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beatricethecat2 · 5 years

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if/then (2.0) - 19

So this was meant to end in a full arc, thereby getting Myka and Helena’s separation out of the way, but there was too much information to stuff into one chapter (I should know better by now). I’ll finish it up in the next one which will not go up as quickly as this one (give me a few weeks, folks). But the momentum is there and I’m hopeful I can keep going! Typos are all mine and links to previous chapters are in the replies. Also lemme know if there's too many things in italic. PS: Thanks to all of you who are still reading this and have left likes, I really appreciate the support after dropping the ball for so long!

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“What about this one?” Abigail holds up a garment covered in clear plastic.

“That’s…” Myka’s stomach knots, she hasn’t pulled it out in ages. “You know what that is?”

"Should I?” Abigail looks it over again. “Oh! Maybe toss it entirely—”

“No!” Myka lunges forward but stops short of grabbing the dress, her hand balling into a fist then falling to her side. “Just pack it away, ok?”

“You sure?”

“It’s all I have left.”

“Of her?”

“Of my apartment. Of my old life. If it reminds me of her, that’s…that’s too bad.” Myka fishes a navy blue sock from the pile to avoid engaging with her grief. Better to gloss over it than risk another lecture from Abigail.

“Bad mojo anyway,” Abigail says, shoehorning the dress into a garment box.

“It’s me who’s cursed,” Myka clarifies, comparing the sock to several others laying over her thigh. “If getting rid of it would solve that, believe me, I would.” Finding no match, she lays it next to a brown one. “How many stray socks can a girl have?”

“You were never in one place long enough to keep track.” Abigail holds up another dress but lays it on the “to go” pile before Myka even responds. “Speaking of places, have you heard from Claudia lately?”

“No. She’s at some conference in San Francisco. We still haven’t managed to meet up.” But at least she’s back in the country, so she’s hopeful they will soon. Claudia did call her the first minute she could, but Myka was already on her residency.

“You’ll be gone again before she gets back?”

“Yeah.”

“Any word about...”

“No. And it’s driving Claudia nuts.” The ‘official’ word on Helena and Christina’s disappearance is that Helena finagled, in an intricate move the police had never seen before, out of her ankle tag and off into the night. Claudia was out buying groceries when it happened, but that alibi didn’t sit well with the cops. She was detained and questioned for weeks, even after a cashier and security footage corroborated her story.

“The nerve of her, cheating on you then taking off her kid. After all you’ve done for her.”

“I should have seen it coming. She talked about taking off all the time.” Myka looks at her lap and counts the socks on her thigh, needing something to help her stay calm. Claudia’s description of the police interrogation was more harrowing than the one she went through. “I’m still worried about them, though.” She’s sick of pretending to be hurt and angry all the time. Maybe she’s at that step in grief where she gets to back off a little.

“You’re too nice,” Abigail answers, pushing the sock pile to the side and sitting next to Myka on the bed.

“If she hears of anything, she’ll call me, but…I-I think they’re really gone.” Though she’s certain Claudia knows where they are, but can’t say and it’s killing her. It’s like living in an arctic winter, one where the sun never fully rises, waiting for the enormity of earth to tilt on its axis so daylight will finally break.

“Do you think they’re with—”

“Don’t.”

“You need to talk about it.”

“I have. I’m moving on. New job, new city, new life.”

“You have a life. Running away from it isn’t the answer.”

“What life? All I have here are shadows.”

“But LA? All muscles and makeup.”

“Why not? My job there won’t remind me of everything I’ve lost.” Myka slips her thumb under the socks on her thigh and slides them towards her knee. “This is stupid. I’ll do it later.” She tosses the bundle on the pile.

“Let’s keep going. I’ll empty your dresser.”

“Just dump it on the bed.”

“Uh-uh. You yelled at me when I dumped the socks.”

“To quote you, ‘I can’t control everything.’“

“I said stop trying to control everything. There’s a difference.” Abigail stands and walks over to the dresser. She slides a drawer out but balances it halfway as postcard flutters the floor. She bends down and picks it up, smiling as she reads the contents.

“I recognize a name here.”

“It’s for a show she’s in.”

“A show in LA. Are you meeting up with her there?”

“No. She’s back in São Paolo already.”

“But you’ve talked to her.”

“Emailed. Why?”

“You like her.”

“I like her work.”

“Her 'work,’ huh?” Abigail tosses the card at Myka.

Myka catches it like it’s a dainty football. She glances at the names then sets it on the bed. “The residency was really intense. It was nice to have a connection, professionally. We talked about our careers, where we wanted them to go. Besides, can’t I have other friends?”

“No.” Abigail teases, raising a brow.

“She’s nice and all but I’m not into her like that.”

“Maybe you should be.”

“Too soon.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Whatever.” Myka grimaces.

“You’ll change your mind once you’re in LA.”

“Now you want me to move?”

“If it improves your love life, I’m all for it.”

“Then you better dump that drawer or I’ll never finish packing.”

Abigail dumps a drawer of t-shirts next to the socks. “Don’t let your new job get in the way of romance.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Myka says adding a small salute. But that’s exactly what she plans to do, and Abigail knows it.

---------------

The instant her boxes arrive in LA, she’s sent back to the East coast to attend several high stakes auctions. She makes a quick stop in New York, though it’s a tight fit between Boston and DC, as she and Claudia’s stars have finally aligned. The few times they’ve talked, Claudia deviated little beyond the standard script. But she constantly reminds herself, were the truth were ever overheard, the whole operation would be in jeopardy.

Coffee shop next to work. You know the one. 8pm, Claudia had texted. It’s now 8:15 and Myka’s waiting, sipping overpriced water, sitting on a stool by a window. She watches people dip in and out of the subway entrance, focused only on their next engagement, envying their seemingly simple lives and ease movement. She’s ignoring the kid with a skateboard, the one texting from a bench outside. He’s probably her tail, or Claudia’s, as she’s learned to sense them these days. Better to be over-cautious than not cautious at all.

The coffee shop staff starts their cleaning duties. She checks the time, 8:23. Where is she?

Claudia bursts in just then. “Sorry, meeting. Stupid dude wouldn’t shut his pie hole. Gimme a hug! I can’t believe you’re here!” She opens her arms and Myka stands abruptly, knocking over her stool as Claudia sweeps her into a bear hug. It takes a moment for her to hug back properly, thankful there’s no pretense where Claudia’s involved.

“They’re gonna close soon. You want something?” Claudia eases up her embrace.

“I’m ok,” Myka says, holding up her water, but not taking her eyes off Claudia. Four months, she thinks. Nearly four months since she’s seen her. Seen them. And three since she talked to Helena.

“What?” Claudia says.

Myka can feel the wide grin tugging at her lips, relieved the see Claudia is safe and sound. She tries to tone it down for appearances but gives up after minimal effort. “It’s really nice to see you. And your hair...it’s, shorter. Redder.” She slips her fingers through Claudia’s brilliant blue streak.

“Needed a change, you know?” Claudia says with a shrug, then nods to the counter. “I’m gonna...”

“Yeah.” Myka watches her go, hyper-aware their every move is being watched and reported back to someone, somewhere. Morgana stressed this, before she left for LA, during a brief but unsettling chat on a packed subway platform. She turns back to the street, the skateboarder’s still there, now joined by friends conveniently skating closer to the window.

“Follow me,” Claudia says, returning with a cup in hand.

Myka grabs her bag and turns left out the door then left again after a few paces. They enter a set of double doors into a lobby, occupied by a giant red sculpture of a balloon rabbit. Corporate culture’s design choices have always confounded her, then again her new job taps into that aesthetic, so she should take note.

“Visitor,” Claudia says as they approach the front desk.

“ID?” the desk guy asks.

Myka fumbles through her bag then hands over her license. The man takes her photo then hands her a pass. She follows Claudia through a set of turnstiles, looking over her shoulder as she goes. The skateboarders have mysteriously disappeared.

“Sooo, how’ve you been?” Claudia asks, tapping her card on the elevator keypad.

“Busy moving. New job and all,” Myka replies.

“Must feel like Siberia here compared to LA.”

“It’s pretty cold. I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Can you believe it snowed last week? And they say climate change isn’t a thing.”

“It snowed in June in Colorado Springs once.”

“Yeah, but spring’s sprung here, man. I shouldn’t be digging out my parka.” The elevator doors open and they step out into a sparse lobby area. “This way,” Claudia says. Myka follows her down a white and clinical corridor, filled with doors like a dystopian office suite. Claudia waves her keycard over a panel and when the light blinks green, she pushes the door open, motioning for Myka to enter.

“All clear,” she says as the door clicks shut.

“Where are they?” Myka asks, dropping her bag on the floor and leaning, palms down, over the conference table.

“I don’t know,” Claudia answers, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You said all clear. I need to know.”

“I thought you knew!” Claudia counters.

“What? No.”

“Seriously? What the fuck H.G.?” Claudia looks towards the ceiling and throws her hands in the air.

“Claudia, I—“

Claudia holds up a hand. “First thing’s first. She didn’t sleep with her. She wouldn’t shut up about you needing to know.”

“I know,” Myka says, but her knees buckle slightly, a true confirmation hitting her harder than she thought.

“Second thing. This fucked up spy thriller shit is all to save your ass. I’m pissed at you for not reading me in when I thought we were working together.”

“We were but—”

Claudia holds up her hand again. “Then I get sucked into HG’s crazy-town vortex and spit out when she and the kid vanish.”

“You didn’t know?” How could that be? Claudia was listening in when Helena called, wasn’t she?

“I did, but not presto, chango, poof! Did you?”

“No! She said was they were being sent somewhere safe, that’s all.”

“Any ideas where they’d go?”

“Somewhere in the UK? It’d have to be, right?”

“They’ll have new identities.”

“Helena must have left some clues.”

“If she knew where they were taking her.” Claudia's eyes light up and she digs out her laptop. She sits at the table taps on keys.

Myka sits next to her. “You think she planned this beforehand?”

“With Christina involved? Hell, yeah.”

“What are you looking up?”

“I put feelers out but maybe we can narrow the search.”

“How?”

“Was there anywhere she blabbed about going? Somewhere she felt safe?”

“Her grandparent’s house.”

“Where were they from again?”

“One of those places with double consonants.”

“Myka, that’s most of Wales.”

“Bring up a map. I can find it. It wasn’t that far from Cardiff.” Claudia does as instructed, Myka angles the laptop, eyes following major roads north. “There.”

“You sure? Because look.” Claudia points to other similarly lettered towns: Cilfyndd, Senghenydd, Trecenydd.

“No, it’s Pontypridd,” Myka says, conjuring hazy recollections of Helena’s stories. “She said something about a bridge and ‘pont’ means ‘bridge’ in French.”

“Welsh ain’t French.” Claudia types in the town and clicks search. “Huh. 'Bridge by the earthen house.’ Bingo. But too obvious a hiding place, no?

“Christina said Helena was teaching her Welsh.”

“No, ‘Merry Christmas’ in Celtic languages.”

“So Scottish and Gaelic.”

“And Cornish. Oh and Guernésiais.”

“What’s that?”

“This weird French they speak on Guernsey."

“Soooo, then we’re back to anywhere in the UK.” Myka slumps down in her chair.

“There’s got to be somewhere else. Think!”

“Anywhere her parents went to a festival? Or along a river or canal. “

“That narrows it down.”

“Somewhere only we would know, somewhere no one else is looking.” Myka chews on a nail as she thinks.

“Where would MacPherson, Mrs. Fredric, Interpol, and The Feds not be looking.”

“The Feds?”

“They tried to hack me once. Must of got wind of what happened across the pond. Such amateurs. I totally screwed with them until they backed off.”

“Huh. Could they be hacking me to?

“Probably.”

“And isn’t Interpol on our side?”

“They want me to chill, so I don’t accidentally give away clues. Czar Kurlansky smacked me on the knuckles.”

“You’ve met her?”

“Kinda jumps on you in the weirdest places. Freak.”

“Yeah, she does that.” So Claudia’s being blocked and she’s being hacked. This is getting even more impossible. “What if we keep looking anyway, but throw out false information. And on the down low keep chasing them for real.”

“If we had something to chase? Sure.”

“Between the two of us, we’ll find something. We have to.”

-----------------

While Myka’s proud of the multilayered tale she and Claudia have been building, a few months later, they’re still no closer to finding Helena. There was some excitement over a legit search of Myka’s name, one originating in the UK, but when Claudia stripped it down, she hit a dead-end server in Estonia. Claudia even went to London to track down clues, talking with work mates and the police. But the longer they spin their wheels, the more their resolve wanes.

Myka throws herself into work to keep her mind off time passing, traveling most weeks across the country and beyond. She keeps to herself whenever possible, concentrating, with difficulty, on her paintings, attending art events only to make contacts for future shows.

She met with Amanda a few times when she was floating through town, her self-absorbed banter providing a slight reprieve from obsessing over Helena. Abigail, on the other hand, is entirely another matter. With her, she has no choice but to soldier through the lies. Details matter, so her front has to be ironclad. It’s exhausting but a good exercise if she’s ever questioned again.

Abigail begs Myka to take time off for her thirtieth birthday, so they can “celebrate being middle-aged together.” Myka tries to brush her off, saying she won’t even be in town, but Abigail forces her hand, threatening to show up on her doorstep anyway.

But when Abigail arrives, Myka is actually excited to see her. A friendly face is few and far between, and no matter the lies. Plus it’s comforting to be in the presence of a friend who knows her so well.

“That red-eye’s a bear,” Abigail says, scanning the room and shoving her bag between a pile of boxes. “Where’s your stuff?”

“I haven’t unpacked.”

“It’s been months! This place looks worse than Helena’s.”

“It’s habitable.”

“My Myka would have decorated place to the hilt by now, but this one…” Abigail waves a hand at her. “I don’t know who she is.”

Myka looks around the room to avoid Abigail’s accusatory glare. She’s right, the place barely has furniture or decorations, a far cry from anywhere else she’s lived.

“Now, come here and give me a hug. I haven’t seen you in ages!”

Myka strides forward into sinks Abigail’s extended arms. The familiar embrace warms her to the core.

“I’ve got a great night planned! But maybe a nap first. You do have a bed, don’t you?”

“Very funny. In there.” Myka points toward a door behind the kitchen.

After a late lunch and some quick shopping, they head out to a not-to-be-missed restaurant. They indulge in an opulent meal with copious wine, all the while catching up. Abigail relays the finer points of her research, while Myka rattles off work-trip anecdotes, and for a moment, it feels like old times.

As the meal winds down, Abigail calls a car but won’t tell Myka were they’re going. Twenty minutes later they’re entering a building with art deco sconces and terra-cotta griffins on the tableau. They take the elevator all the way to the top and step out into an open-air bar.

“Not bad, huh? Great view,” Abigail says, settling onto a stool overlooking downtown LA.

“Yeah. But it’s not New York, is it?” Myka replies.

“Oh, now you miss it?”

“To be fair, I haven’t gone out here much, so there’s no real comparison.” Myka takes a sip of her wine and looks around the room; she’s been avoiding places like this, ones filled with couples laughing, touching, kissing, reminding her of what she once had and maybe will never have again.

“Notice something else?” Abigail swirls the olive in her martini and but points her eyes towards the bar.

“No. What?”

“About the clientele.”

Myka looks again. It takes a moment, but she gets it. “It’s mostly women.”

“Exactly!”

“I’m not looking to meet someone.”

“Maybe I am.”

“Dressed like that, your chances are good.” Myka tips her glass at Abigail’s acquired-for-this-trip little black dress.

“Thank you.” Abigail grins as she looks down at her attire.

“So we’re here because you’re looking?” Myka asks.

“I’ll take my chances.”

“Or…” Myka narrows her eyes and sets her jaw. “You’re going to trick me into telling you who I like so you can try to hook us up. Like up used to do in grad school.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Abigail spears the olive in her glass with a toothpick and pops it into her mouth.

“I didn’t know you were into women.”

“I’m taking a page out of your book. Why limit myself?”

“True.”

“But if you don’t want to play the game, that means….” Abigail narrows her eyes.

Myka holds Abigail’s gaze and takes a sip of her wine, watching the wheels turning in Abigail’s head.

“That Luiza chick, the one from your residency you talk about all the time. What’s going on with her?”

“I don’t…we’re just friends.” It’s true, she has mentioned her a lot, but only to steer clear from talking about Helena.

“But you want to be more than friends, don’t you?” Abigail raises a brow accusingly.

“Why would you think that? You’ve never even met her.”

“There’s this thing called the internet. I looked her up. You have a type, you know: pale, dark, brooding.”

Myka shakes her head. “She’s not brooding. And her hair’s brown.”

“But it’s dark. And long.”

“She has bangs.”

“So?”

“Her eyes are blue.”

Abigail snorts a short laugh. “See, you’re into her!”

“Why?”

“What color are my eyes?”

“They’re, um…” Myka leans forward and Abigail opens her eyes wide. “Brown.”

“You just made my point.”

“It’s the first thing you notice about her! They’re really light.”

“That may be, but the way you’ve talked about her? You’re totally into her.”

“As a friend.’

“Oh, come on!”

“She’s out of my league.”

“A-ha!” Abigail hops a little off of her seat. “You’ve got to go for it. It’s way past time you move on.”

“She has a girlfriend, ok? Can we drop it?” Myka’s lips pinch together, disgusted with the topic and her impromptu fib, but she’ll say what she needs to to get Abigail off her back.

Abigail’s expression says she’s not buying it, that Myka’s knee-jerk reaction was over the top. She stares at Myka, weighing a response. Myka holds steadfastly onto her tongue.

“You could have told me that earlier.”

“I didn’t think I had to,” Myka gripes. These conversations, increasingly the norm, are driving her batty. All the half-truths and outright lies make her queasy to her stomach, like being on a boat that’s perpetually bobbing. If only she could tell Abigail the truth, that Helena’s out there, somewhere, waiting...

Abigail sighs. “How about that icy-hot blonde? The one checking you out when we ordered drinks.”

“No one was checking me out.” Here we go again. This is exactly why she didn’t want to go out.

“Oh, yes they were,” Abigail stresses. She points with her eyes across the room. “The Amanda-esque one, with cheekbones for days. Your other type."

Myka looks towards the bar where Abigail's pointing. The woman in question smiles as she catches her eye. Myka grits her teeth but swigs her wine to hide her disdain. Keep it together, Bering. Don’t let Abigail know you know her. “She wasn’t checking me out.”

“Oh, yes she was.” Abigail waggles her eyebrows and elbows Myka in the ribs.

“I’m not here to hook up.”

“Who cares! You need the practice. Go talk to her, get us more drinks. Oooh, ask her if she’s an actor.”

“Everyone here's an actor.”

“You’re not.”

Myka rolls her eyes. Actually, I kinda am. “If you like her so much, go talk to her yourself.”

“I will!” Abigail rises but Myka grabs her arm.

“Whoa, whoa, hang on. I’ll go.”

“I knew you'd be into her."

Into punching her in the face. Myka closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath, releasing it slowly through her nostrils. This pageantry grinds on her nerves but she has little choice. She reaches for her bag but Abigail blocks her.

“I started a tab, remember?”

“Right.” Myka swallows the lump in her throat as she stands and smooths her dress. She could have good news, give her a chance. She’s just keeping you safe like Helena asked her to.

“Need some flirting tips?” Abigail offers.

Myka turns back. Abigail’s grinning ear to ear.

“Like you have any.”

“Go get her, tiger.” Abigail winks and Myka rolls her eyes again.

She makes her way toward the bar by weaving through a few tables. As she approaches, Morgana scoots to the side, making room for her to stand.

“Can I see the wine list?” Myka asks the bartender, who magically appears to help.

She hands her the list. “Looking for something in particular?”

“Something light and not too sweet.”

“Try the Muscadet. It’s crisp,” Morgana suggests. “Or the Vinho Verde if like a bit of fizz.”

“Do you own this bar, too?” Myka snips.

“Would that surprise you?’

“I guess not.” While it’s absurd to be taking wine recommendations from this woman, she doesn’t have the energy to debate. “A Muscadet and another martini, please,” she says to the bartender.

“Coming right up.” The bartender nods and leaves to fulfill her order.

“Who’s your friend? She’s awfully pretty,” Morgana says eyeing Abigail across the room.

“Stop it. You already know who she is,” Myka grumbles. “Please tell me you’re the bearer of good news for a change?”

“I come with a warning. You and Claudia need to rein it in.”

“Rein what in?”

“Your chatter. You shouldn’t be looking for her so publicly.”

“Are we getting close?” They can’t be, they’ve literally been making things up as they go along.

“Claudia can push, but you can’t. There are rumors you’re not as innocent as you’re supposed to be.”

“So?”

“That puts the operation at risk. Puts Helena at risk. And Christina. You really don’t want that. “

“Did something happen?” Her eyes dart around the room, the queasy sensation returning from earlier. Did she do something to put them in jeopardy? Were they being watched all evening?

“They’re ok, but they won’t be if you don’t rein it in.” Morgana raises a brow so sharply it feels like a slap. “Settle down. Remember where we are.”

“A bar?”

“A public place. A social situation. Read my cues and act accordingly.”

“Flirt with you?”

“Act like we’re having a pleasant conversation or I’ll have to drag you into another room. And how exactly will you explain that to your friend?”

“Fine.” Myka smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

The bartender sets down her drinks.

“My friend Abigail started a tab,” Myka says and looks over at Abigail. Abigail gives a thumbs up and smiles enthusiastically. Myka smiles back, trying harder to play the part she’s been told she has to. She’d forgotten during dinner just how fucked up her life was.

“Got it,” the bartender says and moves on to the next customer.

Morgana lays a hand on Myka’s shoulder. “I know this is hard, but you need to step back. You’re taking too many liberties out in the open.” She squeezes her shoulder and lets go.

“Can’t I be over being mad at her? Can’t I care about her?”

“Publicly, no. Privately, yes. Remember, she cheated on you, disappeared without a trace, kidnapped Christina, ruined your life. You moved three-thousand miles away to forget about her and move on. If that happened for real, would you be looking for her?”

“Maybe?”

There’s a resolve in Morgana’s eyes that snaps Myka into line. This is serious. She’s right. I’m being selfish. We’re being selfish, Claudia and I. She wets her lips and nods in tiny, hesitant strokes. “Tell me what I need to do.”

“Take an interest in someone. Anyone. Maybe your friend, over there.” Morgana nods towards Abigail.

“Abigail? No way. She’s my best friend.”

“What better cover?”

“I need a best friend if I can’t talk to Claudia as much. And I wouldn’t, couldn’t, date anyone else. Lying about you is one thing, but dating…that’s too much.”

“Just take an interest in someone. Take it as far as your comfortable.”

“I hate this,” Myka grumbles.

“It gets easier with time.”

“That’s just a thing people say.”

“Just try.” Morgana twirls her tumbler between a thumb and forefinger, then tosses the remainder of her drink down her throat. She lifts her glass, motioning to the bartender for another. “You need to initiate this interest. Anyone pursuing you might be a plant. One slip up and….” She lays a hand on Myka’s arm again, but this time leans towards her, speaking in a near whisper in her ear. “They’ll use you to force the agency’s hand. And then no one’s safe.”

Myka shivers as Morgana’s hand skims down her arm and takes hold of her hand.

“Be strong for them. You can do this,” Morgana says, squeezing Myka’s hand then letting go. “I’ll give you the number of someone I can read in.”

The bartender delivers Morgana’s drink. Morgana leans over the bar and plucks a pen for the bartender’s apron. She writes a number on a napkin and hands it to Myka.

“Um, thanks, but…” Myka takes the napkin but can’t make a decision like that right now. Lying about dating someone she’s not actually dating might just break her spirit entirely. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Keep it, just in case,” Morgana says and waves the bartender away. “And be more mindful in general. Meticulously so. What will you tell your friend about our meeting just now?”

“That you gave me your number.”

“Good.”

Myka grabs her drinks but lingers. Morgana’s not very forthcoming, but she’s the only link she has to Helena. There must be something else she can pull from her, something to ease her mind, but what exactly that might be eludes her.

“I know this is foreign to you, but this op is a long game. I’m doing everything I can to make sure you both get out intact.”

“Thank you,” Myka says. Her smile is genuine this time.

“Need some flirting tips?”

“No. Why is everyone asking me that today?”

“Don’t overthink it,” Morgana answers. She leans forward and kisses Myka chastely on the cheek. “There. You’ve done your duty for tonight.”

Cool liquid trailing down Myka's skin alerts her that her hands are shaking. She sips Abigail’s drink to not spill more, thinking should have ordered something stronger than wine for herself.

“Happy Birthday, Myka. Now, go join your friend and enjoy the rest of your evening.”

-TBC-

#BERING AND WELLS #w13 #fan fiction #Myka Bering #Helena HG Wells #It's nice to get my brain working again in this direction #but now I have to point it in the opposite direction #and concentrate on a residency application.....#before I can dive into the next chapter #which will have a somewhat fun ending for once #yay!

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heavenlyuris · 7 years

Text

Lucky 13 - Chapter 4: A Promise To Be Broken

Chapter 3 x Chapter 5

Lucky 13 Official Playlist - Chapter 4 Exclusive Playlist

read on ao3

a/n: this took a while but i hope you guys arent mad about it :’)

Jonathan could see it now.

He never noticed it before, maybe because it wasn’t there, but it definitely was now. He didn’t know how long it had been there, or how powerful it was, but it was there. The connection between Mike and Will was obvious.

At first, he believed Mike spent so much time at their house for El, because Mike was most obviously crushing on his new little sister, he had heard from Nancy about the kiss at the Snow Ball last year, and how enamored the young Wheeler was by Eleven.

But somewhere along the lines, things changed. Recently, actually. He feels as if it was something he should have figured out before. But he didn’t.

To be fair, he was busy. It was December, and the high school had just a week until they were free for Winter Break. Jonathan was stressed. He had to balance school work, his portfolio for NYU, his relationship with Nancy, and his very odd, newfound friendship with Steve Harrington.

It was weird, how easy he got along with Steve when they were not fighting. They had a lot in common, the most odd being a taste in music. It was often that when Nancy was too busy studying to accompany Jonathan to take pictures for his portfolio, then it was Steve that went with him. They would often drive to the street just outside of Derry, park alongside the road, and venture into the treeline for Jonathan to take picture of the wildlife. More often than not, they drove much farther than they needed to, belting out the words to songs from a mixtape Jonathan had brought.

It was one of those times now, they had hadn’t driven at all this time, instead choosing to fight the bitter cold of Derry to snap a few shots of their new hometown. A comfortable silence overcame them as Jonathan trained his camera at the street sign of an intersection. ‘The Corner of Neibolt & Jackson’ Jonathan had written when his camera spit out the picture, he quickly tucked the picture into his bag, turning around and heading forward on Jackson street.

“They’re getting me my own place.” Steve spit out. Jonathan looked at him, eyebrow quirked. “The dudes. They’re paying for an apartment for me.” Jonathan realized that Steve was talking about the government officials overseeing their stay in Derry.

Usually, they didn’t have contact with the government, mostly when they first had moved to Derry. Steve and Billy’s new cars, Hopper’s new job on the Derry Police Force, their houses. It was all consolation, making up for the lives they essentially ruined by allowing Hawkins Lab to do what they did.

“That’s awesome.” Jonathan said, quietly. He didn’t quite know what to say, they didn’t have too many conversations outside scream-singing, or Steve asking why Jonathan chose to ‘snap a picture of that crack needle.’

“Yeah, I’m thinking about having a party on New Years. The kids and us, you know? They need some fun, they’ve all been really on edge since we moved here.” Steve explained.

“Cool.” Jonathan said, fiddling with his camera again, lifting it up to his eye and snapping a picture, making sure it was in focus.

“One of Dustin’s friends said something happened with Will.” Stave said.

Jonathan’s head snapped towards the other man. “What?”

“The little kid, Eddie from across the street. Said he hoped Will was okay after his epileptic episode.”

Jonathan was confused. “What? Will doesn’t have epilepsy.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed this time. “Oh, well they said he had a little bit of an episode in the arcade, so I don’t know, man.” Jonathan’s heart sank. An episode? Could it have been….

Max was used to being the only girl.

When she had chased The Party last year, she had been the only girl. Of course, she learned about El, but she wasn’t there then. It was quickly after the gate had been closed and Max and El actually took time to themselves that El realized that Max wasn’t a threat to her.

But it was different when you’re the only girl in a group of friends with 10 other boys. The big group wasn’t able to blend into the walls anymore. People noticed them, noticed that they were exclusive to hanging out with each other. A nickname that the original seven had earned last year apparently stuck, and now Max was the sole female member of the new and improved Loser’s Club of Derry High.

A fact not lost on Gretta Keene, who had made it her personal goal to make Max’s life a living hell since she first laid eyes on her. Max, who was now known as ‘fire-crotch’ or ‘Beaverly 2.0’ did not take too kindly to this.

She was spending the last week before Winter Break on suspension after she had decided that her skateboard was the perfect projectile to launch at Gretta.

She spent most of those days with Eleven, even showing her a couple of things from her homework packets.

“Max…” Eleven’s small voice came from Max’s side.

“Yeah, El?” Max answered.

“I did something bad.”

“What? What did you do?”

“I used my powers.”

“Oh……kay? You do that almost every day. What’s the problem?”

“I used them…..Bill saw.” El was struggling to find the right words, now.

“What? When?”

“92 days ago.” Eleven twiddled her fingers. She then went on to explain the event as best she could. Slowly, Max gathered that while she used her powers in front of Bill, he didn’t actually see her using any kind of powers. And that there was a balloon.

“Well, I think that it’s okay. They haven’t said anything about it, so they can’t know.” Max said, putting her homework into her folders. “Come on, let’s get the board set up.” The Party was having their first D&D campaign as just the six of them for the first time in a while.

El smiled. “Yes. Let’s.”

Stan decided there was definitely something up with the six kids from Hawkins.

He thought that as he was sitting on the couch in Bill’s living room. They were all writing letters to Beverly, as they do every month, as a group. Bill and Ben send letters to her nearly every week, but they all kept in touch by sending one as a group to her. They often took that time to write individual letters to her as well.

He thought about her story, what she saw in the lights. He hadn’t told the club that he had seen any lights himself. They simply thought that It had been trying to devour him, but he knew that wasn’t it. That the scars littering his skin were the first step to It’s plan. The images It showed Stan were the second step. Stan knew that following the next steps were all his own choice, but he couldn’t help it.

He was shaken out of his thoughts as a hand softly landed on his shoulder. His eyes followed the hand up an arm, towards a shoulder, and finally up to a pale, lensed face. Richie.

“Stan? It’s your turn to write.” Richie said, holding out the postcard and lined paper to him. Stan took the items from his hands, and quickly signed the post card. He set the lined paper on the table.

Four paragraphs already adorned the paper. Ben’s, Eddie’s, Richie’s, and finally Mike’s. Stan’s was always the fifth paragraph down. Bill liked to end the letters, which he would usually send off to the post office on the groups behalf.

Stan didn’t really want to write anything, but he was able to scrounge up some words about how he missed her, and that high school was way different than middle school (She seemed super, super happy when she found out that Stan had indeed managed to skip 8th grade). Ending it with how he passed his quiz in geometry. He passed the letter lazily to Bill.

Much to his surprise, Bill handed the letter directly to Ben, asking the other boy to seal it and stamp it, he then turned back to Stan, nodding past the other boy to the staircase, then promptly got up, knowing Stan would follow, which he did.

When they were sealed inside of Bill’s room, he turned to Stan. Within only three months, Bill had managed to surpass Stan’s previous reign as tallest loser. Bill steeled his ocean eyes directly into Stan’s. “Wh-what is….what’s the matter?” Bill asked after a moment.

“What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong.” Stan said, bringing his hands from his hips and folding them over his chest.

Bill mirrored Stan’s pose. “No, s-something is definitely up. You’ve b-barely hung out with m-me since school started. I know th-that th-this s-s-s-“ Bill swallowed thickly. “I know this sss-summer sucked, buh-but I miss spending time w-with you.” Bill stated, now looking at the floor.

Stan should have known this wasn’t some kind of forceful interrogation. Bill was simply worried about him, and missed him. “It’s nothing Bill, really. I mean, of course it’s something, but it’s something I have to push through. This summer, my life changed. All of our lives changed. Now with Dustin and Lucas and them here, I don’t think things are ever gonna be normal again, and you know how that makes me feel.” And Bill did, he knew how much Stan hated change.

“Yeah, I g-guess I sh-should have b-b-been trying harder to hang out with y-y-you, like Richie does.” Bill says, looking even more dejected.

“No, Bill, it’s….it’s not your fault, really. You and Eddie, you guys are still my best friends, I swear. It’s just…Richie is the only other one who I can spent hours with and not have what happened this summer brought up. Richie and his stupid jokes are the only things that feel the same.” Stan says, tears gathering in his eyes.

His stomach jumped as Bill wrapped his arms around Stan’s waist and brought their chests together. Bill waited a few beats, knowing that if Stan didn’t similarly wrap his arms around him then he wasn’t okay with the touch. The tension eased as Stan wrapped his arms around Bill’s shoulders, and they embraced for the first time in months. Bill finally spoke. “I promise..” Bill started, swallowing the stutter that was surely trying to come out. “I promise that I’ll try my best to make things normal for you again. Even if that means making a new normal.” Bill’s arms squeezed a bit at that. “But you have to promise me you’ll try and be okay.”

Stan’s grip almost faltered. He knew it would come to this, knew there would be plenty of lies told. And he prepared himself, he didn’t let his grip loosen, didn’t let the confidence seep out of his voice. “I promise.”

Another promise he was going to break.

Finally, snow arrived in Derry.

One day after the school let out for winter break, the ground of Derry was covered in about two inches of the white powder.

And finally, it was time for one of Richie’s favorite events of the year, the Loser Club’s annual snowball fight. It was usually just the original four. Bill and Eddie vs. Richie and Stan. Richie and Stan were currently the reigning champs, and had won the past 3 years. The rules were simple, whichever team was covered in the most snow after an hour lost. Stan being Stan, was naturally good at everything. He had great aim, and was very adept at dodging and weaving.

But now, with the inclusion of Mike and Ben, and the party, there were 12 kids taking part in this years, the teams were a bit different now. They decided that on this first day, it would be The Loser’s Club vs The Party.

Richie looked on with extreme excitement when Mike stepped forward, tall and proud as The Party’s team captain. He looked Richie dead in the eyes, and an entire wave of confusion washed over the whole party when Richie flashed a devious smile, took a few steps back, and let Bill stand in front of Mike.

Bill was, without a doubt, their fearless leader, after all. Richie watched as the two tall boys shook hands, agreeing on a half hours time to prepare for the fight. Snowballs, any defensive structures, and placing of their teams. The fight was taking place in the Barrens, and the Losers’ Club had the home field advantage.

Whenever you’ve been hit with three snowballs, you’re out.

Richie was once again paired with Stan this year, they were a dream team, a dynamic duo, they were unstoppable. Stan hadn’t been hit with a snowball in two years! They were gonna own this, and not without some trash talk from the trash mouth himself!

“Hey Mike! When we kick your ass you gotta let me hook up with your sister, yeah!?” Richie yelled across the stream, towards the other boy.

Mike simply threw a disgusted face and flipped him the bird before running off with the quiet girl, Jane.

Eddie and Ben were making the snowballs, quickly, but making sure there were no rocks lodged inside of them. Bill and Mike were busying themselves by hoisting up sticks and leaning them on the trees, creating a little bit bigger spaces to hide behind, in case of invasion.

Stan and Richie were running down the stream. Stan, the tactical genius that he is, planned that if two of them circled around, not only would they most likely have the element of surprise, but they would avoid being hit in case all six other kids stormed across the river, and they could take them down from the inside out.

“Now, that means you have to keep your trash mouth shut, trashmouth.” Stan instructed as they hurried down the riverbed.

Richie simply smirked, and waited until Stan said it was time to attack.

After waiting what seemed like forever, Stan finally scooped up snow, formed it into a ball, handed it to Richie and made another one for himself. Stan nodded past him and they began to cross the river bed into enemy territory.

Richie couldn’t see anyone except for Stan. It was still snowing lightly, and the boys had a fair amount of snow accumulating in the curls that tuck out from beneath each of their beanies. The snow was not crunchy, and completely diffused any sound their footsteps could make, so they had to keep a sharp eye out for anyone else.

After a fe minutes of walking, Stan grabbed Richie’s wrist and pulled him behind a tree. Richie stared into Stan’s eyes as Stan stared back.

“Get down!” Stan yelled, pulling Richie into a crouching position as three snowballs splattered against the tree where their heads had just been. The two losers sped around the other side of the tree, and dashed opposite of the way that the snowballs had come.

A few minutes of sprinting, and weaving so that they dodged the snowballs that the ones following them threw. Stan and Richie looked at each other, knowing what to do.

Once they hit a familiar clearing, they turned ninety degrees and dashed away from each other. Once right inside the tree line, Richie stopped, ducking behind a tree and peeking out to see his attackers arrive in the clearing.

Dustin and Lucas were the first to show. They each clutched a single snowball, scanning the small clearing in sync. Soon, another body appeared, and MadMax herself walked between the two boys, a devious smirk on her lips and a snowball in each hand. With the snow caught in her long, uncapped hair, she really did look like winter fire.

Richie scooped up snow, rolled two snowballs and counted the seconds.

After exactly 10 seconds, he saw Dustin get beamed right in his head with a snowball, a matching one following soon after in the shoulder. Richie took aim and lobbed one of his at the curly haired boy, hitting him in the chest. He threw the other in his hand at Max, but she noted where the third snowball came from and backed up just in time, the snowball nearly catching her in the head as she sprinted back the way she came.

Lucas was not as in sync with her, as he threw his snowball into the opposite tree line. Richie knew he missed when, with precision, another snowball came sailing out, exploding into powder on his brown jacket. Richie scooped up snow as Lucas did the same. Richie ran out of the trees with a scream, and Lucas whirled around, confused as another snowball came sailing out of the opposite side, beaming him in the head. Richie dealt the last blow with his snowball, and Lucas looked shocked.

Stan waltzed out from the opposite tree line as Dustin and Lucas looked on, dazed and out of the game. Stan wore a smirk as he held out a hand for a high five. Richie enthusiastically raised his own to meet the other boy when he felt the sharp sting of a snowball pelting his back.

Turning around, he saw the red-haired devil herself, smirking, before she turned around and sprinted back into the woods.

Almost immediately, Stan and Richie took off after her, Lucas and Dustin screaming “RUN MAX!” as well.

Following what he believed to be a flicker of red hair, Richie didn’t realize how long he had been running, until he came to a rocky part of the barrens, and realized where he was. The entrance of the sewers lay ahead of him, and a boy stood, staring at the wide open mouth of the entrance, with what looked like the remnants of a snowball hit splattered on his right shoulder

Richie scooped up snow and formed a snowball, slowly stepping towards the boy that he now recognized as Will. Carefully, he spoke. “Hey, don’t you know what hiding means?” He prepared to chuck his snowball, but Will did not turn around, just kept staring at the sewers.

Horrified, Richie lowered his arm and grabbed the other boys shoulders, whirling him around himself. “Will? Are you okay?”

Will’s unfocused eyes now seemingly readjusted, looking at Richie’s face. “What? Yeah I’m-“ He was cut off by a snowball smacking him dead in the face. Whipping his head around, Richie saw a seemingly pissed off Eddie, eyes glaring at the pair.

Richie looked at Will, who was now wiping the snow off of his face, and shrugged, giving him an apologetic look as he lazily lobbed his snowball into Will’s chest, spinning on his heel and running after Eddie.

He spent a while chasing after the shorter boy, who’s seemed to not want anything to do with Richie at the moment, running away from him as if he was the enemy.

Eddie eventually came to a stop in the clearing where he knew their base was, and found it empty.

Or so it seemed.

It was too late by the time he heard Stan screaming “Watch out!”

In almost slow motion, Richie watched as Jane, Mike and Max popped out of their respective hiding spots across the stream, zoning in on the small boy and making their pitches. 1, 2, 3 times the snowballs exploded across Eddie’s body.

Dramatically, Richie was screaming out “No!” Scooping up snow, forming his own projectile, and launching himself into a blind rage as snowballs began flying all around.

He could recall seeing Ben fall to the same strategy that Eddie succumbed to when he scooted too far out from behind their tree defenses. He was almost sure none of his snowballs hit as he was too focused on avenging Eddie’s loss.

He could recount feeling the sting of another snowball as he and Party Mike threw matching hits at each other, the difference being that Mike was pelted shortly after from Stan and Bill.

His eyes could barely focus as his own Mike stepped out, and he could hear two hard hits beat on the bigger boys chest. Mike fell to his knees as the quiet girl Jane landed the killing blow to Mike. He looked over, and could see Max standing directly his opposite across the stream from him, clean of any snowball hits. They matched each others’ movements perfectly as they knelt down and rolled up their snowballs. Max nudged Jane behind a tree and she and Richie maintained eye contact, seeming to will the other to take the first shot.

Just when Max smirked and raise her arm to throw, she did something unexpected, refocusing her aim to someone else, and throwing her snowball with all her force at Stan. Stan stood, obviously not expecting that, as the snowball sailed towards him. It never made contact as Bill stepped in front of the jewish boy, taking a clean hit to the face, what looked like his first one.

Max’s smirk melted off her face when Stan let out a scream and hit her squarely in the face with a snowball of his own. The second snowball came when Richie threw the one forgotten in his hands, the third and final blow coming as revenge from Bill himself, and the redhead fell flat on the ground, out of the game.

Richie, Bill, and Stan all nodded at each other as they scooped up snow, and stalked across the frozen stream towards the last remaining party member left, the quiet girl, Jane.

Jane backed away until she hit a tree, and when the three loser boys primed themselves, wrenched their arms back and proceeded to throw their snowballs in sync, she raised her arm.

There, in the middle of the clearing, the three snowballs floated in mid air. Everyone watched in disbelief as Jane let out a yell, pushed forward with her arm, and the three snowballs flew back at their respective throwers, along with almost all of the snow from tree Jane was leaning against, blanketing the three boys in snow.

No one made any attempt to move at all, instead staring at the quiet girl.

Jane slowly made to wipe the thin trail of blood leaking out of her nose. She looked as if she had been caught with her hand in a cookie jar.

A snowball exploded straight in her face.

All heads whizzed toward the direction the snowball had flown from, and standing the edge of the clearing, was a head of fiery hair wrapped in a warm, homemade knit cap.

Beverly Marsh.

She smirked at the eyes staring at her, her own crystalline ones glinting.

“Hey there, Losers.”

tag list: tag list: @stnbrough @sun-kinghanlon @richie-tczier@billbenbev@anymomentanytime@sten-bros @aamw343 @hemmingsathena @toziertrash-mouth@fandomtrash2405@ohheydatsme @umlingo @3verything-is-my-aesthetic @basic-internet-trash@grayce-crochet @littlepolypan @alaskancats @80sdenbrough

#it (2017)#stranger things #i dont feel like tagging everything

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bluezey · 7 years

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Some SpongeBob episodes/scenes they could/should reenact with the Broadway cast

Just One Bite: so much acting moments for Gavin Lee, but there's a moment where Squidward stomped on a Krabby Patty, then dug it up from the floor, ate it, then licked the floor, I'm curious I need to know how much of that Gavin would do?

F.U.N.: an episode where Ethan and Wesley can act all buddy buddy and sing the F.U.N. song

Tea at the Treedome: just use cool blue light and warm yellow light to symbolize the change between water to air, the have Ethan act like he's dying of dehydration, I know I'm evil

Karate Choppers: so we can have more Sandy, more karate, and less SpongeBob dying of thirst

Squidward the Unfriendly Ghost: just Gavin Lee spending his time in a terricloth robe, and that line "okay, get in"

Dying for Pie: again, a gold mine of one liners! "He cries you a sweater of tears, and you kill him" "just you, me, and this brick wall you built between us" "there's gonna be so much love, he's gonna drown in it!!" And a friend wanting to see Gavin Lee as Squidward in a salmon suit also reminds me of great visual moments XD

Dumped: just giving Gary some love, and this seems like the best one for Ethan, Danny and a prop snail on a skateboard

Sailor Mouth: they have a guy-who-makes-the-sounds, they can totally do that! Wait, do they do that now on stage? Cause that would be awesome!

Band Geeks: another episode they can totally do onstage, don't believe me, look up Blast, also Squilliam Fancyson

Squilliam Returns: for those who need more Squilliam

Karen 2.0: what's this? A later episode? Yeah, I grew up on the older ones, but by the look of some of the newest episodes I need to catch up. Anyway, not just a Karen episode, but a Karen episode where she is dumped by Plankton for a better model, is taken in by the Krusty Krab, and stands up for her man by battling 2.0, aka the best episode in my book

Pizza Delivery: my favorite episode, good jokes, good laughs, and ends with Squidward standing up for SpongeBob

I could go on and on, but I'll stop here, but I will give honorable mentions to Welcome to the Chum Bucket, The Chaperone, and Fools in April.

Also, if you want to continue this list, granted due to some comedy gems that would be too tricky to pull off onstage, we may have to work around them. So, with that in mind, let me add a rule by saying NO episodes where characters are naked or in their underwear!! Can we just give SpongeBob some cute yellow pajamas and call it a day?

#spongebob squarepants musical #spongebob squarepants

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witchy-mel · 3 years

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Merry Christmas!

A/N: A little side story revolving around the Petey x Russell ship(i gotta come up with a ship name for it). This time it's Christmas-themed! (despite it being summer🤦‍♀️) So I hope you enjoy it!

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December. The start of Winter break and a couple days before Christmas. Peter was going back home because his mother said she missed him. Which was probably true, but it's most likely because she didn't want to be stuck with babysitting duty if he stayed at Bullworth. His cousins would always come over for the holidays, so it was his "tradition" to watch them while the adults are busy drinking and talking about their New Year's resolutions that never happened. He liked kids, but his cousins were a lot to handle on his own. Peter appeared to have his schedule all planned out. He wondered what Jimmy was doing for break. He hadn't said anything since the exchange between him and Peanut. His dart-throwing was starting to become aggressive as well. Peter decided to ask him to break the silence. "So, uh, Jim, what're you doing for Christmas break?" "I don't know. Probably find out who the hell this Johnny guy is, I guess," he answered. He threw a gray dart at the bright red circle surrounding Dr. Crabblesnitch's face. "Well, what would you have usually done?" Peter asked, attempting to start some kind of conversation. "Usually, I'd be at home celebrating Christmas with my mom and whoever my dad was for that year. If I was lucky, I'd receive two pairs of new socks instead of one. On top of that, I'd get to watch them make out under the mistletoe for nearly thirty times or more. Compared to now, this would be an improvement and that's saying something." "That...doesn't seem like much fun..." Peter stated softly. He started to feel bad for him. Jimmy glanced over at the smaller boy before hurling another dart. "Hey, what's with the long face? You don't have to feel sorry for me, dude. I'm used to it." He ruffled Peter's head. "And hey, who knows, maybe my mom might send me an ugly Christmas sweater. Or better yet, I meet Mr. Claus himself." "Really..." Peter knew he was just trying to lighten the mood, but that joke was horrible. "So, what're you doing for the break?" "I'm going back home. I leave tomorrow." "Really? What about Russell? You guys have been going pretty steady, right?" That was true, but unfortunately, Russell said he'd be staying here for break. Sadly, they can't spend their first Christmas together, but there's always next year. "Yeah...about that; he’s gonna be here while I’m back at home." "Oof. That's gotta suck. I guess no kisses under the mistletoe for you then, huh," the freckled boy said while elbowing Peter's arm. A pervy expression settling on his face. "Hey, quit that!" the now flustered boy shot back. It's not like he and Russell haven't kissed before; it was just embarrassing to talk about so openly. "Haha, I'm just messin' with ya." "Yeah, yeah I know"." They continued to joke around and throw darts for a bit longer until Jimmy left to look for Johnny. Peter set his darts in the pile Jimmy left his then went to his room before nighttime rolled around. This was the last time he was gonna have some alone time in a while, so he ought to enjoy it while he can.

It was the next day. Peter had been sitting in his room waiting for his mom. He was just waiting for Miss Danvers to call him down to the office so she could pick him up. A moment later, a click was heard from the intercom. "PETER KOWALSKI, PLEASE COME TO THE OFFICE. YOUR MOTHER IS HERE TO PICK YOU UP." The announcement then ended with another click. Time to go. He put on his sneakers, a light blue jacket, and a gray beanie with a smiley face embroidered on it. He also grabbed the white canvas bag he came to Bullworth with. He packed it with a pair of pajamas and an extra pair of shoes. He didn't need to bring much with him since he was going back home. He put the straps across his chest and headed out of the boys' dorm. When he entered the main office, his mom was sitting in a chair closest to the wall. Her long, dark brown hair was styled in a messy low-side ponytail. She was wearing a sky-blue, loose turtleneck sweater that stopped right above her midthigh with a pair of black skinny jeans and black matte flats. She was so occupied reading a school brochure that she didn't even notice him enter the room. "Hey, mom." She adverted her attention from the paper and looked directly towards the center of the room. He gave her a little wave and a shy smile. "Gummiworm!" In an instant, she sprang out of the chair and hurried towards him, her arms wide open. She grabbed hold of him and she squeezed him so tight you'd think that he could feel her heartbeat through her chest. "Oh, I've missed you soooo~ much!" "I've missed you too, mom. Can you let me go though, you're kinda squishing me." "Oops- I'm sorry, sweetie, I wouldn't want to turn my baby into a pancake as soon as I get to see his cute, wittle face again." She pinched his cheek as she talked in a way you would to a newborn. Peter was getting embarrassed by this constant coddling. Fortunately, Miss Danvers chimed in and saved him, "Well, I see you two are enjoying yourselves. Well, if that's all, I expect to see you again after the break, right Peter?" Peter nodded his head. "Very good. Have a wonderful break, you two," She said with a polite smile. They left the office and walked down the main stairs to the car parked out by the school gates. He opened the backseat door and tossed his bag in first, him trailing after. His mom climbed into the car and started the car. "Seatbelt on?" "It's on," He reassured her, but he double-checked just in case. It's been a while since he's been in a car. "Alright, we're ready to roll. Before we go home, we're gonna go to the mall so we can find some presents for the family, 'kay?" "Okay." The closest mall was an hour and a half away, so it would be a long drive. He thought that this would be the perfect opportunity to get Russell a present. Then Peter wouldn’t feel sad for not being able to spend time with him this year. He didn’t know what though. He figured he would probably find something once they got there.

A fifteen-minute gap of popular Christmas songs playing on the radio and cars passing was interrupted by his mom asking him questions. She turned the volume down a little, so it would be easier for them to hear each other. "So, you told me you made a new friend called Jimmy. You guys hang out a lot?" "Yeah. We go to the park sometimes and he shows me how to ride his skateboard. He's pretty cool." "That sounds fun! What about Gary? You didn't really say anything about him in the letter you sent me." Peter hesitated to answer. It's not every day you get to tell your mom that your childhood friend is trying to ruin your life by trying to take over your school. "...we don't...really talk anymore..." Her eyebrows furrowed with concern as she looked at her son through the rearview mirror " Huh? Why not? Something happen?" "It's...complicated..." She glanced back in the mirror at her son sulking by the window. He looked upset, so she backed off of him a bit. "That's alright. I won't force ya." Peter continued to stare out of the window, staring at all the freshly snow-covered trees and hedges. He always liked Winter. When he was younger, he and his dad would go to their backyard and challenge each other to see who could make the most deformed snowman. After being in the snow for so long, they'd rush into the house and drink hot chocolate his mom would make. That was all before he started working at the library two towns over from their house. He would come home so late at night, Peter would already be fast asleep when his dad got home. He would really only get to see him on weekends and certain holidays. "Are there any girls you like?" Peter was so focused on the scenery outside that he was caught off guard with that out-of-the-blue question. His face became so red he practically became Rudolph 2.0. "Wha-, mom, no!" "What~? I saw some pretty cute girls there! I wouldn't mind if you brought one home to us someday." "Mom, can we not talk about this anymore?" he urged, still looking out the window, hiding his reddened face from his mother. Besides, he's already with someone, and that someone was Russell. A boy. His parents never cared about his love life, as long as he was happy with whoever he was with, but they’ve always wanted him to start a family and have kids of his own. He didn't even mention Russell in the letter he sent in response to her asking about his current school life. It’s not like he was afraid to tell her. He just thought it was too early. But Russell's mom knew. She found out when she noticed Russell would come home later than usual some days after school because they would be out on little dates. They would occasionally hang out at his house as well. Peter was the only partner, or anybody, that he has ever brought home so frequently, so it didn't take her long to catch on. She wasn't bothered by it at all, and she was super supportive. How he was going to tell his parents, though? How would they react? It's not like they needed to know right away anyways. Maybe Summer break would be a decent time to tell them. "Alright, I'll stop messing with ya. I know I'm probably acting like a cop the way I'm interrogating you like this." She quietly laughed to herself while she dialed the radio back up to the Christmas songs that played earlier. Peter yearned for this car ride to be over ASAP.

They eventually pull into the large mall parking lot. It was jam-packed due to last-minute Christmas shoppers. There were so many rows and rows of cars lined up it looked like a multicolored forest made of metal. They'd be lucky to even remember where they parked their car, let alone find a parking spot. After a long search, they finally found a parking spot, but it was farthest from the entrance. He knew how his mom got whenever she went shopping, especially holiday shopping. When he was younger, he would wonder where she'd get the money to buy all that stuff, and he still does now. Just thinking about carrying all those bags back to the car made his arms feel like jelly. She parked in the spot and turned off the car. They unbuckled their seatbelts and hopped out. She pushed a button on her keys that locked all the doors and they began to walk to the entrance. Upon entering the mall, Peter was amazed by what he saw. Bright Christmas lights were dangling from the second-floor rails. Candy canes and ornaments made of shiny tinsel were randomly located throughout the mall. A strong scent of gingerbread was also floating in the air. But the icing on the cake was the giant, rotating, decorated Christmas tree that stood directly in the middle of the mall. It hasn't been that long since Peter had been to the mall, but he never went when it was during the holiday season. His mom has always done the gift shopping beforehand while he stayed home with his dad. It was kind of weird experiencing all of this for the first time. "Alright, so here's the plan," his mom started, snapping Peter out of his state of awe. "I'm gonna give you $40 to spend on anything you want for a present. It can be for a friend, yourself, anything. Since you haven't been around us as much this year, I gave you a pass." She dug into her purse and pulled out her pink sparkly wallet. She took out two $20 bills and handed them to him. "Spend it wisely because that's all you get, kay?" Peter nodded his head. "Good. Meet me back at the food court when you're all done, alright." She lowered herself and kissed him on the cheek, then walked off. $40. That's all he was given to spend on a present. He already knew who he was going to spend it on but didn't know what. Standing here all day wasn't going to solve anything. Maybe he'll find something if he walks around a bit. He shoved the money into his pocket and started his hunt for the perfect gift.

It'd been a couple minutes, and Peter hadn't found anything yet. 'This might take longer than I imagined...' he thought. He wished to find something and quick. It was as if a genie heard his thoughts because, at that moment, he came across a craft store. Peter idly stood in front of the store entrance, wondering what he could possibly use from here. Then it came to him. Heading into the store, he searched for what he was going to need. The first section he went to was 'Simple Crafts' where he grabbed pink and white felt, crazy glue, and some golden tinsel. He needed some thread for the felt, so he headed to the 'Sewing' section. There he grabbed a spool of white and pink thread, needles, and a pack of colorful heart-shaped buttons. He got everything he needed. If not, he could just look in his basement for supplies. All that was left was to check out. Up at the register, he placed all his items on the counter. A middle-aged lady with short salt and pepper hair was working the counter. "Will that be all, sweetheart?" she asked kindly. "Mhmm," Peter answered back. "Alright, that's gonna be $12.15." She rang him up and put all his belongings in a bright, red plastic bag with the store's logo printed on it. He handed her the money, and she put it into the cash register, "Here ya go," she said as she handed him the bag, "Enjoy your holiday!" "You too!" Peter said as he rushed out of the store, quick to get the final item. Reaching the top of the escalator, he stepped off and began looking for a men's casual clothing store. He didn't see any on the first floor because there were a lot of clothing stores for women and item-based shops. There were some shoe stores, suit shops, and sportswear stores on the second floor. Not anything he was looking for. After a tedious search for a regular clothing store, he eventually came across a casual apparel store for men. This was probably his best and the only option, so he walked inside. The first thing he did was scan through all of the tops. No sweaters here. "Maybe they're by the jackets," Peter said to himself. Jackets and coats were on another side of the store, so he walked over to where they were hung. To no surprise, there they were. That was the first check off his list. Now all he had to do was find one in green. No luck on the first rack, the second one either. Fortunately, the third rack had some. Another check off his list. Now he just had to find the right size. He remembered that Russell wore an XL. He only knew that because they were on a date one day, and they got caught in the rain. Russell took off his shirt and draped it over Peter to keep him dry since he was wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt. Thinking about that made him blush a little because Russell was getting completely soaked and he couldn’t stop looking at Russell as water dripped off of him. They had fun drying each other off back at his house though. Peter shook his head to regain focus on what he was doing. He skimmed through a few of the sizes before he came across the right one. Before unhooking it from the rack, he checked the price tag. He had a bunch of cash left since the art supplies were pretty cheap, but he didn't want this sweater to go over his budget. He flipped the tag and looked at the price. Only $20. Perfect. Right on budget. He traveled to the checkout counter, purchased it, and left the store. He now had everything that he needed.

Now he just had to head back to the food court and wait for his mom. He didn't know where it was at, though. Coincidentally, there was a map of the mall a bit farther down from where he was standing. The blue dot on the screen indicated where he was now. The food court was on the second floor, so he didn't have to walk too far. All he had to do was go straight from here, and he'd be there in no time. He must've got there before her because she was nowhere to be found. There wasn't a big crowd, so if she was here, he would've spotted her almost immediately. She was probably still shopping. He then heard a weird gurgling noise. It was his stomach. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't eaten anything all day. Might as well get something before his stomach eats at itself. Peter used the remainder of his money to buy himself a slice of pepperoni pizza. He found a seat, placed his bags next to him, and ate while he waited for his mom to show up. Five minutes passed as Peter watched the corner, waiting for her to pop up. His wait was shortly over because she finally arrived. And she was holding some bags. A lot of bags. Too many bags. She looked around for a second before she spotted him. "Oh, there you are!" She began to approach him, and with every step, he could just feel his arms began to give out. "Looks like you beat me here, huh?" she inquired as she set her bags next to his. "Yeah. I didn't know how long it was gonna be before you showed up, so I got lunch." "Oh, that's right. You didn't eat anything this morning, did you? I knew we should've picked something up before we got here." "It's fine, mom. All that walking made me hungry. I was fine earlier." She rested her cheek on her palm and gave him a worried pout, but soon replaced it with a soft, closed-lip smile and pet his head, flattening his beanie. "Well, if you say so, Gummiworm. Well, It's time to go, so grab a couple of bags to help carry to the car." Peter carried six bags, three for each arm, including his two bags. His mom took six as well. They pushed open the doors and were hit with the cool winter air. It was lightly snowing as well, and as they walked, snowflakes landed in and on the bags. Some, melting instantly and others coating the items in a fine layer of frosty powder. His mom pressed some buttons on her key that unlocked the trunk and the doors. They stored the bags into the semi-full trunk of wrapping paper and boxes and hopped into the car. Their house was a 20-minute drive from the mall, so it wouldn't take them long to get home.

At last, they were finally at home. His mom backed into the driveway and parked the car. Unlocking the trunk again, they grabbed the bags, wrapping paper, and boxes and carried them to the door. Fishing the key out of her back pocket, she unlocked the door and turned the knob. "Honey, we're back!" she called out to the person in the house. They walked in and placed all the items on the living room carpet and couches. A moment later, there was a sound of footsteps coming down the wood stairs. "I see you guys went shopping today." said the familiar voice. Peter knew that voice. "Dad?" Peter questioned, looking up from the bags. "Hey, Kowboy!" Peter ran to him, soon binding him in a tight hug. "I've missed ya, bud" "I did too." After a hug that seemed to go on forever, he freed him from his grasp. "You still haven't changed since yet?" His mom complained as she grabbed his mix-matched pajamas. "I don't see why I have to. The only people who are going to see me are you guys and the rest of the family," he stated. "Jeremy," her tone now more serious. "Alright, I'll go change. But I'm only changing the shirt." "That's fine," she said and she pecked him on the cheek. He hiked up the stairs to their bedroom to find a presentable shirt to wear. "Peter, honey, could you help me wrap these presents? I wanna get this done before the rest of the family get here." she requested. "Sure." He hung up his jacket and kicked off his shoes, then walked to the couches. Peter already separated his bags from the others so his mom wouldn't accidentally wrap his stuff. They wrapped the various gifts one by one. Cutting and taping the assorted wrapping paper around cardboard boxes. Labeling who they're for and from. They finished in an hour. "That appears to be all the presen-" she paused when she saw Peter's bags still on the couch. "Must've skipped over these." She reached to grab them but was interrupted when Peter snagged them away. "Ah- ma, you can’t wrap these," he explained. She raised an eyebrow, "And why not? You hidin' something from me?" she teased. "Uh- no. It's just I have to make it first; that's all." "Oh alright, hon. I still got more stuff to do, but I'll make your dad help me. You can go on upstairs and make your gift." Peter grabbed a box and a ribbon then walked up to his bedroom.

He turned the knob and opened the door. The room looked the same as the day he left. His bed was still neatly made. His figurines and trinkets on his desk were where he left them. He plopped down on his bed, dumped out all of the craft supplies, and took out the sweater. He spread it out across his bed and tore open all the supplies, separating them into individual piles. Grabbing a Sharpie and a pair of scissors off his desk, he outlined the letter "P" in the pink felt and the letter "R" in the white then carefully cut them out. He set them in the middle of the sweater. Next up, tinsel. There was so much of it, but he managed to form it into a heart. He snipped off the excess and put it away. He took a red, medium-sized heart button and placed it right between the P and the R that made a message that reads "P heart R," which meant "Peter loves Russell." Lastly, he picked out a handful of tinier buttons and randomly distributed them on the green, wooly fabric. Now that he had his design planned out, all he had to do was make it stay there permanently. First, he super glued the tinsel, careful not to get any on his fingers or anywhere else on the sweater. Then he took out the white and pink spools of thread and the needles and threaded them. Peter was pretty skilled at sewing. Whenever he went to his aunt's, she would teach him how to sew. Sometimes he would fix a button or sew a hole close on an old pair of jeans or shirt. He even took a sewing class in the summer. He started with the tricky part, which was the letters, and the buttons last since all he had to do was crisscross the thread in the holes. After he was finished, he held up the sweater and admired his work. Picturing Russell wearing it made him smile so wide that it stretched ear to ear. Peter folded it up and neatly placed it into the purple box, then closed it. He took the green ribbon and tied it into a neat bow. He carried the to his desk, then walked downstairs to the kitchen. His parents were busy putting the presents under the tree and hanging up some extra ornaments. "You finished your present?" his mom asked while she tiptoed to hang a sparkly red and gray ornament on one of the tree branches. "Yeah. I just need to get it to them before Christmas." "Okay, I'll take you tomorrow. Where do they live?" "Old Bullworth Vale, back by the school." "I'll take you at some time around 10, so be ready by then, alright." "Alright," Peter responded. Not even a second later, there was a ring from the doorbell.

"That must be them. I'll get it." His mom skipped over the presents and rushed to the door. When she opened the door, she was greeted by his aunt and twin cousins. "Lily!" his aunt squealed. "Amber!" his mom squealed back. They hugged each other as if they hadn't seen one another in ages. "It's great to see you again. Where's Daryll?" "Oh, he's getting the bags out of the car. He'll be here in a bit." "Why don't you guys come inside then. It's freezing out there." They stepped inside and hung up their jackets and scarves. His cousins noticed him first. "Pepper!" [A/N: They call him "Pepper" because they're both like 4, and they can't really pronounce "Peter" or "Petey". i'm not gonna nickname him "PeePee" lol(i was low-key tempted to tho👀). even tho that would be more appropriate for their age. also, a little fun fact: they're actually twins] They both raced up to him and clutched onto his legs, almost causing him to lose his balance. "W-Woah! Hey guys." His aunt noticed him next due to the noise they made, "Polar bear!" She walked over and hugged him while planting a kiss on his cheek, leaving a red lipstick stain. "You've grown so much! The last time I've seen you, you were this small." She raised her hand to her midthigh to symbolize his past height. He wondered if it had actually been that long since he had last seen her. "What, am I invisible now?" his dad's voice piped up. "Oh-I didn't even notice you, Jeremy. You were hidden by the tree." "Well, now I know I'd win a game of hide-'n-seek." Eventually, his uncle paraded in, multiple bags in hand. "Need a little help here." "Ay, Daryll! Hang on, I'll help ya." His dad walked from behind the tree and rushed to help with the extra luggage. The adults separated and left Peter alone with his cousins. His mom and aunt were in the kitchen and his dad and uncle downstairs in the guest room. The chaos had now started. His first day home consisted of him playing a long game of tag with his cousins with him being 'it' the whole time. Making sure they didn't get hurt or into any trouble. This went on until the sun went down, and the little ones got tired of hearing their own footsteps. He called his aunt upstairs to collect them, for as they were growing sleepy, and she took them to get ready for bed. Peter was so tuckered out that as soon as his head hit the pillow, he blacked out. He didn't even get to change out of his clothes.

It had to be a quarter before 10 when Peter was rudely interrupted from his sleep by his cousins jumping around him on his bed. "Pepper! Pepper! Wake up!" the two shouted. He gradually raised his head off the pillows. His eyes still practically closed. His cousins climbed off the bed giggling and ran towards his mom, who was standing at the door. "They woke up early today, so they helped me wake you up." Peter responded with a short grunt as if to say, 'Oh.' "It's almost 10:00, so you should start getting ready. I'll be downstairs." she instructed. She picked up one of his cousins and went downstairs. Peter moved his legs off the bed and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He got up, walked into the hallway, and grabbed a pale-yellow towel out of the linen closet. Walking into the bathroom, he turned the faucet and waited for the water to warm up. When the water was at the right temperature, he removed his clothes and hopped in the shower. After, he brushed his teeth and washed his face. He collected his clothes off the tiled floor and walked back to his room, shutting the door behind him. The twins had him so tired out last night that he wasn't even able to pick out an outfit beforehand. He decided he would go for a simple look today. Peter opened his closet and took a look at his wardrobe. He grabbed a white dress shirt, a navy blue sweater with a gold stripe near the collar, and a pair of beige dress pants. He finished the look with a pair of long white socks and black and white canvas sneakers. After getting dressed, he grabbed Russell's present off the desk and stuffed it under his arm. He left his room and walked downstairs. His mom was waiting in the living room reading a fashion magazine, his aunt busy in the kitchen feeding the kids breakfast. His dad and uncle, surprisingly, weren't here. "Hey, mom, I'm ready," he called out. "Alrighty!" She closed the magazine and laid it on the coffee table beside her. She got up from the couch, and they both went to grab their coats from the rack by the door. His mom reached for the doorknob to leave, but as if on cue, they were immediately stopped by his aunt. "Ah- before you guys go, Polar bear, I have something to give you." She walked to the guest room to retrieve whatever it was she had. She came back a few seconds later, holding a pair of brown mittens with white snowflakes decorated on them. "Here! Consider it an early Christmas present~." She said as she handed them to him. "Oh, thanks," Peter replied, slipping them onto each hand. His mom opened the door, and they headed out to the car.

It took 2 hours to reach Bullworth because of a traffic jam caused by the snow. The whole time, Peter was sitting in the backseat eagerly waiting to arrive at Russell’s house. "Okay, we're back in Bullworth. I'm gonna need some directions from here on." his mom informed. Peter told her which way to go until they ended up in front of Russell's house. "-and stop riiiight here." "This house?" "Yep." She parked the car and he hopped out. He excitedly walked to the front door, imagining Russell’s reaction to Peter’s surprise visit, and rung the doorbell, quickly hiding the present behind his back. *DING-DONG* The sound of the bell softly echoed. There was a long pause of stillness that made Peter progressively grow more and more impatient. Suddenly the door swung open, and Russell stood in the doorway to greet him. He was wearing a white t-shirt and red plaid pajama pants. He was probably sleeping a while ago. When Russell saw him standing in front of him, his eyes widened with confusion. "Petey? What are you doing here?" he asked as he scratched his head. "I thought you go home." "I did, and I still am, but I just wanted to give you something since I won’t be able to on Christmas day." Russell slightly tilted his head as Peter unhid the box from behind him. Holding it in both hands, he held the box out in front of him. "Merry Christmas~!"

#this one is probably longer than the last one #but i really like it #i might do a russell pov fic but idk what it'll be about yet #russell northrop #peter kowalski #bully scholarship edition #canis canem edit #bully ship

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