#don’t forget you’re the ones who pushed hayden out of acting and out of the spotlight in the first place | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

passable-talent · 4 years

Text

guess what I’m up to?

if you guessed “writing for another obscure hayden christensen character before that movie disappears from Tubi”, you’d be correct!

David Rice x GN!Reader, Jumper (2008)

ik this movie was based on a book but i have not read it. forgive me if, when i play around with the rules of jumping, it violates what the book says a jumper can do. I’m gonna operate with the best understanding i can. also i’m changing the ending woooo

At fourteen, you met a boy. His name was Elliot Rhodes- and he was a jumper.

At first it was freaky, sure. Finding out that teleportation is real? It would freak anybody out.

But it... it also explained a lot of things. It explained the way that you’d always wake up in your bed when you swore you passed out on the couch. It explained the way that you’d sometimes walk in the front door, not really remembering the bus ride home. It explained how you’d pop into a different room when you’d only taken half as many steps as you needed to.

Were you a jumper, too?

You met Elliot when you were fourteen, and life was good for five years. He was your best friend, he was more than that. He helped you learn how to jump, helped you hide it from your parents, from the school. The both of you knew that you should be hiding your ability, could feel that it was a secret you had to keep, but didn’t quite know why.

Then, five years into your relationship, when you’d finally figured out how to live, how to use your powers to make a living without being found out, when you were just about ready to leave your parent’s place and move into the cabin in Canada his parents left for him-

Death came for you, on his pale white horse. But it was his hair that was white, instead. And he didn’t come for you, exactly.

Roland Cox. He appeared at Elliot’s home, and killed him. Then, before you even had your hand on your phone to call the police, someone else jumped into the room.

You’d lashed out at him, throwing him away from Elliot, but he pushed you back, getting right to business.

He knew who Roland was. He knew why he’d come. He introduced himself, his name was Griffin- and he offered you a chance to help him get back at Roland.

Griffin didn’t really hold up to his word. He couldn’t trace Roland any better than you could’ve, but you were happy to have an ally, someone who had a mission, and a mission that would keep you out of your grief. You channeled your anger into hunting paladins, just like Griffin did. He wasn’t the easiest person to get along with, but he was a good guy... somewhere, deep down.

He was somewhat understanding of you. He recognized your grief, found it similar to his own. And, in the four years you’d been hanging out with him, you’d become a pretty skilled fighter. You’d learned the tricks- you were a paladin hunter.

It was a pretty solid new life. Given the superpowers and the dead boyfriend and the newfound target on your back from some ridiculous religious zealots, you could’ve done a lot worse.

And then, along came David.

David Rice. You’d seen him a thousand times, even if it wasn’t actually him. He was just another jumper who’d never had a run-in with the paladins, who’d never lost someone to the paladins, just another idiot who robbed a bank (unoriginal), and took his girlfriend on an ill-advised trip (bland). There was nothing exceptional about David Rice.

Well, he was cute. A little.

Okay, fine, he’s really cute. He’s a jackass, but he’s got a sweet smile. And he’s still a little puppy dog, following after a girl that he’s not into, but he’s convinced himself he’s still in love with.

Textbook. You’d seen it a thousand times. It was something that a lot of jumpers did, using their new power and money and suave to find the person they were in love with before things changed, and wooing them. It always worked, at first, but things fell apart, because those amateurs could never keep it together. Even if they did manage to keep their partners out of the claws of the paladins, the secrets or the lying did them in. Most of the time, these jumpers weren’t even in it for the people, anymore. Just like David- he didn’t love her, not anymore. He just loved the idea of getting what he’d always wanted.

When you saw him, at a bar in London, you had this quick little thought, ‘he’s not gonna last long.’

No, no, he was more impressive than that. He showed up at the Colosseum, and Griffin followed, assuming that the paladins weren’t far behind. And he was right, he always was, and you got to have plenty of fun moving around and fucking with paladins.

“Ya know,” you said with a laugh when one of them had their eyes on you, their cables tearing up another priceless stone wall, “you sure don’t have much respect for history.”

They managed to get a cable around you, and you felt that familiar tingle of lots and lots of electricity roll through you. But you were used to this, and you slipped out of your outer layer, then using the fabric to hold onto the cable and jump it through a wall, so it couldn’t be yanked out by any human force. Now, it was useless, and they had one less weapon.

You jumped in front of them, and slipped your jacket back over your shoulders.

“Loose fabric,” you said with a smirk, then landed a strong punch across his jaw.

You jumped back to Griffin’s lair with unconscious paladin in tow, and quickly handcuffed him to the usual spot. Griffin wasn’t far behind with the other, but then, David appeared too.

Griffin kicked him out, fast.

“Yeah, he’s dead in a week, tops,” you said with a shake of your head. Griffin rolled his eyes, and started his work with the same level of anger and annoyance that he always did.

A few hours passed in silence. Griffin had a new controller, so you let him ramble on about whatever game he was playing while you stretched out on the short couch you’d swiped from a closing furniture store a few months back. It was the closest to peace you ever seemed to get anymore, at least whenever you hung out with Griffin. But then David came back. He had nagging questions, they always did, when they managed to get ahold of Griffin. It usually didn’t change their fates.

No, what changed their fates was when someone they cared about died. It happened to Griffin. It happened to you. And when he discovered his dad dead, it happened to David, too. So he wanted to help hunt Roland.

Join the club.

David gathered up the most recent intel Griffin had on Roland- which just so happened to be what you’d given him, four years ago. You watched from across the room as he and Griffin got into a bit of a tiff.

Griffin pulled out the scars on his neck, to prove to David the high stakes he was messing with. That caught your attention- Griffin wasn’t one to be vulnerable.

“Look, forget it! Forget Roland. Don’t waste your time.” Griffin righted his shoulders, taking a step back. “Just leave it to me.” He went off to his business out of your line of sight, which just left David. You still hadn’t really said a word to the man, too focused on Griffin’s drama to pay the new guy much attention. But you stood, taking a step closer to him, so now you could at least see Griffin working at his safe. Like always when he pulled the key from around his neck, you looked away. David hadn’t yet learned that lesson.

Just like it had been when you first arrived, David awkwardly turned his back to the safe while Griffin entered it. You still didn’t quite know what was in there, but you knew it was important, and you knew it was dangerous. There were a few obvious conclusions you could leap to.

“I’m-” David started, letting out a little breath. He really wasn’t prepared for any of this, was he? How long had he been jumping without running into the paladins?

“I was thinking that if we do this together, we could get him.”

“Oh, no,” you said with a bit of a laugh, laying your head back against the stone wall. “He’s a solo act. He only keeps me around ‘cause I’m so charming.”

“No, you’re not,” Griffin threw over his shoulder, and you only laughed at him. “Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t play well with others.” When you heard the safe close, you lifted your head back to the two of them, and watched as Griffin paced toward the doorway. You followed only after David did, and noticed him heading toward one of his vehicles, an old trailer- why Griffin liked to mess with it before he jumped, you didn’t quite get. It wasn’t going to move, anyway.

“Do me a favor, yeah?” Griffin asked David, “Don’t be here when I get back. Find a rock, crawl under it, stay there.” He turned back to David, and you watched with a raised eyebrow from against the doorway.

“ ‘Joi woo’, brother,” He said, and you rolled your eyes. “That’s ‘goodbye’ in Chinese.”

For some reason, you didn’t think it was.

He stabbed a knife into the tarp and jumped, and though you hoped that was the end of it, David followed him through his jump scar.

Perfect. Just perfect.

You followed as well, hoping to at least keep David out of trouble. When he followed Griffin, you just kept pace beside him, sticking to him in a way you knew would annoy him. You were like a bystander, letting the two of them figure out their annoyances with each other, staying out of it. It took him what seemed like half of the length of Tokyo until he finally got around to the point.

“And I know where to find Roland.”

“Why didn’t ya lead with that?” You asked, smacking the back of your hand against David’s shoulder.

Griffin turned away, but the two of you followed. He swiped a car, you loved when he does that, because it’s always a really nice one, and you get to lean out of it and feel the wind. David took shotgun, and that’s fine, he’s the one with the special information or whatever. Didn’t matter, you could just enjoy the way that Griffin drives. He’s fun.

All the sudden, David jumped to an airport, and the both of you followed. After a quick conversation, it was time to jump back to the lair, get some weapons together. You pulled on your loosest hoodie, knowing you’d probably need it, if they were bringing cables to whatever fight you were about to have. Was there a plan? It’s not like you were listening, but it didn’t seem to you like David had exactly explained where he planned on finding Roman.

“Hey, what the hell?” You snarled when he jumped into the lair with his little girlfriend. “Oh, no, no, you can not bring her here. No way.”

“Look, I gotta keep her safe, alright? Where’s Griffin?”

“Out front. You have to get her out of here.” Your words fell on deaf ears as he charged out to get Griffin, and you watched with a bit of annoyance as the girl followed. What was her name? Millie? Poor lamb probably didn’t know anything of what was going on at all.

You heard whispering behind you, and turned around with a drop of your heart. Oh, this was bad, this was bad. They’d used- they had a wormhole, right into the lair.

“Griffin!” You shouted, and not a moment later he appeared beside you, the same look of dread on his face that you were feeling in your chest. David appeared, then, and Griffin turned on him instantly.

“What have you done?”

“Griffin-”

“Where does this thing go?”

“We gotta go.”

“David, what did you do?!”

The both of them jumped away, and it seemed like you were the only one who had any sense at all.

You jumped immediately to the mouth of the lair, where you found Millie, looking confused and terrified. Naturally. Good for her, honestly, for keeping it together as much as she was.

“ ‘ello, love,” you said, “Millie, right?” You took hold of her hands and jumped her away, far away, where she’d be much safer. On the other side, you waited for just a moment for her to get her wits together, so she’d register your words.

“Stay here, okay? I mean it. Don’t go outside. There’s water and food and power, you’ll be fine. Just- seriously. Stay here.” You jumped back, then, to the mouth of the lair, hoping that when you entered, you wouldn’t be interrupting something important.

Well, judging by the use of Griffin’s flamethrower, something important was happening.

There were two men, plus Roland. As much as you wanted to take on Roland yourself, Griffin seemed to have that covered, and there were others you needed to deal with. With just a grab to the shoulder, one of them took a nice fun drop into the Mariana Trench.

What? You’d read a book on it, once.

The other was charred to a crisp, it seemed, and so you went looking for the only other person unaccounted for.

“David?” You called into the lair, and you heard him groaning, along with the crackle of electricity.

“Where’s Millie?” He asked, and you rounded the corner to see him strung up to the ceiling.

“Somewhere safe, relax,” you said, shucking your hoodie off of your shoulders to wrap the fabric around your hands and grab onto the cables. Once you had them, you could jump away easily, pulling them off of him. You jumped back, slipping your hoodie back on, and gave him a cocky smile.

“Loose fabrics,” you said, then jumped away to try to find out what Griffin was up to.

A double-decker bus, that’s what. Then came Roland, and then came Griffin with the flame-thrower. When they both disappeared into the jump scar, David rounded on you, narrowing his eyes.

“Where’s Millie?” he snarled, and you took a step back.

“She’s fine, I told you! She’s safe!”

“Where is she?” David roared, and you shoved him away from you.

“She’s fine! Christ, boy, you don’t even love her, anyway!”

That caught him off guard.

“What?”

“Oh, god,” you groaned, turning your head before snapping your eyes to him, more ferocity in your gaze. “You know you don’t. You’re just holding onto the last thing you had when things were normal.”

“Where is she?” He said again, taking an intimidating step toward you.

“I get it, okay?” You said, though now you were yelling. “I get it. But you’re putting her in danger! David, just let her go. You’re never going to be able to protect her. Not from them.” David’s eyes widened for just a moment, and then he looked down. You could see it as he gave in.

“Let me take her home. At least let me do that.”

“Sorry,” you said softly, “The place I put her, I- I can’t let anyone else see it. You gotta understand.”

Before it could get any worse, Griffin threw himself through the jump scar.

“Nice,” he said as he righted himself, then immediately opened his safe. “The whole lot of them are in that apartment.”

“Oh, you’re finally gonna use the safe?” You asked, watching as he punched a few buttons.

“I’ll take ‘em all out while they’re still there.”

“That’s Millie’s apartment!” David said, and Griffin turned to him with a shrug.

“She’s not there,” he said, nonchalantly, as though it was obvious. What’s the harm in destroying the apartment if no one innocent dies in it?

Griffin readied the safe and jumped away, leaving you and David behind. You turned to him, raising your gaze to his. He still looked vaguely angry.

“She’s-” You turned your head to the side, before you could finish the sentence. You hadn’t told anyone about the cabin, not even Griffin. “She’s in Canada. Near a lake. She’s got water and power, nobody knows about it but me. She’s fine. But-” You gestured toward where the jumpscar to her apartment used to be, “Now she’s got nowhere to go back to.”

“I know where her mom lives,” David said, shaking his head. “I’ll take her there.” You nodded slowly, then brought your gaze to his. He had- he had really blue eyes. Strikingly blue. You knew he couldn’t get to the cabin without following your scar, so you made him wait for you, made him wait until this moment ended. He didn’t seem to mind.

“Hey, thanks,” he said after a moment, “You got her out of there.” He was speaking a bit gentler now, and this tone of voice you could certainly get used to. Was he being genuine with you? That was new.

“Well, she seemed important.”

“Yeah,” David said, a small smile finally growing on his face, and even though it was dark, you could swear you saw him begin to blush. Bashful little fucker. “We never even- Rome, I-”

“Save it,” you said with a smile, reaching out to take his hand, which was surprisingly warm. You jumped him to the cabin, and found Millie curled up on the couch, looking out the window at the lake.

“Sorry about all this, love,” you said, letting David have his moment.

“Just take me home,” she said with a bit of a whimper, and you shook your head, even as you walked to the cabinet to grab a packet of crackers.

“Sorry, love, that apartment’s gone. Kinda had to. Hope you understand.”

“What?” Millie asked in disbelief.

“Really, (Y/N)?” David asked over his shoulder, before taking Millie’s hands and jumping her out of your cabin.

You were meant to move here, with Elliot. This wasn’t even technically your place, even though you’d taken it up. Every now and again, you still missed him- but now that Griffin had taken care of Roland, it didn’t hurt so bad anymore.

Four years was a long time to heal, maybe. But you’d needed it. And now that you had, and Roland was gone, and the world was just a bit safer for you- maybe you could consider trying again.

Maybe with someone that had strikingly blue eyes. And surprisingly warm hands.

-🦌 Roe

#jumper 2008 #jumper #david rice #david rice x reader #x gn!reader #gender neutral reader #david rice jumper #david rice jumper x reader #hayden christensen #fics

102 notes · View notes

justauthoring · 4 years

Text

Hard To Put Into Words (NRT Bonus Scene)

Request(s): Hi! I'm not sure if you're taking requests for NRT bonus scene -if you're not feel free to ignore this😂- but maybe you could write one with Theo, and how he helped her and she actually opened up to him, or something from his point of view and his true feelings. I love how interesting you made their relationship and I just can't help but want more; also I really love Theo as a character so yeah. Anyway, love your writing.💖

Perhaps a NRT bonus scene showing/explaining the times Theo and (Y/n) spent together? How Theo was able to earn her trust and how she (as mentioned in the story) fell for him? Even just a little?

Hello, I really love nrt and I have a request for a bonus scene from theo's point of view from the moments that he manipulated y/n and when he realized that he actually cares about her I just really love them lol

Requested by: @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive

A/N: This is just a little thank you for you all be so patient with me on taking a break on NRT. I don’t know if anyone else has every requested this, I just know that since season five ended i’ve gotten a lot of asks revolving this sort of storyline/POV! I’m rewatching Teen Wolf with my mom now and I just know that NRT will be finished soon -- but for now, thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoy this bonus scene!

It had been so perfectly and articulately planned out from the beginning.

Your entire pack was entirely in his hands; you were all like puppets to him and Theo found you and the rest all too easily manipulated.

You were the easiest. While it had been years since he’d seen you, Scott or Stiles; the one thing Theo remembered about you was just how kind you were. You didn’t judge anyone you didn’t know. You gave everyone a chance. Theo very carefully remembered the way you had chased around your brother and Stiles when you were younger, when you followed them around aimlessly and they took every opportunity to impress you. Make you laugh. Make you smile.

The most important thing for Theo was to separate you from the two of them.

And with your sudden incline of power, Scott and Stiles made it all too easy for him.

Having knowledge about witches also helped. He knew that that kind of information was hard to come by, that witches were a long ago forgotten race of supernatural. He knew that you, yourself, barely knew anything. And while it was important to gain your trust and have you realized that he was the one you should be placing all your loyalty to, not Stiles or your brother who barely paid any mind to your true powers, it was also important that you were the strongest you could be. Theo wanted you at your strongest, because he knew you were his strongest member.

Soon-to-be-member.

But then you had looked so afraid. You’d crawled away from him in a fit of panic and terror, falling to your knees with a hard thud on the concrete beneath you. Theo finds himself oddly actually panicked, actually worried, and the way he rushes out of his truck is not an act to gain your trust. You had... You had looked so afraid.

He pulls you into him, cupping your cheeks, trying to get your wild and terrified eyes to focus on his own familiar ones. It takes coaxing, but eventually you listen to him, head to his warnings, and you’re starting to breathe, and your heart is starting to slow.

It’s then the way you look at him. Your eyes meet his own, chest rising and falling, breathless, but still managing to look so utterly amazed and... grateful. And no one has ever looked at him like that before.

Not in a long while.

“How... How’d you do that?”

And Theo, unsettled and confused by the emotions swirling deep inside of his chest, just shakes his head; “I just told you’d to breathe. You just needed a little push.”

But then you take his hand in your own and squeeze it so tightly it actually hurts, and Theo doesn’t even mind. He just likes the feeling of having you so close, of being able to hold you in his arms.

And when your lip juts out, whimpering, and your voice comes out all raw...

“I’m losing control of my powers... and I don’t know what to do.”

Theo means it when he whispers; “I can help. You just have to trust me.”

And then, you defend him in front of your friends. In front of Stiles and Scott, Scott, without an ounce of hesitation. Like the words you speak are nothing but the truth.

Theo has never had anyone stand up for him like that.

When you call him, he swears his heart soars in happiness. Momentarily, and just for a moment, he forgets about his plan, forgets about all he needs to do, and basks in the happiness that you’re trusting him. That you’re going to him for help and not your brother or not Stiles. Him.

You’re like putty in his hands. Theo realizes you’re just the same you’d been when you were younger. You’re too trusting, you give everyone the benefit of the doubt, despite the words Theo is sure Stiles is spouting your way. You still meet him, you still ask him for help. You listen to every single word he says with utmost interested, taking in every word he says carefully and with focus. He knows Scott and Stiles don’t know; that this is secret.

But he finds he doesn’t all much care. If they know or don’t, he can have you more to himself if they don’t.

He sticks close, leans close, touches every bit of you he can. It’s not just to gain your trust anymore, it’s to satisfy the hunger inside of him that craves for you, wants you, completely and wholly all to himself. Theo finds himself resenting Scott even more when he interrupts the moment, where the two of are inches away, your hands are in his own, and you’re hanging onto everyone of his words like there’s nothing else in the entire world.

He resents the interruption even more when he can’t come with you.

Theo finds it a silent victory when you react to his touch like you do. He likes seeing the small blush that flutters onto your cheeks when he gets too close or touches you, happy that he has that kind of effect over you. He doesn’t even much care about the glares Stiles sends his ways, the heavy gaze on his back as he walks into Scott’s house to help with the reading.

It was worth it just for you. The touch of you. The presence of you.

When he hears you scream those words, that cry of “please! Daddy!” Theo realizes maybe you’re just as broken as him. Maybe, you’d understand him better than anyone else. Because it was the way you’d cried out, it was the cracking in your voice, it was fear in your voice that tells Theo there’s something more to it.

He’s the one that coaxes you out of whatever revere you’d been. Whatever nightmare that had come alive before you.

You hold onto him tightly, as if never wanting to let go. Theo relishes in it, even as he reluctantly brings you to Scott. Having you hold onto him like that proves to him he done exactly what he needed, get you to trust him. Theo was just starting to lose sight on for what reason he wanted you to trust him in the first place.

He relishes in the feeling of you holding him, hugging him, praising him for finding Liam and Hayden even though he’d known where they were the entire time. Not that you knew. Of course you didn’t know. You thought him some hero, someone who saved your friends who you obviously cared deeply for. Theo is reminded of the reason why he cares for you so much, your heart. The way you put every bit of your being into caring for others.

No one has ever done that for him.

He knows his plan is working when he manages to calm you down and not Stiles. When you defend him from Stiles, your own boyfriend. The moment had been awkward, Theo wasn’t clueless to that, but he also felt a small bit of victory well deep within him as you trust him over Stiles. Take his side over Stiles’.

It was working. He was gaining your trust. But truthfully, Theo wasn’t even doing it just for the sake of his pack and plan anymore.

Not now.

But... But then...

It goes wrong. It feels like a slap to the face when you neglect everything he tells you, words your brother had taken in so easily. Believed so easily. You actually don’t believe him about Stiles and Donovan, and that Theo hadn’t been expecting; certainly not from you. He thought... He thought you’d felt the same.

His heart wrenches painfully and uncomfortably, not used to the sensation, as you choose Stiles over him.

Even when you’re angry, even when you fight violently against him, Theo still finds himself drawn towards you. Even though you’d betrayed him and chose Stiles... He had you now, that’s what mattered the most. His plan had had to happen quicker, not everything had happened the way he wanted (mainly, you) but, it was working.

He can see your focus fading, watching as your eyes lull as he carries you easily over to his truck.

But Theo just has to say it, before then, to make you understand... that you know...

“I just need you to know Y/N, that I truly did come back for you. You maybe more than anyone else.”

And he doesn’t articulate it the way wants to. Doesn’t phrase it quite in the right way. But, he knows you hear him and Theo hopes you understand that he means what he’s said. That he truly does care for you. You more than anyone else. And you were the only person that ever made him doubt anything, especially his plan.

You’re the only one.

But, at the end of the day, the most important thing to him was that he had you.

Let me know what you thought?

Tag List: @potterheadbbc - @sunsetblake - @mythicalamphitrite - @loverofwaytoomanythings618 - @minuteandahalf - @mnk - @gazebros - @colie87 - @quilliamfears - @quellum - @pessimisticbullshit - @kaylinfayezink - @maiabiovillage - @tr1chst3r - @arkcangel - @quirkytwinkles - @thegirlwhoimagined - @noones-girl1980 - @illumminated - @fairchild345 - @all-will-be-well-love - @animemes-trash - @starryrevelations - @literallyhelpme - @theskytraveler - @jinandtion1c - @ilovemymoose - @bibliophilesquared - @stilessarcasmqueen - @mersuperwholocked-lowlife - @newtsshelbys - @wyattgoleft - @pancakefancake - @saturno-in-the-night - @pizzamelon7384 - @riskregretting - @mdgrdians - @ravenclawnerdfromnarnia - @franchisefan14 - @lovingpeterparker - @audreysduvxl - @kararanae23 - @alioop3818 - @a-gir1-has-n0-name - @andyl394 - @sclestial - @jayymocha - @2ptonpt - @itsfangirlmendes- @deafeningmusicdetective - @alex–awesome–22 - @nicholerodz - @kellbell44- @serrahruby - @agentmarvel13 - @egg-in-a-spork - @nickigv - @vxidnik - @marvelousgab - @emmaleighrose- @danielag1969 - @digicharr - @shantayok - @cherry3bombshell - @thatprofessionalfangirl - @itsjaynebird - @grippleback-galaxy - @dafukbish - @randomfanfictiontime - @unicorn-sparkles123 - @sammyrenae68 - @myfanficlibrarium - @liveforthenight130318- @booknymph02 - @smileyouresopretty - @fionnthebandersnacc- @voidsarahh - @kal-pal - @darlingimmafangirl - @burningmusicmarchi - @celacaveremo - @maolhy71706 - @supernatural-kinda-girl - @wherever-life-takes-us - @natalien-92 - @letmebeyoursforever - @lonelyforeverlina - @parkerschurros - @seninjakitey - @runway-to-my-aid - @weirdowithnobeardo - @missleahlin - @your-typical-giggle - @wandascarlett - @multifandxm353 - @moonliightbabes - @lemontenciulek - @smokingperfume - @where-art-thau-romeo - @1teen1dream - @standing-onthe-edge - @moresimsforme - @used-avocado - @hotel-colson - @lovingchildperson - @10minutesofscreentime - @shiningsunrise - @trustfundparker

133 notes · View notes

eddie-redmayne-italian-blog · 5 years

Photo

Eddie Redmayne recounts his scary gas balloon crash with Felicity Jones

By: Ruben V. Nepales - ColumnistPhilippine Daily Inquirer

September 19, 2019

LOS ANGELES—Eddie Redmayne’s bold red and white jacket definitely woke me up one recent morning in Toronto after all the screenings and interviews.

Eddie combined the bright colored, vintage-style jacket with a white, black-striped turtleneck, black jeans and white sneakers. The eye-catching, not-staid-at-all look—all by Celine—goes with the pioneering, daring and brave spirit of James Glaisher, whom he plays in “The Aeronauts.”

James was a British meteorologist, astronomer and a pioneering balloonist who made many ascents to measure the temperature and humidity of the atmosphere at its highest levels. In one such ascent in September 1862, James broke the record for reaching the highest altitude.

In director Tom Harper’s dramatization of the unprecedented balloon flight up, up in the air of James, the scientist is paired with Amelia (Felicity Jones), a pilot.

Amelia is a fictional character. In real life, James often copiloted the balloon with Henry Tracey Coxwell.

But in the action-adventure “The Aeronauts,” it’s James and Amelia who end up in an epic struggle for survival while trying to make discoveries in a hot air balloon.

Excerpts from our chat:

In this film, your pioneering real-life character, balloonist James Glaisher, is constantly being told “No, you can’t do this or that.” What is your relationship to the word “No”? Acting is one of those professions where, from the start—I started at age 5—you were told no.

I remember my first-ever professional audition when I was 9 years old. I had just signed with this children’s acting group in High Wycombe (UK) of which James Corden and Aaron Taylor-Johnson were members.

It was for a production in the West End of “Annie Get Your Gun.” I had to learn this song for it and I had never been to an audition. I arrived at the theater and there were literally 700 boys who looked identical to me. I lined up like in “The X Factor” or “American Idol” auditions, holding a number.

Amelia is a fictional character. In real life, James often copiloted the balloon with Henry Tracey Coxwell.

But in the action-adventure “The Aeronauts,” it’s James and Amelia who end up in an epic struggle for survival while trying to make discoveries in a hot air balloon.

Excerpts from our chat:

I was allowed to sing one line of the song, was ushered off the stage and promptly told no.

I remember thinking, wow, this is brutal. They were brutal to people at a young age. It was intense.

But weirdly, in that clichéd way, it does instill an ambition and a rigor in you that you can’t ever leave because even now, when I’ve been lucky enough to have some, well, employment and interesting work, you’re still being told no.

James Glaisher broke the world record for altitude, but passed out at one point in his ascent to the highest levels while on a balloon. How did his spirit of pushing himself to the limit resonate with you? The thing that I shared with James Glaisher was a passion. I feel like so few people in life are lucky enough to get to work in a world that they’re deeply passionate about. But what comes with that is consistently being told no, having to lick your wounds and start all over again.

The most obvious way is work. I’ll never forget my first ever TV job. It was this show called “Doctors” that was so popular in the UK. I had only ever done theater and I didn’t know what I was doing. The guy who was playing my dad was pretty brutal to me. He was like, “It’s not going to work.”

It was one of those kicks in the back, and he was right. Because when I watched our scene, it was horrendous.

Speaking of fire, what was the most daunting thing about being up there in the air in a balloon propelled by heat? I can tell you the story of Day 1 of filming. They built a gas balloon rather than a hot air balloon. They built a replica of the Mammoth.

We did our first scene day of shooting in this gas balloon. We shot outside Oxford and there were these people holding down the balloon. There was a pilot hiding in the basket.

Felicity and I were there in costume. They let the balloon go and we just started rising. It was the most breathtaking thing because what’s extraordinary about gas balloons is silence.

As we went over Oxford, before the helicopters and drones came in to start shooting, people were walking their dogs and you’re flying at 30 meters. It’s silent and so they go, “Good morning” and you go, “Morning.” It’s this amazing interaction. Anyway, as helicopters and drones started coming, it was totally peaceful and weirdly unscary even though you’re basically in a log basket.

[When] we slowly started descending, again all very calm and just before when we were coming down, we were heading toward some trees. So the slightly nervous pilot shouted, “You need to throw out the sandbags!” So Felicity and I started throwing out the sandbags. We lifted again and missed the trees. We were like, “Phew!”

Then, the pilot went, “Oh my God! You’ve thrown out all of the sandbags (laughs)!”

What this meant is when we came to land, we careered into the trees like 20 meters in the air. We smashed into these trees in this basket. We went hurtling down to the ground.

The basket crunched to the floor. Our heads got thrown back. Felicity’s head smacked against the cap of my character James’ chest.

So, from the total serenity in the air, there was suddenly total chaos and noise. We came smashing down. Felicity went, “I don’t think I can move my neck.”

I started thinking over the fact that the insurance medical test that I’d taken for this film was the most intense thing I have ever done in my life. It involved me having to run with things attached all over me for like hours to check that I wasn’t going to have a heart attack on this film.

As you can see from the film, people die in these balloons. It was an extraordinary experience.

You are about to play Tom Hayden in director Aaron Sorkin’s “The Trial of the Chicago 7.” What are you excited about in this next project? Aaron Sorkin also wrote the script. But the one thing I’ve always had on my bucket list is Aaron Sorkin.

It’s an ensemble piece with the most beautiful words. Also, what’s lovely for me is Mark Rylance is in it. He plays William Kunstler.

Mark gave me my first-ever job playing Viola with him in “Twelfth Night” back at the Globe like when I was starting out.

And Sacha Baron Cohen who was in “Les Misérables” with me. There are lots of old friends in it, so I’m really excited.

You have all these films and you have family with two kids. How do you balance that? I like quite a lot of prep time. Prep time is wonderful because you can immerse yourself in the character, but you can also be at home. It’s the closest to a 9-to-5 life you’ll have. Then, when I was doing “The Aeronauts,” it was shot in the studios in the UK, which is a 10-minute drive from my flat.

When I first got together with Hannah (Bagshawe), I had spent years working in Budapest, the Carolinas and all over. I said to Hannah, “Our life is going to be nomadic.” She’s much more free-spirited than I am. She was like, “Great, let’s do it! Let’s travel the world.”

.https://entertainment.inquirer.net/345905/eddie-redmayne-recounts-his-scary-gas-balloon-crash-with-felicity-jones

15 notes · View notes

fuckyeahhiccuphaddock · 5 years

Text

The Red Grapple Grounder - DagCup

TITLE: The Red Grapple Grounder

DESCRIPTION: When Hiccup is born unable to walk, Dagur is forced to grow closer to him every time he visits Berk, and forgets to appreciate him for what he can do — only realizing this when it is too little too late.

CHAPTER #: Chapter 1/2.

GENRE: fanfiction

MATURE RATING: OFF ✖️

LANGUAGE: English

Find the AO3 Link to this fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20795195/chapters/49423094

The Red Grapple Grouder,

Inspired by James Hurst’s

”The Scarlett Ibis”.

It was during winter when Hayden had been born — it would be his first winter and Dagur’s fifth. Dagur had only been to Berk a few times, when his father and the chief talked of things that had yet to concern him. He came to the group of elevated islands at the tip of the boat, pretending he was leading the fleet. Dagur had always been like that — desperate for leadership he could yet to have.

He heard that when he was chief, Hayden — that was what they had named the prince of Berk — would be a future ally. Eventually the boats landed near the shore, and it hadn’t took long before Dagur stood next to his father, eager to meet the person who was going to be in his later life, foot bouncing. He hoped Hayden would grow up quickly, that before they became chiefs, they would get to run and jump and fight. Dagur was looking for a new opponent; he had bested every other kid at home.

And so when they entered the room, Dagur had seen what he didn’t expect.

“Why is he so small?” He asked Valka, who had, still, days after giving birth, fresh tears on her face. Her expression was laced with pain and a despair he couldn’t understand. “I wasn’t that small when I was born.”

”I know, Dagur,” Valka whispered, and her eyebrows furrowed downwards. She began to sob softly, and Dagur had yet to know why, but he was confused, as his father guided him out of the room, told him to go to bed and closed the door in his face.

He hadn’t thought much of it, not til the next morning when he came to visit Valka again.

”His legs!” Dagur had yelled, no filter between his mouth and his brain. “Why do they look like that? They’re bent!”

And it was true. Hayden had legs unlike no other. They were scarred and twisted so abnormally that it made Dagur uncomfortable. It was an ugly sight; Dagur had never seen anyone look so strange. Not only his legs, but Hayden was red and shriveled, like an old man coming out of a hot bath.

”Yes, Dagur. They are,” Valka told him, but unlike the day before, she instead wore a smile on her face. “But they’re apart of him. We should love him anyways.”

Dagur frowned. It seemed like such a strange idea. He didn’t love many people; most of the time made fun of them, unless they were his friends, people he played with. “Will he be able to run?”

”No, unfortunately. But Stoick and I are still going to take care of him.”

At that, Dagur had huffed. “Would he live past this winter?” It was a strong question — but he’d always ask those.

In that moment, Valka was very silent. “Yes, he will.” She said, and then she added another blanket around Hayden, all the while Dagur watched.

“How do you know?” Dagur asked, and at that moment Hayden began to fuss, tiny fists bundled and his eyes shut, yet he was barely moving.

”He was born during Thor’s blessing. He was born during the sounds of Thor crashing his mighty hammer down on his foes. He will live.”

At that moment, Dagur decided that Valka was a crazy lady.

From the beginning, Hayden had thousand of surprises up his sleeve. Dagur had never expected so much from someone who could do so little with their body. Around Hayden’s second winter, the prince of Berk had yet been able to crawl, nonetheless walk, and Dgaur had found that as sickening and weak. It was the first thing he thought when Hayden came to his mind — that he was weak, and because of that, he was different.

There were other children around his age on Berk that he’d play with when he visited. Snotface, who was always trying to suck up to him. Dumb and Stupid, the twins that Dagur tried avoiding at all costs, who annoyed him so much he’d walk off storming towards the woods in a fit. Blondie, who he’d gotten into fights with more often than him breathing. And Fishlegs, who Dagur had also seen as weak.

They were either too boring or too annoying, and he had been filled with relief upon the news that Hayden was born. That relief was diminished when he saw Hayden the first and second time, and when he realized he’d have to wait years before Hayden could even talk. It infuriated the redhead to no end.

He held the small, weak thing in his arms, his green eyes narrowed and his cheeks huffed. There were a lot of things Dagur didn’t like about Hayden. The fact he couldn’t walk. The fact his name was too bold and strong to fit him. The fact that he couldn’t grow up faster, and his legs.

”Why do I have to carry him?” Dagur had complained, his arms beginning to strain after the long period of time. He was at the Mess Hall, where the adults acted stupid, stuffing their faces of food and drinks that he wasn’t allowed to taste. It was Snoggletog, and he wanted nothing more than to go out and chase the sun, which was drowning into the ocean.

“You need to spend time with him. He’s not all used to you, you know,” his father had glanced at him and responded briefly, before turning his head back towards the uproar of people seating at the long table.

I don’t want him to get used to me, Dagur had thought, his gaze going back to Hayden, who pulled at his hair. Dagur made a face, and when Hayden pulled a little too hard, he growled.

”Fine then! We’re going out, dad,” he told the chief of Berserkers, who merely grunted in return. With an eyeroll, the redhead quickly fled the scene, pushing open the heavy door of the Mess Hall and walking outside.

He felt Hayden squirm in his arms, and heard him cry. “Oh, yeah,” Dagur muttered to himself, quickly changing his detour towards the hut he and his father were currently staying at. “You need a coat or you’ll die.”

Hayden whimpered and cling to him, and Dagur rolled his eyes. He kicked open to door to their hut, letting his slam behind them. A candle was lit on top of a table, and he grabbed it before heading upstairs.

”You can have one my coats. Dad would kill me if I took his,” At this point, Dagur felt like he was talking to no one but himself. After all, Hayden couldn’t do or say anything back.

He set Hayden onto the bed, who flopped onto his stomach and squirmed. The redhead snorted and set the candle on the bedside drawer, walking to a trunk at the corner of the room. It hadn’t been snowing when he walked outside, but it was still cold, and he was certain that Hayden would freeze in a single minute if he wasn’t wrapped up.

”Here.” The coat would be way too big for Hayden, probably would reach his ankles, but it would have to do. It was better to be safe. After all, Dagur didn’t plan on staying around the Berkian village. He had some exploring to do, and if he had to take the other with him, then so be it.

When he reached the bed, Hayden was squirming and has reached the edge of the bed, trying to wiggle off. Dagur wasn’t surprised; it was the only movement Hayden could really do, and even when he did, his face would get red, sometimes even purple. In this case, it had reached a soft pink. Gothi — Berk’s doctor — had said that the strain of him moving around so would have put so much strain on his weak heart he’d die, but that had yet to happen. Dagur didn’t think it ever would.

He scooped up the two year old with a single arm, and Hayden responded with even more squirming. “Hold still, stupid,” Dagur muttered, and he set the oversized coat around Hayden’s shoulders, securing it by buttoning it up. When he was done, Dagur grinned proudly.

”Alright then. Let’s get out of here,” the redhead said, and he quickly fled from the hut, out the village and towards the large woods.

”Gods, Hayden. You’re heavy.”

With a grunt, the young, now seven year old set the young boy onto a rock. He wobbled a little, but then remained still after Dagur set a hand on his shoulder. He looked around, frowning slightly. The sun was now long gone, having drowned completely into the ocean. He was upset; Dagur had hoped he would catch it, but it seemed that no matter what direction he went it, he never got any closer to it.

”I don’t want to go back,” Dagur admitted, and he looked down to the Berkian. “What do you think? Should we head to the village again?”

There was no response from Hayden, and Dagur rolled his eyes. Sometimes he wished Hayden was old enough to talk; and he hoped that when Hayden did reach that age, he would.

Suddenly there was a little noise. It sounded strange, and he didn’t know what it was until it came back again. Hic. A pause. Hic. Hic!

“Hayden!” Dagur laughed, and he crouched to the younger eyelevel. “Did you hiccup?”

Hayden gave a little grin in response, based of his teeth showing. “Hic.”

Dagur paused for a moment, before he too let out his own grin. “Hiccup. Yeah, I like that name a lot better. Way better than something like Hayden,” he muttered, “No way does it suit you.”

After that, he took Hiccup back to the village, where the adults party had long since ended. He told Valka and Stoick about what had happened, about the new name he came up with. His father and the Berkian chief had agreed, but Valka frowned and said that a baby born in the middle of Thor’s blessing was to be treated with better respect. Hiccup just, well, kept on hiccuping.

It was the first time Dagur had ever found Hiccup to be something other than useless.

Years had passed, and Dagur knew Hayden of only one name — Hiccup. For the longest time, he’d forgotten that it wasn’t his real one, and so whenever anyone referred to the prince of Berk by any other name than the one Dagur had given him, he’d ask, “Who?”

At this time, Hiccup was seven, and Dagur had just turned twelve. Hiccup had learned to crawl when he turned three, and for a long while it was the way he transported, up until the blacksmith of Berk had to make him a cart in which he was pulled around. It was usually Valka who took care of him, despite most of the citizens of Berk saying that Hiccup was in no way fit to be a future chief. Dagur had agreed, but when people began saying that Hiccup should be instead in Valhalla, he’d thrown a fit.

He came only seven times a year: Twice in the spring time for five days, twice in the summer for a week, once in the fall, and once again for Snoggletog. And every time he went, it seem the talk of what to do with Hiccup became more and more of an uproar.

And although Dagur had hated the idea of Hiccup off the earth and into Valhalla, there was a a knot of cruelty within him that he expressed every time he visited Berk, every time he saw Hiccup. A knot of cruelty, shame, and sadistic torture.

Every time Dagur had visited, Hiccup clung to his side like a leech, desperate to remain with him. Dagur knew exactly why, too. Despite treating Hiccup like a toy of entertainment each him he visited Berk, he was the only person who really talked to him. Unlike Snltface and the others, who sneered with disgust every time he saw Hiccup, Dagur was different. He held an anticipating grin to his face instead of that sneer, and Hiccup always grabbed onto that fact.

Dagur hadn’t been to Berk since Spring time, and at the moment, the Berserker tribe was at war, and hence their late visit. It was now fall, and Dagur had wanted to be there when his father and Stoick discussed helping the Berserkers through the war, but alas, he was told the same thing he was told years ago: “You need to spend time with him. He’s not all used to you, you know.”

And that was the reasoning to why the redhead was pulling Hiccup, who was sat in the small cart Gobber had crafted, through the forest.

“D-Dagur? Where are we going?”

When he was younger, the redhead always desperately hoped that when Hiccup was older, he would talk. Now, it seemed like he’d never shut up. “I already told you, stupid. We’re going dragon hunting,” he sighed in irritation. “Now just pipe down.”

”Okay,” Hiccup mumbled quickly after, and there was nothing but peaceful, welcoming silence. Dagur huffed through his nose, and he stepped over a branch, dragging Hiccup’s cart along with him.

”Dagur? Do you hate me?”

”For the gods sake, what the Hel did I just say, Hiccup?”

”Sorry. I just want to know.”

Dagur paused. He didn’t know how to answer that.

“You do hate me,” Hiccup said after a moment.

Dagur didn’t know what to say to that either.

There were mixed emotions Dagur had about the younger. He either hated Hiccup with a passion so strong he would play cruel pranks and thrive in the way he suffered, or he protected him and loved him in the way that he would fend off every bully, and there was no in between. It had always been one or the other.

And it didn’t take long before Dagur dragged himself and Hiccup to their sanctuary in the woods. They called it Rocklock Cavern, after hours of arguing. And it was just like its name, too. A system of tunnels made of rock, swooping down from ground level. Hiccup had thought it was originally the nest of a Catastrophic Quaken, and Dagur had thought so too.

He let go of the cart handle, and it produced a thud in return. Dagur stop on the edge, peering down into the abyss of Rocklock Cavern. They hadn’t told a soul about the mysterious place, not since originally finding it two years ago, when Hiccup was four.

“How long are we going to stay?” Came Hiccup’s voice from behind. The redhead kicked a rock down into the darkness, listening to it hit the ground.

”Until we find a dragon. I’ll kill it and bring it back.”

“You can’t kill a dragon, Dagur.”

And very swiftly he had turned, his dark green eyes holding a wicked glare. “Are you doubting me, Hiccup?”

Nervously, the younger shifted. “W-well, yeah. You’re not old enough, a-and you’re not strong... Yet! Not strong enough yet!”

”That’s it, you twerp!” Dagur growled, and he hoisted the other out of the wooden cart, and Hiccup gave a high pitched yelp in turn. He spun on his feet, tightly fisting Hiccup’s shirt, dangling him over the edge of the cavern with one hand. “You’ve been on my nerves all damn day!”

“D-Dagur! Put me down! This isn’t funny!” Hiccup cried, his nails reaching up and scratching at his hand. The redhead couldn’t help but chuckle.

”Put you down? You mean, like this?” He asked, teasingly, tauntingly, moving his arm and letting Hiccup dangle even further. “You want me to put you down now?”

“No!” Hiccup yelled, following by Dagur’s laughter. “Dagur, please!”

And then there was a roar. Dagur’s eyes widened and he had nearly flinched at the sound; so much that he had almost let go of Hiccup and dropped him down into the deep cavern. Said boy whimpered beneath him and clung harder, to which Dagur rolled his eyes, pulling the six year old away from the edge and tossing him carelessly back into his cart.

“Ow,” Hiccup muttered, but Dagur paid no mind. Making haste, he muttered and snatched up the thin, fur bag that he had placed in Hiccup’s cart, pulling out an encased long sword and a helmet with pointed horns.

“Stay here,” Dagur ordered, and he placed the helmet on his head, fastening it. “Don’t move.”

And Dagur had been about to leave, but there was a hand gripping his and Hiccup’s voice. “Dagur, wait! Take me with you! Don’t leave me,” he whispered, “Don’t leave me alone.”

“Fine,” Dagur glared in return. “But if you die or get hurt, it’s not my damn fault.”

And there was a light in Hiccup’s eyes, one that made Dagur want to slap it off his expression. “Okay! Just take me with you.”

With a roll of his eyes, Dagur hoisted the much smaller boy over his shoulders, and he ran through the woods until they found the entrance of a rock tunnel, kicking away branches and rocks. “Keep quiet, Hiccup, or I swear —“

”I’ll hush up, Dagur. I promise,” the boy whispered, his face right next to the redhead’s. “I’ll be the most quietest.”

He hadn’t believed it, but then there was another roar snatching his attention. It sounded pain and meek, to which Dagur deflated at slightly. He hoped the damn thing wasn’t injured; he wanted to take it out while it was at full strength, to flaunt his power, and show his father the things he could do. He wasn’t a child anymore.

With a shove to the vines blocking his path, Dagur made his way down the opening, into the dark cavern, tracing the walls with his hand. He reached the bottom and knew he had when his steps had became a complete echo.

“Matches,” Dagur said, and there was a soft ruffling before they were pressed into his hand. He took one out of the small box and scratched it against the rock wall, and light blossomed cooperatively.

”Get on my back, Hiccup. I’m not gonna hold you the whole way.”

”I know,” came the response, and Hiccup slid from his arm, his own arms going securely around Dagur’s neck, and legs around his waist. “What kind of dragon you think it is?”

”How the Hel should I know? Besides, didn’t I tell you to keep quiet?” Dagur growled, and he began walking, stepping heel-toe. “And when we get there, get off my back and hide behind a rock or something. I’ll handle the dragon from there.”

”Just be careful, Dagur,” Hiccup whispered, and then he grew quiet.

The roaring had continued, and Dagur was getting fed up. He unsheathed his sword and began running, his footsteps getting heavier and heavier. The match went out and with the snap of his fingers, another was pressed into his hand. With enough distance he travelled, light began to shine from the end of the long, Cavern hallway, and there was another monstrous roar.

They reached the end, and Dagur had expected a battle, but he didn’t see it all. What he had found instead had made his mood instantly turn sour, his sword falling to the ground with a clang. There was a soft gasp from Hiccup, and the legs and arms around him tightened.

“It’s a dragon!” Hiccup yelled, and Dagur had almost slapped him right then and there.

”No shit, idiot,” He grunted in return.

And said dragon was injured. Its wing bent and folded, so much that it almost reminded a Dagur of Hiccup’s legs when he had first seen them. The stupid thing was trying to fly out of the cavern; after all, at this point, there were multiple openings through the ceiling. It was cut up and in a malnourished state, if the way its ribs were visible was anything to go by.

Dagur might have thought it a worthy opponent, had he found it at its best point, but it looked pathetic instead, writhing writhing and flapping its broken wing, trying oh so desperately to fly but instead remaining in the same place, not getting any closer to the opening than it had before.

And although Dagur and Hiccup had made noise, the dragon didn’t seem to pay any attention to them. It gave one more attempt to fly out before falling onto the ground, laying there like a limp body. Puffs of white smoke exhaled through its nostrils, and Dagur was aware that it could have the potential to breathe fire.

”Grapple Grounder,” Hiccup whispered near his ear.

”What?”

”Grapple Grounder. That’s what it’s called. It coils around people and squeezes them to death,” he explained, and Dagur snorted.

”Well, isn’t that pleasant?”

”It breathes fire, too.”

”I know that, stupid,” Dgaur rolled his eyes again. He’d been doing that more and more frequently that he spent time with Hiccup. He grabbed his sword from the ground, sheathing it once more. “Well, it’s going to die. Let’s just leave it.”

”Wait,” Hiccup protested quickly. “Wait.”

”For God’s sakes, what now?” Dagur groaned. This entire mission had been pointless, and he wanted to head back to the village and terrorize some of the Berkians. Not only that, but he had drag Hiccup and his cart all the way back. He was irritated.

”Let’s stay,” Hiccup said. “It’s going to die, right? We should keep it company, at least...”

”You want to keep company for the dragon,” Dagur repeated dully.

”Stop being so mean! Let’s just stay, okay?” Hiccup said, his voice edging on to be pleading. “Come on, Dagur.”

He thought for a moment, before the redhead finally came to a decision. “We should kill it.”

”No!” Hiccup sighed, exasperated.

”Why not? Look at the damn thing, Hiccup. It can’t move. Can’t fly. Can’t do anything. It’s suffering, so we might as well get rid of it!” Dagur snapped. He was tired of the kid's damn antics.

Hiccup stayed silent, and Dagur would have ignored it and started walking if it weren't for the fact that something told him to stay there, nailed to the ground. "It's kind of like me, isn't it?" the brunette boy asked softly. "Would you put me down, Dagur? When I got older and was suffering, like you said, would you kill me and call it mercy? Or would it be different because I'm a person? Tell me the truth." And gods, Hiccup was a six year old, but he the way he said that sentence had sent shivers down his back. It made him feel transparent; ghostly, but most of all, it had him thinking, even though he shouldn't be. "No," Dagur said, after what had seemed like hours. "No, Hiccup, I wouldn't. Not even if you wanted me to."

"We should kill it," Hiccup said. "Like you said, it is hurting. I think it'll feel better not here anymore, right? It's too weak to fight back anyways." "Sure," Dagur agreed, and he set the boy in the corner, next to a pile of boulders. That urge or cruelty, of the want to hurt Hiccup had dispersed just slightly. Wordlessly, the Berkian prince took cover behind the multitude of rocks, peering from the cracks. Dagur made his way over to the used to be strong beast, his blade glinting through the veils of sunlight peering from the ceiling. He had gotten closer and closer, cautiously, and when he reached the dragon, it merely stared at him, giving a plead with its eyes that glanced at his sword and then to him. Its next action made Dagur's heart drop. The red Grapple Grounder prepared itself, eyes closing slowly and its head thudding gently onto the floor. Dagur raised his sword, and he tried not to look at Hiccup through the reflection. His breath wavered slightly, before he brought it down, straight through the dragon's temple.

The red seeped out of the wound. Gushed and poured, and Dagur hung his head. It was a dragon. He'd never felt sympathy for the creatures, yet at the moment, he felt as if his heart had been torn out of his chest, and he didn't know why. But the one thing he knew was that he would always remember this day - the death of the Red Grapple Grounder.

10 notes · View notes

mysteli · 6 years

Text

someone you loved (chris x mc)

A/N: ok so I’m not really sure how to label this fic but it’s angsty most of the time so let’s go with that. just had a really emotional idea and needed to get it out there

Warning: Angst

Recommended music: someone you loved by lewis capaldi

Words: 3675

PERMA TAG LIST: @brightpinkpeppercorn@cocomaxley@hopefulmoonobject@alesana45 @jellybean-marshmellow@mymandrake@regrettingnathan@dobie2112@princessstellaris@mechaspirit@skyila @mind-reader1 @xo-endlessmayhem-xo@sakaily@justboredtrash@regina-and-happiness@annekebbphotography. @endlessly-searching-for-you@reginasayeed@abbiebishops@zigortega4life@eileendannie@diamondoasis@speedyoperarascalparty@emomoustache@lostlightningbug@endlesstaylormckenzie @alekai-sayeed@akrenich@vickypoo91@nitta-jaeguet@femmeshep @hayden-park@mkatschoicesblog

This fic: @flowerpowell @eadanga @choicesfan44 @chris-powells-girl @am-i-invisible777 @the-soot-sprite @maxattack-powell

Let me know if you wanna be tagged! 💗and let me know if the tags work because Tumblr is acting up.

Summary: When Chris receives some dreaded news, distant regrets finally come to haunt him and not even Aria is sure she can help him recover

Masterlist

THE COLLEGE YEARS FAN FICTION SOMEONE YOU LOVED

Bombarded by the weight of the shopping bags in her grasp, Aria stumbles into the apartment, sweat greasing her forehead as she releases a sigh of relief, happy to finally be back home. She enters the apartment, shutting the door and dropping the bags on the nearest counter. She’s been out of college for about two years now, her and Chris have been having an enjoyable life so far and they expect good things in their future. In fact, they do have much to look forward to, with their wedding date finally in tact and they’re set to wed in six months time. Of course, Aria is thrilled she can finally unite officially with the love of her life. It’s truly a dream come true for her and Chris and she suspects their life together can only get more amazing from here.

Scanning the apartment carefully, Aria searches for her boyfriend of over six years. Well, fiancé really and for some reason, she still finds that overwhelming to say. Brushing off her sudden nerves, her face lights up for a second when she spots Chris on the couch but then the excitement dies immediately at his damaged demeanour. He’s positioned on the couch, his hands clenched into fists and his expression as blank as they come. A conflict is clearly playing out on his features, almost as if he’s trying fill the empty spaces in his mind. However, his sapphire eyes drop the idea that he’s also about to over-flood with tears. In his current state, not even Aria can tell what he’s thinking.

With comforting intentions, Aria tries to make her presence known to Chris by tapping her feet more loudly against the floor as she approaches him. Problem is, he doesn’t look up, his eyes burning into the floorboards but it’s obvious he still knows she’s there. A deep sigh practically falls out of his mouth like it’s nothing and Aria runs a hand through her dark brown hair, unsure what to do for a moment.

In the end, she decides to play this out like she usually would when Chris is down. Warily, she takes a seat beside him on the couch and wraps her arms around his shoulders. This usually gives him a wake up call and his body reacts to her touch the way it usually would. Chris’ breath hitches a little but his body only seems to tense up even more, his gaze never daring to tear away from its position on the floor.

It’s almost like Chris is in a whole other world. Upon that, Aria leans in so her mouth is hovering near his ear, her heavier breathing grazing the skin. Only now does she realise how much he’s shaking. Who knows how long he’s been this paralysed and irresponsive? Hell, the more important wonder is what made him this way? Aria has never seen Chris in an emotional state as severe as this before. For once, she doesn’t exactly know how to help him.

Aria plays out her first words in her head a few times, planning them out as carefully as she can. She knows how delicate Chris’ feelings can be when he’s in a similar state like this but Aria can actually sense more risk to what she could say than normal.

With that, she takes a shot in the dark and speaks. “Chris...” is all she manages to say, her voice a mere whisper and so quiet that the rest of her words she planned to say aren’t even able to leave her mouth.

Chris remains still, causing Aria to drift her arm over his shoulder and around his neck, stroking the skin of his collarbone but he barely reacts, tilting his head ever so lightly that she manages to catch a glimpse of the pain hidden in his sapphire eyes.

“Chris.” Aria tries again, more firmly this time and Chris just so happens to look up on this attempt, now staring forward now and it’s becoming more obvious that he’s trying to avoid his girlfriend’s gaze, knowing his vulnerability will immediately fall out of him if he does.

Annoyance edges towards Aria’s veins and she moves her hand further up Chris’ neck until its gripping his chin. She tilts his face to look directly in her hazel eyes and she’s almost shocked by the amount of depression trapped inside his pupils. It’s painfully obvious that he’s trying to sustain his composure and keep all the tears of his negative emotions locked away. But Aria knows how to break that defence system. It’s one of the reasons why she’s so necessary too him.

“Baby... what’s wrong?” Aria transitions her tone into something more soft, loosening the firmness of her grasp of his chin and trailing one finger of his jaw, changing directions a few times but entwining both hands behind his neck.

Chris refuses to respond, showing his denial by shaking his head at her as idly as possible. “I... I don’t wanna talk about it.” Despite his dismissive response, Aria is still relieved to hear him speak for the first time after this unbearable silence.

“Chris... you’re shaking. What happened?” Aria asks in her usual gentle tone that comes so easy to her now and she knows when and how to use it. Every time it proves affective. She knows her care by massaging the skin at the back of Chris’ neck and leaning in to plant a soft kiss to his cheek. He’s slightly soothed by her touch and he bites her lower lip nervously.

“...It’s just some news I got today but... you don’t need to worry about it. It probably shouldn’t matter anyway.” Chris points out but it’s almost like he’s trying to reason with himself rather than Aria, who can easily argue that he’s stretching the truth, especially as his eyes water with clear depression. Perhaps even... grief.

“Babe, if it’s hurting you, then it fucking matters.” Aria counters, cupping his cheek comfortingly and running a hand through his hair. Her fingertips graze the skin of his face and she knocks their foreheads together tenderly and looks Chris dead in the eyes, forming a solemness she rarely ever uses. “Tell me what’s going on, Chris. Please... you’re starting to scare me.”

With that, Chris senses his denial slowly slipping away, as does his collectiveness. The walls he built start to crumble and he grips onto the hand Aria has moved to rest on his shoulder so desperately that it’s like he needs a sudden source of extra support for what he’s about to reveal. Courage is what he doesn’t have much of at this time but he’s got no more energy to push away the love of his life.

“...It’s my dad.” Chris hints, startling Aria at the mention of such a distant memory. She leans away from him and eyes him with an understandable confusion, not sure why such a man would become a conversation topic after all this time trying to forget him.

“Your... dad?” A lightbulb suddenly goes off in Aria’s head. “Wait... he’s not back again, is he? Not after four goddamn years? Chris, it shouldn’t even be a question if he’s asked for your forgiveness again. You owe that man nothing.”

Chris shakes his head at her assumption, more tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “See, the thing is... I don’t think he’ll ever have a chance to come back now because he’s...” He trails off, not enough strength built up to want to finally admit it out loud, especially to himself. With that, Chris reaches his breaking point and a river explodes down his features, causing Aria to grasp him as quickly as she can and let him pour out his heart and soul into her shoulder. She’s not even affected by the fact that he’s soaking her shirt right now. In a situation like this, who would have the courtesy to care about such a meaningless thing when someone else is put under such emotional torture like this?

Aria hasn’t even had a moment to process the news, even as she cradles her fiancé in her arms and buries her face in his hair, stroking his back and easing his heavy breaths as a rare vulnerability sparks within him. Can this really be true? Is it possible that after all this time... Chris’ father is really... gone? It’s guaranteed that this would kill Chris the most inside because it’s his father and he’s the one who tried so hard to see the good in who was obviously a lost cause to begin with? Chris never wanted to see his own father as a bad man and if he did, he’d never forgive himself.

Chris barely remembers the last time he saw his dad. During sophomore year, when he turned him away and told him to never come back, completely distancing himself from the past pain and focusing on the present. If he could go back in time and make a different decision, he’d honestly do the same thing but maybe not shut his dad out as quickly as he did.

None of that matters anyway because all his mind holds is regrets. Regrets that could easily have been hiding out until this day finally came and they are prepared to ruin Chris’ state of mind and being his guilt levels to the peak.

After a tense silence, with only the sound of Chris’ pained sobs being heard, he finally lifts his head but doesn’t remove his gaze from the floor. His hand roams back and forth along Aria’s arm and she can’t help but let out a breathy sigh at the impact on his touch. He’s almost comforted by the sound and he grazes his hand from her wrist all the way to her fingertips, his touch light and gentle. Tears begin to dry on his cheeks and Aria can tell he’s trying to distract himself from the agony exploding inside of him. He’s looking for a way to escape it, not willing to accept there isn’t a way out.

With that, Aria cups his face and forces him to look at her, her hands carefully outlining his fallen features and sympathising with him in every way possible. “Baby... I’m so sorry.” She finally whispers, joining their foreheads and her reassuring intentions instantly shine through and Chris knows he should be grateful. He shudders when she entwines their fingers and tugs his lower lip between his teeth. He falls into a state of contemplation and Aria can practically see the debate playing out in her fiancé’s mind. “...How did it happen?”

Chris sucks in a sharp breath before he dares to ask, seeming as though he’s looking through Aria rather than at her. “...Car crash. He died on the way to the hospital. The hospital are the ones who called me.” He struggles and stutters as he speaks but he’s relieved when he finally gets the right words out. So many emotions are swirling around his mind and he can’t even really choose one to label what he’s feeling right now. It isn’t describable. When a significant part enters his mind, Chris hangs his head and tears swell in his eyes again. “The worst part is... they told me that... my dad was asking for me in the ambulance... and he wanted them to tell me that... he was on his way back to Hartfeld to... make things right.” With that, Chris almost breaks down again, barely able to maintain his composure and Aria swiftly wraps him in a hug, burying her face in his shoulder.

“Chris... you know this isn’t your fault, right? Your dad made the mistakes he did and maybe he just had his wake up call too late.” Aria tries to be honest with Chris, even if the truth can be brutal at times. He always appreciates honesty.

Chris glances up and nods with determination. “Yeah. You’re probably right but... he did still try to make things right. And that... cost him his life.” It’s painfully clear that Chris is trying to avoid placing the blame of his deceased father and torturing himself with the guilt himself. But Aria won’t let him think for a second that any of this is his fault. Because it’s impossible for it to be.

“Baby, no.” Aria tells him firmly, leaning away from the hug and eyeing him dead in the eyes once more, making sure he processes every single word she says. “This isn’t your fault. You had no control over this. No one did. It was just an accident that shouldn’t have happened... but it did. And we have to focus on the reality, ok? I’m sorry if I’m pressuring you but... you’ve just gotta admit it to yourself.”

Chris exhales sharply, understanding what she’s saying but doubting his own ability to complete it. “What if I can’t do that? What if my father wants me to just live in denial?”

“Why would your father want you to pause your entire life only to hold off remembering him? I’m sure he’d want you to honour his memory by being the successful man your dad always dreamed you’d become.” Aria assures, moving off the couch and positioning herself on the floor, on her knees, facing Chris and forcing him to look her in the eyes again. She notices how her words are affecting him but she can’t tell if it’s a positive or negative reaction. It’s like he understands but he still refuses to let it sink in.

“Maybe but... what if I can’t honour his memory? I mean... maybe I shouldn’t be too worried about what my dad would think of me if he actually got to me and never... crashed.”

“I’m sure he’d be so proud of you seeing the man you’re becoming.” Aria whispers, planting a slow, sweet kiss on his lips and letting it linger but he barely returns it, as much as he wants to show more agreement.

“But... I feel like my dad always expected the most of me, even if he wasn’t around for half my life. I always had a voice telling me to make him proud, no matter how angry I was at him. That voice started getting louder when he left in Sophomore year. For the second time, I felt like the burden of having his approval came back and I... I haven’t been able to get rid of it.” Chris pours out his heart and soul as he speaks, as Aria rests her hands on his thighs and scoots closer to him, studying the pain in his muffled expression intently. Strands of his light brown is falling over his sapphire eyes and the glow that once lied within them is almost completely gone, taken over by an unavoidable amount of grief that could be seen from a mile away.

No matter how much his words deny it, his expression says it all.

“I love you. Your mother loves you. Your siblings love you. Your friends love you. And I know, your father loved you, more than anything. That’s why he kept coming back because he wanted you to be the man that he never had the chance to be because of the mistakes he made and he doesn’t want you making the same ones. So listen to me...” Aria cups Chris’ face and leans in so their foreheads knock together. “The first step is getting through this process, ok? You just lost a parent. That’s a huge deal and I want you to take it in, process it... and accept it. Please... I don’t want this denial hanging over your shoulders. I get that it’s hard but... it’ll help you take a step closer to closure. I promise.”

Chris remains still for a moment, running a hand through his hair out of stress and entwining his hands at the back of his neck. He really wants to believe Aria when she says time will heal the wounds of grief but at the same time, Chris has never been the type to live with pain so easily. He’s a dismissive type of person and he would never want to admit the loss he’s experienced today. It’s just too huge.

Aria hangs her head sheepishly when Chris stays silent for a long time. After a long moment of contemplation, she lifts her head and releases a soft exhale, slight hesitancy filling her tone the next time she speaks. “Chris... I just want you to know that if this is too hard for you... we can postpone the wedding until you...” Aria trails off, uncertain what else to say as her own eyes overwhelm with tears. She’s willing to do anything to make Chris’ life the best it can possibly be and she’s not happy when he’s not happy. So if he’s guaranteed to still feel grief on their wedding day, Aria will wait until that grief has cleared, as long as it takes.

Chris is a little taken aback by her suggestion and he grips her chin with his first two fingers, scanning her face with a puzzled look crossing his features. “I... I don’t wanna postpone it.” He replies, sounding more sure than he has in this entire conversation. He takes Aria’s hand and plants a soft kiss on her knuckle.

“But Chris... your dad...”

“I know and I’ll be honest... this is gonna take me a fucking while to get over but... nothing is gonna stop me from marrying you, Aria.” Chris assures, kissing the top of Aria’s forehead but she still doesn’t appear convinced of his sudden certainty.

“But babe, I don’t the reminder of your dad being gone haunting you when it’s supposed to be the happiest day of your life.”

“I get what you’re saying but that feeling’s gonna be there either way. And I know I’ll feel a million times better on our wedding day because I’ll finally know that it’s the day I get to spend the rest of my life with you.” Chris whispers, bringing Aria in for a reassuring kiss. She forms a shy smile that doesn’t completely reach her lips and when he pulls away, he notices how unsure she remains. “Whats wrong?”

“I’m just worried about you. Your dad made so many mistakes yet this is the most hurt I’ve ever seen you. He really meant more to you than you ever really thought and it’s... a shame you didn’t get the chance to tell him that.” Aria admits, noticing how Chris nods timidly in reaction, seeming to know exactly what she’s talking about.

“I know. I should’ve done better. Guess that may be one of the reasons why the news hit me so hard.” Chris appears to be talking more idly now and his composure is returning to him. Maybe now he’s finally resisting control and accepting what’s happened.

“...How do you feel? Really?” Aria dares to ask, stroking his face with the back of her hand and only now noticing how much sweat from the nerves have creased his skin.

Chris keeps a firm grip of Aria’s hand, needing her support for how he might respond. He rubs circles over her knuckles with his thumb, contemplating intently. “Honestly... I’m not sure how i feel. It’s all just... really overwhelming. I guess, somewhere down the line, I figured... everything would work out. He’d suddenly show up and be a better man, with a job and a steady income. The brightest smile on his face and the pride that he finally got his life together. Relieved that he finally admit that he fixed it. He fixed it all. But I guess now... that day’s never gonna come. You were right, he realised too late.” He mutters under his breath, clinging onto Aria’s hand like his life depends on it and his emotional state certainly does. His breathing struggles to stay steady and he eases himself by taking in the sight of his stunning fiancé. “At least I’ve still got you, beautiful.” Chris adds out of the blue, startling Aria slightly and she can see the hidden desperation in his sky blue eyes. Giving in, he grasps both of her shoulders and joins their foreheads together, his tense breathing grazing her lower lip and she can’t help but shiver at the affect it has on her. “All I’m ever gonna ask of you, baby, is that... you don’t ever leave me. Please... you’re the one person I wouldn’t be able to handle losing. Sure, losing others painful but you... it’d be fucking unbearable. So please stay... stay.”

Aria melts at the need and desperation behind Chris’ tone. There’s a genuine fear bouncing off of him right now and she can tell the honest side of him dominating more than ever. He’s never spoken this desperately to her before and she had no idea he felt like this. Like she would ever leave but still... this is overwhelming.

Aria clings onto Chris’ arms and sinks further on her knees, planting a few lingering kisses on his lips before tears starting running down her cheeks. “Chris... I promise to never leave you. Ever. I’m gonna live my life with you and I’m gonna cherish every single goddamn moment we get to share together. This is it. You and me. But I just need you to promise me one thing, babe.”

Chris nods harshly. “Anything.”

“Don’t blame yourself for what happened to your dad. It’s never gonna be your fault. So stop torturing yourself by containing the guilt because you don’t have to do that. Promise me.” Aria requests, her tone commanding with a hint of desperation and Chris drags her in for a passionate kiss and the words he whispers against her lips as they barely pull away is like music to her ears.

“I promise.”

66 notes · View notes

dissonants-13 · 6 years

Text

Just Friends

For the beautiful @mlmseangayle based on these prompts: break yo heart. Prompt: “You didn’t care, even a little bit?”

Story Details: Comedic angst, language. M!MC. Damien just wants Kai to lock his goddamn front door. Kai wants something else.

Damien lets himself into Kai’s apartment without even needing to knock, because once again, Kai has left the goddamn door unlocked, despite Damien’s frequent lectures on personal security in the big city. He heads straight for the fridge and liberates a beer from a six-pack inside, then shouts to Kai, who seems to be crashing around in the bathroom like a lunatic, based on what Damien can hear.

“Do you know how many preventable murders happen each year in this city because people leave their doors unlocked?” Damien shouts to him. The noise from the bathroom stops for a moment, and Kai sticks his head out. His brown hair is a stupid, adorable – wait, what? – mess and his shoulders are bare. Damien deduces he’s probably naked.

“Oh, Damien! You’re early. I’m not dressed,” he says, a classic Kai blush creeping along his cheekbones.

Just call me Sherlock, Damien thinks, mentally congratulating himself. He says, “You want one too?” and raises the beer in his hand to indicate what he’s talking about.

Kai shakes his head. “Give me minute to finish getting ready, then I’ll have one.” He disappears back into the bathroom, and Damien busies himself with studying the newspaper Kai has left on the bench, until he hears Kai’s voice call out to him. “How many people die from preventable murder a year?”

Damien can hear the hint of amusement in Kai’s voice, and he racks his brains quickly for some statistics. “Uhhh, like, hundreds. Eighty-three percent of all murders in this city are preventable, you know,” he says, putting on his best convincing voice. In the bathroom, Kai laughs.

“Aren’t one hundred percent of all murders preventable if people just don’t, you know, murder each other?” Kai’s head reappears from the bathroom, and he’s got a shit-eating kind of grin on his face that Damien is familiar with; it always makes him both want to smile in return, and lightly strangle Kai. Not enough to hurt him, just enough to stop him from grinning like an idiot.

“Seriously though,” Damien says, ignoring the question, “I could have been a lust murderer here to deflower you and kill you by stabbing you, which is how I get off because I’m sexually inadequate, and then leave your body to be found by your family and-slash-or friends. Lock your bloody door.”

Kai is frowning. “What an oddly specific example.” They look at each other for a moment, and Damien notes Kai has even gone to the trouble of shaving for this preposterous ‘double date’ tonight. “Are you going to kill me, D?” Kai asks, the grin back.

“Not right now,” Damien answers airily.

“Is this your way of telling me you’re sexually inadequate buddy?” Kai asks sympathetically, disappearing back inside the bathroom as the cushion Damien throws goes sailing past his head.

“I’m extremely adequate!” he shouts, and Kai’s laughter resonates from the bathroom. Grinning involuntarily, Damien settles himself on the couch and flicks the TV on. He finds a baseball replay and gets somewhat engrossed in the game, until the crashing and swearing from Kai’s bathroom becomes impossible to ignore.

“You alright down there, buddy?” Damien calls down to him. There’s no answer for a moment, before Kai emerges in a very nice light blue button down shirt and snug black jeans.

“How’s this? Actually don’t answer that, you have no style.” Kai huffs and disappears down the hall into his room, and Damien, feeling rather indignant, gets up and follows him. Kai is stripping off his shirt angrily, and Damien leans on the doorframe, eyeing him.

“If is about this dumb double date-”

“It’s not a double date!” Kai snaps. “It’s just you and me, and Hayden and Sloane hanging out.”

“What’s with the crazy then?” Damien asks, stepping forward and gently knocking Kai’s hands away, because he’s buttoning his new shirt crookedly. Kai says nothing as Damien fixes the buttons, he just looks at him – Damien can feel Kai’s green eyes burning holes in his forehead. It’s as if Kai wants to say more, but can’t find the words. He’s been acting weird for a while now – really since he started the whole Eros process, but Damien has, for the most part, just shrugged it off as Kai’s normal neuroses a bit accelerated. But now he wonders if maybe it’s something more? If it’s anything to do with Hayden, if that shady, altogether too-perfect jerk has done anything to hurt or upset Kai…Damien feels his jaw clenching and it takes several seconds to relax again.

With the shirt properly buttoned, Damien brushes down Kai’s shoulders, and then drops his hands to his side. Kai averts his eyes now, staring at his feet.

“Thanks,” he murmurs.

“Kai,” Damien says, gently forcing Kai’s chin up so their eyes can meet. “What’s up? Did Hayden do something?”

Kai sighs, still trying his best not to meet Damien’s gaze. “Hayden is fine. Hayden is perfect.”

“Too perfect,” Damien snorts.

Kai shoots him a quelling look. “I just…” he trails off, his eyes a million miles away. They really are incredibly green, Damien thinks, like the kind of green that poets describe in books that Damien definitely doesn’t read when he’s bored on stakeouts. Kai sighs again, and continues. “I just guess I always thought you might eventually, you know…make a move…” Kai turns his head away and steps out of Damien’s reach, a furious blush on his cheekbones.

Damien feels his lips part in shock, and something deep in his stomach twists strangely. “I - what?”

Kai’s fist is clenched and he looks terribly uncomfortable, like he wishes the ground would swallow him, but he swallows hard and speaks again. “I tried to just like Hayden and forget about your stupid smile and your stupid fucking hair, but you keep just like, being here you know? Like being present? So every time you barge in here coz I’ve forgotten to lock the door it’s like my heart takes a dive off a cliff.”

Kai’s bottom lip is quaking now and Damien wants to say something, but he’s so thunderstruck that words won’t come out.

“Just pretend I didn’t say anything,” Kai says, his voice little more than a sad whisper. “You didn’t care, even a little bit...did you?”

“Kai...” Damien says, reaching out and touching his collar. “Where is this coming from?”

Kai shifts his weight, biting his bottom lip and Damien thinks, fuck. He thought Kai was happy with Hayden, that’s why he hasn’t said anything or made a move - he thought he’d missed his chance, but there was no way he was going to mess things up for Kai by getting in between him and Hayden. Kai spots Damien’s eyes fixed on his mouth, and his blush returns in force.

“D...what are you-” Kai starts to back away, but his shoulders meet the wall and he’s stopped, trapped in front of Damien.

All Damien can smell is the conditioner Kai uses - buttermilk and honey, Damien has borrowed it before when he’s crashed at Kai’s - and up close he can see the rose-coloured tint of a deep blush beneath Kai’s sprinkle of freckles. Damien lets his gaze flicker back to Kai’s mouth again, before he meets his eye and slowly leans in, cocking his head to the side a little.

“I always cared,” Damien murmurs, putting his hands on Kai’s hips and gently pushing him against the wall. “Seeing you with Hayden kills me inside.”

There’s scant inches between them now and Damien keeps waiting for Kai to laugh and push him away, but he doesn’t. It’s almost like he’s holding his breath, waiting for Damien to do whatever he’s going to do. Their hips meet and Kai lets out a soft ‘huh’ and then quickly presses his lips together, as if he didn’t mean to. Damien lifts his right hand and buries it in Kai’s soft brown curls, gripping them with enough pressure to just tease at what could happen between them.

“Damien,” Kai breathes, and Damien is so close that their lips ghost each other’s lightly as he speaks.

He’s okay with this! Damien thinks. Kiss him!

The doorbell rings.

#perfect match #choices perfect match #choices fanfiction #choices fanfic #damien nazario #damien x mc #prompt game

71 notes · View notes

endless-vall · 6 years

Text

Maybe it is different now - Damien x MC fanfic

Summary: An innocent Friday movie night ignites Damien’s feelings for Amy once again. Author’s note: I think Damien had a crush on MC for a long time, but buried it deep enough for anyone to notice. Then, when Hayden came into the picture, the crush came slowly back to the surface... And while Damien might fought it, it didn’t really help. This is set after the ‘breakup’ with Steve but before Damien and MC have an intervention to Nadia. Requested by @asprankle with the “Are you Jealous” prompt! 😊 Thank you for requesting, dear. I really do love this pairing and would love to write more about them. Their slow-burn is AMAZING.

It was supposed to be a regular Friday night, with Amy, Nadia and Damien sharing some almost burned popcorn in one of their apartments, watching a random movie. It had become sort of an habit, after they befriended Damien and started hanging out. It was never weird, or awkward, and they rarely, rarely cancelled. This week, it was Nadia’s turn to host it, and she cancelled last minute. Amy volunteered in her place, and Nadia apologized, promising to make it to her’s. Damien had a strange feeling about it, but he shrugged it off, and went out on his familiar way to Amy’s apartment.

He stood in the doorway, after knocking, announcing his arrival, and soon Amy opened to door with a light smile. She practically beamed at him, he thought. “Damien! Come in.” She moved away, letting him into her apartment. She gave him a quick hug, before closing the door behind him. It all happened too fast, and Damien didn’t have a second to appreciate or linger on her touch. Maybe it was for the best... A low voice whispered in the back of his mind. “The popcorn’s almost ready.” Amy let him know, walking towards the kitchen. “Don’t forget to burn it.” He teased, bursting into a chuckle. “If my mind recalls correctly, it was you who almost burned our popcorn and therefore started our tradition, so don’t you tell me, Nazario.” Amy cocked an eyebrow, having an amused smile over her lips. Damien’s gaze lingered just a second too long over her lips, before he shook his head and chuckled again. “Don’t call me out like that.” He half-asked, smiling at her. Amy giggled in return, and transferred the popcorn from the pot it was prepared in into a large bowl. “There’s some beers in the fridge.” She let Damien know. He took a pack and then followed her, eyeing her questioningly. “What about Nadia?” He finally asked. “Oh! Right.” It was funny, for Amy to forget about her cousin like that. Amy reached for her phone, checking for new notifications. Damien could see she had no new messages from Nadia, but she did have a few from Hayden. His stomach twisted when he saw his name pop up, and Damien scowled at himself. He couldn’t bring himself to really hate Hayden, though, and that made things even more complicated. Maybe the reason he was so set on exposing Eros on their con was because he wanted there to be something wrong, something to hate, about Hayden. Since Amy clearly didn’t hate him. She might’ve had other feelings towards him, but hate definitely wasn’t one of them. Amy quickly typed a reply to Hayden’s messages, before going to her conversation window with her cousin. “Nope.” Amy said. “Nothing new.” She shrugged. “Last time I talked to her, she said she’ll be here.” She tells him, what he already knew. “Should we worry?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed upwards. “I’ll give her a quick call.” After Amy finishes the call, she turns to Damien, with an apologetic look in her eyes. “Sorry, she said she won’t be able to make it. Something about not feeling up to it.” Amy sighs. “The breakup with Steve really affecting her that much, huh?” Damien asks, before he can stop himself. Luckily, Amy nods, instead of accusing him of overstepping or something else that passed through Damien’s mind, and places a reassuring hand over his shoulder, in the most natural way possible. “It does.” She shrugs. “Should we... Cancel?” Damien asks, carefully. “What? No way!” Amy protests. “We can watch the movie ourselves.” She determines. “Okay.” Damien answers, not able to suppress his smile. While they got to hang out by themselves in the past, there was something new, different about this time. The way Amy felt comfortable with him, placing her hands around him naturally while talking, sharing laughs in inappropriate moments in the film, and mostly just having a really good time - Damien feels sparks igniting something that was long buried inside of him. Or maybe, it wasn’t buried that deep. Maybe there was nothing different about this movie night. Maybe it was just Damien being silly because of his stupid crush and the fact that Amy had another admirer now. Her phone lighted up, letting her know of a new message. Damien didn’t want to look, but he did catch in the corner of his eye Hayden’s name. He sighed, despite himself, and forced himself to look back at the TV screen, focusing on the current scene in the movie. Amy typed a reply, and then placed her phone. Another message came rushing in, and she checked it, nodding. Damien thought back on what he had just determined, throwing it all away. It was all in his head, after all. He and Amy didn’t share anything new or intimate this evening. They were just hanging out, as friends. He had to remind himself, and without noticing, his expression grew annoyed. He looked down at the couch, and a disgusting thought immediately rushed through his mind. Amy and Hayden probably made out tons of times over this couch. Maybe did other things... Too. “You know, we could’ve cancelled if you wanted.” He snapped at her, before even being able to realize the words that were coming out of his mouth. A surprised look smeared over his face, immediately, as both he and Amy blinked at each other. Amy was the first to shake herself out of it, and she placed a hand over Damien’s. He wanted to flinch away, to take his hand away from hers, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. “Damien... Are you... Jealous?” She asked, a giggly undertone to her serious question. Great. Now he’s made a fool of himself. “I’m not...” He lied. “I’m just saying-” He tried to save himself from the embarrassment, but it was already too late. “You definitely are!” She accused, now looking completely entertained. Damien’s cheeks started getting warmer, and he tried to look for a way out of the situation he brought himself into. Verbally or physically. “It’s just-” He tried explaining again, coming up with excuses in his head, when Amy interrupted him again. “Don’t worry, it’s okay. I would’ve been jealous too.” She reassures him. “- You would?” He blinks at her, in shock, before she continues. “You wanna see the last message I sent him?” She asks, and already reaches for her phone. “You really don’t need to-” He starts telling her, realizing how silly he’d acted, but Amy already pushes the phone into his free hand. ‘Heyyy, I can’t talk right now. Watching a movie with D. Talk later?’ - Amy. ‘Sure :)’ - Hayden. Damien blinks at the exchange. He sighs, a small smile finds it’s way to his lips. “Sorry about that.” He tells her, and Amy shakes her head, placing her phone away. “No, you’re right. We’re hanging out right now. I hate those people that go out and then bury their faces in their phones. My attention’s on you. And the movie, of course.” Amy notes, and then smiles back at him. “Well, technically, we didn’t go out.” Damien noted, snarking at her. “We could.” Amy says, like it doesn’t have any flirty undertone. Damien has to hold his breathe in. “But it’s not the point.” She rolls her eyes, not surpassing a smile. “Anyway, back to the movie?” She suggest, after they share a long look in their eyes. “Uh- Sure.” Damien almost forgot all about the movie, but it was a good thing Amy was there to remind him. She made herself comfortable, and moved closer to him. Acting like it wasn’t affecting him was like torture for Damien, but he did that for Amy. Slowly, she rested her head on his shoulder. It wasn’t the first time she’d done it, Damien reminded himself. She didn’t have any ulterior motives, he had to tell himself in his mind. “Is that okay?” She suddenly asked, in soft, calm voice. She never asked that before, Damien figured. Maybe it was different, then. His heart rate quickened, as he wrapped a hand around her shoulder, letting her know it was just fine. “Perfect.”

#playchoices #perfect match #damien nazario #damien x mc #playchoices fanfic #my writing #fanfic #pm

51 notes · View notes

thedepthsremember · 6 years

Text

20 Questions: Choices fanfic writers edition

Tagged in this by @breaumonts! Thanks :D

1. When/what age did you start writing? In elementary school, I wrote and drew my own picture books, which at that age I definitely thought was the best thing to do forever. In middle/high school, there was some self-insert Spider-Man and Harry Potter fanfic that I hope stays buried forever. I picked it back up more regularly during an awful period in college where I lost my love of drawing (unfortunate, considering my major) but still needed to express somehow. 2. What inspired you to start? Similar to my art it's been a way to express myself, to tell my side of how I'm seeing things. A lot of the time it's like solving a puzzle, what was that character thinking? And then I just keep chasing that thought.

It weirds me out that writing feels more like..... excavating. Like it was there and I’m just uncovering it. Drawing doesn’t feel like that at all. 3. Where and when does inspiration usually strike you? I do a lot of driving, so usually then, or if I'm doing something repetitive at work and I can let my mind wander. While I'm getting a massage is a random one but I'm relaxed and my mind can just play without getting in its own way.

4. Where and when do you usually to write? Morning? Late at night? On the bus? In bed? Lately it's been my favorite way to procrastinate sleeping because it's like I'm being productive! Hahaaa

I'll write entire scenes in my head before I write anything down. Sometimes I'll dash down little parts on paper or in my phone to make sure I don't forget.

5. Do you listen to music while writing? If so what genre/playlist? A lot of chill video game instrumentals are a good default, unless I have a playlist or an artist I know will set the right mood. I'm pop trash so usually that'll fall to the background enough that I can focus. 6. Which category do you like best? Angst? Fluff? NSFW? Other? I would love to wrote more fluff, but it seems to tend towards a lot of angsting and anxiety with some humor thrown in, I guess because that's how I deal with my own thoughts. I do get to give them happy endings, so that's nice! 7. Which category do you find most challenging to write? Smut is really difficult and awkward for me, partly bc part of the appeal of the actual acts irl are they help me turn my brain chatter off, so it's hard to put that back into descriptions. Plus I'm just self conscious about how personal that is.

Also anything with an actual plot. I can give you moments and that's about it. 8. If you had to pick your favourite Choices book, which one would it be and why? TRR is the one that sucked me in and stole my soul for whatever reason, BUT I can also admit a lot of that is for what it could be. It's a good thought playground. Like Harry Potter.

Perfect Match is shaping up to be my jam, I live for sci fi and found families and all that "what is the nature of humanity" nonsense. It's like Dollhouse without being built on a base of creepiness.

I also really love the ILITW cast, enough that it balances out how much of a wimp i am when it comes to scary things. 9. If your Choices LIs were real, which one (and only one!) would you personally want to be with? I've said before that Damien from Perfect Match is the closest to my irl type, but right now I'm kind of exhausted of that "I'm too cool to like things" sort of dude. Idk let's give older Lucas (ilitw) a shot. He's motivated but has a playful side, we might balance each other out. Especially after he figures himself out more in college. 10. Do you share any physical characteristics with your Choices MCs? Pics/selfies optional :) Riley is small and ready to brawl and I've basically given her an idealized version of my body type when I draw her. Uhhh like half of the others end up being long haired blondes because even though that's not my hair anymore it was like that for most of my life. 11. Which MC do you share the most personality traits with? Perfect Match MC feels the closest, a lotta the other MCs are leader types, PM MC is like Alright yeah let's kick ass so we can go home and eat ice cream. Feels very purple Hawke.

TRR MC in her more absurd moments also feels very familiar. I have a story about the fancy hats. 12. Which Choices character do you feel you have the best grasp of in terms of personality? I get Drake bc that fucker is every guy I've befriended who then caught feelings because he's not used to being treated nicely. :| He also has a “the people I care about deserve the things I want more than I do" thing that I am only now realizing feels.... awfully familiar....... :| …...let’s move on.

13. What’s your favorite Choices pairing to write for? Obviously Maxwell x MC. I love pairs that have a good push and pull, where they can be silly but care about each other.

Sidedish of MC+Drake friendship because my wish fulfillment fantasy is those previously mentioned guys stop ruining a potentially good friendship with their moping and actually be a pal, dammit. 14. What is a pairing/s you hope to start writing for? Like anything else, lmao. More friendship stuff? Hana's only been in one of my fics which bums me out.

Pretty sure some Damien x MC and Hayden x MC will be coming now that PM2 is happening. Something with more ladies. Eleanor x MC from THOBM! Ghost gf fitting into the modern world has plenty of potential. 15. What do you hope to improve in your writing? Current struggle is I keep trying to write smut and then distracting myself with what happens before/after. Gah.

More actions / feelings. I feel like too much of my writing comes from dialogue with actions peppered in to meter the rhythm.

16. Any pet peeves related to writing? So. Words have always been a finicky thing for me. Things will make sense in my head, and then I say them out loud and realize people aren’t seeing things from the same spot. So sharing my writing is A VERY SELF-CONSCIOUS TIME.

In terms of the actual process: When I just wanna write something self-indulgent and I start actually trying, and then we're like 5 miles off track from the fun part. I also get pretty self-conscious that the OOC police or something is going to come for me. 17. Are you inspired by any IRL experiences when you write? Care to share? A lot of flaws or traumas I'll saddle my characters with are my own but tweaked, because I like the idea that someone can have them and still succeed. 18. Is there any particular piece of work you consider to be your ultimate writing goal? uhhhhh i. don't. know? If I could make someone laugh and cry in the same fic that's golden. 19. Did/do you write for any other fandoms? If so which ones? I have a bunch of drabbles for Dragon Age. I also just checked my ancient FF.net account to make sure the really old stuff is gone and found some Teen Titans and ATLA stuff I completely forgot about. 20. In your spare time (when you’re not writing) what other hobbies do you pursue? Art mainly, I'm back into digital for the first time since graduation (I majored in animation/illustration) so that's kind of exciting right now. VIDEO GAMES. I like to bake but my housemates have way more self control than I do, meaning I always end up eating most of whatever it is, so that's dangerous. I do like to work out. Share and tag fandom writers! @riseandshinelittleblossom and anyone else who wants to!

#vee life #meme me

2 notes · View notes

vattenhaunter · 7 years

Photo

THIAM DAY 2

This was a mistake, a huge mistake, what if he called it off? This was a stupid idea he should just call Theo and cancel, “stupid!” he muttered attempting to tie his tie with shaky hands.

The plan was simple they both go in, Liam introduces Theo to them all they stay for like an hour or do then leave, then they can go their separate ways… More or less.

He honestly was shocked when Theo agreed, he didnt think he would say yes.

-liam couldn’t sit down, he was pacing in the locker room waiting for Theo to come, “what’s taking so long” he grumbles fidgeting with his fingers. He jumped at the sound of a locker slamming shut, Theo appearing next to him. “you called little wolf?” he said leaning against the lockers.

Liam nodded trying to figure what to say, how to say it. “okay, this might sound a bit weird but I need you to hear me out” he stated, nervously scratching at his skin. “what is it?” Theo asked reaching out to stop Liam from scratching himself.

“I need you too… Pretend to be my boyfriend” he whispered hoping Theo didn’t hear him properly, “you… What?” Theo asked dumbfounded.

“look my family have this big dinner thing on and my parents kept asking if I was going to bring Hayden, they wouldn’t take no for an answer so… I snapped and told them I seeing someone else…” Liam looked down ashamed.

Theo was stunned silent, why would Liam be asking him? Out of all the people, he’s asking Theo to fake date him? It doesn’t make any sense. He shouldn’t, this will not help with keeping his feelings hidden, locked away. But seeing how nervous Liam was to ask him, he couldn’t say no.

“it’s only for tonight, plea-” he started getting cut off by Theo “okay” liam looked back up at Theo shocked. “what?” Theo rolled his eyes “I said okay, are you deaf?” he smirked.

Liam let out a small chuckle, smile spreading across his face “thank you, thank you to much, it starts at 8, we can just go there act like we’re dating for like an hour or so then we can leave, I swear” he looked up hearing the bell ring indicating next classes were to start. They both smiled at each other walking out of the locker room

“so I’ll pick you up at 7:30? What should I wear?” Theo asked while walking Liam to his class, “yeah sounds great, oh it’s a uh suit and tie kinda thing” Theo rolled his eyes “where the hell am I going to find a suit with such short notice?” he says dramatically earning a chuckle and light blush from Liam. “yeah sorry about that” Liam stops infront of his class door “the things I do for you dunbar” he says ruffling Liam’s hair before leaving for his own class-

“need a hand?” he heard Theo say from the door way, Liam turned to face him freezing in his spot. Theo looked… Amazing, he looked absolutely breath-taking in his suit, no tie but he still looked stunning.

Theo let out an awkward chuckle “do I Uh look okay?” he asked looking down at himself, Liam shook his head breaking out of his daze “yeah, no you look… Amazing, I Uh I can’t get this damn Tie” he pouted at Theo.

Flashing a small smile Theo walked over taking the tie from Liam’s hands “here” he whispered as he started to tie it around Liam’s neck, the younger of the Two staring up at him the whole time, mesmerised by how close they were.

“see” Theo whispers “easy as pie” his eyes flicking down to Liam’s lips, feeling himself lean in closer, the boys broke apart hearing the sound of Liam’s phone ringing.

Liam sighed picking it up and answering “hey mum, yeah? Sorry we’re leaving now. Love you too. Bye” Liam turned back to the awkward smile on his lips, “mum says we should leave nearly everyone us there but us”

Theo grins acting like the past couple of minutes never happened, he lifted his arm up motioning towards the door, “after you”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Liam was nervous the whole drive there, Theo could feel it, he could hear his heartbeat, when he pulled up at the place he turned off the car and turned to liam “hey” he said trying to get Liam to look at him “no need to be nervous little wolf, I promise I’ll be on my best behaviour” he grinned earning a small chuckle from Liam.

Both boys exited the car and walked up to the dinner “so, whats the big dinner for?” Theo asked trying to keep Liam’s mind off of whatever was making him nervous “anything special?”

“it’s just like this annual gathering my family does, nothing special really” Liam answered eyes scanning the room for his family “there” he says pointing towards them, smiling at the sight of Liam’s family, sitting together, laughing, enjoying each other company. Theo never had any of this no big family gatherings nothing, this felt… New, exciting and he loved it.

“come on then” Theo said grabbing Liam’s hand interlocking their fingers and walking over to the last two empty seats at the table. “oh Liam you’re here finally sit hun why don’t you introduce thus handsome young man you have brought along with you” Liams mother said, bringing everyone’s attention to the Two still standing boys.

Liam’s cheeks were on fire as he stuttered trying to get out a sentence at least, thankfully Theo was there to save the moment “hello my names Theo it is lovely to meet you mrs geyer, and your wonderful family as well” Theo said giving his best smile and sitting down with Liam, hands still interlocked between them.

“oh he is quite the charmer, I can see why you like him” she said smiling at Liam, who smiled back unable to form words, which lucky for him he didn’t need to Theo answering all the questions and chatting with his family during the meal.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“so theo” Mr geyer started as he placed his desert spoon down crossing his arms “how long have you two been together?” Liam’s eyes widened slightly, they haven’t come up with a story, their lie to tell his family, Shit how could Liam forget he was too busy worrying about his own feelings, he completely forgot. They hadn’t asked these questions yet, he was hopping the would skip them but as per usual nothing goes the way he hopes.

“how long? Well let’s see it’ll be a month next sunday” Theo answered easily, leaning his arm behind Liam fingers playing with the hairs on the back of his head. “how did you guys meet?” one of Liam’s aunts asked from across the table, Liam look at Theo waiting to hear his answer he should probably be helping him answer but was to shocked to.

“it was raining, it was at night, I remember seeing him with his small group of friends, two of them I use to go to school with years ago.”

“do you love him?” Liam choked on his drink when his mum said that “mum!” he coughed out. He felt Theos hand freeze on the back of his head slowly sliding down to his neck. This is it, how could Theo bullshit his way through this one he should just end this, spill the beans it’s over. But before he could, Theo answered.

“yes” he smiled “when we first met we didn’t really talk much, until I… I Was going through some things, I.. Did some bad things. I was at a really low point in my life and.. Well Liam saved me he helped me get through it and better myself as a person and that night my whole life changed” Theo paused for a second looking down at his empty plate “I was so awestruck at how loving and caring one boy could be” Theo looked back up smiling “that’s when I realised, I loved him”

Liam was staring at Theo completely shocked, was this real? Or was he just making it up? Just another lie in this fake relationship plan, god please let it be real.

“Liam?” he heard Theos concerned voice next to him “are you okay?” he asked facing his whole body towards him, no he was not okay, at all, if this was just one big lie, Liam doesn’t know how he can take it. He can’t breath “i-i just” he gasped out “I need” air he needs some fresh air “I gotta go” he said abruptly standing up walking out of the restaurant ignoring the calls of his name from behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Liam!” he heard Theo call out to him, he leant against the wall not saying a word. “Liam, Im sorry if I went to far, once I started talking i couldn’t stop myself” he called out “look, if you don’t want to talk to me ever again… I understand.” Theo sighed rubbing his face, he messed up, big time he let his feelings get in the way and now he’s scared off the only friend he actually had.

“did you mean it?” Liam said, knowing that Theo can hear him with his chimera hearing, “yes, yes I meant every word” theo said glowing eyes stopping on the dark form of the young wolf. He slowly walked towards Liam, “look I know this was meant to be a one time thing but, Im sorry I couldn’t control myself, I let my feelings get in the way and i-mphh” he was cut off by the younger wolf pulling him in for a hard, passionate kiss.

Theos hands gently slid down Liam’s sides, resting on his waist pulling him closer, both boys needed this after months of pushing back their feelings for one another, tonight was the perfect night to act on those feelings. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Heyo it’s me, so yes this is day 2 so here is my second fic sorry its a lot late but this one to alot longer to write so hopefully that means it’s good XD also the response I got from my last fic was amazing I’m so happy so many of you enjoyed it! PS I have started day 3, and they’re all probably gonna be a day late anyway I’m not very good with time management XD.

#thiam #thiamweek2k17 #thiam is endgame #theo raeken #liam dunbar #i tried #sorry its late

163 notes · View notes

imaginedisneydescendants · 7 years

Text

Over Protective

*Requested* A Gil imagine where the Reader is Gov. Ratcliffe’s daughter and Gil is really protective of her.

Paring: Reader x Gil

Word count: 1,737

Warnings: Swearing, got a bit flirty, suggestive and violent

A/N: Gil is too precious for this world and deserved better!

Request | Masterlist

You didn’t visit Ursula’s Fish and Chips very often as you didn’t particularly like the smell of fish nor the taste. However, the only exception you made was only when a certain blonde-haired pirate would be present; you sucked it up and ignored the smell that really wanted to make you gag.

Your father, Governor John Ratcliffe, who was renowned for his expedition to the New World in a greedy and ruthless attempt to exploit its gold and other riches, didn’t like you hanging out with “savages” as he liked to call Uma and her crew. But, you went against his wishes and hung out with the pirates anyway. Your little rebellion against your father was to prove to Uma and the rest of her crew, who teased you to no end, that you weren’t just “daddy’s little girl” and didn’t follow every single order he threw at you.

Walking into the restaurant, you weren’t surprised at a number of people there was as it seemed as though everyone on the island was here tonight. It was never a quiet night that the restaurant as it was one of the most popular places to hang out after sunset. As you scanned the area, your eyes locked onto the person you were searching for. Subconsciously, you smiled softly at the sight of the blonde, watching him arm wrestle another member of the crew as a huge crowd was gathered around.

You knew that it’d be a while before he was finished with his little contest so you sat yourself down at a nearby table. As you were reading the menu and minding your own business, you didn’t notice someone approach you with intense hunger in their eyes as they were sizing you up like prey.

“Well, hello there, gorgeous,” A smooth voice greeted, “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing alone in a place like this?”

You looked up from the menu you were holding to see Hayden, the son of Hades. He had been trying to earn your affections for quite some time now but you had zero interest in him as your heart was already yearning for another, however, that didn’t stop him from flirting with you every chance he got.

Internally groaning, your expression turned into a deadpanned one before you turned your attention back to the menu in your hands. “Fuck off, Hayden. I’m not in the mood for your shit tonight.”

Despite your nasty comment, Hayden let out a low chuckle. He wasn’t taken aback by your sour attitude as he received it from you on a daily basis.

“Tsk, tsk, (Y/N),” Hayden tutted before he leaned down to purr into your ear, “Such profanity to leave from that pretty little mouth of yours. You know it’ll only turn me on even more.”

Ugh…what a creeper, you grimaced as you leaned your face away from his. These kinds of exchanges happened more often than you would like but no matter how many times you told him to get lost, he would stick around even more.

“I couldn’t imagine,” You replied with a bored tone, trying to not let him get to you. “Now, why don’t you go annoy someone else, yeah?” You suggested.

Hayden couldn’t help but smirk in amusement. "Playing hard to get once again I see, (Y/N)? You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he then grabbed a stool that was nearby, not even caring if it was taken by someone else, placed it closely next to your stool and sat down.

“I am in no way playing hard to get,” You stated as a clearly as possible, “In fact, I have no interest in you whatsoever, nor will I ever! Now, piss off!”

Despite the anger radiating off of you, Hayden remained unfazed, in fact, he only leaned forward, getting too close for comfort before stating, "I know what you’re doing, (Y/N).”

You looked at him with confusion and annoyance, “What are you talking about?”

He smirked, “The reason why you’re acting cold and distant towards my advances is that you have a reputation to uphold and don’t want to be seen as weak at the expense of the others. You and I both know that love doesn’t exist on this island, but I can already tell that you’ve fallen for me, as I have for you.”

Growing bold, Hayden suddenly snaked an arm around your waist as he pulled you in closer. That’s when you started to feel uncomfortable and panicked; he was starting to step over the boundary now. You couldn’t believe the bullshit he was spewing from his mouth. He was so blinded by his sick and twisted ignorance and lust that he interpreted your fiery hatred towards him for actual love. What the hell? However, you couldn’t help but agree with Hayden when he said that love didn’t exist in this hellhole. But deep down, you hoped that it did.

“Oh come on, (Y/N),” Hayden pressed before he placed a hand under your chin and titled it up roughly, forcing you to face him, “Just admit you want me!”

“Get your filthy hands off me, you savage!” You commanded as you turned your head to the side and struggled to get out of his iron grip, but it was no use as he was too strong for you.

It shocked you to hear how much you sounded like your father just then but it was the only word you could think of in that moment. As you were still struggling against his grip, you didn’t notice someone approach the table you and Hayden sat on.

"What’s going on here?” A voice interjected.

You looked up to see Gil staring at the two of you with this indescribable look in his eyes. Was it jealousy? Anger? Hatred? Disgust? You didn’t know; all you knew was that Gil didn’t like what was unfolding before his very eyes. You really didn’t want Gil to get the wrong idea so while Hayden was distracted, you thought that this would be the perfect chance to get out of his grasp, but as soon as you made a move, Hayden tightened his grip on your waist causing you to gasp.

“What’s going between us is none of your business, Gil,” Hayden reassured with a snarl, “Now I’d get lost if I were you.”

Hayden then turned his attention towards you and proceeded to ignore Gil. However, you couldn’t just forget that Gil was there as you turned your gaze towards the blonde haired male. Silently with your eyes, you were practically begging him to get Hayden away from you.

Gil eventually caught on and jumped into action. “Hey, can’t you see she doesn’t want you to touch her? Get your hands off her!” Gil demanded with a growl.

Abruptly, Hayden let your waist go as he rose from his stool, making it fall to the floor with a thud. The sound had gained everyone’s attention in the restaurant as all eyes there on the two males and it grew dead silent.

"Or what?” Hayden threatened, his face inches away from Gil’s. The tips of his jet black hair were now flaming with blue fire.

Gil wasn’t one to back down in a fight, not that anyone wanted to dare and challenge the blonde male. He could hold his own in a fight but he knew how much you hated to see him get into a fight. But this time it was inevitable because Hayden deserves it.

“Or this!” Gil swung his fist before knocking Hayden to the ground.

Gil then dropped to the ground and proceeded to beat the ever living shit out of him. Hayden managed to fight back as well. This indicated to everyone else that they could start throwing punches at each other too; the whole restaurant joined in on the fight.

Uma was not going to be happy.

You managed to pull Gil away from Hayden, who was in a very bad way. If you weren’t so angry right now, you would be smiling at the state Hayden was in. Dragging Gil along from the scruff of his neck, you threw him outside the restaurant’s doors. The sound of chaos from inside the restaurant faded away.

You let go of his shirt and leather jacket and pushed him towards the docks where the moonlight shone down on the two of you. Gil stumbled forwards before he managed to catch himself before he could fall off the dock. He had learnt how to stop himself from falling onto the ground since he was thrown out a lot by Harry.

“What the hell were you thinking, Gil?!” You shouted harshly, “You could’ve gotten seriously hurt!”

“He was touching you,” Gil stated bitterly.

“Yeah, but I had it under control,” You tried to reassure him.

“It didn’t look like it to me!” Gil interjected with a frown.

You scoffed, “Well, you didn’t need to punch him let alone start an all-out brawl! There could’ve been better ways to solve that without violence.”

“It didn’t look like he was going to step away from you anytime soon, so I had to do something,” The blonde male argued.

You crossed your arms, “Hmph, why would you even care if he was touching me anyways?”

“Uh, first, I could tell that you were begging for my help and second, I didn’t want him touching what is mine!” Gil shouted in a sudden outburst.

You froze as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “What?”

You heard him loud and clear, you were just shocked at his statement. Gil’s eyes widened as he processed what he had just said.

“I-I mean — argh, shit,” Gil stuttered in embasement. Him and his stupid mouth; his secret was out and there was no turning back now.

After the shock wore off, your lips pulled into a smirk, “I’m yours, huh?“

Gil swallowed thickly, “O-Okay, I should’ve told you this a long time ago but I didn’t think you’d be interested in a g-guy like me so I’m just going to say it. I love you, (Y/N).”

Gil couldn’t help but lower his gaze down towards the wooden planks of the dock, a dark blush was already tingeing his cheeks.

“I was hoping you did,” You flashed a sweet smile before you stepped forward before grabbing his jacket’s collar and pressed your lips onto his in a zealous kiss.

#descendants #descendants 2 #disney descendants #descendants imagine #disney descendants imagines #gil x reader #reader x gil #descendants gil #gil

181 notes · View notes

voidwaren · 7 years

Text

Whale Song Pt. 3

Okay, so, I don’t have the best of reasons for totally missing my own deadline on this one, except for the fact I was stubbornly unhappy with what I had at the time. I’m much more happy with it now, which is why I’m publishing, and, since I waited a little longer, it also has about 3,000 words more than it did Halloween night, which makes it my biggest Whale Song update yet. Hopefully you guys like it!

This update brings us about two-thirds through the Whale Song story, so we’re almost all done.

But I digress and present: Whale Song Part 3. Same warnings as always apply, enjoy.

Warren is Strange/Whale Song Masterpost

The first day that trails the vision is spent in apprehension, both for Warren and for Nathan, though they handle it vastly differently from one another. Fueled on by a lack of sleep and a large helping of bickering, Warren’s entire being is in knots. He tries his best to act normal, which is easy thanks to his lack of need to socialize given that it’s a weekend, but Nathan is a clear ball of nerves from the moment he leaves Warren’s side to return to his own room in the morning and continued into Warren seeing him again when he ventures out into the courtyard to hang with Max. Warren hasn’t seen him hunch his shoulders that high since a time before this loop even existed, a clear indicator (one of many, Warren now knows) that something wasn’t right with Nathan that day.

Nathan’s with his usual cronies near the fountain, sitting on the edge with his leg up in a way he probably thought made him look edgy and cool (and, okay, it kind of did) and Hayden calls Warren’s name and gives him a wave when Warren passes by their general line of sight. Warren hesitantly waves back, taken a little off-guard by the sudden friendly gesture from someone who previously probably didn’t even know Warren’s name, and Hayden grins at him. Warren doesn’t approach them, but Nathan makes sure to catch Warren’s eye and Warren gives him a shake of the head in what he hopes is reassurance nothing has manifested from his strange encounter with the phantom whales. At least, not in the short amount of time they’d been apart.

He’s not sure his message gets across, but Nathan could always text him if he really needed to. Warren wasn’t going to throw himself into the shark pool just to get some clarification established. For now, Warren just wants to see Max and forget about the day before, because, if the whales did mean anything, he didn’t expect the meaning to reveal itself right then and there. That would be an anomaly to everything else that had happened, and Warren wasn’t counting on anomalies. He only hoped that wouldn’t be his undoing.

Though he’d tried his best to push the whales from his mind, it occurs to him as he’s sitting with Max on a picnic table a little ways from the Academy, with a pizza between them, that Max’s journey with time had included unusual pieces that his had not—namely in the form of a phantom deer she had mentioned seeing a few loops back. He’d never thought before that maybe the deer wasn’t so much a ghost as it was a vision, like the whales had been for him, but now he wondered if it had been exactly that. He’s not sure Max would expect Warren to know about it, since he can’t remember if this version of her had told him (it was difficult keeping all the discrepancies apart, okay, even for someone like him), but he knows she’s spoken to the janitor at the academy about something or another, and maybe the two were connected in some way. Or, maybe, she’d just have some better insight on what the whales could mean.

As long as he kept the details to himself, Warren figures, asking couldn’t hurt, right?

Famous last words, something whispers in the back of his mind, and he has to blatantly ignore it as he goes to open his mouth.

“What do you know about whales?” Warren breaks in, leaning on the table between them.

“Whales?” Max repeats through the mouthful of pizza she had just bitten off. She chews it thoughtfully, then swallows. “They’re sea-dwelling mammals and they’re really big?” she tries.

“Well, duh,” Warren replies. “But what about, like, spiritually? What do they represent and stuff, that mystical shit.”

Max cocks an eyebrow at him. “What?” she laughs hesitantly. “What would I know about that kind of mumbo-jumbo?” There’s enough confusion in her statement that, for a brief moment, Warren thinks it must not have been this loop that she confided in him about the ghost deer she’d seen guiding her places during her journey. He pushes that away, though, because the ghost deer wasn’t important, and maybe she might not have even seen it this time. It didn’t matter. She had definitely spoken to what’s-his-name, though. He knew that much.

Warren shrugs. “You talk to that creepy janitor all the time, and everyone knows he’s got some weird boner for the Native American foundations of the land the school’s on. He talks about the squirrels and whatnot all the time. Thought maybe whales had come up,” he says in an attempt at nonchalance, then tries not to wince at himself, because ouch. Not the smoothest transition he’d ever executed, but Max doesn’t seem to notice. Warren decides not to let that wound his ego.

Well, not too much.

“Hey, Samuel’s actually a pretty nice guy,” Max protests, setting her half-eaten slice of pizza down. “Okay, yeah, he’s a little weird,” she amends when Warren just looks at her, “but he’s really interesting to talk to, and he has a lot of things to say that you probably haven’t thought about, Mr. I’m-a-man-of-science. Have you ever actually held a conversation with him before?”

“No,” Warren admits. “I’ve never had a reason to.”

“Well, now you do. You should ask him about the whales if you’re so keen to know.” Max frowns slightly, cocking her head. “Why do you want to know about whales?”

Warren hesitates. He had no proof his vision of the whales was anything more than his brain messing with him, and Nathan was already panicking enough over the incident for three people, so maybe Max’s involvement wasn’t needed just yet. Warren promised himself he’d involve her at some point if it was more than Warren was hoping it would be, because she’d kill him if he left her out. She still reminded him sometimes that he hadn’t told her anything in his past loops—something Warren regretted admitting in the first place, because she never would have known if he hadn’t told her.

“Symbolism might have played a larger part in everything that happened than I thought it did when it was happening,” Warren tells her instead, “and whales are important to the town, right? So, now that it’s all said and done, I want to know everything I didn’t before.”

Max gives him a mildly pitying look. Warren finds with surprise that it annoys him slightly—he didn’t want to be pitied, even by Max. “Wouldn’t it just be easier to let this all go?” Max reaches a hand out and puts it on Warren’s arm. “Dwelling on it might only make it worse for you, Warren, and everything’s already had too much time to crack a hammer on your skull.”

Warren could hear what she didn’t say: the incident had changed him. He’d known that fact long ago, that he’d never be the same Warren he was before this had all happened to him. That he was still Warren, but this Warren had demons the other never could have imagined existed. Not to him. Not for him. Warren had, for better or worse, changed. Grown.

For Warren himself, the change had been gradual, over a period of months that nearly completed half of a year. It wasn’t unnatural for someone as young as him to change in that span of time, he knew that much, but most people his age didn’t relive the same horrific month enough times for it to drastically change who they were. The change had been gradual, yes, but it was stark, the difference of who he’d become to whom he’d been.

For Max, though, the change had happened in a matter of days. Possibly even overnight, because he couldn’t quite remember how he’d acted that final first day he’d woken up beyond the breakdown he’d had in Nathan’s room. It must have been a shock to her, whatever it is she had witnessed in a timespan so much shorter than Warren’s own, and it spoke volumes to Warren that she hadn’t immediately called him out on it when it had happened.

Warren presses his lips together, pushing a breath out through his nose. “I can’t let it go,” he tells Max quietly. “That’s just who I am. When I need to know something, I have to know it. Now that there’s time to, I can’t let it go.”

A small smile quirks Max’s lips. “You’re such a nerd. This is why you’re so good at your sciences.”

Warren returns the smile for a beat, but falls back to frowning again. “This isn’t science, though. Not the science I’m used to. Core science? Real, solid chemistry and physics and weather phenomena with formulas and sense to back them up? I can do that. I can do that any day of the week. This?” Warren waves a hand through the air, resisting the urge to scrub it through his hair out of habit, because his fingers were still slick with pizza grease. “This crap? The crap that fueled my little journey through shitty timey-wimey bullshit? I don’t know how to do this beyond fumbled theory, and not even to the point where I could even comprehensively explain exactly what happened to me. This is Stephen Hawkins-level weird science. This is string theory and alternate dimensions and ‘a butterfly flaps its wings and shit we’re all dead’ level stuff that has formulas without examples behind it to render it solidly true, because, yes, it probably does exist, but how can I prove it? Hell, I can’t even prove it happened to me.”

And that was possibly the part that killed him the most. The farther he got into the timeline he was now firmly stuck in, the more he questioned if any of it had actually happened. He had no proof, nothing but his own word and the occasional fact he shouldn’t have known. No one would believe him if he tried to explain to someone who could help him, either. Not even if Max helped him with her side of the story. In fact, her time powers and assertion that they existed was a lot of what kept Warren from flat out starting to wonder if it might have all been in his head. It was all just too … unreal. Without Max, Warren doesn’t know what he’d think.

“I’m smart,” Warren asserts immediately, because he certainly was, “but I’m not Stephen Hawkins. I can’t just snap my fingers and decide it’s a done deal because it happened and there’s a little theory to it, and because people trust my word in the realm of science so it’s accepted by many. Max, I need to know.”

Max stares at him, seemingly shocked into silence at Warren’s ramble. Or, Warren thinks rationally, something he said, because he rambles all the time and it never affects her like this. Warren waves his hand in front of her face. “Max? Hello? You’re not in some food coma, are you? Because that’s not actually a thing, it’s really just—”

“A butterfly,” Max cuts in. Her tone is confused, even mystified. Warren drops his hand.

“Yeah? It’s just a saying to explain—”

“No, Warren. A butterfly, I saw— I have a picture—well, Chloe does,” Max scrambles through her words, wiping her hand on her jeans and then turning to dig around in her bag. Warren watches her, unsure of what she was trying to explain. She’d never mentioned a butterfly before. After a moment, she pulls out her phone and says, “I have a picture of it, but I gave it to Chloe.”

Warren’s brain clicks. “You think it was a sign?” he tries, because maybe it hadn’t been a deer this time. Or maybe there had just been more signs, ones even Warren hadn’t known about.

“I don’t know what it was,” Max admits once she’s finished tapping away at the screen. Almost immediately, her phone buzzes, and she taps the screen before flipping the phone around to face Warren. On the screen is a picture of a polaroid, and the polaroid is of a bright blue butterfly. Warren’s stomach drops. It must be clear on his face, because Max leans forward. “Bizzaro, right? I found it in the bathroom the same day I saw the storm in Jefferson’s classroom. I thought it was just escaped from the science lab or trapped in from outside or something, but now that you mention butterflies, do you think it was something more?”

Warren stares at the picture, his heart firmly nestled in his gut. “That’s a Blue Morpho,” he says quietly, gravely, then, like he’d forgotten to breathe, he gasps. Max frowns at him inquisitively. “Blue Morphos don’t— They’re not native to North America. Especially not Oregon. Especially not in the middle of October.” Warren sits back and covers his mouth with his hand for a second. “Have you seen one since?”

“Since my time powers stopped? No.”

Tension Warren doesn’t realize had built up in his chest eases at Max’s words. It wasn’t concrete, but maybe the whales had been nothing but a reminder of things he’d forgotten. Something subconsciously repressed in his mind resurfacing to make sure he didn’t forget what he’d been put through.

But I’d never seen the whales, Warren thinks, and a trickle of cold cuts through his relief. How did I see them then? How did I know what they looked like?

Movies, he tries to tell himself. He doesn’t try to think of where he might have seen beached whales before, because he’s afraid he hasn’t.

What else could it possibly be?

“Mind if Chloe stops by?” Max asks suddenly, pulling Warren back to the present.

“Oh, shit, actually,” he starts, abruptly reminded of what he’d resolved to do. He reaches out and wraps his fingers around Max’s wrist. Max doesn’t pull away, but her smile turns confused. “I want to tell Chloe about the time loops,” Warren explains quietly, like anyone would be able to hear them. Which is ridiculous, because no one else is there.

Max’s expression turns first to surprise, then to doubt, and then—surprisingly—to worry. “Are you sure about that, Warren?”

Warren hesitates. “Should I not be?”

“It’s your story. I trust Chloe with my life, but …” Max pauses. “You know Chloe. She’ll be upset she didn’t know when everyone else did, and she might not understand, but once she gets over herself, she’ll guard that secret with everything she’s got.”

Warren’s memory flashes back to the night they’d ambushed Jefferson, to the short conversation he’d had with Chloe in the car, and he shakes his head slowly. “I think she’ll understand,” he tells Max. Max’s eyes narrow momentarily, but then she shrugs and taps something out on her phone.

“We’d better finish this pizza before she gets here,” she announces, picking up her pizza slice again. “She’ll be here soon, and she’ll demolish whatever we leave out in the open.”

Warren snorts and takes a slice, but his mind is elsewhere, and, despite the fact he assured Max Chloe would understand, nerves still eat at him. Mixed with the apprehension from yesterday, it just makes him feel sick.

Thankfully, Max seems preoccupied with the idea of Chloe coming by, and she doesn’t notice a thing.

If Warren had aimed for elegance in his execution when it came to telling Chloe his story, he misses his mark by a mile.

“I got stuck in a time loop,” Warren blurts abruptly, the first words he’d said since Chloe had arrived. Chloe, laughing over a slice of pizza, cuts herself off and gives Warren one of those “Are you going insane?” looks he’s gotten so used to getting. She’d only arrived a few minutes ago, and, after greeting both Max and Warren, immediately helped herself to the remains of the pizza on the picnic table. A conversation hadn’t even really started, but, now, there’d be no chance for it to, and Warren wouldn’t have to worry about never managing to slip his confession in. He tells himself that’s pretty much what he’d been aiming for, if only so he can’t dwell on the way he couldn’t even start a conversation before diving into the deep end.

Max freezes where she sits when Warren’s words hit the air, her face completely draining of color in one go. Her eyes flick to Chloe, then back to Warren. She doesn’t say anything.

“What?” Chloe says, looking between him and Max. “Time loop? The fuck you talkin’ ‘bout, Graham?”

Warren licks his lips, readying himself to explain. “Remember how Max could control time in short bursts,” he starts, and Chloe nods to show she’s following, her lips curled to one side in a phantom smirk, “Well,” he continues, “she wasn’t the only one with weird time shit interfering with her life.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Chloe exclaims, sounding half-amused and half-annoyed, like she thinks he’s trying to pull the wool over her eyes in some sort of trick or prank. She reaches across the table and socks Warren in the arm. Warren winces, but when neither he nor Max laugh or ease up on their serious manner, Chloe stiffens, the humor visibly draining from her face to be replaced with something harder. “What? You were able to control time, too? What the hell, Warren? Why didn’t you take Max’s place when she and Prescott—”

“Chloe, not like that,” Max tells her, her hand on Chloe’s upper arm to stop her from continuing. Chloe frowns down at Max, then gives Warren a bewildered look.

Warren takes a deep breath. “I was stuck in a time loop.”

Silence falls between them for a bare moment, then Chloe’s eyes harden and bore into Warren as if they could scalp him alive. “Explain,” she demands, and there’s no room to argue.

Warren explains. When he first starts, he stumbles over himself, cutting off and backtracking, because the beginning was the hardest for him to put into words, even though it all had started with him simply thinking it had been an elaborate nightmare.

More than once, Chloe turns her confused gaze onto Max as if asking her if she believed what was coming out of Warren’s mouth, but Max only nods at her each time she does, and, eventually, Warren gets some semblance of the start of everything out into the air. Then, he starts on everything else, and he knows he can’t keep the strain out of his voice as he ventures deeper into his tale.

Despite knowing he was free from it all, talking about it, especially at length, still wasn’t easy for Warren to do. The same went for researching what possibly could have happened to him—as much as he wanted to do it and tried to, the fact it was all done and over with made the ordeal no easier to look into than it had been when he’d been in the midst of it all happening around him.

Though Chloe’s aggression from her misunderstanding remains on her face when Warren first starts, it steadily melts away into confusion, and then to disbelief. She doesn’t interrupt Warren as he struggles through his story, and from beside her Max’s attention switches from split between Chloe and Warren to solely on Warren as he touches on things he’d only told Nathan before. Their attention on him is rapt, and when Warren cuts himself off suddenly to grind his teeth together in the frustration he still felt over specific parts of the loops, they wait patiently for him to relax enough to continue.

“A time loop,” he finally repeats once he’s reached what he felt was enough of an end, because the rest of the story they already knew. “It was all a fucking time loop. It took me four—no, five tries, but I must have gotten it all right this time, because all of it stopped.”

Chloe looks at Warren silently, her mouth turned in a frown and her forehead wrinkled in an expression Warren can’t quite decipher. Max watches her, her eyes straying to Warren once, twice, as they wait for Chloe to speak, and then she does.

“Shit,” is all she says, but the single word is full of disbelief and acceptance, and Warren knows she understands why he’d kept it all from her until now.

Her hand snakes out and grasps his for a brief moment, her eyes on his, and they share a wordless moment, Max watching on. Warren pulls back with a short nod, then pushes himself from the picnic table and clutches the front of his shirt, unsure of how to explain he wanted to go. Thankfully, he doesn’t need to say anything, because Max stands up and walks around the table to pat him on the back.

“I’ll call you later, okay?” she tells him softly.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and his thanks are in his tone. Max pats him on the shoulder once, and then he’s free, and Warren turns and walks away.

He walks the path back to Blackwell silently, his thoughts racing around in his head, ghost whales completely forgotten in the wake of remembering his journey, and he stays within himself up until he makes it to the front of the dorms, where he nearly walks face-first into Trevor just as he’s leaving.

“Ack!” Trevor grunts, turning on his heel to avoid Warren. He just barely makes it—but he trips down the first step for his trouble. “Hey, Graham-man,” Trevor says immediately, as if he didn’t just pretty much nearly get steam-rolled by Warren not paying attention to where he was walking. Warren gives him a nod, but this isn’t enough for Trevor. “What’s up? You look like someone died.”

Warren, despite himself, winces, and Trevor’s half-joking expression falls immediately to alarm. “Shit, dude, I’m sorry,” he backtracks, holding his hands out and looking like he personally killed whomever he thought had died. “I was kidding, I didn’t mean any disrespect. Are you okay?”

“What? No, Trevor.” Warren waves his hands like it could dispel what was currently happening. “No. No one died, stop. I’m fine, I didn’t mean to run you off like that, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Trevor’s shoulders visibly relax. “Oh, shit. No worries there. You sure you’re all right though?”

Warren tries to keep his expression neutral, because he really just wants to get back into his room and chill. “Yeah, thinking too hard about weird science stuff.”

Trevor laughs. “You are the smart kid in this school. Hey, I’m heading out, but if you need me, hit me up, yeah?”

Trevor seems to think Warren will do just that, because he doesn’t wait for Warren to respond before he’s gone, and Warren is left at the front doors of the dorms with a rejection held on his tongue. Not because he didn’t want to talk to Trevor, but because he doesn’t have Trevor’s number.

Did Trevor have Warren’s number? How would he have gotten his hands on that?

Warren shakes his head in confusion, then absconds to his room for the night.

“The fuck are you supposed to be?” Nathan asks Warren a handful of days later, frowning and eyeing up Warren like he was an unwanted piece of meat placed before him.

“I’m The Doctor.” Warren holds his arms out and looks down at himself. Was it not obvious? “Wait, let me get my screwdriver out.”

Nathan only squints at him as he digs around in his pockets and procures his sonic screwdriver replica, which lights up when he pushes the button on the side. Nathan looks between the screwdriver and Warren himself uncomprehendingly. “Doctor of what?” he finally says.

Warren wilts. “No, you’re supposed to ask, ‘Doctor who?’”

“Oh,” Nathan says, nodding his head with realization, “you’re from that one show with the hot redhead.”

“Is that really all you remember about a show I’ve played at least three times with you in the same room?”

“Yup,” Nathan says, popping the end of the word with a look of boredom as his gaze wanders and surveys the room they’re standing in. It’s mostly bare; the boxes and coolers at his and Warren’s feet are filled with what will be decorating and supplying the party that night. His gaze centers on the doorway and Warren follows it, but no one is there. It’s only the two of them, which made Warren wonder not for the first time why he was even dragged out of his dorm room so early.

Warren huffs, causing Nathan’s eyes to flick back to him. “And what are you supposed to be?” he challenges, gesturing to Nathan’s outfit with his screwdriver. “A greaser? A blond Danny Zuko? Something along those lines?”

Nathan looks down at his leather-jacket-clad arm and shrugs. “Fucked if I know. I don’t do this shit anymore, this is all Vic’s idea. She figures the fancy shit out and I handle the other aspects of the party.”

“Is this you handling it?” Warren teases, shoving his screwdriver back into his pocket and bending down to open up one of the coolers.

Nathan stops him by putting his foot on the lid of the cooler before Warren manages to get it open. “Yes,” he says shortly, looking down his chest at Warren when he gives Nathan an annoyed look over being thwarted. “We’ve got two hours to get everything stocked and in the right place. Victoria will be here to start decorating soon, and once she’s going she’s not going to let anyone stop. She’s like a rabid Rottweiler with streamers and dry ice when she’s in her zone.”

Warren wrinkles his nose and stands back up. Nathan’s moved onto a cardboard box and is in the middle of prying the flap open. “Two hours? You’ll need me, like, an hour tops. I’m quick once I know what I’m doing, and the party doesn’t even start until eight.”

“So you’ll be here for it early, big fucking deal. Stop twisting my nads.”

Warren rolls his eyes. “I don’t need to be here for it early, I’m not going to the party.”

That stops Nathan in his tracks. He turns to Warren sharply, and for a flash of a second Warren can swear he sees a look of disappointment on Nathan’s face, but the expression is clearly one of annoyance once Warren gets a good look at it, and he decides he must have willfully imagined any disappointment.

“You’re not staying for the party?” Nathan asks. Despite his expression, there’s no aggression in his tone, just inquiry.

“No, going out with Max, Chloe, and Kate.”

“Kate?” Nathan scoffs. “I didn’t realize Jesus was big on begging for candy from strangers.”

“We’re not trick-or-treating,” Warren corrects, walking to Nathan’s side and bending to open the box Nathan had abandoned. Nathan doesn’t move to help, he only watches Warren wrench it open on his own. “We’re going to that haunted walk thing they’re holding in town.”

“Oh, yeah,” Nathan says quietly. “Forgot they did that.”

Warren looks up at Nathan with a frown, curious of the unusually quiet tone, but Nathan only cocks an eyebrow at him as if asking him to challenge it, so Warren decides to let it go. He wanted to have a nice Halloween, and an argument with Nathan over anything wasn’t the way to start that.

“If you really want me to,” Warren continues, pulling rolls of streamers and lights out of the box rapidly as a flash of black leather appears in the doorway, followed by the form of Victoria in attractively-tight leather pants, “I’ll stop by when we’re done and see how everything’s going.”

Warren doesn’t miss the snort Nathan gives him in return even under the commands Victoria starts barking at them to get everything out. “Do what the hell you want, Graham. No one gives a shit where you go.”

Warren scoffs and wants to call Nathan out on his pretty-blatant lie, but he never gets a chance to, because Victoria shuffles him off to one corner with a line of paper skulls and Nathan to another with a cooler of alcohol, and, in the whirlwind of everything, Warren doesn’t catch sight of Nathan again.

“Chloe!” Max screeches, shoving Chloe’s arm out of her face. A thick, white web of silly string falls from her flowy sleeve to the ground, and Chloe cackles with laughter at the reaction she got from Max. Max—dressed as a pirate along with Chloe in an inside joke Warren doesn’t quite understand—whips her pirate hat off to whack Chloe with it, and Chloe turns to sprint out of the way, shoving past a man in a zombie outfit as she goes, with Max hot on her heels. Warren watches them leave him, and they’re quickly lost to the crowd.

“They look like they’re having fun.” Warren turns his head to find Kate, dressed in a long traditional Mexican dress, looking into the crowd with a smile. “Am I late?” she asks, turning the smile on Warren. He returns it.

“Nah, we just got here. Chloe somehow already got her hands on a can of that glow-in-the-dark string stuff they make the webs out of. Max hates it.” As if to punctuate his statement, a very clear screech of “CHLOE!” follows his words, and both he and Kate glance at one another and share a laugh. “Love the skin paint,” Warren tells her once he’s regained control of his vocal cords, circling a finger around his own face to indicate, as if it weren’t obvious. “Dia de los Muertos?”

“La Catrina,” Kate confirms, pulling a fan from the pocket of her traditional dress and opening it with a snap of her wrist. She hides her face behind it, then gives him a wink. “I thought it would be nice to honor an important Mexican figure. I couldn’t get the hat she’s usually depicted wearing, but I tried to at least get the makeup and flowers down.”

Warren takes a moment to look at her. She does indeed have large fake flowers woven in a crown around her blonde head, and her hair is free from its usual bun in a half-up, half-down hairstyle Warren couldn’t name if he tried. It’s a shockingly good look on her, and the elaborate white, black, and red face paint that she wears only accentuates the fact she’s more attractive than Warren had ever bothered to notice.

“It looks great,” Warren tells her, trying to ignore the way his tongue is suddenly sticking to the roof of his mouth. “Did you know Catrina can even be traced back to the Aztecs? They had their own version of her, and she also shows up in other cultures around the world.”

Kate tilts her head in consideration, still smiling at him. The smile pulls something in Warren, and he suddenly realizes that this is the first time he’s really ever seen Kate smile. That this is the first time he’s ever really seen her so happy. “I didn’t know that. That’s pretty cool, Warren,” she tells him, and he blinks back to the present, pushing the past away again. “You’re the Eleventh Doctor, right?”

Warren looks at her in surprise. “You watch Doctor Who?”

“A little. I haven’t seen all of it, but I know one doctor from another.”

Warren’s heart does the fluttery little dance it always does when he realizes he’s being given the opportunity to rant about something he loves, but he’s thwarted from his attempt at discussing the show with her by the reemergence of Max and Chloe. Chloe slaps Warren on the back, cackling, and Warren stumbles over his feet from the force of it. Max looks less than pleased at the strings of goop hanging from her costume, but there’s a small smile playing on her lips, so Warren knows she’s not really upset.

“Everyone ready for some bogus Halloween shenans?” Chloe questions them cheerfully, grinning wide enough to show a majority of her teeth. Kate claps her hands excitedly.

“Yes! What do you have planned, Captain?”

“Captain,” Chloe repeats, impressed, then elbows Warren with one arm and Max with the other. “I like her thought process. Captain! Nice ring to it.”

“Chloe,” Max groans, rolling her eyes.

“Okay, okay! Let’s round the gardens and nab some of the free refreshments, and then hit up the haunted house.”

Max tilts her head. “They have a haunted house here?”

“Hell yeah, they do!” Chloe sings.

“It’s usually the most popular event, they go all out,” Kate adds on. “Usually the makeup is so good it looks real.”

“It’s all that Prescott money,” Chloe mock-whispers from behind the back of her hand.

“At least it’s being used for something cool.”

“God forbid it be used to shape the town up!” Chloe presses a hand to her heart mockingly, her eyes turning in their sockets. Kate giggles from behind her hand, once again glowing with excitement and happiness Warren has never once seen her exhibit, and then Chloe is hooking an arm around both her and Max’s waists and directing them into the crowd, leaving Warren to trail along behind them.

The house is dark, creepy, and vaguely dangerous-looking, but Warren figures that’s the point of the whole aesthetic thing that came with the holiday. This is the first year he hasn’t spent the entirety of the Halloween night deep in a Halloween-special D&D campaign, usually penned and DM’d by himself, and one look at the house teeming with people both his age and older in costumes that look a little too professionally put-together to be simple drugstore purchases makes him think that maybe this was the wrong year to go and break that tradition.

He hasn’t spoken to most of his D&D friends since getting accepted into Blackwell, and he blames that mostly on himself, though the general distance that getting accepted into a senior-only school at the age of sixteen creates was also at fault for the lack of communication between them. Warren had anticipated the time it would consume to attend Blackwell, but he hadn’t anticipated the distance it would put between him and his former friends, despite how close they’d been when he’d been attending regular school. That had been a blow that he’d tried not to think about during the time he’d been at the academy (and at home, because they didn’t visit—they always were too busy, and he knows that there’s more to the excuse than just the word itself, but he doesn’t question it, because he’s been too busy for them and it wasn’t fair to do so when they didn’t to him), and then managed to completely forget in the wake of the loops when they were everything he knew. He occasionally thought about it now, but it wasn’t anything close to how much he’d thought about it before, when he’d been so lonely and wanting for a friend.

Warren might have had a massive crush on Max back when he’d first started school with her, but there had been more to his want to hang out with her than just the crush. He’d been lonely, and she’d been relatively accepting of him in a way that was different from the almost-encroaching attention Brooke gave him, and it gave Max a pull Warren couldn’t ignore.

Also, she was—is—really cute. That hadn’t hurt anything.

But he’d been lonely, and his friends had fallen to the wayside where they could no longer be reached. Now, he had friends in the form of Max, Chloe, Brooke (whom had surprisingly let up recently, though he didn’t know why, because it’s not as if he had ignored her each time she came to him with want for discussion), Kate, and, of course, Nathan, and he wouldn’t trade them for his old crew in any moment. Not even this one, even though they house they were about to enter looked a lot less like something he wanted to experience when he could be weaving a good, epic game of Halloween D&D.

Not that he was about to wimp out on Max, Chloe, and Kate, who were gathered around him and chattering excitedly about the house as they grew closer to it in the slow line. He could do this, it was only a house of lights, props, and actors. Not all that different from the movies he loved watching, actually.

The ghoul at the front takes their pre-paid tickets, and into the dry-ice-filled doorway they go.

This isn’t so bad, Warren thinks to himself when another bloody bride screams at him for leaving her at the altar. She writhes against a wall, her bouquet clasped firmly a hand that’s missing a few fingers, and Warren’s so busy watching her that he nearly runs into the guy in overalls that revs a blade-less chainsaw into the air above his head. Kate yelps from his side, latching onto his arm, and Warren momentarily wonders where the hell Chloe and Max have gotten diverted to when he and Kate are scare-ushered into the next room of the house by bloody-chainsaw-man.

“Oh no,” Warren hears Kate whisper, her grip tightening, as the room fills with a wave of dry ice and a myriad of neon lights filter through a sudden strobe that starts up. The light of the room is just bright enough that Warren can navigate around, but the smoke, flashing, and colors distort the way and cause him to need to stop ever few steps to right himself again.

The howling and cackling that the actors are doing doesn’t help anything, either.

“Where’s the exit?” Kate calls to Warren, still holding onto him.

“No fucking clue,” he answers, craning his neck to look around and becoming temporarily distorted when the strobe starts up faster. “Shit. Can’t a guy have a little seeing room?”

An actor screeches a laugh in response to his request, and Warren only sighs in annoyance. This was the point of the house, but they could make it a little easier to traverse, dammit.

“Oh!” Kate says suddenly. “I think I see the way out!”

“What?” Warren asks, looking over her head to see where she’s facing, but he doesn’t see anything. “Where?”

“There!” Kate pulls on Warren’s arm, guiding him, but a sudden dizziness hits just as he starts taking a step in the direction she’s trying to lead him. “Warren?” Kate asks in concern, just as blackness starts to ring his vision.

“Fuck,” Warren hisses. The strobe pulses against his eyes, keeping him from regaining coherence. “I’m fine, I just need a second,” he tells Kate when he feels her grip suddenly go slack, but when he glances down at her to give her some form of reassuring expression, he nearly starts to scream.

Lights flash against her empty sockets, and cracks spider web around the pale, washed-out structure of the skull that grins back at him. It’s not Kate looking back at him, it’s her skeleton. It’s her after she’d fallen, after she’d lost all hope, before anyone had figured out that in the end she could be saved from herself and from the darkness that enveloped her.

Warren stares through the rapid flashing that illuminates the shattered bones over and over again, his scream caught in his throat with his breath, all mental processing ceased completely. He can’t blink. He can’t breathe. He doesn’t know what’s happening, but he knows he’d saved Kate this time. This wasn’t her he was looking at—that version of her was no more. This is not Kate.

Not Kate.

Not.

Kate’s broken skull shakes from side to side, as if it’s telling him no, and then, with another flash, it’s Kate again. His Kate; alive Kate, looking at him with such concern that Warren nearly falls to his knees in a combination of relief and breathlessness. He gulps down a breath he couldn’t take before, and tries his best to tell her it was the dry ice fucking him up. His voice cracks, tongue fumbling, and Kate’s eyes widen from beneath the white and black and red paint that surrounds them. The lie must get across to her, because the next thing he knows, she’s tugging on his arm again and pulling him into the next room. Luckily for him, it’s the one adjoined to the exit, and she pulls him out just as one of the actors stops howling long enough to ask if everything’s all right.

“Warren?” she calls to him while he blinks rapidly, eyes on his feet and brain a fuzzy scream of static. What the hell was that? It couldn’t have been a premonition, it couldn’t have been. Kate—right here, holding his arm and trying her best to check on his current well-being without forcing him Kate—was not who she had been when she’d been ready to throw herself to her death. Right? The Kate back then rarely smiled, rarely seemed excited about anything. This Kate had found something in her life, friends or help, or maybe both. She was better. Right?

Right?

Warren’s eyes stray to Kate’s worried face. Her eyebrows shoot up with relief, face leaning closer, and Warren shakes himself.

“Sorry,” he coughs out. “Too much dry ice.”

“You looked like you were having a panic attack,” Kate says. Her hands haven’t released Warren’s arm yet, and he doesn’t try to shake her off. He doesn’t really want to. “Has that happened before?”

“No.” Yes. “That was new.” That happened to him when he saw the whales on the beach. “I don’t know why it happened, but I’m okay.” You caused it. You caused it, Kate. You caused it when you killed yourself over and over and he had no idea he could save you.

Warren was not okay.

“Maybe we should get you back to your room.”

“Get who back to their room?” Max asks, emerging from the house with Chloe by her side. Chloe’s shaking slightly, but she has the remains of a grin on her face. “What’s going on?”

“Warren had some sort of attack,” Kate tells them before Warren can signal to her not to say anything. Both Max’s and Chloe’s expressions sober, and then all eyes are on Warren. Warren blanches.

“No, no. Dry ice, lights, I got dizzy and shit. Probably getting sick.”

Chloe’s face screams “bullshit detected”, but thankfully she doesn’t call him out on it. Warren knows there’s no way she could know about the vision of the whales, but he wonders if she’s made her own conclusions about things since he’d told her about his loops. He doubts it, but Chloe’s always been the more suspicious of the three of them—Nathan not included.

“We’ll walk you back,” Max offers, though it sounds like an order, and Warren holds up his hands and procures his best guilty face.

“No, come on, I can get to my room on my own easily. I want you guys to stay here and do more shit, it’s only …” Warren pauses with his phone in his hand, Nathan’s number on the screen and the timer beneath it telling him he’d been calling Nathan for the past forty-six seconds. “Shit,” Warren hisses, ending the call and hoping voicemail hadn’t picked anything up. “I’ll head back, it’s just a headache. You guys stay, I don’t want to be reason Halloween is a bust.”

Max worries her lip, and none of them make any move to protest. “All right,” Chloe finally amends, though she sounds like she doesn’t want to. “If that’s what you want, but you have to keep in contact with us for the rest of the night so we know you didn’t die.”

Warren huffs and rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to die, I’m just going to go back to my room and rest.”

Chloe snorts, her smile reemerging, and Warren agrees to keep them updated for as long as he’s awake. They accept this, and Warren leaves them to the rest of their Halloween activities in favor of retreating to his room.

Warren looks at his feet the entire trek back, even down the hallway to his room, thinking about the—vision?—the entire way, and he doesn’t notice he has a visitor until he very nearly runs into him.

“Oh, Nathan,” Warren says in mild surprise, blinking at the form of Nathan hunching over by the wall next to his door. Then, he frowns, the time of night registering as incompatible with Nathan’s presence. “Wait a second, what are you doing here? The party’s still going on.”

Nathan shrugs and scuffs the toe of his shoe on the carpet, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. “Making sure Price kept you in one piece. Heard you saying something about coming back here in your butt-dial.”

Oops. So Nathan had picked up when Warren had accidentally called him. Great.

“Aw Nathan,” Warren coos instead of apologizing, smirking and moving to unlock his door. “You do care.”

Nathan scoffs, not offering a response, and follows Warren into his room. He secures a spot on the bed before Warren’s really noticed, and Warren decides to start shedding some of his costume, the bulk of it feeling heavy in the warmer air of the dormitories.

“You planning on staying?” Warren asks Nathan when Nathan seems settled and comfortable where he’s chosen to sit.

Nathan’s face twitches, like the question annoys him. It probably does. “Guess so. You’re not coming to the party, and I don’t feel like shitting around VIP area with Vic and Hayden busy schooling Trevor’s ass.”

Warren cocks an eyebrow. “Shitting around?”

“Shut the hell up,” Nathan tells him, then throws a pillow at him when he starts snickering.

“Don’t give Trevor a hard time,” Warren says once he’s been pelted. “He’s been relatively nice to me lately, and I don’t want to see him getting frozen to death by that glare Victoria has.”

“Tell her that, I’m not her keeper.”

Warren wrinkles his nose. “And risk getting hit myself? Hell no. Trevor can handle himself, never mind.”

“That’s what I thought, pussy. What are you doing back, was the hay ride too scary for wittle Warren’s heart?”

Warren glares at Nathan, but doesn’t offer him an answer, and, somehow, Nathan manages to realize that means something had happened, and Warren was back in his dorm because of it. “Well? Spill it, Graham.”

Warren presses his lips together, debating on actually telling Nathan of the episode (he didn’t want to call them visions—they weren’t real; Kate was alive, and she was going to stay that way this time) instead of some bullshit excuse, but, before he can stop himself, he blurts out, “I tripped out over the strobe lights tonight.”

Nathan only blinks at him. “What?”

“I freaked out in one of rooms in the haunted house we went to. There was dry ice and strobe lights and laser lights and … I guess it all, I don’t know, triggered something. I started to see shit that wasn’t there.”

A wrinkle appears between Nathan’s eyebrows and he squints. “Shit that wasn’t there? What kind of shit?”

“Like.” Warren hesitates, struggling to find the words he needed to explain in a way that Nathan would be able to understand. “Like, Kate was dressed as La Catrina tonight—”

“La who the fuck?”

“She’s—ugh, you know. The skeleton lady, death, she’s an icon of the Mexican holiday, Dia de los Muertos. A lot of people dress as her for Halloween, too, but she’s a massive part of the Mexican tradition.”

Nathan pauses for a second, thinking, then snaps his fingers. “The skull makeup? With the crazy colors and lacy designs and shit?”

“Yeah—well, no, that’s probably a sugar skull design they’re trying to mimic, but same basic concept. Same holiday. Yes.”

Nathan nods, satisfied with the confirmation, then waves his hand impatiently for Warren to continue.

“Right, well, she was dressed as La Catrina, so, like, you know, skull makeup. You could tell it was her and everything, and it wasn’t like it looked exactly like a real skull or whatever, but, the lights. They, like.” Warren scrubs a hand over his mouth, annoyed with his struggle over his words. “They can distort vision, you know, that’s what they’re usually used for, but instead of seeing Kate’s makeup distorted on her face, or with her face or whatever, I saw … just, a skull. A real skull. With her hair and everything, but bones instead of skin and flesh beneath it.” Warren closes his eyes. “They were broken.”

Nathan doesn’t say anything. Warren keeps his eyes closed through the silence, the image of Kate’s fractured skull pasted in the darkness of his eyelids, and he waits.

“She fell from the top of the dorms,” Nathan finally says quietly.

“Jumped,” Warren corrects, his tone clipped. She hadn’t fallen—that implied there had been some sort of accident. Kate had wanted to kill herself. Kate had jumped.

“Jumped,” Nathan parrots, softly, unexpectedly, and Warren opens his eyes again. Nathan’s looking at him from where he’s slouched over in Warren’s bed, elbows on his knees and hands loosely weaved together at the fingers, seemingly uncomfortable with what was happening between them, but somehow still obviously sympathetic. Warren didn’t understand it. “Did you ever see it? Her?”

Warren nods. “Every time it happened, yeah. Except the one where she was saved, obviously. And this time.”

Nathan winces—winces—and Warren suddenly, desperately wants to know what’s happening inside Nathan’s mind right in that moment.

“That’s fucked up,” he says, head turned to the side, and, Warren realizes with a start, he sounds guilty. Pained and guilty.

“Nathan,” Warren starts, but stops when Nathan’s eyes flick back to Warren’s, and the expression on his face is one of a challenge. Warren drops the want to reassure him, but then it surges back, and he counts his blessings before he allows himself to only say, “You saved her this time, and that’s the part that really matters.”

Nathan doesn’t respond, but his hard blue eyes bore into Warren. Then, he grunts, shakes his head, and falls back against the bed, his leg starting up a bounce Warren hadn’t realized was missing from the picture. Warren sighs, shedding the last of his costume so he was left in his undershirt and slacks, and then goes to fumble with his drawers.

“What are you looking for?” Nathan asks from behind him.

“Movie collection.” Warren turns, the located flash drive in his grip. “Wanna join?”

“That question is going to get really fucking old one of these days,” Nathan hisses, which means yes. Warren sets up a playlist of old spooks on his laptop and then goes to the bed, nudging Nathan over until there was room, and settling in. They watch quietly as Dracula stalks across the screen, and then Warren hears Nathan mutter quietly, “It was just in your head, you know.”

Warren glances at him out of the corner of his eye, unwilling to miss the movie despite having seen it a number of times before. “I know. It just shook me up some.”

“It can’t hurt you,” Nathan continues, his tone strangely firm. “It’s all in your head.”

Warren frowns, then fully looks at Nathan. Nathan’s looking back at him, his face a mask of steel beneath the furrowed brow he wore. “You don’t think it’s a sign everything’s going to happen again?”

“No,” Nathan says, without question or hesitation. “I think it’s all in your head. I think it’s all that vicious bullcrap catching up with you now that you know you’re really done.”

Warren feels his mouth twitch as he tries to reign in the crushed expression he knows his face wants to display. “You think I’m going insane?”

Nathan waits a beat, then shrugs. “I think you might just be as crazy as I am.”

And, despite the way the words might have sounded, Warren knew Nathan had meant it as a reassurance. And that, Warren realizes as he turns back to the movie again, was what he had really wanted to hear.

#life is strange #warren graham #nathan prescott #warren is strange #grahamscott #drabble

22 notes · View notes

thorne93 · 7 years

Text

First Impressions (Part 17)

Prompt: Imagine your friend, Anthony Mackie, brings you with him to an event and introduces you to his friend, Sebastian, who’s blown away by you. He immediately starts flirting and acting silly because you make him nervous and he just wants to impress you

Warnings: flirting (adult style), language (always, with me, come on), and drama (later on in the fic) violence/anger

Word Count: 2263

Notes: If anyone has kids or wives out of the celebrities mentioned, in this universe, they sort of don’t exist….Just for the sake of keeping it concise. Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes (because shes perfectly amazing) and I could NOT, not, just not have done any of this at all without my amazing girl, @amarvelouswritings

Forever Tags: @amarvelouswritings @cocosierra94 @essie1876 @magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @harleyquinnandscarletwitch @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527 @myparadise1982sand @missinstantgratification @thejulesworld @rda1989 @marvelloushamilton @munlis @bubblyanarocks3 @thefridgeismybestie @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn @hardcollectionworldtrash @igiveupicantthinkofausername @kaliforniacoastalteens

Sebastian Stan Tag: @nedthegay @lostinspace33 @alwayshave-faith @elleatrixlestrange @buenostardissherlock @lenawiinchester @the-red-world-of-jess-chibi @memory-of-a-goldfish

Chris Evans Tag (Normally wouldn’t, but he’s featured a lot): @nedthegay @camigt1999 @lostinspace33 @alwayshave-faith @elleatrixlestrange

First Impressions Tag: @goodnightwife @spacemarkimoo @masha-meow01 @axelinchen @smuoooshie @hollycornish @seargantbcky @mellsstark @lyfewithtrish @cinema212 @sophiealiice @yes-this-is-doggo @sky-weirdo @feelmyroarrrr @mizz-kraziii devil-may-cry-11-blog

Song - Eyes Closed by Halsey

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hope you’re happy,” you snapped as soon as she opened the door.

“What? What’s going on?” Bee questioned.

You gave her the phone and showed her. “Here.”

She read over the heart crushing texts then looked up at you. “What the hell? That doesn’t sound like him, surely there’s some other explanation,” she tried.

“Yeah, he doesn’t give a fuck about me,” you said as you walked over to the couch. “That’s the explanation.”

At that moment, Chris entered the room. “What’s going on?”

Bee handed Chris your phone and his eyes went from the phone to you, then back to the phone, a few times before he finally handed it back to you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I really...I don’t know what to say. Sebastian really seemed like he cared for you. I thought you two were good for each other,” he admitted as you peered at him.

“Yeah, me too...Guess I was right all along. I’m not worthy of love,” you said before your voice broke and you started to cry. Your buried your face in your hands as Bee rushed over to comfort you.

“Oh, no, Y/N that’s just not true.”

“Isn’t it? How many times have guys left me for a prettier face or a smarter brain or a kinder person. I mean, I am such a control freak, it’s not even funny. I’ve had guys leave me because I was too passionate about work. I mean, at the end of the day, it makes you wonder if anyone can ever put up with you….And now, I thought I found someone who could...but clearly I was wrong.”

“I’m gonna call him and see what the hell happened,” Chris said as he pulled out his phone and walked away. He dialed but after four rings, it went to voicemail. “Hey, man, Y/N’s over here, and she’s pretty upset by what you sent. Could you call me or her back? Just sort of talk to her. What the hell happened anyway? Okay, bye.”

Chris walked back in. “He didn’t pick up,” he informed. He shot him a quick text. “What’s with you and Y/N? I thought you’d be happy.”

“I’m not anymore, man. I don’t want her. Being away from her did me some good. Just better this way.”

Chris frowned at the response.

“Can you call one of us?”

“Nah, busy at the airport. I might talk when I get back.”

Chris shook his head but put his phone away. “Well, he said he might talk when he gets back.”

“I don’t give a shit. I’m through talking to that son of a bitch,” you snapped. “Thanks for trying you two, but this is just another disaster. It’s just another reason why I didn’t want any of this.”

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

You eventually made your way back home and apologized to Hayden. Your outburst wasn’t his fault. He shouldn’t have to pay for your heartache. You found your way to the bed, laying there, dealing with the pain that was consuming you, he came and laid beside you.

“It’ll be okay,” he promised as he tucked your hair away from your face.

“I know it will,” you said suddenly as you pulled him on top of you and began to kiss him. He pulled away and shook his head.

“Y/N, no, you’re upset and vulnerable,” he said softly. “I’m not going to take advantage of you.”

“You aren’t. I’m asking you to do this, I’m asking for this. It’s no different than when we were using each other beforehand, right?” you wondered.

Hayden couldn’t deny that, but it still felt wrong. You weren’t heartbroken before, just mildly upset, a little dejected. This was a whole other world of pain.

“I’ll do whatever you want, you know I always will,” he vowed.

“Then do this for me,” you said, kissing him. You wanted to forget Sebastian. You wanted him to be the furthest thing from your mind. You wanted to just melt into Hayden’s touch. You wanted the biggest distraction you could possibly think of. “Please? Please help me forget him,” you pleaded as you threaded fingers through his hair.

And like a good friend, he gave you that.

When Hayden first came down, it was platonic, for a day or two. You eventually started to talk about Sebastian and you two somehow came to the conclusion that being best friends with benefits was a good idea. And it was. You were lonely, wanted someone next to you at night, and you two cared deeply for each other. You two remained best friends and even while you were “dating” you often confided in him about Sebastian and he never complained. You loved him and he loved you, but not in the traditional way. It was a very open relationship. You both enjoyed sex, you cared for each other, you wanted nothing but happiness for each other. There was never jealousy between you two, the only ground rule was that you were exclusive. When Hayden started to push you toward Sebastian though, that ground rule slipped away for you, with Hayden’s happy permission. He said should anything happen between you two, he would be happy for it.

And so, you slipped into the sensation and feeling of each other all night, fully ready to let go of Sebastian, just as you were ready to start a relationship with him.

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

After landing, going home to arrange everything, Sebastian showed up at your place. He couldn’t seem to find his phone, so he wanted to check on you.

He knocked on the door, waited a few minutes, to finally, Hayden opened the door in nothing but boxers and a robe. Sebastian ground his teeth and his pulse raced as he tried to assess the scene but decided to not assume anything.

“Is...uh...Y/N here?” he asked, trying to put the thoughts out of his mind.

“She is. She’s asleep, though. Why?” Hayden asked mostly casually, a bit of anger under his tone.

“I wanted to talk to her,” he said.

“Well, I’m afraid she doesn’t want to talk to you,” Hayden said nonchalantly.

“What? Why?” Sebastian wondered.

“Because you were a dick to her. How could you do that? How could you just…destroy her like that?”

Sebastian frowned. “Like what? I haven’t had my phone for two days. I can’t find it.”

“Sure you can’t,” Hayden said as he narrowed his eyes on Sebastian. “I don’t know why any of us ever listened to you. You lied about Marissa. You probably lied about the job offer. I’m not going to let you hurt her again.”

“What the hell?” Sebastian said. “What are you talking about? Let me talk to her,” he started as he moved forward into the apartment before Hayden put his hand on his chest to stop him.

“Seriously. Don’t,” Hayden warned.

“Hayden, let go of me. Y/N is an adult and I want to hear it from her that she doesn’t want to talk to me,” Sebastian said evenly, trying to keep his temper in check.

“And I’m telling you for her. She’s already stated she doesn’t want to talk to you,” Hayden replied, a fierceness in his eyes.

“And I want to hear her tell me,” he repeated. “Y/N!” he yelled before Hayden slammed him against the wall and held him there with his arm across his throat.

“Leave her alone. You’re not going to get another chance to hurt her.”

You came out to the living room in shorts and a tank top. “Hayden? Let him go,” you commanded softly.

Hayden obliged immediately, then backed up.

“Y/N,” Sebastian breathed. “What is this?” he asked, gesturing back to Hayden, as he came toward you.

“He’s just trying to protect me,” you said softly. “Sebastian, you really should leave. I’m not even sure why you’re here.”

“What? Why wouldn’t I be? What the hell is going on?” he demanded looking at you two.

“This,” you said as you handed him your phone. He read through the messages and was appalled.

“Y/N, I didn’t send that. I haven’t had my phone for two days.”

“Oh? Then who sent it?” you questioned. “Who would even know about us to send that stuff?”

“Marissa,” he said as the realization hit him. “It went missing after she was at my apartment.”

“Why was she at your apartment?” you accused, suspicious.

“Oh you don’t seriously think we did anything, do you?” Sebastian asked, frowning at you. “Come on. Jesus. No. She came by and said she had some stuff still there, grabbed it, and left.”

“How did she know you were even in the city?” you wondered.

“I don't know. She said a friend told her.”

“So it’s just coincidence that you ‘moved on’ and Marissa is back in your life at the same time?” you snapped.

“Hey, you’re the one who fucked your friend while you were supposedly waiting for me,” he said angrily. “Not me! I came here to be with you! And I find you with him!” he shouted.

“Don’t turn this around on me! Your ex is around and you just happen to basically tell me to fuck myself?”

“Looks like he already took care of that for you though, huh?” Sebastian quipped, his eyes never leaving yours as he gestured his head toward Hayden.

Without much warning for anyone you slapped him hard across the cheek.

“Go fuck yourself, Sebastian,” you spat, staring him down.

Without another word, he glanced to Hayden, then you, then stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

At that, you crumpled into another fit of tears as Hayden caught you.

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

A knock pounded on the door of the Evans’.

“Open up, it’s me,” Sebastian shouted.

“Sebastian?” Bee greeted, confused by his disarray. He was red in the face, had a red mark on his cheek, and his hair was disheveled. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“No, no I’m not,” he admitted, frustration in his tone. “Could I have your phone?”

“Sure.”

She grabbed her phone off the coffee table and handed to him. He tried calling his phone - no answer. He sent a text a generic text of “Hey. Call me.” and got a response “I’ll talk to you when I get back.”

“I knew it,” he muttered in an angry voice. He was so pissed off, he could only see red. He wanted to throw the phone or crush it but seeing as it wasn’t his phone he just loosened his grip on it.

“Answer the phone, Marissa, it’s me, Sebastian.”

On cue, she called back.

“Hello?” she greeted.

“You bitch,” he said into the phone. “Why the fuck do you have my phone?” he demanded in a growl as Bee looked on in horror, starting to piece together what happened.

“Because, Sebby, you don’t deserve anyone and neither does she.”

“You manipulative cunt,” he spat. He was so furious. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”

“I hope I do,” she sang into the phone. “If you want the phone, you know where to come and get it.”

“You better pray you’re no where nearby when I get there,” he vowed in a dark voice. He hung up and handed the phone back to Bee.

“What’s happening?” she asked.

“Did Y/N mention anything about weird texts?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Marissa sent them,” he informed. “She came to my apartment in New York to grab some of her stuff. I let her in. She must’ve grabbed my phone and pretended to be me. Whatever was sent to Y/N after 11:00 on Tuesday wasn’t me.”

“Oh, oh my god. Sebastian, you have to tell her. She was in pieces,” she explained, sorrow in her voice.

“Yeah? She didn’t seem too broken up with Hayden between her legs,” he scoffed.

“What? Hayden and her are back together? How...oh��” Bee mused.

Sebastian nodded and ran his fingers through his hair. “Shit. I don’t know. I went by her place, she wouldn’t let me explain. She heard Marissa’s name and just...all bets were off. I said something really dickish and…” He gestured to his cheek.

“She hit you?” she gasped, seeing the red swollen mark on his face.

He nodded his head side to side. He sighed.

“Fuck. I don’t blame her though. If she thought that was me, and Marissa being at my apartment doesn’t sound good. I get it. I would’ve done the same thing,” he said.

“No, Sebastian. No. You have to try and make this right. Just try to explain it to her again.”

“No offense but I really don’t want to go back to that apartment.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

“I have no idea…It’s looking more and more like we shouldn’t be together,” he said, rubbing his neck.

“No, don’t say that. There must be something you can do. Sebastian, she was trying to be with you. She wanted to start a relationship.”

“Bee...It’s too late. Okay? Too much bad shit between us has happened. We need to just cut our losses and move on. I don’t want to keep dragging her through this. I’m not going to fuck up her life and her happiness any more.” He shook his head. “Thanks for letting me use your phone.” He turned and started to walk out as Bee tried to get him to stop but he was too fast and before she knew it, he was in his car, and driving away.

#first impressions #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fic #chris evans #chris evans fic #hayden christensen #hayden christiansen fic

88 notes · View notes

frazzledsoul · 7 years

Text

A late night insomnia induced post in which I try to justify the second most upsetting event in Gilmore Girls history

. . . . I am of course, speaking of the Gilmore/Hayden marriage experiment.

(Disclaimer: if you’ve written any of the stories I refer to below, understand I’m not judging you. I mostly wrote this because of a very upsetting story I read which directly suggested that Lorelai would have been wasting her life with Luke if she didn’t give him that ultimatum. It made me think of a lot of the fanfiction trends I’m not comfortable with, but as always, it is just my opinion).

Fan fiction is always a unique experience.

First of all, you have to reach a particular level of insane obsession to even know what it is or to attempt reading it, and as far as I’m concerned, I have to go significantly past the route of no return before I even attempt it. You have to put up with a lot of sentimentality and bad porn to get to the good stuff, and if you’re reading fanfiction for a genre show, forget it. There are some weird ships out there, and stuff that bears no significant relationship to the show it’s supposedly about. The fact that Fifty Shades Of Gray emerged out of such a phenomenon is not shocking at all once you’ve waded into it, and that’s actually on the milder end of things.

I’m not even going to talk about the Walking Dead Negan/Glenn slash I accidentally read on here. Or some of the stuff I accidentally stumbled on about David Archuleta back in 2009 or so. Trust me, you don’t want to know.

I’ve noticed a few trends in reading fanfiction for Gilmore Girls’s’ core couple. First of all, there’s a lot more of it than I expected. People were passionately writing these stories three, four, five, six years after the show ended, and this is long before anyone even thought of a Netflix revival to continue the story. Second of all, a lot of it is actually really good. Third, this is a fandom that loves to go AU and “correct” certain plot events, and while that’s really not my thing, I’ve read quite a few of those stories and I’ve liked them more than I thought I would. However, there is one particular genre I’m not crazy about.

It appears that when revival spoilers came out that Luke and Lorelai were not married for at least part of the revival, it inspired . . . some angst. Quite a bit of angst. Even among writers I really liked. Nothing positive had changed in the Luke/Lorelai relationship. Luke still won’t commit or let Lorelai into his life. She’s still mournfully gazing at the engagement ring or the wedding dress and hoping things will change and he won’t budge. Sturm und drang. It’s season 6 all over again.

This appears a little funny in retrospect after reviewing what actually happened in the revival. Lorelai was clearly in the driver’s seat when it came to the marriage discussion this time around. She’s the one who decides to hold off for nine years: she’s the one that decides when it’s time to finally make that final step. The parental duties are kept mostly separate, but this was at Lorelai’s insistence (this doesn’t stop people from blaming Luke when he lives up to his end of the bargain, but I guess old habits die hard), and as Luke points out, he just went along with what she wanted. When Lorelai re-proposes, it’s Luke who comes running with the old engagement ring he’s held onto for a decade just in case she was ever ready for it again.

If anyone’s longingly looking at that ring, it wasn’t her.

Of course, there was a time in the show’s history when Lorelai was that person, and it’s not a time period any of us remember fondly. The sixth season finale is one of the most upsetting events I’ve witnessed in many years of obsessive TV watching. I think the only thing that really comes close for me is watching Jon Snow get murdered and seeing Glenn and Abraham get turned into human oatmeal earlier this year. We knew about Glenn and Abraham way ahead of time, and we got Jon Snow back two episodes into the next season. But I don’t think any of us anticipated the level to which Amy Sherman Palladino would sink her show.

The thing that upsets me most about the break-up in that episode is that Luke has been running around looking for Lorelai for days, clearly concerned about her welfare. He keeps trying to get her to sit down and discuss the situation rationally, and she won’t have it. She’s going to have a loud, noisy, public meltdown in the middle of the street, and he’s going to have to deal with it. Yes, there were real issues in their relationship that they needed to hash out. Maybe he wouldn’t budge in the end and she would still decide she wanted marriage and kids on her timetable more than she wanted him. But screaming in the middle of the street and stomping off and sleeping with his worst enemy when he wouldn’t immediately agree to her crazy plan wasn’t the way to have that discussion. There were very real issues affecting the custody of his child that partially caused Luke to act the way he did, and those issues would not be solved by the quickie wedding that Lorelai insisted that they have at that very moment. Not everything revolves around her and her biological clock, and if she insists on behaving in this manner, she’s not really of a sound mind to embrace marriage or motherhood, anyway.

(Oh, and a more apt metaphor for ASP and her approach to contract negotiations is pretty much impossible to find compared to this one, but I suspect this is the point).

That said, despite all of this, I kind of get it. Luke’s behavior gets really bad in the latter half of season 6. I feel I can’t judge him too harshly for prioritizing his kid, but it’s not pleasant to watch. I understand why Lorelai felt at that point that she had to break up with him, and why she married someone else after a few months.

I’m a 36 year old woman from Alabama. I have seen this situation play out in my own life more times than you know. The concept of a woman in her late thirties breaking up with a long-term partner because he isn’t ready for marriage and kids and quickly marrying someone who is is something that is very familiar to me. And in real life, these marriages actually last. When you get to a certain point, it’s easier to settle and compromise because you want the same things. Sometimes life isn’t fair, and you have to choose your best options.

When Luke justifies to himself that he and Lorelai were never meant to be together and tells he’s going to stop being angry and just move on, he basically gives her his blessing to pursue other options. She’s still devastated, but when Christopher shows up and makes his big romantic plea, it’s immensely appealing to her. Sure, it’s not the epic, passionate love affair she wanted, and she’d rather be hearing this stuff from Luke, but Christopher is doing all the stuff she wanted Luke to do. He lets her be involved with his child. He wants marriage and kids. They’ve been involved for 20 years anyway. So when he pushes for it in this ultra-romantic setting, she goes for it. Wanting the same things will be good enough to justify this decision, right?

Of course, it’s an epic disaster for the six weeks or so that it lasts. Christopher is weak, pathetic, and utterly useless to anyone who might have the misfortune of needing to rely on him. He let Lorelai participate in his child-rearing decisions largely because he was incapable of making them himself. Lorelai isn’t in love with him and she’s never fully committed to this life together, but she convinces herself that because they supposedly want the same things, it’s good enough.

However, Christopher isn’t good enough, and never will be. The character reference that Lorelai wrote laid out all that Luke was capable of, all of the love and devotion that he lavished on Lorelai and Rory over the years, and of how special he was to the both of them. Lorelai didn’t sign the letter OMG WHAT HAVE I DONE, but she might as well have. When Christopher read the letter, he knows that Lorelai still loves Luke because she will never be able to say those things about him. No one will ever be able to say those things about Christopher. He knows that he’ll always be nothing more than a very inferior replacement, and that Lorelai is never really going to be able to love him that way.

Eventually, Lorelai realizes this too, and ends this torturous marriage experiment once and for all.

As far as Luke is concerned, I think he allows his family to talk him into the idea that he and Lorelai were destined or failure as a way to live with the situation. If he allowed himself to think of everything that went wrong, he would go insane. And he can’t break down and do that, because he’s got a daughter to take care of now. It’s his way of stepping up and being the bigger person. The show starts building him up again, and they really, really needed to do that. He becomes a great guy again, and we needed him to be that guy.

I don’t think the reality of the situation really hits Luke until Lorelai shows up in the hospital with the wedding ring. Then he has to admit what he’s lost, but even then he can’t give up. He’s got a kid he’s got to fight for, a new infant niece, a very pregnant employee/surrogate daughter to look out for. When the letter’s read out to him, he allows himself to have a tiny bit of hope. And when Lorelai needs him, he drops everything and runs to her side, because he still loves her and would do anything for her. He’s worthy of everything in that letter at that moment.

I think what this brings us all to is that Lorelai ultimately learned that this set plan she had for marriage and kids was not what was going to make her happy. I think what both she and Luke came to realize that what they really wanted was each other, not some arbitrary expectation of what life was supposed to be like for them. Giving up on Luke was not the right decision because he couldn’t be replaced, and what she needed most of all was simply to have him in her life, and for him to be in hers. Both of them figured out that marriage and parenthood were going to be a lot harder than they thought they would be, and neither of those things mattered more than being together. Their life together was a good life, and it made both of them happy. Ultimately, Lorelai did decide that she did want to be married, and Luke wanted that, too, because all he ever wanted was her. However, that doesn’t mean the previous decade didn’t count because it didn’t live up the previous ideal. It did.

As far as the kids issue goes, I think for Lorelai it was mostly a vague afterthought. I think it was different for Luke, at least at first. It’s not an accident that he has so many surrogate kids. He did want to be a dad in some way, but having April gave him that opportunity, and it wasn’t a very pressing need after that. Besides, it’s not like he’s going to run out of additional offspring any time soon, either.

Life can be good, and deep, and meaningful, and worthy, even if it doesn’t live up to a Norman Rockwell ideal. I think Lorelai learned that when she tried to substitute someone else for the person she really wanted.

#gilmore girls #gilmore girls ayitl #luke danes #lorelai gilmore #luke x lorelai #fanfiction trends #fanfiction

20 notes · View notes

unpopcorned · 6 years

Text

“How would thee count the stars?”

No response.

“I said, how would thee count the stars?”

Nothing.

Khalil looks as if he’s close to having a migraine, “Hayden, say your lines.”

Hayden looks up, surprised to see that pretty much everyone in the room is looking at her. The Drama Teacher - Mrs. Reed - Khalil, Jade, Nate, and the rest of the theater kids. One glance down to her paper, Hayden can see that she was indeed next. Nate, in front of her, is giving her the stink eye.

So, raising her voice, she says, “By only one and two and three--” Her eyebrows crease, she looks towards Khalil for help, “Do I have to count all the way to ten?”

“Do what you think is best, Miss Winters,” Mrs. Reed tells her, hands on her hips, “Improvise.”

She’s guessing that means she doesn’t have to. Hayden looks back down towards the paper, “By only one...and two and three. If you were ask for more, I would not be able to...bear the weight...? My body is weightless, as in - Bethany falls to the floor to show her distress - do I have to fall to the floor?”

This time, Khalil speaks up, “Yes, Hayden. Fall to the floor.”

Hayden hesitates for only a moment. She has something to do after this, she doesn’t want to get her clothes dirty. But, she falls to her knees first ( carefully, of course ), curling her legs underneath her before lying on her side. Nate is giving her an even worse look, throws an exasperated glance in Khalil’s direction. Her friend only makes a ‘go-ahead’ motion with his hand.

Nate, knowing his lines far better than her, continues, “Oh, beloved, you must feel what I harbor for you. Your loves pricks thy heart like a stubborn rose, and I can only fall for each one,” And then Nate is on the floor with her, much more graceful and dramatic with it, “Each night I pray and wonder, why thee love hurts the most.”

Hayden sits up straight after a moment, “I don’t like being on the floor. It’s cold.”

“The rest of the scene is on the floor, Hayden,” Khalil says, he’s standing from his chair now - his own script is sticking out of the back of his jeans, “We can’t make anymore changes,” He steps onto the stage next, and Hayden takes that as a chance to stand. Nate appears disgruntled, but he does the same, “If we do, we won’t be able to start doing costume rehearsal next week. I’m not pushing it back anymore.”

Hayden could forget how bossy Khalil could get. He was one of the leads in almost every play Mrs. Reed put on. This time, he decided to go a more backseat approach and keep to a stage manager presence. Still, he drafted almost every scene, he took care of lighting, and he was always on time for rehearsal. Hayden can’t help but wonder how he manages it all - schoolwork, rehearsal, and band practice.

“What do you expect?” Jade mutters from the end of the stage, she’s sitting cross-legged, “Hayden is a replacement. You can’t expect her to get it all in three days.”

“She can’t act!” Nate’s voice has become high-pitched, as if that statement has been sitting on his chest for weeks now, “We should just call Jessica. If you just talked to her nicely--”

“I’m not going to baby her,” Khalil’s tone is final, he even crosses his arms, “If she wants to be a diva and hold up production, then there should be a replacement.”

“Hayden is nothing like the character,” Nate isn’t finished, “She’s...” He looks towards Hayden, catches her beginning to doodle on her script with a yellow highlighter, “It isn’t going to work. Bethany’s character is described as--”

“Hardworking, attentive, beautiful,” Khalil names off each with his fingers, “Hayden’s all those things.”

“Let’s agree to disagree,” Nate makes a face at him, “we should’ve held auditions. Cast understudies.”

“Understudies are for people with no talent,” Jade pipes in, looks a little too amused to watch them go back and forth, “If you want to quit, Nathaniel...”

“I’m not,” Nate presses his lips together, trying to control his tone, “I’m not quitting. It’s just...Johnathan and Bethany are supposed to have chemistry. Do you see anything like that with me and Hayden?”

“No,” Khalil shrugs a shoulder, “But you could try a little harder.”

Hayden isn’t paying attention, she’s stopped doodling on her script, and is now paying close attention to her shoes. She draws stars on them, big stars and little stars, she wishes she’d had more colors. Tonight, she’ll probably wash them so her mother won’t complain. With one glance, she can see they are all still arguing, Jade has joined in now and Nate is growing red in the face. Well, she wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for Khalil - Nate was right about one thing, she was nothing like the character. Even if they put her in a wig and dress ( which they would be doing when they started costume rehearsals ) she wouldn’t come close. After Jessica had thrown a fit and decided to quit in the middle of production, Khalil had come to Hayden with the favor.

She supposes she still owed him for last time.

“--fine! Fine,” Nate is huffing, moving past Jade and Khalil both, “This is unprofessional.” He ducks behind the curtain, Mrs. Reed looks worried and she goes to follow after.

Khalil rolls his eyes, turns to face Hayden, “Don’t listen to him,” ( she wasn’t ), “He’ll get used to it.”

Jade snorts, mutters something under her breath that Hayden can’t catch, “He’s a drama queen. Always begging for attention. If I could try out for guy roles, I would’ve taken Johnathan. I gotta bigger dick than Nate, trust me.”

Khalil nudges her, even when she keeps laughing, “Go and see if you can find Peter, I need help with the lighting later. The orange and yellow are too bright,” When she is gone too, he returns his attention to Hayden, “You’re doing a good job, don’t worry about it.”

She doesn’t think that. She doesn’t think she’s a very good actress, it reminds her of lying. Which she is also bad at. But she shrugs her shoulders a bit helplessly, “I’ll practice more tonight.”

“I thought you had a date.”

Hayden blinks at that, seeming to recall, “Oh--”

“Hayden!” The call of her name is from the side of the room, towards the two main doors. Hayden and Khalil both look up and over, find Luis standing there. He heaves his book bag up higher on his shoulder, looks fairly annoyed, “You comin’?”

“Hey, what did I tell you?” Khalil points a finger at Luis, “No interrupting rehearsal.”

Luis flips him off, “Fucking bite me, asshole. You’ve been in here for two hours, it takes you this long just to figure out your lines?” Khalil starts to say something back, Luis doesn’t let him, “Hayden, let’s go.”

When Luis is in a bad mood, it isn’t very wise to say no to him. She stands from her spot, grabbing her script and backpack on the way down. Khalil says after her, “Thursday, same time, Hayden.” She’s nodding, even when Luis takes her arm and drags her out of the auditorium.

Luis seems talkative, she notices it only a few seconds in, “I was thinking, since we’re going to be covering the song anyway, we should get Khalil to try and change the sound. Lyle’s been--”

“I can’t practice today,” Hayden tells him quietly, lingering when they stop at his locker for something, “I have something to do.”

“Like what?” Luis gives her a dirty look, “Don’t tell me you’re meeting with that guy again. You like him or something?”

“Luis,” she says, “we’re dating.”

“You don’t even know him,” he slams his locker closed with far more force than necessary, “He’s probably playin’ you.”

Hayden hesitates before following him - because that hurt a little, “...he’s not. And I know enough.”

“Like what?”

“He likes soccer.”

“Yeah, that’s fuckin’ obvious. Probably all the meat-head talks about.”

“He likes movies.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“He likes studying.”

“Whatever--”

“He likes me.”

That makes Luis stop for a moment, he turns to look at her, must spot a bit of frustration because he sighs, looks off to the side, “I’m just sayin’ - I’ve never met him.”

“Because you don’t want to.”

“I’m your best fucking friend, he should extend some courtesy to me.”

“Courtesy?”

“Yeah - buy me a fucking fruit basket or somethin’.”

They stop as they get closer to the practicing room, Lyle and Finn are already inside, bickering over something. Hayden rocks on her heels and toes, stares at Luis as he seems to think, “Fine, I’ll let you skip this last time. But no more after this - you guys need’a go on dates every day or something? It’s fucking weird.”

Hayden’s lips tilt up at the corners, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

Hayden ends up going alone. And the walk is pretty uneventful, she keeps her headphones on and the music loud enough to drown out any noise. She waits in her usual spot, only looking up when her headphones are tugged on gently. Pulling them from around her head, she lets it rest upon her neck.

Hayden can’t help but smile when she sees him, “Hi.”

Andrew looks a bit winded, she hopes he didn’t rush to get here, “Hey. Sorry, I’m late - practice ran a bit longer--” He stops talking when she reaches out, takes his hand in her much smaller one, “My bad.” Still, a smile blooms across his face at the contact, and he doesn’t shy away from her.

“It’s okay.”

Around thirty minutes later, they sit together on a bench, both with ice cream cones. Hayden had chosen strawberry with sprinkles, and she wishes she hadn’t because the sprinkles had a bitter aftertaste. Andrew lets her try some of his, helps her with cleaning her face when she smudged chocolate onto her nose. He looks at her almost strangely ( or, it seems strange to her ), affectionately maybe.

And it makes her feel a little weird - like this light feeling inside of her chest that won’t go away. She feels as if she may float away sometimes.

“Did you have fun at practice?”

Andrew looks up at the question, “Oh. Yeah, I guess.”

“What’s wrong?” She tilts her head some, he blinks at the question, “Did something happen?”

“No - just...sometimes, the guys can be at odds when they’re frustrated. It doesn’t help that...Osmond is so headstrong too. I try to keep things easy, but when you’re training so much and you’re stuck with the same guys all day...I guess sometimes things can be frustrating,” He stops there, seems to consider his words, “You know what I mean?”

“Sometimes Khalil and Luis argue. When we’re practicing. Is that the same thing?”

“Yeah, just like that,” There’s a small break in their conversation, not because they are bored or are too busy to talk, but because silence is always welcomed between them. It’s not awkward or strange, Hayden likes that she can still think when she’s around Andrew. That he gives her opportunity to speak whenever she pleases, “When’s the next time you guys are playing?”

“Hm?” She looks up from her ice cream, her fingers are getting sticky.

“Your band.”

“Oh,” Hayden frowns some, shifts in her seat, “Khalil has been really busy with...the play. And I’m in it now--”

“You’re in a play?” He sounds surprised, staring at her now, “When is it?”

“Not until next month. Khalil doesn’t cast understudies, so he asked me to take the lead role for him. The character’s name is Bethany,” and then her nose wrinkles up some, “But I’m nothing like her. I don’t think.”

Andrew is watching her a bit fondly, “What’s so different between you and Bethany?”

“Well,” she thinks on it, licks at her thumb to get some of the ice cream off, “she talks differently from me. And...she’s smiling all the time. And she has really, really long hair. Khalil is making me wear a wig, since before Jessica had long hair.”

“A wig?” Andrew frowns now, he’s done with his cone so he chucks it into the nearby trash, “Did you tell him you don’t need one? A wig, I mean.”

“Yeah, but he says I do,” Andrew doesn’t seem pleased with that, but he more or less keeps it to himself, “He wants me to look like Bethany, at least. Jessica looked more like her than I do.”

“You look fine,” Andrew reassures her. And he does that a lot. Though, it seems, a lot of people disagree with him. Nate, her mother, most of the people in school. Hayden’s ears feel warm, she looks back down at her ice cream, rocks her legs back and forth underneath her.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

Andrew reclaims his seat next to her, a little closer than before, “Okay. Go ahead.”

“My mom...” Hayden trails off at first, she feels a little nervous. Which should be silly, but she supposes it’s normal, “My mom really wants to meet you. My dad, too. And they wanted you to come to dinner on Thursday.”

Andrew doesn’t say anything for a moment.

So, Hayden opens her mouth again, “You don’t have to--”

“Really?” To her surprise, he looks a little - excited, “Your parents want to meet me? You want me to?” Hayden nods, she doesn’t know why that would come as a shock, “Thursday is good. Thursday is perfect, actually.”

“Really? You don’t have practice?”

“No. No, it’s fine. I’ll definitely be there.”

And Hayden’s shoulders relax, she smiles some, “Okay.”

“So what’s he like?” Hayden looks up at the question, blinks for a moment. As if Urja can tell she’s confused by the question, she smiles, “Andrew. I haven’t gotten to meet him.”

Hayden thinks about it. What was Andrew like - she thinks of him very fondly whenever he’s brought up. Her expression softens after a moment, and she scribbles at the edge of her notebook in thought, “I guess he’s--”

“He’s great,” Imogen butts in, leaning towards the both of them, “Andrew never dates, I didn’t know Hayden was his type.”

“Type,” Jade pipes in, raises her eyebrows high on her forehead, “Do rich people hear themselves talk?”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Imogen says, rolling her eyes, “I only meant that the last girl Andrew dated - well, she was nothing like Hayden. Which is a good thing in my opinion.”

Hayden grows curious, she’s watching Imogen now, “What was she like?”

“Point is, it’s a good thing they broke up,” Imogen tells her, tossing dirty blonde hair over her shoulder, “He’s better off.” The four of them sit together in Hayden’s room - with all of the people, it seems a bit cramped now. Jade had commented on the lack of decoration ( and she’d said it looked like the room had been put together by a twelve-year-old, and well, Hayden guesses that’s right since the last time she’d decorated her room was when she was ten - but only because she never left it ). Now, all four of them worked on their schoolwork - besides Imogen, she’d finished hers much earlier.

Jade stays on the bed, leaning forward to be able to hear their conversation. And Urja stays beside Hayden, on her back and hair spread out around her like a dark halo. Sometimes, Hayden feels like the odd girl out, they seem to know a lot more about being - normal maybe, was that the right word?

She bets Jade’s parents don’t argue. And she’s sure Imogen has kissed a few boys before. And she’s absolutely certain that guys don’t mistake Urja for a boy all the time. But she keeps her thoughts to herself - she’s never been so self-conscious of herself, not since meeting Andrew. She wonders what type of girls he’s dated before.

“Have you kissed him yet?” Imogen asks, the question reminds Hayden of her mom for some reason. In reply, Hayden shakes her head silently. Imogen’s mouth falls open, “What? No way - he hasn’t made a move on you?”

Jade pulls a face, “Can this conversation get any straighter?”

Imogen ignores her, “Well - it is Andrew we’re talking about here. He’s the perfect gentleman, all the time,” She thinks on it for a few seconds, “You might have to just kiss him. I mean, you do want to kiss him, right?”

Hayden blinks again, “I’ve never kissed anyone.”

There’s a beat of silence, Imogen is staring at her, Urja has slightly sat up, and Jade looks interested now. Jade is the first to speak up, an impish grin coming across her face, “I could show you.”

Imogen speaks up next, “Really? Never?”

“It’s not that surprising,” Urja gets comfortable again, touches Hayden’s knee briefly, “And it’s not a big deal, Hayden. Trust me.”

“Lemme guess,” Jade interjects, amused, “You’ve never kissed anyone either, Urja.”

Urja ducks her chin, “I mean - no. But that’s not important. It’s not important. Boys aren’t important, in general.”

“I guess so,” Jade concedes, shrugging her shoulders.

Imogen huffs at the both of them. Hayden watches, quiet. And then she says, “Do you like kissing Osmond?” Imogen looks taken aback by the question, Urja raises her eyebrows, “You’re dating him, right? So you kiss him.”

Imogen pulls a face. For the first time, she doesn’t seem to like the spotlight. She pulls at a loose thread on Hayden’s floral-printed rug, shrugs one shoulder, “It’s...nice, I guess. I mean, he’s not bad at it, you know?”

Hayden doesn’t know.

Jade wrinkles up her nose, “Guys kiss like wet dogs.”

“Not Osmond,” Imogen states, “If the right guy is kissing you, trust me - you’ll like it.”

“And if the right girl is kissing you--”

Imogen faces her, “Thanks for the input, Jade.” Jade only sticks her tongue out at her.

Hayden hadn’t really thought about it - kissing Andrew. It was like a foreign concept, uncharted territory. She’d never been interested with those kinds of things, never really crossed her mind. But she guesses it isn’t that bad to think about, not if it’s Andrew. Her stomach feels warm, so do her ears. She’s so distracted that she almost misses the sudden fixation on her bedroom window. Urja jerks upright in a sitting position, Jade is frowning, and Imogen looks alarmed.

“Someone tapped on the window,” she whispers to Hayden, “What kind of--”

“Maybe it’s a pervert,” Jade says, though she doesn’t seem that fazed by it.

“In this neighborhood?” Urja mutters, “Likely. Very likely.”

Hayden is the only one who isn’t that bothered. She stares over at the window, sitting up straighter when she spots the face peering back at her, “Luis,” she stands from her spot, crosses the room to get to her window and unlock it. When it’s pulled open, she speaks, “You could fall.” Her room was on the second floor, after all.

“Lemme in,” Luis grunts, and without waiting for her permission, he pulls himself inside of the room. Hayden moves aside to give him room, the girls are staring now, “Hell took you so long--” When he notices the others in the room, his frown deepens, “Fuck is this? A slumber party?”

“Oh,” Imogen admonishes, “What’s he doing here?”

Urja looks surprised to see him, holds her textbook close to her chest, “Luis?”

“Oh, great,” Jade mumbles, “Just what we needed.”

Luis looks around, spots the backpacks and textbooks all over the floor. He kicks pointedly at Jade’s bag, which she protests at, “You buddy-buddy now?” He directs the question towards Hayden, she looks up at him. He appears irritated, she doesn’t know why, “I need to--”

“Girls? Everybody decent?”

Hayden starts - her father’s voice is just outside the room, very close to the door. Jade makes a face, Imogen stands, and Urja throws a panicked glance towards Luis, “Hide!” She whispers quickly, pushing herself up on her knees to point towards Hayden’s bed, “Get under.”

“What--” Luis looks offended that she would even say that, “No fucking way.”

The girls don’t give him much of a choice. Hayden is quiet while Imogen and Urja work together cramming her friend underneath her twin bed. Trying to make the covers look as neat as possible ( and cover Luis ), Urja turns back to her book, Imogen reclaims her spot on the floor, and Jade picks listlessly at her nails.

“Girls? Hello?”

Hayden looks towards the door, “You can come in, dad.”

He does, peeking inside tentatively before he offers a smile, “You guys still doing homework?” Her dad seems happy to have people over - a distraction, if anything. It’s really rare for Hayden to invite students to her home, especially girls. He places his hands over his hips, looking around, “Anyone staying for dinner? I can whip up something.”

“Uh--” Imogen exchanges a look with Jade, “Actually, Mr. Winters, I have to get home soon. I have swim practice in the morning.”

“You’re heading out?” Jade pipes in, “Mind dropping me off at home?” Imogen shrugs a shoulder, nonplussed, “Then I better get going too.”

“Yeah,” Urja says, “My dad will start to worry if I’m not back by nine.”

“Oh,” he watches them all gather their things, doesn’t seem that upset over it, “Well, alright. Come back anytime, really. I’ll make my world famous tacos, huh? How does that sound?”

Imogen cracks a bit of a grin as she stands in the doorway, “That sounds really nice, Mr. Winters.”

“I love food, especially free food,” Jade tells him, “So count me in.” Urja merely nods along with Jade, glancing over Mr. Winters’ shoulder to stare at Hayden’s bed. Hayden follows her gaze, spots Luis poking his head out. When he notices her staring, he lifts his head, hitting it sharply against the bottom of her bed.

“Ow!”

Hayden’s father looks up, turns his head. Hayden stares back at him, expression neutral.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

She blinks. And then nods, “...yeah. Bit my tongue.”

Jade looks close to laughing. When her dad walks them to the door, Urja lingers behind, looks at Hayden, “See you tomorrow?” Hayden merely nods, she looks at Hayden’s bed next, “See you, Luis.”

There’s a muffled reply from underneath, and she’s soon following the rest of the girls out. When they are gone, her dad comes back upstairs to her room, keeping by the doorway, “I didn’t know you had so many friends.” Hayden doesn’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not, “You should invite them over more often, it’d make your mom happy.”

Hayden only nods her head again.

His eyes drift from her, and something catches his attention fast, “Oh, Hayden, don’t leave your window open,” he crosses the room, past her, and closes the window firmly before returning his attention to her, “Don’t want anyone peeking in, okay?” Again, another nod. He smiles, “You said Andrew will come Thursday, right?”

“Oh,” Hayden murmurs - she didn’t think he would remember. It was more pressing for her mom, though, “Yeah. I think he’s excited to meet you guys.”

His smile widens, “Let’s hope we make a good impression.”

Yeah. She’s hoping that, too.

When he finally leaves and closes her door, Hayden gets down to her knees, crouching beside her bed and pulling up the comforter. Luis stares back at her, agitated. She helps him up, mumbling an apology. Luis doesn’t linger on that, “Fancy guy is coming to your house?”

“You mean Andrew? Yes.”

“Why?”

“To meet my parents.”

“Yeah - why?”

Hayden only tilts her head at him.

“I’m just sayin’. It’s only been a month, ain’t you guys moving a little fast?”

“I don’t think so. My mom’s been asking to meet him for the last couple weeks.”

He rolls his eyes, “Yeah. Sure,” he stops there, considering her for a few seconds, “You really like him?” Hayden nods her head, “You guys...doin’ anything?” She must look confused, because he continues speaking, “Like - kissing and shit?”

Hayden doesn’t understand why everyone’s so interested in that type of thing. Even her mom had asked her before. She shakes her head though, shrugging her shoulders listlessly, “No,” she pauses for a moment, “Is it important?”

“If you’re datin’, yeah. You’re not supposed to make the move though - you’re a chick. He’s supposed to. Probably ain’t got any balls.”

“Make...a move,” Hayden repeats quietly.

He frowns at her, crosses his arms, “I’m not gonna explain first base to you.”

“First base.”

“Look - this isn’t why I came here.”

“Okay.”

“I need you to talk to Khalil. Tell him you can’t do the play anymore.”

“Why?”

“It’s cutting into band practice, that’s why. I can’t play without drums.”

“I’m sorry.”

He huffs at her, seemingly annoyed, “Tomorrow, talk to Khalil.”

“I can’t back out. I already promised him.”

“Ask Jessica to take the spot back.”

“Khalil doesn’t like her.”

“Khalil doesn’t like a lot of shit, the asshole.”

“I can’t, Luis. I made a promise,” When he continues to glare at her, Hayden opens her mouth again, “Is it something else?”

He looks a bit put off when she says that, “What.”

“Is something else bothering you? About the play.”

“No,” his response is quick - a little too quick. The customary defensive look comes over his face, “I don’t give a shit about the play.”

“Okay,” a pause, “But if something was bothering you, you could tell me, okay?”

He presses his lips together, stares at Russo’s cage for a few seconds, and then back to her, “Yeah, sure.”

Hayden does bring it up to Khalil the next morning. He’s waiting for her by the school entrance, and greets her as soon as he spots her. Hayden shoulders up her backpack higher, turning to face him, “Luis wants me to quit the play, I think.”

“You think,” Khalil says, “He’s such a--” He stops there, shakes his head, “He just doesn’t know when to quit.” Hayden follows Khalil to the auditorium, and both are surprised to see Luis and Lyle both sitting on the stage, they looked as if they’d been waiting for them. Lyle is the first to stand, Luis lifting his head slightly to glance in Hayden’s direction before he looks away, “You guys aren’t allowed in here during rehearsal hours.”

Luis scoffs, “No one’s here.”

“We scheduled to use the auditorium for blocking the set for first period. Me, Urja, and Hayden.” Khalil tells him pointedly, setting his backpack down, “So you can leave.”

Lyle looks between the both of them apprehensively. Even Hayden is a little confused, her eyes haven’t drifted far from Luis though, “Luis,” he looks over at her at the sound of his name, “what’s wrong? Why’re you being...” She isn’t sure how to finish it, but Khalil catches her drift.

“Yeah, Luis. Why’re you being such a jerk?”

Lyle speaks up before Luis can, “He just thinks--”

“Luis can talk for himself,” Khalil barely glances in Lyle’s direction, “Go ahead. Say it.”

“Why don’t you stop actin’ all high and fuckin’ mighty all the time,” Luis snaps, clenching his jaw, “If you got somethin’ to say then say it.”

“You’re the one who told Hayden not to do the play.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s a load of shit! Suddenly you all care about who lives and who fucking dies! Just ‘cause of Junior!”

Hayden blinks several times - she can’t really follow the turn of the conversation. What did Noah James have to do with anything, with them arguing? Luis spits his name so venomously, she almost flinched. Khalil’s expression doesn’t change, he only crosses his arms over his chest and regards Luis and Lyle both with a cold look.

“The school board thought it’d be refreshing to switch it up once and awhile--”

“That’s bullshit and you know it, Khalil.”

“You can’t bully Hayden, you can’t push anyone around. We’re your friends, Luis.”

“Sure doesn’t fuckin’ feel like it,” Luis says, stepping closer to Khalil in the process in an almost threatening manner, “I’m tellin’ you right now to cancel it.”

“I’m not canceling the play. Not when Hayden’s put so much work into--”

“I’m not gonna tell you again--”

“You should watch what you say, Luis.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you should remember who’s on your side here.”

“The only reason you still talk to me is ‘cause the band.”

Khalil’s expression becomes harder, he narrows his eyes, “So?”

“So! You’re just fucking pretending, too!”

Khalil’s voice is suddenly so loud, it makes Hayden’s shoulders jerk up, “I could tell everyone! I could tell everyone what you did!”

“Yeah? Why don’t you go ahead and do that, huh! Tell everyone how you covered it up, too! How you know why Junior tried to kill himself in the first place and didn’t say shit to anyone!! Go ‘head and tell ‘em!”

Khalil goes quiet. Hayden is staring, Lyle has kept his eyes down throughout the entire argument. She watches Khalil closely, his shoulders have lifted in a defensive manner, and she’s never seen such an angry look on his face. Yanking his backpack from the floor, he shoves past Luis and Lyle, “Fuck you, Luis!”

And then he’s moving towards the double doors, forcing them open. He leaves quickly, and he must’ve bumped into Urja along the way because she peeks her head in curiously, glancing over her shoulder the way Khalil had went, “...is everything okay? What’s wrong with Khalil?”

No one answers her. Luis is tentative with turning back around and glancing Hayden’s way. Hayden stares right back at him, eyes filling up her face. She looks as if she’s never seen him before, and it’s enough to make him curse and grab his things as well.

He leaves the both of them there without another word.

“Hayden!”

She looks up, surprised to see both Finn and Lyle, already at her locker and waiting for her. It’d been a couple days since she’d last gotten the chance to talk to them, which was abnormal enough in itself. They were all such a close-knit group. She comes to a slow stop at Lyle’s side, head tilting curiously in questions, “I have rehearsal today.”

“Skip it,” Lyle tells her, and he looks very serious. He hasn’t been in the best mood either ever since what happened. Meanwhile, Luis and Khalil prefer to avoid it all like the plague, Khalil hadn’t even sat with them at lunch, “This is much more important.”

Lyle doesn’t really give her a chance to ask just what the big deal is, he moves past her swiftly and down the hallway. Perplexed, she glances in Finn’s direction, but he doesn’t give her much to work with either. He follows after Lyle, and after dumping the books she doesn’t need for the night into her locker, she’s going after them.

Lyle’s in such a rush, he almost runs straight into Brent and Amos, “Hey, slow down.”

“No running in the halls,” Amos mumbles, he’s pointedly not looking at Lyle, though. Even as he scolds him, “Ms. Rucker will see.”

“Not if you don’t tell,” Lyle says, crossing his arms. And then his attention is on Brent, “Can you make up an excuse for Hayden? We have practice today.”

“Thought you guys only had practice on Mondays and Tuesdays,” Brent notes. Of course, he would be the type to remember something like that, even though they don’t talk to him very often, “Khalil’s gonna be pissed if you can’t make it. You’re the lead, Hayden.”

Before she can apologize, Lyle is speaking up for her, “She doesn’t want to do it anymore anyway.”

Brent blinks fast, casts Hayden a frowning glance, “Why not?”

“‘Cause!” Lyle shrugs his shoulders in a defensive manner, “It’s not like...the play is a big deal or anything, geez.” He’s starting to sound like Luis.

Brent lifts a brow, “It’s to raise awareness. For Junior. Suicide prevention is kind of a big deal, man.”

“The faculty is just shoving it down our throats. Which is why we’re gonna talk to Principal Bailard today. He’ll hear us out,” Lyle seems very sure of that outcome, even though Principal Bailard is pretty much notorious for being a grouch. Hayden can’t help but doubt he’ll ignore whatever they have to say.

Though he seems hesitant, Amos speaks up from beside Brent, “He...he probably won’t listen,” He adjusts his thick-rimmed glasses, “Last month, he denied Jared and Erin’s idea to start a gardening club at school.”

Finn looks curious enough to ask, “Why?”

“He said it wasn’t good for budgeting or something,” he says, shrugging his shoulders, “And the band was supposed to have this big showcase last week, it got cancelled. Which sucked...we were all practicing a lot for that.”

In comfort, Brent nudges Amos a bit on the shoulder with his own. Hayden didn’t know they were such good friends, “I don’t think they’re shoving anything down our throats,” Brent aims it mostly in Lyle’s direction. It wasn’t very hostile, but Hayden can tell Brent is far from agreeing with him, “In fact, more people should care. Like you.”

“I do care,” Lyle protests, his voice sounds an octave higher, “It’s just--”

“And, Hayden,” Brent is looking at her again, “You should do the play. If you want. You make a good Bethany.”

She blinks again. The statement is offhanded, because it sounds a lot like a compliment. Many times throughout the script, Bethany is described as being very beautiful and kind, people naturally gravitate towards her. Like Jessica, and definitely not like Hayden. She finds herself ducking her head, focusing pointedly on her shoes.

Lyle doesn’t like that. He’s already finished with the conversation, continuing towards the office. Finn follows after him again, and Hayden is left alone with Amos and Brent. Brent watches them go, “What’s up with them?”

Hayden shrugs her shoulders.

“They’re not pressuring you to drop out, are they?”

She shakes her head.

“Well,” Brent looks as if he wants to ask more, but he doesn’t want to pry, “I’ll give Khalil a good excuse for you. Doubt he’ll believe it though.”

“You’re going to lie?” Amos seems offended at even the mention of it.

“White lie,” he assures him, “Not a big deal.”

“Still a lie.”

“Thanks,” Hayden says to the both of them. After that, she’s going the way Lyle had went, albeit much slower and preferring to take her time. The school is emptying out at a snail’s pace, most of the jocks are gearing up for the season.

In the principal’s office, there’s a long line of students. Some discussing their new schedules, others checking the announcements for the week, and most in trouble. Mel, Jenny, and River are occupying the might-be-suspended seats in the far left corner of the office.

“Melvin,” Mrs. Rosher says from her desk, she’s one of the assistants that handles most of the students, “Are you going to call your mother this time? Or should I?”

Mel pulls a face, Jenny whispers ‘good luck’ to him, and River looks close to falling asleep in his seat. He makes it to the front desk, before Hayden, “She isn’t gonna answer.”

Mrs. Rosher crosses her arms, “Humor me,” and then leans around Melvin to point a finger in Jenny’s direction, “You’re next, Missy.” To which Jenny only rolls her eyes. While Mel makes his phone call, Mrs. Rosher turns her attention onto her, “Did you need help with something?”

“Did Lyle come in here?”

“Already left,” Charlene says, she’s standing behind Jeremy in line, who’s clearly hashing it out with Ms. Alan, the principal’s main secretary. Over what, who knows, “Told ‘im it was a lost cause.”

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Mrs. Rosher butts in, “Stop bringing your skateboard to school, young lady.”

“It’s how I get around.”

“Get a bicycle.”

“Forcing me into your conformative box, I see.”

“Next time I see that skateboard, you’re getting detention.”

Hayden doesn’t stick around to listen to the rest. By the time she leaves the office, the halls are more or less cleared. She takes a look around, moves to the window across from her, and from there - she can spot the football field. The jocks are already starting their laps and tosses, there’s a couple kissing underneath the bleachers ( she’s pretty sure it’s Zach Hill and a girl, she can’t get a good look of her face at this angle ), and the cheerleaders are busy lining up for roll call.

A few feet away from the bleachers, Hayden can see Lyle and Finn. By the time she makes it to them, they both look terribly intimidated to take a step further. Finn is the first to voice his concerns, “I’m scared.”

Lyle gives him a look, “Don’t be. Not like she’s gonna bite you or anything.”

“What if she does?”

“She’s a cheerleader. Cheerleaders are supposed to be nice.”

“I guess...”

Hayden watches the both of them. And true to his word, Finn does look fairly anxious. Lyle is really the only one who can keep him from running off. She looks away from them, towards the main field, where the cheerleaders are beginning to practice.

“This is useless,” Lyle finally concludes, Finn is hiding slightly behind Hayden, even though the cheerleaders had yet to notice them, “She’s not gonna listen to us.”

“Brent said I’m fine as Bethany,” Hayden tells him, her voice quiet. He gives her a semi-frustrated look, “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“Jessica would play it better. Besides, she needs the ego boost. Probably.”

“How do you know?”

“Girls like her love to be talked up. If we just make her feel like the play needs her, she’ll come running back.”

“But--”

“Hayden should do it,” Finn says suddenly, his hands are curling nervously into the fabric of his Spiderman t-shirt, “Girls listen to girls, right?”

Hayden frowns. She’s never talked to Jessica before. Unless you counted the time in the beginning of the school year - Jessica had bumped into her and told Hayden to watch where she was going. They aren’t exactly best friends. She’ll probably have as much luck talking to a brick wall. But, if it means the group will stop constantly arguing, she supposes she can make an attempt. She crosses the field before either one of her friends can stop her, Becca and Brooke are the first two to notice.

“Oh, gosh,” Becca is already rolling her eyes, “Can we help you?”

“Try-outs results are final,” Brooke speaks from beside her, “Better luck next year.”

“I didn’t try-out.”

Both Becca and Brooke stare at her, like she’s grown a second head and they’re unsure of how to take it.

Jessica doesn’t look happy to have practice interrupted, “Band geeks aren’t practicing today. What do you want?” Even though the blonde is only a couple inches taller than Hayden, she is awfully intimidating, she guesses. And pretty, very pretty. Maybe she’s the type of girl Andrew would date, “Earth to weirdo, are you listening to me?”

Hayden blinks at her, “You should come back to the play.”

“Excuse me?”

“The play. You should be Bethany.”

Now, she looks amused, pink lips quirk upwards, “Khalil sent you then?”

Should she lie? She guesses so, “...yeah.”

“I knew it,” Jessica tosses blonde hair over her shoulder, “I mean, I heard he got a replacement, but I didn’t think he’d come crawling back this fast.”

Hayden kind of wants to tell her that she’s the replacement. But Jessica probably wouldn’t believe her. And if she did, she would laugh outright in her face, “So you’ll be Bethany again?”

“Sure,” Jessica shrugs her shoulders, “When Khalil apologizes.”

Hayden stares at her for a long time. Because there was no way that would be happening any time soon. But she nods, watches as Jessica turns ( she almost smacks Hayden with her hair ), and walks away. Brooke is still making a face in Hayden’s direction, “Are you brain-dead? Convo over. Move.”

Hayden does what she says, goes back over to join the both of her friends.

“So what did she say?” Lyle is the first to speak up, “Was she mean to you or anything?”

“She said Khalil needs to apologize.”

Finn’s expression visibly falls, “Totally not going to happen.”

And they were right. Because when the three of them caught Khalil during rehearsal, he barely acknowledges them. He’s busy talking with Nate and Urja when they enter the auditorium - Urja is covered in paint, Nate is already taking off his overly stuffed costume to reveal his pink t-shirt underneath, and Khalil has his customary rolled up script in his hands.

“Hayden!” Urja is the first to eagerly greet her, a jarring turn-around to the cheerleaders outside, “You made it.”

“You’re late,” Nate’s tone is sour, he pulls Johnathan’s prop crown from off his head, “If you’re not going to take this seriously--” A pen is suddenly thrown in his direction, nails him right on the shoulder, “Very funny, Brent.”

Brent, from the piano, gives him a thumbs-up.

“I hope you have a good excuse,” Khalil says, glancing at Hayden, “Better than Brent’s anyway.”

“I...was busy.”

Urja appears curious, “With what?”

“Talking to Jessica,” Finn blurts before anyone can stop him, “She wants an apology from Khalil or she’s not coming back.”

Khalil barely blinks, “An apology? For what?”

Hayden can already tell by his tone that he’s nowhere near in the mood. She shifts on her feet uncomfortably, Urja is glancing at all of them in surprise, and Nate definitely looks amused. Lyle leans forward, “Who cares. She wants the stupid role back, so let her have it.”

“It isn’t stupid,” Urja protests quietly, “And besides, we already have Hayden.”

“And she doesn’t want it back. She just wants an apology,” Khalil says, “Which isn’t going to happen. Ever.”

“Look, I get that you’re--”

“Do you? Do you really get it, Lyle? Or do you just do whatever Luis says all the time? I don’t think you understand the meaning of the play.” He lobs the questions at his band mate like projectile spit-balls, and Lyle is defenseless, “Have you even asked how Hayden feels? Do either of you even care?”

Finn looks sheepish, Lyle has stopped talking.

“Hayden,” She looks up at her name and surprisingly, everyone is looking at her. Even Brent, from across the room, “Do you want to be Bethany or not?”

The question isn’t that hard to answer. She takes a look in Lyle’s direction, who’s staring over at her pleadingly. Back to Khalil, he’s waiting. Brent, Urja, Nate - all watching, giving her plenty of time to reply. And after a pause, she does, “I think so.”

“Then it’s settled,” Khalil says, fixing Lyle with a cold look, “So, if you’re not apart of production, the auditorium is for cast only right now.”

When Lyle leaves with Finn, she feels bad. Every decision she makes, it seems, just makes it worse for the group.

The doorbell rings.

Almost immediately, her mother is quick to rise from her chair. She takes one more sip of her wine, then she’s scampering off to the door, only to make a sudden U-turn and wave Hayden over. She feels too dressed down now, after taking a good look at her mother ( who has on heels, a nice skirt, and pearls ). Hayden hadn’t taken the time to even change out of her clothes from school.

“You do it, sweetheart,” Hayden casts her a confused look, “Answer the door, answer the door! It’s your boyfriend, remember?”

Oh. Hayden didn’t know that was a rule. So, she stands from her seat as well, goes to the front door and pulls it open. Andrew is there, he’s dressed pretty casual, but he always looks nice. He lights up when he sees her, “Hey, am I too early?” Hayden lets him in, he shrugs off his jacket and hangs it on the coat hanger by the entrance.

Hayden shakes her head, “You’re on time. My dad isn’t here yet.”

“Oh,” he takes time looking around. She imagines her home is much different from his - small living room with couches too big that stretches into the dining room, the throw rug that her mother refused to throw out because of the sentimental value, and the many, many pictures of family dotting the wall over the old fireplace that they never used, “Is this you?”

He’s moved closer to the portraits on the wall, pointing to one in particular. It’s Hayden around her tenth birthday, skinny beyond belief and giving a less-than enthusiastic thumbs up from a hospital bed. Her hair has more or less grown back to ear-length at that point, and she remembers the summer she lost it all over again. Her mother had opted to shave it, rather than let it fall out on its own again. Hayden has a feeling that the hair loss during it all was harder on her mother than herself.

She nods, “It is.”

From a quick glance over the wall, she can see there aren’t many pictures of herself. Maybe three or four. One is more recent, a school picture from eighth grade. Other than that, just her in a hospital gown. She can see the questions on Andrew’s face. But her mother interrupts before he gets the chance.

“You must be Andrew,” she’s eager to greet him, holding out her hand for him to shake. And he takes it, “I’m Hayden’s mom. It’s very nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Winters. You have a lovely home.”

“Oh, you’re so sweet. Hayden, you didn’t tell me he was such a sweetheart,” She touches Hayden’s shoulder affectionately, but doesn’t look away from Andrew, “I was just about to finish up. You’re okay with--”

The front door opens, and in steps Hayden’s father. He spots them fast, removing his jacket and stepping further into the sitting room to shake hands with Andrew as well, “Hey! Andrew, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Andrew takes his sudden arrival all in stride, polite as always, “Thank you for having me for dinner.”

“Sorry I’m late,” Her father says, “Got here as fast as I could.” He takes a glance in his wife’s direction, only to see she’s pointedly ignoring him, “Is dinner ready, by the way?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Winters purses her lips sourly, “Let’s all go take our seats.” Hayden can tell that she’s trying, at least. She can’t remember the last time she actually sat at the table with both of her parents present, not in the last year or so, “As I was saying, Andrew, I hope you’re okay with roast.”

“Anything is fine, Mrs. Winters,” Andrew assures her. He waits until Hayden takes a seat, and goes out of his way to sit beside her, even scooting his chair closer by a couple inches, “It smells great.”

Her mother takes her time serving them all. First Andrew, then Hayden, dad, and herself. Prayer next, and then they’re allowed to eat. Hayden has found her appetite diminishing over the week because of the constant pile of stress. But she tries hard to not to let it show, taking hearty bites out of her steamed carrots and potatoes.

“So, Hayden tells me that you play soccer at your school,” Mrs. Winters pipes in, “Is it fun?”

“Oh, yeah?” Mr. Winters seems interested, “How long have you been playing, Andrew?”

“Awhile now. And yeah, it’s really fun. Once you get good at something, it’s kind of hard to stop.”

“I used to play football when I was your age,” Her dad gestures at Andrew with his fork, “Was gonna get a scholarship.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t want to hear about that,” Her mom says, smiling, “That was ages ago.”

“Yeah. We ended up having Hayden right after high school,” her dad continues as if he hadn’t heard her, “I said I was just gonna take a year off, and well - you know.” He laughs some, but there’s a certain edge to it. It’s quiet some after that, Andrew is poking his tongue into his cheek and casting Hayden a meaningful glance, “Anyway, so what about your team, you guys any good?”

“Andrew is Captain,” Hayden says, “And...I went to his games before. He’s really good at it.”

“You don’t even like sports,” Her dad points out, like her mother had done a few weeks prior.

“I like watching Andrew play.”

Her mother practically beams at that, “That’s good, that’s really good. It’s always good to have a girlfriend that supports you, you know.”

“I know,” Andrew is looking in Hayden’s direction again, he looks close to smiling. Underneath the table, his free hand nudges against hers. She’s almost tempted to take it, but maybe her parents would notice, “Ever since I invited her the first time, she’s been coming to every one since.”

“If you’re as good as you say you are, I might head on over to that fancy school of yours too.” Andrew and her dad laugh together, even though Hayden didn’t find it very funny. They must’ve done their own digging, or at least heard gossip around their very small town. Hayden hadn’t ever mentioned that Andrew’s school was an expensive one, she doesn’t even think she told either of them the name.

The conversation continues on pretty normal. Her parents could be a little embarrassing, but they weren’t being rude and overbearing, and that was all that mattered. Well - until her mother took a hearty drink of her wine to finish it off, and reached across the table to refill her glass.

Her father speaks up, “Don’t you think you’ve had enough of that for tonight?”

“This is my first glass,” Even Hayden can tell she’s lying from the flush in her cheeks, her dad makes a face at her, “What? You don’t believe me?”

“You really want to be wine-drunk now? While we’re having dinner?”

“I’m not--” She looks outright offended, glancing fast in Andrew and Hayden’s direction before she redirects her anger at her husband, “I’m not drunk.”

“How many glasses have you really had?”

“You would know if you were home on time.”

“Oh. So that’s what this is about--”

“Don’t make this about you, okay?”

“You just said--”

“You were the one late to meeting your own daughter’s boyfriend. And you think you have the right to use that tone with me?”

“I’m not using a tone. Let’s not do this now.”

“You started it.”

Hayden has already stood from the table. And Andrew hesitates before following her. Done with her plate, she dumps it in the kitchen, along with his, running them both under the faucet to soak. Andrew appears to be increasingly uncomfortable as the anger escalates, Hayden is pretty sure she even hears her mother curse.

So, she decides to take his hand, ducking them through the living room and up the stairs.

In her room, it’s much more quiet. Peaceful almost. When the door is closed, she can barely hear them. With that thought in mind, she turns to face Andrew, who’s lingering by the foot of her bed, “You can close the door.”

He appears hesitant, “You sure?” She must look curious because he says, “To close the door, I mean. We aren’t going to get in trouble?”

“Why would we get in trouble?”

He stares at her for a beat longer, then decides to do what she says. He closes the door, steps further in the room and takes a look around. She tries to see her room through his eyes - the walls are pink, the floor is an old wood, and her bed is small. Barely decorated, and with the limited decorations, it does look like a preteen lived here. Like Jade said. Hayden had never really thought of it that way before.

“It’s...cute,” Andrew finally says, his lips are tugging into an amused grin, “And pink.”

She tilts her head.

“I didn’t know you liked pink.”

“It’s an okay color. My mom painted it. I think she likes it more than me.”

He smiles wider, “What color do you like?”

She has to think on it, “Blue.”

“Blue.”

“Yeah,” Hayden takes a seat on her bed, its so old that the springs creak to life. When Andrew continues standing, she pats the bed for him to sit. He plops down beside her, he’s not as close as he was at the dinner table, but Hayden’s fine with it. She turns to face him halfway, he’s still looking around in interest, “I have something to show you.”

Her tone is enough to catch his attention, “You do?”

“It’s very important.”

“I’m listening.”

“Close your eyes,” His amused grin grows, he eyes her for only a few seconds before he’s doing what she says, “Keep them closed.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

There’s some shuffling, “Okay, open them.”

And when he does, there’s a very hairy face staring at him. Andrew blinks, Russo blinks right back at him. Hayden leans him close enough where his twitching nose touches Andrew’s, and he laughs, carefully taking the rabbit into his arms, “Who’s this little guy?”

Hayden reclaims her seat beside him, keeping a eye on the two of them, “Russo. Do you like him?”

“Sure,” Andrew holds him closer, lifting him to eye-level so he can get a good look at Russo’s face, “He’s cute. I mean, not as cute as you or anything, but comes pretty close.”

Hayden’s ears grow warm, she doesn’t think anyone is more cute than Russo. Or maybe, well, Andrew. Maybe.

“He likes you.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. He bit Lyle the first time he held him.”

Andrew’s eyes get wide, “Geez. Remind me not to get on his bad side.”

“Russo doesn’t have a bad side.”

“Mhm,” She watches Andrew for awhile - Russo is docile in his arms, sniffing curiously at his face when Andrew allows him to get close enough. She smiles some, she can’t really help it. Because she likes Andrew, and it’s a little bit of a relief to have him here, especially when the week’s been so hard.

“Thanks for coming over,” She says, “I’m sorry about my parents.”

“It’s okay,” Andrew reassures her, he lets Russo down to explore the expanse of the room on his own, “I’m glad I could meet them. Seriously, Hayden. Your parents are really nice.”

Not to each other, but she doesn’t say that out loud. She only looks to the floor, “And...I’m sorry I haven’t called you. I’ve been busy with the play.”

“You don’t have to call me every day or anything, it’s cool.”

“My mom says I’m supposed to.”

“You can call whenever you feel like it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Just to say goodnight?”

“Yeah,” He shifts closer, his hand is lying on the bed and is really close to hers, “Whenever you want.”

She watches Russo stop by Andrew’s feet to sniff at them, and speaks up again, “...I think Luis is mad at me. Lyle, too.”

“For what?”

“Because of the play,” His eyebrows lift, “They don’t want me to do it.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” And she really doesn’t, nobody ever really tells Hayden anything unless they’re confiding into her. Because she’s just Hayden - she has two working ears and she never tells anybody anything, so she’s good with secrets. But she always feel out of the loop at most points, like everyone knows something and she’s the only one oblivious. People only really tell her stuff when its convenient for them, “I feel like I’m doing the right thing by being in the play, but no one else seems to think that.”

“Are you okay with being Bethany?”

A lot of people have asked her that question, or something similar to it today. And she thinks she’s just been saying what people want to hear in hopes it won’t stir too much trouble. Most of her life has been that way - doing whatever she could to satisfy the people around her. Luis, Lyle, Khalil. And there’s never been a point where she asks herself what exactly she wants, in life and in her friends and practically in general. Because she can’t remember a time when her opinions really mattered in the same sense everyone else’s. She’s more of a fade to the background type of person, someone you didn’t really look twice at, or expect to speak much. Like an extra in a movie.

Andrew doesn’t make her feel like that though. Even when her own friends, her own parents do. Andrew never has.

“Yeah, I thi - I know I am okay with it.”

Andrew looks at her, “Then you should do it.”

“Mm.”

“I believe in you. I’ll even help you practice your lines.”

Hayden blinks at him, “You will?”

“You come and support me at my games all the time, right? It’s the same thing,” She must look unsure, because he smiles at her gently, “I’m serious. Anything you wanna do, I’m behind you one-hundred percent.”

She eyes him, “What if I want one-hundred-ten percent?”

“Oh? That’s pretty high.”

She thinks he’s trying to get her to laugh, and it’s working. Soft smile comes first, he’s watching her, and the familiar warmth is back to her ears. Stomach too. That’s the first time throughout the conversation that she notices how close the two of them are, her knee is pressing delicately into his thigh, he’s angling his upper body towards her, and his face is close. His eyes drop down and then back to hers, and he’s leaning in, and she thinks she’s okay with that until -

“Hayden, sweetie--” Her mother opens the door and immediately stops when she sees the two of them. Andrew nearly dives on the other side of the bed, Hayden merely looks up at the call of her name. She stares for a long time, “Don’t close the door when you have boys over,” Hayden nods, “Andrew, are you staying for dessert?”

“Ah, no,” Andrew is quick to right himself, standing from the bed and sliding his hands into his jeans. He makes sure not to step on Russo when he does, “No, thank you, ma’am. I should be heading home, it’s getting pretty late.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” her mother says, expression slightly falls, “I wanted to at least apologize for earlier. We didn’t mean...It got out of hand. But we’d love to have you again.”

“Of course, Mrs. Winters. And it’s fine. Thank you for having me.”

Hayden is the one who walks Andrew to the front door. Her dad gives him one of those boyish handshakes and a goodbye. It’s a little cold outside, Hayden grabs her sweater on the way out and shrugs it on. As soon as the door is closed, she’s apologizing again, “I’m sorry.”

“About what?” He stops on the stoop, glancing over at her.

“Them.”

“Are you trying to ask me not to come over again?”

“I want you to come over again. I do really need help with my lines. I’m not good at...acting.”

“I’m sure you’re a great actress.”

She makes a face at him. He grins. She’s starting to like his smile more and more, which she finds a little strange. She’s never much paid attention to anyone’s features, much less their smile, “I like you coming over.”

“I like spending time with you. I like you, Hayden.”

In all those books she’s read, there’s been plenty of times where the lead compares the warmth in their belly to butterflies. Hayden can relate to that some now, “...I like you too.” It’s quiet between the both of them, Hayden is back to studying her yellow-striped socks - she’d left her shoes inside since she’d only be standing on the porch. But she can feel him staring at her.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?”

The question causes her to look up at him. He’s staring back, expression open. The butterflies might as well be compared to wasps at this point. She’s unsure of what to say, heart in her throat, mouth opening and then closing. It’s the first time someone’s ever left her speechless, not that she ever really has anything to say.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to. It’s just - I thought I’d ask. Because I’ve been thinking about it.”

“...really?”

“Nonstop.”

She smiles timidly, and he smiles back. Without a word, Hayden nods.

Andrew looks visibly relieved to see that. He’s slow with stepping towards her, he’s close enough where she can see each freckle across his face and the specks of different color in his eyes. Carefully, he leans in, holding her eyes. It’s only a second or two of a pause, and then his lips touch hers.

She’s unsure of what to do, hesitant to close her eyes just yet. And Andrew pulls back slightly, touches her cheek, his voice is very gentle, “Is this alright?” Quietly, she nods, swallowing once. He’s watching her closely, “You okay?”

Again, she’s nodding, “I want to...try again.”

They do.

Andrew’s lips are really soft and tender, coaxing with her own. After awhile, her eyes do fall shut, without a thought. She focuses on the feeling - of his lips pressing against hers, his hand curling around her cheek and big enough where his fingers touch her nape, his warm breath when he pulls away for just a second. This time, she’s the one kissing him again, lifting on her toes to get a better angle.

Once. Two times. Delicate kisses to his mouth until she is satisfied. When she opens her eyes, Andrew is smiling again. It’s kind of dazed and goofy, and she flushes a warm pink. He touches her hair, pulls her closer into his chest. Hayden likes how he seems more comfortable touching her by the end of the night.

And when he says goodbye, she watches him go.

Imogen was definitely right, kissing a guy that you really liked was nice. Very nice, and she hopes they get time to do it again soon. After awhile, Hayden glances over her shoulder and spots her mother peeking out the window, only to swiftly duck out of the way once she’s caught.

“How about this one?”

Hayden is unable to see, but only for a moment. Bangs are swept aside from her eyes, and she stares at herself in the mirror. From behind her, Mrs. Reed is peering over her shoulder, waiting ‘

“It’s...big,” The wig was big, or maybe Hayden’s head was too small. The hair is almost too-shiny, the curls large and princess-like, and it was blonde, “Is there anything else?”

“Sorry, Hayden. That’s all we’ve got. This school doesn’t exactly put all of its money into drama clubs,” She gives her a toothy smile, braiding her fingers through the wig, making it even bigger and fluffier, “It looks great on you.”

It doesn’t. Or rather, Hayden is just used to seeing herself on way. She hasn’t had long hair since she was around six. She vaguely remembers that it used to reach her lower back before it started falling out. She used to wake up with chunks of it sticking to her pillow. She stares at her reflection, and her reflection gazes back, nonplussed.

“This is how Bethany is supposed to look?”

“It says it in the script,” Mrs. Reed leans over her to pick up a can of hairspray, “She’s a blonde.”

“What’s so great about blondes...”

“Who knows! Ask my ex-husband,” The spray momentarily blinds Hayden again, she can feel Mrs. Reed plucking and tidying up the hair to her liking, “Okay. Let’s go get the stamp of approval from our trusty stage manager.”

Khalil is currently backstage, digging through an old chest of props. Urja is sitting on the floor at his feet, blowing dust on a particularly worn-out stethoscope prop. She holds it up for Khalil to see, “We can use this.”

“It looks like it’s from the sixties.”

Urja, optimistic as always, puts them into her ears and stands. Then proceeds to try and listen to his heart, “Works just fine to me.”

Mrs. Reed interrupts them, “What do you think?” She gestures melodramatically in Hayden’s direction. The wig definitely looks off-putting on her, in the casual clothes and makeupless face. But Khalil and Urja don’t seem to think so.

“I like it,” Urja says, removing the stethoscope from her ears. Khalil looks as if he’s relieved to have the attention off of him for once, “The curls are so pretty.”

“Yeah,” he obviously agrees with her, “All we need to do is get you fitted for the dress. Then we can start dress-rehearsal finally.”

“Oh! I forgot the glitter,” Mrs. Reed suddenly exclaims, turning on her heel. Urja goes to follow her, but not before putting the props back.

Hayden is quiet. Khalil takes that chance to touch her shoulder, “Don’t look so nervous. You look fine, Hayden.” She gives him a dubious look, “Okay, yeah. We can work on the disco curls. Other than that, you don’t look bad blonde. Your boyfriend might even like it.”

“Hey, Khalil!” Matt pokes his head behind the curtain, “Khalil, hey!” Lightly, he jogs over to them, but stops short when he catches sight of Hayden, “Nice hair.”

“Didn’t I tell you to check on lighting with Peter?” Khalil’s tone is exasperated. From her short time in the drama club, she can tell Matt is the one who needs the most guidance. And also has the most energy.

“Yeah, but I thought I should tell you--”

It’s too late, whatever he’d been trying to warn them about makes an appearance. Jessica Crimson practically tears through the curtain, Nate trailing after her to try and calm her down, which he is obviously unsuccessful with. She’s pink in the face, coming to a stop in front of Khalil.

“Are you serious?” Her voice is seething, “Are you really serious?”

Khalil isn’t bothered, it seems, “Cast and production only, sorry.”

“You can’t replace me, Khalil! You know you can’t. To even have the guts--”

“You quit, Jessica. Finding a replacement was my only option.”

“You’re full of it. Who even--” She catches sight of Hayden, it stops her dead in her tracks. She’s quick to move around Khalil, stopping in front of her, “You cannot be serious. You’re totally joking,” Hayden leans away from her. Like she thought earlier, Jessica is awfully intimidating this close up. Even more so when she’s angry, “This? This is my replacement, really? Who even are you?”

“You quit and then throw a tantrum,” Khalil points out, “How many times do we have to go over this?”

“She can’t even act!″

“How would you know?”

“Just look at her! And by the way, she’s shaped like an eleven-year-old boy.”

“I don’t know why you’re still here when I said cast and production only.”

“Classic Khalil and Jessica Argument 101,” Matt says from beside Hayden, he’d slunk away as soon as the arguing became louder, “Always stay outta the line of fire.”

Hayden doesn’t listen to that, she watches Khalil and Jessica go back and forth for awhile longer before she speaks up, “I think...” Both of them glance over in her direction, “I think I can play Bethany better than you.” Nate’s mouth falls open, Khalil’s eyebrows go up in surprise, Matt takes two steps back, and Jessica turns even more pink.

“What did you just say?” Her words are threatening, precise. If looks could kill. Before Hayden can say anything, Jessica continues, “You don’t talk to me. Girls like you, don’t talk to girls like me. And by you, I mean girls that look like they belong on my brother’s little league team. And--”

“You heard her, Jessica,” Khalil says, crossing his arms over his chest, “Guess this conversation is over then.”

Jessica looks as if she wants to say more, she’s darting her eyes back and forth from Hayden and Khalil. Finally, she tosses her hair over her shoulder, makes a show of bumping her shoulder with Hayden’s on her way out. This time though, she actually does smack Hayden with her hair. Khalil follows her out, just to make sure she actually leaves, and Nate is going after the both of them, but not before giving Hayden a slightly impressed look.

“Whoa,” Matt says, he looks mesmerized, “You’re way cooler than I thought you were, Hayden.”

Hayden doesn’t know whether she should take that as a compliment or not.

When rehearsal is over, Hayden is beyond tired in every way possible. Khalil is waiting for her when she comes out, standing from his chair, “Good job today. You’re getting better at your delivery.”

“Heard what happened,” Brent speaks up from the piano, he’s playing a short-lived tune that he seems to have written himself but never finished, “Stick it to the man, Hayden.”

“She told Jessica off,” Khalil is rolling his eyes at him.

Brent shrugs, “Same thing.”

Khalil returns his attention to her, quirking up at the eyebrows, “I’m serious, by the way. You did really good today, Hayden.”

She glances at him, he’d been a little stern today. She’d thought he was angry with her, maybe she’d been a little unprofessional with Jessica. Maybe she should apologize. She’ll consider it more tomorrow, “You really think so?”

“You’re kidding, right?” He has a small smile now, “The role was written for you.”

Those words stick some, even as she’s leaving the auditorium. The walk to her locker is a very quiet one, just her and her thoughts and her near-silent footsteps. When the school is empty like this, it almost has a post-apocalyptic feel and she’s always kind of preferred it like this. Near her locker, she slides down and takes a seat against the wall.

She hadn’t been lying when she said she was tired.

The last thing she expects is someone to sit next to her. When she lifts her head from atop her knees, she spots Luis. He’s quiet, not looking at her, pointedly staring at the row of lockers across from them.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“You just got outta rehearsal?”

She nods, watching him.

He works his jaw for a moment, “I’m sorry. About before. Snapping on you and everything.”

“...you should probably tell that to Khalil. He still seems pretty mad.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

Curling her arms around her legs, she brings them closer to her chest. Even with him so close, he still feels painfully far away. Which is something she isn’t used to, out of the entire group, Luis and her have always been fairly close. That’s just how things are. But recently, she’s beginning to realize she doesn’t know much about him anymore, not like she used to.

“What did you mean when you brought up Noah before?”

Luis pulls an ugly frown, scoffs underneath his breath.

“...I guess you don’t have to tell me now or anything. But soon, okay?” He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, gives her the smallest of nods. Quietly, she asks, “Will you walk with me to work?”

He’s quiet. And then he snorts some, “If I don’t, you’d probably end up kidnapped and on the eight o’clock news or something.”

After she retrieves a few things from her locker, the two of them walk together. First, a little distance. And then, Luis throws his arm over her shoulders and practically yanks her into his side.

“So, how did dinner with meat-head go?”

“Can you not call him that?”

“What else am I supposed to call him?”

“His name. Maybe.”

“Yeah, right. I don’t even know the guy.”

“You should. Get to know him, I mean. He would like you.”

“I doubt it.”

“I don’t.”

“You really think so, huh?”

“I know so.”

#hayden #writings #pda /#suicide mention /

0 notes