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tell-me-when-ur-ready · 5 years

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This Thing Called Love (part four)

Summary: When Shawn meets dancer Kellie in Toronto, he falls for her—hard. But Kellie has an invisible disability and thinks it’s impossible that someone could really love her the way she is.

Author’s note: I have multiple chronic illnesses that are similar to Kellie’s, but I don’t have the same exact health conditions she does. I’ve done lots of research, but I apologize if I get anything wrong!

Warnings: everything comes out and shawn reacts with a disgusting amount of kindness and understanding lol

Word count: 1,800

Kellie had listened to the song. She’d reviewed the general notes sent by the choreographer, who’d said they would hash out the details of the dance during a day or two of rehearsals before they got on set. She had taken off work. She’d booked a plane ticket (and been reimbursed by Shawn’s team—that was nice) and flown to Toronto and successfully seen herself to her hotel. Everything had gone smoothly. So smoothly, in fact, that she should have known it was all about to come crashing down.

Before Kellie even opened her eyes on the first day of rehearsals for Shawn’s new music video, she knew it was bad. Her joints were a little achy; her stomach was cramping, not badly but enough to bother her (she wasn’t totally sure her takeout last night had been completely free of contamination); and there was a dull, throbbing ache in her temples that did hurt. Badly. Without opening her eyes all the way, she reached out through the darkness and fumbled around on her nightstand until her fingers closed around the current medication she was taking for migraines; it had been getting less and less effective over the last couple of weeks. Sitting up slightly, Kellie put the pill at the back of her throat and swallowed it dry, a useful skill she’d finally acquired after three years of medication after medication.

Squinting, Kellie slowly sat up and tried to assess the damage. She stood up slowly; pressing a hand to either side of her head, she walked unsteadily across the room and promptly stumbled into the dresser.

Really, she’d known before she even opened her eyes. But now she knew for sure. There was no way she could get in the dance studio with Shawn.

She allowed herself one moment of self-pity: one moment to close her eyes, silently curse how unfair life was, and feel an overwhelming sense of despair for everything she’d lost after becoming sick and everything she was still to lose. But then she opened her eyes, carefully walked back through the dark room, and picked up her phone, grabbing her little bottle of lavender essential oil on the way back.

Her phone screen was too bright even with the darkness all the way down, but, squinting, she managed to type out a message to Shawn—his was the only number she had saved in her phone, and she definitely didn’t feel like digging through her inbox to find someone else’s number, even if they were the ones she needed to tell and not him.

I’m so sorry. I woke up sick. I don’t think I can dance today

His answer was almost immediate.

That’s awful, are you ok?

Was she okay? Kellie chose not to answer that part, instead writing,

Think I ate something bad last night.

It wasn’t a lie, she reasoned with herself. It had been bad for her body even if it wouldn’t affect anyone else’s.

Oh man. What hotel are you staying at?

She typed the name and sent it—and then instantly regretted it, cursing her brain-fogged state. The last thing she wanted was for him to go out of his way and do something dumb like—

I’m gonna swing by. What’s your room number? Need anything to eat?

Kellie let out an involuntary groan and didn’t answer for a moment, staring at the screen while the pounding in her head continued. She didn’t want him to come. She couldn’t lie to his face—but if he came, she was going to have to tell him. And she didn’t want to tell him; she desperately didn’t want him to know.

But another level, she almost did. If he was going to react badly and run, like so many people (friends, boys, and potential employers alike) had over the years, she wanted to know sooner rather than later.

So Kellie simply typed No, thanks, added her room number, and closed her phone. She didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep, but she must have, because it seemed like only a second later that there was a light knock on her hotel room door.

Kellie got up slowly and padded to the door. When the light from the hallway flooded in, she had to cover her eyes for a minute; finally, she adjusted and lowered her hand. Shawn was standing in front of her.

“Hey. Are you okay?” he said, gazing at her with a concerned line between his eyebrows.

“Yeah…” She blinked slowly at him, still half-asleep. If she wasn’t in so much pain, she’d be embarrassed about her messy hair and Stark Industries T-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms.

“You think you ate something bad?” Shawn asked, and Kellie let out a little sigh, because here it was.

“Yeah. I had a salad and I think it had croutons in it and I didn’t notice, or maybe it was the wrong kind of dressing, or it was cross-contaminated in the kitchen…” Kellie trailed off. She constantly analyzed her symptoms of the moment in her head, but she typically tried not to do it aloud, because no one else really cared.

Shawn cocked his head. “Croutons?”

He looked like he wasn’t quite following. She couldn’t blame him.

Kellie took a deep breath.

“I’m physically disabled,” she said. Even after the diagnoses, after accepting it, after living with it every day for three years, it was still hard to say the words—because it hadn’t always been like this.

Shawn’s eyes stayed trained on hers. She was grateful for that; most people would look her up and down, as if searching for physical signs. But there weren’t any. Her disability was invisible.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Can I ask… how?”

If he didn’t run now, he’d run later, when he fully understood everything her health issues implied.

“I have Celiac disease, and chronic migraines, and a bunch of complications from both of those things,” Kellie said. Even now, after the medicines and the lavender oil and the dark room, the pain was pushing at the back of her head, making it difficult to think clearly. “I don’t know if you know anything about either of those—most people don’t—but, well, this is my life.” She laughed shortly. “I cancel on people at the last minute, I can’t go to work many days, I spend a lot of time in bed. I push through this stuff every day of my life. But some days, I just can’t.”

“Wow. That’s—that’s rough,” he said softly, leaning one shoulder against the doorway.

“I feel so bad. I know I’m letting you down and letting everyone down and I just, I’m so sorry, but my head hurts so much right now I can hardly speak and—”

Shawn was shaking his head. “No, no. It’s okay. I get it. I mean, I don’t get it, but you gotta do what you gotta do. I just—I mean, wow. I’m sorry; shit, that’s a lot. Why didn’t you tell me? When we went to lunch?”

Kellie shrugged, glancing down at the floor. At her mismatched Harry Potter socks and his pointy-toed shoes. “I just—it’s so hard to talk about. I mean, I want to talk about it; I want people to understand. But they never do no matter how much I talk. So I just… don’t try.”

He nodded, his gaze softening.

“But I’m sorry,” she said again, steadying herself on the doorframe as a wave of dizziness hit. She struggled to keep talking: “I really should have told you, when you asked me about the music video. That wasn’t fair. I guess I just—I thought you’d decide you didn’t want me then, and I really need this, and—”

“No,” Shawn breathed. He was looking her straight in the eye. “I do want you.”

And despite the fact that Kellie had just woken up and she was practically high on painkillers and this was only, what, the third time she’d ever spoken to Shawn Mendes in person—she thought he meant it. Maybe even, she realized with a sudden flash of intuition at the look in his eyes, on a deeper level than just the music video.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat, and the moment was broken. “Do you need anything? I could go get you food, or… I don’t know, what do you need?”

A warm feeling spread through Kellie’s chest. “Thanks. That’s really nice. Um, I have my medicine, and Gatorade, and—I’m not really hungry. My migraine is only half the problem today; my stomach really hurts too, because apparently I accidentally ate gluten last night, so I don’t know if I can eat.”

“Okay,” he said softly. “Well, text me later. If you think of anything you need.”

Kellie nodded. “Lately, my migraines have only been lasting for a day or two at a time,” she said, tentative (because who was she to rearrange a shoot for Shawn Mendes because she had a headache?). “So maybe tomorrow, if it’s not too late—I know I’m throwing off the whole schedule, but if you haven’t already filmed everything you would need me for—”

Shawn gave her a little crooked grin. “How could we film it if you’re not there?” he said, and Kellie felt herself flush with pleasure.

“I figured—I was replaceable,” she mumbled. Shawn shook his head, still smiling.

“I saw you dance. We’ll wait for you,” he said. Kellie smiled back at him for just a second before glancing down at the floor, a flash of warmth going through her.

There was a brief downbeat of silence and then he straightened up, pushing himself off of the doorframe.

“I should go. Let you rest. But text me, and then maybe tomorrow we can move forward with the rehearsals and the shoot, okay?”

She nodded, mute. But as he raised his hand goodbye and started to walk down the hall, she found her voice.

“Shawn? Thanks,” she called, and he looked at her over his shoulder. “For understanding.”

He smiled and then he was gone, disappearing into the elevator. Kellie went back into her room and shut the door.

***

It was a long, dark day for Kellie; when she got back into bed after Shawn left, she didn’t get up again until almost 4 pm. Occasionally she’d pick up her phone, turn the brightness all the way down, and scroll through social media, and a few times she put the recording Shawn had sent her on repeat and listened to the song they’d (hopefully) be dancing to. But mostly she just laid in the dark—sometimes sleeping, sometimes not, always analyzing the voice and facial expression and tone with which Shawn had said “I do want you.”

Later that evening, around dinnertime, Shawn texted her.

Hey. How are you?

I’m better. Took a bunch of pills and the migraine is slowly going away. I can deal with all the stomach stuff

You sure? I don’t want you to dance unless you’re really good

Well I won’t know until the morning but I’m going to try my best

Okay. Do you need anything?

No, but thanks :)

Ok. Talk to you in the morning.

And Kellie went back to sleep.

Taglist: @rosiemercy @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @evibesss

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes blurb #sm #shawn #chronically ill #chronic illness

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cilldaracailin · 4 years

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A Kind of Magic

Here is the next part. Thanks again for all the lovely love :)

“It's in those quiet little towns, at the edge of the world, that you will find the salt of the earth people who make you feel right at home.”

Snuggling deeper into the squishy softness under his head, Taron exhaled deeply as he felt so comfortable and content. His body had melted into the mattress under him and the duvet that covered him was silky and warm and sleep which had been so hard to come by since Sunday, finally caught up with him. Taron inhaled, the freshness from the pillow making him smile, his smile growing more as he remembered that he was in Robyn’s bed and it was one of the most luxurious he had slept in although that could have been because he hadn’t slept in a plush bed in days.

He stretched but quickly recoiled back into himself as his body protested after lying so still despite the comfort of the bed. He winced as he tried to stretch again, his upper body objecting, taking it slower this time as he rolled onto his back, throwing his left arm over his face as he slowly woke up. Robyn wasn’t lying when she said she liked complete darkness when she slept as when he opened his eyes the room was dark, apart from some light that shone in the bedroom door to his right. Using the palm of his left hand he rubbed his eyes, wincing again when he rubbed his right eye, the movement chaffing grazes at his temple that still hurt and stung. As he fully woke, he wasn’t feeling as relaxed as he had been and more like he had almost run a marathon and his body ached with the effort of it, feeling like he did as he as he lay in the hospital bed after his pain medication had been reduced.

Taron then realised that he hadn’t taken any of the tablets he had been given since he got on the flight to Dublin and that was probably why he was feeling so achy and very sore. Groaning, he wasn’t looking forward to trying to make a move off the bed as he knew it was going to hurt but in order to get to his pain killers, he had to move and he also desperately needed a wee.

Deciding it would be easier to get up from his knees, Taron rolled to his left onto his stomach and then using his left arm to take his weight he pushed himself to his knees, took a moment to steady himself as he sat back on his feet, taking a breather to counter the pain that rippled through him. As the wave passed, he shuffled off the bed and got to his feet and it was then he realised that he wasn’t wearing his shoes.

“Robyn.” He said quietly, knowing she was the one who had made sure he was comfortable, feeling how nice the temperature was in the room, despite the heat outside, remembering she had said something about having air conditioning in her room too.

He made his way, as Robyn had shown him, through her closet and to the bathroom, his eyes blurry with the light from the window. He had absolutely no idea of the time but as it was still bright outside, he was guessing late afternoon. After washing his hands, he looked in the circle mirror that was above the sink and groaned as he looked at his reflection. It was going to take more than a couple hours sleep to get rid of the horrible dark circles under his eyes and he was still very much getting used to the marks and bruises on his face. He cupped some cold water and threw it on his face, hoping it would help to wake him up.

“Ugh pain killers.” He whispered as he brought his hands to his head, trying to rub the pain away from behind his eyes. He hadn’t felt this bad on the airplane or even in the hospital and as he walked back into the bedroom, he was desperate to find his tablets. With some medication, Taron hoped he would start to feel somewhat more human but with the blackout curtains it was still very dark in Robyn’s room and he didn’t want to fall over anything so he walked around the bed to the curtains and pulled them back closing his eyes as the sun blinded him. Turning around, he blinked a few times as his tired eyes got used to the new light in the room. He looked to the bed and towards the pillow’s he hadn’t slept on and saw three folded up pieces of paper. He picked the nearest one up with curiosity.

‘Hey Taron,

You have finally gotten your chance to have your cosy bed sleep and I cannot wake you from that so….

I have nipped back to work to finish my shift. I will be home at four thirty but here is my work number 6287777 and my phone 087 9055555. Just call me if you need anything.

Wifi code is XY7H8MN77.

I was serious when I said make yourself at home. Alexa is around if you need company and the key lime pie in the fridge is yummi.

Robyn xx’

Smiling at Robyn’s letter, he felt comforted by this one and not at all panicked as he did with her last, enjoying the smiley face and picture of the fish she drew. He picked up the next letter and opened it.

‘Hey Taron,

I’ve gone back to work but same rules apply as before. You have both my numbers so just call me if you need too.

The lemon meringue pie is also quite tasty and Alexa is hooked up to Spotify so your music wish is her command.

Robyn xx’

Another grin filled his face as he laughed at her drawing of a stick man in a rocket and picked up the last letter.

‘Hey Taron,

The preschoolers were asking me where ‘my boyfriend’ was. I have left a picture on the bedside locker that one of them drew for us. I shall let you try and decipher it yourself.

The white chocolate chips cookies on the counter won me second place in the Kilcreen bake off, so they must taste good.

Don’t bother asking Alexa about the weather. It’s so fecking hot, Ireland could give Florida a run for its money and Emma has finally caved and said my air conditioning was not a stupid idea after all.

Robyn xx’

Taron moved and picked up the crayon drawn picture that Robyn had left on the locker and squinted as he tried to make out what the circles and lines meant but decided he was going to need Robyn’s help with that one. The letters made him smile but he was confused by why she had written three for him. With the brightness of the sun, he was convinced it was the afternoon and couldn’t fathom how she had been to work so many times in the space of a few hours.

Leaving the letters and picture the children had drawn back on the locker, he walked slowly around the bed and pulled open the door of the bedroom and walked out into a brighter light, which only hurt his head more. Taron had loved the glass when he first walked into Robyn’s apartment but now as the light caused his headache to worsen, he wasn’t too sure. He could feel a light breeze and when his eyes had finally adjusted to the light, he looked up to see that the glass doors had been pushed all the way back and Taron got his first glimpse of Robyn’s garden. A level wooden deck led straight to a large green grass area and he could faintly hear the sound of running water. Within the apartment easy piano music played and Taron looked for Robyn and saw her sitting on the couch, in the corner she had told him was her favourite, with her back to him. Her hair was out of her messy bun and fell straight down her back and she was wearing a blank tank top so he could see the corner of a white dressing peeking out of the left sleeve. Taking some wobbly steps before he found the strength in his legs again, he walked around the side of the couch.

“Hey Robyn.” He said as he delicately sat in beside her, a sigh leaving his lips as sank gloriously into the couch. “Jesus, is every piece of furniture you own this comfortable?”

Robyn smiled as she quickly saved the word document she was working on and closed her laptop, placing it to her right on the couch. “I did extensive tests before investing.” She moved to sit cross legged beside him. “How are you feeling?”

“Honestly?” He turned his head to look at her. “Everything hurts but I know that has something to do with the fact I have missed a pain killer. Last one I took was before I got on the plane to Dublin and your bed is stupidly comfortable too so I just conked out.”

“I did tell you it was going to be your cosy bed sleep.”

“It was a nice few hours, until I woke up achy and stiff.”

“Taron, it’s been more than a few hours.”

He let his body sink further into the couch. “What?”

“Taron it’s Friday. You have been asleep for about fifteen hours.”

She smiled at the look of shock on his face. “What?” He asked again.

“You went to sleep about twelve yesterday. It’s five eighteen on Friday afternoon, the next day.” She smiled some more as she watched his facial features move from shock, to confused to a small smile. “You were exhausted Taron and once your head hit the pillow, your body was going to sleep and I’d imagine it’s not done resting yet. You could do with at least another five or six rounds of fifteen hours sleep straight.”

“That’s why there were three notes on the pillow.” It finally made sense to him. “Thank you by the way for them. They made me smile when I read them. I especially liked the picture of the stick man in the rocket.”

“Thought you might.”

When she came back from work yesterday afternoon, Taron was in the same sleeping position as she had left him in, looking completely at ease and relaxed. As he slept, Robyn kept herself busy listening to music, reading and spending some time outside in her garden, enjoying the late evening sun but checking Taron ever hour or so, making sure he wasn’t too cold or warm as he slept.

She had spent many a night sleeping on her couch so did not mind spending another but she didn’t sleep. She was constantly checking Taron and even more so after another nightmare woke her from a dreadful restless sleep, tears on her cheeks, her breathing laboured. It seemed that having Taron in her apartment was not making her dreams any less horrific and she had to double check her hands twice to make sure they weren’t really covered in blood. She sat with Taron for about an hour just watching him before she moved back to the couch and put Netflix on to pass the rest of the night until she had to get ready for work in two hours. She had written him another quick note and ignored the look she got from Emma when she arrived in the office at seven.

“Seriously? I told you to take the day off.”

“He’s asleep.” Explained Robyn simply as she put her phone, keys and purse away.

“Still?”

“I told you he was exhausted and I’ve been doing sleep checks on him.”

“You need to sleep too. Robyn! Don’t walk away from me!”

“I need to do these room checks.” Robyn picked up her clipboard and walked out of the office ignoring her manager who called her back.

Robyn’s day had started out with the preschoolers giving her a picture they drew of herself and Taron at the playground and she was touched that they had asked about him but as the morning drew on, Robyn found herself on the phone with a very angry parent who had been told by Valerie that their child was not ready for school. Once Robyn had calmed the parent down and reassured them, Robyn had called Valerie into the office to talk to her about what had happened, offering her advice and guidance, genuinely wanting to help Valerie but the young staff member wasn’t impressed and Emma had to step in when the conversation turned nasty on Valerie’s part, bringing Taron back into the discussion as well as insulting Robyn along the way. Robyn took the conversation with a grain of salt, keeping her cool and still offering to help Valerie but her attitude towards Valerie changed once she came back from lunch as the new staff member had been telling all the other staff that she had been hooking up with a man in the office yesterday in front of a group of children.

The office door was only closed for five minutes as that was how long it took Robyn to enlighten Valerie with the truth, Emma present too to make sure the conversation didn’t get too heated but there was no need. Robyn was as cool and collected as always in tough situations.

“It is something that you have no right to talk about with others, especially when you have no understanding of the circumstances of what you saw and now that you have made up such rubbish, I have to go and speak to each of the girls to explain something that is nobody’s business expect mine and Taron’s. You cannot comprehend what you have done and how you have twisted something so simple as a hug into something that is full of malicious intent and sabotage. It’s disgusting how you spread rumours. We are a small setting with an incredible reputation to uphold and with some spiteful gossip you have put that reputation on the line. I have been very patient and tolerant of your behaviour and I will continue to treat you with respect as a co-worker because at the end of the day, we are a team but if I hear you speaking about this to anyone else, outside of this creche, I will be taking this further. It’s not only our reputation but mine and seeing as how I have been here for eleven years, it’s a considerable reputation and not too mention Taron’s too. Now if you excuse me, I need to go and fix the mess you have made.”

Thankfully, the rest of the staff in the building had known Robyn for a number of years, some before she was promoted to supervisor and would never believe any of the lies that had been spread about her and Emma had immediately issued Valerie with a warning, making sure she had apologised to Robyn.

It had left the atmosphere in the creche tense for the remainder of the afternoon, and even though Robyn was annoyed beyond belief she kept her annoyance to the side and continued on with her day as normal, ecstatic when four thirty came around and she could go home.

Taron was still asleep when she arrived home and she threw on the air con to cool the heated apartment down. Her bedroom was lovely and cool for Taron and he still lay on his left side so she figured she could risk taking a shower, one that was desperately needed to wash five-day old hair. She tried to use the falling water to ease the built-up tension in her shoulders but as the water hit her hurt shoulder, the relief lasted about a second before she gave up trying and turned the water off. She dried her hair and pulled on a black tank top and pair of demin shorts, the day still incredibly hot and pulled open her glass doors to let the fresh air in, hoping it would clear her head and pissed off mood better than the air con would. She sat on her couch, got Alexa to play her favourite piano playlist, pulled out her laptop and started to work on some policies she never got the chance to finish that morning with all the chaos in work. As she typed, she heard the toilet flush and gathered that her guest had finally woken up and she felt the couch sink as Taron eased himself in beside her, her smile wide as he was finding it hard to believe had been asleep for so long.

“That air is nice.” Commented Taron as he lay his head back and closed his eyes. “Fifteen hours.” He said quietly.

“You needed it. Also, you haven’t taken any pain killers since yesterday? No wait, since Wednesday?”

“Hmm.”

“Where are they?”

Taron opened his eyes. “In my bag. Somewhere in my bag.”

Robyn hopped to her feet. “Do you mind if I look for them. They will help take the edge of that pain your in.”

“I can help you.” Said Taron as he started to move and sit up but he stopped, his hand going to his side.

“Take it easy.” Robyn hunched in front of him. “You are still nursing some injuries. Nice and slowly.” Robyn took his left hand and helped to pull Taron to his feet, her hands going to his waist to steady him. “You good?”

“Yeah.” He answered but Robyn could see he was lying through his gritted teeth.

“It’s been nearly two days without pain relief. You are bound to be feeling a lot of pain, especially after being so still while you were sleeping.”

Together, they walked over to the island in the kitchen where Robyn had left his bag and hadn’t touched it since. She pulled out one of the stools from the breakfast bar and put it beside Taron, holding him until he was settled, pushing his bag over to him and then stood beside him.

“Thanks Robyn.” Taron pulled the zip on his duffle and routed around in the mess in his bag for the three small plastic brown bottles that held his pain killers. He stopped routing and pulled out the charger to his phone and sighed. “My mam is going to kill me.”

“What? Why?”

“My phone died on the bus yesterday as I said good bye to her and I promised her I would ring her back once I got to you.” He lifted his left hip a little from the stool and pulled his phone that was still in his pocket of his jeans, dropping it on the island. “It’s very much dead.”

“Your mam is not going to kill you Taron. I have only spoken to your mam twice but I can tell she is a very lovely lady who loves you dearly and will understand that you haven’t rang her back because you were sleeping. Let’s get your phone plugged in now and charged and as it is charging you can call her.” Robyn took his phone and the charger from him that he still held in his hands and plugged it into a socket at the side of the island and left the phone on top of the counter. “Now keep looking for those pain killers.”

With another route, Taron found two of his three bottles of painkillers and pushing all the clothes to the other side of the duffle, found the third. As he searched, Robyn had gotten him a glass of cold water from the fridge and placed it beside him. He opened each bottle and took the required number of tablets out.

“Do you need to take any of these with food Taron?”

He looked to Robyn with a blank face and she picked up the bottles and read the labels. “’Take with food’.” She read. “Cookies count as food, right?” She asked as she walked a little into the kitchen and picked a cookie from the plate she had left on the counter. She handed it to Taron who was smiling. “Well I think cookies count as food.”

“Second place in the bake off?” He asked taking a bite, remembering the little note she had added in the letter about the cookies. “You sure you didn’t buy this from M&S?”

“Absolutely not. Home made.”

“They are good. Second place good.” He grinned. He quickly took the four tablets from the counter, drinking the whole glass of water. “Two are antibiotics for my shoulder and two are pain killers.” He explained taking another bite from the cookie. “These are really good.”

“Thank you. Once they kick in, you will be able to move a bit easier.”

“Yeah I know. Doctor Hart said they were pretty strong. They definitely work. Don’t think I would have made the plane journey without them.”

“I haven’t thanked you yet for coming, have I? It was such a journey to make Taron, especially after you left the hospital early.” Robyn filled another glass of water for him, after he had polished off the first one.

“I was given the all clear by Doctor Hart but to be honest, he wasn’t completely happy. It was your doctor, Doctor Keane that helped sway him. She was your doctor, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Told me she gave you some stitches of your own but she also persuaded Doctor Hart that discharging me early was going to help us both. You…” Taron hesitated a little. “You don’t mind that I came here, right? I mean I just appeared and…”

“And I am very glad that you are here. Thank you for coming. Really thank you. I am…” Robyn couldn’t get the words out but she felt Taron’s hand on her right shoulder and gave her a supportive smile. “Do you want to give your mam a call?”

“Do you know, I have a feeling that conversation is going to be a long one, because I know she will want to talk to you and as much as I want to call her, I am desperate for a shower. I have been in these clothes for God knows how long and I feel gross and hot and just yuckiness all over.”

“Yuckiness? That a technical term?”

“I learnt that one from you Robyn.”

“Oh, shit you did.” Robyn laughed, remembering she had actually used that word in front of him and Richard in the 7/11. “Will you be ok to stand in the shower by yourself?”

“Robyn Quinn!” Laughed Taron faking shock. “I have only been in your apartment for less than two days.” He enjoyed the blush that rose to her cheeks.

“Stop that.” She scolded. “I only meant it from a safety concern Taron Egerton and how on earth do you know my surname.”

“Doctor Keane gave me your name and address. She broke hospital protocol to do it too and I know you are only thinking of my safety. It’s what you do for me and yeah, I think I will be ok. The pain killers act quickly.” With the easy conversation and bit of sugar running in his blood, Taron could already feel his headache lifting. “I will be fine.” He assured her when he saw the concern in her eyes.

“Ok well if I have to rescue you from the shower, I don’t want any complaints about you being in the nudey nudes, alright?”

“Nudey nudes?”

Robyn loved hearing Taron laugh and this one seemed to come from deep inside him. “Learn a new word every day Taron!”

“Alright, nudey nudes but seriously, no. I will be ok.”

“Ok well let me take your bag into my room for you and I will get you some fresh towels too.”

Robyn zipped his duffle back over and lifted it onto her right shoulder and carried it into her room, Taron getting off his stool much more easily then getting on it and followed her. She dropped his bag on her bed and walked out of the bedroom and to her closet near the front door and picked out a large fluffy blue towel and a matching smaller one. She walked into the bathroom through the door in the closet and hung the towels on the silver towel warmer on the wall and turned it on. She walked into the closet and opened the door to her bedroom. Taron was routing in his bag on the bed, pulling out clothes and throwing them on her bed.

“I have left some towels on the warmer in the bathroom for you. Shower is pretty self-explanatory to use. Take as long as you want or need. You won’t run out of hot water.”

“Thanks so much Robyn.”

“No worries. You hungry?” She asked as she sat on the bed.

“Too be honest, my appetite has not been great since before I went to Florida and I haven’t really been eating much since, apart from cookies it seems.”

“Ok well how about something simple like eggs and toast? Mine hasn’t been great either, apart from cookies too. We can sit in the garden and just chill with something really simple.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“Great. Ok well I will leave you to it but Taron please shout if you need anything.”

“I will.”

Robyn got up from the bed and went to leave but turned back to him. “There is actually an Alexa set up in the bathroom too, so if you want some music, just ask.”

“Seriously? In the bathroom?”

“Yeah seriously.”

“Ok well I think I might take advantage of that.”

“I think you should.”

Robyn walked out of the bedroom and closed the door before moving to close the door to the bathroom in the laundry room, closing the closet door too, giving Taron complete privacy. She then made her way to the kitchen to start prepping some simple food for the two of them.

#Taron Egerton Fanfiction #Taron Egerton Fanfic #Taron Fanfic #Friendship #Loyalty #Trust

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phati-sari · 5 years

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Arshi FF: Charade - Chapter 30

Chapter 29 // Read on FFnet // Read on Wattpad

Chapter 30: Closer

Khushi

The next evening, Khushi sighed as she leaned back into the pillows scattered on the sitting room sofa. Di looked up from her knitting.

"Are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh yes, just uhh ... tired."

Having spent the day cooking, delivering, cleaning and shopping for her dabba service, Khushi had returned home to find the ladies of the household engaged in solitary pursuits. Di was knitting. Jiji and Nani-ji were choosing a blanket for Di's Rajkumari. Mami-ji was eating a salad while flipping through a magazine.

"Didn't Chhote let you sleep last night?" Di leaned over to whisper.

"Di!" Khushi gasped as he cheeks instantly heated, "What are you ... I'm tired because I worked all morning."

And because Arnav-ji woke me up early to kiss me again.

But Di didn't need to know that.

Nor did she need to know about the kiss he'd bestowed at the front door, his fingers roaming across her body and a groan on his lips as he reluctantly pulled away.

"My mistake," Di's smirk was uncannily like her brother's, but she was diverted by Jiji before she could continue her teasing.

"We've chosen this one for your Rajkumari," Jiji handed over a sky blue blanket, "and I'll embroider it for her."

"Oh, Payal-ji, this is wonderful. She'll love it! I'll wrap her in it when we bring her home."

Khushi leaned forward eagerly, "Jiji is the best at embroidery! People used to especially ask for her saris when she was helping with Bua-ji's business."

"We are lucky to have such talented bahus," Nani-ji nodded.

"But I wish I could do that," Khushi indicated to Di's knitting.

"Would you like to learn?" Di laughed.

"Yes, please!"

Mami-ji sniffed her disapproval, "When will she have time to learn? Busy as she is with her bijjiness."

"I'm only gone from the house in the morning," Khushi smiled in reply, "I'll learn in the afternoons and evenings. Thank you for offering to teach me, Di."

"It will come in handy when you and Chhote have your own children."

Blushing, Khushi stretched for a magazine and hid behind it while the others giggled and tittered. She only emerged when her sister addressed her.

"Oh, Khushi, I just remembered. Amma called this morning while you were out and she sends her love."

"Is Babu-ji alright?!" her pulse quickened in fear.

"Yes, yes, he's fine. She said they're taking him to the specialist tomorrow for a regular checkup."

"Oh."

Further conversation was prevented by the ring of the doorbell. Khushi's pulse skittered as an awareness crept over her.

"Must be Chhote and Aakash," Di craned her neck as Hari Prakash-ji opened the door.

Sure enough, the men entered the sitting area shortly, both looking as tired as Khushi felt.

"Aakash-bitwa," Mami-ji slid her plate and magazine away, "you look unwell!"

Aakash-ji flopped onto a vacant seat, "No, Maa, just exhausted."

"Khoon-Bh ... I mean, Payal-bitiya, make him some chai, will you?"

"Yes, Maa-ji. Arnav-ji, do you want anything?"

"HP is already making my coffee," he responded with a tired smile, "and he'll prepare the tea as well."

"Lucky bahus indeed," Mami-ji muttered, "Never have to lift a finger!"

"You're a bahu of this household too," Nani-ji retorted coldly, "and I am yet to see you lifting a finger."

There was a beat of uncomfortable silence, into which Arnav-ji spoke softly.

"Khushi?"

He indicated for her to approach with a tilt of his head, and whispered to her when she was close enough.

"HP is bringing me some fruit and my headache pills. My sugar is a little low but I don't want to worry Di."

"Oh," she peered at her husband in concern.

"I'm fine. Just sit with me."

"What's all this whispering?" Di had noticed, "What are you saying that can't be heard by us?"

"That he needs a head-massage!" Khushi said brightly.

"What the—?!"

"Just sit here," she guided him to the sofa, "and let me handle the rest!"

"No!"

"Yes!" she said firmly.

In a few short minutes, Om Prakash-ji had delivered some oil and she was positioned behind the sofa.

"Khushi, stop it!" he swatted her hand away.

"Just eat your fruit," she popped a piece into his mouth, silencing his protest.

He quieted as she worked. The general murmur of conversation swept over them but Khushi paid it no mind, her thoughts focused on the man slowly falling asleep in front of her.

That is, until Nani-ji directed a question to Jiji.

"Payal-bitiya, those specialists you mentioned. Do they think your Babu-ji will recover soon?"

"Yes," Jiji answered, "They're happy with his progress."

"How can your Amma and Bua-ji afford to see them?" Mami-ji asked snidely, "Surely her sari bijjiness is not doing that well?"

Khushi cleared her throat, "The hospital said it's covered as part of their treatment, Mami-ji. There's nothing more to pay."

"That sounds ..." Di frowned, "I don't understand."

Arnav-ji stood without warning, disappearing upstairs without even glancing towards her. Khushi's heart sank.

Oh Devi Maiyya, I was only trying to make his headache better.

"Oh," Di muttered, "Now I understand."

And slowly, Khushi understood as well.

She found him standing at the poolside, hands in his pockets as he contemplated the water.

"Arnav-ji?"

She took a deep breath and stepped forward when he didn't respond.

"Will you answer a question?"

"Don't do this, Khushi," he turned away. "Not right now."

She took a few small steps forward. "Are you ... are you paying Babu-ji's bills?"

"I don't want to talk about this."

"But I want to talk about it."

They stood at an impasse for several moments.

"Babu-ji took me in when I was eight years old," her voice wavered, "I was scared, I didn't know what was happening. He would take me to his shop and let me sit by him as he made all sorts of sweets. When I was ten, he let me make jalebi for the shop for the first time. They sold before half the day was done."

She reached for Arnav-ji's hand as he turned.

"I left him. How could I leave him? He would never leave me."

"Khushi ... that's ..." he tugged her closer. "You know that's not what happened."

"He used to say that he wouldn't look for a groom when the time came, that he always wanted me by his side. I said ..." she gave a watery giggle, "I said I didn't want to get married anyway."

He folded her gently against his chest, "Ssshhh."

"I wish," her words were muffled against his clothes, "I wish he could've given me away. What we did ... he didn't get to give me away."

Arnav-ji inhaled deeply, "I'm paying for his treatment and medicine, yes. I asked them not to tell you. I just wanted you to have one less thing to worry about."

"Why?"

He stood in silence, though his arms tightened around her.

"Why?" she asked more forcefully.

"Let me do this. It's my duty as his damaad."

Be careful, don't push him away.

And yet, she ignored the warning of her heart.

"But you weren't. Not then."

Abruptly, Arnav-ji released her to walk to the other side of the poolside. They stood in the darkness with only the light of the stars to illuminate them. Khushi waited ... and waited ... and started to retreat inside with a sigh.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked when her hand was on the glass door.

She froze as he continued, moving towards her.

"What do you want to hear, Khushi? That I wanted ... That there was a moment when I saw your family accept Aakash, that I thought ... I wished ..."

He was standing behind her when he finished, his hands a cage as they came to rest on the glass.

Arnav-ji met her eyes in the reflection, "What do you need to hear?"

That you want me. That you want a future with me.

That you love me.

But she found that the memory of his words the night before — "You're in my every breath, Khushi." — were enough.

"Nothing," she said softly, "There are just so many things I still don't know about you."

She turned and burrowed into his chest to breathe him in, "Thank you, for Babu-ji."

He held her, humming contentedly for a moment before speaking, "No. Thank me properly."

Khushi peered up, "What?"

"I don't need your thanks," he murmured, "but if you want to thank me then you should do so as a wife."

Frowning, she began to ask exactly what he meant when he pressed the pad of his thumb to her bottom lip.

"As a wife," his voice was low as he stroked his thumb across her flesh.

She nodded slowly, her heart pounding, and waited until he'd removed his thumb to lean up and press her lips to his. He seemed to shudder before returning her kiss, his fingers tightening where they gripped her as he groaned. He leaned into her, so close that she felt his body swell brazenly against her stomach. His kisses trailed from her mouth to her jaw and neck as his hands moved to her chest. Feeling brave, she unbuttoned his waistcoat and smoothed her hands over his shirt. Arnav-ji helped by loosening his tie and unbuttoning the shirt. His gaze was hungry. Warmth pooled between her legs.

He guided her mouth back to his, his kiss both demanding and reassuring in a way she hadn't thought possible. The heat of his body contrasted with the cool glass at her back as he pressed her further into the door. She explored the hard planes and muscle of his body, nails scratching his skin and making him groan. He returned to her neck, sucking gently at her skin, and she arched as his hand found her breast. She muffled a moan against his shoulder.

"Ah," he said softly, "I see."

She became heavy and achy as he focussed on her breasts, seeming to know exactly what she needed. His mouth worked lower, tracing her mangalsutra before teasing the neckline of her dress. He noticed when her legs trembled, threatening to give out, and slid his knee between hers to prop her up. Her nails dug into his skin as her hands curled inwards. The exquisite heat built, and her thoughts froze on a shocking, outrageous thought.

That he should touch her there, where she ached and throbbed the most.

As if he'd heard, Arnav slid a hand to the small of her back and pushed her closer, the angle such that his body pressed against hers with agonising deliciousness. It was only when his fingers traced the zipper on her kameez that Khushi regained the ability to think. She gently pulled away.

"Babe?" he buried his face against her neck, breathing hard.

"We're outside," Khushi whispered, "and someone will come looking for us for dinner."

Chuckling, Arnav-ji grazed his teeth on her earlobe before speaking against her cheek.

"Let's go inside then," he lowered his tone suggestively. "It will be more comfortable."

She tried to hide as heat rose to her cheeks. He relented.

"Okay," he pressed a kiss to her temple. "But you go downstairs first. I have a situation I need to deal with."

She gave a small nod and turned in his embrace, pushing open the sliding door before stepping inside. Her body protested the loss of his warmth.

"Khushi."

Turning, she saw that he'd followed her inside.

"You said there are still many things you don't know about me. You only need to ask. I'll tell you everything."

He traced a finger across her cheek before lifting her mouth to his. The kiss was gentle and sweet.

"Go," he said against her lips. "Or I won't let you leave all night."

Her body sang as she left their bedroom.

#ipkknd #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon #arshi #ipkknd ff #arshi ff #iwrotethis #mine #ff: charade

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harrystupelo-blog · 7 years

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Birdy

He was the kind of tired that only occurred on planes.

After falling asleep in his seat and being in the same position for over three hours, the crick in his back had returned. He hadn’t eaten real food all day - he’d used the hotel gym that morning and only had time for a quick coffee and banana on the go as he’d a few last minute meetings to finish up with before his flight. After spending three days in New York finalizing his album plans, Harry was a bit emotional, but thoroughly excited. At the moment, though, he needed a good shower, meal, and sleep. It had been a long weekend, but successful, and he was optimistic for his future. It was only two in the afternoon London time and he desperately needed a long sleep. And, judging by the tug in his lower back that made him groan when he lifted up his bag, a massage couldn’t hurt either. A shave, too, he reasoned, rubbing underneath his chin. He’d been breaking out the past few days from stress and a lack of nutritional meals, and being at his age and still getting acne perturbed him quite a bit. He needed a good self-care day. No more running around and making meetings and barely sleeping, not while he was home. He was always thankful to be doing what he loved, but he needed to put himself first sometimes, he knew that. Work was fun, doing music was fun, but it was also...work. He was looking forward to a few weeks of doing laundry, grocery shopping, visiting his family, getting up early and going to the gym and not feeling bad about taking naps and resting up. He really liked having time off to just be.

When the plane finally touched down in London, Harry’s heart soared. He was home, finally home. There was something different about the air in London compared to New York. Harry pulled on his usual grey Randy’s Donuts sweatshirt to protect himself from the eventual steady blast of air conditioning that airports loved no matter the temperature outside, carefully putting his leather bag over his shoulder as well. The sweatshirt provided comfort and also hid him easily enough from any prying eyes that wanted to snap a photograph. Harry wasn’t a cranky guy, but traveling and moving around so much drained the man, especially because he was tired and sore to begin with before the plane had even taken off. He had on a comfy pair of joggers and running sneakers, trying to stay as casual and unnoticed as possible as he was hurrying home.

He huffed out a breath as he slid into the buttery seat of the town car that was there to bring him home, rain beginning to fall. It wasn’t London without some rain. It was a good day to lay in bed to watch movies, he thought to himself. A good stew day, too. A romantic comedy, his mother’s stew with crusty bread, and his big cozy bed sounded the most inviting. Harry looked away from the rainy, dreary day outside to fumble a text to his sister that he had arrived, placing a hand on his lower back and grimacing. He’d have to ring his physical therapist today, too, and his mother. He knew Anne was anxious to see him since he was away.

It was all worth it, however, the achy back and rain and hunger and the headache blooming behind his eyes, when he stepped through the door of his home. A twenty seven pound bundle of curls and dimples that looked just like him launched herself into his chest as soon as the door opened. His arms were ready to catch her as he stood, twirling the girl around and tucking his face into her shoulder. There was no better smell than his daughter after a bath, absolutely nothing in the world compared. Especially after he hadn’t seen said daughter in three days.

Being a single father while also juggling fame was difficult, but Harry never complained. He absolutely loved making music and acting, but he loved being a father more. Rose was his entire world, and he would never let work interfere with her, ever. He was lucky enough to have his sister and mother and select friends that adored his daughter (almost) as much as he did who could look after her when he was away. It was never easy, and while this was the longest he’d been away from her for her entire life, and he worried constantly, he was grateful that he was able to live both lives and keep them separated. Although Rose was only three, she seemed to begin to understand that her dad was some sort of Important Person, and that sometimes she had to share him with others, which was a difficult concept for her to wrap her mind around - Harry was her’s. He tucked her in at night and helped her do her hair in the morning, made her lunch and told her he loved her - he didn’t do that with anyone else. Harry knew the importance of bonding with your child as a single parent, and he refused to be one of those celebrities who simply sent their children off with the nanny while he kept his career afloat. He wanted to do this, and do it right. In this day and age, now that FaceTime and text updates from Gemma reading Rose is asleep, wanted me to tell you she loves you, and All is well, just came back from the shops. Baby girl’s got a new set of markers; time to destroy all the white walls in your house were helpful (except when Gemma was being sarcastic with messing up his stuff), but it was nothing like actually being there, home, where he should be. It was hard being away from her, harder every day that he was missing making her breakfast and running his fingers through her hair when she couldn’t sleep. He was missing kissing her scrapes on her knees if she fell and the smell of her soft skin after a bath. Harry was always adamant on never mixing up work life and personal life, and his daughter’s needs always came first. She was the very most important person to him, and he’d never put anything - or anyone - before her.

So, being able to hold her now, after three whole days, was heaven. Ignoring his back protesting against him, he stood to his full height, swaying her a little. Rose had his curls, dimples, and cheeky grin. She was a little chubby around the middle - “Just like her Daddy,” his sister Gemma liked to say, to which Harry groaned - and she had little legs and hands that perfectly wrapped around Harry when he held her or kissed her goodnight or told her he loved her. (And yes, Harry refused to admit he gained Dad Weight, even though it was only a few pounds. He refused.)

“Hi, Birdy,” he whispered, tucking his head into Rose’s shoulder. Birdy was a name his own mother had called him when he was young, and it had simply started rolling off his tongue as his daughter grew. It was a simple, peaceful name for his girl. Harry could feel her heart beating through their clothing, her tiny hands gripping his sweatshirt. “I missed you so much.”

Although there was absolutely no reason for her not to be, coming home to his baby safe and happy and in one piece was enough for him. He constantly worried about her even when they were in the same room, cuddling on the sofa with her small body curled into his chest as they watched telly on a normal Wednesday evening. She never had any health problems thankfully, and she was the happiest, most loved girl in the world. Harry knew Gemma would never let anything happen to his girl, but being a father changed him. He wasn’t just looking out for himself anymore.

“Hi, Daddy,” she said. Harry allowed Rose put her small hands on either side of his face, nuzzling their noses together as she pressed kisses to his cheekbones and forehead, giggling at the familiar scruff on Harry’s cheeks against her baby-soft skin.

“You gotta shave, Daddy,” she giggled, tiny fingers holding Harry’s cheeks. Gemma, who was reading a magazine quietly on the sofa, removed herself from the room for a few moments. It was an intimate, private moment between father and daughter, and she didn’t want to get in the way, especially since the two hadn’t interacted person-to-person in days.

“Do I?” Harry raised his eyebrows, mouth opening in surprise, jostling her slightly, one strong arm around her back and the other secure around her bum so that she stayed put in his arms. “You don’t like your Daddy with a beard?”

“Uh-uh,” Rose shook her head. Harry placed his bag on the floor in the corner of the room, holding her more firmly in his arms. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, setting his girl down on her feet. Gemma joined the two of them, leaning in to give her brother a hug. Harry kissed her cheek, smoothing his hand carefully over Rose’s head as she clung to her father’s leg. Usually, after Harry was away, she tended to hover close by to him for a few hours as if he was going to disappear again, and Harry would never tell her to stop.

“What d’you say to Gem, little lady? Was she good to you? Were you a good girl for her?”

“Of course she was,” Gemma grinned. She got on her knees, reaching to hug Rose. The little girl reluctantly let go of her dad, squeezing her arms around Gemma’s neck before turning back to Harry, as if she was afraid he would disappear again. Rose couldn’t quite understand the feeling of safety she felt constantly with the people Harry surrounded her with, but it was a different kind of safety when her dad was home, his eyes and ears and arms all for his girl. She was happiest when she was with her father. (She didn’t know this, but he felt exactly the same way.)

“Thank you, Gems, love you,” Rose said, giggling when Gemma peppered kisses to her tiny cheeks, smacking the last one on her tiny lips.

“Love you, sweet girl. Glad we got to have some girls’ time without stinky old Dad.” Gemma stood up, shaking out her long, ombre hair. She scrunched her nose at Harry, squeezing his hand before he could reprimand her.

“Thanks again, Gem,” Harry said, squeezing her fingers in response. The two of them watched her go down the pathway and drive off, Rose with her thumb half in her mouth, her other hand loosely wrapped around Harry’s wrist as she stared absentmindedly at the falling raindrops on the little stained glass window pane above the door. Harry looked down after he closed the door, wincing slightly - Gemma and his mother had both noticed Rose sucking on her thumb when Harry was away, assuming it was how she comforted herself in the absence of her father. Hopefully, since he was home for a few months, the habit would go away.

Harry leaned down to scoop up his daughter again, ignoring the ache of his back that was screaming at him. She immediately latched onto him, her head happily resting on his shoulder, tiny hands pat pat patting into his upper back as he walked into the kitchen. It had started to really rain now, loud heavy droplets hitting the big windows of the kitchen, the sky clouding over to a deep grey. Gemma had cracked a few windows open, so the fresh smell of summer rain filled his home. Harry loved having big windows and fresh air filtering in and out, even if said air was damp most of the time. There was nothing more peaceful to him than being home during a rainstorm, especially with his daughter. Harry set her down carefully on the countertop, kissing her nose and then turning to the fridge, and cursing very silently to himself - it was nearly empty. He’d forgotten to ask Gemma to pick up milk and some essentials before he returned home. She usually did it without asking, and he always paid her back for it. Even though she had told him she was the one eating his food while he was away, so it was no matter. Harry winced. The last thing he wanted to do right now was go out in the rain to food shop, even if his back wasn’t aching or he wasn’t bloody exhausted. Harry turned to look at his daughter, putting his hands on his hips. He snorted when Rose did the same, tilting her head at him with a goofy grin as she placed her own tiny hands on tiny hips. She gasped in excitement, then, as if she realized that Harry was officially home and ready to spend time with her - and then her excited words started spurting out.

“Wanna see my new paints, Daddy? Gem let me do finger painting yesterday; and we took a walk to the stream, Daddy, and she let me go in with my new wellies, only a little bit, can we go there now?”

“How about,” Harry said, pressing kisses to her forehead between every pause. “Daddy orders. Fish and chips. And you put on your pajamas. And we can watch a film and you tell me all I missed while I was away? That sound good?”

He had laundry to do, calls to make and a journal to look over. His inbox was probably full of emails and notes from the weekend that he needed to think about, and he should probably consider calling his physical therapist sooner than later.

But, he had a little girl with expectant eyes that looked too much like his own staring up at him, and tiny hands that were encompassed in his own. While she scampered up the stairs to put on her pajamas and spend some quality time with her father, he made quick work of dumping most of his clothes into the laundry machine, plugging in his laptop and phone on the kitchen counter. He dialed the number of the takeaway shop, humming quietly with a tired yawn. After ordering, he waited to hear the light padding of bare feet hurrying down the stairs. Harry smiled softly to himself, thumbing out a text to his mother before leaving his phone on silent on the kitchen counter, leaving all distractions behind.

“I’m ready, Dad! Ready!” a tiny voice exclaimed. Harry gasped out a laugh at what stood before him. Rose had on his old Rolling Stones t-shirt that he'd left at home for her, the fabric barely hitting below her knees. She had one of her old teddies clutched in one arm, her braid loosened by her haste to get undressed and back down to her father.

“Hey, c’mere,” Harry said softly, getting on his knees. He opened up his arms for Rose to cuddle into him, the little girl curling into his chest as Harry took her hair down, running his fingers through her loose curls. The house was quiet and calm, and his daughter smelled like clean soap and she was baby soft skin and gentle kisses and hugs and I love you's and home. She was home, safe, healthy, and happy, and so was he. His e-mails and voicemail box could wait until tomorrow, because tonight was about spending time with his daughter, his best friend and entire world.

#masterlist #my writing #harry blurb #harry writing #harry drabble #gender neutral

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