#and x-rays and they tell me actually everything looks fine physically! there's nothing wrong anywhere they can see and all my Levels are

[raystie]

wow my last post was in Feb so despite not really having a following here I still feel obligated to say I'm going through a Bad Time both mentally and physically rn I can't even be bothered to think about or play Yakuza or do anything really. not dead but I sure feel like I'm on the way there rn. won't be here for a while take care everyone

[primedirection]

Anniversary -Part 2

Post mobbing

It's been two and a half days since the fight and you still haven't spoken to one another, but Harry caves first.

Under simpler and more normal circumstances it was hard enough not being able to speak to you. But this time around the situation bears an immense weight. Because this wasn't just giving him the silent treatment or obnoxiously avoiding rooms he occupied, you actually left. Though once he was alone to stew in his thoughts, he couldn't blame you.

You never asked for this.

On a night that you were meant to be celebrating your love for one another, it was his baggage that intervened. And no matter how much he wanted to give the benefit of the doubt to his following, he couldn't deny that they crossed the line. Mobbing just him was one thing but to do it when he was with loved ones was another.

Harry sent a text concerned about your whereabouts merely an hour after he calmed down. By sunrise he was sick with grief, guilt, and worry. Substantially increasing due to Anne and Gemma also calling to check on you both and informing him of a particularly disturbing video gone viral on all media fronts.

One from your dinner of the girls he was kind enough to take pictures with. As it turns out they had been filming your table for awhile. Adding disgusting commentary of how much they hated you and joking about acts of harm they'd do to you if given the chance. Harry felt disgusted with himself when one of them finally suggests going over to do it and they all get riled enough to agree. Harry genuinely hates himself when hearing them discuss aloud their plan of attack. From this perspective he's able to see just how intense the impact is when you're pointedly elbowed off your chair from behind and then literally walked all over.

Only just to surround him with false praises of adoration and excitement. He feels even more ashamed that he didn't hear or see it before. But he's glad to see those girls get startled when you get back up with a vengeance and curse at them for their barbaric behavior. Teetering on the edge of dignified restraint and justified retaliation. But unfortunately he stepped in and practically dragged you out of the restaurant. The girls laugh to themselves and congratulate each other before the video abruptly ends.

The worst part of it all was that they really pulled the wool over his eyes and succeeded. He really went home and lashed out at you! Didn't even ask if you were okay nonetheless check to see if you physically were alright. He was too focused on their feelings and the backlash you'd get when the story got out to be honest.

The world already ridiculed your relationship enough, as if you didn't deserve him and he didn't want anyone to have any justification to feel that way. But this was just... He fucked up on so many different levels.

After watching the video he called you shamelessly nonstop, leaving voice mails and paragraphs of text messages apologizing. Eventually he stopped, empathy clouded his better judgment and made him realize that you probably just needed time to process everything.

On the opposing end you felt absolutely no urge to engage. Every social media account was overwhelmed with notifications from family, friends, and strangers alike. Gemma and Anne even tried to call but you simply didn't accept them based on the fact that you didn't know what to say or how to explain the situation. You didn't want to lie and say you're fine because honestly you aren't.

If you weren't hurting emotionally or embarrassed before, then watching the accursed video certainly brought on a slew of feelings. Not to mention the physical aspect of the damage.

When the adrenaline completely wore off, the dull pain you thought was bad doubled by tenfold. So excruciating and abnormally painful for just falling down, that you sent yourself to the emergency room. A full day in the waiting room and an x-ray later, you come to find out that your lovely dinner guests gave you a minor spinal fracture. Luckily enough it was just a stable fracture, which meant the best case is wearing a back brace for several weeks and no necessary surgery. Though now the worst case is that and being bed ridden as a safety precaution because the doctor also made the alarming discovery that you are four weeks pregnant.

It was impossible to pretend that you haven't been holed up for the past couple days in your best friend's guest room. Bawling your eyes out from the extravagant self pity party you were throwing yourself. Trying to wrap your head around the whole situation. How were you supposed to face anyone? Especially Harry.

It's on the third day from your split, that you are forced to figure it out because none other than Harry turns up just after your bestie leaves for work. Damn near banging at the door like there was a fire, but that more or less had to with the amount of time you took to answer it. You almost didn't, but the neighbors here were nosy enough and didn't need a show.

With the chain lock still on you barely peek through the crack of the door. Almost immediately he lunges forward, bracing his hands on the door frame trying to get as close to you as possible. It was kind of satisfying to see that he looked as miserable as you felt. In an old ratty T shirt and sweat pants with his hair in extreme disarray. His eyes bloodshot and tinted the same irritated pink as his nose and cheeks. Apparently he'd been crying. "Thank God, are you alright?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Can't get ahold of yeh any way else. I've called I've texted— been worried bloody sick to be honest. Can we talk?" His voice is thicker with more rasp than usual.

You wanted to ask if he had been drinking but thought better of it. "Think you've already said enough."

Harry's heart plunges to his toes so fast he audibly chokes on a sob. Sending his desperation into overdrive, "Y/N please, I jus' wanna explain- five minutes. That's all I'm asking."

You stare back at him for what feels like an eternity, debating whether or not if allowing him in was the right thing to do. Literally and metaphorically. He hurt you in a way that made your physical assault pale in comparison. So you're not entirely sure what possesses you to eventually close the door and remove the locks.

Upon reopening the door Harry's not as aggressive as he was before and instead waits for you to openly invite him inside. Eyes on the ground and hands shoved in his pockets.

It's while you retreat to the living room that he sees the massive cargo covering the majority of your torso. A protective vest of sorts. Although on the areas it doesn't cover on your back. He's able to see dark purpling bruises under the straps of your tank top just above your shoulder blades on each side. It makes him sick to his stomach. "Yeh had to go to the hospital?"

"Yeah, was in a lot of pain after the initial shock wore off. Good thing too because I have a minor spinal fracture," you explain and Harry's face loses all of it's color, ”The doctor said I endured the same impact as being in a car accident. Thankfully though I just need to wear this back brace for awhile."

Guilt consumes him like a flame to a torch, to the point that he almost doesn't want to continue inside any further. Because this was solely his fault and he really didn't even deserve to be in your presence. It felt horribly wrong.

He waits until you're sitting down as comfortably as you can on the sofa to speak, "Love, I can't tell yeh how sorry I am."

At the tone of his voice tears start to brim in your eyes against your will. You blink them away on a deep shaky breath and scoff, "So now I'm your love? I wasn't when I left. I was a crazy lunatic bitch you couldn't take anywhere."

His eyes clench shut at the reminder of his insensitivity, unable to withstand the disappointment in your gaze, "I didn't mean tha'—any of it, I swear. I was just being a dick cos' I knew yeh were right. Jus' didn't want to admit it"

Hearing the words aloud was bittersweet. Truly. Your emotions jumble as such, making some tears fall only to wipe them away furiously. "And what? Now you're here because of that stupid video and suddenly feel sorry for me? Well guess what? I feel humiliated enough, I don't need your pity to—”

"S'not about pity, I was wrong Y/N. So wrong." Harry's jaw clenches as he forces himself to sit across from you. Seeing you like this was out right painful and he didn't know how exactly to deal with it. He expected you to still be upset but in an angry curse him out sort of way, not the puffy eyed and anxious trembling hands type of way. "I figured tha' out long before I saw tha' fucking video. The way I reacted was the worst thing I ever could've done to yeh." He has to take a deep breath to calm the tightening in his chest but his tears come rolling down his cheeks anyway. He wipes them away hastily with the back of his hand though more are quick to replace them.

At the sight of his trembling chin you fold your arms and force yourself look away. The emotions bubbling in your chest and his own brings you to the verge of tears again.

"I was fucking atrocious to yeh and for what? For always looking out for me when no one else does? Or always being there when I need yeh to be? I failed yeh huge Y/N. Your safety should be my biggest priority and I'm the one that compromised it. If they had planned that with weapons you could've been..." He could hardly stand to think about it.

"Worse," You shudder at the thought subconsciously folding your arms over your stomach. "Neither of us knew that would happen."

You're reasoning only guts him more, "There's no excuse. You've been nothing but supportive and accommodating and so incredibly loyal... I took tha' for granted and m' so fucking sorry Y/N. I need yeh to know that. You mean literally everythin' to me, and I can't stand that I mucked this all up."

"You know how much I love you Harry. Even on our worst days but I'm not gonna lie that hurt, that like really hurt me..." Tears completely blur your vision now, and it's becoming more and more futile to talk through the constricting tightness in your throat. You reach up and press tight to your tear ducts in order to make it stop but the sobs start to slip out too. It's almost like not wanting to cry but crying anyway makes you cry even harder.

Harry wants so bad to hold you, to rub your back in comfort or in the very least hold your hand. But he knows better. Instead his fingers dig uncomfortably into his thighs, "Fuck, I know Y/N. I know."

You take a sharp breath to speak through the pain, "And I know how much the fans mean to you. Hell I love em too, they make me feel like I'm one of them! I'd never want to turn you against them or make you feel like you have to choose between us. All I wanted is for you to know when to draw the line sometimes, not just for me but for yourself. You give so much to people and I can't stand it when it's taken advantage of."

Harry shakes his head, choked up all over again hating the fact that this was supposed to be about you and here you are still defending him. He'd be a plum fool to lose you. His best friend, lover, defender, and supporter all wrapped into one. No one ever has and never would compare. "I'm so sorry love,"

"So you've said," You retort sniffling, a little annoyed that that's all he's got to say for himself.

"Well I genuinely mean it, you're so strong sometimes I forget that you might need me." His fingers rake anxiously through his hair, "Obviously I don't deserve yeh but I can't lose yeh either Y/N. Tell me what yeh need and I promise whatever it is I'll do it—whatever it takes."

He made it sound so easy but that's not the world you live in. "How am supposed to trust you won't do that again Harry?" You cry despite your attempts to remain stoic, "You're supposed to be the one I can lean on for anything and after that I honestly don't know if I can..."

He knows that you have every right to feel the way you do, but the needy and selfish part of him doesn't understand your resistance. He's apologized and currently begging for your forgiveness and yet he still can't seem to get through to you. He's beginning to feel hopeless. "I know words can't fix everything, but please just give me a chance to prove it to you. I'm upping security, I've filed restraining orders, and consider the charges pressed! I swear to God I'll-"

"I'm pregnant." You blurt out.

You didn't think it was possible but the tension in the room intensifies. Silence takes over and it's quiet enough to hear a pin drop. It makes the flutter of butterflies from high strung nerves in your belly feel like earthquakes. Also doesn't help that Harry's expression changes a minimum of three times in a matter of seconds. Confused to surprised to tormented to incredulous to sad to confused again and finally to an emotion that you can't even place. Apparently unsure he heard you correctly, "What?"

You bite your lip nervously, "I said I'm pregnant. Four weeks. Found out when I went to the doctor,"

He swallows so hard it's audible, staring directly at you and yet his gaze is distant. Somewhere else completely until he blinks and the water works start flowing again. "Can I?" He asks no louder than a whisper reaching out for you with trembling hands and grabs yours in his before you can even answer.

Bringing the back of them to his lips repeatedly somehow steadies his nerves. Because within he was raging. One of the most significant moments in both of your lives had been robbed of happiness and tainted with strife because of his baggage. The way you responded earlier suddenly makes total sense now and once again he couldn't blame you. He utterly refused to be robbed of another again.

Harry presses a hard kiss one last time before dropping your hands to shift closer to you. Close enough to cup your cheeks lovingly, since he doesn't trust himself enough to wrap his arms around you without causing pain. "I don't expect you to accept it or forgive me overnight. I understand that I really hurt you and that's just not realistic. But I am sorry Y/N. I'll spend the rest of my life doing whatever it takes to make it up to you—both of you. If you'll have me?"

In that moment all you register is burning. The burning in your eyes that make your tears pour down, the burning in your chest and throat as the heavy sobs rack through you, and the burning flush of your skin from being so overwhelmed with emotions. Because he was right, it wasn't going to magically fix everything but for right now it was enough. He seemed really genuine and sincere in his remorse and that was a good place to start.

You ultimately nod quickly and as best as you can without putting too much strain on your back, lean in to bury your face into the comfort of his neck. Confessing sheepishly, "I'm scared Harry,"

He can't squeeze you back as tight as you both want but there's still the same amount of comfort when he cradles the back of your head, "Shouldn't be. Cos' m' certainly never going anywhere and neither are you if I have anything to say about it."

Now that the threat of you leaving was somewhat gone he found it difficult to be scared of much else. With you he felt truly invincible. His grin even became shit eating at the thought of finally unveiling the ridiculously carrot studded ring currently hidden in his sock drawer. "Thank you for this by the way, s'best gift I could've ever imagined... Well opposed to mine but you'll get it when we get home."

You want badly to laugh at that and smile even because you are indeed relieved but you can't stop crying. Clutching onto his sides for dear life since they are the best you could reach. "I need you Harry, now more than ever. You understand that right?"

His chest rumbles with a hum before he pulls back to kiss you firmly on the forehead, "Won't let yeh down lovie, I promise."

AN: Hopefully this lived up to expectations idk send me your thoughts. I want all the smoke lol Xx.

[5hfanfiction]

One step closer: chapter 2

Camila’s eyelids unstuck, providing her the ability to see again. She found herself situated in a stranger’s car, driven down some street. For a brief moment, Camila was caught up by a storm of panic. Then she glanced to her left, saw a woman firmly gripping onto the steering wheel. Sickness soon came to her.

“Stop the car, please,” she murmured just loud enough for the woman to hear.

“Uh, you’re awake,” the woman let out a puff of relief, “you blacked out for like five minutes. We’re almost at the hospital.”

“Please, I think I’m… I feel sick.”

“Oh. Oh! I, um, I can’t really pull over anywhere here. But hold up,” the woman reached behind her seat, her hand furiously grabbed everything there was until she found what she was looking for. “Take this. I’m sure Andy won’t mind, he’ll understand.”

Camila didn’t take a second glance at whatever object the woman handed her for the sickness won over her gut and she couldn’t hold back any longer. Just when Camila finished, the car parked. The woman walked over to her door and helped her out. They walked to the reception’s desk, “excuse me, I sort of bumped my car into this girl. She might have a concussion.”

“Follow me,” the nurse from behind the desk walked them to a section of tiny rooms where curtain were a thin substitute for walls. There they sat Camila on the bed. Then she was handed an emesis basin for when she felt sick again.

“A doctor will shortly be with you,” the nurse left.

Camila felt a little awkward with the woman who hit her still being around. Didn’t these people, who hit pedestrians, just called an ambulance and forgot about it the next day? Or even if they took the injured specimen to the ER, didn’t they just drop them off and continued minding their own business? It’s not that Camila wasn’t glad she wasn’t by herself, but being with a stranger made her want to rather be alone. She rather wanted Shawn to be there with her. It was a moment when his goofiness came in handy. But he wasn’t there. He barely was there when he was actually with her, physically.

“I’m sorry,” the woman broke the silence.

“Have you hit a person before?”

“No.”

“I heard you kept saying, ’oh, not again’,” Camila smirked, knowing she had caught the woman lying.

“Okay, two times,” the woman rolled her eyes playfully and shrugged.

“Including or excluding me?”

The woman hesitated for a second, “fine, excluding you.”

Camila smiled. Sure it wasn’t something one simply smiles at, not right after it happened at least. Maybe in a few days, “hope your boyfriend won’t be mad.”

“My boyfriend?” The woman scowled her face confused.

“That I puked into his box.”

The woman shook her head softly with a giggle, “sweetheart that was a litter box. Andy is a cat.”

Camila realized how wrong she was jumping into conclusions, “was it-”

“It was empty. I bought it for his birthday actually.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“No worries, we’re even now.”

“I doubt getting hit by a car and puking into a cat’s new litter box could be put in the same category.”

“Let’s not forget it’s a birthday litter box, besides, if I want to be correct you jumped on the road, so.”

“Are you seriously blaming me for this?”

“You did enter the roadway.”

“There were a bunch of bikers passing me.”

“Well, I guess getting hit by a car is much better than getting hit by a bike, sure.”

Their conversation was interrupted by an older doctor.

“Evening. I’m doctor Hernandez, what are the symptoms?”

“I think I had a concussion. I blacked out for a few minutes, then I threw up.”

“What exactly did happen?”

“She hit me with her car.”

The doctor gave the woman a judging look.

“In my defense, she jumped in front of it.”

“I see,” he turned back to Camila, “follow my hand with your eyes without turning your head, please,” Camila followed without any issues his hand. The doctor then light a tiny light into Camila’s each eye.

“Experiencing any sore?”

“My right wrist hurts a little, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“We’ll make an x-ray just to make sure there’s no fracture. Your friend here can come with us or wait here.”

“We’re not friends, I really just bumped her with my car,” the woman admits in what kind of relation she and Camila are or actually are not, “but I’ll just wait here.”

Camila was unsure how to feel about the whole situation, while her dizziness mixed into it. She wished to call Shawn, but she suddenly realized she left her phone at home. Camila knew his number by heart, but then what would had he done? Would he come rushing to the ER to pick her up to take her home and take care of her? Or would he just ask how is she doing and leave it at that? Because they would eventually meet the next day and if there was something wrong, Camila wouldn’t had been able to call him, right? Not telling him about it felt wrong though.

Camila is walked back to the examination room, where the woman, whose name Camila still doesn’t know, is still waiting. She’s sitting on the side of the bed with one leg swinging back and forth. When she spotted Camila approaching, she raised swiftly.

“Everything seems fine with the wrist. Drink a lot, rest, I’ll prescribe some painkillers for the headache which may kick in later.”

He disappeared again.

“What now?” Camila had a rush of melancholy fill her. She knew she was supposed to be somewhere and where she was then was not the place. She wanted to stand up and run away.

“I’m Lauren.”

“I’m sorry?” Camila is ripped out of her flow of thoughts.

“I said my name’s Lauren.”

“Camila.”

“Mind grabbing something to eat before I take you home?”

Was it a good idea? This woman, Lauren, hit her. She could had seriously injured Camila. Was it not weird to go grab food after this as though nothing happened? Or maybe it was a way Lauren wanted to make it up to Camila. And frankly at that moment there was nobody else who cared for her. But did Lauren actually care or was it only her way of cleaning her conscience? Guess there’s no other way to find out than cautiously walking down this path of possible new acquaintanceship.

Camila just smiled.

*

*

The whole diner was a bright neon glow in the night. Camila was sure if there was an astronaut in space, right above them, he could spot the place and use it as a guide back down to Earth.

It had a 90’s vibe, except the music that played wasn’t worth a penny. There were those booths with leather seats and pastel colors. They sat in one of those. It was pretty crowded which, taking the fact that it was a small bypass restaurant, seemed to Camila as unusual.

“I was actually on my way to get food.”

“Then you must’ve been destined to end up here, because whatever you’re gonna order it’s going to be the best meal you’ve ever had in your life.”

“Even fries?”

“The fries especially,” Lauren smirked.

Camila and her renewed hunger searched through the menu, but found it quite difficult to pick something. The waitress soon came over to them, to take their order.

“Good evening ladies! Hey Lauren. What can I get you?”

Lauren saw Camila was still indecisive, so she spoke first, “I’d like an extra veggie burger with falafel, fried mushrooms, extra fries, and a tiny slice of that homemade apple pie. And a glass of water.”

Camila was in awe of how much food had Lauren just ordered. Though she was as much hungry, “I’ll have the same,” she said out-of-scape.

“Nice place,” Camila couldn’t stop looking around. The place had something magical, something sentimental gripping her by the mind. She imagined she was in a 90’s movie. Her day was sort of out-of-a-movie. She supposed it could had ended worse, but here she was, alive and fine.

“It is indeed. Now tell me, who is Camila?”

“Can I be honest with you?”

Camila wasn’t sure if discussing her personal life with a stranger was a good idea, an idea worth even considering, but then Lauren was a stranger who’s going to be history tomorrow morning. She was sure they would say goodbye at the end of that day and never meet again. There was no harm in being dead honest with a stranger. Definitely not with Lauren, who seemed to be a correct and humble person.

“I wouldn’t ask you otherwise.”

“She’s a miserable girl.”

“How so?” Lauren scowled her face, probably did not expect that being the kind of description Camila would’d given away.

“She’s broke. Yeah. She has the last twenty dollars in her purse and it’s only the 17th of the month. She’s also struggling to save a relationship she’s not sure is worth the energy saving, since her boyfriend might be cheating on her.”

“Hold up. Might be cheating? He’s either cheating or not, there’s no inbetween, honey.”

“I have this photo of him kissing-or-what this other girl and I don’t know. I didn’t have the opportunity to ask him about it yet. We were supposed to go on a date tonight, but he cancelled.”

“I’d say I’m sorry about it, but if he is cheating, you’re better off without him.”

“But I love him.”

“But do you trust him?”

Camila hesitated. Did she? Those photos flashed in front of her eyes again. They weren’t even of a bad quality. She was perfectly able to identify him on them. And she could’ve sworn she had seen that woman, he’s kissing, before.

“See,” Lauren continued, “the complexity of a relationship is built by so many layers. And trust is one of the basic ones. Don’t lose your vision just because all you ever hear about two people in a relationship is that they are in love.”

Before Camila could give Lauren whatever argument she had up her sleeve, although deep down she knew would be too weak, the waitress arrived with their order.

There was much more food on her plate than she expected.

“Uh, I’m starving,” Lauren emphasized her degree of hunger and dove into her food.

Camila realized she’s not familiar with every taste she has on her plate. Camila cut a piece off the tiny, doughnut shaped, fried things she had lying next to her burger. She couldn’t describe the taste, but her taste buds for sure did have a fiesta.

“I see you’ve gotten to the falafel right away. Judging by your face you’d not eaten it before.”

“What exactly is it made of?”

“Chickpeas. Sometimes they add fava beans too.”

“Interesting,” Camila concluded while stuffing her mouth some more fiesta.

They soon finished eating, while Camila every now and then lost track of time and when she returned into her physical body, she thought Lauren would be shaking and talking to her to snap her out of her daydreaming. It wasn’t really polite, but Camila couldn’t help it. She was distracted by what Lauren said about trust and whatsoever, plus she couldn’t stop making up scenarios of Shawn and that woman doing all the nasty stuff.

“Can I bring you something else?” The waitress is the one snapping Camila out of her own mind.

“Camila?”

“No, I’m good, thank you.”

“Me too.”

The waitress cleaned the table, leaving only their half-empty glasses in front of them.

“I’ll go use the restroom. Be right back,” Lauren left for a few minutes, came back with a huge grin.

“What is it?” Camila asked confused.

“It’s full moon tomorrow.”

“So? Are you going to turn into a werewolf?”

“No, but if you like to look at the stars and the moon and you’re free tomorrow evening, you should consider coming with me.”

“Where exactly are you asking me to go?”

“There’s this independent organization, a group of people who every month when it’s full moon, go to a different location, take their telescopes. Not too many people know about them, but they actually do let the public use their gear and they tell stories and stuff.”

For a second Camila got all excited, because she loved looking at the moon. It was a nice opportunity, but she doubted she was going to be able to make it. She was going on a dinner with Shawn and his family tomorrow. If everything went right, maybe she and Shawn would have an enjoyable evening, kind of a reunion.

Still it was nice of Lauren to suggest something like that. If Camila wasn’t in a relationship, she’d think Lauren was asking her on a date. Wait, was she though? Would she even though she knew Camila was dating somebody? Taking into consideration that Camila’s relationship was actually on the verge of decay, maybe yes.

“I don’t know. I’ll probably be busy.”

“Okay. But here’s my number,” Lauren grabbed a pen out of her backpack and wrote some digits down on a napkin, “if you changed your mind.”

With a smile she pushed it to Camila, who not wanting to seem rude, took it, folded it and slipped into the back pocket of her jeans.

“We should get going now, what do you say?”

“Mm-hmm,” Camila agreed. A sudden wave of tiredness came over her, “let’s pay first, though.”

“It’s fine. I’ve paid already.”

“What?” Camila was outraged, she hated when people paid for her stuff, her food especially, “I didn’t tell you I was broke to get you pay for my food.”

“Slow down. That’s not why I paid for it. I didn’t make that kind of picture of you in my head.”

“Then let me pay for my damn food.”

“Hey,” Lauren shook her head while smiling, “I only paid for your food so you have a reason to meet me and pay for my food next time.”

Slick, Camila thought. Still though. But she moved on from the topic. Guess she was meeting Lauren again, maybe sooner than she thought.

Lauren drove Camila to her apartment. It was what could’ve been midnight or so. Camila couldn’t wait to get home, see if her phone hadn’t blown up by messages from Shawn. She was still supposed to get some scoop on where to meet him tomorrow. Well, technically, today.

“Thank you for the evening, I mean, for the food.”

“Thank you for jumping in front of my car.”

“Can we not do this again?”

“I’ll let it go. Are you feeling okay though? Do you not need me to walk you home?”

“I’m good, but thanks.”

“See you around then.”

Before Camila shut the car door behind her, she turned around for one more comment, “uh, tell your cat I’m sorry about his litter and happy birthday.”

“I���m sure will.”

If she was able, she would had sprinted upstairs. Quickly, she unlocked the door and let herself inside. As she was expecting, her phone was resting on the bed. Surprisingly, for Camila’s disappointment, there were no missed calls or texts from Shawn or anybody for that matter. Suddenly a grey cloud of melancholy shaded her feelings.

She wanted to know what’s up with him. He might’d been just sleeping. Or maybe he was doing something completely different. With that woman. And what was she supposed to call that feeling inside of her? Jealousy? Yes, but based on those photos, it was sort of reasonable. Or was it?

Camila dialed his number but it went straight to voicemail, “hey Shawn. Um, I just, I wanted to let you know I had this accident. A car hit me a little. Nothing serious! I’m okay. I just, I wanted to talk to you. But I guess you’re asleep, so. See you tomorrow then. Love ya.”

After she hung up, Camila remembered Lauren talking about love and those words I love you lost their meaning for her.

  *

*

  Camila woke up to her phone buzzing. She didn’t remember falling asleep at all. She was still in her clothes from the night before. Without checking who’s calling, she answers the phone, just to make the buzzing stop, “hello?” Her voice cracks a little.

“Camila? Finally,” Shawn’s worried voice echoes through the silence of her apartment, “I listened to you voicemail. Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m all good. Don’t worry.”

“What happened?”

“I uh, it was my fault too, a car bumped into me,” Camila finally admitted she was as much responsible for what happened as Lauren was.

“Where are you now? You in a hospital? Should I come get you?” His concern and will to help gave Camila hope. Hope that he still feels some kind of way about her.

“No, actually,” Camila was going to tell Shawn about the kind of turn her last evening took, but she traced off and decided not to, “I’m home, don’t worry babe.”

“Okay. Are you feeling up to to that family meeting? Or would you rather rest today?”

“I want to go, I’m fine, really,” Camila and resting were two things as far from each other as a fish from skateboarding. She had a class today she almost forgot about, so she was definitely not going to rest today.

“I’ll pick you up around 10 then. Is that okay?”

“Certainly.”

“Good. See you then.”

Shawn’s helpfulness almost made Camila forget about the photos. She was still going to confront him later today. Not right away, but eventually she was going to.

*

*

  Except Shawn, his brothers and father were in a suit, all business men looking. Camila was wearing a sundress, let her hair loosely down. She wasn’t particularly nervous about meeting most of Shawn’s family, she was sure if there was something wrong, Shawn would defend her. If there was a situation needing his defense. Shawn was acting casual, he brought his usual, goofy self. Camila was still looking for the perfect timing to when ask him about the photos she received the day before.

His brothers seemed alright, his father more superficial, superior, snobbish even. She could tell when he looked at her, he was thinking of how much her and Shawn are a non-match. Then he deserves better than Camila. He didn’t have to say it out loud, Camila could read it from his glances. But did she care? Not really. It’s Shawn who’s dating her, not his father. If Camila made Shawn happy then nothing else mattered. But then, did she make him happy anymore? That was the thing which bugged Camila the most. What if she wasn’t good enough for him anymore? She could sense he’d lost that little spark for her. Even though he did seem to care about her, it was different. She was willing to do anything to make it work out, to make it work like it used to between them. And she needed to let this fact Shawn know. There was no mountain Camila wouldn’t had climbed for him, no sea she wouldn’t had crossed.

“I can’t have those leeches suck on my neck anytime I get close to something less usual in the field than they are used to,” Mr. Mendes’ complained about some business inspectors he’d been having at his office more and more often. Whether his business methods were worth a doubt or not wasn’t Camila’s decision or judgement to make, but the way Mr. Mendes spoke, his body language gave off the vibe of the possibility his hands might’d not been that clean.

“I can get you the number of that Boston Bulldog lawyer. He could make them completely get lost,” Luca, his eldest brother stepped in to help out.

“Ugh, let’s talk about something else, let’s not ruin this early lunch,” Mr. Mendes looked at Camila who was somehow unable to force even a bite of ravioli down her throat. She wasn’t sure if it was the whole bunch of food she ate last midnight or her nerves of asking Shawn to talk, so she can ask about those photos.

Camila’s elbow was nudged by Shawn. She must’d zoned out again. Quickly she looked up from her plate just to be met with all the eyes of the table set on her, “pardon me, I’ve had this tiny accident last night and I’m still a little out.”

“Accident? Do you need a lawyer?” The first thing Shawn’s dad thought of was a lawyer. Given Camila’s state of health, how she came off as just okay to people around her, Mr. Mendes really thought the thing Camila needed to be asked was if she needed a lawyer. Not sure what world he lived in, but where Camila came from, people didn’t go to court for every tiny pinch of cheek.

“Dad,” Shawn raised a brow. He noticeable, too, had enough of his father.

“I’m good, but I appreciate it.”

“Shawn says you’re dancing. You also do private sessions?” Kevin asked.

“Kevin!” Shawn raised his voice to shut his brother up. Camila wasn’t going to take any more of Shawn’s family’s hungry looks and words.

“I mean if you’re into ballet, I can show you the basics,” she answered his question cockily.

“Ballet?” He pronounced offended, “that’s too girly.”

“Wow, Shawn never told me how old-fashioned and close minded his brother was,” stroke back Camila while she kept a straight bitch face. Kevin almost choked on his wine. In fact, nobody sitting at their table knew how to respond to that. It must had come as a shock. Besides, what could make a better first impression than emphasizing your ability to spot out assholes?

“You’ll have to excuse me now. I have a class of girly ballet to get to,” Camila removed the napkin off her thighs. She raised from her seat and loosely tossed the crumbled napkin on it. Shawn stood up too. Followed her out of the restaurant.

“Camila, wait.”

“We need to talk,” her mouth spat the words out before her mind could had considered if it was the time for them to be out there or not.”

“I’m sorry about them. Don’t take anything of what they’ve said seriously. This is kind of the reason we don’t do sunday dinners with my family.”

Camila needed to be gone, fast, “Shawn I don’t care about your family. What I do care about on the contrary is us.”

“Us?”

A woman was trying to enter the building but they were standing in his way, “excuse me,” so Shawn held the door for her, which gave Camila an opportunity to chicken out of the situation, for she could feel her insides gotten too tight. She wasn’t ready to confront him. Not on the street. She wasn’t ready to fight. Frankly, they never had a big fight before. Small arguments yes, but this was different.

“Wait, please,” he caught up, which didn’t make Camila happy. He made her turn around to face him and the second their eyes locked tears found their way to the corners of her eyes. She took a deep breath for it was no time for crying. “What’s going on? Did something happen? You know you can tell me.”

Her lips disconnected, but no sounds came. She took another deep breath, “I need to go. I can’t be late. We’ll talk later.”

“Camila! Is it my family?” Shawn yelled across the street, Camila could hear him scream even when she had entered the metro station. He seemed to care about Camila. Maybe those photos were fake. And he’s really in love with her. And if she showed him the photos, he’d think she was too dramatic and jealous and childish. Maybe he would get mad that Camila didn’t trust him. She did though… or did she? She remembered what Lauren, the stranger hitting her with their car, told her last night. Camila tried to name all those other layers which made up the relationship between two people. Then her mind popped the thought, that maybe Shawn was being concerned about her and her issue she wasn’t willing to discuss with him, because he was indeed cheating. And wanted to know if Camila knew, if she did know something.

She shook her head. It wasn’t an option, Shawn cheating on her. He was her goof ball, who always knew how to make her smile. Who could come up with any solution to whatever problem she had. And he loved her, she knew that.

  *

*

  “I can’t believe they let the rookies apply. We couldn’t apply for any play when we were them last year. Why can they now?” Melissa complained about this year’s christmas play applications, while getting done the pre-class stretching.

“I’ve heard the dean’s nephew is among them, so,” Aliah shared some scoop. She noticed Camila not really being present. “Hey,” she was able to grab Camila’s attention.

Camila faked a smile, “hey.”

“Everything good?”

Camila was going for the yeah, sure, but then she popped a “nope.”

“Wanna talk? Let’s grab a coffee after practice.”

“Okay,” Camila wasn’t going to talk about the thoughts bugging her concerning Shawn. She was a big girl, she could figure it out herself.

“Ladies,” their professor asked everyone to finish stretching, it was time to start class, “Let’s do a two reps of the moves from two days. You better remember them, if not… you don’t want to find out what happens if you don’t. Chop, chop,” she skipped to the side of the hall, watched the girls trying to chase themselves across the floor, fiercely throwing their bodies into the air, all while perfectly scoring the placements of their limbs. In the background played one of the professor’s favourite compositions.

Camila was surprised she didn’t mess up any of the moves for she wasn’t able to get completely her mind into it. At one point, when she was high in the air, like a lightning struck through her mind to go and call Lauren. But she shook it off.

After the class was over, after taking a cold shower, Aliah dragged her and her friend Normani, who was a senior student, to get coffee and “chat”.  

They were sitting by the window, Camila found the life on the other side of the window more interesting than the conversation she was listening to.

“And I told him he was insane, but he still drove seven hours and we get to spend the whole week together,” Normani talked about how much her boyfriend is whipped. How sweet, Camila thought. She was wondering if Shawn would do something like that. Drive even through the whole state to be closer to her, to be with her.

“What about you, Camila? You’re still with Shawn, right?” Aliah asked. Still? How long has it been? Only a year.

“Yeah, we’re still rollin’,” she giggled nervously. She wasn’t going to spill tea on how she has the suspicion he’s cheating. The three weren’t that close friends to be talking about something like that.

“He from here?”

“Yes, born New Yorker.”

“So, I heard there are ten spots for the Christmas play, are you going to try out?” Normani turned the conversation back to something school related. Camila was bored. She went back to studying the happening on the street. There was nothing interesting happening. People rushing to get to their business, every now and then a yellow car stopped, somebody got in, somebody got out.

Wow, Camila’s eyes caught a figure on the other side of the street and she couldn’t let her sight release them. She wasn’t sure if she was seeing right, but she had to make sure.

“Excuse me, I’ve gotta go, I just remembered,” but she never finished her excuse of storming out.

She ran across the road, luckily no car scored a bump into her. Subtly, she started walking a few feet from a blondie who was engaged in talking to some another woman. Camila could had sworn the blonde woman was the same one who was in the pictures with Shawn. She wasn’t sure where she was headed with following her, but she didn’t have any other idea.

When she got to crossing a narrow alley road, she heard the motor of a motorbike coming from the alley. She supposed she was going to be able to get to the pavement before the motorbike got to the main road, but how wrong she was.

The vehicle stopped what not even an inch from her. Camila swiftly jumped back.

“Watch out, dude! Can you not see there’s people crossing?”

The driver stopped the motor, then took off their gloves.

Camila was outraged, “are you at least gonna apologize? You could’ve hit me?!”

The driver’s helmet came off and for Camila’s surprise it was a familiar face, the one she’d for a brief second thought of earlier.

A huge grin formed on Lauren’s face, “hey, you. Need a ride?”

“Are you doing this on purpose?”

“What?”

Camila just motioned at the motorbike.

“Again, you’re in my way, honey,” Lauren winked, which for some reason made Camila blush, even embarrassed.

“I was busy, um,” Camila traced off, not wanting to say out loud she was stalking the potential lover of her boyfriend.

“Anyway, are you free tonight?”

“Um…”

“Or have you already forgotten about my suggestion of star and moon hunting?”

“No, definitely not! I just,” Camila was browsing among a whole two page list of excuses why she “wasn’t feeling like going”, but all of them sounded too generated. But in all honesty, she couldn’t name one good reason why she couldn’t go out with Lauren. Maybe talking to Shawn was one, but she could’d already seen her starting the talk, then changing her mind half-way and ending up having sex with him instead of communication.

“Nevermind. Maybe next time, then?” Lauren already drew a conclusion, since Camila took ages to speak up. Lauren started putting her gloves back on.

Camila reached out, rested her hand on Lauren’s, “do you happen to have an extra helmet?”

[dylan-hague]

Chapter 36

Titans Tower. May 11th, 2018. 4:34 PM.

Damian had to admit… being on bed rest had its perks.

Don’t misunderstand, he still hated not being out in the field; not using his talents to keep Jump City clean made him feel lazy, and not being able to do so made him feel impotent. But at the very least, he was able to contribute as an extra mind back at home base, and his father and sister had come to do their part to keep Jump protected for awhile (leaving Gotham in the hands of Todd, Kelley, and the GCPD until they returned). And aside from that, Damian did enjoy being able to spend more downtime with his friends than usual; even though they kept to their regular schedules, Damian’s regimen had always been more demanding than those of the other Titans. Now that he wasn’t constantly training, he was able to enjoy time with his teammates. A movie with Jon and Jaime, television with Garfield and Tara… he even found time to talk to Kori and learn a bit more about Tamaranean culture, which he’d brushed off before rather harshly. And of course, being stuck at home also came with the added bonus of spending more time with his fiancée; Raven insisted on being by his side at almost all times, which he quietly thanked Azar for again and again. It made his predicament of being stuck in a wheelchair for the remainder of his recovery much more bearable knowing it was her wheeling him around. (Damian still couldn’t wrap his head around the decision to put him in a chair; the doctors specifically said that he was fine, that there was no serious injury aside from his concussion. But apparently, walking around the hospital revealed that he had been damaging the muscles in his back little by little with each step, so now he wouldn’t be allowed to walk again until the wounds healed completely and the stitches came out.)

Hands down, though, the best part of the experience of being stuck at the Tower was getting to FaceTime Grayson and Barbara to see how Tommy was growing. For the past three days, Damian got a call at about three in the afternoon, and when he answered his phone, there on his screen popped up the little five-week-old baby, blinking and waving his hands around, reaching for his mother’s phone. He and Raven would sit on the couch or in Damian’s bed and coo into the camera, and he and Grayson would carry on about whatever cases they had been working on lately (the debate on the ethics of this had long since been abandoned, especially considering the fact that both Red X and Nightwing had been taught by Batman that any information relating to a crime was to be shared amongst members of the family, so that they could help one another protect their respective cities). Tommy was certainly still small; Damian had been told he was on the small side as an infant, but he never realized just how small that meant. Tommy was a month old, but he still fit perfectly well into his newborn clothes… perhaps all babies were like that, but it had never occurred to Damian before. Damian had held kittens bigger than his nephew. Still, looking into those bright blue eyes every day made the frustration of his current lack of mobility much easier to bear.

And then there were days like this one. Days that felt like they were spent almost entirely in bed, his Beloved curled up next to him, eyes shut as the afternoon sun cast yellow-orange rays of light in through his window. Days that felt still, quiet. Days that made the long-term goal of retiring seem more and more appealing. After all, if he wasn’t out fighting crime all night, wouldn’t that mean more quality time he could spend with his Raven? That sounded like a dream… of course, Damian knew he could never just quit. As much as it killed to admit it, the Son of Batman knew that the people of his city depended on him. But perhaps years from now, when things were better, once the world didn’t need heroes anymore… then he could rest. But for now, Damian smiled and focused on the woman with her head on his chest, letting his mind focus on her warmth, on the rise and fall of her quiet breath. He slowly pulled her closer in his arms, taking care not to wake her as he held her close to him. This was good… this made it worth not walking for awhile.

“Mmmh…”

Damian slowly opened one eye and peeked down at the girl beside him, and blushed at the little smile that played on her lips. She shifted a bit, crawling further up the bed in her sleep and nestling her head into Damian’s neck.

“Hmmm…” Raven sighed in her sleep as her hand ran up Damian’s chest before slipping it over his shoulder. Damian just smiled and planted a quick kiss on her forehead. She looked so happy like this… he would never forgive himself if he were to accidentally–

“Oh, Tiiiiiitaaaaaaaans~!”

… That bastard.

Raven groaned, pulling the covers over her head as Damian reached for his phone on the nightstand. “Make him go awaaaay…” the witch-girl whined groggily. Damian’s brow furrowed as he slid his mask back on and held the phone up to his face.

“What do you want, Riddler?” Red X growled.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! Did I mistakenly interrupt anything important?” Nygma’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “And please, PLEASE tell me you actually sleep with your mask on. That is so you.”

“Shut up and get on with your stupid riddle, Nashton,” Damian barked.

“Okay, one? Rude.” Riddler’s voice suddenly became harsh, angry. “Two, don’t EVER call me that. You call me Nygma or Riddler. Eddie Nashton is dead. And third, I’ll give you my riddles on my OWN schedule, when I decide I want you to be stumped. You’re very lucky that right now happens to be one of those times.”

“Look, I’m in the middle of recovering from surgery right now. I’m sort of stuck in a wheelchair for the time being, so forward your stupid game to Red Robin. He’s filling in for me.”

“O-oh. Oh? Well… that’s unfortunate.” His face was still concealed, but Damian swore he could practically hear Riddler frowning. “My puzzles require you to be able to move around Jump City. Given that that’s the case, I have to be able to challenge you physically in order to challenge you mentally. And if I can’t properly challenge you physically, then there’s no point to the challenges I’ve put together for you!”

“Look, just…” Damian rubbed his eyes in frustration, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “I know you can get into contact with Red Robin. Just pose all your challenges to him, he’s here subbing for me. Okay? I need to get back to sleep. The sooner I get healed, the sooner I can get back to my job…”

“But I wasn’t planning on beating Red Robin until after you! This is all wrong!!” Damian could detect the panic in Riddler’s voice.

“Look, I’m… sorry? I guess? But I’m not going anywhere for awhile. Just… deal with it.” Damian hit the end call button, dropping the phone back onto his nightstand as Raven’s head crept out from underneath the blanket.

“Damian…?”

“Yeah, Raven?”

“… being a superhero sucks.”

“… Yeah, it does.”

The witch-girl slowly lifted her head up and stared blankly at the glass walk at the far end of the room. She raised a lazy hand, and the curtains pulled themselves shut, blocking out the late-day sunbeams. Damian grinned as Raven brought herself back down over him, wrapping her arm back around his neck. She’d best take care, or she was going to slip out of the hero habit. But one more day of lazing around in bed wouldn’t hurt anyone, would it? He put his arms around her waist, and decided to himself that no, it wouldn’t hurt anyone at all. In fact, Raven could use the break after everything going on recently with his injury, and helping train Jonathan, and the false Red X. She’s been working so hard lately, she needed to rest a bit; she hardly ever took any personal time. Barring his family, he hadn’t seen someone so dedicated to what they do since…

“… Oh crap, that’s it.”

…

Tim chuckled as he darted across the training room, narrowly evading Jon’s heat vision as he ran circles around the fourteen-year-old. He was happy to help train the new Titans as best he could, but this? This was just fun. Apparently, Superman’s son trains by getting really mad. And if there was anything Dick taught him about being a Robin, it was how to piss people off. The kid was fast, sure, maybe even faster than a speeding bullet. But Tim knew how to distract, keep Jon’s eyes off him, even in the open space of the training room. He was getting better, almost managed to slice through Tim’s cape a minute ago, but he still had a lot to learn; Jon let his heat control his actions, affect his judgment. He needed to learn to use his head.

“STAND STILL SO I CAN BLAST YOU, YA DUMB BIRD!!” Jon yelled as he whipped his head around, firing another burst of heat from his eyes that just barely singed Red Robin’s hair. Tim’s eyes widened as he  arced through the air, and he almost hesitated as he lighted on the floormat. But Tim was nothing if not a quick thinker, and he realized it was probably time to go on the offensive.

“Come on, short stack! You’re getting carried away, that’s dangerous!” the former Titan jeered as he began to serpentine his way closer to Jon. He reached into his belt and quickly equipped his set of red knuckles–he knew Kryptonite was going to be the only way he’d be able to turn this around without those bulky suits of armor Bruce had designed, but Tim had no intention of killing the kid. After a quick front flip over Jon’s head (for style points; Steph was watching, after all), Tim dropped into stance and threw a jab at the boy’s face. Jon quickly shifted out of the way, throwing his own hands up and moving into the offensive. He fought like a boxer once his powers were gone–Damian had no doubt been teaching him a thing or two. The kid was quick, bobbing and weaving in and out of Tim’s range like a moth dancing around a candle. But Red Robin just smirked and closed the gap, throwing a few more shots Jon’s way. One punch caught the little guy right in the side, and he dropped for just a second. Tim saw the opportunity, and raised his hands over his head to bring the hammer down and wrap this fight up, but Jon recovered just in time, and a loud CRACK sounded through the room as Superboy connected a fierce uppercut to Tim’s jaw, sending the human flying across the room and leaving a sizable crack in the wall. At this point Starfire, who was observing from the sidelines, decided that was enough for today, and moved in to calm Jon down.

“That’s enough, Jonathan!!” Kori shouted, locking her arms around the hybrid alien. Jonathan struggled in her arms for a moment before sucking in several heated breaths through grit teeth. “Calm down, it’s alright! You’re okay, Jonny…”

“Don’t call me Jonny…” Jon hissed. “Don’t call me… hah… hahh… huhhhhhh…”

“Sorry…” Kori whispered, stroking the youngest Titan’s hair. “I won’t do it again, okay?”

Jon nodded as the red glow faded from his eyes, and his body relaxed. “Mm… M'kay, I… I’m good…”

“There you are, little one…” the Tamaranean cooed as she squeezed Jon gently. “You’re okay now.”

“M'kay…”

Tim wiped the sweat from his brow, and grinned up at the camera where he knew Stephanie was looking back at him. “How’d we do, babe?”

“Not bad T, but don’t get cocky!” Spoiler’s voice crackled over the intercom. “You did pretty good to, Jonno! Real crash stuff there!”

Jon slowly sank to the floor in exhaustion. “Thanks Ms. Stephanie… I’m doin’ my best…”

“Whoa… Tim, you better get up here. Bruce is back, and… you just need to get up here.”

Tim paused for a brief moment before walking out of the Training Room and heading for the Security Office. Steph seemed really worried over the intercom, which worried Tim. Was it about Damian’s recovery, or something else?

As Tim stepped into the Security Office, he was greeted by Bruce’s grimacing face… and Talia’s. Tim wasn’t expecting, but his brother’s mother stood there looking back at him. And… oh crap, she was wearing a new uniform. Black suit, grey cloak, claws… some kind of blade on her right hand? What is this??

“… Bruce, what is this?”

Bruce let out a growl under his breath. “Damian thinks he’s figured out who the fake X is. Turns out, she’s got incredibly close ties to the al Ghuls… so we’re bringing in Talia to hunt her down.”

Tim nodded slowly. “Okay… so what do we call her?”

Talia pulled on her mask and hood. “You may call me…” she hissed through her voice modulator. “… Phantasm.”