#it should be illegal for professors to schedule exams right before and right after breaks imo /j

[joatthecopa]

Quite literally the funniest thing that Saw has sent to me by far.

Anyway, who wants to play Saw X: Survive the Obby with me?

[morningfears]

On the Air

Rating: PG-13

Summary: When you’re stuck in a radio production class as an elective and paired up for radio broadcasts, you don’t really expect much to come out of it. But with Joe, anything is possible. (Slow-burn [honestly, glacial burn, I guess] friends-to-lovers college AU, the most self-indulgent bullshit I could’ve written because I’m in love with this precious human person at the moment).

Word Count: 8k

“A seven a.m. class should be illegal.”

It’s not quite seven in the morning, the sun has barely risen and the only lights on in the production building are the ones in the lobby, the ones in the hallway leading up to the classroom you’re occupying, and the ones in the classroom you and seven other students who look like they’re beginning to rethink their life choices are sitting in. You hum a noncommittal noise of acknowledgment as you reach for the travel mug filled to the brim with iced coffee that you’d brought from home because the coffee shop on campus doesn’t even open until seven and you, for some reason beyond your realm of comprehension, are going to be stuck in a class at that time.

“Is there a reason we’re here so early or is this just a production thing?” you question as you frown at the clock hanging above the blackboard.

The girl beside you, a brunette dressed head-to-toe in sorority letters and nursing her own travel mug of iced coffee, shrugs. She follows your gaze to glance at the clock and huffs before she drops her head forward to rest on the table in front of her. “I’m not a production major of any kind,” she informs you, her voice muffled by her arms as she attempts to block the harsh florescent lights, “I’m a fucking interior design major.”

“No offense,” you laugh as you glance at the clock and note that the professor is likely going to be late, giving you a moment to continue your conversation and hopefully make a friend in the class that you know no one else in, “but why are you taking this class, then? There has to be a ton of other electives you could’ve taken.”

“I wanted to take bowling but it had to be a three hour course and everything else sounded so fucking hard,” she sighs as she turns her head just far enough to glance at you with one eye. “I’m graduating in December. I am so incredibly over everything.”

“I fully get that,” you nod. “Maybe this class won’t be so bad, then,” you offer with a hopeful smile. “I mean, it’s radio production. It can’t be that bad, right?”

The brunette reaches for her coffee mug and lifts her head to take a sip just as the door to the classroom swings open. A tall man, vaguely reminiscent of Bill Nye, complete with a bowtie and the same eager smile, steps into the room with two students trailing behind him. He waves the pair of them toward a table and you glance over at them. The blonde looks sleepy and somewhat sheepish while the red-head looks blissfully unaware of the eight sets of eyes on him as he scribbles in a beat up composition book. The blonde is cute, his baby face and pretty eyes offset by flushed cheeks is enough to make anyone swoon, but your attention is drawn to the red-head. You watch as he scribbles in his notebook, hair mussed and eyes tired. You can only see the profile of his face but it’s nice enough and you wonder what he’s writing that’s got him in such a state.

However, before you can spend too long wondering, the professor drops his bag onto the table at the front of the room and claps his hands.

“Good morning, everyone,” he begins with a smile, his tone far too chipper for such an early start time, “I am Maxwell Blake but you can all just call me Doc. I’m sorry I was a little late this morning. I will do my best to make sure it doesn’t happen again and I ask the same of all of you.”

“Not fucking likely,” you hear the girl beside you mumble and you want to agree because, really, who is alert enough to make it to a seven a.m. class on time three days a week, but you think better of it and keep silent as Doc continues.

“I know that some of you are music production or audio engineering majors and have a little experience with radio but for those of you who are not or do not have the experience, I’ll tell you that this class will be a little different than the others you’ve taken. There are no papers, no final exams, no midterm exams; this is an entirely practical course. I’m going to be pairing you all up,” and when the groaning starts, he waves his hand, “yes, I’m going to pair you all up, and then you’ll get to work on your project. Over the semester, you’re all going to broadcast once a week starting two weeks from today, giving you fourteen weeks of content.

You and your partner can either take turns at the controls and broadcast as a single act or you can work the controls together as you broadcast as a duo. The format is entirely up to you. The content is entirely up to you. I will be assigning you a partner and a studio time. The email that you all sent me in August, the one with your schedule on it, that helped me with the pairings. I paired you up based on complementary schedules.”

The room is silent, in part because it’s too fucking early to be sitting in a classroom, as Doc searches through the worn leather satchel he’d dropped onto the table moments ago. “Ah,” he hums as he finds a crinkled sheet of paper, highlighted and looking as if it had seen better days, “here we go. Alright, when I call your name, raise your hand so your partner can spot you. After we’re all paired up, you can join your partner and begin brainstorming. As there are only five groups, we’ll have individual training sessions and then a day of troubleshooting and question and answer before we begin broadcasting. Now, on to the list!”

Doc takes his time ensuring the pairings all spot one another as he goes through the list. His planned pairings have somehow worked in the favor of nearly everyone in the room. The people who had entered the classroom together seem to be getting paired together and that leaves you with a feeling that you’re going to be stuck with the sorority girl. Regardless of your attempt to befriend her, you’re not sure you can produce fourteen weeks of radio content with her. So, when her name (Meredith, you now know) is called and she’s paired with the blonde that walked in late, you breathe a quiet sigh of relief.

Until, of course, you realize that leaves you with a complete stranger who still has yet to acknowledge the class going on around him.

Doc calls your name and informs you that you’ve been paired with Joseph Mazzello. When you raise your hand and the red-head you now know is named Joseph does not, Doc sighs. “Joe,” he calls, his voice a little louder than it had been a moment ago, “would you mind joining us in class?”

Still, nothing.

Doc breathes another sigh as he turns his attention to the blonde sitting beside Joe. “Ben, would you mind?” he asks as he leans against the table at the front of the room.

With a grin, Ben reaches out and grabs the pen from Joe’s hand mid-sentence. Joe continues to write for a moment, frowning when no words are left behind on the page, before he lifts his head and glances at the pen dangling from between Ben’s fingers. He blinks, still half-asleep or lost in whatever world he’s been in since he arrived, before he reaches out for his pen and says, “Not cool, man.”

“It’s not cool of you to not pay attention,” Doc reminds him as he points at you. “Your partner for the semester,” he informs him before he turns his attention back to the rest of the class. “Now that we’ve all been paired up, feel free to join your partner. We’ll be brainstorming and then set up appointments for your radio production crash course before you leave.”

Before you can even start to gather your things, Joe is crossing the classroom to take a seat in front of you. He smiles at Meredith and gestures to the table he’d left Ben at. “He likes to be by a window,” he offers by way of excuse when Meredith raises an eyebrow at him, “claustrophobic.”

His answer doesn’t really matter to Meredith. You can practically see the hearts in her eyes as she grabs her travel mug and falls into the chair Joe had previously occupied. You both watch them for a moment, you with a raised eyebrow and Joe with a roll of his eyes as Ben’s cheeks flush pink at Meredith’s hand on his arm, before you turn your attention back to the red-head across from you.

“So,” you begin as you tug a lime green notebook out of your bag along with a pen and your phone, “what’s your major? Everyone shared when he partnered us up so we could get an idea of what we’re working with, I guess.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he answers, slightly sheepish, “I could say I’m not always that rude but it might be a lie.” When you crack a smile at that, Joe grins and gestures to his worn-out composition book. “I’m a film production major,” he explains with a proud smile. “One of my classes this semester is pretty intense. We haven’t even met yet and we have to have a rough draft of our first script in by Friday. I don’t think I’ve put this book down since I got the email.”

“Wow,” you breathe as you reach for your coffee, “that is… unfortunate. I hate to break it to you but that sounds miserable and like a total nightmare situation.”

“Oh, definitely,” he nods before he shrugs, “but I’ve already sold my soul to be here so…” When you giggle at this, Joe looks triumphant. He’s quickly striking you as one of those people who seems happiest when they’re making other people happy and, although it’s seven in the morning and you want nothing more than to be buried beneath a pile of blankets, you think that this won’t be so bad. “What about you?” Joe asks before you can lose yourself in your thoughts, “What’s your major?”

“Communication studies,” you answer with a sigh, ready for the judgement that often comes with having such a major. Usually, you get a patronizing, ‘Oh, that’s nice,’ before the conversation shifts to something else or a look of pity as everyone assumes it’s the easiest major there is (it’s not, not if you do it right), but Joe looks excited at the mention of your major.

“Please, please, please tell me you’re doing health communication,” he asks with a wide-eyed desperation that makes you nod, even though you’re confused as to why that’s important. Upon your confirmation, he cheers (just a little too loud and has to be shushed by Doc) before he grins at you. “I have an idea for what we can do our broadcast on,” he informs you happily, “and it’s definitely going to be the best student production this university has ever heard.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be super hard to accomplish,” you inform him with a laugh before you wrinkle your nose. “Have you heard the radio station on campus? It makes me sad.”

Joe nods thoughtfully before he winces slightly and shakes his head. “Did they do a special broadcast for you guys during freshman orientation?” he asks and when you nod, he grimaces. “That made me sad. They went silent for a solid minute. All you could hear was the DJs talking to one another.”

“Oh, was it the two girls? They did the same thing at my orientation and one of them was going off about how she was pretty sure her boyfriend cheated on her and gave her gonorrhea.”

Joe blinks, surprised by this, and shakes his head. “Okay, you win the most depressing campus radio listening experience. Wow,” he laughs, “I thought hearing her talk about blackballing someone from sorority recruitment was bad.”

“McKenna’s a woman of many awkward conversation topics,” you shrug and reach for your coffee once more, “I just managed to get the worst one. But as long as we don’t talk about venereal diseases or sorority recruitment, we’re already doing good,” you muse as you glance over at him. He’s stopped scribbling, the pen now resting on his composition book, and you take in the ink staining his hands. It’s obvious that he really has been writing non-stop for who knows how long and you feel bad for him. The semester has barely started but he already looks like it’s mid-November and he’s ready for a break.

His t-shirt is rumpled, as is his hair, and he looks like he just rolled out of bed and tugged on a pair of jeans. You don’t blame him. If you didn’t have a full day of classes following this one, you would’ve turned up in a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt that’s seen better days. But despite the sort of dishevelment, he looks comfortable rather than sloppy. He looks like he’s just woken up and would be warm and soft.

Your mind wanders, drifts to thoughts of how nice it would be to just go back to bed and sleep for the rest of the day, and the classroom seems to melt around you. You briefly consider that Joe would be nice to cuddle with, warm and comfortable even though he looks like he might steal all the blankets, before you chastise yourself for dragging a perfect stranger into your daydreams. Joe watches, an amused smile on his face, as you stare through him with a far-away expression. He can see flickers of emotions on your face, your lip curling up in a grimace for a moment before you return to a somewhat dreamy state, and he has to bite back a laugh as he watches. He gives you a moment to daydream before he calls your name, barely hiding the laughter in his voice as he does so.

When you blink, refocusing on your surroundings, he nudges your cup toward you with a laugh. “I don’t think you’ve had enough caffeine yet.”

“There’s not enough caffeine on the planet to make me ready for a seven a.m. class,” you sigh as you frown at the matte black mug. “I’m beyond stoked that we’re not meeting at seven again. What time is our radio slot, anyway?”

“Uh,” he pauses, reaching for the handout Doc had dropped onto the table when you were both too caught up in swapping radio horror stories to pay him much mind, “eight p.m.”

“And it’s a thirty minute broadcast?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Three times a week?”

“Yep.”

“Fuck.”

Joe stares at the handout for a moment before he hands it over to you. “We have an hour and a half a week,” he muses as he turns to a blank sheet in his notebook. “Do you want to start working on content now?”

Before you can answer, Doc calls everyone to attention and smiles at you all. “You all seem to be getting along,” he nods happily, pausing to take in the groups that do really look like they’re at least somewhat alright with being paired together, before he continues. “If you don’t like your partner, it’s fairly easy to tell. Voices can give away a lot more than you think,” he warns. “Now, I know you’re all going to hate this but I’ve got a meeting to head to. You have the rest of class time to get to know one another, get your ideas together, and be prepared for your crash course. I have the sign-up sheet so if you all would come up and pick a time, that’d be great. After that, you’re free to either stay here and chat or head elsewhere. But please, please, at least begin to brainstorm. Don’t come to our meetings with nothing!”

You watch as the pair closest to the front grab the sign-up sheet and write down their preferred day for the crash course. You’re not sure this is the best way to do this, not sure if a one day crash course is the most beneficial to you all when you have two weeks to work together, but you’re not one to argue. So, you wait with Joe until the others have signed up for their time slot before you head to the front and shrug when you notice that yours is in the middle of the two week period.

“I’m not really sure what we could’ve hoped for here,” he shrugs as he signs his name beside yours, “but I’m fine with this.”

“Same,” you nod as you stand beside your chair and glance at him. “Do you want to stay here or go somewhere else to work?” you ask as you grab your cup. “I figured since you have a ton of work to do on your script, maybe we can get some things started today and then when you’ve turned in your draft on Friday, maybe meet again and really start working?”

Joe nods at this and shoves his notebook into his backpack. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand,” he proposes as he shrugs on his backpack and waits for you to do the same. “Coffee shop? I think we both need caffeine.”

“God, please.”

The pair of you walk in companionable silence across campus. Typically, these group meetings (first time or not) are awkward. Even if you manage to befriend your group mate(s), you’re always painfully aware that it’s just for the semester and that you’ll likely never speak outside of your group meetings. The conversations are relegated to coffee shops and libraries, public spaces that make it obvious the friendship is surface level at best, and you always end the semester wanting to kill one another.

But with Joe, it doesn’t feel like that.

He doesn’t try to force small talk on you. He doesn’t make awkward comments about the weather or the school year. He doesn’t pointedly stare at his phone to keep you from talking to him. He simply walks beside you, glancing around at the campus that is slowly coming to life. He laughs at a campus squirrel as it grabs a discarded fry and attempts to climb up a tree with it hanging out of its mouth and you think that he has a nice laugh as he holds open the door to the coffee shop for you with an over-exaggerated bow and another laugh when you give him a half-assed curtsey.

Joe watches the soft smile spread across your face as the scent of coffee envelops you both and he can feel the butterflies in his stomach. He frowns at the feeling, frowns at his heart beating just a little faster when he realizes just how pretty you are when you smile, and takes the opportunity to glance away because he hates this feeling. He knows how this is going to turn out, with you as just a friend or (worse) not being a friend at all. And he knows that it would be a bad idea to even attempt anything other than friendship when your grade relies on working well together so he swallows the butterflies, beats them down with a dose of reality, before he falls into line behind you and returns his gaze to your form. He watches as you stare up at the menu board with a frown on your face before he hears you mumble, “I don’t know why I even look, I order the same thing every time I come here,” and laughs when you sigh dejectedly at the thought.

“I really do,” you huff as you shove your mug (the one he’d stopped long enough for you to rinse out in a water fountain, even though he laughed at you for doing so) into your backpack and grab your wallet. “Can I get a chai latte with coconut milk, please?”

“You know, chai latte fits you. It’s very liberal arts,” he nods, as if he’s just shared the most sensible statement in the world, before he steps up to the register and orders an iced coffee that he’s sure is going to become a staple of his diet over the next few months as he thinks about the classes he’d been forced to enroll in.

You roll your eyes good-naturedly at Joe’s words and allow yourself to fall into one of the oversized chairs near the windows. It’s still a little before eight, classes have yet to start, but it’s the first day and campus is gradually getting busier. You lose yourself for a moment, wondering how two years have already flown by and you’re about to begin your junior year, before you shake your head and reach for your notebook.

“We’re really good at getting absolutely nothing done,” you inform him as you uncap your pen and write ‘content ideas’ at the top of the page. “So, what was your idea for the show?”

Joe stares at you for a moment, unsure of what you’re referring to, before he nods. “Right!” he exclaims before he reaches for his own notebook. “So, entertainment education is a thing they’re pushing now, right? Communication people coming on as sort of consultants for TV shows so they can put the most effective health messages out,” he asks. When you nod, he grins. “We could talk about stuff like that, how some of the messages they’re putting out on those medical shows help or hurt people. And it wouldn’t hurt to talk about whether the shows are good.”

You nod at the idea, intrigued by the thought, before you muse, “What about skits or something? Like, for the last episode each week, we could do a few examples? Maybe one really over the top medical drama that’s completely inaccurate, one that’s really obviously a PSA, and then one that’s been done by a consultant. And I saw that we need guests so maybe we could get a film professor one week and then a health com professor.”

Joe nods at the suggestions and you write them down as quickly as you can in your notebook. He watches, happy that you’re on board with the idea, as you write notes to yourself beside some of the bullet points (‘Ask Dr. Harper if she’s available’ and ‘Do I have to watch Grey’s for this??’) and laughs when you frown at the thought. “It’ll be fun,” he promises you, “everyone loves watching depressing plot twists and insane storylines.”

“Right,” you nod as you hear the barista call your name, “guess that’s why it’s been on the air so long.”

Before Joe can refute your claim, his name is called and he stands before you can. “I’ll grab them,” he assures you with a grin before he crosses the short distance to grab your drinks from the barista. “We can watch the shows together,” he offers as he hands you your latte and reclaims his seat beside you, “if you want, I mean. That way we can work on some material and maybe parody some things for our skits?”

“Yeah. That’s a really good idea,” you nod, not really thinking he’ll want to go through with that offer but realizing that it makes sense. You know that it would be beneficial to the two of you to get together and watch the shows you’re planning on talking about, that you should make notes and talking points, but you know that you can’t work in the library or a coffee shop for that and you’ve never met a group project member who wanted to meet unless absolutely necessary.

However, Joe is different. He doesn’t feel like the usual group member who only puts in the bare minimum or acts like he tolerates you long enough to get the project done. It doesn’t seem like he’s offering just to cover his bases. But you know group projects a little too well. So, when you leave the coffee shop with Joe’s number in your phone and a selfie from him (‘For my contact photo’, he explains in the text) you think that’ll be it. You think that you’ll meet again the next class period or maybe when you have to meet with Doc but you certainly don’t expect your phone to buzz with a text from Joe that night. You don’t expect him to ask you to come to his dorm (followed immediately by a text that reads, ’Is that creepy? I promise I’m not trying to be creepy, it’s for research purposes!’) on Saturday to begin watching medical dramas and making notes but he does.

And five weeks later, you’re not quite sure how it’s happened, but you can now safely count Joe Mazzello among your best friends.

As you sit in the library, attempting to write after finishing your second week of broadcasts (the first without Doc or a station manager sitting directly in the office with the two of you, though the station manager made it clear that he’d be just down the hall), you think that maybe it’s because of the sheer amount of time you’re spending together. When he asked you to watch medical dramas, he meant it. The two of you have binged five seasons of Grey’s Anatomy (you’re taking a break because it’s just so damn depressing and maybe because Ben kept popping in to watch and distract Joe), two of ER, and three of Scrubs (‘I mean, one of them has to actually be good,’ Joe had reasoned when you asked why Scrubs was being considered). You’re almost certain you’ve made a permanent dent in the couch in his living room as you’ve spent every moment of free time you have with him.

When you’re not writing, stuck in a corner of the library with your nose in a book and a stress headache beginning to form, you’re sitting on Joe’s couch. When he’s not filming or editing, he’s sitting right beside you and providing running commentary for the insane amount of medical dramas you’re watching. When you’re not eating popcorn and making snarky comments at the television, the two of you are holed up in the recording studio devoting far more time and attention to the broadcast than Doc imagined you would.

When you first proposed the idea to Doc, he didn’t get it and he wasn’t sure how it was going to work. But after seeing a run through of your show and then listening to the first actual broadcast, he realized that the idea doesn’t matter so much. Sure, as you talked he grew to understand it just a little more, but what is important is the chemistry the two of you have. He can see you both light up when the other enters the room. He watched the way Joe was drawn to you, seemingly unaware that he was moving closer throughout the entire broadcast, and he makes sure to tell his husband that he’s not only found a duo that could actually work on radio but one that could also work as a couple.

And Doc isn’t the only one.

Ben started teasing Joe about you the day that you met. When they went to get dinner that night, Ben spent most of the dinner encouraging Joe to make a move (even though Joe insisted that you weren’t even friends yet, that you were just going to be project partners) and only shut up when Joe asked about Meredith. And even though Joe has since maintained that the two of you are just friends, Ben is anything but subtle about his desire to see the two of you together. He’s even gone so far as to get Lucy and Gwilym in on it (although they’re far more subtle than Ben in their efforts).

But Joe thinks that you’re either oblivious to their teasing or not interested because you never seem to react with more than a smile or a playful roll of your eyes. He thinks that maybe you’re being nice, not rejecting him outright because you still have to work together for a few more months, but he doesn’t like to dwell on that idea because it makes him sad. Instead, he attempts to forget anything more than friendship and does his best to make things easy.

You, however, have mistaken his easygoing nature for friendliness and disinterest in the romantic. He brushes off Ben’s teasing with jokes and Lucy’s subtle suggestions with smiles and shakes of his head. He makes it look effortless, like he’s trying not to hurt your feelings or maybe like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, but it gets the point across. He’s not interested in anything more than friendship. And while that stings just a bit (you can feel yourself falling harder and faster each time you set eyes on Joe), you’re attempting to make peace with it.

But as you stare down at the health communication handbook sitting open on the table in front of you, you realize that that peace is hard to come by.

Your head makes contact with the table with a dull ‘thud’ just as a hand touches your shoulder. You jump at the contact, surprised by the presence of another person in this section of the library at nine p.m. on a Thursday in October. You’re usually left alone with your misery until finals start so the presence of another person is almost shocking. However, when you lift your head to see Lucy standing behind you, barely hiding her laughter, you’re able to breathe again.

“Don’t sneak up on me, Luce,” you huff as you lean back in your seat and wait for her to sit in the uncomfortable wooden chair across from you. “What are you doing here? I didn’t think other people knew the library existed until mid-November,” you tease as you flip your textbook shut and glance at her. She’s dressed for the weather, in a school sweatshirt that’s a little too big and a pair of leggings, and you think that she looks as cozy as you’d like to feel.

“I was studying with Rami and Gwil,” she informs you as she reaches out to grab the highlighter from your hands. “We listened to your broadcast and I figured you’d be coming here after it finished. You guys were really good tonight.”

“Thanks,” you hum as you steal the highlighter back from her. “We try our best, sadly enough,” you shrug as you drop the highlighter into your pencil pouch before shoving the black pouch into your backpack. “I feel like we’re devoting way too much time and effort to this.”

Lucy smiles at your comment and shakes her head as she nudges your notebook and textbook toward you. “That’s just who the two of you are,” she shrugs. “You both put your all into everything you do. And it doesn’t hurt that putting in your all means spending every waking moment together.”

“Joe’s fun to hang out with,” you defend as you take her hint and shove your books into your bag. “And, I mean, it’s not like I’d be doing anything else with the time I spend with him.”

“Right,” she nods, “only sleeping or something else equally as useless, right?”

“Have I told you lately that I hate you?”

“At least once a week.”

Lucy waits for you to finish packing your bag before she stands from her seat. Without really thinking about it, you shrug on your backpack and follow after her. You’re still in the jeans and boots you’d worn to class, still wearing the hoodie you’d stolen from Joe during a night of research a week prior, and you want nothing more than to change into a pair of pajamas and sleep for a week. She’s right about you sacrificing your sleep schedule to spend time with Joe and it almost makes you pause in your tracks as the two of you exit the library and step into the cool night air.

“Am I being dumb?” you ask, your head tilted as you think about the time you’re spending with Joe and the stress it’s adding as you continue to lose sleep. When she fixes you with a look that tells you you’re only going to get a smartass response, you shake your head. “I mean, am I being ridiculous sacrificing sleep and, like, normal shit to spend so much time with Joe? We’re friends, yeah, and I mean, he’s probably my best friend at this point but I’ve never done anything like this for any of my other friends. We get tired of each other after a few hours and go our separate ways. We only really hang out on the weekends because we’re sort of busy, nothing like me and Joe. We’re both always so fucking busy, like, barely any time to breathe. But we still manage to spend at least a few hours together every day. That’s dumb, right?”

Lucy blinks, surprised by the quickness of your words and the tone of your voice, and stops walking. She grabs your wrist to stop you from walking away from her and stares at you. “Whoa,” she breathes, “where did that come from?”

You shift, unsure of where the outburst came from yourself, before you shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t realize how much time we spent together and now that I’m thinking about it, it’s ridiculous. I don’t spend that much time with you!”

“Yeah, but you’re not in love with me,” she explains, as if it’s the most reasonable answer in the world. When you blink, surprised, she rolls her eyes. “Come on, we all see it. Maybe love is a little strong but you definitely really like him. You light up whenever he enters a room and even when he does something dumb, you look at him like he’s the most perfect person there is. You’re so into him, it’s kind of ridiculous.”

You stand there for a moment, surprised by the fact that she knows, before you shake your head and tug your wrist from her grasp. “It doesn’t matter,” you shrug as you begin walking toward your dorm. “It's just a crush that’s not reciprocated. I’ll get over it.” Before she can follow after you, you turn and wave. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in class tomorrow,” you call over your shoulder.

Lucy doesn’t follow you but, as she knows you fairly well by now, she yells, “Don’t do anything stupid!” at your retreating figure. She knows that you’re just a little dramatic (one of the reasons you get on so well with all of them) and that you being in your head is the quickest way for you to spiral out of control.

And, as she feared, you do spiral.

You can’t really help yourself. The only way for you to get over someone is to convince yourself of their disinterest and you can’t do that when you’re cuddling Joe on his couch. So, you distance yourself. You put as much space as you can between the two of you and hope that you can convince yourself that there’s nothing there before Joe gets suspicious.

For the first week, it works.

You’re able to distance yourself with little suspicion. You have two major projects, two papers, an exam, and a special project for your internship coming up. The pair of you have all of the material you need for at least a week’s worth of shows so Joe understands when you tell him that you’ll be MIA as you attempt to juggle the many things you have going on. He offers his help, offers to quiz you for your exam or help take photos for your internship project, but you wave him off and he gets it. You’re a perfectionist and independent to a fault. If you have to do it, you’re going to do it on your own.

When the second week rolls around and you send him an email with notes you’ve taken to contribute to the week’s show content, he’s surprised but, again, he understands. He figures you watched what you could in short breaks or, as most of the notes are related to the academic side of things, you made notes as you were doing your reading for class. He chalks up your less than enthusiastic attitude during recording to your exhaustion (he can tell, without a shadow of a doubt, that you haven’t been sleeping) and he even brings you coffee to your sessions. But when you leave the cup untouched and give him a tight smile in acknowledgement, he realizes that something is wrong.

But it isn’t until week four, just as the library begins to get crowded and he knows that you’re going to be holed up in your dorm room to study, that he confronts you. He’s asked Lucy what he did wrong multiple times. He worried that he might’ve come on too strong or that you realized he had a crush on you and wanted to distance yourself. But when she (along with Gwil, Rami, and Ben) suggested that he talk to you rather than them, he decided to take her advice.

If he’s being honest, Joe doesn’t really expect you to open the door as he knocks. He expects you to see him standing there and leave him out in the hall without so much as an acknowledgement. However, the door swings open before he can knock a second time and he narrowly avoids hitting you. He wants to say that he’s calm and rational but he’s been wracking his brain for what went wrong for weeks and he’s tired and frustrated and just a little sleep deprived. So, the moment the door is open, he shoves past you and moves to stand in the center of your living room.

Without waiting for you to shut the door, he begins speaking.

“Okay, I’m really not sure what’s going on but I wanted to give you space because I thought it was just stress and school, you know? I thought that you needed time to work on homework and exams because you’re one of the most studious people I know and we’ve been spending a lot of time together and I get how that can interfere. And it’s great that you care so much about school because you’re brilliant and you’re going to do amazing things but it’s been a month of us barely speaking and I know that you’ve turned in drafts of everything so you’re not swamped anymore and I would really like to know what’s going on because I hate this.”

You blink at Joe’s outburst, barely able to understand the words that spill past his lips, and stand there in stunned silence for a moment before you shut the door to your dorm room and step around him take a seat on the couch where he assumes you’ve been sitting, watching what looks like an old game show. “I’ve just been busy,” you shrug, your voice clearly betraying you. “I turned in drafts but I’ve had work stuff to do, you know? And, I mean, I have other friends.”

Joe laughs but it’s a sound without humor and it doesn’t feel right coming from him. He runs his fingers through his hair and shakes his head. “I know that you have other friends,” he huffs as he paces the floor in front of the coffee table, “but I thought we were friends, too.”

“We were,” you answer immediately before you quickly correct yourself, “we are. I just, I’ve been busy. Sorry.”

“That’s bullshit,” he exclaims before he stops pacing and turns to face you. You can’t read the look on his face but the sadness in his eyes shines clearly and you hate yourself for upsetting him. He’s the kindest, most gentle soul you’ve ever met and you hate seeing anything other than a bright smile on his lips. But what really breaks your heart is the way his voice breaks when he says, “I just want to know what’s going on. Is it because of the jokes that everyone was making? Or did I make you uncomfortable? I just want to fix it because I really miss you.”

“How would you have made me uncomfortable?” you question, a frown on your lips as you watch him run his hands through his hair once more.

He pauses, looking almost sheepish as his cheeks tint pink, before he sighs. “I mean, it’s not really a secret that I’m into you,” he answers, looking anywhere but directly at you, “and I’ve tried to make it less obvious but Ben told me that literally everyone could still tell so if that’s why you’re avoiding me, I’m sorry. I’ll get over it or try not to be so obvious about it, I just -“

Joe barely notices you stand from your seat and step around the coffee table to stand in front of him. He doesn’t stop talking when you place your hands on his cheeks and he continues to mumble as you pull him into a kiss. He only shuts up when you press your lips to his, mid-sentence. He stops speaking, goes rigid, and you feel yourself heat with embarrassment.

You quickly pull away and when you do, he looks mildly dazed and somewhat bewildered but before he can ask for an explanation, you step away from him and shake your head. “Sorry, fuck, sorry,” you breathe as you move to step around him. “That’s what they do in movies to stop people from rambling and I thought it’d be a good idea but I don’t even know if you wanted me to kiss you so I’m sorry. Do you want some water? I’m gonna get some water.”

“Wait!” Joe grabs your hand and holds you in place before you can step into the small kitchenette. You don’t turn around to face him and it takes a moment for him to speak. “What was that for? I’m definitely not complaining but why kiss me? Was it just to shut me up?”

“Not just,” you mumble, though Joe can barely understand you. When he squeezes your hand, you groan and toss your head back as you repeat, “Not just to shut you up. I kissed you because I wanted to, okay? I’m into you, too. Lucy told me that it was super obvious and I thought you were just being nice and trying to be my friend to let me down easy so I kept my distance to get over it.”

Joe stares at you, surprised, before he begins to laugh. You turn to look at him, confused as to why he’s laughing, and he shakes his head at the mildly offended look on your face. “I’m not laughing at you,” he assures you quickly, “I’m laughing because we’re both idiots. We’ve been into each other this whole time but we thought the other was just being nice. I thought I was being super obvious about being into you!”

“You’re flirty with your friends, Joe!” you inform him with a pout. “How was I supposed to know you were into me?”

“You can’t flirt to save your life,” Joe informs you, a bit defensively, “how was I supposed to know you were into me?”

You stare at one another, the fact that you’ve just admitted your mutual interest in one another not quite sinking in, until Joe blinks and shakes his head. “Wait, we literally just confessed to be into one another and we’re arguing over why we didn’t realize sooner.”

“Fuck, we really are idiots,” you laugh as you watch him step a little closer to you. You remain silent for a moment, waiting to see what he’ll do, before you ask, “What now?”

“Can we try that kiss again?” he asks as he closes the distance between the two of you and moves his hand from your wrist to your waist. “I wasn’t really prepared last time.”

You roll your eyes at Joe’s smile but allow him to tug you closer as you wrap your arms around his neck. This kiss is less stiff than the first, Joe doesn’t freeze and there is no awkward clashing of teeth and lips. This kiss is still a bit unsure, tentative and soft, but it’s nicer than you could’ve imagined it would be. One of Joe’s hands moves to cup your cheek as he deepens the kiss and it feels right to be intertwined with him. The butterflies that he felt upon first meeting you are back in full force and this time he doesn’t bother to wish them away. He embraces the fluttering in his stomach and the quick beating of his heart just as you embrace the warmth and softness you knew Joe would possess. 

And when the two of you head to the dining hall, hand in hand with you in Joe’s sweatshirt and him with hair mussed from your fingers running through it, you don’t even bother to hide your grins as you take a seat at the table with Ben and Gwilym. Neither of you acknowledge their shit-eating grins or the way they nudge one another. It’s only when Ben holds out his hand tells Gwilym, “You owe me twenty bucks, mate,” that you glance at him.

When Gwilym begrudgingly hands over a twenty, he turns to look at you and Joe. “In my defense, I bet that you’d be together within the first month.”

“I told you they were both idiots. Should’ve played the long game,” Ben teases as he shoves the note into his pocket before he grabs his cellphone and snaps a picture of the two of you. “Lucy’s gonna be pissed that she missed winning by a week.”

“How far off was Rami?” you question as you steal a fry from Ben’s plate.

“To be fair, I don’t think he knows the two of you are even interested in one another,” Gwilym shrugs.

“I thought we were just so fucking obvious about it,” Joe questions as he turns to look at Ben who simply shrugs and continues typing a message to Lucy.

You roll your eyes and reach out to tug the plate of fries closer to you. When Ben whines, you flip him the middle finger and remind him, “You just made twenty bucks off us. I think you can spare some shitty dining hall fries.”

Gwilym and Joe laugh at your rebuttal as they each steal a handful of fries. Joe presses a kiss to your temple, a grin on his lips as he catches sight of your own smile, before he pops a fry into his mouth. He couldn’t have imagined his semester would turn out like this when it began but now that he’s here, sitting beside you with his arm around your shoulders and the feeling of kissing you burned into his memory, he can’t imagine anything better. And when the two of you turn up to your final recording, fingers laced together and lips swollen from kisses, Doc texts his husband to tell him that he was right.

Not only did he find his new weekly DJs, the only ones to ever become campus legends and have an actual audience for their show, he also helped form the cutest couple he’s ever seen (aside from them, of course).

Author’s Note: I know the health com thing seems random but it’s a thing at USC and it’s sort of a passion project and I’m terrible at ideas for creative projects that aren’t fics. So. That’s why that’s a thing. Anyway. Yes. Joe is precious, goodbye.

[alindakb]

Letters to my Parents - Sunday 19 April 1992 - by Alinda

Sunday 19 April 1992

Dear mom and dad,

Hermione is driving me insane! She has made herself a study schedule because exams are only eight weeks away. And she’s been bugging me, Ron and Neville to do the same. She’s been complaining about it for the last two weeks, saying the exams will be here before we know it. As if it isn’t bad enough already that we have stacks of homework for this Easter holiday. It’s been really hard to relax with Hermione reciting all her work or practising wand movements. I’m hiding from her right now. Malfoy thinks it’s very funny, he’s been trying to hide his laugh since I walked into the dormitory.

He and I have been getting along well this last month. You remember me telling you that I thought he was staying awake at night to make sure Nott and Crabbe would behave. Well, I was right. He fell asleep during History of Magic that Tuesday and he could hardly stay awake at lunch. So I asked him about it that evening when he was walking me back to the dungeon. He first tried to brush it away, saying he got plenty of sleep and that it was nothing. So I told him I don’t blame him for what happened and that he doesn’t need to protect me, that I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. He screamed at me then, saying I clearly did need protection, since I had spent two weeks in the hospital wing after Theo had beaten me up. And that I was crazy if I thought that he would let that happen again. I just stood there, looking at him with my mouth open, not knowing what to say or do. Malfoy was really worried about my wellbeing and that was just too crazy for words. After a couple of seconds, Malfoy started walking again and I just followed him.

The next day I went to sit with him and Zabini for breakfast and tried to talk to him again about him staying awake to make sure I’m fine. Zabini agreed with me that Malfoy did need some sleep and he helped me convince him to stop trying to stay awake all the time. From then on I kept eating breakfast with them at the Slytherin table. I still have lunch and dinner with Hermione and her fellow Gryffindor’s, but it’s also nice to spend more time at my own house table. I think Zabini, Malfoy and I are becoming friends. It’s making things a little more complicated because Ron and Neville can’t seem to forgive Malfoy for all the teasing he did before, but he has changed and hasn’t said a bad word about or to me in the last two months. I didn’t tell Ron and Neville about him staying awake to keep me safe and how he saved my notebook and cloak (that they don’t even know about) from Nott. Ron and Neville not knowing that might make it harder for them to see that Malfoy is trying to be my friend, but I’m not willing to tell them. Only Hermione knows that Malfoy sacrificed his sleep to keep me safe and protected my notebook while I was in the hospital wing, and she still thinks Malfoy must have read my letters to you, but he said he didn’t and I’ll believe him until there is prove otherwise.

We also ran into Hagrid in the library last week, which was very unusual. He tried to hide some things behind his back and asked us if we were still looking for Nicolas Flamel. Ron bragged that we had found him ages ago. I had to hide my smile when Neville rolled his eyes. It had been Hermione and me that had figured it out, Ron had no part in that and he knew that. But I’m getting used to Ron taking credit for work he hasn’t done, always making everything sounding like a team effort instead of giving the person that done it the credit unless of course, Ron did it, then it’s just him.

Hagrid shushed him quickly, telling us not to shout about it. And when I told him I had some more questions about what else is guarding the stone apart from Fluffy he invited us over at his place. After he left Ron and Neville decided to find out what he had been hiding and told us he had been in the dragon section. I told them Hagrid always wanted a dragon and they informed me it was outlawed years ago. And that having a dragon is dangerous. Ron said his brother Charlie has some pretty scars from when he was burned by wild ones in Romania.

When we (Hermione, Ron, Neville and I) got to Hagrid’s hut all the curtains were closed and Hagrid even asked who it was before he let us in. I asked him about the stone and if he knew what else was guarding it, but Hagrid didn’t know. He only told us, after Hermione flattered him, that some professor’s helped with the guarding. Most of them are fine professors, but Snape was one of them. And I’m still sure he wants to steal the stone. And if he helped with the guarding, he might even know how to get past the other spells and protections in place. But Hagrid promised us that only he and Dumbledore know how to get past Fluffy, so I think the stone is safe for now.

But that’s not the only thing we found out when we were at Hagrid. He’s hiding a dragon egg in his hut. That’s why all the curtains were closed and he had a steaming hot fire going. He had won it in a game of cards with a stranger. He has gotten a book out of the library about dragon breeding, so he knows what to do and what kind of dragon egg he has. It’s a Norwegian Ridgeback.  I’m worried about Hagrid and his egg. What would happen to him when anyone would find out that he is hiding an illegal dragon in his hut?

The dragon is just another thing I have to worry about. There is the stone of course, which Snape is trying to steal, the dragon, the upcoming exams and the trickiest problem of all: Nott and Crabbe. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to stop them from coming after me. It’s nice that my friends escort me everywhere, but it would be nice to go somewhere by myself again, to be able to go to the toilet without someone having to come with me, just in case Nott tries something. And I know they’ve been looking for opportunities. I think I’ll need the help of Malfoy on this one. He’s much more cunning than me. I think I’ll ask him right now, I’m sure he can use a break from his studying. I’ll be right back and tell you how it went.

We have a plan. Malfoy is going to teach me some spells that will help me defend myself when they attack me again and some spells I can use to get back at them. I’m not sure about attacking them, but Malfoy says I need to show them that I will stick up for myself, that it is the only way to make them stop. And maybe he’s right, so I will learn the jinxes and see if I’ll use them when the time is there.

It’s almost time for the Easter dinner now, I can’t believe how the time flew when Malfoy and I were talking. We first talked about the plan to stop Nott and Crabbe. And then we talked about the upcoming exams. Malfoy told me his father expects him to be top of the class, but he thinks Hermione will beat him in most subjects. I told him his father would still be proud of him when he becomes second. I don’t think Malfoy thinks that is true, he still smiled at me and thanked me. I told him that my aunt and uncle won’t care how I do with my exams and that they don’t really care about me at all. Malfoy found that hard to believe.

Somehow we came to the topic of flying and we went on about that for most of the afternoon. Malfoy told me about his broom collection at his home. He lives in a mansion, with massive gardens and even a forest. He can fly around without any change of muggles seeing him. He said I should come to visit him during the summer hols, so we can go flying together, maybe even practice for the Quidditch try-outs. Malfoy wants to be part of the team next year. He hates just watching, he wants to play. He says he thinks he will be perfect for the seeker position. And I think he’s right. He’s really good on a broom.

I like the idea that Malfoy sees it as a possibility for me to come to visit him during the summer break. I think it means we are really friends now. He’s sitting next to me on my bed now, working on an essay. He asked me what I write in this notebook if it was some sort of dairy. So I told him, that I write to you, and he thinks that is cool, and a bit sad. He said he was sorry that you are dead and that I don’t have any living relatives I can write to. He writes to his mother once a month, to tell her how he’s doing. And that the best part is receiving a letter back, which I never will.

Him not knowing what I write in this notebook means he really didn’t read it when he was keeping it safe and that’s fantastic. It makes me feel all warm inside, I don’t really get why. I like hanging out with Malfoy. He’s really funny when he wants to and really smart. Not as smart as Hermione, but he comes close.

We have to go to the Easter dinner now.

Write to you again soon,

Harry James Potter.

[urdbell18]

A Seed Hidden in the Heart Chapter 17: The One Where the Fight Begins

AN: So a few things that I would like to point out:

1) I don't know how the courts or the law works. It's great that some of you guys know how it does but I'm using this for plot only, the whole thing is completely fictional.

2) Towards the end we learn more about Mary and I try to portray it the best way possible but if any of you guys are upset in any way shape or form I'm sorry. I'm not good with the heavy stuff, I'm more fluff but I'm trying.

Thanks and enjoy!

PS: THIS is chapter 17. I didn’t know that I accidentally labeled chapter 16 as chapter 17. Sorry!

With Mr. Webster in her corner Zelda turned all of her attention to her graduating seniors. Around Christmas break she contacted an old professor of hers that was still in the area and he set it up so that her senior classes, her French 3, Russian, Italian, and Chinese, could take a college exam that her students could use towards credits earned at whatever school they choose to go to. Because the test was so intense Zelda decided to use it as their final. A majority of the test would be online but the oral report had to be done in person, Zelda graded them on the rubric that the professor sent her. She recorded and sent those to the professor for a second opinion just to cover all of her bases. Convincing Mr. Hawthorne was harder than necessary. He denied her request twice until he got a letter from her professor that allowing the students to take the test didn’t cost anything. After that Mr. Hawthorne jumped at the chance for her students to take the test. He cleared out the computer lab for an entire day so that her students could take the test. Much to the carnage of Shirley.

Apparently, Hawthorne bumped Shirley out of the computer lab so that Zelda’s students could take the exams. It wasn’t just Shirley, Mr. Thomas was also bumped and they were only bumped because they were covering for another teacher. Unlike Mr. Thomas Shirley made a big stink about it. She raised a fuss with Mr. Hawthorne but he refused to change his mind. That was probably why when Zelda brought down her sixth period Chinese class that Shirley was already there having students set up on computers with a smirk that clearly showed she knew what she was doing. Zelda didn’t even try to deal with Shirley personally, she called Hawthorne so he could deal with her. Shirley’s students, who could read the room, sat in the library so that Zelda could have her students start on their exams. As she closed the door so that her students had complete silence she saw Shirley glaring at her. She just smiled and turned her attention back to her students, they lost enough time as it is.

The day the seniors graduated meant a day off for Zelda. It was a day that she would lie in bed for a bit with Mary before enjoying breakfast with her family and then relaxing the day away with her daughter and Mary. That is how she would spend the day if she didn’t have to attend court.

Thanks to Mr. Webster he prevented Faustus for scheduling a hearing on a day that she couldn’t attend. Though she hated having to lose the day off she was grateful that she could give the issue her complete focus. She deliberately didn’t tell anyone, especially Mary, where she was really going when she left the house right after breakfast. She told her lie and kissed Vida and Mary goodbye. Mary looked at her with narrow eyes but didn’t say anything, she let her go with a soft ‘bye’. Mr. Webster was waiting for her when she arrived at the courthouse and she followed him to whatever courtroom her case was being heard. Faustus and his attorney were already there. When she entered Faustus’ gaze followed her all the way to the free table just left of the gate. Zelda ignored him, she kept her head high and face forward to the empty judge’s bench.

“All rise for the honorable Judge Methuselah.” A bailiffs voice boomed in the virtually empty courtroom but they all shuffled to their feet. An elderly man in judges robes came in with a file tucked under his arm. When he sat down everyone but Mr. Webster and Faustus’ attorney took their seats.

“Mr. Morningstar.” Faustus attorney nodded in acknowledgement. He was a clean shaven young looking man with brown curly hair that was just long enough to not be called unruly. “Your client is suing Ms. Spellman for the custody of her daughter.”

“That is correct your honor.”

“Why does your client feel the need to now obtain custody over the child?”

“Mr. Blackwood has become increasingly concerned over the welfare of his daughter.”

“What concerns?”

“The child’s living situation and the company that Ms. Spellman keeps.”

“What do you have to say about this Mr. Webster?” Mr. Webster straighten his jacket, fastening a button that had come undone.

“Complete fabrication. Ms. Spellman has every right to remain in the house with her family. And the ‘company’ that Mr. Morningstar is referring to is irrelevant to the matter at hand. What we should be focusing on is, is Ms. Spellman an incompetent parent and that answer is no.”

“It should be the courts concern when the ‘company’ that  Ms. Spellman keeps is another woman.”

“Mr. Morningstar last I checked this was the twentieth century not the 1800’s. Dating another woman isn’t a crime and seeing as Ms. Spellman and your client are no longer in a relationship, if you can call what they had a relationship, she is in every right to be seeing someone else, male or female.”

“The woman in question is mentally unstable. I have documented proof that Mary Wardwell has had a long history of mental illness and had even be hospitalized.”

“That is a complete violation of Ms. Wardwell’s privacy and the court shouldn’t even entertain this possibly illegally obtained information!”

“Enough!” Judge Methuselah banged his gavel for good measure. The courtroom went silent minus the last dull echoes of the gavel. “It appears to me that this matter requires more looking into. I’m ordering a social worker visit Ms. Spellman’s house hold in two weeks. After they file their report we will continue. Until then we are adjourned.” Judge Methuselah banged his gavel one last time before standing from his seat and leaving. Zelda remained in her seat her brain trying to work out what just happened. Was it a good or bad thing that a social worker was visiting her home? And all those things about Mary… were they true or made up by Faustus’ attorney? Faustus and his attorney walked by her table, Faustus glared at her but she didn’t acknowledge it.

__________________

According to Mr. Webster a social worker visiting her house was no big deal. She was a competent parent with nothing to hide. The social worker would see that and would report in her favor, Plus, he would get a copy of the report so Morningstar couldn’t twist the facts. There was, however, one fact he had to look into. Mary. Zelda wanted to talk to Mary first, Mr. Webster agreed that was best and to call or email him when Mary was ready to speak to him,

Mary and Vida were in the living room, sitting on the couch while Vida read a book to Mary. Vida was stuck on a word and Mary helped her out when Zelda approached them. She sat on the arm of the couch and wrapped on arm around Mary’s shoulder.

“You’re back.”

“Mommy!” Vida tossed her book to the side and scrambled onto Mary’s lap to get close to Zelda. Mary winced a little but didn’t seem to mind.

“Vida.” Vida looked at Mary from where her head rested on Zelda’s legs. “I need to talk to you mom for a minute.” Vida huffed but nodded. She left saying she was going to work on the puzzle in the parlor. Mary scooted over to create space for Zelda. Zelda slid off the arm to the free space, draping her legs over Mary’s lap. “So how’d it go?”

“I knew you didn’t believe me.”

“Of course I didn’t. Is it over?”

“No. Faustus’ attorney managed to convince the judge enough to have a social worker visit us. Mr. Webster said it wasn’t nothing to be concerned about. However…” Zelda bit her lip. She was almost hesitant to ask Mary.

“However… what?”

“Faustus’ attorney said something… about you.”

“What that I’m immoral for corrupting you into my world of debauchery?”

“Not exactly. He implied that you were mentally unstable.” Mary’s eyes grew dark but the light that flickered there meant that she was thinking about something.

“This attorney…  his name wouldn’t be Lucifer Morningstar would it?”

“It would.” Mary nodded and took a deep breath. They fell silent for a while, Zelda not wanting to push Mary.

“One thing that we have in common is crappy mothers. My mother was apart of this church community, I think they were Mormons I can’t be sure after all this time, and would drag me to church with her all of the time. I hated it, always did, and when she realized that I wasn’t like her, devoted to the church and wanted to learn more, things that she called ‘sinful’ and ‘immoral’ she washed her hands of me. From there I had to fend for myself but she didn’t kick me out, she wanted to allude that she was still a loving mother even though we rarely spoke to each other. When I turned sixteen she pushed for me to find one of the male members to ‘court’ so that we could marry. I was having none of it, even though the boy that was interested in me was nice. I liked Adam but I couldn’t marry him, it wouldn’t be fair to him if I did. I knew for a while that something was off about me but I didn’t know what. Much like you I ran away after I graduated high school but I just ran away to the college that I didn’t tell anyone that I applied to. That’s where I met Lucifer. I still felt off but I was attracted to him enough to start a relationship.

At first everything was fine but when the next year started he became possessive. It started with changing my courses without my consent and moving my stuff into his apartment. He limited where I could and couldn’t go, not that I listened. I still attended debates and parties that interested me. At one of those debates we discussed human sexuality and that’s where I learned what was off about me. To this day I don’t know if I would call myself bisexual or lesbiean but I don’t deny my attractions which to me is more important than the label. I stupidly thought that I could share this piece of me with him. When I told him that there was a possibility that I like women he locked me in a bedroom and when I natural screamed and fought to be let out he called authorities and somehow convinced them that I had a mental disease that was left unchecked and I was a potential danger to myself and others. That gave me a one way ticket to a mental hospital. It took them a whole week of me refusing medication that I didn’t need and talking to doctor after doctor that I didn’t belong there. At that point I was done with him, he betrayed me in a way that I couldn’t ignore. I called the school and said I wanted a transfer and they helped me move to another college. I left straight there not that it did any good. He found me but I refused to be intimidated by him even as he took the same classes as I did. I left after I graduated and didn’t apply for any jobs until I arrived here in Greendale. That was the last time I saw him and I hoped to never see him again.” Zelda nodded and at some point she took Mary’s hand. She was in awe that even though they were so different they shared an almost identical past.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for? You didn’t ask for him to be a bastard.”

“I know that. I’m sorry for not asking. I realized that there is so much about you that I don’t know and I hate that this crappy situation is making you reveal this part of you when your not ready.”

“To be honest I wasn’t going to tell you. If I did have a mental illness I would have told you but since it was forced onto me I didn’t think it worthy of sharing. If there is anything that you want to know about me all you have to do is ask.” Zelda smiled and nodded. Using her free hand she cupped Mary’s cheek and brought her closer to her.

“I love you.” Zelda’s breath felt hot against Mary’s lips before she claimed them. The kiss was short and soft, Mary was smirking afterwords. “When you are ready, you need to tell Mr. Webster this.”

“I understand. Do you know when the social worker is going to come?”

“No. I’ll have to tell Hilda about it so she can keep an eye out.”

“Good. I want to be there when they came and I want to be there with you at your next court appointment.”

“Are you sure? This isn’t your problem to deal with.”

“Yes it is. Moving into this house means I’m apart of this family and Vida is family. I understand that you want to appear independent and no one here is going to deny that but there is a difference between being independent and being alone and I can tell you one thing Zelda Spellman you are not alone.” Zelda opened her mouth but closed it. She didn’t have a counterpoint to challenge what Mary said.

“You’re right. I guess since I’m so used to things that I forget.” Mary just smirked and kissed Zelda. Before it could go any further Vida came in to say she was hungry for lunch. Her hands were over her eyes, she said it was to block her from seeing something yucky. Mary gave Zelda a playful smirk before scooping Vida up and blowing raspberries all over her tiny body. When Vida cried uncle Zelda took her from Mary and they went into the kitchen for lunch.