#fidgeting with my OWN hair calms ME down so yeah :P also letting another person fidget WITH you?? or you can fidget with the other person??

[dootznbootz]

I know I write about how wild Penelope is (she is) but OdyPen is very likeminded. Odysseus is just as wild and out of pocket. It's just that we already KNOW that from the epics. He's a reckless idiotic genius, same with her. It's just that Penelope was under a lot of stress and was missing her other half and that's why only a lil bit of her crazy slipped out with her sneeze omen of death. Also, Homer trying to keep her "mysterious" even to the narrator as she's the only one who can "trick the trickster".

They're both fucking crazy in the best way. It's just that in the beginning this man was just head over heels so even when she was purposely saying and doing out-of-pocket shit to try and "freak him out" he thought nothing of it and just thought "Fuck yeah, that's hot wife shit." They're both fucking weird. Both have ADHD and are reckless and silly

Odysseus: Once me and my sister went off to the cliffs when we weren't supposed to, and we messed around too much and so a big rock in the side fell off. It freaked everyone out. We never told anyone. Soothsayer said it meant no one could fish on the sea for 2 days because of how it now has two points and the boulder landed in the ocean... Penelope: ... 😧 Odysseus,😅: Haha, I don't know why I said that. It sounded cooler in my head... shit Penelope: No,no, that's fucking cool. I've fucked around with some things but I don't think I've ever done that much damage. Did you see the big splash??? Odysseus:

I can't emphasize enough how weird they BOTH are. They're both menaces together. With the whole "A joy to Friends, and a disaster for their enemies." Except it's not just to their enemies. They just DO shit.

They'll literally screw someone over with a devious plan turning away laughing and then immediately walk into a rake like some sort of loony toons show. They'd fall for the ICUP trick and then go on a rant on how that's so stupid and not a real trick and then try and pull it on someone else. THAT SHIT

THEY'RE LIL SHITS

[inactiive-shit]

Electricity

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Masterlist

Warnings: references to past issues, intrusive thoughts, Remus-normal stuff

Pairings: Platonic Intruality, background romantic Royality

Words: 2,224

Summary: Remus is like the clock that still has cogs. He does work. It is just a different kind of working than others are used to. Sometimes, he must be wound, sometimes his gears malfunction and he must be reset. Sometimes people ignore his face for the ones printed in pretty, glowing numbers.

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

Remus is vibrating.

That’s not some weird metaphor for sex, he’s not alluding to anything that isn’t exactly what he means.

What he means is: his body is running about a million gigawatts through every single atom. How else would you explain the flailing arms, bouncing legs, loud screeching noise that is coming out of his mouth, or the white streak in his hair that he swears wasn’t there yesterday? No, there is no other explanation. Remus is being electrocuted enough to kill an elephant ten times over and he still has the unfortunate luck to not only be living through it but aware of it as well.

Which, really, depending on which Gods he’s currently worshipping, is deserved. Zeus would probably smite him, given half a chance. But that isn’t Remus’s problem until it actually happens, and this isn’t that.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. This was one thousand - I’ll raise you two - I’ll raise you three thousand percent electricity made and controlled by Remus’s own brain because sometimes even his body is against him. He can’t always control the bullshit that comes out of his mouth, and sometimes he feels disconnected from his arms when they flail around and accidentally land a gnarly black eye, and do you really think he would keep bouncing a hole through the floor with his leg if he had the choice to just stop for a minute?

But he doesn’t, because things often don’t work out for Remus. It’s just what he’s come to expect. Stupid because he can’t do easy things, nonsensical because he can do hard ones. Confusing because he reads with music on, lying because he can hear your watch ticking from across the room and cannot do simple math with a distraction like that. Uncaring being so impulsive, wrong for trying to be considerate. Always, always, Remus is never enough.

Remus is like the clock that still has cogs. He does work. It is just a different kind of working than others are used to. Sometimes, he must be wound, sometimes his gears malfunction and he must be reset. Sometimes people ignore his face for the ones printed in pretty, glowing numbers.

He doesn’t know who the problem really belongs to, whether he is running too fast for everyone else’s day, so that he has twenty-eight hours for their twenty-four, or if they simply don’t know how to read the time on an analog clock, with it’s spinning hands and whirring parts. He figures there’s not much to figure out about all that, not really. At the end of the day, he is the one out-numbered, he is the one impulsive, he is the one with oxymorons that run like code through his system that works for him and no one else.

Remus is not the problem, he is their problem.

But right now, more specifically, he is Patton’s problem. Roman had left him alone in his house, assuring him that he’d be back in half an hour. Due to some crappy traffic, crashes, making a few other stops, and having his other friends require his help, Remus was still sitting - bouncing off the walls in his house alone when Roman’s fiance Patton got back.

In the twenty minutes proceeding, it’s all been downhill.

“Remus, please stop that,” Patton says, mouth twisted into a politely downturned smile most likely because it’s not the first time he’s said it. This is also not the first thing Remus has done that made Patton ask him to please stop. It doesn’t feel like as much of a win as it usually does with Patton’s genuine if nervous smile when he’d first seen Remus today.

Remus launches the bouncy ball at the wall again, snatching it out of the air before it can shoot away to break one of their overly expensive vases. He grins at Patton, lips pulling a little too wide, and does it one more time, then pockets the ball.

“So so so,” Remus sings, flipping himself upside down on the couch and staring at Patton. “What’s up with you, A-Pat-thy? Get it? Like apathy but-”

“But with my name, yeah,” Patton says. There’s almost a smile on his face, which is not the kind of reaction Remus’s nicknames usually get but he’s not objecting. “Wait here,” Patton says and leaves the living room. Remus takes the ball out of his pocket and puts it in his mouth instead. There’s not much reason to it, just rough and round and in mouth. It has no taste but it feels like stretchy sand, which Remus will make the second he gets the supplies he needs.

“Let me ask you,” Patton says, returning with one hand held behind his back, “how fondue you find puns?” He presents Remus with fondue-covered bread. Remus jumps off the couch, clapping his hands.

“Oh, punderful!” he exclaims, accepting the bread for the olive branch it is. Remus may be a million things that other people have accused him of, but he’s never been dense - as much as Roman would have liked him to notice less. He knows a peace offering when he sees one.

“That’s just too cheesy!” Patton says, really laughing.

“You better be bread-y because there’s more where that came from,” Remus says, pointing at Patton with his bread. He cackles.

“Well, well, well, you better just Skittle on out of here, because puns are my business and you are about to go bake-rupt,” Patton says. He makes finger guns at Remus and Remus collapses back onto the couch, clutching his wounds gravely.

“Oh no, the Sheriff of Punnery has yeasted me again.” Patton wrinkles his nose. “On bested?” Remus asks. He refrains from saying his buns were just too powerful because that can carry connotations and this is his brother’s fiance; he doesn’t want to make things too weird when he actually kind of does want Patton to not-hate him.

“It’s passable,” Patton says. “But I think I out-punned you this round.” They both laugh at the last, unexpected pun of their duel, and Remus has to concede defeat here. He nods acceptingly.

“I must agree. My brother has picked a worthy adversary.” Remus’s leg starts bouncing again now that he’s sitting down, and the electricity is coming back full force so that the air around his skin is crackling with energy he can’t touch. It’s arcing through his veins like molten rocks, leaving behind a desire to jump and scream and move, but his leg bounces and he picks at his nails and chews his lips and tries not to be any more obnoxious than he has to be.

“I have some spaghetti I was going to heat up for dinner,” Patton says. “It’s nothing special, and if I’d known you were coming I would have made something better, but we can split it.”

“That sounds pasta-tively delicious,” Remus says. “I can’t remember the last time I had spaghetti.” Patton laughs and goes back to the kitchen - which, from Remus’s limited understanding of their life, is where Patton lives. He can’t say for sure, but he’s pretty sure Patton is some kind of human-sized brownie that enjoys cooking. Is it technically bestiality that Roman is going to marry him?

Remus is still musing over Patton’s perilous status as human and rubbing the carpet bare with the ball of his foot when Patton returns with two plates of spaghetti. He sits on the couch next to Remus, which is strange. Not many people sit next to Remus if they can help it. He doesn’t say anything though. As much as he’d like to make a crude innuendo or pun (as much as they’re clawing up his throat to be voiced), he will not mess this up. They’ve only just decided to be brothers again, and he won’t fuck up like last time.

“Do you like it?” Patton asks, jolting Remus. He nods hurriedly.

“It tastes better than any gourmet rat I’ve ever had,” he says, shoving another handful in his mouth. Patton’s face twists up again, but Remus can’t and won’t just not talk. “You know, there are a lot less rats in dumpsters than you’d expect to find. And there’s a lot of stuff that’s totally functional that people just throw away. It’s crazy. The world would quit working without trashmen. They can make or break an entire neighborhood. Once, when Roman and I were kids, there was a huge storm on garbage night, ended up with trash all up and down the streets. I don’t know who cleaned it up, but it wasn’t us.” Remus keeps talking until he’s forced to stop to breathe at which point Patton interjects.

“I noticed that you move around a lot.” Remus immediately stops all movement before it picks back up and the intensity increases. “Which is fine,” Patton continues hurriedly, “but I was just wondering if you had heard of something called pressure stimming? It helps me when I start to get restless. I just thought of it because fidgeting that much makes me tired.”

“I have never not ever heard of such a thing,” Remus says, speaking quickly. He flutters a hand through the air and it looks kind of like a drunk hummingbird. Wouldn’t that be an interesting sight? Remus adds it to his to-do list. “What does it entail?”

“You just apply pressure to yourself, like sitting on your legs or something. Or you can do it with another person on a larger scale.”

Remus doesn’t say doing it, huh? How forward of you despite that being the loudest thought in his head for approximately five seconds. “You mean punching people.” Remus nods wisely. Punching is a good way to calm down.

“No!” Patton cries. “Nothing violent! Like cuddling.”

“Yeah,” Remus says slowly, “I have no idea what you mean.” He lifts a shoulder nonchalantly and shoves another handful of spaghetti into his mouth. But then his plate is lifted out of his lap and he looks up into Patton’s eyes, much closer now than he had been a few seconds ago.

“What’re you doing?” Remus whines, watching his plate leave him with all the regret he can summon.

“Can we cuddle?” Patton asks. “Like, platonically?”

“Uhm, sure?” Remus says. Patton pushes him so that he’s laying down flat on the couch. Remus turns his head to look at the wall and wonders what on earth his brother’s fiance is about to do. If something goes bad here, if Patton does something Remus didn’t ask for, Roman will still believe Patton over him.

Remus can’t lose his brother again. Not so soon after getting him back.

“What are you,” Remus starts and begins to sit up, but then Patton is flopping carefully on top of him. Remus’s back is pressed firmly into the couch. Patton makes a comforting weight on his chest that almost lets him drown out the stupid voice in his head yelling chew his hair and pull the threads so his shirt comes undone and he’s in eye-poking range.

“Take a deep breath,” Patton says. Remus does as he’s told without thinking about it first - not always a good thing to do - and immediately feels like he’s settled exactly where he’s supposed to be, with the couch firm under him and Patton solid above. He’s content.

He hasn’t felt like that in a long, long time.

“Do you like it?” Patton asks.

“Yeah,” Remus says. He reaches up hesitantly to rub his eyes, almost afraid that if he moves this apparition will evaporate (it wouldn’t be the first time.) “It’s...nice.”

“I’m glad,” Patton says. He pauses for a moment and Remus wonders what thing he’s not saying, what Remus is doing that is wrong and bad and loathed-

“You’re not fidgeting as much,” he says quietly, which is definitely not what Remus had been expecting. “Do you feel calmer?”

“I-uh.” Remus chokes and he flutters a hand in the air before trapping it at his side. He’s surprised to realize that he doesn’t really feel that electricity burning through his synapses, telling him to pick his hand back up and fling it around like a badminton racquet when the shuttlecock has gone out of range. How strange.

Remus’s eyes flutter shut before he can stop it and he sighs heavily, giving himself fully over to the comfort of the moment. “Yeah. I feel calmer.” His fingers trace patterns against his pants and his leg shifts. Patton moves slightly and Remus holds his breath, hoping that he hasn’t done anything to make Patton mad at him, but he only adjusts himself to Remus’s new position and stays where he is.

Patton hums on top of him, and while the otherwise silent house is a bit too much for Remus, this noise isn’t entirely unpleasant. He finds himself slipping away, feeling so tired and okay and really, actually safe here that he shuts off before he can stop it. His last solid thought is wondering if Patton is like a lightning rod, attracting the electricity out of Remus so that Remus can finally relax. His brother really did fall in love with someone good. Despite everything, Remus is glad that he’ll have that.

He falls asleep without electricity snapping against his skin. It is a singularly amazing experience.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 84

Somehow I managed to get this chapter written, despite a pinched nerve that left me, essentially, on bed rest for two days.  I keep telling myself I need to make a buffer of chapters, but my life has decided not to cooperate...

I hope everyone out there is staying safe and healthy. Where I live, we are currently under a stay-at-home order, and my company (essential) finally got us up and running to work from home this past week. So I at least have that, and I’m aware how fortunate I am for that.

As always, my inbox and ask box are wide open, so feel free to drop me a line.  I love interacting with people on a normal basis.

Somewhat more disturbed than usual, I left Xiomara’s office with Charly in tow.  I was about to let her know she was okay to head home when I realized I didn’t really have a choice - Xio made it very clear that I needed an escort with me at all times.  Conor was still at work, Tyche stayed behind with my fellow Councillor, and Maverick was likely off work but at home.  Charly, however, was right here and one look at her face let me know she was taking her new duties seriously.

“I can call GK,” I tried in vain.

“Nope.” She popped the ‘p’ emphatically. “I have a job to do, and ulterior motives. Ninja grandma isn’t taking my spot.” I arched a brow in inquiry, and wasn’t left disappointed. “Ma’am. Suspected cult leader? Attempted viking overlord? And this person clearly has it in for you? Do the guys know? Does Derek know? Hell, does Arthur know?”

“Why do I feel like Arthur outranks my actual partners in that list?”

“He was a warlord, and apparently your bestie in a past life? Stop stalling and talk. Start at freaking cult leader?”

“Alleged.”

“Sophia Michelle, I swear to - “

“That’s not my middle name.”

“And that’s not the point!”

Well, I tried. With a sigh, I surrendered to the inevitable.  “A bunch of people have been acting suspiciously lately, all over the Ark.  Anti-social, darting eyes, hushed whispers, all that stuff.  Tyche and I thought it was just us, until Noah and I were walking one day and a group of them just plowed into us.”  I stopped and ran a hand through my hair anxiously. “If it had happened even a week earlier, I would have just shrugged it off and been done.  The issue was this.” I tapped my temple emphatically.  “Tyche insisted that I get the proximity update to my implant, to avoid being triggered by people walking into me.”

“Well, yeah, that makes sense,” she shrugged brightly.  “Not like I didn’t notice… I can’t exactly sneak up and hug you anymore.” She scowled comically.

I let a small smile creep onto my face before continuing. “Right. Well, this was a group of about eight people.  They either all ignored the alert, or somehow turned it off.  We - well, Derek and Zach - are still trying to figure out which it was. Either way, it was a cause for concern, so a bunch of us brought it to Xiomara. We suspected it might be a cult, so Grey was also consulted.  They agreed there was a possibility, but pointed out we need inside information. Jokull Bjornson, recipient of your feral tendencies, is our best guess for the leader if it is a cult. So, Xio said she would look into it, but essentially told me that anyone associated with me would be out of the loop.”

“So why is Tyche…?”

“I don’t knowwww!” I whined in frustration.  “And it’s not like she can tell me, so I can’t exactly ask, because I don’t want her to feel bad, right?”

“Ugh, that sucks,” she agreed.  “And you have no idea why this guy hates your kidneys?”

“Eyeah, as far as that goes? You know as much as I do, and I know that isn’t much right now.”

She shrugged before bouncing on her toes. “Don’t worry.  I’ll talk to Coffee, he’ll probably agree to shadow you some of the time.  And it would be from a distance, so you wouldn’t feel like a kid being walked to kindergarten.” When I looked at her, skeptical, she shrugged again. “He likes you.”

“He’s spoken maybe four words to me,” I pointed out.

“And yet, you understand him.  That means he likes you.”

My mind reeling, we made the rest of the way to my quarters with small talk.  However, when we arrived, Charly refused to head home until she saw Maverick and the door closed behind me.  I swear, I get confronted once…

“Why did Charly look like an attack marten?”

Nuggets. “There was an incident today,” I groaned before peeking up at the ceiling. “Miys? Were you recording in Xiomara Kalloe’s office between 1800 and 1900 subjective ship time?”

“I was not, Wisdom.”

Figures.  Special ops of whatever flavor Xio had been did not lend well to being surveilled.  “Okay, thank you.” I looked back at Maverick.  “I don’t want to explain this again, so give me a second.  I was recording, because I knew this would happen.”  After some fidgeting to isolate the conversation in Xio’s office, I flicked the file over to Maverick.  “It’s audio only, but it at least saves me some time.”  I left him to watch it while I wandered into the food prep area for a drink.

I managed to swallow my second sip of wine before an angry shout came from the living room. “What the hell!?” was followed by Maverick striding into the kitchen and checking me over. “Were you hit? Did he fucking touch you?”

My arm was tangled in my shirt before I was able to stop him. “Mav… Maverick.. Babe! Stop! I swear, I’m fine.  Even Charly is fine - “

“Charly being fine is Coffee’s concern - “

“But we are both okay,” I finished.  “I swear, he didn’t even touch me.  Charly shoved me out of the way before he could.”

“I’m gonna - I need to get Conor, we’re gonna kill - “

“Listen to the rest of the recording,” I begged.  “He didn’t just walk away, I promise.”

After a couple of deep breaths and another glance to make sure I was okay, Maverick nodded. “I’m going to play this entire thing when Conor is home, probably after securing him to something that is bolted to the deck.”

“Well, that’s one way to keep him from flying off the handle,” I mused.

“Uh huh,” he replied sardonically, not even a bit fooled by what I was implying. “I don’t think even that is going to distract him.”

“It was worth a shot.”

“I think French toast has a better chance.”

“Gotcha.  French toast and lots of restraints.”  

That got a laugh out of Maverick, and he finally let go of my shoulders.  While he shot a message to our third to skip the overtime, I started getting ingredients together for a hearty breakfast-for-dinner meal.  We managed to time it just right, so the main dish came out of the oven just as Conor was finishing his shower.

Any hope that we even partially fooled him was dashed right after he sat down and saw the spread.  First he grinned, then got serious, and one glance at the broiled tomatoes gave it away.  “Neither of you like those,” Conor pointed to the offending dish with a whine. “Something bad happened, didn’t it?”  He glanced at our expressions before sighing and filling his plate.  “Alright, what gives? Another plague?  Ship stalled in space? Lost forever in subspace or whatever?”

“Something happened today,” I ventured carefully.  “I sent Maverick a recording, and he can play it if you want…”

To his credit, Conor held up one hand while he shoveled a piece of French toast into his mouth as fast as he could chew, quickly followed by one fried egg and two pieces of sausage. Finally, he nodded. “Okay. Got enough to make sure I’m not reacting on an empty stomach.”

“I just ask that you listen to the entire recording, no matter how bad it is at the beginning?”

He sighed again, held up his hand, chugged a glass of milk.  “Okay. I will do everything in my power to sit right here and not touch anything fragile or talk until I hear the whole thing.”

I really couldn’t ask for more than that, so I nodded to Maverick. Once he pulled up the audio recording, we sat tensely until it finished.  The only sounds outside of the record were Conor grinding his teeth and both men clenching their hands tightly enough to pop the joints.  Their expressions were a kaleidoscope of emotions, finally settling on determination when they heard Xiomara insist that I have an escort until further notice.

Snagging seconds of everything, Conor nodded to Maverick. “Us, Tyche, apparently Charly.. You think that Farro bloke?”

“He would,” Maverick agreed, digging into his own now-cold plate of food.  “Don’t forget Grandma Kim.” Conor pointed emphatically with his fork at the suggestion.

“Wait, what are you two doing?” I sputtered.  “Putting together a hit squad?”

“Ach, no,” Conor dismissed my suggestion.  “Escort detail.  If we wanted to take the fucker out, we’d leave it to Tyche and Farro and be done.”

“Not you?” I was so confused.

Maverick shook his head, gesturing with one finger between the two men. “We would feel guilty and regret it, probably the rest of our lives.  Those two, especially with someone who is endangering you again?  Probably would sleep better the night they did it.”

Conor nodded enthusiastically. “But I’m rather fond of your sister, and the Farro fella is alright I guess, so I’d hate to see them sedated and popped out an airlock at FTL speeds.”

“Oh,” I replied dumbly. I expected to have to calm them down, not to see them make such merciless decisions so quickly. “Um. In that case.  Charly said she’d talk to Coffee about shadowing me some of the time?”

I jumped when Conor hit the table with one hand. “See, that’s what I’m talkin’ about! We’ll keep you safe, Sophie… Aw, shit…” He jumped up and knocked the chair over as I dissolved into tears.

My eyes were closed so tightly that I actually lashed out as arms circled around me.  It was only when a smooth cheek pressed against my own that my body recognized it was Maverick and surrendered to protection.  Vaguely, I could hear Conor speaking, but just enough to register that it wasn’t directed at me, so the words just didn’t register as important.

When I finally calmed down, I was curled tightly in a ball on a soft surface, black hair obstructing my vision.  Maverick’s voice was speaking, an almost-chant that was soothing me. “I’m right here. I won’t let anyone hurt you. You’re safe. I’m right here…”  I realized he was rubbing me briskly, alternating between my arms and my legs.

With a sniff, I lifted my head.  “I’m sorry,” I started.

He shushed me. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he assured me.  “It was a tense situation, and you expected one of us to get angry, so when Conor hit the table, your body didn’t realize it was a cheer and not anger.  You just heard someone you expected to be angry hitting something. It’s okay.”

“Conor…?” I started to ask, not able to make the words go.

“Not mad,” a voice from the door assured me.  When I wormed my way to see his face, Conor was sitting on the floor, back against the door frame.  “As soon as I saw your face collapse, I realized what I did.  I’m sorry, Sophie.  But I swear I’m not mad. Or upset, or disappointed, or any of those things that your mind is trying to over-pick at.  I just feel like an idiot, that’s all.”

“You’re not a idiot,” I insisted.

He grinned. “And you’ll defend me to your dying day, I think. But I should have been more mindful, and I will be. I swear. No loud noises when Sophie’s nervous - it isn’t a huge request.  I can leave the room, just like when I’m mad, right?”  That grin never lost its sunny nature, and I knew he meant it.

He stood to come over, and I felt Maverick’s arms tighten around me. “You upset her again, I’m going to knock your lights out,” a voice warned over my shoulder.

“I’d let you do it, mate,” Conor replied sincerely, holding out his hand.  I reached for it, but he merely squeezed my fingers before reaching further.

He wanted Maverick’s permission, I realized. Not just mine.  Tension flooded what I now realized was our bedroom before Maverick finally took Conor’s hand.  “I mean it,” he insisted with a warning tone.  “Do better, or I’m going to knock you out every time you, personally, upset her.”

“Someone should,” Conor agreed sincerely.

“Violence is not the way to handle this,” I sniffed. “There’s a learning curve, but it’s pretty steep with all the anxiety on the ship right now.” Wriggling so I could see them both, I tried to muster a stern look. “Episodes like this are going to happen. We’re just going to have to learn, together, how to navigate them.”

“Still, no loud noises when Sophie’s nervous.”

Maverick nodded. “That definitely seems like a good starting point.”

I couldn’t exactly argue with that.

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[pandaskull101]

The Boy and The Demon chapter 9 the Pieces of the Puzzle

Hello everyone i am back again sorry for the long wait i have been having some medical issues and bad case of writer's block. Anyway enough about me here is chapter 9 of the story i hope u enjoy.

Kevin never liked cars, driving, fixing, or perhaps building one from scratch he liked. Being a passage in one, not being able to do anything but waiting for the driver to reach the destination, was his least favorite. However, the situation he was in right now was beating his underlined claustrophobia. He thought that getting a ride from Double dorks mom and dad wouldn't be so bad, free rides wins over walking, oh how wrong he was. ‘This is what I get for choosing to walk than drive my bike. Man this sucks, they can at least turn the radio on. Anything would be better than this fucking silence.’ After a few seconds go by Kevin nerves couldn't take it anymore. “So um thanks for the ride Mr. and Mrs. Vincent I really appreciate it.”

“Hm oh it is no trouble Melvin now where do u live again.” Mrs. Vincent turned her head to the back seat to look at kevin who was behind the driver seat.

Fingers twitching he smiled at Edd’s mother “It's kevin and I live right across from you guys in the cul de sac,”

“Oh you are the Barr’s child then. I did not know you were friends with Eddward, how marvellous.” Even Though she sounded happy if you looked close you can tell what she said left a bad taste in here mouth that may ruin her taste buds forever.

“Actually mother,” Edd intervened seeing Kevin eyes become a dark swamp green color and his clenched jaw. “ Kevin and I have been friends for quite a while now actually. He was the one who escorted me to the nurse after someone had thrown a ball at my head.” Hearing Edd speak made Kevin relax a bit but not much.

“He seems somewhat well mannered than those two children you call friends. Honestly i do not know why you still associate with them, they will only bring you done in the long run.” cold, distant and harsh but smooth and strict. Mr.Vincent voice cut the air in the car like one of Nazz's katanas, sharp.

Licking his lip Edd responded “Father they are my friends my best friends in fact.”

Eddwards father didn't look at him he just faced forward eyes on the road oblivious of his son’s nervous fidgeting.

“Oh that reminds me, Your extra curriculum teacher emailed me a few days ago about your grades. In the email it stated that you have been lacking in your studies and your grades have been slipping do you know why?” Mrs. Vincent asked her sweet welcoming voice turning slightly cold and annoyed.

Eddward and kevin tensed both looking at each other knowing why his studies have been affected. Taking a calming breathe Edd answered. “ No I,”

“I think it is,” her voice cut him off the sweet tone gone replaced with a neutral tone of someone who know they are superior, “Because you are spend too much time with those two children, if not that than it is those useless contraptions you seem make for them.”

“But-but mother,”

“Eddward i have told you if you want to stay here you must keep up your grades both in school and your college courses, honestly you need to start making a effort all i have been seeing is work a toddler could complete with no studying to prepare it.”

“Yes mother i will work harder,” Edd spoke softly and sadly as he looked down into his lap.

Kevin having just seen his somewhat friend's parents put him down made him uncomfortable and anger, but what pushed him was the sadden look in his eyes. He wanted to say something anything to let them know that they are hurting him, but he never got to. In his anger he never noticed they had arrived in the cul du sac or that Double d was talking to his parents only when Edd opened the car door for him did he snap out of it. Getting out and stretching he looked around and noticed the retreating backs of Double d’s parents.

“Kevin are you okay,” his head snapped to the shorter man his face blank, “ I asked Mother and Father if I could walk with you to your house if that is okay with you of course.”

Shrugging his shoulders he slid his backpack on and started the walk to his house with Edd beside him. “So your parents don’t know you off people for a living,”

“No they do not know and i do not intend to tell them that i am an assassin i mean what would they think of me kevin.”

“Well to be honest they don't seem to think all that good of you dork. If you wanted my honest opinion i think they don't really much care for you, like to them you're more of a um pet.”

“Are you comparing me to an animal kevin.”

“What no i’m saying from what i saw and heard they don’t care for you like like,”

“Like how your parents treat and care you, no one parenting styles are the same kevin anyone with a child can tell you that. Furthermore my parents love me maybe not in the way your parents love you but they love me. See you tomorrow at school Barr.” with that Edd turned and walk back to his home leaving kevin in the middle of the street bewildered.

“Wait what”

Back to the Celtic Island

“Ian and Savannah vincent huh?”

“Yes,”

Rave narrowed his eyes at the duo next to him, “That's strange when you two walked in here you called her grace not savannah.”

Smiling kindly and gently she replied “Grace is my middle name,you must have a fantastic ear and memory to remember that.”

“Well it is nice to meet you as well. Kevin never said he knew another pair of Vincent's other than Eddward and his parents.” Rave almost missed the clenched jaws and twitch of fingers from the raven haired duo.

“Oh yes we haven't seen them in so long i wouldn’t be surprised that Kevin wouldn't remember them.” The red haired male said somewhat nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Mh hm so,” picking up some of his sea salt fries and dipping them in ketchup, “how do you 4 know each other if you don't mind me asking.”

“Charlie and i met during work and the wives met through us.” Ian not missing a beat to answer nicely and cleanly.

“Speaking of meeting people we have to go meet those people about the house so.” Charlie intervening in the unlining and sly interrogation.

“Oh right come on honey finish your drink and lets go.”

Downing her drink in one breathe, she stood and turned to face rave and nat,“Well it was nice to meet you Rave and Nathan i can’t wait to see you both again.”

With that the four took their leave, as the the two teens sat at the bar watching them. “Well that was strange right? Goldberg? Goldberg? NATHAN!”

“Huh what did you say sweet cheeks?”

Rolling his eyes Rave picked his shake up and sip through the straw“you okay you seemed out of it, like you were plotting and that is never a good sign.”

“No i'm okay just thinking is all.” Smiling, Nat slipped his hand into raves empty one and brought it to his lips and kissed it.

“Care to share those thoughts,” rave pulled his hand free from from the golden eyed teens loose grip.

“I can show you better than i can tell you beautiful,”

Rave never blushed so much in his life and nat never had so much food thrown in his face before.

Nazz's house

“And then he just walked away and left me in the middle of the street nazz. I mean what the hell is his problem i just said what i thought and from what i saw, they treat him like shit. Who treats their own child like a pet or a person who is not good enough to breathe next to them. Edd is hella worthy, he bust his ass in school and work as an assassin, doctor, and cleaner. Plus he is also taking college courses nazz college. We just started freshman year and he is already a step ahead of everyone in school.”

Nazz sipped her tea watching her best friend pace in her room ranting yelling and sometimes cussing about what happened with the beanie wearing Ed. “so what happened is that you were being a insensitive jerk to Edd and plus you found out that he has a lot on his shoulders and now you feel bad but still pissed off that he just shut you out right.”

Kevin stopped pacing he look at nazz, after a moment he collapsed on her bed and pick up her pink fluffy pillow and screamed his anger and frustration out. After a few minutes of muffled screams he lifted the pillow from his face. “yeah that's basically it i guess, i feel like i should apologise but i also feel like i shouldn't.”

Arching a blonde eyebrow she stood and sat on her bed next to him“And why is that don't you feel bad about what you said?”

“Of course i do but i know that by now he probably told his parents what i said.” He took a deep breath at this know full well that Edd very very likely told them, “I don't mind apologizing to Edd but i meant what i said about his parents and i will say it to their face too.”

“Well at least you want to make amends to double d,” smiling Nazz place her hand on his knee in support, “lucky for you he never misses a day of school and if you need any help to get him to listen i will gladly help.”

Placing his hand over hers he gave a small smile.“Thanks nazz,”

“So,” her sweet smile turning into a mischievous cat like grin, “it's Edd now i thought you called him double dork or dweeb or was it double dweeb?”

Kevin faced palmed and groaned out over Nazz's laughter.“Oh god not you too,”

[acrobaticcatfeline]

Summerville Nights chapter 1!

ok so this is the fanfic based on the prompt by @romantichopelessly.

summary: It was a sunny day in august when the school opened its doors for its first day that school year. 4 kids so terribly different walked into the doors, gazing in awe before getting shoved aside by kids eager to get to class and meet up with friends. Everyone who goes to this school has one heck of a story about it and it’s always legendary. So let’s get into it.

warnings: cursing, piningness? i don’t really think there’s anything else, let me know if there if though.

ships: pre logince, pre moxiety

taglist: @anyay666 @emocinamonroll @noahlovescoffee @voices-and-stardust @treechildoffical if anyone wants to be added to the taglist let me know!

more below the cut

Summerville high school is known as one of the best schools in the US in athletics, curriculum, and even the arts. Its giant too, the size of an average community college campus and many amenities provided are free to any student or alumni. The school has a lot of luxuries by being in a wealthier neighborhood and still being a free access public school. Everyone who goes to this school has one heck of a story about it and it’s always legendary. So, let’s get into it.

It was a sunny day in august when the school opened its doors for its first day that school year. 4 kids so terribly different walked into the doors, gazing in awe before getting shoved aside by kids eager to get to class and meet up with friends. The 4 of them hadn’t been able to tour the campus and the giant pristine halls set them all in shock at the beauty of it all; who knew a high school campus could be actively gorgeous. Virgil Lee was the first to come back to the present, mostly because his older brother Remy was quick to drag him over to freshman orientation. The smaller kid quickly turned and ran forward to the open doors of the huge auditorium. He gave his brother a punch to the arm as a farewell before meeting up with some of his friends in the audience. They spent quite a while just talking about the different sports the school offered; of course, Virgil was the epitome of the high school jock. (not really but don’t tell him that). He wore his jeans hung slightly low, and a purple muscle tee with his middle schools’ mascot across the front, and his jet-black hair fell across his violet eyes gorgeously; his family always did say they were the best thing about him. He had to pause his conversation when he saw a really fucking cute goth boy walk in, he made a mental note to introduce himself later before jumping right back into the midst of his previous conversation.

The next to come to his senses was a tiny frail kid named Logan Sanders. That was because he had been shoved into a wall already, probably for his choice of outfit; a deep blue knee length skirt, a black button up and a matching blue tie, as well as a little teal butterfly hairclip. He scurried away and into the auditorium searching for anyone he knew and running straight for Virgil, his longtime best friend. He was always grateful for Virgil’s awareness, because he could run straight into the other and be lifted up instead of falling over; something extremely important he thinks as he’s barreling toward the jock full speed. Virgil’s grin was wide when he caught the feeling that his nerd was running toward him and spun around to lift the tiny thing up before he bulldozed them both over.

“sup Lo? Haven’t heard from you in like a month, everything been alright?” Virgil questioned softly with a small smirk.

“oh yeah, uh, anxiety hit like a metaphorical truck again, sorry about that. Hey, I already got shoved into a wall today! It is a new record!” Logan’s small smile was quick to fall when Virgil’s face fell, and his hands turned to fists. Maybe he said a bit too much?

“who? Where? I’m gonna kill them how dare they? They need to grow the f-” Logan covered his mouth before he spouted more incriminating words. He gave another weak smile as he pulled his hands away again.

“it is fine! Calm down, I don’t even know if it was on purpose or not, it is okay. Lets just sit down and wait this thing out” Virgil slouched before nodding.

“only for you nerdling”

The next to come to was the same goth boy Virgil saw, the bad boy Patton Fernandez. He had to snap out of it, if anyone saw him smile for long, they’d start asking questions that he was unprepared for and people were already staring. He sauntered into the auditorium with his hood pulled down showing off his dirty blonde hair that faded into pastel blue and his eyebags that were only partially eyeshadow He was surprised he even made it on time today, usually when he’s actually able to sleep, his alarms can’t do shit to wake him from a week of sleep, but here he is, at 7 am on a Monday regretting his decision to not bring his headphones. Granted his mom dropped them off at the office for him, but he couldn’t get them until after orientation and its really loud in there. He’s supposed to meet his best friend though, and he’d suffer far worse for him and to be honest, he already had. All he had to do was wait for his service human and he would be fine. Speaking of which.

Roman Washington was the last to refocus, mostly because he was so tiny no one noticed he was there. He ran into the assembly and made a beeline to his goth friend. He ran into him for a big hug and Patton didn’t even stumble. The boy started jumping in excitement and his giant circle glasses were bouncing just as much. The two of them couldn’t be more dissimilar, Roman was tiny, colorful, and loud but introverted where Patton was tall, dark and gloomy, and quiet but extroverted. When Roman spoke everyone heard, but he didn’t talk much. Patton was rarely heard, but never stopped talking, mostly for his own sanity. Even so, these two have been inseparable since they met.

Roman was about to start ranting to Patton about his weekend but the lights in the room dimmed and the orientation started. Oh well, Roman would be able to tell Patton all about everything when they go home to Patton’s. I mean its his super epic birthday extravaganza and Patton was… pretty much the only one who was invited. It’s not his fault people are scary! Although he once shouted at someone for calling Patton a broody emo because excuse??? Patton isn’t BROODY he’s d e p r e s s e d, and he’s not EMO he’s g o t h and if anybody has an issue, they’re gonna have to get through him first. And his tiny frail body that knows nothing about how to protect himself. Yeah lucky for him most people are scared of the look Patton gives to anyone who thinks it’s a good idea to mess with his friend. In other words, there’s two guys walking over to them and-oh. Roman sees a boy walking towards him and he’s wearing a really cute skirt and a tie? Oh, geez Roman was always a hopeless romantic but geez. He not-so-subtly starts fussing with his bright red sweater vest and fixes the button up underneath it. He pats at his green slacks and is suddenly very aware of how nerdy and awful he looks and wants to disappear. He steps behind Patton and hyperventilates while fussing with his glasses that are far too big for his head suddenly and oh geez oh geez. Patton was having a similar freak out because there’s a really cute guy but he’s obviously a jock and jocks like to torture him and he’s not keen on this happening right now, so he just sits down. He was not ready to punch his poor heart yet.

Virgil had grabbed Logan as soon as the lights dimmed and dragged him over to the cute goth boy because cute boy? Possible friend? Possible more than friend? Yes please. Also, the little nerdy boy with him looked like he was totally Logan’s type and we all know its bros first, so yeah, that’s how he made his way over to the two. Logan was maybe possibly slightly enamored with the boy Virgil pointed out to him. He shouldn’t be, he doesn’t get it, although he’s always been one to fall for darker skinned guys, and holy crap he was so pretty-aesthetically of course-it’s not like Logan finds him attractive or anything, just aesthetically pleasing. His darker skin matched with a white button up and a blood red sweater vest beautifully is all. And him fiddling with his hair and tie was just a fidget he did, not him trying to look nice for the cu-the boy over there. Of course not.

When they got over, they simply sat in the row behind them and chatted quietly together until it was over. Patton was gearing up, getting ready to tell them off as they were leaving, but the jock was offering him a hand up? He took it suspiciously and went reeling at the smirk the guy wore, thinking he was about to be pranked. He drew back quickly before looking around him. All he saw was Roman and this little nerdy kid exchanging shy nerd glances of pining. He immediately fixed the jock with a glare.

“do you have an issue with me kid? What could I have possibly done to heed you waltzing your happy ass all the way over here out of your way?” oh he felt bad for that. He didn’t like being mean, but he has to protect himself. Maybe if he’s intimidating enough, he’ll just leave? Oh, nope he’s smiling now, did he set himself up? Oh, is there a supervisor that just heard him curse out this dude? He didn’t even swear that badly! Shit.

“wow wasn’t expecting that. I do have an issue with you in fact, you are illegally cute, and I was hoping I could possibly befriend you?” oh. Oh no this is worse, gosh his cheeks are bright red now he’s sure of it. He scowls at him before shoving his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.

“yeah sure thanks for the joke dude real funny I gotta get to class I don’t have time for people poking fun at me right now.” He pulls one arm back out and grabs Roman’s hand and heads off.

“hey, wait!” he pauses for a moment, the voice being new. “um, mr person, my friend isn’t joking with you, I promise. He’s not like that. He’s really nice actually um, and I would also be pleased in befriending you and your friend. If that’s ok with you. Uh, I’m Logan and his name is Virgil.” Patton smirks slightly and turns around. He analyzes the look on the smaller boys’ face before nodding.

“hm. Ok. I’ll believe you for now. Names Patton. This one is Roman. See ya round later, I guess. Virgil, Logan.” And he turned back and continued to class with Roman.

Logan and Virgil were left in awe for a moment before rushing to their class too. Logan kept spouting about how dare he introduce him to a pleasing person and make him feel… things!!! He didn’t even talk at all, but he was figuratively falling for this, this… dark skinned beauty!!! Its not allowed and Virgil was definitely buying him dinner tonight to make up for this entire ordeal thank you very much! Meanwhile Virgil was in stunned silence because geez that Patton guy, oh he’s so cute and feisty and he wants to see that cursed smirk every day now. He hadn’t ever had such fierce desire to know someone, he hadn’t had such a fierce desire to do anything other than sleep. And maybe run on a good day. But he has a goal now at least. He was gonna woo the goth.

The 4 didn’t reunite until after school that day. Logan was seated in the field across from the football practice and was studying already, hoping to get to a comfortable week ahead. He nearly threw his book out of his arms when someone tapped him on the shoulder, but he settled for snapping it shut…on his tie. Great job. He opens it and sets it down before turning to see the two he met earlier. He adjusted his glasses and gives a small smile. Patton was squatting next to him, and Roman was standing a foot or so behind him. Logan went back to his textbook when it seemed like the two weren’t about to start talking. He was paying enough attention to hear the sounds of two backpacks thudding to the ground as well as some footsteps and two people sitting down. As long as they didn’t try to hurt him everything would be fine. They didn’t seem like they had any malice directed at him, so maybe he could focus a bit more on his studies, maybe he could trust them? No definitely not, no way, even Virgil would say it’s a bad idea he bets. Plus, it seems like they’re talking now Logan you might want to listen.

“so, what’re you doing hanging out here dude? You don’t have any extra crap like Vee does?” Logan tilts his head over at Patton who is the one talking, very quietly in fact.

“oh uh, not that start yet. I plan on joining gsa and maybe the debate team? I do not know quite yet, Virgil usually helps me make decisions as I am quite indecisive. Also, he owes me dinner tonight, and as much as I would usually let him off, he said he would take me to Olive Garden and while I logically know its objectively bad Italian food, it is a guilty pleasure of mine that I have been craving. Thus, why I am sitting here studying and waiting for him to be done with practice.” He says rather easily. There’s a beat of silence before Patton speaks again.

“so how long have you two been a thing?” Logan squints in confusion.

“um, I am not quite sure as to what you are talking about? If you are inquiring about our relationship, I cannot quite remember. I think I was about 3?” there is sputtering, and Logan is only even more confused.

“you’ve been dating since you were 3!?!?! Please tell me you’re joking?!” ohhh. Oh, that makes more sense now.

“oh no, I seem to have misunderstood you. Virgil and I are in a completely platonic relationship. We have been friends for that long.” There was a sigh of relief as well as a small giggle that sounded, and the giggle set Logan’s chest into overdrive, gosh that must have been Roman and that was the literal sound that happens when you ascend past this mortal world; pure and hopeful and did Logan just actually die? That’s the only reasonable explanation. Welp he said he platonically loved Virgil before he went to practice so no reason to regret. Wait what’s that voice.

“Pat you should have known, he literally walked over and said you were cute while dragging him along. You’d have to be really silly to drag your boyfriend along to call someone cute! I mean unless you’re poly but most teenagers don’t mess around with polygamy in high school and I dunno, but I told you!” the giggle sounded again, and Logan managed to turn to him in time to see the large toothy smile that broke out on the near charcoal skinned beauty. And yup, Logan was so gone. Virgil owes him dinner for a week now yup that’s what’s happening.

“um, are you ok Logan? Logan? Do you need to go to the nurse’s office?” that pulled him right back.

“what?! No! um, I mean, I’m fine it’s just uh, it’s a bit warm don’t you think, I mean it’s august and I’ve worn dark colors all day its fine I just need to cool down for a sec sorry.” Oh no there went his metaphorical chill. He used contractions! Gosh how could he have done this it’s embarrassing he wanted to be cool and calm and now he looks like a complete imbecile. Of course it was just then that the whistle ending practice sounded. There was shouting and running and suddenly Logan grabbed his bag and started packing hurriedly before standing.

“I uh, I am sorry, but I must be leaving, I hope to see you both tomorrow?” he rushed while trying to remain calm. Of course, the two others stood, and Patton gave a smirk.

“well we might bump into each other tonight. I was actually taking Roman to OG for his birthday dinner tonight as well. Maybe we can hang there, god knows with sports for him and theatre for Ro, it’ll be hard to chill anywhere else. I’ll be sure to book a table for 4.” Oh shit. That cheeky goth just winked. Oh god what does that mean what is he planning what did he just sign up for??? He nods, and waves then bolts to the locker room.

Logan was a regular there, as he had accompanied Virgil to every tryout for the team, so when the guys saw him, they paid no mind. He walked to the hallway directly next to where he knew Virgil was and slid to the floor, covering his face and pushing his glasses up to rest on his head. Virgil peeked his head around and snickered softly as he rushed to finish getting ready. When he was finished, he tapped Logan on the shoulder and they started on their way.

“I might have accidentally signed us up for something and I need you to promise not to yell because its freaking me out too and you yelling would make it worse ok? And I know you don’t yell at me but yelling in general might cause a panic attack right now” Logan blurted out while they were walking. He is acutely ware of the fact that he’s fidgeting with his tie but he’s nervous ok? Cut him some slack! Virgil glances over to him with a curious look as well as a promise in his eyes. They’ve learned to communicate without words after as long as they’ve been friends.

“well uh, you know how we are going to Olive Garden? Well apparently Patton and Roman were going too and Patton said he was going to get us a table for 4 and I sort of want to just go home and curl up in a ball but also like Roman’s voice is so nice and his giggle is like literal angel bells Virgil, his giggle is the sound that you hear after you die and I cannot handle it Virgil what have you done I knew I was gay but this is a lot and I don’t know what to do Virgil what do I do?” Virgil had to set his hand on Logan’s shoulder to help ground the now panicking boy. After taking a deep breath and calming down a bit he looks over to see Virgil with a small smile on his face. He takes his hand off his shoulder as he speaks.

“first off dude, I wouldn’t yell at you or near you if I have the choice, you know me I hate losing my temper. Secondly, that’s pretty cool! I did wanna hang out with them more they seem really interesting. Thirdly, it seems like you’ve found your dream guy lo. I’m glad I could drag you headfirst into your destiny. Just be yourself and everything will be fine. Plus, the kid looks like head over heels for you too. So just relax and go with the flow. You’ve got this.”

They both gave each other a look of confidence and a nod as they headed to the dreaded Olive Garden meet up. Will they survive? Maybe. Will they realize just how totally gay they are for the goth and the nerd? Most definitely. But the only way to know is to stay tuned!

thank you for reading!!!

[nyxwordsmith]

The Christmas Party

Some Moxiety for all your soft, awkward boi needs!

This is a part of my Hospital AU that I have to thank a *Certain* anon for (you know who you are :P)

Genre: FLUFF oml so much fluff

Word Count: 3,878

Warnings: Alcohol, Drunk Characters, Swearing (if there are others, please let me know)

Virgil really didn’t like parties. He really didn’t like most of his co-workers. Well, maybe except Logan…and Patton.

It didn’t help that the surgeon was so nice. Virgil had expected to hate the paediatric surgeon. From a distance he seemed so…fake. Like those people in high school that only become friends with you because they want something. And yet, when they’d met, Virgil couldn’t deny the depth of sincerity he’d seen in those big brown eyes.

Virgil sighed into his cup, Lord help me.

“Hey there!”

Speak of the devil…

“Patton!”

…and he’ll appear.

Virgil looked up through his hair, not surprised to see the surgeon cheerfully greeting another nurse on the other end of the room. His immediate feelings? Conflicted. He desperately wanted to go and say hello, strike up conversation, be normal. He also wanted to hide under the table and turn invisible for the rest of his life.

He wanted to kick himself. He was a grown ass man! Nearly thirty! And here he was, acting like a goddamn high schooler!

He sighed deeply, trying to calm the sudden rush anxiety. There was no point getting himself all worked up over nothing. Patton probably didn’t even remember him-

“Virgil?”

Oh shit.

“Hey!” Patton beamed at him, and Virgil barely remembered to breathe, “How are you?”

Patton was almost a head taller than him, holding out a hand for Virgil to shake. Clumsily, Virgil pried one of his hands from around his cup and awkwardly shook Patton’s hand. Just like when they met, he had a firm grasp that softened a little around Virgil’s timid, weak handshake.

“I’m, uh…I’m okay. I guess. You?” Virgil struggled to find words, and move them to his mouth. He was too focused on how Patton was beaming at him, eyes shining behind his pale blue glasses.

“I’m doing alright. Christmas is stressful.” He tilted his head with an understanding grin, “You look a little flushed, are you sure you’re okay?”

You’re still holding my hand, man. “Uh, yeah.” Virgil tried to smile, unsure if it came out warm or more like an awkward sneer. Holy crap, he wasn’t used to interacting with actual people.

Patton finally looked down at his hand, “Oh! I’m sorry!” he let go hastily, laughing as he put his hand in his pocket, “I forgot to let go, silly me!”

Virgil felt his cheeks burning even hotter, wrapping his hand back around his cup and hiding behind the rim of it, “It’s okay.” He mumbled, shrinking a little before him.

“Well, it was nice to see you again.” Patton’s voice pitched unusually low, “Maybe we could…talk later?”

Virgil’s eyes widened. He wants to talk to me? But I- “Sure, yeah.” Virgil couldn’t help the small smile that curled at the corners of his mouth, “That’d be…cool.”

Patton beamed again, “Wonderful! See you soon!” he waved as he wandered back into the party and Virgil shyly waved back, letting his hand drop to his side again.

The surgeon wanted to talk to him? Oh god. What if this was about work? Virgil did not want to talk about work. He was on leave for the next two weeks, he wanted to enjoy it!

Still…

Virgil glanced back up from the rim of his cup through his hair, where Patton was laughing with another surgeon. He could probably talk to Patton about anything and enjoy it.

“You have it rather bad, don’t you?”

Virgil yelped, jumping a little before turning to the intruder of his personal bubble. Logan smirked at him, head tilted to the side, pale blue eyes shining at him behind his black rimmed glasses. It was clear that the nerd had been drinking. His cheeks were tinted pink, and his language was far more relaxed than usual.

“Wha-what? No.” Virgil scowled at him, but Logan laughed softly, batting his hand at him.

He leant against the wall beside Virgil, sipping at what looked like whiskey, “You are adorable when you’re flustered.”

“Logan?! What the fuck?!” Virgil whisper-shouted, shoving Logan to the side. Logan roared with laughter, his head thrown back. The nerd was so tipsy already that he didn’t notice several nurses and surgeon’s staring at him in shock.

Virgil blushed and shrank from their gazes as Logan collected himself, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he adjusted his glasses, “I suppose I have had a little too much to drink already.” He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face, even though Virgil could see him trying, “I hate Christmas.”

The younger nurse blinked at Logan, “Don’t you dare tell me it’s because of the marketing bullshit.”

Logan snickered, taking a large gulp of his whiskey. Virgil winced. Geez.

“I don’t have fond memories of Christmas.” Logan’s voice had suddenly become grim, his grin lost and in its place, a thoughtful, almost sad look. His eyes were unfocussed, glassy for a moment before he looked back down at his whiskey. When he blinked again, it was gone, “But that’s not what Christmas is about!” he was grinning again, looking up at Virgil, “Friendship and booze and all that!”

Virgil couldn’t help but snicker at his friend, along with a few others around them. “Logan, you should slow down.” He warned, “I’m not carrying you home.”

The usually serious one pouted at him, eyebrows knit together but his eyes shone with playful lights, “You’re no fun.”

A genuine laugh actually escaped Virgil, “Now that’s a new one from you.”

Logan sighed, throwing back the rest of his whiskey. So much for slowing down, “I hate parties.”

Virgil snickered, “Mood.”

“What?” Logan looked genuinely bewildered, his dark hair falling in front of the lenses of his glasses, but he was too focussed on Virgil to care. Or maybe that was the alcohol, “Mood?” he repeated.

“Ah, like…I relate.” He waved his hand, hoping that was enough for Logan.

His pale blue eyes widened with realization, “Oh!” a slow grin spread onto his face, “Mood…” he mused, “That’s…huh.” He went to sip at his whiskey, and pouted down at his empty glass, “How disappointing.”

As much as Virgil would have preferred to be alone, he did not trust Logan to watch his drinks. And the serious nurse already seemed eager for another one.

Virgil caught him by the elbow when he pulled away for the bar, pulling him back, “I asked you to slow down, remember?”

Logan blinked at him a few times, visibly searching his memory banks, “Yeah, you did.” He relaxed into a soft smile, “Did I mention that I hate Christmas?”

Virgil snickered, “Yes, you did.” Virgil took the empty glass from him, but Logan immediately started fidgeting with his pale blue tie. Looking around quickly, Virgil found a small sculpture for the tipsy man to hold, “Find out any facts this week?”

Logan lit up like a goddamned Christmas tree, but before he spilled any, a coy expression spread over his face. He leant closer to Virgil, wiggling his eyebrows, “I observed something this week.” He whispered conspiratorially to Virgil.

“Hmm?” Virgil’s own eyebrows rose as he sipped at his drink.

“You have giant crush on Patton.”

Virgil choked on his drink, coughing hard as Logan laughed again, nearly falling backwards into the table behind him. All Virgil could do was glare at him. “Firstly, no, wrong, nope.” Logan snickered, “Secondly, will you stand still?”

Logan toyed with the small sculpture in his fingers, “I’m almost never wrong. You said so yourself.” He teased, falling back against the wall with his shoulder, “And yes. I can.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, “You are honestly the strangest person I know.”

“I am not strange.” He pouted, his glassy eyes showing more hurt than Virgil had intended, “I’m just…I dunno.” Logan looked down to his hands.

“Whoa, Logan, I’m sorry.” Logan’s eyebrows knit together, “I wasn’t…I didn’t mean that to hurt.” With his head bowed, he looked up at Virgil. “You’re not strange. Unique, is probably more appropriate.”

Logan sighed, looking back down at the sculpture, “That’s…a nicer one I’ve heard.” He admitted at a near whisper with a shrug, “But my point still stands.” He lifted his head suddenly, “You have it hard for paediatrics surgeon.” He whispered.

Virgil was starting to see a pattern here. Logan was not going to let this go until Virgil admitted it, got another drink in his hands, or they left. And even then, there was no guarantee he’d drop it at all.

With a larger mouthful of his drink, he grimaced. Virgil didn’t actually like orange juice with vodka, but he didn’t want to say no…why didn’t he say no? He didn’t want this…

“Ugh, Logan-“

The more tipsy of the pair tilted his cup toward him with his index finger, frowning at the contents, “You don’t even like orange juice.”

He would have snickered but Logan was pouting up at him, “No, but someone offered it to me-“

“Weak.” He whispered, “C’mon!” he took Virgil by the cuff of his hoodie, pulling him through the crowd. Virgil tried to protest, or pull himself free, but goddamn, Logan had the hell of a grip!

Before Virgil realised it, they were at the bar and Logan had already ordered them their favourite drinks. Logan paid, handing Virgil his drink and wandering slowly back to their spot of the wall.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Virgil muttered once they’d returned to their quiet corner of introvert heaven.

“You don’t like orange juice.” Logan looked at him like that was enough of an answer.

“No, but…I still would have finished it.”

“But you don’t like it.” Logan continued, frowning a little, “You don’t…you can say no, ya know?” He shifted his weight, “Don’t just…you can…”

It was the first time Virgil had seen Logan struggle with his point, and he felt it didn’t have to do with the fact Virgil didn’t like orange juice. Gently, he put his hand on Logan’s shoulder, feeling him stiffen before he relaxed, “I think I know what you’re trying to say.”

Logan sighed and relaxed further, “Good.” He whispered, “My head feels fuzzy.”

Virgil smirked, “Uh, yeah. You’re tipsy.”

The nerd snorted at him, “And I intend on getting sloppy.”

Virgil’s eyebrows shot up, “Firstly, you’re picking up slang really well.” Logan beamed proudly at him like a four-year-old, “Secondly, why?”

“Because. I. Hate. Christmas.”

“Alright, alright, geez. Sorry. But, uh, maybe save that for the clubs?” Virgil looked around the room, “Getting sloppy in front of your co-workers…”

Logan frowned at him, then looked around the room, “Oh. Oh.” He shook his head, “Not sloppy here.”

Virgil physically relaxed, “Oh thank god.” He whispered, taking a healthy sip of his bourbon.

“You know, there are stars-“

Virgil wasn’t at all surprised that Logan wanted to talk about space again. It was one of the few subjects he studied that he actually seemed passionate about. If the way his eyes lit up was an indicator. And Virgil couldn’t help but listen to him, even if he was far more animated now that he’d had something to drink.

“Excuse me?” A familiar voice interrupted their debate about the effect of gravity on multiple bodies. Patton was smiling gently at Logan, who peered up at him and grinned. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but you were discussing gravity?”

Patton was still considerably put together in comparison to Logan. Logan was already swaying, hair mussed, tie looser than he usually kept it. Even so, he had enough awareness to bite his lip and wiggle his eyebrows at Virgil.

Who was already blushing and hiding behind his hair. Now, he wanted to punch Logan out. At least then he’d keep his mouth shut.

Logan ended up discussing theories with Patton for a while, and Virgil watched in awe as Patton managed to wordlessly take Logan’s drink from his hands. So enamoured in the discussion, Logan didn’t even notice when Patton perched the drink on a high bookshelf.

It took him almost ten minutes to notice. Patton threw Virgil a sideways glance, with a smirk, as Logan stared at his hands, confused.

“I…” he blinked a few times, “…have clearly had too much to drink.” He whispered as he looked around himself.

“The stars look really nice from the roof, why don’t we all go and have a look?” Patton offered, looking between both Virgil and Logan.

Virgil expected Logan to leap at the idea. Instead, he turned to Virgil with child-like excitement, eyes glittering. When did he become the adult? Logan was older than him by almost four years!

“I mean, sure. Yeah. Why not?” Virgil shrugged and sipped at his drink.

Patton looked a little worried, or was that disappointment? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t get a chance to find out, because Logan started dragging Patton out by his wrist and Virgil had to follow.

After explaining to Valerie in passing, Virgil met them up on the roof. The air was brisk, sending a chill down Virgil’s back. Logan was staring up at the stars in awe, like the drunk moron he was, while Patton carefully kept his eye on Logan between pointing out stars.

Virgil approached slowly, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie and shoulders raised as he tried to keep warm. Patton spotted him first, beaming at him, but it slipped with uncertainty. What was Patton nervous about?

“Look!” Logan pointed excitedly to another constellation and Virgil smirked, standing just behind the pair.

About ten minutes in, Logan decided he was cold and declared that he was going to go inside. Virgil didn’t miss Logan’s sideways glance from the door, or his wicked grin.

Maybe the nerd wasn’t as drunk as he’d lead them to believe.

The sounds of the city were faint, horns honking and sirens blaring in the distance as Virgil and Patton looked up at the stars. After a long, awkward moment, Patton sighed, “Virgil…I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“Oh?”

Patton dropped his head, “Have I…done something to offend you?”

That…took Virgil completely by surprise, “What?”

Patton fidgeted with his fingers, “I just mean…ya know…you’re kinda…I dunno…”

Was the surgeon…flustered?!

“You just never really seem interested in talking to me.”

Oh. My. God.

“No!” Virgil’s mouth was working before he’d really thought of anything to say and Patton turned to look at him, “I mean, I just- what I meant was-“ he groaned, pulling at the sleeves of his hoodie, “I’m not very good with- I can’t-“

“You’re…shy?” Patton offered, his hurt expression melting into one of relief and understanding. All Virgil could do was nod and Patton actually sighed with relief, “Oh thank god.”

Virgil stared up at him, “What?”

“I just-“ Patton suddenly blushed, “I mean…” he cleared his throat, eyes wide as he rubbed the back of his neck, “I didn’t want us to be…at odds.”

Why was the surgeon lying?

His sandy blonde hair danced in the breeze, soft curls falling over his freckled nose and brown eyes. The full moon really didn’t help Virgil’s poor heart. Why did his gay ass have to work with such an attractive man?!

“Would you…like to talk more?” Patton asked, “I don’t want to be too forward or weird or anyth-“

Oh my god. He is flustered!

“Um, yeah.” Virgil interrupted him before Patton talked himself into a tizzy. He smiled with relief, and goddamn it, it had to be illegal to look that good.

“Good!” he bounced onto his toes, “I mean,” he cleared his throat, rocking back onto his heels, “Good.”

Virgil swallowed, “Um, I’m, uh…thirsty. Wanna go…back downstairs?”

Patton smiled warmly at him, “Sure.”

They walked back together, their silence still a little awkward but not nearly as heavy as before. The surgeon opened the door for him but waited for Virgil to enter first, warmly greeting some of the party-goers as they entered.

Logan had found himself a new pair of ears to debate space with, who looked as eager and just as tipsy. Virgil faintly recalled their name being Joan, but he wasn’t quite sure. Patton was pulled into another conversation, apologising to Virgil who gave him a wave with a small smile.

He was…disappointed. He really had liked Patton’s company, even if the man was far too attractive to be legal. No one should be that nice and that pretty. He got himself another drink, retreating back to his corner of the room, and pulled out his phone.

And time just seemed to speed past around him. And the party got significantly wilder while he’d been distracted. When he finally looked up, out of content and people to talk to, he was surprised and a little mortified by what he saw.

Logan was standing on a table with Joan, belting out some old song at the top of his lungs, his dress shirt buttoned down halfway. His tie was loose around his neck, practically hanging from a thread, as several others danced around the table. Joan…didn’t actually look much better. They looked as drunk as Logan was.

Patton was leaning against a wall, smiling to himself dreamily as he sipped at a cup of something dark. The surgeon…his sandy blonde hair had come free of it’s hair tie, long loose locks falling over his shoulders. Smaller curls had fallen over his glasses, nearly hiding his brown eyes.

A bright blush was spread over his cheekbones and nose, his lips quirked into a smirk, his own button down undone from the collar. His sweater vest was ruffled, the hem of his button down poking out of one side.

Virgil ducked his head. He was far too sober for this.

He would have left if he wasn’t Logan’s means of getting home. He sighed, throwing back the rest of his drink before heading to the bar for a shot or two. It wasn’t enough to get him drunk, but it would make everything a little easier to deal with.

He didn’t expect to get caught by Patton. Again.

“Hey.” He leant down a little, bringing him closer to Virgil’s face, “Let’s talk, you and me, please?”

“Sure.” Virgil felt a little less intimidated now that Patton was…well…drunk.

Patton beamed, retreating back to his spot of the wall, close enough to the music and revelry to be enjoyable. “Hey,” Patton clearly needed the wall to keep his balance, “Why do you hide your face?” he asked gently, almost worried that Virgil had a serious reason.

“I, uh…dunno. Kinda always have.” Virgil shrugged, “Since like…high school.”

“Oh!” Patton turned so he was leaning against his shoulder, “It’s not like…scars, or anything?” he looked genuinely concerned.

“Well…maybe a little.” Virgil sighed. This conversation always came up at least once. He reached up, sweeping his fringe back a little to reveal a pale white scar that jagged down over the bridge of his nose, “But I’d rather not talk about it.” He let his hair fall down, averting his gaze and tapping the side of his glass.

Patton was silent, eyes wide for a few moments, before he suddenly moved, taking Virgil’s cup and putting both of their drinks down beside him. Virgil stared, unsure if he should run or wait, but Patton pulled him closer, an arm snaking around his waist.

Virgil yelped, hands coming up to press against Patton’s chest, but he was so close he only managed to trap his own arms. “Patton-?!”

The surgeon was looking down at him intensely, brown eyes deeply troubled as he slowly reached up and pulled Virgil’s hair back again. Virgil felt small and uncomfortable in Patton’s hold like this. Even more so because he was scrutinising the scar.

What he didn’t expect were the words Patton would say next.

“You are so damn pretty, you know that?”

He breathed it out, like he couldn’t get his voice to work. Virgil couldn’t help but stare up at him, struck dumb by both their proximity and the words that had fallen out of Patton’s mouth.

“Um, no?” he finally managed to answer, gently nudging at Patton as a sign to let him go.

Patton either didn’t notice, or didn’t care, “You are.” He whispered. Before Virgil could process what was happening, his flustered brain lagging, Patton pressed a few kisses along the scar and pulled back again, “So pretty.”

Virgil could only blink at him, lips quivering. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Touched, angry, sad…all he knew, was that tears were flooding his eyes and he didn’t know what to do.

Oh, maybe he was scared.

Patton hesitantly let go, hand lingering on his hip and Virgil was able to take a deeper breath, shaking a little as he slowly processed all of what Patton had said.

“Why – I mean-“ he swallowed hard and cleared his throat, “I don’t-“

Patton blinked twice, suddenly burning bright red and eyes widening. He snatched his hand away and Virgil actually missed the contact, “I’m sorry!” he clasped his hands together over his chest, “I thought…I mean…ugh.” He shook his head, “I’m such an idiot, moron-“

“Whoa, Patton,” Virgil reached out, but hesitated when Patton sniffed suddenly, “I don’t-“

“I really, really, like you Virgil and I’m just…not good at this.” He admitted, head low, shaking as he wrapped his arms around himself, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to invade your space and all I just-“

“Wait, stop. Hold on.” Patton actually flinched? Virgil awkwardly put his hands on Patton’s biceps, “You…like me?”

Patton nodded, finally lifting his head to meet Virgil’s eyes, “Yeah. It was silly, a crush, ya know? Thought it would go away if I just talked to you and then I got nervous whenever you brushed me off and I thought you didn’t like me-“

Virgil couldn’t help but stare as Patton continued to ramble. The surgeon liked him. The surgeon he liked. And he was scared?

“Are you…scared of me?” Virgil asked, eyes wide as Patton’s own wide eyes met Virgil’s.

“I mean, yeah but…ugh, you probably already have partner and here I am-“

“Nope. Single.”

Patton’s thoughts screeched to an immediate halt. “What?”

“I’m single.” Virgil shrugged, “And uh, what you did…wasn’t that bad.” Virgil admitted, anxiously shifting his feet and scratching at his chin, “I just…it overwhelmed me-“ Patton opened his mouth apologise again, “-cause I like you too.” Once more, Virgil had managed to bring the surgeon’s thoughts to a halt, “I was…flustered…I guess…”

“Oh…” Patton breathed, “Oh.” His eyes widened, “Oh!” he beamed, “You mean…you’re not…I didn’t…”

“No.” Virgil snickered, “I didn’t-“

Virgil didn’t get to finish his thoughts, Patton’s warm hands cupping his cheeks and his brown eyes staring deeply into Virgil’s, “Can we…explore these…feelings…more?” he asked nervously, eyes searching Virgil’s the best they could through his hair.

Virgil swallowed, “What do you…have in mind?” Virgil squeaked.

Patton moved closer, their lips inches apart, noses almost brushing, but he paused. Waiting for something. Virgil pushed in a little, and Patton pulled him closer.

Sparks flew behind Virgil’s eyes when their lips met, soft and silky and gentle but reassuring and confident. Virgil lost the ability to think, the world fell away, and all he could smell was bourbon and Patton’s signature rosy perfume.

Virgil melted.

This was by far, the best Christmas ever.

Taglist: @red-the-ruler​ @kittyboof8​ @i-just-punched-malfoy​ @onehundredphans​ @artistictaurean (If you would like to be added, feel free to swing by my ask box!)

Prompts are open for this AU!

[hellaintthatbad]

Riverdale fanfic 1 - kevin & joaquin (with @fangirly-freak)

>Kevin, all well-behaved, typical suburban boy, straight a’s, and then the serpent, bad boy how theyre written, and yet theyre together and I bet, if there should be a showdown of some kind, joaquin will try to protect kevin, to keep him away from the shit hes getting being a serpent, even though he doesn’t realize hes protecting him, and also im betting that kevin wants some distance at first, but he cant keep it up for long and runs to joaquin and kisses him as if the world is ending. And that will happen in that bar where the serpents hang around, right in front of all the other men and when anybody says anything against them jugheads dad will personally beat them up because he is a good soul.<

 Kevin ran faster than he ever did before, his throat burned and his legs became wobbly, threatening to give up. But Kevin didn’t pay attention to his body’s protests, the only thing on his mind was a raven-haired boy, the boy that was from another world and yet from so close, being so close to him yet being unrecognized.

Kevin took a sharp 90° turn, his shoes slid on the wet concrete but he didn’t fall and just kept running. Jughead’s words still echoed through his head. His friend asked Archie if he could sleep over a few nights, his dad having a serpent thing and didn’t want him to follow him, his ‘detective of a son shouldn’t be there for his own life’s sake’. Thankfully Archie asked when the whole ordeal would take place so Kevin hadn’t been caught eavesdropping. And thankfully Jughead trusted Archie enough to tell him.

But not so thankfully, Kevin’s dad didn’t fall asleep fast enough. The sheriff was always tired when he came home from work and usually fell asleep after dinner, but tonight he wanted to tell his son about his last case. In the end, Kevin said he had homework to do and left, only to sit on top of the stairs and wait. Soon his father’s breath slowed and the boy sneaked down, a first-aid packet and another jacket on his hands. He fingered around the holster, freeing the gun and wrapping it in jacket. Then, quietly, but still as fast as possible, he left his house and turned for the old warehouse.

Joaquin told him where this warehouse was, they used it as a place to be when they wanted to be alone. Okay, let’s be honest, when they wanted to make out without anybody interrupting them.

And while the authors described stuff so the reader knows stuff that’s important for the story, Kevin has reached said warehouse. Several motorcycles and cars stood in front of it. And men talked in it. Their voices were only hearable due to the echo in the empty building; also the men didn’t care to lower them.

Kevin knew the architecture of the house quite well, him and Joaquin going exploring when they wanted to talk or not make out [haha yeah that happens sometimes too believe it or not] and needed something else to do with their hands. Because, you know, hormones.

The old and rusty stairs at the back didn’t look trustworthy but they didn’t even move when you climbed them up right. They led to a sort of second story, but in the middle was a huge hole, enabling a good look to the ground story. Stair cases led down, but nobody bothered to climb them up, giving Kevin a perfect hiding spot.

The men stood at two fronts, the serpents on Kevin’s left, their client on his right. Joaquin was in the back, only about 50 meters away from Kevin, and fidgeted his hands behind his back. That meant he was nervous as hell.

Suddenly one of the clients screamed in rage, Kevin hasn’t noticed their voices rising until they shouted, he was too caught up in Joaquin’s facial features. A broad-necked bodyguard tried to calm the angry man, but another slipped through his arms and went to punch F. P., almost succeeding but the serpent next to their leader hit him first, sending the suit-wearer to the ground.

With that, all hell broke loose, fists hit jaws, blood dripped, bones crashed. Men went down, many of them unconscious. In the chaos, Kevin has lost Joaquin, but then something neon green caught his gaze. That neon green was a bracelet he gave his boyfriend a few weeks ago. A snake eating a heart was printed on it. Then it vanished as a very buff and muscular man blocked the view, pulled back his fist and threw it onto the boy’s stomach. Joaquin went down with a groan.

Out of desperation, Kevin reached for the gun, stood up and shot into the air. Everybody stopped in their tracks. Their faces turned towards him and twisted as they recognized him as the sheriff’s son.

“Kill him! He gonna report! Whatcha waitin’ for?!”

Thugs went for the stairs, one of them the man that just hit Joaquin, but the boy suddenly jumped up and put his arm around his neck, trying to strangle him.

“Kevin! Run!” F.P. bellowed.

Kevin followed his order and ran to the stairs that led him up there. He heard fists hitting flesh and groans, but didn’t look back. That is, until a stone hit his head making him feel dizzy and trip over his own feet.

He expected violence as he felt a body near him and tensed up, but was even more surprised as gentle hands fiddled around the gun in his hand.

“Sweetie, hey, it’s me. Gimme the gun. Get up. Run. Please, for me.”

“No, I can’t. Can’t leave ya…”

Kevin fainted.

The next thing Kevin knew is that he’s lying on the floor, some voices speaking almost out of earshot.

“Why is he here? Did you tell him?”

“What? No. I don’t know why he’s here. He isn’t supposed to.”

“And you’re not supposed to take a broken nose for him. You should spy on the sheriff, not play the knight in shining armor for his son.”

“I didn’t want to, it just happened! I just couldn’t see him getting hurt!”

At that, Kevin stirred. His movements didn’t go unnoticed, Joaquin and F.P. rushed over to him.

“Hey... Whoa, sweetie, calm down, your head must hurt like hell.” Joaquin reached up to stroke Kevin’s cheek as he began to sit up.

“You must hurt like hell, your face looks like Spaghetti Bolognese, and not in the tasty way.”

Jughead’s father chuckled. “Two seconds back and already backfiring, you got one there.”

“I got a first-aid kit, let me clean you up.”

The two boys went over to where Kevin’s jacket was and sat down next to it.  They sat in silence as Kevin got the utensils out and started to take care of Joaquin’s wounds.

“I heard you talk.”

“Huh?”

“Joa, I heard you and F.P. talking. He said you are supposed to spy on the sheriff. Is that why you are dating me?”

“Kev, I…”

“Don’t lie to me. I want the naked truth, without excuses. Without consideration of my feelings or whatever. Just tell me.”

The young serpent sighed.

“Yeah, I mean, I… I am supposed to play your boyfriend to spy on your dad. But so much has happened since then, and F.P. still wants information needed for clients and jobs, but I… We can get information otherwise, I am… I’m confused, you know? Because you are so good and kind and I am a no-good, usele…”

Before the boy could finish, Kevin presses a piece of bandage drenched with pure alcohol into an open cut.

“Go to the hospital, that needs stitches. I can’t do that. I’m going home. And tell F.P. to go fuck himself.”

Kevin’s voice sounded so cold. The room temperature seemed to drop 15°C

“Sweetie, what…”

“Don’t call me sweetie! That’s a name a lover should use, not a spy!”

Joaquin flinched as the other boy spat those words. He tried to reach for his hand, but Kevin withdrew his hand, grabbed his things as he stood up and left quickly without another word.

  The next three weeks were hard for both of them. Kevin couldn’t concentrate at all, which had effects on his grades, his friends were worrying, but he didn’t tell them why he didn’t eat as much, sleep as much or even talk as much as he used to or why Joaquin wasn’t with him all the time like he used to, and seeing from Jughead’s behavior, his dad didn’t tell him. Kevin felt emotionally used, he wanted to hate his (former?) boyfriend, but couldn’t help to reach for his hip, where his hand had lied or almost call him, his thumb seemed to be frozen into spot right above the call button.

Joaquin wasn’t much better. He, too, didn’t watch his health and lied on his bed when F.P. didn’t need him to do whatever needed to be done. He didn’t know why exactly he behaved like this. He just had no clue what to do. Or what is body was doing while his mind wandered off. He caught his hand several times as it creeped over his mattress, looking for something, that wasn’t there. He didn’t charge his phone, afraid to get weak and call Kevin, even though the boy has made clear that he was angry with him.

Both boys vegetated through their lives, but Kevin had more people to look out for him. He didn’t lose as much weight as Joaquin. And people tried to talk to him about what happened. Joaquin had no one to talk to except for his cactus.

                        This led to Kevin’s breakdown as he sat with his friends in Pop’s diner. Veronica showed them her new haircut, it was about the length Joaquin’s hair had been when Kevin had last seen him. Veronica’s was a more female version though. Just as she turned around to show Betty how she had to straighten them, Kevin looked up from his now cold coffee. She looked so much like Joaquin mas he had shown him a tattoo on his neck.

Kevin let out a sob. Then another. Then he let out a ragged breath, murmured something about fresh air and stumbled out of the diner to the parking lots. As soon as he felt like there was enough distance between him and the diner to not be seen instantly, he vomited. But there wasn’t much to vomit, so he just gagged around air, his throat burned and his head felt way too light. He stumbled from the car he used for balance towards the diner. Someone was coming out, but Kevin didn’t recognize them before he fell face down on the ground.

Another voice, somehow common to him, called his name. The boy opened his eyes to see dark hair at shoulder length.

“Joa?” he asked with a raspy voice before wincing. His throat felt like he swallowed sour rain.

“No, I’m sorry. But Kevin, you got to get up. You got to drink. Archie’s calling your dad. We thought you were dying here.” Veronica let out a forced laugh. “And I can’t let you die on my favorite dress, can I?”

Betty came and kneeled next to him. She held a glass of water to his lips and he drank greedily. Pop came out too and handed the blonde an extra-large milk shake.

“He gonna need that. Saw his orders last few weeks. He needs the protein and sugar and whatnot.”

Kevin also drank the shake, though slower than the water, enjoying the sweet taste in contrast to the acid burn he felt before.

Just as he finished and properly sat up without help, his father’s car pulled into the parking lot. As soon as the car stood, the sheriff ran to him and kneeled down.

“Son? Son, can you hear me? How many fingers am I holding up?”

“None, dad, your hands are crashing my shoulders. I’m okay now. I’m just tired.”

His dad stood up, pulling him onto his feet and led him to the car after thanking Pop and Kevin’s friends for helping him. Pop declined the money he offered him.

When they came home, the sheriff made his son eat and take a bath before letting him sleep.

 Kevin slept until 3:40pm, having his first halfway decent sleep in weeks. He hadn’t notice how much this kind-of break up was draining him.

As he got up, he thought of what to do next. He couldn’t continue like this. He missed the warmth of Joaquin right next to him. He missed the way his kisses felt. He missed shoving his hands into the long hair when they kiss. He missed the smell of leather, hair gel and Joaquin. Even his room still smelt a bit like him, even though he hadn’t been there in a month or so.

At 5pm, Kevin was completely dressed, half a pizza was eliminated and a note was left for his dad. He had made his mind up.

 Joaquin had just finished his last job, paying a drug dealer, and now sat at the bar and sipped at some drink he didn’t even know the name of.

He thought of nothing specific as someone tapped his shoulder. He turned around and saw Kevin. Right in front of him.

“Wha…” he began but was interrupted as Kevin slapped him.

“That”, the brown haired boy said, ”was for using me! And that”, a slap on the other cheek, “was for not telling me!”

Then he brought up both his hands and gently laid them on his jaw.

“And that is for being you.”

Kevin kissed Joaquin with all he had, with all the pain and nothingness he had felt throughout the last weeks, with all the love he felt for the boy, with all the missing he had endured. And Joaquin kissed him back with as much emotion as him.

As they parted, both breathing heavy, they mustered each other, noticing the way both had lost weight and gained shadows under their eyes.

“I love you. I’m sorry we became a couple due to my wrong intentions, but I’m happy we did. I adore you so damn much. You are my pretty boy, my sweetie. And I doubt that’s gonna change in the near future.”

“You know, that’s so cheesy, if we would be closer to the heater, we would melt.” Both boys giggled before missing again.

“And by the way, I love you too.” Kevin mumbled with their lips touching. And kissed him. Which felt better than their first kiss. Better than the making out sessions. Better than the last kiss. But not as good as their next kiss. Because the kiss that is just happening will always be the best kiss. Because, well, because it’s happening.

 ~some extra F.P.-is-super-and-a-good-man-in-the-end-stuff but this isn’t necessarily part of the story~

A few days after the great becoming-a-couple-again action, Kevin came into the bar after school to pick up Joaquin for the movies. He stepped into the building and looked out for his boyfriend as someone shoved him.

“Oi, fag, stop blocking the way. You not allowed in here!”

Kevin wanted to apologize, but a familiar raven haired boy stepped to his side and slid his arm around his waist.

“Stop bothering my boyfriend, would ya?”

“Ya can’t tell me what to do! You little shit think you’re bette…”

“That’s enough!” F.P. walked down the stairs and towards them.

“Pete, if you got a problem with homosexuality, that’s okay. But it is not okay to treat someone as less worthy or disrespectful because of it! Y’all! I know some of you looked at them with disgust, but this is love! And I don’t care what’s your reason for being a homophobic little bitch, and as long as you don’t hurt them because of it, I will not care! But if you even think about it, I will give you what you deserve! And I don’t care if any of you will hate me for it, I will protect them! And if you have a problem with them kissing, tell me, not them! Let them live their lives!”

With that, he shushed the two boys out, mumbling something about late for date. Before he can close the door though, Joaquin wraps his arms around his neck, murmuring “you’re the best dad I could wish for.” before grabbing Kevin’s hand and dragging him towards the cinema.

[iamnotthedog]

YOSEMITE TO SAN FRANCISCO: JUNE 2000

I hung out with King every single day from that moment on. He became a regular fixture in our cabin, which was great, because as the days wore on—though Leah would never admit it—I could tell that she was already starting to long for the city life and restaurant dinners and her big white bed and her sweet-smelling soaps and lotions, and she began to dissolve back into a shallow pool of depression and self-loathing, which was mixed into a brutal combination of never wanting to accept any help from anyone. I got so frustrated with her that I could pretty much immediately tell that it was the beginning of yet another end, and I ended up hiking off into the dark and sleeping in my sleeping bag by the river most nights. But before all that happened, we had some pretty insane moments outside of all the sweeping and dusting of cabins, folding of towels, and making of beds. There are too many insane moments to write about right now, and telling them all would be an unnecessary feat of memory and imagination, anyway. There are two that really capture the feeling of that summer—the seed that summer planted in me that I knew would end up growing until I had to return to that island of weird that lies out there in the great open west, somewhere northeast of the Mojave Desert.

The first actually came in the sweltering heat of June, when King, Leah, and I all had a weekend off and decided that we needed a couple days in the city. King offered to drive to San Francisco and we spread the word around the park that we were going, so we had a few other girls join us: Laura, an extremely attractive but equally weird, blonde hippie type from Los Angeles who was in the park for the summer, waiting tables at the Ahwahnee; Heather—sweet Heather—who I already told you about going to visit in San Francisco a year later; and Allyson, a short, skinny, soft-spoken black-haired photographer who was really into birds. We all packed a change of clothes and some toiletries, and we piled into King’s bus one afternoon with our packs and thermoses of hot coffee and plenty of weed for the six of us, and we drove out of the park.

King chauffeured us through the mountains as Leah sat in the front passenger seat and smoked her own personal bag of weed, and Laura, Heather, Allyson and I passed a joint around in the back. And after an hour of nothing but that, Laura was talking about Los Angeles and about coming up under a couple of librarian parents, and she was talking about hanging out in the library as a teenager and reading Bukowski and then wanting to be bad and drinking and finding boys to make out with amongst the tall shelves of dusty books, the smell of old leather and musty yellowed pages. I started to get turned on. Then she sat on her knees on the floor and I snuck little peeks down at her legs, bent back beneath her firm, round butt that was ever so slightly touching my bare calf. Laura was strange, certainly, but she was a woman. King turned up the stereo, and arpeggiating guitar chords floated over all of us. He rolled down his window, and pine-scented air swept through the bus. Then I looked at the back of Laura’s neck as she pulled her hair back, and I was all of a sudden in the middle of this schoolboy fantasy where she would lean back against me, fall into me as we wound our way out of the mountains, and we would start kissing, and I didn’t care if Leah was sitting right there or not, I would have just gone with it.

I was high.

Then suddenly there was a yelp from the front seat, and the bus jerked hard to the right and weaved back and forth dangerously, sending Laura sprawling across the floor. Heather and Allyson clutched at her, and Leah waved frantically at her pant legs in the front seat as ashes and golden embers from her lit bowl flew around the bus.

King steadied the wheel. “Holy fucking shit, did you see THAT?!” he yelled.

Laura screamed, “Pull over!” She leaned forward and gripped the headrest of the driver’s seat, screaming directly into King’s ear. “Pull over, RIGHT NOW!”

King eased the bus onto the shoulder of the highway, and before he had even come to a complete stop, Laura was out the sliding side door, sprinting across four lanes of traffic in her pretty little flower-patterned sun dress with her bare feet. Heather leaned forward and put her hand on King’s arm.

“What happened?” she asked.

Leah, looking around the floorboards and reaching under her seat, said, “I don’t know, but I lost my bowl.”

King said nothing, but pointed a thumb back behind us, over his left shoulder. A huge two-trailered feed truck roared by, and after it passed we all saw Laura in her sun dress, bounding across the road to a deer that was writhing in the gravel behind a small sedan at the base of a hill of pine trees. A young man in a grey hooded sweatshirt and khaki cargo pants had stepped out of the sedan, the front of which was completely crushed. He looked at his demolished car for only a second, then started attempting to flag down passing cars as Laura knelt in the gravel and lifted the deer’s head into her arms. She began petting it and trying to calm it while simultaneously yelling at the guy.

“What the fuck were you doing?!” she yelled. Her voice echoed across the road and through the pines. “Weren’t you watching the fucking road?!” She sobbed. “This is a living, breathing being, and it was here long before you were! This is his land, not yours!”

Allyson turned to look at me. “Girl has completely lost it,” she said.

Heather nodded. “Let's leave her here.”

But King shook his head and opened his door. “C’mon, guys.” He looked back at Allyson, Heather, and I. “We have to go help this poor bastard.”

Across the highway, Laura was crying with the dead deer’s head in her fuckin’ lap of all places, and the young man was still trying to flag down a car and looking at Laura like she had a horn growing out of her face or something. He looked up at King and I as we approached. He said he was sorry, but formed it as a question. “I’m sorry?”

“Aw, c’mon man,” King said. “It’s not like you meant to do it.”

“This is bullshit!” Laura yelled, still sobbing. “Complete bullshit.”

Allyson started talking to Laura and running her hand through her hair, calming her, and she finally got her to let go of the deer and stand up just as a big green pick-up truck stopped just in front of the smashed sedan, the driver of which offered to call a tow truck. We wished the young man luck and walked back to the bus, Laura wiping at her tears with the back of her hand, gravel and dirt and deer hair all over her dress.

“We have to say a prayer for the deer,” Laura said. “Come here, stand in the grass with me.” Leah rolled her eyes, but got out of the bus nonetheless, and we all stood in the grass just off the gravel shoulder of the road, holding hands, a light breeze blowing through the pines overhead. Laura said her prayer, which consisted of her quietly chanting “Om mani padme hum,” over and over again—I’m not even kidding—as we all breathed deeply and tried not to fidget or cough or anything. Then we climbed back in the bus, and King started it up and pulled back out onto the highway.

King turned up the stereo and drove faster than he had before. And we cruised through the sun drenched Central Valley and wound our way up the MacArthur Freeway through Castro Valley and San Leandro, and up around big gray Oakland with its rows of drab houses along the side of the highway, and the sun was hanging at a low angle over a purple and red horizon as we got our first view of the bay and rolled on the bridge over strange little Treasure Island, with its big rectangular buildings and trees that just looked like perfectly round green bushes from that distance.

“I’ve got a surprise for you guys,” Laura finally said, breaking the silence. No one had said anything for a good hour or so. “I was going to wait until we got to the city, but I think I should tell you now.”

King shot a look over his shoulder and smiled that big smile of his. “I like surprises!” he said.

“It’ll help us get over that poor deer,” Laura said, which was funny, because she was the one who about lost her goddamned mind over the whole thing. She was digging in her shoulder bag on the floor, from which she produced a small plastic box, no bigger than a harmonica. She opened it, and there were several little squares of paper inside.

“I brought us each a hit of acid,” she said.

Heather shook her head.

Allyson howled and yelled, “I love it!”

I looked out west past the Embarcadero and the hills of San Francisco to where the Golden Gate sat amongst pillows of low-hanging fog, and I yelled, “Hello, Japan!” as a flurry of butterflies was unleashed in my belly.

Laura scooted off her bench and sat cross-legged, directly in front of me on the floor of the bus, and she closed her eyes and breathed deeply and leaned into me before reaching up her hand to put a hit of acid on my tongue. Then she turned to Allyson and did the same for her, and Allyson said, “You are crazy, but you are also very sexy.” Heather took hers in silence, but her round face broke into a beaming smile after she had the hit on her tongue. Leah got hers and said, “Here we go!” and King turned his head to the side while keeping his eyes on the road and his hand on the wheel, and he got his, after which Laura tapped him on the nose with her long index finger and said, “Thanks for driving us to the promised land, King James.”

As you can imagine, everyone was all of a sudden really very excited.

“What are we doing tonight, anyway?” Leah asked. “We should pro’ly decide before we all start tripping our faces off.”

“Yeah,” Allyson agreed. “We need to make a plan and stick to it. Otherwise we’ll just be wandering around looking at the pretty lights all night long.”

“Or getting robbed,” Heather added.

But King had a plan, and illustrated that to us by turning down the stereo and raising one finger into the air. “My whole reason for wanting to take this trip in the first place is that some movie called The Natural California or The Wild California or something like that is playing on the biggest IMAX movie screen in the WORLD in downtown San Francisco exactly...” (he pulled a watch out of his pocket and looked at it) “...one hour from now. I heard the movie has a bunch of scenes from Yosemite in it, and it’s playing on a screen that’s like four times as big as a usual movie screen. So we can make other plans, but we are definitely doing that first.”

“Shit, man,” I said. “You expect us to go into an IMAX theater right now? On acid? That’s going to be...something.”

Everyone laughed nervously.

We pulled into the city as the fog was rolling in over the bay, exiting on 5th and driving past apartments, a gas station, some tall glass hotels, and the San Francisco Chronicle building with its modern clock tower and iconic old sign. Then we turned right onto Mission past the old Pickwick Motel and a gigantic and grotesque Bloomingdale’s, and then up into a massive concrete parking garage, where we wound around and up three dark and fog-dampened levels before finding a spot between a cement pole and a big black Escalade.

“This garage’ll pro’ly cost us, but it’ll be worth it,” King said. “Bring anything you want for the whole night with you, just to be safe.”

We all threw our bags over our shoulders, and Leah rolled up her Ziploc bag of weed and stuffed it in her pocket. She got out of the bus and wiggled her arms and legs around. “I already feel a little funny,” she said.

I nodded. I felt like I was about nine feet tall, and something weird was going on inside my torso. “I am a hollow giant,” I said, much too loudly. We all giggled like maniacs and started walking together, arm in arm, down the ramp towards the exit. Leah was on the end, her arms locked with King’s, and I was on the other end next to Laura, who put her arm around my waist. “If I smoked a little weed right now,” I added, “I think I’d be entering the fifth dimension.”

“Yeah, we should smoke before we go in the theater!” Allyson said. “Really get us going.” Then she turned to King. “How did you know right where this place was, anyway?”

“I stopped here and saw Gladiator before I drove to Yosemite back in May.”

We all laughed. Laura said, “Russell Crowe is a disgusting little troll,” and Leah, Heather, and Allyson all agreed.

When we got out onto the street, the sky was already a bit darker and all the streetlights and signs were aglow. Taxi cabs and minivans and luxury sedans and SUVs and a pick-up truck or two roared by, and there were honking horns and well-dressed pedestrians rushing past us, maybe heading home from the office, or heading in to work if they were in the service industry. Our theater was on the corner, with a bunch of rowdy teenagers milling around outside. The theater’s five-story-high sign was beaming up through the fog into the purple sky like a tractor beam from a UFO.

“Would’ja look at that.”

I got a little paranoid about being so touchy with Laura all of a sudden, so I found Leah and put my arm around her. She squeezed it.

“C’mon, let’s go over here really quick!” Allyson said. She grabbed our arms and herded us all quickly down the block, past the teenagers, over past the theatre entrance and around the corner to a big square of grass—an urban park with some wide concrete steps up leading up to it. We sat on a small slope under a tree next to a concrete building covered with ivy, and Allyson produced a joint from her shirt pocket.

“Oh, you are so wonderful” Laura said through a wide smile. Her eyes were squinting and tearing up a bit, and she wiped at them, then opened them really wide and giggled. “We have to go in there IMMEDIATELY after we smoke this, because I’m going to lose it pretty soon.”

King got really serious for a second. He touched each of our arms, and looked us all in the face. “Everybody get your $20 ready and don’t say ANYTHING to ANYONE when we get in there,” he said. “Seriously, guys. I’m SERIOUS!” He was practically yelling.

I laughed. “We’ll be fine, man,” I assured him.

We sat there and smoked the joint in silence, watching all the city dwellers march by on the wide sidewalk and staring at an old red brick cathedral across the street, which looked so insanely out of place with all the towering, modern skyscrapers behind it. And when the joint was gone and Allyson was leaning back against the tree with Laura, Heather, Leah, and I all lying back with our heads on her legs, King snapped out of his stoicism and jumped up in one spastic movement. He shook his arms and legs around and hopped up and down a couple times. “Let’s go see The Wild California!” he yelled.

None of us moved. My arms and legs felt like they were filled with maple syrup. “We’re in the wild California,” I mumbled.

“Yeah,” Laura agreed. She put her hand on my stomach.

A city bus roared by, and Leah pointed at it. “That is most definitely not wild.”

“Well, no,” Heather offered, “but you should see the creatures inside it!”

King looked like he was about ready to start goddamned crying or something, though, so we all finally relented, stood, and walked towards the theater with him. Even on acid, he really did want to see the goddamned movie pretty badly. And he had driven us all there, after all.

The entrance to the theater was just as extravagant as the sign outside, with flashing lights everywhere, and colored tiles on the floors. My trip had extended beyond my body at that point and was working its way up into my head, where my eyes were dilating and letting in the maximum amount of light possible, and my head was swimming with what seemed to me like the thoughts of just about everyone we passed—like I had acquired telepathy or something. But Leah managed to very primly and properly buy us some bottles of water from the concession stand, and we all made it into our theater and into our six adjacent seats without causing much of a scene.

There was the quiet chatter of people settling in for what seemed like a couple hours—dates talking in hushed tones to one another, flirting, entwining their arms on the arm rests, groups of teenaged kids throwing popcorn and horsing around—and then the house lights dimmed and the biggest movie screen in the world lit up and sucked us in. I was pretty much in a trance for a good two hours, but a few things I remember from the movie were: 1. the feeling that rushed through my body when the fancy plush seats we were all sitting in reclined on their own (a feeling which King certainly shared, as the second the seat started reclining he let out a long, sighing “Ooooh!”), 2. someone a few rows ahead of us turned around to tell Laura to be quiet, which sent her into an outrageous giggle fit that only ended when Allyson took her sweatshirt off and threw it over Laura’s head, and 3. the first time they showed Yosemite, it was an aerial shot from a plane that was swooping down over the Sierra Nevada, and everything seemed to get really big and three-dimensional all of a sudden, and King actually stood up right there in the middle of the theater and yelled, “That’s our HOME! We LIVE there!” which made the girls crack up, and made me anxiously jump up to pull King back down into his seat and tell him to shut up before someone called the police and we all got put in jail or something.

When the movie was over, pretty much everyone around us made snide remarks to us out of the corners of their mouths as they left, fortunately none of which I could comprehend. My head was swimming with images from the movie as I turned away from the screen and attempted to adjust my massive pupils to the light in the theater. The patterns on the walls and floor were all swirling around and sliding around each other like oil and water. Allyson and Laura and Heather and Leah were hugging in one big pile of limbs as they attempted to squeeze their way out of the aisle, Allyson struggling to put her sweatshirt back on as they did so, and King had avoided their whole tangled mess and gone straight back, jumping rows of chairs on his way out.

“We need to get OUTSIDE!” he was yelling. “Let's go to the BEACH!”

And it may have just been the acid, but I swear that theater lobby had a whole section in it where the floor was comprised of translucent tiles that light up all sorts of different colors, so that was another distraction on our way out—a great enough distraction that Leah actually sat down on the lit-up floor at one point and said, “I’m not leaving. I don’t want to go outside. This place is perfect.” And we all tried to caress her and comfort her and cajole her, but eventually King just picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder, and she laughed hysterically as we finally emerged from our palace of light out onto 4th Street.

The next two or three hours were spent wandering around laughing and taking in all the sights and sounds and smells of the fog-dampened San Francisco night, while probably frightening the hell out of anyone we ran into by yelling, “Where's the BEACH?!” right in their faces. Nearly everyone we asked at least tried to give us some sort of directions before they realized we were completely out of our minds—bless their hearts—and there was also one crazy and possibly schizophrenic old homeless man who got into a surreal 20-minute conversation with King and then thought it was a good idea to hang out with us for a while before he, too, realized that we were crazier than he would ever be. “Y’all a bunch o’ wackos!” he yelled. Then he ran off screaming something about our mothers and bad parenting.

Eventually we did end up in North Beach, and I tried to explain to King and the girls that the City Lights Bookstore was a mecca not to be ignored, even on acid. So Joe and I stood in the window and I talked a bunch of gibberish about Lawrence Ferlinghetti and Allen Ginsberg and Gregory Corso and William Burroughs and Neal Cassady and my man Jack for a while as King at least pretended to pay attention and we ogled the book covers and the pretty reflections in the glass. Leah wandered across the street with Allyson and Heather, who were drawn by the book-shaped lights hanging from the telephone wires right there on that great historical old corner of Broadway and Columbus, by The Condor and Big Al’s Adult Bookstore and Lenny Bruce’s Hungry I Club, where busty strippers in sparkly sequin gowns stood on the sidewalk and later said to King and I that we “looked fun” and should bring our dates inside “for a good time,” and King said, “Free love is a better time!” in a strange and alien voice that I had never heard come out of his face before—a voice that seemed to visibly frighten the poor sequined strippers, who quickly retreated inside.

When you are tripping on acid or mushrooms—and I mean really tripping, not just getting a little body buzz or having a laugh or whatever—every giant and seemingly ultra-significant thought in your head is instilled with not only a comforting sense of human interconnectedness, but also an underlying sense of dread and a sort of hyper-awareness of our mortality. And the thing is, it really doesn't take much to get that dread to bubble up to the surface, especially when the trip is on its way out. So around one o’clock in the morning when all the bars were starting to close and the streets were emptying of people, and the five of us were still wandering around without much of a clue where we were, and King had lost his shoes and Allyson was looking at his dirty feet and very coldly and methodically listing about all the possible diseases he could have contracted through over the course of the evening, and we still hadn’t found ourselves a beach at all, but had really just been wandering around in circles for a good four or five hours, it only took Leah to say, “This isn’t fun anymore,” to pull us all down into a deep and muddy mire of anxiety and paranoia. We were no longer prancing around like stupid little drunken elves on a holiday, we were clutching at each other and stumbling through dirty alleys and over cracked sidewalks through the streetlight-lit urban night, craning our necks at each large building and street sign, hoping to just randomly stumble upon our theater and our parking garage and our blessed, blessed powder blue 1964 Volkswagen Type 2 split-window microbus.

And eventually, some two hours later when we did find our parking garage, it happened just like that—we stumbled upon it. We saw a concrete building with a big tree behind it, and when we walked around the building, planning on crashing under the tree for a quick rest, a few of us flopped in the grass completely oblivious to everything around us, but Allyson realized that the tree was the same one we had smoked a joint under before watching The Wild California.

“Guys,” she said, “the theater is RIGHT THERE.”

And the next thing that happened is maybe just about the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. You see, we were all really very wasted at that point—all kinds of messed up, as you can imagine—and we all just kind of piled into the bus right there in the parking garage in a tangle of limbs and moved around until we were comfortable. Heather immediately fell asleep in the driver’s seat, and the rest of us were smashed together on the fold-out mattress in the back. Then Leah got out and said she had to throw up, and whether she did or not, I’m not sure, but when she got back in the bus she sat up in the front passenger seat and passed out. King leaned up into the front seat to turn the key halfway in the ignition and put some Leonard Cohen on the stereo, and he lit a couple of candles that he put up on the little counter in the back of the bus and got some blankets out of a little cupboard back there and threw ‘em over all of us while Allyson rolled a joint. And sitting back there, 19 years old, coming down from that physical and emotional roller coaster and smoking a joint, I was just feeling really relaxed and good.

Then, under the blankets, Laura put her hand up pretty high on my leg and moved it over my crotch, and she nuzzled into me and I got excited. And I’m not going to go into any details or be all pervy about it or anything—basically because I still to this day feel really bad about it. But the thing is, after we smoked that joint there by candlelight in that little bus, King laid down and put his arm around Allyson and the two of them fell asleep, and Laura pushed herself into me, put her soft lips right up next to my ear, and her hot breath washed over my face as she whispered, “I want you.” Then she rolled over on top of me under that blanket—right next to King and Allyson—and we kissed passionately for what seemed like an hour before she fell asleep on top of me, and Leah was right there in the same goddamned vehicle the whole time, and holy shit do I feel bad about all that.