warnings: angst, depression & anxiety, drug use (that good kush ft some hotboxing & shotgunning), smut, character death (not tony or peter), tony’s kind of country lmao. despite all the aforementioned things, there is in fact a happy ending! 

summary: peter makes the trip back home for christmas and once again finds himself caught up in deep brown eyes and a charming smile. tis the damn season. 

Peter had forgotten how cold New York winters were. He’d grown used to the year-long warmth of Los Angeles. He supposed the cold was appropriate- it was as if the weather was in cahoots with the solid, frigid thing that was sitting in the pit of his stomach. The last time he’d spent Christmas in Aurora, the last time he’d seen him… Tony.

Just thinking the other man’s name made Peter flex his hands anxiously as he slid out of the driver’s seat of his black Mercedes AMG GT into the amber glow of the streetlight, gently shutting the door closed behind him, still in the overly cautious period of owning the new car. He wondered what Tony would think of it. Last time Peter had come home, he was still driving May’s old Subaru. It’d been almost 2 years to the day, now, which felt like both a century and no time at all. He wished it wasn’t so hard. He wished they hadn’t been caught in this song & dance for so long. It seemed like no matter how good Peter’s intentions, it always came down to one thing: he was so damn scared. He always ran away, no matter how badly he wanted to stay. 

Scuffing a boot through the slush in the street, the brunette straightened his shoulders and made his way toward the brick building, a quick smile quirking half his mouth up as he read the neon red sign above the closed garage door. Stark’s. Memories came flooding back, the countless nights he spent cooped up in the little shop during high school, sketching elaborate ensembles and daydreaming about having his very first collection while surrounded by the smell of motor oil and the sounds of tinkering. The bell above the door jingled merrily as Peter stepped through and wiped his feet on the mat. The pleasant sound of Frank Sinatra crooning the words of “The Christmas Waltz” met his ears. Another small smile flitted over Peter’s face. That was something that tended to happen when he was around Tony. 

“Just a second,” came the slightly muffled voice, a little strained. The man in question was bent over, headfirst in the engine of his old 1979 Chevy C10, the one he’d gotten senior year of highschool. The collar of a heather grey henley peeked out from under a deep red and green plaid flannel stretched over his shoulders as he leaned a little further under the hood, using a wrench to tighten what looked to be a lugnut to Peter from his spot by the door, too nervous to go further inside. 

“I can wait,” Peter replied softly, trying not to stare at Tony’s jean-clad ass and anxious of the older boy man’s reaction. (It looked like Tony had done a lot of growing up over the past two years, no longer the boy he remembered. Peter supposed the same could be said about himself in a way, though he wasn’t sure if it was for better or worse.)

And apparently he was right to be cautious.

Tony promptly smacked his head on the underside of the hood as he jerked upright at the sound of Peter’s voice. “Fuck.”  Moving more carefully, Tony stood upright and turned around, his dark eyes wide. “Peter,” he said, visibly and audibly surprised. To be honest, it hurt Peter a little bit, how surprised he sounded. Maybe coming here was a mistake. Did they not do this nearly every year over the past seven? Had- Oh god, had something changed? Fuck, did Tony finally get tired of-  Had he found-

Peter resolutely cut that train of thought off before he could panic. “Hi, Tony.” He swallowed drily, making eye contact for a moment, before casting his eyes away only for them to make their way back to the open face in front of him. “Think you have time for a quick bite to eat?” He slipped his left hand into the pocket of the new, warm wool coat he bought expressly for this trip. “It’s almost dinner time. And I have a treat,” he intoned, tapping his right pointer and middle fingers against his lips.

Tony beamed and immediately reached for a shop rag to wipe his hands, the black grease and oil smearing on the probably-used-to-be-white-at-some-point fabric. One of those hands came up to scratch at his facial hair, a new addition that made something simmer deep in Peter’s gut. The older man's brown eyes twinkled as he paused to glance at Peter. “You had me at ‘hi, Tony.’” He then proceeded to move about the shop, swiping his phone from atop a chest of metal drawers, Sinatra’s voice coming to an abrupt stop. He pulled on his old lined jean jacket (the one Peter was constantly mending in high school; now it just had small tears in some places, and what appeared to be Tony’s d-i-y patchwork in others). The sign on the front door was flipped to ‘closed’ and Tony pulled a keyring from his belt loop, locking it and flicking off the lights. The streetlights outside the building and the colorful holiday lights strung along the edge of the roof provided just enough light for them to be able to clearly see each other, the sun having set early, around four o’clock. Peter had forgotten about that as well. 

He moved to grab his car keys from a pocket but Tony spoke up, patting the dark green paint of his truck’s hood and walking over to the garage door. His hand hovered over the button that would open it. “Actually, I just finished giving Delilah a tuneup, mind if we take ‘er for a spin?” 

“Sure,” Peter agreed without hesitation, still feeling relieved (and grateful) that his invitation was accepted. 

Tony pushed his palm against the button and paused to do a double-take after the metal door lifted completely. His eyebrows rose at the sight of Peter’s car parked in the small lot beside the shop. “Damn, L.A.. Not worried about your fancy new car?” His tone was slightly teasing, but there was a bit of shock mixed with something else as well, and it caused Peter to go hot, feeling insecure. (What if Tony didn’t like who Peter was, now? Peter didn’t exactly like who he was now.) Tony must’ve noticed his discomfort, because he cracked a grin and bumped his shoulder against Peter’s as he made his way to the driver’s side, yanking the door open. “C’mon, Parker, ‘m just fuckin’ with you. Hop in - how’da some burgers from Delmar’s an’ a trip out to the field sound?” 

***

They grabbed food from the hole-in-the-wall diner down the road (the one where sixteen year-old Peter burned the shit out of his hand on his first day and promptly quit) and once they were bundled back in the truck with their burgers, fries and one banana milkshake (“yeah, but these are your favorite,” Tony had said in response to Peter’s exclamation that it was too cold out), Tony drove them out to the field behind the old high school. He parked the car under the lamppost, leaving it running in order to keep the heat on. His thick mechanic’s fingers began to fiddle with the temperature controls. Nat King Cole was playing quietly on the radio. 

Peter shifted the paper bag of food in his lap, searching for words but not knowing what to say, and plucked the joint and lighter from his coat. The paper-covered filter found its way between his lips and he inhaled softly as he lit the tip. Satisfied with the light, he french inhaled, closing his eyes for a moment. The first hit was always the best. Peter loved the way he could feel it all the way in his bones. He didn’t know how to describe it other than deep. When he opened them, he made eye contact with Tony in the dim light, and immediately cut his gaze away as he felt the heat rush to his face. He could feel when Tony looked away a moment later.

The lull continued and Peter gingerly held the joint between his fingertips as he exhaled, hand outstretched.  

Worn fingers plucked it away, and Peter’s eyes were immediately drawn to the slightly chapped lips that wrapped themselves around the filter. “You stayin’ at um, at May's...old place?” Tony faltered as he inhaled, as if he wasn't sure what the most sensitive way to talk about it was. 

“Yeah," Peter said softly as he looked down at his lap. Spending his first night in the house alone last night had made him feel the loneliest he'd ever been in his life, and that was saying something because he’d been feeling pretty miserable lately. Peter saw May everywhere he looked, waiting to hear her call for him to come taste some new-fangled recipe from the kitchen, or to please, for the hundredth time, rinse the dishes before he put them in the sink. He missed her more than he thought possible, her death earth-shattering after having already lost Ben when he was 17, back when this mess all started. When he left for the first time. When he started running away. “It’s- It’s weird but I’m...adjusting. It’s honestly not that different to when she was alive, though. Y’know- recently.” He cut himself off, not sure if he wanted Tony to know the full reality of his existence, now. 

Because it was true. It killed Peter to admit it, but his relationship with Aunt May started going downhill around the time of Ben’s death, too. By the time she had her heart attack a little more than two years ago, he hadn’t seen her in over a year, or talked to her in nearly as long. It was the biggest regret of his life, pushing May away; the second was the way he essentially did the same thing to Tony, however drawn-out it had been. 

Peter reached out for the joint and his fingers brushed against Tony’s, sending a jolt up his spine. “How,” Peter started, swallowing as he twiddled the lighter between his fingers not holding the joint. “How’ve you been, Tony?” He was scared to ask what he really wanted to know. Have you finally had enough? Did you stop waiting on me? Am I too late? To distract himself a bit, he cracked the window so he could ash the joint before taking another drag. 

"Same ol’, same ol’,” came Tony’s reply, his voice weary. “I mean, you already know this, but nothin’ really changes here." The quiet way he said it was slightly self-deprecating and the younger man hated it, hated that he had something to do with it. (Peter remembered the way he spat the words at Tony in the wee hours of the morning oh so long ago. "I've gotta get out of this fucking town- I can’t stay here, Tony! You might be okay dying here, a nobody with nothing, but I'm not!")

That’s why I had to leave, he thought, chest tightening. I was trapped in this town. It was never you, Tony. You were perfect. You’re perfect. 

"..Yeah," is what came out instead. Peter took another hit before he handed the joint back to Tony and began rifling through the grease-splotched bag, passing the older man his burger before unwrapping his own. He took the top bun off in order to lay down a handful of fries from the bag, smooshing the top back on afterwards. A moan left Peter’s mouth at the first bite, and he heard a chuckle bubble up from Tony’s chest. (He would never admit it, especially not to anyone back in L.A., anyone who didn’t know him before, but this was his favorite meal in the world.)

“Funny that you still do that. So, um,” Tony began again, stuffing a few fries in his mouth and chewing as he spoke out the side of his mouth. “I saw your new collection. It looked nice.” He licked a bit of salt off his thumb. 

Peter’s ears burned as he swallowed his bite and raised an eyebrow at the man across from him. “You pay attention to fashion, now?” He fought off a smile at the thought of Tony delicately flipping through the pages of a high-fashion magazine. 

“Not like- I’ve tried to keep up with your work,” Tony mumbled, swallowing, his own face taking on a bit of a rosy-hue. “Like to know what you're up to all the way out there.” The joint touched his lips for a few seconds before it made its way back to Peter’s fingers. “I do know how Google works.” 

Peter shivered as he felt something flutter in the pit of his stomach at the salt grains that touched his tongue when he took his next pull. “Tastes like salt,” he breathed on the exhale, locking eyes with Tony through the smoke that had accumulated in the car. 

Something flashed in the older man’s eyes as he stole the weed back and took a large hit, crooking his salt-sprinkled fingers to beckon Peter closer. 

Peter’s own reddened eyes widened when he caught on to what Tony wanted, his heart picking up speed. They hadn’t done that in years. Still clutching his burger in his left hand, he used the right to support himself as he leaned over the console to press his mouth against Tony’s. He closed his eyes as he inhaled, fighting the urge to slip his tongue somewhere it didn’t belong. One of Tony’s hands came up to pull his head closer for a moment, his tongue having the same idea as Peter’s, causing him to whine into Tony’s mouth. His pants were getting tight as he licked right back in response, feeling a slight burn from exhaling through his nose. He missed this. Nobody kissed him like Tony did-

“Shit!” Tony pulled away sharply, and Peter’s heart stopped for a second. But when he realized what was happening, he couldn’t contain the surprised cackle that erupted as he saw the joint land in the other man’s lap. “Quit it,” was Tony’s reply, though he was grinning as he said it. He grabbed what was left of the joint off his jeans and stubbed it out the rest of the way on the dashboard. “It burned my fuckin’ finger.”

“Oh poor baby,” Peter shot back, shifting in his seat and taking another bite of his burger. He willed the slight chub to go away, but knew it was a lost cause. He pretty much signed up for it; he was always turned on when he was high around Tony (and most of the time when he was sober, too). Some kind of conditioning or something, he thought deliriously. 

“Ya better hush up, Parker,” Tony snarked and dipped some fries into Peter’s banana shake. He rolled his neck a bit, reaching for his burger. “So, kid. Tell me ‘bout L.A..”

***

Peter was basking peacefully in his high, humming along to whatever was playing through the speakers. He and Tony had both finished their food, chatting about this and that, but nothing of real substance, their earlier stilted conversation far from their minds. Shooting the shit, as Tony called it, over some weed and a meal was their normal routine when they were younger, and it came as naturally as breathing. Peter had never met anyone else he could simply coexist with on this level, simply enjoying the other’s presence for what it was. I love you, he thought as he looked at Tony, who was leaning back in his seat with his eyes closed and nodding his head along with the beat. I’m so in love with you and it scares the shit out of me. 

The younger man’s eyes roved over Tony’s face as his mind raced. What was he doing? Would something be different this time? He wasn’t that angry seventeen year old anymore- now he was twenty-four, clinically depressed, and living someone else’s life. Would it be so bad to finally leave that all behind, to finally let himself have what he’s denied himself for so long? Didn’t he deserve to be happy, after all this pain? And even if it wasn’t in the cards for them, if Peter was destined to be alone, wouldn’t even the most miniscule amount of time with Tony be worth it? 

Tony’s gravelly voice startled him back to the present. “I should probably be gettin’ you home, huh, Peter?” The bearded man opened his eyes and began sitting up, turning to look at him. The expression on his face was unreadable, and Peter didn’t know if he should agree or protest, so he merely lifted a shoulder in faux indifference, shooting Tony a half-smile.

Please, call me Pete… Just Pete, Peter begged in his head. Tony calling him by his full name made the ugly thing in his chest wriggle uncomfortably. Last time he was home, before he said those awful things, Tony hadn’t called him Peter in years. Yet another beautiful thing that he’d taken for granted and ruined for himself. 

“Could also drive around for a bit if you wanted, see some lights.” Damn Tony and his ability to read Peter so well. The suggestion was soft, and he looked down as he said it, almost as if he was feeling shy. 

Peter shook his head minutely and shifted a little in his seat, gently biting his lip. “I’m getting a little tired, haven’t smoked in a while,” he lied through his teeth, but the smile on his face was real this time. 

Tony grinned right back at him.

(“What would we even do on a date? There’s nothing to do here, Tony,” Peter said with a laugh. “I dunno,” Tony replied, snuggling the lighter-haired teenager closer into his chest as they snuggled on the couch. “We could go look at the Christmas lights, get some hot chocolate… I could tie some mistletoe to the mirror in the truck. There’d be sum kissin’ involved….” He trailed off as Peter’s lips found his own. “Or we could do the kissin’ right here,” he murmured, sinking into the kiss.)

***

The drive back to May’s house was spent with Tony catching Peter up on everyone in town as they passed various houses. (“Remember Happy Hogan, the butcher?? Him an’ that pretty florist, Ms. Potts, got married last year. Think they’re havin’ a baby,last I heard.” “Rhodey’s mama died this spring, she got cancer, but he an’ Mr. Rhodes still live out here now that Rhodey’s moved home. Honorable discharge last fall. Done got himself a new girlfriend now too, Carol; he met ‘er in the Air Force.  She’s a sweet one, I think you’d like ‘er.”) 

When they pulled into the driveway, Tony cut the engine and hopped out. Peter did the same, grabbing the bag with their trash and patting his pocket, double-checking for his keys and lighter. He stepped around Tony, who had stopped at the bottom of the front steps, and walked up to the door, fumbling for a minute with his keys under the porch light to find the right one (it had robin’s egg blue polka-dots of May’s favorite nail polish). Tony’s footsteps followed him up the stairs. 

Peter stuck the key in the lock and opened the door a crack before turning to face the taller man. “So.”

Tony’s eyes searched his own as they gazed at one another. “So,” he parroted back. His index finger went up to rub at his nose as he took a hard sniff in. There was a beat of silence. “Thanks for the joint, and uh, the company. It was good seein’ you,” he said at last, a hint of his signature lopsided grin curving his lips. 

Peter felt the goodbye that was coming before it even left Tony’s mouth, and something in him broke. “Don’t leave me here alone.” The words came out of Peter’s mouth in a mumble, and suddenly he couldn’t make eye contact with Tony, losing focus and staring at his own feet instead. He felt the harsh burning of tears as it hit him again just how alone he was about to be when he walked inside, how alone he already was. He was always so fucking alone. 

Even in L.A., so much bigger than fucking Aurora, New York, surrounded by thousands of people, Peter still felt invisible, insignificant. He had no friends. Sure, he had a publicist, and connections, and celebrity acquaintances & clientele. But without his money and his clothes, what would he have? What did he have when he was just Peter Parker, rather than Peter Benjamin, semi-famous designer? Nothing. (When he got the call about May, and he’d broken down in the bathroom during a business meeting with representatives for Tom Ford, he realized he had no one to call. No one to comfort him or tell him it would be okay. He’d sobbed into his pillow that night, screaming his throat raw with Tony’s number punched into his phone, ready to be dialed. He never called.) He had nothing and no one, and it was all his fault because he was so stupid, and maybe this is just what he deserved. If he hadn’t pushed everyone-

“Hey- Hey, Peter, no. Never,” Tony was saying gently, cautiously pulling Peter into his strong arms and out of his anxiety attack. “‘m not goin’ anywhere if y’don’t want me to, baby.” He tucked Peter’s head under his chin, a chill running down his spine due to the chilly evening air. “S’okay, everythin’s okay.” 

Peter sucked in a deep breath through his mouth, trying to calm himself. His forehead dug into Tony’s shoulder painfully but it helped to ground him. The soothing sensation of Tony’s fingers tracing circles on his back helped, too. Peter’s breath was still hitching every so often, so he shut his eyes and tried to synch his breathing with Tony’s. It felt so nice to just be this close to someone- Peter couldn’t remember the last time he’d been held. Tony had probably been the last one to do it, though. (He’d had sex in L.A. of course, but it was all superficial. Nothing real. Nothing like what he had with Tony- not even close.) Shifting slightly, he buried his nose in the crook of Tony’s neck, searching unconsciously for the smell he loved so much; a mix of gasoline, teakwood, and something smoky. The scent sent a shiver down Peter’s spine, and that hot feeling simmered in his stomach again. He’d always joked that he would bottle Tony’s smell if he could. Tony would just laugh and jokingly tease Peter for always having his nose in his neck or armpit.

Now Tony just hummed lightly in response, tightening his hold for a moment before relaxing. “‘Yer’okay,” he whispered, once he could feel that Peter’s breathing had evened out for the most part. 

Peter pulled back a bit and stared at a spot in the middle of Tony’s chest, thinking. He decided to go for it. Worst that could happen was Tony saying no, and leaving Peter here alone, but he knew he’d end up alone eventually. But he’d delay the inevitable as long as he could.  “Kiss me, T,” he said quietly, leaning in before he could change his mind. His lips brushed Tony’s and he pulled back, trying not to go cross eyed looking into the other’s eyes. “I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

Tony stared at him for a moment before their mouths met again, and Peter nipped gently at his lip before clumsily walking backwards through the cracked front door, pulling Tony with him with their mouths still connected. Tony’s foot kicked it closed behind them, bathing them in darkness, and he tripped a bit when Peter clutched at the lapels of his jacket a little too hard. Cursing under his breath, he leaned back against the door and tugged Peter along, using the support behind him to balance as he toed his boots off. They disconnected momentarily as the shorter man did the same, hands still gripping the denim. 

Peter licked his lip as they stood in the dark entryway. Looking up at Tony, he shrugged his coat off, letting it fall to the hardwood floor beneath them. He reached out and gently pushed the denim jacket off the taller man’s shoulders too before leaning in, stopping just before their lips made contact. “Come upstairs with me,” he whispered. 

Tony’s mocha eyes flitted around for a minute, searching his face for something. Peter couldn’t tell if he liked what he saw, but Tony kissed him again before taking his hand. “Your room,” he questioned, taking hold of the banister and leading Peter up the stairs. 

***

“Fuck, Tony. Right there, right there, ohhhhh.” Peter was on his back with one leg thrown over Tony’s shoulder and the other bent off to the side, the ball of his foot pushing into the mattress. The mechanic’s uncut cock was stretching his lubed hole. Tony was leaning over him and one of his hands was clutching at Peter’s hip, the other at the leg up by his face. His facial hair scratched deliciously against the pale skin on the inside of Peter’s knee as he pressed a kiss there. 

(Tony had kissed and licked and sucked praises into the skin of his neck, chest, stomach and thighs as he’d fingered him open at a torturously slow pace. “So good fer me, Pete. Look at you. You’re so goddamn beautiful.” Peter had whimpered and whined the whole time as he tried to fuck himself on the thick digits whose pads were caressing his prostate.) 

A moan left the older man’s lips as he looked into Peter’s eyes. “You feel so good, baby. Always feel so- fuckin’- good,” he grunted, thrusting further in the tight, wet heat. “Love fuckin’ your ass.”  He dug his fingers tighter into Peter’s skin, sure to leave bruises. 

Gasping, Peter arched his hips up, toes curling, cock bobbing against his stomach with every thrust. He could feel Tony deep inside him, in that place that only he had ever been able to reach. Fuck, why had he ever let this go? Never letting you go again, Tony. You can’t leave me alone. I need you. I love you. He whined, baring his neck in a silent plea and bringing his leg down so that both were wrapped around the man’s thick waist. Tony reacted accordingly; his hands moved up to clutch at Peter’s near the headboard and his mouth latched onto the column of Peter’s neck, sucking. A wounded noise escaped Peter, his hole clenching, and Tony bit down harshly at the sensation. Peter keened again, going limp on the mattress as his legs fell open to the side. “Shit, Tony, god!” 

Hot, wet breath tickled Peter’s neck with every ragged exhale that left Tony’s mouth, causing the smaller to whine lewdly, squirming. “Yeah? Are you- mine? Y’gon be mine- huh, Pete?” Peter heard the unspoken question, the twinge of desperation in Tony’s voice. Will you finally be mine? He sounded tired, that deep-in-your-bones type weariness, Peter noticed as he felt his own chest start to get tight. He’d really done a number on the person who deserved it the least. And for what? To come crawling back years later, expecting to be forgiven? 

Yes, he thought in response to Tony’s question, hating himself for it. One of his hands tangled itself in the crown of Tony’s head, fingers pulling the strands at the root possessively as teeth sunk into his neck again. Yours. Always yours. He let out another moan, rolling his hips in an attempt to get some friction on his neglected cock that was weeping precum as Tony continued to thrust in and out of him. “Please, please- Tony, please.” If Peter had any shame left, he’d probably be blushing at how needy and wrecked he sounded. Instead it just turned him on, knowing just how gone he was for the other man. 

With a grunt, Tony redistributed his weight and brought two fingers to Peter’s lips. “Open up fer a minute, baby,” he requested softly, slipping the digits inside. Peter laved them with his tongue, coating them with thick saliva and Tony groaned at the feeling, dick twitching in Peter’s ass. Once they were sufficiently wet, he pulled his fingers away, a thin string of drool stretching to connect them to Peter’s slick lips. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, Pete, Christ.” His calloused hand wrapped loosely around the hot, rosy cock between them. “Fuck my hand, baby.” 

Peter complied without hesitation, rocking his hips and pressing his shaft in and out of the slick tunnel that was Tony’s hand. He cried out when Tony’s thumb caressed the underside of the head as the cock inside of him nailed directly into his prostate. The pressure had already been a lot, but the pleasure was suddenly overwhelming in a new way. He was so close and Tony hadn’t even been touching him for thirty seconds. “F-fuck, Tony, I’m gonna- Ahhhhh-”  

“Yeah, cum for me, Pete,” Tony’s warm breath heaved into his ear, tongue sneaking out to lick the outer shell and dip inside briefly at the same time he tightened his grip on Peter’s sensitive member.  “Fuck, cum for me, baby, cum on my- Cum on my cock- God-.” 

And with a cry, Peter did just that, biting into Tony’s shoulder as the tension in his gut snapped, hole twitch relentlessly around the hard cock inside him as his own shot spurt after spurt of hot cum on his chest; some reached the hollow of his throat and his chin. “God, Tony, shit, shit, shit.” 

“Yesssss, Pete, holy fuck.” Tony buried himself inside one last time, his mouth latching onto the column of Peter’s neck as he reached his orgasm, shoving himself inside as deep as possible. His dick twitched, painting Peter’s insides with his spend and making him groan. 

They stayed that way for a moment before Tony pulled back to look into Peter’s eyes. “Lemme clean’ya up,” he offered gently as he carefully pulled his softening cock out of the heat of the younger man’s ass. There was a slight burbling sound, and he brushed his lips against Peter’s when he saw the embarrassment flash across his face. “Hol’ on.” Climbing out of the bed, he made his way to the bathroom that was adjoined to Peter’s room.

Peter’s heart was beating uncomfortably in his chest as he lay among the sheets, bringing his hands up to his chest to fiddle with each other anxiously. It couldn’t be over. He wasn’t ready for it to be over. He wasn’t ready to be alone again. 

When Tony walked back in, he got back on the bed, gently wiping the cum off Peter’s chest with a warm rag, smirking at the full-body shivers that ran through the young man in response to the cloth being swiped lightly over his nipples. Once his chest was clean, Tony moved down to run the fabric between Peter’s ass cheeks, collecting the milky-white substance that was leaking out of the hole. 

“Stay,” Peter whispered, once Tony had thrown the washcloth in the hamper and climbed back into bed at Peter’s invitation of patting the spot beside himself in bed. He wiggled so that his back was pressed up against Tony’s front. His fingers tangled themselves with those on a slightly larger hand and as he let his eyes slip shut, he felt Tony’s lips press a kiss into the sweaty curls at the back of his head. 

*** 

When Peter woke up, it was well past noon. The bed was so warm that the heat from his and Tony’s bodies trapped up under the fluffy comforter would be sweltering if he didn’t crave it so much. 

Peter swallowed drily as he looked at Tony’s face in the afternoon light, peaceful in sleep. At some point during their sleep, they had shifted to where they were facing each other. He wanted to trace his fingers along the strong facial features in front of him, but he refrained, not wanting to wake the older man. He knew he needed to talk to Tony. He knew that Tony deserved better. But maybe Peter could be selfish just this once... It was Christmas after all. Tis the damn season and all that. 

Leaning forward, with a hand pressed gently against Tony’s chest, Peter pecked his lips against the sleeping man’s in a kiss. He got no response, so he did it again, adding a little more pressure. Tony began to stir; his arm wrapped lazily around Peter’s naked waist, pulling their bottom halves together. 

“G’mornin’,” Tony mumbled sleepily as he blinked a few times before his gaze focused on Peter. His voice was scratchy and rough, and Peter’s hips jerked slightly in response as he whispered back his own greeting, partially because Tony had begun to get hard. The mechanic brought up a hand and took hold of Peter’s chin, pulling their mouths together as he ground their burgeoning erections together. 

Peter wrapped a leg around Tony’s waist as they lay there on their sides and began to gently rock his hips. “Tony,” he mewled, eyes screwed shut. The words were bubbling up inside him, just like the arousal was blooming in his gut. One of his arms wrapped around Tony’s neck, pulling their bodies together as close as they could get. 

“Yeah,” came Tony’s breathy reply. His eyes were roving over Peter’s flushed face as he undulated his own hips, thumb coming up to press against the younger’s spit-slick bottom lip. “Whadisit?”

Peter took the digit into his mouth for a moment and they made eye contact as he swirled his tongue around the tip, fellating it. He released it from his mouth with a pop, biting his own lip. “Am I too late,” he asked quietly, burying his face in the muscled chest before him, pecking tender kisses on the heated flesh. “Do you still love me?” His voice shook as he continued, breath faltering as well as the sensations built up. He squeezed his eyes shut even though Tony couldn’t see the tears building in his eyes as he chased his pleasure, preparing for the inevitable pain that was sure to follow. 

“Pete.” The way Tony said his name was reverent, like he didn’t see Peter for the walking mistake that he was. He was breathing heavier now, too, with the exertion of frotting their hard cocks together. “How could I ever stop, baby?” He craned his neck in order to meet Peter’s eyes. “Was just waitin’ on ya t’come home.” He pressed their lips together as Peter’s leg tightened around his waist. “Was always just waitin’ on ya t’come home,” he repeated. A particularly hard thrust had them both groaning, clutching desperately at each other as they chased that euphoric feeling. “’Course I love you, Peter. Now cum for me.”

Peter couldn’t help but obey as a sob burst from his lips, Tony following him over the edge. “I love you,” he cried, as their bodies shook together. “I’m s-sorry Tony, I love you- Don’t go, don’t ever leave me. I won’t- I promise I won’t go again. I can’t go again, I can’t leave you again. I won’t.” Tony’s thumbs came up to wipe the tears from under his eyes, and a kiss was pressed to his temple as he felt himself be pulled into those strong arms. 

“I’d never leave you, Pete.”

***

The bed was cold when Peter woke again. He lay there, watching the sunset through his bedroom window. Gentle creaks could be heard as the house groaned under pressure from the falling snow. He rolled over, grimacing at the pain in his lower half and pulling a pillow to his chest. It still smelled of teakwood, smoke, and gasoline. He smiled, burying his face further into the intoxicating scent. “I love you,” he whispered to the empty house, feeling lighter than he had in years. 

(Yes, the bed was cold, now. But Tony would be back to warm it up. And he’d have burgers, fries, and a banana milkshake when he returned. Maybe even a joint. Peter was glad he didn’t have to wait long. They’d had just about enough of that over the past seven years.)

[deja-you]

Girl can you please write either a Laf or Jefferson fix based off of Tis the Damn season?!?! Miss Swift has me all in my feelings 🥰😭

drabble masterlist

this took me a while to get around to, but this is definitely one of my favorite drabbles :)

You distinctly remember Thomas saying it’s never too late, but you can’t imagine he still means it.

The last time you saw him – it hurts to think about the last time – was years ago. It was only a few days after his graduation party, you remembered this because there were still photos of Thomas covering the walls in his family’s home and confetti was still tucked into the corners. You kept a small piece of green and gold confetti tucked away in your heart.

His room was a safe haven from the hurricane that was graduation, moving trucks, and you. For a minute, it was your safe haven. You felt out of place in his bedroom, where, when the shelves were filled, books spilled out onto the hardwood floors. Where signed baseballs sat like trophies on the desk. Where a radio always played upbeat songs.

Everything was so damn americana.

You realize that the fact that you felt out of place was part of the appeal. There was a part of you that was ignited when he moved around the furniture so the two of you could dance. An addictive part of your personality that adored the fact that he would rearrange his nostalgic world for you (the knowledge that he would do anything for you made you glow a little brighter, and he liked seeing you glow).

You’re older now, but you don’t think you were any smarter than you were at eighteen. While you’re aware that everything has changed, it’s becoming increasingly more apparent that nothing has changed. Your childhood home hasn’t changed much (although your mom is excited to show you her new dishwasher). Even though you’ve flown across the country to be where you are now – you can’t really call it home anymore – it hardly takes you any time to adjust back to your old habits.

Grocery shopping. You can’t remember the last time you bought your own groceries, but you figure it’s a small enough town that you won’t be swarmed by adoring fans. Maybe just classmates who never spoke to you in high school pretending to be your best friend, but you could live with that.

It’s an in-and-out trip. You’ve been given a short list, and unsalted butter and whole milk aren’t exactly difficult groceries to find. You keep your hood on and go through self-checkout. You can’t tell if you hate or love just how mundane this activity is for you, but you’re at least aware it’s a change of pace. You have a plastic bag of groceries in hand and are nearly back to your car when you spot it.

The very same car that drove you home from Friday night football games parked in the lot, mud staining the tires. You’re reminded again that nothing has changed when your pulse quickens by just a few beats (but it’s enough for you to know that you’re not over it, never will be, really). You can’t hear the engine running and there’s no one in the front seat, so you breathe a sigh of relief that you didn’t run into him today.

“Hey, I like your flannel.”

Of course fate (if that’s what you’re going to call it) won’t let you off that easy. You could pretend you hadn’t heard him and sprint to your car, that was always an option. But it wouldn’t be a good look, and your heart desperately wanted to see him again.

“I’m sure you would,” you turn to face him, grocery bag swinging violently in your hand, “you picked it out for me.”

He looks absolutely brilliant. Your closet is exclusively an eternal summer collection due to the unrelenting L.A. sun; you don’t even know how to wear winter. Your best attempt was a flannel from high school. But Thomas. He may very well be the definition of December, because you are convinced the midnight thread of his sweater was invented with his very being in mind. Somehow his smile is fresh like April and his eyes are warm like July, and – damn, he’s all twelve months, isn’t he?

Thomas is much more beautiful than you could have remembered, and you’re drowning in the familiarity of it all. You feel like less of yourself, like you could be absorbed by his presence just by being near him. You’re reminded why you left and you’re reminded why it was so hard to leave. You still haven’t decided if you had made the right choice.

“I nearly forgot you were back in town,” he says, and you don’t believe him. You’ve thought about him every time you thought about coming home. It would be rude of him not to return the same courtesy to you.

“Your mom told me you were coming back for the holidays,” Thomas adds on, feeling the need for an explanation.

You cock your head to the side slightly. There are dozens of questions that you want to ask him, but you don’t. “You talked to my mom?”

It’s a small town. Everyone knows everyone. It’s a stupid question, but you can’t help but wonder how often they talk about you.

“Last week at church,” he replies.

You nod once finding the answer less than satisfactory. He’s really made this town his home, and you don’t know if you’re relieved or feeling remorseful at the thought that that could have been you.

“I’m not really here for the holidays,” you say. It’s not an important fact, but maybe he cares. You hope he cares. “Just for the weekend. I’m headed back to L.A. on Monday.”

You wait for emotions to flash over his face, but he just gives you a friendly smile. It hurts worse than a fucking knife.

“Too bad. I’m sure the town wishes you’d stay longer,” he says.

You’re not sure if he means it. You’re not sure what he means by it. Does he wish you’d stay longer? Or was it his passive aggressive way of wishing you had never come back by hiding bitter resentment behind kind words? You decide against the last part. You wouldn’t put it past Thomas to wield his words like weapons, but he would never do that with you.

“Maybe I’ll stay longer when I’m not so busy.” You shrug and shift the bag of groceries from one hand to the other.

He laughs, not in a scornful way, mostly it’s disbelief. “I highly doubt that.”

You don’t even have to ask him what he means by that; the both of you are  well-versed in your habits of leaving. The two of you exchange a few more pleasantries before saying goodbye. Thomas says something along the lines of I hope to see you around, and you’re left wondering once again if he means any of it.

Thomas has the same phone number from high school. You’re not surprised, he’s always been a traditionalist, and from your experience, you know he’s never taken well to change.

You’re only home for the weekend, so you don’t have time to play the who’s-going-to-contact-who-first game. You call him, and an hour later you’re meeting him in the parking lot in front of your old school. You’ve told your mom you’re meeting up with an old friend (it’s not exactly a lie) and she’s glad that you’re reconnecting with your high school friends. You don’t care to elaborate any more on the subject.

Thomas holds the passenger-side door open for you, and you climb into his car just like you’ve done hundreds of times before. You’ve probably spent hours and hours wasting your time just thinking about him, so now that he’s right in front of you, neither of you want to waste any more time. You fall into easy conversation as if nothing has changed (nothing is the same anymore, both of you know this), careful not to address the elephant in the small town.

The two of you spend hours talking, and it easily turns into an entire day. You talk about everything until there’s nothing left to talk about, and then both of you are content to use your mouths for the things between you that can’t be said.

He has a house now that’s very much him. Thomas’s bedroom in his new house has furniture you’re unaccustomed to, but the space itself is a memory. They may be new titles, but there are still books overflowing onto the floor. You’re not even surprised. In fact, you find it all very comforting.

His touch on your skin is familiar, and you relive every moment with him from the first to the last (even though that part still stings). Thomas is your past and your present, and you don’t even dare to think about your future when he’s got his arms wrapped around your torso. Nothing feels like home the way he does.

You’ve nearly spent half the day in his touch, something you must’ve done plenty of times before. You want him to ask you to stay, and not just for another hour and not just for another day and not just for another month and not just for another year. But you know he won’t, because he doesn’t think you want him to (you want him to). Thomas doesn’t ask you to stay because he doesn’t think you’ll forgive him if he asks this of you.

As if forgiveness is something we choose to do.

When you finally detangle your limbs from his, you find your discarded sweatshirt quickly in an attempt to replace his warmth with something artificial. It doesn’t work. It’s not really fair that you get to be the one who leaves him twice, but you don’t exactly feel like you’ve won anything.

It should be better than this, you think to yourself. But you know the heart that’s really breaking is your own.

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter nineteen: a lick and a promise

“So Scott’s leaving,” Marla started, out of breath.

The two weeks following the gig in San Antonio and the announcement was in fact official at that point, such that it left everyone in disbelief as to what would happen next. Sam and Marla had taken their seats on the small but trim porch outside of their brand new apartment together right as the summer rain began to fall around them: Belinda had gone down the block for some drinks and a third chair for herself. It had been a two day affair moving Sam down to Hell’s Kitchen and out of the Bronx, but they finally managed to have her settle into the cute little place with a view of the harbor.

Sam herself nodded her head and fanned the side of her face with a road map Belinda had lent her. Even though she had tied up her hair and wore a sleeveless top, she still found herself hot and sweaty from it all.

“Yup, he said it just yesterday,” she replied, “they got home from Finland real late last night, and the word from the label is that he’s going back home to Queens today. No idea what happens after that.”

“They get a new guitarist, I assume,” Marla followed along.

“Haven’t heard anything official yet but there are some rumors going around right now. Add to this, Aurora is knee deep in her own affairs so I can’t talk to her right now but I would hope so…” Her voice trailed off. “By the way, have you heard anything from Metallica’s neck of the woods? Like how Jason’s been doing lately?”

“I haven’t, no,” Marla confessed. “I think their tour actually wrapped up.”

“When?” Sam was stunned.

“It was a while back, I know that much. Wouldn’t it be something if Kirk filled in for Scott, though?”

“Who would fill in for Kirk?”

“Lars? I heard they were planning on ridding of him after this tour.”

“Yeah, I heard that, too. Does Lars even play guitar, though?”

“No clue. I know James plays drums.”

“He does?” Sam laughed.

“Yeah, that’s according to Charlie! James can drum, Jason can play guitar, and Lars can sing.”

“Who would play bass?” Sam asked her.

“Didn’t Greg audition for them after Cliff was killed?”

“Yeah, he did. I can’t imagine him being with them, though.”

“Why’s that?”

“I kinda like Greg. I can’t imagine Testament without him, to be completely honest with you, Marla. Greggy, as Zelda calls him.”

“Or—ooh, I know!” Marla snapped her fingers.

“What?”

“Scott and Minerva can swap places!”

“Hey, that’s a great idea! But that means she would have to leave it behind, though. The Cherry Suicides are on fire at the moment.”

“Oh, right, right…” Marla sighed through her nose. “Why doesn’t Anthrax just carry on as a quartet?”

“No idea. It sets them apart, I guess—“ Sam then stopped in her tracks, and she thought about Joey’s sentiments on learning guitar himself. An old wound about to be taken to a new level. She turned to Marla.

“Is the phone hooked up?”

“Yeah, it was one of the first things I did the very second I brought my stuff here, along with make our beds and get Genie situated. Why?”

Sam nibbled on her bottom lip.

“I have an idea.”

She ducked into the new apartment, through the small but cozy living room and Genie, who had taken her place atop the little plush couch against the wall close to the front door, and into the kitchen. The phone hung upon the wall over the sink: she took the receiver and dialed Joey’s number.

It rang once. Twice.

“C’mon, Joey, pick up—pick up, pick up—“

“Hey, this is Joe Belladonna, I’m either out drummin’ or singin’, or playing hockey, so leave me a message and I’ll get back to ya—“

“Damn it,” she muttered. There was a beep.

“Hey, Joey, it’s Sam. Give me a call back if and when you can—it’s kind of important. I’m living at Marla’s new place in Hell’s Kitchen.”

Without another word, she hung up and returned to the porch with Marla, who looked up at her with a puzzled expression on her face.

“You think Joey might be onboard with it?” she asked her.

“We’ll see,” Sam answered; she thought back to that night in Syracuse, in which Alex had inadvertently opened that old wound for him. Down below the porch, she recognized Belinda's head of golden blonde hair against the light drops of rain around them.

“Looks like she's got some good stuff for us,” Marla saw her as well, and right then she leaned forward so as to better watch her. They hung there for a moment as she crossed the street and rang the buzzer.

“I'll get it,” Sam offered, and she doubled back inside to unlock the door downstairs and she left the front door open by about an inch. Genie slunk over to her and rubbed against her ankles, complete with a soft little purr; Sam stooped down and pet the top of her head, and she squinted her golden eyes at the feeling. She thought about Joey and his wishes to learn the guitar: she knew it would be a golden chance for him, and for Anthrax to take things to the next level. Genie's little black tail formed a little hook at the end and she stopped right underneath her knees, and she gazed up at Sam with those squinted eyes. She gave her a soft little meow and she pet her head again.

Belinda pushed open the front door with her hip and she showed Sam a grin, and she handed her the white cup in her right hand.

“Nice fresh limeade from the shop down the street,” Belinda said.

“Yummy.”

“Also, I just ran into Frankie down the block and he told me to tell you that they're doing auditions later today,” Belinda told her, “and I mean later today. Like within a couple of hours.”

“Which means we can walk on down to the rest of Manhattan and poke our heads in there if we so damn well please,” Sam followed along.

“If we wish, maybe. Although—it's hard to say 'cause we're not part of the band.” Belinda stopped right in her tracks. “Why, what's up?”

“She wants Joey to take Scott's place,” Marla joked from the porch.

“Why Joey exactly?”

“He's told me about wanting to play guitar at some point.” And she left it at that, lest she dig up something more by mentioning the whole thing between Joey and Alex.

Genie slunk over to Belinda and rubbed on her ankles as well; Belinda bent down to her and stroked her head and her back, and that little black tail shot straight up, complete with a slight hook near the end.

“So a couple of hours, you said?” Sam asked her as she took a sip of the limeade.

“Yeah. We can hustle on down there if we'd like. The rain's not so bad right now so we can boogie on down there right now if we'd like.”

“Hey, Marla, you wanna come along?” Sam called back out to the porch.

“Nah, it's been a long couple of days. I'll just chill out here and get myself settled in.”

“I'll come with ya, though,” Belinda offered as she set her limeade down on the box next to the door and scooped up Genie, whose purr grew louder at the feeling.

“So sweet,” Sam declared as she pet her head again and she pinched her eyes shut. Belinda then set Genie down on the couch and she picked up her limeade once again.

“It's a little further than you think, though,” Belinda pointed out. “So we can take the bus—and we've gotta get moving, too, 'cause I saw it on the way back here.”

“We're students, remember?” Belinda said to her as she took her card out from her jeans pocket.

“We are!” Sam turned to her purse, which she had hung up on the wall next to the door, and she took her student card out of her wallet. She spotted the Polaroid of Joey on the inside there, and she was quick to close the top so Marla wouldn't happen to look over and see it. The two of them bowed back out to the hallway and then back to the staircase. The rain had dissipated a little bit by the time they reached the sidewalk outside, and they strolled towards the stoplight up ahead of them.

“So where is it?” Sam asked her as she tilted her head back a bit to better take on the cool breeze around them.

“Right up here.”

Belinda hurried forth and Sam followed. Indeed, the latter spotted a sign on the curb in front of them with a bus inscribed on the front. She peered over her shoulder and the bus lumbered up to the curb behind them.

They reached the sign in time; Belinda climbed aboard first, and then Sam followed suit, and they congregated to the rung behind the driver once they showed off their cards.

“You girls are gonna drink down those things, Miss Grimes?” the driver asked them.

“We're not going far anyways, Jim—just a few blocks down towards Sixth Avenue,” Belinda assured him as she sipped on the limeade with a bit of haste so he couldn't ask her anything more. Sam turned to her and showed her a little smirk.

“You're good,” she remarked in a low voice.

“That's what I get for growing up down this way,” Belinda said with a shrug of her shoulders. They lurched forward to the light once it turned green and they lumbered forth; she turned to Sam again. “We're gonna be about two blocks away from Radio City Music Hall.”

Sam gaped at her.

“Wow, I had no idea they lived that close to that.”

“That, and Times Square, too. But I guess the room they're gonna be literally right there by Radio City. I can imagine life in L.A. being like that, too.”

“Kinda. You need a car to get around anywhere in L.A., though. It's not like you can just hop on the subway and go somewhere willy-nilly. Lake Elsinore is also a ways away from somewhere notable like Hollywood or Fontana.”

Within time, they reached Sixth Avenue, about two blocks from Radio City Music Hall; Sam pictured Anthrax playing there at some point in the future. The concrete building before them stood behind the curb in nondescript fashion, and Sam recognized Charlie's head of curls right outside of the door.

The bus pulled up to the curb right down the sidewalk from him, and the driver pulled on the parking lever for them. Sam stepped first and she was greeted by the little grin on Charlie's face and the new round of rain over their heads.

“Hey, girlies,” he proclaimed over the noise on the street.

“So auditions in an hour or so?” Sam asked him.

“Oh, yeah—got a few guys here already if you girls wanna see what's about to go down here—”

He held the door for them and Sam stepped inside of the small white walled front room first; beyond that was a carpeted space with a pair of large rugs suspended from the ceiling. They had been arranged into a semicircle over one spot on the floor: and right on the spot stood a low dark stool and a couple of amplifiers. One guy stood close to the rugs, and Sam recognized his long disheveled black curls down past his shoulders. The black hair dye had all but vanished, and so his little silvery plume stood high over his brow, despite it being a little bit on the thin side: but it seemed larger that time around, more of a plume rather than a small sliver the size of a silver dollar. His deep eyes stared back at her and his facial expression hardened.

“Oh, hi,” she greeted him in a soft voice; Alex flashed her a cold look and then he bowed away into the next room. She sighed through her nose: Zelda's words echoed through her mind right then. If only there was a way she could in fact talk to him about all that had happened between them. Here, she was bestowed a chance, and yet she had no idea if she could at that point.

“What's he even doing here?” Belinda asked her in a low voice.

“No idea. Hope he's not leaving Testament, though.”

“Yeah, talk about being on fire. Have you listened to their new album yet?”

“Nah, I probably should.”

“Okay, so we have Dave Mustaine coming—” Charlie was saying right behind them. “—he should literally be here like any minute now. Gus Pepa from Death Angel, Alex Skolnick from Testament, Minerva and Rosita both from the Cherry Suicides—and—then that's it. Alex is here, Gus is down the hall right now, and like I said, Dave should be coming like any second now. I think the girls'll be here any second, too.”

The front door opened right then and the three of them turned to find out who had just walked in: Sam recognized Dan's crown of hair upon his head, followed by Frank's lush dark hair, and then—

“Joey,” she muttered to herself, and she hoped that he wouldn't go off the handle at the sight of Alex being there at the moment. Zelda's words continued to run throughout her mind. Alex had gone off into the next room.

She had to do something right then and there should Alex be a part of Anthrax. She bowed into the next room after him; he stood there before his little black amplifier on the floor with a little red guitar before his little body. He raised his head and he showed her another cold look.

“What're you doing in here?” he demanded, and she moved closer to him.

“I wanna talk to you about something,” she started without a moment's hesitation.

“Are you going to give me another halfhearted apology?” he demanded, cold. He looked down at the amp again complete with a scowl on his face.

“No. You deserve better.”

He stopped, and then he raised his head and frowned at that.

“What do you mean?” he asked her. Sam sighed through her nose.

“I just—want to get to know you better,” she explained, “and I feel like I was way too over the top towards you each time we got together. Like, I want you to know that—” She paused for a moment in search of the right words. “—that I don’t mean to upset you or do anything like that. It’s just… I’m part of the fan club, and I’ve seen you guys—I even got to poke my head in on the recording process, too! And you gave Cliff that piece of paper.” Alex lowered his gaze to the floor and he stayed still, with his fingers across the fretboard.

“You’re still mad at me,” she muttered, to which she shook her head. She gave it a shot courtesy of Zelda, but it all came from her in the meantime.

Sam turned away from when he touched her arm: even with the calluses on his fingers, he had a soft touch.

“No,” he said in a low voice.

“No?” she stammered. “No what?”

“No, that—that’s very kind of you.” He showed her a thoughtful look. “Really, that's—nice of you.” He glanced past her to find if there was anyone else behind them. Belinda laughed at something Charlie said; another woman's voice floated in right then, but Sam couldn't tell if it was Rosita or Minerva. They had a few minutes for all she knew.

She returned to Alex, who had crouched down to his amp on the floor.

“I feel like—I'm kind of alone here,” she confessed to him.

“Why is that?” he asked her as he kept his eye on the dials.

“'Cause—I'm a California girl. I moved cross country a couple of years ago and even though I feel like I'm still an outsider here. So—if I seem a bit too much up to this point, it should be from that.”

He stood back up and about a foot from her. He gave his long hair a little toss back with a flick of his head, so it all rested about his head like a full mane from his crown. He was silent as he plucked at the strings a bit, such that hardly any sound came out.

“I mean, if there’s anyone who’s to blame here, it’s me,” he told her still with his eyes fixed on the amplifier. “I can be cold and hard, and… if I’m honest, I don’t really want to come off unbearable. Kind of like how… you feel.”

He turned his attention to her, and then he looked past her again.

“Looks like Dave's here,” he declared. Sam turned her head and she spotted that head of reddish orange curls in the next room.

“Looks like he might be going on first,” she told him as she returned to him.

“You know, I was a complete outsider growing up,” he started.

“You?” She was stunned.

“Oh yeah.” He set his left hand over his fretboard and then ran his fingers through his hair: the plume had a little bit of a shine to it. “The grays here are just tip of the iceberg. I think I told you this at Kirk and Rebecca's wedding, but my parents are collegiate professors. And add to this, they’re way older than my friends’ parents.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember you talking about that one time,” she recalled with a wag of her finger.

“Well, add to that, they both graduated from Ivy League schools and they're teachers, too. My mother is a professor at Yale and my father is an adjunct professor at UC Berkeley. I mean, that in and of itself is isolating on its own…” His voice trailed off a bit, and then he cleared his throat. “Now take that and combine it with their being close to forty when they have me and my big brother. Also combine that with the fact they're both non traditional Jews, who've moved out to the San Francisco Bay Area. Not completely out of place, but still very strange, especially for me. All of my friends back home are born to hippies, you know, those ‘flower children’ of the Late Sixties—all the Grateful Dead and music of the Sixties you can possibly imagine. And then you get to my parents and like Sinatra and Dean Martin.”

“Wow.” She raised her eyebrows at that. “So—you pretty much grew up on a totally intellectual scale.”

“Yeah, I really did.” He shrugged at that. “I actually had a few people think I’m gay when I was in school, believe it or not.”

Sam chuckled. “Why? ‘Cause you’re smart?”

“Yeah! I’m more interested in expanding my horizons and my mind than my genitals. They were like 'yeah, that Skolnick kid, think he's a little gay boy' and I'm like, 'what, 'cause I like to read?'”

She giggled at that.

“How long have you been playing guitar?” she asked him.

“How long? 'Bout ten years at this point. I started when I was just shy of nine years old—properly taught, too. My teacher was like a children's folk musician. And I'm sure you know by now of my actual teacher, Joe Satriani.”

“Yeah, he taught Kirk.”

“And how. Him, me, and also another guy named Steve Vai—I dunno if you've heard of him or not, but he's just fantastic. I was one of the youngest ones in that class, too, like fourteen. Kirk was almost twenty at that point and Steve was twenty two. I was just this teenage kid who had just entered high school taking lessons from this mysterious, like godfather type character in the back room of this music store in Berkeley, where I'm from originally.”

“How'd your parents take all of it?”

“They did it kinda—I want to say reluctantly. Like they weren't, and still aren't, a little too keen about it.”

Sam tilted her head a bit at that. “So—they're not musical?”

He shook his head.

“Nah. They're collegiate professors who teach—social sciences. Not so much music.”

“Well, what about your brother?”

“He kinda is musical, like I got my first taste of bass guitar because of him. But he's not so much dedicated to it like I am.”

“So—you're bit of a lone wolf. Like the oddball.”

“Pretty much, yeah. Especially at this point in my life. I just want to make music and add something to the world, but—” He shrugged his shoulders. “—I'm pretty isolated with it all. You got your friends and the people who follow you when on tour, but I go home knowing my parents aren't sure of it all. I mean, don't me get wrong—they are supportive of it, but they're just—”

“Reluctant,” she filled in.

“Reluctant. Very much so.”

She pressed her hands to her hips at that: Dave's laughter in the next room caught her ear, but she was more fixed on this boy before her.

“I was wrong about you, Alex,” she confessed.

He shrugged again. “I’m just kind of a tough nut to crack us all,” he said. “Why do you think my parents called me ‘meshuggah’ when I was first starting out? They're like 'my kid's meshuggah!'”

“And Lars is right about one other thing,” she added.

“What's that?”

“It sounds like a good band name.”

“Meshuggah?”

“Yeah.”

“I agree.” He showed her a friendly little smile. “I was wrong about you, too, Samantha. Although—if I'm being perfectly honest, I'm still a little unsure of you. Just—out of caution and thinking about everything you've said to me so far. It's just—how I am and how I was raised, too. But this was a nice little insight to you, though.”

Charlie poked his head into the room right then.

“Oh, there you guys are,” he proclaimed. “Joey's got a little treat for us.”

“For what?” Alex asked him, baffled. Charlie never answered, but he did gesture for the two of them to follow him back out to the main room. Joey walked up to Dave, who took his white flying V guitar off of his shoulder and handed it right to him.

“There's no way I can leave behind Megadeth, to be perfectly honest,” he confessed with a shrug, “but there's something about this boy here.”

Sam turned back to Alex, who gaped at her.

“So he pushes me onto grass but he gets honors from Dave, what the hell?” he muttered, to which she shook her head.

“Yeah, I don't get that, either,” she confessed.

“I'm gonna try it out here,” Joey declared as he slung the guitar over his shoulder and he took the little royal blue pick out from in between the strings. His arched his back a little bit and lowered the guitar down towards his waist. He set his fingers on the strings; Sam looked over at Alex and the curious expression on his face. He slid his fingers up the fretboard a little bit and he strummed at the same time. He went faster and faster and it took her a moment to realize that he was playing that song “I Am the Law.”

“Wow,” Frank remarked; Joey nodded as he played along, and his long curled black hair sprawled down his chest.

“Could you play 'A Skeleton in the Closet'?” Dan asked him.

Joey moved his hand up towards the head and he strummed faster that time around. He moved up all the while with those bars.

“My god, he's fantastic,” Dan declared.

“It's what I get for watching him when I first auditioned,” Joey told him over the noise of the guitar.

“Think we found our new guitarist!” Frank said. “Right on, Joey.”

“I will also say this, though,” Charlie began, “Scott left behind a couple of lyrics for us. One for a song called 'Who Cares Wins' and another called 'Now It's Dark.' I might have to save these for later because we're still focused on Among the Living.”

[padfootagain]

Girl Crush (XXV)

Chapter 25: A Merry Sunflower

 Here we go with a new chapter! This is disgustingly sweet. Tooth-rotting fluff. Even I am feeling all giddy and sweet because of it. So read at your own risk, this is just too fluffy!!!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think about it!

Word Count: 2547

"That's an abuse of our friendship, plain and simple."

The way you rolled your eyes was almost audible, he didn't need to turn around to know about your gesture.

"Dramatic as always," you replied, dipping the brush inside the bucket full of this pale pink, almost white shade you had chosen for the doorframes of your shop.

"I should be writing my next album, and instead, I have been up since 5am for a week and painting all day!" Harry argued, gesturing around in the vague direction of the wall he had been painting, as if to prove his point. "My arm hurts so much…"

You let out a happy laugh.

"I'm not joking! It hurts," Harry replied, faking outrage, when it was hard for him to hide his smile.

Your laugh always made him feel happy and his heart grow all warm and soft. He tried not to feel this way, a little voice in his head pointing out that you weren't single, but he shushed it for now.

It was a happy and sunny day in L.A. You were painting your soon-to-be flower shop together, just the two of you, taking it slow and spending more time giggling and joking around than getting actual work done. And for a moment, Harry allowed himself to forget about this guy you were seeing, about the fact that his feelings for you had changed in a way that made him feel guilty. Instead, he pushed all his worries aside and decided that he would enjoy that day as much as he could, making sure to treasure every minute he would spend with you.

And so far, he had.

"I'm also starving," he pointed out, and as if to agree, your stomach made a weird noise that made both of you giggle.

"I have to agree for that one. Let's take a break. Pizza?"

"You've read my mind," he grinned, throwing the paint roller in his bucket and heading for the door already.

You had installed a little wooden table and a couple of chairs outside already, where you would soon be putting flowers and plants. The front of the building had been renovated as you had asked, and the sign above the door was to be finished the next week. The partially-painted letters already had a shape that was defined enough for the name of your future shop to be read.

Sunflower and Peonies.

Soon enough, the place would be full of them, and dozens of other kinds of colourful plants. Your dream was becoming reality, so much so that you could almost touch it.

For now though, Harry and you had taken the habit to eat lunch there, in the street, watching cars drive by and children running around. In the early afternoon, there weren't so many people around, most of them coming and going from or to the beach only a few streets away. You could almost hear the rush of the waves moving across the ocean, and the air smelt of salt and cloudless skies.

Harry went to pick up some pizza a few houses up the street, and came back just as you were opening some apple juice and filling up two glasses.

He had taken your favourite pizza, as always; had not needed to ask you for your order. He just knew you that well that it was a natural behaviour by now to order everything you liked most.

"You were complaining about staying away from the studio because of me, how is the writing going?" you asked, settling down around the table.

"It's going okay," he nodded with confidence. "We have a few good ones, I think. I can't wait for it to be over so you can hear it too."

"I can't wait to listen to it. But can't you give me a snippet, at least?"

He shook his head no, his mouth filled with food.

"Nope! Nothing! You will not hear anything before it's all ready and perfect."

"I'm your best friend!"

"I'm your best friend too, and you use me as free labour to renovate your shop, so don't give me that argument!"

You both exploded with laughter. The sun felt warm on your skin as you threw your head back with your laugh.

"It's not my shop yet. It's quite far from the big opening still," you reminded him, but he shook his head.

"You've come so far. It's a matter of a couple of months at the most. You're almost there, Y/N."

"I couldn’t have done it without you."

Your voice was earnest, but he shook his head.

"It's your baby, I have nothing to do with that. I mean… besides the handywork now."

"No, you're wrong. You've always made me believe in myself more than anybody else ever has. You're the one who lifted me up whenever I doubted myself. I reckon that I would have given up a long time ago if you hadn't been there to make sure to keep me on the right path."

He gave you a tender smile.

"I wouldn't be where I am today without you either, you know? You've kept me on track too."

He raised his glass full of apple juice to toast.

"I guess we're just an amazing pair of friends," you laughed.

"I guess."

Your glasses made a little 'cling' sound as they met, and you both drank a gulp of the fresh beverage while a bunch of surfers were walking before the store.

Harry leaned back in his chair, his old Rolling Stone t-shirt stained with dots of white paint hugging his torso a little too tightly. He stretched his long legs and brushed his brown strands out of his face. And the sight of him relaxing by your side made a smile creep up on your lips without you even noticing your own gesture.

"How many songs do you have ready for the album?" you asked, taking another slice of pizza.

"Not enough," he laughed.

"Come on, you can at least give me the name of one of them. Come on! Or who the songs are about! Harryyy!" you whined, making these puppy eyes that you knew he could never resist to.

But he mercilessly shook his head. Or at least, that's what he wanted you to believe. In reality, his will was slowly breaking.

"You're so cruel! You know everything about my project and I know nothing about yours! Come on, tell me one thing!"

He stared at you and he really, really tried his hardest to not reveal anything. But your eyes were so bright in the warm sunshine, and you looked so… perfect. Carefree. For once, you didn't seem worried about anything. You just seemed… happy. And he couldn't say no to you and take the risk to make your mood get a little less merry. So, he heaved a sigh, giving up.

"I… wrote one about you last night," he admitted.

You raised a surprised eyebrow.

"About… me?"

"Don't act so surprised."

"I am surprised! No one's ever done this for me before."

"I've never said it was the first song I wrote about you," he replied with a frown.

You looked at him with wide-eyes.

"Really? You have? Which ones?"

He suddenly realized that it might not have been the best idea he ever had to mention that he had been writing love songs about his best friend for a long time…

"I mean… you're my best friend. I take inspiration in things you do and things that you are and… like in a lot of other things," he replied, trying to sound more casual than the situation truly was.

"So… just… not really about me just… situations we were in?"

"Umm… sometimes."

"What is it called?"

"Hmm?"

"The song you wrote last night about me, what is it called?"

He couldn't refrain a tender smile.

"Sunflower vol.6."

You grinned, looking up at the name of your future store.

"What is it about?"

You. It's about you and what I wish we could have. Kisses in the kitchen and bright flowers all around…

"It's about… I don't know. I just went home from your shop last night – after you've made me work all day long – and I wrote it. So… I guess it's about you."

"I can't wait to listen to it," you grinned.

Your smile was so bright, Harry was certain that it could outshine even the Californian sun.

The pizza was gone by now, and you took a moment to merely enjoy the warm beginning of the afternoon. A comfortable silence settled around the two of you, like a large cocoon.

Your hands on the table were mere inches away, and it seemed that they had been slowly drifting towards each other for the past few minutes. When you realized how close your fingers were from his, your first instinct was to reach out to touch them. Harry had taken his rings off to paint, and for once his fingers rested bare on the wooden surface. The cross tattooed on his hand was bathed in sunlight.

But just as you were about to reach out, you thought better of it. All of a sudden, the simple gesture made you feel… guilty.

Why though? He was your best friend, had been for years. It wouldn't mean anything to hold hands. Why was your heart rushing at the thought of intertwining your fingers with his, then?

"We should go back to work, or you'll complain that I make you go home too late again," you said, standing up too fast making your head spin, your feelings a little overwhelming all of a sudden.

He dramatically moaned, throwing himself across the table and grabbing the edge.

"Noooooo!" he whined, almost like a little child. "I don't wanna!"

You couldn't help but laugh.

"Come on, drama queen! The sooner we go back to it, the sooner we'll be done with it."

"Noooooo!"

You stood by his side, and tickled that one spot on the side of his ribs that never failed to torture him, and he burst into laughter at the first contact, jumping away from you and crossing his arms to protect himself.

"That's so unfair!" he protested, narrowing his eyes at you, which wasn't really convincing considering the bright grin plastered on his face.

The sight of his dimples made your own lips curve into a smile on their own accord.

"Come on! Back to work!"

"You are so cruel. And so bossy! Since when are you bossy like that?"

"Since I'm about to become an actual boss! I'm my own boss now! An entrepreneur!"

Harry opened the door for you, and bowed down before you, making you laugh.

"After you, then, my lady!"

You cleaned up the table outside, and were soon back at painting. You were working next to each other, Harry painting the wall and you decorating the window frame with a pastel shade of blue.

But there wasn't so much done on Harry's part. Because instead of painting, he kept on being distracted by how the sun, coming in through the window, illuminated your features. How it made your eyes glimmer, and it seemed to embrace the shape of your lips, and for a moment, Harry was jealous of even the sun.

He shook himself when he reckoned he had spent too long studying the way you slightly frowned as you focused on the task at hand.

But he figured that you were too serious. Way too serious in such a sunny and happy afternoon. So, he dipped his brush in the bucket of paint again, and drew a line on your arm, making you jump.

"What the hell are you doing?!" you squealed, moving your arm away.

But Harry didn't reply. Instead, he approached the brush again, slowly, with mischief painted all over his features from his sparkling green eyes to the smirk on his lips.

"Don't you dare!" you warned him, trying to sound serious, but a smile started to make its way across your face too. "Harry, don't you fucking dare!"

The next second he was jumping forward and putting paint all over your cheek. And of course, you retaliated, and you were both laughing and crying and struggling to keep the other at bay.

Which one of you tripped and pulled the other to the ground? You didn't know, but you both found yourselves on the floor all the same, still painting all over each other, still laughing so hard that your tummies ached and tears wet your eyelashes.

"Stop! Stop, please! Stop!" you begged as you tried to crawl away from Harry. "Stop! I give up! You win!"

"I win?"

"You win! Harry, stop! I can't breathe!"

He finally released you, putting his weapon away, and he lied down by your side on the cool floor.

It took the two of you a while to catch your breaths. When you turned to him, Harry had a large blue line running across his nose, left cheek and neck. He also had paint in his hair, and all over his arms and hands. His t-shirt was a mess too. You looked just as messy and happy as he did.

You took a moment to look at him. To let your gaze linger on the veins running up the side of his neck, and the way his hair fell all over the place, and the curve of his eyelashes, and the strong angle of his jawline. Until he turned to you as well, trapping your soul in his green eyes.

And you wished that you could look away but you couldn't. He was grinning at you, and you grinned back, because you couldn't do anything else. You couldn't do anything against his stupid dimples, and the ridiculous paint over his nose. His smiles always made you want to copy them.

And all of a sudden, as you were simply staring at him like this, all covered in paint in the empty room you had yet to turn into the shop you dreamt of, you realized that there was no one you would want more to be with you then. You were building your dream, watching it come alive, and there was no one you would rather have by your side to make it come true.

But you were with Gareth, you said you loved him, shouldn't you have wanted him to be there with you instead of Harry?

Maybe you should have. And yet, it wasn't the truth.

Harry was by your side as the most important part of your life unfolded, and it was all that mattered to you.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"You're never going to leave me behind, right?"

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close.

"Of course not. Where would I want to go without you anyway?"

"I don't know… ahead?"

But he shook his head, staring at you as he made a promise he knew he could never break.

"I'll always be here for you, Y/N."

You exchanged a bright smile.

"I'll always be here for you too, Harry. You know?"

"I mean… you're my best friend. It's in the job requirement."

On the brushes all around the room, the paint dried to the sound of your laughter.

************************************************

Taglist :  @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet@notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky@snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity@i-padfootblack-things  @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi@jigsawlover10 @emyyjemyy @addictedtofictionalcharacters @staringmoony@madamrogers @cronias13 @stylesfics-xx @mellamolayla @mariaenchanted​

[luciferpens]

Nightshade || Harleen

What: Harley and Eve run into one another at Nightshade. Its awkward. Where: Nightshade When: August 14, 2020 Mentioned: Ivy, Vera, Rue, Remi TW: hinted at rape  @icarialex

Even though she wasn’t usually someone who went out with coworkers, she couldn’t keep turning people down. So, that was how Harley wound up heading to Nightshade after her shift with two of the other nurses from her department. The blonde didn’t really plan on doing much beyond having a few drinks and a good time, but that went out the window the moment her eyes landed on Eve. The scene that danced before her was one she’d seen so many times before as the writer flirted with a woman. When brown eyes met her blue, Harley wanted to curse herself for how wounded she most likely looked. Instead, she diverted her gaze and immediately ordered a shot of gin at the bar. The nurse wished she could walk up to Eve and explain that the feeling she had coursing through her right then was why she didn’t talk to the woman, but she wasn’t that person. She couldn’t walk up to her best friend being petty and mean just because she was hurt. No, it would be easier to just ignore the situation all together. Just spend two or so hours with her coworkers so they were happy and leave was the best course of action. 

After the first shot though, Harley switched to a gin and tonic. Getting drunk on top of being upset was definitely not a good combination. Causing an earthquake was never high on her list of priorities which was why she tried to stay as in control of her emotions as possible. She managed to have some sense of willpower as she sat at one of the high chairs that kept her back towards Eve’s direction. It kept her from turning around to see what she knew was looks of panic, confusion, and sadness. Harley didn’t want to comfort Eve right then because she knew deep down that talking to the woman was a bad idea. Her best friend never did feelings and coping by partying was what Eveleen did. So, the blonde did her best to laugh and joke as she was known to do as time slowly ticked by. Eventually, the drinks and water caught up with her which led to Harley entering the bathroom. As she exited the stall though she caught familiar brown eyes in the reflection of the bathroom mirror by the sinks. Knowing she couldn’t just ignore the woman as they were in such close quarters together, Harley greeted with a, ”Hi,” as she approached the faucet herself. Although, she didn’t know just what else she should say.

---

Nightshade had become Eve’s favorite spot on the isle, with her sister working as a DJ there, her ex-girlfriend owning it… it felt a bit like home, a bit like safety and normalcy. Eve used the place to unwind, to relax and get her fix. She wondered the dance floor flirting up a storm, using her powers to cause a more ecstasy on the dance floor. And that was exactly what she was doing, leaning against poll chatting up with a man a smirk on her face as she lightly brushed his arm, sending a wave of excitement through him and those around her. But as she pulled her hand away, her eyes drifted to blue ones that belonged to Harley. Her heart jumped into her throat and she froze in place. Harley looked so hurt and upset by her presence there, by what she was doing. She had started to open her mouth as if to say wait when Harley turned her attention away and ordered a drink. She saw the woman turn her attention back to two other women that she came with and pursed her lips eyebrows shooting upwards. Fine. . Eveleen would do the same; she started to flirt with more people to send more of an excited, curious and energetic wave out. It influenced those around her to drink more, to crave more wine, more excitement. That distracted her from the fact that Harley was around the club, enjoying herself as well. She finally decided to truly let loose and start dancing. She drank, she danced and then -- she realizied the bathroom was calling her name. . She had just exited a stall and was pausing at mirror after washing her hands to reapply her lipstick. She was leaning forward, adding red lipstick back on when she saw Harley in the reflection. Eve took in a long breath and then slowly let it out. “Hey…” she said letting her voice trail off as she slowly lowered her lipstick to the sink countertop and watched Harley through the mirror. “You look cute tonight.”

---

Harley looked down at her outfit and shrugged a little bit. Out of the two of them she was the one that cared less about what she threw on. As long as the colors didn’t scream in contrast too much she was good. That evening she was standing in front of Eve in tight red pants and a navy dress with a retro leather jacket thrown over it. Everything was tight enough that it gave a good view of her body, and the vest even showed a little midriff too. Still, the fact that it went together so well was more luck than anything else since she’d picked it all when she was half asleep before her fourteen hour shift. ”I can’t take credit. I’m pretty sure my eyes were half closed when I grabbed these clothes and tossed them into my duffle with some heels last night. Only reason I’m standing in front of you instead of napping in some corner is because I caught some shut eye in an on call room before being dragged out tonight.”  She had no idea how her colleagues had so much energy. Well, that was until she remembered that she was the only one on call for emergency surgery the night before, so they all had a more reasonable amount of sleep. 

Talking about work was easier than dealing with the things that were being left unsaid between the two of them. Harley wanted to kick herself for not remembering that a spot like Nightshade would be the woman’s stomping grounds. Walking into the only dance club on the isle while the writer was trying to sort through her emotions was like asking to be punched in the face with flirtations and debauchery. ”You don’t look so bad yourself though, but that stopped surprising me a long time ago,” she managed to say back with a small smile. The nurse didn’t understand why the urge to add as many people in the club are appreciating, to that sentence was so strong. She’d had feelings for Eve for ages and seen what she saw when she first walked into the club a million times. The only difference was that she’d been asked to put those feelings out into the universe, and that was stupid. Harley moved to grab some paper towels to dry her hands which also provided some distance between herself and the other woman. ”I’m probably going to be heading out soon,” she said with a sigh at both herself and the situation. Not knowing what to say to Eve was definitely new, frustrating territory. Harley was usually the queen of adding laughter to awkward situations, but there she was letting the tension continue to rise as uncertain blue eyes stared into brown. At least she managed to keep eye contact. She’d take the small win.

---

Eve rolled her eyes at Harley’s dismissal of her compliment, “Well even half closed and half dead before your shift you’ve apparently retained some of what I taught you back in L.A.” she said letting a smile slip over her lips. “Though, we’ll have to get you a new belt.” she said, shaking her head at the simplicity of the belt the woman was wearing. Eve was almost tempted to take off her Gucci belt and wrap it around the other woman but decided against it for fear of it all being a bit awkward. Plus the time it would take to unlace from the black sequined miniskirt she was wearing would be a pain in the ass. “And, you need lipstick.” she said, wiggling the lipstick tube she had in her hand around, it was the same shade of red as Harley’s pants. She smirked, and like she had hundreds of times before, back when they lived in L.A. she reached forward and took Harley’s head into her hand and quickly swiped on some lipstick to the girl’s lips before letting her go and returning to where she had been a second before.  “Better.” she said with a little shrug. 

“I’m guessing they dragged you out despite your protests of being a bit sleepy still?” she asked, realizing that the people she had seen Harley with earlier must have been some of her coworkers. Or at least some of them were for sure. Unless they just abandoned her, in which case she’d have to go yell at someone. After a second she shut down the thoughts she had of misplaced annoyance towards Harley’s coworkers. She knew the isle was… well actually, no, the isle wasn’t truly safe enough to walk around by yourself anymore. At least if the police order she had read was anything to go off of. Her roommate was just outside waiting for her to come back so they could go dance once more. She glanced to the other closed bathroom stall door and paused for a moment before turning her attention back to Harley.  “Ah -- thanks” she smiled. Her top was multi-layered; a black off the shoulder, almost tulle like fabric was covered in black polka dots with large bishop sleeves resting over a black tube top. She layered three necklaces over it and added some black heels to complete the whole look. “Don’t leave on account of me,” She added a second later as she slipped the lipstick into her bra, hiding it away. “You’ve not been here very long -- and you really shouldn’t be by yourself with -- all thats happened lately.”

---

”It’s hard to forget anything involving you,” Harley said honestly. There was one moment in particular she’d tried so hard to forget. The kiss Eve had given her when she was drunk off her ass was what she’d been trying to scrub away from her brain. There was no point in holding the memory when the other participant had zero knowledge of it having happened. She smiled and shook her head slightly at her best friend. Harley had learned long ago that there was always something Eve would tinker in her outfits. It wasn’t something she ever took personally. The lipstick did shock her a bit, but she fortunately kept it off her face. It was something they’d done so often, and yet, now that feelings had been thrown out there things were different. That was also why she didn’t want to say anything. Feelings made the air between them shift, and every time she saw the woman she was left wondering if anything that she felt was reciprocated. ”Thanks,” she said with a smile. 

Changing the topic to her knucklehead coworkers was much appreciated. Harley groaned and nodded her head. ”I’m often on call because I’m the lead anesthetic work, and I’m needed for any surgeries that happen in pediatrics. So, that can make for funky hours. Still, I’ve put this off long enough that I would have been carried here if I said no again anyways.” Going voluntarily seemed like the much better option. Fortunately, Harley could sleep in the following day since she was off. Her bed was calling her name. Although, knowing her she wouldn’t stay in it for long. Surfing in the morning was her favorite way to start the day. While Harley wished she could stay in spite of Eve being there, she knew it was best for her to go home. ”Really, it’s okay. I’m tired anyway, and I really don’t think I can handle seeing you flirt anymore tonight. You’re single and should if that’s what you want to do obviously. I have no say in that, but I know I should probably head out.” Nightshade could be Eve’s turf to do what she needed to do. That was something she could live with. It wasn’t like hitting the club and partying was something she did often. ”I can text you when I get home if you want. Or you can come with me if you’re going to worry too much,” Harley said with a shrug. She didn’t know how much Eve wanted to party, and the nurse’s mind was obviously a mess. Things were awkward but she still wanted to spend more time with Eve? Love was stupid.

---

Eve swallowed hard as Harley spoke; being confronted with feelings, hell even the idea of feelings made Eve squirm. After all that had happened to her, she couldn’t bring herself to be comfortable in a relationship, couldn’t really bring herself to be comfortable with feelings, deep feelings really. But when she saw Harley smile she returned it and nodded her head. “Any time,” she said with a shrug and cleared her throat. “You’re the lead?” She said her eyebrows shooting up, “I shouldn’t be surprised, of course, you are. I’m glad they’re forcing you to have some fun time instead of locking yourself in the house all the time.” she had been the one to force that back in L.A. and knowing that the woman had friends looking out for her, had people willing to make her go out and relax a bit.

Pursing her lips and frowning she nodded her head. Harley wasn’t wrong  but she disliked how this was all headed. She didn’t like how the only thing that seemed to be calming her down was partying; it distracted her, it allowed her to forget what was eating at her soul. And the admission of feelings -- well a good party was the perfect distraction. She glanced to the door, the idea of getting back into the party, but then back to Harley and shrugged her shoulders. It was Harley, she couldn’t pretend she didn’t want to hang out and see her friend. “Come with you?” she asked eyebrows shooting upwards, “I mean, at a bare minimum I want to make sure you get home safe.” She said with a shrug, “I can walk you home.” she added a second later. Its not like Harley could live that far, the isle wasn’t that huge.

---

Eve had been there through it all in the blonde’s education. She’d seen the long nights studying, reminded Harley to eat, and even kept food warm for her when she started her clinical hours which were always crazy. So, being able to tell the woman that she’d done well in her career was nice. Sharing the little things, because honestly to Harley work was such a little thing in life, was one of the many things she’d missed in their friendship. ”Head anesthetic nurse I think is the professional title, but whatever, same thing. I’m just happy I get paid to comfort kids while acting like a big one myself,” she said with a giant smile. It was the best part of her job. Surgery was always a scary thing, but to kids it could be terrifying, so it was nice that she was able to bring smiles to their faces by acting like a dork whenever possible. ”Yeah, I have a few people that stop me from being just a beach head and homebody. Don’t you worry. Plus, with you here, I’m sure I’ll get all my socializing in for sure.” 

Blue eyes caught the glimpse towards the door and sighed. Harley was always a pretty observant and emotionally intelligent person. Growing up with a woman who suffered from Bipolar Disorder made her accustomed to noticing little changes in behavior which carried on into her adult life. ”This is why I didn’t want to tell you about my feelings. You asked why I didn’t tell you, and this is a perfect example,” she said calmly. There was no anger or resentment in her words, but rather acceptance of how things would go. ”The only thing worse than having your feelings rejected is seeing them make someone else uncomfortable or unsure of things. I know partying is your default coping mechanism. So, if you’re not ready to deal with this yet or me, you can go back out there. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll ask one of my coworkers to walk me home so you don’t have to.” Harley didn’t want to make Eve feel out of sorts. The only thing she’d ever wanted to do was make the woman happy. Right then, she honestly didn’t know what was the right thing to do, but she didn’t want them to be forced together when Eve was still trying to wrap her head around things.

---

“Head anesthetic nurse.” Eve repeated, “A giant child taking care of other children.” she shook her head and let out a long sigh. How she could always be so childlike -- even at work amazed the writer. Eve had to much going on in life, too much chaos and expectations from her mother. It was either full throttle work which meant seriousness or a needed release of power and then a crash, which meant a party. Childlike wonder and playfulness -- that wasn’t really a thing for her. But maybe now -- maybe being on the isle meant she’d get some of that time. “I’m glad there are others up your butt and making you relax a little. And yes, you will for sure get more socialization with me being around… even if its a little weird.” she said deciding to just call out their awkwardness for what it was. 

Eveleen clenched her jaw a bit as she spoke and let her eyes dart around Harley’s face, taking in all the little details, all the little expressions that crossed her face as they spoke. “Because a couple of days of me needing to get my head on straight?” she asked eyebrows shooting up, “You know if we had had this conversation years ago we wouldn’t be in such an odd situation right now.” she sighed. “I’m not rejecting your feelings -- there’s just…” she let out an even longer sigh, “There’s just a lot going on in here --” she tapped at her temple. “A lot I have to -- get over, to accept and move on from before I can be in a good enough place to ever… be that sort of thing for someone.” she said putting extra emphasis on the word, not able to even bring herself to say girlfriend or relationship as she tapped her own chest. She leaned against the wall she was about to open her mouth to say more when two more women walked into the bathroom laughing up a storm. She waited as the two women stumbled into the bathroom stalls, still talking before she looked back to Harley.

---

Hearing Eve’s words made the blonde smile brightly. That was the best part of her job after all. ”Who better to relate to them than someone who can really get on their level?” While the blonde didn’t really have a normal childhood and had to grow up much faster than most, she still could easily access the part of her brain that held the memories of all the things she wanted to do. Perhaps they were at the forefront of her mind so much because she never got to do them, but she didn’t really dwell on it all too much. Harley was happy she was able to turn what many would see as a sad story of her life into something positive. At the mention of them being awkward, Harley shrugged her shoulders. ”This will blow over eventually. You’ll forget about it before you know it and be wanting cuddles from me in no time.” Honestly, Eve had forgotten much bigger things between them before, so Harley was sure it would be fine. There was a decent amount of alcohol and some weed combined in the last time, but still, she firmly believed they’d be fine. Putting her feelings in a Pandora’s box would have to work eventually.

Harley rolled her eyes affectionately at the woman because honestly, she couldn’t ever be really mad at Eve. Well, at least it hadn’t happened yet. ”No, not because you need a few days but because you don’t do this. You haven’t done feelings in forever, and I knew that. I knew it better than anyone. So, me telling you even a fraction of how I feel about you would make things awkward and just be uncomfortable for us both.” The idea that having the conversation years ago would have made things better made her arch an eyebrow. ”Can you honestly look me in the eye and say that three years ago that if I’d told you I wanted to be with you that it would have gone well? We were younger, and you were someone who was still dealing with a past relationship and loved partying. You haven’t wanted to be with anyone since Chester.” Harley listened to the rest of her best friend’s explanation and was even given a pause to digest it all due to people entering the bathroom. Once they were out of sight, all the nurse could do was nod her head because she did understand. ”I didn’t say you were rejecting them. I just said the only thing worse was seeing your feelings for someone make them uncomfortable. Being the person to make you feel so unsure and out of whack isn’t something I ever wanted to be. So, I can just get someone to walk me home. You can stay and party things out of your system until you’re ready to talk to me sometime.” One thing Eve had going for her was that she was dealing with someone that had seen how she coped before, so that saved time with explanations.

---

A small lift of her shoulders and a nod of her head was the easiest response. Because really — it was always easier to work with kids if you could relate to them and act like them. No one was better at that then the blonde before her. But at the mention of forgetting about it she furrowed her brow and pulled her head back slightly “Forget about it?” she asked almost insulted “I’m not gonna forget about what you said.” she muttered followed by a scoff and a long breath out. She shook her head again, sure she was a bit lose, but she wasn’t anywhere near the point of forgetting things. That would require weed and something harder to get to that point. And as far as she knew — only weed was readily available in this club. “What makes you think I’m going to forget about the fact that you told me you had feelings for me? I was sober then, and while I may not be totally sober now that doesn’t mean I’m going to forget it or just — let it go.” 

She crossed her arms over her chest and listened quietly to Harley as she spoke a small shiver ran down her spine at the mention of it being a fraction of what she felt and set her mind racing. Eve was lot in that thought, lost in what it meant to have someone feel something for her beyond the want to party or lust when she heard that name. It felt like a hand gripped around her heart forcing her mind and body to freeze in place. Her breathing hitched and she just stared. Her eyes glazing over at the mention of his name. To some, her reaction would look like overwhelming sadness over the loss of love; to anyone who knew her then they might think she was sad over his death; to her therapist? To Ivy? They’d recognize the fear and know she needed to do something to change the subject before her mind spiraled down. She couldn’t have been more thankful for the sound of a toilet flushing and the door opening again in her life. The slight distraction allowed her to try and recollect herself. She couldn’t, wouldn’t answer that question because it would be painful and be to close to a subject she wasn’t ready to talk about yet. “Understand.” she said her voice colder than she meant it, but being reminded of him? Well that usually shut her down more than she realized, “I -- Um -- My friend Remi is probably nearby if you need someone to walk you home. Oh, and Rue is for sure here, she would be happy to walk you.” She said as Vera poked her head into the bathroom and raised an eyebrow “You good?” she heard and Eve nodded, “Yeah one sec V.”

---

Life was a cruel mistress. That was Harley’s conclusion because there she was with the girl she’d had feelings for longer than she cared to admit asking her a question that was hard not to laugh at. What made her think Eve would forget? Well, that was a loaded question, but it all went back to what happened right before she left California. How could she tell her best friend that she hadn’t remembered the amazing make out session they had partaken in? There wasn’t a way without the conversation turning much more complicated. Plus, she doubted that would help their current situation any. ”I don’t know. People forget hook ups and stuff all the time on nights like these. Plus, I just don’t want to make things difficult. I want you happy not stressed out,” she replied with a shrug of her shoulders. That didn’t mean she could resist the urge of slipping a small hint of it in there. .

Everything was fine until it wasn’t. It all gave the blonde a bit of whiplash when she suddenly heard a tone from Eve that had never been aimed at her before. Harley hated Nightshade. The last time she’d been there she’d thought she saw Eve in the club, and now she was actually fighting or something not pleasant with the woman. Hurt appeared in blue eyes as Harley’s body language shifted and shrunk away slightly from the woman before her. Not able to really find her words yet, Harley just shook her head and shoved her hands in her jacket’s pockets. ”I’ll be alright. I’ll get someone to walk me,” she said with a quieter voice than before which she honestly didn’t know if it could be heard over the music. Even when they’d fought about her distancing herself from her friendship, the blonde hadn’t received the tone she’d just gotten. Hell, Eve was hitting on her for crying out loud even when angry. Now, things seemed to be messed up and just confusing. ”Text me if you need me, but it looks like you’ve got that covered with people,” she said with as much of a smile as she could muster as she moved to exit the bathroom.

---

She noted the mention of a hookup and stuff like this and filed it away to examine later when her mind wasn’t playing cruel tricks on her. “Harley, you told me all of that a couple of days ago, before a night like this.” she said staring the blonde down her voice was still cold, still distant, she was lost in her own head and the memories that were intruding into her perfectly normal day. “I’ll stop being stressed out when people stop bringing up Chester to me.” she added a second later feeling a shiver run down her spine, almost as if he was touching her back and pushing her forward. She swallowed hard and wanted nothing more than to go outside and get a breath of fresh air. Something away from the heat of all the bodies dancing and the smell of a bathroom, even if it was clean. 

Eve knew she was being cold, knew that Harley was freaked out by it all, and if she had control over her emotions right the she’d comfort the other, tell her its not her fault but memories and fear were roiling in her and she couldn’t seem to calm her body down.  She just nodded her head as Vera moved into the bathroom and started to rub Eve’s back trying to calm the woman down. Eve glanced over her shoulder as Harley left and then let out a long breath before saying “I need air V. Can we go outside?” and with a nod from the other woman, they vanished into thin air.

[trashcanmarvelfan]

Second Chances - A Benverly Post- IT: Chapter Two Fanfic

Summary: After everything is over, Ben finally asks Beverly about the bruises he noticed on her arm the night they arrived back in town.

Warnings: 2 uses of the F-bomb (if you've seen the movie you guys know Richie has a mouth like a sailor so that's not too bad, all things considering) and non-graphic allusions to spousal abuse. Bonus Reddie feels, although Eddie is still dead, guys.

Word Count: 2100-ish.

Author’s Note: I wish we would've gotten more sweet Benverly togetherness in Chapter Two, but that's what fanfic is for, right? Whipped this up, gave it a read-thru, and here you guys are. Enjoy.

CROSS-POSTED ON AO3 (Coming soon).

Ben Hanscom stood in a small circle with his childhood friends inside the underground clubhouse he had built during the summer they had all met, the summer that had been both of one of the best & one of the worst summers of Ben's life-- although he hadn't known it at the time. He had met Bev, Bill, Richie, Mike, Stan, and Eddie, who along with Ben collectively formed the Losers Club. During that summer Ben had also battled an evil demonic clown, wrote the first-- and last-- love poem he had ever anonymously sent someone, and had his first kiss (well, sorta). Unfortunately for Ben the person with whom he shared his first kiss was, at the time, incapacitated due to said evil demonic clown, and the poem was incorrectly attributed to someone else.

The Losers had scattered after that summer. Bev had gone to live with relatives out of state, Eddie had been dragged off to a new town by his mom, and eventually the rest of the Losers moved off as well, forgetting about Derry, that summer… and each other.

All except for Mike. He had stayed, and when It had resurfaced 27 years later, he had gathered the Losers Club to fight It again, this time defeating It for good. However, defeating It had come with a price. This time, Stan hadn't made it back to Derry and Eddie hadn't made it to the end.

Ben glanced around the circle. Each of his fellow remaining Losers were, like him, puffy-eyed and tear-streaked. They had agreed to meet one last time on their way out of town -- Bill was heading back west with the new, 'happier' ending for the film that was being made out of one of his books.  Mike had decided since It was really and truly gone that he was moving on to Florida. Richie was heading back to L.A. Beverly… Actually Ben didn't know exactly what Beverly's plans were. He knew she needed to go back to Chicago to 'wrap up some loose ends' but had no idea what her plans were beyond that.

It had taken 27 years, but Bev had finally figured out that Ben was the one who had written her the poem. Besides that underwater kiss at the Quarry though they hadn't discussed the poem or the fact that Ben had carried around the yearbook page that Beverly had signed in his wallet.

The Losers were currently holding an impromptu memorial service for Stan and Eddie before going their separate ways, and each had shared a memory about Stan and Eddie, respectively.  Ben had gone first, then Mike, then Bill and Beverly, until finally it was Richie's turn as the last Loser to share. Ben listened with a chuckle as Richie reminisced about Stan's bar mitzvah, when Stan had basically told all of the adults in the congregation to go fuck themselves, and now he was about to say something about Eddie. Richie sniffled. "I have to tell you guys something."

The rest of the Losers waited patiently.

Richie took a deep breath. "I'm gay, and when we were kids I was in love with Eddie. I was head-over-heels in love with him, and I never got a chance to tell him before he moved away. Then we came back here and all my old feelings for him came rushing back like I was 13 again."

Ben placed a hand on Richie's shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze. He could relate--well, not the being gay part, but being in love with someone and not directly getting to tell them how he felt before it was too late. Fortunately for Ben, however, he had a second chance.

January embers

He quickly glanced over at Beverly, who was watching Richie speak with fresh tears in her eyes.

"He saved us," Richie continued. "Telling us about choking the leper and making it small… if it hadn't been for him then none of us would've made it out. But Eddie deserved to make it out too. He deserved to live..." He broke down into sobs. 

Ben and Beverly both moved to wrap Richie in a hug as he cried, and Mike and Bill placed encouraging hands on his back. 

When Richie seemed to have calmed down somewhat, Ben asked, "You ok, man?"

Richie nodded. "Eddie should've been here celebrating with the rest of us. I never got a chance to tell him how I felt before he died, but I figure if I at least tell our best friends, it'll make not getting to tell him hurt just a little bit less."

He sighed. "Life is short -- I missed my chance with Eddie, but don't you guys pass up the opportunity to tell the ones you love how you feel."

With one final sniffle he wiped his eyes. "I made all those jokes about banging Eddie's mom when we were kids when really all I wanted to do was bang Eddie," he joked.

Ben couldn't help but smile.

Bill's phone went off with an alert. "Shoot, guys. I hate to cut this short but Richie and I have a flight back to L.A. in an hour."

"I should probably get going too," Mike added.

Ben and the rest of the Losers gave them each a brief hug. "We'll stay in touch this time," Bill promised as he gave Beverly a hug, and Ben couldn't help but feel a tiny pang of jealousy before chastising himself. Bill is your friend, you ass. What he and Beverly had ended long ago. Besides, Bill is happily married.  Beverly was married too, but from what Ben had gathered he suspected it wasn't too happily.

He watched as Bill and Mike climbed up the ladder to the surface, followed soon by Richie. As Richie's footsteps faded, Ben could hear Beverly say, "I think he knew."

He turned to her. "What?"

Beverly gestured toward the ladder. "Eddie. I think he knew how Richie felt about him, and I think he felt the same way about Richie." She sighed. "They would've been happy together."

Ben nodded. "Yeah, I could see it too between them. The way they would look at each other when they thought the other one wasn't looking." That hit a little too close to home, he thought.

He cleared his throat before changing the subject. "Hey, can I ask you about something? Something personal. And it's ok if you don't want to talk about it, but…" he trailed off.

Beverly nodded and took a seat on the bench that Ben had made their sophomore year of high school, after Beverly had left and Ben started getting more into architecture in order to keep his mind occupied. She patted the spot next to her.

Ben took a seat and was silent for a few moments while he collected his thoughts. How do I go about this? 

Finally, he decided that the direct approach would probably be best. "When we got here… back to Derry, I mean… I noticed bruises on your arm at dinner. Then when you flinched away from me… Is everything ok, Bev?"

Beverly paled and wouldn't make eye contact with Ben, instead choosing to look at the floor. "Tom… my husband… he wasn't very happy that I was leaving so suddenly," she explained. "We-- we got into a fight, and he-- he--" she broke off.

Ben stiffened. "Was that the first time?"

"No," Beverly whispered, then started crying. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Hey," Ben said gently, slowly reaching for Bev and giving her plenty of time to back away. Instead of rejecting his offer of comfort, however, Beverly leaned into Ben's embrace, allowing him to wrap his arms around her as her body wracked with sobs. "There's absolutely no need to apologize for anything. None of anything that you have gone through is your fault, okay? None of it. Not the shit we went through with Pennywise, or anything your dad or your husband put you through. You hear me? None of it was your fault and you have every right to be upset." Ben stroked Bev's hair soothingly as he held her. "You're safe with me, Bev. You're safe. I swear on my life that as long as I am breathing no one will ever harm you again." 

Beverly hiccuped. "Thank you," she whispered, tightening her hold on Ben. "Thank you." She sniffled and leaned back to look at him face-to-face.

When they were kids Ben had thought that Beverly was a beautiful girl; now he thought that she was a beautiful woman. He wiped the tears from her face with his thumbs, letting his hands gently rest on her cheeks. "You deserve all the happiness in the world," he said, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Beverly reached up to wrap her hands around Ben's. "I should have realized all those years ago that you were the one who wrote me the poem."

Ben tilted his head to the side. "How do you figure?"

Beverly smirked. "Bill's a great writer but he's no poet, Eddie and Richie were too busy arguing and making moony eyes at each other to be interested in anyone else, Stan probably either would've been too nervous to leave the note or would've 'fessed up almost immediately, and Mike was just trying to survive the summer-- I don't think he even thought of me as a girl at the time." She paused. "But you… you saw me, didn't you? You've always seen me. Your hair is winter fire," she recited. "January embers."

"My heart burns there too," Ben finished. "Still does. Always has in fact, although I didn't always quite remember why I was carrying around a yearbook page with only one signature on it."

Beverly smiled. "It's ok, New Kid," she said, then the next thing Ben knew Beverly was kissing him.

Their second (okay, technically third) kiss was even better than their first (okay, second). Considering the fact that Beverly was still in the Deadlights' thrall and wasn't even conscious for the first one as kids, Ben figured that shouldn't even count. Their first kiss as adults, shared under the dirty water of the quarry, paled in comparison to the feel of Beverly's lips on his own at that moment.

For a split second Ben thought maybe this was all another Pennywise-induced hallucination, then had the brief notion that maybe he had died in the battle and somehow made it to heaven instead of whatever hellscape Pennywise inhabited.

He realized it was neither when Beverly ran her fingers through his hair and gave it a slight tug, making him moan.

"Jesus, Bev," he muttered, pulling her into his lap and seeking permission to deepen the kiss.

Suddenly they heard a voice:

"It's about fuckin' time!"

They whipped their heads around to see Richie, Bill, and Mike, all watching them with shit-eating grins on their faces.

"What are you guys doing back here?" Ben asked as Bev giggled and buried her face in his neck.

Richie gestured to a now-blushing Bill. "Billy here forgot his wallet, so we came back down to get it. Didn't know we were gonna get a show as well."

"Beep beep, Richie," Bill said.

Richie ignored him. "So this is finally happening, huh? You two gonna ride off into the sunset together?"

Ben shrugged then looked at Bev, who was biting her kiss-swollen bottom lip to keep from laughing. "The man's got a point... What do you say? Come to Nebraska with me?"

Bev seemed to consider it for a few moments."I have a few things to take care of in Chicago first, so would you mind stopping off there on the way?"

"Bev, I'd follow you to the ends of the Earth and beyond if you asked me to," Ben said honestly.

Bev's answering smile made Ben fall just a little bit more in love with her.

"Okay, well, that's our exit," Bill, who had snuck over to the corner and retrieved his wallet from the table, said. "Come on, guys, let's leave them alone."

"Congratulations, you two," Mike said before heading back up the ladder. 

"We'll see you guys again soon," Bill added before following.

"And remember," Richie yelled down as he disappeared out of sight, "practice safe sex!"

Ben shook his head fondly. "Richie is such an asshole."

"Yeah," Beverly agreed with a grin, "but he's our asshole."

"True." Ben bit his lip and slid his hands up Beverly's sides. "Now, were were we?"

Beverly smirked. "I believe about right here," she replied as she sought Ben's lips out once more.

[queenkaneko]

The Plan

Pairing: Colt Kaneko x MC (Ellie)

Word Count: 2051

A/N: Part 4 is here! Thank you to everyone who helped me with this, I’m so happy to be writing this and you all make my week with your reblogs and comments. It’s uh sorta my first attempt at smut so please nobody crucify me. It’s about as explicit as a 30 diamond scene. I did my best, okay? Enjoy!!

Summary: Colt and Ellie hide out at his safehouse for the night and plan their job together. 

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Five

Ellie didn’t even hesitate to agree to help Colt steal the car. She almost laughed out loud at herself, feeling her father’s disapproval from miles away. He was right when he’d said she wasn’t the daughter he knew, she was a whole other person now. She was actually excited to feel the thrill of speeding down an open road in a stolen car again. More excited that she’d been to go to college, that was for damn sure. Now, they were back on Colt’s bike, speeding down narrow side streets and then back roads to get to his current place. Ellie squeezed his waist gently to get his attention and spoke up over the rushing wind. “So, do you actually have a plan for this yet, Colt?”

Colt hesitated. He hadn’t been able to make it that far yet. After finding the lead, he’d driven up to check it out and found it exactly where his dad’s contact said it’d be. But every plan he’d thought of didn’t feel right. And he didn’t have a crew behind him at the time. No Toby to run surveillance, no Mona to hotwire the car if needed…No driver, either. He glanced back at Ellie, smirking to hide the pain that clawed at his chest. “I needed a driver. Now I’ve got mine.” She laughed and his smirk turned into a real smile as he revved the engine, speeding faster toward their destination. 

Ellie watched Colt as he smoothly maneuvered the bike through the streets, biting her lip the way she always did when she was curious. “Colt, wait. Pull over.” She urged, tugging on his shirt. Hearing the odd tone of her voice, Colt slowed and pulled to the side of the street they were on, about a block from where he’d been staying, before half-turning to look at her curiously. “What are you up to Elle?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as she hopped off.

“I wanna drive. Teach me?” Ellie kept glancing between the handles of his motorcycle and Colt’s deep brown eyes.

Colt chuckled and crossed his arms, leaning back and raising his other eyebrow. “You want to learn how to drive my bike? Seriously?” When she nodded, he shrugged and slid back to make room. “C’mon then.”

Ellie grinned and jumped back on the bike, in front this time, placing her hands on the handles before glancing back at Colt. He reached out and covered her hands with his and eased the bike back onto the road. After a few minutes of gentle touches and a few pointers here and there, Colt pulled his hands away to place them on her hips. “You’re doing great, Ellie. Just keep it steady.” He smiled and kissed her cheek. It was nice to teach her a new way to drive. That night at the garage, when Logan had offered to teach Ellie to drive, Colt never would’ve volunteered to help her. Not then. But now, he almost wanted to go back and do it over. To not have tried so hard to hate her in the beginning. This was his chance to have that moment with her now, and damn was he glad he’d taken it.

Colt felt Ellie’s laugh more that he heard it, and even though his face never changed, he felt his heart swell at the sound as he pulled her closer to his chest. Soon, they pulled up outside his latest safehouse and Ellie turned off the bike, raising an eyebrow at the facade of the building. There were several shingles missing on the roof, the front porch was sagging in the center, and a faded blue paint was chipping just about everywhere. “Um, this place is definitely haunted, Colt. You’re sleeping here?”

Colt just rolled his eyes as he swung his leg off the bike and stood. “There’s a roof with no leaks and a mattress to sleep on. Can’t really be too picky these days, babe.” He offered her a hand and Ellie took it, following him inside. It looked slightly less decrepit inside, there was no furniture and dust had settled on all the counters, but it was in decent enough shape.

“I guess it isn’t so bad. Just seems…lonely.” Ellie squeezed his hand. “We should try and find a better place soon. Someplace with working utilities. And furniture.  And preferably internet if we’re going to do this job right.” Colt just nodded, going silent. He knew he couldn’t stay here with Ellie. Not only did she deserve an actual bed to sleep in and a working shower, but if they were going to pull off this job safely, they needed to be better connected. Which meant leaving L.A, most likely.

After a moment, Colt decided to worry about that later. They had lost time to make up for, after all. He tugged Ellie’s hand gently until she stood in front of him, her back to his chest, and wrapped his arms around her waist. “So, what was this about you missing me?” He whispered, lips close to her ear. Before she could respond, Colt was lightly kissing the spot behind her ear, her neck, her jaw, causing her to momentarily forget how to speak.

“Mmmm….starting to regret telling you that.” Ellie sighed, leaning back against him and bringing one hand up to tangle in his hair while the other covered his hands on her waist. “You’re way too satisfied with yourself right now.” She turned her face to kiss him properly and slid one of his hands under the hem of her shirt. Colt took the hint and slid his hand further, toying with the lace of her bra with a smug smirk on his lips even as he kissed her. Ellie decided it was time to do something about that. Before he could react, she turned in his arms, kissing him hard and backing him up against the bare kitchen wall. She pressed her hips to his, and Colt’s arms tightened almost painfully around her waist. Ellie moved to kiss his neck, rendering him the one speechless this time as he pushed his jacket off her shoulders and tossed it onto the counter.

He needed to feel more of her. It’d only been a few weeks but she was his drug, his anchor. Colt was lost in her now, she always managed to do that, make him forget everything else but her. He quickly tugged her shirt off and tossed it away as well before Ellie ran her hands up his chest, pushing his own shirt off. Once it was gone, Colt placed his hands on her thighs, prompting her to wrap her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. His makeshift bed was just down the hall but it took them several minutes to make it to his room, stopping to push her up against the wall for hurried kisses full of longing and more than a little fire. He couldn’t stop touching her, slipping his hands into the pockets of her jean shorts to hold her up as they stumbled into his room and onto the mattress.

All their usual banter was forgotten now, both consumed with each other. Ellie trailed her fingers lightly along his chest and around his back, pulling him closer. Colt always made her feel like she was set on fire. Her first kiss with Logan had been nothing compared to the way Colt had kissed her in the ocean, and definitely not like the way he was kissing her now. She could tell his jeans were becoming uncomfortable for him and took the liberty of pushing them off as he unbuttoned her shorts with one hand. Once she was in her underwear, Colt kissed down over her chest and reached around to unfasten it only to stop and sit up on his elbows, looking at her in confusion. “Uh, why is there no clasp on your bra?”

Ellie laughed breathlessly and rolled her eyes. “Oh, there is.” As she spoke, she moved her hands to the front of the lacy blue material, unhooking the front clasp and shrugging out of it. “Better?”

Colt’s confusion melted into surprised speechlessness, but he smirked as he leaned back in to lavish her neck and chest with blazing kisses. Ellie reached down, tugging on his boxers until they were past his hips and shimmied out of her own underwear. “No more messing around.” She murmured, pulling him up to kiss him hard and grind her hips against his. That was the last straw for Colt’s patience, he wrapped his arms around her back and flipped them so she was straddling him. He’d never admit it, but this was probably his favorite way to have her. This way he could see every reaction on her face, but she could set the pace. In the beginning he’d feared hurting her, but he quickly found out she’d had more fire in her than he’d originally suspected.

Ellie whimpered into Colt’s neck as she lowered herself onto him. Three weeks was longer than she ever wanted to go without this. Without him. In her hazy mind, she vowed never to go back to Langston, or anywhere he couldn’t follow. Anywhere she couldn’t have this. Ellie kissed his neck, running her hands over his shoulders and biceps as she increased their pace. Colt ran his hands over her back and up her sides, pulling her as close to his chest as he could. Ellie lost track of how long they spent locked together, but later, with Colt’s arm draped over her and her back to his chest, she glanced at his watch and saw that it was past 3am. Behind her, Ellie could feel Colt’s peaceful breathing against her neck and she smiled to herself. It all felt so natural, being back in his arms, discussing another job, teasing each other. More natural than she’d felt at home since her mother died. Even five years later, Ellie wished she could see her mom just one more time, to ask her advice. Her mother had always been the peace keeper of the family, if she were still around, Ellie wouldn’t have hesitated to bring Colt home. Now, she was afraid to bring him onto the same street as her house, for fear her dad would pull a gun on him like he had Logan.

Soon, Ellie too drifted off to sleep, thinking of her mother, of Colt, and feeling at peace for the first time in a long time. They didn’t wake until late morning, choosing to spend as long as they could in this bubble they’d created. But soon, Ellie’s stomach growled and Colt kissed her forehead with a chuckle before he left to go get them breakfast. While he was gone, Ellie got her laptop out of her backpack and sat on the front porch to check out satellite images of the property Colt wanted to hit, and the surrounding roads in and out.

Colt returned half an hour later with coffee and donuts. As he approached, he noticed Ellie’s eyes were narrowed in concentration and she was chewing on her thumbnail nervously. “Elle? What’re you looking at?” He sat down next to her and peered over at the screen, seeing the satellite images as Ellie clicked through the images with her free hand.

“You said you scouted this guy’s place? Did you happen to notice the big ass security gate blocking the only way in and out?” Ellie raised an eyebrow at him questioningly but didn’t wait for a response. She already knew the answer. “Of course you did.” A heavy sigh. “Great, so we just have to sneak a priceless car out of a garage, that also probably has its own security system, and then out of a secure gate without anyone noticing.”

Colt just shrugged, having the decency to look a little sheepish as he offered her a coffee. “I did say we’d have to plan. At least I brought coffee?” His lips twitched up into a small smile. Ellie rolled her eyes as she accepted the coffee. Colt and Ellie sat on the front steps of the porch until well into the afternoon but by the time they went inside, they had a plan. 

Tags: @poeticscolt @nazariortega @lovehugsandcandy @courtesan-of-garage @brightpinkpeppercorn @maxwellsquidsuit @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction @postcardfromsomewhere @zaira-oh-zaira @umiumichan @long-gone-girl, @leelee10898 @client-327​

[sweet-steddie]

Good Luck (e.d. & g.d.)

Summary: @slovakdolan requested that I write about the main character getting ready for the first day of school and the twins helping her get ready and dropping her off and maybe each giving her a kiss goodbye in front of everyone before they leave. Thank you so much for this prompt, I had a blast writing it! I hope you enjoy it!

A/N: The feedback that I’ve been getting on my other works has been incredible. So, again, I want to thank everyone who has taken the time to read my stuff and actually enjoy it! I hope this one is just as fun for all of you to read!

3.1k+

I’m brushing my teeth and staring at the mirror above the sink just as Grayson comes sidling into the bathroom behind me. His eyes are a little puffy and his hair is tousled from sleep as he offers me a lopsided grin.

“Morning,” he greets in a deep voice, scratchy from a night’s worth of misuse. He rests his chin on my shoulder, resting his palms on the sink on either side of me, caging me in from behind as he closes his eyes.

“Good morning,” I garble through foamy toothpaste as he breathes out heavily through his nose. I carefully spit into the sink and rinse my mouth out a few times before heaving out a large breath of my own. It’s just simply too early to be awake and doing things at this hour. “I don’t wanna go to class, Grayson,” I whine, eyebrows furrowed as I close my eyes against the blinding fluorescent lights. Grayson begins rubbing my shoulders lightly, only deepening my sleepy state.

“I know. I don’t want you to go to class, honestly,” he agrees, “but it’s your first day back. You know you have to,” he explains gently and I groan because he’s right. I had already broken my own rule of isolation leading up to school, hoping to buckle down into school mode as the first day of the semester drew nearer. However, that plan quickly went to shit when I’d made the decision to leave my own, on-campus apartment in favor of driving the 30-plus minutes away from my place to Ethan and Grayson’s house several days ago. I only have one class scheduled this morning, at least, but that doesn’t override the fact that I’d much rather fall back into bed at this early hour. I give a petulant huff, even stomping my foot for good measure and I hear Grayson laugh sympathetically at my disgruntled state.

And the thing is, I know I shouldn’t have stayed up as late as I did last night. But stupid Ethan and stupid Grayson and their stupid, handsome faces and unbearable ability to convince me to do anything is how I ended up in a dog pile with the two boys at well past midnight, Netflix watching us as we ended up crashing on the couch. Grayson is cuddling me close to his warm, bare chest and it feels pleasantly similar to snuggling up near a furnace on this chilly morning. I have half a mind to shove him away in retaliation for keeping me awake for so long last night, but then I take into account that he voluntarily woke up early with me this morning even though he, himself, didn’t have to go to class and that makes me huddle in closer, instead.

We stay like this for a handful of minutes, just embracing each other in the quiet of the bathroom and struggling to keep from falling asleep on the spot. “You should probably start getting dressed,” Grayson murmurs eventually and I groan softly into his naked skin. “It’s just one class, baby. One class and I’ll bring you back here and I promise you we won’t leave the bed all day,” he bargains and my god, does that sound good. The ‘staying in bed all day’ part, not the ‘going to class’ part.

“Fine,” I huff quietly and he goes to disentangle our bodies so that I can begin getting dressed, but I whine softly and pull him back in tight. He smooths my hair back with one hand and cups my cheek with the other, kissing me firmly on my forehead.

“C’mon, sweetheart. I’ll sit with you while you get ready. Would that make you feel a little better?” he asks and I nod wordlessly, allowing him to pull me in the direction of his bedroom, where I’ve been storing my overstuffed overnight bag. True to his word, Grayson perches himself on the edge of his bed as I begin to rifle through the contents of my bag. As I peel through layers and layers of clothing, I quickly realize that my mind is anywhere but on the task at hand and I tell Grayson as much.

“I can’t even process what I’m looking at,” I croak out tiredly. “Help me pick something to wear,” I demand more than ask, but that doesn’t seem to bother Grayson too much, as he promptly rises from where he’s seated on the bed and joins me in front of my duffle bag.

“You sit and gather yourself for a minute. I’ll find something,” he promises, playfully hip checking me in the direction of the bed and I don’t put up an argument. I shuffle over to the mattress, careful to sit at the very edge so that I don’t accidentally retire back into my previous slumber. The room is peacefully quiet as Grayson sorts carefully through the clothes that I’ve packed. As expected, my eyelids begin to droop as I wait and, before I know it, I’m being gently nudged awake.

“Ethan?” I question as the boy, himself, stands before me, hand resting softly on my shoulder that he had gently shaken moments ago. His sleepy eyes crinkle at the corners a bit as he chuckles at my confusion.

“I know; I can’t believe I’m awake, either,” he answers the unspoken question groggily as he makes himself comfortable next to me on the bed. He slings an arm around me, situating me comfortably into his side as I rest my head on his shoulder. Not unlike Grayson, he radiates a pleasant heat that has my head lolling. “I wanted to make sure I saw you and wished you good luck on your first day before you left,” he explains, thumb running soothing circles over the skin of my arm as he and I watch Grayson continue to dig through my clothes.

“Thanks, E,” I hum, lazily pecking a kiss onto his shoulder in gratitude.

“Of course, babe,” he returns easily before asking, “are we picking out your outfit?” in reference to Grayson’s sifting.

“Yeah, dude. So far, I’ve got this top but I don’t know what bottoms to choose with it,” Grayson answers for me, holding up one of my shirts to show Ethan his dilemma. Ethan’s quiet for a moment, deep in thought.

“What about those black ones? The leggings,” Ethan points to a pair of discarded leggings on the floor near Grayson’s feet. Grayson pauses for a moment, seeming to give this suggestion some thought before he leans down to pick up the leggings, holding them near the shirt and nodding.

“Yeah. That’s a good idea,” he agrees, putting the whole outfit off to the side. “And what shoes?” he asks. Given the fact that the outfit is pretty simple - some leggings and an oversized T-shirt - I have a pretty good idea of the type of shoe that would match. Before I can give my input, however, Ethan interjects.

“The sneakers with the blue and gray. Easy,” he contributes and all I can do is shake my head at the ridiculously adorable situation at hand. Having these two pick out my outfit has to be near the top of the list of the cutest things they’ve ever done. I’m more than capable of picking out my own attire and doing a damn good job at it, but I simply lack the energy this morning and the boys can tell.

“Should we help you get the clothes on, too?” Ethan asks suggestively and I swat at his chest, giggling nonetheless at his advances.

“He has a good point,” Grayson chimes in, eyebrows raised as he shrugs his shoulders at me. “If you’re too tired to even pick out an outfit, who knows what else you might need help with,” he reasons and I feel Ethan’s shoulders shaking with quiet, smug laughter. I shimmy out from under his arm, feeling considerably more awake in my state of feeling so utterly flattered.

“Or,” I start enticingly, padding over to where Grayson’s set down the outfit and picking up the clothes, “I could do it myself.” I throw a playful smirk over my shoulder as I waltz back into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

————

No less than 45 minutes later and the boys and I are piled into Ethan’s Jeep, maneuvering side streets and back streets in order to get to my university in a timely manner. Ethan had surprised us all when he not only volunteered to accompany me to school this morning, but to drive as well. It’s the least I can do for making you stay up late last night. And I wouldn’t want you driving while you’re this tired was all he provided as an explanation and that was that.

Going to a university in L.A. meant that Ethan and Grayson rarely made campus visits, simply due to their notoriety around town. As I’ve insisted on the many occasions that we’ve hung out, I have no problem coming to them, instead, and that’s why the locale of most of our hangouts is at the boys’ house as opposed to my apartment. I remind them of this fact as we draw nearer to my campus.

“I really don’t want you guys to have to meet a million people just because you’re dropping me off. You can honestly drop me off a few blocks away and I’ll walk. Seriously, I don’t mind at all,” I stress, but am quickly shot down.

“No way. We’re not gonna dump you on the sidewalk and leave,” Ethan protests and Grayson is quick to back him up as he swivels around in the passenger seat to furrow his eyebrows at me where I sit in the backseat.

“Why would we do that? No, we’re dropping you off on your campus and whoever sees us, sees us. We’re here for you. If that means taking some pictures, then that’s ok,” Grayson reassures me and I can’t help but to smile at the sentiment he and Ethan are expressing. I simply nod my understanding, feeling an immense amount of guilty pressure lifting from my shoulders in the wake of Grayson’s and Ethan’s attitudes toward the impending situation.

There are about 15 more minutes of driving and chattering to pass the time before we arrive at our destination. In the haze of the first-day-back rush, there are plenty of people dashing too and fro in front of the campus buildings and cars and buses parking to drop students off. Ethan luckily finds parking along a curb and brings the car to a halt before he and Grayson turn to face me in the backseat almost simultaneously. My shoulders sag in defeat as I register that I’m here now and I actually have to go to class. After what felt like an endless summer break, returning for school is on par with pulling teeth right about now.

“One class, remember?” Grayson reminds me, giving me a soft smile that Ethan mirrors in my direction.

“One class,” I repeat back to motivate myself. I keep nodding as if to cement the mantra in my mind as I stare at the twins and they stare back for a few moments. “I can catch a ride back with a friend or something,” I tell them, remembering suddenly that my car is still parked at their house and that they would have to stay nearby while I sat in class if they wanted to pick me up afterward, too. Just like my last suggestion to increase convenience for them, this one is shot down.

“Nope. We’ll head to a coffee shop or somewhere else near here so we can be ready to pick you up when you’re finished. Just text us,” Grayson pipes up and I playfully roll my eyes at them both, but I end up smiling.

“Hey really though, thank you guys so much for waking up at the ass crack of dawn to take me to school. You really didn’t have to do that,” I let them know, using my hands to fondly stroke at their stubbled cheeks. They each nuzzle into the touch unconsciously.

“How about some extra good luck for your first day?” Grayson asks after a moment and I tilt my head slightly in confusion as I slowly drop my hands, waiting for him to explain. His lips helplessly twitch into a smirk as he side-eyes his brother. Their annoying twin telepathy allows them to reach a silent understanding, evidently, because Ethan is similarly smirking not a moment later before he and Grayson both fix their eyes back on me. Grayson grasps my hand and gently pulls me until I’m leaning over the center console and I suddenly understand the bigger picture just as he brings our lips together in a soft, sweet kiss.

I sigh into it as my eyes quickly fall closed and I rake my fingers through his soft hair. The kiss naturally deepens and, for quite a while, the only sounds heard in the car are the music seeping lowly through the speakers and the soft smacking of Grayson and I’s lips. He lands one more searing kiss to my lips before pulling away. I take my sweet time allowing my eyelids to flutter back open and, when they do, Grayson’s giving me that droopy-eyed stare that’s making it even harder for me to want to leave this car. Just as I’m thinking this, he swoops back in to give me one more quick kiss  before pulling back for good.

I feel Ethan’s fingers tracing lightly up and down my arm, a gentle reminder that hey, he wants some love too and I’m more than happy to oblige. I turn to face him and he’s giving me that smile that I know and love so much. The one that’s so absolutely, unquestionably Ethan that it melts my insides. He cradles my jaw with one hand, using his thumb to trace over my lips for only a moment before he’s leaning in and sealing our mouths together. I fall into it just as quickly as I had with Grayson, fingers finding a home tangled in the unruly hair at the nape of his neck. Our tongues dance around together and I hear him moan quietly, causing me to unintentionally mimic the noise. I don’t even have the wherewithal to feel embarrassed as his hands burn blazing hot trails where he caresses down the sides of my neck and my shoulders.

This continues for several minutes until we pull away, slightly breathless with our eyes sparkling a bit and skin flushed beyond belief. “Good luck,” Ethan breathes, looking more than a little dazed and I hear Grayson laugh, startling me out of my reverie for a moment.

“Dude, you look so fucked right now,” Grayson teases and I watch as Ethan rolls his eyes, but it lacks conviction in his blissed out state.

“Whatever. You’re just,” he searches for a word and quickly gives up, settling once again on, “whatever,” and that causes Grayson and I to laugh in unison this time at the lame comeback. I eventually retreat to the backseat to gather up my backpack and I heave a big sigh, suddenly feeling more energized than I have all morning.

“I’m gonna get going,” I declare out loud and the twins nod their understanding. “I’ll see you guys soon,” I bid as a goodbye, deciding that it’s best to stick to a verbal farewell in fear of getting caught up again between the two boys and possibly missing my class.

“Bye, baby.”

“We’ll be right here when you get back.”

Both boys call after me as I open the back door and land on my feet on the pavement. I shut the door and take a moment to put my earbuds in and queue up a song before embarking on my walk to class. When I stare ahead of me, I notice that there are plenty of eyes already looking in my direction. Most people look downright shocked, to say the least. Others look mildly impressed. Others look blatantly jealous. I bite the inside of my lip to suppress a laugh as I quickly knock on the passenger window of Ethan’s Jeep. Grayson’s face appears as he rolls down the window, looking at me questioningly.

“Are these windows tinted?” I ask.

“No, why?” Ethan answers, leaning his head forward so that he can look past Grayson to address me. I hide my face in my hands, cheeks flaming up as I smile into my palms.

“Then I think everyone just saw you guys wishing me good luck,” I speak through my fingers. It’s silent for a moment as I keep my face hidden. A couple of seconds later, I hear Grayson’s signature guffaw, along with Ethan’s loud, husky laugh. The three of us share a laugh - the boys laughing mostly at my expense - before I slowly reveal my face again, cheeks still feeling warmer than ever before.

“As if the three of us need any more dating rumors,” I say, shaking my head at our antics. Grayson still sports a smile, teeth on display as he shrugs a shoulder.

“Wouldn’t be so bad,” he says and my eyes dart to Ethan’s face for a reaction, but he looks just as nonchalant as his twin. My stomach does a flip that would put somersaults to shame and I bite my bottom lip in place of responding. It’s quiet for a few seconds as both pairs of eyes in the car scan over me, their smiles simmering down into something a bit more smug and sultry. Before I can even think to splutter out a reply, I hear my name being called.

I look over my shoulder to see a friend of mine waving me over, clearly having just arrived on the scene as she looks completely unaffected in comparison to our surrounding peers. I nod back at her and whirl around to face my boys once more. “Bye for now,” I give them a coy wave before turning on my heel and walking toward my friend. As I reach her, we begin our walk to class and I feel the eyes of those around me following my every step. But there are two pairs of eyes that I can still feel burning a hole in my skin as I retreat and those pairs stand out pleasantly from the rest. My friend’s words become white noise as I slowly become hyper focused on how long I’ll have to wait to see the boys again. Something tells me that I’m in for a long morning and an even longer day after that.

[toomanysurveys9]

Do you ever eat when you’re not particularly hungry? sometimes. because i have to make sure i eat enough calories and drink enough fluids to produce enough milk for eliana since she is breastfed.

Have you ever gone up a mountain on a train? i have not.

What is your favourite hot beverage? hot chocolate. or cappuccino.

Do you have an alter ego? Describe them: i do not. What was your imaginary friend called when you were a child? pebbles.. like from the flintstones.

Can you see the stars at night where you live? yeah. you can. Where do you live? indiana. Is there anyone you just can’t get out of your head? the only ones i can’t get out of my head are my kids pretty much. Do you prefer cats or dogs? Why? i love both, but more a dog person than cats. they’re just so sweet and get so excited to see you all the time. One thing you’d like to achieve this year: get in a better spot financially. Food: Are you adventurous or do you stick to what you know? eh. i guess i’m more likely to stick to what i know, although i’m more adventurous than i used to be. Are you a hoarder of useless items? i don’t think so. only think i would say i “hoard” is books, and they’re definitely not useless. What colour do you think suits you best? Is this your favourite colour? jacob always says blue. Is there anything (out of the obvious) that makes you feel really ill? currently, the smell of any kind of alcohol. Do you know both of your biological parents? Which one do you prefer? i do, and i don’t have a preference. i love them both immensely. If you could intern anywhere, where would you choose? i don’t know. i think i’m past wanting to intern anywhere. if i have a job, it has to be something that is going to pay... most internships i have seen don’t do that around here. When was the last time you wrote so much your finger ached? college. Do you store a lot of pictures you’ve taken that no one else has seen? i guess so. Do you prefer film or digital pictures? digital. When was the last time you felt inferior? today. that’s a common feeling for me. Do you bump into things often? not lately. When did you first start using the internet? i don’t know. i guess when i started school sometime. Were you ever a member of the Scouts / Girl Guides / Something similar? i was not. i wanted to do girl scouts but never got to. Do you prefer camping or staying in hotels? hotels, definitely. as long as they have a pool. Do you have any family traditions for certain holidays? Which? i mean. yeah. more so now that i have kids of my own. like making cookies for santa. presents from santa or the easter bunny. christmas eve box. Do you prefer lip balm that tastes or smells of something? Or maybe neither? i don’t really prefer it. long as it helps my lips, i don’t care about scent too much. What is something you think about yourself that nobody agrees with? that my kids deserve a better mom. What about something people think of you that you don’t agree with? i don’t know. Do you enjoy flying? What’s your (least) favourite part? i’ve only flown twice - to florida and back home again. and i was mostly scared the whole time. heights are not my favorite. What colour are your eyes? Do you like them? blue-ish green.

Have you ever had braces?

nope.

Name one of your hobbies:

reading. i just wish i could do it a little more.

How minty is your toothpaste?

it’s pretty minty.

What design is on your calendar this year?

i don’t have a calendar. i need to get one though so everyone can look and see when bills are due so it’s not all on me.

Do you collect anything? What?

books. maybe blankets.

Do you keep a diary? What sort of things do you write in it?

i do not.

Are you prone to headaches?

i have been getting them again lately since i was wearing my hair up a lot lately.

Do you enjoy clowns / street performers or are they creepy to you?

i don’t like clowns much..

What is your favourite type of video game?

like l.a. noire.

Do you believe everything you hear or do you take it with a pinch of salt?

i definitely don’t believe everything i hear. i like to do my own research. so i guess i take it with a pinch of salt.

What’s the weather like where you live? (All year round, not today)

we have all four seasons. lots of snow.

Have you ever had a teacher who would just babble about nothing?

possibly. no one that immediately comes to mind.

Do you ever look at a word and think that it looks odd?

yeah. sometimes.

Do you prefer getting news online, from a paper or from the TV?

i usually get it online these days.

The shoes you wear most often: What do they look like?

they’re cheap walmart flip flops. black with flowers.

When was the last time you climbed a tree?

when i was around five or six or something.

Did you enjoy playing Hop Scotch when you were younger?

i did.

Are you good at keeping your house clean?

not currently. there are too many people but not enough people wanting to help.

Can you play any instruments?

not well.

Do you prefer chocolate or fruity flavoured candy? fruity.

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

Part III - The Untimely Downfall of Strangers

THEN - Day 1011

Being on tour was a lot like working a job 24/7. Days were long and nights were short. I’d wake up to do radio promo, a talk show, some sort of something in whatever city we were in. I’d do a soundcheck, meet and greet, run through any tricky dance moves, wardrobe changes, the like.

If Harry was out on the road we’d maybe watch a movie, play soccer in the parking lot, hang out with my little brother.

Having people on the road made it okay--when Ben or Maya were on summer vacation they’d come out with my mom and Pete. My dad would come to a few shows and my cousins would come when we were on the east coast.

Sometimes, though, it would be just me and Sinead and Nick and the other 182 people that made the show run. I loved my band, I loved the crew that came on the road. But they weren’t the same as my family and friends.

You learn, after a while, that those people need to be your family, or else you’ll go crazy. You start accepting the fact that you’ll spend some holidays with them, celebrate birthdays, share all of the highs and all of the lows.

Sometimes I was jealous that Harry got four other people to do it with. The five of them got to each take part--they were well balanced, a decision didn’t rest on just one of their shoulders. They had someone they could turn to, someone right there, who understood exactly what it felt like to be doing what they were doing.

“Are you ready for hair and makeup soon?” Sinead sat down at the table in catering and looked at me expectantly. I put my phone down--I’d been rereading the last message I sent to Harry.

I hadn’t spoken to him all day--I texted him to let him know what time soundcheck was but he hadn’t said anything back.

He was in Norway, so the time difference didn’t exactly make things easy. I was sat, somewhere in Kansas, in the catering tent in a parking lot behind Arrowhead Stadium.

“Yeah,” I said, forking a bite of food into my mouth. “Just need to finish this.”

“You don’t need to rush,” she laughed a little.

It felt like I always needed to.

“Y’alright?”

I nodded--even though it was a lie. I wasn’t bad, or terrible, I was just surviving. I was keeping myself afloat, but I hated those questions, because it always made me feel like I could cry at any second.

I was so used to just lying through my teeth to convince everyone that I was loving being on tour and I missed Harry so much but that everything was fine. The truth was that tour was exhausting, Harry felt distant, and sometimes I wished I could go to sleep for three years.

“I’m just tired.”

Sometimes I wondered what other people thought about my life--not my fans, not the people who didn’t know me. I wondered what Sinead thought, what Nick thought, what Nathan thought. I wondered what they made of the endless days and nights of performing, the talk shows, the interviews.

Nick was always so proud--he was so happy that I had been so successful and that all of my dreams came true, he was quick to remind me that they had. He was right--at thirteen years old when I moved to California to be on a talent show on a kid’s network, all I wanted was to play sold out shows, play my music on stage, and get to wear fun clothes.

Now I dreaded having to put on whatever sequined potato sack they threw me into--it was itchy and hot and tight.

“Margot,” Sinead said suddenly, I hadn’t noticed that she’d been watching me the whole time. I looked up, offered a smile, and waited for her to continue. “You’re out of it lately--you’re not you.”

My face fell--I couldn’t tell if I was thrilled or terrified that she noticed.

“What’s going on?”

The catering tent hummed with people around us--guitar techs and dancers sat interspersed as everyone enjoyed their dinner. This was one of those moments where I wished I could just pause the outside world, take a moment, and catch my breath.

I stared at Sinead--her all access pass hung around her neck, her lanyard had my name on it in big, gold letters.

“I just miss Harry,” I shrugged.

She eyed me closely, but she eventually decided she believed me. “He’ll be here next week for the American leg of his tour,” she reminded me.

I nodded--I didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

I did miss Harry--but I missed the old Harry. I missed the Harry that I first met, the Harry that made me feel alive and in love and wired.

I missed the Harry that pulled me out of this funk.

It wasn’t that I didn’t love Harry anymore. I just felt stale and bored and sedentary--I missed the honeymoon stage and feared that our relationship was just convenient. How could he love me if I was this apathetic, tired human with four layers of foundation used beneath her eyes to make everything seem okay?

It didn’t help that Zayn’s departure from the band made Harry even more focused on his future--he’d often be so busy planning out his life that he forgot to factor me in. I think he was ready for a life beyond the band, but terrified of what might happen.

Sometimes it felt like he understood how I felt--sometimes he’d make comments about being excited for the end, he was eager to explore his own music and find other passions--but then he’d remind me that he couldn’t imagine a day where he didn’t get on stage.

I couldn’t relate to that part.

NOW - Day 1695

I heard the driveway alert--signaling Sinead’s exit--shortly after I locked myself in my bedroom upstairs. I laid in my bed, face up, and watched the ceiling fan spin in a circle.

What a day.

If it wasn’t enough to hear from your ex-boyfriend for the first time in eighteen months, pair it with listening to his album inspired by your break up and a fight with you assistant/best friend, and you’ve got yourself a recipe for a headache.

I couldn’t help but think back to the day Harry and I broke up--the look on his face was something I’d remember for the rest of my life. When he left with such little fight, I figured he’d been feeling the same way, even if he said he hadn’t. I figured that he saw it coming--that he’d prepared himself for it and that he had made his peace with it.

My phone dinged on the night table next to me, I flung a hand over to retrieve it. Harry’s name on the screen made my stomach lurch.

It was good to see you today.

For the first time in a while, I felt the rush of emotion in my throat--that ball that forms and blocks the air. Was it good to see me? We’d barely spoken about anything deeper than surface level--but maybe that was a good thing. How did two people with a complex history dive back into the middle of the story when the words were still so unclear?

My feet were on the floor in a second and I headed straight down the hall. Having a house with four bedrooms was great, mainly because one of them because a music room.

I pushed the door open and looked around--I hadn’t spent a lot of time in here. I’d mostly come in and write a song or two and then leave for three weeks. That seemed to be my writing cycle lately.

When I was putting out an album every year, I’d write probably four or five songs a week. I’d have writing sessions with Nathan and Liz, a woman who’d written with me a lot in the past. I’d sit with them in quiet rooms and pour my heart out, something that felt so safe and so healing. Now it felt scary and dangerous.

I went to the piano and sat, playing an E, with a rising base note. I didn’t know what I had to say--I couldn’t quite place the emotion on the keys just yet. I played that for a minute, the repetition lent itself to a calm feeling.

Harry and I had been together for such a short time in the big picture. Three years felt like a lifetime in some ways, but at other times, it felt like three seconds. We’d spent a lot of time talking about the future, but here I was, left with the broken pieces of a relationship and I had nothing to show for it.

We didn’t have the chance to live the life we’d talked about--the house and the kids and the happiness.

I broke another glass in the house we never built.

The winter’s always cold enough, cold enough to kill.

I couldn’t even finish a verse--all I could do was cry over the piano that had once been something so important to me. It’s not that it wasn’t--it’s that so much had changed. I was a different person than I was when I left Harry--I was more whole, I was more grounded, I knew who I was.

I don’t think I ever did before.

And that was the problem--he loved the old me, he didn’t even know the new me.

THEN - Day 387

“I missed you so much,” Harry wrapped his arms around me when I crashed into his dressing room. He hugged me so tight my feet lifted off the floor.

It was a Wednesday night--he was in New York for a talk show with the band and I’d flown in from a music video shoot in Spain. Sinead walked in behind me, my duffle bag in her arms.

“I missed you too,” I breathed into his neck, the scent of him made me feel whole somehow, like I’d been missing more than just my boyfriend.

“Nice to see you too, Harry,” Sinead smirked from behind me. Harry let go of me, placing me back on the ground before stepping around me to hug Sinead.

“Did you think I wasn’t going to greet you with as much enthusiasm?” He laughed a bit, wrapping his arms around Sinead’s waist to lift her off the floor like he had with me. Sinead didn’t react the same way--instead, she pulled her head away from Harry and pretended to gag.

“Alright, alright,” she said as he set her down. She smoothed out her shirt. “Where’s Bridget? Can I give this to her?” She held out my bag.

Sinead--who had the next few days off--was handing me off to Harry and Bridget. I had a few days free and so did Harry--so New York was the meeting spot this time. It was winter--the weather was cold and the air was sharp outside.

“I think she’s in the hallway--she was just in here,” Harry pointed to the door, his eyebrows furrowed in a cute way as he watched Sinead set the bag on the floor.

“Go, Sinead,” I smiled at her. She was excited to head home to L.A. and have a week to herself--the girl had been working as hard as I had, flying all over for a video, then a photoshoot, and then promo in Europe. “Have a good week.”

“Gonna live without me?” She joked, running a hand down her ponytail.

“Yes,” I assured her. “I will.”

Niall appeared from the bathroom and let out a loud victory screech. “Margot Jones? The Margot Jones is in my dressing room!” He fanned at his own face, pushing Harry out of the way to come and throw himself at me.

I rolled my eyes, trying to catch his weight as he toppled me onto the nearby couch.

“Okay have fun, be safe! Call me if you need me!” Sinead called from the door, waving before she let it shut.

Niall--from his spot basically sat on top of me--let out another shriek. “She’s back, she’s really back!”

Liam, who appeared from a different room, took Niall’s yelling as an invitation to jump on top of both of us. “What a night! It’s like a dream come true, Niall!”

“I have a girlfriend under there, y’know,” Harry laughed a little, crossing his arms as he watched his friends suffocate me in the couch cushions.

“And she’s slowly losing air,” I tried to yell past Niall’s elbow in my face.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Harry laughed, stepping forward to pull Niall off of me. “We’d get sued if we kill her, she’s worth a lot.”

I rolled my eyes at his money joke--I didn’t really like it when people brought up my income. I knew Harry understood--he made just as much as I did, so I simply rolled my eyes and stood up when Niall and Liam set me free.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like admitting that I had money--I mean, saying I didn’t was like saying the sky wasn’t blue. My networth was searchable on the internet and I regularly traveled on private planes, it wasn’t like it was a secret.

For some reason, though, when Harry brought it up, I wondered how he’d feel about me if I weren’t Margot Jones. Would he still have fallen in love with me if I didn’t have a few Grammys sitting in my mom’s house?

Would he still want to call me every night before bed if I couldn’t fly out to visit him for a weekend?

I liked to believe that he would--but that’s the shitty thing about how my brain worked. I always had my doubts.

THEN - Day 1124

It had been three weeks since I’d seen Harry. His tour was in full swing, my tour was in full swing, and with each passing day, I could feel my exhaustion grow.

I walked behind Sinead as we headed down a hallway in the venue somewhere in Glasgow--she carried my duffle bag on her shoulder. “Put your pass on,” she said.

I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t help but think it was stupid that I needed a pass--sure, I wasn’t the headliner on this tour, but I knew I’d be offended as hell if someone didn’t know who I was.

I slung it around my neck and stopped short behind Sinead--who knocked twice on a door that one of Harry’s bodyguards stood beside. He nodded in my direction as greeting but didn’t say anything.

Harry opened the door--he had his own dressing room on this tour, and right now, I was thankful for that.

“Hi,” he smiled at her, then looked past her brown hair to let his eyes settle on my tired face. I forced a grin at him, I didn’t care if it looked fake. My flight was long, my tour was busy, I hadn’t slept in about 20 hours.

Sinead stepped out of the way so Harry could place a kiss on my lips. “I’m gonna hit catering,” she said, handing my bag to Harry, who happily took it. His cheery mood almost bothered me.

Sinead--who was just as tired as I was--walked away from us without a goodbye. I turned to face Harry, who led me into his dressing room before placing my bag on the couch.

“How was your flight, lovie?” He sat, patting at his lap to invite me to sit. I walked over and crawled onto him, letting his arms wrap around me.

“Long as shit. And I didn’t sleep because Nick wanted to go over a bunch of stuff for the next leg of the tour. We’re adding a date in Japan and I’ve got to do new choreography for the single.”

He frowned. “When did you last eat?”

Good question.

“Before the flight, I think.”

He ran a hand over the hair on my head--I hadn’t washed it after the last show, it was probably filled with knots and hairspray. “Let’s call over to catering and get you something.”

I didn’t respond. Instead, I let him nudge me off of him so he could walk over to his phone on the makeup counter. He picked it up and began typing a message to someone.

I sat there, staring at the floor, wondering what would happen if I just didn’t go back on the road. There were only two weeks left--twelve shows. The end seemed so far away.

“What’reya thinking about, baby?” He came to sit next to me again. I looked up at him.

“I’m just tired.”

“Margot,” he said my name like he knew I was lying. The tension in the air was palpable, he hated when I did this.

“Harry,” I countered back.

I didn’t want to tell him what I really felt. There’d been a few times where I’d drunkenly tell him that I wanted to quit and we’d have an alcohol-fueled heart-to-heart, only to never mention it again. I don’t think he knew how to address it.

He let out a sigh, scratching the back of his neck. “You can cancel it,” he said quietly, his eyes glued to my face. I hated the fact that he knew how I was feeling without me saying it.

“I can’t,” I shook my head, rolling my eyes at his silly suggestion. But was it silly? Could I cancel shows that thousands of people had booked tickets for?

“You can,” he answered my inner-question, his green eyes locking on mine now.

“I’m fine,” I told him, standing up and walking over to my bag--I knelt down reached inside for my phone.

“Margot,” he called my attention again, rising from the couch to come towards me. There were voices outside his door, he lowered his own so they wouldn’t hear us. “What is going on? When are you gonna admit you need a break?”

“When I actually need one,” I shrugged, biting my lip. I stood up and turned to face him.

“When are you going to admit that you need one now?”

There was a knock on the door before Bridget opened it. She had a plate of food in her hand--presumably for me. “You’re exactly who I was looking for,” she smiled at me.

“Not tonight,” I told him.

NOW - Day 1697

Nathan sat on the couch in the studio with a notebook in his lap. He’d been thrilled to hear from me--we’d only texted a few times in the last year or so.

Nathan had been probably the most supportive of me taking a break--aside from Harry, at least. When I was writing and recording an album, which was arguably more than half of the battle, I spent at least eight hours a day with Nathan.

He saw me cry at the piano and he saw me burst through the door with the glow of young love. He’d just about heard every detail of my life and he helped me make it more polished and ready for the rest of the world to hear.

“Is it good?” He asked.

“It’s fucking great--I mean, Jeff Bhasker produced it--he’s worked with everyone.”

Nathan nodded, waiting for me to say more.

“It’s kind of rocky, but kind of Indy as well, it’s a lot of things. It’s brutal, lyrically.”

His eyes went a little wide as he rubbed at his strawberry blond beard. “About you?”

“I’m assuming,” I laughed a little. “Unless he got his heart broken by someone else in the last year and half.”

“Probably not,” he smiled at me. “Are you mad about it, though?”

“That he wrote about me?”

He nodded, resting his arm on the back of the leather couch. Sun streamed in between the curtains--Nathan always kept the studio pretty dark. He said it was a better ambiance.

“I mean--he has every right to tell his side of the story. But that’s the thing--it’s just one side of the story.”

Nathan let out a sigh, a smirk played at his lips and I knew he was glad I was here. “So lemme hear yours,” he motioned to the guitar that was in a stand next to me.

I reached over and picked it up, placing the capo on the 4th fret.

“What did you just say? No, I heard you right the first time, I heard you right the first time. Are you trying to hurt me? You know you’re supposed to lie, when the truth is so unkind.”

Nathan listened on, his eyes closed as I started the chorus.

“There’s nothing on your skeleton, your heart is gone, you’re acting like it doesn’t even matter, like I don’t even matter.”

I paused--I didn’t want to go on if he didn’t think it had potential. He opened his eyes and looked at me.

“Are you gonna do a counter release?”

I knew he was going to ask. “I don’t know. I’ve got enough to do an album of just stuff from before the break--I was writing a lot in the summer of 2015 before shit hit the fan.”

He laughed and reached for a pen on the coffee table. “How many?”

“Like eighteen--eighteen good ones.”

“Eighteen songs?”

I nodded.

“Well fuck, Margot,” he laughed. “We’ve got some work to do, then.”

NOW - Day 1701

“There’s nothing on your skeleton, your heart is gone, you’re acting like it doesn’t matter, like I don’t even matter,” I sang alone in the living room. I was recording an updated voice memo on my phone, hoping to send it to Nathan by the end of the day.

He loved the song I’d played for him--he wanted me to work on a pre-chorus and a bridge.

The driveway alert went off--I set my guitar down and stood from the couch, walking to the front door to see who was there.

A small black car had parked near the street--Harry climbed out of the front seat with sunglasses on. He wore a blue button-up short-sleeved shirt.

I opened the door and stepped out, unsure of how he’d gotten my address. “Hi,” I called out, causing him to look up from the driveway as he came closer.

“Hi,” he breathed out, holding a hand up to block the sun. He picked up his pace to come to the front step. When he was in front of me, he hesitated and then sighed--almost as if he was relieved that I answered the door. “Do you have a second?”

“Uh,” I looked back into the living room. It’s not like I was really doing anything--but I had no idea how long a second was to him. “Sure, what’s up?”

“I just wanted to touch base with you--uh, about the release.” He looked back up to his car--most likely nervous that someone had followed him here. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” I said quietly, stepping aside to shut the door behind us once we were both in the entryway of my house. I knew what he was doing--he was warning me. His album would come out and I’d be getting emails and calls from people--did I know he was writing it? Had I spoken with him? Did he tell me anything about it?

We’d texted a bit the day after we had coffee--he asked more about my writing and my plans for future music. That’s when I stopped responding.

“I’ve talked with my PR people about different responses--I mean, I figure people will ask me questions about you.” He sounded robotic, almost--he sounded like he’d rehearsed his words before he came, or worse, like someone was telling him what to say to me.

We’d long been used to getting prepped for interviews--knowing the answers we’d give before questions were asked. This felt strange though--I didn’t want him to feel like he had to avoid my name. I’d been a part of his life, a part that was important enough for him to write about.

“It’s fine, Harry, I trust you.”

The words sounded ironic coming out of my mouth--I’d spent the last week being angry and annoyed with the way his album was painting me, but here I was saying that I trusted him to answer questions about our relationship.

I knew that Harry cared about me--even if his lyrics made me out to be the bad guy.

“You’re thinking,” he said, a bit of a smirk crossing onto his face.

I rolled my eyes and headed towards the kitchen. I figured he’d take a cup of tea. “I’m always thinking.”

He laughed, following behind me as he took in the sight of my house. “I know--it’s your fatal flaw.”

I turned quickly look at him over my shoulder, causing him to lose the smile on his face. “Sorry.”

Asshole. As if I wasn’t aware that my constant state of mild panic had fucked up everything. I didn’t need him to remind me.

I reached up into the cupboard to get the black tea he liked, pulling it down to the counter. He stood in silence in my kitchen, and I suddenly felt like the growing apart we’d done was irreversible.

I grabbed the teapot from my stove and filled it with water, I wondered if he liked the way I decorated the kitchen. “I sound like a jerk on your album.”

He was quiet for a second and waited for me to turn around. When I did, he sighed. “I wasn’t trying to make you sound like a jerk.”

“I know you weren’t.”

How did I tell him that I hadn’t meant to hurt him? How did I tell him that I left him because I had to--not because I wanted to?

“I was just writing my experience of it. Just trying to be honest.”

I nodded again, dropping my gaze to the floor. “You hurt me too, y’know.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean?” I looked up at him. “I mean what I said.”

He closed his eyes tight and took a deep breath, as if he were annoyed. “Can you explain what you mean, Margot?”

I licked my lips, willing the tea to boil faster so I could have something in my hands.

“You never called me when I was in rehab.”

He swallowed. “I didn’t know you wanted me to.”

I scoffed at this--why would I not want him to? “I didn’t know I had to tell you that’s what you should have done.”

“Margot, I didn’t come here to fight.”

“Why did you come, Harry?”

He crossed his arms. “I wanted to see how you were doing knowing that it’s coming out.”

“Doesn’t seem like I have any option, right? That’s pretty typical. Grin and bear it, Margot.”

He shook his head, annoyed with my anger. He walked around the island and sat on a stool, resting his head in the palm of his hands. He gripped at his hair and sighed again. “I didn’t call you because I had nothing to say. I didn’t want to break up, you know that.”

“I didn’t enjoy hurting you, just so you know. I didn’t like breaking your heart.”

“I didn’t say you did,” he looked up at me. “But I still don’t really understand why you left.”

THEN - Day 1143

Sinead had texted me, asking me to come back to my dressing room after sound check. We were somewhere in Pennsylvania, the white hallways of venues had long blurred into one for me, I was lucky if I could find my way to the stage most nights.

I counted the squares on the cement walls as I walked--36, 37, 38. I rounded the corner and was met by the open door of my dressing room--Sinead sat on the couch next to my mother. Nick was standing beside them and Harry was leaned against the wall.

My mother had been on the road with us, but Harry was a surprise.

“What are you doing here?” I looked at him, somewhat disappointed at the sight of him. Every time he smiled at me, every time he told me he loved me, I knew I was heading down a dead end street. I needed to end things.

“Sinead asked me to come out,” he replied, his face was straight and his eyes looked sad and tired.

I looked from Harry to my mom, then to Sinead, and then to Nick. I knew what this was. I’d seen it in movies.

“We just want to talk with you, honey,” my mom smiled at me. She, too, looked sad and tired--was that how I looked all the time, even when Bonnie slapped a decent amount of makeup on me?

“Oh lord,” I rolled my eyes, walking towards them to take the empty seat that apparently had my name on it.

Each of them had confronted me separately--you’re not yourself, Margot, Something’s up with you, are you sure you’re okay? Maybe it wasn’t the same as this, but I knew how they felt, they’d made it plenty clear.

I didn’t know how to answer those questions because I didn’t know what it was. I was sad, I was tired, I was incredibly on edge and I didn’t sleep well. When I closed my eyes I could hear the screaming crowds and sometimes it felt like my whole world was caving in.

I didn’t have energy, I didn’t have motivation to do anything. I had to drink enough coffee to keep myself awake long enough to perform the second set.

“We’re worried about you,” Nick said. “We think you need to take some time off.”

I looked to Harry--I knew this was probably brought on by him. He’d been the one to actually tell me I needed a break the last time I saw him. He didn’t understand, though--I couldn’t. I didn’t know what that looked like.

“I don’t need a break,” I shook my head, trying my best to keep my voice steady. I knew that if I became emotional and got too anxious they’d be quick to use it as ammunition.

“Margot, you absolutely do,” my mom tried to reason with me. “You’re exhausted and you’re working too much and you should just come home for a bit. Maybe we can go back to Raleigh, you can see your old friends.”

“Mom,” I shook my head. I had no idea how to respond, because the truth was that she was right. I was tired, and I was sick of my job, and I was bitter about the fact that everyone wanted to know what I was doing 24/7.

But the truth also was that I signed up for this and now it was my life. I signed up for putting my life on display and that provided for my family and my siblings and me. And now, I didn’t know who I was without my career.

For seven years I had been Margot Jones, popstar, singer-songwriter, actress--I didn’t know how to be a 20 year old. I knew how to be a girl with experience well beyond her years, trapped in the body of a kid.

“Margot just hear us out,” Harry was annoyed now. He pushed himself off of the wall and came to stand closer to me. “You’re going crazy, practically. You’re angry and you’re irritable, and you’re tired.”

Again, none of this was news to me, I didn’t know why they were treating it like it was.

“I’m fully aware of how fucked up I am,” I shot back at him. Sinead seemed to be surprised by my outburst, but Nick watched on with a steady gaze. I stood from the chair in which I sat and took a step back from Harry. “I don’t need you to point it out.”

I headed for the door, but I could hear Harry’s footsteps behind me in the hallway. Great--the last thing I needed was everyone on my crew knowing what type of bullshit he was trying to pull.

“Margot, no one is trying to force you to do anything, we want this to be your decision.”

I kept walking, my eyes set forward. I was angry, but it wasn’t surfacing. I was sad, but it wasn’t breaking through. The more emotion I felt, the less I could show it.

“Will you just talk to me?” He raised his voice behind me.

I stopped short, turned on one foot, and stared at him. “I don’t have anything to say.”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course you do.”

“I don’t care, Harry. I don’t care about any of this,” I motioned around. A man pulled a hand truck by us with more sound equipment and Marcie, my stage manager, offered a small smile as she stayed close to the wall.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I don’t give a shit about anything! That’s a problem.”

He nodded slowly, now he was unsure what to say. He kept his eyes on mine, neither one of us dared to look away.

“If I could fix it I would, but I don’t think I can. If I take a break, I’m never coming back.”

He opened his mouth but no sound came out.

I knew what he was thinking. How could I leave something I loved so much? How could I be sick of it? How could I not love making music and touring and being paid to do it?

All I wanted was a normal life--sometimes I saw my brother in college, going to class, going to parties, and I wished for a second I could leave my house without getting a picture taken.

I wished sometimes I could just be a person with a name and a job, maybe I’d work in graphic design, or maybe I’d be a vet.

I wasn’t anyone, though. I was an image that was created by a label--sure, I let them do it. I let them promote me and whore me out and post my image up on billboards. I had thousands of people who thought they knew me, but they didn’t know shit.

I knew that if I took this break--this stupid hiatus that everyone was pushing for--I knew I’d never come back. I knew I would leave and sit in a house somewhere in the woods and I wouldn’t be anyone.

I didn’t know what was worse, at this point.

THEN - Day 103

My plane touched down in London and it was raining--I’d been so many times before. I’d played shows and done appearances, but I’d never been here to meet someone. My weeks had become a countdown to seeing Harry again, and my days were spent waiting for another text.

I’d suddenly become amazing at mental math, constantly determining the hour in whatever time zone he was in. My stomach constantly had butterflies.

Sinead was back in L.A.--it was shortly after the New Year, and my mom had only given me permission to come all the way to London if I brought security with me.

The lights in the small cabin lit up, the pilot made an announcement to me and Jack, and I grabbed my bag. I couldn’t wait any longer.

My relationship with Harry was still new--he’d spent plenty of time with my family, but I’d yet to meet his sister and his mom. I couldn’t help but wonder what they thought they knew about me--I was past the point of fame where I could assume that someone didn’t know who I was.

I climbed down the stairs and onto the pavement, straight into a black car and towards wherever it was that Harry was staying. Jack made a few comments about driving on the wrong side of the road, but I couldn’t focus on much besides the fact that I’d get to see Harry.

I’d never felt this way--I’d never felt like I could be so authentically myself with someone, especially lately. The past few years had been worse than I expected. At first, being famous was fun. There was money and there was traveling and writing and singing and meeting people who loved me more than I’d ever loved anyone.

After a while, though, it started to feel stale. I started to feel like I was just maintaining an image that I didn’t create. I was fulfilling the role that so many people had put me in--the role that my fans saw and the role that they showed on TV. I didn’t know who I was. I knew who Margot Jones was, but sometimes she felt distant.

Harry made me feel like we were the same--like the Margot that everyone idolized wasn’t the greatest thing about me. He made me feel like a girl who loved chocolate and journaling and swimming and talking late at night on the phone.

He made me feel like I was real.

Right when I felt like I could float away, he pulled me down to earth.

A man from Harry’s security team led me in the back door of a hotel--sneaking around made everything more fun. We weaved down a hallway, past a hundred doors that all looked the same. Eventually, the tall man with a black shirt chose one to knock on.

“Hi,” Harry smiled when he opened the door. He opened his arms to receive me, I took in a breath, appreciating his scent and the feeling of having someone’s arms around me. “I missed you.”

“I missed you,” I looked up at him. “I’m really nervous though.”

“To meet my family?” He laughed, shaking the hand of the security guard before shutting the door behind me. I nodded. “They’re going to love you. How could they not?”

“They don’t know me, they probably know who I am, but that’s not--that’s not me.”

I set my bag down by my feet. He stared at me, a small smile set on his face. “I know they’ll love you.”

“How do you know that?” I rolled my eyes a little.

“Because,” he shrugged. “I know they will. And besides, I love you.”

He hadn’t said that before. I stared at him, my lips turning into a smile--I felt like I could cry. I knew he meant it, I knew he felt it, I knew because I did, too.

THEN - Day 1168

Harry knew that something was wrong. He didn’t kiss me goodnight and he didn’t tell me he loved me. He was mad that I wouldn’t talk to him, he was mad I wouldn’t tell him how I felt, but I didn’t have the words.

His band had just released their album, and I flew to New York to visit while they did promo. The whole summer had been like a build up to this moment. I couldn’t pull him any deeper with me. I know he cared--I know he wanted me to be happy, to get help, but that was too hard. Maybe this was how I was supposed to be.

I slept in my own hotel room--I needed my space, I needed time to think. It’d been seven years of pretending, and at this point, it felt like I couldn’t last another second.

New York was cold and the leaves were mostly gone--dormant like the emotion inside of me.

He’d knocked on my door after I asked him to come over. I opened it, and I think he knew right then. He looked at me with big green eyes, almost glossy with emotion, but he didn’t say anything. I stepped aside and let him in.

I wondered, for a second, what would happen if I told him everything--all of the sadness, uncertainty, and fear that slept inside of me, waiting to come out. I figured he wouldn’t understand, I figured it would cause him too much pain.

He walked to the couch and sat, his eyes on the floor. I sat across from him, waiting to see if he’d ask what I wanted--he let out a sigh and rubbed at his eyes. “You can’t do this, can you?”

I didn’t really know what he meant, but I figured that he was right. I didn’t feel like I could do much, these days.

I shook my head when he looked at me. He closed his eyes quickly, almost as if it hurt to look at me. I stood from the couch, suddenly feeling like I needed more room to breathe. He looked too sad, too hurt, I couldn’t know that I was doing that to him. I’d already hurt him enough.

“So that’s it? We’re just quitting--no reason. No explanation. Just because you’re--” he stopped.

“I’m what?” I challenged him, the anger in his voice seemed to rub off on me.

“You’re sick.”

“I’m not sick,” I shot back. I didn’t feel sick. I didn’t have a fever. I didn’t have a stomach ache. I walked to the bed in the bed and sat.

“You won’t accept help.”

“I don’t need it.”

“Yes, Margot. You do.”

I stared at him for a minute, there was a part of me that wanted to cry and admit that I didn’t know what to do and I was scared. I couldn’t pull myself out of this endless hole and it felt like everyone else had stopped trying.

The walls of the hotel seemed to blur, the four slabs of sheetrock were suddenly the same box I’d lived in my whole life. The windows that looked out over a bleak New York were simply slivers of hope--a glimpse into a world I’d never know.

He came to stand next to me, looking down as I avoided his gaze. “You can leave me, and you can end this, but you need to get help. Okay?”

His voice was distant, words strung together in a melodic tone that I knew was supposed to mean something. His face was a memory, his green eyes used to spark adrenaline in me, but here, in this moment, the only word I could mutter was: “okay.”

Was it okay? Was I okay? Was he okay?

How had everything crashed down like this? How had the polished and scripted idea become such a desperate and empty scene? A cold hotel room in the middle of New York was the sterile setting of my heartbreak.

There was a pit in my stomach made up of words I hadn’t said--things I’d kept from him all summer, all year. I knew it was going to happen, I knew it needed to happen, but now it felt wrong. The thought of him leaving and walking out the door sent a fire in my heart and a wave of fear through my veins, but I couldn’t say that out loud. He was the only person who seemed to care--he was the one who made me feel real.

“I’m sorry,” he said, holding my gaze for a minute before I had to look away. I could see the water in his eyes--the emotion that I was so disconnected from--and I wish I felt guilty. I didn’t want to see him in pain, but the part of my brain that felt empathy had long been turned off. “I love you, y’know.”

I nodded.

He always had.

He was quiet now, waiting for me to say something in response. I loved him--I loved him with every piece of my heart, but saying that didn’t seem like it would change anything. I could trace over the last six months like I’d done every night for weeks, but it felt like that would only delay the inevitable. I was a one way ticket to ruining his life.

“Say something,” he spoke again, his voice lower this time. I brought my head up, offering him a small smile. I could feel the pain in his voice, and I wished I could show him that. I could sense the urgency in his voice, but I didn’t have any words.

I’d been saying so many words for the last seven years that the well was dry. He had to understand that.

“Harry,” I breathed out his name, the slump in his shoulders told me that he felt just as hopeless as I did. “I think you should go.”

The words were easy to say--harder to feel. Did I mean it? Not really, but I had to convince him I did. If I made it clear that this decision wasn’t easy he’d have a harder time going, he’d look back over his shoulder, he’d question every step.

That would make it harder.

He stood from the bed, pausing again to see if I’d say anything else. I looked up at him, trying to get a good look at him. Here was the person who saved me, the person who made me whole when I felt like a shell of myself, and here was the person who made me not afraid to try.

He nodded in response to my silence, keeping his eyes on the ground. I could see his wet cheeks, though I hadn’t seen any tears actually fall. He leaned in, pressed a kiss to my forehead, and left.

NOW - Day 1701

“I didn’t enjoy hurting you, just so you know. I didn’t like breaking your heart.”

“I didn’t say you did,” he looked up at me. “But I still don’t really understand why you left.”

“You really want to get into this, now?”

I didn’t know what he wanted from me. He came here, he showed up, all I could do was make him tea and tell him that I could handle the shit show that his album was about to spark.

I don’t think people ever got sick of news about us--we’d been broken up for a year and a half, and there were still headlines about if his vague instagram was about me or if I was doing okay after the split.

If there was one thing everyone knew, it was that I left him--he made that pretty clear. I was the villain--the magazines and the gossip sites painted me as the girl who ran away and the girl who needed rehab.

The girl who was just too sad.

He was the poor guy who had to deal with the media circus when I went away--no one could reach me for a comment in the backwoods of Tennessee while I sat on a couch in my therapist’s office crying into a box of tissues. He had to answer the questions and he had to exist in a world where I was now the bad guy.

“We haven’t ever gotten into it. I can’t read your mind. I wish I could.”

“You don’t,” I said quickly. He wouldn’t do well with the constant fear and worry and sadness. It wasn’t as bad now, sure--it was more manageable and I was getting better and better at tolerating it, but he certainly didn’t wish he could be inside of here with me.

“I wish I knew what happened to us,” he rephrased his words, keeping his eyes on me.

“I wish I knew what happened to me,” I said.

He was being selfish--he was doing that thing where he acted like he was the only one who was affected by my mood, by my anxiety, by my depression. He didn’t have to live with it.

He was quiet for a minute. The tea kettle whistled and I poured the water into two glasses. I slid the box of tea towards him, I could have made it for him--just a splash of some milk and a little bit of honey--but I didn’t want to seem too forward.

“I could have helped you.”

I knew he would take it there--I knew this would become a thing. He’d have some hero complex and I’d have to explain why that only happened in movies.

“People can’t save each other, Harry. That’s not how it works.”

“I said ‘help.’”

“I know what you said.”

He dipped his tea bag into the water in his mug. I brought a spoon to my own and stirred, watching as the color from the tea bag seeped into the hot liquid.

“I loved you, I just wanted to help.”

I took a deep breath--his intentions were good, I knew that. “I know. But you couldn’t have. I left because it was something I needed to do alone. I ruined your summer--I ruined our relationship. I didn’t want you to get taken down with the ship.”

He looked up at me now, his eyes on mine. I think he was surprised.

“You weren’t going to take me down,” his voice was quiet--sad, almost.

“I already had, Harry. Everything in your life that summer became about me and making sure I was okay. Everyone’s life revolved around me. That wasn’t fair.”

I wondered if I should tell him that I missed him, that I wished he could have helped. Instead of speaking more, I sipped at my tea.

“I’m sorry you felt so alone.”

I kept my eyes on the ground, I knew if I looked at him, I’d cry. I didn’t feel alone, I was alone. No one could take the pain away from me, no one could make me feel okay. I had to roll my sleeves up and do the work.

“I didn’t know what you needed and I didn’t know how to ask.”

I laughed a little at this, offering a small smile when I finally mustered up the courage to look at him. “I also lied and said I didn’t need any.”

He shrugged, mirroring my smile. “There’s that too.”

We were both quiet for a second--he sat at the island and drank his tea, I stared out the window at the waves that crashed on the sand. The warmth from my mug felt good on my skin, for a second, I didn’t feel so uncomfortable.

“Do you think your fans will hate me?”

He looked up at me, the glass was raised to his lips. He swallowed, set it down, and then tugged at his lower lip, pondering my question. “Dunno--they’ll not be pleased, I’m sure.”

I stared down into my mug, watching the tea bag float effortlessly. I think what I really wanted to know was if he hated me.

“I don’t want them to, just so you know,” he laughed a little, watching me and waiting for me to make eye contact. “That’s not the point of my album.”

“I know, but, they will. I was a dick.”

He was quiet now. I don’t think he wanted to agree, but he also knew I wasn’t wrong.

“I’m sorry I didn’t explain why I broke up with you.”

He nodded, another pause of silence passed between us. “I appreciate that.”

“You’re supposed to say ‘I’m sorry I wrote a whole album about you being a dick,’” I teased him.

He let out a hearty laugh, throwing his head back as he grinned. “Right--I meant that.”

[my-sweet-valentine]

Stranger

„Babe? If you could describe the first time we met in one sentence, what would that be?“ he asks her making her look up from the book she was reading. His eyebrows hovered over his peaceful blue eyes.

“Um, where is this coming from Luke?” she simply wondered. It wasn’t like him to bring up the things of the past out of the blue like this. Especially since it hasn’t always been smooth sailing for them.

“Well, I am writing this song, and I kind of need the other person’s point of view. So, can you help?” his smile alone, that was wider than it normally is, could make her do anything he asked her to. Well, maybe anything except this.

“You know I am not really comfortable sharing my thoughts like that, Luke.” her face clearly had please don’t make me written all over it. “Besides, you have been more than capable to write your songs without my input in the past. I think you’ll manage.” she said getting up to peck his forehead quickly.

“Oh, come on. Can you just tell me what it felt like when we first met and when you fell in love with me?”

“Sorry to burst your bubble baby, but when I met you I did not fall in love with you. Did you think I did?”

It hadn’t occurred to her that that’s what he thought their first meeting meant to her. She studied his face, while his once peaceful eyes were now not so peaceful. “I mean, I know you didn’t fall in love with me from day one, but you must have felt some attraction. Didn’t you?”

“Well, I mean, I felt a connection, yes. But I can’t really say I felt an attraction.” she said heading for the fridge to get anything really if it meant she could avoid Luke’s interrogation.

“Oh. A connection. Just that? Just a connection? You didn’t feel attracted to me? Not even a little? Babe, I’m pretty hot.”

“Okay, yeah. I think this discussion is over right about now.” Even though she couldn’t help the smile from appearing on her face, she tried to keep a stern look.

She wasn’t in her happy place right now. Sitting on a hotel bed with a noodle cup half empty by her side, and her laptop in front of her ready to finally start writing was definitely not her happy place. The problem was, her brain was full of ideas but no matter how hard she tried to put them into words, she couldn’t. Being in L.A. for a writing conference was supposed to fire things up, but so far there were zero major changes on anything except her credit card. Debating on whether she should keep trying or go downstairs to the lobby for a quick walk, she decided to just take a small break and go downstairs after all.

She grabbed her phone, and room key and took one last look at herself in the mirror. She was wearing the most regular pair of jeans she probably owned and her favourite T-shirt tucked into the jeans, but she didn’t really care. All she wanted anyway was to get some fresh air and maybe a bottle of water. Thinking that perhaps inspiration would strike in a somewhat different environment, she also brought her laptop.  

As glad as she felt that she was able just at 24 to support herself financially and to be able to get a room at a hotel like this, all on her own, she couldn’t help but be angry at herself for getting lost. How hard could it be to just find the elevator? Walking around for what felt like 10-15 minutes she finally managed to get to the lobby.

Looking for the perfect writing spot next to the window, she wished she was back to where she normally wrote everything. Back home, she had a special spot, next to her bedroom window. Something about watching people go on with their everyday lives. How some were rushing through the endless crowds, while others were taking their time simply just strolling through. It all made sense. And it all triggered a different idea, a different story. So maybe sitting next to the window again would help.

Writing always came easily to her. It wasn’t as if she was the best of course, but ever since she was a little girl, all she ever wanted to do was to become a writer. A few months ago when she was flying home from L.A. she had this amazing idea for a story. She had almost five hours to write everything that was on her mind. When the plane landed she didn’t even realize how fast the time had passed. And she was also quite pleased with the result. She pitched the draft to her writing counsellor the next day and he was very impressed.

So maybe there was something about Los Angeles that created the perfect flow when it came to her writing. Especially empty lobbies at 2 am, where it was quiet enough for her to pour her thoughts out. Searching for the perfect writing spot, she noticed a rather small couch by the window with a small table in front of it and an armchair next to it. Maybe the cute setting would help get things moving. So, cute setting it is.

After getting comfortable on the couch and looking out the window for a solid 20 minutes, she decided it was time to just start typing away. And she did. This turned out to be a good, but slightly boring idea after all. But she had made progress. Looking at the clock she realized that she been down here for almost an hour. And of course, writer’s block strikes once again. Well, maybe it was time to get to bed, she thought. It was enough writing for today.

Packing up her things to go upstairs to her room she didn’t notice the person walking behind her and she tripped over them and next thing she knew she was sort of lying on the floor.

“I am so sorry. Shit, are you okay?” she heard the person ask. It was a guy standing in front of her offering his hand to her, to help her get up. She took his hand not really paying any attention to his apology. She couldn’t help but feel angry at him for knocking her down. “I really am sorry. I was looking at my phone, and I’m really tired, to be honest. Which is not an excuse, at all, but I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” she simply answered, giving him the best compassionate look she could pull off right now. To be fair, he did knock her down.

“Still I’m so sorry.”

“I wasn’t paying attention too. It’s okay.” she offered him a smile this time, feeling kind of bad that she got angry over something so stupid. Perhaps it was the fact that her brain was drained and it was 3 am. “Don’t worry about it. Really.”

He nodded this time finally feeling a little better for what happened. This certainly wasn’t a great time for him. Walking around completely oblivious to his surroundings and knocking people over is just not who he is. And he felt really embarrassed about it. In fact, he wasn’t even hiding it. Life was just too much at that point. He was so tired to the point he couldn’t sleep. Lately, he thought that he probably developed some sort of insomnia since he was walking around the hotel at 3 am.

“Oh, it’s Luke by the way. My name I mean.” his words came out faster and slightly weirder than he was planning as he extended his hand to her. She looked pretty, was what came to his mind. Tired, but pretty. She didn’t have that hard look in her eyes anymore. Which was a good thing?

“I’m Skye.” her handshake was so graceful he thought. She was giving just that right amount of squeeze and it just felt like it was the right handshake. Also a weird thing to think of, he mentally said to himself. “Nice to meet you.” she said then.

“Yeah, nice to meet you too. Not so nice that I knocked you down, but you know...” he trailed off.

She gave him a smile this time. “Please, stop apologizing. It’s no big deal. It’s not like I got hurt.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Okay, I won’t say it again.” he said smiling back at her. “So, you’re a night owl too, huh?” gesturing towards her laptop he questioned.

“Not usually. But, since I couldn’t get anything done in the morning hours I thought that maybe the night would be my friend and turns out it was. I guess the quiet helps me write better.”

“Oh, you’re a writer?” he said taking a slightly uncomfortable seat at the arm of the couch.

“Barely.” she replied while sitting properly on the couch. Close -but not too close- to him. “I came to L.A. for this writing conference, which might have been a waste of time actually.”

“Why is that?” he asked her. “If I may ask.” he added realizing he was coming off a bit too strong.

“I’m not really sure I’ve figured out what my groove is if I’m being completely honest. But I’ve got some determination in me left, so let’s hope this doesn’t turn into a flop.” she said laughing at herself basically.

“Oh come on. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Finding your groove, your rhythm, your genre or whatever you want to call it isn’t always easy. And I think that if we didn’t have such a hard time finding it, it wouldn’t be worth it to call it ours. Don’t you agree?”  he told her, even though he knew that this was an advice he was also struggling to follow.

 “Um, I do actually. That was such an amazing way to put it. You seem to speak from experience? Or am I wrong?”

And that’s when he realized that she didn’t know who he was. It was so weird talking to someone who didn’t know that he was Luke Hemmings, lead singer of a worldwide known band. She was just some girl, in a hotel lobby, who he knocked down of course, but she was talking to him so freely. And that felt really different from how conversations with people usually went. So he decided to just keep it that way.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t know. I’m not really familiar with composing anything on my own. Which is weird, since I’m giving you advice on that exact same topic. I just thought that it was the right thing to say.”

“Well Luke, even so, your advice was probably the best advice I was given in a long time, so thank you.” she said giving him another smile.

“You’re welcome. It’s the least I can do. So, are you writing anything at the moment?” he proceeded to ask feeling as if he didn’t want the conversation to drop.

“Ugh, it’s probably too bad to even think of. It’s not worth writing further on it, but my studying coach gave this assignment with the purpose of leaving my comfort zone, so yeah...” she stopped for a minute looking at her screen. “It’s shit actually, I might have to start all over again tomorrow.”

“I could help you with that.” he offered, leaving her confused as to how he could be of help to her.

“How?” she asked him.

“Well, I could read it and tell you what I think. What kind of story is it?”

“Um, it’s a romantic short story, but I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“Why not? I’m a complete stranger, who you’re never going to see again, so even if your story is that shitty it’s not like you’ll see me again tomorrow to remind you of how shitty it was.” he answered her, trying to persuade her realizing his comment wasn’t coming off as funny as he ought to. That’s it, he thought. First I knock her down, then I’m rude to her, she’s gonna start screaming, at best.

But instead, he heard her laugh. She got the joke, apparently. “Well, you do have a point. Plus, you made me have a not so wonderful collision with the floor so my shitty writing could be a way of punishment for you.”  

“There’s also that. Okay, let’s get some reading done. Come on.”

He noticed she was being a little hesitant for a moment. “You don’t have to do this, it’s okay. I could just delete it and start over tomorrow.”

“I think it would be a very bad idea to erase something you’ve created without sharing it with someone first. What you don’t like might turn out to be someone’s favourite.”

“Alright, fine. Here you go. Feel free to vomit. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

And with that, she handed him the laptop. He took a better seat closer to her, sitting properly on the couch next to her. Without saying anything further he dived into the reading and spent the next 40 minutes doing just that.

Skye definitely thought that a stranger was so eager to read something she wrote. She also found it a little weird, and it was, but for some reason, she was also expecting him to finish and listen to what he had to say. He was right, it wasn’t as if she was going to see him again tomorrow, so why not? Constructive criticism wasn’t something she was afraid of, anyway. Taking a moment to really look at him, she realized his eyes were blue and even though she looked at him while they were talking before, she didn’t really look at him. He also had his semi-long blonde locks falling over his forehead. Luke was a handsome man, no argument there. He looked like he was around her age. He had a unique sense of style, nothing like the guys she usually pays attention to.

At that point, Skye realized that she didn’t ask Luke anything about himself. Where is he from, what does he do for a living? He knew she was a struggling writer, but she didn’t know anything about him. He really was just a stranger.

“Alright. I think I’ve finished it. Is that where it ends?” he asked her pulling her out of her thought while also pointing at a specific spot on the screen.

“Yeah, that wasn’t clear, huh?”. Strike number one, she thought.

“Well, no. Overall, it was really good. I would definitely like to see how it would continue. But the ending was a little unclear.”

“It won’t continue. That’s the point of it being a short story. And for the ending, yeah I get what you’re saying. I just couldn’t think of something better.”

“Hold on, you mean there won’t be a next chapter? Come on that’s a little torture don’t you think?”

She laughed at how bold he turned out to be. “So, how would you continue this story then? If it was to turn into an actual book?” she asked him.

And maybe she shouldn’t have, because they spent the next couple of hours writing a continuation. What once was her short story, turned out to be the smaller part of an actual book. Poorly written of course, since it was just a bunch of ideas thrown into a white canvas. Skye let Luke take the lead because it looked like he was having fun writing it and sharing his ideas with her.

And after nearly two hours of bombarding her with his extremely creative and unrealistic ideas, and with his funny and smart remarks, they were finally content with the masterpiece that they’ve created. Which was yet to be named, but that didn’t matter.

“I think we’ve written a masterpiece. In fact, if we wait a couple hours more we might just be able to be there when the publisher’s office opens up.”

“Oh yeah, this baby is definitely going to the time’s best sellers.” she joked. “I think we’re gonna make a fortune.” Skye said earning a chuckle from Luke.

“Um, Nicholas Sparks who?” he answered making her laugh this time.

“On the downside, I think we have officially ruined the short story that I was supposed to submit to my writing counsellor.”

“This can count as a short story. A short part of a book isn’t a short story?”

“I’m afraid not, Luke. But that’s okay. I’m going to figure something out.”

“Well I am certain that you will.” he replied to her. It kind of busted up her confidence.

She couldn’t help but smile at his comment.

Skye definitely had a great time with Luke writing this “masterpiece”, but looking at the clock and realizing it was almost 6 am she knew it was time to call it a night.

“Wow it’s 6 am, and I’ve got a flight to catch in five hours. I totally lost track of time.” she informed Luke, even though he knew that this was going to come to an end at some point. But seeing her rush to gather her stuff and leave made him feel worse than he thought he would.

“You and me both. You’re going back home?” he asked hoping not to sound too eager, although he failed.

“Yeah, back to New York. What about you?” she asked still not sending a glance his way, while she continued to gather her things.

“Well, I’m not going back to New York, if that’s what you’re asking.” he simply said. Intending to sound a little bit rude. To be fair, Skye hadn’t asked him a single thing about him. And she noticed.

“I’m so sorry. This entire time has been about myself I didn’t ask you anything about you. Luke, I’m so sorry. I’m not normally like this.” Skye did her best trying to apologize.

“Well, that’s okay. There’s one thing you can do to make it up to me.” Luke told her.

“Of course. What is it?” she asked him.

“You can promise me that you are going to continue this story that we wrote together. You can extract the cheesy and really cringy parts that were mostly my ideas. But the original story was good and I would like to know how you would write the continuation. Even if you don’t pitch this idea to you writing counsellor.” he replied leaving her quite stunned. She didn’t expect that he would care so much for her story.

“Okay, so if I do continue this story, how are you gonna know?”

“Oh, right. Well, I guess there are two things. You..” he trailed off while pulling out his phone. “Are going to give your number.” he continued while handing her his phone. He noticed that Skye looked a little hesitant. No matter how much fun they had creating this short story, didn’t change the fact that they were simply just strangers. “All for the sake of the story of course.” he added which made her laugh.

“Of course. Smooth.” Skye replied, smirking at him.

She took the phone from his hand and saved her number on his contacts.

“Well, there you go.” she told him handing the phone back to him. “Although, I am sure this is going to be such a huge disappointment for you. I don’t think I am going to be so good at continuing this story without you.”

“I am sure you are going to be just fine.” he honestly replied.

She nodded and suddenly realized that this was getting a little confusing for her, and of course she had a flight to catch in five hours and she also had zero hours of sleep last night. Although, sitting here, and looking at him made her feel weird but at the same time at ease, like she hadn’t felt in a very long time, she had to rush upstairs.

“I really have to go.” she told him.

“I know.” Luke answered.

“I guess, look forward to hearing from me when I have the next part ready?” she asked, mostly to herself. Was she really going to do that?

“You bet.”

“Great. Well, it was amazing. And I had fun, but I’m gonna go now. Have a great day, whatever it is that you are doing today. Since I don’t know what that is.”

“Oh, for starters I am going to get some sleep.” he simply said.

“Okay. Great. Till next time we talk?” Skye asked.

“Absolutely.” Luke replied.

She took a last good look at him since she didn’t know when and if she was ever going to see him again. And then just left. She made sure not to turn around as she was walking away. She didn’t need to embarrass herself more than she already had. But she felt his eyes on her back as she was leaving.

Skye hurried upstairs to her room, packed her bags and left the hotel in two hours. Since she was one of those people who wanted to be at the airport a million years before her flight was departing, after she checked-in, she sat at this little lounge and opened her laptop. And for as long as she was waiting, she couldn’t stop staring at the story that she and Luke, a stranger really, wrote. The almost five-hour flight helped her compose the second part to this awesome, fun but at the same time cheesy and extremely unrealistic story. She suddenly felt the urge to finish the next chapter as fast as possible, if that was the only thing that would allow her to speak to him again. Even just via text.

Luke, on the other hand, feeling some sort of warmness in his chest from this experience that gave him more than people would think, couldn’t stop thinking about the girl that he was so happy he knocked down. After he watched her walk away and disappear into the elevator, he checked his phone to see her contact. He wasn’t worried about her giving him a false number. Not at all. Actually, Luke couldn’t help but feel the smile spread further than just his face when he saw that she had put her number under the name Stranger.

All feedback would be appreciated. 

[kindabraveandlittlestupid]

Fantasy Vacations

I took some time to think about the fictional places I love to visit; either to go to school, drink, dance, party, read books, swing a sword or simply just explore the local culture. Below you will find 47 of the best must-visit fictional locations (according to me) and some reasons why I would love to go there. Don’t take this to serious it's all written for shits and giggles. Let me know if I made any mistakes or if you have any late additions and thanks for reading.

Regards, Michael California

Alpha The City of a Thousand Planets

Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets did not do well in the theaters, to say the least, it was poor casting choices that sunk it. However, the opening of the movie with ‘Alpha’ growing in mass starting off as the original International Space Station and adding alien visitors over time before becoming a massive city in space was a pretty cool concept and scene to watch to the music of David Bowie. With 3,236 unique species on board, there is a real chance you could live there your whole life and still not meet every kind of alien life form. Who wouldn't want to live in a hub of alien cross-cultural?

Arrakis

The “Spice Must Flow” and “Fear Is The Mind Killer”. Arrakis and the book Dune, which is celebrated in Scifi much the same way Tolkien is celebrated in Fantasy, is a sand world with giant worms, a scarcity in water and a world in the center of political conflict all in the name of Spice, a mind/body-altering drug that extends life and allows space travel. Arakis is hardly a place you would want to go on holiday but you go to a place like this for cultural depth of the Fremen people and if you’re lucky, ride on the back of a Sandworm. Which frankly is good enough for me. Please note consumption of spice may turn your eyes blue.

Asgard

A city of gold floating in the heavens and home to literal gods? Asgard has a lot to offer in the way Norse Culture and would be my kind of place to visit. It’s one of a few vacation spots on this list that might be considered a utopia even if you're under a Mythical Monarchy; a balance between a combat culture, art, music, literature, rowdy partying and it also happens to be the center of the Nine Realms giving you access to the other worlds to explore. I suppose the greatest feature (despite the golden architecture) is the flat slab that holds itself in space and defying science and reason. This is about the only place Flat-Earthers would be correct (save the Disc World which is another flat earth on the backs of elephants on the back of a planet-sized turtle which makes about as much sense as Flat-Earth Science). 

Atlantis

I had to make a tough choice between the DC Atlantis and the Stargate Atlantis. Considering I can't breathe underwater and I already have the Themyscira from Wonder Woman and Rapture from Bioshock I opted for Atlantis from Stargate. This vacation spot is at best a weekend trip with mostly the same alien architecture to see but with the Stargate being in the middle of the facility it perhaps opens THE most options for day trips to various alien worlds across the universe, even more so then Asgard with the nine realms. So it makes it onto my list.

Bay City

Only once I started writing this list did I find that there is a lot of sci-fi love for New York City and San Francisco (I imagine Tokyo would also make the top 5). The show Altered Carbon takes place in a city called Bay City which is San Francisco unless someone else built another Golden Gate Bridge and covered it with shipping container apartments (cool concept). This city is all about vice and digital pleasures much the same way Future LA is in Blade Runner. Despite having its gritty side this place no doubt has a lot to offer in regards to a nightlife and what I hope is a great selection of food. Just let me pull on my long black leather trench coat with neon trim.

Canto Bight

A clever ‘twist’ the Tattooine trope from Star Wars is Canto Bight. Basically suggesting crime doesn't always start from the bottom up but sometimes the top down. While this whole part of the story was literally pointless to plot and outcome of the Last Jedi, I can appreciate another location being added to the vast universe (had it not been cut back by the idiots at Disney). Point is it’s a lavish location with gambling and ritzy living so long as you don't peel back the finish and realize it is basically built on slave labor. Oh, Capitalism.

Castle Black

While Castle Black is basically filled with bastards, volunteers, and criminals it makes a pretty good metaphor for aimless people joining the military. Only your enlistment is forever, you're stationed next to an ice wall and on the other side of that wall is ice hillbillies and nightmares. I do actually like some seclusion for some holidays and this works well if I take a bunch of books and mead and spend 3 months reading by a fire while doing some sword practice in the yard with the Crows. Sounds kind of peaceful and I might get to pee off the wall.

Citadel

Yet another superstructure in space shared by multiple species. The Citadel caught many gamers imagination both being a massive space city but also the seat of power between the various sentient species in Mass Effect. The Citadel (like most future cities) has its extreme highs (wealth and luxury) and deep lows (poverty and criminal underworlds). Granted its criminal world is nowhere near Omega’s level of corruption but if Canto Bight showed us anything is corruption can start from the top. The real reason to go here is to party the nights away and drink a bunch, kind of like Singapore and like Singapore, after a week you pretty much hit all the hot spots and ready to move on.

Cloud City

Cloud City for me isn't THAT exciting to go by myself but with my significant other for either honeymoon or weekend getaway? It perhaps can a nice place to relax, stay in a comfortable room, go on long walks, enjoy nice meals and take cloud tours flying around the gas giant and seeing the massive vapor plumes. That doesn't sound so bad, does it?

Columbia

Columbia is a proper steampunk sky city which is nothing short of elegant, beautiful and a marvel in itself. I always wondered how people breathed so high up but that's far from the only concern if you visit a city like this. Behind the vale of beauty is a hyper-religious society, fascism, and racism all hanging in the heavens like some sort of GOP paradise where anyone non-white is kinda screwed. If we managed to cut out the lingering problems of Conservatism in Columbia, this place would be a paradise! Just watch your step its a long way down and railings are only hip high.

Coruscant Jedi Temple

The Jedi Temple, Hogwarts, Highland Mountain, and Kamar Taj all represent a kind of school/academy. An I might make another list of fictional educational institutes we all wish we could sign up for later but as of right now we are on vacation and the Coruscant Jedi Temple has much the same appeal as Castle Black with books to read and swordplay in the afternoon and peeing off one of the spires (preferably off the middle one where the Jedi Council convenes). Naturally, I have also the whole planet to explore but spending time with mystical philosophical laser sword wielding space mages sounds like a pretty unforgettable encounter.

Diagon Alley

Presently the shortest visit on the list, Diagon Alley is pretty much a long street of shops for people to get their magic on. I do enjoy some window shopping and strange old things but really we are here to get spells and wands no? I can't imagine being here more than a few hours but I can see Diagon needing multiple visits because you are bound to miss something and need to make a second trip to fucking find it. 

Diamond City

I was split between Diamond City and Megaton as two fallout locations to add to my list. Ultimately living next to a nuclear bomb drove me away from Megaton and living in a baseball field turned fortress appealed to me. I love the care put into the creation of this city by Bethesda, I know I give them a hard time for their multiplayer and money grabbing for mods but the effort put into Diamond City makes it seem like a viable and logical settlement in the Fallout Universe... hell I am thinking about playing that game now after writing this. Oh, what is there to do here? Not much save eat and drink and pee off one of the front walls on some Super Mutants.

L.A. 2049

Where Bay City was full of sexy holograms, L.A. 2049 is full of sexy synthetics. Really though this setting really established the idea of Cyberpunk for a lot of people and have one of the early images of vast American cities being pushed closer together and then reaching towards the sky. Like so many other settings it's overcrowded and has its dark side but dark sided cities tend to have some interesting nightlife and like Bay City you can probably do a lot with your time and money assuming you have a lot of both.

Gotham City

You can probably get more out of Future LA or Bay City then you could from Gotham which is why I won't be trying to sell you on the city. I hear they have a big crime problem and lots of people dressing up as bats. Don’t get me started on this Police zeppelins humming around and shining a spotlight through your window at 2 AM. No, you went to go to the Ice Berg Lounge for some late night Jazz, catch Haly’s Circus when it comes through town, and visit the various museums across the city. Just don’t take any shortcuts and if at all possible pay for a driver to take you around the city, the locals know which areas are safe.

Highland Mountain

I imagine many of you are thinking “What is Highland Mountain?” and I am glad you asked inquisitive Tumblrs. Highland Mountian is the secret location for the Spartan-II program on the Planet Reach. In other words, this is where Master Chief had his survival training and general training to become a Spartan. If you’re still not with me it's from the video game Halo. Like the Jedi Temple it is more fun to be trained here but as a vacation option, I like camping with some Spartans and roughing it on the frosty mountains in some power armor playing war games. It’s like paintball with soldiers if the soldiers were 7 feet tall and flip over a tank with their bare hands.

Hogsmeade

A cozy little-frozen town in Britain called Hogsmeade is basically the main settlement of non-muggles beyond Hogwarts or so Wikipedia tells me. It’s a magical town and has lots to offer in the way of shopping much like Diagon Alley. The benefit of this community is that it is a community; bars, library, shops, restaurants, and more can be found here. Good for a romantic getaway or even raising your kids and making Snowmen during the winter. What else is there to say?

Hogwarts

Say what you will but I imagine Hogwarts might take one of the top 5 places people would love to see. It’s magical, hidden, filled with secrets and a rich history to get emerged into. Despite being just the right age when these books first came out (I was like 12 or 13), I still have not read them (I know... I deserve your ire). Truth is we all kinda wish we could go to school there, personally, I can see myself just reading all the time and experimenting with magic 24/7. I can only imagine how much trouble I might get in with spells/potions going wrong.

Jurassic Park

Not exactly a good track record for Jurassic Park but quite honestly the people overseeing this parks (in regards to the movies) despite being the most brilliant minds in their fields appear to be inept over and over again, as bad as the Sticky Bandits from Home Alone. Beyond that point, a day vacation with the family to Jurassic Park would be amazing and perhaps something we would indulge in every couple of years. Easy to imagine the kids losing their fucking mind over Dinosaurs but then again so would I.

Kaer Morhen

Hard stretch to call Kaer Morhen a school mostly because the students are all old men already trained to kill monsters. This is less about vacationing at this castle and more about living there and fixing up the place. Really, I feel like its the perfect little slice of Scandinavian land to build a long-term residence at. If I was to stay here as vacation spot pretty much reach Castle Black again and repeat without the wall and white walkers.

Kamar Taj

Another school of magic where Dr. Strange learned his abilities along with many other students of magic. I appreciate the seclusion of it. Kind of a Castle Black feels with a pinch of Hogwarts. Like the Jedi Academy, the ‘students’ here are very much adults and there is an appeal to that considering I am 32 now.

King’s Landing

Really though King’s Landing pretty much only works as a vacation spot if you are A) staying at the Red Keep and B) having a bachelor party to enjoy the brothels. Not that any of us would do that sort of thing...

Labyrinth

You can either assume this trip will take a few days or a few months. I like the Labyrinth for the same reasons I love Myst and Wonderland. A strange world and I love a good puzzle. Not sure how I feel about the Goblin King and his junk in spandex... I mean I don’t want to rain on his parade but I think I might do the maze in reverse instead of seeing him do his “Dance Magic Dance” in his castle with his junk in my face. No issues here if you’re a gay guy or straight girl that would love King Bowie to do that to you.

Mother’s Cradle

In a world where machines have taken over and humanity had been regressed to primitive tribes, Mother’s Cradle is a secluded valley of protection and nature. If you ever played Horizon Zero Dawn, you can see how peaceful that place is and could easily imagine building a home there and living off the land. I enjoy city living the most but even I can't resist Mother’s Cradle and the community that lives there.

Myst

Who doesn't love a good puzzle? Like the Labyrinth, this place is all about sharpening your wits and solving the puzzles in the world of Myst. I would suggest above all other things take a notebook with you because some things need to be written down. Did I mention it has multiple words you teleport too by opening a book.

New New York

I always wondered why the waterline in New New York in the Fifth Element is so low, really wish someone would explain that to me. Anyways it's better than Waterworld and its good to see the big apple become so large that it absorbed New Jersey. Like most big cities the nightlife would be awesome but why I really want to go here is for the fast food and flights to other planets. I won't lie the uniforms in the future are all about dressing to impress the customers and that's kinda hot. Looking at you McDonalds Girls from 2263AD

New Vegas

It’s like the Wild West with gambling, mutants, robots, and atomic weapons. You already know Fallout from Diamond city but New Vegas brings its own charm with the gambling scene. I imagine the Sin City is still very sinful and perhaps more violent. You can get into a lot of fun trouble here and who wouldn't want too. It’s Vegas!

Omega

If you were to combine the Citadel with New Vegas then Omega would be the outcome. This mining colony/way station is where crime comes to make a name for itself. The various Mass Effect species can be found within and most of them fight for territories inside its walls. It’s the sins you come from for like gambling, drinking, dancing, fucking, and fighting that make Omega so great. Don’t worry do you don't need to indulge in them all.

Pandora

Camping may not be an option in Pandora for humans but with some extra suspension of belief that you can either breath the air without it being toxic or perhaps have a Na’vi body waiting for you. The wildness of Pandora appeals to the hiker in me. I would want to climb the trees and the floating mountains, fly a wild beast or ride a wild horse in this world. The bioluminescence of the world draws me to explore it at night even with the predators lurking about.

Rapture

From my understanding, Rapture throws a hell of a New Years party. Such a crazy party that it turned into a revolution but that's a different issue altogether. The city under the sea makes my list as a more desirable alternative to that of Atlantis with me lacking gill and all that. Like Tomorrowland, this city is driven by progress and is a libertarians wet dream that is until you realize there are always people looking to take power and that being a Libertarian Society is a fantasy.

Risa

This might be the #1 vacation spot on this list because the whole damn world is about fulfilling desires and vacationing. Want to hide away and read a book? Go for it. Massages all day? No problem. Walk out into the ocean and find a boat serving sushi? Apparently, that's a thing from a Star Trek episode. It’s paradise and with their weather controls, there is never a cloudy day at their beaches. Doesn't hurt Risa women are all basically supermodels.

Rivendell

Rivendell, yet another peaceful refuge away from the harsh world. I can imagine this place having comfortable rooms and library somewhere to read. Granted I can't read elvish so I hope they have some proper English books among their shelves. If I do get bored I imagine hiking/climbing the surrounding cliffs and forest might be an option. I am sure I will piss of some elves exploring their hideaway.

San Fransokyo

Not the first movie to combine cities into something new. I admit I do love the like the new look of San Francisco and how it makes the world of big hero six feel. I think what makes me want to see this city so much is their altered architecture and more importantly the food that comes with this deep blend of Western/Asian culture. The sushi, the Kobe burgers, and literally everything else is gonna be leaps and bounds better then either city did on their own.

Skellige

There is no party like Skellige Party! Not true Asgard might throw down hard with this Nordic Pirate/Fishing community of the northern islands. Basically, the number one reason to go here is to drink or go to a royal party where you feast, fight, fuck, and drink some more. Don’t think that men have a run at the place, Skellige woman can fuck you up if you don't treat them right. Consider this a helpful PSA.

Skyrim

Truth be told if Skyrim (was to scale) of the real world, it's not a very big province or even plot of land. Think about how fast you can run from one side of the map to the other? What 15? 20 minutes at the most? That's why I kept this location as a broad vacation spot because the keeps aren't THAT big but each one has enough charm that it justifies you visiting them all and get a taste for each unique area. Like Kaer Morhen this place is all about settling down and making a life for yourself. Hell, you could pick flowers all day and sell that to shop and make that your living. Not saying you should make that your career but you could.

Starfleet

The third and final nod to San Francisco on this list (told you they got a lot of love). I always found it interesting that Gene Roddenberry would establish the federation in San Francisco. I might look that up but with the options of London, New York, Washington, and other locations making just as much since he still settled on SF as the home base for Star Fleet. Anyways I wanna go to school here because you know... space travel, alien babes, seeing new worlds and all that jazz.

Stark Tower

There is no doubt the Stark Tower has a stocked fridge, great food, killer view of the city, and a fully automated AI to improve your day (even if she is watching you shower). The fun of Stark Tower requires one thing and that is for you to invite people to come to a killer party on these top floors. I think we can all agree once you have the party rolling that it will likely go to the break of dawn.

Stormwind

I have no strong Allegiance Alliance or Horde one way or the other. Truth be told I play Warcraft 3 and then stopped never getting into WoW. I suppose the draw of fantasy species pulls me here much the same way it pulls me towards Lord of the Rings. I imagine if you find the might pub you can have a good time but the places of magic will have good books. I suppose I could wander into the forest and bath in a Moonwell and hope for a chance encounter with the Night Elves.

The Shire

It doesn't take much to imagine that food-based holidays are a big hit with hobbits. So if I was to vacation here Thanksgiving (assuming they celebrated it) or something like it would be the time to visit. Eating, dancing, drinking, and fireworks. Yes, I realize I would be a giant among them and hit my head but I am ok all the same staying in their small community.

Themyscira

Clearly, a theme in some of these hypothetical visits is to meet hot girls. On one hand, I should know better than to post such things because admitting anything like that on Tumblr is slightly sacrilege but you know what fuck that I want to go to an island full of beautiful strong independent women dammit. I don’t mind strong woman, I don't mind a matriarchy society and I don't mind admitting that I like looking at a beautiful woman and I wouldn't mind making love to Amazonian beauties on their beaches. So sue me! I fucking love women.

Thessia

Read the Themyscira post above. Same thing. Only they are a blue alien woman named Asari and apparently they can do something like a “Vulcan Mind Meld” in the bedroom. Sexy.

Tomorrowland

As someone who’s always wondered what society MIGHT be like without religion and uninhibited society focused on knowledge over profit and power, Tomorrowland is an expression of that or at least what I hope it would be like. This is the sort of place you to be impressed by the technology and the marvels of invention. I can imagine flying around a jetpack, experiencing new depths to virtual reality, zero gravity chambers, teleportation and pretty much every other sci-fi invention you can dream up will likely be found here. Hell, I don’t want to visit the world of Tomorrow I want to live there.

New Tristram

Probably the worst place to visit on my list with all the undead and demons and all that. I can't help but find Tristram a little enchanting with the Gothic Ruins and struggle that is found there. Diablo (the game) has a habit of having building look small on the outside big on the inside which is fine. I personally would like to wander into the layers below and crawl through those dungeons and collect loot. I am not sure if this is still a vacation or some sort of video game fantasy I like to live out.

Tron City

Tron City pretty much feels like nighttime 24/7 but with the arena combat, the races, and the high rise clubs. Its hard not admit there is something exciting about being on the grid. I personally love to derezz myself and spend a few weeks in the world of Tron and maybe bring back Siren or two.

Wakanda

Birnin Zana is the capital of Wakanda and that is what you see in the picture just in case you didn't know that fun fact. The city itself draws me with lots of things; food, music, culture, technology, and architecture. I medium of all things I imagine my stay could be a week or two before I seen everything I care to see. I can imagine (while not really suggested in the movie) that there is a great nightlife here and very engaged community.

Winterfell

Yet another getaway to swing swords, practice archery, read books and ride horses. Winterfell (despite being apparently the middle of nowhere) is the kind of keep I would love to live in. Not by myself mind you but with a community of people upkeeping the keep. Its a good balance of community and seclusion to read my books. Sansa Stark can keep me company under the animal skins. 

Wonderland

Wonderland, you go for the Tea Parties and you stay for the Mushrooms. Pretty much a long acid trip, Wonderland gives you the excuse to bend your mind and alter your perception on reality while encountering a variety of strange and wonderful... um... people. I wouldn't mind making this trip with Alice herself (or the White Queen) but I can make do with going with my friends and ‘feed’ our heads.

[namjoonsteeth]

Back To You- Day 1

Title: Back To You (mini-series) Day 1 of 7

Word-Count: 4.5k

Summary: Jay has been Eden’s weakness for far too long. As much as she tells herself she’s over him, all it takes is one call for her to drop everything and fly to Rome for a week to help him out. He wants a second chance, she just wants to stop being so foolish when it comes to him. They both have 7 days in Italy to figure it out.

Genre: Angst

Cover made by @obiwon-shenobi

I don’t know why I’m here. 

I promised myself months ago that I’d stop jumping when he asks me to. Still, here I am with a suitcase in each hand and my camera bag on my back; all because he made one single call. 

Jay has always been used to getting what he wants. His success was eighty-nine percent hard work, one percent luck, and ten percent simply wishing things into fruition. His latest trick, getting me to fly to Italy for seven days to shoot something for him. 

Maybe the fact that it didn’t take much spoke louder on my part than his, really. I’ve been weak for about two years now. Salivating for any piece of attention he’d thrown my way and pretending that none of it matters anymore. Obviously, I’m doing a pretty shit job. 

It’s work, Eden. That’s all it is.

I’ve been lying to myself from the minute I agreed to do the job until this very second. It’s not just work. With him, who sets my blood on fire with merely a look, who can make me ask how high when he says jump, it can never be just work. 

I make my way from baggage claim in more time than I’m hoping for. By the time I’m headed toward the van that’s supposed to be waiting for me, it’s already ten minutes past the scheduled time Jay had sent me. Granted, I don’t think he’d leave me, but I’m not really wanting to make a late entrance. It’s the first time I’m meeting a majority of the H1gher music team and I want to get in and out as seamlessly as possible. At least with them, there’s no backstory. They didn’t see Jay and I sneak in and out of each other’s room, walking on the beach late at night, making out at the after parties. I’m just a photographer. That’s all I’m really here for and that’s all they need to know. 

I’m just about to walk outside when one of my bags gets caught on the metal threshold. My foot follows causing me to trip slightly and let go of the bag. I bend down to pick it up but someone beats me to it. A tattooed hand that looks way too familiar for my benefit. My gaze follows up his arm, hoping that maybe some other pale-skinned guy has gotten the same tattoos as Jay Park and is standing in front of me. 

Of course, I was bound to run into him. I just wasn’t expecting to see him while I smell like hours of travel and looked less than appealing. I know that it shouldn’t matter what I look like to him. He’s in the past, well at least his opinion is. Still, I feel my eyes roll inwardly at my luck as I finally land on his light brown eyes and chiseled jaw. 

“Eden,” his mouth pulls into one of those heart stopping small smiles and I want to get back on the next plane to L.A. I can’t do this. Not when he looks better than the last time I’ve seen him, which seems both impossible and unfair. 

His hair falls in his face a bit, his arms are bulkier; straining against the material of his t-shirt, and his mouth just seems more sinful. And I’m....wearing sweats. My frizzy hair is piled into a loose bun on top of my head. And again, I smell like an airplane.  

A hand reaches out to touch my elbow. He catches me, keeping my body upright with only a hand. It’s like a thousand bolts light up my skin. Seeing him again is one thing, having his eyes focused solely on me is another. I watch his eyes take me in. I’ve seen him one time after the tour ended almost six months later and that went just as well as the rest of it just with a lot more screaming and yelling.    I wonder if he thinks I’ve changed in the last year and a half. How different do I look to him? Though I’m younger than him by only almost a decade, back then it just seemed like such a larger gap. 

Maybe it was because I couldn’t really be around him with noticing the differences in our ages. He was twenty-nine, CEO of a company, life already figured out and thriving, and I was...young. At twenty-one, I thought I was an adult. I thought that I had already stepped into grown-up world, but around Jay, I couldn’t help but feel...naive. Like I had so much to learn and he had so much to teach me. 

It’s not that he’d ever done anything to belittle me. In fact, it was the opposite. He’d held me to such a high standard that I felt myself become an adult with him. Not just when he touched me. When he’d asked me about what I wanted to do in life more than anything. When we just...talked. Also, when he touched me too; but that’s an entirely different story that I can’t think about while he looks at me like this. 

“Clumsy,” he smiles at me. 

I pull out of his grip. I want to tell him not to pretend that after spending only a few weeks with me he knows who I am. I want to shake any past memories of the immature me out of his head. 

Instead, I tighten my grip on my suitcases and look at the space between our feet. It’s true. I am clumsy. I always have been, probably always will be. That’s kind of what this feels like, standing here with him. It’s clumsy, uneven, unstable, tethering between self-destruction and gluttony. 

“Will you not say anything?” 

“Hi,” I say lamely. My brows pull in in frustration. At myself mostly. I could’ve said no to all of this. Who are we kidding though? I never would. Not to him. Not when for the past two years this is all I’ve secretly wanted. 

“Hi, Eden,”

“Everyone waiting on me?”

He shakes his head, looking around. His reaches up to guide me out of the way but he’s careful not to touch. He saw me draw my boundaries earlier. Hopefully, he’ll keep them. 

“They’re scattered trying to find bags. Some are in the van sleeping already,”

I nod, unsure of what else to say. 

“Any van ok?” I ask, desperate to get away from him. 

He watches me for a long time before nodding. “Yeah, you’re good to go where ever you want. There should be two vans out front. I think Mina and Jisoo are already ready,”

“Ok thank you,” I slip past him without another word. I don’t think I realize I’m holding my breath until I’ve put a few feet between us. 

I see familiar faces standing near the second white van that’s waiting in a line out front. I pull my stuff with me toward Simon, who spots me almost at the same time as Chase. I liked both of them. Simon was more of a quiet, sit back and watch type while Chase and Jay were the rowdy ones of the three CEOs. Simon holds his arms out, his lips pulling to the side in a small smile. I was the closest to him, having known him before I went on tour with Aomg two years ago. He’s friends with my boss, so whenever he happened to be in L.A for work he’d drop by the studio. 

His arms arm around me squeezing tightly. 

“How do you get sexier  every time I see you?” He asks taking my bags from me and putting them in the bag of the van. 

“It’s just that you’re getting older. Your vision is fading,” I laugh as he pulls me into a headlock. He lets me go but keeps an arm around my shoulders. 

“Hey Chase,” I say, waving at the guy who has his eyes glued to his cellphone. He leans over to peck my cheek. 

“I’m so glad I’m not the only black one here anymore. Not only am I surrounded by Koreans but now it’s Koreans in Italy. I stand out too much,” I laugh and roll my eyes. 

Simon helps me get into the van. Thankfully, it’s a bunch of Aomg guys that I know already. I don’t think I can do introductions while I look like this. Not when they insist on signing attractive people. The guys of Aomg feel like family. They crack jokes about not seeing me for a while, all while skirting around the fact that it’s more than likely their boss’s fault. Still, no one asks and I’m grateful. It’s not until Jay climbs in do we feel any tension. Maybe I’m the only one that feels the difference. Somehow he’d switched with Chase so that it’s him pressed against my side. I look up at him while he turns to laugh with the guys behind us. 

What the hell am I doing?

Jay and I’s story should’ve been ended. The time we spent together for a month traveling around the US two years ago, ended. Whatever feelings I thought I had, or whatever I thought would happen after, obviously didn’t. And yet, I feel myself holding on. I feel myself reading into this too much. 

It's just a job, Eden. Don’t fuck yourself up again over this guy.

I’m in a constant battle with myself. Pre-warning my heart to stay objective. To remember why he’s not the one for me. But I’m here. I came all because he called. I could twist that and turn it any way I wanted; the truth is that he still owns me. 

I’m in my thoughts for most of the ride to the Villa we’re all supposed to be staying at. I’m caught between scolding myself and trying my hardest not to react whenever Jay’s skin comes in contact with mine. I’m failing at both tasks. When we pull up to the house, almost an hour has passed and the sun just about starting to set. I look behind me to see that most of the guys are either on their phones or asleep after the long plane ride. 

We all file out slowly, stretching our limbs out and taking in the huge house in front of us. I feel my fingers itching to pull my camera out to take a picture of the sun setting between the ivory pillars in front of the house. 

Simon interrupts my gazing as he addresses all of us in Korean. Of course, I have no idea what he’s actually saying. I glance at Chase who’s not paying attention. I’m sure he already knows what the plan is. I look over at Jay. His eyes are already on me. I drop my gaze quickly and squeeze my eyes shut. Why am I torturing myself? I could be home right now, on the beach, thousands of miles away from Jay Park. 

Everyone starts grabbing luggage and dispersing. I thank Simon as he rolls my stuff out to me. When the vans leave, it’s just Jay and I lagging behind. I have a feeling he’s purposely lingering. 

“Can we talk?” He asks too hopefully. 

Why can’t I just tell him no? Why does every word he says pushes me into action? He’s just a guy. I’d given him too much dominion over my heart and body. To much power for him to say move whenever he wants. 

“Sure,” I whisper. 

He reaches out and pulls one of my suitcases toward him. We walk slowly behind everyone else, talking lowly. Everyone’s so excited to get into the house. I admit that I am too. The front is filled with lush green bushes and y’all pillars. Lanterns hang from each one connected by hanging lights leading up to the door. A small fountain takes up the center forcing the path made of pebbles to circle around it before joining back together. It’s really too beautiful for words. It just looks like someone is supposed to fall in love in front of it. 

“Thank you for helping me,” he tells me. “I know that you’ve been busy, but I appreciate it,”

I push the loose hair out of my face, my eyes dropping from his. I can only take the heat in his gaze for so long before I combust. I’m not willing to fall apart in the front of a romantic villa in the most romantic city in the world. I won’t give him that much power, especially not on day one. 

“No problem,” I clear my throat and reach out to wrap my hand around the handle of my suitcase he’d been rolling. Not paying attention, he thinks the case is dropping and wraps his own hand around mine to keep it from falling to the ground. 

Skin contact has always been my weakest point. I think I love it too much. He looks down at his hand against mine and squeezes gently before letting go. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, willing away thoughts of his hands. God, I’m actually pathetic. I have to behave. There’s no choice in the matter. I will not go down the same road with Jay Park. I have to have at least a little self-preservation. 

I pull in a shaky breath, drawing strength from the memories of everything that happened after the tour. It won’t happen again, Eden.

“I missed-,”

I don’t let him finish. I raise my voice to speak over him. He can’t finish the sentence. Not when I’m failing so hard at forcing my heart to be good. “I’m going to go get cleaned up. There should be an email in reply to your company itinerary you sent me in about thirty minutes after with the individual shots and group shots,” I nod awkwardly and begin making my way to my room. 

“Eden,”

I ignore how good it sounds to hear him say my name when it’s all I’ve wanted to hear for so long and pull my suitcases along with me. My room is upstairs near the girls’ room. I expect to share with at least one other person, but with the twins rooming together and the only female artist flying in for the last few days of the trip, I’m on my own for now. 

My room is just as pretty as the rest of the house. With only a large bed and a vanity in the corner, the room feels huge. There’s tons of space; too much for me alone. I sit on the bed, looking down at my phone. We’re all supposed to meet for dinner downstairs. Apparently, the bosses set up a dinner for our first night here. Bless them. I’m too tired to try and figure out what I’ll eat and communicate with the locals. 

I get up to shower and try to look like a human at least for the rest of the night. I pull on a pair of jeans and a shirt that looks decent enough to eat in a villa in Rome. Still, I feel immensely underdressed. My job is to take pictures of pretty people not to try and look like them. 

Taking out my phone again, I sync my schedule for the next few days with the one Jay sent me. They want to completely redo the aomg website with updated pictures for the artists as well as work on one for h1gher music. As cool as it is to be in Rome, I still have a lot of work to do this week. I head downstairs, running into Jisoo who links her arm around mine as we make our way to the table. She has me laughing by the time we join everybody and take our seats. Everyone filters in quickly, talking loudly in both English and Korean. 

Jay comes in last, his eyes glued to his phone. I can’t take my eyes off of him no matter how much I need too. His hair is gelled back out of his face, a satin patterned shirt is thrown overtop a white tank top with one side tucked into his jeans. 

He takes the seat right across from me, forcing our eyes to hold each other. I look away first but I can still feel the heat of his eyes on me. I try to ignore it, introducing myself to some of the guys who I’ve never met that sit around me. The food comes out soon after. The dinner table is chaotic as expected. With both his companies here, there’s a lot of conversations being carried all at once. Everyone is excited to get time to be together for a few days even if it’s still for work. The H1gher music guys and the Aomg crew all get along well, anybody looking from the outside wouldn’t be able to tell who is who. It’s a good atmosphere, but I still can’t relax. All I feel is Jay’s eyes on me from across the table. He doesn’t even try to hide his stare when our eyes meet. The corner of his mouth pulls up slightly but other than that, it’s all I get from him. 

“I can’t believe we’re on a family vacation,” Jisoo sighs bumping against my arm with a smile. 

I roll my eyes. “Family vacation?”

“It feels like it,” Mina chimes in from the other side of me. 

Sitting in the middle of both of them is such a blow to my already fragile complex. The twins seem to go to great lengths to seem identical. Both have long dark hair that shines entirely too bright to be natural. At this point, a lot of things are creepily similar. I guess it’s their charm. Regardless, they’re both insanely gorgeous. 

I got to know both of them when they were styling the Aomg tour and we stayed close. Whenever they make it to L.A, we catch up. Between the two of them, they make both companies look good. Being a stylist to at least twenty individuals with different styles has to be a lot of work. 

“Eden,” Chase says loudly. Most eyes swing to my face. I feel the heat rise toward the apples of my cheeks and up my neck. There’s too many unfamiliar faces for me to feel comfortable. 

“What have you been up to? It’s been a while since we last saw you,”

Two years, Chase.

I clear my throat searching for an answer better than my reality. I’ve been working. That’s pretty much it. Trying to fill my schedule up so that I don’t remember that I’m too young to feel so completely alone. 

“I’ve been traveling for work,” I finally say after taking a sip of wine. 

“So, Italy isn’t anything special for you?” He laughs along with a few more people. 

“Rome for a whole week is,�� I say trying to sound light and breezy.

“Where have you been?” Someone asks. It’s Gray. Another person I’ve met before. He’s always seemed kind, quiet even. Pretty nonetheless. 

“I’m usually bouncing between New York and L.A., but I do get to go on trips every once and a while. Last month I was in London, before that I spent a half day in China, I also did Amsterdam a few months ago,”

Luckily that’s all I’m asked before the food is brought out and several conversations start up again. Mina and Jisoo fill me in on their lives but I don’t catch half of it because they insist on speaking at the same time. As much as the girls and a few of the guys around us are entertaining, it’s impossible to forget Jay. I’m aware of each time he opens his mouth to speak. When he laughs, I find myself focusing on the sound. It’s only infatuation, I remind myself. 

After dinner, I try not to linger, no matter how much the girls ask me to stick around. I say goodnight to everyone, promising to catch up with Mina and Jisoo tomorrow. 

The walk back to my wing of the villa seems long. The house is too big for its own good. The fact that guys could afford this isn’t that surprising neither is the fact that they’re treating everyone. I’ve always tried not to dwell too much on where   Jay’s money ended and company funds started, but I always found it interesting. He’s so young and he’s managing it all almost on his own. Once in my room, I slip my sandals off and pull at the fabric of my top, ready to take it off when someone knocks on my door. 

I pull the door open slowly afraid that there’s other housekeeping rules someone forgot to tell me or someone bringing me something I forgot at the table. 

Unfortunately, it’s neither. 

It’s Jay. 

Of course, it is. I don’t know how I expected this trip to not be exactly like last time; how I  didn’t expect him to be exactly the same. Late night visits like this eventually turned into sharing a room by the end of the month last time. That could absolutely not happen. 

“Did you need something?” I ask not stepping out. I can feel my forehead wrinkle with a frown. Surely he was getting that I really didn’t want him here. Actually, I’m still undecided if I even want to be here. 

“We need to talk,” he tells me. He reaches up running a hand over the back of his next. “I mean for real, Eden. Not that surface bullshit,”

I feign ignorance, raising my eyebrows. “Is there a conflict with the schedule? I tried to make sure nothing overlapped. I’ll have to take a look at it again-,”

“Eden,” he interrupts, smiling softly. He pushes the same hand through his dark hair, his eyes focusing on me. 

“The schedule is perfect. I could’ve emailed you about it if that was the case. I’m talking about us; about you avoiding me,”

“I’m not avoiding you. What do you want me to do, climb back in your bed?” I snap without really meaning to. 

“You won’t even talk with me for more than five minutes, Eden,”

I sigh rubbing at my temples and squeezing my eyes shut to keep from staring at him. Everything about him right now draws me in. He’s a weakness. 

“There should be nothing to talk about outside of working, Jay. You asked me to come so I’m here,”

“I missed you,” he says drawing closer. I feel the heat roll off of his body and slam into mine. “I really fucking missed you,”

“Jay-,”

“You can tell if I’m lying, Eden. I missed you so much that I couldn’t stop thinking about what to say when I saw you again,”

I don’t know what to say. I’m honestly too tired to say anything that I’ll be satisfied with in the morning. I should just say goodnight and shut the door. But I can’t. 

“You look good,” he says quietly.

He tucks his hands into his pockets and leans against the wall beside my door. If I had my camera around my neck, I swear I’d take his picture. Even now, when I’m trying my best to not be affected, he’s too beautiful.

I shake my head at him. 

“We’re not doing this, Jay,”

He looks down at the ground for a second. His head nods like he’s understanding something. Maybe he’s finally getting just how serious this is to me. If I fall back into line with him, just because he looks good and feels good, what does that make me? 

“I can’t tell you that you look good?” He asks me seriously, looking at me like it’s an innocent question. 

“I’m here for work. I’m here because you asked me for a favor and for some stupid reason that’s none of your business anymore, I’m here. I’m working. I’m having fun with friends-“

“And I’m not included in that?” He interrupts. 

“No, Jay. We’re not friends. Frankly, I don’t think I can be friends with you,” He crosses his arms across his own chest. His jaw tightens, and for the first time, he’s showing me something. He’s giving me something other than the slight indifference I’ve gotten for years now. 

“I don’t know what I did wrong, Eden. I guess that’s what’s part of the problem right?” He laughs humorlessly. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry. But I can’t fix it until we talk. Until we figure out how we feel-,”

“Felt,” I whisper. 

I feel my eyes start to burn, and I’ll be damned if I cry in front of him. 

“It’s done. Whatever could have been is done and I want to get through these next couple of days as smoothly as possible without remembering-,” I stop myself, tilting my head willing away tears that come anyway. My fingers swipe under my eyes refusing to let them fall. Not until he leaves.

My breathing is shaky and unstable as I sigh. Still, I push through. I don’t think anyone really knows the extent that we hurt people until we hear them saying it. I don’t want to be misconstrued. I’m not a fan of hiding really. Not when it matters. 

“I won’t pretend that when I look at you, pieces of me doesn’t still think about where we could’ve been but it’s over. I don’t want to fix anything. I want to work. So, we’re not going there again. I’m just uninterested in feeling like that again,”

I wrap my arms around myself. “I’m honored you trust me enough with such a big project, but that all it is ok? We’re working,”

“No,” 

I don’t know what I expected him to say, but it was far from the simple single word. 

“You can act like I can’t see you all you want Eden, but you’re here. And that means something. So I’m going to cling to that and figure out how to show you that I’ve never wanted to not be with you. Even now that’s all I think about, all the fucking time. I still feel what I felt the last time we were together. I still want to be with you,”

My mouth opens the protest but he interrupts.  

“I won’t force you into anything you don’t want, and I won’t be unprofessional when it’s time to work, but I feel like this is my last chance with you Eden. I’m not going to waste it,”

He leans in, a hand on my elbow again. His mouth draws closer until it brushes so lightly over my cheek that I’m not even sure if he touches me or not. He lingers in my space for a beat too long before he turns and leaves me standing in the doorway. 

If I was smart, this would be easy. I would stay in my room or explore the city on my own when I wasn’t needed to work. But I’ve been known to make rash, emotion-driven decisions. 

Let’s just hope this week doesn’t do any more damage than what I came with.

[artificialqueens]

A Long December (Shalaska) - jazz

Summary: A story about how Sharon and Alaska (probably) met, inspired by this old quote from Alaska:

“We met almost four years ago. We were both drag queens and knew each other from Myspace. We’d comment on each other’s pictures and check each other out that way, but it wasn’t until I came back [to Pittsburgh] from L.A. to visit for Christmas that I met him out of drag. I was just like, “This person is so fun and so funny… and he has a really nice ass.” That was it. So I went back to L.A. to close up all my affairs and I moved into his house in Pittsburgh and never left.”

A/N: So, this is pretty canon. Getting back to my roots with 4.k words of some non-AU Shalaska! Many thanks to Rosie for reassuring me that I did their meeting story justice <3

The thing Alaska loved most about the holidays was the Christmas lights.

He loved the sheer abundance of them: loved them when they sparkled, loved how they illuminated his neighbors’ front yards, loved even the ones that were so hideously ugly they hurt his eyeballs.

It reminded him of home, of dragging the worn cardboard box up from the basement as a child and attempting for hours to untangle the mess of rainbow string lights that’d been collecting dust for nearly a year. He’d cry when one of the little bulbs went out, as if there weren’t hundreds of other twinkling bulbs to make up for it.

He used to drive around aimlessly for hours just to look at them, not that there was much else to do in northwestern Pennsylvania.

Los Angeles winters – less glittery, distinctly lonelier, and a hell of a lot more chintzy – just didn’t have the same appeal. So, with Christmas quickly approaching, Alaska packed his bags and hopped on a connecting flight back home to Erie, away from the blown auditions and the callbacks that never came, the late rent checks and the overpriced headshots that he couldn’t reallyafford.

But Alaska wasn’t about to worry about any of that tonight. Tonight, he’d made the short two-hour drive from Erie to Pittsburgh. He had some old friends that lived in the city, and they’d gotten him an invite to a house party that a certain someone was rumored to attend.

Alaska smiled in spite of himself. Sharon Needles.

He kept a mental catalogue of all the things he knew about Sharon so far.

He did drag, first of all, something that he and Sharon had bonded over almost instantly. Sharon’s drag was edgy and hideous and horrifying and beautiful, and Alaska was in awe of it. He thought that Sharon might be the smartest person he knew, probably.

He was from middle-of-nowhere, meth-addled Iowa. Alaska had never been to the Midwest, but he’d heard that there was a lot of corn there. Alaska shook his head. Yeah, no, don’t talk about corn tonight, he chided himself.

Besides, Sharon was a total Pittsburgher now, adopting the city’s strange dialect and practically bleeding its colors, black and gold. It suited him well, Alaska thought.

He knew that Sharon had blue eyes – sky blue, he could make out from his profile photos and their select Skype conversations – and a tattoo of Tammy Faye Baker on his upper arm, and that he was perfect, potentially.

Alaska knew better than to get his hopes up, though. Sharon might not even be interested. They’d been exchanging messages online for a few weeks now, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Alaska cringed at the possibility.

It meant something on his end, at least.

Alaska trudged on down the sidewalk, a thin layer of packed snow crunching satisfyingly underneath his feet. He was getting ahead of himself. First, he’d have to show up to the party – a half hour late, obviously, so he didn’t seem over-eager. He’d have a drink – or two or three – to calm his nerves a bit.

Then, he’d ask around for Sharon, all buzzed and aloof, and they’d embrace, and it’d be magical. Or something like that.

He clutched onto the brown-paper-bagged bottle of whiskey he’d decided to buy last-minute.  Bringing a gift felt like the polite thing to do, but now he just felt clumsy and awkward as he approached the small house, alcohol in one hand and a dumb Santa hat in the other.

Alaska wiped his boots on the doormat, mentally preparing himself for the night ahead, before letting himself in.

The place smelled strongly of burnt sugar cookies and hard liquor, and he didn’t recognize many faces. Someone was singing along to a Mariah Carey cover in the other room, and Alaska found himself wishing he were already a little tipsy.

He made his way through the throngs of guests, all clad in varying shades of red and green, and tossed his winter jacket onto a nearby armchair. His heart sank at the possibility that maybe Sharon had decided to skip the party altogether.

Alaska was about to question why Sharon’s attendance even mattered to him at all when he spotted him from across the room, in an oversized Christmas sweater that had definitely seen better days, cigarette burns garnishing the sleeves he’d cuffed twice around his wrists.

Suddenly, Alaska couldn’t have cared less about his surroundings.

His chest expanded as Sharon’s eyes locked with his own, an expression of pleasant surprise washing over his features, before striding over to Alaska purposefully. Alaska watched him approach in slow motion, his vision tunneling in to focus only on Sharon.

“For me? You shouldn’t have, Alaska.” Sharon smiled, his dimple on full display, as he grabbed the bottle of whiskey from Alaska’s hand and took an emphatic swig.

Alaska’s jaw dropped, his breath catching at the way Sharon said his name, how it rolled off his tongue with ease. “I, uh… you’re welcome, I guess?”

It was hardly the reception Alaska had envisioned for their first meeting. He racked his brain for a proper conversation-starter, something that said, I can be super fun and flirty, but also interesting and smart, and I think you’re really great, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he found himself staring at Sharon’s ass, forgetting why he’d cared so much about talking in the first place.

Sharon turned on his heel to walk away then, a signal that, to Alaska, meant their interaction was over. He frowned, until Sharon looked back and extended his free hand.

“You coming, or not?” he asked, lips pursed. “Let’s get you a beverage.”

Alaska placed his hand in Sharon’s without thinking, felt his universe crumbling and rebuilding itself in that instant.

He let Sharon lead him into the kitchen, too-small and dark, bumping his hip awkwardly against the counter in the process. His fingers were tingling and Sharon’s hand was cool against his own and he hoped Sharon wouldn’t let go any time soon.  

“Oh, by the way,” Sharon said flatly, “don’t drink the eggnog.” He made a face over his shoulder.

“Noted,” Alaska laughed.

Sharon disappeared into the refrigerator for a moment, allowing Alaska just enough time to try to compose himself, unsuccessfully. If Sharon backed up a few inches, he’d be pressed right against him, and Alaska felt dizzy at the thought. He hopped up to sit on the counter behind him for something to do, shimmying backwards so that his legs didn’t touch the ground.

“Here.” Sharon turned and handed Alaska a plastic cup half-full of red liquid, eyes wandering over Alaska as he inspected the concoction. “I’m not gonna poison you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“How romantic,” Alaska deadpanned, the corners of his mouth curling upwards.

“I can be.”

Sharon lowered his voice, taking a step closer toward Alaska and parking himself in between his legs. His tone was playful, but Alaska couldn’t be sure – not when he could practically feel Sharon’s body heat radiating off of him in waves, sending the butterflies in his stomach into a frenzy. Alaska brought the cup to his lips in an effort to distract himself.

“So you’re liking Pittsburgh?” Alaska asked abruptly, hating how his first instinct was to make small talk, and how Sharon’s eyes glinted at it, like he thrived on Alaska’s jitters and nervous energy.

“America’s filthiest-kept secret,” Sharon said with a flourish of his hand. “You’re out in L.A., yeah?”

“Yeah, but…” Alaska trailed off. “I dunno, it’s not really working out for me there.”

He was conscious of Sharon’s middle finger tracing the rim of his cup that he held in his lap, his eyes flicking up to meet Alaska’s when he noticed him watching.

“Noted,” Sharon repeated, smiling slightly.

“What?” Alaska drawled, blushing. “What’s that face for?”

“You’re cuter in person, is all.”

Alaska grinned into his drink.

Guests filtered in and out of the kitchen as they chatted, and Alaska hardly noticed any of them, too caught up in how easy it was to talk to Sharon. He told Alaska that he’d been following his drag career out in California for a while now, that Alaska’s style of drag impressed him and reminded him a bit of his own, and when it got too crowded for their liking, Sharon pulled Alaska outside onto the patio that connected to the kitchen.

Sharon lowered himself onto a bench and grabbed a cigarette from his pocket, let it hang from his lips as he brought a lighter to the butt end. “You don’t mind, do you?” he asked.

“Oh, no – not at all,” Alaska sputtered.

“Some people don’t like the smell of it,” Sharon said, taking a long, contemplative drag. “But not me.”

Alaska stared at him, watched the smoke leave his lips and dance above his head, forming a carbon monoxide halo around his mop of bleached blonde hair, sticking up in every which direction. His nose was pink from the cold and Alaska wanted to kiss it, just once.

“Addiction’s a funny thing, y’know,” Sharon mused.

Alaska nodded solemnly. He had a feeling he’d agree to just about anything that came out of Sharon’s mouth, if he were being honest.

“What’re you addicted to, Alaska?”

The question hung in the air, cool and heavy.

You, his heart was screaming, threatening to burst right out of his chest. I’m addicted to you.

Alaska gulped down the rest of his drink to avoid Sharon’s intense gaze, felt the liquid travel through his body and warm his limbs almost instantly.  

“Should we head back in soon, see what everyone else is up to?” Alaska tried. “It’s getting kinda cold out here.”

“Sit with me, then.” Sharon patted the cushioned spot next to him on the bench, and Alaska’s pulse quickened. He didn’t know how much longer he could handle being that close to Sharon without doing something dumb and impulsive, breathing in his smell and scanning his face and hearing his voice – not behind a computer screen, but right here, close enough to touch.

And Alaska wanted to touch him, badly.Sharon was so real that it hurt, and Alaska’s bones ached from it.

He thought that, maybe, Sharon was the realest thing he’d ever known in his life. When Sharon looked at him, it was inquisitive and sharp, and Alaska felt fully seen, like Sharon had him all figured out without saying a word. Alaska didn’t know what to do with that, wasn’t used to feeling so exposed.

He gravitated toward Sharon, settling into the space under the arm that he’d draped casually over the top of the bench. They sat there like that, in comfortable silence, for what felt like minutes.

“I like you, Alaska,” Sharon said, matter-of-fact, snubbing his cigarette out on an ashtray. “A lot, actually.”

His boldness caught Alaska off guard, and he half-considered that maybe the nicotine, or the alcohol, or some combination of the two, had damaged Sharon’s better judgment.

“You’re special, I think,” he continued.

“I think you’ve got the wrong person,” Alaska drawled. He hiccupped, likely from chugging the remains of his drink too quickly, and giggled nervously at the possibility that Sharon really meant it.

—–

Over the course of the night, Alaska learned that Sharon was nothing like he’d expected – but somehow, even better than he’d hoped.

He was fun, and he was hilarious, and, when Alaska caught himself staring at him for far too long as Sharon danced to a pop remix of “Last Christmas” on top of an old couch, mouthing all the words at Alaska like he was singing it just for him, Alaska knew he needed a moment to collect his racing thoughts.

He shot Sharon an apologetic smile as he ducked away and disappeared into the sea of partygoers, darting toward the staircase in hopes that it might be a little quieter upstairs, that he could freshen up and maybe get it together.

He wandered into the room at the end of the carpeted hallway, expecting a bathroom but instead finding a spare bedroom. He sighed, dragging his hands over his face. Alaska was in too deep, he could feel it, didn’t know whether he wanted to be sick or if he wanted to run straight into Sharon’s arms.

It’s just a crush, Alaska told himself, unconvincingly. He pictured the way Sharon’s lips had closed around his bottle of whiskey, how delicate his hands had looked as he balanced a cigarette between his fingers, and wondered how those same lips and hands might feel running over his own body tonight, and tomorrow, and maybe the next day after that.

“What, I didn’t scare you away down there, did I?” Sharon asked.

Alaska jumped, spinning around at hearing Sharon’s voice from behind him. He looked almost sheepish, arms hanging at his sides, and Alaska could see his veins from where he’d pushed up his sleeves.

“Oh, no, this is just… a lot,” Alaska tried, licking his lips absentmindedly. “It’s a lot.”

Somehow, Sharon seemed to understand. He closed the door, traveled the rest of the distance between them and took Alaska’s hands in his own. “Look at me,” he said.

Alaska hesitantly locked eyes with him, fully aware of how close they were standing now, how alone they were, and his heartbeat thudded in his ears.

Sharon reached up and tucked a finger underneath Alaska’s chin, made sure he couldn’t look away. “You feel this, too, right?” Sharon asked, quietly.

Alaska wasn’t breathing. He thought he gave a small nod, but his knees were shaking and he knew that if he leaned in, right now, he’d be done.

Luckily for him, Sharon was the first to fall.

He shoved Alaska against the dresser, hands cradling his face as he kissed him, hard and impatient. Alaska was putty underneath Sharon’s grip, and it took a moment for his brain to catch up with his body.

Sharon was kissing him.

Sharon was kissing him firmly like he’d been starving, and Alaska was his remedy – and maybe he was, as Alaska instinctively wrapped his own hands around Sharon’s thin wrists, willed with his tongue for Sharon to understand that he felt it, too.

It wasn’t long before kissing wasn’t enough. Sharon had a thigh rutted between Alaska’s bowed legs and he pressed down on it greedily. Alaska moved his fingers to coil in Sharon’s blonde hair, and when he tugged gently, he felt Sharon audibly whimper into his mouth, the sound shooting straight to his abdomen.  

Alaska had been with plenty of guys before, but not like this – Sharon was clinging to him like he was afraid Alaska might slip through his fingers otherwise.

“Sharon, I…” Alaska began, and then trailed off, lips ghosting over Sharon’s cheek, his nose. He realized all at once that he didn’t have the words to articulate what exactly was taking place, just that it felt distinctly important.

“Yeah,” Sharon breathed, in between kisses. “Me too.”

Alaska sunk to his knees at that, shoving Sharon’s jeans down to his ankles as he went. Sharon’s pupils were blown out black as he watched Alaska, who was palming Sharon’s already-hard cock over the fabric of his underwear. Alaska didn’t think about what he was doing, not really – didn’t dwell on the fact that he wanted to please Sharon more than he’d wanted to please anybody, or that he’d been semi-hard, seeing stars as soon as Sharon’s lips touched his.

He just hollowed his cheeks, tried to take as much of Sharon as he possibly could into his mouth.

Sharon clutched onto the edge of the dresser for support, lips parted. Alaska developed a steady rhythm, used one hand to move in tandem with his tongue as he bobbed his head to suck at Sharon’s hardness.

When Alaska moaned, so did Sharon.

Alaska flattened his tongue against the underside of Sharon’s length, hummed around him. Sharon began to rock his hips forward, hitting the back of Alaska’s throat with each thrust, before abruptly pulling out.

He tugged Alaska back to his feet, smattering kisses along the curve of his neck. “Wanna make this last,” Sharon explained hoarsely.

Alaska could tell that Sharon was leaving marks, and was glad for it: he wanted to wake up tomorrow and remember where Sharon had been, see and feel where he’d paid special attention.

And then Sharon was spinning him around and maneuvering him towards the bed, yanking Alaska’s shirt up and over his head impatiently as Alaska kicked off his own pants, a clumsy dance of flying fabric and tangled limbs. Alaska’s hands flew to Sharon’s bare shoulder blades, his chest, warm and soft underneath his fingertips.  

It felt surreal, that they were doing this – and yet, it didn’t surprise Alaska in the slightest. He felt surprisingly comfortable, safe, even as Sharon pushed him backward onto the bed, pinning him underneath his body.

Sharon hovered over Alaska for a few moments, scanning him with those eyes again, before Alaska pulled him down by the back of the neck, cocks rutting together as Alaska’s tongue traced the shell of Sharon’s ear.

“Please,” Alaska begged, breathless. “Sharon, fuck – I need you. I really, really need you.”

Sharon closed his eyes and let out a huge breath, like the sound of Alaska’s voice, whiny and broken, did things to him. Alaska looked up at him, his hair falling into his face, tried to scoot his hips closer towards Sharon’s lap.

Sharon didn’t need much more encouragement than that.

He flipped Alaska onto his stomach, and Alaska wiggled his ass out for Sharon, who soothed his hands over the smooth skin. He felt delirious, how badly he wanted Sharon to fill him up, make him muffle his screams into the pillow.

And he knew that Sharon would be good to him – he could tell from the way Sharon made sure to kiss every notch on his spine, open-mouthed and careful. Alaska frantically reached over to the bedside table, ransacking two separate drawers before finding a small bottle of lube and a box of condoms, and he said a silent prayer.

Sharon’s hands were trembling as he slicked up his fingers, uttering a hoarse, “You sure, Lasky?”

Alaska had never been more sure of anything, nodding feverishly at the headboard, trying to remember how to breathe.

He didn’t know what any of this might mean moving forward for him and Sharon – if there even was such a thing as a “him and Sharon” – but he refused to worry about that now, not when Sharon eased one finger into him and then two, reducing Alaska to a moaning mess as he arched his back at the contact.

Sharon bowed his head and pressed his lips to Alaska’s shoulder blade, and when he finally entered him, it was with a slow roll of his hips, breath still dancing on Alaska’s back.

Alaska’s jaw went slack, his mouth falling open in a silent scream.

Then Sharon began to move: small and shallow thrusts at first, clearly restraining himself. “Oh, shit, Lasky, you feel so… so good.”

“Sharon, I need… move, Shar, please…”

“W-wait, hold on,” Sharon said, pulling out of Alaska decidedly. Alaska whined at the loss, until Sharon turned him over, scanned his face. “I wanna see you.”

Sharon appraised Alaska’s features: his cheeks, flushed pink, and his kiss-swollen lips, which Sharon leaned down to kiss again, quick and sloppy. Alaska drew his knees up, reaching down to guide Sharon back inside him.

Alaska watched as Sharon’s forehead crinkled, lips parted to let out a breathy exhale. Alaska couldn’t keep from staring, from committing his facial expression to memory – until Sharon shifted his hips the tiniest bit, reminding Alaska of his own throbbing cock, the desire welling up in the pit of his stomach.

He tilted his head back and moaned, exposing his throat for Sharon to nip at as he slammed into him, skin slapping against skin.

Alaska fell apart beneath him, grabbing Sharon’s ass to urge him on, lifting his legs so Sharon could go deeper, harder – a frenzy of clawing hands and salty kisses, more lips brushing against lips than anything else. When Sharon reached for Alaska’s neglected cock, stroking it in time with his thrusts, Alaska spilled into his hand, sobbing Sharon’s name almost incoherently, over and over again, the only word that mattered.

Sharon followed suit, shuddering into Alaska before letting his head drop to Alaska’s collarbone.

“God,” was all he murmured, and it was as good as I love you.

“I know,” Alaska breathed.

Alaska slid out of bed on shaky legs after Sharon cleaned them both up, bent down to grab the first article of clothing he could find on the floor – Sharon’s Christmas sweater. He tugged it over his head, smiling at the feeling of Sharon’s eyes glued to him, his body.

“You’re so pretty, baby.”

Alaska giggled, crawling back into bed with Sharon eagerly, nuzzling against him like they’d done this countless times before. In some ways, it felt like they had.

“Tell me how much you like me again,” Alaska purred.

“More than I know what to do with,” Sharon replied, and the honesty in his voice was jarring. “Probably too much.”

Alaska stared at the adjacent wall in silence, considering the full weight of Sharon’s words, realizing all at once that he felt the same way – and remembering suddenly that they lived on opposite sides of the country. It hit him like a punch in the gut.

“I don’t think I can do long-distance right now,” Alaska choked out. “I just can’t.”

Sharon rolled onto his side to face Alaska, propping his head up with his hand. “I wasn’t expecting you to, Lasky,” he said, his voice quiet.

Alaska squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel himself ruining the moment, and wished he could’ve just left good enough alone. Sharon probably thought that he was clingy beyond belief, and embarrassment burned hot in his cheeks.

“So what now, then?” Alaska asked, bracing himself for what was sure to be a letdown.

There was a pregnant pause before Sharon replied.

“So, move in with me.”

“What?” Alaska stammered, rolling over hurriedly and getting tangled in the sheets. He searched Sharon’s face, looked for any sign that he might be kidding, but instead only found a set of blue eyes, locked with his own.

“It could be like this, all the time,” Sharon said softly.

“You… you hardly know me.”

“I know enough.”

Alaska swallowed the lump in his throat, fought the urge to smatter kisses all over Sharon’s dumb face, which was sporting a small, hopeful smile now.

Alaska wanted it – he wanted all of it. He wanted to share a closet and take up too much space in the bathroom, wanted to wake up on Christmas morning next to Sharon and watch Bette Davis documentaries in bed. He wanted to feel Sharon pressed against him when he fell asleep at night, wouldn’t even care if Sharon ran hot or snored lightly into his neck. He’d let Sharon show him around town, too; they’d go out and make fools of themselves on stage and Sharon would take Alaska home at the end of their gigs, fuck him hard into the mattress and kiss him on the lips afterward.

Alaska knew he’d say yes before the words were even out of his mouth. This was right. This felt right.

He threw his body on top of Sharon’s, bare legs straddling his torso, and repeated yes against his lips until he was forced to come up for air, Sharon’s eyes twinkling like the Christmas lights lining the snow-covered street outside.