#i’m cursed with the worst writers block and i’m so impatient to get rid of it

[clonesupport]

Interview with a Fic Writer

tagged by @captastra! thanks💞^^ i tag anyone who sees this and wants to do them!

1. how many works do you have on ao3? 18! i’m still a baby lol

2. what’s your total ao3 word count? 59 674^^

3. what are your top 5 fics by kudos? A Good Night’s Rest (Arcane: League of Legends), Property of the Jedi Master (The Clone Wars), One’s Fill is Another’s Satisfaction (Detroit: Become Human), A Cork in a Bottle of Champagne (The Outer Worlds), One Last Time (The Outer Worlds)

4. do you respond to comments? why or why not? yes! because i’ve gotten like a total of three so far so like i’m desperate to talk to people who comment, it’s such a rare occurrence for me to get a comment lol

5. what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? i don’t even think i’ve written any fics that ended with angst, i’m currently writing a series named Saudade’s Affair (Red Dead Redemption 2) with angst but it’s not done and it only has some angst in like one chapter lol and i don’t plan to finish it with angst, i don’t really like angst tbh, im too emotionally unstable to do angst ahahaha

6. what’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? honestly all my fics end happy or well so like all of them i guess lol

7. do you write crossovers? i haven’t done so yet and i honestly haven’t really thought to write any cuz i’m not usually one to do au’s and stuff but if i think of a good one or a good one is pitched to me i’d be down

8. have you received hate on fics? only rude annoying comments a long time ago when i used to write in high school but that was like fives years ago lol

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind? lmfao like anyone needs to ask that question when they give my master list a single glance, yes i write a lot of smut lol it’s just about all i write, and i write it all, anything and everything, crazy shit, basic shit, all of it. as long as it’s nsfw and smutty and sexy i’m writing it ^^

10. have you ever had a fic stolen? yes, once. again, this was in high school so a long time ago, it really hit me hard tho as some angsty 15 year old lol i think it was one of the reasons i completely stopped writing for a good five years actually

11. have you ever had a fic translated? nope! that’d be cool tho

12. have you ever co-written a fic before? nar lol

13. what’s your all time favourite ship? oh god honestly idk, im usually a selfish self-insert bastard ahahaha so i never think much about ships, but i do love bones and booth from bones, that was one of my firsts and i still love it to today ahaha

14. what’s a wip that you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will? low key all of the ones i have rn lmfao that comes to a total of 15, my writers block eased a smidge for one thing of hcs but the thought of writing an proper fic again is exhausting and it sucks cuz i really wanna write them so so bad. i need a new brain with a higher power meter TT one i know for sure has a very slim chance of ever getting written is a joel miller x reader cnc fic i’ve had in my drafts for like half a year now that i haven’t touched in months.

15. what are your writing strengths? i think detailed explanations of small things lol, i like the details when it comes to writing so it’s really what i focus on ^^

16. what are your writing weaknesses? just about everything else lmfao i’m not a good writer and my grammar is for shit, never got good grades in english classes and always got shit marks for creative story writing no matter how much i loved doing it. i was always told my stories lack plot and just general sense, so i never write in depth stories anymore lol probably why i stick to short porn without plot oneshots ;p i’m also extremely hard on myself lol always have been, so i’ve never really seen anything good in my writing unless someone bluntly tells me so, without that selfish need for approval i feel like i’m ass lmfao which is something i really gotta break out of

17. what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in fics? only if i know the language, i’m trilingual but i only know how to write/read 2/3 of them so probably only english and french, mandarine if i had good help but that’s it. i don’t want to look dumb or disrespect the language i would be writing from google translate lmfao it’s never good that way.

18. what was the first fandom you wrote for? i dont quite remember but i think it was supernatural for when i first started in my early teens and clone wars/star wats after my five year hiatus lol

19. what’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet, but want to? oh god i mean i kind of have that list on my character request list lol but umm top ones would probably be some star wars/clone wars/bad batch characters i haven’t written for, i need to write for my man hosea matthews from red dead redemption, sam drake from uncharted cuz he’s like one of my favourite characters ever lol, overwatch tbh, more game of thrones characters, phineas wells and anton crane from outer worlds

20. what’s your favoruite fic you’ve written? probably a tie between Saudade’s Affair (even if it’s not done and i haven’t updated it in forever because of this fucking writers block TT), and Nice Necklace. Saudade’s Affair probably comes on top even if like 5 people read it lol it’s my first ever series that i’ve actually carried through with and planned and didn’t delete after like two chapters cuz i gave up ahahaha that story has a special place in my heart and so does josiah trelawny, thinking of him and that story bring me so much comfort and happiness and i can’t wait to keep writing it when my god damn brain lets me. Nice Necklace was my first ever max fic and i’d been wanting to make my own max fic for like 2.5 years since i’ve played tow and that fic got me back into writing and was also oh so purely self indulgent lol.

✨honorable mentions: No Rest for the Vicar, Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures, A Night at Burlesque, The Vicar’s Tiny Dancer (i think i have a thing for burlesque tropes AHAHA)

[alolowrites]

Late Night Visitor

Summary: A mysterious stranger visits your balcony and accidentally leaves behind a priceless jewelry that they stole from a museum.   

Author’s Note: I’m pleased to share the next story for @bnhabookclub​ Hero Camp Bingo event. The prompt I used was “Crime AU” It took a while getting this done because of work stress and having slight writer’s block (plus I kept changing the story’s direction). But really, it was because of how stressed/tired I’ve been the past few weeks. So, really sorry if it took forever posting another story.

It’s also my first time writing for Hawks, so hopefully I did him justice! He was the first character that popped up when working with this prompt. Please enjoy!!

Word Count: 2.3K+

“Ah! Hot, hot!”

Well, isn’t this just great? Nothing like accidentally burning your tongue during dinner to remind yourself how impatient you are—damn hunger. One hand flails to cool down your mouth. Steam dances above the hearty bowl of curry rice, the sweet smell of caramelized onions greeting your nose with a soft kiss. Bless the local 7-11 markets for selling quick and easy meals.

You sit criss-cross applesauce on the fluffy gray rug and scroll through social media for the millionth time. It’s been a slow weekend as yesterday’s news is recycled for today’s news. A random show plays on the television, but you don’t pay attention to the white noise. All your focus is on the phone, yet you still reach for another bite from your meal. How the rug stays clean during dinner nights at home is a complete mystery.  

Sipping on your drink, you spare a glance at the balcony and do a double-take—a stranger is crouching outside. You choke, “Oh shit!”

Without thinking, you scurry behind the gray couch, not caring if the rug becomes messy. Your pounding heart is like a concert bass drum which echoes around the small apartment. The sound drowns out the show’s mindlessly chatter. Frightened eyes peek around the corner, and you whip back in full regret.

The person is still outside. Their back is facing toward the balcony door, and they are wearing a form-fitting black hoodie. Hands search for your phone, but they come up empty. Panic finally settles in when you realize it’s on the coffee table. Great, you moan as your head softly hits against the furniture—is the door even locked?

You’re faced with a dilemma: Do you stay out of sight until the stranger leaves or risk being seen while getting help? After much deliberation, you swallow a hard pill and growl at the ceiling, “If I’m doing this, I better not die!”

You’re like a soldier crawling through the mud with a drill sergeant yelling down your neck. You snatch the phone off the table, but make the mistake of looking up at the sliding door. Everything comes to a screeching halt as curious gold eyes stare into your timid ones. The mysterious visitor becomes more intimidating thanks to the balaclava mask—it covers the lower half of their face.

The intense staring contest last for an eternity. You nearly rip off the loose strands on your rug when the stranger approaches closer; they stop when you back away. Taking pity on you, they jump over the balcony and disappear into the quiet night.

A sense of relief washes over you.

Who knows what could have happened to you? Maybe your mom was right about learning some self-defense; the pepper spray is not enough. As you stand and dust off your pants, a shiny light catches your attention; it’s coming from outside. You go against your better judgment and tiptoe toward the balcony.

Your jaw immediately falls to the floor when you spot an exquisite ruby pendant. A sparkling round diamond sits above the bright red gemstone, a slight tint of purple hue lurking underneath. Even the platinum metal chain carries an air of luxury. It’s as if the gods carefully hand-crafted this entire jewelry themselves. In short, it is simple but elegant.

Sliding the door, you wonder if this is some kind of trap. After checking your surroundings, you swiftly pick up the accessory and snort, “Thank you for making me feel poor.”

Fingers glide along the gemstone’s perfect curves as you gaze at the sleeping neighborhood. Your mind goes wild: Who was the person with those haunting golden eyes? Why did they come to your balcony? And why in the world did they leave behind a beautiful masterpiece?

You have so many questions but very few answers.  

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

“So, you didn’t call the police?”

“Um…no…?”

“And why not?”

“It was a mixture of being both scared and stupid.”

“Oh my—” Fuyumi pinches the bridge of her nose. You twiddle your fingers like a guilty child and sink further into the booth. Fuyumi had her suspicions when you texted her to meet up at the usual coffee shop near your apartment. It’s your go-to place whenever you’ve done something questionable, which is ninety-nine percent of the time. Plus, the café whips up the perfect batch of castella—her favorite pastry.  

Customers stroll in and out of the coffee shop as piano music plays softly in the background. Roasted coffee beans linger in the air, tempting your nose with its delicious aroma. Out of habit, you push the castella closer to Fuyumi as if that would help soften the blow. She exhales, “Next time, please call the police.”

“Yes, mother,” you mumble much to Fuyumi’s displeasure, but she lets it slide. With the worst over, you bounce straight up and tap the table with an air of excitement. “Oh! Here’s the best part though, besides surviving a break-in—”

“The person was outside your balcony.”

“—close enough, but not really the point, okay?” Fuyumi rolls her eyes, and you fish out your phone to show her a picture. She takes a closer look as you ramble off. “Anyway, my late-night visitor left behind this gorgeous pendant! Why they were carrying this around is beyond me, and so carelessly too. I’m no jeweler, but I’m pretty sure those stones are worth a fortune—still beautiful, though.”

“Yeah, and stolen!” The white-haired teacher hisses. You blink, wholly baffled at her extreme reaction. Fuyumi whips out her iPhone with two fingers flying above the screen. She shoves it toward you, your eyes skimming through the article. The news delivers a sharp slap across your face as the realization sinks in.

Oh no…

Fuyumi bites her lip, “It’s The Grand Droplet, a priceless heirloom rumored to offer infinite life and prosperity. Police are saying the notorious thief, Hawks, stole the pendant last night from the Yutaka Jewelry Museum.” A few seconds later, she adds, “You have the pendant—”

“Shhhhhh!” A hand attacks her arm, your panicked eyes wandering around the coffee shop as if your cover got blown. No one turns their heads, but you shoot an annoyed glare at Fuyumi. “Why don’t you say it louder? I don’t think the barista heard you!”

“I’m sorry! It’s just,” she grips the table’s edge and leans closer, “This is serious! You have to bring the pendant to the authorities. See, this is exactly why you should have called the police last night! The longer you wait, the more guilty you look. Maybe you’ll even become an accomplice to the crime.”

“You’re not helping!”

“Sorry…”

You dramatically groan into your hands, “Why did this happen to me?! When I said I wanted to live like Larry, I didn’t mean this!”

“I know,” Fuyumi pats your head and sneaks a bite of her delicious treat; her phone chimes beside you. She checks the message before flashing an apologetic stare. “Listen, I have to take care of something with my family, but I hate to leave you like this.”

“No, it’s okay. I can handle this myself,” you pathetically convince her. “I’m sure nothing bad will happen, knock on wood—”

“The table is metal.”

“I said what I said!” Your fist aggressively pounds the table, scaring off some customers. A mother hastily pushes her child away from the chaotic scene. You calm down and sigh, “I promise to call you if I’m in danger, okay?”

“Okay.”

You nod before whispering, “Sorry, table.”

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

The walk back home is anything but relaxing. You are on high alert, throwing suspicious glances at anyone coming too close to you. They could be undercover cops waiting to ambush you and interrogate your poor soul for hours until the necklace reappears.

But I didn’t do anything! I’m a good noodle!

You sigh as the key unlocks the door, your shoes flying off by the entrance. Fortunately, you hid the pendant in a safe place. All you want to do is get rid of this jewelry; it brings nothing but trouble.

Marching down the hallway, you grumble under your breath, “Stupid Hawks, and his stupid stealing habits.”

Everyone knows about the infamous Hawks. He strikes when one least expects him to, and somehow successfully evades capture after every heist. But Hawks always leaves behind his signature red feather as a little present for authorities—it never fails to rile them up. Hopefully, the cops show some mercy when you explain what happened. Maybe you should work on your puppy dog look before heading downtown, which might help you score a few sympathy points.

You find the burgundy jewelry box sitting on the closet’s top shelf and breathe a sigh of relief—the pendant is still inside. Not wasting precious time, you close the lid and exit your room. A soft click makes you freeze.

Standing by the balcony door is Hawks, who wears a black jacket with a white shirt underneath. His ashy blonde hair is lazily slicked back, a few strands sticking here and there like no tomorrow. Surprisingly, he lowers the balaclava mask and flashes a boyish grin, “‘Bout time you came home! I was getting bored out there.”

“How did you—wait, never mind. You break into high-security places to steal things for a living,” you say, shifting the jewelry box onto your right grip. “Listen, as much as I would like to stay and chit-chat, my day is fully booked. Can’t really cancel on these people, ya know?” You slowly tiptoe backward, an awkward laugh ringing through the air. “Let’s do a rain check; I’m free next week. Okay? Okay! See ya—“

“Hold it!” You halt on his order, a curse slipping out your mouth. Hawks strides across the floor, and you clutch the box closer to your chest. You feel as though your feet are glued to the ground, the nerves growing stronger once Hawks stands only a few feet away. He crosses his arms and nods at the box, “Whatcha got there?”

“Oh, it’s nothing special, really.”

“Can I take a look?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Um, because I don’t want to, that’s why,” you childishly snap and send him a dismissive wave. “Now, shoo! You’re wasting my precious time.”

Hawks chuckles at your feisty attitude. He finds this whole ordeal extremely amusing. You know who he is, you know of his reputation just like everyone else in Japan. And yet, you keep on swinging like a boxer with your witty responses. Still, he has a job to finish. “I’m not leaving until you give me that pendant.”  

“Well, I hope you’re paying for half the rent because there’s no way in hell I’m giving it to you, Mr. Thief.” Two seconds later, you add, “Besides, it’s not even yours!”

“It’s not yours either.”

“Oh!” You give him a fake laugh, pointing one finger at your chest. “So the thief is criticizing me for having something that’s not mine? How rich.”

“You’re lucky I find you cute, but,” Hawks dangerously invades your personal space without giving you a chance to stop him. From far away, he doesn’t appear tall. However, Hawks somehow towers over you, which makes you involuntarily squeak. A wicked glint shines through his golden eyes as he studies your unique facial features. You suddenly forget to breathe when his eyes glance at your lips—damn him.

Hawks plucks the box from your loose grip. The hypnotic spell comes crashing down, and you loudly snarl, “Hey! Give it back!”

“Sorry, Dove,” Hawks keeps you at arm’s length, his gloved hand giving your shoulder a soft squeeze as he smirks, “I got a buyer who’s willing to pay a hefty price for this beauty. Of course, you are way more stunning, but he doesn’t need to know that.”

“Quit charming me!” You’re a blushing mess now and throw a pillow at him; he easily dodges it much to your dismay. Hawks’ cackles bounce off the wall, which makes you scowl. His fingers slide the balcony door open, and he tastes sweet freedom.

“Farewell, Dove!”

You have a deja vu moment when Hawks jumps over the edge. Your legs rush outside, and eyes frantically search the streets, but it’s no use—the thief is long gone. One hand slaps your forehead as you stupidly let him get away with the jewel. Feeling like a deflated balloon, you whip out your phone and make a quick call.

“Fuyumi…yeah, the pendant got stolen again.”

Stupid thief.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

You collapse on the couch with as much grace as an inexperienced dancer who steps on people’s toes. Work left you exhausted, but you’re glad it’s almost the weekend. You’ll definitely sleep in and have a lazy day on Sunday. It’s what you deserve after meeting tight deadlines and also talking to the police about Hawks.

Fortunately, they do not blame you for anything, much to your relief. It’s been about a week since Hawks broke into your apartment to steal back the Grand Droplet. Police have no luck locating him; they believe the thief is lying low until it’s safe enough for him to strike again. Where exactly is anyone’s guess.

A knock disrupts your thoughts.

It comes from the balcony, and you jump to your feet. No one is outside, although a flash of red catches your eye. Lo and behold, it’s Hawks’ signature feather with a small note attached. Oh, how lovely, you think before snatching the gift off the floor. Your pet name is affectionately written across the paper. You hate yourself for finding Hawks’ calligraphy impressive, but proceed to read the note.

Sorry for cutting our convo short—had a deal to close. No hard feelings, though, right? If anything, I’ll make it up to you, Dove. Besides, you still owe me that rain check.

See ya soon!

-H

You don’t bother biting back your smile.

Guess you’ll be seeing Fuyumi at the coffee shop again.

Fourth prompt is crossed off. Which one will be next? Stay tune! Thank you for reading! 

Previous prompt: Cuddles 

Hero Camp Bingo Masterlist

[justimagineitblog]

“You Used To Love Me” Michael Gray Fan Fiction - Chapter 11

A/N: Here it is!!! Okay so I do have an apology to make - I’ve had lots of beautiful amazing people asking when this chapter was coming, and although I know it has only been 4 or 5 days since I uploaded Chapter 10, I hate leaving you guys hanging. And I am so blessed to have people enjoy this series enough to ask for it - it’s mind blowing to me! I’m putting a lot of pressure on these final few chapters because I want them to be perfect and end the series right, and so that does mean I kind of get stuck in a weird writers block because I’m so hard on myself! 

But ANYWAYSSS..... here it is.... I hope you all enjoy it... by order of the peaky fookin blinders xxxx

Michael keeps me in his arms all the way until Bill’s body is dragged away and the private family doctor has arrived. His grip never loosens. Never falters.

When the doctor arrives, asking to check me over for concussions and any other injuries from being thrashed around, Michael basically has to tear himself of me.

“You sure you’re okay?” He breathes, holding onto me nervously. The way he holds me is protective, I can practically feel it radiating off him like heat.

“I’m okay, I’m okay” I coo, trying to calm some of the panic that is stubbornly clinging onto him. Bill is gone now. I’m safe. I’m alive. But it’s almost like Michael doesn’t quite believe that. Or maybe he doesn’t believe that I’m in his arms again. And honestly, I don’t blame him. Part of me can’t even tell if I have a concussion or if I’m just in shock from feeling his touch for the first time in a long time.

Reluctantly he slowly lets me out of his grip, helping me into the chair. But even then he still doesn’t let go completely, keeping his hand on my arm.

“Alright let’s take a look” the doctor begins, pulling out a light to check my eye movements.

I feel Michael crouch down beside me, squeezing my arm in reassurance. Though I’m not sure who he is reassuring more - me or himself.

The room is spinning, and I focus my hardest on not falling straight off the chair as the doctor asks me to follow his finger as he waves it in front of my face.

Next to me Michael has begun bouncing his leg impatiently - something he always used to do when he was nervous. I always used to put my hand on his thigh, and it would stop, disappearing under my touch. Slowly, I reach my arm out to him, and put my palm over his knee. Maybe it’s just a reflex now. Something I don’t even think about. My body and brain just know what to do and they do it without even thinking.

I feel his knee steady, slowing all the way to a halt. But underneath my hand I can almost feel the all the pent up, panic ridden energy coursing through him. Like buzzing of electrical wires.

“Well what’s going on? Is she okay?” He demands the doctor, urging him to hurry up.

The doctor hums, giving me a final once over before stepping away from me.

“Not a concussion, nothing serious” he concludes.

Michael lets out a sigh of relief so loud and harsh it almost sounds like a sob.

“But you have been shaken up. A lot” he tells me “You’ve taken quite a beating. You’re going to be sore. You’re going to be coming down of a lot of shock and adrenaline. Do you live with someone Izzy?”

“No, I live alone in my apartment” I rub at my throat, not realising how strained and hoarse it feels to speak. I didn’t realise how hard he had been choking me.

“Well look I think it’s best if someone stays with you tonight, just incase, alright?”

“You can stay with us Izzy-“ Polly begins, but Michael’s voice cuts in urgently as he speaks over the top of her.

“I’ll do it” Michael’s voice cuts in abruptly, and I shoot my head towards him in shock. Unsure if it was from the movement or the fact that he just offered to stay and look after me tonight, but the room starts to spin again.

“No, Michael-” I try to shake my head, to decline his offer, but that only makes the dizziness it worse

“Izzy” he breathes, trying to insist without being too firm with me, sensing that I’m feeling weak “It’s okay, I’ll do it”

He locks his eyes on mine, wide and genuine as he tries to insist that he isn’t going anywhere. That he’s got me. Reassuring me in the way his words can’t. The feeling is bittersweet. That the man who broke my heart into two is here in front of me now desperately trying to mend it. That the man who broke me is in front me now desperately trying to protect me.

“Let’s get you up, see if you can walk” the doctor walks back over to me, holding out his arms to help me up. Michael jumps up immediately, practically pushing the doctor out of the way as he holds his arms out to me to hold onto like railings to steady myself.

I push myself up of the chair, expecting to fall in a heap back onto the floor but much to my relief I stay standing, my body regaining some kind of strength although it is aching and sore.

“There you go” he coos softly at me.

Tommy, Arthur and Michael all help me clamber my stiff and aching body in the car, Michael rushing around to the drivers side to drive me home. We are silent the whole way to my apartment, but every few seconds Michael glances over at me to check I’m still okay.

Getting my my flights of stairs are the next hurdle.

“Alright just hold on me yeah, we’ll go slow” he reassures me.

Taking a deep breath, I cling one hand onto the stairway railing and the other onto his arm. He takes every slow step with me. Never rushing me. Never taking his worried eyes off me the entire time.

“You’re almost there” he encourages me as we make the final steps, getting closer to my apartment door.

“Did the doctor say anything about not being able to drink whiskey?” I mutter through a painful grimace “Cause I think I need one”

“I won’t tell him if you don’t” he chuckles at me.  

“You better not” I smirk back at him.

When we get inside I’m desperate to get out of my stupid tight dress. Every time the goddamn thing rubs against my bruising back and ribs it makes me want to tear the thing clean off.

“Alright I’m here, thank you” I smile at him as he helps me through my apartment and into my bedroom.

“Izzy, you’re getting rid of me”

I sigh. God knows I want to spend every moment with Michael. But I’m exhausted. Mentally and physically. I don’t know how I can handle being around him for the night when I know tomorrow he’s going to leave and go back to Gina and life will carry on as normal.

But the look on his face tells me he’s right - I’m not getting rid of him anytime soon.

“Fine” I submit, walking over to my closet as I pull out my nightgown. Expecting him to have taken the signal and left the room, I try to wriggle of my dress but fail. My body feels about as flexible as a plank of wood right now.

“Fuck this fucking dress” I hiss under my breath.

“Let me help you” Michael’s voice interrupts suddenly.

“What, no” I step away from him in shock, my brows furrowed.

He opens his mouth, pausing awkwardly as he realises that he basically just offered to help me change out of my clothes. To see me naked.

“Izzy, it’s okay, I’ve seen you…“ he looks away to the corner of the room as he insinuates that he’s seen me naked before. I feel my skin flushing hotly, as does Michael’s.

“That was… before“ I blush furiously at the thought. All of this is so bizarre to me. So foreign. When we were together, Michael and I used to potter around the house naked in front of one another all the time. He new every inch of my body and I knew his. Now the thought of being naked in front of him makes me feel stripped bare and vulnerable in the worst way possible. I never thought I would ever have to feel that way around him. Never in my wildest dreams or worst nightmares.

I shake my head at him, and he digresses quickly, realising he’s over stepped a mark that he didn’t even mean to. He turns to face the other direction, walking to the other side of the room momentarily to give me privacy while I change.

Or at least while I try to. My back is tender and sore. As I try to pull off my dress and slide on my night gown, every movement sends pains shooting all through my back, neck, ribs and head.

“Fuck” I hiss, unable to hide the fact that I’m in a lot of pain and to be honest, I do need his help.

Hearing me struggle, cursing in pain, I feel Michael rush over to me.

“Izzy, here just let me help alright” he holds my shoulders.

I sigh. I know I need it. I know I need his help.

“Look” he begins “I’ll shut my eyes okay”

I roll my eyes, my head falling back “Michael don’t be stupid-“

“I’m serious” he insists, suddenly squeezing his eyes shut “See”

I stare up at him. He really is serious. Most men wouldn’t even bother. But he does. He doesn’t want to see me naked. He just wants to help. Maybe make up for all the damage he’s done in whatever small way he can.

When I don’t protest, I feel his hands reach for my dress. With his eyes still clamped shut, proving that he can’t see anything, he begins to slide the fabric up over my body. If my heart wasn’t completely racing and pounding in my chest itself, I could have sworn that I felt his hands shaking. Every inch that the fabric glides up my body is painfully slow as it exposes my naked skin. The only thing to be heard in the room is our shaky breaths brushing on one another faces. Mine begins to quicken as the reality of the fact that Michael is here in my bedroom, undressing me, begins to set in. His hands are so close to my skin but they never fully touch, and I can feel that buzzing energy radiating off of him once again. I’m sure he can feel it radiating of me too. Michael lifts the dress up over my head and raised arms, leaving me completely naked. The tension is thick and heavy, weighing down on us like wading through water.

He drops it to the floor, and I watch him wearily as I pick up my night gown and hand it to him. I wait for him to open his eyes. But he never does. He keeps them closed firmly. He takes the nightgown, holding it open for me to step in to.

I hold onto his shoulders, steadying myself as I step inside the fabric, one leg at a time.

“How you going down there?” He asks, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Surviving” I reply, unable to stop myself from giggling nervously as the tension has made me giddy. He returns the gesture with his own little laugh. It feels like we’re two stupid teenagers who are undressing each other for the first time.

Once I’m in the nightgown, he slides the straps up over my arms, the skin of his palm accidentally brushing against me. I feel myself twitch beneath the feeling of his bare skin on mine, like an electric shock.

I exhale in relief once I realise that I’m fully dressed again.

“You can open them now” I coo as we stand only inches away from each other.

When those Tenerife blue eyes open into mine, his eye lashes fluttering until they’re peering at me fully, my heart skips so many beats in a row I’m surprised I don’t pass out right there. I haven’t look into his eyes this close in a long time. I haven’t been this close to him in general in a long time. We stay dead silent, words would never do justice for what is circulating between us right now, so we just search for the answers in each others eyes instead. The only thing that draws me away from his gaze is when I notice his freckles. I wonder what he’s noticing about my face. What he missed the most. If he missed anything at all. Is he counting the smile lines around my eyes. Around my mouth. Does he know that he put most of them there? Is he fascinated with the flush of my cheeks the same way I’m fascinated by his freckles? They’re my favourite part. I used to count them. Trace them with my finger tips while he fell asleep. Kiss them. I loved the way they looked when his nose was crinkled up in a laugh. But that’s the reality isn’t. The slap in the face. They were my favourite part. They’re not mine anymore.

With that abrupt, heart crushing thought I am brought back to my surroundings. When I step away from him, he blinks rapidly a few times, almost like he was pulled out of a trance that he wasn’t ready to leave yet. But he follows my lead, backing away from me too.

“Did you uh- Did you want to go to sleep? I’ll let you get to sleep…” He stutters sheepishly, fumbling for anything to fill the space and silence.

“I don’t think I could sleep if I wanted to” I shake my head. Sure, I could get into bed. And lie awake, staring at the ceiling for hours.

“Yeah, me too” he sighs, burying his hands into his pockets. I’ll never get used to seeing him shy like this. We were never awkward around each other. From day one he was my safe person and I was his. Now we’re just a pair of stuttering balls of anxiety with enough tension buzzing between us to cut with a knife.

“Did you want something to drink, or eat?” I offer, thinking about how he must be starving. It’s almost midnight.

“No, no” he declines politely “I’ll just go listen to the radio, leave you be, just shout if you need anything”

“Michael” I shake my head “You’re here looking after me, neither of us are gonna sleep, let me at least keep you company”

His eyes light up a little, as he nods.

Making our way to the lounge room, we both settle into the couch. Of course, he picks one side and I pick the opposite. Quite a stark comparison to the days when we used to fall asleep on this couch together. Read together. Make love together on the goddamn thing when we couldn’t wait to get to the bedroom.

I want to speak to him. But I can’t. Not for lack of words to say, but for the fact that there are way to many to even know where to begin. I can’t ask him about the weather. About work. Maybe we can’t talk about what went wrong, what happened when he left for America, but we would be fools if we tried to make meaningless small talk.

Because as I sit across from him, both of us just watching one another, I can’t stop myself from flashing back to all the things we did in this apartment. Dancing around the dining table to the radio. Cooking in the kitchen which always ended up in kissing instead. Fighting sometimes. Before making up in my bedroom. Reading the paper and drinking coffee. Crying together. Laughing together. This apartment is like a time capsule. If you listen close enough, you can almost hear echoes of us and how we used to be. Like our ghosts are still here, and still in love. Now we’re just two strangers.

So silence it is.

I wonder what he’s thinking too. When he looks at me. Does he see me now, or the old girl he used to love? Does he see me as the girl whose heart he broke? Am I the one that got away?

“How you feeling?” He asks. Maybe he mis took the look on my face for physical pain, and not emotional. But the pain my body is feeling is nothing compared to the aching in my chest coming straight from my heart.

“Ten out of ten” I retort sarcastically, earning a concerned frown from him.

“Izzy, I’m serious”

“I’m okay” I promise him “It’s not that bad anymore”

“Okay because if any thing changes I’ll call the doctor right away, you just say” his voice is dripping with stress.

“Michael, I’m fine”

“Okay, okay!” He throws his hands up, accepting defeat. I little smirk falls over his face as I watch an idea pop into his head.

“Do you know what day of the week it is?” He asks with a light chuckle.

“Are you serious?” I laugh, throwing my head back.

“Appease me” he grins.

In all our laughter we seem to have moved closer together on the lounge, and now we’re practically right next to each other. Both of us are laughing. Not even because anything is that funny, but we’re both delirious. Exhausted. Stressed. Overwhelmed. As I watch him chuckle, it occurs to me that this is the first time we have been like this together in a very, very long time. And it feels nice. Too nice. It feels safe. Comfortable. It feels like exactly how its supposed to be. Me and him laughing in my apartment.

“Saturday” I appease him, finally giving in as I looking over at the calendar “Saturday the 15th of May”

The second the words leave my mouth I feel my heart lurch. His head shoots over towards the calendar, to confirm what I just said. I watch as his heart drops too.

The 15th of May.

Today is supposed to be our goddamn anniversary.

Fuck. I hadn’t even had time to check the calendar or realise what today is between all the chaos.

Today is 5 years since we first met. And look at where we are. Broken up. Michael is married to another woman. I’m dating another man. We barely speak. I barely know who he even is anymore. We are virtual strangers.

“Michael” is the only thing I manage to squeak out, wide eyed and breathing anxiously.

He stares back at me, swallowing hard like he’s about to do something that he can’t hold himself back from anymore.

When he lunges forward, closing in the space between us, it feels like breaking through a force field that has been holding us back for so long. Like the universe and all its gravity finally gave way, the tension snapping like a rope. But when his lips collide with mine, that is the final snap. Something in the entire room shifts. It suddenly feels like my whole life has been moving in slow motion, like I’ve been sleep walking, and the second I feel his lips on mine I’m brought back to life.

Like every single moment up until this one has been black and white. Silent. Like the moment right before two stars collide and everything goes still. But once they finally meet, everything is in ultraviolet. Bursting into the atmosphere with an explosion that blinds you. Everything feels electric. So much so that it almost hurts. I hadn’t realised how badly my lips craved his until now. It steals my breath, whisking it so far away I don’t think I’ll ever get it back again.

He hands are on my face and in my hair, holding me firmly like he can’t control himself. Now that the flood gates have opened, and every inch of emotion in his body is pouring out, he can’t close them again. And either can I. I kiss him back, pushing my lips against his as my hands desperately find their way to his face. Michael and I have been at a grid lock. Stuck in tandem, free falling forever since he returned. Un able to figure each other out. But right now, we don’t even have to try. Our bodies to the work. They know exactly what to do like no time has passed at all.

My lips follow his rhythm perfectly, even though his kisses are rough and desperate. I don’t know if it’s the pounding of my own heart or his that I can hear as we cling to each other. Grabbing onto whatever clothing and body parts we can to bring ourselves as suffocatingly close as possible.

His hands travel from my face, gliding down my sides until they find their place, gripping and pulling at my waist. The way his fingers dig into my skin just rough enough but not enough to hurt me causes moans to tumble out of my mouth. I feel him hum against my lips as his own inability to swallow his own moans takes over.

I don’t think about anything but this taste. The way his tongue dances with mine. I’m so caught up in every inch of him. I have been starved of him for what feels like a life time. Our kiss never breaks, his lips continuing to ravage mine. I almost feel drunk. Intoxicated by his smell, he feel, his touch, his taste. I’m complete liquid in his hands. Every thing else fades away. I just want to be his. In his arms.

Each kiss is more desperate than the last, his body pressed up and pushing against mine until he accidentally presses me roughly against the arm of the couch. My breath hitches as a jolt of pain shoots through my already tender back. As I inhale harshly, our kiss breaks, our lips finally tearing away from each others. It also tears us out of our moment and back into reality.

As the pain in my back subsides quickly, it doesn’t take long for me to realise what we’ve just done. We quickly pull back from one another, almost scrambling away as shock shoots both of our eyes wide open. I clamp my hand over my mouth as we both pant, trying to catch our breaths and comprehend what the hell just happened.

Oh my god what did we just do.

Michael’s chest rises and falls heavily, as does mine, and I can hear my heart pounding in my ears.

“Oh my god” I whisper as we slide even further away from each other until we are on opposite ends of the couch.

It must dawn on him what has just happened all at once as his head falls in his hands, complete despair cloaking him.

“We can’t… we can’t do this” I stutter, shaking my head frantically. I quickly pull myself up from the lounge backing away from him until I’m virtually on the other side of the room. I feel sick.

Michael is married. I have Charlie. We can’t…

“Fuck” he curses loudly, running his hands through his hair as he tries to pull himself together. Standing up from the lounge he paces back and forth.

He just cheated on his wife. I just cheated on my boyfriend.

He stops pacing, and we stand across the room from each other, still trying to wrap our brains around if that actually happened.

“I’m so sorry” he shudders, his chest heaving. I can see the tears welling in his eyes from here, and it automatically triggers the same response in me.

I want to run over to him. I kiss him again. Feel his hands on me again. Our bodies intertwined. But we can’t do it. We are not those people anymore.

“You have to go” I tell him in a voice that is barely louder than a whisper. And that’s when the tears start. Spilling over onto my cheeks and dripping down off my chin.

Seeing me break down, he tries to rush over to me. To comfort me. That’s his automatic reaction to seeing my distressed. But he catches himself, pausing in his tracks. We both know what will happen if he comes over here. I can’t control myself. And either can he. We will only end up in my bed down the hall way, making an even bigger mess. He takes a shaky step away from me.

“You have to go home Michael” I beg him to stay back “Please”

“I’m so sorry Izzy” his voice cracks, breaking in two just like my heart. And from what I can see by the look on his face and the tears tumbling down his cheeks, his heart has broken into two as well.

And in the blink of an eye he hurries out the door, and he’s gone. 

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