#and so my worry spirals into anxiety and depression and drains my energy

[miss-writes-a-lot]

An Update

Time for my monthly post explaining why I'm not putting out content for my ao3! Warning, it is long and a bit vulnerable. Trigger warnings for depression, anxiety, chronic pain, intrusive thoughts, and some self-destructive ideation.

Mainly it's college. College has been kicking my ass this spring semester. It feels as though with each semester that passes, I get less and less time to work on things. Even now, my spring break week, I have to read three different essays for a timed essay coming up next week. So, in general, it feels like I don't really have a break to myself and to do things for me most of the time.

For the part, I've just been depressed. I don't share this a lot but I have been dealing with chronic pain since I was 16 that just this past summer has gotten worse. And of course, doctors don't know what it is! Hooray!/s. It's taken a lot of energy out of me and has made me reflect on how much I seemed to have taken for granted when I was "healthy", and it leads me to feel so down about how nowadays, it feels like I can hardly do anything or go anywhere without worrying about being sick or getting fatigued easily.

It's been draining me dry and I can hardly bring myself to do my work, or even write this post. I lay awake wondering what's wrong with me and being paralyzed by the fear of it being something really serious, maybe even deadly (though that still has not been confirmed). It's hard to take care of myself or even think semi-positively about myself. There was a good chunk of this month where I could barely sit and have proper conversations with people because I'm either too focused on the pain or too in my own head, thinking about how these people must hate me when that probably isn't the case at all. It made it difficult for me to want to go to school and sometimes to even try and find help or help myself.

And overall, it's been hard to motivate myself. I have ideas that I want to write and fics I want to finish, but with a combination of said depression, lack of motivation, lack of self-confidence, and probably genuine laziness, I haven't written anything that doesn't feel rushed or right to me. I scrutinize everything I write, both past and present. Just an hour or two ago, I was reading through an old fic I wrote (Suzume's 2nd debut fic) and noticed a redundant sentence, and the overall vibe/voice for the fic and damn near went into a spiral about how bad it was and how much I dislike it now, which has made it difficult to see any potential in myself as both a writer and a valuable person.

I am getting help now, feeling a tad better but still struggling with a lot that is really personal and I don't feel like getting into all of that right now. I am going to try and work on a fic again, just because I haven't written anything proper in a while and I genuinely do miss it! But, I might take the last three days of my break off from everything. Maybe try and let myself be lazy so maybe I can recuperate. I bought some stuff like planters and seeds so I can get a garden going. Maybe it'll be my new hobby! I did say I was going to try and go outside more. Maybe this'll be good for me.

Hoping to at least do what I did last year and post some things to this blog specifically and see if anyone is interested in what I have going - both fanfiction and original work alike.

Thanks to everyone for sticking with me through these trying times. Maybe one day this year, we'll see some sort of progress or betterment in the world. That's the hope at least.

Hope to see you all soon!

[ifeelsoemptysometimes]

I have a gynecology appointment and I'm terrified out of my mind. Just thinking about it makes me feel my anxiety in my throat and tear well up in my eyes. Maybe I've just thought about it too much but im just. So afraid. I told my grandma how I've had a pelvic exam as a kid and I'm pretty sure I was left traumatized from that bc what else explains my strong aversion amd fear?? She looked sorry for me but of course wasn't able to say much to me. She told mu aunt and she said I was just embarrassed and nervous. Nut I knwo those feel like, and sure I do feel those things its normal to fee like that but I also feel such a deep and strong fear. Panic attack level fear. That's not embarrassment or nervousness. Of course I understand that she of all people wouldn't have really understood so I didn't take it to heart. It's not like she knows me anyways. I also told my mom and she also didn't know what to say and told me so. It felt nice to be honest. She didn't just brush me off as if im being crazy. Bare minimum I suppose. But yea. She said that she wanted me to do it in the States but idk how much it's gonna cost me there. It's only gonna be 800 pesos here which is about,, 60 bucks? So it's literally do obvious. And my cousin is gonna go with me instead. I cant help but worry tho. I'm afraid that I'll have a panic attack and that I'll be called crazy. I tend to shut down-ish, depending the situation, and if im conscious, I'll try to calm down but it seems that if someone tries to touch me I'll freak out and start screaming. It's kinda harrowing imo. Not to mention the draining of energy that happens afterwards. I'm afraid that they'll think im fucking crazy or some shit. That's even more embarrassing in itself. I'm also afraid that I'll spiral bc of it, fall into some sort of depression... I know im just catastrophizing but I can't help it. I'm so terrified that I could vomit. No one i I talk to understands how I feel and it's so distressing. I need to keep talking about it till someone understands. I need someone to understand my fear and not just think im being exaggerated or a crybaby. This being said... I hate how it makes me wish Donnie could just hold me and tell me I'll be okay. For him to hold my hand and just confort me. I'm so pathetic. But hey that's how I cope I guess. It feels like thats they only thing that could relieve me. Ugh. So stupid. So yea. I'm just... not well. I suppose I'll update myself on here tomorrow. How knows maybe it won't be as bad as I feel it will be. Maybe im just my chronic anxiety talking. Maybe. Well see.

[sadorkable]

I had my snake for three days. And they squirmed out through the teeniest little slit in the lid that they shouldn't have been able to fit through. I've disassembled and searched through every piece of the room and the nearby rooms. Twice. It's looking like they went into the vents. Or the walls.

I've put out water and hides and pinkies in the vents and along the walls. I just want the little baby back and safe 💔

[capaimagines]

im changkyun - i’ll always be there

Pairing: Im Changkyun x Reader | Genre: angst & fluff | Warnings: anxiety/panic attack, mentions of depression, self-depreciating thoughts, mild self-harm (unintentional) | WC: 2.0k

Request: Hi loves! Can I please request a changkyun fic where the reader suffers from serious anxiety and depression and she tries really hard for him to go out and she does but breaks down and has a panic attack and he doesn't know what to do because he is unaware of her condition

Changkyun knew that you were more of homebody. He’d known that since you were kids. The two of you had been friends since you were little. Your mom’s were best friends which meant most of his weekends were spent being dragged to yours to play while your mom’s chatted and did their thing.

Changkyun was always more adventurous than you, he enjoyed exploring and meeting new people. You could never understand how two people who were polar opposites could get along but it worked for you two. However, Changkyun wasn’t aware of just how bad your anxiety about going out was, or more importantly, how low you have been feeling recently.

He knew you really struggled with your emotions and he always did his best to pick you up and be there for you. When you had been offered the perfect job; working from home and only having to go into the office for large meetings every so often, you were ecstatic. Though that meant you had to move to the city. You were ready to turn the opportunity down until Changkyun, like he always did, came to be your knight in shining armor.

So the two of you moved out and lived together. You felt guilty for taking him away from all his friends and family, but he always assured you over and over again that he was fine and this was a new adventure for him also.  He did well living in the city, he was able to land a job as producer for a large company and while there were nights where he didn’t come home, he truly seemed to be enjoying himself.

However, you were struggling. A terrible downside of being too nervous to leave the comfort of your apartment always led to your depression coming back. You would manage small walks here and there to try and get out and soak in the sun, but you would quickly return home mid panic attack.

Changkyun wasn’t too aware of all this. He had been working later and later recently and he had barely been home all week. You were spiraling into the black abyss and you couldn’t pull yourself out. You could at least manage to shower and seem normal when Changkyun was home, but the moment he left, you were stuck alone with your thoughts.

Your head was constantly telling you that no one would want you as a friend. That Changkyun was just taking pity on you, he was tired of you or you were too plain, too boring. You deserved to be alone and you were starting to believe that was your destiny. To be alone with no one around. To live in the dark hole for the rest of your life.

You snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of your phone ringing. You couldn’t even muster up the energy to smile at Changkyun’s name.  

“Y/N?” You hadn’t even realized you picked it up.  

“O-oh. Changkyun-ah,” If he noticed how tired you sounded he didn’t say anything.  

“Hey, my friends would really like to meet you. We’re supposed to be getting dinner in a few hours and they asked me to invite you. Can you come? Please? It’d be nice to get you out of the apartment and I promise you it will be fun!” Inwardly you were already starting to panic. Saying no to Changkyun was something you always had trouble with.

“Okay,” You mustered out and Changkyun promised to pick you up in a few hours. You shakily stood on your legs and gave yourself a cold shower. You had hoped it would knock the anxiety bubbling up but it didn’t. You didn’t know how you were going to make it through a meal with strangers, but you didn’t want to embarrass Changkyun either.

You already embarrass him.

His friends are going to think you’re weird.

You don’t deserve a friend like Changkyun.

You sighed, shaking your head. You had to do this for him, he never asked you for much. This wasn’t anything big. He simply just wanted you to meet his friends. Two hours later you were sitting on the couch in the best clothes you owned, leg bouncing up at down. You were squeezing your hands together in hopes to quell the anxiety. Though It was no use.

The minute Changkyun walked in and called your name you felt your heart rate spike. You didn’t know if you could do this, but there your best friend stood, in his skinny jeans and t-shirt with a large smile on his face. You couldn’t let him down. You always let him down.  

“You okay?” He questioned which you blinked at him and offered what you hoped was a happy smile and nodded slightly.  

“Y-yeah. I’m fine. Let’s go!”

You hooked your arm in his and he smiled brightly down at you before leading you to the car. The whole way to the restaurant Changkyun was talking about something that you didn’t catch a word of. Your eyes were trained on the windshield, heart pounding in your chest. You felt warm, too warm. You felt lightheaded and like you couldn’t breathe.  

“P-pull over,” You stuttered

“What?” Changkyun asked confusedly.

“Changkyun, please,” You pleaded, “ I-I need you to pull over.”

You felt like you were going to vomit. It felt all too small and crowded in the car. There wasn’t enough air. Changkyun pulled over, worried. Encasing his features as you stumbled out of the car as you leaned against the brick wall of whatever building was in front of you. Your breathing was erratic, the cold air was doing nothing to quell what felt like fire on your skin. You were dizzy, the world was spinning.

You slid down, placing your back against the cool bricks and trying to control your breathing, trying to feel anything but the pins and needles in your fingertips. Your legs felt numb. There were too many people walking around, too many people staring at you. You started gasping for air, fingernails digging into your forearm. You didn’t feel the sting when they broke the skin.

“Y/N! Hey! Y/N!” You knew that was Changkyun’s voice, but it sounded so panicked. He sounded scared, worried. You could feel a warmth grab your hands and you looked down trying to find the source. Changkyun was holding your hands in his, pulling them away from your arm. You noticed the little specks of blood on your forearm. When did that happen?

“Y/N!” Changkyun raised his voice slightly, “I need you to look at me!” You felt his calloused hands roughly grab at your chin and through your gazed look you could make out Changkyun’s worried orbs.

“C-Changkyun?” You stuttered weakly. It felt a little easier to breathe.  

“It’s me honey. L-let’s get you home, okay? ”You somehow managed to nod and he pulled you up as you leaned all your weight against him. You were mentally and physically drained.

He sat you in the car and ran around, turning back towards your home. He didn’t say anything, but you could hear how his fingers were drumming on the steering wheel. You felt guilty. Extremely guilty. All he wanted from you was to have one meal with his friends and you couldn’t even make it there. You don’t deserve him. You hold him back from so much. He left everything for you and you can’t even go out for a meal with him.

You let your thoughts take over, falling deeper and deeper into the darkness clouding you. You hadn’t even noticed you were back at your apartment building until Changkyun lightly grabbed your arm. His eyes scanned yours for what felt like hours but was only a few seconds. He was trying to find answers, trying to understand what had just happened.

You shakily followed him back into your apartment and went straight to your room. You collapsed on your bed, curling into the fetal position with a plushy he had won you at some stupid carnival when you were teenagers in between you. You let the tears fall, hating yourself for how pathetic you had become.  Your thoughts were right. Changkyun would be much better off without you.

You hadn’t heard him walk in or feel him sit down on the bed next to your feet. He was watching you, observing you. When had the circles under your eyes become so big and dark? Why did it look like you had lost more weight? Had he been so busy he didn’t even notice how bad his best friend was hurting? How much you needed him?

“Y/N,” He murmured and your breath hitched. You sat up, throwing your arms around his neck and sobbing into his shoulder.  

“I’m so s-s-sorry, Kyun. I’m so s-sorry! I-I can’t do anything! I can’t e-even go out f-f-for a proper meal w-with you! I’m such a waste of a human!” His eyes were wide as you blabbered on about how you were a terrible person and friend.

How you sobbed about how sorry you were for holding him back, for making him feel like he needs to stay here with you. He pulled you away from his shoulder, tears and snot running down your face as he just stared at you. You continued to sob and he gently started wiping tears away and cleaning your nose with the tissues by your bed.  

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was low and you were surprised you heard it over your cries.

“There was nothing to tell. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. You should go meet your friends,” Whatever emotions that had just exploded out of you were now gone. Now you just sounded empty, felt empty. You were tired and you just wanted to sleep. You pulled away from his grasp and laid down, staring at the wall in front of you.  

“Are you fucking joking me?” He replied back harshly.

You winced a little at his harsh tone. You’d only seen him angry a handful of times but it was never directed at you, “You think I’m just going to go see my friends when you’re feeling like this? Are you stupid?” He was kneeling in front of you now, in your line of vision. You couldn’t say anything. You were too tired now.

“You’re my best fucking friend, L/N Y/N. I am not leaving you. I’m here. I’m always here,” His voice was low again, but desperate. He needed you to know that he was there for you, always. That you are one of the most important people in his life, if not, the most important, “You do not hold me back. You aren’t a shitty friend.”

He made sure you were listening to him, hearing him.

“You’re one of the best people in my life. You always have been. You make me laugh. You always make sure there’s food waiting for me whether I come home or not. You do my laundry because you know that I’ll shrink it. You text me every day and scold me to eat and drink water. You have food delivered to my studio,” He continued to ramble.

You felt a new wave of tears sting your eyes, “You,” He grabbed your hand with one of his and squeezed it tight, “You are my person. My best friend. I am always here. When you’re sad, when you’re mad, when you feel nothing. I’m here. I’ll always be here Y/N,” You squeezed his hand back with as much strength as you could muster. He smiled. He knew you were too tired to speak but he knew you heard him.

“Now scooch over. We’re watching your favorite movie, I’ll order us some takeout and we’re going to cuddle until I see a genuine smile on your face, dammit,” You let out a small chuckle and moved over. He smiled weakly down at you before crawling next to you and pulling your head to his chest. This was your best friend. This was your person. You couldn’t let yourself doubt that, ever.

“I’ll always be there,” He murmured as you closed your eyes.

[pcos-fighter]

As some may know from my group chat, I am currently in therapy to manage my anxiety and I’ve been learning grounding techniques and the kind of questions to ask myself when I get in one of my moods where I might spiral into an attack or spark it. I slowly have been working through how to manage and my therapist sent me techniques in the Betterhelp app which is how I’ve been going to sessions. The techniques I have started to learn and apply I am finding to actually be helpful when I actively work on them in a moment of panic.

For instance the other day at work I started to feel my heart race and that overwhelming stomach knot I feel when my anxiety spikes. I was in the middle of paperwork and received a text from a dear friend who supported my desire to leave my current job and sent me multiple job postings every few days. But the posts she sent me some of the listings just overwhelmed me and in my head, I began to spiral with thoughts about my abilities to handle those kinds of environments and I could feel myself start to panic a little. So when I walked to the mailbox to get the mail, I did one of the techniques I had read about previously and started to say out loud everything I saw outside to ground myself. I kept my focus on the things around me, naming each tree or car which helped calm me from a full-blown attack.

I am sharing this story because I know with PCOS many of us struggle with anxiety and depression and I know not everyone can afford therapy as it can be very expensive. Shoot I barely can afford it but with the app Betterhelp, it's a lot more affordable than other avenues so I make it work. This is why I am writing this post to share a few grounding techniques so that any of you who struggle with anxiety can have a tool that will help ease at the moment. Now it's not a cure-all so some may work better than others, but at least it can help (as a few help me) to ground you when your anxiety gets high.

There are seven ways you can ground yourself so take what works for you the best and use it to overcome those moments.

1. The Grounding Chair

The first step in this technique is to sit in a comfortable chair where your feet touch the ground. Close your eyes and breath in slowly to the count of three and then out slowly. Bring your mind's focus to the rest of your body in the chair. How does it feel? Scoot your bum right into the back of the seat so that the whole length of your back is pressing into the back of the chair. Can you feel the contact of the chair against your body?

If the chair has arms, touch it, is the material smooth or textured? Press your arms down the length of the chair's arm, notice how your hands hang off the end.

If your chair doesn't have arms, touch the material of the seat, how does it feel?

Next push your feet into the ground, imagine that energy drain down from your mind, flow down through your body, and out through your feet into the ground. As that energy drains from your head, feel how heavy each body part becomes, your torso feels heavy, and now your arms as you relax your muscles. Lastly, feel the heaviness go down your legs through your feet and down into the ground.

2. The 5-4-3-2-1 Grounding Technique

This technique uses all five of your senses to help get you back to the present. It starts with you sitting comfortably, close your eyes and take a couple of deep breathes. In your nose (count to three) then out your mouth (to the count of three). Now open your eyes and look around you. Name out loud five things you can see, you can look within the room and out the window. Name four things you can feel, (such as the silkiness of your skin, the texture of the chair you're in, or what your hair feels like.) What is in front of you that you can touch? Name three things you can hear, (traffic noise, birds outside, noises in the room you're in.) What noises do you hear? Name two things you can smell. Do you have something scented nearby or in the area that you can walk to? Name one thing you can taste, (it might be a good idea to keep a piece of chocolate or mint handy in case you are doing this grounding exercise.) You can always leave the chair in this exercise and taste whatever it is you have chosen with a small bite. Let it swill around your mouth for a couple of seconds, letting it really savor the flavor. Take a deep breath to end.

(This one works a bit better for me personally.)

3. Hold Something and Really Focus On It

Hold an object in your hand and really bring your full focus to it. Look where shadows may fall on parts of it or is there something about it that is textured? Or are there color variants in it or on it? Feel the weight of it, is it heavy or light? What textures do your hands feel while holding it? Is it rough or smooth? This can be done with any object you have lying around or if you know you are going into a stressful situation, take one of your favorite small objects and put it in your pocket so you can do this calming exercise on the go.

4. Distract Yourself

There are several ways to distract your mind so it stops thinking about whatever it is that is worrying you and focuses on something that isn't emotionally driven.

You can pick a color in the room you are in. How many things in different shades of that color can you see around you? How about out the window? Still feeling stressed? Pick another color.

Count backward by 7, starting at 100. It isn't easy and requires you to concentrate.

Or my personal one I use sometimes is having some friends send me pictures of cats on the internet or their cats and it stops me in my worst spirals. (Mostly cause I love cats.) But if you have a creature you love look them up. Or watch a video with them in it. Whatever works to pull you out of that spiral find that image online or video.

5. Draw Around Your Foot In Your Mind

Place your feet on the ground and in your imagination pick your favorite color to draw an outline around each foot. Start at the heel and using your imaginary pencil slowly go up on the side of your foot to your pinky toe and then around each toe then back to your heel. Repeat on the other foot.

Another way you can focus on your feet in a stressful moment is just wiggle your toes inside your shoe. Pay attention to the sensation as you move to separate each toe. Do some move independently of the others? Tense your whole foot then stretch it out. Now do the other foot.

6. Let Your Thoughts Come and Go

So this one is simple in that most of us with PCOS constantly have our minds overthink and wander. Personally, I know when my mind lingers on the parts I can't control or can't fully change my anxiety spikes and it just spirals till I have a panic attack because I don't stop myself and observe my thoughts. And I am learning in therapy that part of this is all due to cognitive distortion and the challenge to overcome those thoughts is to really think about what those thoughts do to my feelings and then my behavior.

This technique requires you to watch your thoughts for a minute. Imagine leaves floating on the surface of a stream. For each thought that comes to mind allow that thought to take its place on a leaf and watch it blow away in the wind. Or allow them to change into a fish and watch it float down the stream. Allow those thoughts to come and go, you don't need to respond to them.

In this case, you don't have to challenge these thoughts at the moment your anxiety spikes but down the line start to challenge them.

7. Get Your Adrenaline-Fueled Energy Out

If for whatever nothing works at first because your adrenaline is spiked your best bet to kick start the calming down process is to do something physical first to get that pent-up energy out. Go for a run if you can, a brisk walk if you aren't as conditioned to run or hate running, or clean a room like the kitchen, the house, or even outside if you have a yard. Dance around your room or house while listening to loud music. (I do this often, even on car drives for my daily commute and it helps me.) When you're physically spent you can try to return to the grounding techniques above to calm down your mind.

I hope this helps some of you in some form through those moments. I know in the past there are a couple I have applied without knowing these in full as grounding techniques and I am grateful to have a therapist who sent me this information as some others I have started to apply.

Living with PCOS isn't easy and managing anxiety isn't easy either. But hopefully, this helps those of you who struggle to find healthy ways to ground yourself so those overwhelming thoughts don't get the best of you. Take care cysters. You know I care about each one of you even if I am not a frequent poster.

All this information can be found on Dr. Sarah Allen's website.

[matildashoney]

Loving You’s the Antidote: Chapter Nine

MASTERLIST // MOODBOARD // TAG LIST // TAGS // PLAYLIST

TAG LIST: @ihearthemcallingforyou​​, @cock-a-doodely-do, @detroitkiwis, @goldenfeelin​​, @wherearethewatermelons​

talk to me about it! feedback is greatly appreciated!

this chapter contains themes of anxiety, depression, and sexual content. please read with caution.

Harry had never contemplated asking a pilot to fly faster before today. His appearance was masked by a sweatshirt, sunglasses, and a beanie – the one that his girlfriend despises – and his suitcase was left on the tour bus in a hurry, only his knapsack tucked under his feet. His foot tapped incessantly on the floor of the plane, an embarrassed smile creeping on his lips to the man sitting in the seat next to him. Opting for a commercial flight, Harry was taking a risk, especially with the concern that paparazzi seem to take towards the band now that the hiatus is only a few months away. Harry didn’t need anyone bombarding him about his sudden reappearance in California, especially when his relationship will still under the radar.

All Harry needed was Amelie, to be with her.

Harry called Jenny as soon as Amelie declined his call for the third time. Offering to pick him up from the airport, Jenny was waiting outside LAX at promptly nine in the morning. Coffee in hand, Harry rushes into her car, greeting her with a kiss to the cheek and a pat to her growing tummy, the awkwardness lingering in the air as the traffic begins.

“Have you spoken to her?” Harry wonders hopefully, his thumb tracing the circumference of the cap and taking large sips of the burning coffee to bring the energy. “None of my texts are going through.”

“Amelie usually turns her phone off when she’s spiralling,” Jenny explains, her knuckles rubbing at her eyes as the car pulls to a stop at a red light. “Do you know what happened? Everything was going so well. I hadn’t seen her that happy in a long time, Harry. I mean, Los Angeles Art Project and you and Paris. Thought everything was fine.”

“Nothing you could’ve done, Jenny,” Harry says, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly and forcing a smile. “On her way to San Diego, they went to the café and Jack was there.”

“Oh my god, for fuck’s sake. Can’t he just leave her alone? God, tell me what the hell is gotten out of harassing her, at this point!”

“God, the things Jack said to Ames,” Harry trails, shaking his head at the thought of how foully she was spoken to – about him – nonetheless. “Bastard had the audacity to use me to get under her skin. He’s lucky I don’t go to him, right now.”

“You can’t,” Jenny sterns, shaking her head and taking the exit into the Hollywood Hills. “That’s what Amelie is talking about. There’s too much repercussion that’ll come of it. Go and be there for her. Amelie needs you more than Jack needs to be knocked in the mouth.”

“Amelie has never, like,” Harry gulps, pursing his lips together and willing himself not to cry at the thought. He has his – Amelie’s original – copy of their novel tucked in his knapsack with his phone and his wallet, his keys sitting nervously in his palm. His hands are sweating with the idea, unsure if he truly wants to know the answer.

“No,” Jenny interrupts. “Amelie has never done that. Never really took to the path of hurting herself. Hurt a lot of canvasses, though. Fay used to have to go into her room at night and throw out the slashed ones.”

“Amelie slashed canvasses,” Harry whispers, his sight fading into the sunrise on his street, his house vaguely in the view.

“Amelie’s art used to showcase her, believe it or not,” Jenny mutters, running her fingers through her hair and having her mind take her to the memories that reminisced of their early adolescence. “God, Harry, you should have seen it. Used to have drawings of her body and decorate it in flowers and trees. Amelie was basically the Goddess of Spring if there ever was one. Once that happened, she started slashing all the paintings that were a resemblance of her with one of the knives she used for opening her tools and marking out outlines.”

“Christ,” Harry mumbles, his heart breaking in his chest. “Wonder if she’ll ever get back to that, to making that.”

“One of her pieces for the exhibit is,” Jenny smiles earnestly, her eyes etched in pain and upset. Her features adorned concerned and worry, and there is an unspoken sentiment that Harry must tell her that everything is alright when they are together. “Don’t doubt that you’ve been helping. This is just a setback. Amelie is a strong girl. Always gets back on her feet.”

“Am I going to make things worse?”

“Absolutely not,” Jenny reassures, squeezing Harry’s knee comfortingly. Unlocking the car, she soothingly rubs Harry’s back, encouraging him to step out and make his way inside. Her soft smile is slightly assuring as her vehicle pulls away. “Bring her back to us, Harry.”

Harry nods understandingly, walking to the front door and heaving a breath at the scent wafting through the foyer, undeniably her. There was something comforting about Amelie’s scent filling his home, simply knowing that her presence was there, that her eyes would meet his and he would kiss her lips and hold her in his arms making the tightness in his chest alleviate slightly.

His lungs feel tight walking up the stairs, too much pressure in his chest with unknowing. He isn’t quite sure what he’s walking into, and there hasn’t been any time to really prepare himself. The only thing that Harry has done is read the ending of their novel, and all that that did was make his anxiety heighten. Truth be told, Harry had accepted that he couldn’t live without Amelie.

Amelie is the sun, the stars, the moon, the alignment of Jupiter and Pluto and all of the colours all at once. She is his safe place, the love of his life, the person that makes him feel at home. And the idea of never seeing her again made him feel as though he would fall apart at the seams.

That’s how you feel when you love someone. And, fuck, Harry loves her.

Opening the door, Harry’s lip quivers when he sees her. Curtains are drawn, lights darkened, the duvet pulled tightly over her body that seemed much too small to inhabit the bed alone. There is a breath of fresh air wafting through his nose at the draining sight, although he could barely see her chest rise and fall with a breath, that was enough to make a tear fall down his cheek. Her body nudges into the centre of the mattress, and Harry nearly sobs knowing that she is making room for him, that she wants him.

Kicking his shoes on the carpet, Harry yanks his dirtied sweats away from his hips and leaves his shirt trailing behind. Clambering beneath the duvet, his arms immediately wrap tightly around her waist, hugging her so tight that she nearly can’t breathe against him. His hand gently slips up her shirt, and she knows what he’s reaching for. His palm lays against her heart, physically feeling her heart beat against his skin. His face hides into her neck, a choked out sob breaking into her skin. He breathes her in, soaking in the feeling of her breathing, beating, warm in his arms.

His breath is shaky as he sighs, Amelie lifting his hand to have her lips touch his knuckles, her fingers wrapping around his, his grip around her hips holding her to his chest. “Hi,” Amelie mutters shyly, his fingertips touching her lips, his forehead laying against the back of her neck, the feeling of her warm lips on his skin making his chest deflate.

“You,” Harry stutters, gulping back the sob that sits at the base of his throat, “you can’t turn your phone off and decline m’calls when I’m thousands of miles away.” His breath is hot on her skin as he holds her as close as physically possible, almost impossible to breathe. “You can’t scare me like that.”

There are so many unspoken words lingering uncomfortably in the air. All that Harry is afraid to say. All that Amelie doesn’t want to admit.

“I wasn’t thinking, I’m sorry,” she apologises, pressing his hand tighter against her heart. “You should know that I would never leave you.”

Amelie knows what Harry feared most, and the thought tears her apart.

Harry chokes out a sob, his fingertips pinching the bridge of his nose as he attempts to will back the tears. He can barely look at Amelie without the thoughts running through his head. Gently taking his hand away from her heart, his grip loosens reluctantly as she rolls to her side, her hand cupping his cheek, brushing away a tear. “I really thought I was going to come home, and I would have lost you.”

“Why would you think that?” she questions, kissing the corner of his lips delicately, desperately trying to show that she is there and coax him to look at her, to see her. Amelie never meant to scare him this badly.

Anxiety, depression – it’s never gone. On occasion, the spirals will return and there are days where she can’t answer her phone. There are days where she simply cannot get out of bed. That’s why her flight to see him was missed. Amelie should have called; she should have told him. She knew that, but knowing Harry, he would have cancelled everything, backed out of the show, to fly home to be with her, and she couldn’t live with herself knowing he would be on edge at all times if he knew.

“On the flight, I reread the end of the book.” Harry doesn’t have to elaborate for Amelie to know what he’s talking about. “Wanted to hear you, hear your voice, and all the highlighted parts I can always hear you read to me. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that there are times that you’re in pain and I can’t do anything about it. Feel so helpless.” Another tear falls down his cheek. “Genuinely scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m really sorry I scared you,” Amelie breathes, her voice barely above a whisper, speaking as though not another person could hear what she is saying to him. “Harry, you’re here, always here, when I need you. That’s enough.”

Is that enough, though? Is it really? Harry desperately wants to say.

“Don’t make me lose you like that.” Harry squeezes his eyes shut; remaining tears caught on Amelie’s thumbs. “There are so many people that love you, that adore you. I am fucking obsessed with you. There’s absolutely no one that could be you. I’ll do anything to make sure you’re alright.” His words are a mixture of pleading and a demand for her, and she can feel her heart shattering into pieces. “’m begging you to not leave me like that, to do that.”

“Swear to you, I won’t.” For the first time in a very long time, she makes a promise, a swear, that she wants to keep. “Look at me, baby. I’m here.”

Amelie can see the tears welling in Harry’s eyes, the way their eye contact is bittersweet. He isn’t angry with her – he really couldn’t ever be – there was simply a sadness washing over him. Harry wants Amelie to be alright, and the idea that he isn’t able to make that happen is devastating. He rotates slightly, lying on his back, staring mindlessly at the ceiling for a moment. Harry should feel better, knowing all that she’s said to him, and yet there is a nagging in his mind that needs him to know that Amelie is okay, that she loves him.

“Can you kiss me, please? Bisous, s’il vous plait.” Harry knows in their kiss, in the way Amelie holds his cheeks and her heart beats a little faster, the way her lips are seemingly made to be slanted on his, that everything would be okay. There wasn’t a word to describe the feeling.

Amelie nods, manoeuvring her body to her knees, her breath fanning over his lips. Holding his cheeks in her hands, her mouth mends with him, their lips perfectly aligned, tasting each other in the most desperate way, feeling the way their hearts beats against their chests at the same rhythm. His hands delicately hold her fingers on his face, her eyes fluttered closed and every part of her skin ignites. Harry’s love radiates through Amelie, his fear closely behind. There wasn’t a way to take back the way she made him feel, but every part of her wanted to assure him that she would be alright. Amelie wants – needs – Harry to know that she loves him unconditionally, that he is the reason she is finding everything in herself to feel better, to be better.

“You are everything to me; I need you to know that,” Amelie says breathlessly, her mouth pulling away from his reluctantly and meeting his stare, his lips parted and pink from the way her touch ignited him. Harry’s hand caresses her cheek, his thumb tracing over her lips and taking in the sight, almost in disbelief that she is real and in front of him. “Harry, you are the reason I want to be better. You remind me I can feel better, baby.”

His heart warms at the name, the way it falls perfectly from her lips. “Come here,” he whispers, sighing as he sits against the headboard, his lips curving into a sad smile as he takes in the sight of her in his shirt, the material clinging to her thighs. His hands gently coast along her skin, his thumbs rubbing over her hips and taking in the way her hands lightly cup his neck. “Mon ange, you know if you need me, ‘m on the first flight home, right? Sur le premier vol de départ.”

“Know that,” she sighs, her fingers brushing the stray curls away from his face. “Hope you know that when you’re here, I don’t feel any pain, I don’t feel any hurt. You are everything that is good.” Amelie cards her fingertips through Harry’s hair, bringing her lips to his, his hands splaying across her back, holding her as tightly to him as physically possible.

“Missed you, and your lips, and your hugs,” Harry murmurs, his thumb dragging along her lips, smiling slightly at the way she kisses his fingertip. “Might have freaked Niall out. Left this morning without telling anyone.” His lips touch Amelie’s hair as she circles her arms around his shoulders and lay her cheek on his shoulder. “Want you to come with me when I have to leave.”

“Alright,” Amelie agrees, chastely kissing his cheek, her lips sponging kisses along his face. “Need you to stop feeling guilty – you couldn’t have done anything to prevent the spiral.”

“Could have been with you.”

“Baby,” she whispers, taking her face from his shoulder and gently coaxing his eyes to meet hers, “I think you would have had a harder time seeing me this way and having to accept that you can’t fix it.”

Harry nods understandingly. “Are you okay, now? Feeling slightly better, I mean.”

“Much better,” Amelie smiles, her fingertips wiping the stray tear from his skin. “Could never tell you in words how much it means to me that you’re here.”

“Ames, I’d give up everything for you. All you have to do is ask.”

Amelie’s lip wobbles, her eyes welling with tears as she stares at Harry, this man that loves her more than she could possibly understand. More than anything, she wants to tell him that she loves him, that her heart is beating entirely to be in love with him. Harry smiles, kissing the corner of her mouth and combing his fingers through her hair. His eyes take in the coated pink, the pastel colour fading at the curls that circle at her shoulders.

“Need a shower,” Amelie breathes, pouting her lips as she slips out of his warm embrace. Holding her hands out for him, she interlocks their fingers and leads the way into ensuite. “Come with me.”

“Already dragging me in there, aren’t you?” Harry smirks, his heart warm at the giggle that slips from her lips. “You have me properly whipped, I’d do whatever you asked me to.”

Cheeks blushing pink, Amelie turns away from Harry’s stare and steps awkwardly into the shower to turn the faucet on. Harry leans against the wall, his eyes travelling across the expanse of her body, taking in every inch of skin, undeniably staring and searching for any distressed marks on her skin.

Quickly stripping from his briefs, Harry follows Amelie, stepping into the steam and sighing as the warm water hits his skin. His lips touch her forehead, his heart swelling in his chest as she wraps her arms around his waist and hugs him tightly. His hands smoothed her damp hair, squeezing a light amount of shampoo and beginning to massage her scalp as she lays her cheek against his chest and thinks quietly to herself.

As much as Amelie wanted, Harry was not the cure to anything. Although it felt like an easier option, love could never cure the depression or anxiety. That was simple to know. Over the years, she has learnt that it was her choice, her will to find a way to live and breathe and cope. However, Harry has surely become a reason to do all of those things.

Amelie met and fell in love with a person willing and wanting to understand her. She found a person that made her feel safe and loved and cared for. She found a best friend, a lover, a partner that would adore her. And more than anything, she wants to be able to love him fully, irrevocably. As much as she has been told that you can only love someone if you love yourself, she finds that to be incorrect. Harry shows so much love, that it makes much more sense for Amelie love herself, to love him in return.

Harry gently tips her head under the sputtering water, smiling at the way her lips purse into a tight line at the feeling of the water falling in her eyes. Kissing her nose, he soaks in the way her mouth is turned in a smile and her eyes meet his. “Do you mind if I jump out? Have an idea and I want to write it down before I lose it.”

“Alright,” Amelie smiles, kissing his cheek lightly. “I’ll be over here.”

“And where else would you go?” Harry laughs, shaking his head and bringing his sponge to his skin, cleaning the grime on him and rinsing beneath the water.

“I don’t know, Mr Styles,” she smirks, giggling as his eyes roll at the name. “Maybe I’ll disappear to Narnia, who knows?”

“Thought we gave up that name,” he grumbles, his eyes squinting at her as she grins, the crinkles at the corner of her eyes on display. His lips hurriedly make their way to her, as if the moment was too much to not be ended with a kiss. “Love when you smile like that.”

“Go write down your ideas before you forget,” she insists, her palms laying against his tummy, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks as fingertips comb through her hair. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Harry grabs a towel from the hook, his towel slightly to the side of hers, the sight making butterflies swirl in his stomach. Amelie was everywhere – her toothbrush near the sink, her makeup under the counter, her towel and her robe tucked away neatly – and the thought of her ever going anywhere makes the air knocked out of his lungs. He walks into the wardrobe, slipping on briefs and his jeans, a patterned shirt buttoned on his torso and left slightly open to reveal the swallows on his chest.

Going into the bedroom, the bathroom door closes slightly to give her a moment of peace. He settles at the vanity in the corner of the room – the one he bought for her when she started staying over more often – taking the journal out of his knapsack and opening to a fresh page. His fingertips work quickly, writing down the words lingering in his brain from their conversation and emotions overflowing in his chest.

Think I might give up everything just ask me to. I’ve got scars, even though they can’t always be seen, and pain gets hard, but now you’re here and I don’t feel a thing. I can feel your heart inside of mine.

Amelie is quiet leaving the ensuite, careful to not disturb Harry and interrupt his train of thought. Her hair tucked into a towel, an oversized shirt clinging to her torso, loose jeans sitting on her hips, there is a feeling of comfort overwhelming her. Never would she have imagined that she would meet someone willing to fly seven hours to be with her. Harry has every ounce of love that Amelie could ever give anyone.

Harry smiles widely as Amelie wraps her arms around his shoulders, her lips touching his cheek and squeezing him tightly. “Hi, angel,” he says, turning his head to kiss her cheek, one hand holding her arms around him and the other splayed across the page.

“Hi, baby,” Amelie smiles, tucking her face into his neck and breathing him in. Her eyes fall to the lyrics written on the page, her lips sponging a kiss to the skin. He always talks about writing a song for her, but the sight of him actually writing one makes her heart soar. “Get all the ideas down?”

“Mhm,” Harry hums, squeezing her hand and turning in the chair, patting his thigh and encouraging her to sit with him. “Feel better?”

“Now that you’re here,” she grins, her fingertips scratching at the nape of his neck soothingly, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks at the sensation. “Want to go for a drive to the beach? The one in Malibu that we like.”

“That sounds nice.” Harry plants his lips on Amelie’s cheek. “Want to go pack a picnic for us? I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Going to be lunchtime soon and there will be loads of traffic,” Amelie reasons, pursing her lips together and staring at the time on Harry’s phone on the counter. “We should probably pick something up on the way.”

“Alright,” he says, pinching his lip between his fingertips nervously and tearing his eyes away from her. “Um, there’s a voicemail on your phone. Have you listened to it?”

Harry didn’t want Amelie to have to hear him say those words in a panicked voicemail. Originally, there was an elaborate plan to say it over dinner and dessert and cherish the memory in a way that neither of them had ever experienced before. Harry didn’t want her to feel forced to say it to him. He was perfectly alright with her saying it on her own time, in her own way. He knows that she loves him. He can feel it – feel it in the way they kiss, the way they make love, the way their hearts are always beating in the same time – and he is positive that she can feel it, too.

He wanted it to be more than a voicemail.

“Haven’t looked at my phone in days.”

“Okay,” Harry breathes, forcing a smile on his lips to ease the tension in her chest, his thumb smoothing over the crease in her brows. “Hey, I adore you.”

“I adore you, too,” Amelie says, pecking his lips, her hands planting on the vanity to stand. Her head nods towards her shoes and pointing towards his boots in the corner by the door. “Get your shoes on, Mr Styles. We have a beach to go to.”

Harry closes his notebook, a soft smile on his mouth as Amelie pokes her tongue between her lips, tying her shoes and smoothing the oversized sweatshirt covering her torso. Looking at his love, his heart beating fast and likely in the same rhythm as hers, Harry knows that he’s never written a truer lyric than what is scribbled on the dotted line.

~

Harry’s hand is clasped around Amelie’s, settled on her thighs, his thumb rubbing her skin lightly as she stares out the window. Her window is open, the wind hitting her cheeks and the sunlight piercing against her sunglasses, soaking in all that she missed. Pacific Coast Highway is crowded, everyone rushing to Malibu to take in the hot days and the bright sun and the cool waves before September comes and the weather begins to change. Sonny and the Sunsets is playing in the background, Fleetwood Mac ending right before they took the exit into the more secluded beaches.

“Know that ‘Golden Hour’ isn’t until sunset, but everything looks so pretty under the sun, today,” Amelie says, drawing Harry’s attention away from the directions and onto the pouring sunlight in front of them. Her eye for art never faded, even when she wasn’t intentionally finding something to create.

“Could say that you’re prettier,” Harry smirks, shaking his head at the puffed breath leaving his girlfriend’s lips. “Doll, you walked right into that one.”

Her cheeks flush with the compliment, squeezing his hand and breathing in the salt lingering in the air. “Never listened to the voicemail, like you asked,” she mentions, turning her head and bringing his hand to her lips persuasively. “Will you tell me what you said? Unless it’s bad, then I don’t want to hear it.”

“Promise not to jump out of the car,” Harry says, a breathy laugh leaving his lips at the way her jaw drops at the comment.

“Harry, that’s a bit dramatic,” she reasons, her fingertips drawing on his palm. Harry was right, that is something she would threaten, but there was no way Amelie would tell him that.

Harry’s eyebrows quirk upward as he turns to stare at her, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as a smirk pulls at his lips. He knows her. “Ames.”

“Okay, okay. We get it, I’m dramatic. Tell me something I don’t already know.”

“Going to tell you something I should’ve told you months ago,” Harry confesses, swiftly rolling up her window and quieting the volume on the radio. “Find it quite fitting that I’m telling you as we’re driving in the sun and our song is playing.”

“Our song.”

“Come on,” he teases, his thumb and his index finger loosening from their interlocked hands and squeezing her thigh playfully. “Too Young to Burn was the very first song you ever played me, the first song on a playlist we have. Feels like it was destined to be for us. Jupiter and Pluto aligning and all that.”

“All that, yeah,” she muses, poking his tummy and turning the volume even lower, nearly silent. “Can you please tell me what you were going to say?”

“Fine! Stop pestering me,” Harry groans, a smirk tugging at his lips with the way Amelie’s eyes roll at the comment. “Learnt a new phrase in French. Can you tell me if I’m saying it right?”

“That’s the big reveal,” Amelie says, her voice etched in sarcasm and dry humour. Her heart was warm with the sentiment, but that wouldn’t prevent the teasing that would ensue. “Baby, I’ve been teaching you French for nearly five months, I’m sure you’re fine.”

“No,” Harry draws, his voice hanging on every syllable clinging to his lips. His heart is pounding in his eardrums, his chest tight and his stomach turning with nerves. “You haven’t taught me this one.”

“Okay.”

He knows that this is where he should tell Amelie. Having her hand clasped in his, all of her attention set on him, the crashing waves and the sunlight and the beach in front of them, Harry doesn’t think he could have found a more perfect moment to tell her that he loves her.

“Je suis amoureux de toi.”

Amelie’s eyes gloss over, pushing her sunglasses into her hair, all of her attention set on the man squeezing her hand, professing his love to her in a language he’s learning for her. “Harry,” she whispers, tears stinging her eyes and her lip wobbling.

“Je suis amoureux de toi,” he repeats, turning his head slightly to see her. He kisses her hand lightly, holding his lips to her skin. “Je t'aime. I love you.” Her cheeks stain with tears, her lips spread into a grin, her attention so deeply focused that her mind clings to every word he says. “Don’t have to say it back, right now. Know that it’s a lot for you to say and you shouldn’t feel any pressure. I just, I couldn’t keep walking around feeling like I was scratching my throat by not telling you.”

Amelie swallows the anxiety in her throat, the nerves that make would prevent her from saying the words that have been sitting on her chest for months. Harry looks at her, and Amelie knows that he doesn’t expect anything from her. All he wants is to hold her hand and make her feel loved. And that is more than enough for her. “Harry, je t’aime.”

“You love me,” Harry says, the grin on his lips making the dimple in his cheek sink. His heart is pushing against his ribs with how swollen it feels, so much love pouring into him and into his lungs and the butterflies swirling in his tummy and all of the emotions that are overwhelming to his brain.

“Yeah, I do.”

Knowing he shouldn’t, Harry turns to look at Amelie, and there is something in his eyes that she has never seen before. He’s sparkling, emerald pupils shining beneath the sunlight, his lips pressing kissing into her hand and his smile wider than she’s ever seen. Outside the windshield is a beach filled to the brim with adults and children, laughter and talking and the crashing of waves, their corner space seemingly secluded and open only to them. Harry’s foot feels a bit heavier on the gas as he hurriedly pulls the car into park, his eyes carefully watching the camera to ensure he doesn’t drive too far, backing into the space to open the boot and leave them to picnic in the open air, uninterrupted.

“Harry,” she says suspiciously, narrowing her eyes as he jumps out of his seat, her words barely tumbling past her lips before the door was being shut behind him. Amelie is barely able to roll the window down, the glass only opening an inch before Harry is opening her door and swiftly unbuckling her seatbelt, her eyebrows furrowing together in confusion as he takes her hand and gently coaxes her out of the passenger seat. “Qu'est-ce que tu fais?”

“Ames,” Harry laughs, gently holding her neck, “you just told me you loved me, and your lips aren’t on mine. And, honestly, I fucking hate it.” Amelie leans onto her toes, pressing her lips against his, her hands gripping his shirt. Their mouths move rhythmically like they were created to only kiss each other. His breath is hot against her lips as he lightly pulls away, whispering against the plump flesh ready to capture his mouth in another kiss, “Je t'aime, je t'aime.”

~

Golden hour shines over the ocean, families reapplying their sun cream and drying toddlers under the umbrellas, lifeguards beginning to end their shifts and the young adolescents crowding the sand starting to leave before curfew. Harry is laid out on blanket they brought, biting into the apple that Amelie bought at the nearest market when they entered Malibu. Her hair is splayed over his thighs, her head in his lap, her knees propped up as she sketches the scenery before them. His head knocks back against the backseat, taking in the quiet landscape and the privacy that they found in the hidden spot. Harry loves touring, it’s his favourite part of the job, but he wouldn’t deny that he loves being home – more so the company that makes a home.

“Hey,” Amelie whispers, her eyes travelling from her sketch to her boyfriend, who is staring at her so intently that her cheeks tinge with a blush.

“Hi,” Harry smiles, brushing his fingers through her hair.

“Know that you said it’s alright,” she mutters, anxiety heavy in her chest with her thoughts, “but I’m sorry I can’t say the words, right now.”

“Mon ange, you said, je t’aime, that’s enough for me.” His tone is serious and firm, giving no space to question him. “Swear by it.”

Amelie nods, her lips in a tight line and a shy smile on her lips as she soaks in all of his words. Harry is silent for a minute, not wanting to rush her to speak, again. “I may or may not have a proposition for you.”

“Okay, I’m listening.”

Her lips purse together in thought, unsure how Harry would react to such a daring request. Amelie was impulsive, yes, however that doesn’t mean she hadn’t entirely thought this through. “I think you should give me my next tattoo,” she says, pulling her sweatshirt up her torso to reveal the bare skin on her sternum. “My moon.”

“Me,” Harry chuckles breathlessly, wrongfully assuming that Amelie wasn’t entirely serious. “Me, as in Harry Styles, your boyfriend, that’s a musician.”

“You, as in Harry Styles, my boyfriend, that’s a musician, who has a tattoo kit in his house, yes.”

Harry takes a deep breath, thinking about his words before opening his mouth. “Are you being impulsive? Have you been thinking about this?”

“Thanks, Harry,” she grumbles, rolling her eyes at the comment, taking her pencil and returning to her sketchbook.

“C’mon, I didn’t mean it like that,” he sighs, gently prying the pencil away from her and moving the sketchbook to sit on the opposite end of the blanket. “Meant that I don’t want you to regret me doing it. Have big on m’big toe, like a fuckin’ idiot.”

“Quite like that tattoo. Definitely shows who you are as a person,” she teases, smirking at him, his head shifting to plant a kiss on her forehead. “I’m not being impulsive, and I don’t think I’m going to regret my decision. I want you to give me my next tattoo.” Amelie drags her thumb along Harry’s bottom lip in the way he loves, knowing exactly how to get her way. “My moon. Ma lune.”

“Mon ange,” Harry breathes, his lips hovering over her mouth, thumbs tracing over her cheekbones, “you are positively crazy.”

“You know, that’s not you saying no.”

“Fine.”

Amelie’s lips spread into a grin, her hands reaching forward to shut the trunk, closing Harry inside with her. Her legs manoeuvre around the blanket and the sketchbook and the makeshift picnic, her thighs straddling his as her arms circle around his shoulders. Her mouth sponges light kisses along his jaw, the way her hips subtly grind against his making his knees jerk, bringing her body as physically close as possible. His tongue is warm as it drags along her bottom lip, his hands kneading into her bum and drawing a moan from her throat. Her hands tangle in his curls, her lips slanted rhythmically over his and their breath lost between kisses.

Harry gently lays her on the blanket, his hands quickly making work on her jeans, her hips lifting to meet his. His fingertips hold her waist in place, smirking against her mouth as she whines for his touch. He loves her. He loves her so much, that they are about to make love for the first time where they can say the three words in the most intimate setting.

Don’t want to make love to you in my car, Ames.

Harry reluctantly pulls away, squeezing his eyes together and pursing his lips, willing the tent in his jeans to ease enough that he could drive the hour home. His heart deflates when Amelie’s lips pout, knowing exactly why he’s pulled away. “I really don’t want to make love to you for the first time in m’car, Ames.”

“Didn’t know how corny you get when you’re in love,” Amelie teases, heaving a dramatic sigh and buttoning her jeans, laying her head back against the blanket and staring at him with tired eyes.

“Well, you’ve never complained before, so I take it you’ll get over it pretty quick.”

“I’m complaining, now, aren’t I?” Harry snorts at the remark, leaning in and making an attempt to kiss her cheek, feigning a gasp when she turns her face away. “Nope. Now, you’re going to have to wait an hour to touch me, because you want to be romantic,” Amelie smirks, opening the trunk once more and hopping onto the pavement. “Isn’t it a shame that you teased your girlfriend?”

Harry could agree, perhaps this decision was a rightful shame because one hour has never felt more like a pain to him. Maybe Amelie was right, on this one.

His hand managed to sneak onto her thigh about halfway through, feeling the heat radiating from between her legs, only to have her interlock their fingers and move their connected arms to the centre console. Her legs were crossed, one hand tucked between the tight thighs to soothe the ache that tingled through her nerves. Harry uncomfortably wiggled in his seat, trying desperately to have the zipper on his jeans not bust from the tightness that filled his briefs. Merely the thought of having her undress him was making him want to burst.

“Doing alright over there?” Amelie giggles, squeezing his hand, nodding to where his zipper was beginning to fold against his groin.

Harry rolls his eyes, shaking his head and looking at the directions once more. “Don’t think you would have liked the rug burn on your back had we stayed at the beach.”

“And if you were the one getting rug burn on your back,” she teases, enjoying the satisfaction that encompasses riling him up. “How would you feel about that?” Her lips wrap around his thumb, sucking his finger in the way that turns him on the most.

“You’re the devil, you know that? Quite actually think you were put on the earth to torture me.” He whines when his thumb leaves the warmth of her mouth with a pop. “Don’t think, I know.”

Amelie laughs, shrugging her shoulders with a smirk and releasing their hands to give him the opportunity to pull into the drive. Harry’s adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he gulps, unbuckling his seatbelt and turning the engine off. There wasn’t a concern for the sex, that really never phased him in the slightest with her. Harry knew her body as though he’s never touched another soul. More so the idea that they were going to make love to each other, to hold each other tightly and say their love in a way that they can only do with each other.

Harry decidedly leaves the basket in the backseat, dangling his keys on the hook near the entryway and waiting for Amelie to walk inside the house before closing and locking the door. He wipes his hands on his jeans, his heart beating against his chest as she turns around and meets his stare. Her eyes are ones that Harry could surely get lost in, staring at her for hours on end.

Her hand takes his, their shoes kicked near the platform of the stairwell, their ascension towards his bedroom slower-paced and drawn out. Harry’s had enough, though, and as soon as they reach the hallway, his lips are on hers and his hands are holding her cheeks, her figure trapped between him and the wall. Her lips taste of their usual strawberry and apple, the desperate nature to have their skin touching leaving her hands to fumble with the button and zipper on his jeans, a sigh of relief leaving his lips when the tight waistband slinks down his thighs.

Harry’s hands reach beneath her thighs and tap, a smirk painted on his lips as her arms tightly wrap around his shoulders and her legs circle around his waist. His jeans are kicked somewhere down the hallway, his shoulder pushing the bedroom door open hurriedly, his foot shoving it closed behind him. Amelie squeezes him, breaking apart their lips to settle on the ground, quickly pulling her sweatshirt over her torso as Harry’s fingers unbutton her jeans once again.

“Christ,” Harry murmurs, yanking his shirt over his head and laying it on the carpet behind them, his eyes trailing over the lace barely covering her skin. His arms slink around her waist, his mouth sponging kisses along her neck. “Forget how short you are sometimes, Ames.”

“Don’t even, Mr Styles,” Amelie says, the name teasing on her tongue, gently grabbing his face in her hand and pulling his mouth to meet her lips. “You love me.”

“Definitely right about that one.” Harry gently nudges Amelie backwards, his lips chasing to be kissing her, her mouth seemingly too far away once her knees budge against the mattress. His eyes soften as she lays in the centre of the bed, shoving the duvet to the edge where Harry could pull it over their bodies later.

“Considering how much sex we have, it’s strange to think that saying three words has us stumbling around,” Amelie giggles as Harry clumsily climbs over her, knees set between her open thighs, arms on the pillows under her head. “Thank you for saying the words to me.”

“Thank you for saying the words back.”

“Anytime,” Amelie smiles, wrapping her thighs around his waist and pulling his body closer, her hands shoving his briefs down his thighs and passing her lips across his mouth. “Je t’aime.”

Harry’s heart grows ten sizes in his chest. He knows that saying the words aren’t easy, yet there she is, doing everything to say it back. His hands delicately move under her to unclasp the lace adorning her chest, his fingertips dragging along her skin, his lips sponging kisses along her hips, her panties slipping down her thighs and getting carelessly tossed with the clothes on the ground – they wouldn’t be needed, after all.

Her fingers curl through his hair, bringing his face to hers, their lips sinking into a kiss. Melting into her arms, Harry’s chest lays flat against hers, his mouth fully encased in the way she tastes, the way her touch lingers on his skin. Her nails drag along his back, barely long enough to leave a scratch but the sensation tickling his nerves, his hips tight on hers as his cock slips between the heat of her thighs.

His hand trails along her chest, his thumb brushing across her nipples and his mouth leaving a chaste kiss to her sternum, his fingertips dipping into her heats and taking her arousal onto his shaft. Her thighs slowly release around his waist, spreading for him, his hand gently pumping his cock, his entirety slowly sinking into her core. Her warmth swallows him, and Harry swears that he’s never felt deeper, tighter, warmer inside of her.

His hips rock rhythmically, one hand holding her thigh around his waist, his hand tangled in her hair as his lips messily slot over hers, their teeth gnashing and mouths messily gliding over each other, his lips suckling on her cupid’s bow and her fingertips scratching at the base of his neck to have him closer.

“I love you; I am so in love with you,” Harry whispers against her lips, his features holding all sincerity as she stares at him with tears in her eyes. “Je t’aime, mon ange.”

“Je t’aime, je t’aime,” Amelie breathes, a tear slipping down her cheek, a gasp leaving her lips as his cock reaches the sweetest spot. “You’re the only one I’ve ever loved.”

And that ruins any control that Harry has on his emotions.

His thrusts come harder yet sweeter, his whole body on hers, the heat on their skin burning to the touch, yet neither seems to mind. Her fingers pinch at the pudge on his waist, her eyes squeezing shut and her lips parting as his hand releases her thigh to circle at the nerves centred between her heat. Her kisses are languid and far between, all of her thoughts centring around the man that she loves and the way that he is showing his love for her, so deeply, so intimately.

Neither are quite sure when their orgasms spilt onto each other. Amelie was writhing beneath him, kissing his neck, fingernails dipping into his skin. Harry was grinding his hips in the way she loves, his cock squeezed tightly inside of her, reaching a warmth he never knew existed. Quite possibly it only existed when you love someone.

He is reluctant to pull out, to leave her embrace around him. He tugs the duvet over their naked bodies, reaching for one of her favourite oversized shirts and his favourite underwear – sure, maybe that was a bit selfish on his part – for when she’s ready. His arms stay above her head, her fingers interlocking with his as he lays lazy kisses on her cheeks. He grumbles when Amelie reaches for her shirt and panties, walking into the bathroom and shouting at him from the toilet. Harry knows that they’ve reached peak comfortability, at that point.

His eyes light up when she walks into the room, his hands reaching out for her to take as she closes the curtains and settles into the makeshift routine for the evening. Her domesticity sticks out in that moment, and there is nothing more that he wants than to have this every day for the rest of his life. He wants to live with her, wake up to her, go to sleep with her. Harry wants to make breakfast and lunch and dinner when they’re home because he knows that Amelie couldn’t cook to save her life. He wants to have her clothes near his in the wardrobe, share a dresser. He wants to say, bisous, s’il vous plait, a million times a day, knowing that she would never deny a kiss. He wants it all.

Amelie slips beneath the duvet and chastely kisses his cheek. Her face is laying comfortably on his arm, turned on her side, the running episode of her favourite program drawing her attention away from the perfect man holding her.

Harry’s fingertips drag along her side, dipping at the curves of her waist and skimming over the lace panties that she put on in the bathroom. Amelie’s thumbs trace the outline of the butterfly on his abdomen as her palms splay against his chest, the quiet hum of the television that Harry turned on playing in the background. Her chest is rising and falling rhythmically with his, the smell of sex and vanilla still lingering in the air above them. Dimming sunlight is shining through the curtains, and she knows that if they were taking the time to break their silence, Harry would be saying something about how the sun is complimenting her by fading over her skin in the way it does.

One thought sits at the forefront of her mind, a thought that she couldn’t stop contemplating and going over, that never seemed to fade away. Her eyes fell on the dresser behind Harry, the one with six drawers that make up his clothes - only, three of the drawers are already hers. Her mind traces to the bathroom, where her toothbrush and her makeup and her favourite robe are settled in spots that Harry made just for her. Her forehead falls to his chest, his fingertips brushing her hair behind her shoulder softly and pressing a kiss to her skin.

“Baby?” Amelie whispers, a shy smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she moves her face from the confines of his neck and stares directly into Harry’s eyes.

“Hm?” Harry is staring at her like she is his whole world, the entire universe and the sun and the moon and the stars all wrapped up into one being, and there are butterflies swirling in her stomach.

“Does that offer to move in with you still stand?”

Harry’s lips spread into the widest grin Amelie has ever seen, nodding and pressing a hard kiss to her cheek. “Stands until the end of time.”

“Think I might need to get some things from the apartment, then.”

“Mean that? Not just saying it?” His eyes search for confirmation in her face, and the goofy smile that plants on her lips and the brightness in her eyes are saying everything that her lips aren’t. “God, I fucking love you.”

“You do?” Amelie grins, mimicking Harry’s comment in the car, laughing loudly as his fingertips tickle her side, their bodies rolling to have her settled beneath him. “Could you leave me alone, Mr Styles?”

“More than anything in the world, I do. And no, I can’t,” Harry murmured against her lips, ignoring her secondary comment, slanting his mouth on hers and smiling at the way her thighs lock around his hips, dragging him to lay completely on her. “I’m going to crush you if you have me lay like this.”

“Doubtful,” she giggles, carding her fingertips through his hair and scratching his scalp soothingly. “Think we should try out that cafe near here, tomorrow. The Beachwood, right?”

Harry can’t hide the smile on his face, nodding and sponging kisses along her cheeks, her laughter making his heart nearly burst out of his chest. He might give her his heart to keep safe. He breathes her in, knowing that there wouldn’t be a day in his life that he could go without her. Amelie was all at once his love, his muse, his best friend. He wanted what’s best for her and moving away from that cafe and all that it encompasses is going to change everything. “Mhm. Heard it’s pretty good. There’s a florist nearby there, too. We can pick up some plants for the garden.”

“And do you expect me to be the homely girlfriend and water them all? This is a team effort, y’know.”

Harry laughs breathlessly, shaking his head and taking in the way the sunset falls over her golden skin and illuminates her features. “You and I make a pretty good team, don’t we?” Amelie nods instantly. “And no, I only expect painting around the house. Want you to paint the walls like you did when you were younger. Whatever you feel fits. Want you to be all over this place.” Harry pauses. “And the honeybee jar that has all of our wine corks. Need that.”

“Am I able to keep the studio?” Amelie nods towards the bedroom door, the open rooms down the hall being their connected offices. Over the last few months, they’ve had their fair share of intimate moments between the spaces. One fond memory includes a linen cloth, Harry’s painted back, and a messy Starry Night recreation over their naked bodies.

“As long as I still get to bother you in there,” Harry smirks, pressing a chase kiss to her lips before rolling onto his back and reaching for his phone.

“Hey,” she whines, turning over and laying her head against his chest, kissing the swallow at the top of his collar bone and sinking into his warmth as his arm wraps around her and his fingers type quickly on his screen. “Our ‘no phones in bed’ rule still applies.”

“Hold on one minute, mon ange.” Harry kisses her hairline, smirking as he presses his thumb against the screen and turns the phone to face her, her lips spreading into a grin at the sight. “Need a new bookshelf to hold on your books, don’t we?”

Amelie swings her leg over Harry’s hip, straddling his thighs, her hands spread over his chest and her eyes taking in the perfect man before her. Harry has his moments, as everyone does, but there is never a doubt in her mind that no one has loved anyone as much as he loves her, and she loves him. Her eyes meet his and there is a comfortable silence that hangs over them, the sensation of his hands rubbing her skin as a stretched-out shirt of his hangs loosely over her torso.

Harry purses his lips, his thoughts scattered around as he takes in what happened in the last fifteen minutes. He stares at the girl - the woman - that he loves, completely in awe of her. All that she’s been through, all that she’s overcome, all that she has the strength for. He wants to protect Amelie, love her, and care for her for all of his life, for as long as she would ever let him. He would do absolutely anything for her.

“Earth to Harry,” Amelie teases, pulling Harry out of his daydream and his attention back to her. “Asked you what you’re thinking about.”

“Could I ask you a question?” Harry asks nervously, biting his lip between his teeth and taking a second to properly form the question in his brain before asking.

“Anything.”

“Know that it’s different, now, but why did you keep going back to the café?” Harry sits against the headboard, pulling Amelie tighter into his chest and brushing the hair away from her neck. “All that time not going after it happened, and then you decided to go back. Why?”

Amelie purses her lips together, thinking carefully about how to word all that could possibly be said. “Think that nothing ever went ‘back to normal’ after it happened, you know? Mama treated me differently, Jenny and Phoebe, as much as they all tried not to. Never really bothered with school since it was so close to the end and I had some of the girls. Then I moved out and felt like I didn’t have anything familiar, even if I went home every weekend. Everything was so different. I was alone. Unfortunately, that was what seemed comfortable,” Amelie explains, taking a breath and focusing on tracing the outlines of the tattoos situated on his bicep. “And then I met you,” she says, pausing for a moment and staring directly into his eyes, “and you were a threat because you make me happy. Must not be very fun seeing someone realise they deserve better than you.”

Harry nods, softly smiling and gently rubbing his thumbs into her thigh, encouraging her to continue.

“And it’s not your fault that he started saying those things to me, once you came around, and it’s clear to me, now, that they’re not true, but simply being here the last week, whether you were here or not, made me realise something,” she says, her eyes lifting to meet his and a smile tugging at her lips. “Kept going because I was scared of really letting go of it all because for so long I felt like it made up my whole life. And then you came into my life and showed me how much more is out there for me. Of course, I wish that it didn’t take a spiral to realise that, but sometimes that’s just how it has to be.” Amelie gently coaxes Harry’s chin up, having his eyes stare into hers, a sigh leaving her lips as she says, “Harry, even though change scares me more than anything, there is nothing that scares me away when we go through changes because we always do them together. I think that’s something I needed more than anything.”

“Together,” Harry says, repeating the word and wrapping his arms around her middle, pulling her into him. “Je t’aime,” he grins, his lips pressing against hers as she smiles the most genuine smile he’s ever seen on her face. “To Jupiter, Pluto, the moon, the stars, and all the way back to wherever you are.”

“Je t’aime. More than you know.”

Amelie isn’t sure how long they stay tangled in each other’s arms, Harry’s lips occasionally sponging kisses into her neck or her shoulders where the tee slips on her skin. His languid kiss on her lips allowed him to sneakily turn on their playlist, their favourite songs echoing through what would soon be their bedroom. Her arms are draped over his shoulders, her fingertips brushing through the curls at the nape of his neck, her lips pursed together in concentration. Her mind is occupied with dozens of thoughts, many of which are making traces of the artistry that could be displayed on the walls of the living room and the dining room, but there is one, in particular, that is inching its way to her lips.

“Do you remember the quote that says, ‘they were all perfect days’?” Amelie wonders, her eyes peeking over to his bedside table and contemplating reaching over to find the exact page. Harry nods against her, pursing his lips as her hands cup his cheeks and gently pull his face away from her neck. “Despite how today started, I think this has been a perfect day.”

Harry smiles, his green eyes soft under her gaze, the quietness that hummed in the background of the bedroom beyond the music making the moment much softer than either of them had intended. “Ames, every day I spend with you is a perfect day.”

Something inside of Amelie is changing, and Harry is happy to be around to see it.

/ / /

Harry woke up earlier than Amelie.

Maybe, it’s because the time zones were nearly nine hours apart. Maybe, it’s because she tends to only sleep soundly when Harry’s arms are around her. Amelie wasn’t one to curl into anyone as she fell asleep, needing to have her own space and always feeling too hot. And yet, Harry found that since that moment they were tucked into the comforter together – promising to never go away – every night they sleep together – which is often since they moved in together – she is tucked into his arms. Her height only posed as a problem when Harry wanted to be the little spoon, his feet nearly dangling off the bed unless he slots his legs between hers, his curls tickling her neck.

Harry wished Amelie ‘Happy Birthday’ at midnight, pressing his mouth to her plush lips and devouring her taste, one leg between her thighs, his arms around her head. ‘Have to thank your parents for giving me you’, Harry whispered against her lips, her ankles tucked around his hips, his fingertips bruising her thighs by gripping them tightly. Amelie’s fingers caressed his cheeks as he kissed her, smiling against his mouth and soaking in the love that radiated through his touch. He made love to her, slow and steady and meaningful, muttering his love for her in the language they shared in private. Tu es l'amour de ma vie.

Harry knew that Amelie was exhausted. Her hand splayed flat across his chest, her lilac hair fanning over his arm. He never really thought about waking her up by kissing between her legs, until now, until she was laying on him naked with the exception of his favourite knickers – he really did love seeing her in lace. His hand gently coasts along her spine, curving over her bum, his fingertips dipping beneath the waistband and slowly dragging along her core, nearly moaning at the wetness that pooled between her thighs – likely from a dream about the night before. He lifted his fingers to his mouth, groaning at the taste. Amelie was sweet like honey, sticky like a peach.

“Can’t tease me,” Amelie whisper, nearly inaudible to Harry’s ears. “Not fair to me, ‘m the birthday girl.”

“Happy Birthday, mon ange,” Harry smiles, his lips languidly meeting hers, his arms gently rolling their bodies to have her beneath him. “My whole world is twenty-one today. How do you feel?”

“Could feel better ‘f my boyfriend didn’t wake me up by sticking his hands in my knickers and then quitting the job.”

“Look at m’confident girl,” Harry muses, sponging kisses along her neck and suckling a bruise at the curve of her breast. “Tellin’ me exactly what she wants.”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” she smirks, taking the hair tie on her wrist and gently pulling the hair away from his face, yet leaving the curls loose enough to tangle in her fingertips. “Told me that m’birthday was the most important day of the year and you’ll give me anything m’heart desires. Think that I want you.”

Harry spreads the biggest grin in his face, his hands gently parting her thighs and his fingers dragging her panties down her legs, his lips pressing a kiss to where her thighs meet her core. Amelie squirms beneath him, her breathing coming through parted lips, her hand gripping the silk sheets on the mattress and his wrist that is holding her hips. His hand moves her thigh over his shoulder, spreading her open, a moan leaving his lips as he immerses his tongue, his lips, his face in her.

Amelie’s whimpers and moans are a melody, making the sweetest song Harry has ever heard. He whines when her hand tugs at his hair, bringing him to her lips, her hand travelling dangerously slow along his chest and reaching for his cock, lifting her hips to have him inch into her. Her warmth encompasses him, tight and velvet and squeezing him as his pelvis lays on hers and his tip reaches the spongy wall that makes her toes curl. He knows her body – her curves, her stretch marks, her dimples, her thighs, her breasts – the most beautiful body his hands have ever had the privilege to touch, and he has memorised every inch of skin. His lips are soft and wet against her mouth, the taste of her lingering on his tongue, her whimpers purely of pleasure echoing around his bedroom.

“Je suis à toi,” he whispers, moaning as their orgasms spill around each other, her nails scratching his skin. “Could love you forever, you know that?”

“Je suis à toi, ma lune,” she smiles, humming contently. Harry doesn’t bother moving, his lips pressing to her healed tattoo that was inked by him. His lips touch the moon, smiling at the way the name comes to easily to her. For Amelie, Harry would be the moon, the sun, the stars, the planets – whatever she needed him to be. “Je t’aime.”

“Love you more. Bisous, s’il vous plait,” Harry grins, reluctantly moving away, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips before walking towards the wardrobe in the corner of the bedroom. His hands rummage through a box situated behind her suitcase, sticking a stray shirt that smelt like him under his arm for her to wear.

His second to last show with One Direction is tonight, and they would have to leave soon to make it to soundcheck on time. Amelie’s family and Jenny are flying into Manchester, Anne grabbing them from the airport and bringing them to the venue when it was time for the show. He didn’t want to spoil the surprise party early, yet there is a feeling in his stomach that she is suspicious, especially since there was the mention about wearing her favourite jumpsuit for the night.

“Get lost looking at your reflection, Mr Styles?” Amelie teases, the duvet tucked under her arms to cover her chest, fresh knickers clinging to her hips. Her hair smelt of sweat and sex and Harry, and she knew that they would end their time alone with a shower and desperate touches.

Amelie never felt better. Anxiety was seemingly under control, panic attacks few and far between since coming into her final semester and having the opportunity to travel through the online courses. Going to Paris was the best thing for her, especially having Harry by her side. Nightmares are gone. Only dreams of her and the man she’s in love with and their house and their future. Harry was changing her. Changing her for the better.

“Didn’t get lost, thank you very much,” Harry scoffs, a breathless laugh leaving his lips as his arms hold something behind his back. “Made you something, because you have every book known to man and I thought this was better. Don’t laugh at me for my lack of skills.”

Amelie shakes her head, rolling her eyes at his comment and giggling as his hand tosses the clean shirt over her face. Her hands tug his shirt over her torso, the smell of him lingering on her skin – vanilla and a musty scent that only he could manage to make attractive. “You’re good at everything.”

Harry wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, taking a seat on the bed and tucking his legs in a comfortable position. “Everything, huh?”

“God, you’re annoying,” she says, the smirk on her lips betraying the serious tone she desperately wanted to portray. “Can I see?”

Harry lays the photo album out on her thighs, his chosen cover picture one of her favourites – the photo from the Fourth of July at her parent’s house where she’s holding his face and kissing his cheek. He squeezes her knee, encouraging her to open the book and begin to look inside, ten months of pictures filling the pages.

“Have enough pages to fill out until our anniversary, I looked,” Harry says, his smile indenting the dimple in his cheek. “Figured we might want to make one once a year, you know, to remember all the things we’ve done.”

“Harry,” Amelie whispers, her eyes welling with tears as her fingertips trace over the neatly printed pages, his handwriting scattered across the patterns to accompany their pictures.

Harry’s handwriting is scribbled in a thick font, centred under the photograph taken at his birthday, her hands cupping his face and planting a kiss on his cheek, a quote from their novel – it was a love language in their relationship, now – accompanying a note that was nearly falling off the page.

“The great thing about this life of ours is that you can be someone different to everybody.”

The great thing about this life of ours is that I get to be in love with you and there is never a person I want to be more than the one that you love. I could be someone different to everybody, but I always want to be the one that you’re in love with, that you laugh with, that you adore, that you call ‘baby’. Maybe you are the greatest thing about this life. I would certainly believe so.

Amelie runs her fingertips over the decorated page, polaroids of their first month together neatly stuck inside. Lyrics from their favourite songs are written in script, places they went together. One picture from the night Jenny and Dan met Harry is in the corner, their smiles one that she would always remember.

On the next page, Amelie recognises the photo instantly. One polaroid from the night of Valentine’s Day – their makeshift one – with Harry kissing her cheek and the moon shining in the background. She knew that night meant more to their relationship than words could ever say, because who in their right mind flies to Australia for a man they met a month ago? But Harry was different, made her feel something for the first time in what felt like forever, and she would do anything to be with him.

Had the biggest crush on you and you didn’t even know it. Flying to Sydney to spend Valentine’s day with me. I knew I was falling in love when that happened. This is my favourite dress you own, by the way. Oh, and I still have the biggest crush on you.

Amelie smiles, her bright eyes meeting his, her fingertips tracing over his handwriting and the polaroids that have become a staple of their relationship. Everywhere they went, a polaroid was in tow. Harry didn’t really understand the love of it, at first, and then as his mind wracked through ideas for her birthday, the tiny box of photos became more important than ever. “Have a crush on you, too.”

Harry grins, his teeth digging into his bottom lip nervously as he stares at her reaction, his heart swelling in his chest as her lips spread into the smile that he adores.

Amelie’s heart drops at the three pictures on the next page. One polaroid – the one that one of the security guards took before soundcheck – and two photos that a photographer grabbed of them hugging and kissing before the show. March seemed like the longest month of their lives, apart for nearly two months for the first time and then the uproar. Harry could never thank Amelie enough for all that she did for him during that time, and there wasn’t another picture that could properly describe how he feels about her.

Know that neither of us slept much that night, but it was then that I realised that when I’m with you, I feel safe. You’re my safe place.

“Forgot that that picture was taken of us,” Harry confesses, nodding to the polaroid. “Found it in the box that I have of all our pictures. The only one that I have from March.”

“Forgot about this one, too. Think you’re the only person I would ever do long-distance with, you know. You’re the only one that would ever make it worth it.” Amelie turns the page, reflecting on the moment that Harry walked in on her panic attack and managed to calm her down. Harry is her safe place. He is home.

All of the pictures on the next page make her smile. One picture of Harry kissing her cheek that her mother took. One picture of Harry with Phoebe and Amelie. One picture that Fay insisted on that included everyone. Having Harry meet her family was one of her favourite nights – with the exception of the panic attack the next morning – because there had never been anyone that had fit in so perfectly, that her parents enjoyed the company of as soon as they stepped foot in the door.

You have no idea how much I loved seeing pictures of you, hearing stories about you. I wanted to know everything, and I’ll continue to learn every single day I’m with you. Thank you to Fay and Luca for giving me the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

“Love this picture,” Amelie says, turning the photo album slightly for Harry to see the picture that she’s talking about. “Mama texted me that night and asked me when you were coming back.”

“Mama has been rooting for me since Day One,” Harry smirks, his heart warm at the name. He was welcomed into their family with open arms and more acceptance than he could dream of. He loves everyone all the same.

Amelie’s eyes sting with tears as she takes in the pictures on the very next page. Harry printed three pictures. One picture stands out, one that was taken without her knowing. Her hair tucked inside her sweatshirt as she searches through the aisle. Harry must’ve taken it when he was telling her ingredients or what they needed to buy. Her fingers were pinching her lips, and there was a glow in her skin that she recognised in all the photos. Amelie looks happy.

This is the night I knew I loved you.

And then Amelie sees it – the picture that Harry took of her in the art studio. Her mouth is slightly parted, likely because she was singing a Sonny and the Sunsets song, and her paintbrush hard at work at one of the many paintings the would be included in the exhibit in less than two months. Amelie complained about Harry taking the picture, to which he adamantly denied. On the edge of the page, a smaller photograph of her smiling at him is pasted. And there is no denying that Harry makes her smile that big.

“You are all the colours in one, at full brightness.”

I have way too many pictures of you singing in the studio. And no, I’ll never stop taking them.

Continuing to the next page, there is a polaroid of the beach and their legs and the sketchbook. Malibu is so special, there is no way she could mistake the picture. Harry must’ve taken it whilst they were eating lunch at the beach, the day they said the three words that mean the most.

In my eyes, this was a perfect day. Thank you for saying ‘I love you’ back.

Amelie’s eyes fall to the picture laying directly beside it. Harry’s angle is less than ideal, a view of their faces staring at each other, her lips spread into a smile, their eyes gazing into each other’s. On any other day, she would have expected to hate the photo, to hate the way she looks, to hate the way she was laying or that it was unflattering. But, staring at this photograph, the way Harry is looking at her as she is the sun, Amelie’s heart couldn’t feel more swollen with love.

I wrote my first song about you, today. I also know that I don’t ever want to be without you.

Amelie can see that there are only two filled pages left. There is a bittersweet feeling, knowing that she’s coming to the end of the pictures that Harry loves most, that reminded him of the best moments of their relationship throughout the year. There is something really special about knowing that every picture in this photo album is his favourites. Amelie is seeing herself through his perspective.

And without a doubt, Amelie has never felt more beautiful.

“Don’t cry, angel,” Harry whispers, his thumb drying a tear falling down her cheek, her eyes shading a new colour with the emotions. “Doll, you can’t stop, now. There are too many pictures to see.”

“There’s more?” Amelie whines, taking a deep breath and trying to gather her emotions. Her family was always so considerate with her birthday, buying the gifts that she asked, her mother writing a ‘Book about Amelie’ on her tenth birthday, writing out special cards to her. Jenny always spent the day doing what she loved most – painting. Harry is the only one to ever make something like this, a collection of his favourite moments that only they have shared. “Don’t tell me you printed out all the pictures.” Her eyes fall to the pictures from France in August, the week they spent with her family, Harry’s first time meeting her grandfather, the photographs taken in the tulip gardens and under the tree in her favourite park. “Baby.”

“Think that Paris was the best week of m’life,” he says, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear and kissing her forehead. “Meeting your grandfather, seeing all of your favourite places, kissing you in the garden.” Harry squeezes her knee, flattening out the pages and pointing to the photograph that he loved most. “Needed all of that in here.”

Amelie’s eyes water at Harry’s favourite photograph – the one in front of her grandfather’s flower shop. Her grandfather, Henry – yes, she very much noted the irony of their names – inherited the flower shop from his father in the heart of Neuilly-sur-Seine, where their home was built for generations and their children went to school. Her favourite place in the world was her grandfather’s house, the garden that embraced rose bushes and tulips and sunflowers blooming in at the best time of year. Her dream as a young girl was to work in the flower shop, Ma Petite Fleur, to paint the vases and decorate the store with her suns and moons and stars.

Harry’s first time in the shop was his favourite moment of the holiday, the way her grandfather welcomed him with open arms and a kiss to the cheek to share his acceptance into the family. Harry could see how much that meant to Amelie. Henry was the one that asked Harry to join the family photo, insisting that he would add it to the collection of photographs that he collected in the shop over the years. One was taken for her grandfather, one for Harry and Amelie. Harry evidently stole it from their suitcase on the way home.

“Even when we weren’t wandering, even from the floor of your closet, you showed the world to me.”

Thank you for showing me your favourite part of the world. My favourite part is you, wherever you are and wherever you decide to be, I will follow you. I would follow you to Jupiter. Never have I ever seen you smile as big as you did the minute we landed in France. One day, I hope we have a house there, where you and I can live like little French florists and spend our days in a café, sorting through flower arrangements, me writing songs and you painting, like it was our greatest calling. How does that sound to you, mon ange? Sounds like a good plan to me.

Her favourite picture from the London shows is centred on the final page. Harry is holding Amelie on his back, her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, her lips kissing his cheek as they laugh. They’re in front of the stage at The O2 Arena, the opening title beginning to play as a run-through for their final shows in London. Her first true month on tour with Harry was certainly a learning curve, quietly disagreeing in private about where to have everything and having time apart to decompress and sketch – which Harry was not particularly a fan of. They were happy, though, and anyone that saw their smiles could see it. Harry was happiest with her, and she was happiest with him.

Never knew how much I wanted someone to travel the world with me until you were by my side.

Harry grins, leaning forward and kissing her hairline, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing in the quietness of the moment. Only them, Amelie and Harry. Her cheeks are wet with tears, a smile wide on her lips, her heart pounding so hard against her chest that she swears she could dislocate her ribs. He is so thoughtful, so kind. Harry loves her, and Amelie swears that they love each other more than anyone has ever loved.

“Je t’aime, Harry,” Amelie whimpers, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“You deserve it, angel,” Harry whispers, his thumb rubbing over her cheek gently and kissing her temple. He wanted to stay in their tiny world forever. Amelie and Harry in London, without any interruptions or troubles. He could see himself being content that way. “Have to leave in a few hours.”

“Do you have the tea I like downstairs?”

“Always.” He swings his legs over the mattress, standing on the ground and kissing her hair, turning his body towards the bedroom door and beginning to shuffle out. He nods towards the end page in the album, “Let me go make some. There’s a note in there for you.”

“Harry,” she sighs, pursing her lips together as her eyes begin to well with tears.

“Just read it,” Harry smiles, opening the door and stepping into the corridor, turning over his shoulder to whisper to her. “Je t’aime.”

Ames,

If someone would have told me that I’d meet the love of my life at twenty, I would have laughed at them. I would have said that’s impossible. I would have said that I haven’t seen what I wanted to see, that I haven’t experienced what I want to experience. I would have said that there is no way I would find someone who understood me, that wanted me for me. Mum will tell you that I wasn’t worried about dating, that I just wanted to live in the moment. That’s what I thought I wanted, to live in the moment.

And then I met you.

All I want is to have every moment with you. I want to be with you, to see everything the world has to offer with you, to experience everything in life with you. I am a much better person than I was ten months ago. I understand more. I try harder. I love a little bit deeper. I am inspired by your courage and your bravery and the way you love other people, the way you love me. I love your love for art, for music, and for books, and for anything that makes you feel something. You are the biggest and best inspiration, and the reason why I do anything. Thank you for showing me what it means to grow, to bloom. Growing with you has been the best experience of my life, and I’ll never take it for granted.

Finch said, “You make me love you, and that could be the greatest thing my heart was ever fit to do.”

Loving you is the best thing my heart was ever fit to do, that it will ever do. All of my days, my heart has just been waiting for you.

Thank you, Mon Ange, for loving me, and for giving me the privilege of loving you.

Je t’aime times a million.

Harry x

Harry walks into the bedroom as Amelie reads the note over for the third time, laying her cuppa on the bedside table with his coffee, his mouth tugging into a soft smile as a tear falls down her cheek. “Don’t cry, angel. Didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Too late,” Amelie whimpers, tears staining her skin. Harry takes a seat on the mattress, his lips parted through a puffed breath as her hands lay flat on his chest and push him lightly against the comforter, the album set aside on the table. “Do you know how much love you deserve for that? A whole lot, like more than you’ve ever received in your entire life.”

“Are you going to love me?”

“Forever,” Amelie whispers, kissing him deeply, her fingers tangled in his hair. Harry moans into her mouth, his hands splayed over her back and having her as physically close as he could.

And they make love until their alarms sound and calls are made, the promise of forever lingering in the air.

~

Harry grinned as they pulled into the venue, their overnight bags in the backseat, Amelie’s eyes squinting suspiciously at her boyfriend as he squeezed her hand and smirked at the congregation of people crowded around the backstage entrance waiting.

“Told you I don’t like celebrating my birthday in a big way, Harry,” Amelie says, sighing as Harry walks around the car and opens her door, holding his hand out for her to take and begin to walk towards the gathering near the entryway. “Baby.”

“Can you let me celebrate you being alive? Do it for me. One time, that’s it,” Harry persuades, kissing her temple and squeezing her hand as they walk closer to the entrance and the gathering.

Niall walks up first, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tightly, “Happy Birthday, Ames.”

“Thank you,” Amelie smiles, squeezing him in their embrace and soaking in the moment. Harry smiles and leaves her be for a moment, walking further into the entrance and making his way past the door. “Can you tell me what Harry’s planning?” she whispers in his ear, rolling her eyes as he laughs loudly.

“Do you want him to kill me? You’ll never find another best friend like me, Ames,” Niall snorts, releasing her from his embrace and shaking his head. “You’ll have to wait!”

“That offer sounds pretty good, right now, Niall,” Amelie smirks, opening her arms wide for Lux and sinking into the embrace of Lou and Caroline. “Hi, missy.”

“Ames,” Lux smiles, grabbing her hand and beginning to walk her inside to where everyone has slowly started to begin their work for the day to ready for the concert later in the evening, “do you miss your family when you’re with us?”

“I adore you all very much,” Amelie says sweetly, kneeling beside her on the concrete and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “but I do miss my family, yeah. Uncle Harry is good company, though.” Amelie’s family is a very big part of her life and is very important to her, and there is a sense of longing to have them with her when she is celebrating her birthday as the happiest that she’s ever been. Harry was the best company she could be keeping, though. “And you, too, little miss.”

“Don’t miss us too much, Cherry.”

Amelie’s jaw drops, tears welling in her eyes as she snaps her head and takes in her entire family standing before her, Harry right at their side. “Oh my god,” she whispers, walking towards her younger sister in shock, her voice barely above a whisper as whistles and howls sound through the corridor. “How are you, what are you?”

“Big head, over there, thought you should spend your birthday with your favourite people,” Phoebe smiles, wrapping her arms tightly around Amelie’s waist and bringing her into an embrace. “And since Harry will be on stage, we’re second best.” Hugging tightly, Phoebe is the first to let go, to move and give her sister a moment with their mother.

“Hi, Mama,” Amelie whispers, tears staining her cheeks as her arms wrap around her mother’s waist, hugging her tightly and nearly not being able to breathe. “Comment allez-vous? Comment s'est passé le vol?”

“Flight went well. Happy Birthday, mon chéri,” Fay grins, wiping the tears from her daughter’s cheeks and giving her a moment to greet her father and brother. Her daughter’s grin is enough to tell her that there has never been a better birthday than the one she’s having, right now. “There’s another person here for you.”

“Make way for Shamu,” Jenny smirks, Dan shaking his head with a laugh, Fay moving slightly to the side to give the two a moment. “Hi.”

Amelie shakes her head, staring between Jenny and Harry, trying to understand how he managed to coordinate any of this while on tour. “No fucking way.”

“Fucking way,” Harry laughs, leaning against the wall and admiring the scene in front of him.

“Came all the way here for me,” Amelie whispers, circling her arms around her shoulders and squeezing her into a hug, her baby bump breaking apart their embrace.

Jenny squeezes her shoulders encouragingly, taking in the sight of her best friend. Jenny swears Amelie has never been this happy. “Did you really think you’d have to spend your birthday alone with that one?”

“Hey,” Harry teases, every syllable is drawn out. “I’m a dream, I’ll have you know!”

“Mhm,” Jenny laughs, shaking her head and grabbing Amelie’s hands, stepping slightly away to take in her appearance. Her figure is adorning a jumpsuit – her favourite one – with daisies and a light purple hue to match her hair, her favourite boots on her feet. Harry undoubtedly has tried to undress her more than once since she got ready this morning. “Look at you! Guess someone is getting laid, later.”

“Only if I’m lucky, J,” Harry sighs, shaking his head and smirking at his girlfriend.

“Harry,” Amelie warns, her voice lowering to a near whisper, the embarrassment caught in her throat. Harry laughs, kissing her hair and walking away, getting his in-ears settled and ready for the soundcheck. “God, I’m so happy you’re here.”

“Missed you,” Jenny smiles, kissing her cheek and squeezing her tightly in her arms. Having been best friends since the early ages of nine and seven, there was something to be said about seeing Jenny and Amelie both genuinely happy.

“Missed you, too,” Amelie smiles, returning the kiss to her cheek, smirking as Harry winks at her across the way, his hands manoeuvring his microphone pack to his jeans. “Have to go thank Harry. I’ll be back.”

“Don’t go have sex in the bathroom or something.”

Amelie’s jaw drops, her cheeks flushing as she shakes her head, turning away from her best friend and walking towards her boyfriend talking with Niall and Louis in the corner. Her arms wrap around his waist, his ring covered fingers holding her hands around his tummy and squeezing. He turns around in her embrace, grabbing her cheeks and planting a kiss on her lips.

“Did I surprise you?”

“More than anyone has ever surprised me before,” Amelie grins, inching closer to Harry’s lips and kissing him. “Can’t express what this means to me.” Her lips sponge light kisses along his jaw, her hands squeezing his hips as she whispers into his ear, “Je t’aime, baby.”

“Je t’aime, angel,” Harry grins, kissing her hairline and holding her tightly to his chest. “Mean everything to me, and I’d do anything for you.”

“Tu as mon coeur,” she says sweetly, licking her lips, her eyes meeting his expectantly. “Bisous.”

“Anytime you ask.” Harry kisses Amelie, his hands holding her cheeks, his eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks as his lips press chaste kisses on her lips. “And I’ll keep your heart safe, I promise.”

And the night seems to go smoothly after that.

Harry and Niall hurry to soundcheck, always running late, leaving everyone to settle into their routine before the show begins. Lou plaits Amelie’s hair, Phoebe entertaining Lux, Anne and Robin and Des speaking to Fay and Luca, Brandon and Autumn talking quietly with Dan as Jenny updates on all things babies that they’ve missed since being away. Amelie soaks in the moments with her family, with her friends, with her boyfriend clinging to her before the show begins.

And then, the show starts.

Amelie is as close to Harry’s microphone as she could get – as per his request, she could have stood anywhere and been happy – and she is well aware that there is no way there won’t be pictures online with how much they are flirting with each other. Her hand is tugged just before ‘Fireproof’ – her favourite song – and Phoebe drags her to the centre of the barricade where Harry has brought himself, Niall, Louis and Liam together.

And Amelie knows.

“Our very good friend is in the audience, tonight,” Harry smirks, walking goofily around the stage and using his best voice to have everyone’s attention – not that it took very much, “and she explicitly asked us not to sing her a happy birthday, which means that we have to.”

“Harry, you really don’t have to,” she shouts, shaking her head and hiding her face in her hands.

“Her name is Ames,” Niall grins, pointing his finger at her and smiling as she swears at him. “We need you all to sing the loudest happy birthday you’ve ever sung in your whole life.”

Before Amelie could recognise what was happening, there were nearly forty thousand people singing her ‘Happy Birthday’.

“Happy birthday, love. We all appreciate you more than you know,” Louis smiles, nodding and blowing her a kiss before setting his microphone on his designated stand.

“Going to give Ames a heart attack if we don’t sing something else soon,” Harry teases, brushing his fingers through his hair and situating his microphone. “This is ‘Fireproof’.”

Amelie is so obsessed with Harry that the concert passes in a blur, all of their laughter and singing and the jokes and the screaming echoing around them. On the dining table, a large cake is laid out with, Happy Birthday Ames, written across in icing. Harry is waiting with a smile as everyone gathers into the makeshift kitchen and dining hall, too many people trying to cram into the room to wish her a happy birthday, once again.

Harry stands in front of the table, holding his hand out for Amelie to take. “Come here,” he says, waving his hand towards her and wiggling his fingers. “On this day, twenty-one years ago, this wonderful creature was born. Thank you, Fay, for that,” Harry smiles, winking at her mother and slinging his arm over her shoulder, laughing as she tries to hide her face in his chest. “There is so much to say about Ames. Can talk about her creativity, her sense of humour, the way she fits in with all of us, or her ability to outsmart us without trying. Have a pretty big crush on her and could talk about her for hours, if ’m honest.”

Niall laughs loudly, his arm set on Louis’ shoulder, “We know.”

Harry rolls his eyes, breathing out a laugh. “And I had an entire speech prepared, but it doesn’t feel right, and I think all of us are about feeling, nowadays.” His eyes look across the group gathered in the room, a sentimental feeling looming over the room. Harry felt lucky to have Amelie by his side, knowing how his emotions would be in the coming days. “But I’ll say this,” he sighs, his lips curving into a soft smile, his eyes meeting hers. “Ames, you are undoubtedly the very best person in my life, and ‘m sure many others agree. Out of everything you give to people, your kindness, your creativity, your compassion, and your love shines in how you treat others, how you treat me. All of these people are here because they love you. And whether you believe it or not, you have changed their lives in one way or another.” Harry waves his arms towards every person that has tears in their eyes and a smile on their face. “More than anything, you have changed me, you changed my life for the better. I adore you, angel. Je t’aime. Happy Birthday.”

Harry is caught by surprise as Amelie grabs his cheeks, kissing him sweetly, his smile breaking their mouths apart. “Je t’aime, baby,” Amelie whispers, a tear slipping on her cheek as she clings to him. He wraps his arms around her, squeezing her into his chest and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Amelie’s attention is taken away by a faint yelling from Niall in the corner, “Get a room! Give us the cake.”

Harry chuckles as he touches his lips to her hairline, her arms tucked around his waist and holding him tight. Fay and Luca walk to them, a smile spread widely on their lips. “Think you’re going to tell us this is better than the surprise party we threw in your bedroom when you were twelve, huh?” Luca smirks, grabbing his wife’s hand as she playfully smacks his chest.

“Harry, you are not allowed to make us cry, again. Okay?” Fay says wetly, nodding her head towards Anne, Robin handing her a handkerchief to dry her eyes. Harry releases Amelie, smiling as she steps away and his body moves forward to hug her mother. “Merci de rendre notre fille si heureuse.”

“That’s all I want to do,” Harry whispers, smiling as Amelie squeezes his arm, nodding towards Anne in the corner of the room and walking towards her. “All I want is to make her happy.”

“You do, Harry. You really do.”

Harry grins, nodding appreciatively and taking a moment to soak in the moment with Amelie and all that occurred within the day, the last year. His whole life would be changing as of tomorrow, and especially in December. Harry wouldn’t be in a band anymore. He wouldn’t necessarily have a strict schedule and a direction. He thinks about what he could do with the time, what he would do with the moments that aren’t being rushed and scheduled. He wonders if he will feel lost. He wonders if he’ll know who he is without all that’s surrounding him.

All that Harry can think of as a sure thing is being with Amelie and annoying her with ‘bisous’ every few minutes because he knows she won’t resist. He thinks about taking her to Italy and France. Harry thinks about meeting Jenny’s babies for the first time with Amelie. He thinks about being able to live with her, make meals with her, go to bed with her, make love to her. Harry thinks about everything that will make up their lives and how grateful he is to have her.

“Go get cake,” Amelie says, interrupting his thoughts and kissing his cheek. “Niall’s about to grab his third slice.”

“I will in a minute,” Harry smiles, tucking a stray stand of hair behind her ear. “Je t’aime, mon ange. You know that, right?”

“Know you do, baby,” she grins, kissing his lips and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “Je t’aime. Thank you.”

Harry knows that Amelie is thanking him for loving her, for appreciating her, for supporting her. He gently squeezes her into him, his nose tucked in her neck, breathing her in. There will never be enough words for him to thank her for being his light, his reason.

And so, Harry holds Amelie tight, kissing her cheek and smiling and whispering his love, and he prays that is enough.

/ / /

Amelie was out of the house early this morning.

Harry was awake with her at eight, giving her reassuring kisses and making love messily in the shower and making her laugh with butterfly kisses on the back of her neck as she brushed her teeth. He brought all of the paintings over with Luca and Brandon earlier in the week, readying for the exhibit before graduation and the opening night. Harry flew in the day before graduation and is staying until the day after the exhibit – four days across the globe – and then Amelie would be going back to London with him – younger sister in tow – for the final performance. And yet, their only ‘argument’ has been about who forgot to unload the dishes the other day.

Harry was good at soothing through anxiety attacks, and Amelie has selfishly come to rely on his ability to talk her out of the chaotic and destructive thoughts the flood her brain. And standing in the middle of the venue, her family beginning to gather in the centre and guests beginning to file inside, stray art collectors and gallery owners scattered in the audience, Amelie wanted nothing more than to walk away with Harry and hide until the thoughts were gone and her breathing was normal.

Because, right now, Amelie was panicking.

Harry was going to be late. His text message said so about an hour ago. Got stuck in traffic on my way to you. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’m so sorry, baby. I love you. Amelie said not to worry, that everything would be okay.

Her teeth nervously bit her bottom lip, her fingers passing through her notecards and trying to memorise her speech. Her eyes lifted to the door, the chimes making another person’s presence known. Her heart warms, Jeff and Glenne walking through with the brightest smiles on their faces. Glenne opens her arms, wrapping her in the tightest hug and swaying side to side.

“Oh my god,” Amelie mutters, her hand covering her mouth as she squeezes Jeff in a hug, oblivious to anyone walking in behind them. “What are you doing here?”

“Tell me you didn’t think we’d miss this,” Glenne smiles, holding her hands out for Amelie to take and squeezing.

“I,” Amelie breathes, her heart warm in her chest and the anxiety in her stomach beginning to soothe with the idea of everyone there to support her. Harry was the one she wanted, but there was comfort in knowing all of their friends were coming to share his presence until he arrived. “Thank you.”

“Hi, sweetheart!” Gemma giggles, pinching her hips and wrapping her arms tightly around her, their laugher echoing around the space.

“Oh mon dieu,” Amelie says, the smile on her lips bright and pinching her cheeks. Gemma could quite possibly be her favourite Styles on a very good day. “How are you here?”

“Couldn’t miss this for you,” Gemma grins, shrugging as she laughs. “Harry might disown me, too.”

“Have you seen him?”

“Think he was running a minute or two behind,” Gemma says, trying to hide the way her vision continuously flickers to where Phoebe is standing against the wall. Amelie is too nervous to notice. “You should start your speech, though. He’ll be here.”

“Um, yeah, okay,” Amelie sighs, biting the inside of her cheek anxiously, her palms beginning to sweat and her stomach turning. Having Harry to focus on would make her less nervous – it always does. Her heart falls to the pit of her stomach as the chimes string through the windows and walls and the sound of her sister’s voice is the one echoing through the venue. As much as Amelie loves Phoebe, loves her family, there was a heavy part of her that was hoping she’d hear his laugh or his greeting or the ‘mon ange’ that he says every time he walks in a room. “Have to give me a minute or two to stall,” Amelie says nervously, drying her palms on her corduroy skirt and straightening her note cards. Harry encouraged her to write them the night before. “Think that the person that should hear this speech is running late.”

Amelie takes a deep breath, tears welling in her eyes at the thought of Harry not being there to hear her speech. His support and love and encouragement over the last year has been unlike anything she has ever felt and knowing that he wouldn’t have the opportunity to hear how he’s changed her life hurts her. Amelie is well aware of the fact that she is the one that has been facing her mental health and working to be better, but there is no denying the fact that Harry has been the first and foremost influence in that.

And Amelie wanted Harry to hear that.

“Art is all subjective. Art is subjective to the experiences that you’ve had, the memories, the skill level, the enjoyment, the passion. Art can be interpreted differently and understood in completely different ways to anyone that sees it,” Amelie says, sighing and pursing her lips together, forcing a smile as her mother and father look at her fondly, Brandon and Autumn tucked in a corner next to Jenny and Dan, Gemma and Jeff and Glenne in the centre, straggling acquaintances and art lovers and interested professionals scattered around. “Many don’t take the time to view art for the meaning that the artist is putting into it, the therapy, the passion, the intention. We do that with a lot of things. We do that with literature, with music, with art, with nature, with relationships.”

Amelie stares at the door, silently praying that Harry will walk in and mouth apologies and insist that she continues, and she wouldn’t be mad at him, because he’s there and he’s going to hear what she has to say. That’s all she wants. “Growing up, I struggled with my mental health a lot, and about four years ago, I went through something that changed my life, that changed me.” Her heart is pounding in her chest and she wants nothing more than to have Harry’s eyes on her saying that she can do this.

Amelie tries to think of what Harry would say to her, at this moment. Likely something along the lines of, You can do this, mon ange. You are doing this. This is all you. There is comfort in the thought, in the sound of his voice.

“I remember trying to understand why it happened to me, why I felt the way I did. I destroyed canvasses and I gave up art. I felt like I wasn’t me.” Amelie takes a moment to look away from her notecards, taking in the sight in front of her.

Every person in this room is here for you, for your art. You did this.

Amelie meets Fay’s adoring stare and smiles, “One day, I was sitting outside, staring at the flowers that were destroyed after an earthquake, and there was one petal blooming. I remember my mother telling us as children, ‘Flowers bloom after bad weather. Be a flower. Remember to bloom.’”

“One year later, there was an opportunity for me to create a mural for a restaurant in Burbank. Opening night was a party that I hadn’t intended on going to, and at the very last minute, my best friend convinced me to,” Amelie says, smiling at Jenny and taking a breath, her lips slightly parted and chapped with her breathing. “Going into this party, my ‘goal’ was to get through without an anxiety attack, to make it through and leave early enough to study for an exam.” Her laugh is quiet, a secret recollection of the way the alcohol in her system gave her the confidence to speak to Harry, to begin with. “And then I met someone who completely changed my life.”

And then Phoebe moves, and Amelie sees who she’s been wanting to see the entire day.

Harry is leaning against the wall, arms folded in front of his chest, a wide smile on his lips. His eyes are bright, meeting her gaze and nodding encouragingly. Amelie can see Harry mouth, je t’aime, baby, and a tear slips down her cheek.

Her breath is shaky as she continues, unable to fully comprehend how she missed him being right there. Harry would’ve never missed this. “Our relationship didn’t start stereotypically or conventionally, and it certainly never wound up that way, but there is nothing that I would change. He showed me what it was like to love all of me and to love me unconditionally. He is my best friend and without a doubt my biggest fan. He taught me what it meant, even in bad weather, to bloom,” Amelie smiles brightly at Harry, her eyes meeting his and their stares portraying that they are the only people in the room.

Maybe, to them, they are.

“That’s what this exhibit is. A Year in Bloom. Good weather, bad weather. Always the good and the bad. Quotes from songs and broken branches and dead flowers and fresh blooms are scattered because blooming is also subjective. There’s not one right way to do it.”

Amelie knows what the final lines of her speech say, but her heart knows what she should say. Making the decision in a split second, she tucks the notecards into her palm and slides her hands into her pockets, her eyes solely focused on Harry as she breathes. “To the person that taught me how to bloom,” she says softly, her voice wavering as tears well in her eyes. Amelie has never said these words first, to anyone, and certainly not in front of nearly sixty people. “I love you, to Jupiter and to Pluto and to the moon, around the stars, and all the way back to wherever you are.” Harry pinches his bottom lip, the tears in his eyes glossing over the emerald that she adores. “Enjoy the exhibit, everyone. I hope you find the inspiration that makes you want to bloom.”

Harry waits patiently – impatiently, more so – for everyone to make their introductions and congratulations to Amelie. His lips are spread into the widest smile, replaying the words over and over in his head. Hearing Amelie say, I love you, and say so with their friends and family and strangers there, made Harry’s heart want to burst in his chest. He was happy saying, je t’aime – it was something that was theirs, that only they would say to each other, and it would never lose meaning. Hearing her say, I love you, though, and saying it first. That changes everything.

“Is it my turn to meet the artist? Ms Beneventini, I’m a big fan,” Harry teases, his eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks as she presses her lips to his, kissing him deeply. Her arms wrap around his shoulders, her face tucking into his neck, his hands holding her hips and squeezing her tightly. He kisses her hairline, his fingertips running along her spine soothingly. “Can’t believe you just said that.”

“Me either,” Amelie giggles, taking a breath and moving her face away from his neck. Her eyes meet his and her throat is itching to say the words all over again. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” His grin is enough to make her heart melt. His words said back to him, the three words that mean more than anything, the smiles that they’re sharing – there is nothing that could change the way this moment is going to be theirs forever. “That speech was incredible. You are incredible, Amelie.”

“Thought you were going to be late.”

“Never.” Harry tucks a stray curl behind her ear, the baby pink making an appearance in light of the holidays. He would have to say that the pink is his favourite. “Know that you said I taught you,” he sighs, his thumb caressing her cheek as her hands cling to his shoulders. “Hope you know, though, that you taught me what that meant at all.” His hand moves under her chin and coaxes her to meet his stare. “This is all you. None of this is me. This is all Amelie.”

“Thank you,” Amelie smiles, chastely kissing his cheek and hugging him tightly. Having their moment in private is all that she wanted, to say the three words in private, even with saying it in her speech. Having a moment that will be their forever, and no one else’s. “Je t’aime.”

“Je t’aime,” Harry say, interlocking their fingers, and staring at the opening wall and the painting that drawn in front of them, his lips returning the kiss to her cheek. “Always.”

Harry takes in the sight before him, the recreation of the mural that hangs in the restaurant where they met, where they talked about the stars and the façades and the sky. His heart pinches in his chest, knowing the subtleties behind the faux bloom, the painting of a painting because it never actually is what it is proclaimed to be. Amelie taught him that.

Harry remembers the day Amelie was flipping through her textbook, searching for a concept to recreate for one of her digital art courses. Naturally, Amelie decided on “Ceci n’est pas une pipe” by René Magritte. He remembers her explanation going something along the lines of, Because it is a painting, it is not truly a pipe. In order for it to be a pipe, it would have to be a physical object. Therefore, this truly is not a pipe. It’s a painting of a pipe. Harry asked what Amelie would recreate to represent the metaphor, the imagery, and three days later, the recreation of the painting was finished. This is a metaphor to a full bloom. Because it’s a painting, it is not truly a bloom. In order for it to be a bloom, it would have to be the physical flowers and bushes and trees. Therefore, this isn’t a bloom, this is a painting of a bloom.

January was the very first month they met, the first month they got to know each other. Amelie wasn’t blooming yet, she wasn’t even close, and Harry had no idea.

On the next painting, there is a whiskey bottle – much like the soap dispenser in her kitchen – with a single daisy sitting perfectly in the windowsill on the next painting. Harry could identify her apartment for anything, and he remembers the day after his birthday, the night they agreed to date officially, coming back to her apartment and bringing her a single flower from Martha’s flower shop near the café. Amelie nearly jumped out of her broken chair at the dining table because the flower in her vase died earlier in the morning, and the thought of Harry paying that much attention made her want to cry. Harry noticed, then, that it was the little things that made her happy, that meant the most.

Harry assumed that the next painting would be themed through March, and there was a hesitation in his step. Amelie noticed, holding his hand tighter and kissing his knuckles encouragingly.

Her infamous honeybee jar spread across a landscape canvas, bright yellows and greens; the white stumps that sit below the bee’s black belly perfectly portrayed. There are two sprouting flowers, one with a broken stem, one with a falling leaf. Two flowers, a rose and a sunflower. Harry could assume that the rose would represent him, and there was a pang in his chest at the thought that that’s how she could see him, that she saw him. Harry was distraught, broken, and Amelie was there to lift him back up.

Harry didn’t know that Amelie was struggling, too.

His hands are sweaty in hers, yet neither seems to care. Comfortable silence settles over them as they walk slowly, taking the time to soak in every moment and every stroke on the canvas that was worked on for the last five months.

His heart warmed at the sight of her mother’s garden, the bright flowers and bushes and trees, the colours the shades of the rainbow and expressed in the perfect strokes and technique. All of it was bright. Happiness and love radiated through the flowers. And then Harry notices it, the quote scribbled in the pattern of the stems, the quote that Amelie knew only Harry would find.

‘all the colours’ painted in the background of the stems.

Harry wants to say something, yet the words are caught in his throat. Amelie smiles knowingly, kissing his jaw and nodding, not worrying him with speaking just yet. Knowing that a work is about you and your relationship can be very emotional, and Harry was one to feel everything.

Harry could recognise the meadow in the next painting without any prompting. Gemma grins at him across the venue, nodding to where there are tiny words written on the tree. He remembers their very first visit to meet his family, the way the thumb wrestled to decide who would carve their initials into the tree, the kiss they shared privately, the laughter that echoed around the flowers and the grass and the trees without any intrusions. That moment was just Harry and Amelie. Happiness.

‘you and me’ carved into the tree, only for Harry to know what it means.

June portrayed the bouquet of sunflowers and roses that Harry sent from Vienna. Sunflowers standing tall against the crooked chair that Harry hated more than anything, the roses clinging to the light of the sun passing through the window that sat directly next to her bed. Moonlight hung over the vase, and the only thing replaying in Harry’s mind is when Amelie whispered that they’re always staring at the same moon.

Harry gulps stepping to the next painting. Cuts slash against the canvas, the vase of sunflowers that are painted in the middle of her kitchen counter, smashed, glass across the painted marble. Tickets are set beneath one of the dying flowers, the slash nearly taking it out of sight.

Harry’s eyes well with tears, his mind tracing back to what Jenny told him in the car on the way to see her in August. Amelie used to slash her canvases on the bad days. Harry wonders what day this was, to make her feel so low, that he wasn’t there for. His eyes sting as the tears fall down his cheeks, the emotions overwhelming at the thought. His heart broke for his beautiful girl, for the feelings and the memories that he could never take away. He would take all of her pain away if he could, and seeing the heartache set everything in a new perspective.

Amelie lightly tugs on Harry’s hand, nodding towards the next wall. Harry would stay searching for details through July’s painting, and Amelie knew that wouldn’t be healthy for him.

Harry takes in the Malibu beach that they know quite well, the blooming flowers amongst the dunes and the stray grass, one lavender flower growing out of the sand. On the beach, waves are crashing, the sun is shining bright, and Harry knows exactly what day this painting is based on. On the reflection of the water, there is writing to their favourite song across the waves. On the edge of the canvas, there is a polaroid camera and a sketchbook, an outlook on her personality to those that do not know, and an ode to the day they said the three words to Harry.

Crashing among the waves, ‘too young to burn’, is scripted in the deepest blue writing.

Harry takes a minute to recognise the scenery of the next painting. Knowing that it’s a bit unfamiliar but he’s been there before, his mind wracks through their many adventures across Los Angeles for flower shops, trying to remember one moment among the rest. Amelie giggles, nodding to the very evident title at the edge of the canvas. Mon Petit Fleur adorning the edge of the black and white shaded painting, one singular daisy painted white and yellow and baby pink. Harry pointed it out in her grandfather’s shop, the hybrid one he’s never seen. He mentioned that should she colour in her thigh tattoo one day, that if she decided to colour the daisy, she should make it the baby pink theme. Harry said that the colours reminded him of her – lovely.

October is the vase that she teased in the London house, the glass vase that extends nearly to the height of the ceiling light above the island. Harry added irises and aster to the vase before her arrival, only to have a strict talking to about how pairing similar colour flowers aren’t how to accentuate the scene or beauty, that you have to pair complimentary colours and arrange the bouquet in a sweet way. Harry learnt more about flowers and art in the three weeks that they travelled together then the eight months they’d been dating altogether.

November is their garden at their house in Los Angeles. All of the flowers are bloomed, the bright yellows and pastel purples and pinks and the reds and scarlets and oranges and burgundy and violets that are going to scatter their window boxes and the walkway in full bloom. Harry knows that their flowers haven’t bloomed yet, as the season isn’t near, but there is a feeling of hope radiating through the centre of the flowers and the sun and bees neatly swirling around with pollen.

Harry’s eyes sting with tears at the painting on the very last wall, their reactions secluded in a corner, Amelie’s hand squeezing his comfortingly.

December is a vision of a tall rose and a daisy, each painting beautifully under a dark sky, a moon clinging to the canvas and the stars decorating the distance. On the edge of the canvas, there are two distant circles aligned, meeting where the leaves of the rose and the daisy intertwine. Harry blinks away tears, taking a second glance at the painting to see the stars write out a message.

aligned.

Amelie purses her lips together nervously, heaving a heavy breath waiting for Harry’s response, her thumb drying a tear falling down his cheek. Her hand holds his cheek gently, her heart swelling at the way he leans into her touch. Harry kisses her fingertips, her palm, her wrist, his hands inching towards her face and hesitantly taking her cheeks in his hands. His eyes search for permission, asking to kiss her in the deepest way in the private corner of his exhibit, the only way to express how he feels in that moment. Amelie nods quietly, assuring him that he is alright.

Harry kisses Amelie with all of the love that swells in his chest, and there is nothing else to say.

~

Going out together for the very first time, Harry could feel the sweat on Amelie’s palm and the shakiness in her grasp. His hand holds her hips comfortingly, his sweatshirt clinging to her torso, her cheek leaning on his shoulder as their table is set in the corner, quiet and away to have their night alone. Gemma and Michal took to a different restaurant for drinks, Amelie’s family making the drive back to Pasadena, Jeff and Glenne going to their house nearby. Only a few hours left of the day to celebrate themselves, and Harry wanted to celebrate Amelie.

Harry’s ankles locked around Amelie’s foot, her spoon falling to the ice cream coated brownie in the plate so deliciously prepared. Her laughter echoes through the private space, and Harry swears that his heart will give out with how much he loves her.

“Are you trying to play footsie with me?” Amelie giggles, licking her spoon and meeting his stare, oblivious to the young girl staring at her from across the restaurant. “You know we do live together, which means you don’t have to flirt with me; you’ve already got me in your bed.”

“Have since Day One, haven’t I?” Harry smirks, leaning his spoon towards her mouth, only to bring the bite to his lips.

“Day Two, actually,” she says, licking her lips and shrugging her shoulders. “Got you in my bed on the first night.”

“Think I’ll write a whole song just about that night.”

“Think I’m surprised you haven’t already.”

“Excuse me. Who says I haven’t?” Harry scoffs, knocking his spoon against hers for the very last bite. “Thumb wrestle for it?”

“You’re a child,” she sighs, shaking her head and lifting her hand to hold his, their thumbs dancing around each other. “Baby, you do realise you’re going to be twenty-two years old, in two months, and you’re thumb wrestling your girlfriend for the last bite of a brownie.”

“Doll, you do realise you’re twenty-one and thumb wrestling your boyfriend for the last bite of a brownie,” he smirks, holding her thumb and kissing her knuckle, releasing their hands to take the very last bite. He takes the bite, only half of the brownie between his lips, his tongue darting to lick the remaining ice cream. He holds the spoon to her lips, smiling as she wraps her mouth around the spoon and takes the bite. “Couldn’t be prouder of you, you know.”

Amelie’s cheeks blush, the sleeves of the sweatshirt curling around her hands as she smiles at Harry. He pays for their dessert, thanking the staff for their privacy and kindness, holding his hand out for her to take as they walk outside. He found a space around the block, giving them a nice walk before they would settle in and be on their way home.

“Um, excuse me?”

Harry turns around nervously, his hand still holding Amelie’s tightly and her fingers tucked into the pocket of his sweatshirt. Her hand squeezed his reassuringly, silently saying that everything would be okay. Having their relationship under the radar was the best thing for them, especially with the threatening anxiety around the corner and the hate from fans knowingly evil. He releases her hand reluctantly, setting his comfortingly on her back. He isn’t going anywhere; he needs her to know.

“You’re Amelie, right? I went to your exhibit today.” Harry’s lips spread into a grin, gently nudging Amelie forward and taking a step back to let them speak. “I am absolutely obsessed with your work. It’s what made me want to paint, again. I went through something similar with my mental health, and seeing your exhibit really inspired me.”

“Oh my god,” Amelie says, smiling brightly at the young girl who stood in front of her. “I’m so happy that you’re painting, again. Takes a lot of courage, you know that?”

The young girl has tears in her eyes, nodding her head and biting her lip. “Not a lot of people would be so open about it, and I can’t say thank you enough.”

Amelie opens her arms, graciously accepting the hug that she’s given. “Do you have social media or something? I’d love to send you something.”

“Oh my god, yeah.”

“Baby, can I have my phone?” Amelie asks, smiling as Harry takes her phone out of his pocket and hands it to her. Her fingertips type the information into her notes, the girl - no more than fifteen - holding her hands together nervously. “Perfect.”

“My mom said that I shouldn’t bother you because it looked like you were on a date,” Mollie – the girl – says, shaking her head and looking at her feet. “Hope I’m not bothering you.”

“Absolutely not,” Amelie says reassuringly. “We were just leaving. I’m at the exhibit all week.”

“I know! I’m coming again, tomorrow, with my friends!” Amelie grins, handing her phone back to Harry, returning her attention to Mollie gushing about the exhibit. “Before you go, could I take a picture with you?”

“Sure.” Amelie smiles as Mollie hands Harry her phone, completely oblivious to who he is. Mollie tucks her arm around Amelie’s waist as the picture is taken, her smile bright and spread across her lips. “Thank you so much, sweetheart.”

“Thank you for making me want to paint, again,” Mollie says, hearing her mother call her name and quickly rushing away.

Harry grabs Amelie’s cheeks, pressing his lips to her and smiling widely. “God, I am so proud of you.” His hand takes hers, their fingers laced together, and their bodies tucked against each other, walking against the wind to the car and having their cheeks turn a slight shade of red with the chill. He opens the door, mumbling, bisous, before letting her inside.

“Can’t believe someone wanted to talk to me.”

“Told you that you inspire people,” Harry says, kissing her hand and holding it tightly in his lap. “You inspire me, mon ange.”

Amelie’s lips spread into a smile, her head turning to give him the sleepiest grin. Her eyes flutter shut, her body falling into a complete state of calm with the music playing lowly in the background. “You inspire me, ma lune. Honestly, it would have had a pretty depressing exhibit, if you weren’t in my life.”

“Well, I’m here,” Harry smiles, squeezing her hand and admiring her eyes, the exhaustion beginning to take over the adrenaline, “and I will be for as long as you’ll have me.”

“Think I’ll keep you forever, then.” Quiet settles over their car as they drive the short distance to their house, their favourite songs playing in the background.

“Sounds like a good plan, doll,” Harry agrees, pulling into their garage and turning the engine off, admiring her as she yawns and sleepily climbs out of the car. “Let’s go to bed, yeah?”

“Mhm,” she hums, waiting for Harry to lock the car and the garage door before walking up the stairs and opening their bedroom door. Her feet drag towards the bathroom, stripping out of her clothes before she’s made it inside, Harry’s lips quirking into a smirk at the sight. “Can feel you burning a hole in my ass with your staring.”

“Hey, you look at your art and I’ll look at mine,” he smirks, a bright smile on his lips as she shakes her head, giggling quietly in the mirror. His fingers set the alarm in their wardrobe, shutting the door and following the pattern of their nightly routine as Amelie wipes the makeup off her face.

He walks into the bathroom, his hip knocking into her as he settles against the sink, setting his toothbrush and casting his eyes on her as she swiftly changes out of the blouse and simply into his sweatshirt. Amelie lived in it, the one Harry bought specifically to wear for her, and it made his heart warm to think about it.

“Means a lot that you came,” Amelie says, drying her face on a towel and patting her skin. “Know that you’ve had to fly all over hell and highwater for me. Thanksgiving, then graduation, and then the exhibit. Means the world to me,” she whispers, her words only loud enough for him to hear. “I love you.”

Harry smiles the widest grin; the words sinking into his heart and filled his belly with butterflies. He rinses his mouth with water, the mint coating his lips as he takes her hand and brings her into his chest, kissing her sweetly. “I love you more. To the moon, and Jupiter, and Pluto, around all the stars, and all the way back to wherever you are.”

“That’s a lot of love.”

“And there’s no one on this earth more deserving of it than you.”

Maybe Harry’s right. Maybe that much love is deserved.

Amelie smiles, having her lips on his once more, savouring the sweetness of the moment. Their kiss isn’t hurried or secret – it’s in their bedroom, in their home. Only them. Only their love filling the house and the bedroom and the satin sheets. Harry caresses her cheek, kissing her forehead and turning the bathroom light, surrounding them in only the light centred in their bedroom.

“Maybe I should buy your flight, now,” Harry mentions, untucking his corner on the comforter and climbing under the covers. “Know that we have it and the flights won’t sell out or summat.”

“Alright,” Amelie yawns, bringing the comforter over her shoulders and tucking into Harry’s chest. Her vision is slightly hazy as she stares at the phone, his fingers tapping against the screen and writing in all the information for the flight purchase.

Amelie’s stomach twists with nerves, anxiety making her heartbeat erratic and her breathing uneven. Her thoughts are overwhelming in her mind, and there is a hesitation that has never been there before. All they were doing was buying her a flight. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was something else. Manchester for Boxing Day, then jetting to St. Bart’s for a holiday with Anne and Robin and Harry and one or two others that she wasn’t sure about.

Harry’s fingers draw on her back soothingly, his thumb locking his phone and setting it on the bedside table once he’s finished, the light turning off and the moonlight shining through the curtain. Her fingers are splayed over his abdomen, her breathing slightly unsteady. He doesn’t think much of it, assuming that she’s having a hard time falling asleep. He hums, quietly calling his own sleep forward.

As Amelie lays there, wide awake and unable to catch her breath, there is a feeling in her stomach that something is going to go wrong, very wrong. And she isn’t too sure if she’s ready to handle it.

[bunnyhani]

No No Tears No!

Pairing: (Platonic!) Yang Jeongin x Hwang Hyunjin

Genre: Fluff and Angst

Warnings: Talk of anxiety, desciptive scenes of feelings of depression and suicidal thoughts. Cursing. Self-hatred, self-doubt. Unhealthy coping mechanisms!

A/N: Please be careful when reading. Do NOT read, if you get triggered by these topics. Stay safe!💕

Summary: Jeongin hated crying. He always said to his friends and other people important to him, as advice that if they need to cry, they should. In fact, he often encouraged people to cry, as it kind of releases pent up emotion and can ultimately make you feel better. But Jeongin himself couldn't take his own advice: he just hated crying. So he just avoids it. Not a smart choice.

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

Jeongin hated crying. He always said to his friends and other people important to him, as advice that if they need to cry, they should. In fact, he often encouraged people to cry, as it kind of releases pent up emotion and can ultimately make you feel better. But Jeongin himself couldn't take his own advice: he hated crying. Of course everyone hated crying, but his hatred towards it was on another level. So he wasn't surprised when he often found himself pushing the tears back, swallowing his sobs and feeling awful after it. Still. He just couldn't handle the emotional state that happened when you were crying. The feelings it brought. When his friends asked and sometimes even jokingly called him a hypocrite, he always said something about the messiness of it. The snot running from your nose, your eyes becoming red and irritated. How you're running out of breath, and there was also a danger of getting an eyelash in your eye. How dumb the sobs sounded.

While all this was true, there was another reason too. Another one, that he wasn't particularly fond of sharing. To him, crying felt like the peak of sadness. It felt like everything in chest was getting squeezed and crushed into nothing. All the emotions that had been trapped inside, went through, escaping when he sobbed his heart out. They hurt even worse than they originally did. It just hurted, ached so badly that he thought he was going to break. The maximum point of sadness. To him... It felt like losing. Failure. Failure of trying to keep everything together and composed.

But for some reason, lately he has been crying more than he would like. He doesn't really know what to do with himself. So he doesn't do anything.

It started a few weeks ago. It started with sleeping troubles and self-esteem issues. He couldn't fall asleep easily and when he did, he would wake up a few hours later and would have trouble falling asleep again. Jeongin never had a good self-esteem to begin with, he didn't like looking at himself in the mirror. While he mostly didn't say he was the most awful looking human being on earth, he didn't like himself. He never did. He just didn't think too much. But both his views on himself kept changing as his sleeping schedule kept on getting more and more messed up. It all spiraled into another level of hatred when some spots appeared on his skin. He looked hideous. Although it was only four or three spots, it was awful. He felt ashamed. Usually his skin was clean and smooth looking. Now it wasn't. The weight in his chest just got heavier every day, his appetite disappeared and soon he didn't see any other living soul except his mother's. And that too was only because they lived under the same roof. His weight started dropping and he knew often that he should eat, but he didn't. He ate very little, maybe one meal a day. His weight started dropping. He kept declining his friends' invitations to come outside or other meetups. Jeongin didn't even know why, it wasn't like he did anything important with his time. He felt pathetic. It was the summer break and he was just laying around in his room in the dark, doing nothing else but crying and going through his phone, and making his mom dinner. It didn't take for him to realize that his depression was acting up along with his already active anxiety. And that realization required a bit of a shake for him too...

Jeongin woke up, back aching and he felt like he had been run over with a truck. His chest was heavy, but he didn't pay attention to it because it was a part of his life already. He made the dinner, not eating it yet, deciding to force himself to eat later. Now he just wanted to lie down and sleep more. Jeongin's field of vision started blurring as tears made their way into his eyes. He was snapped out of his thoughts at the familiar stinging sensation that told him about the tears' arrival. He blinked his eyes rapidly, taking deep breaths. Jeongin didn't want to cry. The boy got up from the kitchen chair and walked back to his room, misty eyed. He wanted to cry out of frustration, why would he be crying? He did not want to cry. What part of that very clear statement did his body not understand. He lied on his bed, thoughts running wild, and at one point, he just thought: I don't want to live. And that was all he needed before he was sobbing like a small child. His sobs were raw with emotion and he tried to stop it. He did. The boy couldn't stop it, no matter what, he was there just crying, laying in a fetal position in his bed. He tried to tell himself how sad people close to him would be, how he would never be able to see his favorite band ever again. But to his horror, he didn't care. He couldn't bring himself to care. Nothing mattered.

After his sobs started to quiet down, he felt numb but drained. He was annoyed with himself, that he felt this way. Why was he like this? I guess on the plus side, the crying saved my life. I would have done something stupid if I wasn't busy crying so much that I could barely breathe, let alone move. Jeongin wasn't happy with it. He was so tired that he couldn't even properly think about suicides. That thought alone scared him. If only he would have known that the realization if wanting to die and that his depression was active again, would make his thought world even darker.

For the next few days, Jeongin didn’t get any better. He felt numb to it all, but he also felt like he was close to crying and breaking apart any second now. His friends messaged him, asking if he’s okay. Commenting on his absence, how little he actually responded back to their texts. How dull even his texts were. Honestly Jeongin felt like he wasn’t really there. Like something was missing. Maybe his head wasn’t in the game or he himself was so emotionally drained that he didn’t have anything left. Not enough emotions to actually reply back properly. Write a heartfelt message, apologize for his behviour. When his friends complained about something, the best he could come up with: it will be okay and oof. Which was a big change, since he was usually so composed, always ready to help and give good advice. That was the reason why people even came to him in the first place, because he always had good advice and could provide a new way of looking at things. He felt the need to apologize. To say that this wasn’t him. But that was where the whole thing kind of fell apart. This was him. He was just extremely good at hiding it. Jeongin just shook his head as another text popped up, completely ignoring it. Sorry Seungmin-hyung, he thought and shifted his gaze back onto the wall that he had been staring for a good 30 minutes.

It was 5pm when the doorbell rang, indicating that his mom was home. He felt rage surge inside of him, gritting his teeth, he ran to the door to promptly rip it open. His mom was there smiling and Jeongin had the urge to kick her. Her mother’s smile fell from her lips when she noticed her son’s expression. Jeongin just turned on his heel to go back to his room.

“What’s wrong?” His mom asked, the look of worry on her face.

“You have your own damn house keys, why don’t you use them? Why do you force me to always come and run to open the door for you?” The boy exploded. He bit his lip as he tried to hold himself back from cursing his mother’s whole existense down to Hell. Jeongin didn’t wait for any reply and went back to his room, resisting the urge to slam his door closed like an angry child. He was aware that he was being childish and also knew that this was another symptom. Let’s add: irritation to the list of symptoms, he thought bitterly to himself. He didn’t want to hurt his mother. But now all the emotion was too much to handle and he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

“Why did you get mad over that?” His mother shouted from the kitchen and Jeongin wanted to cry out of anger.

“Not every fucking day can be a good day!” He screamed back. Oh my God, I’m a fucking child, he scolded himself. Oh no wait, I’m just an edgy teenager. An ungrateful brat, your mom did nothing to deserve that. I have no right to act this way, I have no reason to feel “depressed”. I have no right to feel this, no reason at all. Someone has it worse than me… He was disgusted with himself. Again, he started crying. Then he fell asleep.

The next time he woke up, was to his phone ringing. It scared him so badly that he banged his head against the wall behind him. Jeongin hastily reached for his phone, heart beating wildly in his chest. Hyunjin was calling. He huffed and put his phone down again, letting it ring, not wanting nor daring to pick it up. But what if Hyunjin was in trouble? The ringing made his anxiety make it’s presence known. Hyunjin deserves that I at least answer to him, he guilted himself and grabbed the phone, just about to press answer when the call ended. He stared at the phone, eyes wide. Part of him felt smug, but a part of him was terrified. He just rested his head back against the mattress with a blank face. Well, if Hyunjin had any urgent business, he would text him. And when Jeongin had gathered enough energy, he would reply back to the tall dancer. But right now, that goal was just a hazy dream in his mind, as he was drained after the sudden adrenaline he got from being scared by his phone.

It was maybe about 10pm when Jeongin was somewhat alive enough to grab his phone again to reply to Hyunjin (who had been messaging throughout the day, not spamming, but just dropping a few messages here and there). He read through them and he felt kind of sorry. He took a deep breath and sent a text saying:

DesertFoxie: Hi hyung. I’m sorry I didn’t pick up when you called. I’ve been super busy, you know, doing my summer reading and all that shit. Honestly it took a lot out of me so I kinda may or may not have slept for like 4 hours. What did you want to talk about? Why did you call?

Sent,10:03pm

Waiting for an answer was nerve-wracking, especially when he saw that Hyunjn pretty much went online as his message went through. He swallowed thickly as the older started typing an answer to him. Should he wait for the answer? Or should he ignore it? Or just go offline and watch the window of the text then, so he could read through it without marking it straight away as read. It would give him time to ponder carefully what to answer. Despite his curiousness of his hyung’s reasoning, he did put his phone down and just stared at the oh so interesting wall again, just waiting for Hyunjin’s reply.

Hyunjin-hyungie: Hi. I was just wondering that how have you been doing recently. I’m really worried of you, Innie. It’s been awhile that you’ve been this distant to any of us… Please just know that I’m here. Tell me how are you.

Sent, 10:05pm

Ok, his hyung was the best person ever, Jeongin decided. He weighed his options for a moment, finger drumming against his thigh. Should he be honest or say that he was fine? He was so lonely. And he wanted to talk in a way, but at the same time not. He sent a message asking Hyunjin that did he want an honest answer. Of course, Hyunjin said yes. Jeongin nibbled on his lip and threw his head back in frustration. What to choose.

He decided to say fuck depression and anxiety, pushing himself to reply back and tell the truth, like Hyunjin had requested.

DesertFoxie: You know… The usual depressing bullshit. Actually no. You don't know, because I haven't said anything. I've been hating myself for a few weeks now consistently. Idk why, I just find myself disgusting. So I've been eating less and then I've eaten more and foods that aren't very good for you. But mainly not eaten a lot. Mainly because I don't have an appetite. Like I can't bring myself to care that I'm eating very sugary and chocolaty ice cream, not good for my skin since I'm trying to clear it up. But later, I will be like lol that's your fault, shouldn't have eaten u ugly ass, etc.

DesertFoxie: Oh and I've been isolating myself a lot more than usual. Hence why I'm hard to reach.

DesertFoxie: Aanndd my insomnia is acting up. And apparently, so is my depression.

DesertFoxie: I feel awful because my emotional state is so dumbly depressed and numb that I can't even put a proper thank you text together for you know… Checking on me and listening to me right now… Anyways, that's why all my advice (when people ask) has always sucked and been like oh yeah it will get better, drink water, sleep... I get why people would get frustrated with me.. I usually give good advice and support them (I do but fkalfkd) I just.. then give that bullshit that anyone can say ir figure out by themselves…

DesertFoxie: Like.. I can't.. just give you advice? Something just isn't there. Maybe it's my head. Maybe my emotions.. I don’t know.

DesertFoxie: And it's getting hard to pretend to be fine to my mom. Que me being in my room and avoiding all humans once and for all. We can add to the list of symptoms: irritability… I don't want to snap at mom. Because no. 1. She will most likely get mad at me. 2. Yeah just no that’s a bad idea.

DesertFoxie: It kinda makes your head feel heavy too? You feel so sluggish… I hate depression... It kind of feels like crying. Everything hurts and aches, everything gets squeezed in your chest so badly to the peak of heaviness and sadness and goes away and the next thing you know, you don't feel anything for a week. You hate everything. Nothing matters. I wrote a whole paragraph of how depression feels, yet I feel like that's not nearly enough. Like there is so much more, something so unexplainable. And you just want to sleep…

DesertFoxie: I just want to keep saying this isn't me but it is. I'm just good at hiding it.

Sent, 10:25pm

Jeongin held his breath after writing all that. He started regretting the choice after a minute already. Was that too much? Shit I’m too much, he thought and closed his phone. His heart was hammering in his chest and the familiar stinging of tears returned again.

“Fuck my fucking life, tears, just go away!” He screamed into his pillow. He was so so tired and done with the seemingly endless tears, actually he was done with living overall. If only he could just not exist, living would be so much easier. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do that, so he just settled for waiting Hyunjin’s reply, heart in his throat. The sudden ping from his phone scared him yet again. He glanced over and the text he saw, made his heart stop.

Hyunjin-hyungie: I’m coming over.

Sent, 10:22pm

Jeongin was pacing back and forth his room, biting his finger. Was Hyunjin mad? Was he not? Holy shit, he had probably angered his hyung. He didn’t need to inform his mom about Hyunjin’s arrival, since she had gone to a very long walk. Now he was extremely grateful for his mom’s obsession with long hikes and walks. He could trust that his mom wouldn’t be home, when Hyunjin and him would most likely talk. A lot. This time, Jeongin wasn’t looking forward to talking with him. This time the whole conversation would resolve around him, and honestly he wasn’t quite ready for that, but he knew he owed that much to Hyunjin. Fun. Then he heard the front door open and someone frantically kicking their shoes off and before he had time to move, the hurried steps got close to his room and his room’s door was opened. And there stood Hyunjin. The older boy was a bit sweaty and panting from probably running the apartment complex’s staircase up.

“Jeongin”, he breathed out and took maybe two or three long steps so that he could wrap his arms around the younger. Hyunjin hugged like he was afraid Jeongin was going to disappear from his arms.

“Hyung?” Jeongin asked tentatively, bringing his skinny arms around the tall boy.

“I’m here, hyungie is here. You’re not alone”, Hyunjin whispered.

The two boys sat one the floor, side by side, holding hands. Jeongin wasn’t quite on board with just draping himself over Hyunjin, although he was sure that the older boy wouldn’t mind at all. They had talked. A lot. And now it was silent, it had been for the last 8 minutes. Then Hyunjin broke the silence and asked a question that he had been thinking about since he saw the metaphor in the text messages.

“Why did you compare the feeling of depression with crying?” Hyunjin asked. Jeongin sighed.

“Well… Uhh… I don’t like crying. It feels like… Crying feels like the peak of sadness and it makes it feel like everything in your chest gets crushed. Well.. more like your heart… Like crying sucks.. Your eyes hurt, you get eyelashes in your eyes, your nose is running and your like running out of breath and it just hurts. It feels like the sadness is just squeezing into the maximum level”, he explained with a quiet voice, fiddling with Hyunjin’s long fingers.

“Is that why you always avoid crying?” Hyunjin asked. Jeongin just nodded.

“I guess we have to work on that then”, Hyunjin concluded. Jeongin lifted his gaze to his hyung in confusion.

“We?” he asked, confused.

“Yes we. It’s not like I’m going to let you deal with all this alone, I’m your hyung, you know. I’m here. And I will gladly help.” Jeongin just lowered his eyes to the ground and squeezed Hyunjin’s hand tighter. Perhaps the both boys knew that Jeongin cried silently next to his strong hyung, but they didn’t say anything about it.

Yes, Jeongin hated crying with passion. But now he wasn’t alone with everything, he had Hyunjin by his side.

[xserpentlife]

Too Much -  Part 1

Request: Sweet Pea x R where the R has depression and doubts about her friends truly liking her and is good at hiding how lonely she is till one day hiding her feelings requires literal hiding from everyone. Sweet Pea gets worried, finds her, and says, prompts 11 and 15 from angst list 1. Add whatever you’d like! Oof could that request get more sad. You’re a great writer btw!!!

A/N: Hope you like this!

Warnings: Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Cursing?

Summary: You’ve known Sweet Pea for a while and you started dating a few months ago. He knows you can get in your own head, but he also knows that you have been getting better. But things happened and it threw you into a complete spiral.

Word Count: 3022

Y/N POV

You and Toni have been friends since you were kids, but when you were 10 your mom took you and moved you to the north side, while your dad stayed on the southside. Your mom and dad fought constantly, it seemed like there was no end in sight... It was always your mom's fault and you were always a daddy's girl. But your mom wouldn’t let you fight and you were only 10 so that is when she took you to the north side. Your mom had been getting on your nerves, her boyfriend fighting with her kept you awake at night, it's all you ever heard and it reminded you of why she moved out with you when you were little. You got tired of it and when you were 15 you moved in with your dad.

You started hanging out with Toni again and you met some of her friends, their names were Sweet Pea and Fangs. You and Sweet Pea became close, and he seemed to always be there to protect you. You talked to him about everything and you broke the hard exterior that he had. You were the only one that he was soft around. You started high school after you moved in with your dad and he made you go to Riverdale high away from Sweet Pea, and all of your friends on the southside. He wanted you to have a good education. You met Jughead luckily and he helped you make friends with a few others but it just wasn't who you wanted them to be. You felt like you didn’t belong. A year later a fight during a job with FP took your dad's life...Sweet Pea was there to pick up your pieces. After a while, you and Pea started dating but it was pretty much like you were dating from the start. He offered for you to live with him but you didn’t want to intrude. For your birthday he gave you a necklace that was half a heart with a  serpent on it,. He always wanted you to remember where you came from even if you had to go to school on the Northside. He wore the other half of the heart with his dog tags. The heart was engraved on his side reading You will always have a and on your side home with me. It was his way of telling you, you always had a place with him. You barely spent time apart and he was always there. You started talking to Sweet Pea about it telling him everything and when you would get really anxious at school you would call him. There were even a few occasions where you ditched and he would pick you up. Toni knew a little about them, but no matter how hard she tried no one could ever get you out of your attacks except Sweets. The attacks started to get better and you didn’t want to bother anyone with them anymore so you started saying you were fine. You pushed away all the thoughts in your mind and kept saying everything was fine, but last week was a really tough one for you and you didn’t know how this week would go.

The weekend was one of  the worst you had experienced in awhile. You went to the Wyrm with everyone but a fight broke out, and for some reason it caused your anxiety to shoot through the roof. Sweet Pea saw you run into the bathroom and tried knocking on the door to come in but you wouldn't let him. After a few minutes you walked out and said you didn’t feel good so you were going home. Sweets went with you and you sat on the couch watching movies. You felt so bad that you pulled him away from his friends and it was tearing you up inside. That was Saturday. Sunday Sweet Pea had a job with FP and though you weren’t a serpent your dad was, and you knew how dangerous the jobs could be. The whole day you waited for the phone call from him to say that he was home. You were supposed to go out with Jughead, but you had told him you were still sick. You weren’t but you physically couldn’t move without your head spinning and your breath halting. Usually, you worried but never this much. You got the call that night and he told you he would come over after school tomorrow.

You woke up for school and you just wanted to stay in bed. The anxiety from yesterday drained all the energy you had, but you knew you couldn’t skip. You went to school and the first thing you saw on your locker was a note saying go back to the southside serpent slut. It had been happening for a while but you kept it from everyone even Sweet Pea not wanting to cause any trouble. The whole day it felt like everyone was staring at you, but you just dragged along. You had a panic attack at lunch and Jug tried to help you but nothing was working. He told you he would call Sweet Pea but you begged him not to. That afternoon you went right home hoping to sleep it all away, but Sweet Pea called saying he had good news and was coming over. So you pulled yourself together enough to be okay for when he was there. After freaking out for a little thinking he would know the second he saw you like he always did you heard the knock at the door. So you took a deep breath and opened it.

“Hey babe”

“Hey Y/N/N” he kissed you and it relaxed you slightly. He didn’t even have to say anything but him being around always made everything better.

“So what’s up Sweets? I thought you had to work at the Wyrm tonight?”

“I did but I called out cause I wanted to tell you the good news I have, and I also wanted to spend time with my girl”

“oh well aren’t you the sweetest”

“it's in the name babe”

“you're a dork”

‘I know but you love it”

“Damn right I do... now what's the news”

“So... Southside high is closing down”

You started freaking out. If southside was closing where would he go. I mean Would they let the serpents come to Riverdale, or no they would make them go to Greendale and sweets would be even further from you “Oh my god Sweets I’m so sorry. Wait what does that mean how will you even get an education I mean I know Southside wasn't the best but at least it was a school. Are they making you go to Greendale? Your gonna be so far.”

“Babe calm down your gonna like what’s happening, trust me.”

“Okay tell me what's happening”

“All the serpents... me, Toni, Fangs, everyone is getting transferred to Riverdale”

“Oh my god...Holy shit” You stared at him. Deep down you were scared. The North and Southside were far from friends. Archie started some bullshit with them and it had blown over a little but Reggie hadn’t let up, you knew this could end badly and it was tugging at you. Sweets hugged you and you relaxed into him.

“Baby I get to be with you every day”

“Sweets this is the best news I have heard in a long time”

“well now that I told you that you wanna have a movie night?”

“Is that even a question”

With that, you guys had your movie night. You must have fallen asleep because you woke up in the middle of the night with a sticky note on your chest from Sweet Pea saying that FP called a serpent meeting, and he had to go but he would be there to pick you up for school. You were relieved everything would be okay from now on. Your best friends and your boyfriend would be with you and his presence always calmed you down you were excited for once. You woke up the next morning excited for school for once. You got dressed and made cinnamon toast for you both. When you heard his bike pull up out front you ran outside and shoved the toast in his mouth as he said good morning.

“Goo... OO cinnamon toast, I could get used to this”

“you are such a dork now eat up so we can get to school or we are gonna be late”

“someone's excited”

“only cause you'll be there with me” He kissed you and drove off,  arriving at the school lot a few mins later. You told him about the welcome table that Jug told you Veronica was setting up and he groaned. You grabbed his hand pulling him inside. You walked in with Sweets and stood next to Toni and Fangs, giving them a hug saying good morning and then went back to holding Sweet Peas hand. Something wasn’t sitting right with you. You knew the bulldogs hated the serpents and you were waiting for something to happen. Veronica started welcoming everyone when Cheryl came down the stairs with Reggie and your heart sank. She started talking some bullshit about how she didn’t want the serpents to drag Riverdale down. Toni got pissed and went at Cheryl. “Why don’t you say that to my face” Fangs grabbed her arm to stop her from going any further but you couldn’t be there. The anxiety started creeping up on you so you pulled Sweet Pea to your level telling him you forgot to do your bio homework and had to go to the lab. You felt his eyes on you as you began to slowly run away. You didn’t have any classes with him until after lunch so luckily you didn’t have to pretend to be alright until then. You walked into the cafeteria and saw all the serpents sitting together. You went and sat next to Pea as you started to unwrap your sandwich. You sat there as they talked picking not really in the mood to eat and Sweets had noticed. He whispered into your ear “baby are you alright?” you looked up at him smiling “yeah... yeah I'm good don’t worry.” he hoped it was enough to convince him but he knew you better than anyone. The bell rang and you went to your next class which went pretty well. Your next period was a free period and you wanted to throw some of your books in your locker before you and Pea went to sit with everyone. You told him you would meet him there but he wanted to be with you so you walked to your locker. When you went to turn down the hallway you saw the sticky note. “oh hey let's just go meet up with everyone I’ll go to my locker later” he looked down at me confused “baby your locker is on the way” He continued to walk. You went to pull the note but he grabbed it before you could. You didn’t want him to know. You had to be strong but it was all becoming too much. He read it “Y/N, what is this?”

“nothing... I don’t know... I get them from time to time no big deal”

“It is a big deal when it says things like this. Who is doing it?”

“I don’t know but don’t worry about it Pea it's fine, really”

“It is not fine” You flinched and he kept apologizing for scaring you. “It’s fine Pea go talk to Toni I'll be right there” You watched the note fall to the ground and Pea walk into the Rec room. You leaned down picking up and started reading. Must be nice to have your snake here with you... he better keep a tight hold on you. You walked into the rec room casually hoping pea hadn’t started anything and you saw him in front of Toni talking. You walked up to them and Toni grabbed your hand to tell you it was alright. You flinched at the touch slightly not expecting it and she looked at you with sadness in her eyes. You told her you were fine and then you heard Weatherbee come in telling everyone to follow him. You all did and you saw the snake painted on the ground. “What serpent did this” Veronica stood next to you scoffing and you decided to stand up “wow Reggie could you be more transparent” he went to go at you but Pea stepped in front of you. Weatherbee held Reggie back and said “From now on there will be no serpent jackets, all tattoos must be covered. Any gang paraphernalia will result in immediate expulsion” I was pissed, to say the least, he couldn’t do that. “Principal Weatherbee that is ridiculous. The serpents are happy to be here they wouldn’t do something like this just because they wear leather jackets does not mean they are bad people” Weatherbee spoke telling everyone to get to class and he left. Reggie spoke right after he left as we were about to walk away “Yeah way for the serpent slut to stand up for her snake” Sweet Pea went to move but you held onto his hand telling him to stop. He couldn't the one thing he always promised was to protect you. “Reggie no one talks to my girl like that. Understand?”. You still were standing looking at Sweet Pea “Yeah and what are you gonna do about it snake?” you ran not thinking and Toni followed. You asked her to take you to the Wyrm and she did.

You sat at the Wyrm thinking of all the things that Pea could have done to Reggie. Part of you was happy maybe the notes would stop. You knew Reggie had to be behind it but the other part of you was having a panic attack you hated fighting especially when it was the people you love. It scared the shit out of you. Luckily only a few people were in the bar seeing as it was only 2. Toni saw it in your eyes and tried to talk to you. You could hear her but it was muffled you made it out but couldn’t respond. Fangs texted her saying that Sweets didn’t fight Reggie. He let it go saying he wouldn’t fight in front of you. Apparently, he had gone all through the school looking for you and was freaking out because he didn’t know where you were. You told Toni not to tell him. To act like you were fine when he came to the bar and she did. You watched Sweets bust through the bar doors as you took a sip of your beer. “Holy shit... Y/N you're okay… I looked for you through the entire school I didn’t know where you went” you laughed at him and responded trying to play it off “yeah pea I’m fine I just didn’t wanna see Reggie get his ass beat. I gotta go do homework though...you can finish my beer. Call me later okay.” You got up to walk outside and he said he would come with you but FP stopped him telling him they had a job to go on. Pea looked to you and back to FP but the look FP gave him told him not to argue. He gave you a kiss on the lips and your forehead before letting you go.

You started the walk back to your trailer when you felt someone following you so you ran. The person got closer though so you took the brass knuckles out of your pocket that  Pea gave and put them on. It caught them in the shoulder and they grabbed their arm. You always had a good aim with knives. They lunged towards you and you caught them in the jaw with your brass Knuckles Pea gae you for your birthday. They caught you once in the lip but other than that you were fine. You kept punching until you knew they were knocked out, and you ran as fast as you could to your trailer your breathing heavy.

You got to your trailer and just sat on your bed not able to move. You wanted to text Pea but you knew he was on a job and you didn’t want him to know what was going on. You sat there in a panic partially about the person who followed you, partially about the serpents finding out you hurt someone, and partially about Pea being on a job and you not knowing if he was safe. You didn’t want to talk to anyone. The serpent's had a code. You didn’t hurt anyone unless they tried to hurt you and technically the guy didn’t you went at him first. I mean he scared you but that was it. They would never let you be a serpent now it was over.

The last two weeks had been so tough but everything was collapsing in. You tried to sleep but couldn’t you didn’t know if he was alright and before you could you needed to know.  You got the text from Pea saying him and FP were alright and they were driving home. You knew it was a matter of time before he found out but you were so tired, you couldn’t stay in your house so you went to the Quarry and slept on the couch that the young serpents kept there. You knew he would check your trailer first. You couldn't face him.

The next morning you woke up at 5am with a text from Pea asking where you were. You got a text from Toni a half hour later saying Pea was freaking out because you weren’t at your house. She was begging you to tell her where you were. You knew Pea would come to the Quarry next so you walked to school. You knew someone would text him that you were there or he would find you somehow... he always did.

[alicentsargent]

i’ll find it, i must (find what?, you ask?) hope

words: 1,511 - part 1

summary: an exploration of matteo and continuously doing what he promised himself not to do long ago: hope. (alternate s3, canon compliant to an extent. tw: explicit descriptions of depression/panic symptoms/self-medicating. based heavily on my own experiences with depression, anxiety and substance abuse)

MON 4:50AM

Night time turned into dawn, specks of light streaming through the open window of Matteo’s bedroom. The air was cold, soft drafts trailing through as the start to a new day began. The sound of people getting ready for the day, bowls being placed in the sink, car engines starting, all the while Matteo couldn’t feel the cold. He couldn’t feel much of anything at all.

Matteo twisted his head to look for the ash tray and found it too far to his right, far enough that he couldn’t just stretch out a hand to grab it. Overcome with heaviness, Matteo simply flicked the butt of his joint towards the ground, not caring about the spread of ash over the ground. He was technically outside at this point, his balcony a solace of fresh air and a glimpse into the outside world.

Matteo hadn’t left his house in 3 days.

He let out a shaky exhale as he lifted his head to squint up at the sky, pushing through the flash of burning pain as his eyes adjusted to the new light after another sleepless night. Matteo had been awake since 2am, unable to get back to sleep, tossing and turning, his thoughts overcome with a restless undefined panic. Feelings of dread and loss of control weren’t new to him, especially when it came time for him to sleep, but sitting up here on his balcony had slowly eased them to a barely there simmer, unlike the boiling force earlier.  

Once Matteo had started to feel the physical manifestations of panic overwhelm him, everything else had a habit of coming to the surface, making him spiral into the depths of his mind. His mom, Jonas, Sara, his feelings of utter fucking despair and how he’d never make a name for himself after he’d inevitably fail school. How he didn’t want anything, not anymore, he couldn’t, he really shouldn’t.  Hope had only brought him the worst, he’d realised.  He had hoped and hoped, wishing for so much, for anything, just so that he could breathe easier, to not feel so suffocated.

He’s tried to focus on school, has even gone to his study sessions with Amira. He’s tried to force himself to want Sara and he’s hung out with Jonas and the boys when he can, as well as participated in flat share meetings and dinners, by force of Hans. Being a person never felt so draining and so full at the same time. Matteo grew more tired as time went on, he’d been trying his best to just go through the motions but he could sometimes see the looks of concern his friends gave him. The whispered words he’d sort of overheard between them, especially the last time they’d all hung out at Matteo’s for a few drinks and Matteo, brain filled with fogginess, could barely feign any interest that night.

Matteo didn’t think much of himself as being an actor. He performed his life and how it was supposed to look like… how he was supposed to want it.

And maybe, yeah, he pretended to be okay so that his friends would leave him alone. There was the stress with his mom and his exams were coming up. These things were stressful and they slipped off his tongue as immediate excuses as they were easily accepted. Jonas especially, knew how hard things were with Matteo’s mom, knew enough to be the cause of a few shoved elbows and choice words to get Carlos and Abdi off his back. Only none of them were aware that those things were just the tip of the iceberg for what Matteo’s mind spun on the daily, draining his energy till his only desire was when his next hit of weed was going to be.  

The hum of traffic was louder and Matteo could hear noises from inside his apartment by the time his body started registering the cold. His fingers felt numb where they held the nearly dead joint in between them.  Numbingly, Matteo searched for the lighter he had stashed under his leg before bringing it to his lips to light up the last of it. He needed every bit of silence in his mind if he ever wanted to get through the next few hours of school.

 MON 09:12

Matteo was late as he stuffed his books from his locker into his bag, blowing out cold air from his mouth as he hastily zipped up his bag up and closed his locker on the way to his next class. He never bothered with a lock; he knew he had nothing good enough for anyone to steal.

Still dazed from sleep deprivation was perhaps why Matteo didn’t notice his head colliding with the person coming around from the corner. He heard a sharp “ooof” and stumbled, hand pressed against his forehead to press back against the pulsing ache that emerged. As his blurriness receded, he noticed a couple of books on the floor, a figure clad in all black picking them up one by one and stacking them on top of each other. Matteo, flustered and apologetic, bent down to help with what was left and that’s when the person he literally ran into looked up at him.

Matteo suddenly noticed how dry his mouth was and swallowed hard. The boy was beautiful. His eyes were dark and he was wearing all black but Matteo was struck by how soft he looked. Then the boy smiled and Matteo could feel his heart race at a stupidly embarrassing rate, he only hoped he had the decency to close his mouth and wasn’t gaping at this boy, who looked wary as Matteo’s silence went on.

“I-uh- fuck man, I’m so sorry,” Matteo said to him.

The boy’s lips quirked up and as he surveyed Matteo, his barely there smile disappeared at whatever he must of saw. Matteo wanted to curl in on himself.

“Hey, nah it’s all good. I wasn’t watching where I was going either it seems,” The boy replied, letting out a small laugh before shouldering his bag and accepting the pens Matteo still held in his hand.

He started to turn away before he glanced back at Matteo, and Matteo felt his heart constrict and expand like a fucking balloon.

“Thanks…” he started, before glancing around the empty hallway, “Didn’t expect to be head butted this early though; the universe is sending me a message,” the boy joked, his eyes shining, and Matteo… Matteo couldn’t understand how someone could be this happy in the morning, especially after having someone like Matteo running into them.

Too worried about what to say, Matteo ended up not thinking through his words.

“Yeah,” Matteo teased as he mustered up a cheeky grin, “Guess uh - guess um … the universe wanted us to literally fall into one another… yeah,” Matteo finished haltingly, his body turning cold. What the fuck did he just say?

The boy blinked at him a few times and then Matteo’s ears were ringing with the sound of laughter.

Matteo looked at the boy in front of him, his head thrown back as he laughed at the bad joke Matteo had been trying to make. He was beautiful and Matteo started to squirm, he wanted to know his name. It felt like such a long time since Matteo heard sounds that were that sweet and genuine for him, because of him. He couldn’t help but wish he could freeze this moment, savour it forever.

Matteo barely noticed when the boy stopped laughing.

The boy gave Matteo a look as he gained back his composure. He nodded to himself and said in a quiet mumble, “Yeah, maybe.”

Laughing boy then turned and started walking away backwards towards the direction Matteo came from, keeping his inquisitive eyes on him for far too long before spinning himself around and facing forwards.

Matteo was struck still as he watched the boy walk away and he felt a pang of yearning, yearning that he thought had cut off with Jonas in the past.

As Matteo was still standing in the same spot, he wasn’t able to miss the small grin the boy turned back to give him before finally turning the corner.  

Fuck, Matteo thought as he closed his eyes, banging his head back against the wall behind him. Fuck.

MON 20:58

Only hours after getting home and spending most of his time laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the boy he met today, the one with the laugh that people probably made songs about, had Matteo come to the realization that he never got to find out the other boy’s name.  

Matteo, in frustration, smashed his face into his pillow and groaned loudly. He was startled when a knock sounded on his door and he heard Hans pleased voice call out, “Ooooh Matteo! Do you have someone in there with you?!”

Matteo just groaned again as he pressed his face deeper into his pillow, drowning out all other noise.

[o-wyrmlight]

@fadingriverut said: Spill the tea! | @yeehawskeletons said: spill it!!!

Okay, so I’m spilling the tea. Prepare yourself for an essay.

So, the premise is this:

Have you ever been frustrated at the idea of Sans acting like a child when he’s actually the older brother? Or has it ever made you a little uncomfortable? Personally, I find the idea to be equal parts cute/endearing and... sketchy. Underswap is an AU where characters switch places and personalities with each other, but often it’s without much explanation or reason.

So, my proposal is this:

Instead of switching personalities, Sans and Papyrus switch energies.

Now, you may be wondering: What do you mean by that? Let me explain.

...Under a Read More, because this is about to get pretty long.

First, we’re going to look at Sans.

In the original Undertale, Sans is lazy. He was exposed to Resets long before Frisk fell into the Underground, so he lost the vast majority of his motivation to continue existing. As a result, he spiraled down into a deep depressive state that drained him and, by the end of the game, ‘makes it hard to give his all’. How does he know about Resets to begin with? There’s a popular theory that he worked as a scientist. Let’s go with that for simplicity.

In other words, even in the final battle, it’s suggested that he still wasn’t giving his entirety even up to the end. Have you ever tried to do something when you’re depressed? When you’re already tired? Even if it’s something that you really enjoy doing, or that you’re really good at, when you try to put your all into it, your head just kind of doesn’t want to work with you. You get fatigued. More fatigued than when you first started. And you get even more fatigued if you have the pressure on you that you have to do it, like it’s an obligation.

Doing pretty much anything when you’re depressed is exhausting.

However, he still makes an effort to put his all into it. He still tries to stop you from reaching the Surface because he has to. He can’t let a true monster leave the Underground, not when he can do something to stop it. So he devotes himself to stopping you using any means necessary. He is the antithesis of a pacifist--he is the definition of karma to the megalomaniac that you are.

Now, let’s take a look at Papyrus.

Compared to Sans, Papyrus is far more energetic, far more motivated, and far more friendly and eager to please. This is largely because he doesn’t know about the Resets--or, if he does (thanks, Flowey), he either doesn’t understand it or refuses to let it get to him. 

There’s a very strong possibility that it’s the latter--Papyrus isn’t an idiot, after all. He knows that when humans gets captured, they will be killed by Asgore, and their SOUL will be used as a key to unlock the barrier. There’s no way around it.

The issue is, Papyrus is really hard to get a read on. Despite the fact that he has the most dialogue in the game, we know next to nothing about Papyrus. Heck, we know more about Sans than we know about Papyrus. Papyrus is a paradox of lies and backtracking--he puts on foils for other people for the sake of making them happy. Who knows if what he shows Frisk is even the real him, even after Frisk shows him that they care about him for who he really is? Is it really the real him?

One thing is for certain, though: Papyrus is the antithesis of Genocide. In battle with him, he outright refuses to kill you. He doesn’t even put his all into the fight at all--he’s so distracted by the ‘date’ that he puts different gels and sauces behind his ear during the fight. And that’s not even including his moral decision between being ‘popular’ or befriending the human. Can you imagine how hard his attacks must hit and how difficult it might be to dodge if he were to completely focus?

There’s this idea that the more a monster moves in a fight, the more effort they’re putting into it. The more of their ‘all’ they’re putting into it. Guess who literally doesn’t move at all when you fight him? (That’s right, it’s Papyrus.)

Yet still, despite how distracted he is, despite how much of his ‘all’ he’s not putting into the fight, despite that emotional level of uncertainty, he still maintains the self-control to recognize when Frisk is too weak to proceed. None of his attacks actually kill Frisk. He refuses to kill them, and that’s what sets him apart from Sans: This pure, undiluted mercy, even when Frisk is set on a genocidal streak. He still believes that Frisk can be good.

Which is more than what we can say for Sans, who literally had to hold himself back from killing Frisk when he first saw them.

As It Applies to Underswap

Now that we’ve got that covered, we can establish my mentality behind this ‘hot take’ that I have.

So the entirety of this take stems from one key, important detail that I very briefly mentioned:

Remember when I said that UT!Sans was working in the science lab and that there was a theory that something went wrong that exposed him to Resets? The same happened to US!Papyrus.

...Surprise~

But really. Let me go into a little bit more detail about this.

If we think about it, if Sans’ lack of energy stemmed from the feeling of hopelessness and existentialist dread that came with the realization that Resets exist, then it only makes sense that the very same thing would happen to Papyrus... only in Papyrus’ case, he’s much better at hiding it.

As a result, Sans never lost most of his energy. He’s still the big brother, but he puts himself out there more. He works. He works for the Royal Guard. He’s second-in-command under Alphys. He’s able to use all of his power to the best of his abilities, and he’s happy and so much more energetic than he was before, because he doesn’t have that burden weighing him down like Papyrus does. That said, he doesn’t act like a child: More like that excitable best friend who loves his little brother to bits and pieces and would work himself bone-tired to make sure he’s okay, not trusting that Papyrus wouldn’t ever get hurt.

Papyrus, meanwhile, pushes himself. He has depression. He has anxiety. He has stress. He has self-esteem issues. What else is new? But he doesn’t want Sans to worry, so like he did in the original Undertale, he pretends. He hides it. He has sleepless nights, which makes him more tired, which makes him less willing to get a job, but he still manages it somehow. He manages to keep Sans from worrying... too much.

But when the human falls and initiates Genocide? This is where situations differ.

Sans still refrains from killing Chara (this is Underswap, remember), but only because King Asgore requested him not to. He watches Chara like a hawk to make for certain that they don’t hurt his little brother. And when Chara doesn’t let up in Genocide... Sans fights them.

...Where Papyrus fought Frisk in Undertale.

And it’s hard. It’s ruthless. Sans is energized and he is angry and defensive, and he doesn’t let up for one moment. You can still spare him, but the process is long and tedious and it’s all but impossible to actually hit him because he either dodges out of the way or summons bones to defend himself. He is, quite literally, giving it his all, because it’s not just Papyrus he’s protecting--it’s the whole of the Underground. It’s the humans. It’s the world.

But Sans can die. And when he does, Chara moves on through the Underground, playing their murderous instrument and trailing monster dust in their wake. And when they reach the Judgement Hall...

They’re greeted by Papyrus.

And when they begin to fight... well...

The thing is, people seem to enjoy the idea that Papyrus would kill someone like Sans would. But remember: In this version of Underswap, it’s not their personalities that are switched--but rather, their energy.

Their personalities are solid. Their morals are still in line.

Sans is the definition of an unstoppable force: Papyrus is the personification of an immovable object.

Because Papyrus offers what Sans didn’t--MERCY.

Even after everything that Chara did to the Underground, Papyrus still offers MERCY. Because--despite the knowledge that Chara could very well not change--he still holds to the belief that they could, if they just wanted to. If they just try. He’s certain that they just need a hand of unjudgemental kindness to guide the way. He fights, and he’s harder to defeat than Sans, but he doesn’t allow you to die--instead, he ends the battle and allows you to heal. He has more health than Sans, more moves than Sans, more defense than Sans... and he hits harder because he’s putting his all into it. And he is focusing. Trying so desperately hard to change the way that things are.

He knows that Chara can be good--he has that deja vu that comes with Resets, foggy, distant memories where they were friends. And he has unstoppable faith that they could be friends again.

And if he happens to be wrong?

...Well.

It’s not as if he has much to live for anymore.

Also they both wear matching clothes: They both wear a scarf and a jacket and it’s adorable

I TOLD YOU THIS WAS GOING TO BE AN ESSAY

[ununniliad]

Writer's Block Person #43: "Part of Your Community"

In the middle of the night, Kid Review woke up, arms annoyingly empty of anyone to snuggle. They yaaaaaawned and used the tiniest dot of the Review Force to find out where their bedmate had gone.

Aha. Writer's Block Person was sitting on the couch, in the living room, with the lights off, staring off into space. Okay.

Kid Review got up, quietly, and walked to the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. They could see Writer's Block Person outlined in the panels of moonlight coming thru the open blinds. "Hey hon."

"Hey." They sounded a bit annoyed at their reverie being interrupted, but that was okay.

"Do you want to be alone," asked Kid Review, "or is it okay if I join you?

Writer's Block Person hesitated... "I could use some hugs." The annoyance had faded.

Kid Review slipped into place beside them, putting their arms around them, and Writer's Block Person laid their head on their shoulder. The two of them sat there, breathing, being warm in the moonlight. Kid Review felt the shape in their arms bit by bit soften, the tension relaxing out of Writer's Block Person's body.

After a few minutes, Kid Review asked, "Do you want to talk?"

"Mmm."

Kid Review didn't press it, and Writer's Block Person closed their eyes, nuzzling into them, breath evening out. After a minute, they opened their eyes. "So..."

"Yeah?" said Kid Review.

"I had a team-up today."

"Yeah?" they said again, making space for the words to come.

"With a guy from the Cooperative Community."

"Ohhh... I kind of remember them."

"Yeah, they're..." Writer's Block Person sat up, pulling the details into their mind. "They're this sort of... anarchist commune who, like, have this really good-sounding list of principles they follow, about supporting each other's happiness, and self-expression, and ability to do the things they feel driven to do, and such..." They took a deep breath, let it out. "And... they have these brain interface devices that are supposed to help with that, like... they reinforce those thoughts, like, reinforce the principles that they're all supposed to follow in their brains, and I guess make it easier to think about support and, I guess, friend love, and stuff. And like, they're supposed to help release petty anger, and they also smooth out, like, anxiety and depression and such. And they all, like... get them updated all the time..." They shrugged one shoulder. "Yeah."

"Gotcha..." Kid Review was starting to have a sneaking suspicion of what the problem was. "So... what's up?"

Writer's Block Person took another breath, in and out, sat up and adjusted themself. "To be honest? They freak me out."

Yeah, that was it. "Yeah?"

"Like... I think I managed to not show it to the guy I was teaming up with. He had... like, water powers? And he seemed real nice and everything. Didn't, like, ask me to join, was friendly, we traded contact info for future team-ups."

Kid Review nodded. "But?"

"But like... the entire idea of... having your brain hardware written to by a big organization of other people, where you can't know every single one of them intimately..." Writer's Block Person swallowed, rubbed their chest. "Feels intensely, vibrantly, burningly wrong."

Kid Review put their arms back around Writer's Block Person and squeezed them, and they sighed. 

"Like..." Writer's Block Person stopped, and thought quietly for a minute, and Kid Review let them. "You remember that one part in Men in Black? 'A person is smart, people are dangerous panicky animals?'"

"Yeah?"

"I hate that line so much." Writer's Block Person shook their head, hard. "It's thoughtless and cynical and fake deep, it's a fucking... justification for government agents, who are our heroes by the way, to lie to the public and take away their agency on a massive fundamental level. It's stupid and..." They took a deep, shuddering breath. "And I'm supposed to be better than thinking that way but I can't... I can trust a person but it's so hard to trust people, to not, like... think of them as..." Their fists clenched, and Kid Review could feel the tension in their back. "Waiting to be taken over by greedy and awful manipulators."

Writer's Block Person took a deep breath and the words gushed out like a river in the first spring thaw. "I'm super scared of giving my agency away to any group where I can't see the faces and know the names of every single person in it, because the person I don't know is going to be just another of these fucking gray-faced assholes who wants to hollow me out, drain me dry, take away... take away everything I've made myself into and more. Take away my ability to feel pleasure, to experience joy or happiness of any kind, and just... grind me away as some kind of meaningless useless sin-eater, some stupid puppet for assholes to reflect their own anxiety onto and beat down until doomsday." And their voice was shaky and their breath hitched, and suddenly they were crying, big, sobbing tears.

"Oh, hon..." Kid Review turned Writer's Block Person's face into their chest, letting them cry, petting their hair, stroking gently down their head and back. When it seemed like the flow was slowing, they snuggled Writer's Block Person back into their chest, pressing their fingertips into the back of their loved one's neck, rubbing softly. "Hey. It's okay. You're okay, love."

The shuddering sobs slowed, and Writer's Block Person's breath evened out, and they were soft against them. "...sorry."

"No, don't be." Kid Review helped Writer's Block Person sit up a bit, and nuzzle their face into their shoulder. "Your bad feelings are valid. You're a good bean. You're good."

The two sat there, the bad feelings floating off into the warm night air, sitting and relaxing in soft silence.

Kid Review took a deep breath, and gave Writer's Block Person a squeeze. "So... do you feel like you're gonna be tempted into joining up with those guys, or something?"

Writer's Block Person straightened up again. "Nah... or..." They ran their hand thru their hair and leaned back. "I dunno, I've always... wanted to experience everything, you know? Life is so..." They gestured, hands spiraling around each other in lazy circles. "There's so much and I love new things and I love the world. And like... having your brain messed with..." They smiled a little. "Doesn't sound like it'd be all bad."

Kid Review smiled. "I mean, people do it a lot of ways, with drugs and with hypnosis and with spiritual deep dives."

"Right." Writer's Block Person nodded. "And I've dabbled with all of those..."

"...and it's not like you've never been burned," said Kid Review, playing with Writer's Block Person's hair.

"Yeah. So like..." They shrugged. "I don't know. I don't think I'd want to join the Community. For one, I don't think I could put up with how generic the name is." Writer's Block Person smiled, and Kid Review chuckled. "But the basic idea..." They sucked a breath thru their teeth. "I could see at least trying it..." They looked off into space, then turned back to Kid Review. "And you know, part of me worries about the people in there, too."

"Right." Kid Review rubbed Writer's Block Person's scalp, smiling. "But you're being selfish right now, and that's okay."

"Heh." They grinned a little. "Right. And I..." They looked out the window. The sky was starting to turn just a little bit blue. "I just... I remember being real young and having so much good energy and... not constant joy but so much happy engagement with the world around me. And..." They wrapped their arms around themself. "And I had so much taken away from me. Taken piece by tiny piece, by the people who were supposed to keep me safe, give me what I needed, raise me right. And I thought it was just..." They clenched their fist. "Just the process of growing up, that it was inevitable. And I forgot how wonderful it could be just to be alive until I found people who..." They smiled at Kid Review. "People who were willing to help me find those tiny pieces again and put them back into place. And I'm just... part of me is just honestly terrified of it happening again." They shook their head. "Thinking that some nice people are helping me out as they strip away little bits of joy under the surface. Maybe they don't even mean to. I don't think the people who raised me meant bad things for me. But..." They shrugged. "Yeah." They sighed, falling back against the couch pillows. "Yeah."

Writer's Block Person lapsed into silence, staring out the window, watching the sun rise; and Kid Review watched with them. When the shapes of houses and trees were clear and in color, they said, "How are you feeling?"

Writer's Block Person heh'd, and smiled at them. "Better." They stretched and yawned. "Mmm... that really didn't have too much to do with the Community, did it."

"Not really." Kid Review grinned.

Writer's Block Person pushed themself to their feet, and extended a hand to help Kid Review up. "I should apologize, get them a gift basket or something."

"They're fine, I'm sure." Kid Review took the hand, standing, and slipped their arms around Writer's Block Person's waist, nuzzling into their shoulder. "Maybe in the morning, you can see if they need any actual help. Maybe reach out to that guy you teamed up with, keep in touch - reassure yourself that nothing screwy's going on."

"Yeah." Writer's Block Person sighed, and kissed Kid Review on the cheek. "Sorry for making you get up."

"You should be. I demand makeup snuggles."

"Sounds good. You wanna be the big spoon?"

"Yes please~"

And the world kept turning.

[tawmlinsun]

today is august 10th, which means it’s the one year anniversary of my celiac disease diagnosis and my subsequent switch to a strictly gluten-free lifestyle, and i’m using today as a chance to reflect on everything that’s changed in the past year.

tw: mental health (anxiety, depression), body image, ED, chronic illness

last summer was the absolute worst summer of my entire fucking life. but outside, everything looked practically perfect. i had just gotten back from my semester abroad, having traveled to ten cities across six countries, and i was working my literal dream internship: writing for a major fashion brand.

but (and there’s always a but), my mental and physical health were at their absolute lowest points. i was having anxiety attacks in the work bathroom every other day and i was completely isolating myself from my friends. i just felt so drained 24/7. i was always sitting down, taking breaks. i barely had the energy to post on instagram, never mind do my laundry. my anxiety? at an all-time high. from morning to night i was on edge. plus, i was spiraling into a depression i had never experienced prior.

i remember thinking to myself that i just wasn’t a person who got to feel good. that it wasn’t for me, that i didn’t deserve it. and i genuinely forgot what it felt like to feel good, in any sense of the word.

and holy fuck, my body image and eating issues rushed back to me like a fucking tsunami. i had worked so hard for so many years to repair my relationships with myself and with food and, within the span of a few short months, it felt like everything had been completely erased. i was barely eating, mostly because even looking at food made me nauseous, and i lost so much weight that summer. (and, terribly, when relatives called my weight loss out and said i looked good, i felt that rush of pride again, like at least being miserable had done something good. and that alone fucked me up more than anything.)

also brain fog. i hate brain fog. i felt so sluggish and tired all the time, and focusing on my work was a nightmare. i was writing about clothes!!! i was writing about things i loved!!! but i was moving through assignments at a snail’s pace, and despite my supervisor’s glowing reviews of my work, it felt like i wasn’t doing my best. i knew there was more in me. it was just stuck underneath the heavy clouds in my mind and my bones.

so my mind was miserable but so was my body. i woke up to excruciating stomach pain every single morning. i was nauseous 24/7, to the point where i  had a plastic bag in my purse at all times in case i randomly got sick. dancing was the one thing that had always brought me joy, but i could barely dance around my kitchen for a single song without getting lightheaded. i got winded walking to trader joe’s. i would come home from work, make a measly dinner, and then have to lie down right after eating bc my body was working overtime trying to deal with food it was never made to handle. (and seriously, shoutout to my roommate for taking all of this in stride and being so understanding when i left dishes in the sink for days on end, when i just couldn’t muster up the energy to wash them.)

i don’t even know how many times i texted my mom in a panic over how terrible i felt. i knew that there was something wrong, but so many people in my life were brushing off my worries. some said it was just my anxiety, which had given me many a stomachache over the years. some said it was just the aftereffects of going abroad and the resulting diet changes. some said it was my body getting used to the 40hr workweek routine. but they all said that i would get over it.

instead, i got worse.

it got to the point where i was leaving work early because i felt so horrible, and then my mother finally broke down and scheduled a doctor’s appointment for me, but the earliest one she could get was a month away. i switched my diet around so much in those four weeks, trying new things with ever-worsening results. i think that month was my absolute worst.

and then i finally, finally, went to the doctor’s office and did five fucking hours of blood tests, and then waited a week for the results.

they messed up and called my mom first, and she pretended to be me so that they would tell her. and so she called me at work, audibly near tears, to tell me that i had celiac disease. she said it like it was something that would break me. she said it with the expectation that i would burst into tears just like her.

oh my fucking god y’all that was the best news i had ever heard in my entire fucking life. still is.

i finally had an answer!!! i knew what was happening with my body!!! i had a clear-cut plan to get better!!! i was no longer watching helplessly from the sidelines as my body destroyed itself from the inside out!!!

i had brought a pb sandwich (aka the only thing i could at least kind of stomach at that point) to work for lunch, but after my mom’s call i threw that out and went down the street to get a salad from pret. and after work i went home, cleared out my pantry (my roommate got a lot of free food that night lol), and made a long-ass gluten-free grocery list. the next day, i went hard at whole foods (much to my bank account’s dismay).

and it’s not like going gluten-free has cured me. celiac disease is a chronic illness, an autoimmune disease; it’s sticking with me for the rest of my life, save for some weird scientific advancement that magically gives my body the ability to digest gluten.

yes, i’m gluten-free and i’m essentially “treating” my celiac disease, but by no means am i feeling good all the time.

i still have days where i feel like shit. i get glutened every so often and my symptoms come back in an instant, except even more intense than before. i’ve avoided events because i knew there wouldn’t be food for me to eat, and i’ve canceled on friends more times than i can count because i just wasn’t feeling up to it, either mentally or physically. i get dehydrated at the drop of a hat, and genuinely cannot go more than three hours without food before getting sick to my stomach.

but i also feel better than ever before. i’m happier. my anxiety/depression aren’t as bad. i’m healthier. i enjoy food again, something i haven’t done in years. my brain fog has pretty much disappeared, and the most common feedback i’ve gotten across my internships/jobs is how quick and efficient i am, while never dropping the ball on work quality. not only am i writing fic again, but i’m writing more fic than ever before, and i have the energy to pour love back into my words. i dance whenever and whenever possible, and over the past few months i’ve been filming a bunch of improv videos. i’m comfortable with my movement and with my body, for what is probably the first time in my life.

i’m proud of my gluten-free body because it is strong and it is beautiful and it can handle anything.

i am strong and i am beautiful and i can handle anything.

i feel like i found myself after going gluten-free. i know myself better than ever before. i’m more confident in my thoughts and feelings and beliefs. i don’t walk around like i’m scared anymore. i wear clothes that i love and that make me feel good and feel like myself. i’m so much more confident in my sexuality (she’s a gluten-free gay, y’all!!!). i know what makes me mad and what makes me frustrated, and even though confrontation is still hard, at least i know why i’m feeling a certain way.

and look at me now!!! i was co-president of my dance company and poured my heart into my choreography. i had the strength to try new moves and learn new things and grow as a choreographer. i graduated from uni with a degree in a field i absolutely adore. i love my job, even though it’s not my dream position, and i’m happy to go into work every day. i still struggle with social anxiety and with reaching out to make plans, but i’m not isolating myself to the same extent as i did last year.

something that has seriously helped me through the past two years is “minute by minute.” i don’t know how many times i told myself to just get through this next minute. to hold on for this next minute. to breathe deep because yes, your stomach hurts this minute, but that doesn’t mean it’ll hurt in the next one; all you have to do is get to the minute where you feel good.

(and, admittedly, i’m still not sure i know what “good” means. when i first went gluten-free and my symptoms started disappearing, my anxiety spiked because i was so sure the other shoe was about to drop. i had gotten so used to being miserable that i was terrified of being okay. i still feel like this sometimes, when i’ve had “too many” good days in a row.)

one day, i’m gonna get a tattoo inspired by “minute by minute.” (and no, it’s not going to actually say “minute by minute,” in any language.) i have the design and placement in mind; just waiting for the right time. and of course, the phrase has its origins in skam and i will forever be grateful to the show for giving me the tools to cope with what was happening to my body, but this tattoo is for me, not for skam. like they’re not really related, if that makes sense. my (future) tattoo will be a reminder to myself that i’m stronger than i think i am, and that i can get through anything as long as i take it minute by minute.

[guksthighs]

Alone || poly

Excerpt: ‘The world would fall away around his chair or feet until it was just Yoongi. Always all alone, again.’

Genre: angst, comfort, fluff

Length: 1.7k

A/N: it’s been a hard month, so i wrote and somewhere along the road yoongi became the idol i wrote about. i know some people have noticed i seem different and i guess that’s cus i am? anyway sorry for this imagine. there is some comfort haha

there are probably gonna be more like this coming up. sorry.

** i am in no way implying yoongi feels or thinks this way.

trigger warnings:: mentions of anxiety, worthlessness, depression (?) just don’t read if you’re easily triggered.

If you feel similar to the emotions described in this imagine please seek help, you deserve it.

It was a harmless comment but then that’s usually all it takes for the spiral to begin. A spiral isn’t the best description, he usually described it as being trapped in a room underwater, with a slow leak.

The water would be lapping at your feet, soaking through your socks and causing a mild irritation and you would try and distract yourself. Until it becomes impossible, the water is at your waist making every movement an effort, an excursion that you don’t have the energy for-

The tentative voice of Jimin broke Yoongi’s train of thoughts, “your lip is bleeding.” He placed a finger to his lip, pulling it away in surprise as the bitter taste of copper flooded his mouth. During times when he was this out of it, all his senses would dull and then fade; the constant hum of chatter from the boys would fade away until it felt like it was just him.

The world would fall away around his chair or feet until it was just Yoongi. Always all alone, again.

“Yoongi? You okay?” Jimin’s eyes betrayed the worry he had managed to conceal in his voice. Yoongi was familiar with that look. But he shook his head, shaking away the thoughts for long enough to clear the fog and smile at Jimin.

“You worry too much pipsqueak-”

Jimin’s eyes went from unsure to angry, jumping back he straightened his back and pointed his chin at the sky as if balancing something on his nose like a seal in an aquarium, “I’m taller than you Min YoONGI!”

Yoongi nodded and didn’t bother making the comment about insoles or that Jimin was standing and not sitting, or that he was balancing on the tips of his toes.

The comment hadn’t been made to chip away at Jimin’s self-confidence that the boy had just managed to get to a decent place, but to distract his friend from Yoongi’s current problems.

The problems that made his chest tight from being in that room full of water for so long, too long. Yoongi knew it was coming, everything was getting louder and the colours seemed to be too vibrant for his eyes to recognise. He shut his eyes.

“Yoongi?” It was Namjoon, he cracked an eye open to look at the leader with a wry smile, “we don’t need you for any of the other tracks, go home.” The leader was smart, he could see the bags under his friend’s eyes and knew that his constant excuse of work was not the real reason why Yoongi was struggling so much.

As he stood up his head felt strangely light, Yoongi quickly walked out of the studio and kept walking until he got to the lift. The button lit up as his finger pressed it and then he was alone.

The past week had been full of deadlines and today was meant to have been a rest for everyone. Instead, they had all been called in to work on vocals for a new song because the studio had ‘deleted’ them.

The lift door opened; images of being trapped and forgotten flashed through his mind. The lift was empty and Yoongi blinked to notice the doors were no longer open. Maybe it was better that he took the stairs, fewer metal boxes included.

As he began walking down he wondered if the lift was a symbol for his life. He only ever noticed doors shutting in his face, and believed what was behind them was incredible. But maybe they always held nothing behind them, maybe his whole life was full of empty rooms because he had no path to follow.

He was alone.

The stairs were cold as Yoongi’s ass came into contact with it, his legs seemed to have collapsed underneath him. Yoongi was too tired to pretend to be surprised, instead, he made a hum of acknowledgement, he slid down the last few steps until he reached the floor. He was probably going to get a bruise, but it didn’t matter.

It felt like his throat was constricting, tears began to swim blurring his vision.

Maybe if he stopped moving he’d be able to forget everything. Give himself enough time to get rid of all this water that was filling his lungs now, Yoongi’s breathing began to jolt as he desperately tried to stop thinking.

But his mind had erupted with all the thoughts he had been suppressing; he felt weak and stupid.

Everyone offered him help but he could never accept it.

He didn’t need help.

He didn’t deserve help.

A sob echoed around the stairwell, Yoongi looked around surprised at the noise until he realised it was him making it. He was crying, nose running and hands trembling like leaves being tugged at by the wind.

Yoongi realised he was waiting for someone to come, someone to notice that he wasn’t okay and save him. But as his tears began to dry and his sobs lessen, he understood that no one was coming.

That’s what he deserved. He was ‘cold-hearted’ and he fulfilled the role well. He’d said he was okay, so why would they go searching for him? He stood up, wiped his nose on a piece of paper with old lyrics on them and began heading home.

His body felt heavy, his arms felt like they were dragging against the floor as he walked the short distance back to the dorm.

The sky was black, lights on the side of the road illuminated the way and Yoongi wondered when it had become night. Why his life seemed to be slipping through his fingers like sand, it was all too much for him.

There was something about walking alone that made Yoongi feel happy, the gentle breeze was a comfort and seemed to sound better than any song he would ever be able to produce.

When he was alone, Yoongi didn’t feel the need to be upbeat, to try and pretend that he wasn’t struggling with so many small things that just seemed lame when he went to talk about them.

The door seemed larger than he remembered, towering over him and making him feel like maybe it would be easier to just turn around and walk back to the studio. He had been sleeping there for the past week because Yoongi was starting to feel like he didn’t fit in with the fast-paced and constantly happy boys.

Just as he began to back away, the door swung open and Jeongguk’s eyes widened as he looked at his elder, “Hyung?” The boy took a tentative step forward, his gym bag falling from his shoulder as he tackled Yoongi in a hug.

“Please come in, please sleep here tonight?” Jeongguk seemed so vulnerable, his shoulders were shaking and quickly Yoongi wrapped his arms around his back.

Jeongguk pulled away to inspect Yoongi, instead, his eyes widened at the state of the elder boy before he squeezed him back into a hug. “Don’t cry,” Yoongi’s eyes widened as he realised the sting in his eyes was because he was crying, tears streamed down his cheeks as he sobbed into Jeongguk’s chest.

It wasn’t long before Jimin walked to the door, confused as to why Jeongguk had forgotten to shut it on his way out. When he saw the state of his friends, he quickly alerted the rest of the door before shoving past Jeongguk to see Yoongi.

“You wanted help,” he muttered, head ducking down to rest on Yoongi’s chest as Jimin began to cry, “I should have been there. We love you so much, don’t just hide these things. Please?”

Yoongi was less hysterical, sitting silently with Jeongguk squeezing his hand and Jimin talking to him, head leaning on Yoongi’s chest so all the elder could see was a mop of black unruly hair.

Soon enough the rest of the boys filed through the door that seemed so much smaller than before, less threatening than before and Yoongi sunk into the hugs of his closest friends. Everyone was silent and yet it was obvious that there was a shared thought over the boys.

Hoseok was the one to break the silence, he had his arms wrapped around Yoongi’s waist, “you’re one of us.” His voice was shaking and Yoongi felt horrible, beginning to squirm at the idea of hurting the people he loved the most, “you don’t have to act or pretend anymore. It’s okay that you feel this way, as long as we get to help you.”

Yoongi finally managed to swivel as he hugged Hoseok back, pressing a firm kiss to the younger’s head, “I’ll do my best.” his laugh was obviously fake and everyone tightened their collective hug. It was warm, and Yoongi began to wonder the last time he had felt so at home, he had felt so cold and alone. Now with everyone surrounding him, he let himself be the centre of the attention, even if it was just going to be for a bit.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Yoongi looked up at Namjoon whose brows had creased in worry, the boy understanding to an extent what had most likely happened to Yoongi over the past month.

The water that had filled the room suddenly began to drain as Yoongi stood up and smiled down at the boys before walking through the door to the dorm, to their home, “I’m going nowhere.” The door that had confined him for so long he had forgotten what it was like to breathe without feeling constricted swung open, and as the boys tackled him into another hug, Yoongi let himself cry.

They were there for him. They loved him and he was home.

Finally, he was home.

If you enjoyed this, please do not hesitate to like, reblog and comment~

And tell me your thoughts in the comments/ask box <3

For my drabbles: click here

[dallydaydream]

Kind of a follow-up from yesterday...

Yesterday, and lately in general, have been the kind of days when my brain constantly drills into me messages like “I don’t deserve to exist” “I take up too much space” “I’m worthless” etc. And it can get really hard to fight those messages. Like, logically I know my brain is lying to me, but when the depression is bad enough, I lack the energy to fight back.

So I guess it’s important to be able to have some self-affirming mantras on hand to practice saying when I can fight against my self-loathing. I finally took a shower today, and caught myself worrying about the noise it was making, but managed to out-logic that anxiety. “It’s not even 9pm” “I’m allowed to shower” “I’m allowed to exist”. That last one especially. “I’m allowed to exist” over and over a few times. I was surprised by how much it helped. I was surprised by how much I believed it. I fundamentally know I’m allowed to exist, but sometimes I need a reminder, and sometimes that reminder needs to come from me. I couldn’t do that for myself yesterday, but I could do it today, and that matters.

See, here’s one of the constants I pick up from whatever therapy or counselling I’ve gone to over the years. Practice is so damn important. I get frustrated when I can’t go from “anxiety attack” to “calm” or “depressive episode” to “productive” at the flip of a switch, but of course I can’t. Because the coping mechanisms used to rebalance myself take practice. And if you’re going to do something really hard, like run a marathon, or bench your own weight, you don’t just do that right off the bat. You work up to it. You start with jogging, or smaller weights, or practicing your coping strategies when you’re not mid-meltdown.

If I say my mantras, or practice mindfulness or meditation, or go through grounding exercises, when my mental health is manageable, that’s a lot less fraught than doing them when I’m desperately trying to cope with a breakdown. And the more I get the hang of them, the more naturally they will come when I do need to employ them against negative moods.

I’m partly posting this in case it’s of use to anyone else going through issues similar to mine, but I’m also posting it because I sometimes check back through my blog to see how I’ve been doing, and goodness knows I need all the reminders I can get to practice my coping strategies rather than waiting until my mental health is spiraling the drain and not being able to pull myself out.

[starrbomb]

For your langst prompt thing, maybe Lance actually having major depressive disorder and starting to crumble under it. The team starts to notice and confront him. Then as a group they try to help him through it. It's not very original, I know...

honey, it doesnt matter if it’s not very original, its something that you want to see and that is all the reason i ever need to write for you. and as for this prompt, this actually hits quite close to home ( since i myself also have clinical depression and went years without proper treatment) so if you yourself are dealing with this, you aren’t alone darlings.

__________________________________________If anyone ever asked lance when all of it started he could never really pin point it to an exact cause or time in his life.

it’s just always been there.

thinking back on it now, he would say that the excessive amount of anxiety has been with him since first grade. a knot that formed in his stomach and wouldn’t go away, a knot that just seemed to weigh him down and make every movement forward feel like the wrong thing. something in his head telling him that going to school was a bad thing; that something bad was going to happen if he went to school. but when he tried to explain it to his parents, they just told him that it was probbly just a stomachache, that everything was fine.

but that unnamable knot came back every time he got ready to go out somewhere, or whenever he had to do something that he didn’t believe he would succeed in. it always came back and made things seem impossible to do alone; that if he tried something wrong would happen and it would be all his fault.

but he learned how to deal with it; albiet not in the best way, but it was better than being trapped in his own heartrate and short breaths. sometimes he could ignore the feeling, push through it to do mundane things like homework and chores. other times, all he could do to stop an anxiety attack was to just avoid the subject all together.

the depression came into play around high school; making friends was hard and the bullying for his accent and where he came from was even harder, it didnt help that he was pretty much the baby of the family; all of his siblings had already graduated back in cuba so there was no one to keep an eye out for him at school and struggling with both understanding the lessons he was given and the complex language barrier that he still had between himself and everyone else at the school, it all took its toll on him. whenever he came back from school, he woould go straight to his room and collapse on his bed, wishing for sleep to just take him away from all the hateful words and mocking he got from his ‘classmates’ day in and day out. he barely ate, even when it was his mother’s cooking that wafted into his room. he just couldn’t gather the motivation to go out of his room and be apart of the world. not while his bed was so safe and warm and judgement free.

it was after Lance had missed three school days in a row like this that his mother and father had realized just how bad things were for lance. they took him to a psychiatrist to see what was wrong and what they needed to do to get their old Lance back.

and thats when he was diagnosed with major clinical depressive disorder.

his doctors immediately had him start taking anti depressents and anti anxiety medication; switching between this one and that one before they finally found one that worked with him and his body. it was slow going at first, and many times it felt like it wasn’t doing anything at all, but then one day lance was doing his usual chores and realized that it didnt take as much energy as before to do it, he wasn’t wrestling with himself to get things done as much as he used to. he actually felt somewhat…..normal. he felt light.

Lance always made sure to keep some of his AD and AA on him at all times, just in case he had to rush to his classes or accidentally forgot to take them. he didn’t expect to be thrown out into space with just a handful of his medication on him and no one actually knowing about his mental problems. he didn’t expect to be blown up, destroying what little remained of his medications, protecting the one man who could have made him more of them if he had known about them.

but now, here he was in the middle of space with nothing left of his medication, and all he could do was hope that now that he knew what it was like to actually feel happy and carefree and……normal, he wouldn’t be as effected by the sudden stop of his meds. he knew it would take a few days for the medication to completely work out of his system so he took the short amount of time left that he had of feeling normal to make ways for hijm to try and find that normalcy again without the help of his meds.

but soon enough, the dark feelings came back. it was slow at first; taking longer to get ready for training, loosing the energy to go all out during sparring sessions. Lance could tell that the others were picking up on his weird behavior, how he didn’t really contribute to conversations anymore and that he even stopped flirting with the princess. it was as if they were watching their blue paladin slowly die right in front of their eyes; and they had no idea as to why. they all became so worried about their friend that they all met together during one of Lance’s now usual naps.

“ I’m sao worried, what if he’s planning on leaving? what if he just disappears in the middle of the night? what if- what if-” Hunk stammers out, tears threatening to spill as he works himself farther and farther into an anxiety attack. thankfully Pidge takes a hold of his hand and makes him sit down on the sunken couch and does her best to calm him down, “ Hunk, its okay. Lance would never just up and leave us. you know that he still loves us and even if he is acting like this, he cares about us too much to ever just leave……right?” Hunk isnt sure if she was trying to goad him into agreeing or if she was trying to find the answer to calm down her own worries about their friend, but he nods anyways, taking a look back up to his friends as a way of saying that he’s okay.

“maybe it is a bug that has number three acting so out of sorts; like the stomach one that number five got just a few weeks ago!” Coran suggested, getting a few spare chuckles out of Hunk and Shiro. “ while that is a good theory Coran, im not sure that’s what going on with Lance. it doesn’t seem like he’s sick with anything; it’s like the life is being sucked right out of him.” Shiro states, getting a gasp from Allura. all eyes turn to her as she whispers “ What if this is Haggard’s and Zarkon’s doing? what if they are actually draining the life right out of him.” everyone seem to pale at the thought of it, Shiro unconciously gripping the forearm of his artifical limb.

the tense moment is quickly intrupted as Lance runs into the room, sweat staining his undershirt and a terrified look of desperation painting his face.

“Lance?!”

many of the occupants in the room standing as Lance seems to heave a sigh of relief and almost collapses in the doorway, heaving in breath after breath as if he has been running for hours. Thankfully, Coran was close by and caught him from completely falling and helped him slwoly down to the floor, the others immediately rushing to his side.“Lance?”“are you okay?”“what’s wrong?”“are you hurt?”

everyone asking question on top of question at once, not sure what to do to help and yet wanting to do anything to try. once it seemed like lance somewhat caught his breath, he chokes out “sorry- sorry I-” Shiro takes hold of Lance’s hands, getting him to look at him. and Shiro was surprised to see such a sad and scared look in his eyes. “ Lance, you did nothing wrong. you just scared us a little. can you tell us what got you so panicked?” Lance doesn’t seem eager to share, but he manages to squick out “ it’s just me being stupid.” Pidge is the one to speak up this time, squirming her way to being face to face with Lance “ Lance, you aren’t stupid. trust me, I’m the smartest one around and i’m telling you the truth: you. are. not. stupid.” Lance can’t help but let out a breathy chuckle. “ but this part of me is.” Pidge puffs up with irriation and is obviously ready to speak up again, when Lance beats her to it “ i know, i know im not stupid, but this part of my brain makes me think stupid things” lance starts out strong, trying calm down the others, but the more he talks the quieter and timid he becomes, baiting everyone to barely breath so that they can hear every word, “ I thought that it was really quiet and then my anxiety kinda took over and made me start thinking that you all had just left me and that you didn’t care about me and i know that’s stupid; i know that you guys would never do that to me but i couldn’t stop thinking like that and i was getting scared that the stupid voice inside my head was right so i started looking for you guys and i didn’t find you guys anywhere and that just kept feeding my anxiety more and more and that just fueled the depression and i started running everywhere looking for you guys and i’m sorry, I know i’m ranting and stuff but it was just like before back home and i thought i had better control of it but I-” Lance is immediately cut off by Pidge throwing herself into his lap, knocking him out of his spiralling thoughts and back to his surroundings and noticed that all of his friends were on the brink or already crying, he can feel the small wet patch on his undershirt from where Pidge has buried her head into his stomach, clinging to him as if that would be enough to hold him together. man, he really was falling apart at the seams, huh? he thought he had it under control, but instead it caused him to go back into that dark and negative head space all over again.

“lance? do- do you honestly believe that we would-” keith whispers out, not even having enough strength to finish the sentence

“no! no, i know you guys would never abandon me! its just my anxiety and depression making me think stupid things that i know aren’t true and yet it makes things feel like they are. that’s why i said that that part of me is stupid.” Lance stammers out, clutching to Shiro’s hand and Pidge as he explains. “ it’s just been so hard to keep my anxiety and depression under control since i lost my meds.”

“then why didn’t you tell us that you were struggling and needed medinical help? you know we wouldn’t have judged you for needing help.” Keith counters, his sadness and betrayal leeching into his words.

Lance looked down at the ground at the words, knowing that they were true, even if Shiro was getting on Keith for being angery at him because of something that Lance couldn’t control. “i-” he whispers, catching everyone’s attention once again, “ i thought that you guys wouldn’t understand, or that you wouldn’t care. i know that it was just those dark thoughts spreading lies in my head, but they can be really persuasive when they want to be.”

Shiro looks back towards Lance’s hunched over form, unconciously protecting him from the outside world and the ominious what ifs that seem more like mountains to him than the mole hills they truly are.

“Lance….” shiro waits until Lance finally looks up, a look on his face as though he’s bracing for the worst. “ I’m glad that you shared this with us, it must have been really hard to talk about this. im proud of you.”

it was with those words that Lance felt like he was able to take a full breath again. they didn’t hate him for hiding this from them; they weren’t going to leave him. and for the first time in weeks, Lance felt like everything was going to be okay, even if its just for a little bit. and that’s all he could ask for in that moment. everything was going to work itself out.

[orlissa]

I’d like to share something with you that has happened to me--it’s a bit about today’s society, a bit about friends, and a bit like it was taken from some movie.

So, as you know, I moved to a new apartment not a long ago, and we were looking for a fourth roommate--who, eventually, became a girl named Kemi from Nigeria. Now, it was a messy business: we had like two people calling it off before Kemi, and when she came along, she said that she wanted to room, but couldn’t pay just yet—basically, she wanted us to hold to room for like two weeks, which we, because of financial reasons, couldn’t (we were losing money for the time the room was unoccupied). So we agreed that she’d pay a nominal deposit, move in, and would pay the rest when her uncle transferred her the money. Because that was the root of everything: she didn’t have money, but her uncle was willing to pay for everything. Anyway, she paid the deposit, we signed the contract, she moved in. Only no money came.

We had other problems with her (she seemed to be completely unaware of how you live with other people), but the biggest was, yeah, was the money—my money, to be exact, since I’m handling all the finances in the apartment, so, basically, I was lending her the money. We’re talking about 600 bucks by this week. Anyway, I kept telling her to pay, she kept telling that her uncle will. We had fights (that sent me into a terrible depressive episode three weeks ago, but that’s a different question). Then I told her I wanted to speak with her uncle personally—it took a couple of days to get his number (she was reluctant to give it to me), but I did it in the end and talked with him. He kept saying that it was alright, “no problem,” that he’s gonna pay. I gave him all my info needed for the transfer. Then two weeks passed, still no money.

Early this week Kemi came to me (you know that post about “don’t tell me we need to talk later, because it’ll send me into an anxiety spiral?” Yeah, she did that to me on Tuesday morning), saying that she feels embarrassed about the situation and that I should call her uncle once again and tell him I’m mad (no need to act here). So I did that afternoon; first he kept saying, once again, that there was “no problem.” So I cut in and told him that there definitely was a problem, because his niece was living with us for over a month now, with no paying, and I wanted my money. Then he said—mind you, over a month after he was supposed to pay, and two weeks after I personally called him to pay—that he wanted to meet me in person first.

(No worries that things doesn’t work like that here; that you don’t pay for a month, because you “first want to meet,” something you don’t even take steps to happen. Anyway, over these weeks I’ve encountered cultural stuff with the two of them that tell me they don’t really like to play by European standards. Or that gender equality is a thing for them.)

I was furious. Anyway, that was Tuesday evening and I was going home on Thursday morning, so I told him if he wanted to meet, that needed to happen on Wednesday. He said okay then hung up. Without fixing when to meet. I told Kemi to get an hour out of her uncle, but she wasn’t able—basically, he wanted me to be ready to jump whenever he said (and I couldn’t help but feel that it was a gender-based power play; that he doesn’t perceive me as an equal, or, heaven forbid, someone who has a hold over him). Finally, he called me around 4:30 pm on Wednesday, saying that he would call me, like, later, and then we could meet in an hour after that (still: jump when he says to jump). I told him that his niece was come back from school at around 7 pm, so he should come around then and the three of us could talk. Then, to my surprise he said that “why would Kemi need to be there? She has no business in this.” E.g. his niece has no say in her living situation.

At this point, my anxiety really started to play up, couple with a healthy dose of fear. Having no desire to be alone with him in the apartment, I told him to meet me at a public space (mind you, I still didn’t know when he wanted to meet) and he said yes. At this point I texted my friends in our big group chat that I needed a backup—public space or not, I was afraid to go and meet him alone. One of my friend’s—Lia—initial response was that she was working late, but otherwise she’d come, but when I told them my reason for wanting to have someone come and meet me, she immediately said that she was gonna text her military boyfriend to see if he’s available (she said it was okay, that he’s a protector by nature, especially when women are concerned).

He was available, and even though we had only met like twice before, within an hour he was there at the mall we were to meet the guy. We ended up waiting for almost two hours, but he never complained—we talked and waited, and by the time the uncle arrived, even Lia finished with work and came to meet us, so it was the three of us facing the guy. Oh, by the way, when I first told him in the phone that “WE were here,” he immediately became defensive, asking who the “we” were.

I don’t want to go down to stereotypes here, but the guy looked like some pimp from a ghetto black mafia action movie. He wouldn’t speak to me while my friends were standing next to me. He kept acting like everything was cool, like he wasn’t at fault. Like that kind of money was trivial. Stuff like that. Power play, I tell you. In the end, I don’t know what the purpose of the meeting was—I just told him what I told him over the phone, but this time he agreed to pay the money (and he did, the next day). Yeah, the one purpose was that he, pardon me, fucked up my whole, making my anxiety play up, and making me wait for him for hours and stuff.

Anyway, when he left, Lia told me that she was glad she had her boyfriend come to protect me. Said boyfriend wholly agreed. They fed me chocolate—Lia said she knew how draining an experience like this is, and that you need a quick source of energy afterwards. Then we parted ways (it was way past 8 pm by then) and went home—but not before Lia told me to rest and take it easy. And then her boyfriend just texted me like an hour ago to ask if everything was okay since then and to tell me to stay safe. I can’t even tell you how grateful I’m for my friends.