#i do that anyways but like. the roommate has claimed our kitchen table.

[the-everqueen]

me, insane, unable to go into the kitchen and make dinner (it is 9 pm) because my roommate has a friend over and i cannot let them see me preparing food to eat

[babydollmarauders]

MAROON — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

part of the Midnights Fic List

summary: in which y/n and her best friend, Jack, get drunk on cheap wine and finally confess their feelings in her New York apartment.

specific lyrics: “‘how’d we end up on the floor anyway?’ you say, ‘your roommate’s cheap-ass screw top rosé, that’s how.’” and “the burgundy on my t-shirt when you splashed your wine into me and how the blood rushed into my cheeks” and “i chose you, the one i was dancing with in New York..”

warnings: light profanity, alcohol

notes: i’ve been so excited to write this one. if you guys can’t tell from my other fics, best friends to lovers is my favorite trope so this one was so fun for me to write!

i’ve known the Hughes family my entire life. with my mom and Ellen Hughes being best friends from playing hockey together, i grew up spending my summers at the Hughes lake house and visiting whenever possible. so, of course, i grew close to the three brothers.

Quinn, the oldest, is three years older than me. growing up he was always like the annoying, protective older brother i never had, and he still is.

Luke, the youngest, is a year younger than me. he’s my buddy, the one i go to when i need something set straight for me, and the only guy i know that would sit in his bedroom and miss a party at his own house just so he could comfort me over the phone.

and lastly, Jack. a year older than me, and my best friend since i was born, i guess. my mom and Ellen have always said that as soon as i was born, it was like Jack knew we were meant to be best friends. they claim that when i was a baby and he was one, he would cry until they put him in my crib with me, in which case they swear that it would instantly put a smile on my face. but no matter if those stories are true or not, we have indeed been best friends since diapers.

Jack and i’s friendship has always been different than the ones i have with his brothers, especially when i turned thirteen and started really paying attention to guys. that was the fateful year that Jack graduated from not only being my best friend but also my biggest crush. i started noticing not only how cute he really is, but how sweet he could be, and how comfortable i am with him.

which brings us to now, in my New York apartment, where i’m currently sat on the floor with the guy i’m head over heels in love with, sharing a bottle of wine. it’s the first week of the off-season and he had originally came over to help me pack for the annual lake house trip, but then my roommate popped her head in to ask if we wanted a couple bottles of rosé that she bought on sale. she was about to leave for the airport for her flight back home for the summer and couldn’t bring them with her. so Jack and i shared a quick glance and said yes, and now here we are.

i’m sat with my back against the coffee table, my feet in Jack’s lap.

“hey, do you remember that time- when uh- when Luke jumped into the lake from the rope swing, and just completely belly flopped?” Jack’s words were broken up between fits of laughter, and i burst out in laughter, as well, at the memory.

“oh my god yes! his entire chest and stomach were red!” it’s a wonder how we’ve yet to get a noise complaint from my neighbors by now. as our laughter dies down, Jack shifts around.

“my ass is numb from the hardwood.” he tells me, and the casual announcement makes me double over in laughter once more.

“how’d we end up on the floor, anyway?” i wonder out loud.

“your roommates cheap-ass screw top rosé, that’s how!” he exclaims through giggles. i don’t laugh with him, instead i stay silent, studying him. he’s so beautiful.

Jack stands from the floor, letting my feet roll of his lap and land with a thump. grabbing the empty wine bottle and our glasses from the coffee table, he goes into the kitchen. i watch him as he grabs my bottle of red wine from the fridge, refilling our glasses before walking back to me. he bends down to hand me my glass, but in his inebriated state, he doesn’t pay attention to his own glass in his hand and his wine splashes onto my white t-shirt. the burgundy liquid staining and leaving the shirt slightly see through, clinging to my braless chest.

“oh shit, sorry y/n/n!” his eyes go wide and he stares at my chest. logically, i know he’s just looking at the stain and not my breasts, but blood rushes into my cheeks at the thought of him eyeing my chest.

“it’s fine!” i wave it off, as i stand to go change. “i’ll be right back.”

i go into my bedroom and ruffle through the shirts that i don’t have packed for the summer, picking out an old USA Hockey shirt of Jack’s.

i step back out into the living room to find Jack had put on one of my vinyl’s, i watch as he dances around my living room to the sound of Photograph by Ed Sheeran. a smile breaks across my face as he just spins around the room. finally spotting me, he walks over and holds his hand out.

“dance with me, belle.” my heart flutters at his use of the nickname he started calling me in high school. he never explained why he started calling me ‘belle’, all i know is that one day when i had met him after his french class and my spanish class, he said he had a new nickname for me, and he’s called me ‘belle’ ever since. usually the nickname seems to be reserved for special moments or when it’s just the two of us.

i slip my hand in his, allowing him to pull me closer. his hands take hold of my arms, sliding them up onto his shoulders, and he wraps his arms around my waist, swaying us around the living room. he gazes down at me, a soft smile on his face and an unreadable emotion present in his eyes.

“hi.” his voice is barely a whisper.

“hi.” i reply in the same low volume. his eyes flicker over my face and his cheeks turn pink. making me ask- “what are you thinking?”

“i’m thinking that i’ve wanted to be in this position since high school.” his words confuse me. but my heart speeds up, as if it knows what he means before my brain does.

“dancing?” i laugh halfheartedly.

“you in my arms. just the two of us.” he clarifies and i can feel myself blush for the second time tonight.

“if you wanted me to yourself, you could’ve just asked.” i joke.

“i don’t just want you to myself.” he whispers. “i want you to be mine.”

his reply causes me to stumble a step, and my heart feels like it might beat out of my chest.

“don’t say things you don’t mean, Jack.” i tell him. suddenly, i feel insecure and afraid. i’ve never felt this way with him. other guys, sure. but never him.

“why would you think i don’t mean what i’m saying?” he stops our dancing and i only just realize that the song has changed. my arms slip off his shoulders, dropping back down to my sides, but his hands never leave my hips. “y/n, do you think i would say something like that if i don’t mean it?”

“i don’t know.” i mumble, shrugging my shoulders. he brings a hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, before letting it fall back down to my hip.

“i’ve been in love with you since high school, y/n/n. i thought by now you would’ve caught on, but i guess that’s on me because you always have been pretty oblivious when it comes to flirting.” he laughs.

“wait, what?” i ask. please don’t be messing with me. please be telling the truth.

“did you really not know? look if this is too much, if you don’t like me like that, then just tell me. straight out. because i don’t want to compromise our friendship with this confession. we can just forget it ever happened.” that sobers me up real quickly.

“wait, no, hold on. i never said i didn’t like you.” i rebut.

“what are you saying?” by the smirk on his face, i know he knows what i’m saying, but i take a deep breath and clarify anyways.

“jack, i’ve liked you since i was thirteen.” i confess. “i didn’t think you thought of me as anything more than your annoying best friend though.”

“y/n, i literally gave you a nickname that translates to ‘beautiful’ and you thought i was looking at you like ‘oh yeah that’s my best friend, she’s so annoying’?” he asks.

“what? is that what that means?” my tone is incredulous. i assumed he was calling me ‘belle’ like princess belle because i like to read.

“oh my god, you really had no idea? i literally gave you that nickname after we learned the word in french class. you were the first thing that popped in my head when we learned it.”

i can’t take any more talking. Jack starts to say something else but i cut him off by pressing my lips against his. it doesn’t take him more than a second to start kissing back, his lips locking with mine.

i pull back, breathless and anxious, but the smile Jack wears eases my nerves.

“so you like me, huh?” he jokes.

“oh shut up.” i roll my eyes, giving his shoulder a playful shoulder.

**BONUS SCENE**

we’ve been at the lake house for three days and so far, no one has even noticed that Jack and i are officially dating. have we really always been this touchy?

Jack and i have made a game out of it, guessing who the first person to notice will be. he says Ellen or my mom, but i say Quinn or Luke. we both know our dads don’t pay enough attention to catch onto anything.

i walk down the stairs, prepared to grab a snack before us ‘kids’ head out on the boat. Ellen and my mom sit in the kitchen talking, but go silent as soon as i walk in.

“heyyy.” i drag out, eyeing them suspiciously.

“hi, honey.” Ellen gives me a kiss on the forehead as i stop in front of them.

“what were you two talking about?” i ask.

“nothing.” they say in unison, shaking their heads.

“i believe you, not at all.” i joke, opening a cupboard to grab a granola bar. “what was it?”

“they were talking about you and Jack.” Luke says, walking out from the walk-in pantry. “mom was saying she thinks they should set you guys up on a blind date with each other.”

“Luke Warren Hughes! how long have you been in there?!” Ellen scolds, not even bothering to deny his claims.

“i was looking for something to eat, you’re the ones who came in gossiping.” he shrugs. before Ellen can refute, Jack walks in from the same way i came. wrapping an arm around my shoulders, he stops next to me.

“what are you guys talking about?” Jack asks.

“our moms wanted to set us up on a blind date.” i say, a sly smile on my lips as i look up at him.

Jack lets out a chuckle before directing his gaze to his mom.

“sorry, no can do mom. i’ve got a girlfriend.” he smiles, and i have to bite back a grin. it’s the first time he’s called me his girlfriend. i like it.

“you what?!” Ellen exclaims. “why have i not met her? or even heard about her?”

“it’s a recent development.” Jack shrugs. “anyways, i’m gonna steal y/n/n here. Quinn is waiting for us at the boat. Luke, c’mon.”

before i can even think to take a step, Jack sweeps my feet off the ground, throwing me over his shoulder and walking away. i smack at his back with my free hand while one still clutches my granola bar.

“Jack Rowden Hughes, put me down! right now!” he barks out a laugh and i can feel his neck shift against me like he’s moving his head around before he lands a smack against my ass. “HEY!”

he ignores my struggles, walking down to the dock, all the way to the boat before finally setting me down.

“i can walk. i have legs.” i laugh.

“i know, but i wanted to carry you.” he grins down at me. i scan the dock for Quinn, but with no sight of him i relax.

“you just wanted an excuse to stare at my ass.” i joke. Jack hooks his fingers through the front belt loops on my shorts, tugging me closer so that i’m pressed up against him.

“and is that a crime?” he asks. i smile up at him, sending one last glance toward the house over his shoulder, not seeing Quinn or Luke. i lean up, planting a kiss on his lips.

“what the fuck?!!” the exclamation comes from behind me and i pull back, spinning around quickly to find Quinn stood on the boat. he’s leaned over the side, staring at Jack and i with a dropped jaw.

“oh- hi, Quinny.” i smile, painting on a face of innocence. Quinn’s eyes dart between me and Jack.

“when the hell did this happen?” he asks. “i knew i never should’ve let you move to New York. he’s corrupted you. i should’ve insisted you moved to Vancouver, but no, i said ‘if New York is where she wants to be, i won’t push.’ i should’ve pushed.”

i look over to Jack, sharing an amused smile with my boyfriend as his brother rambles on.

“Quinn.” i interrupt. he stops, throwing me a raised brow before giving a side eye to his younger brother. “did you really think this wouldn’t happen eventually?”

he sighs, before nodding.

“i know. i expected this. i prepared for this.” it’s my turn to quirk a brow now.

“you prepared for this?” i ask. he nods and hops onto the dock.

“okay, it’s time for us to talk. Jack, y/n, when a man and a woman love each other very much, sometimes-”

“oH MY GOD.” i shout. plugging my fingers in my ears. “la la la la la i can’t hear you! i am not currently getting the sex talk from my boyfriends older brother! la la la la la.”

Quinn’s face lights up and he burst out in laughter. i take my fingers out of my ears, eyeing him.

“oh, that was good! you should’ve seen your faces!” he laughs. i turn to look at Jack, who still wears a disgusted grimace. i pat his chest and let out a sigh. “seriously, i’ll be right back though.”

Quinn takes off in a jog towards the lake house, but before he disappears inside, i hear him yell.

“MOM! YOU’LL NEVER BELIEVE WHAT I JUST SAW!”

Jack finally unfreezes from his state of disgust. pulling out his wallet and handing me a twenty dollar bill.

“you won.”

[kirihotto]

Stay PT.1 {Suga X Reader 18+}

→ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content.

→ Genre: Friends to Lovers

→ Summary: You and Yoongi have been friends since high school. Busy adult life means seeing friends less and less. His roommate's departure date and your week off, line up. You plan to spend a few free days with Yoongi. Catching up like old times. 

→ Word Count PT.1: 3 243

Disclaimer: All members are face and name claims for the story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. All works are purely for entertainment purposes.

Published: 03/22/23

Inspiration: Ari Abdul - Stay

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

Finally a break. Working nearly everyday to earn not nearly as much as it feels. I was finally able to meet with Yoongi again. Our lives had been whisked away by work after highschool. So we haven't seen each other as often since graduating. We had been friends pretty much through all of middle school. Though throughout the highschool years we got a lot closer. We were just friends. Nothing more. Even though everyone suggested otherwise. We would shut down the topic of us dating as soon as anyone shot us a questioning glance. Tons of Girls were all over him. Hell, even some of the guys went for him. But as long as I've known him he has never been in a full on relationship. No, not dissing. I wasn't really the dating type either. My friends and family are all I need. With this break from a new hectic life I would finally get to hangout with them again. Yoongi and another member of his band, Hoseok shared an apartment. His bandmate would be out of town for this week. We both didn't have to work. So Tonight i will finally get to see him again. I've been starting to miss him…

“What are you all smiley about?” My roommate Mona questioned. She was another one of me and Yoongi's friends from highschool. We ended up rooming together since we both worked close by. She joined me at my seat at the island table scrolling on our phones. 

“Well, Mona I don't have to work for a week. And...”  I bragged glancing over the corner of my phone to catch her reaction. 

“And?”

“I’m going to Yoongi’s place for a day or two.” I stated quickly. Her eyes finally met mine. A sinister smirk came across her face. She didn't even have to say it. I already knew. 

“Oh ho~ no work and your boyfriend. Luckier than me.” she sassed me wandering toward the fridge unbothered. 

“He’s not-”

“Your boyfriend? Yeah I got that. But he clearly likes you. I know you used to like him in middle school. Girl, how long you been single? A long time. Which means you still like him.” She was stating the truth. I did have a thing for him in middle school. That's why we even became friends. Because I liked him, I tried to get closer to him. Which worked, but we never actually dated. I never ended up telling him I liked him. Although You do have to admit he is very attractive. Hang on a sec. He likes me..?

“Wait. Did he tell you he likes me?” my head shot up at the realization. Is that why? Mona shot me a frown with a raised brow.

“No. Obviously not. If he didn't tell you anything, he wouldn't be telling me. You're going there tonight anyway. Ask him yourself. Or y know you could always start things with spice.” She winked at me before returning to her room. I sat dumbfounded for a moment. Start things with spice? OH!

“Are you nuts?! I don't even know how to flirt!” I yelled at her from the kitchen. But now she brought it up and the dumb idea was floating about in the back of my brain. At the very least to ask him about liking me. It did always bother me that he never told me about any of his crushes or love life, Like I had told him. But I never did end up telling him that I liked him. I slumped over the chilly marble table I had been perched at. "Ugh. I don't know… we'll see what happens."

After an interesting morning I began to get my things ready. Though I wasn't going over until later today, this was the first time in a while I had free time. Tidying the place up as Mona left for her shift. The sun lit up the usual cool floors. Jamming to my music while folding the usually crumpled up laundry. All topped with a smile. I packed up my bag for the night and that's when my thoughts started to wonder again. Did he like me? why did he become friends with me? 

"Right. I planned to do some shopping." Tossing my worries away by the hot water running down my frame. The smell of sweet strawberries filled the bathroom as I desperately scrubbed it through my untamed hair. By the time I had gotten dressed up and gathered my things it was already twelve. I slid on a rather unusual outfit. A snug black turtle neck and pleated skirt. A pair of white knee highs to contrast. Lastly a pair of black high top converse. With my bag I was out the door. 

First I made a stop at the mall. Grabbing a few snacks for the night. Some of Yoongi's favorites as well as mine. Picking out a new necklace and shirt for myself. A little gift for my hard work y know. Browsing the mall to pass the time. Sipping on boba I had picked up along the way. After endless wandering I took a seat at an empty food court table. Although I had been so excited to meet with Yoongi, I was now getting nervous. Time is passing by so fast.. I had planned to meet him at around three and it was already two forty five. The things Mona and I talked about kept running through my mind. One thought after another tapioca pearl. Did he like me? Do I like him? Should I ask him? Then the last sip of my boba. The last pearl. Spice? nearly choked when the idea came to mind. I shook my flustered cheeks and tossed out the empty cup, making my way to Yoongi’s. 

“Yoongi! Where’s my bag!” An upbeat voice called out near the door. I was currently standing in front of their apartment. The black sleek door, laced with a silver number and slender handle. As for the voice who had been calling the sassy cat-like man. Was none other than Hoseok. After the exchange of a few more words I knocked on the door. More shuffling from inside. I stood awkwardly in the doorway. Another tenant shot me an odd glance after hearing the ruckus behind such a fancy door. Finally the door swung open. Hoseok was the one who greeted me. His light brown short fluffy hair all styled up for a show, his outfit full of accessories. Arms wide open with a huge smile. “Hey! F/N long time no see! Here to keep Yoongi company for me?” 

“Something like that..” My heart flew to my throat once I finally saw Yoongi after Hoseok's bear hug. Though he wasn't wearing anything fancy, a simple black hoodie and ripped jeans. His dark hair had gotten a lot longer since we last met. Even though he had never had long hair. It now sat at the sides of his cheek bones, even longer in the back. It suits him rather well. Yoongi's hand resting on the back of his neck. The many silver rings and earrings he had been wearing were now visible. He stood awkwardly next to his energetic counterpart.

“Don't smother her Hoseok.” He sighed, nudging him out of the way more. Hoseok complied but puppy pouted. 

“Good to see you again F/N! I have a flight to catch. Have fun.~” Hoseok beamed, dragging his bag down the hallway. Leaving the two awkward friends together.. Alone..Yoongi’s gaze caught mine.  My heart was still all over the place. My stomach doing flips. Seriously. We are always so close. Why was there this silence between us? Was he nervous too? Upon further inspection pink dusted his cheeks as we eyed each other down. I still stood, bags in hand in the hallway. 

“Ahem.. apologizes. Come on in. the mess.. Hoseok packed last minute. You know him..” Yoongi scoffed, Closing the door behind me. Grabbing the bags from my hands he set them on one of the fancy marble counters. Then wandering off to the living room picking up random pieces of clothing fired everywhere. While I struggled taking my shoes off at the door. Finally I made my way inside. This was my first time inside his place. Though I've been at the door before to pick him up or meet with him. I've never seen the inside. It was a lot bigger than expected. The whole place was very dark toned. The furniture was almost all black leather. A few small decor pieces such as pillows or the rug were in grays and whites. Other than the few accent pieces full of rainbow crazy color combos. Which of course were Hoseoks. Yoongi met with me near the door as I soaked in everything. He stood with his arms crossed and held a little smirk. “You like?” 

“Wow. it's so dark.” I remarked. My mind was running a mile a minute. Scanning the new place, trying to find things to say or talk about. So really that’s all that would come out. 

“Well. That's because it's evening.” He chuckled to himself slightly. Losing his serious posture. 

“R-right... I brought some stuff.” I went over to the bags of stuff I had brought hauling out some goodies. Showing him one by one like a review channel. He nodded in agreement. 

“I appreciate it. But you didn't have to. Thanks. Here you have your bags with you. I’ll show you where you’ll be staying” Without saying another word he grabbed my bags. Leading me down the hall from the living room. Following his lead to another dark themed room. The walls were dark gray, the rugs black and white. Even the sheets were black. Upon further inspection I was greeted with a computer set up, a mic and..

“Your guitar.” I blurted out. Yoongi on the other side of the room, placed my bags down on the small leather couch. Looking over his shoulder at me. 

“Yeah. it is. Though I don't often use it to record. But I play on occasion. Hope my room’s alright.” Yoongi stated, stalking his way beside me. His gaze fixed on his guitar while I focused on his features. Like studying a test paper. His gaze shifted to mine and we briefly met. Until I turned around and wandered outside. So this was Yoongi's room. He must be staying in Hoseok’s room for me. What is this weird tension? We're like best friends. Maybe it's just because it's been a bit. He joined me outside the room, his slender hand on my shoulder. “Wanna get some food? You pick, I don't care either way.”

“Oh yeah. Uhm? How does jejuk sound?” 

“Sounds good. I'll call it in.” He smiled making his way to the kitchen, reaching for his phone. He tapped away at it for a moment. “You pick a movie, We can start after I order.”

“Sounds good!” I replied. Finally things were easing out. It must have just been that it's been awhile. I've missed this. Not that I've ever been here before. But just relaxing with him. Yoongi’s silk-like voice spoke over the cell hovering by his ear. I made my way over to the large black couch in front of the decently huge TV. Searching the glass tables for a remote. 

“It’s already on. Connect your phone to it.” Yoongi mumbled, flipping the hair out of his face. Continuing the call. He must have noticed my awkward searching. Sitting properly I scrolled through movies we hadn't seen. This was something we used to do often. Watching shows or movies together in highschool. There had been many movies we missed due to our time apart. After scrolling I flicked on a show called ‘coffee prince’. A/N: (Just so you know I only read about this and have no idea what happens in it. Just making it up as I go bare with me T.T ) Honestly it didn't matter if what we watched sucked or not. We would find a way to bond over it somehow. Yoongi flicked off the main bright light, leaving only the TV and kitchen lights. Then sat next to me on the couch with a flop. Running his hands through his silky hair. Resting his elbows on his knees as he slouched over. 

“Food will be here in twenty minutes or so. Wait to get the snacks until we eat?” Yoongi questioned, flopping back on the couch. While I sat stiff, upright. 

“Yeah. dont wanna get full first right? How’s this show?” I gestured, making him look toward the TV my phone had connected to. 

“Sure. Why are you so tense? Relax.” He instructed. Placing his hand on my shoulder once again. Though it was a signal to help me relax, my shoulders tensed. He shot me a questioned yet concerned look. 

“Ahh haha it's just… A new place! I'm not used to things yet. I'm ok. Let's just watch.” total bullshit. I was nervous. What is wrong with me? Am I seeing things? Did he always look this good? 

“If you say so.” He retorted, smirking slightly. Unpausing the first episode the binge began. While scanning the interesting content playing before us I sank into the couch. Finally relaxing and leaning back. Yoongi too leaned back comfortably, his hand resting on the back of his neck. The arm closest to me resting behind the couch cushion. Finishing an episode of the show and the doorbell rang. 

“Right. Dinner. Be right back, we can eat here while we watch.” Yoongi groaned, placing his hands on his knees before standing. I paused the show as he walked off toward the door. Wallet in hand. After little conversation and a small bow, the fresh food smell swarmed the house. I jumped up to help him. Searching for the chopsticks as he pulled out the plastic bowls. Again. I knew little about the layout of this place so I was struggling. He snickered, drawing my attention. “That drawer there. You just couldn't wait huh?” 

“Well. I felt bad.”

“For?”

“You’ve carried my bags, You paid for my food, I'm making you watch a show I picked, wasting your time off and i’m sleeping in your.. room…” My fiery protest ended up making me blush rather than teasing him. I stood in front of the drawer he had pointed me in the direction of. 

“Wasting my time off? I’m glad you showed. It’s been awhile, yes?” Yoongi said slyly, running his hands through his hair. A new found silk in his voice as he spoke. Maybe it wasn't new. Perhaps it was just me paying attention. He now stood in front of me, looking down at me. Meeting his gaze he chuckled. “A little food is no big deal either. If we can hangout, food is a price I'm willing to pay. Are you gonna keep standing there or what?”

“Right! This drawer?” I fumbled about. Opening the drawer we had been standing in front of. My palms sweaty as I handed him one set of silver chopsticks. Rushing back over to the couch, hot bowl in my hands. Placing my dish in front of me on the table. Stuffing my face even though it was hot. Yoongi followed suit. Sitting next to me. Watching me stuff my mouth, my cheeks pinkened. But I didn't even care. 

“Are you alright? You seem off.” Yoongi questioned. Turning to his bowl, blowing on it calmly. 

“Yeah. I'm fine! Just hungry.” though it was a lie. I had been dying to ask him about highschool. If he’d ever had a partner. A crush. Or liked me?! It was driving me mad. 

“Wanna continue this show?” Yoongi signaled his head toward the TV. grabbing my phone, I flicked it back on. Though I had picked the show at random it was pretty good. Shocked to see Yoongi this into it as well. Usually we would chat between boring scenes. But there really weren't any. The couple was quite enjoyable. Something I would mind being like in a relationship. Not something I was expecting with such a title. Let alone something Yoongi would be into. I needed to break this silence. 

“So. What's with the long hair?” I questioned. Finishing up my meal. We were already on the third episode. 

“I haven't  booked a haircut. Thought it looked ok. What you think?” Now he was questioning me. After Yoongi spoke he turned his focus to me. Ruffling his hair as some kind of showcase. Swiping it back again. What do I think? Honestly. It looks fucking great. 

“O-oh yeah it looks good on you. You’ve got nicer hair than me.” satisfied, Yoongi's half chuckle and focus went back to the TV. I had tried to break the silence. But it only seemed to add more. The plot continued to pull ups and downs. The two main characters fall more and more in love in their youth. Yoongi and I haven't spoken since episode three. We were now on five. We had finished our meals rather quickly and snacked on what I had brought over. Some snacks and ‘drinks’ of course. Honestly they helped calm my nerves. Which I didn't expect I'd need until this morning with Mona. I was not in my right mind. And this film wasn't helping. Being all lovey dovey.

(Spice)

 As the romantic scene got more and more intense the silence felt loud. Yoongi’s leg bouncing slightly. Moving the cushion we were both placed on. My mouth hung open after attempting to move the tension somewhere other than the TV. His hand balled in a fist next to his bouncing leg. Attempting to avert my gaze back to the TV but now it was all about Yoongi. He gnawed at his bottom lip slightly. His chest rising and falling somehow relaxingly slow. The spirals in my stomach aching for attention. Ok wow. This is a lot at once. My leg started to bounce alongside Yoongi’s. forbidden thoughts flooded my mind as my gaze fell lower..He clicked his tongue and began to stand up, hands on his knees. Oh. wow. Uhm. I guess he liked this.

“W-wait.” I did it. Finally calling out to him. Grabbing his fist that sat now on his lap. As I clung on desperately. Like I knew I had wanted to for years but was too scared. He shot me back a gaze I couldn't understand. But that slight blush and awkward look away told me all I needed to know. He was embarrassed. And it was fucking adorable. The butterflies in my stomach seemed to have grown claws, making me cling to him. Our thighs touching. Breaking the distance between us. Finally, My small voice broke through the fear and the now silent room. “Uhm.. sorry. About this. I had no idea what this show was about. I didn't bother to check the rating.. Listen. We’ve been close for a while.” 

Yoongi shot me a confused yet worried look. in no attempt to leave. I'm sure he wasn't expecting what was going to come out of my mouth next. Honestly. Neither did I. 

“I picked this show.  And uhm.. It's my fault your.. Y know.. So. Teach me how?” ok really what the fuck. I sound desperate.

“What?” Yoongi cleared his throat. 

“T-teach me how to give a blow job.”

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 29: Prinxiety/Loceit (pt 4)

Aaaand, part 4, the finale! 

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 29:  You have a telepathic link with your soulmate until the two of you meet.

Content warnings: discussion of conversion therapy/after effects, PTSD, food mentions, anxiety/panic attacks, internalized homophobia, mentions of the foster system/abuse (mental, emotional, neglect, past eating disorder), minor self harm/blood, mentions of dissociating.

Word count: 5.1k

Despite Roman’s claims that being around other people would only distract him, and he didn’t want to have to walk to the library every time he had homework, Patton’s constant pleading eventually broke him down. Now, much to his roommate’s delight, they spent every night in the middle of the study floor in the library, and Roman found that he actually looked forward to it. Sometimes someone he knew would walk by, and give him a valid reason to take a short break, and having other people around somehow motivated him to work harder. He was starting to understand the appeal of the place. 

Now, Patton and him were spending their afternoon there between classes, both working on their own projects and sharing a bag of popcorn twists. It was the only oil soaked snack that didn’t leave much residue on their fingers. Roman was deep in thought, struggling to remember an especially flowery Shakespeare monologue for a mock audition next week, when Patton kicked his leg under the table.

“What, Pat?” He took another moment to finish the sentence before he tore his eyes away from the book, surprised at his roommate’s barely contained excitement. 

“You’ve been humming for half an hour!” 

He hadn’t even noticed. He tended to do it a lot without realizing; humming along to his soulmate’s music. Ever since he’d come back almost a year ago, an occurrence he’d never had explained but held onto with fondness, Roman’s heart jumped every time his music played. It was just like old times, their old system immediately reinstated, and more than once he’d found himself singing along to the melodies in his head. Patton knew this, and could probably tell by the genre whether Roman was listening to his soulmate’s songs, or just had his own earworm.

“No, no, no, I like your humming! That’s not the point!”

“Then what’s the-”

“The guy behind you has his earbuds loud enough to hear!”

Roman strained his ears, and yes, he could barely hear the music coming from behind him. He definitely hadn’t noticed before, too deep in thought to notice something so trivial. But Patton was always on high alert, never able to keep his mind on one thing at a time. 

“Okay, but what does that ha-”

“You’ve been humming the same songs as he’s been listening to for half an hour, Ro! I think he’s your soulmate!”

Roman’s eyes widened and he spun around, effectively dropping his book onto the ground. Yeah, if he concentrated, he could tell that the song in his head was the same as the one just audible through the other’s earbuds.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive!” 

That’s all the convincing Roman needed. He jumped to his feet and rounded the other table so he was face to face with the stranger and knocked on the table a couple times. When he made eye contact, he thought he saw fear in the other’s face, but that couldn’t be right. Roman was not intimidating. The man at the table reached up to pop out one of his earbuds. 

“Hello lovely, I have a question for you,” Roman purred, dropping onto his elbows on the table. 

“I- I don’t-”

Apparently that counted as a meeting, because in that moment, the music in Roman’s head faded into nothingness. And he could tell it wasn’t just the music being paused. He was left with a neutral emptiness he hadn’t felt in a long time, a silence that was rare, and an innate knowledge that it had happened: their link was no longer necessary and had dissipated. Roman grinned wide, barely concealing a squeal. 

“You’re my soulmate!”

He didn’t know what reaction he was expecting, but he sure as hell hadn’t expected the man at the table to get up and sprint out of the building at full speed. 

“Stay here, Ro,” Patton was suddenly at his side, laying a hand on his bicep, “I’ll go after him. I don’t know what just happened but I don’t want it to happen again.”

Patton scooped up the other man’s things from the table and jogged out the library door.

-----

Virgil didn’t know where he was going; he hadn’t planned on running out of the library. Dammit, he hadn’t planned to run into his soulmate. And he knew that was his soulmate, and not just some weird coincidence. Because the moment they’d locked eyes, it was as if something in his mind had snapped, like a rubber band that had always been there but the pressure was so constant he didn’t notice it there until it was gone. Their bond had snapped; it was no longer necessary, because he’d met his soulmate. 

He recognized the guy, just barely. They were in the same first year math class, a course often taken by upperclassmen (probably like his soulmate) because they’d put off getting a math credit until their final years. Logan had warned Virgil of that when he was choosing his first year courses, and so he was safely getting it out of the way so he could focus on his major in the coming years. 

His breathing was choppy and strained as he tried to calm down his panic attack, dropping onto the ground under a large tree. He couldn’t keep running lest he collapse and draw more attention to himself, and that was far worse than anything he could imagine. Fighting the urge to scratch at his skin, he buried his head in his hoodie clad arms, fumbling with one hand to free his phone from his pocket. 

It’s actually a guy, it’s a guy, he’s gay, wrong wrong wrong-

No, not wrong. It’s not wrong.   

Yes it is, it’s going to hurt, you’re going to hurt, wrong wrONG WRONG!

His hands were shaking far too hard to text but he tried anyways, begging Janus to come pick him up early. Logan wouldn’t be done work for another couple hours, and usually Virgil would be fine just doing homework until his dad was ready to drive them home, but he didn’t think he’d be able to handle being on campus much longer. 

“Hey, kiddo?”

Virgil’s head jerked up just as he clicked send, fighting every urge in his body to bolt again. It wasn’t the guy… his soulmate… but someone else he hadn’t met before, panting. 

“Heya, my name’s Patton! You ran out without your stuff, so I brought it!”

Oh, he was holding his backpack, and his folder under one arm. Virgil was just trying to encourage his legs to move, to stand so he could take his things, when the stranger dropped into the grass in front of him. He flinched. 

“Here ya go,” He pushed it towards him like a child trying to coax out a scared cat, “I’m so sorry me and Ro scared you. He just gets over excited sometimes. I promise he’s actually very gentle.”

Virgil stared, pulling in a halting breath. 

“The guy who ran up to you, that’s Roman. I’m his roommate, by the way. I’m Patton. Did I introduce myself? Doesn’t matter. I’m a third year psychology major. Roman’s in third year too, music and theatre major.”

He should probably introduce himself too, but his hands were frozen, clamped around his phone, and he found his voice wasn’t cooperating. That didn’t deter the other dude, though.

“Here, I wrote out both of our numbers. Roman feels super bad for scaring you, so you can take your time, if you want.” He delicately placed a ripped piece of notebook paper on the backpack between them, “His is the first one. But I put mine in there too, so you can text me if you want to talk. The more friends, the better.”

Virgil’s phone buzzed, alerting him of Janus’ response.

“I’ll let you be, okay? Remember to text!” With an exuberant wave, he dashed back to the library. Virgil read Janus’ panicked message, asking what had happened, in a bit of a daze. His dad agreed to come get him, so he stuffed the paper into his pocket and slung his backpack over his shoulder.

-----

Janus had asked him not to go into his room when he was so worked up, instead giving him free reign of the living room while the older restarted the dinner he’d abandoned in favor of picking his son up. He’d turned on the TV for Virgil, changing the channel to a nature documentary, given Virgil his favorite weighted blanket, and left him with strict orders to call him if he started spiraling or needed a hug. 

The distraction had worked for a while, the soothing voice of the narrator almost lulling him to sleep, until his racing brain had come to the conclusion that this was the worst thing to ever happen in the history of ever and that he was going to die alone. He’d been a little hopeful that his soulmate would be a girl, to somewhat appease his trauma, but life was never that easy. A part of him had also been a little miffed about that hope, because as much as he liked to pretend, he had a preference for boys. A big preference. And his soulmate was cute. 

“Everything okay, Virgil?” Janus called through the pass through window into the kitchen, taking his eyes off his food preparation to watch his son’s pacing. 

“Yup!” He lied, picking and scratching at the skin of his hands out of his dad’s view. The pain settled him a little, giving him something he could control, but he knew he’d get a figurative slap on the wrist for it later. A concerned slap, not an angry one. Maybe more of ‘a cuddle on the couch and wrap the little patches of broken skin and an update with his counsellor’. So not really a slap. At all. As it usually went. 

Everything was wrong. What kind of shit first impression had he given his soulmate? Getting up and running away like an actual child? And that was only part of it. He was damaged goods, a broken person, who needed more help and reassurance than any other person. How could he explain to his soulmate that he was the cause of his problems without making him feel guilty? That wasn’t the life the man had signed up for, wasn’t the soulmate burden he’d wanted. He would want someone easy, someone who wouldn’t have panic attacks when they got shocked by a door knob, who didn’t stop eating when they were scared, who pressed pause on life when he woke up in a dissociating headspace. He couldn’t say that to him. He’d lost everything, that vague musical connection to an invisible soulmate, that had given him a subtle hope. It had been a quiet illusion, a promise that he’d be fine if it were never fulfilled. Knowing there was someone out there, providing him music, had been enough. But now…

“Virgil, hold these for me.”

When had Logan gotten home? He put his hands out obediently, clenching the fingers over the ice cubes placed in each palm. The sensation startled him and sent a shiver up his spine.

“Four, seven, eight. Ready?”

He followed the breathing pattern eagerly, feeling the curls of anxiety in his stomach slowly settle into butterflies. When he was breathing normally, an overwhelming sense of dizziness almost knocked him over. Logan took his arm and led him to the couch.

The next moment, Janus was kneeling in front of him, rubbing disinfectant into his few bloody scratches, the melting water dripping through his fingers and onto the carpet. 

“I should have noticed,” he murmured as he stuck a couple bandaids onto each hand, refusing to meet Virgil’s eyes.

“Don’t blame yourself, Janus. I don’t think it was happening for too long,” Logan assured, running a hand down Virgil’s spine. “Did this have to do with the reason you left school early today?”

Virgil nodded.

“Are you nonverbal?”

“No,” he choked, clearing his throat, “Just dry throat.”

“I got it,” Janus leapt to his feet and hurried to the kitchen.

With a heavy sigh, Virgil leaned into Logan’s side, the hand on his back traveling to wrap around his shoulder comfortingly. The last drops of the ice cube hit the carpet, and he dried his hands off on his jeans. “I met my soulmate today.”

“I see,” Logan said. For the umpteenth time, Virgil was beyond grateful that Logan was an expert at masking reactions. It made difficult conversations easier.

“It’s a guy.”

“How did that go?”

“I ran out of the library and had a panic attack. His roommate brought me my stuff and gave me their numbers. I made an idiot out of myself.”

Logan was quiet, giving Virgil a little squeeze. A water glass was pressed into his hands and Virgil downed the whole thing, passing it back to Janus, who placed it on the coffee table. 

“I think… I think I’m magnifying. Maybe.” He described his thoughts that led to his spiral as quickly as possible, feeling slightly pleased when Logan agreed with his hypothesis. 

“You are definitely magnifying. Good job for recognizing that, Virgil. You don’t even know him, much less what he thought of your interaction.”

“What’s our next step?” Janus spoke up, resting a hand on Virgil’s knee and rubbing it with his thumb.

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Can you sleep on it, and message him tomorrow?”

Virgil thought about for a second before shaking his head even harder, “No. I have class with him tomorrow, and we’re getting a study guide for a test. I can not miss it. But what if he comes up to me, or wants to talk, and I embarrass myself again, and-”

His dads both hushed him at the same time and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes against Logan’s side. “What do I do?”

“You could message him tonight,” Janus drawled.

“Are you crazy?” He shrieked, “No! What would I even say? ‘Hey, you freaked me out today, sorry for running like a lunatic’?!”

“Why not explain the cause for your hasty escape?” Logan piped in.

“That’s way too much to load onto him as a first conversation.”

“Not all the gory details, just a vague explanation. That’s how I started talking to Logan,” Janus stated, adjusting his position on the floor. “If he’s your soulmate, Virge, he’ll be okay to deal with this. It’ll come out eventually, and if something else happens, it will be nice for him to have some context.”

Virgil groaned. “I hate when you make sense.”

“We can help you construct an adequate message.” Logan squeezed him again, meeting Janus’ eyes with a small smile.

“Fine.” Virgil snarled, pulling out his phone and the two numbers, typing the first one into his ‘new contact’ list. “Okay, what do I say?”

-----

V: Hey, I’m Virgil. We met earlier today. In a manner of speaking.

R: OMG, hi! I’m Roman. I am SO sorry for startling you!

V: It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. 

R: I still feel bad DX

“He feels bad, what do I do?!”

“I would suggest explaining the reason you ran off to ease his concerns.”

“Me too. But ask first, and don’t give more details than you’re comfortable with.”

V: Can I be brutally honest for just a second?

R: Should I be nervous? Haha go ahead!

V: I was forced into conversion therapy about a year back, and I still carry a lot of the trauma with me. That’s why I ran. It was just gut instinct.

“He’s not responding, oh god, he’s going to block me, why isn’t he responding?!”

“I assume this news would take a moment to process. Focus on your breathing, Virgil. Don’t magnify.”

“You also sent it, like, ten seconds ago.”

R: Holy shit, that’s terrible. I’m so sorry. 

“...That’s not what I expected.”

“This is a regular reaction from a human being with even a lick of common sense, Virgil.”

“Seconded.”

V: It’s okay, I have a really great support system now. 

R: That’s good. I’ve never experienced anything like that, so I can only imagine how hard that was. 

R: I don’t expect you to answer if you don’t want to or don’t know, so please don’t feel pressured, but do you know what kind of soulbond we have? Is it platonic?

“Shit, fuck, who do I answer that?”

“With the truth, I’d imagine. Do you have an answer to his question?”

“Remember what I told you, kid. Your own pace.”

“Logan, if I explain it, can you put it into words? Please?”

V: I’m not averse to a possible romantic relationship in the future, but at the moment I am still learning to become comfortable with myself, as I have negative connections to that part of my identity that can become problematic if not properly worked through at my own pace.

R: Give me a couple seconds to decode that

V: My dad wrote it, he’s a prof. I have both of them helping me not freak out right now. 

R: You might want to date one day, but you need to take it slow because of your trauma. 

V: Uhm… yeah. I could have said it like that. 

R: Is talking to me upsetting you? We can always talk another time.

V: No, I’m okay. 

R: Okay, then as far as I’m concerned, we move at your pace. That’s not an issue for me at all. 

“I… oh. He’s… wow.”

“I agree with your sentiment.”

“I like this boy already.”

“DAD!”

R: Your dad’s a prof? 

V: One of them is. He teaches at our school, Prof Sanders. 4th year chemistry?

R: Oh shit. I’m in his class.

V: Lol he thinks he knows you

R: You have two dads?

V: Yep

R: That’s so cool. I’d really love to meet them.

V: Wow, we met today and you’re already wanting to meet my parents?

R: Heeey, I want to meet them as a FRIEND. 

V: My dad says after the semester’s over, you’re free to come by

One at a time, Virgil’s dads left him on the couch with an ear to ear grin, Janus to reheat dinner and Logan following him just so he could cling to his husband's waist as he moved around the kitchen. Neither of them wanted to disturb the little bubble their son was in. 

-----

In the weeks following, they’d started to sit together in the one class they shared. Virgil had begun to join him and Patton on their nightly library study sessions, and after some more gentle convincing, had given in to sitting with their whole friend group during meals at the cafeteria. He was growing more comfortable with Roman, no doubt about that.

Didn’t mean he wasn’t fighting off an anxiety attack as he waited by the door to get picked up for their first outing alone.

He kept checking his phone and glancing out the peephole as Janus ran calming fingers through his hair. Virgil leaned into the touch instinctively, consciously slowing his breathing as Janus hummed. Logan was watching him from the entrance to the hall, leaning on the kitchen door frame. There wasn’t much he could do, but dammit if he wasn’t going to watch his son go off on the most anxiety inducing situation of all of their lives.

“You’ll be okay, kid,” Janus muttered, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “You’ve been friends with him for a while now, and he said there were no expectations. You’re in total control here.”

“What if I have a flashback, or a panic attack, or go nonverbal or something? He’s going to freak the fuck out and then all the work will be for noth-”

Logan spoke up. “You’re worried about things that may not even happen. And besides, haven’t you spoken to Roman about these things already?”

“A bit. Not in detail,” he whispered.

“I would suggest you do so, today if possible. It will make any possible situations that arise easier and less jarring to deal with.”

Virgil looked up at Janus, a pleading look in his eyes.

“He’s right, kid. The sooner you get it out of the way, the better.”

There was a knock at the door and Virgil nearly jumped out of his skin. To his disdain, Janus backed away until he was next to Logan, gesturing at the door with a small smile. Virgil growled out a curse and opened the door, the scowl on his face melting into a sickeningly authentic smile.

“How’s my favorite emo? Hi Mr. Sanders, hey Prof.”

“Hello.”

“Salutations.”

“Your favorite emo?” Virgil snarked, pulling on his jacket. It wasn’t cold, not in the slightest, but he’d rather have the extra layer.

“You’re the only emo I know, so the choice is easy.”

“By process of elimination, doesn’t that also imply I’m your least favorite emo too?”

“Don’t start this again, Mr. Son-of-a-professor.”

“I’ll start it if I want to!”

The door closed behind them with one final wave to his parents, and the house was quiet. Janus leaned into Logan’s waiting arms, resting his head on the other’s collar bone. 

“He’s all grown up.”

“That he is, my love.”

-----

Virgil smirked as Roman set out a large cliche picnic blanket, gesturing for him to sit. He did, crossing his legs and leaning on his knees as the other began to unload the basket. 

“Okay, so for sandwiches, I have turkey, peanut butter and jelly, and ham. Patton made me bring apple slices because he’s a dad, but I’m sure we can convince the ducks to eat them.”

To prove his point, a group of ducks paddled out from under a weeping willow half submerged in the creek.

“I like apples,” Virgil defended, grabbing a slice from the open container and shoving the whole thing in his mouth. “How many people were you intending to feed with that much food?”

Roman pouted from behind a container of potato salad. “I had to show off my food skills, duh.”

“You made that?” Virgil asked with raised eyebrows as Roman set out a tin of mini quiches and a smaller one stacked with brownies and cookies. 

“The cookies were Patton’s, but he insisted I take some. And I would have bought more, but…” He tipped the basket towards Virgil, revealing the bottom absolutely filled with different canned drinks and water bottles. “I didn’t know what you wanted to drink.”

Virgil actually did laugh as he stretched forward to snag a Doctor Pepper, taking another apple slice as he sat back. 

“Do you have a sandwich preference?” Roman asked, choosing a Sprite for himself. 

“Turkey looks good.” Virgil said before his choice paralysis could come into play, breathing a sigh of relief as Roman handed one of the sandwiches to him. The less stress he added to his own life, the better. 

Roman had been right to bring an assortment of food, because dammit, he was a really good chef. Virgil was nervous to try a quiche, since he’d never had them before and the texture was odd to him, but Roman assured that if he didn’t like it, he’d eat it instead. Apparently he wasn’t eeked out by germs. After a nibble though, Virgil ate almost half the tin. Who knew cold eggs could be good? Roman took the ham sandwich, and they split the PB&J. The ducks were more than pleased to be given Roman’s half of the apple slices but Virgil refused to share, since fresh fruits were still a treat after a life of preserves. The younger wasn’t a huge fan of the potato salad, so Roman eagerly finished it, seemingly more excited to move onto the desserts but not wanting to leave any leftovers. 

They were just finishing up the frankly absurd amount of cookies and brownies when Roman broke their casual bickering, chasing a chocolate chip bite with a long swig of Sprite and tossing another apple to their swarm of awaiting ducks.

“So, tell me a bit about yourself, Virge.”

“What do you want to know?” Virgil replied, leaning back on his hands. 

“Anything, really. Childhood, siblings, favorite color, darkest fear.”

“Quite a spectrum, there.” There was a lot he could talk about, but he felt it might be better to get the bigger things out of the way. Janus was sort of the leading expert on this kind of thing, so his advice had probably been sound. He brushed his hands together to get the crumbs off them as he spoke, “Okay, so I grew up in the foster system.”

Roman tried to hide his wince. “Ouch. I’ve heard a lot of bad things.”

“It’s fucked,” Virgil drawled, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn, “I spent most of my time in a group home, though, because I was called ‘difficult’. No one wanted to deal with my ass.”

“Why?”

“Mmm, ran away, didn’t listen, talked back, antagonized any biological kids.”

“So like, a normal teenager?” The last apple slice was sacrificed to the feathered hoard. 

Virgil snorted, “Yeah, but I came with a receipt. And I kind of liked the group home more.”

“How many kids were in the home?”

“Never more than fifteen. It was a big home. But they circulated, and I was like a housecat. Never gone for more than a month.”

“Jeez,” Roman sighed, taking a sip of his soda. 

“My foster homes weren’t better.”

“Oh?” It was a subtle encouragement to keep talking, but now it was getting into territory that Virgil liked to avoid. 

“One of my foster houses was really neglectful, forgot to give us food, didn’t let us do laundry, that kind of stuff. Gave me a wicked ED. I was twelve.”

Roman grimaced.

“My next one was more emotionally and mentally manipulative. I was kind of made into a babysitter for their younger bio kids. I had to get them ready for school, make them dinner, just basically be a parent. After I ran away from them, they started having trouble placing me. I was older, had a shitty record, kind of a left over. I mean, I deserved it. I was a dick.”

“You were a kid, Virgil.”

“A kid who chose to make his own life harder.” He shrugged, “That’s why I was placed into… that home. They were a last resort place for other ‘trouble kids’.”

Virgil took a deep breath and, with Janus’ words in his mind, began to explain his attempted conversion; the slip of tongue that led to the placement, the verbal abuse, food deprivation, electroshock therapy, the snuck antipsychotics, forced isolation, ending with the day the wife had called the police behind her husband’s back out of guilt and he was rescued. 

Roman was quiet for a long minute after he finished talking, staring entranced at the can in his hands. The ducks had dispersed during Virgil’s story, upset at the lack of food. 

“I…”

Virgil waited for him to get up and leave, to say with false apologies that he didn’t think they would work out, that the connection was wrong. Because who would want to deal with him, his stupid trauma? But the man next to him didn’t move except to breathe, and Virgil took that as an invitation to continue, his tone quieter.

“I was super out of it for a while. Honestly, I don’t remember the rescue, or like a solid month after that, except for snippets here and there. The drugs were fucky. And then my social worker, god bless her heart, found Janus and Logan. Janus was in CT too for a while when he was younger, so they took me in. Took a long time, but I opened up to them, but by then I was eighteen. They still insisted on adopting me, though, and there’s absolutely no convincing Logan once he’s made his mind up, so… they did.” He waved his hands around a little. 

“Three months,” Roman blurted out of nowhere, making Virgil flinch.

“What?”

“Were you in ther-... CT for three months?”

“Two and a bit, why?” The moment it was out of his mouth, he realized the implications, and his heart froze.

“You were gone for three months. I thought you died, or… I don’t even know.” Roman looked like he was about to cry, watching Virgil imploringly. Him going MIA must have affected his soulmate more than he’d thought. 

“Two months of CT, and then another one before I got a new phone. I’m…” All the guilt he’d felt at the time came rushing back, the reminder of his soulmate’s music dwindling to almost nothing and him being helpless, “I’m sorry. Shit, I’m so sorry. That must have been…” 

“No, Virgil, you don’t get to apologize. That was not your fault.” He reached out a hand as if to grab Virgil’s and immediately pulled back, wringing his fingers instead. “Sorry, my choice of comforting is physical. But I won’t.”

“Thank you,” Virgil choked out, running his hands through his hair.

“Can you look at me?”

He did, taking a shuddering breath. He was moments away from a panic attack and he was not looking forward to that disaster. 

“You were being- quite literally- tortured for months. You were abused in ways that shouldn’t be legal, and you came out the other side stronger. Frankly, I’m amazed at your perseverance. You’re amazing.”

Simultaneously, Virgil felt a hot blush rise to his ears, and a sharp jolt run through his arms into his chest. He jerked violently, tipping over his own soda onto the grass. 

“Shit, did I say something wrong?” Roman gasped, reaching over to pluck up the can before it could spill more. It was already half empty, thank goodness. 

“No, I just… do that. Sometimes. From… CT. Kind of like ghost shocks, I guess.” Why couldn’t the ground just open up and swallow him whole, he wondered. He hadn’t done that jerk thing in front of anyone in so long. The last time had been in front of his now-parents, and they’d quickly grown used to it. He’d grown used to their own contact very soon and his twitches had stopped after he was accustomed to it, but it had never been directed towards him, and he had a feeling he’d need time to stop his impulse reactions. 

“And me calling you amazing…”

“Triggered them. It’s an exposure thing though, so I’ll just need to get used to it. Don’t blame yourself.” He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes until bright white flashes of light burst into his vision. Suddenly, he was exhausted. 

“Do you want me to drive you home?” Roman asked, already packing up their picnic basket. Virgil nodded, his social meter drained, and all ability to be a civil person was quickly deteriorating. His therapist said that would also begin to heal after a while. 

Roman was an absolute angel though, letting the silence linger so Virgil could cradle his slowly growing headache, even opening the door of his car like a perfect gentleman. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Virgil rested his head against the seat and let a tiny smile tug at his lips. It would be a long process to retrain his brain (in theory, he was okay with being in a relationship with a man, but actually doing it? Infinitely harder), but for once, he was actually looking forward to the process. 

Would you guys like a collection of one shots surrounding Virgil’s gradual warming up to his new family, a decent mix of angst and fluff? I have some ideas. 

Thanks for reading! Now, a taglist. 

@sapphic-satan

@anxious-logic

@wigsnatchedhoteltrivago

@extraintrovertedalien

@punk-academian-witch

@ray-does-stuff

@chimneychimney

@i-cant-find-a-good-username

@falsemood

@wtf-casper

@cpmansion

@killjoyjay

@fandomfan315

@anxious-darkwolf

@eternalmoonlight19

@winterwynd

@espepspes

@ironwoman359

@willowaudreykeyes

@mycatshuman

@weweregoddesses

@im-an-anxious-wreck

@imknittingahat

@surohsopsisofclouds

@korsaromantic66

@astraheart04

@quartz-z

@mikalya12

@koalas-in-coffee

@isabelle-stars

@a-ghostlight-for-roman

@existentialeggdogg

@pumpkinminette

@coffeeflavoredtears525600

@wyvern-tales

@heyhalloween

@grayson-22

@bullet-tothefeels

@mostlikelytokillyouwithaspoon

@lovelivingmydreams

@sarcasmremovedsoul

@crofterskinnie

@blissbiscuit

@baka-monarch

@lostspacecat

@green-call

[prettyboybarzal]

We Don’t Have To Take Our Clothes Off

Pairing: Sammy Blais x Reader

Word Count: 6.9k

Warnings: Lots of smut. Again. Some unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) and light choking. I think that’s all! 

A/N: This is the sequel to Get You, however I think it could be read as a stand alone. I hope you enjoy! This is probably the quickest fic I’ve ever written. Please let me know what you think!!! xoxo Btw, this is inspired by the song of the same name by Ella Eyre! 

Previous Part // Masterlist

“Okay, I printed your boarding ticket. It’s with your passport on the kitchen counter. Do not forget them tomorrow.”

You were standing at the end of your bed with your back to the door, shoving away the last of the clothes you needed for your trip to St. Louis. Your stomach turned, bottom lip quivering at the worry you felt all over.

“YN?” your roommate called when you didn’t respond. She approached you slowly, hand coming to rest against your back as she stepped up beside you. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay,” you admitted. Truthfully, it felt good to say it out loud. You pushed your bag away and sat on the bed with a sigh. “This is, what, the third time in the past two months we’ve planned a weekend to spend together? Still, no label. It’s like he wants to act like a boyfriend, but he doesn’t want to lock it down. I don’t know what to think.”

“Okay,” she said slowly as she sat beside you. “Well, it’s gotta be a good sign that he wants to spend weekends with you. That’s three whole days together. With his busy schedule that has to mean something.”

“Yeah, but what is he doing the rest of the time?”

Hooking up with Sammy after his return from St. Louis proved to be a great decision. You spent the summer together whether it was between the sheets or hanging out around your friends and every moment was sweeter than the one before. But Summer didn’t last forever and he needed to leave for training camp, so he had to say goodbye. Except he didn’t. Instead, he handed you a ticket to visit him on the weekend of the Blues home opener.

You spent nearly the entire weekend in bed together, save for the moments he spent on the ice with you watching him. By the time you landed back home that Sunday night, you could hardly walk. 

During your second visit it was much of the same, but that time he actually made a reservation at a five-star restaurant. Sitting across from him in such an intimate setting was the catalyst to the anxiety about where the two of you stood. 

Was he in this just for the sex? Or was this something more?

You hoped it was something more.

---

Sammy didn’t really find a special interest anyone, so when he came back from the off season with a little more pep in his step, Vince just knew. 

“Who’s the girl?”

“How’d you know there’s a girl?”

“You got this swagger to you, Blais,” Vince answered with a grin. “You walked in here with a pimp walk.”

“Her name’s YN,” Sammy told him, cheeks burning red at the thought of the nights you spent together. “She’s a friend from home.”

“Something tells me she’s a little bit more than a friend.”

“I mean, we’re just hooking up,” Sammy said dismissively. Vince nodded, not even the slightest bit aware of any underlying feelings there might’ve been. When you came to visit, he couldn’t ignore the glaring feelings Sammy had for you. It was evident in the way he frantically cleaned the apartment the day before and how he made sure to stock up on snacks you liked, even though you’d only be there for a few days and he was planning on taking you out to eat for most of your meals. 

After meeting you, Vince understood why Sammy was so into you and he also knew that there was no way this was just a hookup. 

While you were packing your bags at home, Sammy was working on the apartment. He was dusting and vacuuming and putting all of his bedding through the wash in preparation for your arrival. Vince watched in amusement from the couch, offering no support whatsoever.

“You’re so into her.”

Sammy ignored him as he folded up one of the blankets on their couch and threw it over the back.

“This weekend’s the big weekend, right?” he asked, hoping that his best friend would finally come to his senses and wife you up. The look on Sammy’s face indicated that maybe it wasn’t the big weekend and Vince’s jaw dropped. “You got her tickets to sit with the girls tomorrow. Doesn’t that basically mean she’s your girlfriend?”

“I mean, I haven’t asked.”

“You should.”

“I know,” he grumbled. He was in the middle of fluffing the decorative pillows Vince’s mom sent them. Vince grabbed one and fluffed it for him, realizing that Sammy was in a state of distress. “I wanna ask. I just don’t know when to do it.”

“Ask when you pick her up.”

“That’s not romantic at all.”

“Then ask her when you get back here,” Vince suggested. “Get her a bouquet of flowers or something and just ask.”

---

“Welcome back to the Lou!” Sammy exclaimed as you walked towards him outside baggage claim. Despite the anxiety pit at the bottom of your stomach, you grinned when you saw him. He was dressed in his usual uniform--joggers and a Blues t-shirt--and as you folded into his arms, you felt like you were home. “How was the flight?”

“It was great,” you answered. You began to pull away, but he kept you close to his chest. “First class was a little unnecessary.”

“Not for you,” he murmured. And then he leaned down to kiss you, but you tilted your head just slightly only allowing his kiss to fall against your cheek.

There was nothing but panic coursing through his veins as he released you from his arms. He stepped away and pulled the door open for you after taking your duffel bag off your hands. While he rounded the truck, he tried to piece together any indication that you might’ve been mad at him leading up to this weekend, but he was coming up empty.

He put on a brave face as he slid into the driver’s seat, smiling softly when he asked what you wanted to listen to on the way back to his apartment. You took the aux, shuffled your liked songs, and watched the city of St. Louis whizz by from his passenger side window. 

Sammy kept glancing over at you, frustration and confusion clear on his face. You could feel his eyes every time he did so, like they were burning holes in your skin. Finally, you returned his gaze and offered him a smile before reaching out to lace your fingers with his and place them in your lap.

“Welcome back, YN,” Vince greeted as soon as you stepped through the apartment doors. He was on the couch, video game controller in his hand. He hardly even spared you a look, having gotten used to your presence in their apartment throughout the first two months of the season.

“Thanks, Dunner.”

“I’m going to go put your bag away and then run to the bathroom,” Sammy spoke softly. He ran a hand over your hair, cupping the back of your head as he looked down at you. “Meet me in my room?”

You nodded and accepted the kiss that he decided to place against your forehead. Guilt washed over you as you realized he was avoiding your lips, admittedly for a really good reason. 

“How was your flight?” Vince asked after Sammy was gone. His question was followed up with a string of curses as he died in the game on the television. He turned after exiting to the main screen and smiled up at you. “I heard Mr. Blais pulled out all the stops this time around.”

“I told him that I didn’t need first class.”

“I told him you’d say that,” Vince said. “He said that he didn’t care.” You laughed nervously, which was noted by the boy on the couch, and he gnawed at his lip while debating his next words. “He’s been talking about this weekend since the last time you were here.”

“Yeah?”

“Non-stop,” he answered, a playful eye roll to go along with it. You couldn’t help but smile as you allowed yourself to daydream about that thought. “Anyway, you go get your man. I’ll be in here, so don’t be too loud or anything.”

“Like you don’t wanna hear it,” you teased, turning to head off to Sammy’s room.

“You know what?” Vince called after you. “Be as loud as you want.”

Your laughter echoed through the apartment and Sammy, who was in the bathroom washing his hands, grinned at the sound of it. 

Sammy’s room, once again, was immaculate. His bed was made, there was no laundry in his laundry basket, and he even had a bouquet of flowers sitting on his nightstand. You ran your fingers along the petals, cheeks heating up at the thought of him going out of his way to get them.

Why hadn’t you kissed him at the airport? The little voice inside your head was going to ruin everything before you had the chance to make it really good. You felt guilty, and so you needed to make it up to him. You pulled your shirt over your head and then slipped off your leggings, leaving you in just the lace set you’d thrown on for the trip. 

---

Sammy spent the last few weeks thinking about kissing you, touching you, and then you greeted him like he was a stranger. His whole plan had been tossed out of the window after you dodged that kiss. The meaning of the flowers waiting for you on his bedside table completely diminished. He couldn’t ask you out. He wasn’t even sure you wanted it now.

When he entered his bedroom, he was actively trying to put it all behind him and he succeeded because when he pushed the door open, he found you laying against his pillows half-naked.

“Fuck.”

You laughed as he ran his hands over his face to compose himself. 

“Fuuuuck.”

“I missed you,” you spoke softly, spreading your legs for him. He threw his head back before kicking the door closed and approaching the bed, a dark look in his eyes. He crawled up the mattress towards you, hands coming to push your legs apart even farther.

He placed a kiss against the fabric covering your mound. You gasped and he smiled, happy to hear that sound again. He continued a path of kisses up your stomach through the valley of your breasts to your lips.

“I need you,” you spoke in that breathless and airy voice he loved so much. “Sammy, please fuck me.”

He wasn’t sure that he had enough time for this, but he was dying to be inside of you so he threw caution to the wind. He hooked his fingers in your panties and tugged them down. He tossed them towards the corner of the room haphazardly and reached towards his sweats to pull them down and do the same. His boxers were quick to follow. 

“Condom?” he asked. You nodded, but he was already reaching towards the bedside table.

You stared at his hand as he popped his length and then rolled the condom on. Finally, he slotted himself between your thighs and brushed the head of his cock along your folds.

“Fuck, YN,” he moaned as he entered you. He did so slowly, savoring every bit of the way you tightened around him and your hands grasped his shoulders. It never got old listening to the way you whimpered as he filled you up and then pulled out to do it again. He hooked one of your legs over his hip and fucked you nice and slow.

“You like that, baby?” he asked, eyes trained on your lips and the way they parted with each movement. You nodded. “You’re so good for me.”

And you’re so good for me, you thought, though you didn’t dare voice it.

He grabbed your wrists in one hand and pinned them above your head as he fucked you, each thrust hitting the right spot because Sammy had studied your body for months and knew exactly what he was doing.

Your moans were soft and quiet, polite even considering Vince was just beyond the bedroom door. You arched your back and pressed your chest against Sammy’s, the feeling of his sweatshirt soft against your skin. If he continued rolling his hips into you like he was, you’d cum in no time. Missing him always meant a quicker orgasm when you were back together.

Suddenly, his phone started ringing. A groan ripped through his chest as it heaved from the work he was putting in. He dropped your wrists as he glanced over to the screen, still moving inside of you in case the call didn’t need to be answered and he could continue. Much to his dismay, Thommer’s name flashed across the screen.

He met your eyes a little uneasily.

“I need to answer.”

“Okay,” you squeaked.

He reached over to the phone and answered, pressing it to his ear while still seated inside you. 

“What’s up?” he greeted his teammate. His head dropped to your shoulder as he nodded along with whatever was being said on the other end of the phone. “Already?”

You wanted to shove him off, push him away and slip into the bathroom for a shower and a good cry. 

“Yeah, okay,” he spoke, eyes searching your face for a sign as to how you were feeling. Your eyes wouldn’t meet his and he knew he was fucked. “I’ll tell Vince. See you in fifteen.”

When he ended the call, he dropped the phone beside you and cursed in French as he pulled out of you.

“YN, I’m so sorry. Thommer’s on the way,” he groaned. “I have to get ready to leave.” 

Your mouth opened and then snapped shut as he placed one last kiss against your lips before standing. As he shuffled about the room, you pulled his comforter up to your chin and rolled to your side, eyes shutting to prevent yourself from crying.

“Are you mad at me?”

“No, it’s fine,” you answered without opening your eyes. He frowned as he stared down at you. “I’ll see you after the game.”

He could see right through you. He knew you were mad, but instead of getting into it, he said, “I’m leaving you one of my t-shirts and I talked to O’Reilly earlier about having his wife pick you up so you have someone to go with. Oh, and those flowers are for you.”

“Thanks.”

You heard him crouch down beside the bed.

“Hey,” he whispered. Your eyes fluttered open and met his gaze. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“I’m not upset, Sammy.”

“You’re not a good liar,” he said, lip quirking up in a lopsided smile. You stuck your tongue out at him as he stood, sauntering off to grab some of his things for the rink. He dropped them by the door before returning to your side of the bed and leaning over you. “I’ll see you later.”

“Good luck tonight.”

“I don’t need luck,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your lips. “You’ll be there.”

---

“There’s still no label?”

“Nope.”

“But you want it, don’t you?”

“More than anything.”

Your cheeks flushed as soon as the words hit the air between you and the WAGs. A few of them squealed in excitement, some nodded as if they understood the predicament you were in. This was your third time around them and they were very invested in the situationship between you and Sammy. They loved him, and they loved you now that they’d gotten to know you, so they were just waiting for the question to be popped.

“Well, you’re coming out with us tonight, right?”

“I didn’t even know there was something going on after the game.”

“Sammy’s getting selfish on us, huh?” one of them asked. “Wants you all to himself.”

“We’re going downtown,” another said. “It’s just a small thing.”

“You need to come. Make him sweat a little bit.”

They had you convinced, though it wasn’t hard to do, and you waited for Sammy eagerly outside the locker room to convince him too. 

“Ready to go home?” he asked as soon as he caught up to you. His arm slid over your shoulders, pulling you into him so he could peck your lips. Your eyes caught the girls just over his shoulder as you returned his kiss, their eyebrows raised expectantly. When you looked back up at him, you felt pretty confident in yourself.

“I want to go out with your team and the girls.”

“Really?” he asked, sounding a bit annoyed. You nodded and his shoulders dropped as a frustrated sigh slipped past his lips. You pouted up at him, twirling the hair at the nape of his neck between your fingers as you waited for him to give in to you. “Alright, alright, fine.”

You hopped up excitedly and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before grabbing his hand and tugging him to the car.

--- Sammy didn’t want to be out with his team. He wanted to be alone with you, at home with his hands exploring every inch of your body. Instead, he was watching you mingle with his teammates and their girlfriends and wives while he waited for you to return from the bar. 

He watched you, groaning internally each time someone new stopped you to catch up. It was all well and good that the team liked you this much, but he wanted his time with you. When you finally arrived back at the table, you had a drink for him and one for yourself as well. He grabbed you by the hips once you were within reach and pulled you down into his lap.

“You look like you’re having fun.”

“And you don’t,” you teased. 

“I’ve been hard since I left you this afternoon,” he griped. You rolled your eyes, but your lips betrayed you as they curled up at the corners. “I’ve been thinking about fucking you all night.”

“Patience is a virtue.”

“And I’ve been patient,” he spoke, kissing the sensitive spot on your neck. “I’ve been patient for three weeks, waiting for you to come back to me.”

“A few more hours won’t kill you.”

“It might,” he grunted. You laughed softly, rolling your eyes at him as you dropped a kiss to his lips. He smiled into it and watched you carefully as you pulled away and gazed at the room around you.

“Vince isn’t coming home tonight,” he whispered against the shell of your ear. You tilted your head to the side as he trailed his lips along your skin to your shoulder. “I can’t wait to make you scream my name.”

You swallowed thickly as his hand trailed up to your throat, fingers tilting your face towards his. You leaned in and captured his lips with yours, ignoring the whistles from the guys that were returning to the table with drinks.

---

While Sammy locked up the apartment after getting home, you ventured to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. You gazed out at the city of St. Louis through the window above his sink and thought about the anxiety you felt from the uncertainty between the two of you. You were so distracted that you didn’t hear him enter the room until his hands were sliding around your waist.

He attached his lips to the juncture of your neck and shoulder as his arms snaked around your waist from behind. You sighed into him, breath catching in your throat as his fingers trailed over your clothed core.

“I’ve thought about fucking you against every surface in this apartment,” he admitted with a chuckle.

“And?”

“And what?”

“Which one do you think about the most?”

“This one,” he spoke, pressing your hips against the kitchen counter. His breath fanned over the skin of your neck as he spoke, lighting your body up with goosebumps. “Whenever I eat in here, I think about you in one of my t-shirts, nothing underneath. I think about bending you over, pushing the shirt up over your hips, and fucking you until you can’t stand.”

As much as you were hoping this weekend would sing a different tune than the two before, you still figured you should take advantage of what this relationship really was. You never felt as good as you did when he was filling you up, so why deprive yourself of the feeling?

Sammy’s hand felt heavy along your back as he pressed you against the countertop, and you fed into it by wiggling your ass in front of him, inviting him to do what he’d been daydreaming about. 

He spoke your name in a low, warning tone of voice. Why did you have to be so irresistible? He wanted to take you against the counter so fucking bad, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what this weekend really was supposed to be about.

“Don’t you want to make your daydreams a reality?” you asked, glancing at him over your shoulder. His cock was hard against your ass and his hands wandered up and under the shirt you were wearing, searching for any way to touch your skin. You shed yourself of the jean jacket you’d thrown on and Sammy got a good look at his last name on your back.

“Your bra goes, but my shirt stays on.”

He watched as you unclasped your bra and slipped it off from underneath your shirt, dropping it to the floor beside your feet. His hands were on you immediately, trailing up to your breasts and cupping them as he brought your back to his chest. He played with your nipples while sucking a mark into your neck.

One hand trailed down to your jeans, fingers popping the button undone before unzipping them. They danced along the lace at the top of your panties and then slipped beneath the band and down to your slit. Two fingers sunk into your heat as he tugged your earlobe between his teeth.

His cock strained against the pants he was wearing, pressing into your ass as he pumped his fingers inside of you. Your breathing was already heavy and you couldn’t stop your hips from rutting against his palm as he fingered you. 

He pulled his fingers out and grabbed your jeans by the belt loops, tugging them down to your ankles. You shoved your panties down as well, desperate for him to fill you up. You stepped out of them and kicked them to the side. Sammy sank down to his knees, hands on the back of your thighs to spread your cunt open for him. 

“Always so wet for me,” he murmured. He blew some air onto your pussy and you shivered. He sucked a kiss onto your clit and dragged a whimper out of you as your head fell into your hands. He lapped up your wetness and inserted his two fingers back into your pussy. 

“Fuck, Sammy. So good.”

“Talk to me,” he spoke, tufts of air hitting your needy cunt as he spoke. “Tell me how good this feels. Tell me how good I make you feel.”

“No one makes me feel this good except you,” you cried out as the pace of his fingers quickened. That was what he needed to hear to attach his lips to your pussy again. “Sammy, please.”

“Please what?” he asked, licking another stripe up your slit. “What do you want?”

“I want your cock,” you moaned. “I need it.”

He pulled his fingers out and stood. With one arm, he pulled your back to his chest. He lifted his fingers to your lips and you took them into your mouth willingly, tasting yourself and moaning around them as you sucked. You bobbed your head on them, taking them deeper, and as he watched, his other hand fell to his pants to shove them down. 

They fell to his knees, too needy to even undress completely. The thought of it turned you on. He freed his cock and you felt it hot and heavy against your ass. You heard the crinkling of a condom wrapper, as always, and your mind quickly went elsewhere. You yearned to feel him raw, but not if he had other partners. God, you hoped he didn’t have other partners.

He took his time entering you. Your mouth fell open and his fingers slipped out of it, to curl around your throat. He sank into you, milking the sweet sounds that always came when he bottomed out inside of you.

“You take me so well,” he praised, squeezing your throat just enough. You repeated his name a few times as he pulled out again and slammed back into you. “So good for me, right, baby? You’re so good at taking my cock.”

His hand dropped from your throat to push your chest against the counter. The other gripped your ass, bouncing in front of him as he pumped in and out of you, moans filling the room. He praised you as he filled you up, but the compliments weren’t hitting like they used to, your mind was too full of thoughts that betrayed your feelings.

It wasn’t long before he was reaching his orgasm. He’d been dreaming about taking you against that counter for so long that it was hard to hold out. His hand twisted in your hair and his hips sputtered, and he pulled you back to his chest to suck marks into your neck. You weren’t close by any means, but you moaned loudly as he cursed into your neck to give the illusion that you were reaching your peak with him.

He came into the condom and collapsed against your back for a moment, then pulled out. As he placed kisses along your shoulders and the nape of your neck, his post-sex clarity came to him. Those moans weren’t the moans he was used to. Your body didn’t shake like he was used to. He turned you around and the moment he saw your face, his suspicions were confirmed. You didn’t cum.

You pressed up on your toes and kissed him quickly before ducking beneath his arms. 

“I’m going to shower.”

Sammy watched you disappear from the kitchen and stood there stunned for a few moments. He was racking his brain, trying to figure out what went wrong and where. It felt like with every second that slipped by, you were drifting farther and farther away from him.

Once he heard the shower kick on, he gathered the clothes from the kitchen floor and returned to his bedroom to throw them all in the hamper. He stripped down, thinking about you all the while and wondering how he could save this weekend from falling apart completely. It really bothered him that you weren’t enjoying yourself. Not even the sex could do it for you.

He walked over to the bathroom door and stood outside, hesitating even though he wanted to get into your head. Finally, he opened it and stepped inside. You noticed his frame through the steamed up glass and felt a sadness creep over you. He opened the shower doors and stepped into the stream of water from the shower head. You had your back to him, so he curled his arms around your waist and pulled you into him. Your body relaxed into his touch, finally.

“You think I don’t know your body?” he asked, voice gruff in your ear. His hand slid over your stomach and settled just below your belly button as he pulled your back flush against his chest. “I know you faked that orgasm.” He felt your muscles stiffen. “What’s going on in your head? You haven’t been yourself this entire trip. Talk to me.”

“Sammy, I can’t do this anymore,” you blurted out, thankful that he couldn’t see your face. This time, he was the one who tensed up. “The sex is great, but it feels like there’s something more even if there isn’t. I don’t know what’s going on in your head and I don’t know if there are other girls when I’m not around, and I’m not even sure I’m allowed to be upset if there are.”

He spun you around and brought you chest-to-chest. One of his hands trailed along your spine to the small of your back and the other cradled your cheek in his palm. 

“YN, if you hadn’t dodged my kiss at the airport, you would’ve been my girlfriend already,” he spoke. Your brows pulled together. “I bought flowers and everything, but after you didn’t kiss me I didn’t know what to do. It seemed like you just wanted to have sex, so I just thought you didn’t want anything more.”

“Sammy, I--”

“And there are no other girls,” he spoke. “Are there other guys?”

“No, not in forever.”

“So, why are we being stupid?” he asked, hand curling into the back of your hair. He pulled you closer, lips just inches away. “I want you, you want me. Let’s be together.”

“I’d really like that.”

Beneath the warmth of the water, Sammy kissed you long and hard. His arms curled around you, pulling you so tightly to his body that it was uncertain where one of you began and the other ended. 

“I owe you an orgasm,” he whispered against your lips. “Actually, I owe you two.”

“You should add interest.”

“Oh?” he asked, an amused grin forming on his lips. You laughed at his raised eyebrows and squealed when he pushed you up against the shower wall, the head of his cock brushing against your folds and igniting a fire in the pit of your stomach. “I can do that.”

---

You woke up to the feeling of Sammy’s lips against your collarbone and his wandering hands sliding across your stomach. He pulled you tightly to him as you stirred, continuing the shower of kisses up your neck to your cheeks, and finally your lips once you puckered them in invitation.

“I’m taking you on a date today.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah,” he answered simply. “I’ve wanted to take you on a date all weekend, but somehow I just kept ending up between your legs.”

You smacked him playfully, but he just giggled. 

“What’s the plan?”

“Get out of bed and you’ll find out.”

You spent your morning at a local coffee shop, eating breakfast and having the first real conversation in a while. It felt like everything was back to how it was before all the anxiety of labels. He told bad jokes and you laughed at every single one, you caught him up on the gossip at home and he talked about St. Louis and the things him and Vince had gotten up to since the last time you visited. 

After breakfast, you walked the streets of the city. His hand found yours easily and while the both of you blushed, neither acknowledged it. He gave you a tour of the city, something he hadn’t done the first two visits and desperately wanted to do, and you spent a few hours shopping around for clothing and other unnecessary purchases before heading back to his apartment to eat lunch, hang for a while, then get ready for dinner. 

He made reservations that morning for a restaurant all his teammates recommended. It was a highly frequented spot for the couples on the team, so he wanted to christen it with you. He got ready first while you showered and dressed himself in a pair of slacks and a form-fitting button up shirt. Then, he occupied himself with whatever game was on TV and waited for you to emerge from the bedroom.

“Is this too much?” you asked, stepping into the living room in a form fitting black dress that fell to about mid-thigh. He stood, eyes wide and drinking in your body.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured as he stepped forward. He placed his hand delicately against your hip. “This is perfect. Definitely not too much at all, but I don’t know how I’m gonna stop touching you while we’re at dinner. You’re a smoke.”

Thankfully, Sammy behaved at dinner, though it was hard to touch you much from across the table. He held your hand on top of it though. His thumb brushed along the skin on the back of your hand gently and as you talked, he hung on your every word. He ordered a bottle of wine for the table and by the end of the meal, you were a little drunk off him and the alcohol.

The night felt magical, just sitting there and talking with him instead of ripping each other’s clothes off. You couldn’t believe he was your and you were his, and you couldn’t wait for whatever came next. 

Vince told Sammy he’d make himself scarce once again to give you two the privacy you deserved. The moment you walked in the door, Sammy was ushering you to his bedroom.

“Can I please get you out of this dress?” he asked, finger dipping below the strap on your shoulder. You nodded and he pushed the straps off both shoulders, kissing along the skin that was beneath it. “It’s hot, but I’ve been thinking about what’s underneath all night.”

Your dress pooled at your feet and you stepped out of it before making quick work of the buttons on his shirt. You pushed the fabric off and onto the ground and then pushed off his pants.

His lips captured yours again and he pulled you against him, finally skin-to-skin with one arm around your waist and his other hand entangled in your hair. Kissing him felt different, like you weren’t rushing from this to ripping each other’s close off. He could’ve kissed you all night if that’s what you wanted, but it was clear that you both wanted more.

“Let’s take our time tonight,” he spoke against your lips. You nodded in agreement before kissing him again. You kissed all the way to bed, until the back of your knees were hitting the mattress and he was lowering you onto your back. 

“No condom,” you added. He pulled away, eyes searching your face for more confirmation. “I want to feel you. And I’m on birth control and we’re only having sex with each other, so…”

“Are you sure?”

“If you feel comfortable with it too, then yes, I’m sure.”

Sammy kissed you again, but this time his smile was getting in the way and soon you were both giggling against each other’s lips. 

“You’re my dream girl,” he spoke, fingers hooking into your panties and pulling them down. “I’m so crazy about you. I can’t believe you're all mine.”

“All yours.”

He pushed his briefs down and threw them off the bed to join your panties and bra. His fingers found your core and he dipped them in your wet, moaning against your skin as he said, “Are you always this wet, baby?”

“Only when you’re around me.”

“Good answer,” he teased. You giggled and then sucked in a breath as he slipped his fingers into you. He watched your eyes flutter shut, chest rising and falling more rapidly as he stretched you out. “You look so pretty when I finger you. You should see it for yourself, maybe we’ll have to do this in front of a mirror sometime.” You moaned, the thought too hot to handle. “You like the sound of that?”

“Mhmm.”

“Good thing we have all night then, huh?” he asked. You nodded obediently. He pulled his fingers out and lifted them to your lips. “Have a taste.”

You wrapped your lips around his fingers and sucked, hollowing out your cheeks knowing that it would drive him crazy. Your innocent eyes drove him wild, you knew that, so you gave him the best ones you could muster. 

When he pulled his fingers from your mouth, he gripped your hips with his hands and kissed you hard, tongues exploring each other’s mouths as the head of his cock caught against your opening. You moaned into his mouth.

“I know you want it,” he murmured. “Soon.”

He peppered kisses along your jaw down your neck to the valley of your breasts. Then, he attached his lips to your nipple. One hand kneaded the other while his tongue circled your nipple, sucking and nipping at it until you were shaking beneath. He moved onto the other and did the same, earning moans as he tweaked the senstive nub. 

“Sammy, please,” you moaned. “I need you now.”

He kissed back up to your lips with a smile.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he murmured, wrapping his hand around his length and pumping. He leaned into you and pressed the head against your opening. You gasped as he entered you slowly and shuddered at what it felt like to do this without a condom. His forehead dropped to your shoulder as he moaned your name. 

“This, you, feel so good,” he whispered against your neck. “So fucking good.”

“Fuck, fuck, Sammy,” you choked out. “Please give me more.”

He pushed in more, but still hadn’t filled you completely. As your pussy fluttered around him, he moaned loudly, “I’m not gonna last long, mon amour.”

“Deeper,” you requested. He pushed all the way in, bottoming out as you yelled out a few curses. He placed one hand on your lower stomach and pressed. The pressure ignited something inside you and you wrapped your legs around his waist to try to take him deeper.

He began to thrust in languid movements. You rolled your hips with his as he fucked you deeper, hitting spots you never even knew existed. His head fell to the crook of your neck as he hit that spot again and again. “I love the way you fuck me.”

“I love the way you do everything,” he admitted through baited breaths. You giggled softly and then gasped as he snapped his hips to yours rougher than before. “I love the sounds you make.” He picked up his head and gazed down at you as he pulled out. “Let me hear you.”

You sighed as he entered you again, slower this time, and with a breathless voice, you moaned his name. Your fingers curled into his hair, twirling the strands around your fingers as he set a consistent pace. He dropped a hand to your clit and circled with his thumb.

“Yes, yes, yes.”

“Keep talking.”

“God, you’re so good,” you moaned, nails gripping his shoulders as the pace of his thrusts quickened. He snapped his hips to yours and watched as you threw your head back against the pillow with a loud shout. “Fuck! Sammy, harder!”

“Are you close?”

You nodded, biting down on your lip as he slammed into you again. He fucked you hard and deep, the headboard of his bed slamming against the wall as he did so. He reached up to steady himself, pulling his thumb off your clit to hold your hip down to the bed.

“Sammy, Sammy, Sammy,” you repeated his name like a pray. He called yours right back at you. “I’m gonna cum!”

“Cum all over my cock, baby,” he murmured, staring down at your face as you unraveled. You moaned loudly, arching your back as the orgasm washed over you. He was chasing his own orgasm frantically. You were loud, overstimulated as he fucked you through your orgasm. Your legs shook from the aftershocks. “Where do you want my cum?”

“Inside me,” you answered breathlessly. He cursed, hips stuttering as he filled you once more. His cock twitched and he spoke your name, praises falling from his lips as he filled your pussy. He collapsed on top of you, arms curling to pull you against him as he softened inside of you. 

“Fuck, YN,” he muttered after catching his breath. He pulled out slowly and you whimpered as the cold air of his bedroom hit your pussy. You began to close your legs, but he spread them and gathered the cum seeping out of you with his finger to push it back into your heat. “So good for me.”

He stood and walked off to the bathroom for a towel. When he came back, he spread your legs again and wiped your core softly, though you still shuddered under his touch. You got up to go to the bathroom and when you came back he was making grabby hands for you to join him in bed. 

“That was great.”

“Really great.”

“The best sex we’ve ever had,” he noted. You laughed and he nudged your chin up to get you to look at him and smiled down at you. He kissed you softly. “I’m really happy we’re together.”

“Me too,” you responded.

“And I’m sorry for not making it clear how I felt about you before,” he said. “I’ll never make that mistake again, okay? You’ll always know how crazy I am about you. I’m gonna tell you everyday.”

“I had fun with you today,” you said, finger tracing patterns against his chest. He smiled softly, cheeks pinkening.

“I really don’t want you to leave tomorrow.”

“Me neither,” you sighed. He kissed your nose. “But we have tonight, so let’s enjoy it.”

Sammy rolled over and pinned your hands above your head, length already hard and resting against your inner thighs.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

[hurricanery]

If the Sun Comes Up - pt. 2

A/N: Here’s part 2 of If the Sun Comes Up! (AU- interns fic). Thank u thank u thank u for the nice messages about the first chapter, your messages and replies seriously warm my lil heart. I’m still basically planting seeds for some future plot points here, but I hope you enjoy anyway <3

You can read part 1 here.

_______

And if the sun comes up, if the sun comes up, if the sun comes up

And I still don't wanna stagger home

Then it's the memory of our betters

That are keeping us on our feet

_______

Everything’s different when the sun comes up. It all comes to light in a different way. The sun rises, and reality settles in. Like sleep is some magic reset button. And all of the thoughts and decisions, all of the fun, all of the mischief, it all seems worlds away. Like that was then, and this is now.

A funny thing happens though, when that reset button gets skipped. When there is no sleep, and no separation of night and day. When you stay awake for 24 hours straight and you watch the sun come up in real time; you watch the sun rise twice in fact, and there isn’t that detachment. It all flows together like a never-ending moment.

It’s strange, Amelia thinks, to have no reset button. To sacrifice the idea of choosing sleep. Because instead of calling it quits after two sunrises, she finds herself in a bar, of all places, sitting across from the people she’d met just 24 hours ago.

“I’m sooo happy you’re moving in with me,” Maggie yawns hugely next to her. And Amelia bites down on a smile at the confession; at what no sleep and a slim two beers has done to this previously panic-stricken intern. The intern that was currently dealing with the impact of being related to a Grey.

Except the panic isn’t worth it. Because there isn’t any fallout. Lexie practically laughs until she cries, when it all comes to light. When Maggie finally lets it slip about who her birth mother is. Between the delirious fits of laughter, all Lexie can manage is a “good luck telling Meredith that.”

And it only gets more chaotic.

There’s no reset for all of the sleep-deprived decisions. Lexie and Jo, in an impressive and almost falsely confident manner, venture off towards the bar, where a handful of residents and attendings claim territory. The rest of the newly formed crew stick together, in their quiet corner of the bar.

Amelia can feel Link’s eyes on her from across the booth as she brings a warm mug of tea to her lips. But her eyes remain glued down, staring down at the crumpled tea packet on the table. One of those cheap brands. Cheap because it’s a rare request in a place like this. The kind of drink that ends up taking longer for the bartender to make. More time-consuming to prepare than one of those fancy cocktails even, because it ends up that the bartender has to go search in the stock room for a tea bag in the first place.

Her thoughts are interrupted when a strong hand occupies her line of vision. It’s jolting, to say the least. For her focus to be intruded on like that. The tea packet she’d been so comfortably resting her eyes on, now suddenly consumed by Link’s grasp. He covers it completely, picking it up and further crumpling it in his fist before dropping it back down on the table.

The action forces Amelia to look at him. Which is probably his intention, anyway. So she does, and it’s equally as jolting. His expression. Because she’s half expecting it to mirror the harshness of a crumpled tea packet. But it doesn’t. It’s warm. And it’s soft. And it’s slightly curious.

“You should all move in with me.” Maggie’s voice chimes in.

And Amelia rips her gaze away from Link’s.

“Okay, slow down there,” she lets out an amused exhalation. “You were barely on board with the idea of me moving in.”

Winston playfully nudges Maggie’s side, from where he’s seated on the other side of her. And Amelia doesn’t miss the way his hand settles just above Maggie’s knee. The interaction stands out to her, and she decides she’s going to bookmark it for later. Revisit it perhaps when everyone’s feeling more awake and alert.

“Who should all move where?” Lexie slides into the booth next to Link, eyes wide with naivety as she sips a full drink.

“My apartment,” Maggie responds matter-of-factly. “I have one more room open.”

Amelia scrunches her nose at this, and she staggers through her confusion. “Wait. Just one more? What happened, I thought-”

“Well, I already promised a room to Link….” Maggie’s voice is laced with exhaustion and something else, as she turns to explain to Amelia. “When you were in the bathroom….I told him, I-” She hiccups slightly, abandoning her sentence. And Amelia tilts her head to the side quizzically. “Anyway,” Maggie gestures across the booth towards Link. “Meet your new roommate.”

Amelia’s gaze returns to Link, and he shrugs somewhat defensively, muttering under his breath, “Sorry.”

But Amelia doesn’t feel sorry. She feels something else. The notion rises in her chest, and she wants to label it as anticipation.

“Okay, but I have to get out of Meredith’s house!” Lexie slams her drink down on the table. “I’m living with a bunch of residents.”

There’s unanimous murmurs of condolence from the group.

“Oh! Speaking of….” She continues, picking her drink back up and nodding towards the bar. “The plastics attending….Mark Sloan? Just bought me this drink.”

“Ugh,” Amelia’s quick to counter. “Do not go there.”

All heads turn to her, and she feels heat rise in her face as she takes in the curious stares. When she doesn’t follow up on her previous precaution, Lexie speaks up again.

“....Have you?” Lexie swallows, a disconcerted expression on her face. “Gone there?”

Amelia doesn’t miss the way Link surveys her expression, following this particular question. She clears her throat, eyes shifting back to the crumpled tea packet.

“No, no. God no.” Her tone is low as she shakes her head dismissively. “I’ve just….known him my whole life.”

“Oh,” Lexie shrugs, taking another sip of her drink. And Amelia quickly surveys any other reactions to her response.

A general quietness falls across the table and Amelia’s eyes eventually settle back to the tea packet. She can’t quite determine why it seems to be the focal point of her evening. Or morning. Or whatever this was. She wants to claim it’s the vivid yellow packaging that keeps catching her eye.

But, her thoughts are intruded once again when Link suddenly stands up from the table. She peers up at him intently.

“Shepherd,” his tone is gentle as he starts moving away from the table. “I think I promised you a game of darts.”

Amelia blinks. Partly in confusion. But also mostly against her sudden bout of exhaustion.

“I, uh,” she mutters, turning around in her seat as she watches Link make his way around the booth.

“Come on.” He raises his eyebrows at her.

And she bites the inside of her cheek, turning around to set her mug down.

“Okay, okay,” she’s not yet facing him when she stands from the booth. “One game and then I’m out of here.” She looks pointedly at Maggie as she exits the booth. “And I can drive anyone home that needs a ride.”

Maggie offers her a toothy grin, and Winston nods in grateful agreement at the offer. Amelia steps away from the table, and tries not to mirror the smug look on Link’s face.

“One game,” she repeats.

And he chuckles a bit, proudly.

“I don’t know….” he lets her lead them across the bar, towards the wall that’s filled with dart boards and other bar games. “You’ll probably want a rematch….when I beat you the first time around.”

Amelia feigns shock at his words. But really, somewhere deep down, she’s suppressing her gratification. Because he’s feeding into her competitive side completely.

“We’ll see,” she says, as she collects the darts and starts separating them.

She hands Link his portion of the game’s pieces and he mimics her words back to her. “We’ll see.”

_______

It ends up that uninhibited decisions turn into concrete plans. Link and Lexie move into the apartment. And Amelia adheres to her pride that she was the first choice in the matter, and that everyone else just happened to follow suit.

She wakes up in the new apartment on this particular morning, and it takes her a moment to adjust to her surroundings. She groggily registers that the unfamiliar space around her is, indeed, her own bedroom.

Her alarm blares again loudly, after it’s been snoozed repeatedly for the last 15 minutes, and she aggressively shuts it off. Sitting up in bed, she throws on a cardigan before shuffling out of her room and down the hall, towards the shared space of the apartment.

“Gooood morning,” Maggie practically sings, her voice an irritating level of cheerful for the early hour.

As Amelia rounds the corner into the small kitchen area, her tired eyes settle on Maggie, where she occupies one of the stools at the counter. All she can manage to mutter is a slight “mhm,” in acknowledgement of the greeting.

She reaches into the cupboard for a mug, before filling it from the coffee pot that’s already been prepared. Once her mug is full of the steaming liquid, she turns back around to face Maggie. She leans against the counter as she brings the cup up to her nose, inhaling the scent and closing her eyes in gratitude.

The sound of Maggie’s bedroom door creaking open eventually shakes her from her blissful moment, and then her expression quickly turns to one of shocked amusement. Because her eyes settle on Winston, as he exits the bedroom and enters into the main room. He’s dressed in the same clothes he’d been wearing the day before, and Amelia looks him up and down, biting her lip in excitement, like she’s just remembered where she’s hidden the last piece of a puzzle.

“Ha,” Amelia’s delighted revelation sounds gravelly, the sleep still evident in her voice. “You don’t live here.”

She shifts her gaze to Maggie, who offers a pleading look in return. And then she looks back to Winston, who has since halted in the doorway. She can’t hold back the raspy sounding chuckle that escapes her lips. “I get it. You guys are sex friends. It all makes sense now.”

Winston scratches at the back of his neck awkwardly. And Maggie blinks, dumfounded. She stands suddenly, stepping away from the kitchen counter, like she’s desperate to remove herself from this situation.

“I’m gonna go shower. Don’t want to be late,” Maggie mutters.

Amelia just smiles further, eyes shifting playfully between the two, before she turns to walk back to her room. She raises her coffee mug slightly above her as she walks away, like she’s motioning a ‘cheers’ to the air. She tilts her head back once more in their direction, before she disappears from the kitchen, and sarcastically repeats Maggie’s greeting from before. “It is a good morning.”

Maggie rolls her eyes, but follows after her through the hallway, turning into the bathroom.

“Let me know when you’re done!” Amelia announces when she reaches her room. “I want dibs on the shower next!”

_______

Amelia finishes her coffee, and as she sets her empty mug in the sink, her impatience steadily rises.

“Maggie!” She yells, as she returns to the hallway. “You’re gonna make us late!”

There’s no response, but she hears that the shower is still on, and she even hears music coming from the bathroom. She finds the music choice odd for Maggie, and also finds it odd that Maggie is even the type of person that listens to music while she showers.

“Maggie,” she tries one more time, knocking her fist against the door.

There’s no answer.

She sighs, glancing at her watch. And then she decides to push the door open slightly, stepping into the small bathroom. “Maggie are you almost done?! I’m just going to brush my teeth real quick while you’re in there,” she announces loudly, over the music, as she reaches for her toothbrush on the sink.

“Um, not Maggie.” A surprisingly deep voice sounds from the other side of the curtain as she starts brushing her teeth.

And oh, that’s Link. “Shit, sorry! I thought you were Maggie! Wow, I just barged right in-”

“It’s fine” he interrupts, and then Amelia hears the water get shut off. “Could you, uh, actually hand me a towel though?” A dripping wet hand shoots out from behind the shower curtain and Amelia just stares at it, her toothbrush falling slack between her lips.

“Hello….? Towel?”

“Uh, right. Here.” She mutters around her toothbrush.

Blinking from her daze, she slowly reaches for a towel and hands it to him. And then suddenly the curtain is sliding open and Link is climbing out of the shower, towel around his waist, in all of his soaking wet glory. And holy shit, Amelia thinks, as she not so subtly darts her eyes around the tight space. Attempting to look anywhere but at him. She settles on turning around, and facing herself in the mirror as she makes quick movements of brushing her teeth.

She doesn’t know where the sudden panic comes from. She’s a confident person. Never timid. And somewhere, in the back of her mind, she retaliates against the idea that she’s lost any of her game. Or that she’s the one creating any awkward tension.

Link enters her line of vision through the bathroom mirror, and she feels frozen where she stands. Because, for some reason, he starts inching even closer.

He clears his throat.

“Just need to, uh, grab something…”

She practically jumps out of the way as Link reaches around her for the medicine cabinet.

“Ah, sorry. I’ll get out of your way,” she exhales a sheepish laugh at her own reaction, and tries not to cringe at the way she sounds with her mouth still full of toothpaste.

Link finally moves to exit the bathroom, and Amelia wants to sigh in relief, as she resumes her position in front of the sink. But she doesn’t. She holds back. And from her peripheral, she can see him pause in the doorway.

She turns her head in his direction. And he smirks at her before he leaves.

“Shower is all yours.”

The bathroom door clicks shut and Amelia spits harshly into the sink.

_______

Carpooling is apparently a thing they do now. They arrive at the hospital, and everyone piles out of Maggie’s car, beginning to cross the parking lot.

“Hey!” Jo’s breathless voice sounds from somewhere behind them as she locks up her own car and jogs to catch up with the group. She steps into pace with them, walking next to Link. “Whose service are you guys on today?”

“Neuro. With Shepherd,” Winston responds.

“Same here!” Lexie actually sounds excited.

“Okay, but why are we all on Shepherd’s service?” Jo mutters.

Everyone turns towards Amelia, as if she knows the reasoning behind her brother’s request. She just shrugs nonchalantly.

“Someone a little let down that they aren’t with Karev today?” Link nudges Jo playfully, and Jo feigns shock at the accusation, swatting at his shoulder.

As they enter the hospital, Amelia slows a bit behind the group, letting everyone else venture off ahead of her.

“Not excited about neuro?” She hadn’t realized Link had slowed down with her. “Not exactly my first pick either, but-”

“No, no,” she cuts in. “That’s not it.”

Link just stares at her for a moment, and Amelia almost feels scrutinized by it.

“Oh,” he continues. “Not excited about your brother, then?”

Amelia sighs, questioning to herself when they started getting so personal with each other. And then she cringes at the direction of her thoughts. Because maybe the getting too personal thing had started this morning, following the shower incident.

“That’s not exactly it, either.”

“Not exactly?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Okay, what’s with-”

“Amy Shepherd?!”

Both Link and Amelia turn around, following the voice that’s interrupted their conversation.

Mark Sloan is walking towards them full force, a huge grin on his face.

“Mark?!”

“Amy?!”

“....Amy?” Link mutters under his breath, chuckling at the nickname. And Amelia glances sideways at him in warning.

“The only person that still calls me that is Derek,” she raises her eyebrows at Mark, matching his grin.

“Well, Derek didn’t mention you were in town,” He finally approaches, and Amelia pulls him into a tight hug. They pull apart and Mark looks her up and down. “You look….different than the last time I saw you.”

“You look different, too,” she smirks.

Link looks between the pair curiously.

“And I’m not just in town,” Amelia adds as she steps out his embrace. “I work here now.”

“You work here?! Why didn’t Derek say anything…” Mark gets momentarily distracted by something, or somebody behind them. “Derek!” he yells. “Why didn’t you tell me your sister works here now?!”

Derek approaches, his demeanor reflecting his overall impatience. He completely disregards Mark’s question.

“Why do you people not answer your pages?”

“....And this conversation’s no longer entertaining. Catch up later?” Mark glances at Amelia a final time before stepping away. Then Derek turns towards his sister expectantly.

“When I requested you all on my service today, I expected punctuality.” He raises his eyebrows, and when Amelia offers no response, he continues. “I have a patient being admitted today. She’s had a sudden onset of seizures. We don’t know the cause. But we need to figure out the cause.”

There’s slight hesitation at his instructions.

“Okay, you! Dr….” his eyes shift down to glance over Link’s ID badge. “Dr. Lincoln. I want you to grab the rest of the interns and head to the library. Starting now, you all are in charge of research. Anything, I mean anything, you can find on this. Case studies, research papers, all of it. Just….find something for me.”

Link nods respectively, and he begins to turn towards Amelia.

“And Amy,” Derek’s eyes settle on hers, in an almost disdainful way. “You’re with the patient.”

Amelia is stunned for a moment, her mouth hanging open in disbelief.

“You want me to do what, exactly?” She steps forward towards Derek, who mutters under his breath in frustration. “Babysit your aneurysm? Because my time is worth way more than-”

“An aneurysm, is the last thing this is-”

“And what makes you so sure of that?!” She looks between his eyes incredulously.

“You think this woman’s just been walking around with a ruptured aneurysm-”

“I didn’t say ruptured-”

“Well if it’s not ruptured, she’d likely not have any symptoms at all, so your logic makes absolutely no sense.” Derek raises his eyebrows, like he’s won the argument.

“I’m just saying! I did a research paper on this. Similar case. Sudden onset of seizures. No prior history. But, this woman fell and-”

“I never said my patient had a fall.”

“Well did you ask her that?”

“Amy,” Derek breathes, exasperated. He tries to move around her, completely done with the conversation.

But she blocks his movements. And he gives her a blank stare. While Link stands off to the side, looking between the two uncomfortably.

“Derek.” She retorts, the frustration in her tone highly evident.

“Take my patient to CT. And then stay with her, while she gets transported to a room. You can manage that, right?”

Amelia bites her tongue, nodding numbly. She refrains from voicing everything she wants to say, and she tries to fight off the emotions that arise as Derek steps around her. She feels defeated. And small. Which was typical lately, following any interaction with her older brother. She curses herself for thinking it would be any different, now that she was here under specific circumstances. Professional circumstances. Hand picked for this surgical internship out of a large pool of equally impressive applicants. But it’s not different. If anything, it’s even more demoralizing, to be met with this discouragement both personally, and now professionally.

Derek steps away and she’s left standing there with Link.

“Your brother is….kind of a jerk.”

Amelia rolls her eyes, pushing past Link.

“Shepherd, wait-”

She ignores the way he calls after her, and she keeps walking. Because she has a patient now. A patient who needs a head CT.

_______

Link finds her about a half hour later. She’s walking from CT with a stack of scans in her arms. She nods a greeting at Link as begins walking with her.

“Hey! So, we've all been in the research library, could probably use your help-”

“I was right,” she says simply, shaking her head. “It’s an aneurysm. It’s tiny, but it’s there.”

Link doesn’t hold back his surprise. “Wow, how’d you-”

He’s cut off again when Amelia turns to him, forcing the scans over into his hands.

“What are you-”

“Make sure Derek gets these.”

“....You don’t want to hand them over yourself?” Link objects, trying to give them back to her. “Tell him you were right?”

“Nah,” she breathes, turning away from him. “I want off his service.”

Link comes to a halt in the middle of the hallway, watching her continue in the opposite direction. She turns around, facing him once more before she’s off again.

“Just please, hurry. He needs to see those now.”

_______

Several hours later, after her shift has ended, all Amelia wants is a peaceful evening. The first thing that comes to mind for her, when seeking this, is chamomile tea.

After changing into her sweats, which includes her favorite Harvard sweatshirt, she wanders down the hall to the kitchen to begin her evening routine.

The kitchen is dark, so she flips on one of the dim lights before she starts rummaging through the cupboards. To her left, from the balcony attached to the small kitchen, she can hear the sound of Jo’s exuberant laughter, mixed in with a couple of other voices.

A moment later, the sliding glass door is opening and Link is stepping inside. He slightly grimaces at the difference in volume to the quiet kitchen, as the voices outside get cut off with the door sliding shut again.

“Oh, hey,” he mutters, as he sets an empty beer bottle on the counter. “Didn’t know you were up. Are we being too loud?”

Amelia shakes her head, her focus still on her tea set-up.

She knows she’s being standoffish, and probably to Link’s notice, too.

“Weird day, huh?”

Amelia shrugs. And then realizes she has yet to say anything out loud here.

“Yeah, kind of.”

“You seem like someone….that would want to talk about it, no?”

Amelia smirks at this revelation.

“It’s a long story,” she murmurs, listening to the water in the electric kettle start to boil, and then the comforting sound gets interrupted by Jo’s laughter from outside. “Shouldn’t you get back out there, anyway?”

“Sounds like Lexie’s keeping her entertained.”

Amelia leans her back against the counter, peering across the kitchen at him.

“Derek….he’s not a jerk,” Amelia says simply. “I know it seemed that way earlier. But really, there’s more to it.”

Link shrugs, moving to lean against the opposite counter.

“It just seemed like he wasn’t taking you seriously. When you happened to be right, so. Maybe he should have.”

Amelia nods to herself.

“Do you have siblings?”

“No,” he chuckles. “Only child.”

Amelia grins. Something about this piece of information makes sense to her.

“I think sometimes it’s hard to....I don’t know,” she trails off momentarily. “Take the baby of the family seriously?”

It’s probably obvious to Link that there’s more to it. Reasonings that she’s conveniently leaving out. But he nods along with her explanation anyway.

“Anyway, I don’t want you to go on thinking my brother is some bad guy….” she mutters as she turns around to face the kettle again. “Because he’s not, he’s….one of my favorite people, actually, so.”

Link watches as Amelia starts drumming her fingers against the countertop, her eyes glued to the tea kettle.

He steps towards the fridge, because he’d originally come inside to grab another beer.

The kettle clicks off and Amelia’s fingers against the counter come to rest. She places a tea bag into her mug and pours some of the boiling water over it. She turns around just in time to see Link shut the fridge door, empty-handed.

“Aren’t you heading back out there?”

“Yeah, I just….” he gestures towards the kettle. “That looks pretty good, actually. Is there any left over?”

Amelia holds back her surprise, but quickly nods. She reaches over for another tea bag and hands it over to him.

“Knock yourself out.”

She watches Link hesitate, turning the packet over in his palms.

“It’s nothing fancy,” she grins. “Just use the water from the kettle.”

Link nods, reaching for a mug.

“I’m going to bed. Think you can handle it?” Amelia gestures towards the mug in his hands.

And Link rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’ve got it. Is it that obvious that I’m not really a tea guy?”

Amelia bites her lip, and shrugs, turning on her heels and back towards her bedroom.

“Goodnight, Amy.” She can hear Link snicker from the kitchen. And the use of the nickname causes Amelia to halt in her tracks. She slowly rounds the corner back into the kitchen.

“Don’t even.” Her voice is tight with astonishment. “Do you want me to start referring to you as Atticus? Because I will.”

The threat causes Link to falter only a little. And then he grins.

“Try again,” she mutters.

“Okay,” he’s laughing now. “Goodnight, Amelia.”

She thinks it’s the first time he’s said it out loud. Or called her by her first name at all. She’s been so used to hearing him refer to her as ‘Shepherd,’ that the sound of her first name falling from his lips actually stirs something inside her. She convinces herself that that’s it. That’s the reason it stuns her a little. It’s simply because she’s not used to it. Definitely has nothing to do with the fact that she enjoys the way it sounds.

She can’t help the smirk that crosses her face, as she repeats his sentiment. She turns back towards the hallway, an amused edge to her voice.

“Goodnight, Link.”

//

[allfandomxreader]

Home for the Holidays (2)

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Summary: He could’ve easily told you about Margot on many occasions. Why didn’t he? You can’t be sure. What you do know, is his secret makes it easier to have your own. Even so, your guilt is almost unbearable. 

Warnings: Language, drinking alcohol, alluded drunkenness. 

Words: 3.9k

Part: 1/5 (probably)

A/N: Just like the reader and Luke, I don’t know how I'm going to pull this series off. This chapter seems a little quick and jumbled to me but everything is important to the plot, sorry in advance. As always, feedback is loved and appreciated :) Not my gif!

Series Masterlist // Stranger Things Masterlist

Just like Hawkins, your room remains exactly the way you left it. Your knickknacks collected a thin layer of dust while you’ve been away, the photos and books still sit in their rightful places, the clothes you always leave behind are still folded neatly in your dresser untouched. This room used to be your sanctuary, an escape from problems that were just beyond the door.

It’s always a weird feeling waking up in your childhood home, surrounded by things belonging to the person you used to be. You feel out of place, too different from the girl you used to be to claim this room as your own, like your past and present are at battle and you’re caught in the crossfire. You’d give anything for this room to feel like home again. You wish you could crawl back under the sheets, to go back in time and have the worries you had as a teen before the real world came all too quickly. Or at the very least, you just wish you had a good night’s sleep.

Exhaustion is not an unusual for you these days. In the past month, you got used to working late nights and studying until the early hours of the morning. Today should be like any other, going through the motions, learning to live with the mistakes made in nights prior. You’re not sure how to live with this one though.

You don’t remember the last time you lied to Steve, the two of you were always brutally honest with one another, so open with each other’s lives at times was almost painful. Or so you thought.

It wasn’t like Steve to keep secrets from you, quite frankly you didn’t even think that was possible anymore. Every second of downtime your day allowed was spent talking with him, whether that was through FaceTime calls or text messages. He could’ve easily told you about Margot on many occasions. Why didn’t he? You can’t be sure. What you do know, is his secret makes it easier to have your own. Even so, your guilt is almost unbearable.  

“Do we look straight enough?” Luke asks from beside you. He’s spent the majority of the morning sifting his suitcase to find something to wear.

“I don’t know,” You admit looking over your outfits for the tenth time. “Wait, uncuff your jeans.”

“Seems a little stereotypical.” He grumbles, bending over to fix his pant legs.

“Well I don’t know! This entire thing is fucked up and I really don’t know how we’re going to pull it off.” His eyebrows raise at your sudden outburst. “I’m sorry,” You say, pressing your palm to your forehead to collect your thoughts, “I know you’re trying to help, and I can’t thank you enough. But I didn’t think break would be this stressful.”

“Remember that one time at the bar? When the creepy guy wouldn’t leave you alone? Think of it like that.”

“You pretended to be my boyfriend all of five minutes. And it was to fool a stranger not my entire family and closest friends.” With a final sigh, you reach for the door handle.

“Shouldn’t we set ground rules?” He asks.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, it’s Christmas and there’s mistletoe and shit,” He shrugs, “I’m not kissing you for more than three seconds.”

“Yeah, because I totally want to make out with you in front of everyone.” You only get a glare in response. “Okay, fine. No kisses longer than three seconds. Are you okay with holding hands and hugging?”

“Sure, that’s pretty normal. I could kiss your cheek or forehead when it feels necessary too.”

“Cool. I’ll even lay my head on your shoulder if I get tired or something, but I do that anyway.”

“And how’d we start dating?” He questions, “That’s probably pretty important to know.”

“We kissed that night at the bar, right? Let’s just say that’s when we realized our feelings for each other. Keep everything as close to the truth as possible so this doesn’t get even more out of hand. Deal?” You stretch your hand out for him to shake.

“Deal.”

Reluctantly, the two of you head into the kitchen. Dustin’s already seated at the table; his breakfast barely touched. Your mother hums to herself, fixing the last of the bacon on the stove.

“Morning, love birds!” She sings as the two of you take your seats. You almost cringe, you watch Luke gulp before sending a smile her way. It seemed only right that you told your mother and Dustin that Luke was more than just your roommate after telling Steve. Now, she won’t shut up about it, you wish you never said anything at all. “Did you sleep well?” She asks, setting the rest of the food onto the table.

“Always do.” You smile, beginning to fix your plate. You didn’t, between Luke’s tossing and turning and the ball of anxiety waiting to unravel at any given moment, it’s surprising you got an hour of sleep at all. When you look up, your mother is already grinning at you. “What?”

“I was wondering how long it’d take before you both fell in love. I’m just so happy the two of you finally made it official.” Luke chokes on his orange juice beside you, you can’t help but stare at her with your mouth agape. “Oh god, have we not said the ‘L’ word yet?”

“Anyways, Dustin!” You cheer, desperate to have the conversation not centered around you. “Will we be seeing Suzie at all over break?”

“She lives in Utah, Y/N,” He says with an eyeroll, “In what world would I be seeing her.”

“I don’t know,” You shrug, “Everyone else is with their boyfriend or girlfriend, I thought maybe you would be too.”

“The only person who brought someone home is you.” Dustin says, poking at his food with his fork, maybe you hit a nerve.

“That’s not true, Steve brought Margot.” Dustin’s head snaps up, ignoring anything that held his attention before.

“Who’s Margot?”

“Steve��s girlfriend apparently. You didn’t know either?” You ask sharing a glance with Luke.

“That son of a bitch—” He cringes before your mother can even ridicule him. “I knew he had a fling. I didn’t know they made it official. Or that he’d bring her home.”

“Well if it makes you feel any better, I knew jack shit about this girl.” Your mother throws her hands into the air with a huff at her children’s bad manners. You and Dustin stifle a laugh while she excuses herself from the table to get ready for work. “We’re about to meet Robin and do some last minute Christmas shopping before tonight, wanna come with?”

“No thanks, I’m helping Erica fix her laptop today.” Dustin says finishing his last few bites of food.

“You’re still coming to Steve’s tonight though, right?”

“No shit, it’s tradition.” He says taking his plate to the sink. You can’t help but smile. Even after all these years, Christmas traditions with your family of misfit friends hasn’t changed.

An hour or so later, you find yourself pulling into the Starcourt parking lot. Two years ago, you hated this place, it was always crowded and too loud. It didn’t help that you worked for shit pay at the Gap, all your time seemed to be spent at this place. Sure, it was new and exciting when it first opened, but the glamor quickly wore off after about three shifts.

You suppose it wasn’t all bad, though. Steve would always bring you a scoop of your favorite ice cream on his break or you’d hang out in a booth with him and Robin on yours. You never stopped making fun of their uniforms, Steve’s contact photo is still him in that stupid sailor hat.  

“You’re telling me a town this size has a mall this big?” Luke asks trailing towards the entrance behind you.

“Yeah, apparently in the 80s people thought that Russians infiltrated Hawkins, but the conspiracy was never proven.” You laugh. He doesn’t get another word in before you spot Robin, the two of you already sprinting towards each other’s arms. As always, you greet each other with hugs and squeals earning concerned glances from fellow shoppers.

“It’s been too long!” Robin smiles, pulling away from the embrace.

“It gets harder every time we say goodbye.” You agree before quickly introducing Luke and your best friend.

The three of you shop for way too long and spend far too much money. Each of you have a handful of bags and aching feet by the time you find a quiet booth in Scoops, a tradition after every shopping excursion.

“The outfits look even worse these days.” You comment, setting down your purchases onto the tile by your feet.

“I’m sure mine and Steve’s belong to someone else now, they rarely ever buy new ones.” She says taking the seat across from you. Your nose wrinkles in disgust, but the dingy yellow shirts that you swear were once white only confirm her statement. “Hey, while we have some time alone, can we talk about your boyfriend for a sec?”

When you look at her, the normal smirk isn’t present on her features, the glint of mischief is absent from her eyes. Your stomach churns, you’re tempted to breakdown right here, to come clean and tell her everything’s a lie. It’s hard enough lying to one best friend, you hate lying to them both.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“And please don’t take this the wrong way, I’m only saying this because I love you.” You shift uncomfortably in the metal chair. Robin never outwardly says she loves you, not unless she’s drunk. You glance over to Luke, he’s too preoccupied leaning on the counter talking to a boy with floppy hair to even notice. “Do you think there’s any way he could be—”

“Gay? I know.” You laugh, or try to that is. A part of you feels relieved, to have at least one other person know the secret you’ve been carrying for the past twenty-four hours, to have another person on your side. At the same time, you’re terrified. Of course, Robin knows all about your crippling feelings for Steve, she’s known almost since the day you met. She’s had her fair share of ‘Steve Talk’ at sleepovers or on phone calls. You don’t know what you’ll do if she’s angry you lied to her about it, that she had to figure it out for herself.

“Oh, thank god,” She sighs, shoulders slouching as relief spreads through them, “I really thought you were blinding dating him and had no idea.” She pauses abruptly, cocking her head to the side, “Is this because of Steve?”

“Why would—”

“Alright, this one’s for you,” Luke interrupts, setting Robin’s order in front of her. “And this one’s for you.” He presses a quick kiss to your cheek as he sits down. Robin purses her lips at the sight, trying her hardest not to laugh.

“We’ve been outted.” You say, digging your spoon into an already melting ice cream cup.

“Fuck, already?”

“Is it that obvious?” You ask, although Robin’s already shaking her head.

“Everyone in this town is oblivious. They wouldn’t know a gay person if one was standing in front of them,” She gestures towards herself, “Clearly.”

You try to laugh, but you can’t even find the energy to muster a smile. On day one of this charade, it’s already crashing around you. If you couldn’t lie to Robin, to make it believable enough to her, how could you to Steve? The person that knows you better than anyone, who can spot one of your lies from a mile away. It’s starting to look more impossible and more unbearable with each passing second.

“Hey, I’m not going to tell anyone.” She reaches across the table, patting your hand in efforts to put your mind at ease.

“Silver Cat?” You ask, cocking a brow her way.

“Well I assumed so.” She rolls her eyes, waving her hand in dismissal.

“Wait, Silver Cat? What the fuck is that?” Luke looks between the two of you, waiting for someone to fill him in.

“It’s our code. Basically, if someone calls Silver Cat, nobody else in the party can know. No matter what, it stays just between us.” Robin explains.

“We rarely use it. It’s for our most top secrets. Like when I told her about my crush on Steve, I called Silver Cat.” Luke nods along understanding, “It’s only used between us, Dustin and Steve. We used to have a whole saying but that’s is the only thing that stuck.” The three of you begin to eat your ice cream in silence, each of your thoughts elsewhere.

“I’m sorry, I have to ask,” You blurt, “Why did you think this had to do with Steve?” Not that any of this made sense, this whole thing is a shit show from start to finish. But maybe that part makes the least sense of all.

“I assumed you met Margot.” Truthfully, you don’t know what answer you were expecting, you could’ve come up with hundreds of responses, but that wouldn’t have made the list.  

“Am I the only one that didn’t know this girl existed?” You can’t tell whether you’re more sad or angry. It’s like everyone is a part of one huge joke, all watching and laughing from the outside.

“Well, I don’t think Nancy and Johnathon know.” She tries to make it lighthearted, maybe even make you laugh. It doesn’t work.

“Yeah, that makes me feel better.” You roll your eyes, pushing away the ice cream that remains, your appetite disappearing all at once. Across from you, Robin shifts in her seat. She focuses too intently on the table in front of her.

“He called Silver Cat too.” She admits. You want to ask more, to try your best to prod more information out of her. But that’s not how the code works, each of you made that very clear almost two years ago. The only thing you can do, is drop the subject entirely. “All I can say is,” She continues, even though it’s against the rules and you both know it. “She wasn’t supposed to come home for Christmas.”

You spend the rest of the day in a daze, your mind clouded with matters far beyond faking a relationship. You know you shouldn’t, nobody can be mad when someone uses the code, you were the one who came up with that rule. You always thought Steve would somehow end up finding out about your feelings and get mad at everyone else in the party. It wouldn’t be their fault for keeping your secret, so you thought of a loophole. You never would’ve thought it’d be used against you. And even though you parted ways with Robin hours ago, you still hear her words in your head. The conversation has been on repeat, like a song you can’t stop hearing no matter what you try.

“You okay?” Luke nudges you as you make your way up the steps to Mr. and Mrs. Harrington’s front door.

“I will be.” You shrug. You can’t bring yourself to move towards the doorbell or even knock.  

“We don’t have to do this tonight, we can say I got sick or something.” He offers.

“Even if you were sick, I’d still come. The four of us take traditions very seriously.”

“Wow, thank god we’re not real. You’d be a terrible girlfriend.” You offer a quiet laugh. With a final deep breath, you interlock fingers with Luke’s. He gives you a reassuring squeeze as you knock.

It doesn’t take long for the door to open. You half expect it to be Robin, for her to be there to soften the blow. She’d whisper a joke in your ear to ease your nerves or immediately hand you some sort of liquor. You don’t know how you’ll survive the night without one.

Part of you thought it’d be Steve, that would only make since. He’d smile and you’d try not to swoon. He’d give you a welcoming hug and say he missed you despite seeing you the day before. You didn’t, however, think it’d be Margot.

“Hello!” She sings, full of energy. She catches you off guard, pulling the two of you in a hug. It doesn’t last long, but even in the quick exchange you can smell her perfume, vanilla and something citrusy. You can even smell the trace of Steve, the same cologne he’s worn since high school. It makes your stomach recoil.

You don’t have enough time to dwell on the thought, she’s already pulling you inside talking a mile a minute, you can hardly keep up with her words as she drags you to the living room. “I’m so excited for tonight. I love looking Christmas lights. When we were on our way here, I saw all of them on the houses. They weren’t lit of course, but I think they’ll be pretty. Oh, we also made eggnog, it’s spiked but there’s more brandy on the counter if you like it stronger.” You glance at Robin, sitting on the sofa already nursing her drink. She only smiles with a light shake of her head.

“Oh, yum,” You say once you come to a stop.

“Sorry, I’m a little excited. I’m so glad you guys are here, I can’t wait to get to know you both.” She offers a bashful smile that you can’t help but return.

It’s here you realize you have nothing against her. It’s not her fault she’s dating the man you’re in love with, she had no way of knowing that. It’s also not her fault he didn’t tell you. Maybe, your anger has been spent on the wrong person, blinded by your feelings for Steve.

“We can’t wait either.” You grin, gesturing between yourself and Luke.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” She rushes to a bag discarded on the floor, rummaging through it for a moment before pulling out clothing. “We got everyone ugly Christmas sweaters for the gift exchange,” She says handing them to you and Luke, “We didn’t know your size, Luke, so if it’s too big, blame me.”

“You guys didn’t have to do that,” You say as Steve makes his entrance down the stairs. “Thank you.” You’re not sure what washes over you as you pull her into a hug. Maybe it was to make her feel welcome. Maybe it was for Steve, to show your support to their relationship or maybe make him feel guilty about keeping it a secret. Maybe it was to keep up the charade, to make it more believable.

“Well, glad to see everyone’s getting along,” Steve smiles, pulling you into his arms. “Missed you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You laugh, giving him two single pats on the back.

You let everyone mingle while you excuse yourself to the kitchen, heading straight for the liquor. You make two drinks for you and Luke, adding a generous amount of brandy into your cup. At this point, you don’t even care if it tastes good, all you know is you can’t be completely sober this evening.

“Yikes, rough day?” Steve asks when he enters, leaning against the counter. You only shrug, bringing the cup to your lips. “There’s no way that tastes good.” His nose scrunches in disgust as he watches you drink.

“I’ve had worse.” He was right though, it tastes disgusting, but it’ll do the trick. “Dustin can’t make it, he called earlier saying Erica’s laptop was taking longer than he expected.”

“That little shit,” Steve shakes his head, “I knew he’d bail.”

“I don’t blame him, he’s always around couples between Mike and Lucas.” This morning, the thought of Dustin not being there would’ve stung, but you don’t really want to be here either.

Everything is starting to feel more like a burden rather than tradition. With Margot and Luke thrown into the mix, it’s not as meaningful as it was two years ago. “Plus, now we can all fit comfortably in a car.”

It’s colder outside than what you expected. You stand alone in the driveway as everyone else slowly puts on their coats inside. You can’t help but stare at the passenger seat, remembering all the moments you spent sitting in that very spot.

They were the ones you held closest to your heart. The ones where Steve would sing offkey to his playlists and you’d air guitar every solo. The ones where you’d sit in parking lots and talk for hours about anything and everything because there wasn’t anything else to do in this town. Or last Christmas, when the two of you screamed the lyrics to every Christmas song with Dustin and Robin begging for you to shut up from the back. The four of you ate decorated cookies and drank hot chocolate and rated your favorite houses. Just last year feels like a lifetime ago, you wish more than anything you could go back.

Everyone makes their way out eventually, their noses already turning red from the cold, each of them are desperate to get into the warmth of Steve’s car. Margot makes her way to the passenger seat, unknowingly and out of habit you assume. You watch as Steve looks between the two of you, about to protest. You shake your head, reluctantly taking the middle seat in the back.

The drive is awkward to say the least. Without Dustin’s blabbering, nobody says much of anything. It’s not like last year, the music isn’t loud, there’s no singing, nobody gets excited when you pass a lit house. Steve glances at you through the rearview. Sorry. He mouths, you only shrug, purposely avoiding his gaze and the way that his hand wraps around Margot’s in her lap. Even the brandy wasn’t making this night any more bearable.

“So, Margot,” You begin, unable to take the silence any longer. “What are you studying?”

“I’m studying early childhood education!” She grins, “I want to be a kindergarten teacher. I think children are so… imaginative, I love seeing how they think about things and I want to help them grow as people. Or try to at least.”

“I think you’d be perfect for the job,” You answer truthfully, giving her a reassuring smile. “Are you still studying criminal justice, Steve?” His brows furrow, cocking his head slightly.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” He takes his eyes off the road, locking them with yours.

“Just asking a question, it’s not like you tell me anything anymore.” You didn’t mean to say it, you also didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh. You aren’t trying to hurt his feelings or get under his skin, it just slipped out. Robin chokes beside you, sinking into her seat as if it’d make her disappear.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks. You don’t answer, crossing your arms and pointedly looking out the window. You can still feel his eyes on you, but he doesn’t push any further. Nobody speaks for the rest of the drive.

You aren’t sure how you made it home, you must’ve fallen asleep in the back of the car. The alcohol caught up to you, only making your head throb as your body is lowered onto your familiar sheets. “Steve?” You call but he doesn’t respond. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that back in the car.” You whisper as blankets are pulled up to your chin. “I love you.”

“I’m sure he loves you too.” You don’t need to open your eyes to know it’s Luke. Your body wilts, you wish you could cry but the tears don’t come. You know drunken confessions never end up well, you’re sure it’s better this way. But you wish Steve could’ve heard, it would’ve been easier that way.

Forever Tags: @superfrankie111 // @rueinn // @lemonadeorange73 // @simplechicwithacrazedheart // @youshutthefuckupville // @captainpeggy40 // @alexdamereysmith // @llatpdnmm // @dummiesshort // @quaksonhehe​

Steve Tags: @empathetic-vibrations // @loulouloueh​

Series Tags: @daddystevee​

[naitiaclo960writings]

Day 14 - Fun & Games

The evening was already well advanced when Dean decided to turn off his computer and take a break from his essay. That last year at engineering degree was starting to give him a hard time and, frankly, he was looking forward to graduating and being hired somewhere. Hopefully, he would find a job in the same city and not have to look for another apartment.

It’s been 3 years since he shared a place with his best friend Castiel and things suited him perfectly like they were. Castiel had already been in the active life for two years, working as a heritage officer at the Kansas City Museum, but sharing the rent of their apartment was a relief for everyone. Moreover, they had now settled into a comfortable routine that gave rhythm to their lives in the most pleasant way. Most often, they would invite friends on Friday nights and spend an evening together over a beer. Saturday was reserved for a video game night where Castiel often ended up winning and bequeathing his dishes tour of the week to Dean. Sunday night was a mix of movies and popcorn while Tuesday was a board game night. On Wednesdays, finally, they always ordered from the Japanese caterer on the corner of the street and zapped between Netflix and YouTube until they were too tired to put away their plates and left them on the coffee table in the living room.

Dean stretched out at his desk before he got up. He quietly shut off his laptop and put down the glasses he used for work on top, massaging the back of his neck gently. When he turned off the light from his desk, his room was plunged into darkness and, as if to confirm the late hour, his belly began to grumble softly.

"Okay…" He sighed while putting a hand on his belly. It was time for him to return to the real world.

Outside, he heard Castiel moving a few pots and he smiled softly. He could always count on his friend to cook for them when he was too immersed in his own classes to care, and truly, Castiel was not such a bad cook as he claimed. Dean walked blindly to his door and opened it to a good smell of melted cheese. Growling with envy and a tenfold appetite, he approached the kitchen to find his roommate tidying up some kitchen utensils, the oven gently purring behind him. Dean leaned against the central island with a relaxed smile.

"What’s up, chief?" Dean asked, raising his voice in the hope of surprising Castiel.

The latter did not even jump, probably having heard him arrive without showing it. He put away the spatula he had in his hand before responding to Dean with a smile on his face.

"Four cheeses Mac’n’Cheese!" Castiel proudly announced, turning to him.

"Wow." Dean said, raising his eyebrows, truly surprised. "And what did I do to deserve one of my favorite comfort foods tonight?"

Castiel smiled even more and shrugged, returning to his storage. He took the time to rinse a knife before answering.

"You hardly left your room in the afternoon, I thought you might need a pick-me-up."

And it was as simple as that. It has now been 7 years since Dean and Castiel met, they had found each other at school and had not really left each other since. As a result, Castiel was obviously able to read Dean like an open book and the opposite was also true. They were confidants for each other, brothers almost, pillars on which to lean when everything went too fast around them. Dean and Castiel had actually painted the town red in high school before going to enter together into the terrifying life of a student or, for Castiel, an active worker. Above all, they had always been there for each other. Dean had been more than present during the divorce of Castiel’s parents and the ensuing family debacle, he had even taken his friend out of a very bad drug past for which Castiel would be forever grateful. Castiel, meanwhile, had supported Dean when Mary Winchester had lost her battle against a disease and John spent about most of his time at the bar, drowning his grief while his sons remained helpless at home. Dean no longer counted the number of times Castiel had welcomed him and Sam into his home simply to give them a break from everything else.

Such events bound destinies for a long time when they were lived like this. However, although Dean cherished his friendship with Castiel more than anything, he had to face reality about a year earlier. Dean was not particularly known for his long introspections, but he was obliged to admit after several months of living together that his friendship with Castiel had perhaps turned into a more concrete and disabling feeling in his situation.

Okay, maybe he had a thing for Castiel. A little bit. Okay, good time! He wasn’t even sure it was mutual, so he certainly wasn’t going to waste 7 years of friendship on a simple… feeling? For God’s sake, he had spent whole evenings struggling with this very question, thinking about it again and again until he got migraines, and he had finally come to the conclusion that if he did not have absolute confirmation of the reciprocity of his feelings, then he wouldn’t try anything. It may have been giving up without a fight, but whatever he had was too valuable to make decisions lightly. It was not even certain that Castiel liked men! Well, yes, perhaps, his friend qualified himself as"pansexual". What Dean always said to him was that it was just "being a fucking care bear, but more complicated, just to piss me off."

Anyway, after months of internal debate, Dean always found himself in the middle of that kitchen, with a best friend and roommate he loved a little more every day, but to which he had to continue pretending to maintain the ideal routine in which they had settled. Dean smiled tenderly at Castiel, who had now finished tidying up the kitchen and, realizing that he might have been staring at him for a little too long now, he sighed and went to the couch to choose their program.

They ate in a good mood in front of a horror film so lame that Dean was seized with a hysterical laugher in the middle and nearly choked on a macaroni. For dessert, Dean got up and came back with two ice creams — vanilla for him and a much more sophisticated taste for Castiel like wild mango or whatever — to finish their meal. Surprisingly, Dean was not particularly tired despite his long day of work and considering the energy that Castiel still had in front of the film, neither was his friend. When the credits began to scroll on the screen, Dean sighed.

"What time do you start tomorrow?" He asked in an innocent tone.

Castiel stretched out on the couch before falling back heavily into it.

"At 11:00, I’m closing." He said, grimacing. "But I won’t be spitting on some extra sleep, really."

Dean let out a contemplative "mmh" before turning to his friend.

"Does that mean you’re up for continuing the night a little longer? I’m starting late tomorrow too, and I admit that I’d like to enjoy the last few hours of the weekend without thinking about my damn essay." Dean pouted.

At these words, Castiel laughs softly and Dean already knew his answer by the expression of his face alone.

"What do you propose?" Castiel asked, raising a defiant eyebrow.

Dean took a short moment to think before his gaze landed on the drawer in which all their board games rested. Immediately, his brain set out to lead him towards an idea that would gradually stretch a malicious smile on his face. Of course, he had long established that he could not reveal his feelings to Castiel, but that did not mean that he could not take advantage of them here and there when the opportunity presented itself.

"A card game?" Dean suggested, turning an angelic face to Castiel again. "Do you know how to play poker?"

Castiel frowned and tilted his head slightly to the side, as was always the case when a situation confused him somehow.

"Uh… I can’t say I do, no. It always seemed rather complicated to me when I saw you playing that during parties." Castiel replied slowly, his blue and curious eyes fixed on Dean.

"It’s pretty simple once you understand the basics!" Dean assured, already bending over to open the drawer with his plan still in mind. "I can teach you if you want, it’ll save you from getting ripped off by Gabriel the next time we play."

As he hoped, these words seemed to unlock something in Castiel’s mind, for his friend straightened himself up with new interest before nodding.

"Okay, but only on one condition." He said, raising his eyebrows. "We don’t bet money. I already have to pay Charlie back because of our last night together."

Dean laughs softly at the mention of that stupid bet that Castiel had royally lost while he was reinstalling himself on the couch with the card game in hand.

"Okay, okay. That’s fine with me. But we still need to spice things up or poker is a lot less fun." He pretended to think for a moment under Castiel’s innocent gaze before resuming. "For lack of something better... we can consider a strip poker?"

As these words left his mouth, Dean felt his heart speed up in his chest. Of course, he had already seen Castiel half-naked many times before, and although he had always appreciated what he saw there, he had to admit that this context would be otherwise amusing. Nevertheless, Castiel remained forbidden and inexpressive so long before him that Dean quickly lost his smile.

"I mean, no… Of course not, I was joking. What-"

"Strip poker works for me." Castiel cut off.

His friend had answered so confidently that Dean was caught off guard for a moment before he could recover. Castiel agreed with his idea, really?

"But it’s quite uneven." Castiel replied, pouting. "You already know the rules, I’ll be naked in less than ten minutes."

That’s the idea, Dean thought. But as he still had compassion for Castiel, he looked around before he got up.

"Mix the cards, I’ll come back." He said to Castiel.

Quickly, he arrived in the kitchen and began searching in the cupboard just below the central island.

"Do we have any bottles left from Friday?" Dean asked as his eyes swept over the contents of the closet.

"I think Benny left a bottle of sherry, yes." Castiel replied from the living room.

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. Sherry, seriously… Did Benny think he was a modern-day pirate or something?

"It’s an insult to call Sherry alcohol when you’re under 40, but… fine." Dean said while grabbing the said bottle before heading out in search of tumblers.

"It’s more of a set of brandy-cut wines, actually, but you did you know that-"

"Cas." Dean sighed again as he returned to the salon with his findings.

He did not need to look in the direction of Castiel to know that he had rolled his eyes heavily. Dean reinstalled himself in the sofa and placed the sherry bottle and the tumblers on the coffee table. He began his explanation while serving the first cup.

"Well, the rules are simple. If you lose a turn in poker, you take off one piece of clothing and the last one naked wins." He grabbed another tumbler. "However... Since I am an extremely nice and magnanimous teacher, we will have three jokers each." Dean pointed to the liquor bottle. "Therefore, if you lose a match, you have the right to choose to drink a shot bottom up rather than take off clothes. We’ll have three jokers each for the whole night. Is that all right, Mr. Know-it-all?"

Castiel did not pay attention to the comment and watched Dean pour the last shot with special attention. He seemed to be much more focused than he wanted to appear until then, and Dean restrained a smile. Castiel had always been a competitor.

"If the three jokers are only usable for the whole evening, then three is not enough." Castiel protested. "I really don’t know anything about it! Allow us at least five? Please?" He added with a more than pronounced pleading expression that came straight to Dean’s heart.

He rolled his eyes before taking out four new cups.

"Yeah, yeah, if you want. Five jokers each then, but don’t expect that to save you from not exposing those gorgeous leopard panties that I gave you for Thanksgiving last year." Dean replied with a mocking smile.

Castiel pushed him with his foot from the other end of the couch and kept his mouth shut on the fact that he, at least, was not knowingly buying Scooby-Doo underwear. Nevertheless, he let go of the remark and straightened himself up on the couch as Dean began to deal the cards. Judging by the smile on Dean’s face, he was more than confident.

* * *

Turns out Castiel was either a damn good liar or he had a freaking knack for poker. Dean continued to bitch in his corner while he was already in his underwear and socks on the couch, his five empty sherry glasses on the coffee table while three on Castiel’s side were still full. Not to mention the fact that Castiel was still perfectly dressed and even sprawled out among the blankets in a casual attitude that only offended Dean more.

He himself was curled up and kept staring at his cards with a sullen expression, alcohol already making him spin his head to make matters worse.

"You’re sulking." Castiel unnecessarily remarked as he was knocking down other cards on their improvised playground.

"I’m not- Damn it, seriously!" Dean suddenly exclaimed in a raging gesture as Castiel won that round again." Dude, I don’t have any more clothes to take anything off!"

Castiel raised an almost cruel eyebrow.

"You still have your socks. Why didn’t you take them off first anyway?" He asked, tilting his head one more time to the side.

Dean simply groaned as an answer and placed his card game with ill-humor on the armrest of the couch. The truth was that he had always been a little chilly in their apartment, whatever the temperature indicated by the thermometer, but he preferred to stand naked in front of Castiel ten times than to admit it in person. Eventually, he began to pull on his left sock reluctantly before letting the poor piece of cloth fall to the ground. If he got sick because of that damn game he started himself, he’d never play poker again.

By attending to his friend’s obvious bad faith, Castiel had to restrain a smile. Eventually, poker was quite instinctive according to him and he even enjoyed playing it now.

"We do one last game before we go to sleep?" Castiel asked, putting the cards together and mixing them again.

Dean sighed loudly.

"What, so I can go back to my room barefoot and bare-bottomed?" Dean grumbled.

Castiel rolled his eyes and began dealing the cards in silence, ignoring Dean’s bad loser attitude and his naked and shivering body before him for a moment. He briefly thought about an alternative before biting his inner cheek with apprehension considering to the direction in which his thoughts were going. Maybe these two sherry cups finally got to his brain... Castiel had never held his liquor very well. However, he was the first to be surprised — and mortified — by the forbidden words that came out of his mouth:

"I have another idea. For the last match, I’ll give you an extra joker." Castiel began, feeling a knot in his stomach as to the turn the events would soon take.

"Mmh?" Dean replied with a questioning look, his curiosity obviously bringing him a new interest.

"If I beat you again on this game…" He handed Dean a few cards, face down. "You will have the right to refuse to take your clothes off. But in that case, you will have to trust me and let me… challenge you? 

Dean raised an eyebrow before turning completely to Castiel, sitting cross-legged on the couch. He remained silent for a moment before taking a deep breath and finally grabbing the cards that Castiel handed him.

"… Will I regret it again?" Dean asked seriously.

Castiel swallowed. He had no good answer to this question. Was he himself certain of what he was doing? Not at all. But he needed Dean to play tonight, because right now, he felt brave.

"No." He lied.

Dean seemed to gauge him for a moment before finally nodding. Thus, another game engaged in a silence filled with concentration. Both of them knew there was a real stake in this game even though Dean was advancing blindly this time. No matter the outcome of the game, he already knew that he would choose Castiel’s challenge, just because he was a player and possessed a curiosity far too strong for his own good. Moreover, this redness that he had thought had subtly appeared on Castiel’s face when he had imposed his condition did not cease to come to torture his mind. He needed to know.

Of course, as if it had been bound to happen, Dean would put his cards down on the couch just to see his chances of winning be wiped out by Castiel a few seconds later. His shoulders dropped heavily, the adrenaline of the game diminishing to give way to defeat. He did not say a word, hardly surprised though, and looked up at Castiel who offered him a compassionate smile. Dean sighed and clasped his hands before him, shrugging.

"Okay Doc Holliday, you got me cowboy…" Dean pouted. "Okay… Joker. What should I do?"

Castiel suddenly seemed nervous in front of him, which did not help Dean relax. He frowned slightly, uncertain, while Castiel laid all the cards on the table.

"I.... I need you to close your eyes. It has to be a surprise or I.... Anyway. Close your eyes please." Castiel stuttered in front of him.

Dean watched him for a moment without saying anything before finally taking a discreet breath and closing his eyes. As soon as the living room disappeared around him, Castiel’s beautiful face faded behind his eyelids as he tried to ignore his crazy heart beating in his chest. The atmosphere had suddenly become special in their apartment, and this since Castiel had brought up the challenge. Dean’s instincts were yelling at him that this was the ultimate time to trust his friend, because something important was going to happen. He could not explain it more than that, he knew it, that’s all.

Dean remained as calm as possible as he tried to listen to what was going on around him. In the first place, only Castiel’s quick breathing made itself heard while Dean remained straight in his place, gently squeezing his hands against each other to control the nerves that he felt rising in him. After a few seconds, he heard movement in front of him and felt the couch rise a little, as if his friend had just changed position. Suddenly, he felt this same rapid breath close to his face and frowned gently, confused. When he could endure it no longer, Dean opened his mouth slightly to ask the question that he was dying to ask before his lips were covered by warm, wet others. Sweet and yet trembling.

Dean opened wide, astonished eyes, in shock as his heart missed another beat. Immediately, he fell upon Castiel’s face, gently close to his own, and swallowed a surprised exclamation which had gone up his throat. The kiss was not really one while Castiel quickly stepped back with nervousness to look into Dean’s eyes, their faces still close and frozen in the moment. Dean looked at Castiel who was looking back at him and everything was crumbling around them in a silence filled with electricity and unspoken confusion. Dean felt like dying and being reborn at the same time, silently in that body that suddenly seemed so narrow to him.

"You…?" Dean whispered, even if he never managed to finish his sentence.

Castiel feverishly licked his lower lip before shaking his head imperceptibly, the face so devastated by the fear of rejection at the moment that Dean felt like he had fallen into his worst nightmare. He could not bear such an expression on Castiel’s face, Cas who had kissed him, Cas who was afraid of his reaction, Cas who cared for him right now. Castiel who loved him.

In a surge of combativeness and surely relief, Dean filled the space between their mouths again and slipped one of his hands to the back of Castiel’s neck to keep him close, preventing him from escaping this time. Once the surprise has passed for Castiel, Dean could almost see his whole body lighten up and melt into their shared kiss. This simple contact seemed to open so many doors that they were too blind to see before that Dean almost had his head spinning. Did Cas have at least as much desire as he had for him the whole time? He tightened his grip around his roommate’s body, he needed to hold on to something so he wouldn’t fall right away.

But he fell anyway when Castiel gently pushed him onto the sofa so that he lay down under him. Later that night he fell again into this large bed in Castiel's room, his lips unable to leave the body of the other as if he desired to make every inch of him feel loved. He fell and fell and fell all night long, tumbling down into the most exquisite and liberating of the falls as a smile split their two faces in the frenzy of the moment. Dean kept falling, but he didn’t do it alone, clinging to the one thing he had never hoped for in recent years and that he could finally touch with his fingers now.

Finally, he was unable to remain angry with Castiel for having beaten him at poker, just as he was unable to detach himself from him that night. As the sun’s rays filtered through the closed shutters of Castiel’s room, Dean gently caressed his lover’s face in the hollow of the pillow with a new, fascinated tenderness. He barely waited until Castiel opened his eyes to steal another kiss before whispering against his lips.

"Hey… I have no fucking idea what happened to my remaining sock yesterday."

When Castiel let out a hoarse chuckle before drawing him closer to himself, Dean promised to do everything to hear this sound every morning now. They were going to need more games night from now on…

* * * @winchester-reload​

Yep, I’m late haha, sorry! It took me a while to write this one but no worries, I’ll post day 15 and day 16 today too. I’m really proud of this OS, don’t hesitate to come and talk about it with me in the comments!

You can find the whole series on Ao3

Tag list /!\ PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU WANT TO BE ADD TO (or removed from) THE TAG LIST so you won’t miss any updates.

@misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @styggtroll @thanks-tacos @petrichoravellichor @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect @ladywaywarddsc @hellfire37 @destiel-221b-sabriel @aloha-cowgirl @destielhoneybee @dysfunctional-destiel @ozonecologne @doofcas @castielrisingabove @zoerayne2426 @tibbinswrites @vicmc624 @thegirlofstarlight @berrieseveryday @staycejo1 @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel @bab-spnfamily @lo-mindpalace

[is0gild]

Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Bonus Chapter 2

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 11,634

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

“Pssst. Raindrop. Check it out."

I paid little mind to the new conversation apparently taking form in the kitchen behind me.

"Hm…? What is it? What am I looking at here?" A pause, then a tiny gasp. "...is… is that what I think it is?"

I just kept scrolling through my phone from my seat on the couch, only listening with half an ear.

"Mm-hm! Her first one! Ain't it a beaut?"

Riku was currently out for what was looking to be a particularly long day at work for him and seeing as how we both had the day off ourselves, Lea and I had decided to hang out at my apartment and keep Rayne company. We'd settled on watching a movie, but my roommate had paused it to go get herself a drink. A few seconds later, Lea had gotten up as well, claiming to be a bit parched himself.

"Oh my god, it's so cute and little!"

We'd even brought Marshmallow with us for a visit with his auntie, especially considering Saïx would have flayed us alive if we'd stuck him with dog-sitting duty yet again. My fingers absently scritched behind one of his ears as the little pup contentedly rested his head in my lap. Though my use of "little" was strictly in the loosest sense of the term. Having had him for close to two months at this point, he'd grown quite a bit. He still looked like a puppy, mind you… there was just a lot more puppy to love now.

"I know, right? So precious, so smol. Just a wee baby hickey!"

My head jerked up at the last word, eyes wide. Then I hastily twisted around in my seat. The scene that greeted me in the kitchen was that of Lea with one finger hooked into his tee-shirt collar and tugging it down to show Rayne a tiny patch of discoloration on his skin just below and slightly to the right of his collarbone.

"Lea!" I snapped, face reddening while my hand gripped the backrest of the sofa so hard, my knuckles turned white.

They both looked at me and froze, Lea muttering, "Uh-oh."

Dropping my phone onto the cushions, I was on my feet in a heartbeat and charging towards them, "That was supposed to be private!"

"Now now, El," he soothed as he quickly moved to put the kitchen table between me and him, "how was I s'posed to know that? You never said anything about-"

"It was implied, you… you… ugh, come here!" I snarled, running around the table with Marshmallow hot on my heels, barking excitedly. Rayne just sniggered as she sidestepped out of our way.

Lea was easily able to keep ahead of me, maintaining the table as a barrier between us. "Aw, c'mon, babydoll! This was a big step for you! I was just proud of you and wanted others to share in my joy!"

"No!" I slapped one palm down on the dining surface while angrily pointing a finger at him across it. "No others! You can't tell anyone else, you hear me?!"

"Alright, alright, I won't tell any other people, I swear!" he raised both hands in a placating gesture. Then he pursed his lips to one side as his gaze averted. "Well… any more other people…"

I blanched. "...who? Who else did you already tell? Roxas? Xion?"

He scoffed, splaying his hand against his chest in offence. "Please, just what kinda man do you take me for? I'm a gentleman, I don't do any of that locker-room talk bullshit." He crossed his arms over his chest, harrumphing as if the very notion was an insult to everything he stood for. Then he gave a small shrug, "...I just told Anna."

I choked and spluttered, unable to find words for a few seconds. "My… You told my sister?!" I took off after him once more, but curse him and his freakishly long legs, the jerk was able to move fast enough to keep the table between us. Marshmallow kept prancing about down around our feet, just out of his mind and beside himself from the sudden burst of activity. Stopping once more, my hands seized the backrest of the nearest dining chair and squeezed the life out of it as I growled, "Why? Why on earth would you tell my sister?"

"Lookit it this way. See, it's like… baby taking her first steps, ya know? I just want all of baby's family and loved ones to feel included in these special lil milestones! Baby being you, of course!"

Oh, "baby" was so going to murder this boy.

"And may I just take this moment to add," oh dear lord, he did not know when to stop talking, even if his very life depended on it, "what a privilege, nay, honor it has been to have a front row seat to - not to mention be instrumental in - your sexual awakening these past several weeks and-"

I threw a coaster at him.

"Hey now, watch it, those are fragile!" Rayne chided as she scooped the other ones off the table to tuck away safely in a cupboard before taking out a different stack to hand to me. "Use these instead. They're garbage, but hard as rocks!"

"Don't give her more ammo!" Lea yelped and ducked as I rapidly chucked my freshly stocked supply of munitions at him. Once I was out, I made another dash for him. Once again, he tried to bolt. This time however, he tripped and stumbled over Marshmallow with a tiny, "Shit!" He managed to grab the edge of the table and catch himself but he'd already lost his lead, giving me a chance to close the distance. Right before I could deliver my righteous justice however, he scooped up Marshmallow and was suddenly holding the giant, squirming ball of white fluff up between us, desperately asking, "You wouldn't hit a guy holding a stupidly cute puppy, would you?"

Huffing through my nose, I narrowed my eyes on him. "Put the dog down, Lea," I said, my voice dangerously low and even.

"Seeing as how the lil furball is the only thing between me and an untimely date with my maker, I'm gonna hafta give ya a hard pass there," he chuckled weakly, inching back a step. Then he was calling over his shoulder, "Lil help, Raindrop?"

She just grinned and shook her head from where she'd taken a seat at the dining table. "Mm-mm, nope. You're on your own, Red."

"Dude. Harsh. I thought we were frien- ow!" he hissed as I took advantage of his distraction to pinch his arm. Marshmallow came in for the assist, chomping down on Lea's fingers and forcing a yelp out of him as he dropped the puppy. Giving his abused hand a shake, he scowled down at the culprit. "Et tu, Marshmallow?"

In response, he just wagged his poof of a tail and sunk his teeth into Lea's leg.

"Destroyer of Worlds, my ass. More like Destroyer of My Ankles, you lil-" Lea's grumbling died down instantly as he saw me take a menacing step towards him. Gulping, he took several steps backwards, snatching up one of the kitchen chairs to use for a makeshift shield. As I kept stalking towards him, he continued backing up until his rear hit a countertop. Sitting atop it and scooching back even further until his spine was against the wall, he stretched one foot out to press against my stomach, holding me at bay with it while he shoved the chair legs in my directions a couple times, "Back! Back I say!"

I froze, blinking at him a couple times. "...are you seriously lion-taming me right now?"

He frowned, eyes darting down to the chair he was holding, then back up to meet my gaze. "Depends. Is it turning you on, my sexy lioness?"

My eyelids drooped. "Not even a little bit."

"Then nope! No, mm-mm, definitely not what I am doing." Something suddenly started ringing back from the direction of the living room. Lea straightened up, eyes brightening, "Oo! Oo! That's your phone, isn't it? Better go answer it!"

"It can go to voicemail," I ground out through my teeth, shoving his foot off my abdomen and taking another step closer.

Still frantically using the chair to defend himself, he asked, "You sure 'bout that? Could be important!"

"It can wait."

"I'll get it!" Rayne chirped, rising and moving to the couch where I'd left my phone. Picking it up, her thumb swiped the screen and she held it up to her ear, cheerfully greeting, "Elsa's pants, she's not in them right now!"

"Rayne!" I whipped my head around to glare at her. She simply winked and blew me a kiss. Sighing, I muttered, "You're just lucky you're pregnant, otherwise you'd be next up on my kill list."

"Hey, double standards!" Lea huffed. "No fair, I can't get pregnant!"

Palm covering the lower half of the phone so it wouldn't pick up her voice, Rayne whispered, "Maybe you're just not doing it right."

"Huh… I'm game to give it a whirl." He smirked at me, "Go on, El. Put a baby in me."

My answer came in the form of grabbing two of the chair legs and giving them a hard shove, ramming the edge of the backrest into Lea's gut.

He grunted and wheezed, "Don't think that's how that's done, babe."

Before I could make a retort, Rayne was abruptly holding my phone in front of my face. "It's Larxene."

My head rocked back slightly, my anger dispersing in an instant as my eyes darted from the mobile, then to my roomie, then back again. Why was the assistant director calling me? Brow furrowed, I finally took it from her and held it up to my ear with an uncertain, "...hello?"

"Get your ass down here. Now."

"I… o-of course! But-"

Click.

She'd hung up.

Both eyebrows shot up my forehead as I slowly lowered the phone, staring at my reflection in the now blackened screen.

"What's up, El?" Lea asked, voice immediately colored in concern as he dropped the chair and slid off the counter onto his feet.

I shook my head. "...guess I better get my ass down there."

Leaving Marshmallow in Rayne's care, Lea and I were on the road within minutes and heading towards Sunset Hill Auditorium. That was my best guess anyway as to wherever it was that Larxene wanted me to get my ass down to. I tucked in my bottom lip as I watched the buildings rush past, my fingers fidgeting with my braid.

Why was I being called in?

The not knowing had me on edge.

Our grand opening of Wicked had occurred last weekend. As was to be expected, I'd been so nervous I'd practically choked on all those butterflies jam-packed inside my stomach trying to escape. But it'd been a good nervous. An excited nervous. And in the end, it'd been so much fun and the show had gone off without a hitch.

Or at least, so I'd thought…

Maybe that's why Larxene was summoning me. Maybe I'd screwed up big time in my role without even realizing it. And I was part of the chorus no less - just one of many, so it would've had to have been one major flub on my part for her to take notice and zero in on me. We were back around to Friday now, so tonight was supposed to be our next showing, followed by several more weekends to come before the musical closed out. But maybe… if I had royally flopped super hard last week...

...oh god… was she going to kick me out of the show?

I gave a start as Lea's hand suddenly closed around mine, lacing our fingers together and stopping me from getting this close to tearing my hair out. He pulled it over to rest in his lap, brushing his thumb back and forth along my knuckles as he continued to drive one handed. "You're sure she didn't say anything else? Anything at all?"

Grimacing, I shook my head. "Nothing. Just told me to come and to be quick about it." I puffed out a sigh, staring down at my lap. "...I doubt it's anything good though. She sounded mad."

He gave an unimpressed razz of his tongue. "That hag always sounds like someone's spit in her Cheerios, so that's not saying much."

That earned him a feeble smile from me, one that swiftly faded. "...what if…" I began, but then clamped my mouth shut against the words, my frown deepening. "...there's this one scene… you remember, from when you saw it last weekend? The bit with the party, where Elphaba is pranked into wearing the witch hat? There's one part of that whole dance routine where we - the chorus that is… we're supposed to twirl to and fro, and maybe… what if I to'd when I should have fro'd and that's why she's calling me in? I to'd when I should've fro'd and wrecked the whole scene and now she's cutting me and making sure I can never, ever work in theater again and-"

"Nonsense, El," he chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled up my hand to kiss the back of it. "Your to-ing and fro-ing were perfect last week. Perfecter than perfect. Those to's and fro's were so perfect that everyone in the audience was too busy being enchanted by you to even pay any attention to the leads and whatever the hell they were doing. In fact, do you wanna know who was sitting in the very seat next to me during that showing?"

My eyelids drooped at how thick this dork was laying it on. "No, but I get the feeling you're about to tell me," I deadpanned.

He grinned big as he turned the car into a parking spot in front of the auditorium and killed the engine. "Why, it was none other than the Grand High King To-And-Fro Champion of the Universe himself! And he was so stunned, so amazed, so enthralled by your hella sick to-ing and fro-ing skills that I overheard him say," here his voice deepened theatrically, "at long last! I've found a worthy successor to bequeath my bedazzling, golden To-And-Fro Crown to!"

I scoffed, using climbing out of the car as an excuse to hide my small, traitorous smile. "Wow, there's a To-And-Fro Crown?"

"You bet your sweet booty there is!" he chirped as he exited the vehicle himself, slamming the door shut behind him.

An amused little huff escaped my nose as I joined him, slipping my hand back into his before making my way towards the entrance to the building. Then I was shooting him some suspicious side-eye. "...you're planning to make me a crown now, aren't you?"

"I dunno what you're talking about," he said a touch too innocently as we climbed the steps and walked inside.

I shot him a dull look. "Do not make me a crown."

"Oh-ho, you're getting a crown whether you like it or not, babycakes."

A soft snort escaped me as I pulled to a stop alongside the back row of audience seats. Then the chilly anxiety began to creep its way back inside my chest. Wrinkling my nose, I muttered, "It'd probably be best if I didn't take you in back with me, so just… wait here, I suppose. This should only take a few minutes… I hope."

Instead of releasing my hand as I turned to go however, his grip gently tightened as he said, "Wait, you forgot this."

"Wha-?" was all I managed to get out before he was tugging me back to him, cupping my cheek and pressing his lips to mine. For a moment, all thoughts of dread were forgotten, washed away by the waves of icy heat sent cascading throughout my body.

As he pulled away, he pressed his forehead to mine and trailed the pad of his thumb along the curve of my cheekbone, murmuring, "Whatever her High-And-Mighty Bitchiness wants, ya give her hell, you hear me?"

Face a little warm, I gave him a tiny smile and a single hesitant nod. Then I squeezed his hand before disentangling our fingers and heading towards the door that led to the backstage area.

The rooms back here were a ghost town currently. I knew however that in only a few short hours the place would be pure chaos with actors and techies alike rushing about in preparation for tonight's show. I frowned, fidgeting with my fingers as I slowly wandered from room to empty room, curious as to where exactly the fearsome assistant director might be hiding. Just when I was thinking about texting her to be sure this actually was in fact where she'd wanted me to come, I heard muffled voices. I glanced around for a second before making my way towards the dressing room as that seemed to be where they were coming from.

Poking my head through the doorway, I spotted three older women who I knew helped Sally with all the costuming for the shows here. They had a few of the costumes for the musical in hand, waving them about as they talked amongst themselves somewhat frantically. All their words were jumbling together into such a muddle of indecipherable noise, it was a wonder any of them were able to keep up with their own conversation.

Taking in a deep breath to settle my nerves before exhaling, I approached them with a polite, "Hi Flora, Fauna, Merryweather... Would any of you possibly know where Lar-"

"Ah! There you are, dear, and not a moment too soon!" The one in a red knit sweater, Flora, cried as she and the others whirled around to face me. "Come, come, there's too much to do and not enough time to do it all in! So many adjustments to make!"

And then I yelped as the three of them pounced.

Okay, maybe "pounced" was a tad strong. But they came at me brandishing tape measures in their hands and safety pins gripped between their teeth and if I'm being perfectly honest, it was a little distressing to say the least.

"Adjustments? What adj- hey, that tickles!" I squirmed as Flora, the one wearing the green hat, stretched out my arm to measure from wrist to armpit. "Adjustments to what?"

Flora smiled sweetly back at me as she wrapped the tape around my bicep now, "To the costumes, of course dear! What else?"

Well duh, I'd figured that much out! But which-

Oh! Hold on… could it be that…

"...was there an accident with one of my outfits? Did something rip and you just need to fix it?" Was that why I'd been called down here? Because if that's all it was, thank goodness!

The lady sporting a blue scarf, Merryweather, ignored my question as she straightened back up with a scowl after taking my height measurement. "Aww, phooey! You're shorter by five inches! Now we have to take up all the hemlines!"

My eyebrows knit together, "Wha… hemlines? What are you… shorter than what? Just what is going-"

"There you are!" A new voice exasperatedly joined the conversation from behind us and I turned to see Larxene striding into the room bearing a clipboard. Or rather, I tried to turn, only to have Flora flip me back around so she could resume measuring my shoulders. "Finally! You certainly took your sweet damn time!"

Wincing slightly, I began, "I… I got here as fast as I could, I-"

She sighed boredly, "Save it, I don't give a crap." Coming to a stop next to me, she eyed her clipboard as she flipped through a couple of the pages. "I got ahold of the others and they should be here any minute for our dry run. As long as no one fucks anything up, that should leave enough time to finish making sure all your costumes fit, your hair is done, and-"

"My hair? What are you doing with my... Wait, why wouldn't my- stop that," I hissed, shooing Fauna away from getting that tape cord anywhere near my bust before looking at Larxene again. "Why wouldn't my costumes fit? And dry run? What dry run? I didn't know about any more rehearsals being scheduled before the show today."

The assistant director gave me a flat look. "...Marluxia didn't tell you?" When my answer was only a blank stare, she growled in her throat, closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Of course he didn't. Why would he? He's only the damn director, ugh! Leave it to Pinkie to delegate without even bothering to tell me!" Cyan eyes locked on me once more and voice taking on what had to be the most unenthused tone in the entire history of all tones, she informed me, "Congratulations. You're Elphaba."

Sorry, I'm who now?

I blinked. Once, then twice. Then, "I'm…? Elph- Wha? Me? No, that can't- That's not- It doesn't- It's not- There's just- It couldn't- No, no, no, there must be-"

Gosh, I've always had such a way with words.

Pressing my lips together firmly and taking a second to gather my thoughts, I tried again. "Snow White-"

"Snow White has food poisoning and can't go on," Larxene enunciated as if she were explaining to a four-year-old child. "So Pinkie has shoulder-tapped you to step up and fill in. Mazel-fucking-tov, now can we move past this already?"

I frowned, barely even noticing now as the flurry of poking, prodding and measuring continued about my person. "But what about… I mean surely there must be a… an understudy! Or-"

She barked out a laugh. "An understudy? Princess please, this is community theater, what understudy?"

My gaze fell to the floor, a crease forming between my eyebrows. Then I was looking at her again, "But this just doesn't make any sense, there has to be someone else! Someone with… with more experience! Why not Tiana or-"

"Tiana's busy," Larxene rolled her eyes.

I shook my head, "Doing what?"

"Um, playing Glinda? Doi?" she arched an eyebrow at me, then scoffed. "We're not going to play musical goddamn chairs with all the leads just a few hours before the show starts. That'd be a royal shitshow, genius. So why don't I just leave all the prancy-wancy acting… stuff to you while you leave the assistant directing to me, okay?" That last word was dripping with enough sarcasm to fill a whole friggin' bucket.

"Then…" I bit down on my bottom lip, breathing shallow and mind racing, desperate to come up with any other solution. "...then one of the other girls! From the tryouts who aren't in the show! Like, oh, what was her name… Yuna?"

Larxene watched me blankly. Then she was tucking her clipboard into her armpit so she could clap her hands together once and coo in candy-coated sweetness, "Okay, yeah! Let's bring in someone who hasn't been to any rehearsals and doesn't know any of the stage layout or any of the choreography! It's perfect! Gee, why didn't I think of that?"

The mockery was neither appreciated nor lost on me.

"Fine! What about- I said stop!" Fauna had been making another shot for my bust and I stumbled out of that tangled mess of hands and measuring tape, huffing and puffing through my nose as I glanced back at them, "What are you even doing?!"

"Making sure we can get all of Snow White's costumes to fit you, dear! Now hold still, we're almost done," Flora said before they all ambushed me again.

Resigned to my fate for the moment, I turned my attention back to Larxene, "But what about one of the other girl's in the chorus? There has to be- There must be someone else who's more trained or… or would be a better fit or-"

"For fuck's sake, Snowflake, why are you fighting this so hard? Do you really need the validation of having me spell it out for you that badly?" Larxene snapped.

My head rocked back and I stared at her with eyes wide. "Wha… Validation? What are you… That's not-"

"Fine." She thrust up one hand to tick off her pinky finger, "One: you're consistent. Annoyingly so. You're the only chorus member who's shown up to every single damn one of the rehearsals. Maybe because all those other pathetic losers have more of a life than you? Don't know, don't care."

Hey now, I had a life!

...I think… it was still sort of a work in progress...

"Two," up went the next finger, "you know the show front and back and could probably recite the whole damn thing from cover to cover at the drop of a hat. You think we haven't noticed you backstage, mirroring all the other actors' stage directions and dance routines and miming along with all the lines and songs like some dumb parrot?"

Oh gosh, they saw that?! Color me mortified.

"Three, you actually got halfway decent pipes and should be able to handle Elphaba's songs at least well enough to not completely embarrass yourself."

Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence.

Jutting out one hip to plant a fist against it, Larxene stared down her nose at me. "So what's it gonna be, Shortbread? You've put in the time, you know your stuff, you got the voice… question is, you got the balls to actually do it?"

I stiffened, sucking in a breath and holding it. I'd run out of arguments to push back with. And honestly…

...did I really want to be arguing this?

The silence stretched as my heart pounded in my ears. Then finally and at long last, I gave a single yet vigorous nod. "Yes."

She smirked. "Good, cuz that was a trick question. You didn't actually have a choice, bitch."

The door to the room banged open as yet another person abruptly came sprinting into the room. She had long dark red hair beneath her newsboy cap and poking out of her shoulder bag was a crude hand-sewn doll that she was never seen without, though I'd never quite been able to figure out what it was exactly… a cat? A pig? Your guess was as good as mine. As for the girl herself, what I did know about her was that she also helped with costuming. Right now, she came bearing a giant black bottle that she waved high over her head. "Got it! Got th… the hair dye!" she panted out as she came stumbling to a stop and braced her shoulder against the wall for support, looking as if she'd just run a marathon.

"Hair dye?" my hand unconsciously went to my braid.

"Oh don't worry!" she gave an exhausted chuckle as she batted her hand through the air. "It's the kind that washes out, but it'll still look great on you!"

"Alright, wrap this up, ladies, we don't have all fucking day," Larxene snapped her fingers a couple times as she started making her way towards the exit. "Snowflake, your ass better be on stage in five so we can get this damn show on the road, got it?"

"Ah… y-yes, of course, I'll be-"

But she was already gone, slamming the door shut behind her.

"Shiki, be a dear and get these measurements to Sally," Flora finished jotting something down on two slips of paper before handing them both to the redhead. "There's a copy in there for you too, so you can grab Elphaba's nightgown for the Popular scene and start taking in the waist."

"Got it!" Shiki nodded as solemnly as a soldier being sent off to war. I was surprised she didn't salute before she darted out through a door in back that led to a deeper part of the dressing rooms.

The remaining three women were suddenly a red, green and blue whirlwind of activity as they bustled about the room, a cacophony of noise once more, flailing costumes as they went. I just kind of stood off awkwardly to one side, rubbing my elbow. Fauna noticed me long enough for a quick but friendly, "We're done, dear."

"Oh, okay," I nodded as she dashed off.

More awkward standing.

"Go on, shoo!" Merryweather impatiently whipped the outfit she was holding at me as she blurred past.

With a start, I gasped, "Right! I, uh… I'll get out of your way," before hastily retreating out the door.

I was still kind of in a state of shock. Because, come on… that was a lot to happen in the space of five minutes! Here I'd come in expecting to get cut, not to have a friggin' lead part dropped into my lap. None of this felt real. Was this a dream? Or maybe more like a nightmare, considering I'd actually been crazy enough to say yes. Oh dear god, was I even ready for this?

Feet seemingly on autopilot, I hardly realized where I was even going as I numbly walked back out towards the audience seating. Lea was slouched down in one of the chairs in back, lollipop stick poking out of one corner of his mouth and red Converse kicked up onto one of the backrests of the row in front of him as he thumbed through his phone.

Looking up as I approached, he grinned and hopped up to his feet with a chipper, "How did it go with Larxy?" But then he squinted at me with a frown. "...do I need to knock her block off? Cuz I'll do it. I don't care if she's a girl, I'll-" he cut himself off, lips pursing to the left. "Scratch that, that hag scares the everliving crap outta me. But I'll tell you what, I will definitely write her a strongly worded letter, or… ah! Passive aggressive post-it notes! That bitch is gonna be getting so many passive aggressive post-it notes from me, she'll rue the day she ever messed with my boo!"

Shaking my head slowly and still in an almost sort of trance, I said, "They're, uh… they needed to make adjustments."

One of his eyebrows quirked. "Adjustments?"

I nodded, staring off into space, eyes unfocused. "To the, um… the…" I gestured to my clothes by way of explanation. Don't think he got it. I kept going as if he had though. "And there's hair dye. And a dry run. Because of the poison."

"Poison?" he echoed again, this time slightly more alarmed.

"So they asked me to- well, I mean, I told them they should have a- you'd think they would have one, wouldn't you? But apparently no, not for community theater. So I said, well why not Tiana? But.. but Larxene didn't want to play musical chairs, and I suppose she had a point. And Yuna hasn't been around and wouldn't know any of the- not to mention all of the other girls have more of a life, so that apparently makes me the-" I suddenly inhaled sharply, digging my phone out of my pocket. "I should tell Anna."

"What? Tell Anna what?!" he asked, but I had already tapped her name in my contacts and was pressing the phone to my ear as I shushed him. His shoulders slumped and he muttered, "I have no freaking clue what's even happening."

It only rang once before a male voice answered, "City zoo, reindeer speaking."

Rolling my eyes as I also heard Anna's faint snickering in the background on the other end of the line, I said, "Hi Kristoff. Could you put my sister on please?"

Oh yeah, those two were an item now. Well, kind of… it was still new and Anna was taking it slow for once.

They were actually kind of cute together.

Though it was really weird seeing Kristoff smile so much now.

"Dweeb," came a muffled giggle from Anna, which I assumed was more so directed at my coworker than at me. There were some shuffling sounds as the phone presumably exchanged hands before she came in loud and clear in my ear with a bright, "Hey, Sis! What's up?"

At long last, a hint of a smile started to tug at my lips. "Something… something amazing has happened, you'll never guess! I-"

"Oh! I know already, and I am so friggin' proud of you, you have no idea!"

I blinked, tipping my head to one side. "You are? Wait, how could you possibly know already? I just-"

"Lea told me!" My forehead wrinkled at that as my eyes darted to him. Suddenly she let loose a piercing squeal and I flinched, holding the phone away a bit. "Ahhh! Lookit you! My big sis is all growed up and giving her man hickies! 'Bout friggin' time too!"

My right eye twitched.

Ah. Right. That. I'd almost forgotten.

My free hand snaked out to give Lea's arm another pinch and he yelped, lollipop tumbling from his lips. Fumbling to catch it, he grumbled, "Shit, El, what'd I do?"

Jabbing my fingertip against his chest at the exact spot where I'd left my mark under his shirt, I hissed, "You know what you did."

With a tiny sheepish chuckle, he scratched a spot behind his ear. "Oh yeah…"

Oh-ho, he was going to rue the day. And trust me, it wasn't going to be with passive aggressive post-it notes.

I narrowed my eyes on him as I continued my phone conversation, "First of all, I never want to hear the H-word coming out of your mouth again. You're my little sister, it's just… it's too weird." I paused with a small shudder, but then a grin slowly began fighting its way back onto my face. "Second of all… I'm Elphaba."

"...elle-fab-wha?"

I made a noise in my throat that was half sigh, half groan. What, did she sleep through the show when she saw it last week? ...honestly, I wouldn't have been surprised. "A lead. They made me a lead, okay? Th-" a gasp stifled my words as my free hand flew up to cover my mouth. It was finally actually hitting me. This was real. Saying out loud had suddenly made it so very, very real. "Oh my god, they made me a lead."

"They what?!" Anna shrieked in delight at the same time Lea surprised me by hugging my waist, picking me up and spinning me around as he laughed, "Babe, that's amazing!"

As he was putting me back down, I could hear Anna babbling, "How did this happen?! Tell me, I want to know everything! How is this even possible? Aren't all the leads filled?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but Lea started talking as well, "Did one of the stars call in sick? Shit, did she call in dead? You said something about poison, which is a thing I think we sorta glossed over and should circle back to."

Again, I took in a breath to form words. Again, I was cut off. "Did they realize how friggin' talented and beautiful and incredible you are and just write a new leading part specifically for you?"

"Was the actress poisoned? Was she murdered?" Lea then gave a dramatic mock gasp. "...did you murder her for the part?"

"What am I saying? Of course that's what they did, ah! I can't believe they friggin' wrote in a whole new character just for you! Except I can believe it and I do!"

"Cuz if you did, you know you can tell me, right? Your secret is safe with me, just damn, El... who knew beneath that whole sweet, doe-eyed routine of yours beat the heart of a ruthless, cold-blooded killer?"

"Both of you, shush!" I huffed, finally managing to get a word in edgewise. Jeez, I could barely handle one person talking to me on a good day, let alone two at the same time. To my boyfriend, I articulated slowly, "Food poisoning, Lea. Food poisoning." As he just sniggered and shrugged, I spoke into the phone, "And Anna, no, that's not how plays work. Someone fell ill, I'm just filling in." I puffed out a soft breath and hesitated, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth now. "...listen, are you busy tonight? Do you think… Would you be able to make it?"

"You want me there?! Really?" I winced at how shocked she sounded. "I mean, Sis, don't get me wrong, I'd absolutely love to go, but… me being there, that wouldn't, ya know… psych you out or make you feel more pressure?"

Restless fingers fiddling with my braid, I was silent for a few seconds. Then I gave a firm nod even though I knew she couldn't see it. "I would… really like it if you were there. Kristoff can come too, if you want."

Another eardrum bursting squeal. Don't think I was joking either. Pretty sure that was blood I felt trickling out of my ear now. "We are so there! We'll be like your groupies! We'll paint our faces and hold up signs saying how much we heart you and-"

"No!" I said quickly. Because I knew Anna. She wasn't kidding. "No face paint, no signs!"

"Oo, what's this I hear about face paint and signs?" Lea's eyes lit up.

I hung my head, pressing my fingers to the spot between my eyebrows. "Great, now you've gotten Lea's hopes up. You know how he latches on."

Giggling, Anna said, "And don't worry about inviting Mom and Dad, I'll pass the invite along to them for y-"

My shoulders stiffened. "Do not tell them! They won't care."

"But-"

"Just don't, Anna, okay? See you tonight." I scowled as my thumb pressed the 'End Call' button, silencing any further argument from her.

"Don't tell who what?" Lea asked, cocking his head slightly.

With a tiny exhale as I pocketed my phone, I said, "She wanted to invite my parents to tonight's show as well, which is ridiculous. They wouldn't want to come."

He frowned, then crossed his arms as he leaned one hip against an audience seat. "Do you want them there?"

I scrunched up my face. "...I haven't spoken to them in months. Not since that disastrous weekend you and I visited them. If the first thing they heard from me after all this time was to ask them to come see my silly little play… no, they wouldn't be interested. In fact, they'd probably be insulted. You know they discouraged my interest in theater all my life, so this would just be like a slap in the face to them. This is the last place they'd want to be, they wouldn't even be caught dead here. They won't come."

"But do you want them there?" he pressed again.

Hugging myself, I looked down, staring hard at my feet. "...Anna better listen to me. She better not tell them, or I'll-"

"What part of 'ass on stage in five' did you not understand, Princess?!" Larxene's voice was suddenly booming throughout the auditorium. I whirled around to see all the other performers had arrived and were waiting on stage with our illustrious assistant director in the front, glaring daggers at me as she impatiently tapped her foot. "Chop, chop, we don't have all day!"

"C-Coming!" I stammered back, then screwed my eyes shut as another thought struck me. I muttered, "Shoot, I was going to call Rayne too."

"Don't worry, I'll pass the message along. We'll all be there with bells and whistles on," Lea winked. I gave him a quiet thank you as I turned to rush off. Before I could take so much as a step however, Lea stopped me with a, "Hey." I glanced back at him and he grinned softly as he reminded me, "They gave you a lead."

I blinked. Then a huge smile spread across my face.

This was happening.

This was real. Like, really real.

Suddenly bubbling over with excitement and in need of an outlet, I flung myself at Lea and kissed him.

"God fucking damnit, now, Snowflake!" Larxene snapped.

"Be right up!" I called as I released him, tossing him one final hasty wave over my shoulder as I dashed towards the stage.

This wasn't a dream.

This was really happening.

And I couldn't wait to get started.

Scratch that, I could wait.

Maybe hold off for another hour or two? Or, I don't know… twelve? Tomorrow! Yes, tomorrow, would be great. Or better yet, perhaps a week from now? Heck, why not round it up to a nice, even year. Sound good?

If it wasn't obvious, I was having second thoughts. Not to mention third and fourth thoughts to boot.

It was kind of hard not to when I'd made the mistake of peeking out past the curtains to see just how many people were out there. Answer? A lot. So many. Too many. How did they even all fit in there? I could swear I remember the auditorium being a lot smaller… had it grown bigger in the past couple hours? Pretty sure it had grown bigger. I mean, that was the only logical explanation for the sheer amount of people in the audience now, right? Right.

Letting go of the curtain to block out the terrifying sight once more, I drew in a slow breath and held it for a few seconds. There was about fifteen minutes left before the show was to start. Fifteen very few, very short minutes. My face and neck were painted green, along with my hands that currently shook as I wrung them together. My hair was black and still braided and very tempting to tug at, but I resisted. My costume - a formal, blue three piece skirt suit with a knit cap - still didn't quite fit right in some places, but it fit well enough. The costuming ladies had actually done a pretty amazing job in the scant time they'd had to work with, I couldn't even fathom how they'd managed to get everything done. My best guess? Magic. It was the only thing that made sense.

My pulse chugged along at what felt like a billion beats per second and… crud, my palms were clammy. I hoped that wouldn't wipe away the body paint. Ugh, you would think I wouldn't be so nervous. I mean, what was the big deal anyway? So what if I was going to be on stage in front of that huge crowd? You know what, I'd been on stage in front of a huge crowd last week too and I'd handled it just fine. True, I'd just been a part of the chorus then, whereas tonight I was Elphaba, but what was the difference, I mean really? Just a handful of solo songs, a few hundred (or was it thousand?) more lines… then of course so many more eyes focused on me… so many more chances that something could go wrong…

Dammit, I was just being silly! Repeat after me, Elsa: nothing will go wrong. Nothing will go wrong. After all, the dry run had gone smoothly, hadn't it? Almost surprisingly so. Now I just had to do the exact same thing again, only this time in front of a room full of people!

...so many, many people...

Okay, this wasn't helping. I needed to take my mind off all this anxiety and calm down. What was that old trick for dealing with stage fright? ...picture the audience naked?

I hesitated, pursing my lips to one side. Then I poked a finger through the curtains once more to take another quick look. Then I was retracting my hand to my chest, letting the curtains fall shut again.

...yeah, no. Pretending like I was performing for a nudist colony? Not helping.

Now I was only nervous and blushing. Just dandy.

A hand suddenly clapped down on my shoulder, making me jolt and swallow a small yelp.

"Don't worry, you'll be great!" someone whispered next to me. I turned my head to see Tiana smiling brightly at me, looking stunning in her poofy, sparkly Glinda dress with her hair done up in lustrous curls. "Break a leg."

It took a second for my brain to catch up and remember that that was an old theater saying for wishing me luck.

Oh gosh, were we… bonding? I wasn't quite sure, I didn't know what it looked like. Everyone here had always been nice enough to me, of course, but it's not like we interacted all that much outside of rehearsals, not really. I'd been getting slightly better with this whole human interaction thing, but I still wasn't exactly big on the concept. I didn't know what to do with this newfound showman camaraderie.

...at the very least, I should reciprocate, right?

As she moved off to get onto her floating platform that she was supposed to make her grand entrance on at the start of the show, I quietly but hastily called after her, "You, uh… y-you too! Break both of them! And… and an arm as well!" Wait, what? "In fact, I'll break them all for you and-"

Both my hands shot up to gag myself.

For the love of… Learn to quit while your ahead, you stupid useless mouth!

Breathing a muffled sigh into my fingers, I slowly lowered my hands as I glanced up at the clock hanging on the wall. The minutes were ticking by far too quickly. My body was practically vibrating with all the nervous energy coursing through it and not for the first time, I seriously considered making a break for it. I knew where the back exit was to this place and I'd been left unsupervised. Really, that was just asking for trouble. Everyone should know by now what a goddamn friggin' flight risk I was!

I pushed that oh so appealing thought to the back of my mind however, locking it up and throwing away the key. A distraction… that's what I needed right now! But where to find such a thing…?

I looked to the heavy velvet curtain once more, pausing for a few heartbeats.

You'd think I'd have learned my lesson by now, but…

Yet again, I nudged it open a smidge to peek out.

It only took me a few seconds to spot them in the audience, third row from the front and slightly towards the right. Lea, Roxas, and Xion, chatting and laughing about something. Lea abruptly got Roxas in a headlock and started mussing up his hair while Xion just cackled. I hid a tiny grin behind my fingers as I watched Rayne reach across Xion, using her playbill pamphlet to swat at Lea's elbow trying to get him to stop manhandling Roxas.

This was what I'd needed to soothe me. To look out into that sea of people and see the faces of those I cared about.

To Rayne's right, Riku just read his own playbill and wisely stayed out of the mini-brawl that'd broken out. Then next to him were Anna and Kristoff. My sister was currently making a silly face as she took a selfie of the two of them, while he sported a goofy smile and couldn't seem to take his eyes off her.

Yes, exactly what I'd needed. One look at Lea, Roxas, Xion, Rayne, Riku, Anna, Kristoff, and my parents already had me feeling so much-

Wait…

Run that list by me again?

Lea, Roxas, Xion, Rayne, Riku, Anna, Kristoff, and-

I gasped, the curtain escaping my grasp and slipping back into place.

No, no, no, what were they doing here?! They shouldn't be here! They couldn't be here! There had to be some mistake! I must have been seeing things, it must have just been some… some trick of the light! Yeah, that had to be it! All I had to do was pull the curtain aside again and see for myself that it was just some other older couple who looked ridiculously rich, ridiculously out of place, and ridiculously uncomfortable.

Swallowing hard, I tentatively reached for that thick velvet fabric once more, parting it by an inch.

...fudge. No question about it. That was definitely and without a doubt... my parents.

I released the curtains once more, frowning. A few seconds ticked by. Then I poked them to one side again.

Nope. Still there. Still them.

...maybe I should try closing and opening the curtains one more time?

Zip it, brain, you're not helping!

This just… this didn't make any sense! What were they even doing here?!

My anxious eyes darted over a couple seats from them to where Anna was still in selfie mode, finger hooked in her mouth to flash her gums while she stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes.

My eyelids drooped.

Why that little…

I dashed over to the dressing rooms, snatching my phone out of the locker I was using for my personal items before rushing back over to the curtains, fingers furiously tapping out a text message as I went.

I will END you.

Annnnnnnd send.

Sneaking a glimpse out into the audience once more, I watched as Anna suddenly went very rigid, face pale and wide eyes locked on her phone screen. Then, as if she could sense my icy death glare on her, she looked up and directly at the tiny gap in the curtains through which I was peering. I swiped a finger slowly across my throat. She quite visibly gulped, gaze darting over to our parents. Oh yes. She knew exactly why I was going to murder her. Then her thumbs were a blur as they started tapping at her phone. I felt mine vibrate in my hands and I glanced down at it.

it wsnt me i swear thy just showd up id nevr do that 2 u plz dont kll me i luv u and thnk ur so so pretty

As she then proceeded to spam me with various heart and kiss emojis, a crease formed between my eyebrows and I looked to the crowd once more. My parents wouldn't have known to come on their own, so someone had to have told them.

If not Anna, then who…?

My gaze landed on another certain redhead, currently snickering as his fingers ruffled his hair.

...oh-ho, he wouldn't have much left to snicker about by the time I was through with him.

Glancing to my phone once more, I swapped over to my text conversation with Lea and started typing.

Left backstage door. Now.

I watched long enough to see him pull out his phone, quirk an eyebrow as he read my message, then hop up to his feet to make his way towards the requested rendezvous point. I ran behind stage, turning down a hallway and descending the steps leading to the other side of that same door. As I pulled it open a crack to peer out, I could see Lea standing there with his back to me, hands shoved into his pockets as he idly rocked on his feet while waiting. The audience murmur was dying down as the lights began to dim, indicating the show was about to start. That was okay, that still gave me roughly ten more minutes before I had to be on stage.

More than enough time to hide the body when I was through with my meddling boyfriend.

"Psssst," I hissed to get his attention, opening the door wider.

Lea spun around, took one look at me and snerked, both hands coming up to cup over his mouth. His eyes crinkled as he seemed to take a second to compose himself. Then in a whisper that shook with barely contained laughter, he said, "I'm sorry, but you make… the cutest teenage mutant ninja turtle."

Not wanting to disturb the audience as the first notes of the play's music started up, I simply rolled my eyes, grabbed him by the front of the shirt and yanked him through the door, letting it fall shut behind him.

He stumbled into me, his hands immediately going to my hips as he smirked down the few inches that separated us. "Mmm, so that's what this is? Need me to help you work off some of those pre-show jitters, huh? Wouldn't think you'd have the time to squeeze in a lil makeout sesh, but if you insist…" He gently pressed me up against the wall, pinning my body there with his. Ducking his head down, his lips found my throat as he murmured, "I'll admit, I am pretty curious to find out just how far down this green goes…"

I shivered as his kisses down my neck left a warm tingle in their wake.

...reason…

There'd been a reason I'd wanted to see him, and this wasn't it.

...unless… was it?

Wait! No! Focus, Elsa, focus! I'd wanted to talk to him about, uh… about my, uh…

"Parents!" I breathed out at last, regaining some semblance of thought as I cleared my throat. "It was you who invited my parents here, wasn't it?"

He stilled against my neck. Then he was straightening back up once more and I had to choke back a laugh. Thanks to my body paint, his mouth had now taken on a lovely shade of emerald. "Maybe… who wants to know?" he asked with a playful shrewdness. I narrowed my eyes up at him, to which he grinned, "No seriously, who? I can't tell which one you're supposed to be. Donatello? Raphael?"

"Bold of you to mock someone who's has intimate knowledge of all your weak points," I deadpanned, poking him in the side where I knew he was ticklish. He yelped and squirmed. Ah, sweet sweet vengeance. I then released a grumbling sigh. "...I told you not to tell them."

Lea struck up a finger, "Correction: you told Anna not to tell them. You never said a word about what I myself should or shouldn't do."

"But I said I didn't want them here!" I shot back, mindful to still keep my voice low.

"Did ya though?" he cocked an eyebrow at me. My hand shot out for his ticklish spot again, but he caught it with a triumphant, "Ha! But no really, you didn't. You did however give me an impressive list of excuses as to why you assumed they wouldn't wanna come."

"Because they wouldn't!" I pressed. But then I hesitated, averting my gaze before muttering, "...or rather… I thought they wouldn't." I shook my head. "...what did you even say to them?"

His shoulders gave a small shrug. "Nothing much, I don't even remember really. But cliff notes version? Something along the lines of how important this was to you and if they ever hoped to have even so much as a snowball's chance in hell of being a part of your life ever again, it'd be important to them too."

My face twisted sourly. It was kind of getting hard to stay mad at him. Especially when I had to keep staring at those toad-lips of his. But damned if I wasn't going to try. "So what, you expect me to believe you just called them up and-"

"Oh," he chuckled and shook his head, "no, I didn't call. I mean, I tried to at first, but only got as far as leaving a message with the butler. So figured, hell, got several hours to kill before curtain time... why not take a lil road trip?"

I stared at him, eyes growing round. "Oh no."

Lea beamed, "Oh yes! We had quite the pleasant chat, your folks and I. In the... Jasmine Room I believe it was this time. It was nice. Cozy. There was even tea."

A quiet snort escaped me now as my expression softened, reaching a hand up to touch his cheek. "...that was a very sweet, not to mention a very stupid and overstepping thing to do."

"If by 'stupid and overstepping' you mean 'brilliant and endearing,' then you and I are in total and one hundred percent agreement," one side of his mouth quirked. He then puffed out a smug, lofty sigh, "What can I say, I just can't help being so awesome. Try not to swoon while in the presence of the awe-inspiring greatness that is yours truly."

I gave him a blank look. "Your lips are green."

He blinked, removing one hand from my waist to poke at his lips before pulling his fingertip away to discover it was now a delightful lime color. Then he flashed his dimple, "You say that like it isn't just another example of my awesomeness."

Biting back a small smile, I idly smoothed a thumb at the corner of his mouth. "I will say I am rather fond of the way it brings out the color of your eyes."

"Now ya gone and done it," he hugged me more tightly against him. "This moment right here? You remember it good. Now when I go and start making green lipstick my new aesthetic, just remember that it's all thanks to you telling me that."

"...fudge."

He snerked before leaning his face in closer to mine now, his breath warming my lips as he whispered, "Now whaddya say to me laying some sweet green sugar on ya, babydoll?"

I spluttered in amusement, clamping a hand over his mouth before he could finish closing the distance. "And risk you ruining my makeup even further? I don't think so. Besides, I should get back, I'm sure I must be due on stage any minute."

Pulling his face free of my grasp, he now rested his forehead to mine and nuzzled our noses together. "C'mon, you're fine. One lil smooch or two won't hurt any-"

A sudden loud, ominous crackle filled the air. We both turned our heads to discover now standing at the top of the stairs was a certain assistant director with a homicidal gleam in her eye as she held up a sparking taser. Larxene shut it off, gravely intoning, "Oh you miserable little man. How shall I fry thy lame-o ass for trespassing backstage? Let me count the ways." The taser buzzed with electricity once more.

"Gottarunbabeknock'emdeadoutthere," Lea blurted out, planting a swift peck to my forehead before bolting out the door back to audience seating so fast, you'd have missed if you'd blinked.

Leaving me to face the walking, talking electrocution chair in human form all on my own.

Gee thanks, Lea. So brave. So valiant. My hero.

The big, fat chicken.

I gulped, licking my dry lips and squaring my shoulders. "Larxene, I-"

"Will you just go get ready for your cue?" she huffed, stepping aside and gesturing with the taser for me to get a move on. "I'll chew you out after the show."

Releasing a small breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, I nodded and ran up the steps past her. As I snatched up and put on my prop glasses, picked up the student briefcase to complete my costume and got into position just offstage, I saw that it was almost time for me to make my entrance. It was just now hitting me that I'd been so distracted by having my little chat with Lea that I'd missed out on precious panicking time. As if my body were trying to make up for it all at once, my heart rate abruptly skyrocketed, blood rushed in my ears and my knees trembled.

But beneath it all was also the teeniest flash of giddiness.

This was it.

There was no time left for freaking out or worrying about what could go wrong or stressing out about my parents being in the audience.

I tensed as I heard my cue, hesitating for a beat.

There was no time left for anything except to just go out there and get on with it.

So I did. I drew in a deep breath and took that first step out onto the stage.

I will never forget those first five minutes.

Everything about it had just been so… different. Being a lead had made it all different. The warmth radiating from the stage lights above had been different. The hush from an auditorium packed with people had been different. Even the very air itself as I'd breathed it into my lungs had felt different.

Those first five minutes would stay with me forever until the day I died. Because those five minutes had been undeniably and without question…

...the absolute worst experience of my whole life.

I'd tripped and stumbled over my own two feet. I'd forgotten simple stage directions. I hadn't talked loud enough at first. When I finally did speak up, I'd stammered through half my lines and completely skipped over others all together. At one point, I'd even accidentally said somebody else's line for them.

It'd been terrible. Simply awful. Literally a nightmare. One I was pretty sure I'd had before. One I'd kept praying to wake up from but never did. I'd wanted to run off the stage. Just flee into the night and never look back. Every last molecule of my being had been all but screaming at me to do so.

But I didn't.

Somehow - and I'm still to this day not quite sure how exactly - I'd stuck it out. I stood fast and stubbornly soldiered through it. And I'm so glad I did.

Because waiting at the end of those infernal five minutes had been my first song.

From the second those opening musical notes filled the air and hit my eardrums, everything had changed. My body began to relax as the tension eased bit by bit. For that tune had reminded me why I was here. That this is something I really, really wanted to do. Had dreamed of doing ever since I was a little girl. Suddenly it no longer mattered that there was an audience out there. It didn't matter that all eyes were on me.

All that mattered was pouring my heart into my song and giving it my all.

After that, everything suddenly seemed to just click. I knew where to go. I knew what to do. I knew what to say as clearly as if I'd had the script on a teleprompter in front of me the whole time that only I could see. I was no longer scared little Elsa trying and failing miserably at playing a role. I was that role. I was Elphaba.

And it was amazing.

Perfect, in fact.

Before long, I was singing my last song with Glinda. Before long, I was making my final exit offstage with the Scarecrow as the curtains closed behind us. Before long, I was stepping out with the rest of the cast to take our bows before the applauding crowd. And before long, it was all over and I was descending down the steps into the audience area…

...where I was immediately all but tackled to the ground by Anna, Rayne, and Xion in a vicious group hug.

"Guys, if you were trying to squeeze the life out of me, you've succeeded," I wheezed, trying to wriggle free. "It's done. There's no life left in me. Now for the love of all that is good and oxygenated, let go!"

Thankfully they released me. Ah, blessed, blessed air, how I missed thee. Xion was the first to pipe up with, "Oh my god, Elsa! You were fantastic! I had no idea you were gonna be so good!"

"Good?! Please," Anna scoffed before grabbing me by the shoulders to excitedly shake me, "Sis, you crushed it!"

"My precious bab is gonna grow up to be a star!" Rayne bawled, pinching both my cheeks.

Baby hormones. Don't mind her.

Pulling my face free of her fingers, I humored them with a shy smile. "You're all very sweet, but it's okay. There's no need to exaggerate."

Anna narrowed her eyes over a grin, "Please, don't even try to give us that BS. You were phenomenal and you know it!"

I gave her a flat look. "Oh yeah, so phenomenal. Especially those first few minutes."

"Shhhh," Xion pressed a finger to my lips with a smirk. "We pretend those minutes don't exist."

A throat cleared, causing the girls to turn and part to reveal the other half of their little group, aka the boys. Lea was front and center, one corner of his lips (oh dear lord, they were still the color of grass) twitching up as he stepped forward with a colorful bouquet in hand.

I fought a losing battle to suppress my growing smile as I took the flowers from him, not failing to notice the winter honeysuckle sprinkled into the mix. Crinkling my eyes up at him, I teased, "What a totally outdated and unnecessary gesture… thanks, I hate it."

"Liar," he snorted, slipping a hand around my waist as he pressed his lips to my hair. "Way to own that stage. I mean it, El. You kicked some serious ass up there."

Anna shook her head with a soft giggle, "That's what we were trying to tell her!"

"But the goob doesn't know how to take a compliment," Rayne tsked, flicking my forehead.

"What? C'mon, don't play coy. You know you were pure awesome incarnate, way better than that other chick that usually plays her," Lea booped his fingertip to my nose.

I suddenly felt very grateful that I was still caked in body paint. All the better to hide my blush with, my dear. I scrunched up my nose and averted my gaze, "You're just saying that because you're biased."

"Oh, one hundred percent. But doesn't make it any less true!" he chirped.

I rolled my eyes.

Time for a topic change.

"Your lips are still green."

Hey, I never said anything about it being a particularly good topic change.

"And this surprises you how? I already told ya, babycakes, this is my new brand. Speaking of, time to apply a fresh coat!" And with that, he began smothering me from temple to cheek to jaw in kisses. I squirmed, smacking him with the bouquet.

"Anyone else up for a late dinner?" Riku chimed in as he joined his wife at her side, hugging an arm around her shoulders and nuzzling her cheek before turning his gaze on me. "You must be starved after blowing away the whole audience like that."

Oh gosh, if one more person complimented me, I fear I might explode. I'd never been built to handle so much attention and praise. It made me uncomfortable and I never knew how to respond, nor did I really want it. All I'd ever wanted to was to simply put on what was hopefully at least a halfway decent show.

As the others rumbled in agreement about finding somewhere to eat that'd still be open this late, I nodded as well, "Just… give me a moment to get changed and clean off all this green."

"No no, my sweet, leave it on… for later," Lea cooed into my ear, waggling his eyebrows.

A huff of a laugh escaped me. "Now you're just making it weird."

Eyes dancing, his mouth opened to retort but before he could make so much as a sound, somebody else was interjecting with, "Pardon us."

I inhaled sharply, my spine snapping ramrod straight at that voice.

Crud, I'd completely forgotten that they were here.

Our whole group suddenly fell very quiet as all eyes turned to a nearby couple standing uncertainly off to one side, watching us all warily.

My parents.

Looking just as uncomfortable and out of place as they had before the show.

As they tentatively began to approach, Roxas and Kristoff shifted to make space for them. Their eyes settled on me at first before briefly flicking over towards Lea, who still had his arms wrapped tightly around me with seemingly zero intention of removing them, propriety be damned. I had to resist the very strong urge to clap my hand over his minty lips, abruptly very aware of the fact that that was probably what'd drawn my parents' fleeting focus to him. Thankfully, they made no comment. I'm not even sure what I would have said if they had.

Looking to me once more, Mother was finally the first to break the silence that somehow felt like it'd already been going for absolute centuries. "Elsa," she began but paused, an unsure frown in place as she seemed to search for the right words. "...you... did very well."

"Yes," Father lifted his chin slightly, the epitome of stiff politeness. "The show was… adequately entertaining."

I felt Lea's muscles go rigid beside me, could see his nostrils flaring out of the corner of my eye. I was quick to place a hand to his chest, speaking up before he could. "Th-thanks… Thank you very much," I told them softly with a small bow of my head.

They looked like they may have wanted to say more, but apparently seemed to think better of it. Instead, Father went with, "It's late. We best be off."

"See you back at home," Mother told Anna, reaching over a hand to lightly brush at her cheek. My sister's eyes darted from her over to me, then back. Then she just gave a tiny nod and said nothing as our parents turned and left.

Once they were out those double doors at the far end of the auditorium, Lea grumbled, "'Adequately entertaining' my ass… what was that bullshit?"

My gaze still on where they'd exited, a slow smile spread across my lips. "That was them trying," I murmured, glancing up at him. "I think maybe I'll give them a call tomorrow."

Author's Note: Ha! You didn't SERIOUSLY think I'd include "Wicked" in this and not let Elsa get to play the role of Elphaba, did you?! For those of you who don't know, Elsa's voice actress Idina Menzel is also famous for being Elphaba in the musical "Wicked"! So of course I couldn't let El's talents be wasted in the chorus for the entire show… our ice queen bab got her time to shine! And if how Elsa came around to getting to play the part sounds possibly far fetched, it's not as much of a stretch at it might seem! I did some research into it and it's true: it's very common in community theater to not have understudies, so if someone gets sick or otherwise can't perform, often the first place they'll look for a replacement is in the chorus! Side note: I for some reason took WAY too much joy in my stupid lil Snow White and food poisoning reference, don't ask me why xD In any case, El got to do one or two more shows as Elphaba (basically finished out that specific weekend's showings) before Snow White was feeling well enough to resume the role. But Elsa definitely had a blast and is eager to hopefully get a bigger part in whatever show her community theater decides to put on next! As for her folks, don't get me wrong, they're still in the dog house and won't be off the hook for a while yet, but the olive branch has been extended, a shaky truce has been formed and an awkward phone call is now made from time to time… for now xD Also - and this won't be any time soon, mind you - but I might have to go back at some point and write out another brief one-shot just for Lea's lil visit with El's folks where he "politely" (ha!) invited them to the show xD

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you who’ve liked, reblogged, and followed so far, seeing those lil notifications always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

Be back for next week's bonus chapter! In which there will be… BELLS! Do these bells have any particular significance to the plot of next chapter? Or are they just a brief prop and a red herring for this author's note? Stay tuned!

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

[nicolewrites]

two shots of vodka

@mishspelled, @tsunnychan, @shining-jul-of-hope here’s more of this roommates au nonsense because someone talked down about vodka. 

Dedicated to that one shrine in BOTW which sucks and also the cocktails my friend and I made on Canada Day last year. 

Rating: T Genre: Friendship Characters: Sylvain Jose Gautier & Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd Words: 2,300

Movie night has been their tradition for years. / roommates au

AO3

“Are you two going to help me or continue to fail miserably?” Ingrid called.

Her hands were currently stained red from the juice of the strawberries she was cutting and she’d only made it through half of a box. The lemonade and vodka bottles were waiting on standby next to the blender and the box of popcorn was still sitting, unpopped, on the counter in front of the microwave.

“We’re almost there, Ing, come on!” Sylvain protested, not even tearing his eyes from the TV screen.

Felix didn’t even bother to reply, twisting his controller with such an intense look of concentration Ingrid wondered if he would throw the controller at the TV if he managed to lose this time. On the screen, the glowing orb balanced precariously on the edge of some kind of maze thing. Felix tilted his hands a little and the orb shot forward, launching onto the next area of land.

Sylvain cheered and jumped off the couch as the game played its telltale jingle for the correct solving of the puzzle. “Fuck yeah, Felix!”

Felix groaned and dropped the controller, tipping sideways so that his face collided with the couch. “I fucking hate that puzzle. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “No one told you that you had to play the game again.”

Felix lifted his hand and flipped her off without moving. “I have to be ready for the race.”

Sylvain laughed. “Look, just because Dorothea challenged you to a race doesn’t mean you have to actually do it.”

Felix looked up at Sylvain. “You’re joking, right? I’m not losing to a music major.”

Ingrid clicked her tongue as she finished cutting up the last of the strawberries. She scooped them up and dropped them into the blender. “You seem plenty happy to lose to Annette whenever she’s over,” she teased.

Felix went red and scowled. He saved his game and quit to the main menu before shutting the console off. He jumped up and walked into the kitchen. “How can I help?”

Ingrid grabbed the lemonade bottle and poured a healthy amount into the blender. “Can you grab me the ice cubes from the freezer?”

Felix immediately opened the freezer. Ingrid turned to glare at Sylvain who was still lounging on the couch, though now he was scrolling on his phone. He glanced at her when he realized she was staring at him and just batted his eyes at her innocently.

“Are you going to help?”

“And get stuck doing all the dishes like I always do anyway? No,” he replied cheerfully.

Ingrid wanted to berate him, but he had a point. Sylvain almost always ended up doing the dishes. He was the worst cook of the three of them, so that meant he was almost always relegated to dish-duty after meals. When alcohol was involved, he ended up doing the dishes purely because he had the highest tolerance and was the most adept and practiced at managing his hangovers.

She picked up the vodka bottle and reached around Felix for their liquor cupboard. Felix glanced at her oddly, but placed the ice cube tray next to the blender and backed out of her way. He leaned against the counter and folded his arms.

“What are you doing?”

Ingrid grabbed the metal cup from the cabinet and waved it at him. “I need this."

Sylvain laughed. “Ah, Ingrid, always the responsible one, using the jigger to measure our alcohol intake.”

Ingrid was screwing off the lid of the vodka bottle when he spoke. She paused. “The what?” she questioned.

Sylvain blinked. “The jigger.” He gestured to the shot-measuring cup she was holding.

“Why the fuck do you know what that thing is called?” Felix asked, staring at Sylvain.

Sylvain raised an eyebrow. “Because we own one? And we drink a lot?”

Ingrid laughed out loud, almost spilling vodka on the counter. “Sylvain, I’m pretty sure only bartenders who are either super hipster and sell you the most expensive shit on the menu or the ones who work high-class events know what these things are called. As far as I’m concerned it’s a shot-measurer.”

Sylvain’s ears reddened. “It’s not that strange of a thing to know!” he argued.

The doorbell rang, saving Sylvain from more teasing and Felix slipped out of the kitchen and down the hall to open the door. Ingrid focused back on the task at hand, measuring a full shot of vodka and adding it to the blender. She dumped a handful of ice cubes in and then measured another shot.

Sylvain hopped up from the couch and leaned on the counter across from her, watching her as she mixed their drinks for the night. “Please tell me you’re adding more than two shots to that thing. Dimitri is coming.”

Ingrid paused and stared at him. “It’s not Dimitri I’m worried about.”

Sylvain held his hands up innocently. “Don’t blame a guy for his alcohol tolerance.”

“You started drinking when you were like 14."

“I had a good high school experience.”

“Sylvain.”

“Ingrid,” he parroted teasingly.

He leaned forward until there was only about an inch between their faces and every muscle in Ingrid’s body tensed. She was saved from having to react when Felix and Dimitri re-entered the kitchen. Sylvain leaned back and she went back to measuring vodka to add to the drink mix.

“Why do you know what a jigger is called?” Dimitri asked Sylvain, completely bypassing any greeting.

Sylvain smacked his forehead. “Is it really that weird?”

“Yes,” Ingrid and Felix chorused.

“I mean, I knew what it was called,” Dimitri admitted. “But that’s because there was a very chatty bartender at an event I went to last summer.”

Sylvain and Ingrid exchanged a look. A chatty bartender meant a flirty bartender and Dimitri, in his glorious and typical Dimitri fashion, had not even noticed a thing was strange about her behaviour, chalking it up to the woman being “friendly”.

“Anyway,” Sylvain cleared his throat. “I see you have brought food to rescue us from Ingrid’s inevitable wrath.”

Ingrid was almost offended, but then her stomach growled and she could only drop her gaze back to the blender and hope that she wasn’t flushing. She dumped a few more ice cubes in and slapped the lid on, holding the blend button as the grinding sound quickly drowned out her embarrassment.

Dimitri dropped the pizza box on the counter and Felix immediately went to pull out plates. Sylvain strode into the kitchen and it was suddenly very overcrowded with her three male friends, Dimitri and Sylvain especially, who had no concept of the fact that they were buff guys who took up much more room than they thought they did.

Ingrid stopped the blender and picked up the pitcher, sloshing the liquid in it a bit. It had changed to a pretty pinkish colour thanks to the strawberries and it smelled both sweet and alcoholic: just how they liked it. She poured it into the four glasses she had out and turned to hand them off.

Felix took the first glass and Sylvain the second. Dimitri took the third and replaced it with a plate that had three slices of pizza on it. Ingrid beamed at him and carried both the plate and her own glass over to the couch where she sat next to Felix in the centre of the couch. Dimitri immediately claimed the armchair and Sylvain lingered in the kitchen to grab the bottle of vodka from the counter.

Felix tasted the drink and wrinkled his nose. “This shit is sweet.”

Ingrid sipped it and was pleasantly surprised by the sweet and fruity taste of it. It tasted almost exactly like the strawberry lemonades she used to get at restaurants as a kid with just the slightest hint of alcohol.

“I think that’s the point,” Dimitri said as he sipped from his own glass. His brow shot up. “Wow, there’s alcohol in this?”

Ingrid hummed in agreement. “Annette gave me the recipe. I wanted to try it out.”

Sylvain plopped down on the couch next to her and placed the vodka bottle and four shot glasses down. “As lovely and boozy as it is, we’re still doing this with shots.”

Felix grumbled. “Just because you don’t have anything to do tomorrow.”

Sylvain grinned. “Your fault for scheduling shit after movie night.”

Felix crossed his arms and glared at Sylvain. “You’re cancelling on us next week so we rescheduled to this week. This is your fault.”

Sylvain shrugged. “Hey, the girl from my gym said she was only free next weekend. I’m not going to miss that opportunity.”

Ingrid’s drink was suddenly less sweet. She placed it on the coffee table and stood up, heading for her room. She grabbed the hat from her dresser and walked back into the living room. She placed it on the corner of the TV and balanced it so it wouldn’t fall off.

Felix grabbed the remote from the table. “I can’t believe we’re watching this movie again.”

Ingrid sat down between Felix and Sylvain and picked up her drink again, grinning. “It was my turn to pick and we watched Dimitri’s choice last time. Besides, this one works great with the hat game.”

Sylvain tapped his glass against hers. “Not that we don’t appreciate the artistry of The King’s Speech, Dimitri, but Ingrid is definitely correct on this one. Die Hard is a true pinnacle of cinema.”

Felix rolled his eyes but queued the movie. “No chickening out on these rules.”

Ingrid laughed. “Yeah, yeah we know. Every time someone wears the hat you take a sip and every time they have a line while wearing it we do a shot. We have done this before.”

Dimitri slouched in his chair. “I always lose these things immediately.”

Sylvain threw an arm over Ingrid’s shoulder and smirked at Dimitri. “That’s because you care more about the film than the actual drinking. We’d get the same reaction from Ingrid if we were watching the Great British Bake Off or Chopped.”

Ingrid elbowed him but didn’t shove his arm off. She was already a little warm in her stomach and she took a bite of her pizza. She was hungry and they were about to drink a whole lot more, so she needed to have food to balance the copious amounts of alcohol.

“Are we still doing the Sylvain rule?” Dimitri asked as the studio logo took over the screen as the movie started.

“Obviously,” Ingrid snorted. “Anything stupid or romantic he’d do means the last one to shout “Sylvain” takes a shot. That’s a given for whatever film we’re watching.”

“Everyone shut up,” Felix grouched as the film started.

-

Ingrid was warm. She was warm and her arm was numb and her eyes were sticky. She shifted the arm that wasn’t numb and brought her hand up to rub her face. She pried her eyes open and got an eyeful of grey t-shirt.

She blinked and twisted, realizing that she was definitely not in her bed. She tried to sit up, but she couldn’t move her left arm, the numb one, at all. It was thoroughly pinned between her very fit roommate and the couch that they had fallen asleep together on. Plus, his arm was tightly wrapped around her waist like a steel band, keeping her pinned against him. Her head had been resting against the top of his chest over his shoulder and under his chin.

Sylvain didn’t stir as Ingrid twisted, still passed out cold. Ingrid managed to carefully extract her arm and pry Sylvain’s arm off of her. She had a horrid crick in her neck that made her scowl as she disentangled their legs. She sat on the very edge of the couch and looked around the living room.

Sylvain was, naturally, passed out on the couch where they had been unintentionally cuddling. Dimitri was asleep in the armchair, head awkwardly bent forward against his shoulder. Felix was nowhere to be seen. Ingrid turned and looked behind her into the kitchen and saw her other roommate standing in the kitchen, sipping from a coffee mug with an amused look on his face.

She rolled her eyes and stood up, walking towards him. She dropped her voice low so that she didn’t wake Dimitri or Sylvain. “When did you get up?”

“About fifteen minutes ago,” Felix whispered back. “Unlike you idiots, I did actually make it to my bed last night.”

Ingrid’s cheeks warmed and she glanced at the back of the couch where Sylvain was still sleeping. “We just fell asleep?”

He shrugged. “We were talking after the movie and you started wrestling with him. Dimitri was already out so I just went to bed. I guess you guys fell asleep after that.”

It wasn’t unusual for them to fall asleep after movie night and it certainly wasn’t the first time that she’d woken up cuddled to one of her friends. The best was still the time that Dimitri and Sylvain had fallen asleep together and she and Felix had taken many, many photos.

“Did he get his contacts out?” she asked, gesturing to the couch.

Felix shrugged. “I doubt it. It’ll be his problem today.”

Ingrid’s nose wrinkled. She felt sympathetic, but not overly remorseful. Sylvain had bitched about how much he hated sleeping with his contacts in before, but he continued to forget to take them out so it really was his problem.

“How much did we drink?”

Felix nodded to the vodka bottle by the sink. It was empty. Ingrid slapped her hand over her mouth to muffle a startled laugh.

“Oh,” she replied dumbly.

Felix sipped his coffee again and shrugged. “Pretty on brand, honestly.”

[callboxkat]

Infinitesimal (part 48)

Author’s note: HAPPY SPOOKY MONTH! Have a new chapter of Infinitesimal to celebrate!

Warnings: injuries, illness, fear, food mention, suffocation mention, resisting sleep

Word count: 3272

Look for the masterpost in the notes!

...

Logan stepped out of the living room and leaned against the kitchen wall for a moment, letting out a soft sigh. He knew that it would take a while for the two newcomers to warm up to him, especially with their respective injuries and their previous less-than-favorable experiences with humans; but Logan couldn’t help but be hurt by their fear, their dismissal, their aggression. Especially from Virgil, the one who had come to them for help in the first place. Emile’s fear was understandable—he’d woken up in a strange place, injured, to find himself being taken care of by people who could easily hold him in only one hand. While Logan also understood the reasons for Virgil’s behavior—he was no doubt aggressive out of fear, and fearful out of a feeling of helplessness—it bothered the normally calm and collected student. Logan always tried to act neutral and in control, but that didn’t mean he actually didn’t feel emotions, that he wasn’t affected by what happened. He wanted the “mouse-men” to like him.

At least Patton seemed to be warming up to them. He’d had more experience with Logan and Roman than either of his companions had. Perhaps it was getting through to him that the roommates truly meant him no harm. While they—okay, perhaps Logan more than Roman—had made mistakes, several mistakes, they had never hurt Patton. They had helped him. They had saved him. The “mouse-man” had even been allowed to leave when he was well enough (as painful of a memory that night was for Logan). While Patton was still nervous around them, it seemed that, in the months that had passed since that night, he had had time to reflect on his experience; and he seemed to have come to decide that they really did mean well. He’d even allowed Roman to carry him a few days ago. That was no small show of trust. Logan couldn’t imagine willingly stepping into the hand of someone so much larger than himself.

Standing there in the kitchen, Logan adjusted his glasses. It was a sort of reset for him, a signifier that the moment had passed. The “mouse-men” had been taken care of, and it was time to check on his roommate. He could go back to their guests afterward.

He made his way through the kitchen and down the hallway, stopping once he reached the correct door. It was plain white other than a single, six-inch tall wooden R in curly script, painted in glittery gold paint. Logan knocked three times, then opened the door.

Before he even saw his roommate, he heard the characteristically shallow, wheezing breaths he got whenever his asthma was giving him trouble. Roman himself was lying in bed, under a heap of blankets. He was looking up at the ceiling, where his fan spun slowly. That seemed somewhat contradictory, but Roman had claimed in the past that having the air moving felt like it helped. Logan didn’t see how that could be the case, but he wasn’t the one with asthma.

When Logan stepped into the room, Roman looked over and grinned, lifting up one hand to wave.

Logan pulled up Roman’s desk chair and sat down beside him. “Hello,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh… you know,” Roman said between somewhat labored breaths, “I’m great.”

Logan frowned at him for a second. He knew Roman probably felt quite unwell. “You have your inhaler?” he checked. “And your phone?”

“Yep,” Roman said. He glanced toward the bedside table. His phone and inhaler sat there, along with a few knick-knacks and a small box that Logan knew was filled with small, colored rocks. The idea behind the box was that if something happened and Roman couldn’t use his phone or call out for help, he could knock it over, and the sound would alert Logan to his plight. Logan wasn’t sure if Roman would be able to push it off the table if he were ever really in such a state; but he’d thankfully never had to try it. The box was just a safety net of sorts, a reassurance meant to make both Roman and Logan feel better whenever Roman’s asthma acted up.

It didn’t matter. Roman was only having a little trouble breathing. He simply needed to take it easy for a while, avoid the cold weather, and he would be fine.

Logan reached over and plugged the charger into Roman’s phone for him. “So,” he said casually, “Patton asked after you.”

Roman stared at him for a beat, then pushed himself into a sitting-up position. “He did?” He sounded stunned.

Logan nodded. “He wanted to know why he hadn’t seen you in a while. He asked if you were well.”

Roman’s eyes lit up at the news, giddy and almost disbelieving; but his voice was cautious as he asked, “What’d… you tell him?”

“I informed them of your asthma, and that you should be well again soon.”

Roman frowned. “Do they even know what… asthma is?”

“It doesn’t seem so,” Logan admitted, remembering the horror on Virgil’s face at the idea that Roman couldn’t breathe. “I explained it, at least generally.”

Roman nodded. A few seconds passed, and then he announced, “I’m… gonna go see them.”

“No, you will not,” Logan argued, his tone firm. “You will rest here, and recover faster that way. ”

“Well,” Roman said innocently, tilting his head like a puppy, “what if I have to pee?”

Logan put a hand to his forehead in exasperation. “Of course you can get up to use the bathroom, Roman, as long as you’re careful; don’t be ridiculous—”

Roman smiled, his eyes twinkling. “Then if… I’m up anyway, what if… I just so happen… to go in there…?”

“Roman,” Logan sighed. “No.”

He pouted up at him. “You’re supposed… to be nice to me,” he whined. He coughed twice pathetically. “I’m sick.” It was clearly a reference to Mean Girls, a film which Logan’s roommate had insisted on showing him some months before on the grounds that it was “a classic” and it was “a travesty” that he hadn’t seen it sooner.

Roman’s second cough turned into a very real wheeze, but Logan just gave him an unimpressed look.

“Well…” Roman said, still pouting, “if you’re not going to… let me see them, tell me… how are they?”

“Emile seems to be improving,” Logan shared. “He and his brother are both still quite fearful and uncomfortable in my presence, however.”

“They’ll warm up to you,” Roman assured.

“I hope so,” Logan said. “It would be ideal if they were not so uncomfortable the entire time that they are in our apartment.”

Roman shrugged. “I think they’re just… worried about Emile, you know? And… something must have happened… to Mr. Dark-and-Gloomy, too. It’s no wonder… he’s scared.”

“Of course,” Logan said. “And… I know that.” He thought of Virgil’s partially missing tail, of his crutches, before continuing on to a lighter thought. “Patton at least seems to have grown more fond of us. You especially.”

“Well, of course… he has,” Roman said with a grin. “What’s not to like? I’m great.” He broke off then to cough, the sound grating on Logan’s eardrums. He winced, leaning back in his chair.

When Roman recovered, Logan said, “We should purchase you a more insulating coat. It should help prevent difficulties like this in the future.”

“My coat’s fine. Besides,” he pointed out, “it’s not gonna warm the air… I breathe….That’s in my lungs.”

Logan sighed again, but he had to admit that Roman had a point. “Then perhaps, instead, we can obtain a scarf for you. If you wrap it over your mouth and nose, it will warm the air that you breathe.”

Roman gave him a falsely injured look, putting a hand over his chest. “Whaaaat?” he cried softly. “That’ll just… suffocate me faster. You’re… trying to trick me, aren’t you? You want to get rid of me? And here I thought you liked me. I’m… wonderful to be around… I’ll have you know.”

Logan rolled his eyes. Roman liked to fool around. “Obviously you will not wrap it that tight. It will not be thick enough to obstruct your breathing.”

Roman laughed softly. “Okay, Maybe. But you do like me?” He stuck out his lower lip and gave him a look that said, “You have to say yes, I’m sick!”

Logan let out a world-weary sigh. “Clearly I hold some fond feelings for you, to have put up with your company as long as I have.”

“Aww,” Roman said, his smile widening. “That’s so sweet.”

“Yes, yes, very sweet,” Logan said. “I’ll get you some water, if you’re done.”

“Never,” he promised.

“I would expect no different.”

…

Patton carefully cut the last bit of the fabric. Emile’s new shirt was done. He picked up the garment and shook it out, looking it over appraisingly.

“What do you think?” he asked, holding it up higher for Virgil and Emile to see.

“Looks perfect,” Virgil said, nodding in approval. He grabbed up the extra fabric and balled it together, shoving it off to the side.

Together, they helped Emile sit up, and they slipped the garment over his head like a poncho. The collar of it was very wide, so they avoided the bandages on his head easily. Rather than sleeves, the shirt had strips of fabric on either side that they tied under Emile’s arms.

“Is it cozy enough?” Patton asked as they helped him lean back against the blankets. Virgil repositioned his arm at his side, careful not to bother his shoulder too much.

Emile nodded, starting to look drowsy again.

“How are you feeling?” Virgil asked.

Emile sighed at the question, justifiably tired of hearing it by now. He picked at one of the blankets lying in his lap, then admitted, “Lot better, actually.”

Patton knew that Emile probably would have answered that way whether he actually felt better or not, but he was inclined to believe him. He really did seem better. He was clean, he was in an outfit that wasn’t torn or stained or repeatedly patched, and he’d eaten more than half of his banana slice, which was more food than he’d managed at any other meal so far since his accident.

Virgil clearly believed him, too. Some of the tension left his shoulders, and he reached over to tuck the blankets more securely around his brother.

…

Logan walked back to Roman’s room, holding a bottle of water. He knocked a few times, then opened the door.

“Greetings!” Roman called. He was sitting up now, his knees folded and his phone propped up against them, watching a video.

“Salutations,” Logan replied. He unscrewed the cap on the water bottle and set it on the nightstand. “Make sure you take it easy,” he reminded, glancing at the phone.

“Oh, relax, Pocket Protector… it’s just a movie.” He leaned his head back against the pillows and looked up at Logan. “I’m not running any marathons.”

“I should hope not,” Logan said. “That would worsen your condition considerably. You should stay here, in bed.”

Roman narrowed his eyes, like he wasn’t sure if Logan was joking or not. As if on cue, someone in the movie he’d been watching laughed loudly, and they both glanced at the phone. Roman reached out and paused the video.

“Thanks for the water,” Roman said.

“Of course. Do you need anything more?”

There was a pause, and Logan knew he’d made a mistake.

“Anything?” Roman repeated, raising an eyebrow and smiling faintly.

“Within reason,” Logan quickly amended.

“Is a pegasus within reason?”

“No.”

“What about a 20-page essay… on why I’m the best roommate?”

“No.”

“Ten-page?”

“Still, no.”

“Aw.” Roman snapped his fingers. “I suppose I’m good, then.”

“Good night, Roman.”

Logan stepped out, the sound of Roman’s wheezing breaths disappearing behind the closed door. He turned and walked back to the living room.

…

Right on time, there was a quiet knock at the doorway. Patton turned around, and there was Logan, waiting to be invited in.

Patton hesitantly waved hello, which Logan seemed to interpret as his invitation. He stepped through the doorway and approached, stopping halfway to the table where the littles sat.

“Hello, again,” he said. “Are you finished with dinner?”

Virgil glanced at where the bottle caps were already lined up at the edge of the table, then raised an eyebrow at Logan.

Logan nodded, seeming to acknowledge that the answer to his question had been obvious. He stepped nearer and bent to pick up the dishes. “What about Emile’s tail?” he asked. “Did you perform the test, as I asked? Was there any change?"

“He can feel it,” Virgil said, watching Logan closely.

“Kind of,” Patton added, more softly.

Logan nodded. “Any improvement is excellent news,” he said. “With luck, that improvement will continue. I am hopeful that it will, as long as he continues to rest and not aggravate the injury.” He seemed to address that last part at Virgil, probably well aware that Virgil wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

Patton understood that it would be a while before Emile would get to go home, as much as he wished otherwise. He hoped that Emile would keep getting better. His little family had been through so much. He wanted them all to be well again, or as well as they could be. It was what his friends deserved.

“Do any of you require anything else before I retire for the night?” Logan asked.

Patton and Virgil looked at each other. Patton had just started to shake his head when he heard a noise at his side. Emile, who had been silently watching up until that moment, shakily cleared his throat. Everyone stilled, and Emile spoke.

…

Logan had been about to leave, ready to turn in for the night, when a small voice gave him pause. Emile, for the first time since the laundry room, spoke to him. He didn’t stammer, but his voice was so soft and hesitant that Logan had to strain to make out the words.

“Can you make the noise stop?” he asked.

Logan drew his eyebrows together. He glanced to Virgil and Patton for an explanation, but they looked no less confused. They had turned to look at Emile with concern in their eyes.

“What noise?” Logan asked slowly.

Emile simply batted gently at his left ear with his uninjured hand, looking miserable. Whatever noise he was referring to, it must have been really bothering him.

Suddenly, realization struck Logan. Of course.

“Is it a whining noise?” he asked. “High-pitched, constant, or nearly so?”

Emile nodded.

It was possible that the “mouse-men” could hear frequencies higher than Logan’s ears were capable of, but the fact that Virgil and Patton didn’t seem to be able to hear the noise that Emile referred to pointed to another explanation. Logan took a brief moment to collect his thoughts and to try to make sure he worded them in a way that wouldn’t alarm the “mouse-men”.

“I believe you may be experiencing something called tinnitus,” he began. “It is a ringing in the ears, often caused by exposure to loud sounds, or, as would be in your case, head injuries. In itself, tinnitus is not harmful, although it can be annoying.” Logan tried for a sympathetic look here. (He really did feel sympathetic, but conveying that feeling was less simple.)

Virgil didn’t look overly reassured at the news, and Patton bit his lip. “Can—can we fix it?” he asked, rubbing his hands together.

“It may disappear on its own,” Logan said, “as his injury heals.”

“May disappear?” Virgil echoed. “What if it doesn’t?”

Emile’s expression grew more distressed.

“There is every chance that it will,” Logan said. “It is most likely, in fact. But, even if it doesn’t, tinnitus is manageable.” He glanced briefly towards Emile, trying to be comforting. “If it is bothering you significantly at the moment, perhaps I could put on some music. Would that help? I have some classical CDs that I myself find quite soothing while studying. They should help drown out the sound and help you relax.”

Emile’s bravery seemed to have run out, and he didn’t answer. Virgil leaned in to whisper to him, and Patton rubbed his arm reassuringly. Finally, Virgil turned to Logan, and nodded once, stiffly.

Logan took his cue and went to get his CD player.

…

Getting settled that night took longer than usual. Patton initially went to lie down on the opposite side of the box; but Virgil, remembering his nightmares the night before, invited Patton to lie on top of the box lid with him instead. It was a somewhat tight fit. They started out lying each on his side, Patton snuggled into Virgil’s back, but Patton didn’t seem happy with that. They shifted around for a while, and eventually, they settled on a better arrangement: Virgil lay on his back on the box lid, his right arm hanging down into the box where Emile lay, holding onto his hand. Patton lay on his side, partially on top of Virgil. He’d apologized about it, but Virgil found the pressure to be kind of nice. They piled on some blankets, and Virgil was unexpectedly comfortable. Weariness washed over him, but he didn’t plan to fall asleep. Someone had to keep watch, after all.

Patton soon relaxed against Virgil, his breathing slowing. Emile hadn’t moved in a while, probably already asleep. The soft, classical music coming from the CD player that Logan had set up on another table—the table Patton had used to be kept on, in fact—helped fill the silence of the room around them. Virgil could tell why the human liked it. It was quite soothing to listen to.

Unfortunately, the music, combined with the pressure of Patton lying against him, the comfort of his and his brother’s presence, and the warmth of both Patton and the blankets piled on top of them, were all working against Virgil’s effort to stay awake and keep watch.

The music on the CD changed slightly, a different song beginning. Virgil realized his eyes were closed. He opened them again, with a small amount of effort. He shifted his grip on Emile’s hand minutely.

A voice, barely audible at his side, breathed, “Go to sleep.” Emile was awake after all.

“Is that noise any better?” Virgil asked, his voice just as soft, shamelessly changing the subject. Logan had said the music would help, but Virgil wanted to hear it from his brother.

“Mhm,” Emile confirmed without opening his eyes. “Now go to sleep.”

“I’m keeping watch.”

Patton shifted with a small sound, snuggling against Virgil’s shoulder in his sleep. Virgil’s throat tightened.

“No,” Emile mumbled. “Sleep time.”

“I’ll sleep in the morning.”

“Now,” Emile insisted.

“We’re with humans,” Virgil reminded him. It wasn’t that he wanted to scare Emile. But he needed to remember that they couldn’t let their guard down.

“If they were gonna do ’nything,” Emile said, finally opening one eye to look at Virgil, “They’d have done it by now.”

Virgil sighed.

“Go to sleep,” Emile repeated, closing his eye.

Silence fell between them, and the room was quiet again other than the soft music drifting from the other side of the room. Patton had stilled once more, pleasantly heavy against Virgil’s side. Against his better judgement, Virgil found himself relaxing, just a little bit, in that moment. It was enough. Before he knew it, he was drifting off to sleep.

[a-secondhand-sorrow]

Dear Evan Hansen Gift Exchange!

This is my gift for the @sincerely-us DEH Gift Exchange for @thatfriendlyanon! Hey @thatfriendlyanon, hope you enjoy :D This is a bit of an amalgam of prompts that you offered but it’s mostly centered on Evan and Zoe a year later. Just for ease of timing/pop culture references it’s set in 2019/2020. Happy 2020! (here’s an ao3 link if you prefer)  

Her first night back home, Zoe slips out the back door and just sits on the porch. It’s cold outside, like it always is in December, and it seeps through the old dollar store flip-flops she’d shoved her feet into on the way out the door. She shivers as a chilly gust of air bites through her purple and white sweatpants and old, graduating-class t-shirt. She’s like a collage of new and old school spirit, and some part of her hates it while the rest of her loves it. Sinking into one of the wicker chairs, she takes a breath for what feels like the first time since she stepped off the train in town, letting the hum of the cicadas drown out her other thoughts. She’s almost forgotten the different noise in the suburbs, the noises she was so used to in her first eighteen years of life. It feels disarming to be back in those noises after so long away.

Finally, once she’s sat in the feeling of the cold outdoors, her eyes drift up towards the sky. A smile picks at her lips, drawn by the faint points of light in the sky. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she registers names of a few, although had she tried to remember them consciously, she’s sure she wouldn’t be able to say them.

(Maybe it’s two memories, ripe with different kinds of nostalgia, that stop her from truly remembering. Maybe it’s the memory of two different hands in hers under the night sky. The memory of childhood, of wild giggles spilling from her lips, of another protective little hand in hers and speaking in what they thought were whispers but were more like normal volumes, sharing those names with her for the first time. And later, a later memory, of grass underneath her and a once-still hand in hers and warm lips pressed just right of her ear whispering the names he knew and asking her the ones he didn’t.)

She...likes school. She really does. It‘s felt like a fresh start in so many ways, with new people and new scenery and an easier way to breathe. Fewer shadows to haunt her from the corners of her eyes, drowned out by the constant lights of the city.

She just wishes she could see the stars there, that’s all.

Not that the stars at home are bright, exactly. They’re still dulled and hard to see, but they’re a world away from how they look at school. They are visible even if they’re not the strongest.

So Zoe smiles and looks at them, ignoring the lights that spill out from inside the house and the two figures they reveal inside.

After some time, she stands quietly, moving through the air as though it is nothing more than smoke and revelling in how silent she can be just before opening the door to the indoors.

“Everything alright?

Zoe’s head snaps up, locking onto where Larry is seated just beyond the kitchen and into the living room. She shakes her head at her own jumpiness, freeing her feet from the flip-flops. “Yeah, just catching some fresh air.”

Already, that almost-suffocating feeling is back. She can breath, but the air doesn’t seem to quite reach her lungs.

“Yeah, I just wanted some fresh air.” Her eyes scan the rooms. “Where’s mom?”

Larry’s lip quirks at the corner, but it doesn’t really seem happy. “She wanted to stay up to talk with you, but she was pretty tired so she turned in early.”

“Oh,” Zoe says, and for some reason it makes her feel kind of small. She crosses the house, letting her feet acclimate to the warmer temperature through her socks. She studies her father; he has dark circles of his own, and his hand seems to shake slightly where it holds the day’s newspaper. “I’m probably just gonna go to bed anyway, unless you…?”

“No, that’s fine, sweetheart,” he says, and for some reason Zoe’s heart feels heavy. Larry hasn’t called her sweetheart for a long time, and something in the word makes her feel like a little kid again. “I’m sure you’re tired.”

She nods and grabs her phone off of the small coffee table, turning towards the stairs. The light is already off upstairs, she can tell. “Well, ‘night.”

A sound that’s suspiciously like a yawn, and then a “‘night” back.

On the second step, her father’s voice stops her. “Zoe? We’re really glad you’re home.”

She ducks her head back down, forces a smile in his direction, and then continues to her room without looking up from her feet.

*

Evan’s still working at Pottery Barn.

He told himself, time and time again after senior year, that he’d be out of Pottery Barn in a year. Off to college full-time, maybe commuting or maybe even living on campus. But it’s six months past that year-long deadline, and here he is, on the first night of Hanukkah only just finishing the common app for next fall. Or trying to, rather, around his Pottery Barn shifts and his general fear of opening up to other people.

On one of his shifts, he scrolls through Instagram during a quiet spell, having accepted the fact that his application would not be worked on during work hours long ago. Just his average feed, a few former high school classmates posting holiday pictures (Alana Beck, unsurprisingly, has color-coordinated with her dads, sister, and grandma effortlessly for Christmas photos) and some of those Central Park nature shoots the pretentious photographers he follows are always posting. He’s about to click onto his Explore page when a recommended account catches his eye. His heart sinks as he recognizes the profile picture and the name, simply titled “zo + ev” in place of full names. And there she is, Zoe Murphy, smiling so wide that some of her freckles disappear behind the others and her eyes are smaller than usual. Another girl sits just behind her, her lips angled so her face comes across as more “funny” than “happy,” but that’s on purpose, he thinks. Before he can convince himself not to, he clicks into their account, and it’s revealed that the other girl in the picture must be ‘Ev,’ or Eva, if her main account’s handle is trustworthy. His pulse slowing slightly, his eyes skim their profile.

@stargirlzo_m and @evamillthegreat_ / NYU ‘23 / covers + general goofery / dm to req a song!

From a glance, it appears that they’re roommates. Not that he’s like, actively trying to figure that out, no, it’s just that all of the videos seem to be filmed in the same place, and the previews of the comments have a couple messages like “that’s our fav down the hall neighbors!” and such. Evan’s not even surprised to see that they have a couple hundred followers, since when one of their videos begins to auto play, they definitely sound really good. Zoe’s playing guitar, and something in the familiar curve of her fingers on the strings almost makes him turn his phone off and shove it away to get rid of the deep swell of emotion he feels just seeing her like that.

After...everything, he never really saw her play guitar again. While they were together, it was almost constant, because their coexistence was almost constant. But he couldn’t bring himself to go to the jazz band concerts for the rest of his senior year, and he certainly wasn’t hanging around her house while she figured out a new tune. Hearing her play is bittersweet and nostalgic and he feels...off. But he listens anyway.

Her roommate has a really great voice, and it’s clear that in their few months of knowing each other they’ve played together a lot. He keeps scrolling. Eva, or Ev, has a few videos up of her singing a cappella, or with a background, some kind of...TikTok riff challenge, maybe? Zoe, too, has a few where she strums some jazzy numbers by herself, that familiar old smile on her face in a whole new light. But then he finds one of her alone in a denim jacket and a flower-patterned dress, and she opens her mouth and begins to sing, and Evan swears he could cry. She always claimed she couldn’t sing, but of course he disagreed. He still does, and as she softly sings Dodie Clark and her fingers pluck at the strings in some complicated pattern, he could never disagree more. He hurriedly keeps scrolling, since if he were to continue listening he’s not sure if he’d be able to make it through his shift without crying.

She and her roommate are playing Crush by Tessa Violet, then, and it’s a little easier to hear.

A customer comes into his line of sight and he quickly shoves the phone under the counter before he can hear Zoe come in to harmonize in the background.

*

Sometime after Cynthia accepted the fact that Zoe wasn’t going to share every detail of her college life with her, she set her the task of going through her closet and cleaning up. She’d already done it before leaving in the fall, but Zoe agrees, mostly just to have something to do rather than thinking about the bedroom across from hers. She still hasn’t really breathed properly, but it’s a little easier when she’s alone.

When her trash garbage bag is already partially filled with old tops from high school, old Harry Potter and Brie Larson posters, and some guitar sheet music she doesn’t remember buying, she catches sight of an old plastic storage bin. Her hand brushes the unmistakable feel of dusty plastic, and her fingers search for purchase so she can drag the container out. It’s heavier than it looks, and the most she can do is drag it out. She falls back onto her heels as she does, eventually crossing her legs criss-cross under her. She pushes her hair away from her face and lets her eyes roam over the container. It looks like it’s filled with paper, and as she opens the lid there’s an overwhelming scent of school glue and cheap acrylic paint. There are old star stickers coming off everywhere.

“Oh, boy,” she mutters under her breath.

She considers just chucking it into the trash for a moment, but thinks the better of it. Tentatively, she plunges one hand into the pile of papers and promptly sneezes. Fucking dust allergies.

A few old math tests from elementary school are in the top pile, for some reason. She wastes no time in setting those into the garbage bag. She’ll sort the recycling out later, but for now she just wants to get the dust into one area. There’s an old, dried-up glue stick under the old tests and a couple of purple and blue markers with no caps. The faded yellow folder beneath them has clearly suffered for it, with big splotches of color on the thin paper. After tossing the markers in her normal trash, she picks the folder up. Immediately upon opening it, she’s hit by an image of herself as a little kid, her hand scribbling some crayon against printer paper with Connor at her side scribbling on the same paper. She lets out a sharp hiss of breath for nothing in particular. It turns out the folder is just full of old drawings, nothing special. Crayon stars on superhero capes, just about her and Connor’s combined interests. Seeing them on the same page feels like less of a gut punch after remembering them drawing together, but it still hurts all the same.

She knows her mom would want to keep the drawings, but she dumps them into the garbage bag before she can think to do otherwise.

The construction paper is surprisingly rough under her fingertips, but she smiles at the glue galaxies she’d created on the page, the letters of each star’s name written painstakingly next to them. She wonders where her good handwriting went and sets the page aside, figuring a little nostalgia won’t hurt.

There are several pages that just seem to be covered in glitter and star stickers, which immediately find themselves in the unforgiving cell that is her garbage bag. Some old book reports reach the same fate, as does a small journal that seems to be dedicated entirely to her writing with her left hand. If some of the handwriting looks like Connor’s, she chooses to ignore it.

“It’s weird,” Zoe says. “Who else writes with their left hand?”

Connor sniffs, looking indignant as he holds his pencil aloft in his hand. It’s held so gently and delicately in his artist’s hand, all long and thin fingers. “I think it’s cool. Right hand writing isn’t special.”

“And you smudge everything you write,” Zoe mutters under her breath. That didn’t stop her from trying to write like him, though. If he saw her, he ignored it.

It’s better to be rid of it, anyway.

The next item appears to be crudely bound by some old thread. It’s several sheets of printer paper bound together, and with a sinking heart Zoe sees the same crayon stars and superhero capes on the page. Monsieur Lumière. One of Connor’s pretentious French phases as a child, probably, fueled by the old English-French dictionary he found in his room.

She’d completely forgotten about the fake superhero they’d created, probably while huddled under one of their beds as their parents fought. A man to take away all their fear and sadness, who would bring the light of the stars wherever he was. Just a silly invention they’d dreamt up. A lot of good it did them.

This hurts more, this creation of their shared crayons on one page. There were probably hours spent on this, and she can’t even bring herself to open it and read a page.

She drops it suddenly as though the very touch of the paper to her fingers scalds her. She pushes it across the floor, away from her. She may leave it on some counter for her mother to find, rather than bringing herself to throw it away. She wants to get rid of it, but she can’t bring herself to pick it up again, not yet.

It’s only as she picks up the next glitter-coated paper that she realizes it gave her a paper cut.

*

“-right here—oh, isn’t this lovely?” Heidi says, her head turning back in Evan’s direction. She drops down onto the blanket she’s just finished spreading over the grass, crossing her legs under her.

Evan smiles. “It is, yeah, definitely.”

And maybe he’s just a little surprised by how much he means it. Because this is the first year in a very long time, too long a time, where January 6th has felt like something other than a slightly sadder mirror of every other day. When he woke up today, he didn’t feel that same hollow dissatisfaction on this birthday. He felt...excited.

It’s a nice feeling. Unusual, but nice.

He’d probably be excited even if he hadn’t woken up like that, however. Heidi had insisted she take the day off, and she herself was so excited to be off and to be with him that he couldn’t help but pick up on it. His mother was always like that - if she was excited, he was excited.

And she was definitely excited, given the honest-to-God picnic basket she’d packed for them and the new watch she’d given Evan just that morning “so he’d know when to look away from his inbox” (to which he’d feebly protested that it’s never too early to keep an eye out for forward movement, which she’d dismissed with a kiss on the cheek). As Evan carefully chooses a spot on the blanket where he is protected from the sun by the shade the tree branches above them throw, Heidi gets set unpacking everything, from small cans of sparkling water to grilled cheeses to bakery cookies to a bunch of grapes that looked like they’d had a fight with an anemic mouse and lost. Evan smiles as each item gets pulled out.

Almost automatically, his eyes start scanning over the park. It feels like it’s been a while since he’s been here, too, or at least since he’s taken a moment to sit back and observe the park in its entirety. In the time it takes Heidi to finish setting up, he’s not sure he’s discovered the source of the uneasiness deep in his stomach.

But Heidi is happy, and so he is, too. He turns back to her.

“I picked up this cheese from Shaw’s, it’s supposedly super sharp which I know you love, so it should turn out better than the Kraft Singles grilled cheese last week.”

Evan represses a shudder. “Oh, good.”

Heidi lies back slightly, smiling at him. “Here.” She holds out a plate full of food she’d just pulled out.

“Thanks,” Evan says, and when he smiles at her it's more genuine than most of the smiles he'd given her when he was younger.

She reached over and pats his cheek. “I like seeing you happy, you know that?”

“Yeah, I think I got that from the whole motherly affection thing.”

Heidi shakes her head. “I’d tell you to lay off the sass, but this is the one day I can’t, huh?”

“Oh, you love it.”

“Yeah,” Heidi says, picking up an apple and taking a bite out of it. “Yeah, I do.” She leans over, and with her free hand, she ruffles Evan’s hair.

“Hey!” He protests. “What was that for?” The action makes him feel like he’s a little kid again.

Heidi smiles at him again. He can’t remember the last time she smiled this much. “My little boy is all grown up. Twenty. Can you believe it?”

He shakes his head, looking up toward the trees. He really can’t believe it. Three years ago, he’d never have believed it. Seventeen was a bad year. But here he is, sitting in Ellison Park three years later, where he’d felt so helpless before. He’d be lying if he said there wasn’t an edge of that now, but it’s nowhere close to the wide expanse it had once been. He’s made it to twenty, and he knows he’ll make it longer. He smiles back at her. “Not really,” he says.

They eat in silence for a moment. Normally the presence of other people in the park besides them would make him anxious, but not today. He’s just another person, enjoying the afternoon sun with his mother. He blends in with everyone else. He feels like them. He wants to cork it up along with the feeling of the sun on his cheeks and the grass below him. With a start, he realizes his ache a little from the constant pull upwards his lips are engaged in. He’s smiling so much his cheeks hurt.

“I think you’re freckling again,” his mother mentions offhandedly. “I think you’re just about the only person who can’t freckle in the summer but can freckle just fine in January.”

“Maybe I am,” he says. “Like a superpower. Although it’s kind of a dumb superpower.”

“I don’t think so at all, sweetheart.” Heidi says.

He shakes his head, and as his mind fills with the image of someone else’s freckled cheeks, he may be inclined to agree.

*

“So you play a lot with Eva?”

Zoe looks up from her laptop, her brain unable to really understand the question. “What?”

Cynthia sits at the other end of the couch, and Zoe automatically tilts her screen in towards herself. “Aunt Christie mentioned it. She said that Sarah was talking about your...music Instagram at Christmas?”

Her cousin had ended up cornering her about her instagram account between dinner and desert. She was actually kind of happy to talk about it, since she and Eva do get along better than most roommates and it’s pretty cool to play with other people. She couldn’t really care about their followers, but they certainly had them, that’s for certain. Besides, it was a welcome reprieve from the dreaded “do you have a boyfriend?” questions, since she couldn’t exactly say no, i don’t have a boyfriend, since I’m still caught up on Evan, you know, the guy from junior year who lied about being friends with Connor and completely but accidentally fucked over the family in the public eye? But they didn’t know the half of that story, and she didn’t like to admit to herself how much she still cared for Evan, so the significant other area was a no-go and anything else was boring.

“Yeah, we have an account,” she says, shrugging. “It’s just a habit we’ve gotten into, playing together. It’s kind of fun to share it.”

“Ah,” Cynthia said, in that ‘I’m trying to understand but honestly have no idea what she’s talking about” tone of voice. “I’m glad, Zo’.”

Zoe smiles.

“But are you sure that’s the...best thing?”

The corners of her lips turn down, and she can feel her voice hardening a little. She doesn’t want to be defensive, but she is. “What?”

“Well, after everything that happened with your brother...with the Connor Project.” When she realized that wasn’t a sentence, she continued. “Are you sure the public eye is the best thing?”

She bristles. “It’s hardly the public eye, it’s just an Instagram account, and my full name isn’t on it. And honestly, mom, it couldn't get worse. No one cares anymore. It’s been years. Most of that was taken down. And I can take care of myself.”

“I know, Zoe,” her mother said, and maybe she’s just being placating, but the hand she reaches over and lays on her arm really does lessen her defenses. “I know. But you can’t control those people, and I just want you to be happy and safe.”

“I know,” Zoe says. “I know you do.”

She’s sure they both remember the endless days of calls, coming in a time of confusion and new grief she doesn’t know if they’ve really moved past, yet. Zoe knows that, if she tries, she can probably remember the exact words they said, the exact tone they said them in. It was only worse when she believed them.

Cynthia sits back again. They sit in silence for a little while.

“I’d love to hear some, though,” she says, in that classic mom voice.

“Why don’t you ask Sarah for a link?” Zoe says, sure to make her voice sarcastic.

“Why have a lousy link when I’ve got the rockstar right in front of me?”

Zoe rolls her eyes. “Sure, let me just summon my roommate. She’s not in Buffalo at all, she’s actually been tiny sized and in my suitcase this whole time, just waiting for my mother to ask about my music so she can belt her tiny heart out.”

“Ha, ha,” Cynthia says. “Good thing you can sing, missy. I know this is where you’re going with all of your university sarcasm.”

“I can’t, mom.”

“Don’t give me that.”

“What would you prefer I give you?”

“An accurate assessment of your talents.”

“Sure, I know I’ve got one in my coat pocket somewhere, right with my sky-high self esteem and my 4.0 GPA.”

“Your GPA is more than fine and if you keep talking like that I’m going to worry. Why don’t you go pick it up from your room along with your guitar? Then I can hear the famous musician’s liquid silver voice while she plucks away with the speed of a god at her strings.”

Zoe cringes. “Always so poetic.”

“It’s a gift,” Cynthia says airily, and the two smile at each other. “Go on. I’ll get your father.”

“I'm not a child at a recital.”

“Why couldn’t you be? We just want to hear you play, sweetheart. We barely see you now, and next time it’ll be Carnegie Hall.”

Somehow, Zoe ends up retrieving her guitar. True to her mother’s word, Larry was there when she came back downstairs. She’d never expected to actually play for them, but this is the first time Cynthia has really pushed her on something in a long time. It’s nice, quite honestly, that she feels that strongly about hearing her play guitar.

“I really normally don’t sing,” she protests mildly.

“Nonsense,” Larry says, and Zoe smiles. She shifts the guitar in her lap.

“Eva absolutely loves singing this,” she begins, her fingers seeking out the beginning chords to Crush, because quite honestly she can’t think of anything else to play. Her parents’ eyes on her make her feel nervous. “She’s made me play it a million times. She’d probably be mad if she knew I was singing it without her.”

It’s...nice to play for them. They smile and clap as she plays song after song for them. She can feel their happiness at something she’s accomplished, for the first time in her life. But for the first time since she’s been home, she thinks she can feel the weight of a third gaze on her. She knows it’s just in her mind, but all the same, she hoped she’d left that lurking guilt from Connor far away, in the orchard, at the end of senior year. She doesn’t know how she feels now that it’s back.

He always used to listen to her play. Maybe this is what she gets instead of him, now.

*

“Zoe?” Evan says.

She looks...small, is the first word that crosses his mind. Which is funny, because although Zoe Murphy isn’t the tallest person you’ll ever meet, she’s certainly got the confidence and gravitas to make up for it. Stage presence, as his mother would say.

Maybe he’s caught her between the first and second act, then.

She looks up at him, her hands practically drowning in her chunky-knit yellow sweater. It comes up to her chin, half-tucked into a denim skirt at her waist, and where the skirt ends a pair of high riding boots begin. Some part of his brain recognizes that she looks impeccable just as she always does, even when the look on her face is so unguarded and shaken that he’s half surprised she’s still standing. Something passes over her face, and in a second it rearranges into something a little happier than before. It’s not happy or okay, not by a long shot, but if he didn’t know her better he may think it was. Barely giving himself a moment to marvel at just how cool it is she does that, concern overrides every alarm bell going off in his brain about being around her and talking to her and hurting her again (not again, not again), because the most important thing is making sure she’s okay, the most important thing is her comfort. “What-” he breaks off, shakes his head. What does he want to say? What are you doing? What are you feeling? What do you need?

What could he possibly say?

(He knows it doesn’t matter what he wants, in the end. It doesn’t matter.)

“What’s...up?” he finishes a second later, cringing internally.

Zoe’s mouth twists and her nose scrunches, and for a second he thinks she’s going to cry, but a moment later she settles on a half smile, and she looks so much like Connor did that day in the computer lab that he feels winded, winded by an image he couldn’t have conjured consciously. At once the weight of where he is hits him squarely in the chest, and Zoe must sense it, because when she speaks it’s gentle, almost, even though every fiber of her being feels like it’s been shifted on its axis. “Well, uh. You know. Not a lot. And a lot, also, I guess.”

Evan nods, and for a second he feels seventeen again, fighting against a torrent of words, because Zoe never talked like that. She always selected every word carefully, and if she can’t, there’s no hope for Evan. “Yeah, no I, I definitely get it. That makes, that makes sense. You’re um, I guess you’re home for break? Winter break?”

Zoe nods once, and for once he detects a hint of ice in the gesture. “Yeah. And you’re…”

“Still home,” he supplements quickly. “I’m, uh, applying, actually, but, you know…”

“Yeah,” she says, and Evan privately thinks that this may be the most painful conversation they’ve had. There’s still a look in Zoe’s eyes, something a little unhinged and a lot hurt, and he wants more than anything to get rid of it. He knows that it’s not his job, but God, he wants to. He wants to grab her hand and press a kiss to her temple just like he used to, to slide his hand along the side of her jaw like he did whenever she was upset. He wants to remind her to breathe just like she used to remind him to do, wants to trace the freckles on her cheeks until she’s giggling and her eyes are dry.

“Are you here to see Connor?” she spits out, as though surprising herself, and Evan finds himself nodding, because oh yeah, they’re at a cemetery. He absolutely could not tell you why he chose to go down to the cemetery, rather than literally any other place. He just...felt like he had to. For some reason, he felt like he needed to go to Connor’s grave to say sorry and maybe thank you for something he couldn’t quite understand. He hadn’t planned on running into Zoe, though.

“You are too? I can...I can go,” he offers, and he’s surprised at how quickly Zoe shakes her head.

“No, I’d...I’d like someone else there.”

“Really?” he says, his voice soft.

“Yeah,” she says, offering him a quick ghost of a smile before steeling herself and turning.

He follows her in silence, choosing to focus on the sound of her shoes on the concrete and examining the back of her head and the trees lining the rows of graves and new clouds that have crossed the sun. They must reach Connor’s plot eventually, as Zoe turns sharply and leads him through the maze of stones until they stand in front of one that is simpler than its neighbors. Classic, he supposes, although he doesn’t know if that’s actually a thing, a ‘classic’ grave. Connor Murphy is cut into the stone, followed by a birth and death date and a short epitaph of beloved son, brother, and friend. He squashes down an unkind thought before it can really grow at all.

Zoe’s sat down on the grass, denim skirt and all. After hesitating, he follows.

“Would you like me to-”

“No,” Zoe says, but her eyes are focused on the grave, and Evan has the feeling she’s a million worlds away from him and it wouldn’t matter what he said. “You’re fine.”

So he sits quietly, and tries to think of something he’d like to say to Connor in the peace of his own head. What would he say, if given the chance? He doesn’t know if it would be worth anything. For him, he grew to learn that he was not who he thought he was on his worst days, no matter how many there were. But he doesn’t know if that’s worth saying to Connor. It wasn’t even really Connor who taught him that, in the end. He forced that message into his own brain, with the help of Dr. Sherman and his mother and even Zoe and the Murphy’s, in some roundabout way. He’s learned he can keep going.

Maybe Zoe still needs to learn that, he thinks, with a glance in her direction. She seems to be deteriorating, her hand absently twisting grass at her side, her face falling just a little more. She’s biting her lip and her brow is furrowing deeper. Or maybe this is just one of her bad days.

She stands up and sways on her feet. Evan clambers up after her, a hand reaching out to steady her almost unconsciously. “I’m sorry,” she says, and it’s only then that he notices the near-silent sobs coming from her, although there are not yet any tears. She just looks...sad. He hasn’t seen her look that sad in a while. Her non-grassy hand reaches up to her face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Evan says, and he aches to reach out and touch her, to comfort her in some way, but he holds himself back. He attempts a joke. “You apologize too much.”

He sees tears on her cheeks, and one indents where he’s sure she’s biting the inside of her mouth.

“Please,” he says, and it’s only then that she seems further away than she was before. “Do you need a ride somewhere?”

She’s in no state to refuse, but she looks like she might anyway. He cuts her off with another ”please, let me do this” and she relents. She looks ready to collapse at any moment, and he’s terrified she will, so he keeps one hand hovering nervously hovering between her shoulder and back their whole walk as though he’s swatting invisible bugs away. He considers opening the door for her, but thinks the better of it and leaves her to fend for herself in that particular field. They’re silent as he gets into the car and shifts the key in the ignition, pulling out of the cemetery parking lot. They stay silent for a few minutes on the road as well, while Evan drives in the vague direction of her house.

“You’re driving,” Zoe says suddenly, and through the thickness of tears Evan thinks he can detect a hint of pride.

“Yeah, that I am,” he replies, shaking his head slightly.

He thinks Zoe may say something like “wow” under her breath, but a moment later she’s sniffling again and that’s all he can think about. “I have some tissues in the glove compartment.”

“Thanks,” she says softly, almost getting drowned out in the sound of tires on pavement, and the sound of her soft consonants breaks his heart. “I’m sorry,” she tries again, but Evan stops her.

“Don’t, Zoe. Don’t ever apologize. Really.” His hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Believe me. You have nothing to apologize for.”

There’s another silence. It seems like Zoe has stopped crying, although she still seems unsteady, albeit less all over the place than when he first saw her.

“I swear I’m doing better than this,” she says. “I really am. I don’t, I really don’t know why that happened. I wish I could explain to you why. Why it’s still happening now, honestly. I’m doing better. I am.”

“You don’t owe me any explanations, Zoe.”

“I know. I mean, I don’t, but. I want to give you one, anyway.”

He nods. “Where to?” He finally says, the words stiffer than he wanted them to be.

Her voice is small, almost fragile. “Could you...maybe go to the orchard?”

He nods again, feeling a bit like a bobble head. “Yeah, of course.” He doesn’t add the anything, anything at all for you, but he thinks she might hear it anyway.

*

Sitting in the orchard with Evan again, it’s almost...surreal.

Zoe hasn’t been back since she met him a week before graduation. Being in the orchard brings all kinds of feelings of melancholy for her, a tangle of guilt and longing and maybe a little bit of hope, too.

Because when she looks across from her, Evan is there, and her own emotions are reflected on his face. They’re both sitting in the grass under one of the trees. They’re no longer saplings, which in itself is weird. The year has brought a lot of growth for them. Looking at Evan, she can’t help but think that they’re not the only ones.

He’s so much more...something than he was before. Is it happy? Confident? Whatever it is, it fills him from the inside. Even in the orchard, where his brow is furrowed and his eyes are focused on some faraway point in the distance, he’s sitting taller and fidgeting less than before. He’s doing better.

And she meant what she said to him, how she’s doing better too. Getting out and away to the city had really done wonders for her, finally being away from all of the shit that happened in high school.  

She pushes her foot out, nudging against his thigh. He angles his head to her, and suddenly she gets the same urge to cry again. Her vertigo has lessened significantly since arriving at the orchard and stumbling to sit, but she still feels unsteady even while sitting. The corner of his lip perks up a bit as his eyes meet hers.

“It’s been almost a year,” she says.

“I know.”

There’s a pause; she lets herself listen to the rustle of the no-longer-saplings.

“Do you ever wish you could go back?” she says, surprising herself.

He takes a moment to respond. “To when?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. Her eyes burn and she’s not quite sure why. “Last time we were here? Last year? The very first time we really talked? This morning?”

Evan shakes his head. “That’s, that’s a lot of times.”

“I know.”

“Maybe I’d go back to this morning,” he said. “So I could...prepare myself for this. So I’d be ready to see you.”

She snorts. “I’d like preparation to deal with me, too.”

“That’s not what I meant, Zoe.”

“Oh?” She doesn’t know where this challenge has come from in her tone. “What did you mean?”

“I meant—I meant that it’s...different seeing you now. Because of...everything. And I don’t want to hurt you more.”

At once, all the fight leaves her. She passes a hand over her face. “God, Evan. I don’t think that’s possible.”

If she had meant to hurt him-and she honestly doesn’t know herself if she did-she certainly succeeded. Evan seems to curl in on himself a bit.

“That’s not what I meant,” she adds belatedly. “I just-you make things difficult, you know? Because this entire—” and here she gestures emphatically to the orchard, “thing is so fucked, and I want to leave it all behind, since it makes me feel fucked. But then I see you, and it’s like…” she lets out a puff of air. “It’s like I’m back to being sixteen again. Which is terrible on so many levels but is really, really great on one.”

He doesn’t say anything.

Her hand picks at the hem of her skirt. “I had you, Evan. And that made everything else okay.” She blinks rapidly against her blurring vision. “And as much as I want to leave everything else behind, I don’t-I can’t leave you. And that.”

“I understand,” Evan says softly.

She doesn’t say the other part that keeps her from leaving, the total guilt that fills her mind every once in a while when she thinks about Connor. She had a feeling he may already know that part.

“And the stars are here, too. I can’t leave them.”

She can hear the smile in Evan’s voice. “No, I bet you can’t.”

She shakes her head, tears slipping from her eyes. As he leans over and swipes them away with his thumb, she represses a choking sob from somewhere deep inside her chest. “I couldn’t either,” he says, his smile morphing into something sadder and smaller. His fingertips brush against her cheeks one last time, and belatedly she remembers those nights spread out on the grass where he traced the stars from the sky on her freckles. His fingers feel just like they did then, almost reverent against her cheek, his feather-light touch sending shivers from where it lands. Her eyes close, and without the hard ground beneath her and the sunlight that’s bright on her eyelids, she can almost pretend no time has passed at all, that she can have this entirely and wholly and painlessly. But Evan’s hand, and then his whole being, moves away from her, and she is left with only the phantom of his touch and the quiet noise of the leaves behind her. She lets her eyes drift open again, once the tears have receded slightly.

Evan stands, maybe sensing that she needs to get away or maybe just wanting out himself. “C’mon,” he says, holding a hand out to her. “I’ll drive you home.”

She smiles, albeit a watery smile, and takes his hand, ignoring just how familiar and easy it feels to slip her hand into his. His palm is warm, and he hoists her up with only a little difficulty. She smiles as she rights herself, and he steps back quickly once he’s sure she won’t fall. The faint blush that steals across his cheeks only makes her vertigo worse, but she manages to walk anyways, the blurriness fading from her eyes.

Just before they get in the car, Zoe reaches out a grabs his sleeve, the fabric of it rough under her calloused fingertips. Time slows down for the barest second, and her world narrowed to the faint, warm brown of his eyes. But the moment passes, and she tugs him in closer to her, wrapping her other arm around his shoulder. She means to say thank you, but the words never pass her lips. Instead she pushes herself up until her mouth is right next to his ear. Zoe breathes, “Watch the stars for me, Evan. Please.”

She feels him nod against her shoulder, and finally his grip around her lower back feels like more than just dead weight. “I will, Zo.”

In a moment, she’ll reach for the car door and step away from him. In a moment he’ll do the same, and they’ll sit in an almost-comfortable silence for the ride home. In a while they will be at her house, and they will say goodbye, and Zoe will go back to NYU the next day and Evan will go to his shift at Pottery Barn. In a moment, this may be the last time they just exist like this with each other, or it may not be.

Either way, she holds him close in this moment and savors the feeling of his heart beating in tandem with hers.

[ethereousdelirious]

I wrote another thing for some OCs of mine! I’ll put context under the cut.

I will say this: it’s a long read for what turned out to be not a lot of sick content. Just so you know that going in, haha

Content Warnings: oblique mentions of sex, brief references to emotionally abusive parents, semi-realistic depiction of urgent care/hospitalization and panic attacks

Please don’t bother correcting me on details i may have gotten wrong regarding flu symptoms/the hospitalization process :) I’m not shooting for absolute realism here and likely never will be. Thanks!

Oh, one more thing! This was based off a prompt that I will try to find so I can properly credit OP. It was basically about Character A getting hospitalized on Christmas and Character B decorating their room for them as a surprise.

This is based off a WIP of mine about 2 college roommates who go on a road trip after graduating and fall in love :) This story takes place in their Junior year and isn’t actually part of the WIP. Canon fanfiction? Is that a thing? Anyway.

The 2 characters that matter are:

Gaël Moreno

(Face claim: Reece King)

Santiago “Santi” Velez

(Face claim: Diego Boneta)

That’s p much all you need to know in terms of context!

--

Gaël swirled the last of his cider around the bottom of his plastic cup and sighed. As far as parties went, this one was rather small. Most of the attendees were playing Jenga Truth or Dare in the kitchen and the rest had broken off into small groups and were talking on their own.

With another sigh, Gaël tossed back the last of his cider. He glanced longingly into the kitchen, wondering if Santi would be upset if he slipped out.

"Hey."

Gaël jumped at a sudden voice behind him. He turned and came face to face with one of the GSA regulars. "Hey, Keith."

"I'll get to the point." Keith's strawberry blond hair was styled into spikes that quivered slightly as he talked. "This party blows and you look miserable. Do you wanna," he gestured at the hallway and made a suggestive hand motion. "I have condoms."

Gaël glanced back at the kitchen. Santi was pounding the table and chanting with the rest of the group while one of them clumsily attempted to shotgun a beer. "Yeah."

"Thank God, this night isn't gonna be a total waste of time." Keith took Gaël by the hand and led him farther into the house.

When they emerged, Keith said goodbye and left for the night, leaving Gaël to gloomily resume his spot on the couch. The game in the kitchen had gotten quieter. Santi was talking to the host, gesturing wildly with a half-empty beer bottle.

His eyes lit up when he noticed Gaël on the couch.

"Hey!" he called, a little too loudly than was appropriate for the close quarters. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah." Gaël stood up and pulled his coat back on. "Are you?"

"Yeah, we're winding down here." Santi turned back to the party host, someone with whom Gaël was unfamiliar. "Hit me up tomorrow, I'll totally help you clean up."

"Thanks, bro. Appreciate it "

"You bet." Santi saluted with his bottle, finished the contents, and deposited it in a cardboard box labeled 'recycling.' "Alright, later. Seriously, text me."

"Night," Gaël said stiffly. He took Santi by the arm and led him toward the door.

They walked along side by side, Santi chattering aimlessly about the party and what they were going to do with themselves now that it was winter break.

Finally, he seemed to notice that Gaël didn't want to talk and fell silent. 

The clock on the microwave, only just visible from the front door, read 2:58.

"Shit," Gaël groaned. "Tomorrow is gonna suck."

Santi shut the door behind them and locked it with a clumsy hand. "Least you don't have anywhere to be. Unless you wanna come with me to help clean up tomorrow?"

"You're really doing that?" Gaël kicked off his shoes and lined them up by the door. "You're crazy."

Santi waved a hand. "Nah. I mean. I'd appreciate the help if I were in their shoes."

"Fair enough. I'm going to bed."

"Think I'm gonna wait 'til the room stops spinning." Santi sat heavily on the couch. "G'night."

"Night."

Gaël woke to the sound of the front door opening, meaning Santi was either just leaving or just getting back. That, or they were being robbed by the world's most polite burglar.

Yawning, Gaël rolled out of bed and shuffled into the living room. Thankfully, he hadn't drunk enough to earn himself a hangover.

"Hey," Santi greeted him from the couch.

"Hey." Gaël paused on the way to the kitchen. "How did cleanup go?"

"Uhh. I cleaned. I came back. I think I died somewhere on the way home."

"You take any painkillers?"

"Yeah. Like 2 hours ago."

Gaël sighed fondly and rolled his eyes. "I'll get you some painkillers and water."

"Coffee?" Santi pleaded.

"I haven't made any yet." Gaël went to the kitchen to rectify this before bringing Santi a glass of water and some aspirin.

"Thaaaanks." Santi hauled himself into an upright position and took the pills.

Gaël took a seat in one of the armchairs across from the couch and assessed Santi. He looked as bad as Gaël guessed he felt. He was still wearing last night's clothes and his tanned skin was sallow in the late morning sun. His hair was down, which was unusual, and from the way he was squinting, he hadn't bothered putting his contacts in.

They sat quietly for a while, listening to the coffee maker percolating.

"Did you ever end up getting a job or anything?" Santi asked suddenly.

"Oh. No." Gaël shrugged. "I made enough from tutoring that I felt okay not subjecting myself to some heinous seasonal retail job."

"Hell yeah, dude. Enjoy that time off."

"What about you?"

"You know me. Got my busking permit all signed and up to date. One of the choir guys got a hand pan and wants to team up."

"Sexy. Is he going with you to play at the old folks' home?"

"Nah, that's all me. Well, and the rest of the choir but you know." Santi waved his hands aimlessly. "I'm the master musician." He swept his hair back like he was going to tie it up, then noticed he didn't have a hair tie on his wrist. He let his hands drop. His hair fanned back out in unruly waves. "You wanna come?"

"I don't sing," Gaël answered. They had this conversation every year. 

"Come on, everyone can sing."

"I can open my mouth and make noises." Gaël couldn't help but blush. Whether he was good at singing was beside the point. He was no good in front of crowds and Santi well knew it. "I'll stay here and hold the fort."

"Alright, alright." Santi leaned back and closed his eyes.

--

Despite the lack of school or work, Gaël actually saw very little of Santi in the following days.

Between busking, practicing for the Christmas concert, and attending house parties, Santi was absent for most of the weekend.

Not that Gaël was sitting around at home waiting for him. Most of his friends had gone home for the holidays, but several members of the GSA had not. Gaël spent much of the weekend with Keith and a few other GSA regulars at various coffee shops and bars in the area.

It wasn't until Monday afternoon that Gaël and Santi had the opportunity for another real conversation.

Gaël came in from a late lunch and found Santi halfway to horizontal on the couch, awkwardly balancing a glass of red wine on his chest.

"I'm not buying us a new couch if you spill that," Gaël said. He locked the front door behind him and came inside properly. There was already an empty glass waiting for him on the coffee table.

"I won't spill," Santi insisted. He sat up a little straighter. Wine sloshed perilously in his glass, a few drops escaping over the side and running onto his hand. "That didn't count."

"You look tired." Gaël sat in the space previously occupied by Santi's legs.

Santi heaved himself properly upright and poured out a glass of wine for Gaël.

"I've never had a Winter Break this hectic before, and that includes the time I was in high school and my parents tried to drag me to Hawaii at the last minute and the airline lost our luggage and my mother threatened to sue them for emotional damages because her favorite Chanel dress was in her suitcase," Santi said all in one breath. He downed half his glass and ran a hand down his face. His hair was down again, which was unusual. In the low light it almost framed his head like a halo. "So it turns out Avi, the guy with the hand pan, has stage fright or something so he wanted to practice until everything was perfect and he kept freaking out every time I tried to improvise. Then we finally get out to our spot and he doesn't want to leave even though I have an agreement with the knife-juggling guy." He paused. "Choir's going fine, though. Except they keep inviting me out to Denny's after every practice and it feels weird saying no. Gaël, I am so sick of pancakes."

"I wondered what all the to-go boxes in the fridge were about." Gaël took a sip from his glass. "Where did this come from, by the way?"

"Oh." Santi sighed. "The choir did a Secret Santa thing which I didn't know about because I'm not technically in the choir and this was the 'backup gift'."

"Not a bad gift," Gaël said with a shrug.

"I agree, especially considering some of the other gifts that were given out."

"Let me guess, candles and hand lotion?"

"You nailed it." Santi drained his glass and leaned over like he was going to refill it before evidently changing his mind and setting the empty glass on the coffee table. "Luckily I have tomorrow off. The concert is on Christmas Eve and then I have the rest of the break to myself. More or less."

"Is there anything you want to do?" Gaël asked. "We could go out for lunch or something. To a real restaurant."

"No pancakes?"

"No pancakes."

"Excellent."

They slipped into silence.

Gaël sighed through his nose. Although he told himself he was over his juvenile crush on Santi, sometimes it came creeping back into his thoughts. This was one of those times. Gaël wanted to run his fingers through Santi's dark blond hair and feel him relax, wanted to run his hands down Santi's neck, his chest--

Blushing furiously, Gaël cut off that train of thought before it could travel any farther south. He just wanted to make Santi feel better, that was all. Because they were friends.

"What is a hand pan?" Gaël asked, mostly to distract himself.

"Oh, it's like…" Santi made a vague hand gesture over his lap. "Like a faceted dome made of metal, and when you hit certain parts of it in a certain way, it makes noise. Kinda like a steel drum."

"Oh. Is Avi any good?"

"He's not bad," Santi said. "Better than I would be anyway. Hang on, let me see if I can find his Instagram."

They spent the rest of the day lounging in the living room, alternating between silence and light conversation. The bottle of wine remained on the coffee table, untouched since Gaël's arrival.

The sun sank below the horizon.

Gaël stretched and shifted positions. "No parties tonight?" he asked, looking sideways at Santi.

"Why, d'you wanna go to one? I think some of the Drama kids are having some sort of get together."

"No." Gaël stuck out his tongue. "I was just wondering."

"You sure? I know some of them. I could introduce you. Or we could have some of your friends over." Santi seemed poised to go on, but instead was overtaken by a yawn. He shook his head.

"Yeah, you look ready to party." Gaël raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you should get to bed."

"Hm, yeah," Santi agreed. He didn't move. "Later."

"Alright, but don't expect me to make you coffee tomorrow."

"Of course." Santi smiled brightly.

Gaël refused to meet his eyes.

--

Ever the early riser, Gaël woke up the next day shortly after the sunrise. Unlike Santi, whose morning routine seemed to involve a lot of squinting and spilling water all over the kitchen in the process of making coffee or tea, Gaël's first act of the day was always to brush his teeth.

Half-awake, he staggered to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and lazily dragged some product through his dark brown curls. He took his time getting ready, knowing that Santi often preferred to sleep in.

To Gaël's surprise, Santi was waiting for him on the couch. He had wrapped himself up in his duvet and sheet and bundled up against one of the armrests. He appeared to be sleeping, but his hazel eyes cracked open upon hearing Gaël approach. 

"Morning," Gaël said with a little wave. He poked his head into the kitchen to double check the time. "You're up early. Or did you stay up all night?"

"I was having trouble sleeping so I came out here."

"Did it help?"

"Not really." Santi sniffled and ducked his head under the duvet. After a moment, he sneezed sharply and then emerged. "If you want, you can have my leftover pancakes for breakfast."

"Thanks." Gaël went back into the kitchen to retrieve the to go box. While he was microwaving it, he heard Santi sneeze a few more times. "Bless you," he called over the hum of the microwave.

"Thanks," Santi called back.

He sounded a bit congested, Gaël thought. A familiar wave of anxiety began to rise in his chest. He abandoned his post at the microwave and stuck his head through the doorway into the living room. "Are you okay?"

"I think so." Sanri frowned, confused. "Do I seem not okay?"

Gaël made a face and gestured at the scene before him. Santi was wrapped head to toe in his bedding. Only his face was visible from beneath the pile of blankets. "You seem like you're trying to become one with your duvet."

The microwave beeped. Santi sneezed into his sleeve.

Gaël frowned, but went to go get his pancakes. When he got back to the living room, Santi was attempting to extricate himself from the tangle of sheets and blankets. 

"Is the milk still good?" he asked Gaël when he was finally free.

Gaël shrugged. "Go check."

"Just figured I'd ask."

Santi was shivering when he came back into the living room, a bowl of cereal in hand.

Gaël couldn't help but notice. Winters in San Diego weren't exactly harsh, and Gaël was comfortable enough in his boxers and T-shirt. Yet Santi was shivering noticeably.

"Hey," Gaël said. "I think you're sick."

Santi paused in the act of arranging his duvet around himself. "So it's not weirdly cold in here?"

Gaël rolled his eyes. "Go take your temperature."

"But my cereal will get all soggy," Santi whined.

"Alright, whatever. I'm not your mom."

"Thank god for that."

Santi finished eating before Gaël and wandered off. He came back wearing an undersized Grateful Dead hoodie that kept trying to ride up.

"I'm doing it," he said.

"Huh?" Gaël was staring at the little bit of skin that was showing just above the waistband of Santi's sweatpants. He shook his head and looked up. Santi was brandishing a thermometer. "Oh. Good. I mean--" he stuttered. Santi sat down and stuck the thermometer under his tongue. "I hope you're not sick."

"Mm'" Santi hummed in agreement.

They waited a few seconds and the thermometer beeped. Santi made a face. "101.1."

"Huh." Gaël leaned forward. For the most part, Santi looked fine. He was a little pale and he did look tired, but not unusually so. "And you feel okay?"

Santi shrugged. "Yeah, aside from the fact that I'm freezing."

"Huh. Well." Gaël frowned. "I guess let's keep an eye on you."

For a moment, it was quiet.  Then Santi shifted under the pile of blankets.

"I need to brush my teeth."

"Go brush your teeth," Gaël said, not looking up from his phone.

"Yeah." Santi got up and left.

The day was, by and large, anticlimactic. Gaël spent most of it on his phone, switching between the couch, an armchair, and his bed whenever he felt the need to move. It went without saying that their lunch plans were cancelled, and Santi went back to bed around noon, leaving Gaël to his own devices.

It would have been a lovely day for a hike, he thought as he looked wistfully out the window, but it wouldn't feel right leaving Santi behind.

So Gaël resigned himself to a boring, lonely day. He did receive a few texts from his friends, but everyone was mostly too busy to have a proper conversation.

At around 6:00, Santi emerged from his bedroom looking noticeably worse, downed a handful of painkillers, and retreated back into the darkness of his room.

"You okay?" Gaël asked as he passed.

"Sleepy," Santi answered, and shut his door.

--

They both woke early the next morning. 

"Feeling any better?" Gaël asked upon emerging from the bathroom to see Santi sprawled out on the couch.

Santi said something akin to "not really." The words came out muffled with half his face pressed into the faux suede couch cushion.

Deciding to forgo breakfast for the moment, Gaël came out to the living room to take a better look at his roommate. "Oh. Shit."

Santi was a mess. His dark blond hair was hopelessly tangled around the dangling cross earring he had evidently neglected to take out, and matted to his sweaty forehead. His cheeks were an angry, feverish red and his eyes were blank, not seeming to focus on Gaël or anything at all.

He didn't say anything, just lay there motionless but for the frantic rise and fall of his chest, and let himself be examined.

"Shit," Gaël repeated. Then, "um."

The thermometer was still on the coffee table where Santi had left it last night.

"Can you sit up for me?"

Santi hummed a dissent. "Dizzy."

"Just… Roll over onto your side, then. I need to take your temperature."

"'Kay." Santi rolled over and allowed Gaël to slip the thermometer under his tongue.

For a few tense seconds, Gaël waited and tried desperately not to freak out. They both got sick all the time. This was nothing. Everything was fine.

Then the thermometer beeped and the panic roared again, loud in Gaël's ears. "104.2. How long--"

"I don't know." Santi closed his eyes and scrubbed at his face. "I woke up feeling really bad."

"What time?"

"Night?"

"And you said you were dizzy?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." Gaël bit his lip, thinking. "I think you should go to urgent care."

"Mm." Santi didn't open his eyes or attempt to move. "I don't know if I can--" He shuddered and pulled his knees up to his chest with a quiet moan. "I feel really bad."

"Just try to sit up. I need to grab some things and I'll help get you to the car."

"My wallet's, um… In my backpack. I'm still on my parents' insurance."

This made Gaël pause. "Really?" Then he shook himself. "Sorry, not the time. Just try to sit up."

He darted off. Keeping his wits about him was a constant battle. His body wanted so badly to panic. It was all he could do to not hyperventilate as he packed a few essentials into his school bag and started the car.

Santi was sitting up with his head in his hands and his knees braced against his elbows.

"Hey," Gaël said, kneeling beside him. "I'm gonna help you stand, okay?"

"I'm tired," Santi said, sounding almost on the verge of tears.

"I know. You can rest in the car, okay? Put your arm around me."

Santi's body was frightfully hot. It was hard to walk with him leaning so heavily on Gaël's shoulder, but they managed.

After a short drive, they had to repeat the maneuver to get into the urgent care.

"'I'll check you in," Gaël said. "Are you okay to go sit?"

"No," Santi said, clinging on harder. He leaned heavily to the side and Gaël staggered to try and keep them both upright.

One of the receptionists seemed to take notice of their plight. "I'm sending someone out to help, okay?"

Gaël said nothing. He couldn't. All he could do was try to breathe and to lower Santi to the floor as gently as possible.

Breath, he reminded himself. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. It wouldn't do any good if he passed out too.

So he knelt on the carpeted floor of the urgent care, sinking into a strange feeling of numbness. Santi was attended to by a doctor and a team of medical assistants and Gaël had to answer questions for them but the answers seemed far away in his mind.

His hands fumbled over Santi's wallet, words clumsy and faltering on his lips until every other sentence was "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know."

The carpeting was blue-gray, patterned with rosettes. Gaël watched his cream-colored skate shoes obscure it until it disappeared, replaced by pale orange linoleum.

One of the medical assistants was talking to him. Gaël looked around at the walls of the exam room. The words bounced around in his head without really sinking in.

His body seemed to catch on before his brain did, his shoulders beginning to shake with sobs. He was crying without really feeling it. Tears made dark stains on his pants. Gaël stared blankly down at the orange linoleum and let them fall.

--

"Gaël, I'm going to be fine," Santi said for what must have been the 50th time.

He didn't look fine. It was impossible to look fine laid up in a hospital bed. Gaël would have said so, but he was too busy crying. He hadn't really stopped since he'd started sobbing in the exam room and his head was starting to ache.

"Come on, Gaël, look at me. It's just the flu."

There was a whole list of things Gaël wanted to say to that, but all he could manage was "But I— And you…"

"You need to calm down or you're going to get admitted too," Santi joked. "Can I tell you a secret?"

This caught Gaël off guard. He looked up and wiped his eyes. "Y-yes."

"I'm not actually sick," Santi said in a stage whisper. "I just faked it to get out of the concert."

"Oh, shit," Gaël said as Santi's eyes widened.

"Oh, shit!" Santi echoed, flailing around aimlessly in the hospital bed. "My phone, I need— Ah, shit, shit, shit. What time is it?"

Gaël dived for his backpack, digging around for Santi's phone. He found it and tossed it over to Santi, who unlocked it and began typing furiously.

"Did you miss it?" Gaël asked, watching Santi's awkward attempt at typing without bending his left arm and messing up his IV.

"No, it starts in 2 hours." Santi sank back against the pillows and closed his eyes. "Ugh." The brief moment of panic had robbed him of breath. He was silent for a moment while he breathed. "Gaël," he said, opening his eyes. "I need you to bust me out of here. Steal a wheelchair while I distract the nurses, and we'll go from there."

"Wh--" Gaël squinted, his eyes darting over the medical equipment in the room. "You— No!"

"I'm kidding," Santi said, but his smile faded too quickly. "I just…" He sighed and ran a hand down his face. "I've been looking forward to this, you know? It's kinda the only thing I get to do for Christmas now that my family's all--" He waved his hand dismissively. He sniffled and scrubbed at his eyes even though there were no tears to wipe away. "Sorry, I know it's stupid to freak out like this."

"You just saw me have a panic attack for like three hours and you want to call that a freakout?" Gaël laughed. He wanted to put a hand on Santi's shoulder to hug him, to brush his hair, anything to make him feel even slightly better. As it was, self-deprecation was all he could muster. "I think you're entitled to cry a little bit considering where you are."

"Yeah." Santi gave a heavy sigh. "Merry Christmas, by the way. Your present is in my sock drawer. You can't miss it. It's the only thing in there that isn't socks."

"We can open presents tomorrow. Did they say when they were releasing you?"

"Yeah, hopefully tomorrow. Christmas Day." Santi wiggled his fingers. "They just want to keep me overnight to make sure I don't keel over again. Apparently I'm 'severely dehydrated' and 'drink too much alcohol'."

Gaël scoffed. "They know you're in college, right?"

"That's what I said. Well. Would have said if I could've felt my face at the time."

They fell into silence for a moment.

"I didn't know you liked Christmas so much," Gaël said. "You're always so enthusiastic about everything it's hard to tell sometimes."

Santi raised an eyebrow but didn't comment on the character analysis. "Yeah, I've always liked it. I'm not going to go into a Hallmark movie spiel or anything, but it's just nice. Although out of everything, I think the lights are my favorite." He sighed wistfully. "Quiet Harbor, the old folks' home we always perform for, always has the prettiest decorations in the lobby. Speaking of." He picked his phone up off the sheets. "The group chat is blowing up."

"They're not going to cancel, are they?" Gaël asked anxiously, knowing it would upset Santi.

"No, no. I'm not that important. They're just gonna do it without me."

"Ah."

"Can you do me a huge favor, by the way?"

"Of course."

"Can you swing by home and grab my phone charger? And toothbrush? Mm, and regular brush?" Santi attempted to run a hand through his hair and was instantly stopped by tangled up knots.

"Oh, yeah." Gaël blushed. "I'm sorry, I should have thought of that sooner. I'll go right now."

"Thanks," Santi said. He pulled the covers further up around his shoulders. "I'm going to sleep. Possibly for several thousand years."

Gaël drove home in contemplative silence. He gathered up Santi's things and put them all in his trusty backpack, but did not immediately head back to the hospital.

Instead, he drove.

Surely there were stores open on Christmas Eve. Not everything could be closed.

Sure enough, a dollar store was open. Gaël rushed in and surveyed their selection of holiday decor with a discerning eye. He grabbed a few things, even finding a few cheap strings of battery-operated lights.

Once he'd paid, he hopped back into the car and rearranged his backpack, sticking his new purchases at the bottom and Santi's belongings at the top. The backpack' zipper just barely managed to close, straining the seams. Gaël set it in the passenger seat and, after a moment's thought, strapped it in.

Then he headed back to the hospital.

--

Gaël's plan was not going quite as smoothly as he'd hoped. After an uneventful evening, he'd made the decision to stay the night in Santi's room.

It wasn't, as he'd feared, against hospital policy and Santi didn't protest beyond a few token attempts to get Gaël to leave and spend Christmas Eve with his other friends.

However, Santi was not as heavy a sleeper as Gaël had been hoping and he woke up almost every time a nurse came in to record his vitals.

After one such visit from a nurse, when the sky was just beginning to lighten, Gaël sat up. Tooth by tooth, he unzipped his backpack and set about decorating Santi's hospital room as lavishly as he could without obstructing anything too important.

This might've been against hospital policy, but it wouldn't have to be up for very long.

Since much of the room was taken up by the IV pole, hospital bed, and guest seating, Gaël tried to focus on the windowsill and tables. He set up the lights in careful loops and hung up paper ornaments everywhere he could think of.

When he was done, the room wasn't exactly covered in Christmas decorations, but it was certainly cheerier than before.

Satisfied that Santi was still fast asleep, Gaël set off to get himself a coffee.

"That's lovely," said the nurse, coming in. Her name was Permata. Gaël had met her earlier when she had come in to check Santi's vital signs.

"What's lovely?" Santi asked blearily.

"You'll see."

Santi must have been too tired to argue, because he didn't press the point any further.

From his position by the window, all Gaël could see was Permata's back. She finished what she was doing and left again.

"You awake?" Gaël asked.

"I guess so." Santi yawned. "What did she mean when— Oh." He looked around at all the Christmas decorations: the paper ornaments hung from the edge of the table, the streamers hanging from the message board on the wall, the lights on the windowsill. "Gaël, did you…?"

"You seemed really upset yesterday, and I wanted…" Gaël hesitated. "I didn't want you to be sad on Christmas."

"Gaël." Santi's eyes were wet with unshed tears. "Thank you." He held out his arm for a hug. "Seriously, thank you."

"Of course." Gaël leaned over the bed and embraced Santi. It was an awkward and slightly painful position, with his knees jammed into the plastic safety rail and his body twisted to an odd degree. But it didn't matter. Santi was safe.

That was all that was important. 

[brightdrawings]

Breakfast and Catch-up (Theme: Love/Bonding)

It’s time for @stanuary week 1! Love/bonding. have some classic Fiddstan Set in the mystery Trio au!

(also on ao3!)

Stanley looked up from the stove in time to see Fiddleford rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he walked into the kitchen. The engineer gave a non-committal nod as he took his seat at the kitchen table. The smell of eggs filled the air and the sizzling of bacon made Fiddleford’s stomach grumble something fierce.

“Breakfast will be ready in a couple of minutes,” Stanley said. He flipped a pancake onto a plate next to the stove.

“Well it smells divine.” Fiddleford said. His sandy blond hair was a mess that he couldn't  be bothered to fix this early in the morning.

Stan reached for the coffee pot and poured out two steaming hot mugs. “How many sugars?” he asked.

“Two please.” Fiddleford rubbed the last grains of sleep from his eyes.

“Coming right up,” Stanley put in two spoons of sugar into the mug with gear pattern. He walked over to the stove and placed the mug next to a plate stacked high with pancakes, with a side of bacon and eggs. Stanley set the plate and mug in front of fiddleford. He pecked Fiddleford’s forehead before making his own breakfast.

“How’d you sleep Fiddlenerd?” Stanley asked. He took a seat opposite Fiddleford.

“Refreshing,” Fiddleford got to work at his food. “You really outdid yourself this time darling.”

Stanley beamed. He started up with his own meal. It had been quite a while since he was able to sit down and enjoy a meal without having to worry about some magical beast bursting through the window and declaring war against them for stepping on some ancient flower of ultimate power or something.

He had met fiddleford a little while before Ford had called Fiddleford over for some help with some interuniversal portal or something. With nothing better to do Stan agreed to come with. Firstly to help with heavy lifting that might come up, and secondly to stare in awe at his boyfriend’s work. However meeting his estranged twin upon arriving wasn’t what he had expected. If Fiddleford hadn’t stood his ground and forced both Pines twins to talk out their issues Stanley wasn’t sure what would he would have done.

“So how did you meet the nerd?” Stanley asked after a beat. He rested his head in his hand, his elbow sitting against the table.

“We’ve been dating for how long and you’re only asking how I met my boss and got my job now?” Fiddleford raised his eyebrow.

“We’ve been busy,” Stanley replied. “What with the whole ‘making up for ruining his chance at his dream school’ and that goblin attack.”

“Gremloblin,” Fiddleford corrected.

“Yeah, that. Now back to the question, how did you meet my brother?” Stanley pressed.

“If you must know, we were roommates in college.” Fiddleford said. He took a sip of his coffee, making sure not to meet Stan’s eye.

“Roommates eh? Did you two ‘study’ together? What did you ‘study’? Nerdomics? Klingon? “ Stanley waited for Fiddleford to be halfway through his gulp of coffee before making his next assumption. “Biology?”

Fiddleford spat out his coffee. “Stanley Pines! Just what in the lord’s name are you insinuating?”

“What? My brother studies fairies and trolls, he’s obviously have to study how bodies and stuff work.” Stanley blinked innocently. He’d have to clean up that coffee stain from the floor but the look on Fiddleford face was worth it.

“Right-right. Well, not necessarily. I didn’t study biology myself, but Stanford did need some help with his studies and assignments. And if’n I was able to help I would,” Fiddleford recalled. “And in turn he’d help me out with my engineering studies.”

“A bit of ‘I scratch your back you scratch mine?’” Stanley smirked.

“If you call staying up until 3 am for three nights in a row ‘scratching his back’ then yes.” Fiddleford rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know, that sounds pretty productive if you ask me.” Stan smirked.

“If you’re trying to ask if your brother and I were in a relationship you can just say it,” Fiddleford said flatly.

“Aw, but I wanted to tease you more,” Stanley pouted. He took a sip of his coffee.

“Your dancing around the bush was about as subtle as a baseball bat to the face,” Fiddleford said. “And It’s way too early to be dealing with any of that.” He took a very quick sip of his coffee. He didn’t want a repeat of earlier.

“Fine fine, so that's how you scratched his back, how’d he pay you back?” Stanley asked. “From what I’ve heard, your dorms were terrible in winter. Did you two find an ‘economical’ way to stay warm?”

“Ya got me once Stanley, it ain’t happening again.” Fiddleford said. “And let me answer your question with a question, do you ever wonder why your brother always wears long sleeved shirts?”

“Because he somehow thought that Carl Sagan was a Fashion pioneer instead of the nerd he really was?” Stanley asked.

“For someone who claims to enjoy having fun you sure do like to suck the fun out other people, you know that?” Fiddleford asked.

“Oh, I’m well aware.” Stanley smirked. “But because I’m nice I’ll take the bait. Why does Ford wear long sleeved shirts all the time?”

“I don’t feel like telling you anymore.” Fiddleford look away childishly.

“Oh c’mon, don’t be like that,” Stanley said. He walked over to Fiddleford’s side to coddle him. “You know I was just kidding, right?”

“Well i don’t want an inattentive audience when i’m telling my stories,” Fiddleford turned his head away and crossed his arms.

“Come on Fiddlesticks, I really mean it,” Stanley took the seat next to Fiddleford. “I promise I‘ll listen this time.” “Your words are as empty as your stomach, Stanley Pines,” Fiddleford said dramatically. He stared Stanley down, but was thrown off by his boyfriend’s grin. “What’s so funny, Mr. Heckler?”

“Empty as my stomach eh?” Stanley asked. He nodded to his empty plate of pancakes. “You sure about that one?”

“That doesn’t prove anything. You’d put the the bottomless hole we have outside to shame,” FIddleford said.

“It’s a gift,” Stanley beamed.

“At least I don’t have to worry about throwing away food scraps anymore,” Fiddleford said.

“So, you were going to tell me a story about my brother hiding something with shirts?” Stan asked. “I’m not sure if I’m willing to tell you.” Fiddleford smirked.

“Hmm, maybe I could make it worth your while?” Stanley asked.

“Stanley, are you suggesting a bribe?” Fiddleford asked in mock shock.

“I think I might have something to fit the bill,” Stanley grinned. He leaned forward and kissed Fiddleford’s cheek. The engineer giggled as the scruff on Stan’s chin tickled him.

“You were right.” Fiddleford said. He scooted his chair closer so that he could lean against stan’s chest. “That definitely fit the bill.”

“So can I hear the story or not?” Stanley asked after a beat. Fiddleford gotten half way through his pancakes and hadn’t said a word.

Fiddleford took another bite of his pancakes.

“What are you waiting for a kiss on the cheek?” Stan asked.

“Another one wouldn’t hurt,” Fiddleford grinned.

“You set me up,” Stan frowned.

“And they said it’s impossible to out-con a conman,” Fiddleford smirked. Stanley rolled his eyes before kissing fiddleford’s cheek.

“Happy?”

“Very,” Fiddleford grinned.

Fiddleford finished off his breakfast before diving into his tale.

“I was low on parts for my engineering major, and my deadline was breathing down my back,” he began. “Your brother had helped me test out the prototypes but those… didn’t turn out too well.”

“Did they explode?” Stanley asked.

“Not in any way that would be entertaining. Half the time they just started to smoke and we’d have to get the fire extinguisher.” Fiddleford said. “Anyway, we got wind that the science department were planning on throwing out some equipment. And that stuff just happened to have the parts I needed. So Stanford and I got suited up, you should have seen your brother, he got a black sweater and beanie for the occasion.”

“You’re saying that as if you didn’t have a mask and a striped black and white shirt as well.” Stanley accused.

“I thought it would have been appropriate to dress to fit the occasion,” Fiddleford said. “As I was saying, we made our way to the science building in the dead of night.  It was so dark we couldn’t see our hands in front of our faces. Stanford was saying something about anti-theft lights that made everything hard to see. Turns out we were just in the shadow of the building.” “Ha! He would think that.” Stanley said smugly.

“Well we walked into the building.” Fiddleford said.

“You just walked in? No security? No security guards? No cameras?” Stan asked.

“Our college advertised ‘roach free dormitories’.” Fiddleford scowled. “This was granted by handing out a free can of insect spray on our first day.”

“Sounds like my kind of place.” Stanley smirked.

“Let’s just say they probably didn’t have the budget for any kind of serious security detail.” FIddleford said. “A I was saying, we walked in, no problem. In fact the equipment was right by the door in the hallway.”

“Sounds too convenient,” Stanley said.

“It was a stroke of luck!” Fiddleford said, pretending that he hadn’t heard Stan’s comment. “But lo and behold the night guard was on his patrol.”

“I thought you said there weren’t any guards,” Stan squinted.

“To be fair, in hindsight they were probably a janitor. But I’m the storyteller here and I decide the roles.” Fiddleford resumed. “Stanford was panicking but didn’t know squat about what parts I needed, so I had him to hold the flashlight for me while I quickly pulled the equipment apart for what I needed. And just as I got the last part free we heard the nightguard walking close by. So using our brilliant minds we dove behind the equipment just in time to avoid their spotlight.”

“Stanford was that daring? Now I wish I was there to see that.” Stanley smirked.

“Just as we heard them walked past; we made our way to sneak past the nightguard. Unfortunately Stanford, the old butterfingers that he was, dropped his flashlight.” He waved his arms as he spoke. “And to make things worse, the parts in my bag had leaked oil on to the floor. His flashlight cracked on the ground and was covered in oil. And when he turned it back on KABLOOEY! It blew up, setting his black sweater on fire and burning his arms terribly.”

“Ha! That’s rich.” Stanley wiped a tear from his eye while slamming his hand on the table. “Fidds you’re a riot,” he said between chuckles.

“And he’s been hiding his arms in shame ever since,” Fiddleford said.

After he finally caught his breath Stanley clapped Fiddleford on the shoulder. “Fidds, that was amazing. But one problem.”

“What’s that?” Fiddleford asked.

“We both saw Stanford with his sleeves rolled up,” Stanley said. “And if memory served we both teased him for having such smooth arms that pixies could use them as a slide.”

“Well I never said it was a true story,” Fiddleford pouted.

The tipped Stanley over the edge. He erupted into laughter once more. He kicked the ground and slammed his fist on to the table, knocking the utensils around in his hysterics. His barking laugh filled the air, Fiddleford himself couldn’t stop himself from joining in. And in a few short minutes the pair had fallen off their seats.

“That was a good laugh.” Stanley said.

“I needed that,” Fiddleford coughed. He wiped away a tear.

“My little Fiddlesticks out conned me. Twice! I’m so proud.” Stanley said. He placed his hand on his heart. “I think that deserves a reward.”

“My my, what have you got in mind?” Fiddleford smirked. He crawled over so that he was sitting on Stan’s lap.

“There’s that sci-fi flick that came out a while ago. We could go check out together,” Stanley offered.

“I thought you hated sci-fi,” Fiddleford said.

“It’s also a horror flick. I’ll get to have you cuddle up to me when the big monster jumps out,” Stanley said with a smirk.

“After the hunts that Stanford’s had us go through? I doubt some goo-covered rubber costume will get my goat,” Fiddleford said.

“Wanna bet?” Stanley asked.

“Who ever screams first has to be the winner dinner,” Fiddleford declared. He offered his hand to Stan.

“You’re on McGucket,” Stanley shook fiddleford’s hand. “I hope you’re not too attached to your wallet.”

“We’ll See Stanley, we’ll see,” Fiddleford smiled.

[disastrousbarnes]

Stolen Dance (Beckett Cain P.O.V)

This is highkey a response to Stolen Dance written by my dear friend @lovingrxgers

Pairing: Beckett Cain (OC) x Jasmine Rogers (OC, Steve Rogers daughter)

Summary: Beckett left for college 2 years ago. Breaking thing of with his girlfriend Jazz. He thought he was over her, but now that he is reminded of her existence, he isn’t sure. Will he reach back out? Will she respond? 

Authors Note: I just felt like responding with my gorgeous boi Beckett’s P.O.V FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED.

Word count: 1153

Chapter title: Sunday’s are for pancakes with the boys.

The moment I opened my eyes I closed them again. The light was too bright.

I waited 2 minutes and opened them again, slower this time. Someone had opened the curtains. What kind of absolute idiot opens the curtains after a night of drinking. Or maybe I just forgotten to close them? No, that can’t be it, I always close the curtains before I leave the house when I go drinking. So I can avoid waking up to the sun burning my eyes.

Suddenly I remembered what had happened last night. Tate and Alex were here! Without a second thought I launched out of the bed, instant regret hit me as my headache kicked in. Great, I am definitely hungover.

I shouldn’t act surprised, I always have a hangover.

 It takes me another 20 minutes to finally get myself together enough to actually join my friends in the kitchen. Tate is sitting on the kitchen counter, Alex is standing in between his legs, both held a cup of tea in their hands.

“Hey guys,” I mumble, walking past them, to my trusty coffee machine. As my old roommate Ingmar used to say ‘No work before Coffee.” A statement I have been living by, ever since I started college.

Tate shifts slightly, so he can look at me. “Hey Beck, did the light wake you up? I told mister 5 A.M run not to open them, but you know Alex, he doesn’t listen.”

I can’t help but laugh, god I’ve missed those guys.

As is he was reading my mind Alex says “You know I have really missed you guys.”

Me and Tate hum in agreement. We’ve always been quick to agree with Alex, as he was usually right, but this wasn’t like that. We really did miss each other.

Alex moved to Amsterdam the second he got his diploma. This is actually the first time I have seen him since. We skyped and stuff, but it isn’t the same.

Luckily Tate has been able to snag a lot of modeling gigs in the area, so we have continued hanging out.

The rest of our group has kind of gone off and done their own thing. The app groups are nowhere near as busy as they used to be. We do still have a weekly skype call, but it isn’t the same. Which sucks, because those guys are family.

 After my mandatory cup of coffee I grab all the ingredients I need to make pancakes, “I assume you guys  haven’t had breakfast yet?”

Both shake their head. “I assumed the whole Beckett Cain makes me breakfast deal was still on.” Tate jokes, his head now hanging on Alex’s shoulder. “So Cain how has class been going?”

I shrug, “Fine, kind of regret not going the culinary road though.” Being a baker had been my dream since I was like 5 years old, yet when it came to making a choice I made the decision to study business. That way I could take over de supermarket from my dad when he wanted to retire or start something for myself. It would also offer more of a financial security, not that I really need that, but it’s a nice thought.

“I still don’t understand why you didn’t do it. You got in and everything.” Alex says, putting his cup down on the table. “Plus no one makes cupcakes like you do. The ones at work are just plain gross compared to yours.”

I smile, pulling open the fridge and throwing a homemade cupcake to Alex. “These are from yesterday’s batch. My version of apple-pie cupcakes.” I say, opening up a new pack of flour. “I made a choice Alex, I am going to finish this. Plus if I do end up wanting to start a bakery or something I will also have a good idea of the business side of things. We all know I can bake, with or without a degree.”

Alex nods understandingly, stuffing his mouth with the cupcake, as if, if he doesn’t finish it fast enough it’ll be taken away from him. Which obviously, it won’t.

“Are they starving you at S.H.I.E.L.D?” Tate asks, a fake worried look on his face.

“No the food is just crappy.” Alex responds, already finished with eating. He then walks away from Tate and puts his cup in the dishwasher. “So except for you not being totally happy with you career choice, how has school been?”

I finish whipping the batter and turn on the fire. “It’s been great, lived on campus first year, but that honestly made me feel really claustrophobic.”

“I so understand that.” Tate says, “I stayed at a placein New York once and like the entire apartment was the size of my bedroom.”

Alex gave him a look that screamed ‘dude WTF’. “First of all Tate, that’s completely different. Also both of you grew up in huge houses, with all the space in the world. So of course living in something that much smaller, like a college dorm feels constricting. Especially if you’re sharing said dorm.”

Ugh Alex, always pretending to be wise or something.

“Plus it didn’t have a kitchen.” I add, a kitchen is a must-have for me. The kitchen is the heart of a house. “My roommate, Ingmar, was awesome though.”

“Was he hot?”

“Jesus Alex, that’s not the most important thing about a person.” Tate, perhaps the most self-absorbed person I know, said. “Was he hot, though?”

I chuckle, pulling out my phone, careful not to get batter all over it. “Judge for yourself.” I say, handing Alex my phone.

“What a cutie.” Alex squeals, scrolling trough Ingmar’s Instagram.

“Yeah, adorable.” Tate agrees.

 After a big pancake breakfast, I decide to give the boys a campus tour, I only live a 5 minute walk away anyway.

We end up strolling around for about 30 minutes, realizing it way to cold to be out. Now we’re sitting in the coffee-/bookshop. Drinking some way to sweet, expensive coffee of some sorts. At least that’s what I am having, Tate is having tea and Alex is having a plain black coffee, because Alex is a weak, boring plain black coffee kind of gal.

“James and I broke up.” Alex suddenly announced, breaking the pleasant silence that had been roaming between us.

I look at Tate, who is apparently just as shocked by the news as I am.

“Why?” He asks.

 Alex must’ve responded, but it’s as if nothing actually reaches my ears. Suddenly the only thing I can think of is her. Jazz Rogers.

I thought I got over her a long time ago. We broke up on good terms. I was okay. I was moving across the country, she was going into senior year. Staying together wouldn’t have been fair on either of us.

I wonder if she ever got into Julliard?

-

Face claim:

Beckett Cain (fc: Ryan Potter)

Alex Barnes (fc: Steven R Mcqueen, TVD s1-S6)

Tate Harrison (fc: Lucky Blue Smith)

[chronicfangirling]

At that place (2 of 2)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (feat. Yoongi x OC, one-sided Jin x OC) Genre: Fluff/Angst, long-distance relationships, pining exes, idol problems, double/triple dates, GIRLFRIENDS (please appreciate female friendships more) Words: 9119 Requested by: Anon

Can i request a jungkookie scenario based on their song i like it pt. 2? A fluffy ending pleaseeeee or whatever you decide. Thank you. ❤

A/N: Writer’s block defeated! Better late than never?

pt1. |  pt.2

You woke up to Saren putting the final touches to a complete breakfast spread. After weeks of having to make do with toast and jam and whatever you can scrounge in the pantry, you blinked, almost certain that it was a mirage. Stacks of fluffy buttermilk pancakes,  strawberries in sweet cream, sunny side-up eggs, seared sausages, fragrant steamed rice… you've been dreaming of eating all those things again. Saren took a platter of perfectly crisped, thick-cut bacon from the counter and waved it in invitation. You pounced, grabbing a strip of bacon in each hand, and biting them alternately.

Mayu returned from her jog, the morning paper in hand. With purposeful strides, she sat down on the table across you and said proudly: "You're back, my dear."

"Yes." Saren nodded, tugging at a lock of hair framing her face, smiling sheepishly. "I'm sorry for being pathetic."

"You were pretty pathetic," Mayu agreed. "But it happens to everyone. Though this loser stint of yours has made Y/N has swear off toast for the rest of her life, it seems."

The older women looked at you and you shook your head in a panic. "No, no--I'm fine!" You were well aware that the way you clutched at fistfuls of bacon undermined those words, but you didn't want her to think that you were obliging her to make breakfast. "I like toast with jam and butter... and also, I'm glad you're feeling better." The last part sounded like an afterthought, but it was true that her uncharacteristic behavior had been concerning.

"Well, don't worry, because those loser days are over," Saren declared. "I'm giving up on Kim Seokjin."

You scrunched your nose thinking, that it wasn't as if they had a relationship anyway, but you caught those less-than-kind thoughts. Just because there wasn't a relationship, doesn't mean her feelings weren't real. They were simply unrequited.

"Good!" Mayu raised her mug of chai latte and clinked it with Saren's coffee. "I didn't like seeing you exert so much effort for that stuck-up pretty boy anyway!"

Saren shook her head. "For once, I tried my best, and I have no regrets. I used to never take chances when it came to love because I was too scared of being rejected. Rejection does hurt... but it's bearable, you know? It was a lot worse, not knowing what it would be like and being terrified to make any moves."

"I guess an old dog can learn new tricks after all, if our sempai could learn this in her ripe old age," Mayu teased, dodging when Saren threw a bit of pancake at her. You laughed, but didn't join in the ribbing--you had only known them for a few months, and weren't comfortable enough yet to do so. Still, this house had been a good place to take refuge in after your heartbreak and you hoped you would soon reach that level of camaraderie with them.

"Seriously though, I feel a lot braver now." Saren said. "And when another chance, another possible love comes along, I won't even hesitate--I'll try again."

"What?" You dropped a sunny side-up egg on your lap and winced; thankfully not breaking it. Gingerly poking at it, you muttered: "You'd still try again?"

Saren slipped a spatula under the egg and transferred it to a saucer with the yolk intact. "Of course, Y/N. What's there to life but to keep trying?"

Mayu made a face as you retrieved the formerly fallen egg and started digging into it. "But..." You frowned at Saren. "You got your heart broken! What if that happens again?"

"Then it happens," she said, taking an egg for herself and putting it on top of a bowl of rice, then sitting beside Mayu. "It's worth the possibility of finally finding love, isn't it?"

You watched her sprinkle soy sauce on her egg before mashing it into the rice. "Wasn't it Einstein who said 'insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results?'"

Saren shifted to lecturer mode, her voice deepening from its usual tone. "First of all, nobody's sure if this quote was actually misattributed to Einstein, although he does have a stronger claim to it than the other candidates. Secondly, this quote should be taken within the context of the scientific method, wherein controlled variables will naturally result in the same set of results. And lastly..." she reached across the table to pat your head, though she was shorter than you and had to strain. "Love isn't exactly rational, our dear baby."

"Sempai!" Mayu cried with exaggerated fervor. "You've truly had an enlightenment." She laughed while Saren whined about her cool moment being ruined.

"'Baby...'" you murmured, patting where she had patted your head. It was strange, but not entirely unpleasant, for you to be showered with this kind of affection, when most of your life, you hadn't gotten so much. Just like your ex-boyfriend Jeon Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was probably too accustomed to receiving so much love that he didn't appreciate it anymore, but for you...

You smiled at your roommates--Mayu was trying to feed Saren strawberries in apology, but Saren continued pouting. You didn't think it would be easy to do, this trying again thing, but you would at least have to think about it.

***

"Jungkook..." You stared at your ex-boyfriend, flanked by his older group members, as they stood at your porch. Yoongi wasn't a surprise, but even Seokjin had come with them again. Before you could stop yourself, you had already smoothed your hands over your hair, which was thrown in a messy bun--you didn't expect to be seeing him today--or on any day--after all.

"Hi... we have a lot of schedules in Tokyo so we're staying for a while." He gave you a small wave but made no move to step forward.

Yoongi side-stepped him and asked: "Is Mayu at home?"

"Yeah... umm, come in." You belatedly waved them into the living room. Mayu peered over her books and color-coded notes covering the coffee table and gasped in surprised delight at the sight of her boyfriend, gathering all her review materials and dumping them on the beanbag in the corner, which was already littered with Saren's novels. She tucked herself under his waiting arm as she led him to the loveseat. "I didn't know you're coming over."

"Surprise?" he shrugged, a pleased grin plastered on his face.

At that moment, Saren skipped in the living room, her long lace skirt whirling around her, her prized silver tea caddy engraved with cherry blossoms nestled in her hands. "Our baby, do you want chocolate chip cookies or peanut butter cookies with tea..?" She froze when she saw the guys, nearly dropping the tea caddy.

"Ah... you look nice," Seokjin mumbled, looking a little taken aback. After all, Saren had been taking extra care of her appearance, saying that pretty dresses and makeup can be like armor for women, especially after having been hurt. As you tugged self-consciously at the large black hoodie you had thrown over your worn yet comfy gray leggings while your visiting ex was in designer clothing, you had to consider that her idea had some merits.

"T-Thanks," Saren stammered in response, looking a lot more taken aback herself. "Umm, we were about to have tea, would you like some too... you guys?"

"Both," you said. "For the cookies."

"Yes, please." Seokjin replied. Yoongi nodded.

"If it's not too much trouble," Jungkook added.

"I'll help you," Mayu offered. "Y/N, you stay here with the guests."

"Me..?" You looked round at the 'guests': Yoongi who was pouting that his girlfriend had disentangled herself from his arms, Seokjin who was smiling shamelessly as if he weren't responsible for the current awkwardness... and Jungkook, who gazed at you with wide, innocent eyes. "I'm helping too!" You dashed after your roommates into the kitchen.

"Ah, but it's rude to leave your guests unattended," Saren remarked, as she measured delicate leaves into the teapot and arranged the cups on the tray while waiting for the water to boil.

"They're not my 'guests,' they're Mayu's guest and his companions," you retorted, leaning against the counter and not being very helpful.

"One of my guest's so-called companions is your ex-boyfriend, who doesn't seem to be happy about being an ex at all." Mayu pointed out. She was preparing a separate pot with dark, roasted leaves.

"Yah..." you pouted at your roommates. "It's not like that!"

"Look at our baby acting cute," Saren giggled.

"I wasn't!" you denied. But you caught yourself pouting again, so you set your lips in a straight line. For all the good that did--Saren still giggled as if she thought you were a precocious child. "And I thought we're giving up on trying to chase after relationships that don't mean anything."

"That's just me and Seokjin." Saren shrugged and moved on to pulling out sheets of freshly-baked cookies from the oven, plating some and setting the rest on the cooling rack. "That was just me, one-sidedly hoping... but there was nothing there."

"You and Jungkook on the other hand..." Mayu cocked her head at you. "There's still something there."

You silently watched your roommates brew the tea, and you could've let that thread of conversation die... but something compelled you to talk about it. "I just... don't want to misunderstand... that I mean something when I'm nothing." When their heads turned toward you, you dropped your gaze on your white-knuckled hands grasping the kitchen counter.

"You're not like me." Saren said. "You mean something."

"Hey! Just because you didn't mean anything to Kim Seokjin doesn't mean you can't mean something to someone else." Mayu turned from Saren to you. "And if you don't want to be with Jungkook, then that might be for the best. But don't use what happened to Saren and Seokjin as an excuse to deny your real feelings... nor the possibility of Jungkook's."

"I... I..." Stuttering, you tried--and failed--to make a coherent protest.

Mayu and Saren exchanged looks, the former shook her head with a chuckle and the latter smiled at you and squeezed your hand. "Well... think about what you want, alright?" Saren took the tray with the two tea pots, leaving you with the plates of cookies, but she waited for Mayu to lead the way back to the living room. For all her apparent calm, your roommate still wasn't completely confident to face the man who had thoroughly rejected her after all. Yet she took the seat before Seokjin, looking like the picture of poise as she poured tea into the cups, despite the slight tremor of her hands. "Here you go," she presented the first cup to Seokjin, as the oldest one among the guests. "This is a very special tea variety."

Emulating her, you took the seat before Jungkook and handed him a cup as well. "Y/N... thanks," he took the cup from you, starting as your fingers accidentally brushed against his, as if the simple contact had affected him as much as it always affected you.

"You should try it too, Yoongs, though I got you hojicha as well, you don't exactly have a subtle palate," Mayu teased, offering a cup of the dark tea to her boyfriend and settling in the loveseat with him.

He smirked, but his sharp eyes had softened as he gazed at her over the cup. "You know my tastes well."

"What a pretty, vivid color," Seokjin observed, swirling the cup. His eyes widened as he brought the cup closer to his lips. "And so fragrant!"

"It is so." Saren nodded, taking her own cup of tea.

Seokjin took a sip and sighed in wonder. "This is different from all green tea that I've had before."

"It's gyokuro," Saren explained. "It develops its special flavor and aroma by growing covered in the shade."

"I see. It blooms in the shade unobserved and then surprises you with its loveliness, how dangerous." He smiled at her, a little too charmingly, and you couldn't help but think, *how dangerous.*

Saren dropped her gaze to her cup and Mayu sneered at him. "I'm sure you didn't come here to talk about tea."

Saren gaped at her best friend's thinly-veiled hostility, but quickly recovered. "Obviously, Seokjin came here to accompany Yoongi who wanted to visit you."

At her words, Yoongi choked on his tea. "That's kinda cute," Mayu chuckled.

Turning red, he cried: "This wasn't my idea!"

"A grown man shouldn't play hard to get," Saren tutted.

You snickered, but Jungkook blinked at you with those clear, round eyes. "It really wasn't Yoongi's idea."

"Ah, I was the one who said we should come over." Seokjin set down his empty cup and raised a hand.

"Why?!" Mayu blurted out.

"What man wouldn't want to be in the company of such lovely ladies..?" Seokjin declared in his typical flirty manner, but he caught himself and looked round; at Mayu, who glared at him; at Saren, who blinked at him in disbelief; and at you, who winced. *Acting like this was what made Saren misunderstand... it wasn't just her fault.* Yoongi sighed under his breath and Jungkook reflected your own wince.

But then Saren laughed, with a feigned shudder. "How greasy! How can you guys live with this guy?" she asked Yoongi and Jungkook, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Doesn't it get embarrassing?"

The tension dissipated with Yoongi smirking and Jungkook nodding emphatically. "He's seriously so embarrassing!" Jungkook stressed.

"Yah!" Seokjin protested. "What do you mean by 'greasy,' and 'embarrassing?' I'm totally charming and a point of pride for our group!"

"There he goes again, ugh!" Jungkook shuddered.

"Have some shame for the younger ones," Saren teased.

"Well, if she's going to be like that..." Mayu shook her head, smiling wryly. "Seokjin, don't embarrass my boyfriend, he has a way cooler image than you," she chided, but her tone was jesting, her animosity calmed when she saw how her best friend had responded in such a lighthearted manner.

"So aside from being embarrassed by this shameless one, what have you guys been doing?" Saren asked.

"I want to know too," Mayu said. "Yoongi never talks about work."

"I do tell you about work, but I don't want to talk too much about it." He wrinkled his nose.

"Since I'm your girlfriend, you should talk to me about it more."

"Since you're my girlfriend, I'd rather talk to you about other things." His arm draped around her shoulder and pulled her closer. "Like how you're doing or your own work. I find you very interesting after all." Mayu elbowed him lightly, her cheeks flushed.

"Well, isn't he greasy too sometimes?" Seokjin griped.

"Oh hush, it's cute." Saren said.

Seokjin and Yoongi talked about their current schedules in Tokyo at your roommates' request, while you listened idly and drank tea. It took a while for you to realize that Jungkook was watching you in silence.

"What?" you whispered, not wanting to interrupt your friends' conversation.

"Nothing..." He smiled tentatively. "It's just... I thought you didn't like tea."

You gaped at him, surprised that he had even noticed. To hide your shock, you refilled your cup and blew away the steam. "I didn't before. But Saren and Mayu drink it all the time, so I got used to it."

"Even on cold days, you wouldn't drink it, you'd rather drink cola or even iced water," he mused.

"Well, I guess I've changed." You were nearing panic with how your heart started thudding in your ears, so you grabbed a peanut butter cookie and pushed the whole thing in your mouth so you wouldn't have to talk.

"But... you still like peanut butter cookies as much as chocolate chip cookies, and you still stuff your mouth with food when you're nervous." He chuckled as your purposeful chewing slowed. "Even if some things changed, I still want to believe that you're the Y/N that I know... from the happiest times of my life."

"That's..." You nearly choked on your cookie, searching for a retort, but this wasn't the cocky, international Kpop star Jungkook who couldn't seem to care less about your break-up. In fact, this was more like that shy golden boy who seemed unaware of his own sparkle. The same one you fell in love with...

The Super Mario theme pierced through the heavy air and Seokjin answered his phone. Mayu and Yoongi rolled their eyes at the childish ringtone and Saren merely smiled. "Hey, Dongwook. I thought we wouldn't be needed for two hours? Ah, okay..."

"I guess that's our cue..." Yoongi mumbled.

Mayu gave him a smile that looked rather tight, but she also gave him a tender kiss. "Call soon."

"We'll meet again soon." he promised, squeezing her hand.

"Good luck with today's schedule," Saren said to all of them, with no particular attention to Seokjin. She cleared the tea set and plates into the tray and started to head to the kitchen.

"Oh--thanks for the the tea and the cookies!" Seokjin called after her.

She looked back over her shoulder and started to say something, but instead pressed her lips together and nodded politely. At another time, she would be overzealous about asking Seokjin's opinion and pressing homemade food as affection, but it looked like she was serious about keeping her distance.

"Umm, hey, Saren--!" Jungkook's cry stopped her in her tracks again. "Umm, well... is it okay..." he smiled sheepishly. "To have some of the cookies?"

"Yes!" Seokjin chimed in. "They were good."

She laughed lightly and winked at you. "You're going to have to ask Y/N about that, since I made them for her." Handily foisting the guys on you, she carried the dishes back to the kitchen.

Jungkook shook his head at you, "Y/N, you don't have to--"

You shook your head in turn. "Just wait here...  for the cookies." You went into the kitchen, all but pushing Saren from the sink to do the washing.

"Are you sure this is okay?" you asked Saren as you washed the tea set and she set aside the cooled cookies into separate jars and into a box for the guys. "Aren't you even a little angry at Seokjin for rejecting you?"

"I am angry," she confessed. "Even though I realize that the same way I couldn't help like him, he couldn't help not like me, it still makes me angry."

"So why would you welcome him into our home again?"

"Because to welcome him into our home means to welcome Yoongi and Jungkook into our home... means to support Mayu and you."

You finished the washing and faced her. "Mayu maybe, but me...?"

Saren smiled knowingly at you. "In any case, it's better for everyone that I don't hold a grudge against Kim Seokjin. Who knows, we may even become friends one day."

"Friends..." you mumbled. After Jungkook had broken your heart, being friends was the last thing you had wanted to do. You had only wanted to make him regret everything.

You returned to the living room and handed the box of cookies to Jungkook, who said: "Y/N... thanks. I... I'll see you...?"

"I... yeah, I guess." You shrugged, turning away. But when you heard his retreating footsteps, you looked over your shoulder to watch him get in the car driven by Dongwook and ride away with his colleagues.

The next day, you saw Mayu sneer then chuckle as she checked her SNS. You saw a selfie of Seokjin holding a paper cup of green tea latte and wearing a smile for his fans, and Yoongi's obscure post with a tumbler of konacha and cup ramen, and knew which post drew those respective reactions. Jungkook didn't make a post, but he did text you.

JJK: "I understand now why you like peanut butter cookies. The subtly sweet, slightly salty, crunchy cookies are good too, in a different way. I guess things don't always have to be soft and saccharine to be nice." Y/N: ":)"

You had agonized over how to respond, but ended up with a blandly smiling emoji. You found yourself disappointed when he had no follow-up messages--you understood that your response wasn't very inviting, but you hadn't wanted to come across as desperate and over-eager... much like before...

Back when you were a couple, you were the one who had tried, maybe not your best, but at least you had tried. Why was it that you were still the one with so many regrets?

***

(One week before the breakup)

Your calls went unanswered once, twice--maybe five times--that by the time that Jungkook picked up the phone, you screamed: "Who's that girl in that picture?"

You heard him hiss "hush!" and hurried footsteps--the background sounds of their upcoming song, his groupmates' chatter, and staffers calling them to lunch died down after a door slammed. "What picture?" he mumbled, his voice reverberating in a way that made you think he had shut himself in a closet.

"The one on your SNS!"

"I didn't upload any pictures."

"Are you really going to pretend not to know about it?" you demanded.

"Y/N..." he sighed. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"That girl--" you spat, "--tagged you in a pic looking all cozy! I'm not allowed to post pictures with you or to tag you, but it's fine when she does it, is that it?"

You heard him sigh deeply. "You know what, I'm tired. I was working--"

"So hanging out with girls in parties is working now?"

"You know going to those things is also part of our job!" He actually raised his voice at you, and you were taken aback. Perhaps he realized it, because his tone returned to normal. "She's the daughter of one of the company directors... it doesn't mean anything."

"She keeps showing you off to everybody! She obviously wants it to mean something!"

"It's not like that--"

"I don't know if you're stupidly innocent or you're so sly that you can act like you are!" You knew that you were starting to sound like the unhinged jealous girlfriend, so you bit your lip to prevent more accusations from spilling and took a noisy breath. "That girl's after you. So many girls are... and I... I can't even do anything to stop them!"

Instead of comforting you, Jungkook protested: "You're not supposed to do anything to stop them! You're supposed to trust me."

"Trust you? When you go around hanging out with other girls when they're daughters of directors?"

"... And what do you mean by that?" His tone was stiff, as if his jaw was clenched.

"I don't mean anything. Did you really do something suspicious for that to mean something?" you sneered, with grating disingenuousness.

"Y/N... I'm tired and you're angry. I'm going to hang up now before we both say something we regret."

"Jungkook!" you screamed. "Jeon Jungkook, don't you dare hang up. Or else--"

His voice was barely above a whisper, but cutting just the same. "Or else, what?"

"... Or else I'm going to break up with you!"

"Do whatever you want," he muttered. "That's all you keep doing anyway."

"What? That's not true... Jungkook! Jungkook!"

You never wanted to breakup, but you didn't really have a choice... At that point, Jungkook just seemed to be waiting for you to do it anyway. You had pettily thought that breaking up through text would cause him the most pain of all. But you found out that the only thing more painful than a "Let's break up" text message was to get a mere "Ok" in response.

***

You looked round at the three idols standing on your porch again. "You're all here. Again."

"It's like you don't want to see us, Y/N." Seokjin pouted, clutching his chest in mock hurt.

"It's not that, it's just..." It's just that I'm wondering why I'm seeing Jungkook a lot more now than when he was actually my boyfriend... "Come in," you said, suppressing a sigh as you stepped aside and let them through the door.

Mayu had been waiting for her boyfriend in the living room this time. She stood up and walked over to him, but kept herself at arm's length, a teasing grin playing on her lips. "Yoongi."

He raised an eyebrow at her and didn't reach for her either. "Mayu."

For a few seconds, they stared each other down in their weird tsun-tsun face-off game. He cracked first, looping an arm around her waist to draw her into a slow, passionate kiss. Your face burned and you glanced away, only to meet an equally flushed Jungkook's eyes. Both of you coughed and turned away from each other, and you could've sworn you saw Jungkook swallow hard.

To dissipate the tension, you called out: "Saren, Saren--umm, could you help me make tea?"

"But Y/N, we just had lunch--" Saren paused when she saw the guys taking seats in the living room, nodding at each of them. Her glance didn't even linger too long upon Seokjin. "Of course. I'll be right back." She waved you off when you made a move to follow her.

"We shouldn't let her do all the work," you murmured.

Mayu, who had disentangled herself from Yoongi to glance at Saren, shook her head and whispered to you: "Easier for her than to stay here. in awkwardness."

Saren returned with tea, several slices of Camembert cheesecake for the guys and buttery shortbread cookies. "I feel bad that you had to go through the trouble," Seokjin said, even as he ooh-ed over the cheesecake.

"I guess he's not so shameless after all," Mayu murmured.

"It wasn't much," Saren said. She handed him a box from the tray. "By the way, you said you wanted some of that gyokuro, so I got a box for you when I went to the tea shop to restock."

"Thank you! You're so thoughtful, I'm indebted to you." His eyes crinkled as he smiled, and her smile was melancholic as she dropped her gaze away, her cheeks pink.

"I take it back." Mayu muttered, leaning back on the loveseat that she shared with Yoongi as usual.

Yoongi rubbed her arm soothingly. "So there's a reason why we're here..."

"Oh, it wasn't because you missed me?" she gasped in mock outrage.

"It's related to that, babe." His hand caressed her arm lazily now, with more sensuous movements. "We've been nominated in this event... what's it called?"

"Gold Disc awards," Jungkook supplied helpfully.

Both Mayu and Saren gape at that. "You've heard of it?" Seokjin asked. Saren nodded.

"You impress me more and more, you know?" Mayu patted Yoongi's cheek and he smiled a giggly gummy smile, practically nuzzling against her hand.

"We're having an after-party at the Sky Lounge. You're coming." His declaration was followed by a far less confident question: "Umm... right?" You nearly snorted over how whipped he was.

"Of course," she agreed. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Jungkook took a deep breath and his next words tumbled out in a rush: "You too--Y/Nyoucangoright?"

"Umm, what?" you asked, though you had heard him. You had... but you weren't sure that you heard him right.

"Could you... come too?" he bit his lip, his endearing bunny teeth peeking through.

"Me?" You blinked at him. It was unprecedented, for you to come along to one of his fancy work events--you hardly got to go to any events with him, period. But he was looking at you with such wide eyes, that it almost seemed that he sincerely wanted you to come. "I, umm--are you going?" You turned to Saren in desperation.

Her grip tightened around her tea cup, and you realized she wasn't sure if she was part of that invitation and then you weren't sure either. You felt like kicking yourself. "Y/N... I... I don't think I'm supposed--"

"Oh, but it will be fun!" Seokjin interjected. "We hired a sushi chef and a tempura chef, and an open bar with wine from five different countries."

"I see... I may have to work then though, so... I'll have to check. Excuse me." She smiled politely and collected the empty dishes on the tray and took them to the kitchen before heading upstairs. By the time she returned, Dongwook had come back for Seokjin.

"Well, I'm off now, I just dropped by to say hi and give the invitation," Seokjin said.

"Before going on prowl for the girls of Tokyo, huh?" Mayu snorted, her words having a little more bite than mere teasing. It seemed to you that she could never fully forgive the man for rejecting her best friend, even as she deigned to have him around as one of her boyfriend's colleagues and friends.

Seokjin chuckled wordlessly and didn't deny the accusation. He looked at Saren and noticed that she was carrying her purse and had a light coat over her dress. "Oh, are you going somewhere?"

She nodded. "Yes... I need to go to work for a while."

"Teacher, it's not even your work day!" Dongwook cried. "You should take a rest, go on some dates--you look pretty enough to go on a date right now!"

She giggled uneasily. "Maybe some other time."

"I'll introduce you to some guys," Dongwook offered eagerly. Mayu raised an intrigued eyebrow at you and you dropped your mouth open in exaggerated shock.

"Thank you for the consideration," Saren said, without agreeing, and walked ahead.

"Yah, which guys do you know besides us... and other idols..." Seokjin frowned.

"Well, she seems to like idols." Dongwook grinned and cupped his mouth to whisper to Seokjin, but all of you could hear him. "If it all goes well, you don't have to be burdened anymore, right Seokjin?"

"Huh?!" Seokjin's brows furrowed even more.

But the junior manager had run after Saren then: "Teacher, wait up! We'll drop you off at work!" Seokjin followed them, shaking his head uncertainly.

"Well, A for effort, Dongwook." Mayu smirked. "Idols make such terrible romantic prospects though," Mayu remarked, drawing an offended grumble from her own idol boyfriend. She slung her arms around his neck and winked at him. "Of course, there are exceptions..."

It didn't go unnoticed to you, Jungkook's silent, stricken gasp at Mayu's words. But you didn't have much time to dwell on it, as Mayu and Yoongi started playing a movie and invited both of you to join them.

After an afternoon of hanging out with Jungkook and your mutual friends--which was remarkable in that it felt unremarkable, as if you were getting used to it--you spent the evening revising a paper for school, and then you were getting ready for bed. You had already switched off the main light and switched on your night light when your phone rang. It was Jungkook. You composed yourself, sat on the edge of your bed, and answered: "Hello?"

"I'm sorry," he said.

"... Eh?" You wrinkled your nose. "For what?"

"For having been a terrible boyfriend back then."

You hesitated. "You weren't.... terrible, per se..."

"If I wasn't, then why did we break up?"

You had no answer to that question.

"I didn't mean to make you miserable."

"But I wasn't."

"Huh?"

"I wasn't..." You had only said that out of an instinct to be polite, but repeating the words, you realize now that they were true. You had become increasingly frustrated towards the end of the relationship, and that frustration was still fresh in your mind when your paths crossed again, and you couldn't help but treat him with hostility. But your relationship wasn't what made you miserable, it was how it ended. The fact that it ended. Now that your anger over the breakup had dissipated, but you could be honest... you had never regretted having been with Jeon Jungkook.

"Really? But..."

"Even when I couldn't hold your hand, it was nice to walk beside you. Even when I couldn't post pictures with you, I liked taking pictures with you."

"I--I liked those things too!"

"I'm so glad to hear that. Because for me, even when it wasn't always good, there were still moments to be happy about. It seemed like a miracle, that the person I like had agreed to be with me, you know?" you chuckled, more to yourself. "That's why sometimes, just knowing in my heart that I was the one who was with you, even though the world would never know... it made me happy. That Jeon Jungkook was with me... more often than not, it was enough."

"Y/N..." His breath sounded ragged over the phone and you were glad that he couldn't see you cover your nose as it started to get runny while your eyes started to get wet. "There's something I should--" A firm voice in the background cut him off, calling for him and the other members of his group.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye..."

"But Y/N--"

"You've worked hard, Jungkookie," you sighed. "You've always worked hard..."

***

Saren may not have been active on SNS any longer, however she still had friends who were. As soon as you opened your feed, out popped a picture uploaded by the guys' junior manager, Dongwook, wherein he tagged Saren. It was from their academy's cultural exchange festival; Saren had pulled out the big guns--a furisode kimono patterned with cherry blossoms--and Dongwook had captured her in blooming glory. You would've suspected that they were getting suspiciously close, but you knew that Dongwook was now dating another one of Saren's students, thanks to her earnest matchmaking. Dongwook had been completely unsubtle about returning the favor and seemed intent to sell your roommate to any eligible men of his acquaintance. Judging from the reactions to the picture, he was doing well on that front. "Liked by Jaehyung, Mark, Myungsoo.... who are these guys?"

"This is quality." You grinned and liked the picture. It was then that you noticed the tag that said: "You and JJK liked this." You frowned as you clicked it, starting to overthink why your ex-boyfriend was going around liking your very single roommate's picture, only to be distracted when you saw that among the reactions was a '<3' from Seokjinnie.

You made a beeline for Saren, who was curled in the bean bag in the living room, nestled in her books littering the cushion. "Guess who--not just liked, but hearted--your picture?"

Saren looked up at you questioningly, and you could clearly see that she had no clue what you were talking about--she was too transparent to hide her emotions. Far be it from you to pick at a wound that seemed to be healing slowly, but surely, you said: "It's me, I did, your picture was amazing, and the way you looked in that kimono was just... wow, amazing!"

Saren's hand hovered over her phone--and to your relief--she stopped and gave you a wry smile. "Alright, what do you want? Is there something in particular you want for dinner?"

"Nothing, can't I give my sempai a compliment?" You shrugged. "But... doesn't mentaiko pasta sound super good right now?"

"Doesn't it?" she enthused. "You know I'm glad you like it, since Mayu hates it but there are days when I crave it. She'll have to make do with the leftover gyudon from last night." Saren skipped to the kitchen without checking her SNS.

Your sigh of relief turned into a yelp, when your phone vibrated in your hand. You checked the screen and your heartbeat started accelerating when you saw Jungkook's name. "Umm..."

"Hey, Y/N."

"Hi."

"How are you doing?"

"Good..." You tucked your hair behind your ear, as if he could see you.

"I see. That's... good." You could almost see him messing up his hair in the way that he did whenever he was nervous.

As if... I'm just projecting...  "Yeah... um, how about you?"

"Good. Busy, but good. We had a lot to do in Korea, that's why we haven't been to Tokyo in a while."

"Okay... I mean, that's expected. You guys being busy."

"Yeah..." The other end of the line fell into total silence, as if he had stopped pacing.

"So... why did you call?" Lest he think you were telling him not to call, you quickly added: "I mean, is there any particular reason...?"

"Yeah, actually I'm calling about that event. You know... the after-party?"

"What about it?"

"Just wanted to ask if you were coming..."

"Yeah... you guys invited all three of us, right?" You bit your lip. "Unless you don't want me to come--"

"I want you to come!" He yelled. He seemed to realize this, because his next words came out in a whisper. "It's just that you never did say if you could come, you know..."

"Oh... sorry." You untucked and retucked your hair behind your ear and sat primly on the couch. "That's bad form isn't it? Not confirming promptly."

"That's fine, that's fine," he said. "As long as you're coming."

"I am."

"Well... we don't have free time before the event, so I'll see you there."

"See you."

When the call ended, you sighed. How nice it would've been if you could've been this way while you were a couple--Jungkook bringing you to places and having him act like he actually wanted you there. But now all you were is an awkward failed couple tangled by your friends' relationships.

***

(Twelve months before the breakup)

It all started during a trip to Tokyo with your camera club. It was through the club that you met him, and you were certain that you could do nothing more but nurse a crush on him from afar, but it was the shining Jeon Jungkook himself who came to you. He was sweet and talented and humble, and despite his shyness, he was always friendly towards you, asking about your photography projects and drawing you out of your own shy shell. It was impossible--it would be a miracle that one such as Jeon Jungkook would return your feelings--but the way he acted made you feel that it was a possibility.

"W-Would you like to come with me?" you asked him as he slung his camera bag on his shoulder. "I know a nice place to take photos..."

"I was planning to go to Akihabara--"

"Believe me, this is better!" you insisted. You almost grabbed his hand, but managed to stop yourself and snatch at the strap of his camera bag instead.

"W-Wait, Y/N!" He nearly tumbled as you pulled him to the sidewalk, but he allowed himself to be pushed into the taxi you flagged down and went with you.

When the taxi stopped, you flung open the door and tugged him to alight after you. He nearly tripped, but he froze in a half crouch when he took in the sight before the two of you. "Wha... is--is that Tokyo Tower?"

You nodded.

"But... I've never seen it look like this before!" he marveled.

"They call this the Diamond Veil...it's a special style of illumination," you explained.

"It's like a nighttime rainbow..." his whisper trailed off into an awed sigh.

"We could get closer but I thought you might find this point more interesting." You tucked your hair behind your ear and lowered your gaze, too shy to risk meeting his eyes. "You... wanted to do long exposure for this project, didn't you? You can see the trails of the cars and the images of the people passing by..."

"You're right, this is a great spot for what I want." From the corner of your eye, you could see him unpack his tripod and set up his camera. "This view... it's so perfect to share with someone special."

"That's why I brought you here..." you mumbled, half to yourself.

"Huh?" Jungkook looked up from his viewfinder and turned to you.

You started--you never expected him to hear you!  But Jungkook was looking at you now... And he was here with you now, sharing this special view. So you confessed: "That's why I brought you here! Jeon Jungkook, I--I like you!"

"Huuuh?!--" he gasped, but his breath of disbelief caught as you pulled at his hoodie to kiss him. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, and your held breath burned in your lungs, but his soft, sweet lips calmed you, and when you pulled away, it was slow and deliberate, gazing into his eyes for an answer.

"Y/N..." He stared down at you, his lips still parted in surprise.

You realize then that he hasn't said anything in encouragement, nor even agreement, and you started to step away. "Sorry--!"

He didn't say anything then, no confessions nor declarations, but his arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you closer and kissed you. And that was how you found yourself with the shining Jeon Jungkook as your boyfriend. A boyfriend who often seemed more trouble than his weight in gold.

***

"I'm glad you talked me into coming along," Saren told Mayu. "It was worth it just to see this..." She gave you a sidelong glance, her eyes wide and bright.

"What?" You patted your hair, feigning unawareness at how good you looked with your braided updo and black halter-neck mini-dress.

The three of you were seated on the plush leather seats of a sleek black car sent by the guys. It was probably just Yoongi sending the car to take his girlfriend to the event, but the suited chaffeur had also looked for you and Saren, and Mayu had linked her arms with both of you... And now the three of you were on the way to the event.

"Our baby cleans up well, doesn't she?" Mayu winked at you.

"Hey!" you cried. "That's implying that I'm normally a mess!"

"What she means is that you're exceptionally pretty tonight." Saren clutched your arm and smiled up at you.

"Thank you..." you murmured. "Umm... you're really pretty too..." With a dainty floral headband in her wavy hair and blush-pink, chiffon gown, your roommate reminded you of a fairy.

"How about me?" Mayu grinned.

"You already know you look sexy," you grumbled. Mayu's wine-hued gown had a plunging V-neck and clung to her slim figure, and more importantly, she oozed confidence in it. "Yoongi's going to drool all over the club."

"Not as much as Jungkook," she snickered. You frowned, but before you could protest, the car stopped in front of the club and the chauffeur opened the door to allow the three of you alight. Mayu walked to the front desk, and said: "We're going to the party."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "May I see your invitations?"

"We don't have them," Mayu explained. "But we should be on the guest list."

"Sure." She rolled her eyes and nodded at the bouncer.

You had cowered back and Saren squeezed your arm tightly, but Mayu merely held up a finger at the imposing man. "Hold that thought, mister." She placed a call on her cellphone. "Well, hello to you too, sweetheart. I'm actually outside right now, and you wouldn't have been kept waiting if we had an actual physical invitation--I told you it would be troublesome."

In less than a minute, Yoongi had rushed out of the club, shouting: "Let her in!" Regaining his composure, he sauntered up towards her. "And... the others too," he added belatedly.

"So thoughtful," Saren quipped and you laughed.

"Y/N, is something wrong?" Jungkook stood at the doorway, looking out of breath. "I heard Yoongi..."

You shook your head and smiled in what you hoped was an assuring manner. When he gawked at you, you didn't know if you had failed at being assuring, or your look was having the intended effect on him.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry..." The woman at the front desk bowed repeatedly, face twisted in contrition. Mayu gave her a small smile and nodded at Yoongi.

"You're not angry?" he asked.

Mayu shrugged. "She was just doing her job."

"You're so... reasonable, you know that?" he gushed, looking positively besotted. His smile turned cat-like as he looked her over admiringly, in *that* clingy gown.

"You guys should've told me they were here!" Seokjin took one long look at Saren and a short breath. "You're beautiful." Somehow you could tell that this wasn't one of his meaningless compliments--he gazed at her with wonder, as if seeing her for the first time.

"Thank you." She smiled, her cheeks pink and graced by that elusive dimple.

"You... you have a dimple." He still sounded breathless. "I-I never noticed. How..?"

"Yeah... it doesn't appear often."

"That's so cute." His eyes turned into crescent moons and his voice cracked as he giggled.

You frowned. Seokjin is acting... weird...

"Save some of your compliments for the rest of the ladies here," Saren teased. She walked past, waving at Dongwook the manager, and completely failing to notice the arm that Seokjin offered. He appeared startled, but followed after her.

"You know that you're so hot, right?" Yoongi smirked at Mayu as he offered his arm.

"I do... but you should always tell me, anyway." She took his arm, and to your surprise, he kissed her with no regard for the fact that they were in public, before leading her to your table at the VIP area.

You were about to follow, but Jungkook all but blocked your path. "You--!" He took a deep breath. "You look... really good."

"Umm, thanks," you muttered. "You too." There was never a time that Jeon Jungkook didn't look good, but with him wearing a classic black suit, it was definitely worth mentioning.

He mumbled what sounded like thanks and presented his arm almost at your face. Awkwardly, you took it, and you saw him gulp as he adjusted it to a more natural angle.

When the two of you reached the table, Dongwook was standing between a familiar man and Saren, making them shake hands. Standing behind her, Seokjin crossed his arms over his broad chest, a rare frown on his face. "Nice to meet you," she said, her voice getting softer, something she did when faced by someone attractive, you know by now.

"It's good to finally meet you," the familiar-looking man said. You were quite sure he was an idol, or at least some kind of celebrity. "Dongwook has talked a lot about you."

"Oh no..." Saren bit her lip when she realized that she had muttered that out loud. "I mean--what kind of things?"

Laughing, he winked in response, and Saren flushed--either in embarrassment or something else.

"Ladies, this is Park Jaehyung. His band has promotions in Japan right now." Dongwook gestured at the man who nodded at you and Mayu politely, then turned back to Saren. "And these are Mayu and Y/N, but you don't have to shake hands with them because they're not available for dating, unlike my teacher--"

"Dongwook!" Saren cried.

Dongwook clapped a hand over his mouth. "Oops--I mean..."

"Dongwook?" Mayu prompted.

"Yes?"

"Shush." At Mayu's command, he nodded obediently. She nudged Saren forward, and your eldest roommate glared at her.

Jaehyung looked round at the rest of you, his eyes catching ever-so-slightly on Seokjin, and said: "Well... I hope you all enjoy the rest of your evening."

Saren looked ever-so-slightly disappointed, but inclined her head. Seokjin sent him off with a cheerful wave and invited her to sit; she took the seat beside Seokjin, but you saw her eyes linger upon Jaehyung's retreating back--and him looking over his shoulder in turn.

Jungkook all but deposited you into the seat next to Saren and sat beside you, squaring his shoulders as he set his elbows on his knees--you couldn't help but feel that he was boxing you in the table. The gesture annoyed you less than it should've. Jungkook popped open a bottle of champagne and poured it into flutes--and in a breach of protocol, offered the first one to you. His older groupmates didn't call him out on it, however; Seokjin led a toast and Yoongi ignored the champagne in favor of beer.

"I love this song," Saren commented, swaying slightly to the music.

"It's very romantic to dance to," Seokjin pointed out. She glanced towards Jaehyung; who was also swaying to the song.

Seokjin held out his hand, about to continue what he had meant to say, but Saren had turned to you and Mayu questioningly. "Hey, do you think...?"

Mayu winked at her. "A wise woman once said: 'What's there to life but to keep trying?'"

Despite Seokjin raising a puzzled eyebrow at both of you, you encouraged Saren with a single word. "Go."

Saren beamed at both of you. "May I take some of this?" Saren seized one of the chilled champagne bottles by the neck. When no one protested, she poured two flutes, excused herself and walked towards the bar. Seokjin's eyes widened, and he squared his broad shoulders as if every muscle in his body had tensed.

Despite her straight-backed posture and purposeful steps, you had seen her hands shaking and uncertainty in her wide eyes. You could all see her offer a flute to Jaehyung and when he shook his head, she nodded and turned to leave. Seokjin relaxed in his seat. But Jaehyung picked the flutes out of her hands, set them on the counter, and took her by the hand, leading her to the dance floor.

"They look good together," Mayu commented.

Both you and Yoongi nodded in agreement, but Jungkook shrugged. "They're alright..." He gave Seokjin a sidelong glance.

"Was she always this lovely?" Seokjin mumbled.

"Of course," Mayu huffed, startling him as if he hadn't meant to pose that question aloud.

"Of course she was, huh..." Seokjin gazed at the dancing couple and you saw him swallow hard. The song wound down to the last few lines, and he stood up and adjusted his suit before starting to walk towards her.

"Seokjin-oppa!" A simpering girl clung to his arm--she could've been any one of the many girls that hung around Seokjin, you couldn't tell them apart. "Are you busy?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say a word, Mayu cut in: "He isn't."

"Yay! Let's dance!" She dragged him with her, ignoring his stammered protests. His neck craned as he tried to glimpse Saren, but she was too preoccupied with Jaehyung, who raised a finger and smiled shyly, obviously asking her to another dance.

Yoongi's brows were drawn in concern. "Seokjin is..."

"Well, he's busy dancing. We should dance too." Mayu grabbed both his hands and Yoongi allowed himself to be led to the dance floor, even as he protested that he didn't slow dance.

To cover the awkwardness of being left alone with Jungkook, you reached for the wine bottle to pour yourself another drink. But he snatched both bottle and glass from you, before he stood up and bowed. "May I have this dance?"

"Yes... " you replied.

In the one year that you were Jeon Jungkook's girlfriend, you had never been his official date to any events, you had certainly never worn a fancy dress and danced with him in a trendy club... you couldn't even hold his hand in public. And yet right now, you were doing all those things, and Jeon Jungkook was looking at you in a way that, if he had only looked at you that way before, would've prevented any sort of breakup from happening in the first place.

"You really are beautiful, you know?" he said.

"T-Thanks..." You caught yourself before you could stutter more and tried to continue the conversation: "Mayu helped me pick this dress. And she also did my make-up, you know I'm hopeless with that--"

"You look really good today, but I meant... you're beautiful all the time," he clarified.

"Jungkook..."

"You know, Seokjin found it to be such a turnoff, the way Saren earnestly pursued him. Whether it's because he's tired of that reaction from women, or because he has some old-fashioned ideas about relationships--it repelled him." He shook his head. "And I thought it was so pitiful, to be rejected even as you put your whole heart on the line as she did."

You dropped your gaze, feeling those words hit a little too close to home.

"But I was wrong."

You looked up.

"What's truly pitiful is to not value that sincerity, isn't it? To throw away that sincerity gifted to you, or to never be sincere in turn." His voice gained strength... and certainty. "I played it safe all this time, never letting you know how much I felt for you, nor how much power those feelings gave you over me. I didn't want to be that pitiful person who'll only get dumped after being so sincere."

"Jungkook--"

"Even if you should reject me, I want you to know, sincerely, that I love you. I never stopped loving you. And that was my biggest mistake--not showing how much I loved you." He cupped your cheeks and planted a soft kiss upon your forehead. Your eyes fluttered shut as you relished the warmth of his lips. All too suddenly, that warmth was gone, his arms had released you, and when you opened your eyes, Jungkook was bowing to you and leaving the dance floor.

You gawked after him, frozen within the turmoil of emotions he left in his wake. Anger was the easiest to process--how dare he do this? How dare he make you responsible for what happens to your relationship again? Whether it was becoming a couple or breaking up, why did it always have to fall upon you to make the move?

So what? A tiny voice whispered in your heart. Is that so important? More important than being honest about your own feelings?

You looked around as you walked to your table: Saren was sitting at the bar with Jaehyung, both of them all smiles and laughter as they posed for selfies; Mayu was wrapped in Yoongi's arms, still swaying to another romantic song, and Seokjin was sitting at the table and sipping wine in silence, seemingly oblivious to the usual admirers thronged around him. "Hi... do you know where Jungkook went?" you asked.

"No..." he stared at you for a few moments, looking like he wanted to tell you something. Before you could ask him what it was, your phone vibrated, alerting you to SNS posts that you might be interested in. Yoongi's and Mayu's separate posts were pictures of their own hands, each wearing one of a couple ring set. Saren didn't post anything, but was tagged in a cute selfie with one Park Jaehyung. And Jeon Jungkook...

JJK: "If we could meet at that place and begin again..."

You gazed out the wide windows, at the illuminated tower, as colorful as a nighttime rainbow.

Seokjin started to speak. "Y/N, do you think--"

You pocketed your phone. "Sorry Seokjin, there's somewhere I have to be. If you'll excuse me..."

Rather than his usual bright and charming smile, the curve of his lips was subtle and wistful. "Of course. You should go while you still can." His gaze darted from the SNS app on his own phone, to the bar.

"Sorry," you repeated, returning his faint smile.

Aggressively flagging down a taxi as soon as you exited the club, you plead with the driver: "Shiba Park--please hurry!"

You didn't want to be like Seokjin, throwing away that chance for love only to second-guess it too late.

While I still can... as long as I can... I'll go to you, Jeon Jungkook.

***

You found him at the tree-lined avenue with the clear, perfect view of Tokyo Tower. You were sure your footsteps were loud in the stilettos that you were unused to walking in, but Jungkook didn't realize your presence as you approached him from behind until you had taken his hand. "Y/N...?" he murmured, before he had even glanced down at you.

"Let's do it."

"Huh...?"

"Us. Let's begin again."

He beamed at you with shining eyes and nodded. You both turned to the tower, and moments later, the lights switched off.

"I'm glad," he said. "Doesn't that mean that we'll finally be together forever?"

"No." Jungkook's head snapped back to stare at you and you smiled at the worried look on his face. "That's mere superstition. We won't be together forever after watching Tokyo Tower's lights shut down. But we'll be together forever because we love each other and we'll make it work this time... won't we?"

"We will." he promised, squeezing your hand.

***

(Four weeks after the new beginning)

Sprawled on top of the covers of your made bed, you scrolled through your phone.

Sarensaku is in a relationship.

"Omo... aren't you going a little fast, sempai?" you chuckled as you clicked *'Like.'* "But I'm glad... that Jaehyung's a good guy." Then you continued scrolling.

IshiiMayu checked in Hanazono Onsen.  YoonGi posted a status: "Hot springs are the best for relaxing."

"A hot springs trip together, that's going even faster!" You clicked 'Like' for both posts.

Seokjinnie posted a photo: "#hanakotoba"

It was a photo of a pond, covered with pink lotus blooms. You tilted your head, surprised that he didn't post a selfie and searched for the meaning of lotus blooms in your browser.

"'Being far away from the one you love,' huh... Why did you stay in Korea for your break then, stupid old man?" you sighed, clicking 'Like' for sympathy. "But even in Tokyo… it will be too far."

You were about to put away your phone when it buzzed with a message.

JJK: "Guess where I am?" Y/N: "Aren't you supposed to be boarding?" JJK: "Nope... I managed to snag an earlier flight." Y/N: "Do you mean... " JJK: "I can see it now. I'll wait for you there. At that place. ;)"

"No way, what a stressful surprise!" you cried. But you hopped off your bed in excitement and quickly pulled on your prepared outfit of a cute knitted sweater and a pair of skinny jeans that fitted you just right and fluffed out your hair as you flagged down a cab to take you to Shiba Park.

As he promised, Jungkook was already waiting for you there, standing in the central walkway. Even in his oversized hoodie and facemask, you could recognize him.

Jumping up and down, he waved at you with both hands. "Y/N!" he called.

You giggled at the sight of him--he looked like a big kid. "Hey!" you couldn't call out his name in public, but you waved back, matching his enthusiasm.

He met you halfway and shamelessly ducked to peck you on the lips. You pouted up at him, teasing: "What, you can't even steal a proper kiss?"

Pulling you into his arms,  he kissed you deeply, making you tingle all over. When he released you, you blinked at him, speechless. He smirked with pride, and before you could slap his arm in retaliation, he grabbed your hand and started walking.

With his free hand, he snatched off his mask and flicked his hood down, exposing his face.

"Ah.. " you started to point that out, but he pulled you closer. The other people in the park started whispering and pointing, trying to be subtle, but they were obviously noticing him walking with you. "Kookie, I know you don't get mobbed here unlike in other places, but they--they're going to know... about us--"

"Let them," he declared, grinning.  "I want them to."

"But... is it really okay?" you asked.

"Sure--just take responsibility." He waved his phone at you.

You reached for your own phone and found the notification of a relationship--with JJK's profile that had just been made public.

You pressed 'Confirm.'

Y/N is in a relationship with JJK.