#i remember age nineteen my mother telling me the reason for her divorce from my father was two-fold: he wouldn't stop cutting and doping

[faultsofyouth]

When Gillian Flynn wrote "problems always start long before you really, really see them," that was real and I lived it

[tomtenadia]

Second chances...

I don’t even remember how the idea of this fic came to more, but it’s a second chance Rowaelin. It was meant to be a short one shot... it turned out a monster of almost 6k words... and a bit of a rollercoaster. There is angst, but well.. as the title says...

CW: divorce, some hurt/comfort and a brief mention of a death (non MC I promise) I hope you will enjoy it.

Aelin walked around the living room collecting her stuff for work “Maya, are you ready? We need to go.” “I am coming, I am looking for my hockey bag.”

Aelin went to her daughter’s room and helped her find the bag. Maya was in a girls hockey team “Here it is. You are just as messy as me.”

Maya kissed her mother “thanks.”

The two left the house and went to the car “you got all your stuff at your dad’s?”

Maya nodded.

Aelin and Rowan were divorced. They had married at a very young age after they found out taht Aelin was pregnant. Rowan being the responsible one had offered to provide for her and thought that marriage was the best option. But they were young, Rowan twenty one and Aelin nineteen and the weight of responsibilities started to take a toll on them pretty quickly affecting as well their relationship. With the passing of time they came to the realisation that they had married for the wrong reason and slowly drifted apart, after each fight spread the abysm separating them even further. Until it was too much and the word divorce was mentioned. They agreed it was the best option especially for their daughter’s sake. So as little as two years later they had gone separate ways. Custody had been easy had agreed on sharing Maya equally.

And so they moved on with their lives, leaving behind that small parenthesis when they tried to be a family.

Aelin went to become a paediatric doctor whereas Rowan got hired by an engineering company and was now quite high in the company. They would see each other at school meeting or Maya’s games, but outside those engagements their interactions were minimal.

Maya knew better, though. When her parents were together she had studied their interactions. She saw them alone and together and only when they were with each other she could see happiness.

She was twelve and probably did not know much about love, but of one thing was sure, her parents, despite their stubbornness, still loved each other.

Her mission now, was to get her parents back together. Be a family again.

They eventually reached the school and Aelin leaned over to kiss her daughter “Dad will pick you up at practice tonight.”

Maya grabbed her stuff “Ok.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too, mum.”

Maya left the car and Aelin watched her enter the school and sighed. A part of her hated when it was Rowan’s turn. A whole week without her daughter. She missed her and the house felt empty. 

Rowan though, had the same right as her. And while she had been terrified when she discovered she was pregnant, he had been her rock. He held her and spent the afternoon whispering it’s all going to be okay over and over again. Tears threatened to spill. Absentmindedly she touched the necklace and brushed the ring that hung from it. It was her wedding ring. She had removed it from her finger but always carried it with her. She kept telling herself that they had done the right thing, that Maya’s welfare was the outmost important thing… but it was hard and sometimes she wondered whether  it really had been the wisest choice.

She sighed once more and eventually drove to work.

*

Rowan had left work a bit early and arrived at the ice rink well before practice finished. He loved watching his daughter play even though it brought back memories of an alternate life from long ago. Maya was a forward and was actually really good at it. Both he and Aelin were big hockey fans and slowly had passed the passion onto her and when she was older and had begged her parents to join a team they had agreed to let her do it. He watched his daughter glide on the ice with incredible skill, pass the defence and score a goal. He whooped loudly, pride bursting out of him.

It was an hour later when they were back home, Maya had gone to get showered and changed and he was busy making dinner when she joined him in the kitchen “I am making mac and cheese tonight, I think you deserve it.”

Maya grinned and sat on the table “dad, I invited mum to Saturday’s game, it’s a big one and I want her there.”

Rowan turned “of course. She can always come.”

Maya nodded and accepted her plate with food and geared up for the question that she had been burning to ask for a while now. She stuffed her face with her dad’s amazing food then paused  “Dad, why you and mum don’t live together like all the other parents?”

Rowan stared at his daughter with the fork half way to his mouth. They had sort of explained the situation to Maya when she was younger, but he was aware that she was growing up and that soon they’d have to explain to her what happened in more details. He knew Maya would have questions soon. It seemed that the moment was that evening and Rowan froze. Aelin should be there too because they had agreed to have the conversation with both of them present, to offer Maya a full picture. They had separated peacefully and both tried very hard never to complain about the other parent.

He placed the fork down and gathered his courage “Maya, your mum and I got married very young after we found out we were expecting you,” he started to explain. He wanted to make sure that Maya did not feel like she was the cause of their problems “We were so young and at the time we thought marriage was the answer, but then things got hard, we fought a lot, so we decided that it was better, for you, if we split up. Making sure you were happy was our priority.”

Maya was silent and Rowan worried.

“Do you still love mum?”

The question blindsided him. He just remained silent gathering his thoughts on something he had been pondering on for a while. Lately he and Aelin had been interacting more, exchanging texts even outside the normal communications. If something happened to him he realised that Aelin had become once more the first person he wanted to tell. But it was complicated. Then he sighed and thought about his wedding ring hiding in the coins compartment of his wallet. How could explain to her that a part of him regretted divorcing her mother and giving up so easily? But Maya had been their priority and they did not want her to grow up in a household with parents fighting all the time. 

“Maya it’s complicated.”

His daughter stood abruptly and in her green eyes he saw her mother fierceness. She had hair as silver as his and the same green eyes, but his daughter was as fierce and strong as her mother “no it’s not. It’s a simple yes or no question.” Her voice rose a few notches “Hellas dad, do you think I am stupid? Do you really think I did not notice that all of a sudden you two are hanging out a lot more and that you find every excuse to be near her? Or the fact that you only really smile when you are with her? You stop being a grouch only with mum or me,” she blurted out. If they were too stupid to realise they were still in love, she was going to open their eyes “and do we want to talk about the fact that you still carry your wedding ring in your wallet? Sure but keep lying to yourself that you are not still in love with mum.”

“Maya, you are twelve, what do you know about love?”

Maya straightened her back “I might be twelve and young, but I can see that my parents are living a lie. Neither of you had a lasting relationship, a few dates and then stopped. Mum hasn’t dated in years and you too. Again, I might be young but I am not stupid.” And with that she stormed out of the door and Rowan heard her slam the door of her room.

He sat at the table speechless, definitely not expecting such a reaction from her. Maybe Maya was right… slowly he placed the food away. All of a sudden he wasn’t hungry anymore.

*

The day of the game eventually arrived and Rowan drove Maya to the ice rink. It was a home game against Perranth that was probably going to seal the championship and Maya’s team was in the lead.  To great disappointment of Elide who was a crazy Perranth supporter. 

He walked up the steps and reached his assigned seat. Aelin arrived ten minutes later and landed at his side while carrying a cup with coke and a box with nachos. He smiled. Aelin would never be at a hockey game without her portion of junk food.

“Still inhaling calories?”

“Sorry, Rowan, they finished the carrots.”

He laughed at their banter. Something that even after a decade had never left them.

In revenge he stole one of her nacho chips and Aelin turned to him outraged. Rowan roared with laughter at her expression. In that instant Maya’s words popped in his head. Aelin really was the only person who could make him laugh that freely. He hadn’t realised it until his twelve years old daughter pointed it out to him. After their fight they had a tense day, but Maya then dropped the subject and he was relieved. His emotion in too much turmoil to make sense of them. 

“Uhm, Maya’s birthday is very soon. Can we do it at your place? You are the one with the garden and we want to invite a few friends.”

“Oh good, I wanted to ask you about that. My place is fine. You two ladies organise it and I will make sure the garden is all ready.”

“Thanks Ro, she is excited.”

He was about to reply but the horn sounded loudly and marked the start of the match.

The game finished with a victory for Orynth. Maya had scored three of the four goals and both Aelin and Rowan had been very proud parents and cheered loudly during the entire game. Now they were outside and were waiting for Maya to join them.

Their daughter arrived a good forty minutes later and Aelin ran to her and kissed her, shouting champions with deep pride. That game had sealed the championship and they had been crowned the  winners for that season. They still had two games to go, but the victory was now sealed.

Aelin had the team’s jersey and the baseball cap and on top of that she had painted her cheeks in green and silver, the colours of the team. Rowan had just worn his jersey.

“Maya and I are going home…” he said quietly. Then took a deep breath “wanna join us for dinner? We can celebrate together.”

“Please, mum, please, please.”

Aelin stared at her daughter and did not have the courage to tell her that it was not a great idea. 

“Of course, my love.” What could be the danger in it?”

Once outride the house Aelin paused for a second. Rowan lived in a big detached house. He had done well, they both had, but Rowan recently had been given a huge promotion and suddenly he was on really big bucks. She chuckled thinking about the small one bedroom flat they had rented after high school. At the time it was all they could afford with part time jobs and some help from their parents. She wondered where they would be if they had stayed together.

“You coming?” Maya’s question woke her up from her thoughts.

She stepped inside the house and joined him in the living room while Maya ran to her room to stash away her gear.

“I can see that the books are going wild now.”

“Maya’s mostly. She is just as obsessed as you and I will need to buy a new house soon just for her books,” he confessed with a fond smile “I am building her a library for her birthday and running out of ideas to keep it secret.”

Aelin looked at him and all of a sudden wanted to hug him. Of one thing she was certain: Rowan’s devotion to his daughter was never questioned. The judge had initially given full custody to her, but Aelin had asked to share it. She knew from day one that Rowan would have made a wonderful dad and she was not going to take that from him. 

“That will be an amazing present, now my unicorn will look positively plebeian.” She joked, walking to the kitchen with him “I got her a meet and greet with her favourite hockey player at the next home game for the Stags. I had to grovel a bit with one of my colleague who has connection in the league and it costed me three weekends in a row as paediatrician on call at the A&E but she is worth it.”

Rowan moved towards the kitchen counter “she is. She is definitely not one of my regrets.”

Aelin was stunned and just stood there on the threshold “I assume I am your biggest regrets.” It was not meant to sound that harsh, but the words left her mouth before she could stop herself.

Rowan turned to her, his face sad all of a sudden “that is not what I meant.”

She scoffed “Sure, promising hockey player turns down an offer to play professional to spend time with his pregnant girlfriend.” Since high school had been a promising hockey player and once he graduated he had received an amazing offer from the Stags to join their team as a rookie. Two weeks later she had destroyed that dream by announcing that she was pregnant. Rowan had turned down the offer and two months later he proposed.

“Did I ever complain? I gave up my career willingly. You and our daughter were more important.”

“You were miserable,” she said through gritted teeth “I heard you complain to Lorcan that you hated your life.” She paused, “I was in the living room nursing Maya and I heard you. That night I almost left you.”

Rowan stared at Aelin in silence. He vaguely remembered that night. He had been exhausted and frustrated. “I had two jobs and both were horrible but paid the bills and rent and kept us fed.”

Aelin looked away“You could have been playing with the Stags as regular player by now. Be a star, have all the glory and women flocking to you.”

“It was my choice,” he shouted “Stop putting in my mouth words I never said. You and Maya were the only good thing in my life…”

Aelin grabbed her bag “I need to go.” Her voice broken by deep grief.

“Sure Aelin, run away…”

“Fuck you, Whitethorn,” she made a turn then stopped “tell Maya I love her and that I will see her for her birthday.”

Rowan stared at Aelin disappear through the door. When he lifted his eyes he spotted Maya on the doorstep. Her eyes red from crying.

They were too busy shouting at each other to realise she had been eavesdropping. They had promised to shield Maya from their disagreements. But as he stared at his daughter’s brokenhearted expression, he realised that for the first time in twelve years they had failed her. 

Fuck.

*

Aelin sat in her car and let the tears flow. She cried until she was spent then drove to the one person that could offer her comfort and wisdom: her mother.

The drive took a good forty minutes and now she was standing in front of her childhood home.

A knock on the door and Evalin appeared a moment later “Aelin, my love.”

Aelin landed in her mother’s arms and let the tears come back. In Evalin’s arms she sobbed hard and let free all the frustration and pain in her heart.

Evalin guided her to the sofa and the two sat together “What happened?”

“I had a fight with Rowan.”

Evalin sighed and hugged her daughter.

“What was the fight about?”

“I think he still resents me for being the reason why he had to abandon his career as professional hockey player,” she confessed “he says no, but I know him. A part of him wishes he had chosen hockey over us.”

A deep sigh left Evalin. She had met Rowan after the confession tah Aelin was pregnant and never met a more dedicated and responsible twenty one years old. He had gone looking for a job right away, had asked for  help in looking for a flat. He had taken in his stride his new role as a father from the very beginning. Not once had Evalin seen an ounce of regret in his face.

“What did he say?”

“That Maya was definitely not one of his regrets,” a loud sob “I am one of them, probably the biggest one. He regrets meeting me,” she hugged her mother tight “I bet he wishes he never asked me out.”

Evalin brushed her daughter’s head “You don’t know that. You don’t know what his hockey career would have brought him. Sports glory is not eternal. He might have ended up miserable. Now he is a very successful man, you both are…”

Her daughter shook her head stubbornly.

“Aelin…” Evalin’s finger lifted her chin and blue eyes met their copy “are you still in love with him?” She had suspected for a while, but the occasion to ask had never presented itself. Now it was the perfect time. For a long time Aelin was not much fussed about Rowan, but recently sje had seen changes in her daughter.

“No…” but as soon as the word left her mouth she hid her face in the crook of her mother’s neck.

“Do you want my real opinion of the sugarcoated version?”

“Real.”

Evalin pulled back and stared at her daughter in her eyes “You both gave up too easily.”

Aelin was silent at the confession.

“As soon as it got too hard, you just called it quits and got a divorce. You took the coward way out instead of fighting for your marriage.”

Aelin sighed “What marriage? We fought so much… that was not love… it was just to cover a mistake.”

“Your daughter was not a mistake,” Evalin’s tone had gone harsh all of a sudden. She adored her granddaughter. Early pregnancy or not Maya was the joy in her grandparents’ lives.

Heavy sobs shook Aelin’s body.                

Evalin sighed once more “Aelin, darling, I have been married to your father for over forty years,” she started, grabbing Aelin’s hand in hers in an attempt to calm her “Some days I would gladly strangle him or when he really pisses me off I imagine creative ways to dispose of his body,” a chuckle left her lips “I crave the evenings, like tonight, when he has his meeting with his friends, so I can have a me night.” a pause to let the words sink in “but I love him just as much as when we started dating. Forty odd years with that grump and I would not have it any other way.”

Aelin was about to add something but Evalin stopped her “We fight, all couples do. There is no such thing as the perfect marriage, Aelin. But we do our best to overcome our problems and disagreements and avoid going to bed mad at each other.”

Aelin stood silent.

“You and Rowan did not fight for each other. And Rowan’s parents think the same.”

Aelin’s hand went to her necklace, feeling the presence of the ring under the fabric.

“Do you still love him?” Evalin asked once more.

Aelin did not answer and her mother shook her head, having her final answer “you need to tell him. You and Rowan need to have a chat.”

“He has long moved on.”

“Not according to what Maya has told me.”

Evalin smiled at the surprise in Aelin’s face.

“Oh yes, your daughter has been talking a lot with me and her other grandma. Last time he dated was a few years back and on that occasion it did not go past the first date.”

“There is no future for us. That door closed on the day we signed the divorce papers.”

Evalin took a deep sigh and pulled Aelin to her “Only death is permanent.” A caress on her face “You read a lot of romance novels. Ever heard about second chance romance?”

Aelin nodded weakly.

“You and Rowan can have it. You deserve it and Maya does it too.”

Blue eyes met her copy “how? Where do I start? I want…” another sob “I dated but no one was ever like him. He is my home…”

A huge grin spread on Evalin’s face. She had known that Aelin was still in love. Now with Maya’s help she had to push them to talk.

Aelin that night went home and once in bed composed a text message: I am sorry.

I’d never regret choosing you and Maya.

*

Saturday finally arrived and Rowan was nervous. After the text message a few nights before he had no other contact with Aelin. Maya had told him that her mum was definitely coming. He needed a moment with her, wanted to talk. Maya was right. Truth was, he never stopped caring about Aelin. She was his home. She was still the first person he texted after a hockey game to discuss the results. 

Rowan had gone and had a chat with his parents and found out that they believed they had given up too easily. His dad told him that he should have convinced Aelin to try and overcome the problems together. He had been thinking about that conversation for a few days now. He had to talk to Aelin.

Rowan was so deep in his musings when Maya joined him in the kitchen “is my cake nice and full of chocolate?”

“It definitely meet yours and your mother’s standards.”

“She needs it.”

Rowan’s ears perked up “is she okay?”

Maya grinned internally at her father’s need to fuss “She is fine. She has just been working a lot and now for some reason she has three weekend shifts in a row in the A&E. She hasn’t done that in a long time.”

He smiled. He knew that Aelin had offered to cover the emergency room in exchange of Maya’s special present.

“Maybe they are short of doctors?”

Maya shrugged “Will you be nice to her? She is tired. No stress. It’s my birthday, I want my family all together happy.”

He pulled her to his chest “I don’t want to hurt her or you,” Maya hugged her father tight and could sense the pain in his words. He cared, he still did and had decided that he was going to make an effort to give his daughter another gift. A chance to have her family again.

Aelin was late. All the guests had arrived but she was not there yet. He kept checking his phone for a message but nothing. Fear started to grow in him that she had decided to bail. He looked at Maya and she shook her head. No news.

It was almost an hour later when the doorbell rang and he ran to the door like a desperate man.

He flung the door open and in front of him stood an Aelin who looked like a wreck. Instinct screamed at him to hug her but he restrained himself.

“Sorry I am late,” her flat tone was a shot through his heart. “A&E was hell tonight…”

“Come Ae, we have plenty of chocolate.”

She gave him a tight smile and followed him inside. Maya was in her arms a second later “You made it.”

“Sorry, darling… work was bad.”

The rest of the group welcomed her and Rowan announced that it was finally present time. He wanted to keep his for last. He had been working on it for a while. The room had been locked and he had told Maya that he was working on it and it was a mess and did not want her to go inside. Aelin gave her daughter her present after all their friends. Maya had screamed at the signed jersey and at the pass for two for the meet and greet. Seeing her daughter that happy washed away a bad shift at the hospital. Soon after Rowan took her to the door that had been locked for weeks. When he opened the door Maya gasped. The room was a library. Bookcases covered the walls, and they were quite full of her books. That’s where her father had stashed them. He hadn’t placed them in the attic while he worked on the living room.

“Dad…”

“This is yours Maya, a library, I made it for you. Happy birthday, baby.”

Maya was crying and hugging her father fiercely “I love you, dad.”

-

It was later on when all the guests had gone and the house tidied up that Rowan went looking for Aelin. Lysandra and Elide had helped him tidy up and had told her to stay in the living room and relax. Aelin though, was not where he expected her. He walked around the house until he noticed the door of the library slightly ajar. He took a step inside and found Aelin standing and looking at the books.

He stared at her in silence. Aelin was stunning. She was the most beautiful woman he had set eyes on. He had tried to forget her with other women, but no one ever made him feel like her. She was his soulmate and he had been an idiot to even think that she could be replaced. It had taken him ten years and his daughter to realise his mistake.

“Rowan?”

He shook his head at the sound of her voice. Aelin was looking at him and her eyes were puffy.

“Aelin…” he moved a step to her and that’s when she crashed into his arms. On instinct he hugged her and the feeling of her body against to his was like coming home after a long trip.

“Are you okay?”

In his arms she started crying and he held her tighter “I lost two kids tonight….” Her sobs intensified “a hit and run. They were on their bikes and someone just drove into them…” when she started shaking he moved a hand on her back, caressing gently while the other went to her head, stroking her hair in an attempt of comfort.

He always hated when Aelin was hurting. It made him physically sick.

“I love you…” he whispered very softly not afraid anymore of the truth that had been now clear as daylight “ I never stopped…” Aelin looked up and stared in his pine green eyes in disbelief “I have one big regret.”

She tried to pull back but he kept her close “I regret that I ever let you go, that I gave up easily when things got hard.” With the back of his hand he caressed her face while his thumb wiped her tears “it took a chat with our daughter to realise that I am still in love with you.”

Aelin stared at him stunned for what felt like an eternity “I… I tried to convince myself that you resented me because it was easier. It allowed me to keep my distance and ignore my feelings.” Her hand went to her neck and pulled out the necklace and showed him her wedding ring “I wear it all the time. You are always with me.”

Rowan chuckled and extracted his wallet from his back pocket. He opened the little compartments for the coins and extracted a silver band identical to Aelin’s.

“I want to try… I want our second chance…” she whispered while searching his gaze and the smile he gave her was the most stunning vision she ever saw. And when he nodded Aelin’s fears left her. 

“Mala save me I missed you…”  he grabbed her and pulled Aelin at his chest. She looked up at him through her blurred vision and then buried her face in the crook of his neck. She inhaled the scent of pine and snow that always made her feel at home.

Rowan had not realised how truly he had missed until she was in his arms once more. But never again. And when he looked down once againit was to slant his mouth on hers. His souls sang at the contact, recognising the part that had gone missing for too long. He kissed her and all the pieces fell back into place. He was complete once more.

Maya had gone downstairs to get some water when she heard voices in the library. Silently she flattened against the wall and listened. It was her parents and they were talking.

And when she heard her dad tell Aelin he loved her, Maya had to try very hard not to squeal. She knew it and took pride in having opened his eyes to his stupidity.

She stood and listened and when she peeked inside and saw them kissing she started crying in happiness.

*

6 months later.

While Maya was getting ready for the wedding she took a moment to think about the whirlwind that the previous six months had been. After the evening in the library, her parents had spent countless nights talking and dealing with the past. She knew they wanted to get everything out and not leave anything that might jeopardise the relationship again. She had given them space. A few times had organised a sleepover at Aidan’s and auntie Lys had been delighted in playing a part in getting her parents back together.

Until one night they took her aside and asked her if she was okay with Aelin moving to Rowan’s house. They had explained her that they finally were ready for their new life together. To be a family again. Maya had screamed in delight. Three months later Rowan proposed in their back garden that she had helped to decorate.

And now the big day had finally arrived and she was excited. They had gone for a very low key ceremony in their back garden and Alistair, her grandfather was going to officiate. Rhoe was going to walk Aelin down the aisle and she had been appointed maid of honour with auntie Lysandra and Elide as bridesmaid.

She walked down the grass and stopped to take her position and face her dad. He looked stunning and happy. Since he an her mum had reconciled, not a day has passed when he wasn’t smiling, or humming while cooking. They were both two brand new people. They had only needed a little push to finally face what had been in front of them.

Classical music filled the air and Aelin finally appeared at Rhoe’s arm. Maya did not miss the light in Rowan’s eyes when he saw her.

Aelin stopped in front of him and her father in law took the stage.

“Thank you every one for being here today at my son and Aelin’s wedding,” he started, scanning the crowd “Life doesn’t always offer second chances, but if you are offered one you better take it. Rowan and Aelin have chosen their family and today they are here, in front of us, to rekindle the promise that they had exchanged thirteen years ago.”

Alistair nodded and Rowan took Aelin’s hand “Fireheart, fate has allowed me to get to marry my soulmate a second time. I am a lucky man and I will treasure forever this moment. I also don’t want to spend another day apart from you,” he grabbed her hand “You and Maya are my dream, my perfect life and my everything. I love you. To whatever end.”

He heard Aelin sniffle and squeezed his hand in return “My buzzard, you entered my life on tip toes and slowly became a part of my own soul. For ten years I wandered in search for answers and a way to deal wit the past and the hole you left in my life.” She paused and looked at Maya “turns out our daughter was the key,” Aelin extended her hand and invited the girl to join them “I love you Rowan, there’s no way without you.”

Maya squealed and kissed her mum.

Alistair smiled at his granddaughter, then looked at Lorcan and took the rings. The same ones they used in their first marriage and never abandoned. They had just asked a jeweller to change the dates inside, but had wanted to keep the originals.

Rowan grabbed Aelin’s ring “Aelin with this ring I promise you to cherish you, to walk the path of life at your side. In health, in sickness, through bad and good days, to fight for us, until death do us part.” He placed the ring and Aelin got ready to do the same “Rowan, with this ring, accept my promise to share my life with you for good and for worse, through illness and health, to hold your hand in this journey together, till death do us part.”

Aelin placed the ring on his finger and stared in his eyes glistening with joy.

Maya grabbed both of her parents’ hands and turned to her grampa.

“Friends, family, please join me in sharing our love for Aelin and Rowan Whitethorn-Galathynius. I wish you all the happiness in the universe.” He patted Rowan’s shoulder “now come on, you have my permission to kiss her.”

Rowan’s arms sneaked behind her back and pulled her to his chest and kissed with all the love he had for the woman in his arms.

Later on, during a break in the festivities Aelin grabbed her husband and pulled him aside.

“Aelin, I don’t think this is the right time for a quickie.”

Her finger landed on his lips “you are insatiable.”

Rowan moved even closer “I have ten years to make up for.”

She giggled but pushed him back gently “I have something to tell you….”

He looked at his wife with a mix of nervousness “if you have changed your mind it’s too late.”

Aelin kissed him “No, I love you and being married to you feels right,” her hands carded in his long hair “I am pregnant, Rowan.”

The happiness that spread on his face was the most beautiful and precious sight.

“For real?”

Aelin nodded.

“I love you,” his hand landed on her still flat belly.

Rowan held his wife in his arms and together they slow danced at the sound of the music in the background.

No more fears, no more running. They were a family now.

He hugged Aelin closer and while inhaling the lavender scent of her hair he considered himself the luckiest man alive. He had a second chance, and with it the love of his life in his arms.

TAGS:

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[moondustis]

the louvre (m)

pairing: jung jaehyun + reader genre: angst, smut, fluff word count: 9k warnings: unhealthy behavior, discussion of depression and anxiety.  summary: “On the nights you spend alone the feeling of loneliness is not as comfortable as it used to be. It’s like Jaehyun has engraved himself in every part of your life, trying to fit in inside every empty spot you had.” song rec: are you bored yet? - wallows / tardes que nunca acabam - baco exu do blues

'Cause we could stay at home and watch the sunset But I can't help from asking, "Are you bored yet?" And if you're feeling lonely you should tell me Before this ends up as another memory Will you tell the truth so I don't have to lie? Will you tell the truth so I don't have to lie?

If there is one thing that’s familiar to you is loneliness. You’ve known it for ages and have known it in its rawest and cruelest forms.

At sixteen your parents get a divorce. You saw it coming, of course, all the fights you grew up listening to had to come to an end at some point. You move in with your mother and when you come home from school she has already left work. by the time she arrived you’re already fast asleep.

It gets lonely pretty fast and you find out that you’re not the best at dealing with it. It starts slow, you’re crying for no apparent reason and there’s a sadness in the bottom of your stomach that wants to claw its way up. Then it’s hard waking up in the morning so you just skip class, one day then another, then a whole week. It’s hard finding things that excite you and you stop talking to all of your friends because why bother.

Loneliness eats you alive and you let it. spending most of the time asleep or dozing off from medication you shouldn’t be taking, you waste your teen years just like that, barely graduating. Barely making it.

At nineteen you don’t really know what to do with your life, applying to colleges you are sure you won’t pass and still sleeping more than you should. You fight a lot with your mother and you want desperately to get away. You’re still lonely but now it doesn’t bother you that much anymore.

At twenty you get into college to study art, the only thing that seemed to spark something inside of you. You move away to a dorm room that’s so tiny you can’t share it with anyone. You prefer it that way.

You got so used to being alone that anything other than that makes you antsy, makes you want to cry and hide and never leave your bedroom again. You make few friends and go out very rarely and when the therapeut you attend once asks if you’re okay you cry until you feel empty again.

At twenty you meet Jung Jaehyun.

You feel out of place at the party you are, can of beer feeling cold in your hand and music too loud. You wish you were drunk. Your friend, Taeyong, had abandoned you just a minute ago with the excuse of finding the person he was interested in and telling you to have a good time.

You should have left, of course. but you don’t and Jaehyun finds you by yourself on a couch. He introduces himself with his dimples in your face and offers to keep you company. You shouldn’t have let him.

One drink and you’re laughing at something he says. Another and his hand moves to your thigh. Another and he’s kissing you and then, as if you’ve lost all the control in your body, you let him take your virginity on a stranger’s bed.

That’s problem number one. Problem number two is that jaehyun is too sweet, too gentle. He treats you with a care that you don’t think you deserve. He calls you baby and swallows your moans with his tongue and you feel out of breath. It’s too much and all you need at the same time. You hate it.

Problem number three is that he texts you the next morning. You can’t even remember how he got your number in the first place, deciding to ignore it. You like being alone, it’s better like this.

☾

Winter hits hard this year and you curse yourself for not buying gloves as you walk down campus, your hands stuffed around your pockets. You try to walk as fast as you can, wanting to reach the heat of the classroom for surrealism and finally be able to feel your freezing hands again.

It hasn’t snowed yet, just low temperatures for now, making everyone wish that when it finally comes it’s so devastating that finals have to be cancelled. You pass a girl that you had class with last semester, avoiding her eyes and the possibility of a boring conversation about the weather.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket and you don’t have to see to know it’s Taeyong wanting to make sure you are not still in your bed. You didn’t really want to attend class today but if you skipped another time he would come beat at your door and force you outside. You take it off your pocket, your hand freezing just a little bit more, and text him a quick okay.

What happens next could’ve probably been avoided if you were paying attention to where you were going. But you’re not, so you bump right into the poor person that had the misfortune of being in your way.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry…” You start saying, cutting yourself short when you see who it is. With a little surprised look on his face, Jaehyun stands there looking at you and you pray to all the gods that he doesn’t remember just exactly who you are.

He does, of course. “_________.” He says, almost excitedly and smiles at you while fixing the beanie in his head. He looks like you remember him from last time, with the dimples and soft eyes.  

“Hi.” Is your clever response because you have no idea what you should be saying to the boy that took your virginity. Who you then proceeded to ignore for a whole month. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah…” You wonder if this is as awkward for him as it is for you. You feel a cold breeze hit you and soon you’ll probably not feel your nose anymore. “You never replied to my texts, I kept wondering if I did something wrong.”

He looks nervous, biting on his bottom lip and shifting the weight from his legs from one foot to the other. You feel something in the pit of your stomach that is probably guilty. “You didn’t!” You say a little too loudly, hands moving as you speak. “I mean, I just got busy with projects, that’s why I never replied. I’m really sorry, you really didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Oh, okay then. That’s a relief.” He says, still looking nervous but more relieved now. “Did you manage to finish all of the projects?”

“Yes.” Why didn’t you lie, that’s what you should’ve done. Tell him that you would be busy for the rest of your life. “Just waiting for finals week.”

There’s a pause, like he’s pondering if he should say what he wants and you wait for the ground to swallow you whole, to end your suffering. Your phone vibrates again in your pocket, probably Taeyong cursing you for being late. You keep your eyes to the ground, avoiding his.

“I… we… maybe we can go out sometime, if you would like.” He tumbles over with his words, in a cute manner. “ I mean, since you’re not busy anymore.”

You’re stupid, that’s what you are. And you can’t say no to people, not when they have puppy eyes and are cute like Jung Jaehyun. So you say yes, promising you’ll reply to his texts this time when he sends you a day and place for the date.

You curse yourself and stupid Jung Jaehyun when you get to class, twenty minutes late, to the door already closed. You get in and try to walk in as silent as you can, keeping your head low until you get to your sit besides a very angry looking Taeyong.

“Why are you late?” He half whispers, half shouts, getting looks from the people sitting next to you but thankfully not the teacher, that continues to talk about René Magritte and his influences.

“Can you please keep quiet?” you whisper back, voice annoyed. “It’s not my fault Jung Jaehyun made me late.”

Taeyong looks at you like you just said the most scandalous thing in the world, ever the overreacter. “Jaehyun? As in that Jaehyun you completely ignored for a whole month?” The urge you have to hit your head on the table is overwhelming.

“Yes, exactly him.” You sigh, trying to focus on the teacher but you know for a fact you won’t be able until you spill out every single detail to your best friend.

“And?”

“I gave him a stupid excuse to why I never replied and guess what? He believed me and had the nerve to ask me on a date.” You get the words out as quickly and low as possible. “So now you have to help me get out of this mess without hurting the poor man.”

There’s a look in his eyes that you can’t quite pinpoint, maybe pity. Whatever it is, it irritates you a bit. “My sweet dear, _____. I’m not gonna help you ruin your chance of getting boned again.” He whispers, reaching out to hold your hands affectionately. “ And your chance of getting to know someone besides me.”

You met Taeyong on your freshman year at one of the introductory classes you had and from the moment he said something nice to you, you stuck to him like glue. He was sweet and caring enough to let you build yourself a little home of sorts inside his life and became your closest friend ever. You had made other friends of course but it was never that meaningful or that lasting.

“What? I know plenty of people beside you. I just talked to Jungwoo and Sicheng yesterd-.” You mutter under your breath.

“They don’t matter.” Taeyong cuts you off, dropping your hands from his hold. “You’re going to this date, even if I have to drag you there.”

All you can do is roll your eyes, muttering a “whatever” before you are turning to face the teacher and finally pay attention in class.

But it’s not like you can pay much attention to it, the numerous slides of surreal paintings and confusing european names forgotten by your overthinking of what will happen on friday.

Later, when you get a text from an unknown number with stupid emojis, the butterflies in your stomach go mad. You ignore them but reply to the text.

“Yeah, friday sounds great :-)”

☾

Friday comes in a blink.

You don’t see the time pass, with your many classes and finals studies keeping you busy. You could have said that you completely forgot about the date but Jaehyun kept texting you all week, keeping a nice conversation about anything that came to mind. He was nice, pleasant to talk to and funny in a lame way that entertained you to no end. It was unusual for you to be interested, almost excited, about talking to someone.

That doesn’t stop the dread that sets in your heart when friday night comes and Taeyong annoyingly texts you asking if you are already ready for the date. You are in fact, standing in front of your mirror with a frown with your face, the skirt feeling too alien and the makeup on your face feeling like too much, even though it’s barely nothing. You don’t know why exactly you’re putting so much effort in this, why you want so hard to impress Jaehyun when there’s no clear goal in your mind.

You’re late and your heart beats like crazy in your chest when you arrive at the café Jaehyun suggested. It’s a small thing that feels even smaller in the midst of your almost anxiety attack, it smells like coffee and something vanilla. You go cold when he spots you and waves for you to come over to the booth he got, you notice that there’s already two drinks on the table.

Your heart doesn’t calm down when you sit in front of him, or when he smiles at you, but you think you do a good job at hiding it when you mutter a low hello, sitting down in front of him. “I’m really sorry I’m late.”

“Oh, it’s okay! I didn’t wait for long.” He says, smiling bashfully and you feel the weight leave your shoulders a little. “I already ordered us drinks, I hope you like mochas. If not it’s totally okay, I can order something el-.”

“I like mochas, Jaehyun.” You interrupt him, smiling at the way he seems nervous. Almost as much as you are. You take the thought of how adorable he looks with his ears turning pink to the back of your head.

The date goes well, better than your overthinking self let you thought it would be. Jaehyun is nice and the talking go as easily as it did on texting, making your nerves calm down easily. You find out he’s getting a degree on chemistry, his eyes shining when he talks passionately about what he likes about it. He also says he’s a big fan of art too, naming all the mainstream artists and making you fond on how he’s trying to impress you even when he doesn’t have to.  

The date goes so well that you accept to go on a second one, to watch a stupid horror movie that’s playing on the cinema near campus. When Jaehyun pretends he’s scared just to hold your hand, you let him. When he kisses you on the back of the empty theater, because according to him the movie is too boring, you let him.

On the third date, to a simple ice cream store, things go so well that he invites you over to his dorm room. You accept, for some reason, and when he presses you against his door the minute he shuts it close, you let him kiss you again.

Maybe this isn’t something you should be doing, but you couldn’t care less. You feel on cloud nine with the way Jaehyun is kissing you, with just the smallest desperation in it, like he’s been waiting a while to do this.

You move your hands to his neck when he deepens the kiss, his own hands holding you by the waist as close as possible to him. The low whine you let out when his tongue finally moves against yours is embarrassing but he doesn’t seem to mind a bit.

It’s nice, so nice that you don’t think much of it when he moves you around, his lips still on yours, until the back of your legs are hitting something hard and then you’re falling down on the softness of his mattress. Oh, your mind smartly provides but you don’t have the time now to overthink, not with Jaehyun kissing you. Now, with his body on top of yours, you get a lot warmer and the pace of the kiss slows down, Jaehyun sucking on your bottom lips and his hand lazily tracing patterns on your exposed hip.

When he breaks the kiss his breath is heavy and lips all swollen, a look that you probably mimic. He smiles at you in a way that’s too sweet for what you are doing, and, out of all things, that makes you blush slightly, smiling back at him. He looks beautiful like this, your mind dazedly provides, and you wish you could keep the image in your brain forever.

Not even a minute passes before he’s moving his head down to press small kisses on your exposed neck, innocent at first and then with more purpose. You shiver when his slight cold hand dips inside the warmth of your sweater, moan a little when he sucks on a spot that’s a little too sensitive, teeth grazing your skin in a way that’s too sinful.

Again, you don’t think much when he hikes your sweater up, letting it bunch just underneath your chest. Or when he presses kisses on your stomach, on the skin just below your belly button. You let your legs rub together, trying to get at least a bit of friction, hoping he won’t notice.

“Can i take these off?” He asks, hand already on the button of your jeans and all you do is dumbly nod. maybe you’re a bit naive, too inexperienced at this. He removes the pants with a little raise from your hips, throwing it gently somewhere in the room. You think what a sight you must be, with your sweater bunched on your chest and pink panties with cherries on it. There’s definitely a blush on your face now.

You try to press your legs together on instinct when he presses a kiss just inside your thigh but he doesn’t let you, hands gripping at them and making you keep them open. He continues doing as he pleases, sucking on the soft skin and biting little marks on your thighs. It isn’t until he moves to remove your panties that your hearts starts beating a little more fast. “W-What are you doing?” You ask dumbly.

“Huh?” He looks up at you, a confused look on his eyes and both lips and ears a cute pink shade. “Gonna eat you out, is that okay?”

“I, what? Why?” You mumble, words getting lost together on how nervous you suddenly are. You didn’t expect jaehyun to eat you out on your third date. Or ever. The mere thought of it making yours cheeks warm. You always thought of it as something too intimate, even too dirty, definitely not something a boy would be offering you so willingly. “You don’t have to, Jaehyun.”

He looks at you like you’re talking nonsense. “I want to.” Is what he simply replies with, thumb playing with the hem of the infamous panties. “Can i?”

You think you’re going to explode from how embarrassed you are. You nod bashfully, taking a deep breath and turning your face to the side so you don’t have to face him when you say the quietest yes ever. You miss the silly smile on his lips but not the way he whispers a little “cute”, making your cheeks heat impossibly more.

He removes your panties then, placing them neatly on the side of the bed before he’s moving between your legs again. Just the proximity of him is enough to have your heart racing with anticipation.

In an almost lovingly way he kisses your clit, making you shift a little. He holds your legs open, fingers drawing soothing patterns on your thigh. You have no time to overthink it because in no time his tongue is licking you in a kitten like way before he let’s his tongue fall flat on your entrance, gathering the wetness there and dragging it up to your clit. He eats you out like he has done this many time before and it turns you into a mess very quickly.

You moan out his name loudly when he sucks on just right, your hands gripping at the sheets. You don’t even feel embarrassed by the noises you’re makings, too overwhelmed by the heat that pools in your lower abdomen.

You feel his hand move against where your is gripping the sheets and for a moment you think he wants to hold hands. But he takes your hand in his and brings it to his head and oh, you finally realize it, he wants you to grip hair. So you do, and the way he hums approvingly sends waves of pleasure all through your body.

You come easily, your whole body shaking and he doesn’t stop his movements until you’re whining from the over stimulation. When he looks up you almost die from the way his lips are shiny and how your wetness smears his chin. It’s sinful and dirty but you still let him kiss you senseless.

You must be feeling brave after your orgasm because you move your arm in between your bodies until you’re palming him through his pants. He breaks the kiss, moaning lowly against your lips and it has to be the hottest thing you have ever experienced in your life. You want to hear it again and again.

You move uncertainty, stroking him over the thick fabric of his jeans and watching as his eyes flutter close. “Baby…” He almost whines. “Please.”

“I-I’ve never done this before.” You mumble, seeking for his eyes and he laughs softly. ”You gotta teach me.”

Your words seem to affect him a bit and he quickly moves to undo his zipper, pushing his pants and boxers down in one swift motions. His shirt goes next.

You don’t remember much from the night jaehyun took your virginity, but you do remember that he had a pretty dick. If such a thing even exists. You keep your eyes on it until he’s back on top of you, lips meeting yours briefly before he’s taking your hand and moving it on top of his on his erection.

He shows you how he likes it, stroking his length in quick motions and when you get the grip of it he lets his hand fall to the sides of your head, supporting himself. It’s mesmerizing the way he groans when you run your thumb on his head, spreading pre come on his length so the slide of your hand is easier. “Faster, baby.” He says, pressing a kiss to the side of your face, and you obligate.

Maybe it’s the confidence the sounds he makes gives you. Or the impulsiveness you’re feeling rushing through your body. But you stop your motions and start moving around until you’re positioned between his legs, your face so close to his dick you are sure he can feel your deep breaths. “I want to try something.” You simply say.

“No, baby. You don’t have to.” He says gently bringing his hand to your cheek, thumb caressing it. You pout.

“But i want to.” Is what you reply with and he doesn’t have the strength to counterpoint that, hand moving to your hair still gently and bringing your face so close to his dick that your lips touch it slightly.

You try to remember what you saw on porn and let spit gather on your mouth before you’re letting in fall on him, hand moving quickly to spread it. “Oh fuck.” His voice is raspy and you’re sure you’re clenching around nothing right now. “You’re so dirty, where did you learn this?”

You just blush, looking at him with a look that will be forever engraved in his mind. He looks at you like he wants to ruin you. You would let him, of course.

You try to get as much of him in your mouth without gagging, which is not much, using your hands on the parts you can’t. It’s probably far from the best head he ever received, you’re too messy and uncoordinated, but he seems to enjoy it. He moans the way you like so much and praises you in ways that make your cheeks heat and your heart flutter. He moves your head when he starts to come, letting it fall on your face and just a bit on your open mouth, the taste making your eyebrows furrow.

He’s sweet after, cleaning your face and still showering you with praise you don’t think you deserve.

You don’t overthink it when he cuddles you and asks you to stay the night. Or when you wake up the next morning and think that you wouldn’t mind waking up to his parted lips and messy hair everyday.

☾

You assume it’s the natural thing to happen, there’s no discussion to it and it makes you feel a bit of anxiety pool in the pit of your stomach. You’re confused and freaking out because maybe you’re not ready for this and maybe you’re not ready. It always scares you when things move too fast and now you’re seeing Jaehyun almost everyday. And when he kisses it’s not as meaningless as it used to be. You feel on the verge of panic.

Taeyong assures you it’s going to be okay, that you can’t have control of things all the time like you want. Sometimes you should let it happen as it goes. So you do that and when Jaehyun kisses you, you kiss him back with as many meaning as you can give it.

Weekend dates turn into nights spent at his dorm, then you’re doing everyday things with him. There’s something strangely comfortably and personal about going grocery shopping with someone while they hold your hand.

After one month of something that it’s quite undefined, Jaehyun introduces you to his friends and calls you his girlfriend in front of all of them. One of them, Johnny smiles and says it’s nice to finally meet the girl Jaehyun talks about for hours non ending. The flowers in your stomach bloom so uncontrollably that the fear of how big this whole thing is for you is forgotten for a moment.

You’re not good with relationships, of any sort. Being alone has taught you a lot of things but how to be with another person is not one of them. You move uncertain, scared of doing the wrong thing and getting hurt. Or the last thing you would want in this world, to hurt Jaehyun.

He’s so patient, asking you all the time if there’s something wrong and holding your hand tightly when you seem nervous about something. He kisses your worries away, not even bothering when you sometimes get a bit distant, take too long to reply. You don’t feel like you deserve any of that.

On the nights you spend alone the feeling of loneliness is not as comfortable as it used to be. It’s like Jaehyun has engraved himself in every part of your life, trying to fit in inside every empty spot you had. When you close your eyes he’s right there behind your eyelids and his perfume is everywhere. You let yourself melt into it.

You don’t know if it’s normal to feel like this, the only other romantic experience being a puppy love years ago. You wonder if the thoughts of Jaehyun that roam your mind and warm your heart are normal, wonder if you’re supposed to feel butterflies in your stomach everytime you see him even after months of dating. For a minute you let yourself think that maybe, if soulmates were real, then Jaehyun was yours. Something meant to happen, that’s how you feel when he looks at you.

You hope he feels the same way. There’s no way your heart can take it if he doesn’t.

☾

On one normal saturday morning, when you and Jaehyun are out buying groceries, he asks you to dye his hair for him.

He has stopped in the beauty aisle, eyeing all the products, examining the different boxes and colors,  when he throws the proposition at you. “You’re an artist.” he reasons, when you look at him like he’s crazy. “So that makes you the only person I trust to do this.”

You sigh, standing in your tip toes so you can look at the products too over his shoulders. “I’m not a hair artist.” You mutter. “What if I fuck your hair up and you end up bald?”

He finally decides on the brand he thinks is more trustable, throwing the box in the small shopping cart. “I wouldn’t mind being bald that much.” There’s a playful smile on his lips when he turns to look at you and it makes you snort. “Would you?”

“Would I mind you being bald? Yeah, probably.” He has the nerve to pout, arms pulling you closer in a hug. Deciding to entertain him you press a quick peck to his lips, blushing when notice there’s an old lady just walking in the aisle you are.

He notices you embarrassament, not letting you get out from his embrace when you try to and moving his face close to yours in attempts to kiss you again. The lady looks like she finds the scene adorable. “Maybe I’ll make you bald on purpose.” You bite at him and that just makes him laugh out loud.

Later Jaehyun sits patiently on a chair in the middle of your tiny dorm room, rolling through his instagram as you apply the bleaching powder on his hair. The smell is awful even with the bit of your window open. “Does it burn?” You ask him. “I read somewhere online it’s supposed to.”

“A little, yeah.” He replies, looking up at you and throwing a cute smile. You show him your tongue. “But it’s not like, unbearable. Don’t worry, baby.”

You hum, examining his hair to see if you didn’t miss any parts. You’re sure he’s trying to show you a brave façade because there’s no way something this white and smelling this bad is not burning his scalp to hell. “Now we only gotta wait like 20 minutes, I think.” It’s late afternoon now, you notice when you check your phone after removing the protective gloves and throwing it in the ground.

“If we finish before it gets dark we could go get ice cream.” He suggests, making you nod enthusiastically. Your weekends usually went like this, going out to eat something together, sometimes watching a movie and then coming back to either of your dorms. You liked it.

While you wait for the minutes to pass you decide to put on music to play, something from an r&b playlist that Jaehyun likes, and you smile when he sings along. He shows you random videos on his phone every now and then but besides that it’s just comfortable silence or talking about how your week went. He pretends to understand when you go on about a new painting technique and you pretend to understand when he talks about the experiment he did on class.

Your alarm goes off, signalling that the 20 minutes have passed. “Do you think it’s done already?” Jaehyun uses the small mirror on your wall to examine the hair, it’s considerably more light and it doesn’t seem to be falling off.

“Yeah. It doesn’t have to be like, stark white.” You grab a towel from you drawer, moving to your bathroom with Jaehyun following behind.

Washing his hair in the sink proves to be a difficult job, even more because your bathroom was definitely not made to fit more than one person inside. But you make do, with water splashing everywhere because he keeps giggling and moving around too much. When all the bleaching is removed Jaehyun stares at you with very blonde hair that for some weird reason looks really good on him. “Maybe I should just keep it like this.” He says, bending his knees down just a little so you can reach his head to dry it.

“It wouldn’t be that bad.” You reply, admiring how cute he looks with his hair sticking up everywhere. “But the hair dye was too expensive.”

He hums, moving back to normal now that you’ve finished drying his hair. He circles his arms around your waist and keeps staring at you for longer than necessary. “What?” You hit his chest playfully, feeling shy from his stare.

“You’re just too pretty, is all.” His words make your cheeks heat up. It’s like he has the special power of always turning you into an embarrassed mess with just a few words. “And I love you.”

The butterflies in your stomach go wild, your chest feeling like there’s no space for breathing. It’s almost painful and you could cry, but you don’t. It’s the first time he has ever said it out loud like this, and so sincere. You had figured, of course, by the way he looks at you and how he makes love to you oh, so gently.

The only reply you can give him is the press of your lips to his, sweet and slow, and it seems to do. He sighs into the kiss, trying to deepen it but you don’t let him, breaking it and smiling at the way his eyes have stars on it. “Come on, we have to dye your hair pink.”

It takes another hour for you to get the dye on every part of Jaehyun hair, getting distracted here and there because he keeps cracking stupid jokes and trying to convince you to dye yours green so you two could be like Cosmo and Wanda. Afterwards, when you stare at Jaehyun in all his glory with the pastel pink hair you feel your heart swoons. It suits him perfectly, like the color pink was invented for him and no one else. The way he blushes when you tell him just how pretty he looks just makes the whole thing better.  

You finish just in time to watch the sunset as you two make your way to the small and cozy ice cream shop down the street. You feel content with Jaehyun’s hand in yours, even if the way your coat matches his hair makes people that pass by you stare weirdly.

“Here you go, baby.” He says, handing you your ice cream and sitting down at the table you got inside of the store. “Cookies and dark chocolate, your favorite.”

You thank him, a smile on your face. It’s such a small thing, to remember someone’s favorite ice cream flavors, but it makes your heart jump happily in your chest. You watch as he takes a spoonful of his own choice, pistachio and vanilla, and it dawns on you that you love him. You had thought about it before, of course, but right now you’re so filled with infatuation for the man before you that you would like to scream to him the words that he said earlier.

He gets you out of your little daze by moving to wipe your hand with a napkin. “Stop staring at me, your ice cream is melting.” He scolds but with no harshness to his voice. “You’re like a little baby I have to take care of.”

You show him your tongue playfully. “Still, you love me.” Your next words are impulsive, something unlike you in many ways, but they just fall out your lips like they can’t be unsaid anymore. “And… I love you too.”

He smiles, lips slightly smeared with ice cream and leans in on the table to kiss you, almost getting ice cream all over his sweater. His lips taste like pistachio and it’s perfect.

Later when you two are walking back to his dorm you ask him if he believes in souls.

He looks at you a little confused. “Maybe?” Is his reply. “I don’t know, why?”

You swing your connected hands a little, pondering on how you should say what you want to, not wanting him to think you’re weird or delusional. “Because I have this feeling that… well, that our souls are somehow connected?” You say stumbling a little over your words, voice uncertain. “Like maybe we were supposed to meet, you know?”

He smiles like he finds the whole thing amusing. “Are you trying to say we are soulmates?”

You blush, nodding and he stops midway, making you stop too. “You’re probably right.” Is the only thing he says before spinning you in his arms and kissing you lovingly. You can’t hide the smile that spreads on your face.

☾

Jaehyun is always gentle, even when he doesn’t have to be.

You two had a nice date, something fancy for once at an italian restaurant that opened recently. By the end of the night you’re tipsy from the wine you shared and a little too touchy towards him.

You think the lingerie with shyly put on for him would stir something, make him lose control but it’s the same as always. He eats you out, like it’s his favorite thing in the world, and after he has made you come he enters you with a little moan coming from his mouth. He fucks you slowly and with care, vanilla almost. And you love it, you do, the way he bites your neck a little as he thrusts into you in a pace that drives you crazy. But you want more, want him to fuck you like he’s desperate and crazy for it. Wants him to hurt you in ways that make your eyes roll.

“Jae, please” You whine against his mouth. You don’t want to feel delicate, don’t want to feel like this means something to him. You want him to fuck you so fast that you forget that you feel something, you want numbness and complete bliss.You want to forget the way your heart blooms in your chest when he looks at you like he is right now. “Y-You can fuck me harder.”

He makes a little sounds that it’s half a groan and half a confused noise. “Yeah?” He asks like he wants to be sure and when you nod he presses his lips to your in a bruising kiss. He thrusts one more time slowly and then he’s picking up the pace, fucking into you fast and deep like you had wanted so many times.

It makes you scream, hands grabbing at his shoulders with the same force he’s gripping at your thighs. “Yes, yes.” He seems just as affected, grunting and groaning just beside your ears. “Want you to ruin me.”

It does something to him, his hips snapping with as much force as possible and he moans so pretty you clench around him. “You’re going to fucking kill me, baby.” He whispers, thumb coming to your lower lips and you let your mouth fall open, letting him press it flat on your tongue and you suck it like you’re trying to put on a show for him. “You’re so dirty for me, aren’t you? You look like an angel but you’ll let me fuck you like this.”

You never thought he could say things like this. Your eyes flutter close and all you can do is nod, lips still around his finger as he fucks you so deep you’re seeing stars.

It’s very easy to fall into a delirious headspace, with the way Jaehyun is doing exactly what you asked him to. It’s exciting to see him lose control like this. “You like it, baby?” He asks, removing his finger from your mouth so you can finally speak. “Hmm? Like being fucked like this?”

Just then he thrusts in a spot that has you clenching around him and throwing your head back in the pillow. “Y-Yes, please.” You moan desperately, feeling your orgasm closer with each of his thrusts. “I’m so close, oh my god.”

You can feel the sweet relief in the pit of your stomach and when Jaehyun presses his thumb on your clit, circling in pace with his thrusts, you explode. It’s heaven and heat thrumming to your veins as you clench so hard around him that his hips stutter and he grips your thighs harder.

“Fuck, fuck.” He curses, closing his eyes as you ride the last waves of your orgasm. “I’m gonna fill you up so well, Baby, you want that?”

You can even reply properly, giving him a weak nod and clenching around him again so he’s moaning your name loudly, hips stuttering as he comes inside of you.

Afterwards he’s back to he’s delicate self, treating you with so much care that’s it’s like he feels he has tainted something precious. He cleans the come that starts to drip off you and you tell him how much you liked the whole thing. His ears turn red when he says he liked it as well.

☾

You don’t like parties, never had. too loud and too many people but Jaehyun seems to love all that.

Every friday he tried his best to convince you to attend one of his friend’s get together, telling you how fun it would be and that he would be by your side the whole time. You say yes, more because of the second reason than the first one.

The party it’s not that bad, not at all. There’s not too many people and Jaehyun’s friends are nice, so nice that you even dance a little with some of them. After many and many shots of the red liquid they keep giving you, it’s sweet enough that you don’t think much when you down all of them.

Once upon a time, on your first ever college party, Taeyong had introduced you to a thing called pure vodka. You were never much of a drinker before so you don’t know exactly why you get so carried on with it, ignoring the burning on your throat as you down shot after shot.

Knowing you would drink that night you had decided to not take your anxiety medication, mistake number two. It all happened very slowly, like in a movie almost. You began getting tipsy and too happy, dragging Taeyong around and laughing with him. Next thing you knew your heart felt like it was trying to escape your chest with how fast it started beating. It was the worst panic attack you ever had, crying you little heart out because no one knew how to help you. You don’t remember how the night ended.

You should’ve remembered that occurrence as you take your fifth shot,Jaehyun keeping you close with a hand around your waist. “Slow down, baby.” He says, moving your hair out of your face.

You kiss him once, twice and then you’re giggling stupidly. He seems amused by it all. “I’m okay, Jaejae.” He laughs at the silly nickname.

You have a good time, you really do. Dancing with Jaehyun and laughing with his friends until you feel the tightness on your chest. Like you had suddenly gotten the soul sucked out of your body, you feel an emptiness that you’re too familiar with. Your eyes start welling up as the world around you spins and spins. Jaehyun is beside you, talking excitedly to one of his friends and you grip tightly at his shirt. You really don’t want to bother him, not when he seems to be so happy, but you feel it getting worse and worse and the panic settling in the pit of your heart.

“Jaehyun, can you please take me home?” You say quietly so no one else will hear it. The knot in your stomach keeps getting tighter and the last thing you want is to cry in front of a whole party.

His face changes immediately, worry all over his features and he searches your eyes for any signs. “Why? What’s wrong, baby?”

You just whine, childish and pathetic. “Please, can we just go?” You wish with all your body that you weren’t doing this right now, ruining his night like this.

He just nods, guiding you outside the party and into his car. It doesn’t take long for the tears to come, Jaehyun glancing at you every few seconds and it just makes you cry even more. “Baby, you gotta tell me what’s wrong.” He coos, hand coming to massage your thigh in a soothing way. You just shake your head, lowering it so you hair hides your face from his view. “Did something happen?” His voice is filled with worry.

You shake your head again, feeling the dizziness from the alcohol when you do.

When you get to his dorm you immediately try to move to his bed, want to hide there forever and feel safe in the warmth of it, but he doesn’t let you. He wraps you in his arms, hand stroking your hair and it only makes you cry more, hiding your face in his chest and probably getting his shirt all dirty. “Come on, baby.” He whispers as if to not disturb you. “After we clean you up you can lay down.”

He takes you to the bathroom, turning on the shower on a hot temperature and then starts undressing you with all the patient in this world. It’s not weird and he doesn’t seem bothered to be nursing you like you can’t possibly take care of yourself. You probably look a mess, makeup smeared and face swollen from all the crying. The world around you still spins a little.

You whine when the water hits your body and Jaehyun only sushes you, removing his smeared t-shirt so he can get inside the box with you. You fall putty in his arms as he tries his best to wash you, massaging your hair with care. You feel awful for doing this to him, when you don’t deserve half of it. You don’t deserve the way he cares for you or how treats you with such delicacy. You just ruined his whole night. “I’m… I’m so sorry.” You mumble incoherently, tears forming in your eyes again.

“No, no, baby. Don’t cry.” He says but it’s useless, the tears are already mixing with the water as they fall down your cheeks. “Tell me what’s wrong, please.”

You start talking about how you’re a mess and awful,  that you doesn’t deserve him and how you’re going to ruin his life because that’s what you do with everything around your life. Your words are slurred and you can’t stop crying anymore, weeping sounds coming out of your mouth and Jaehyun just holds you like the perfect man he is. “Shh, ___.” His hand rubs your back soothingly, getting himself all wet but he couldn't care less. “You’re none of these things and you’re not going to ruin anything.”

“I am!” You want to argue but he doesn’t let you, just hugs you tighter and whispers calming words until you stop moving around.

Afterwards, when he dries you both up and puts you on comfortable clothes, he takes you to bed and cuddles you. “I love you, ___. There’s nothing wrong with you.” He says and if you weren’t too numb now you would cry again. Your head starts to ache and you can feel yourself drifting off asleep.

☾

Things go downhill from there.

You get as distant as possible from everyone around you and there are days that you wake up and not a single part of your body wants to be alive. You skip class and don’t even mind when Taeyong sends angry texts scolding you.

You spend your days sleeping and painting, making good use of the strange inspiration you get whenever you have bad days. You’re used to this, have experienced it many times before, and that’s probably a bad sign. But even if it’s normal you’re still not the best at dealing with with, acting like it’s the end of the world whenever it gets bad.

Jaehyun texts you and you try to your best to reply and make up excuses to why he can’t come see you. He probably knows something is wrong but you don’t want to tell him that some days you wake up and you don’t find the strength to even wash your own hair. Don’t want to tell you that sometimes you close your eyes and think that the world would probably be better off without you. You don’t wanna upset him, not more than you already are.

Taeyong visits on a rainy day, almost slamming your door with how much he knocks. He looks angry when you open the door but his eyes often as he sees you, hair messy and wearing a hoodie that has too many paint splashes. You’re not feeling as empty as the start of the week, your heart warming up when you see him.

He hugs you for a good minute, before he’s looking at you with a furrow between his brows. “Let’s wash this hair, okay?” He says and you can’t help but smile a little.

You let him wash your hair in your tiny shower while you’re only on your underwear. It’s not weird or uncomfortable, never is with Taeyong. He massages your scalp while he tells you what you missed from class, you don’t pay so much attention to the artist names but his voice feels comfortable.

“Jaehyun has been asking about you like crazy.” He says with care when he’s drying your hair afterwards. You feel a pang of guilty in your chest and your eyes get glossy from unshed tears. “He’s very worried.”

“I have texted him that I was not feeling very well.” You say, voice small and Taeyong just tsks.

“You can’t just text your boyfriend that and expect him to not be worried sick about you.”

You bite your lips, your thoughts going a mess and you just want to hide in the safety of your bed again. “Maybe I should just break up with him.” You say, heart heavy in your chest. That’s not what you want. Taeyong knows that and he raises one eyebrow. As much as you try to pretend you would be okay if it happened, leaving Jaehyun would destroy you completely.

“You keep acting like you’re not worthy things as simple as a boys attention. You didn’t force Jaehyun into your life, he’s into it because he wants to, because he loves you.” Taeyong says and each words stabs a wound deeper in your chest. “You got so comfortable being lonely that you can get your head around the fact you don’t have to be alone for the rest of your life.”

You don’t notice that you start crying, never dealing too well with the truth being told directly to your face. Everyone was always so hesitant around you, being extra careful with their words as if to not hurt you. Taeyong doesn’t care about that, he tells you things how they are and he will gladly hurt your feelings if it means it’ll snap you out of whatever daze you got yourself in.

“One day you will wake up feeling miserable because you let a good thing go. Jaehyun knows you’re not perfect, he has seen you in some pretty fucked up days and he decided to stay. Give up control for once and let him decide if you’re not good for him like you think so.”

When he leaves you lay down and think of Jaehyun. Simply, you think of him, without you. You think of how his ears turn red when gets shy, how his dimples get so deep when he smiles. You think of how happy he got on his birthday because of the surprise party you threw for him with his friends. You think about the look in his eyes whenever he’s talking about or doing something he’s passionate about. You think about the time you both saw an abandoned kitten at the street and he almost cried because he couldn’t take it home.

Then you think about him with you. How he will go out of his way when you’re on your period and craving something sweet. How he looks at you like you put the stars in the sky and how he kisses you with so much care that it makes you feel like floating. You think of the time he spent hours in the phone with your mom talking about her flowers like he knew or cared a lot about the subject, just because he wanted to impress her. Of the times he’ll watch you paint in silence just because, in his words, it’s so mesmerizing. Think of every time he has made you feel special and every little thing he does everyday to show you he loves you, the little emojis and texts, the random kisses. Everything.

You try to think of living a life where Jaehyun is not by your side and when you do your heart feels like it shatters. You could live without him of course, but the thing is, you don’t want to.

You get up suddenly, changing as quickly as possible as walking until you’re on Jaehyun’s dorm front door. It’s a little stupid because you don’t even know if he’s home right now and you stand there, your heart beating a little fast after you knock.

“Hi.” Is what you smartly says and he smiles sadly at you. “Can I come inside?”

He steps outside and lets you in, there’s a few books opened on his bed and you realize that you probably just disturbed his studying. “I’m sorry, were you busy?”

He shakes his head, pushing the books aside and sitting on his bed, patting the empty spot beside him so you’ll sit too. You bask in the warmth of being close to him. “Not really.” Is all he says.

You hum, eyeing him and feeling your heartbeat go a little faster. You hate talking about your feelings, can feel your cheeks heat up from just the thought of it and you really hope you don’t end up crying in front of Jaehyun again.” I just came to apologize for isolating myself and not giving you an explanation.” You murmur eyes not meeting his. “And I know i’ve said that I don’t think I deserve you, and I really don’t, but I want you. So bad it scares me.”

When he doesn’t reply right away you start saying that you would completely understand if he wanted to breakup, your heart breaking a little, until he starts laughing. When you look up he’s staring at you like you’re crazy but there’s still fondness in his eyes. “You’re so silly. You really think I would want to breakup?” He grabs you by the arm and pulls you into a hug that almost suffocates you. Still, you let yourself fall into his arm and enjoy the feeling of being safe. “I love you so much, but you can’t just disappear and not tell me what’s going on. Do you know how many Frank Ocean songs I listened to while thinking of you?”

You scoff, hiding deeper into his chest and loving the way it vibrates when he laughs. “I’m really sorry.” Your words are muffled by his sweater.

“It’s okay, baby.” He pats your head sweetly. “But you need to realize that I don’t care that you are a little messed up, I am too. And I’m here when you feel like life is not going very well. I want to be here and take care of you.”

You look up to his face, examining the slight stubble that’s forming on his chin. “Are you sure? I can be a lot to deal with.”

He smiles, with his dimples showing. “I’m aware, and I think I can handle it.”

When he kisses you it’s like a weight leaves your shoulders. You’ll embrace loneliness when it decides to come again but for now you let Jaehyun fill the empty spaces like he was made just for it.

[awifehangingon]

Chapter 1

My brother was born on November 27th. I was nine years old. His mother was nineteen when she found out she was pregnant and told my dad that she wanted to move away from the town that we were living in. My dad transferred to a different location that was in a smaller town. I knew that I was going to have a younger sibling, but I still didn’t forgive my parents for having my younger sister. I was trying to ignore the newest addition. My grandmother picked me up when my brother’s mom went into labor. I got to spend time with them and when I heard that my new brother was born, I asked them to pull over so I can pick flowers for her. We went to the house and I remember vividly looking at my brother with my other siblings. We stood over his white bassinette and we looked at his little squished face. We didn’t have much experience with babies. We kept telling each other to poke the baby to make sure he was ok. I remember my sister asking was we’re going to name him. My brother told us that our dad already named him Steven. My sister and I felt that we should have a say. We also told my brother that he can’t be named Steven, because we already knew a Steven. Because thems the rules when you’re a child. While we were talking the baby pinched his face and started crying. We all ran away from the bassinette. 

Steven was always smiling or crying. I decided when he was old enough to crawl, that he was my favorite. He would crawl to where I was sitting or into my room. He was a pudgy baby. When I think of how he was when he was a baby, he was like my son. Both pudgy, happy, and always climbing on stuff. I would carry him all over the place. I didn’t know that his parents were always fighting and arguing. His mom told my dad that she was suffocating in such a small town and needed somewhere bigger to live. If she didn’t get it, then she would go back to Arizona and take Steven with her. 

My father was married to my mom when they found out she was pregnant with my older brother. This was in the senior year of high school. My mom was shunned by her family and everyone, except my grandfather and my dad. They had their struggles when my brother was born. I was born two years later. By that time they were more stable. But like most high school pregnancies and weddings, it was not filled with happy marital bliss. Depending on which relative you ask, you’ll get the story on which of my parents cheated. Knowing both of them now, I have a pretty good idea. My sister was the result of a birth control not working. They divorced when I was five and my sister was two months old. 

This was not an easy break, horrible things were done to my sister. It was the reason that my dad received full custody of three kids in New Mexico. Child Protective Services wanted to take my sister away while she was at a hospital. My dad and his parents and siblings took several car seats into the hospital without most people knowing. My dad had a restraining order against my mom and her new boyfriend. They each took a baby blanket and covered the car seats and each person bolted from the hospital with a car seat. Police officers chased the vehicles that went separate directions. 

One vehicle made it to the reservation, it was my aunt with my sister. Back then, state or county police were not allowed on the reservation. Only federal agencies were allowed, but no one trusted them and wouldn’t cooperate with them. 

When my little brother’s mother was demanding to move, my sister was four years old. My dad just barely started letting my mom visit us again. I know he was worried that he could lose his son if she left. So, he quit his job (because it was a reservation only job) and we moved to a larger town. My dad moved to the same town that my aunt lived in. He got her a house with a big back yard, a tree, and a playground. But he needed a job to afford the things she wanted. I don’t know if it was that she didn’t want to get a job, or my dad was being old fashioned and didn’t want her to get a job. Whichever way it was, she stayed at home. My dad took a job or two in the next city. I know she wanted him to come home every day he worked, so he drove two and a half hours to get here and two and a half to get back. I use to hear them arguing about him getting a hotel for the week and how it would save money. She said no.

Steven was about a year old when we lived in this town. He was adorable. He went from crawling to running everywhere. Because my aunt lived in the town, we got to visit her and my cousins a lot. I remembered them as not having much in common with us. The younger cousin was my brother’s age, the older was in high school. My younger cousin was obsessed with the Backstreet Boys or N*Sync, one of them. She had Barbie dolls and posters all over the place. Her sister was into metal and wore black. She also had long dark nails and got to wear make-up. I use to think she was so cool. 

We would visit their house and my aunt would take us to the play grounds near and we would run and play with Steven. After running and playing, my aunt would make us sandwiches and give us snacks. As a chubby child, I really enjoyed that part. To this day, my aunt’s house still smells like cookies. 

We had a regular schedule with our mom at this point. We lived in this town for two years. Steven was talking his babbly baby talk. He annoyed his mom my calling her “Cinda” just like we did. When my mom would visit to pick us up for a break or holiday, Steven would run out with us and yell “mom, mom!” He would see my mom there and turn around and run back to the house yelling for Cinda. I knew that Cinda and my mom didn’t like each other. Later I found out that Cinda wanted to be married, but my dad told her he won’t get married again until my mom changes her name back to her maiden name. And my mom was petty like that, but now she says it’s just too much of a hassle. 

Every time we came back, Steven would run to me and I always gave him some contraband candy or snack. For at least a week after we got back, he would be by our sides. When it the summer of the year that he would turn three, my dad told us that we would be moving again. My grandpa had a house built in the small village where he was born and him and his wife were going to move there. This left the lot where he was living open. My grandpa’s dream was to have his kids happy with their own house. My dad is the youngest of five kids. He was the only one that wanted to move back to his small town. So my grandpa and him got a trailer that was being moved onto the lot. 

We moved that summer so that we could all start school in the fall. I was excited to start school again. Steven was excited, he was going to share a room with my brother. He got a new toddler bed and enjoyed all the sand around the area. We would walk with him down to the convenience store and get snacks. There was a small flea market area that was between the stores and our home. Sometimes, my dad or Cinda would give us money to get sno-cones or food to bring back. My grandma lived in that town and I got to see her a lot, which was great. She was my grandma on my mother’s side, but she never treated Steven any different. She would pick us up and take us into town for pizza or McDonald’s. Everywhere we went with my dad, people would recognize him and stop him for a conversation. 

It wasn’t long before Cinda didn’t like everyone knowing my dad, or worse asking about my mom. It was early in the school year. She said she was going to visit her mom in Arizona. She had my grandpa watch us and she left with Steven. This was a little after my grandpa lost his wife, Annie. My dad was still working in the city. He rushed back and I heard him yelling and my grandpa talking to him. 

My dad left for a week or so to go find Steven. He wasn’t able to. That was the first time I’ve ever seen my dad cry.  

[looselucy]

January

“The Tuesday lecture didn’t feel right without you.” Ed spoke quietly. Wednesday, 2pm. We had been to our lecture, and we were now sat in a coffee shop in the centre of town. I hadn’t cried for around 24 hours, which was good. I was doing pretty well, but I definitely wasn’t the life or soul of any party.

I had told Ed what happened when I first got to the lecture. Unlike a lot of cases, I wasn’t hiding what had happened with my parents, from anyone. It was so obvious that I was upset, it just made sense for me to tell people why. I didn’t have anything to hide. It felt better to just say it. The whole thing was horrible, I didn’t also want to make it a weight on my shoulders. “Good.” I chuckled, blowing my coffee. “I knew you would be lost without me.” “I was.” He grinned and laughed. “I’ve got another gig coming up. You gunna come?” “Of course.” I could see he had been trying to make the conversation as light-hearted as he could, but the dark cloud of what I had told him was looming, and he couldn’t ignore it anymore. “Are you okay?” He asked. “I just feel a bit weird.” I said honestly. “A bit... empty, if that makes sense.” “Yeah, it does.” He took a sip. “My mum text me last night, after the phone-call, telling me about how sorry she is and how they’re going to get a divorce. Apparently, my dad has been seeing this other woman for like, two years. She lives like three streets away or something, my mum knows her. It’s just so weird. I thought they had like… the best relationship ever. I just feel so bad for her. My dad hasn’t even text me or anything either. I’m just... I’m really confused.” It felt good talking about it so honestly. The day before when I was with Zayn, I just kept choking up. I had eased a bit, and I was finally saying everything that had been running through my head. I was grateful that the day before when everything went down, Zayn didn’t have a lecture, even though I knew if he did have a lecture he wouldn’t have gone. He stayed by my side all day and made countless cups of tea. I loved him dearly for it. I knew Ed was struggling with what to say back to me, but bless him, he was trying. “Families are fucked up.” He concluded. I thought about Harry, straight away. I thought about all his comments about families being that way, and how mad I had got whenever he said it. Now I agreed. It was such a sharp turn. “They are.” I sighed. “I’m sorry you’re going through this.” He said after another sip. “I find it weird, y’know? I feel like, with divorces and stuff, if it doesn’t happen when you’re really young like, it’s not going to happen. Know what I mean? I forget it actually happens to people our age. It’s surreal.” I downed the remainder of my coffee, which had still been piping hot, and it was incredibly strong, but it felt like I had been running on coffee over the day, when it was never usually my drink of choice. “I never asked you.” I gulped. “What’s your family like?” “As fucked up as the rest.” He sniffed. “Go on.” “I live with my dad. I don’t even remember the last time I saw my mum. She ran off with some guy when I was umm... seven, I think. Rarely see her. She’ll send me texts every few months like, telling me about her life. Like that makes up for anything. She’s a complete bitch. I don’t even want to see her.” “Do you think this stuff mentally fucks people up for the rest of their lives?” I asked worriedly. “Course it does.” He confirmed my thoughts. “But it happens to ninety nine percent of the world, so you’ll just be like everyone else. Don’t worry.” I laughed a little and nodded along, because in a way, he was right. This was just going to make me more normal, in a weird way. This being sad, being confused, it would pass, and I could be just like everyone else. The thought of that made me need another coffee. “I’m never gunna put my kids through that.” I told him confidently. “When I get married and have kids, that’s it. I know it. I’m gunna be happy and they’re gunna be happy. That’s all I need. I can do that. I can.” “If anyone can, it’s you.” That was one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to me. My bottom lip quivered, a mixture of being flattered and sad, and I was so overwhelmed by everything I almost burst into tears right there and then. The only thing that stopped me from breaking down, once again, was the look of terror on Ed’s face. H was definitely one of those people who couldn’t deal with people crying. I figured that was one of the reasons I met him that day. I was trying to make that fact subconsciously hold me together. It was working. I noticed him panicking and I rapidly washed air over my face using my hand to fan myself, gulping hard and pulling myself together. “Fuck this.” My voice was shaking. “God, I need to pull myself together.” “You should be sad, Pip. It would be weird if you weren’t.” “No, I know. But I can’t just keep crying. Because in a month I’ll be like, urgh, remember that stage when I couldn’t stop crying? So rather than that, I need to just be strong. I can be strong through this. I’m nearly nineteen for crying out loud. I don’t want to cry all the time.” Ed just stared at me for a while like he was trying to figure me out. I just wanted to be strong. I wanted to change. I had always been so dramatic and overemotional, and it had taken my mum telling me my dad was a cheating bastard to realise I needed to change. I wanted to change. I didn’t want to crumble and cry myself to sleep over it every night, which was what I felt like doing, but I couldn’t be that way. I wanted this to be that substantial life event that made me change and be a bigger, better person, not a weaker one. I couldn’t even believe that was the way I was thinking about things. “You’re already being stronger than you’re giving yourself credit for.” Ed told me after finishing his drink. “Just don’t feel bad about crying. It’s a good thing.” “I guess.” “You’ll be good. You’ll be fine.” “I hope my mums okay.” I mumbled more to myself. “She’ll be fine too.” He promised. “I need to speak to Liam.” “Isn’t there any way you can get in touch with him?” “Well he’s had this rubbish little phone that he’s used for texting, but I tried to ring it the other day and it wouldn’t connect. He’s probably lost it. He always used to ring me from phones in hotels and hostels and stuff. He’s not easy to track down.” Like a flash of lightning, something clicked in my head. “Oh god. I think he already knows!” Ed looked as confused as I felt, but all I could think about was my phone-call with Liam the day before my mum rang, and of course he bloody knew. “What?” “I spoke with him, he said about mum being sad. Shit. I think that’s why he’s coming home!” She must have told him, and I could have put money of the fact he didn’t have the heart to tell me, or my mum had asked him to keep it quiet until she told me herself. That was the real reason he was coming home. It had to be. That made me even sadder. Liam had such a golden heart, because it was more than likely that he wanted to continue crossing the world, but he had to come home, for her. He would probably share a bloody house with her, the two of them would probably start paying rent together. That’s just what he was like. “So, your brothers coming home?” Ed asked. “Yeah, I just didn’t bloody realise that was why!” “This is intense!” He breathed. It was. Heart wrenching, really. Not much was ever going to bring Liam home, and he was speaking about coming home for good. Because Liam always had the same idea as I did when it came to our parents, I think even my mother did. They were painfully in love, as far as the three of us had been aware. I knew that was another reason I didn’t want to feel too sorry for myself. Whatever I was going through, my mum was going through the same thing, times a million. “Bless him.” I mumbled to the floor. I couldn’t look up to face him again as I tried to hold myself together, my whole body shaking like I was outside in the cold. Ed took that in right away. “Do you want another coffee?” He asked coyly. I smiled downwards, one tear dropping, but that was all I gave, before I looked back up, wiping my sleeve across my cheek. “Yes please.” I sighed. + + + I slumped into our flat feeling absolutely exhausted, seriously considering a nap since I knew we would be going out again. I hadn’t drank since the information was dropped on me, and I was extremely worried about what drunk Pippa’s reaction was going to be. But I was bound to find out, and it was better to do it sooner rather than later. But before I could even slump off into my room, Zayn opened his bedroom door wide, just in sweatpants, his eyes tired. He had definitely just woken up from a nap. I was jealous. “Hey.” I smiled, opening my door. “Are you okay?” He asked, completely alarmed right away. “Yeah, I’m fine, honestly. Just want a nap.” “C’mon then.” He nodded his head into his room. “Huh?” “Come nap with me. I’m exhausted.” “You look like you’ve just woke up.” I smiled. “I have, and I’m about to fall back asleep again, so come on.” Zayn was a cuddler, I was a cuddler, and it wouldn’t be the first time we had napped together. So in I strolled. I was very aware of the fact Zayn’s nap had been uneasy thanks to the fact he was just waiting for me to get back and see that I was okay. It continued to surprise me how close we were, how in those few months, he was suddenly the best friend I’d ever had. It had gotten even better since Grace left, although that still broke my heart. In a way, it had pushed us further together, and I was weirdly thankful for it. He got on his bed first, keeping the thick sheet up until I tucked in with him. He innocently spooned me, and my eyes fell shut as soon as my head hit the pillow, seconds away from falling asleep instantly. “Hey, Pip, guess what?” Zayn whispered soothingly. “Mm?” “I spoke with Louis today.” “Oh, really? I was hoping he might have spontaneously-combust by now.” Zayn let out a low chuckle as he tucked in closer to me, nuzzling into his bed and into my hair. I kind of wanted to pretend to be asleep if he was talking about Louis, but if anything, I woke up a little. “Y’know how he wouldn’t sleep with you before Christmas?” “Yeah?” “It was because of his girlfriend. He was saying he was going to break up with her over the break, but he pussied out.” “Huh. No way. I suppose that’s slightly redeeming. He’s still a complete prick and I hate him.” “I know! Just, explains why he wouldn’t sleep with you then. Weird, right?” “Very.” We snuggled into the silence again, my head heavy and completely comfortable. I had never been so glad to be sharing a single bed before. Nothing else was said before we fell asleep, and I realised one of the reasons I was coping so well, was because I was there, at uni, with my friends. I didn’t have to be in the middle of the breakup, I didn’t have to be at home with them. At that point, I never wanted to go home again. + + + Myself, Zayn, Mike and Tally sat drinking in the kitchen. It was actually kind of weird. I hadn’t wanted to mention it, since it was me, but there was definitely a noticeable lack of presence without Harry there. Even though when he first arrived, he didn’t seem to want to make any effort with us, he had quickly become a part of the foundations of our group. It felt a bit odd him not being there. I just knew Tally would ask why at some point, which saved the embarrassment of me asking. I had been waiting for that moment. It finally arrived. “So,” She choked. “Why-Where’s Harry?” “In his room.” Mike said bluntly. “No, but... why isn’t he coming out?” “Doesn’t want to miss another lecture.” Zayn said between sips. “He’s in at nine.” “That’s very... responsible of him.” “You’re fucking obsessed!” Mike scoffed. Tally attempted to throw an empty packet of crisps in his face, but it only got so far, falling gently to the floor as Mike watched the packet drop with dead eyes, before looking back up to her and shaking his head, disappointed in her attempts. “Leave me alone!” She groaned. “You are a little bit though.” “So what? You’re obsessed with every single girl you’ve ever met.” “At least I admit it.” He grinned. “Oh shut up, you two!” Zayn grunted. “Let’s just ring a taxi and go. You’re exhausting me.” “I’m only messing.” Mike cooed. Tally stuck her finger up at him and then pulled her phone out of her bag, ringing the taxi company we always used. I had been relatively quiet throughout pre-drinks, to be honest. I had concentrated more on the music that played dully in the background of the many conversations that had flown about all evening. I had just sat and drank, occasionally chipping in and saying something, but not even close to how rowdy I usually was during that time. Thankfully, they all knew not to bring that up, not to mention that to me, because I would feel even worse. It was better to just let me wallow for a little while. I guess I wasn’t even necessarily sad, just a little lost. Things continued that way. I would lowly laugh at their jokes and try my best to join in before the taxi rang informing us they were outside, and we all stood ourselves up and began making our way out of the flat. Zayn lingered at the back, making sure to grab hold of my arm and hold me back as Mike and Tally began trotting down the stairs. “You sure you’re okay?” He whispered outside Harry’s door. “Yeah I’m fine.” I smiled back. “You sure you’re up for this?” “Definitely!” I cried. “I need this. I just need something to distract me, y’know? Staying in with my thoughts wouldn’t do me any favours. Get me a drinking and get me dancing.” He looked like he didn’t believe me, but he tucked his lips into his mouth and nodded, and I pulled away from him before he could say anything else and get me crying. I just wanted to be very drunk in Thimble, that would be the easiest way to forget how rubbish I was feeling. We began trailing down the stairs in silence, and I must have been half way down before I realised I didn’t have my bag slung over my shoulder. “Bollocks.” I whispered to myself before turning around. “Can I borrow your key? I need to get my bag.” Zayn passed his keys over, which featured a keyring of a little picture of Zayn and myself drunk and adorable in Thimble, which made me smile to myself even though I had seen it a million times before, as I darted back up the stairs. I unlocked the door and stormed quickly down to the kitchen, a little taken aback when Harry was stood next to the boiling kettle. I clutched at my heart, having not expected a presence there. “Bloody hell!” I gulped. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.” He didn’t say anything, so I quickly went back to retrieving my bag, throwing in my phone and my purse and then slinging it over my shoulder, gulping hard again. Just as I was about to leave, he spoke. “Hope you have a shit night without me.” I stopped and turned around, glaring at him through thin eyes, just about holding in a small smile. “It will probably be ten times better without you there, Harry.” “I really doubt that.” He smirked. “Well, we shall see.” I left without saying anything else, shaking my head, but still smiling with my face to the floor. Harry had been right, maybe sometimes it was a little fun, the digs we would make at each other. But at the same time, a night out without him sounded ideal. + + + I waited until Zayn was in the toilet before I belted out of the front door of Thimble. It must have been around 3am, and I was absolutely wasted. I was tripping over myself, I felt like I was going to throw up every ten seconds, but I was just about holding it in. It was when I realised I could barely even dance without falling over, that I should go home. For some reason, I had decided to make that journey on my own. I don’t know why, maybe I didn’t want to cut anyone else’s fun short, I’m not too sure, but the second I was out of Zayn’s sight I made a run for the door. One thing I definitely didn’t make sense, was why I decided to walk home rather than get a taxi, even though there was £10 sitting in my purse for such a reason. Either way, I set off walking. I must have been around half way home when I heard someone yelling. I was comforted by the fact it was a females voice. If it was a male, I probably would have cried and gotten all paranoid, but it was definitely a female. I turned around to see a girl with a pair of heels in hand running up to me, her skirt riding up as she went. I came to a standstill and waited for her to catch up with me. “Hi!” She said, a little breathless. “I was walking home on my own and then I saw you walking home on your own and I figured it would be better if we walked home alone together. So not alone.” I stumbled back a little and nodded, swallowing back another round of sick, but already feeling a little better since it was the first time in hours I didn’t have an alcoholic beverage in my hand. The girl noticed my state pretty quickly and grabbed hold of my hand, then began leading the way to campus. We stumbled along in silence for a while, and I noticed she kept looking down to my feet, so I stared at her with drunk, tired eyes, waiting for an answer as to why. “You should take your heels off.” She told me. “But the floor is all wet and cold.” “No no it’s good, take them off. C’mon.” She stopped us both and bent down herself to unzip my shoes so I could step out of them easily. But to be fair, she was absolutely right. The floor was cold, but it only took a few seconds for the bottom of my feet to become accustom to it, and then we were off, my heels clutched in my left hand, my right hand linked with hers. We walked quietly for a while before I took in the fact I was holding hands with a girl I didn’t even know. “What’s your name?” I slurred. “Ronnie.” She said with a lopsided smile. “What’s yours?” “Pippa.” “Oh cuuuute. That’s a cute name.” “Thanks.” I smiled. “Are we officially friends now?” She asked hopefully. “Yes. Yeah. Definitely.” As far as I was concerned, we were. There wasn’t much else I needed to create a friendship than learning someone’s name, holding their hand and getting a good impression. Ronnie ticked all those boxes. “I’m guessing you’re a student, yeah?” She asked. “Mhm.” “What halls are you in?” “I’m in Rainbow Court.” I told her. “Ohhhh I’m sooooo jealous. I’m in Zoo Court. And zoo is perfect for it, full of fucking animals, it’s practically a cage. Eww. It’s awful.” “Yeah my friend lives there!” I beamed happily, tripping over the curb. “Do you know Ed?” “I don’t think so.” “He’s cute and ginger.” “YES! I’VE SEEN HIM! He’s the only ginger in the building.” Ronnie was adorable in every way, I figured. She had gorgeous dark skin, her lips were painted bright pink, and she just looked amazing. I think I drunkenly fell in love with her, just a little. I also really appreciated the company, I automatically felt safer. “He’s amazing. You should be his friend.” “Okay okay, I will.” We chatted casually and drunkenly between each other until we were at the front door to my building, knowing hers were only a couple of minutes walk away from her flat, but either way, I felt a sudden need to make sure she got back okay. “Alright, give me your number so you can text me when you’re back safe.” She grabbed my phone out of my hand and dialled herself, saving my number straight away and then skipping off down the path, like the happy little ball of sunshine she was. “I LOVE YOU, DRUNK, WALKING FRIEND!” She yelled over her shoulder. Before I could even return the declaration of love, she was gone. I saved her in my phone and slumped into the building and into the lift, only just noticing a text from Zayn. Zayn: You enter be safe I seat to god Pippa you’re a fucking nightmar I lub your. I felt bad for leaving him without saying anything, so I quickly text him back saying that I was fine, or something along those lines, so that he didn’t have to spend the rest of his night worrying about me. By the time I was in the kitchen, with the kettle full and boiling, my body limp on the sofa, Ronnie text me saying she was alive and well. I put my phone down, and I think it all just hit me then, all the drunken tears I had been holding in all night decided to spill there and then, and I completely collapsed. I began blubbering, hiding my face with my trembling hands as it all fell from me, the things I had locked up and hoped not to feel for just one fucking night, or ever again, really. It was loud, and ugly, but I couldn’t stop. I kept wiping away at my face, seeing the black mascara on the back of my fingers, very aware of how much of a mess I looked, but it was this unstoppable flow of tears. I was broken. I knew that was the peak of it for me, and in a way, that made me feel better. That night, was going to be the worst of it. That was the lowest I would be. The kettle had boiled long ago, but I still sat weeping on the sofa when I heard a bedroom door open. Harry appeared out of the dark hallway, just in black sweatpants, his face low as he stood staring at me in the doorway. But before he could say anything, I barked. “Please don’t start, Harry. I’m not in the mood.” I just about held myself together to say. “Please just leave me alone. I want to be left alone. I cannot be arsed with you saying anything to me. Just leave me alone.” I buried my face back into my hands and avoided seeing his reaction, trying to breathe in and calm down, but by the time I breathed back out it was a blubber of tears. There must have been a minute of silence, if not two, and I was hoping he had left, he had quietly gone back to his room without another word and just left me be like I had asked him to. But that just wasn’t the case. What came instead, was the biggest blowout me and Harry had ever had. I heard him clear his throat before he spoke, so I dropped my hands to see him. “If you want a little privacy, maybe you shouldn’t cry in the kitchen.” He smirked sarcastically. “Just saying.” My face fell as I watched him slump off into his bedroom without a care in the world. There was no way Harry could have been that dense, to not realise it really wasn’t the time to make some kind of shitty comment to me. He needed to leave me alone. I had asked him to leave me alone. He knew my situation, he knew what I was going through, he knew how hard I had taken it. I couldn’t believe that he’d said something, when I had just about managed to ask him to leave it, just for the night. He couldn’t even do that. As soon as I heard his bedroom door click shut, I absolutely flipped. I screamed, actually screamed as I pushed to my feet and charged to his door. My screaming stopped when I tugged on his door handle, finding it locked. I was going insane. I started pounding on his door with a tight fist, yelling as I went. “OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR, STYLES. I WILL FUCKING MURDER YOU! YOU’RE A PRICK, I HATE YOU. OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR AND SAY THAT AGAIN!” I continued banging, but I heard no reply. He was giving me nothing and that felt even worse. I was so wound up, almost ready to hit him if he showed his face. I was so drunk and upset and angry I needed to see him and yell in his face, I just needed to. Still, he didn’t answer. So I kicked his door. The rattle was so much louder, so much more intense, so threatening and harsh. I kicked hard, relentless, my fists gripped by my side and my face scrunched, unleashing kick after kick after kick. But when Harry finally opened the door, that changed. He flung it open, and the look on his face was so dark and hostile, I cowered automatically, backing away from him so I was further towards the kitchen, my heart in my throat. But he pounced. In no time whatsoever he had me up against Ringo’s door, his forearm pushed up against my throat, trapping me against the wood. My eyes wide, shaking and scared, trapped between him and the wood behind me, alarmed as I stared up to him. I’d never seen an anger like that before. Not from anyone. ”DON’T YOU EVER FUCKING DARE KICK MY DOOR AGAIN!” He screamed. “WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?” Tears slipped down my face as I stared up to him, grateful he wasn’t pushing his arm hard enough to hurt me, but definitely enough to threaten me. He didn’t want to hurt me, but just scare the living shit out of me, and it was working. Because he could have hurt me, if he really wanted to. He looked like he was ready to kill, but at the same time he looked sick, pale and shaking and lost somewhere within his mind. I had no idea what I had done to stir that reaction in him, why it had gotten so out of hand. His fist tightened, but before he could take it too far, the door behind me flung open, and I tumbled inside, crawling backwards to get away from the him. He stared down to me on the floor with hatred in his eyes before Ringo slammed the it shut and locked it, pressing her back against it, looking down to me on the floor, utterly haunted by what she’d just seen. I collapsed back down to the floor, my eyes staring up to the ceiling as I burst into tears again, shaken and scared. + + + It was confusing waking up in a room that was almost identical to mine, just a little bit backwards and decorated differently. That completely threw me. It wasn’t like it was familiar to me, like Zayn’s room. It was a room I had never been in before, but it was somehow homely. I sat upright almost immediately, pulling the sheets up and taking a deep breath in, looking around and trying to piece together the night before, which didn’t take me long. What had happened was hard to forget. A few moments later, the door gently opened, but it still made me jump and shiver as Ringo walked into her room, a cup of tea in hand. “Hi.” I whispered breathlessly. “Hey.” She smiled kindly. “I made you tea. I… I see you drink a lot of tea.” She placed it down on the floor next her bed, which I still couldn’t believe I had found myself in, and then went and sat on the chair beside her desk, looking to me with concerned eyes. “Thank you.” I mumbled. “Are you okay?” “Yeah, yeah... I’m fine. I’m a little shook up, but I’m fine.” “What the hell happened?” She burst out. “He just... he said something that pissed me off. And I went like, banging and kicking his door because I was so angry, but then he flipped and... Shit. Thank you, for opening your door. I know we’re not exactly friends but-” “NO! We are!” She objected. “I’m just... I get so withdrawn. I’ve always been like that, but you’re my friend, as far as I’m concerned. I had to help. I knew something bad was happening, I just knew it.” I sat trying to remember how to breathe. Everything was bizarre, and I was so incredibly hungover, which wasn’t helping at all. Everything that had happened the night before, and even speaking to Ringo, was making me feel astonishingly strange. So many times, I had wanted to speak to Ringo and be her friend, and now the opportunity had presented itself marvellously, and I had no idea what to say. “Thank you.” Was all I could say, again. “Did he hurt you?” She asked. “No, not at all. Just scared me.” I caught a look of my face in the mirror across from me, and saw that my skin was actually relatively clear. I prodded my fingers at my cleansed skin as I stared at myself. “Sorry.” She mumbled. “I helped take your makeup off last night. Hope that’s okay.” “Of course that’s okay!” I picked up the tea and took my first sip, no matter how hot it was, letting it warm my hands, which had quickly gotten cold after they were out of the sheets. The two of us stared off into nothing for a while, without saying a word. All I could think about was how last night was my low point, I knew that even then. Everything had to get better from then on. I needed everything to get better. Because I felt like I was ten seconds away from completely falling apart.

[islamicrays]

VICTIMS OF FREE-MIXING Umm Muhammad, a mature woman over the age of 40, tells her story. I lived a life of modest means with my husband. There was never any closeness and harmony, and my husband did not have the kind of strong personality that a woman would hope for, but his good nature made me overlook the fact that I was the one who was responsible for most of the decision making in the family. My husband often used to mention the name of his friend and business partner, and he would talk about him in my presence, and I often used to meet with him in his office which was originally part of our apartment. This went on for many years, until circumstances led to us exchanging visits with this person and his family. These family visits were repeated and because of his close friendship with my husband, we did not notice how the number of visits increased and how many hours a single visit would last. He often used to come on his own to sit with us, me and my husband, for long visits. My husband’s trust in him knew no bounds, and as days passed I got to know this person very well, and saw how wonderful and decent he was. I began to feel a strong attraction towards this man, and at the same time I began to sense that the feeling was mutual. Things took a strange turn after that, when I realized that this man was the kind of person I had always dreamed about. Why had he come along now, after all these years? The more this man’s status increased in my eyes, the more my husband’s status diminished. It was as if I had needed to see the beauty of his character in order to discover how ugly my husband’s character was. The matter between this person and myself did not go beyond these persistent thoughts which were occupying my mind night and day. Neither he nor I ever voiced what we felt in our hearts… until today. Yet despite that my life is over and my husband is little more than a weak man with no self-esteem. I hate him and I do not know how all this hatred towards him started to boil over. I wonder how I put up with him all these years, bearing all these burdens by myself, facing life’s problems on my own. Things got so bad that I asked him for a divorce, and he divorced me at my request. After that he became a broken man. Even worse than that is that after my marriage was wrecked and my children and husband were devastated, problems arose in this man’s family. His wife, with her feminine intuition, realized what had been going on in his heart of hearts, and his life became hell. She was overwhelmed with jealousy to the extent that one night she left her house at 2 a.m. and came to attack my house, screaming, weeping and hurling accusations. His marriage was also about to collapse. I admit that the lovely gatherings which we used to enjoy gave us the opportunity to get to know one another at a time that was not appropriate at this stage in our lives. His marriage has been wrecked and so has mine. I have lost everything, and now I know that my circumstances and his will not permit us to take any positive step towards coming together. Now I am more miserable than I have ever been, and I am looking for illusionary happiness and lost hopes. Tit-for-tat Umm Ahmad tells us: My husband had a group of married friends, and because of our close friendship with them, we used to get together with them once a week in one of our houses, to enjoy an evening of chat. Deep down in my heart I was never really comfortable with the atmosphere in which we would have dinner, sweets, snacks and drinks of juice accompanied by waves of laughter because of the jokes and chit-chats that often went beyond the bounds of good manners. In the name of friendship, the barriers were lifted and every now and then one would hear suppressed laughter between a woman and the husband of another woman. The jokes were too much, dealing – with no sense of shyness –with sensitive topics such as sex and women’s private matters. This was usual and was even accepted and regarded as desirable. Although I indulged in these things along with them, my conscience made me feel guilty. Then the day came when it became quite clear just how ugly and filthy this atmosphere was. The telephone rang, and I heard the voice of one of the friends in this group. I said hello to him and apologized that my husband was not home. He replied that he knew that, and that he was calling to speak to me! After he suggested starting a relationship with me, I got very angry and spoke harshly to him and cursed him. All he could do was laugh and say, “Don’t try and show these good manners to me; go and check on your husband’s good manners and see what he is doing…” I was devastated by what he said, but I pulled myself together and said to myself, this person is only trying to cause the break up of your marriage. But he succeeded in planting the seeds of doubt concerning my husband. Shortly after that, the major disaster struck. I discovered that my husband was cheating on me with another woman. It was the matter of life or death as far as I was concerned. I found my husband out and I confronted him, saying: “You are not the only one who can have a relationship. I have received a similar proposition.” And I told him all about his friend. He was stunned and absolutely shocked. (I said:) “If you want me to respond in kind to your relationship with that woman, then this is for that, tit-for-tat.” This was a huge slap in the face for him. He knew that I did not intend to do that in reality, but he realized the great disaster that had befallen our lives and the immoral atmosphere in which we were living. I suffered a great deal until my husband finally left that loose woman with whom he was having a relationship, as he admitted to me. Yes, he left her and came back to his family and children, but how can I ever feel the same towards him as I used to? Who will restore respect for him in my heart? This huge wound in my heart is still bleeding out of regret and rage at that filthy atmosphere; it still bears testimony to the fact that what they call innocent get-togethers are in reality anything but innocent. My heart still begs for mercy from the Lord of Glory. Intelligence can also be a temptation (fitnah) ‘Abd al-Fattaah says: I work as the head of department in one of the big companies. For a long time I admired one of my female colleagues, not for her beauty, but for her serious attitude towards her work, her intelligence and her excellent achievements – in addition to the fact that she was a decent and modest person who focused only on her work. This admiration turned into attachment, and I am a married man who fears Allaah and never misses any obligatory prayer. I expressed my feelings to her and she rebuffed me. She is married and has children as well. She sees no reason why I should have any kind of relationship with her, whether it be friendship, as work colleagues or based on admiration… etc. Evil thoughts come to me sometimes, and deep down I wish that her husband would divorce her so that I could get her. I started to put pressure on her at work and put her down in front of my bosses. Perhaps this was a form of revenge on my part, but she accepted it with good manners and did not complain or comment. She works and works; her performance speaks of her quality, and she knows this well. The more she resisted me, the stronger my infatuation grew. I am not a person who is easily tempted by women, because I fear Allaah and I do not overstep the mark with them and go beyond what is required by my work. But this woman attracted me. What is the solution?… I do not know. Baby ducks know how to swim N.A.A., a nineteen-year-old girl, tells us: At that time I was a little girl. My innocent eyes watched those evening get-togethers when family friends would meet in the house. What I remember is that I could only see one man, who was my father. I watched him as he moved about the room, how his glances would devour the women present, looking at their thighs and chests, admiring this one’s eyes, that one’s hair, the other’s hips. My poor mother had no choice but to take care of these get-togethers. She was a very simple lady. Among the women present there was one woman who would deliberately try to attract my father’s attention, sometimes by coming close to him, and sometimes by making enticing movements. I would watch this with concern, whilst my mother was busy in the kitchen for the sake of her guests. These gatherings stopped suddenly and I tried, young as I was, to understand and make sense of what had happened, but I could not. What I remember was that my mother collapsed completely at that time, and she could not stand to hear my father’s name mentioned in the house. I used to hear mysterious words whispered by the adults around me: “Betrayal… bedroom… she saw them with her own eyes… despicable woman… in a very shameful position…” etc. These were the key words which only the adults could understand. I grew up and came to understand, and I bore a grudge against all men. All of them were treacherous. My mother was a broken woman and accused every woman who came to us of being a man-snatcher who wanted to make my father fall into her trap. My father hasn’t changed. He is still practising his favourite hobby of chasing women, but now he does it outside the home. Now I am nineteen years old and I know lots of young men. I feel great pleasure in taking revenge on them, because every one of them is an exact copy of my father. I tempt them and entice them, without letting them get anywhere near me. They follow me in gatherings and in the marketplaces because of my movements and deliberate gestures. Sometimes my phone never stops ringing and I feel proud of what I do to avenge the sex of Hawwa’ and my mother. But sometimes I feel so miserable and such a failure that it almost chokes me. My life is shadowed by a huge dark cloud, and its name is my father. Before it is too late S.N.A. tells of her experience: I never imagined that my work circumstances would force me to be in contact with the opposite sex (men), but this in fact is what happened… In the beginning, I used to cover and screen myself from men by wearing niqaab (face-veil), but some of the sisters advised me that this dress was attracting more attention to my presence, and it would be better for me to take off the niqaab, especially since my eyes were somewhat attractive. So I removed the cover from my face, thinking that this was better. But by continuing to mix with my colleagues, I discovered that I was the odd one out because of my antisocial attitude and my insistence on not joining in the conversation and chatting with others. Everyone was wary of this “lone-wolf” woman (as they saw me), and this is what was stated clearly by one person who affirmed that he would not want to deal with such a snooty and stand-offish character. But I knew that I was the opposite, in fact, and I decided that I would not oppress myself and put myself in a difficult position with my colleagues. So I started to join in their chats and exchanges of anecdotes, and they all discovered that I could speak eloquently and persuasively, and that I could influence others. I could also speak in a manner that was determined yet at the same time was attractive to some of my colleagues. It was not long before I noticed some changes in the expression of my direct supervisor; with some embarrassment, he was enjoying the way I spoke and moved, and he would deliberately bring up topics in the conversation where I would see that hateful look in his eyes. I do not deny the fact that I started to entertain some thoughts about this man. I found it astonishing that a man could fall so easily into the trap of a woman who was religiously committed, so how must it be in the case of women who adorn themselves and invite men to commit immoral actions? In fact, I did not think of him in any way which went beyond the bounds of sharee’ah, but he did occupy a space in my thoughts for quite some time. But soon my self-respect made me reject the idea of being a source of enjoyment for this man in any way, shape or form, even if it was only psychological in nature, and I stopped getting involved in any kind of work that would force me to sit alone with him. In the end, I reached the following conclusions: 1- 1) Attraction between the sexes can occur in any circumstances, no matter how much men and women may deny that. The attraction may start within the bounds of sharee’ah and end up going beyond those bounds. 2) Even if a person protects himself (by marriage), he is not safe from the snares of the Shaytaan. 3) Even though a person may be able to guarantee himself and he works with the opposite sex within reasonable limits, he cannot guarantee the feelings of the other party. 4) Finally, there is nothing good in mixing and it does not bear fruit as they claim. On the contrary, it corrupts sound thinking.

[etherealqueen]

Nonnegotiable (Theo Raeken)

Summary: Sometimes there is a good reason why two people shouldn’t be together. AU.

Author’s Note: THEO MY BBY. I’m so sorry to say that this story doesn’t necessarily have a happy ending, but it’s not the worst one. This story is inspired by a situation that happened to me and a coworker and then my imagination decided to work it into this LOL. It was originally gonna be written for Scott, but then I can’t bear to break up Scira and I wanted more Theo so here we are. I think this fits nicely for him when I made it into an AU.

---

Tug.

He always had a thing for girls with long hair. Malia used to have long hair, but in the few months before she handed him the divorce papers, she had cut her hair short. It was a good look on her, he remembered.

Tug.

She gives him a side glance, an amused smile on her lips. “What are you doing?” she asks.

Theo grins and as innocently as possible, he answers, “Nothing.” [Name]’s hair was long when he met her, but she had chopped it short in her frustration with the summer heat. Despite how it reminded him of his ex-wife, he thought she looked cute, and he couldn’t resist trying to play with her hair.

Tug.

She brushes his fingers from her short locks and gives him a playful poke to his stomach as she moves past him to get her lunch from the fridge. He glances at his watch. He needs to clock in from lunch soon, but he hovers by the door of the break room.

“Hey,” he calls, and she glances at him in the midst of sitting down. “If I were to ask you out, would you say yes?”

She stares at him for a moment with the faintest of smiles. “Yes.”

Theo grins. “Then dinner with me Saturday night?”

It’s that smile, the coy look on her face that he likes, especially when coupled with that breathy chuckle. “Sure,” she answers.

His grin widens and he winks at her before disappearing from the break room. “See you then!”

---

It was a company secret that he and [Name] had been dating for half a year. But did it still count as a secret when everyone knew that they were dating and chose not to say anything?

“Look at Mel! Her hair is so cute!” [Name] coos over the photo of Kira’s daughter on her first day of kindergarten.

Kira laughs, taking her phone back. “She was very specific about how she wanted me to do her hair.”

“I’m so jealous. I’m scared that if I ever have a daughter, I’m gonna mess it up.”

“I promise you’ll learn.”

The door to the break room opens and Theo enters, freshly on his lunch break. “Ladies,” he greets as he walks to the fridge.

“Oh Theo, Teddy started kindergarten today, didn’t he?” Kira asks. “Was he excited for his first day?”

Theodore “Teddy” Raeken II was Theo and Malia’s five-year-old son. Theo and Malia were those teenagers who had a whirlwind high school romance where everything happened too soon, too fast, too immature. They were nineteen when they got married, twenty when Teddy was born. But what happiness they had was short lived when Malia wanted a divorce four years later. She had always been independent and she had no intention of being tied down by a marriage anymore. Now Teddy lived with his mother and Theo only got to see him almost once a week.

Theo shrugs as he sits down with his lunch cracks open the can of soda. “He seemed like he was excited. Malia was the one who took him to school.”

“Did she send you pictures?”

“She did, yeah.”

“Well, when you have more kids, you’ll definitely get to see them off for their first day of school,” says Kira with a nod, “I was an emotional mess this morning, seeing my little baby walk to the front doors.”

A frown appears over Theo’s features. “Oh no, I’m not having any more kids.”

That snapped up [Name]’s attention quickly, her own frown starting to appear.

Kira tilts her head to the side. “You’re still young, Theo!”

He shakes his head. “Nope. Not getting married again. No more kids. I’m not going through any of that. Once I save up enough money, I’m getting snipped.”

Kira opened her mouth to say protest, but the alarm on her phone went off, signally the end of her lunch break. She gathers her belongings and wishes the pair a good lunch before leaving the break room.

[Name] wrings her hands together, biting her lip. She takes a deep breath and looks up at her boyfriend and asks, “Do you really mean that?”

“Mean what?”

“You don’t wanna get married again or have any more kids?”

Theo shrugs again. “What’s the point of it all?” The divorce remained cordial, but it was hard to mask his wounded feelings in the mess. It took a little time for him to come to terms with it; he realized that he didn’t love Malia like he did when they were in high school. He only loved her as a friend. He had to. She was the mother of his son, and there would be nothing to change that. But after the abrupt end of a marriage that was supposed to last for a lifetime, Theo couldn’t help but feel jaded. He didn’t want another divorce, especially when a child was involved.

She looks at him straight in the eye and says, “I want to break up.”

That stuns him for a moment. “What?”

“I know you said it before that you didn’t wanna get married again or have kids,” she says, “but knowing now that you really mean it…We should just break up.”

“I don’t want--”

She shakes her head and cuts him off. “The point is that you don’t want any of that. But I do. I know you won’t change your mind, and I won’t try to convince you either. So why should either of us waste our time knowing that it’s not gonna go anywhere?”

She was right. They wanted different things in their relationship. He didn’t want to break up though; he liked her so much. He knew she didn’t really wanna break up either with the way she was frowning, eyes cast down again in disappointment. But no matter how much it sucked, it was better that they break up now. It probably would have been worse if they waited until their relationship was more serious.

Her fingers play with the plastic fork on her plate, her eyes not lifting up to his again. “We can still be friends,” she offers.

Theo resists the urge to sigh, but his own disappointment is heard in his voice. “Yeah, I guess we can.”

---

“No! I don’t want you to go!”

Theo nudges Teddy’s shoulder. “Hey, don’t be selfish. It’s time for [Name] to go home.”

Teddy scowled and stomped his foot on the floor. “No!”

[Name] chuckles and crouches down to Teddy’s level. “I have to go, Teddy. I have work tomorrow, and you have school. We’ll hang out soon, okay?” Teddy’s scowl softened slightly, but he crossed his arms across his chest without a word. “I promise.”

“Okay…” he grumbles.

[Name] smiles and presses a kiss to Teddy’s forehead and ruffles his hair as she straightens up. “Bye, kid!” Theo wraps his arms around her then, strong yet brief. “See you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yep. See ya,” he bids. Theo locks the door behind her and then turns to his son. “All right, you. Time for bed.”

Teddy lets out a groan of disapproval, but makes no fight to his room. As Theo is tucking him in, Teddy sits up and asks, “Dad, do you think I can marry [Name]?”

Theo laughs and shakes his head. “I think she’s too old for you to marry. She’s my age.”

Teddy lays back down in his bed, disappointed. “Oh. You are old, dad.” (“Thanks,” Theo mutters.) The disappointment doesn’t last long because Teddy’s face beams up and he quickly adds, “How about you marry her?”

“I’m not gonna marry her,” Theo answers gently.

“Why not? I thought you’re supposed to marry the people you like.”

“Marriage is a lot more complicated than that.”

“Oh.” Teddy frowns and looks down at a loose thread on his duvet. “Is that why you and mommy broke up? Because you don’t like each other anymore?”

“Your mom and I broke up for reasons that you won’t understand yet,” Theo answers slowly. “We love each other in a different way now, and it doesn’t mean that we love you any less.”

“But you love [Name]. I can tell,” Teddy says, beaming with pride. “It’s the same way you looked at mommy before you and mommy broke up.”

This kid. Theo couldn’t believe what was coming out of his mouth. He knew that kids could be intuitive and honest, but this was taking the cake. Being friends with [Name] after the breakup wasn’t so hard. He couldn’t deny that he was still attracted to her though. The feeling always burned a little stronger the more they spent time together. She was so good with Teddy too; he always looked forward to seeing her when he was to spend time with his father.

“Go to sleep, Teddy.”

Teddy still seems pleased with himself as he settles further into his sheets, clutching his stuffed bear and closing his eyes.

Theo could neither affirm nor deny that he was in love, but a tiny part of him could attest that what he felt for [Name] was starting to feel like what he felt for Malia before the divorce. Maybe Teddy was onto something after all.

---

“You’ve done it. You broke my kid.”

[Name] laughs as she jumps up onto the countertop in Theo’s kitchen and accepts the beer from him. She peeks over his shoulder, spotting Teddy still curled up on the couch.

“I didn’t break him,” she answers.

Theo rolls his eyes with mock annoyance. “Teddy always has so much energy that nothing can wear him out; not even his mother. And now you’ve managed to get him to pass out and it’s only two.”

“He’s like a little Energizer bunny. He just keeps going.” She giggles and shrugs. “But everyone has a limit. Even kids.”

She had managed to do what some thought was impossible: get a kid to take a nap in the middle of the day. Teddy had an abundance of energy that it was rare for him to nap during the day. Even when asked if it was time to sleep, he would scream “NO!” and run off to play more. It seemed like the only times that Teddy would nap was when he ate sugar and crashed from a sugar high. But no, not this time. [Name] had spent almost two hours chasing Teddy through Theo’s apartment and then dancing with him. Teddy was so worn out that he curled up on the couch and fell asleep.

Theo chuckles and shakes his head. “Amazing…”

He watches her smile fondly, her eyes diverted to her bottle, though not focused on it. She’s lost in whatever moment she’s feeling, and Theo thinks she infinitely beautiful. Finally, she looks up, coming back to reality and is surprised to see him staring at her.

“What?” she asks. “Do I have something on my face?”

His face searches hers for a moment and leans in, pressing his lips against hers. She’s only stunned for a moment before she kisses him back, softly, gently, abandoning her beer beside her.

They hadn’t kissed in a long time. Not like this. She had kissed him on the cheek plenty of times as hellos and goodbyes, but this was not a kiss between friends but that of lovers. Something they were not. Something they no longer were. But Theo wants her like he did eight months ago, with her lips pressed against his, her fingers gently curling in his shirt before running against his cheeks.

And he forgets why they broke up until their foreheads are pressed against each other, her voice whispering, “We don’t do this…”

“I know.” His fingers push up her shirt slightly, skating against her bare skin. “I can’t help it. Not when I know I love you.”

He did. He really did. He had to. Because it felt like how he did about Malia but it still was not the same. It couldn’t be the same. Because [Name] was not Malia, and Malia was not [Name].

“Theo, don’t…” she whispers. “We broke up for a reason--”

“I didn’t want to break up. You were the one who broke us apart cause--”

“—cause we want different things. I do love you, Theo.” His heart soars for a moment, but the landing is not smooth as she continues, “But all I wanted to know was that our relationship had a future. I wanted to know there was a possibility that we could get married. That we would have kids.”

“Teddy would be yours.”

Her smile is wry and she shakes her head. “Teddy would never be mine. He’s yours and Malia’s and he looks so much like her. I wanted kids that look like us.”

He almost wants to say it. To say that if he has to, he’ll do it: to walk down the aisle again, to do the two o’clock feedings again. Anything to keep them together. But it’s not right. He didn’t want to do all that again, and he knew she wouldn’t want him to do it if it meant that he would be doing something he didn’t wanna do.

“This sucks,” he murmurs against her neck.

She wraps her arms around his shoulders and holds him tight in her embrace. “I agree. This does suck.”

They stay like that for a while, unable to quite let go just yet.

[davidastbury]

May 2019

At School …...aged 14

He submitted a charcoal and pencil drawing for consideration and was called to see the head of art. She asked him what he thought of his drawing. He didn’t know how to answer - he replied that there was something about it that he liked and some things that he didn’t.

She said - ‘I want you to consider this and I want you to remember it all your life. There are things that you can do that even Picasso cannot do. Every so often you will produce a work that is so truthful, so eloquent, so perfect that it could never be matched by any other artist. No one else could do that picture. You may never have the range of a master or the vision or the humanity but you have the potential for your voice to come through, to join the sublime chorus of great artists. Whenever you reach this level you must tell yourself that your work is good enough to hang in the Rijksmuseum - next to the Rembrandts!’

The Offering of the First Fruits of the Year

‘Those who were close would bring figs and grapes and the far ones would bring dried figs and raisins. A bull would go before them and its horns would be plated with gold and it would have a olive wreath around its head. The flute would play before them until they got close to Jerusalem. Once they got close to Jerusalem, they would send ahead of them [a messenger] and adorned their Bikkurim. The overseers and the officers and the treasurers would go out to greet them; in accordance with the stature of those coming in. All the artisans of Jerusalem would stand before them and greet them, "Our brothers from so-and-so, come in peace!”

The flute would continue playing before them until they arrived at the Temple Mount. Once they arrived at the Temple Mount, even Agripas the King would carry his basket on his shoulder until he reached the courtyard.’

(Mishnah Bikkurim 3: 3-4 )

Oy !

The mother went crazy when she discovered that her daughter was seeing a non-Jewish boy. At first the girl tried to sell the idea that it was just a normal date, but it soon became clear that there was more to it. The parents were shocked and appalled.

When the girl told her boyfriend about all this he telephoned the father; suggesting that they meet up, man to man so to speak, and try to find a way forward. The father shouted abuse and made threats. That was that.

A bit later the girl’s elder sister came up from London. She was hoping to mediate a solution. The father informed the family that he had briefly explained the situation to his daughter’s employer (she had worked at the same place as her boyfriend) and she no longer had a job there - instead she would work with him. The elder sister stayed on at the house because her marriage was troubled, but she didn’t mention it at the time, not wishing to add to her parents worries.

The girl and the boy continued to see each other. Several of their friends were supportive - even giving them use of their homes so that they could be together alone. Meanwhile the father became incandescent with anger and he told his daughter - with the mother wringing her hands in the background - that if she didn’t end the affair she would be considered dead by the family and the community. This was the threat of following the ritual of ‘sitting shiva’ - a practice during the first days of mourning for a close relative. The girl would be dead to them.

Later the mother told her that she had been diagnosed with cancer - not sure which type - and that she was going in for a big op. She pushed the girl back and told her that she was to blame for the illness.

It was all too much for the girl. The relationship ended.

The elder sister got divorced.

The mother’s operation was a success.

The father went bankrupt but he appeared not to mind. He had been secretly ‘seeing’ another woman and used the euphoria of his wife’s recovery to ease out the bad news.

They divorced.

The girl eventually took up with a nice boy she had known all her life (she was nineteen). He was a dentist already; they married.

The boyfriend took it all in his stride.

Twenty years later he converted to Judaism.

The Last View

That last view - the last time they saw each other was when she was on her train and he stood alone on the platform. He didn’t know he would never see her again - nor did he know that he would never stop seeing her. So ... she remained in his mind, as important and influential and vital as the people in his life.

He planned to do paintings of her, but never did. Oil on canvas seemed barbaric; watercolours too difficult to control - he wanted her so badly - he wanted to paint her breath misting the glass of the carriage window.

In Memory of Les M.

Les was one of my first bosses and he took a kindly interest in me. If business was slow we would sit and talk and he would offer me cigarettes and the benefit of his accumulated wisdom.

‘Whatever you do cock, don’t get married.’ He often said.

I once pointed out that he himself was committed to marrying his girlfriend Margaret.

‘That’s different’ he explained. ‘I am getting married because I am old and losing my looks. I’ll be thirty-one next; women my age are all taken and young girls won’t consider me. But you’re only eighteen. You should have years and years of fun ahead of you. You mustn’t get serious with anyone - never make promises.’

I nodded and studied his face - he really did look troubled.

‘So, whatever you do cock, don’t get married.’

A few years after this, when I hadn’t seen Les for a long time, someone told me that he had died. Apparently, one night he slipped on an icy pavement and bumped his head. He wasn’t found until morning.

I was told exactly where it happened. If I pass that spot I stand still and listen carefully. The voice of Les comes through the ether - ‘Whatever you do cock, don’t die.’

Attingham Hall - with Sir George Trevelyan.

Arrived drenched and dripping - squelching across the marble floor.

Sir George offered his hand. ‘Jolly damp out there, what!

Did it take you long to get here?’

Me: - ‘Yes. No public transport on Sundays.’

Sir George: ‘What fun, seems to rain a lot, it’s the hills.’

We have an orchestra - short of violinists. You are a violinist I presume?’

Me; ‘No.’

Later in the pub.

Drying out nicely. Total stranger comes across and asks - ‘Are you a violinist?’

An Englishman Abroad

William Somerset Maugham never stopped travelling. In the last weeks of 1953, when he was eighty years old, he visited London, Paris, Vienna, Madrid, Zurich, Venice and Abano. This pace never eased off - almost up to his death at the age of ninety-one.

The stories are endless. He was once a passenger on a ship when a terrible storm kicked off. Everyone was desperate with anxiety; the ship was tilting from side to side, furniture sliding about, passengers holding on tightly.

A man confronted Maugham, knowing that he had trained as a doctor, and asked him what was the best thing to do if the boat tips and you end up in the water.

Maugham was smoking a cigar. He looked at the man keenly and replied - ‘My advice is to try not to struggle - try not to panic - just get yourself a good lungful of seawater and you’ll be surprised at how easy it all is.’

Going through the shelves I found an edition of the Psalms of David. Linear version running word by word, side by side in English and the original Hebrew.

Prefaced by a remarkable statement to be read aloud before recitation:-

“ ... May we not depart from this world before our allotted time, until we have (at least) lived our three score and ten years, so that we may repair that which we have damaged, and put right that which we have done wrong ...“

Happy Times

There was a time when she would hint about things she wanted; hints that could have been missed or not noticed. Or we might pick up the hint and respond - show approval, even a little enthusiasm - and she would quickly play it down and pretend that she didn’t mean anything; that we were mistaken. And then hint again; this time creating the illusion that she was picking up the idea from us - that it had never occurred to her - and how much, now that it had been mentioned, she really wanted it.

And so it went on ... it was a lovely game and we were all happy. Sometimes it was very minor, other times obscure or expensive - whatever it was we would get it - come hell, come high water, we would get it.

A Child With Special Needs

What things should a parent do when seeing prodigious craft ability in his/her child?

I think first of all caution.

The child should not be encouraged.

The child should not be praised - most of his work will be rubbish, and he will know that it’s rubbish. Praising rubbish is bad for him.

He should not be told that he is special - he will find his own way of discovery.

Be careful in choosing your own friends. People who come to your house should be quietly spoken and sincere - most of all they should be good people, modest, thoughtful, principled. Avoid glib chatterboxes - those who have an answer for everything - those who dress vulgarly. Most of all avoid journalists.

If the parent is an artist he should give it up - if he cannot, he should work in private and never let the child see his efforts.

The master tutoring him (and it must be a master - a mediocre teacher might ruin everything) should discourage painting for as long as possible, colour is seductive, it can mislead - (a good analogy is the thought of a talented young guitarist picking up an electric guitar!)

It is better if the child avoids a conventional education - for obvious reasons.

It is better if the child does not read, although no fuss must be made - reading will come later.

The child should never be threatened - it will reinforce his instinctive suspicion that you are crude.

Respect his privacy. Greatness should be given space in every sense.

Respect most of all the validity of his vision - it will not be the same as yours. His reality is totally his and he will only allow you glimpses - but what glimpses!

Love him.

Saw a youngster playing what appeared to be war games on a small IPad - it was something violent because the screen flashed whenever he made a hit. It was impressive in a way - he unquestionably had astonishing reflexes and motor skills (that might not be the right word). And perhaps there is a positive psychological aspect - in his imagination he may have been saving the world from a hostile invasion.

There isn’t much difference from how I was at his age. I fantasied about saving this country from our usual European enemy - sitting up late at night, in my lonely room, just a single naked lightbulb, crouched over a table, my wrist working furiously - tapping out crucial information on my Morse code key.

I suppose memorising the Morse code is more challenging, but there are similarities.

Favourite cafe. Chairs and tables spread out over the pavement. Watching the flow of people. Nothing of great interest for a while but I don’t mind. I enjoy watching. In a way it’s like fishing, you just wait - and watch.

Nice young couple - the boy particularly, he has the luminous shine of someone who is loved - and has been loved all his life. You can spot people like him quite easily - you can see that they were ‘wanted’ and treasured right from birth. They have a glow, an atmosphere about them; they are often, but not always, very charming people. This boy has it - and then some more. I can imagine that earlier today his mother might have immaculately ironed a shirt for him - but he didn’t want to wear it, and instead chose a crumpled T-shirt, and she just smiled and hung it up carefully. I can imagine the characteristic unspoken irritation on his father’s face and the difficulty he has in finding the right tone - the right voice when speaking to his son. But they get along okay, or as well as you could expect.

His girlfriend appears to be very taken by him. She looks up - all her attention is on her glorious boyfriend, not the hundreds of people swamping the pavement. We all get in the way - preventing her doing what she wants to do - preventing her pulling his head down and showing him that she can do things that no other girlfriend has ever done.

Russell and Caroline and Me ... (1959)

A very rare memory - the three of us walking together; Russell in the middle. He was crowing with laughter and swaying about, losing his balance, pushing us with his shoulders. Caroline was laughing too; she linked arms with him and Russell linked arms with me.

We walked up the road. It was around the time that school finished for the big summer break - it might have been the last day. Caroline was dazzling; I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

We passed the ten bedroom mansion commissioned by a market stall-holder who had won a fortune on the football pools. We passed the small park where men used to linger around the gents lavatory. We passed the mock Tudor hotel where the landlord owned a noisy Morgan sports car.

I didn’t want that walk to end - even during the walking I didn’t want it to end - and in a way, given the right mood and circumstances, it never has.

Bill C.

Bill was a grumpy old sod and it was an effort visiting him. Most of the time he sat, wearing a cap, in front of his TV, muttering angrily at everyone and everything.

Later, when it was no longer needed I returned his key; leaving it with a note on the kitchen table, where his family or an estate-agent might collect it. Most of his stuff had been cleared, anything of value had gone. There were a few items of cutlery with yellowed handles in a drawer, and some chipped teacups. There was also an old biscuit tin with a picture of the Queen on the lid; it contained an assortment of family snap-shots; black and white photos of people on holiday, at weddings etc. Perhaps his family had missed it - or perhaps they weren’t interested.

Bill had been ‘on his own’ for quite a while; he didn’t want me or anyone else visiting him - he just wanted to sit in front of his TV, wearing a cap and mutter angrily at everything he saw. After fifty years I am beginning to understand.

He had done his best - served in the war, worked all his life, survived the passing of his wife, the only person who mattered to him - and was simply waiting for his turn to come.

[jackfollmanwriter-blog]

Tennessee

Dad decided to drink himself to death. See you at the funeral.

I recognized the juvenile handwriting of my younger brother Billy immediately. The note was scrawled on the letterhead of his plumbing company which had gone under just a few weeks before.

I crumpled up the note and tossed it into the pile of trash in the kitchen sink.

"Levi?" My dad's voice croaked like a bullfrog from the living room.

"Yeah," I stopped myself as soon as I walked into the living room, the sight of my dad too jarring to continue the sentence I started.

My dad already looked like an embalmed corpse. He looked like a photo of a guy of a guy who fell into an underground bees nest in Africa I saw on the Internet once. He looked like the Michelin man. Basically, he looked like hot shit baking on the sidewalk of some hot city sidewalk.

I recognized my dad's lucky bottle of Potter's Crown whiskey resting next to his bed right away, about a finger's width of caramel liquid left in the bottom of the crimped glass. It was 1:47 p.m.

"Jesus Dad."

"Ah leave him out of it."

"Is this for real?"

I kicked over his bottle of Potter Crown's, the last precious contents spilled out onto the stained carpet.

"What the hell Travelin Man?"

My dad took up calling me Travelin Man when I was in my 20s because I actually left our little one-road Tennessee town and he always loved the guitar solo in the Allman Brothers song.

"Oh don't act like you don't have five more bottles in the cupboard."

"I do but it doesn't mean you can disrespect the bottle."

One of my dads MANY quirks was he had a lucky drinking bottle. He had been drinking out of the same handle of Potter's Crown since the late-70s. He would just refill it whenever he got a fresh bottle from the store. It had something to do with a friend from Vietnam named Iverson. He never seemed to be too generous with the exact details and I never cared enough to ask for the full explanation. At least we could compromise on one thing.

The county made the grave mistake of employing my dad long enough as a janitor to where he could retire at the earliest date possible and combine his pension there with his military pension so he could drink full-time. He had been doing this for the past five years and seemed to get worse every time I saw him. I finally couldn't take it anymore when I came to see him a little less than a year ago and saw he had moved his bed into the living room so he could lie down closer to the liquor cabinet and the TV.

That sad, pathetic sight led me to decide to no longer go see him. I was just going to let him fade away without me in the audience until I received a call from him in the middle of the night a few days ago where he couldn't make out a single word, just sobs. I booked the first flight to Memphis I could find for a reasonable rate so I could make the trek out to the flats of northwest Tennessee and see him at least one more time, even if it hurt like hell.

Hurt it did. I had seen my dad low, but never this low. He looked so wrecked that it wouldn't be a surprise if he died at any minute.

I took a seat in a sad dusty plastic visitor chair next to his bed like my childhood living room was a hospital room. I pushed away the rotting bones of a fried chicken Hungry Man on the TV tray and took out a faded Polaroid of us from the breast pocket of my shirt. I set the picture down on the thin wool blanket on top of his naked chest, felt him shiver.

"I found this in a box of stuff when I moved out of my house."

My father looked down at the photo without moving his head, just his eyes. It was of us on a frothy beach in South Carolina, standing next to each other in the bright, summer sun, my dad's arm lightly draped over my shoulder. It was literally the only picture I could ever remember of us together. Hell, it was the only picture of my father I could ever remember seeing expect for the military one from when he was 18, about to be shipped off to Vietnam. It rested above the TV, proudly framed.

I could see the life behind my dad's eyes at least shrug.

"That's pretty neat. Thanks. Your brother just brings bills to pay. Mine and his. I appreciate someone not bringing me fuckin heartaches for once."

"You got it."

"I just got two requests of you though."

"Yeah."

"One. You don't judge anything I do."

"I already conceded that before I got on the plane in Denver."

"Two. ESPN Classic is playing the nineteen-ninety-nine Fiesta Bowl tonight. I want you to sit right here with me, watch it and drink whiskey."

"That sounds about damn perfect to me."

My dad cracked the first smile of my visit.

"Well, it's a date then. Go mix up yourself a drink. I got five bottles over in the liquor cabinet."

My dad gave me a sly dog wink.

*

We watched the game. Tennessee beat Florida State 23-16 the way they always will for eternity and hoisted the national championship trophy. I saw what I thought was the glint of a tear in my dad's eye towards the final frames of the classic game. I thought reliving the glory of his beloved Volunteers brought on the moisture. I was wrong.

"This game always reminds me of Chase," my dad slurred.

His statement made me go numb.

"It was about only two months after everything. I remember one of the reasons we were so glad they won was because we felt it might lift everyone's spirits."

"It's funny how much a stupid game can actually do."

"It didn't."

"I know. It shouldn't have."

"It's darker than you think."

I didn't really know how my cousin Chase committing suicide at age 13 could be darker, but I could tell my dad had more to say.

"There's a lot more about that, we didn't let on back then."

"Really?"

My dad spat chew across the room, offended by the skepticism detected in my tone. My dad was not a liar, but he was three sheets to the wind.

"Yeah, really, Ramblin Man."

"If you're talking about how they found Chase, I found out. You and grandma never told me, but kids at school found out. I heard about it. Kid cut himself and jumped into a fucking pig pen. That shit gets out there in a small town."

"That aint the half of it."

"What are you talking about?"

"Why would a boy choose to kill themselves by getting torn up my a bunch of hogs when he had his own fuckin shotgun underneath his bed?"

My dad made a very, very good point I never thought of.

"I never really thought about it."

"Hard to believe he killed himself if you do."

"Did you ever ask mom if she thought that at all? If they looked into it?" I asked.

"Did you?"

My mom and Chase was a tricky situation.

My parents never married. They just had a casual off-and-on thing for a few years which produced me and my younger brother Doug. I can't really blame either of them for not wanting to be with the other. My dad was a raging alcoholic with a bad case of PTSD before they really even knew what PTSD was and my mother was a flighty part-time hippy, full-time drug addict who would take off for weeks at a time without warning. Since my dad at least had the full-time job, Doug and I lived with him and my mom lived two towns over with an ever-changing parade of fiances.

My mom hit it big when the richest of those fiances finally married her and gave her life a very brief period of stability. It was during that period when her sister passed away at a young age and left behind an infant son, Chase, who my mother took in.

My mom always seemed to be thoroughly ashamed by the boring, trashy life she lived with my dad so Doug and I were rarely invited to family events on her side. Because of this, we only saw Chase a few times a year at Thanksgiving, Christmas, the occasional wedding or funeral. He was a sweet kid who I definitely saw my mom's side of the family's genes in but was a little too young for me to really connect with.

Honestly, I didn't think about Chase too much before he died. It wasn't until the news of him committing suicide rippled through the community that he took up much space in my brain.

I don't really know if I was surprised or not that Chase killed himself at the time. I didn't know him well enough to know if he was depressed or not. You could say I loved him in the good Christian way a cousin loves a cousin they see a few times a year, but that was about it. Regardless though, it was pretty shocking that someone as young as 13 did it and in a place like northwest Tennessee. It was the only thing anyone in town really talked about for about a month.

I only occasionally thought about Chase when people talked about suicide or if a celebrity of note committing suicide was in the news. Until my dad mentioned his suspicions about Chase, I hadn't thought about him deeply since back around funeral.

"Maybe you should ask your mom about it?" My dad suggested.

I laughed.

My mom divorced her rich husband shortly after Chase died, took half his money and fled to Florida where she was probably sucking some new man, or men, dry. I tried to stay in touch with her, but it hurt more to try and remain in contact and have her act like I was some old co-worker or childhood friend she only barely cared about, so I just shut it down. We hadn't talked in more than 15 years and I hadn't looked for her in all that time. She could have been dead for all I knew.

I could tell my dad was hanging onto his last threads of waking energy for the night and I wasn't far from sleep myself.

"Is the couch okay for sleeping?" I asked.

My dad flapped his lips a few times, but no words came out.

I sunk into the broken wooden bones of the frame of the ancient couch.

"Hey ramblin man," my dad whispered from across the room.

"Yeah?"

"Maybe you should ask Tina McIntosh about the Chase thing? She probably knows more about that kid than your mom."

"That's actually a good idea."

Tina McIntosh was the gossip queen every single small town has. She worked the front desk at the high school part-time, the front desk at the only doctor's office in town part-time and volunteered for just about everything just so she could be in the midst of everyone's business at all times.

Reaching out to Tina while I was in town for the next couple of weeks was a great idea. One negative thought did flash through my mind though. Talking to Tina probably meant I would also have to talk to Ronnie McIntosh.

Ronnie was one of those kids you were forced to kind of be friends with when you were young because your parents knew his parents. You knew he was off, but who else were you going to pass the time with when you parents ditched you at the grown up party?

Something was seriously wrong with Ronnie, but it was the early-90s in rural Tennessee and people weren't really on top of that stuff yet, kids weren't shooting up schools yet, so everyone just let it slide. The first time I remember I remember being concerned with Ronnie was when he was eating sand out of the sandbox in his backyard when we were playing. His response to me about why he was doing it was that it tasted like "salt."

The second incident which made me slowly recoil away from Ronnie's presence as much as possible came in the early days of puberty, probably 11 or 12. My dad set up a play date over at Ronnie's place while he went "fishing" and Ronnie could not have been more eager to show me some pictures as soon as I walked through the door of his little single-wide down by the bend of the river.

"Come see. Come see," Ronnie announced once he led me into his little bedroom.

The pictures Ronnie couldn't wait to show me were Polaroids of his 14-year-old step-sister in various states of undress in her bedroom which shared a wall with Ronnie's room. Ronnie was even more excited to show me the little peephole he drilled in the back of his closet which peered into his step-sister's room.

This whole thing would have been beyond creepy even if his step-sister had been a complete stranger, but the morbid facts were... 1. She was his step-sister 2. He spent the first 10 years of his life believing she was his real sister, only recently finding out she was not his sister by blood a couple of years back after his step-dad split.

I was tempted to tell Ronnie's mom or step-sister about the pictures, but didn't want to set the kid off. I had seen what he did to the frogs and snakes we would catch by the river and in no way wanted to get myself in that path of that rage. No thanks.

Ronnie finally separated himself from the rest of the normal, peaceful congregation of our class about halfway through high school when he started voluntarily not showing up to school anymore. Everyone in town was pretty shocked that a woman who worked at the high school let her own son drop out, but the kids who knew him well appreciated her letting him give us non-scary kids some distance.

Rumors swirled all around town about exactly what Ronnie did after that. Some said he joined a motorcycle gang in California. His mom always said he was getting ready to join Navy, but I knew the truth because I still had to go over to his house about once a year for some awful get together around Christmas. I would see Ronnie in his old bedroom – still surrounded by an army of stuffed animals, still taking pictures of his step-sister changing and still having the sticky remnants of green Jolly Ranchers stuck to the skin around his lips.

I wondered if Ronnie was still back in that little wood-paneled room, masturbating to pictures of his step-sister and playing endless rounds of Donkey Kong Country when I knocked on the door of his mom's trailer and waited for an answer.

"Just a minute. Just a minute," the cheerful drawel of Tina McIntosh answered back on the other side of the door.

The cherubic face of Tina popped into the doorway once the trailer door opened up. She beamed back at me through little round glasses and a plume of red hair.

"Levi Green?" Tina couldn't have sounded more excited. "What are you doing here?"

I tried to explain myself, but Tina interrupted her own question.

"Come in. Come in."

I almost laughed when the smell of fresh-baked scones and fresh-roasted coffee greeted my nostrils. Tina was like something out of the fictional Leave It To Beaver universe plunked down in the dark country fields of rural Tennessee. I took a seat at the little wooden breakfast table and was presented with a blueberry scone and heavily-creamed coffee before I could even get my first word out.

"It's so nice of you to come by and say hi. Sorry Ronnie isn't around. He's down at the church."

I finished my first sip of searing-hot coffee.

"That's okay. I was actually looking to talk with you."

"With me? You gotta be kidding me. Levi Green came all the way from the big city of Denver, to talk to me?"

I gave a courtesy laugh.

"I'm visiting my dad and I thought of a few things I wanted to ask you, if you don't mind."

"Well of course."

"You remember what happened with my cousin, Chase Lucas?"

Tina paused chewing the scone she had previously been gulping down like a pelican.

"Of course. It was probably the worst thing that ever happened around here."

"I was talking about it with my dad last night and we were wondering about something and we thought you might be a good person to talk to, being so connected to the community and all."

"You can go ahead and say because I'm the town gossip."

I let out a genuine laugh.

"Well okay. We were thinking about what happened to Chase all those years ago and were wondering... did you ever hear anybody talking about that maybe Chase didn't really kill himself?"

Tina paused her chewing again. Took in a deep breath.

"I heard that. I didn't think much about it at the time, but I did hear it. It's something you have to really think about though. That little boy decided to kill himself and do it by jumping in with a bunch of hogs?"

"That's what me and my dad were talking about."

"I think the thing was that no one really had anything else that made sense either. You can't make a conviction without any kind of evidence. I tried to talk to Ronnie about it, but he didn't seem to know anything either."

"Why Ronnie?"

I had never once heard anything about Ronnie and Chase even knowing each other.

"Ronnie knew Chase pretty well through Crave. He talked about him quite a bit before he died. He was pretty broken up when it all happened."

"Crave?"

"It's a network of churches around here. They're the ones which aimed at having kids get involved in church. They had the church which looked like Noah's ark up in Martin all the kids loved. Ronnie still goes to them. He's actually at a meet-up thing in Union City right now."

The idea of Crave Churches vaguely came back to me. I remembered them recruiting a lot of kids in my middle school. They tried desperately to make church cool in a way to attract teenagers to hopefully someday replace their aging congregation. Suddenly even kids who were smoking behind the gym at lunch and stealing their parents' peppermint schnapps were going to youth group. Once I thought about it, Ronnie was exactly one of those kids.

"Do you know when Ronnie gets back?"

*

I knew Ronnie was going to suggest going to The Locker Room before he even said it. The sad, local bar where the locals who had graduated within the past 15 years who stayed in town frequented to try and relive their younger days, it was like something out of that Springsteen song "Glory Days."

I heard my name hollered drunkingly before I even fully walked through the door. Shit. I had already been spotted.

It took my eyes a second to focus after walking in out of the bright light of the midday sun, but once they focused in I saw my fan was the very person I had come to meet – Ronnie. He bounced up and down on a bar stool like a baby in high chair just before dinner is served.

"Leeeeeeeeeeevi Green," Ronnie announced name like the old Chicago Bulls PA announcer when I neared.

I kept my face down, took a seat next to Ronnie at the bar and avoided eye contact with the female bartender I knew I went to high school with. She was the only person in the bar other than Ronnie and based on the distance she gave from where Ronnie was seated, she was about as thrilled about reuniting with him as I was.

"L-Dog. I got you a Fireball and Coke," Ronnie announced and stuck out a handshake greeting.

I accepted Ronnie's handshake and gave him a firm up and down, never acknowledging the bizarre drink he ordered for me.

Ronnie had not aged well. All of the features which made him unattractive as a youth had worsened – his underbite was even more pronounced, the cystic acne on his cheeks had somehow increased, even though we were in our 30s, his hair was still pizza greasy, but was now an awkward shoulder length. His teeth seemed to crook and curl all around his mouth like the trunk of a tree when he beamed a smile at me.

"I'm surprised you wanted to meet up. I never see you when you're in town anymore," Ronnie started in.

"I know. I barely see anyone when I'm around, usually in for like a day or two. Don't even really see my brother."

"Well fuckin a, man. I appreciate it. Gets pretty boring around here. I'm sure it's not as cool as like Denver or something. Go fuckin Broncos. Better than the fuggin Titans. Can't believe they picked that overrated piece of shit from Oregon at QB."

I gave Ronnie the last courtesy smile I reserved for him. Flashed it at him after he downed the last of what appeared to be his Fireball and Coke.

"I wanted to meet up with you to ask you a little bit about my cousin, Chase Lucas, the one who died back in the nineties."

A piece of ice flew out of Ronnie's glass and slid down his cheek. He coughed and gagged. His eyes darted around the dim bar.

"I haven't heard that name in like twenty years," Ronnie answered with a mouthful of ice.

"I know. I didn't even know you knew him, but I ran into your mom and she said you guys were friendly back in Crave."

Ronnie nodded furiously. Jingled his icy glass at the bartender. Let out a deep breath.

"It's crazy shit man. Glad I've already taken down a good chunk of these F and Cs. I don't know what happened to Chase, man."

"What do you mean, crazy shit but you don’t know what happened?"

Ronnie received another drink and got to work on it right away.

"It's some heavy shit man. Not easy to talk about."

I moved my face closer to Ronnie's. Fresh tears had formed in his eyes.

"I don't really want to talk about here. It's not a good idea," Ronnie said and shot another paranoid look around the bar.

"We're the only people here. Let's just talk about it."

"I don't know man, heavy."

Ronnie shook his head again. The gears in my head turned. I reached over and finally grabbed hold of the drink Ronnie ordered for me. Took a hearty swig. It was even worse than I thought it would be.

"Cinnamon, whiskey and Coke. I'll hand it to you for probably being the first person in the world who would think that would be a good fucking combination."

We both laughed.

"There's a lot of shit you don't know man. Heavy shit," Ronnie said once he finished laughing. "I was pretty good friends with Chase when he died. I don't think many people know that."

"From Crave, you two hung out together a lot at Crave Churches?"

"We did. He was a cool kid. Little younger than me, but we were tight. Bonded over the fucked up shit that happened."

"What fucked up shit?"

"I've never really told anyone about this shit. No one asks me shit around here, but we go way back, man. I got molested at Crave. So did Chase. Shit. Molested aint even the right word. That's not fair. We got fuckin raped, man."

The silent space in between two Bob Seger songs on the jukebox picked a really bad time to pop up. Ronnie and eye sat there silent, staring into our "F & Cs."

"Started when I was about eight. Chase too."

"Who did it?"

"One of the priests. He's long dead though. Died not too long after Chase. Hopefully the fucker didn't find him in heaven, but that priest wasn't the only one. Ones would come in from other towns and stuff. We didn't really know what was going on."

"You still go to that place? Your mom said that's where you were today when I went over."

"I just say I'm going there because she likes that. Really I just go here or to get fucked up with some guys I know up in Union City. Guys who got raped too," Ronnie laughed. "I go to Crave from time to time just to make sure those guys don't think I'm going to rat them out. Wouldn't want to know what they would do if they thought I might do that."

"You think all that stuff had something to do with Chase dying though?"

"Could, but I don't know. All the shit was so dark, I wouldn't be shocked if Chase just decided it was too much. I'll tell you what though. Chase was into some deeper shit than me. He was always on those chat rooms at the church computer labs."

"What do you mean?"

"The churches were doing everything they could to get teenagers to hang out there. They all had these computer labs with Internet, back when that was a really big deal. Chase practically lived in those labs. I went on there a few times with him, but it was scary as shit. He would be in these romance chat rooms talking with married guys up in Chicago, Detroit and shit. He was in deep. I would be very curious to see what exactly what going on with him and that stuff back in the day. The answers might be all there."

"They still have these computer labs."

Ronnie finished his drink and let out a laugh.

"Yeah. Still do. Still have those shitty ass 90s computers too."

*

It was the first time in my life I was glad I was an IT guy. A fire burned inside myself when I drove back to my dad's house in the night after dropping Ronnie off on his mom's doorstep with him drunkenly mumbling something about how we were "like brothers" over and over again.

My IT coincidence was followed up by another stroke of luck when I discovered in my luggage that I had packed one of my Frontier IT red polo shirts from work. The change in direction of my trip my dad's revelations and Ronnie's confessions created meant the stale polo would be the perfect disguise for what I was going to try and pull off.

*

"Why the hell are you wearing that dumbass shirt?" My dad growled at me from his bed when I walked through the living room with two fresh cups of creamy coffee.

"Sounding pretty judgmental for a guy sleeping on a bed in a living room, dad," I shot back and set down his coffee next to a short glass of whiskey. "Besides, this shirt signifies I know how to fix computers and that's a pretty non-dumbass skill. You wouldn't call a guy who can repair a driveshaft a dumbass, would you?

"Would if he wore a shirt like that. Where you going anyway?"

"Looking into this stuff about Chase. You ever heard of Crave Churches?"

"Is that a gay bar?"

I shook my head and walked out the door.

*

I must have driven or walked by the Crave Church in my hometown a million times and not even thought about what it was. There are so many churches in rural Tennessee I have heard at least three individuals in my lifetime say you can't "swing a dead cat in rural Tennessee without hitting a church." Disgusting analogy, but accurate.

Tucked behind Main Street on a little poorly-paved road next to the north woods of town, Crave Church was a white, triangle-shaped building with a rotting wooden statue of Jesus stuck out in the front yard next to a reader board which housed just three black letters rearranged to spell out VAG. I let out a little chuckle when I walked up the front steps of the building, my eyes stuck on the brilliance of some town kid.

The front door of the church was open when I reached the top of the little cement slope of a walkway which led up from the sidewalk.

"Howdy," I announced myself in my cheeriest tone when I walked into the cramped congregation room. "Hello?"

I was answered by the retching sound of someone vomiting.

"Hold on one second."

I followed the pained voice down a dark hallway to my left and the open door of an office. I continued until I was in a little doorway looking down at a man in a wheelchair. He quickly looked up at me

"Holy hell," the man pushed the about 20-30 thin red hairs which lived on his scalp back and looked up at me. "Welcome to Crave."

The sad scene I had just stumbled upon made me have to rethink my plan on the spot. I was going to con a guy who looked like a broke ass Larry Flynt who was working and barfing on a hot Wednesday morning?

"Uh, ah. I'm with Frontier IT. I was dispatched to update some of the computers in your computer lab with new software," I finished my statement with the wave of a jump drive.

"That sounds about right. I don't think anyone has tinkered with those things since Clinton was in office. Bill, not Hillary," the man in the wheelchair answered back, punctuated with a chuckle and stuck out a hammy paw for a shake which I accepted. "Bill Crunkle, but my friends call me Crumpled Twenty. Get it? Like crumpled twenty dollar bill? I know it's not that great."

Bill wheeled his chair up to me.

"You know where the computer labs are?"

"It's been a while."

Bill wheeled past me. I followed him out into the hallway.

"I can't take you all the way, but I'll be able to point them out to you," Bill explained and slapped the sides of his chair.

Bill led me out a backdoor and into an overgrown backyard of pale grass decorated with the netless frame of a soccer goal and a netless and backboardless basketball hoop.

Bill pointed out to a tight little trail at the back of the yard which snaked out into the thick, dark woods. I could see the outline of a couple little buildings tucked between the trees out there.

"Two buildings out there are the labs. Don't think anyone is out there yet," Bill said and dug into a fanny pack until he produced a ring of keys. "I'd walk you out there myself, but for obvious reasons that's a no go, so just unlock it yourself, bring the keys back when you're done."

Bill handed me the keys.

The walk to the computer labs reminded me of something out of a dream. Two brick buildings with metal slanted roofs, the little domiciles looked wholly out of place in the old growth Tennessee woods, especially knowing they rested behind a church which looked on the verge of collapse. Honestly, the labs looked like the newest buildings in the entire sleepy, little hometown other than the Walgreen's.

I wasn't sure if I just felt a cold wind or had spooked myself when I walked up to the front door of one of the labs and unlocked it. I opened up the door and turned around, locked eyes with Bill for a moment before he wheeled himself back into the church.

A flick of a light switch illuminated a tight little room lined with cheap desks topped with 90s-era desktop computers. I approached the nearest desktop, took a seat in an office chair I hoped wasn't full of spiders and fired the thing up. Laughed to myself when I saw the ancient Windows 98 loading screen flash in front of me.

I wasted no time once the computer loaded. For all I knew, Crumpled Twenty Dollar Bill was back in the church calling up headquarters and asking if I was legit.

Thankfully an awful client who spied on the instant messaging of their employees had educated me on my best shot of finding out anything of worth I might be able to track down about Chase on the computers. If you used AOL to chat, which since Chase was in the late-90s, I'm sure he was, all the administrator of the computer or network had to do was check a box which automatically saved all chats in a log file. If Crave Church had, and no one had deleted them, the computers Chase chatted on would have his chat logs saved on them.

Success came quicker than I thought. The admin had been storing chat messages in a conveniently year-labeled folder going all the way back to 1998. I jammed in my jump drive and collected the 1998 and 1999 folders. The three other computers in the room would prove equally fruitful.

I couldn't have gotten out of there fast enough once I loaded up my jump drives. It was now a race to get back to my dad's house to start combing through the old logs to see if I could find anything fruitful. I walked around the side of the church, hoping to avoid Bill.

I was just about to the sidewalk when I heard Bill's voice sound out from the front of the church.

"Hey buddy."

I turned and saw Bill on the perch of the front doorway.

"You leave the keys out back there?"

Damn't. The keys.

"Oh yeah," I answered and ran up the stairs until I reunited with Bill. Handed him the keys.

"Thanks."

I started back down the walkway to the street, but Bill's voice stopped me.

"I thought we used WestTenn for our IT."

I turned around again. Saw Bill scowling at me.

"Uh, yeah, you do, but they don't handle software. They contracted us out."

I scurried away as soon as I finished, got in my rental car and drove away.

*

I thought my dad was dead when I got home.

I came into the living room triumphant, the jump drives burning holes in my pants only to lose every ounce of excitement in my body when I found my dad out cold on his bed in the middle of the day.

"Oh my God."

I dropped down to the bed, put my finger right on my dad's pulse and put my ear to his chest. His heart was beating. He was breathing. He was laughing.

"Fuck. Dad. That's not funny."

I recoiled from his withered little body, truly angered, spit all over the room while he laughed his bony ass off.

"That's not fuckin funny."

My dad finally slowed down his laughter. He glared at me when I set up a laptop on the couch, pushed in the first jump drive.

"You lookin up porn?" My dad quipped from the bed.

I ignored him.

I was locked into my computer. The first 1998 folder I pulled up was less cluttered with files than I thought it would be.

The first few conversations I found didn't help. They seemed to be two church kids talking about the movie The Lost World with one complaining that his mom wouldn't let him see the movie because she insisted dinosaurs never existed.

It took a while, but I was able to pull up one of the chat conversations I was looking for.

June 10, 1998 – Private Chat

ChaseMANhattan: I can't believe we're sitting right next to each other, but writing to each other on the computer.

Ronniebobonnie: Pretty crazy but awesome. We can't talk about this stuff around here though.

ChaseMANhattan: True, true. Did it happen again last night?

Ronniebobonnie: What do you think?

ChaseMANhattan: When doesn't it happen?

Ronniebobonnie: He keeps telling me I will like it eventually. Like you do.

ChaseMANhattan: Please...

Ronniebobonnie: Shit. Someone is coming.

June 12, 1998 – Midwest Romance Chat Room Private Chat

LareBear: Hey

ChaseMANhattan: a/s/l.

LareBear: 49/m/Chicago

ChaseMANhattan: Hey. Cool. What's up?

LareBear: a/s/l

ChaseMANhattan: 12/m/Middle of nowhere in Tennessee

LareBear: Cool.

ChaseMANhattan: Is it?

LareBear: I like Tennessee. My brother lives in Nashville. It's not bad. Beautiful.

ChaseMANhattan: Where I live is NOT Nashville.

LareBear: Got it. So are you looking for romance?

June 14, 1998 – Private Chat

Ronniebobonnie: Who's the guy you were telling me about last night? Your friend.

ChaseMANhattan: Larry. He's older. From Chicago.

Ronniebobonnie: That's pretty cool. He gonna take you out of this little shithole?

ChaseMANhattan: It's not like that. I've talked to older guys before. It's not like we are ever going to meet up. We just like to talk and stuff. They get me. People around here don't get me. I can talk about stuff I actually care about. Not just like baseball and church.

Ronniebobonnie: I get you man.

ChaseMANhattan: You do, but it's different. Don't worry about it though.

Ronniebobonnie: I won't until I will.

That was the last of any conversations involving what I was sure was Chase on the first jump drive.

Jump drive number two dove into valuable conversations rather quickly.

June 17, 1998 - Midwest Romance Chat Room – Private Chat

LareBear: Hey Chase.

ChaseMANhattan: Hey. How's it going up there?

LareBear: It's good. Thinking about you a lot lately.

ChaseMANhattan: Really? WHY?

LareBear: I don't know. You just seem cool.

ChaseMANhattan: Well I'm not going to argue with that.

LareBear: I know. It's weird. Any chance you can get me that picture you told me about?

ChaseMANhattan: Can't. The only scanner I have is here at the church and there's no way I'm using that.

LareBear: Darn.

ChaseMANhattan: I know. I've tried to tell my mom to get a computer and Internet, but she doesn't even know what the Internet is. She's scared of Y2K though. Thinks it's going to be like The Terminator.

LareBear: That's crazy. You are so cool though.

ChaseMANhattan: Thanks.

LareBear: Why don't you like your church?

ChaseMANhattan: Lotta reasons. Don't really want to talk about it.

LareBear: Want to talk about meeting up?

ChaseMANhattan: Yeah, but some other time. I'm not ready yet.

The rest of the conversations with Chase on the second jump drive were back and forths with LareBear which didn't really contain too much information other than more occasional mentions of Larry and Chase meeting up where Chase never bit.

The third jump drive was a complete failure. Sank my heart. I wondered if I was going to have to go back  to Denver in a week with just a few random conversations between Chase and some anonymous guy about mostly harmless stuff.

The last drive would not let me down.

October 3, 1998 – Private Chat

Ronniebobonnie: You think he is actually coming this time? Didn't he not show up last time?

ChaseMANhattan: He's coming. I've been talking to him on the phone a lot now. He calls me when my mom isn't home. If she is home then he pretends to be a telemarketer.

Ronniebobonnie: Where are you meeting?

ChaseMANhattan: That motel at the edge of town. I'm riding my bike over there tomorrow after school.

Ronniebobonnie: That's crazy. Good luck.

ChaseMANhattan: Thanks.

This was the only chat log on the last drive which featured Chase, but it gave me a huge revelation. Chase "committed  suicide on October 4, 1998. So the day he supposedly killed himself was the same exact day he was supposed to meet up with Larry.

But was this enough? Was it enough to admit to the police I stole the info off of church computers from a church at least some people in the department probably attended each Sunday?

I had been so wrapped up in my investigation I hadn't realized night had fallen. It was near midnight and the only light in the room came from the screen of my laptop and my dad's little TV screen which was airing the late SportsCenter.

I looked over to my dad in his bed. His eyes were closed and the blanket covering his chest was moving up and down. He muttered something in his sleep I couldn't make out.

I got up off the couch and came to his side. Maybe he was offering up some telepathic clue about the case? I listened closely.

"Saban. Saban. Alabama. Fuck you Saban."

My dad was having a nightmare about Alabama football. That may have been even scarier than Chase's situation. I gave him a soft pat on the top of his nearly-bald head.

I took my cell phone out of my pocket and called the one person who I thought might be able to help me at this point.

*

"Thanks for meeting me here," Ronnie said with a smile which was way too wide for someone who was meeting about another person likely being murdered to have.

We were back at The Locker Room. It was the only place Ronnie would meet me. He was already there and already drunk.

"No problem. I pulled all the chat logs from those computers. How come you didn't tell me about Larry?" I asked Ronnie while he sucked down a drink.

"I told you about the weird, older guys. I just don't remember their names. It was almost twenty years ago."

"But you chatted with Chase the day before he ended up dead about meeting up with Larry. How do you not remember that? How did you not mention that to anybody back then?"

Ronnie finished his drink, stared into the frothy ice.

"Why?" I pushed again.

"You think I wanted to open up that box? There's no way then, or now, I do that and it doesn't end up with everyone knowing what happened to me. Thinking I'm gay."

"But Ronnie, I have the transcripts. There's enough there. There's Chase's screenname talking about meeting up with that Larry guy that day."

"You just have the Chase Manhattan screenname?"

"Yeah, I guess, why?"

"Because that's not the only screenname Chase used."

"What? I pulled every transcript from every one of those computers."

"I'm sure you did, but Chase had another screenname, like a clean one. He only used the Chase Manhattan one for conversations he didn't want the church to see. The church picked out your real screenname with you and that was the only one you were supposed to use."

"What was his real screenname?"

"Something like young saint or disciple or something super creepy in retrospect."

Chase's main screenname was in all of the logs I had pulled. It was YoungFollower19.

Almost all of his conversations were typical 12-year-old stuff which often tied back into the church, except for whenever he chatted with someone named Honcho14.

Most of the conversations I found between YoungFollower19 and Honcho14 were just as stale and uninteresting as the rest of his conversations about South Park and Warheads candy and various other juvenile topics, but one jump drive dove into a cluster of conversations which plunged into the bizarre.

July 16, 1998 – Private Chat

Honcho14: Haven't heard much from you lately...

YoungFollower19: Yeah, been a pretty boring summer.

Honcho14: Is that what LareBear would say?

YoungFollower19: What?

Honcho14: You guys have been talking a lot.

YoungFollower19: You're crazy.

Honcho14: But you have. Been getting serious?

YoungFollower19: I'm done talking to you.

August 22, 1998 – Private Chat

Honcho14: You've been ignoring me.

YoungFollower19: I'm not ignoring you. I just haven't been on in a while. Getting ready to go back to school too.

Honcho14: So you're meeting LareBear?

YoungFollower19: No. I don't know why you are obsessed with that. I've only talked to him like three times.

Honcho14: I don't believe you.

YoungFollower19: I don't care anymore.

Honcho14: You told me you loved me.

YoungFollower19: Only cause you made me.

Honcho14: Fuck you.

October 1, 1998 – Private Chat

Honcho14: You're a liar.

YoungFollower19: Leave me alone.

Honcho14: I'm going to tell everyone.

YoungFollower19: Tell everyone what? You're into little boys?

Honcho14: No, that you're into boys. I have all the evidence. You'll be in so much trouble.

YoungFollower19: I have more on you than you do me.

Honcho14: Ha. Go for it. See if anyone believes you, but you better be careful. A lot of dangerous people out there.

YoungFollower19: What does that mean?

Honcho14: You know...

*

Ronnie met me by the river this time.  I refused to go to The Locker Room again.

We stood there staring at the muddy river, Ronnie smoking a cigarette for a few minutes before we had the courage to speak.  

"Who's Honcho fourteen?" I got it started.

"Somebody at the church, not sure who" Ronnie said before he chucked his smoke into the river.

"Any idea?"

"No idea. I think I know what happened though."

"What?"

"I think either this Larry guy or whoever Honcho is murdered Chase, some people figured it out, but they covered it up, staged a suicide because they didn't want people to know Chase was gay and they didn't want anyone to suspect Crave."

"How could we prove that?" I asked.

"I'll tell you what. There's a computer in the church in town anyone who worked there used which is still there in the office. If you can get the information off of that computer. I'm pretty sure you prove it. I'm sure there's something on there. They were always on that thing."

"Can we get on there?"

"I think if we try to get in there late enough we can break in. They got shit for security and locks, not a huge surprise."

"Will you go with me?"

*

The area around the Crave Church took on a completely different vibe in the middle of a windy night. An absence of street lights made the world almost completely dark and an absence of houses left the land around the street wild and overgrown, an easy landscaping for hiding.

"You're sure no one should be there?" I asked Ronnie the question for about the third time since we left the river.

"No one stays there after hours," Ronnie assured. "The only person who is ever really there is Bill and he's in a wheelchair, so it's not like he could really do anything."

A lone light bulb dangling loosely from a tangle of cords above the front door greeted us when we reached the front door of the church. Ronnie went to work on the lock with a crowbar. He jammed the thing into the crease of the door and wrenched as hard as possible. I was impressed with how much progress he made, the wood of the door bent backwards against where the lock in the handle was instantly started to splinter and give. It only took a few wrenches before the lock gave out and the door swung open into the building.

"Easy as fuckin pie," Ronnie muttered underneath his breath before he stepped into the doorway. "Come on, fast."

I swiftly followed Ronnie into the darkness of the church. He shut the door behind us.

The only light now came from the flashlight app on Ronnie's phone. He shined it down a long, narrow hallway where I remember Bill's office resided. I followed Ronnie in that direction.

Ronnie led me into the office and flicked on a light switch. The windowless room came alive with soft light.

Ronnie waved a hand in the direction of a computer on top of a desk in front of an office chair which looked so beaten and weighed down that it might fall into pieces if anyone sat on it.

"Do your thing," Ronnie insisted.

I sat down at the computer, woke it up and fired away. I moved so quickly, I must have had the chat log history folder pulled up in less than 10 seconds.

"Forget about that," Ronnie interrupted my haste.

"What?"

"We already know all that shit," Ronnie explained. "Go to the regular folders."

I followed Ronnie's direction to the general files folder of the computer but stopped as soon as I opened it up. There was a crash outside in the hallway.

"What the hell was that?" I whispered.

Ronnie and I looked at the open office door behind us. No more sounds radiated from the area, but the initial crash was enough to get my heart rate to rise.

"Maybe someone else walked through the front door," Ronnie muttered. "I'll check it out."

My brain told me to plead Ronnie to stay, not leave me alone in the office, but I think the pressure and anxiety of the situation paralyzed my system. I watched Ronnie walk out of the room.

I turned my attention back to the folder in front of me, it's guts lying on the computer screen, endless folders upon folders with random names which didn't seem to suggest anything. How should I even know which one to click on first?

I just started machine gun opening folders. I would open up the folder, take a quick scan to see anything which seemed like it could help our search and abandon it if I couldn't find something soon enough, my ears still tuned to the doorway, expecting to hear Ronnie's footsteps come back any second.

Finally, a folder named Sir Psycho Sexy caught my eye. Tucked at the very bottom of the scroll of a folder within a folder, I couldn't ignore the name. A quick click sprawled the contents across the screen and they did not disappoint.

Lying in front of my eyes were thumbnails of photos I will never get out of my mind. I will spare you the disturbing details, but they were all of Chase with about half of them also featuring Bill and another half featuring random middle-aged men. I clicked in and out of photos until I stopped on one I could only look at for the briefest of glimpses. It was of Ronnie struggling against a rope tied around his neck attached to a ceiling.

The picture felt like a hard punch in my gut. I turned onto my side in the computer chair, my mouth coughing down towards the floor, my face flushed with blood, vomit bubbling at the back of my throat.

A creaking sound from behind me forced me to turn my gaze around.My eyes whipped over to a back corner of the room and a door I hadn't noticed when we came was now open.

"Ronnie...

There was no verbal answer. I watched Bill roll himself through the door and into the room in his wheelchair.

"What the fuck is wrong with you" I spat at Bill.

Bill answered my question with a fat smirk and a squint from behind his glasses.

"You fucking killed him?" I went on.

"You can't prove that."

I wasted no time in chatting, instead jumped back to the computer, jammed a jump drive in and threw the Sir Psycho Sexy folder into it. I watched the folder disappear into the drive icon just before I saw a thick rope drop down across my field of vision and cinch tight around my neck.

I was lifted up off of my feet. My throat gagged in a way I had never felt before. My body swung around like a pinata on a line. I looked down on Bill's heavy form standing up just fine on his own two feet, his chair resting over by the door in the corner of the room. He pushed his face up to mine and stared deeply into my eyes with cold grey pupils. I shut mine as hard as I could.

I tried to scream for Ronnie, but couldn't even get a gasp out. I was utterly helpless. I just stared at the doorway to the office hoping to see Ronnie come running into save me with one thought running in my head over and over again. Bill had been faking the wheelchair the entire time?

Lightheaded and slipping away to where I no longer cared, I started to lament almost every single thing I had done in my life. The warm, dreamy embrace of death I had heard about so many times in my life may not have been real. This was far from pleasant, but somewhere in the fog I thought I heard my salvation coming from out in the hall. Footsteps pitter pattered in our direction. I felt Bill ever so slightly loosen his grip.

I tried to scream out when Ronnie stepped into the doorway, sweat-coated and wide-eyed.

The grip let up just enough to where I could squeak out...

"Ronnie."

Ronnie didn't even make eye contact with me. Just glared at Bill.

"We weren't supposed to do this yet."

Bill dropped me hard to the floor.

"We do him the same way we did Chase," Bill snorted.

"No one can know," Ronnie mumbled.

*

Bill and Ronnie tied me up with the rope Bill nearly strangled me to death with without a hint of an explanation despite my pleads before they covered my mouth with duct tape. They threw me into the canopy-covered back of a truck and we took off into the night.

My only potential salvation in my mind rested in my cell phone in my pocket. Ronnie and Bill had forgotten to take it out of my pocket when they tied me up. My arms were tied behind my back so I couldn't take it out and dial it, but I was able to press my fists against it and press as hard as I could to try and get it to do something. I thanked my lucky (or in this case unlucky) stars that I used a piece of shit Windows phone which didn't have an access code or lock screen. I kept at it for as long as I could hoping to "butt dial" someone for the first time in my life.

I finally started to cry when I felt the truck slow and come to a stop. I think the shock and adrenaline had finally wore off. The 10 minute or so drive allowed me to cool down and think about the situation. I started wishing Bill had just finished it back at the church.

I heard the tailgate drop. I wiggled around and saw Ronnie craw under the canopy.

"You got him," I heard Bill announce from off in the distance.

Why are you doing this? I tried to ask from behind the thick tape on my mouth, but it came out like "wha hi ur hue ewing it?"

Ronnie must have been able to make out the question though. He drifted an eye towards me.

"I knew you always thought I was a retard. Thought I was a weirdo. You were right. I thought I could do it at first, help you, forget about it all, but then I thought about everybody knowing what happened to me. We got too deep, you knew too much. Had to do the same thing with Chase. He was going to tell everybody."

"Stop playing grab ass with him," Bill shot out again.

Ronnie grabbed me around the waist and pulled out of the canopy until we both dropped to the muddy ground. A summer rain misted down upon us.

I let my entire body go limp. Tried to make it hard as humanly possible to carry me.

"Come on, man," Ronnie yelled down at me when he tried to pick me up.

I started to hear something much more hideous than Ronnie's voice once he finished his casual plead... the sound of hoofs stomping upon hard dirt, the sound of grunts and huffs and puffs. The sounds of hogs.

I screamed as hard as I could from behind the tape. The rain picked up to a steady fall.

I let up my screaming for a second and started to hear a familiar, nostalgic sound trickle into my ear over the sound of the hogs and the rain. The purr of my dad's old truck. It was the same sound I used to love to hear on autumn afternoons after football practice when I could hear his old 95 F-350 coming from seemingly all the away across town, knowing he would soon pick me up and I would jump in the cab where he had a fresh pack of beef jerky waiting for me.

The sound got louder until I saw tall headlights slip into the clearing where Ronnie and Bill were standing over me. The headlights stopped about 30 yards away and the rumble of the truck ceased.

"You tell anyone else to come out yet," I heard Bill frantically ask Ronnie.

The first shot ripped through right after Bill finished and struck him directly in the neck. I heard a hideous gasp of a sound shoot out from Bill's head but was quickly distracted by the blast of another shot.

I laid out as flat as I possibly could. Shot a look over at the direction of the headlights which were still on across the clearing. I gave a look over in the other direction and locked eyes with Ronnie's which were open as wide as possible and frozen as if someone had glued his eyelids to the sockets. I looked down to see fresh blood pouring out of a sickening hole in his white tank top.

A brief wave of relief washed over me but it only lasted for a second. This unknown gunman could have been coming to just steal me from my captors. Maybe I had really died and my brain was creating some dreamlike delusion of my dad saving me in his truck to comfort me.

It all felt real though when I tried to catch my breath and failed to make my way to my feet in the mud. I heard the heavy stomping of boots splashing into thick mud head my way from the direction of the headlights.

I rolled onto my back like a helpless turtle and looked up into the white light of the headlights. I saw my savior walk into my field of vision above me.

It was my dad. He clutched the custom rifle he cherished which reminded him of the one he used in Vietnam with his name etched into the side with shaking hands.

He took a shaky palm off of the rifle and offered it down to help me to my feet. I obliged.

My dad reached into my pocket as soon as I got up to my feet. He pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. Showed that it was currently on a call with him.

"You've been calling me for the last twenty minutes."

I almost laughed, but instead did something for the first time in as long as I could remember. I hugged my dad.

*

Dad's funeral ended up being only about a few months after he saved me that night. He tried to kick the whiskey a few times, but the damage had been done and he just couldn't do it. The two of us were also fighting off an investigation from the local cops about Ronnie and good ol Crumpled Twenty Bill, so it was almost like my dad was racing to get to that last fatal drink to avoid having to go to court and/or jail for the whole thing.

I flew back from Denver again to hold his hand as he faded away in that bed in the living room with a new-found appreciation for that Vietnam portrait which rested above the TV pumped in my heart.

We buried him next to his mom and dad in a cemetery town in the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains of east Tennessee. We held the funeral on a rainy Saturday in the fall early in the morning so everyone would have the time to make it to a TV or a bar afterwards to see Tennessee take on Alabama on the football field.

I was shocked by the amount of turnout. I figured only a few scattered family members I barely knew and some old friends from his hometown would show up. I was shocked when I pulled into the little gravel parking lot of the cemetery and saw lines of Harleys and beat-up trucks with POW/MIA flags and stickers adorned  to them filling up the parking lot.

I shook a lot of hands, introduced myself to a lot of veterans before the funeral started and everyone took their seats to watch me nervously MC the thing. I patted my dad's coffin before I walked up to the podium and started the ceremonies.

"Well... my dad made it clear he didn't want a traditional funeral. He didn't want all the sadness and the stale words of condolence and enlightenment. He just wanted stories. He just wanted everyone who felt like it to know that they could come up here and tell a story about my dad if they like... and he wanted me to get things started."

I stopped. The tears. The sobs. They came on in a fit. I tried to fight them, but just gave in and let it go for about 30 seconds.

"Uh, I have a story I want to tell you all. It's long and it's crazy and it's dark and it shows some flaws, but in the end, my dad's the hero he could be sometimes... so, do you want to hear it?

Originally published by Thought Catalog on www.ThoughtCatalog.com