#also my mum + sister do the same thing (and also burn bay leaves with the paper)

[decisions-at-3am]

Writing down all my fears, Transferring their permanence. Containing them in paper. Folding it carefully. It's partly my delusion, Hoping they'll leave me be. Take a match, and let it catch. Watch those tongues of fire, Slowly devouring. Eventually it's all gone, As if it were never here. I'll collect the ashes, Use it to feed my garden.

[padfootagain]

A Very Rose Mistake (VI)

Part 6: How You Almost Did

 Here I come with a new chapter for this series!!! I'm sorry the posting schedule is a little bit more hectic than usual, but depression is kicking my arse pretty badly, and it's harder to write then. BUT here is a new chapter!! Things are… evolving. A lot of this chapter is the flashback, because it's an important scene.

I hope you like this chapter, and don't forget to leave a little comment if you read, cause that really helps motivating me into writing, and I need that extra piece of motivation now more than ever, sadly.

No warnings here, it's pretty fluffy :)

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count : 4283

I.

Holmes Chapel, 2010

 "So… do you have everything?"

"Yeah, it's all ready."

"Did you take your inhaler? I won't be here to save your distracted arse this time."

"I do have it. Thanks, Lambkin."

"Fuck you, Chuckaboo."

"Oi!"

You laughed as you helped Harry carry his suitcase down the stairs. He was leaving to take a chance at X-factor. It was already crazy that he got through the first round of auditions, but now he had to travel across the country to start the first steps of the show.

Whenever the two of you talked about it though, he insisted that he would be back in the blink of an eye. He hadn't even expected to successfully get two 'yes' from the jury during the auditions, and now his purpose was to learn as much as he could from the experience, and enjoy it while it would last. It was a crazy adventure, but one he was certain would simply end in a flicker. He had asked you to get all the lessons for him that he would miss, so he wouldn't struggle too much when he would come back in a couple of weeks.

And to be honest, you thought the same about the whole thing as he did. It wasn't that you didn't believe in him enough, because you did. If there was one person that you trusted and believed in on this Earth, it was Harry. And you had heard him sing before, you knew he had talent, even if it was a little raw for now. You did not doubt though that he was full of potential, and with some hard work, could definitely stand a chance. But he was also a sixteen-year-old boy, from this little English town you called home where nothing happened, and he was your best friend. You had known each other since you were five. It was almost impossible for you to imagine him as anything else but the goofy teenager he was when around you. So, a professional singer? It was improbable up to a hilarious degree.

Still, you were nervous and sad at the sight of Harry checking the content of his backpack one last time, checking if he had everything. He would be leaving early the next morning. It was the last evening you would share before he was off for an unknown period of time, and even if you both assumed it would be but a short one, it was still scary to think about how you didn't know when you would next see him. Maybe it was simply because it had never happened before, you guessed so, at the very least. Anything unknown was scary, after all.

Harry was trying to keep a calm façade, but you were far from a fool, and knew perfectly well that he was, in reality, terrified about the whole endeavour. After all, he was going to be leaving his home for some time. Any sixteen-year-old would find the mere thought terrifying.

After you brought all of his bags to the hallway by the front door, ready for his journey the next day, you settled for a while in the kitchen, where you prepared some toasts and sandwiches for your dinner. Anne was working late, and would not be coming home for another hour or so, which meant that Harry and you could enjoy some quality time together for a little longer.

You both laughed as you almost burned down the kitchen preparing the toasts, both of you pretending for that time that everything was normal. It was almost as if you had both silently came to the agreement that for that evening, while the two of you were alone cooking in the kitchen, his journey of the next day was but a reverie, and instead, the next morning would simply be the beginning of a normal day.

You talked about video games, and TV shows you found funny but stupid, and school. You couldn't really describe why talking with Harry was so different to talking to anyone else. It was just so easy. Fluent. It came without an effort, and it seemed that the two of you could have been left there for hours on your own and would still have found some things to say to each other, some new topic to discuss. You had always attributed that trait of his to the fact that he was your best friend, and had been so for such a long time. Knowing him so well meant that there wasn't much you didn't dare to do in front of him. You weren't afraid to be yourself when he was around, never had been.

And for a long time, you reckoned that it was simply explained by you seeing a brother in him. A twin of sort that you had never had. But as puberty started its work, and your mind embraced new possible explanations and understood new kinds of relationships, you wondered if a brotherly bond was really what united so closely the two of you.

Because you weren't sure that it was all there was to it, really. Maybe, it wasn't the reason why you didn't like his girlfriends. Maybe it wasn't why you were so sad to say goodbye tonight. Maybe it wasn't why you trusted him so blindly all the time. Why you always forgave him.

But you were young, and you weren't quite sure yet of what you felt meant. Maybe you were just trying to figure yourself out, and were making a fuss of nothing.

Or maybe, Harry meant something else to you than a brother.

All you knew was that when the conversation finally quietened, slowing down to reach a full stop that filled the room with silence, his departure on the tip of both your tongues once more, you were sad and afraid like you had never been before.

"We should wash the dishes," Harry threw one last attempt at avoiding the floating threat hovering in the comfortable silence. One last ammunition used to keep his fear at bay for a little longer, and instead, bathe in your presence for a little longer.

He couldn't really explain how he felt about you. It wasn't something he had felt with the few girls he had been with before, and it wasn't either a level of intimacy that he had ever reached with any other of his friends. You were in that special box in his heart, that had only your name on it, and no one else's. More than a friend, but not a girlfriend either. Somehow, you were more than that to him. You were family to him. But he didn't see you like a sister either. Maybe he had for a while, but it slowly yet irremediably changed along the past few years. He wasn't sure to understand what that box your name lived in inside his heart was, but he was okay with that, for now. Sixteen was young after all, to understand matters of the heart.

For now, he simply wanted to be with you whenever he could, and that was enough.

He started to wash the plates in the sink, while you grabbed a clothe and started to dry the cutlery.

You didn't notice the glances he threw towards your direction, and he didn't notice the way your eyes lingered on his features as if to carve them into memory either. It was an unspoken, halfway type of zone you had settled in. It was hard to escape it now.

"Are you worried about tomorrow?" you asked, breaking the long silence that had settled in the kitchen, broken only by the distant murmur of cars passing by the street, and the water running from the faucet.

Had it been anyone else, Harry would have probably lied and pretended that he was perfectly fine.

But then, it was you, standing in that special little box of yours, and despite how fragile it made him feel, he answered you anyway.

"Yeah… I'm a bit nervous."

"I mean, I reckon it's normal to be so."

"Yeah… I mean, it's all new and I don't really know what will happen. And… huh… I think… It's gonna be hard to be away, I guess. I think I'll miss my mum a lot. And… and you too."

You stared at him for a moment, yellow photons from the lamp above your heads getting caught in the wild curls of his hair. He seemed a little lost. He was just a boy, after all.

You nudged him, trying to make him feel better.

"Hey, don't worry. I'm sure you'll be alright. Besides, you'll have fun, and make new friends over there, I'm sure. You will barely notice I'm not here."

He frowned, looking hurt at your statement, and you wondered why.

"You really think I would forget about you?" he asked, his voice a little too low, a little too deep, a little too fragile.

You shook your head, but he could see in the way you fidgeted with the cloth that you were not completely earnest with him.

"Of course not. I know you won't."

He turned off the water, the silence becoming deafening while he took his time to turn fully towards you, drying his hands on his worn-out jeans. Meanwhile, you were drying a plate, or at least, faking to do so, for there was no more water to sweep away across the porcelain. But it was easier to rub the white plate than to look at your friend at that moment.

"Hey, look at me."

When you stubbornly kept your eyes on this plate you kept on drying, Harry gently rested his hands upon yours, successfully interrupting your movements.

"Y/N. Please."

You let him take the plate away from you, putting it away before taking your chin in between his fingers to force you to turn to him. He wasn't surprised to find withheld tears glimmering in your eyes, yet the sight broke his heart all the same.

He couldn't see you cry. Never had been able to. He would have done anything to make you smile, and it had been so since the two of you were five.

He gave you a tender, reassuring smile.

"You're stupid sometimes, you know that?"

You frowned at that, taken aback. If anything, you weren't expecting that kind of response from him. But it wasn't all that he had to say.

"I could never forget you, you dummy. You're my best friend. You're… You're special to me. And whatever happens, I will never ever forget about you. Okay?"

You looked down at your feet, fleeing his green eyes that seemed to pierce right through all the pieces of armoury you had built around your soul. You nodded, slowly, your throat too tight to speak. But you weren't so worried anymore.

"You're not gonna forget about me either, are you?" he asked, his voice fragile again too.

You smiled one more time, looking up to find yourself trapped in the green hues of his irises.

"Now, you're being the silly one. Of course not. Besides, you'll be back in two weeks, tops. You're not half as charming as you think you are."

"Aren't I?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows in a ridiculous way, making you laugh.

"No, you're not."

As you both fell quiet again, you suddenly seemed hype-aware of Harry's hold on your chin, that hadn't wavered throughout your exchange. He brushed his thumb across the soft skin, making you gasp.

And all of a sudden, there was a shift between the two of you. The air across the room seemed to be filled with electricity, growing denser, and maybe it was why both of you found it harder to breathe. Or maybe it was the way you both lost yourselves in each other's eyes in a way you never had before.

You caught him as he glimpsed down at your lips. You noticed the way his eyes travelled across your mouth, as if he was hesitating, weighing his options. You saw his Adam's apple jumping as he struggled to swallow the lump that was growing in his throat. When his gaze flickered back to meet yours though, both of you could barely breathe at all, your two hearts stomping under your ribcages.

His hold on your chin had become more of a caress than a hold: gentle, brushing of fingertips against your skin, giving you back complete freedom of your movements. Yet, you didn't want to move away at all.

And when Harry leaned closer to you, it was your turn to glance at his lips, watching the two lines barely parted fall towards yours. And when you realized what he was doing, you stopped breathing altogether.

Because Harry was about to kiss you.

But then he stopped, merely an inch or so away, his breath fanning and brushing your lips, warm and staggering, uncertain through uneven pants. And he was absolutely sure that he had never felt anything as intense as this moment in his entire short life.

But he stopped, because it was you he was about to kiss. His best friend. And even if you lived in that special box in his heart, even if, to him, maybe it meant that you were more than just a friend to him, you were way too important for him to take any uncalculated risk. So instead of closing the gap between your mouths, he stood still, in his kitchen under the yellowish light of the lamp, fingers still a little wet from washing the dishes, or maybe it was more because of how nervous he was. He needed to give you a chance to step back and stop him.

So, he blinked a few times, staring at your eyes with a silent question in his green irises. To which you answered by leaning closer to him too.

So… you didn't want him to stop?

He moved his hand up your jaw, cupping your cheek instead, closing his eyes and focusing on how warm the air leaving your lungs was against his face, breaths mingling together halfway between your parted lips.

And you were about to meet when the front door of Harry's house loudly opened.

"Harry! Y/N! I'm home!"

Both you and Harry jumped away from each other as Anne was ruffling in the hallway, probably taking off her shoes and coat.

In the kitchen, you both shied away. The moment had passed, broken, and you both knew that there wasn't going to be any other moment for you to be alone before Harry would leave.

Harry looked over his shoulder, and before his mother would appear, he hurried to take your hand in his.

He seemed frightened, and a little frantic. A little desperate too, still struggling to catch his breath.

"We'll talk about it when I come back."

You stared at him intensely, and he took your other hand in his as well.

"It's a promise. We'll talk about what just happened when I come back, okay? Cause… that… that was a thing. Right?"

"Yeah… yeah I think it… was a thing."

He struggled to swallow, stuttering a little as he let down his armour before you completely, and with a shaky voice asked one more question.

"Will you… would you wait for me?"

You gave him a reassuring smile, and to his hands you gifted a tender squeeze.

"I will. I'll wait for you."

 II. 

Loch Lomond, 2020

 Harry was pretty when he slept.

Not that he was ever not pretty, you reckoned that Harry was a very handsome man in general. But there was something soft in the way he looked when he slept, peaceful, that you really loved.

Maybe it was his parted lips, or the soft sound of air leaving his lungs in a perfectly regular rhythm. The occasional little crease between his brow that appeared and vanished at the rhythm of his dreams. Or the way his eyelids trembled a little sometimes before growing still again, eyelashes perfectly bent in the most graceful curve barely disturbed by the movement at all. Or perhaps it was how messy his hair became as they rubbed against the pillow.

But you could hardly deny that the main reason was that Harry always grabbed whatever he could during the night and held onto it for dear life throughout the rest of the night. To ensure that he would not disturb your sleep – and knowing Harry, probably also because he was worried it would make you uncomfortable – he had hold onto a pillow for the first evening, making sure that he would not end up curled around you instead. And it had worked, the two of you waking up peacefully on each side of the bed.

But not today.

This morning, you opened your eyes to find that the reason why you felt so warm and snuggled up was because you were safely tucked in Harry's side, his arms wrapped around you and his nose almost brushing yours, face resting at the edge of his own pillow, legs tangled in a mess of limbs. A quick glance across the bed revealed that the pillow he was hugging when you went to bed the previous night was nowhere to be seen. You guessed that Harry had dropped it to the floor during the night, turned around, probably wearing across his features a grumpy little pout as he tossed and turned while still mostly asleep, until he found your form sleeping soundly on the other side of the mattress. And then, well, the rest was easy to guess given your current position.

There was a little voice in your head that kept on telling you to pull away. That you should have felt uneasy with your current position. And had it been anyone but Harry, yes, you guessed that you would have been uncomfortable right now and would have freed yourself with little regard for the other person's sleep. But the thing was, it was Harry.

It was Harry all cuddled up around you, holding you close, and you didn't feel uncomfortable at all. You felt safe and warm and taken care of. Because it was Harry holding you. Harry who had always been here for you, since your early childhood. You felt so safe with him all the time after all, this morning waking up in his arms wasn't different. It was safe, the same way you always felt whenever he was around.

It was barely dawn and the orange light of the rising sun bathed the room a colourful hue. It was still quite dark, despite the deep orange shades of the beams licking at the walls. Particles of light were caught in his wild curls, brown tainted with orange, and you spent long minutes studying the changes in the colours, the way the light made his cheeks look a little pinker, the way it seemed to hug his jawline, and was left stranded across his eyelashes and the stubble that coloured his skin. It took all of your strengths to refrain yourself from running your fingers across the swallows tattooed on his upper chest, but you were too scared of waking him if you did so. You couldn't help but stare at them though, the black ink rising and falling with his regular breathing. He was still wearing his cross necklace around his neck, the gold reflecting the morning light. It wasn't the first time that you saw him with a bare chest, and it wasn't the first either that he hugged you without a shirt on. But it didn't stop you from shivering in the best way when he moved his arm around you ever so slightly, his bare skin sliding across your own bare arms. Because you were trapped in his arms, your arms folded between your two bodies, your hands were pressed against your chest. But now that your eyes were settling on his skin again, a little tanned and looking so invitingly smooth, you really couldn't summon enough willpower to not reach across the inches-long gap between your hand and his chest, and you gently rested your palm against his heart. You could feel the organ beating under his skin and muscles, little rhythm pulsing through your skin. Regular, soothing, safe. Just like Harry.

After a long while staring at him, with a smile across your lips you hadn't even noticed, your gaze moved across the room to settle upon the window instead, and you watched the quiet waters of the loch as it reflected the bright gold and orange of the sky. With the trees alongside the shores also covered with autumnal hues, it looked as if someone had painted the entire scene in shades of ochre. It was peaceful, a landscape still barely awake, that only the wind carrying freshly fallen skeleton leaves seemed able to disturb.

You didn't know for how long you had remained like this, staring at the landscape outside, safely tugged in Harry's warmth, when he finally started to stir and wake up. You turned to him again just in time to catch his eyes fluttering open, green irises appearing in the early morning light that fell upon your face instantly, as if they had been looking for you as a reflex. A bright smile appeared on his lips at the sight of your dishevelled and freshly awaken form in his arms.

"Morning," he mumbled, sleep making his voice deeper than usual, raw and warm.

"Good morning," you answered with a smile of your own.

He snuggled closer to you, until you were tugged under his chin, so he could bury his face in your hair, inhaling the addicting fragrance of your shampoo.

You were so warm against him. He could feel your hand pressed to his chest, and the mere touch was enough to set his whole body on fire. Your smell was reassuring, so reassuring, like the scent of something familiar, the scent of an old memory. And he felt so safe like this, with you in his arms. Invincible. Yes, that was the word. He felt invincible, like nothing bad could ever happen while he held you as close as he did now.

Why hadn't he done that sooner? It felt amazing.

His eyes snapped open when the thought finished to form in his mind.

Why hadn't he done that sooner? Because you were just a friend.

He quickly unwrapped his arms from around you, pushing himself away and in his haste to put distance between your two bodies, falling from the bed and onto the wooden floor and the pillow that had grown cold after he had lost it during the night. He let out a loud 'ouch', and when you peered beyond the bed, Harry was rubbing his arse cheek through his sweatpants. And you couldn't stop yourself from laughing at him.

"You alright down there?"

"Oh shut up!" he fought back, looking all pouty and grumpy, and you found the sight so ridiculously adorable that you had to laugh to stop yourself from melting instead.

"Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?" you asked a little more seriously.

"My butt and my ego will be equally bruised by the incident for a few days," he replied, but he couldn't refrain a smile of his own as the situation was rather hilarious.

You laughed at that, but grew silent again when he finally looked up at you. He seemed uncomfortable, running a hand in his hair. Embarrassed, even. And for some reason, it hurt to see him react like this.

"I… I'm sorry."

"About?"

"About… how we woke up," he apologized, stumbling on his words and stuttering a little. "I… I must have lost my pillow during the night."

"I had figured that much."

"I… I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

"You didn't. It's okay."

He gave you a hopeful stare.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really," you nodded. "I mean, you were just hugging me, not much to say about it."

Nothing much to say about it? Then why was your heart still beating this fast just thinking about it then?

"I… you sure you're okay?"

You rolled your eyes at him.

"Yes, I'm sure. It's fine."

"Oh. Okay."

Harry had to admit that he was surprised that you were taking this so… well. As if it didn't have any meaning at all. When he had woken up cuddling you, holding you as close as he could.

As he finally stumbled back to his feet, he had to admit that he was not just surprised, he was also a little disappointed. Because he didn't take the situation as lightly as you did, and that was because…

He pushed the thought away before it could finish forming in his mind. He didn't need to think about this at all. It was all something from the past. He was over it. Had been for a while. No need to think of it again.

"Right. Well, still, I'm sorry."

"You were asleep, it's alright."

"You should have woken me up."

"I… I was barely awake myself, hadn't really processed what was going on yet."

It was a lie, but he seemed to buy it.

"Oh… okay."

"Besides, I've noticed by now how clingy you can be!" you joked, making him chuckle.

"Right… uhm… I'm gonna go take a shower, and then we can go grab a bite for breakfast, yeah?"

"Sure, you can take the shower first."

"Thanks."

And indeed, Harry was grateful that you granted him access to the bathroom first. Because he could hide how much he was blushing in there.

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

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@swtxel​

[edales-drabbles]

#5 Angel

There was a star on top of the tree. It made the cold bite of homesickness more visceral than ever. It snapped at the tips of his toes and fingers and made his teeth ache. Only the warmth of the gingerbread latte in his chest fought off the impending rush of sadness that was sure to come. Once the feelings of the nostalgia faded and he was at home alone in the grey empty room, it would flood in uncontrollably.

One year, he'd decorated. The first year he'd been ... away from home. A plastic tree with plastic decorations. Thinking about it, even that he'd made sure to put an angel on top despite the tackiness of the one he had found. Cheap pound store tinsel pinned in awkward lengths around the room and snowflake stickers pressed to the windows so the light passed through them. He hadn't had much money at that point but he had done his best to get in the holiday mood. He'd invited his friends to come on Christmas eve. Christmas day was too hard after all. most of them still had family who would talk to them, who cared about them enough to ensure they weren't alone on the happiest day of the year.

None of them had come. He had sat alone at the table with a chicken dinner fully prepared as excuses poured in over his phone. Hangover. Needed to travel early to make a family meal. Something had come up. Feeling sick. He hadn't taken the decorations down as much as he had torn them down. A sobbing mess as the last hint of childish magic disappeared.

The blood had taken a long time to get out of the rug.

He had thrown out the tree and tinsel, the baubles and the snowflake stickers. But not the angel. It wasn't his angel. It wasn't the handmade glass figure that had decorated the top of his family tree for the first seventeen years of his life. A vintage piece from Germany that had been handed out from generation to generation. It was beautiful. He spent many nights as a child looking at it as his grandmother told old stories, heart full of awe. It wasn't his angel but throwing out any angel was almost impossible in the season.

A few years later, Anthone was used to the Christmas season hurting. Ignoring days like today where he wasn’t working, he did his best to avoid the whole thing. He took another long sip of his cup, watching the people outside the coffee shop window.

It was warm and bright. The orange hue of lights making the world tolerable if only a moment. The daggers of winter held at bay by happiness and joy for all those who still felt it. Ice was pretty and fascinating, hiding the cruel darkness from the world. Scents of burning fire, gingerbread and chocolate filled the shop as several carefully placed scent had been placed. All to make the shop feel comfortable. 

He didn’t want to leave this moment, this spot. He didn’t want to go back to his grey home. He gulped and placed his cup back on the table and checked the time. Another hour before the shop closed. He settled more on his seat and tapped his fingers against the table, not really thinking as he basked in the warmth. 

Teenagers entered the shop, loud, bursting with life and happiness. Anthone didn’t take much notice until one paused next to him. “Anthone?” a voice said hesitantly.

Krish took after their grandfather more than Anthone did, a cool fawn colour with pink undertones that spoke of a heritage more complicated than simple British. Anthone mostly passed as a white for all intense purposes. The idea he had any other heritage was foreign to most people but then again, a quarter Indian well masked from untrained eyes. The fact it was his mother’s father too meant his surname was British too, Baxor. 

All of this to say, his younger brother was looking at him with hesitation in their shared deep brown eyes. An uncertain smile broke out on his face and he stepped closer, a part of a world Anthone had lost many years ago. “It is you, Anthone,” he greeted, sitting on the chair opposite, pulling out his phone. “I can’t believe this! Rhea said you stopped messaging her! We were worried.”

“It’s nice to see you,” Anthone said, carefully placing his words as his heart throbbed. “You look well.”

Rhea was between Krish and Anthone. Anthone, Rhea, Krish, Asha and then Tara, unless his parents had another child in the last five years. Unlikely but possible, he supposed. 

His chest was icy now, barely listening as Anthone introduced him to his friends. He nodded at him calmly, wondering how quickly he could escape this. Krish was looking at him expectantly and Anthone felt his cheeks heat from reaction rather than feeling. Had he missed a question? He wasn’t sure. 

“Don’t you have a phone?” Krish asked, disappointment filling his eyes. 

“You realise if mum and dad found out that you talked to me, they’ll disown you too, right?” Anthone said. Possibly a little to bluntly if the hiss from Krish’s friends was anything to go by. Krish also had a look on his face. A little more pitying than Anthone was expecting. 

“It’s been five years,” Krish pointed out. “I’m entitled to talk to my older brother if I want to. If you want to.”

“You’re not an adult yet. Don’t risk it,” Anthone said, forcing his voice to be less harsh, less bitter. His younger brother wanted to talk to him. That was something he hadn’t had before. Rhea used to message him but truthfully it had been Rhea who stopped not Anthone. Anthone had spent weeks waiting for a message but none had come. The idea that Krish might do the same was a little too hard right now.

“I’m adult enough,” Krish smiled crookedly. 

Anthone tilted his head, taking in his brother. It was strange. He could still read him after all this time. Krish was taller, his face more angler and mature though still very much young. Not the gangly thirteen-year-old who had hidden in his room while their parents had screamed at Anthone. “What happened?” he asked.

“I may have got a girl pregnant,” Krish admitted, fluttering his eyes sheepishly. “She had Davina a couple of months ago, see,” he said, offering the phone to Anthone. 

He took it and found a picture of Krish holding a sleeping baby. Krish looked rather bewildering holding the small thing.   

“Cute,” Anthone said, not really sure what to say. He had a niece. 

“She is. Um. Sandi ran off so I’m looking after her. Dad reckoned if I could get a girl pregnant, I’m adult enough for the job,” Krish shrugged. “Rhea’s looking after her at the moment. Did Rhea tell you about her two?” When Anthone shook his head, Krish just nodded and carried on. “She got married when she hit eighteen.  Larmar, do you remember him? Anyway, she has two littleuns. Bianca and Karin. Then Larmar died so she’s back in the house too so. Er. It’s been busy,” Krish looked at the table. “How have you been?”

He didn’t have one niece. He had three. That was a headrush. His younger brother and sister were parents. 

“Ok, I guess?” Anthone offered. Larmar had died? His heart ached a little. Rhea had been starry-eyed for Larmar from the moment they meet. It wasn’t that surprising to hear things had developed between them. Marriage at eighteen and two children by twenty was a little unexpected though. Death, even more so. “No kids. No dead partners either. I have a job, I have a flat. I’m ok.”

“Children would be a touch surprising,” Krish tried to tease only the joke didn’t land right. His voice was too tight and there was too much awkwardness in his words. “Any live partners?” he asked with the same tone of trying to keep the conversation light. 

“No,” Anthone shook his head. “Not for a while.”

“I see,” Krish nodded, awkwardly sitting there. One of his friends called over. It was time to go. The bus was coming soon not to mention the serving staff were starting to clean up. Krish looked reluctant to leave, biting on his bottom lip. Anthone gave him his phone back. 

“Merry Christmas, Krish. Give Rhea a hug from me,” Anthone smiled gently, wanting him gone. 

“And Asha and Tara?”

“If they remember me, Krish,” Anthone half-smiled. His other brother and sister, they had been seven and eight when it all happened, somehow Anthone doubted they had real memories of him. Maybe shadows but not memories. Krish stood up and hugged Anthone for a brief moment. A flood of warmth filling Anthone for the split second as Krish held him tight. 

“I wish you could come home,” Krish muttered. “If anything got taught this year it was the importance of having a family.”

“If Mum and Dad could get over their bigoty, maybe it would be possible,”Anthone shrugged.

Krish left. Anthone left too, making sure to go the opposite way. He dialled a number. He didn’t want to be alone tonight. A sudden urge grew in him. Maybe he should get a tree again this year. He did have that angel after all. 

[maruwrites]

The Revolution Pt. III

Summary: Dustin thinks he’s finally gonna have a quiet, normal childhood after the events with the Demodogs and Dart, until a new threat shows up at his house in the form of a 17-year old girl.

Warnings: Aaaaaaangst. And cursing, ofc.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Word count: 2,005 

Steve decided very early on he would keep an eye on this girl. Nothing weird or anything, but he had come to appreciate Dustin, which he did not expect at all. He was a nice kid, a little lost and too much of a nerd for his own good, but still. Nice. And when Dustin was acting all weird at the diner when he finished telling the story, even after Steve had bought him chocolate milkshake and fries, the older boy’s protective instincts kicked in.

“That. Is. Weird.”

“No shit, Steve.”

“Like weird, weird.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry? I don’t know what to tell you. That’s a shitty situation,” he said, grabbing a handful of the young boy’s fries and stuffing them in his mouth. Partly because he was hungry, also partly because he wanted an excuse not to speak. He didn’t know what to say. “And you just, left them there?”

“I guess they have a lot of stuff to talk about. All I know is my mom handed me a bunch of quarters and told me to go to the arcade.” Dustin shook his bag, the coins clinking as they banged against each other. He took a few fries, dunked them in the milkshake and said with a mouthful: “But–and I never thought I’d say this, but I couldn’t care less about Dig-Dug right now.”

Steve looked disgusted at the boy’s eating habits but chuckled lightly.

They continued to eat in silence for a while until the older boy spoke. 

“I can’t believe you let me pay for you when you have a bag filled with money. You asshat.”

For the first time that day, Dustin laughed out loud.

‘What are you waiting for?’

(Y/N) sat at the stairs in front of the house, trying to take deep breaths. 

“Oh, here you are,” she heard Claudia say. “I thought you had left, I turned around and-”

“I just needed to breathe,” she interrupted. “I couldn’t do that inside this house.”

Claudia stayed silent. They sat in the stairs without a word. The long, exhausting conversation they had had inside stayed in the distant past until Paws made his out to the girl and climbed on her lap. (Y/N) stroke his face as he took tiny bites out of her hand. She gave him a tiny smile.

“Do you like cats?,” her mother asked.

“Yeah. When I was about 5, I got sent to this family and they had a bunch of pets. Like, dogs, cats, birds, even a piglet. My favorite ones were the cats.” Claudia smiled at the confession, her heart hurting slightly at the thought of this child getting shipped to a family of strangers.

“I love cats. We used to have another cat, Mews was her name, but she disappeared a few months ago. I guess she ran away. Dustin was actually the one who picked out Paws at the shelter,” the older woman said, and (Y/N) just hummed in agreement. “He’s a good kid.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” She forced a smile. (Y/N) didn’t want to think about it too hard. Of course he was a good kid. He had his mother, she had been there for him. What did (Y/N) have to show for herself? Nothing. She got nothing. “So,” She tried drowning out the thoughts. “I’m feeling better already. I think it’s the cat’s effect.” She heard a light chuckle.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay? We have a spare bedroom...”

“I’m sure. Look, Claudia.” (Y/N) turned to the older woman, the cat jumping out of her lap. She tried to ignore to look of pain in her face. “I know I’ve said this, but I don’t want anything from you. I’m not interested in-”

“I know, sweetie.” At that word, sweetie, (Y/N) almost cried.

“I don’t want to impose. And uh, Dustin might be uncomfortable, as I’m sure you didn’t run by your offer through him, so... It’s fine. It’s a nice enough motel. I’ve slept in worst places.” Now it was Claudia’s turn to almost cry.

“Let me at least pack you something to eat. You stay there,” she said, getting up and walking to the kitchen, screaming now so that the girl could hear her. “And I’ll make you a PB and J, okay?”

The girl hummed a silent okay and waited in the stairs, not missing the very domestic thing that was waiting fo her mother to fix her a sandwich. While she waited in the stairs, an expensive car pulled up on the driveway. Inside, sat her half-brother and an older boy, who was maybe her age. She hadn’t seen him before, but after the extensive research she had done on her family, she knew he wasn’t a part of it. 

Dustin looked at her through the glass and said something to the guy.

(Y/N) hated this. She always hated when people judged her, and that has gotten her into trouble a couple of times already. The feelings of inadequacy and sorrow were quickly replaced by annoyance and just downright anger. She knew he’d judge her, that they would all look at her and conjure this image of her in their head that she had no control of. And it infuriated her. They didn’t know her, they didn’t know anything. 

She stood up as soon as Dustin left the car and braced herself for whatever he was gonna throw her way, but he just walked right past her and into his house, not once acknowledging her. (Y/N) looked at the door after he slammed it and took a deep breath, trying to control her anger. That is until she felt a set of eyes on her, practically burning a hole on her neck. 

“Can I help you with something?,” she said through gritted teeth, as she turned around, and the crazy-haired boy who stood leaning against the car jumped slightly, not expecting her rashness. But he just stared at her, arms crossed in front of him. Steve had promised himself he would case this new girl out, and that’s what he was doing. 

(Y/N) hated this. She took another breath and kept thinking of another one of her mantras: ‘Violence does, in truth, recoil upon the violent, and the schemer falls into the pit which he digs for another.’ She picked up her duffle bag, put it over her shoulder and walked to the street, her feet making their way to the hotel she had been staying. She knew the way by now. That hadn’t been the first time she’d gone to the Henderson house, it was just the first time she’d actually knocked on the door. 

She could still feel his eyes on her, and she couldn’t control it. She couldn’t control how he would perceive her, how people would look at her, and that truly upset her. She was a good person. Right? But if she couldn’t make people see that, if she couldn’t make them realize she was nice, then she might as well act like they expected her to. So she left, letting go of the sandwich, trying to ignore the aching feeling in her chest that she just passed up the opportunity to have someone do something nice for her for once. 

(Y/N) went through her regular routine as soon as she got in her room. She put her bag on top of the bed, took everything out and put them in their original places. The folded clothes went on the dresser, the toiletries were nicely arranged on the bathroom sink, and the books were placed on the bedside table, sticking out of each one a photograph marking a page.

That was all she had, her entire life displayed across a dirty, run down motel room. That was all she had to show for herself. Seventeen years worth of memories could fit in a military-style bag that she carried around because she knew better. She wouldn’t leave her entire life on a crappy motel room.

(Y/N) had been sent to way too many houses to know that that was nothing. She had seen in many of her “sisters” bedrooms an inordinate amount of memorabilia. Childhood toys, birthday and Christmas cards, old drawings that once hung in the refrigerator. 

She tried ignoring the memory of Dustin’s room of when Claudia had given her the house tour. He had so many toys, posters on the wall, colorful lights. And a terrarium. (Y/N) loved turtles, they were one of her favorite animals and she couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if she hadn’t been given away. ‘Given away, like an animal, like a gift people didn’t like, like trash’, she thought.

(Y/N) would have her own room, filled with books from end to end. She would have stuffed animals she had had as a kid, but wasn’t ready yet to give away. She would keep her old assignments and homework on a box or a cool wooden chest that would sit on the foot of her bed. She would get the same lights from Dustin’s room, and they would both take care of Paws and Yertle together. She would be annoyed at him if he ever went into her room without asking, but the thought of that didn’t make her angry. She wanted to be annoyed at a little brother for not respecting boundaries. She wanted boundaries in the first place, because that would mean she had a space to call her own.

“Here it is...,” Claudia began, a sandwich wrapped in plastic wrap in her hand. She stopped when she couldn’t see the girl. “Oh, hi, Steve. Did you see my-uh, a girl walk by here?”

Steve nodded. “Hi, Mrs. Henderson. I did, she just left.” 

He felt bad. The defeated look on her face, the sudden arm drop. She kept looking out to the streets, hoping to maybe see a glimpse of her, even though she knew she wouldn’t. Steve watched as she gulped, trying to keep her emotions at bay, and went back into the house in a haste, not before he caught a few tears prickling in her eyes, even in the distance. 

Dusty, who had followed his mother, gave him a thumbs up. “Nice, buddy. Did you scare her off?”

“What? Of course not,” he said as he watched the younger boy approach him. “Maybe. I didn’t say anything, though. She literally just got up and left.”

“Hopefully forever.”

“Is it?”

“What?,” Dustin asked, leaning against the car in the same manner as Steve’s.

“Hopefully.”

“Uh, yeah. Of course.”

“I don’t know, man,” Steve contended. “Your mum doesn’t seem to think so.”

The young boy scoffed.

“Dustin, look. I don’t really know what advice to give you because I’ve never been in the same situation as you. Girl problems, sure, I’m your guy. But this... I’m afraid I can’t help you with that, buddy. But here’s a thing I learned in the past few months. Communication is very important.” He rubbed his neck, still unsure, and paused. “Maybe think about what’s like for your mum. Ask her what she’s feeling. Talk to her. Thinking you know what’s on the other person’s mind and acting according to that... sheesh. That’s no way to live life. Trust me. That I know.”

Dustin immediately opened his mouth to argue with his friend, but gave up. He was sort of right, the boy still needed to talk to his mum. But it felt like a betrayal of sorts. Like Dustin had been wrong for wishing this girl just went away and never came back.

“I thought you were on my side,” he whispered, a sting in his voice.

“Buddy...” Steve lamented, but Dustin went inside his house, leaving the older boy feeling defeated and frustrated.

(Y/N) opened one of the books, and old copy of Some Trees, by John Ashbery, and read the same passage she read everytime she thought about leaving, about being left, about the ever-growing nature of movement that had always been a central of part of her life.

“What more is there to do, except stay? And that we cannot do.”

@sociallyimpairedme @hufflepeople​

[mxlfoydraco]

Queer Book Recs

Are you as frustrated with fandoms as i am? I got you! Here are some queer books i’ve read recently, and more under my book recs tag. This list is too long already, so i’ll put in summaries instead of my own comments.

Broken by Nikola Haken When Theodore Davenport decides to switch his mundane job for a career, he walks into Holden House Publishing with enthusiasm and determination to succeed. As he settles into his new role, makes new friends, and dreams of making it to the top, everything is going to plan. Until he meets James Holden, CEO of Holden House. James Holden hasn’t been able to stop thinking about his encounter with the timid man he met in a club bathroom last week, and when he discovers the one haunting his dreams is an employee, he can’t seem to stop himself from pursuing him. Just a little fun - that’s what James tells himself. He can’t afford to care for someone who can never reciprocate, not once they find out who he really is. James believes nobody deserves the burden of being attached to him. He’s a complicated man. Damaged. Difficult. Demanding. Broken. Is Theodore strong enough to confront James’ demons? More importantly, is James? Please note:This book contains scenes of self harm, mental illness and suicidal ideation which may be uncomfortable for some readers.

The Rules by Jamie Fessenden When Hans Bauer, a college student in New Hampshire, accepts a job as a housekeeper for an older gay couple, he soon learns the reason they've hired someone with no experience is that professional agencies won't work there. Thomas is a successful businessman whose biggest goal in life appears to be giving his husband anything he wants. Boris is a writer who immigrated to this country from Russia, and suffers from depression and PTSD because of the things he endured in his native country. He also refuses to wear clothes—ever. While Hans is working alone in the house with Naked Boris all day, things start getting a little weird. Boris gets flirtatious and Hans backs away, not wanting to come between him and his husband. So Boris calls Thomas at work and asks permission. At that moment, The Rules are born—rules about touching and kissing and pet names that the three men use to keep jealousies at bay, as they explore the possibilities in a new type of relationship.... WARNING: This story deals with themes of sexual assault and past abuse. The Law of Attraction by Jay Northcote When a professional relationship turns personal, it’s impossible to resist the law of attraction. Alec Rowland is a high-flying lawyer in a London firm whose career is his life. He doesn’t have time for relationships and his sexuality is a closely guarded secret. After picking up a cute guy on a Friday night, Alec’s world is rocked to its foundations when his one night stand shows up in the office on Monday morning—as the new temp on his team. Ed Piper is desperate to prove himself in his new job. The last thing he needs is to be distracted by a crush on his boss. It’s hard to ignore the attraction he feels, even though Alec’s a difficult bastard to work for. Both men strive to maintain a professional relationship, but tempers fray, passions ignite, and soon they’re both falling hard and fast. If they’re ever going to find a way to be together, Alec needs to be honest about who he really is because Ed won’t go back in the closet for anyone.

The Half Wolf by Jay Northcote Mate, family, pack, home… can Quinn and Kellan have it all? Quinn grew up feeling out of place in the small town he calls home. Yearning for something he can’t name, he’s always felt different but never known why. Kellan is part of a nomadic shifter pack. When they set up camp in the woods near Quinn’s town, the humans are unwelcoming and suspicious of the newcomers. The moment Kellan catches sight—and scent—of Quinn, he knows Quinn is special. But for the first time in his life, Kellan can’t trust his instincts. Quinn is human, and Kellan is a wolf shifter, so how can they ever be mates? Their bond is instant and exhilarating. It breaks Quinn’s heart to know their relationship can only be temporary. Love isn’t enough when pack law forbids shifters to mate with humans. Tension explodes between pack and humans, and when Quinn discovers a shocking truth about himself that changes everything, he fears he’ll have to choose between the only life he’s ever known and the man he loves. 

Step by Step by K.C. Wells Jamie’s life is one big financial mess, and it really isn’t his fault. However, the last thing he expected to find in the library was a Good Samaritan. He might have been suspicious of Guy’s motives at first, but it soon becomes apparent that his savior is a good man who has been lucky in life and is looking to pay it forward. Guy being gay is not a problem. Jamie’s not interested… or so he thinks. Guy is happy to help Jamie, and the two men get along fine. But when Jamie’s curiosity leads him from one thing to another, Guy finds himself looking at the young man with new eyes. What started out as a hand up is now something completely different…. His Convenient Husband by Robin Covington  NFL football player Isaiah Blackwell lost his husband three years ago and is raising their teen son alone. He lives his life as quietly as his job allows, playing ball to support his family but trying not to draw unwanted attention. His quiet life is shaken up when a mutual friend introduces him to Victor, a visiting principal ballet dancer who is everything Isaiah is not. Brash and loud, Victor Aleksandrov has applied for political asylum to avoid returning to Russia, where gay men are targeted and persecuted. He’s been outspoken about gay rights in his home country, and if he doesn’t get asylum, going back to Russia is a death sentence. Their one-night stand turns into a tentative friendship, a relationship they both agree is temporary... until Victor’s denied asylum. Isaiah can’t offer Victor a happily ever after, but he can propose something that’ll keep Victor in the US and safe... marriage He just doesn’t expect his new husband to dance away with his heart. Finding Home by Garrett Leigh How do you find a home when your heart is in ashes? With their mum dead and their father on remand for her murder, Leo Hendry and his little sister, Lila, have nothing in the world but each other. Broken and burned, they’re thrust into the foster care system. Leo shields Lila from the fake families and forced affection, until the Poulton household is the only place left to go. Charlie de Sousa is used to other kids passing through the Poulton home, but there’s never been anyone like his new foster brother. Leo’s physical injuries are plain to see, but it’s the pain in his eyes that draws Charlie in the most. Day by day, they grow closer, but the darkness inside Leo consumes him. He rejects his foster parents, and when Charlie gets into trouble, Leo’s attempt to protect him turns violent. When Leo loses control, no one can reach him—except Charlie. He desperately needs a family—a home—and only Charlie can show him the way. Long Macchiatos and Monsters by Allison Evans Jalen, lover of B-grade sci-fi movies, meets the far-too-handsome P in a cafe while deciding whether or not to skip uni again. When P invites them along to a double feature of Robot Monster and Cat Women of the Moon, Jalen can hardly believe that hot boys like bad sci-fi, too. But as their relationship progresses, Jalen realizes P leaves him wondering if they're on the same page about what dating means, and if that's what they're doing. [NB protag!] Dirty Mind by Roe Horvat Alexander Popescu is a university lecturer in a quiet German town. He’s a respectable man in his thirties who stays fit, has a decent career and travels alone—his only vice is an occasional greasy meal. And beer. And violent computer games. Nobody has to know about the other Alex—the acclaimed porn writer. His ingenious erotic fantasies earn him good money and keep his capricious mind harmlessly entertained. When his young friend and protégé Christian transfers to Freiburg for medical school, Alex is overjoyed…and terrified that Christian will find out about Alex’s indecent alter ego. The time they spend together, as lovely as it is, could overturn Alex’s carefully balanced life. Suddenly, the writing is not good enough, his hair seems to be thinning, his careful hookups leave him unfulfilled, and his dreams are haunted by the innocent young man he’s vowed to protect. However, Christian is not a boy anymore. He’s a grown man of twenty-one, clever and deadly attractive. And he’s hiding some secrets of his own.