#literally I was shaking I could not believe jt

[serenedash]

Ran into this amazing Ava cosplayer! 💖🦊 sadly no social media but he looked amazing :')

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — JT COMPHER x reader (main); TYSON JOST x reader (side); COMPHER x JOST (brief) wc — 14k synopsis — what's a reunion without some groveling?

note — this takes place a few of years after part one, go out with a bang (post-college/college au — tyson and kate are now out-going seniors!) sorry not sorry for the length of this behemoth, i got carried away per usual <3 there are more parts to come, and i would absolutely love to hear any theories/predictions if yall have any!

specific content warnings listed below the cut.

cw — cameos on cameos on cameos, we're at a party so drinking and mention of dr*gs + yacking (no description), drinking games, sorority terms/processes, me getting too invested in multiple subplots and potential background ships, soft!service!dom!JT makes my peabrain go brrrrr, everybodies a bit masochistic because i, registered heathen, am masochistic, reader’s wearing a short skirt for plot reasons, slight compher x josty, oral (reader receiving 2x), unprotected piv (i know, i know, i know i need help), me letting my brat self take the kink reins, praise baby praise, angst AND IM NOT SORRY, + happy fluffy bits... possible cliffhanger??? 

Staring up at the Alpha Chi house is like stepping back in time. 

Like trying on an old pair of shoes you found while deep-cleaning your closet only to find their once-perfect fit gone. Growth is funny that way; you never realize just how far you’ve come until it pinches you.

You’ve outgrown this place, though not from a lack of love or any great tragedy. It occupies a different place in your mind, just as you’re a different person than you were three years ago. 

Your younger self would balk at this development, wouldn’t believe it’d one day feel too small. You can’t fault her for that near-sightedness. In college, your whole world existed on one street. You had everything you needed then between two stop signs.

But your world is bigger now, and your needs are different too. 

Still, it feels good to try on your past for the night. Even if it's a tad ill-fitting. 

The drive between your new life and your old one hadn’t been too bad, but that’s probably because you didn’t do much of said driving. JT got the engine going before you could even make a grab for the keys and, despite spending the last year in the literal trenches of clinical rotations and shelf exams, refused to switch at the halfway mark. Yet, your boyfriend is practically vibrating with excitement as you cross the all-too-familiar threshold hand-in-hand. 

“This is so weird,” JT remarks, his lips low to your ear. His musky cologne, warm and woody, does its best to soothe your nerves.

As you survey the crowd, you nod. 

He didn’t need to elaborate further for you to understand because you were already thinking the very same thing. Watching students, the vast majority as unfamiliar to you as you are to them, milling around your old haunt stirs an odd, uncanny feeling akin to a surreal dream. You’re well-acquainted with the setting, almost to an uncomfortable degree, and you don’t think you’re all that different, but everything still feels foreign.

All the right pieces are there, and you’re sure you’ve put them in their proper places, but the image won’t behave.

You quickly realize the only thing that’s misplaced is you. Grief hangs from your back like a wet blanket. 

“Look what the cat dragged in, boys!”

A burst of riotous laughter shakes much of the gloom from your system.

Gabe Landeskog barrels into your boyfriend like an overgrown puppy. Gray-blue eyes twinkling under the rainbow of LEDs, he embraces you both in a warm hug, not minding that the spontaneous act of affection has just cost him an entire Solo cup.

“Compher and the missus,” the blonde addresses you both with a wide grin and a big palm to a cheek each; he gives JT’s a quick pat but merely cups yours. 

His breath still smells of spearmint and something spicy, an imposing combination your eighteen-year-old self could never find comforting. Just another thing that's different now. If you could package the scent for all the little moments of nostalgia, you would. 

“I was starting to think we’d have to drag you from the city kicking and screaming, but alas! You've left the cozy, vanilla bubble of your own volition for a weekend of debauchery with your favorite degenerates.”

JT’s affectionate eye-roll is big and dramatic even in your periphery. The levity brings a smile to your face. It grows wider and wider, enduring until your cheeks burn. If anyone deserves some light-heartedness, it's your sleep-deprived, perpetually-stressed boyfriend.

“A night, Landy. We’ve got to be back by tomorrow night to relieve the dog sitter,” your boyfriend amends with a pat to Gabe’s flushed cheek, returning the favor. 

The older man groans like the overgrown boy he is and will always be. “Look at you, Mr. Responsible. All domestic and shit. With a fur-baby and everything. I bet it’s as well-trained as your firstborn.”

Your eyes follow the line drawn by Gabe’s strong chin past the entryway through to the room used for table-top drinking games.

Half-kneeling on the rickety table you helped customize a few years back is Tyson Jost, head tilted to the sky as he guzzles down the center cup. More beer spills down his chest than into his mouth, effectively turning his white tee sheer. The crowd is comprised mostly of giddy sorority girls who don't mind a bit. 

Free booze and a free show—lucky them!

Once the plastic cup is empty, he crushes it in his palm before sinking the balled plastic into the basketball hoop on the adjacent wall. The converted dining room swells with hoots and hollers so quickly you would’ve thought Tyson emerged from some mythic quagmire, blood-soaked and victorious. But there are no winners in Rage Cage; everybody loses.

Tyson’s loopy grin falters when he registers you and JT on either side of Gabe.

You would like to say nothing’s changed between the three of you over the past couple of years. That you’re just as close as you’d been in college, that distance hadn’t done as much damage as it has.

You'd be lying if you did. 

You tried your best to keep him in the loop; you really did, but that didn’t end up mattering much.

JT hardly had time to socialize with you most of the time, and you’ve practically lived together since graduation. He, like you, tried, but at some point, his bandwidth could no longer accommodate Tyson’s sporadic texts and calls. Many of which came in the dead of night, when your boyfriend’s head was either buried in a textbook or in the pillow beside yours.

Whenever you could, you invited the forward to spend the weekend in the city with the two of you. You even went so far as to offer to put him up in a hotel between your and JT’s respective apartments, knowing your adult salary could stretch further than the Atomic tips he was splitting with Tyler. He always had something conflicting going on, and it didn't feel like your place to question the authenticity of his reasons, so you just kept extending the invitation, hoping things would align eventually.

After finally taking the leap and signing a lease together, you decorated the guest room with Tyson in mind. He’s yet to see it, still.

Your little Kate, on the other hand, needs a frequent flyer program.

A small part of you felt this shift was inevitable once JT went from best friend-slash-unrequited crush to full-blown, live-in boyfriend. Despite Tyson’s insistence on you finally hooking up and “putting everyone out of their misery,” his smile didn’t meet his eyes when JT broke the news that it wasn’t a one-night thing.

Maybe his “little crush” hadn’t been so little after all. 

If that’s the case, you can't blame him for avoiding your slice of grown-up love like the plague. It just would've been nice if he hadn't left you in the dark, wondering where and how you fucked up enough to get iced out.

Tyson responded to every third or so text of yours, so you mostly kept up with him and his life through Kate, who briefly dated him between ill-fated Gunnar stints, and social media. You weren’t sure how often he spoke to JT; after several attempts that ended with your boyfriend clammed up and irritated, you stopped asking.

Judging by how tense he is beside you right now, you have a pretty good guess.

“Yikes,” Gabe drawls. “Trouble in paradise?”

You remain carefully quiet, allowing your boyfriend to decide what, if anything, to share. This—whatever it is —feels like it's more so between them two than Tyson and yourself.

JT clears his throat so hard it cuts through the music blaring through the packed house—some remix you don’t remember learning the words to. “Trouble? Nah, Josty’d have to give us the time of day for that.” 

Gabe laughs, but you know JT isn’t trying to be funny. You can taste the undercurrent of bitter resentment. It’s impossible not to without an artificial buzz.

There’s no time to dwell because a flurry of red hair darts through the crowd dispersing out of the dining room and straight into your arms. A fresh, but faintly-candied scent tickles your nose as the cool metal of a bracelet digs into your neck. 

Kate.

“Fuckin finally!” The almost-grad squeals directly into your ear.

Definitely drunk. Or high—or both. 

“Don’t look at me,” you say, beaming when she pulls back. “I wasn’t driving.”

Kate swats JT’s chest with her open palm. “And this is why we don’t let you drive anywhere, Grandpa.”

The playful jab makes your smile deepen. His driving made her tardy to a ZBZ charity gala one time over a year ago when she made the mistake of hitching a ride with you, and she’s probably brought it up a million times since. Kate pretends to hold a grudge, JT pretends to find it aggravating, and you get to sit back, enjoying the warm camaraderie overfilling your cup.

The pair have been friends almost as long as you've been friends with either of them, but since your graduation, they’ve settled into something more serious and more genuine. Where your connection to Tyson wilted outside the conveniences of college, your relationship with Kate matured and flourished. She’s more than just your chapter-appointed Little Sister to JT now, having become more of a true sister than anything else. Hence the juvenile teasing.

“Well, we’re here now. Alive.”

Your little snatches your hand in hers, tugging you away from JT, who feigns offense.

“And now I’m stealing your girlfriend in retribution for making me wait. Go do… whatever it is you two heathens used to do at parties. We have a pong title to defend.”

“Excellent idea, Madame President,” Gabe declares, hands roughly massaging the male ginger’s shoulders. He tosses a wink in Kate’s direction.

Before the other ginger can drag you away for good, your boyfriend catches your free wrist, pulling you back to him so his lips can find your ear. Breath hot, he drops his voice an octave, “President’s bathroom. One hour. Nod if you understand.”

Your chin dips, quick and subtle confirmation.

“Good girl.”

As your respective keepers separate you, JT shoots you a wink of his own. Then, you lose him in the crowd.

Kate leads you through the sea of party-goers to the living room, her grip on you tight and comforting. Her thumb rubs small circles on the inside of your wrist as you approach the table, almost as if privy to your worry. Kate is incredibly perceptive; she can read someone’s mind without even looking at them. With you, her Spidey senses transcend county lines, so it’s no real surprise she deduced your current condition from no more than your erratic pulse thumping against her palm. 

When you reach the bustling folding table commandeered for the BP tournament, Kate does all the talking.

It’s not too hard to get on the bracket despite the late entry with two newly-minted Alpha Chi brothers manning the post. The absolute last thing they want to do is get on the bad side of the president of their sister chapter (Kate) and the girlfriend of a legendary former chapter president (you). The pairs for the current game are only a couple of throws in, so it’s going to be at least ten minutes before it's your turn.

“You, my dear, look thirsty,” Kate declares through a mischievous grin.

You let her pull you towards the kitchen across the hall but have more difficulty than you expect actually getting there. Every few steps, someone stops either you or Kate. Mostly the latter, but she’s quick to show you off to whoever’s trying to seize her attention. Apparently, Kate’s been building quite the mythos of your time on campus, and it’s very… dizzying, to say the least.

“Kit-Kat!”

Kate abandons the poor freshman boy shooting his shot (and missing fantastically) in favor of the feminine voice sliding into the conversation.

In the blue-ish hue washing over the small space, you’re having a hard time placing her, but she seems very keen on making your acquaintance.

“Blake Meyers,” the newcomer announces, extending her hand with a smile.

You take it, giving her your name and a matching expression in return. The flattened vowels are distinct and recognizable, as is the last name. 

“Meyers?” you ask, attempting to work it out.

“Ava’s younger sister,” Kate interjects. “And one of our best steals this past recruitment.”

Blake blushes so brightly her freckles disappear.

You remember that feeling. What it was like to have an older member, especially someone as established and accomplished as an outgoing ZBZ president, go out of their way to make you feel special. You have zero doubt Blake will be walking on air for the foreseeable future, any of the common little doubts about whether or not she made the right choice vanishing.

“I was really hoping I’d get to meet you tonight,” the freshman tells you bashfully. “Kate gave the most beautiful speech about you and your legacy on Preference Night, and when she told me you might be coming with your boyfriend, I had to put a face to the name. And Jenny was the one who pref-ed me, so it seemed like—I don’t know, a non-negotiable?”

Jenny is one of the twins Kate took her junior year, and she couldn’t have picked better. It gave you peace of mind knowing your Kate would have good people around her once you couldn’t physically be there for her.

You won’t be surprised if Jenny takes Blake as her little. Kate pref-ed her, and before that, you pref-ed Kate. It’s basically a family tradition.

Not long after you thank Kate for her generous words and Blake for her kindness, Thomas, one of the new initiates in charge of the beer pong table, flags you down for your game. Not ready to end your conversation, invigorated by the breezy, jovial chatter your new life lacks, you tug Blake along with you.

Between exceptionally beautiful throws (if you do say so yourself), you learn more about Blake and her roommate and fellow ZBZ spring initiate, Emory. They pepper you with questions: about your first-year college experience, advice on getting the best room possible on the sophomore floor for mandatory live-in, whether or not you got anything particularly valuable in the various leadership positions you held, and what fraternities to steer clear of. You’re more than happy to answer them all. Kate sprinkles in comments and jokes occasionally, but she mostly defers to you so she can celebrate the end of a smooth second term as president.

Once Kate and you have successfully defended your title, you pass the torch to the future of your chapter. Blake and Emory make quick work of the first challengers and are close to a similar sweep with the second pair when your little remembers her earlier mission: refreshments.

This time, you both keep your heads ducked as you speed through the dancing bodies and make a beeline for the dinged-up lockers propped against the wall. You can’t help but smile when you see her reach for the lock—your old lock.

Every upperclassman (and a few select friends of the chapter, like Alpha Chi Sweethearts such as Kate and, once upon a time, yourself) is assigned a secure, personal locker in the oversized kitchen for quick access to personal items. During parties, they essentially become personal coolers. At your very last formal chapter meeting, you will-ed the hunk of metal down to Kate, along with the more sentimentally valuable items you wanted to leave behind with her.

“Wait, can you even drink?” Kate asks you from where she’s kneeling. Sarcasm scrunches her brows together.

“Hilarious,” you reply with a playful glare. “And before you loudly ask about the non-existent fetus like the devious bitch you love being, don’t. Unless you want to give JT an aneurysm."

Kate fishes out two slim, chilled cans as she grumbles about how boring you two have become in your “old age.” She shoves a ratty sweatshirt—an old favorite of Tyson’s—back into the small locker, quickly refastens the lock, and scrambles the dial. Then, she returns to her full height beside you.

“So, do you want to tell me what that wink from Gabe was about?” you ask, brow cocked.

“Do you want to tell me what your horndog of a boyfriend whispered in your ear?” Kate counters.

“Touché.”

Kate cracks open a Spindrift Spiked and slots it into your waiting palm. She taps the rim with her own, then sighs back against the cluttered kitchen island. She’s going to crack, you know it. Kate, even when she has a secret she wants to keep, never stays quiet for long. Especially not when you’re the one doing the asking.

“Okay, so, d’you remember how Tyson was, like, completely apathetic after we broke up right before Heaven & Hell last Halloween?”

You nod, recalling how irritated she was over FaceTime while you helped her pick a costume out of your box of hand-me-downs. You did your best not to laugh because Kate was clearly distressed, but it was kind of hard not to when she was buried in a heap of red and white feathers, wearing a too-small tutu dotted with rhinestones.

Kate takes a sip of the spiked strawberry lemonade before elaborating, “Well, I was understandably pissed—Don’t give me that look, okay? I know I broke up with him, but he shouldn’t have been that blasé that soon—so, I hatched a plan.”

You shake your head, laughing. Kate and her schemes.

“I wasn’t planning on taking Gabe as my date, but when I ran into him at Atomic the day before… I don’t know; I just couldn’t resist. I mean, Tyson worships the man. If anyone’s getting a reaction, it’s Landy. I had to.”

“And?” you prod. 

“And…” she stalls, eyes darting around the kitchen in search of pesky eavesdroppers, cheeks lit up like a Christmas tree. “…we might’ve done it in the backseat of his truck.”

“I’m scared to ask where.”

She buries her face in your shoulder. “The venue’s parking lot.”

Your eyes bulge so hard you, for a split-second, worry they’ll pop out of your head onto the sticky hardwood and land amongst the discarded cans.

“And I didn’t tell you because I was so scared you and JT would hate me,” Kate moans into your skin. She shifts to peer up at you, hesitant. “You don’t, right?”

“I don’t think I’m even capable of hating you, Katie-Kat, let alone for something as silly as banging a hot blonde,” you giggle, and she’s quick to join you. Lowering your voice, “Especially the hottest of hot blondes.”

“I’m so telling JT you said that,” she teases, pulling away.

You shrug and take your first sip. “Go ahead. He’ll agree.”

“And this is why you’re my favorite couple,” she says, bumping her hip against yours. “The worst part is Tyson didn’t even care about that either! At the post-game, when he saw my lipstick smeared all over Gabe’s neck, he high-fived him. Tyson fucking high-fived him for screwing me. His ex-girlfriend! How supremely demented is that?”

“I wish I had an explanation for you, but I don’t. I’m starting to think I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did.”

Kate takes hold of your unoccupied hand and squeezes it three times.

“I’m guessing things haven’t gotten any better?”

You shake your head, eyes downcast like there’s something super interesting between the floorboards. “I know he’s busy, and we’re busy, but he’s acting like our friendship meant nothing.”

“Not to start a therapy session in the middle of a rager, but did you... did you ever actually talk about That Night? I know you said JT whispered, but how positive are you that Josty didn't hear him?"

A few months after That Night, your guilt was on the brink of hemorrhaging. It was only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped; you broke down in the middle of Talladega Nights. Fucking Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby. All fat tears and snotty, incoherent spiraling, your chest heaved as JT rubbed your back. He was quiet, more concerned than confused, until you calmed down enough to explain what’d been weighing on your conscience. 

Then, your boyfriend looked clueless—because he was. JT didn’t remember his heat-of-the-moment pseudo-promise to taint Josty’s image of you.

After a scene or two, you broached the subject you’d both been avoiding since getting together. You wanted to apologize, and not that you needed JT’s permission, but you felt it wasn’t entirely your amends to make. He agreed but was adamantly opposed to operating on assumption alone. If Tyson was truly upset by the pillow talk he overheard, JT reasoned, he was old enough to be frank about it.

You found yourself agreeing, but also not? On the one hand, you could see this being an instance of your anxious mind making a mountain out of a molehill, finding fault where there’s none. But you knew Tyson, and you knew how sensitive he could be. 

Something shifted that night. You’d known then, too, even in the hazy afterglow. His despondency wasn’t subtle, and it wasn’t uncommon for his dejected expression—his forced smile dipped in feigned nonchalance—to visit you in therapy sessions or in your nightmares.

But every time you typed and re-typed one remorseful novel after another, every time your gun-shy thumb hovered over his contact, every time you nearly drove out to your alma mater to track him down… You couldn’t get yourself to see it through. 

At first, it was the nerves, the fear of hearing his pain and seeing his anger. Then, it was your own temper, stoked by indignation, that rose with every sign of withdrawal. Now, it’s just plain, garden-variety sadness.

It was—is disappointing how cleanly he severed ties. There one day and gone the next, no blow-out fight or melancholic hear-to-heart. Tyson was there; he was within reach, but at the same time, not at all. The casual dismissal is worse than outright rejection; the door ajar but wholly uninviting.

"In the moment, I was certain he didn’t. Now? Fuck, the percentage drops every time I replay it in my head,” you murmur, remorse bogging down your confession. "I know you made a point not to bring it up when you were together, but did he ever, I don’t know, say anything?"

Kate shakes her head. "No, sorry. But it's not like we actually did much talking anyway."

You snort despite your woes.

“Alright, that’s enough doom and gloom for one night. How’s my nephew?” Kate asks, bright smile chasing the blues away with all its might.

It’s a distraction and a good one, too. She listens intently as you prattle on about the bi-weekly training sessions you’re starting next month to help with the leash pulling and the ridiculous pet parents you’ve met at the dog park near your apartment. She inquires about the fluffy lamb she brought over the last time she stayed with you—it lasted all of a day in his over-excited grip—then gushes over another variation she saw last week while getting litter for Salem, her diabolical tuxedo cat.

By the time Kate has your phone in her hand, swiping through the designated album and asking more questions than each picture really warranted, you’re feeling a bit better.

Noticing the clock, you stumble through a totally-not-suspicious excuse to venture upstairs—alone. Kate shoots you a knowing look but doesn’t give you a hard time. To be honest, she’s just glad you came tonight. Instead of a witty jab or half-hearted guilt trip, she slips a gold foil square into your unsuspecting palm and sends you on your way with a supportive swat to the rear.

Access to the second floor during parties is typically mediated by two to three gatekeepers, depending on the scale and projected rowdiness of each gathering. Three’s the magic number tonight: two up-and-coming juniors and an outgoing senior. They grant you passage with little more than a nod of acknowledgment.

“What? No riddle this time?” you tease over your shoulder.

The senior, an engineering major with a penchant for brain teasers, answers with a hoot. Cale Makar shakes his head, both amused and flattered you remembered his signature move. His puppy crush on you is an open secret. “I was given strict instructions to ‘keep the shenanigans’ to a minimum with you, Your Majesty.”

“JT?” you venture a guess, hand paused on the paint-chipped banister. He’s the only one who still sprinkles in the silly nickname these days.

“Landy, actually.”

Well, close enough.

You shouldn’t be surprised. It wouldn’t be the first time the former chapter president enlisted Cale, his little, to assist in your and JT’s more salacious antics.

As soon as Gabe had the defenseman under his wing, he was putting him to work. Not that the younger blonde particularly minded, as his affinity for creative, slightly devious schemes rivaled that of Kate’s. It was Cale, you later found out, who ran interference during Semi Formal… while you were defiled on the balcony.

“Still doing his bidding, I see.”

He counters with that lopsided “Get Out of Jail Free” grin. “What can I say? The man puts up a mean bribe.”

As if cued, Cale’s companions, who you now recognize as Alex Newhook and Bowen Byram, step into view. In Alex’s raised grip is a case of Labatt Blue, and in each of Bowen’s, a bottle of bottom-shelf cabernet. You doubt the trio would notice or mind the subpar quality, though. Between their happy heads, Cale fists a bottle of champagne you know he’ll misplace before he can polish it off.

“Jesus, how drunk is he?” you tease, the follow-up to an exaggerated gasp.

Sure, the quality’s shit, but their haul is far more valuable than your appraisal of their job; it’s a frat house, not Buckingham Palace.

“Not drunk enough to not see you here with us.” Cale’s voice tapers off, his pale eyes tracking someone stalking down the hall before nervously flicking up to the ceiling, “…and not up there with JTC.”

JTC — Talk about a blast from the past.

An anticipatory tingling erupts between your inner thighs just knowing he’s up there right now waiting for you. This is the part of your “homecoming” that excited you most and had been since the moment your boyfriend pinned the invite from the alumni association onto the fridge.

As blissfully domestic as your life together has become, it lacks the spontaneity your college life had been brimming with. Your sex life could never be categorized as mundane or clinical, but you’re finding it difficult to replicate the adrenaline rush stealing secret moments inherently provided.

Sometimes, in your more (admittedly) desperate moments, you’ve caught your fingers moving beneath the sheets to mindlessly chase the thrill of those fleeting intimacies, despite how awful the constant wondering and wallowing felt then or, maybe because of it, pain and pleasure are uniquely human indulgences sought in equal measure. When intertwined, they’ve been known to satiate masochistic cravings the way a sad movie or a sprawling, high-speed rollercoaster might.

However, this time, your risk-spurned euphoria will be at your own hand. The newfound agency—the ability to choose when, how, or if any risk is involved—has you darting up the stairs with a fire under your soles.

Before you round the corner and disappear down the hall, you make sure to call out, “Thank you for your service!” accompanied by a two-finger mock salute. You don’t stick around to catch their responses, though.

As you make your way down the dim corridor, you run smack into a very giggly Sarah Jones, just shy of your destination. Eyes distant and wide, she attempts to apologize for something—Something about sabotaging the Big-Little pairings your senior spring?—but it’s more bubbles than actual words. You nod along, still not quite sure what you’re accepting an apology for but too antsy to forge ahead to play detective. Your purposeful strides went unnoticed in her cloud of intoxication and nostalgia, but Erik Johnson, who’d been JT’s vice president, mercifully ushers his inebriated fiancé out of your path by the shoulders.

You offer him a faint smile of gratitude as they head in the opposite direction.

Over the music, you faintly hear Sarah begin chattering on about something unrelated, your reunion long forgotten already. You can’t help but chuckle a little on behalf of your younger self, who would’ve gawked at snobbish Sarah Jones drunk and voluntarily slumming it in a ramshackle house on Greek Row. And sporting a rock from a Degenerate on Ice (her nickname for your brother fraternity, not yours), too? That would’ve been the icing. But, the older, more mature, once-weekly-therapy iteration of yourself is happy she’s happy.

Thoroughly amused but happy nevertheless.

As you reach for the tarnished doorknob of the president’s suite, the rickety door flings open to reveal your boyfriend, all flushed cheeks and frenzied eyes.

JT pulls you inside, lips easily taking possession of yours, the heel of his lived-in/loved-on sneaker nudging the door shut. The hinges groan in protest to the rough treatment. Still fussy as ever. This house is a goddamn time capsule, you muse. Neither of you has the patience for benevolence. If it jams, it jams. That’s a future-self problem. Diligence now would only slow you down.

And would a prolonged stay on memory lane really be all that bad?

Your boyfriend cages you so close that when he manages more than panted praise between hot-and-heavy touches, the words barely fit in the gap between your mouths. “I was beginning to think you stood me up, sweetheart.”

The light-hearted accusation is semi-whispered, somewhat hoarse, in the way his voice always sounded when he came home from a long shift at the hospital downtown or post-game at the height of his collegiate career. JT isn’t a hard person to read—downright wolfish when he’s homing in on a target—but the low, raspy tone makes his intent glaring.

Your body thrums with anticipation.

“Never,” you croon back. A breathy moan sweetens your voice, courtesy of the calloused hand inching up the back of your bare thigh, bypassing the hem of your skirt with no effort or resistance. Arms looping around his neck, you make an inquiry: “Is there a reason we’re in your old bedroom instead of, I don’t know, the king-sized bed in the honeymoon suite you insisted we spring for?”

Tufts of faint copper tickle your cheek. Your boyfriend lands a kiss on your crowd-warmed forearm. Then, much to your displeasure, he steps out of the tight embrace.

“Y’know, I remembered something earlier when I was downstairs,” JT supplies in an apparent non-answer.

He guides you, as understanding rises in your mental periphery, through the barely-lit space toward the Jack-and-Jill bathroom between this room and the next. Then, he flicks on the secondary light, the dimmer of the two, before tugging you over yet another threshold. His fingers twitch at his sides, lascivious.

You stare back at him expectantly, vision tunneling as you wait, wait, wait.

The latch might as well have been a starting pistol; the subtle click ringing in your eardrums like the sonic crack of a live round; his breath a plume of smoke from a charged muzzle well beyond its flash point. Pent-up, needy tension burns hot and burns brighter. Residue from the night prior aflame; you, a moth seduced.

JT drives forward. Stalking, like a cat on a bird, until he’s pinned you to the door. His dash was easy, made short and hasty by the starting block eagerness in your dilated eyes.

Mouth descending on your sensitive neck, hips grinding his want into your squirming form, harsh belt buckle nudging just right with each sharp rut.

“There’s still one thing left on my college bucket list.”

He sinks the candor in with his incisors. Not hard enough to break the skin, but that was never his intention. The sting is a reminder. Of your shared past, of his unwavering desire—of who is in charge.

Message received. Loud and clear.

JT leans away to admire his handiwork. One big hand poised at your jaw, and the other braced beside your head, keeping your shyness from blocking the perfect view; you’ve never been able to hide from him and never will.

His curious thumb deviates from the original objective to caress the skin, now splotched violet and angry. Softly, at first, like he’s committing the damage to memory. Then, emboldened by a sudden piercing hiss forcing itself from your throat, JT pushes down on the tender spot. The cruel, unexpected pressure pulls pitiful bleating cries from your undulating chest.

This is no longer an expedition to gather intel; it’s a primal instinct.

For a few moments, he just holds you like this. A cloistered existence made worthwhile by him occasionally digging deeper into the column of your throat, the pressure taking on a raptorial quality. Your boyfriend wears his herald grin at a rakish angle. It unfurls with refined delicacy, an effective diversion for his next endeavor. Breathe like a precision instrument; the sharp phantom-edge fans across the sucked-raw skin with unhurried ease.

There isn’t enough alcohol in your system to dull the twinge — and you’re glad for it. It’d be a crime to dilute a burn this good, this all-consuming. You crumble between him and the door, your world only this big. His name tumbles out with a pulled-candy moan, completely devoid of dignity.

JT’s chest rumbles beneath your clammy palms. “You gonna be a good girl and help me tie up loose ends?”

His strawberry-blonde crown dips to nuzzle your cheek. Hot tongue tracing an experimental line, JT groaning as it does. The muscle trawls for tears you didn’t realize you shed, humming through the pursuit. The low-pitched moan sends a chill straight down your spine right to your toes.

The hand gripping your jaw lowers so his fingers are able to coil themselves around somewhere more advantageous — your neck. Your eyelids flutter, woozy. His firm squeeze, just enough to make everything spin and keep you still, has become blissfully familiar over time, but your breath still hitches like it’s the first.

“Hm, sweetheart? Don’t be rude. I asked you a question.”

Your lips part, a barbed retort to his condescension on your tongue, but all you can push out is the strangled yelp of a wounded animal.

The hand by your temple no longer rests against the door. In the fog, it snuck up under your skirt; JT never meant to get an answer out of you; he just likes to watch you squirm. Likes to have something to reprimand you for.

His nimble fingers dance over the thin, sodden material pulled taut over your heat. Less touching, more hovering. Small, lazy movements that betray how well he can play your body. They float above the tingling bundle of nerves, further movement pending, contingent upon your obedience.

“P-please,” comes your pouted whimper.

“Focus for me, pretty baby. Tell me what I want to hear. Come on, let me make things easy for you. I can feel how badly you want to — and you aren’t in a position to be difficult, are you?”

You give in, and though the words you babble are largely unintelligible, JT’s ultimately satisfied.

“Such a good listener I’ve got myself. But you’re always to eager to please, aren’t you? You might throw stones from behind that tough girl act, but it’s just that: an act. I have a puddle in my hand to prove it.”

His frankness sears your face.

You’ve acquired a tolerance for his raunchy silver tongue through months of close proximity, but the mechanism is shoddy at best. Stalls and misfires galore. Against all odds (said “odds” being his fingertips toying with the edges of fabric between your thighs), you summon up a tawdry retort from the growing arsenal. “Don’t l-let it go to waste, Compher.”

It's not your best work, but much better than the slurred gurgle that preceded it.

He loves how you manage to be any sort of cheeky with him, even with your head swimming, stuttering and all.

“I don’t think it matters, sweetheart. I know there’s no shortage. Plenty more where it came from.”

With your knee, you nudge his hard-on and supply some honey-tongued snark of your own. “Is that your ego, or are you just excited to see me?”

Your boyfriend chokes out short-lived mirth. Then, with an accompanying smile, his tongue presses to the inside of his cheek. Amused, but by the sting of the remark’s undeniable truth, not your cleverness. The protrusion moves just below his bottom lip as he swipes the muscle over his teeth, a half-second sardonic gesture. It calls attention to your impudence without dignifying it with a verbal reply.

His brow lifts to negate any confusion, feigned or otherwise. “Are you going to keep being a brat, or are you going to let me fuck you with my fingers?”

You gulp down your ready-mixed wisecracks.

“Nothing to say now?” JT taunts. “Funny how that works.”

Fuckin’ wisenheimer. His voice is so haughty you have to bite your lip to keep your foot out of your mouth, unwilling to jeopardize your impending pleasure for short-term gratification.

Your boyfriend’s smugness—and your subsequent annoyance—becomes irrelevant when your panties are roughly pushed to the side, and his thick finger slips past your taut entrance. Tip to knuckle in one succinct trust; your startled gasp drowns out the noise rising up through the floorboards.

Hips bucking forward—you just can’t help yourself—you're in search of some friction to marry with the blinding stretch. He’s made the tensile opening accommodate far more in length and thickness, but not like this. Rarely does he create space where there is barely any, having forgone tenderness. Slowly widening a gap with gentle pressure, not demanding room like it’s already his to occupy.

Your surprise drips down his hand.

The bliss—the relief, is palpable. Your head dips into the crook of his neck, and the gravity of the situation felt for the first time.

Before, you didn’t see any substance in a tipsy frat bathroom hook-up. The older you got, the more pointless it seemed, especially with an established, long-term partner. The novelty wasn’t lost on you, of course, but that’s all you’d written it off as.

Countless collegiate nights were spent imagining one like this one. A moment where your inescapable feelings for him would be matched outright. When the pressure of his stifled emotions would build too fast to keep them from boiling over, too mighty in stature. Suddenly overcome by unrequited feelings of his own, unable to uphold all the ridiculous unspoken platonic conventions with the same authority he commands now.

This is important. For your past and present selves. The significance of this overdone, soapy teen drama scenario cannot be overlooked because it underscores the progress you’ve made together. Years of dancing around one another, the unconventional catalyst and nontraditional timeline, every hushed conversation in the wee hours before responsibilities wake, the sleepless nights and the snooze-filled afternoons—this ostensibly clichéd moment is an amalgamation of it all.

One thought rises above the frenzied rest: Was this here all along?

Is this what was waiting on the other side of the aimless pining and the confusion and the hurt?

The journey might’ve been fucking hell, but the view from here is pretty damn heavenly.

Overwhelmed by your epiphany and his dexterous motions, you moan into his skin far louder than your pride would’ve otherwise allowed outside your shared apartment.

His arrogant laughter grates before it really registers. Venom secretes from your salivary glands when it does, but the melted retribution never makes it past your lips. His second finger robs it of the opportunity, and the third sends all thoughts out your ears. The light circles over your clit cloud your vision, nails digging into his jersey-clad back—I’m feeling nostalgic, he’d said. In more ways than one, apparently.

“S’good—wanted this for so long, Compher—k-kept wishing it was you that night, not Miles.”

JT seethes at the admission, curling his fingers until your knees buckle and you’re entirely reliant on him to keep you off the floor. Even as your mind slips further and further away, your hips manage to move in time with his hand. Meeting each stroke with equal hustle and vigor, a clear end goal on the horizon.

Then his thumb drops away, his hand coming to a halt, and he steps back. 

Away.

Frustration pushes the amassed tears waiting in the wings down your cheeks. Emotion runs down your face; a heavy spill indeed.

“I don’t ever want to hear another man’s name outta your mouth when it’s my fingers buried in your pussy.” His jealousy is well-polished. Manicure-smooth, like he’s been maintaining its luster in preparation for this very occasion. "—'specially not the motherfucker that made sure I heard all your pretty sounds through the walls.”

You’d grin if you weren’t so miserable.

That’d been your intention. It wasn’t anything Miles had or did that made him different from the rest of the chapter (who all, at one point or another, tried their luck with JTC’s hot best friend), just simply when he decided to shoot his shot. The only reason you’d been out in the first place was because you reached your breaking point, no longer able to stomach what you felt for JT, and you made sure Miles knew this before you let him call an Uber.

Despite playing for the same team, the pair shared a touch-and-go rivalry. You never knew if the intensity would result in a sweeping victory or an in-house, all-out brawl. If they ever saw eye to eye, you’d of never known. Miles needed no convincing to push JT’s buttons.

There was some heavy petting, nothing more. The only time Miles saw you undress was to change into the pajamas he lent you before knocking out on his futon, leaving you to take the bed. But JT didn’t know that. If sitting in their chapter house’s kitchen at 5 o’clock the next morning didn’t raise suspicion, the non-Compher borrowed t-shirt and ruffled hair certainly did.

Back then, he refused to ask. Even though you could see how badly he wanted to pry. Miles didn’t have anything he worth sharing, so JT was left to fill in the blanks.

You’d tell him the truth later, but right now, you wanted to see what milking his assumptions could get you.

“Did you like what you heard?”

His jaw ticks. Your hips push against his with a knowing simper.

You lean forward, closing the space he forced, lips barely brushing his ear, “Did you get off on it? Fuck your hand picturing yourself in his place… wishing it was my pussy instead?”

You hear the thud before you feel your head against the door or his hand back around your throat, his fingers deep between your walls again. The everywhere-throb makes you laugh. Giggle, really.

He squeezes until you’re no longer capable of mockery. His pace hastens, leveling out only once your thighs have started shaking around his wrist, knees cutting off his circulation elbow-down. Somehow, he keeps going despite the icy tingle. His determination overrides physical discomfort, knowing how close you’re getting. Feeling it in the distinct fluttering around his digits, seeing it in your trembling, swollen bottom lip.

“You’re so full of shit.” His mouth twitches at your throaty moan. A defiant hint of levity circles his pupils; he never stays riled up for long when it’s you yanking his chain. “You’re lucky I love you.”

You kiss him then, messy and crude, love-drunk. He tastes like your chapstick and gin, with a biting citric aftertaste —Grapefruit, maybe?—and you suck it in like you haven’t had a drop of water in days. And, in turn, he drinks down every choked sob and nonsensical half-thought you babble, every drop shooting straight to his loins.

He drives into you with fervor, humming as his tongue slips against yours, iron bulge omnipresent. The hand around your neck loosens but never leaves its post, thumb stroking your pulse point. I know everything about you, his movements whisper. Over and over, in and out. He, just as much as you, gets lost in the repetition.

“Don’t want him, never wanted him. Jus’ you—Always you.” It comes out slurred, mushy like your head, like your heart.

JT’s cock isn’t immune to affirmation and twitches through his too-tight jeans. Groaning, “Go on, sweetheart. Scream my name. I want every single person in this house to know exactly who’s fucking you this good.”

You do just that, writhing on his hand, eventually burying your face into his warm neck when it gets to be too much. He continues fucking you, and you continue crying for him, the pathetic little whimpers muffled now by his body.

JT guides you through the rest of your orgasm, as he always does. He watches your face carefully on the comedown, searching for any sign of regret or discomfort. When he finds none, he cradles your shaking form against his solid chest, the hand that, only moments ago, tore you apart, soothing you back down to earth. Once you’ve settled, he walks you back and away from the door.

A startled yelp falls from your lips when you feel the chilly edge of the countertop. You pull away from your boyfriend, brows furrowing with confusion.

His hand taps the outside of your thigh. "Up."

You’re having a hard time keeping your eyes open, let alone stringing thoughts together, so the command is met with inaction. Impatient as ever, JT wordlessly hoists you where he wants you and sinks down to his knees, big hands cupping yours.

“What’re you doing?” Strained, barely above a whisper.

He stares up at you with dopey, lovestruck eyes. “Come on, Compher. You can gimmie another one, can’t you?”

You aren’t an idiot. Often sleep deprived beyond belief and, more often than not, fucked-out on JT’s… Well, anything—but definitely not an idiot. You knew exactly what that loaded gun of a pet name implied the moment he used it. It first slipped out during a frantic supply closet rendezvous midway through your company’s holiday party, then a few more times in the months after.

It hasn’t lost its sparkle. It does make you more and more impatient each time he flashes it, though.

Fuckin’ tease.

Your fingers burrow in his hair, tugging from the root until his eyelids flutter prettily. “As long as you let me return the favor after—need to taste you so bad.”

“Deal,” he mumbles into your skin a half-second later.

His hands push your already-short skirt up, bunching it atop your hips and out of the way. Your boyfriend takes the time to remove the fabric barrier this time, and you don’t miss the way he tries to slip them into his back pocket without you noticing. Likely because it’d normally be a tease-able offense.

But not tonight, not right now.

Instead, you let a shiver speak for itself. The risqué gesture reminds you of the pair he used as a pocket square when his parents took you two to a celebratory dinner following his white coat ceremony. The rumble of his chuckle tells you his mind went there, too.

JT leans in, big eyes never moving from yours, his warm exhale fanning over your swollen folds. The tooth-marked bruise forming on the side of your throat pricks in tandem response. The action, a repeat of your boyfriend’s earlier antics, naturally yields similar enough results. He catches on, inching forward to—

Something bangs against the door.

His face falls; your heart seizes.

“Occupied!” your boyfriend barks, hands paused but gripping you tightly. He looks like he’s on the verge of exploding.

A full, lilting sound barrels into the door—too-good-to-be-true laughter. His breathy timbre is an unsteady balance of cocksure and skittish; a preference for one side or the other is blurred by the wood in its way. “It’s me, dickhead.”

Then, the curtain is lifted. A pocket of silence ushers in a stillness that cracks like a bolt from the blue.

Shocked doesn’t even begin to cover how you feel right now. You most definitely suffered a concussion somewhere in all JT’s reprimanding; you’re hallucinating right now. That, or the singular seltzer in your system magically turned psychotropic after consumption.

Waiting in the threshold is Tyson Jost. A quarter-drunk fifth of Jack in one hand and that goofy, irrepressible smile plastered on his face. Almost frozen in time—good-humored, untouched. As if nothing’s happened, nothing’s changed. Suave, and standing there like he hasn’t ignored you for months on end, like your and JT’s absence in his life wasn’t felt the way the Tyson-sized void in yours was.

Idle and morose, his eyes are the only defectors to his blasé demeanor. Timid and downturned, akin to a kicked puppy, they beg you and your boyfriend to assuage his guilt. An olive branch, a white flag in the wind. Amid their vulnerability, they still manage to cut into you in a way that feels too intimate, too honest—too much.

The worst part of this charged maelstrom is knowing Tyson isn’t capable of being cruel on purpose, then or now. It's bittersweet.

Careless or callous, it hurts all the same. It’s difficult to sift through the muck and decide which feelings should guide your actions when there’s no easy place to lay blame.

A gnarly, muddy morass of emotion climbs out of your gut and fills your throat, threatening to make an appearance each time you dare to exhale. You’re nervous and confused, elated and optimistic, angry and reproachful. The burn of betrayal rushes up your neck and across the bridge of your nose, but all the words you’ve stockpiled for this rainy day stick to your tongue like tar. Dark, thick, and flammable—your silence is probably for the best.

Bronze eyes, somber beneath the fan of flaxen lashes, adopt a strange aloofness that doesn’t suit his face. Lacquered just so as to protect the gooey softness beneath, the finish does nothing to obstruct or disguise his desirous longing or a brand of blues you’ve never seen in him before.

The intensity of your braided gazes is sanguine at best, duplicitous at worst, but disorienting all the same.

Anxiously, you chew on time; you’re trying your best not to swallow minutes and hours in big gulps. Your attempts to savor their confounding guilty-pleasure flavor are as futile as hoping the animosity would dissipate on its own. Or wishing the distance was just a nightmare you were on the verge of waking up from.

JT’s pulse races against your skin. He’s just as affected, just better at hiding it.

“Took you long enough,” is what JT says in greeting from the floor, dry words flung over his shoulder to curb the growing tension. Blithesome and biting and far more hospitable than you imagined.

All you can do is blink, slack-jawed; there are pieces you’re missing.

JT chuckles at your expression. He pecks your inner thigh to regain your attention. “Fuck now, talk later. Sound good?”

His words crack any and all inhibitions. Like opening the door to a cage, his reassurance grants your mind and heart the permission to succumb to the wave of emotions—lust overtaking the pack with ease.

Eyes still stuck on the ghost in the doorway, you nod your head in agreement. It’s as if you’re afraid your voice might rupture the bubble.

“Figured you’d be a little parched, baby.” Tyson, voice becoming jocular as ever, wags the bottle as he shuts the door behind himself. His tone might be light-hearted, but his gaze is anything but. Starved is the only way you can think to aptly describe the shadow. “And we can’t have that, now can we?”

You barely register JT vacating the prime real estate to accommodate his best friend, and subconsciously, you scoot closer to the edge. You knew you missed him, but you underestimated how needy you’d become if he ever stood before you again.

Both men notice.

Grinning, Tyson takes hold of your jaw. His hand emits a small tremor of unease, hesitant where JT had been demanding. The accidental brush of his fingertips over your boyfriend’s trailed claim rattles free a melancholic whimper. Your eyes glaze over, watering as your neck cranes up at him. He gently tilts your face to the side to assess the damage. You can feel his eyes raking over the marred skin, a sensation akin to your boyfriend’s weaponized breath. Goosebumps rise in their wake.

In reference to the Neanderthal surveying you over his shoulder, Tyson sniggers. “Filthy bastard.”

Charming as ever.

“She deserved it.” JT’s nonchalant shrug is more dismissive than his verbal nod.

Wicked eyes twinkle. “Oh, I don’t doubt that.”

You pinch his side, offended. Nevertheless, you purr at the certitude dripping from his husky vibrato.

He yelps and bats your hand away. “Got you good, didn’t he?”

You nod.

The baby talk-adjacent voice is demeaning, but with your only shield burning a hole in your boyfriend’s back pocket, lying about the effect it's having would be pointless.

Propriety is becoming increasingly moot, as this conversation circling around you carves space for new possibilities.

“Poor thing,” Josty hums, his thumb coasting back and forth over your jaw. His breath is smokey-sweet, honeyed. “M'gonna make it all better. Open up, baby.”

It’s something straight out of an early aughts raunchy teen comedy, the way he holds your mouth open to pour whiskey straight down, doing so without the lip ever touching either one of yours. The thin stream drags slightly as it goes down, but you’d never know watching the pillowy spirit disappear into you. You’re too eager to impress them both to give in and react—to the burn in your throat or the circumstances of this affair. You guzzle the oaky vanilla-clove flavor, smiling dumbly at the toasted aftertaste, all too happy to take anything and everything you’re given.

Still, either by virtue of Tyson’s lingering tipsiness or your inattention, some of the amber liquid escapes over your bottom lip, dribbling over your chin and down in between your cleavage. There isn’t enough time to consider wiping it off; Josty’s mouth is sucking you clean before the bottle even hits the counter beside you.

“Would be a shame…” Tyson starts, briefly interrupting himself with a succession of wet, open-mouthed pecks he’s decided to spoil your décolletage with, “…to let it go to waste.”

JT’s begrudged scoff cuts through the trance. “Jesus, kid. Where’d you learn that? What the fuck have you been doing? Or should I be asking ‘who' you've been doing?"

Tyson flinches at the coarse overtone the questions carry. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it sort of reaction only you’re close enough to feel. He just laughs into your neck rather than humoring JT or feeding into whatever he’s implying.

You’re too woozy to toss in your two cents in favor of either side.

Cold countertop lapping up your wetness, the burning palm cupping your face to aid the pursuit of sugary lips, the memory of his tongue gliding over your sticky skin—your boyfriend a few paces away, watching. That’s more potent than any liquor, mixed or straight. It doesn’t take long for you to pull away, in a there-but-not state of mind, to slouch against Tyson’s chest. Head heavy, warmed and spinning.

Happy.

“Somethin’ special, aren’t you?” Tyson muses as he kneads the tender spot where your hairline meets your neck. You peck his forearm.

“As sweet as this reunion’s been, you came up here for a reason. Get to it; we don’t have all night. I imagine La Tornade will be wanting his bathroom back eventually.”

You whimper at the sharp edge of his voice, even though you weren’t the intended target.

JT’s dark drawl was laden with protective affection for you, his devotion hardened by a hue of discontent reminiscent of a paternal chide. An outsider looking in might not see beyond the mediator-in-shining-armor ruse, mistakenly pruning away JT’s thorny pain and rotted grief, but you know better. The situation and him. While genuine, his defense of your bruised feelings is a trojan horse for his own. He’s conveying his rage how he can: under the guise of selflessness.

Tyson gulps, eyes downcasted, then nods. He understands as well as you do. When he finally looks up, the shadow’s fallen over his face once more, cloud drooped low overhead.

“You’re scaring me, Josty.”

This makes him laugh, his mood brightening a tad. “If anyone should be scared, it’s me.”

In your periphery, you catch JT urging him to continue with a stiff glare.

“I-I’ve been such an ass. I—I just care so damn much. About you. About Compher, and our friendship. When you graduated, m-my whole world changed. Like someone gutted my life, scooped out all the good, comfortable stuff and left me with the shell. I felt like I lost my people. Like I was left behind. And then I had to watch you two get closer than ever—without me. It fucking sucked, and I didn’t cope well. Didn’t cope at all, really. Kate’ll tell you, she took the brunt of my tailspin.”

You can’t help but snort despite the thick emotion welling up behind your eyes. The boys smile, too. Things look up.

Tyson takes your hand in a tight squeeze; his pulse jumps into your palm. “But that’s no excuse for what I did—didn’t do. How I treated you. You were trying so hard, and all I did was punish you for it. For constantly reminding me you guys are there and not here. For moving on with your life like you’re supposed to.”

He claims JT’s old spot knelt between your parted knees. “And I’m sorry. So deeply sorry, baby. Please let me make it up to you—let me apologize properly.”

Tears of his own shine up at you from his flushed cheeks. Gently, you take his face in your hands, rubbing away the spilled emotion with the soft pads of your thumbs.

A silent pardon.

The walls throw back the echo of his low, audible content—of relief.

“Is this okay?” His voice is barely a whisper, dwindling to a hush as the question tapers off.

Too determined to quiet his audible fear of rejection—and to have his mouth on you as fast as humanly possible—to bother with words, you nod immediately.

“With how much she’s been dripping onto the counter since you walked in, what do you think?” JT interjects, mood vastly improved.

Your cheeks and neck heat just as he intended.

The younger forward chuckles, hands massaging up and down your sensitive thighs, gripping them as if holding himself back from lunging too soon.

A predator lurking in the brush, lying in wait.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything. Didn’t want to embarrass her.” He winks up at you, confidence rising to the surface once more. You have to fight to maintain eye contact; he’s that stupidly attractive. “ —was try t’be a gentleman.”

You’re a flurry of butterflies, a whimpering mess.

Tyson wants to tease your body; it’s in his nature. But he won’t. Namely, because he can’t. No matter how good some old-fashioned edging would eventually make you feel, he’s already on JT’s shit list as is.

Besides, he’s only been fiending for a taste since you introduced yourself to him. And there's no time like the present...

Your guttural scream—an appropriate, albeit mortifying reaction to his baby pink lips enveloping your swollen clit—pumps his chest full with pride. Tongue flat, he charts the length of your heat with a gentleness you hadn’t thought your collective excitement would allow for. His hands coast over your legs, syncing with his mouth, until he physically cannot wait any longer. One final pass, one so agonizingly slow your greedy hips thoughtlessly vie for more of anything, brings his wistful, fidgeting digits to rest at the apex of your thighs.

“Pause.”

JT’s clipped command is a bucket of ice water.

Your vocal annoyance is matched by Tyson’s, but you both know how delicate a game you’re playing.

With his thumb still lazily swirling to your clit, Tyson’s inquisitive head begins to turn around. Before he gets anywhere worthwhile, it’s swiftly spun back into place by your boyfriend’s firm hand.

You can’t even convey how hot you find JT’s fingers casually twisting in his friend’s curly mop—just the way you love; all you manage is a warbled, mostly airy cry. Your distressed state worsens watching the show unfold between your lax, parted knees: reluctant, fluttery lashes over neon cheeks; a rosy, glistening bottom lip sacrificed to cage mousy whimpers, his ragged breathing betraying all effort toward feigning indifference to JT’s self-assured manhandling.

Your boyfriend snickers at your expression, a fish lingering open-mouthed for a surface sip, an ill-attempt to supplement a natural mode gone inadequate. No matter how much oxygen your widened jaw draws in, it never feels sufficient. A bottomless pit, a balloon with a fatal puncture wound. Gone before your depleted brain could make use of it.

“Have to make sure he does it right, don’t I, sweetheart?” JT’s voice is smooth and low, charring by the second; he’s enjoying the view as much as you are.

Tyson rolls his tawny eyes. Half-hearted annoyance. “Controlling much?”

“I know what my woman needs.”

The look you share with your friend is unequivocally feral.

And the growl JT hurls back, a low-pitched rumble permeating the tight space with little effort on his part, is just plain mean.

His attitude could not be more arrogant. The cavalier persona makes you shiver, and Tyson’s breath hitch. Humming, your boyfriend tugs on his curls until the two’s eyes are locked. Inescapable. The brunette gasps as he tries desperately to hold his eyes open, waiting with bated breath.

JT licks his lips, triumphant. “Open her up for me, will ya?” Mischief catches in the light as quickly as it falls into your boyfriend’s lap. His grip tightens, and Tyson whimpers like a naughty puppy caught red-handed. “Don’t screw around, ‘kay? She needs all the help her tight pussy can get, and we don’t have all night.”

Panting, his nod is the only affirmative he can muster up. And the only one his limited range of motion will allow for. Smug and pleased enough, JT all but throws his friend into your fire, his nose bumping where you’re most sensitive. 

You actually yelp.

Holding your torrid gaze, Tyson dips his marriage and middle into you. You groan out what you meant to be his name—But who knows? And who fucking cares?—unable to control yourself while he’s finally touching you like this. Finally back.

Tyson finger-fucks you at an even pace, steadily pushing you up the hill. His satisfaction is tangible when he pulls out and away, so very delighted by your wonton hiss of annoyance. Even more so when the volume hikes up in response to the slippery pads of his fingers circling your clit. Your lewd whines harmonize with your audible arousal as he works it back into your fragile skin, playing with your wetness, utterly fascinated.

“What d’ya think, baby? Think you’re wet enough to take another finger?” JT’s tone is as cocky as his stupid rhetorical question. He, however, made no move to conceal his growing impatience.

“Mhmm,” you murmur, head like a rubber ball hitting the pavement. Still, you remember your manners. “Please—c-can I? Can I have another?”

His smile is pure adoration, dreamlike.

JT’s reverent eyes stay with you, but his words pour down over the eager man on the floor as he coaxes you halfway to heaven. “You heard her, kid. Give the lady what she deserves.”

Kid—Tyson hates when people call him that, but he especially loathes JT's usage. There’s barely an age difference, but with the way everyone acts, it might as well be decades. It seems like no matter what he does to prove himself, he’s still the baby. Every additional candle is like an annual slap in the face, a mockery that won’t end.

He can feel anger and frustration curdling low in his stomach just thinking about all the attempts that fell flat, and he decides to put the grumbling to good use. The vibration is red-hot and deliberate against your responsive, slick center, irritation like lighter fluid.

He gives you more than just three fingers. He splays all three—wide. Even as they stroke your soft inner walls, Tyson keeps you stretched so as to leave no slack. Your boyfriend wants you open? Tyson will fucking tear you apart, happily. (Yes, spite is a factor.)

Highly sensitive and spread to the limit, you ascend far quicker than usual. Fisting a bushel of golden-brown curls, nails digging rapt half-moons, you guide his willing face to the necessary places to see yourself through. Every slight adjustment has your entire body jerking haphazardly as it struggles to process the rocketing shockwaves.

JT’s hand retreats—only slightly—to make way for yours, to give you more leverage to fuck yourself through it. Less than a foot away, your boyfriend’s chest heaves in time with yours, his eyes pits of lust you dive into with clumsy enthusiasm.

During one particular, delicious pass, the tip of Tyson’s tongue catches your strained entrance, and when you unexpectedly gush against his mouth in response, he begins lapping over and around your carnal connection.

“Holy shit — Ty, I-I’m — I’m — “

The denouement of your climax is nothing short of glorious, as rude of a sentence interruptor as it was. Half-mewls and purred praise rain down from your loosened lips, eyes screwed shut.

Tyson melts over the way you take control of your orgasm, so unabashed and authoritative. You go after what you want; he respects that majorly. And getting to feel and taste what makes you tick doesn’t hurt either.

Neither do you and your pretty, throbbing walls cutting off blood flow while your boyfriend tugs his hair from behind.

“Just like that, keep fucking her through it. Did so good—doin’ so good for us.”

JT’s praise sends the brunette’s unoccupied hand right to his bulge.

This is the best he’s felt in months.

There’s the mythical balance of bliss-to-tension to key up his senses, shooting white-hot tingles of want from his head to his feet and flaming between his ribs, affection for you. You forgive him, JT forgives him, and, most importantly, he forgives himself.

He feels buoyant with his face coated in your climax, so much so that it runs down from his chin to his neck, staining the collar of his beer-soaked tee; he hopes you might return his favor later.

Josty’s guilty hand is knocked away by a firm toe.

“Y’haven’t earned it, bud,” his mentor chides.

The delinquent appendage flops lamely at his side for a split second, then lifts beside his nose to join its partner at your slick core. As if remembering there’s work to be done, a goal to attain. Beneath this new asset, your achy, spent clit pulses, egging him on with every thump, thump, thump.

Tempting him to do something, to take it further…

He thinks about it. Fuck, does he think about it—you can see the tape winding in his eyes.

JT can read Tyson’s mind through his skull, apparently. “Don’t even think about it, kid. Her last one’s mine, but you’re more than welcome to watch from right here.” —Your boyfriend points to the remaining space between the sinks, knowing it’ll be close quarters for you both— “Just remember: I only said watch. This is groveling, not a treat.”

And Tyson does. Without question or complaint, he’s just fine sitting next to you, sitting pretty.

He’s always been the perfect teammate. Always willing to do whatever it takes, regardless of the role. The only difference is he no longer wants his anxiety to be the sole motivator behind said selflessness.

Finally ready to play fearless.

JT helps you down; Tyson hops up.

Immediately, your attention fractures. Split between messy brown curls and lust-blown pupils and your own disheveled appearance: smudged makeup, knotted hair, mauled neck, and spit-stained, bruised lips. Thank fuck you’re graduated and gone. Otherwise, you’d never live this down—Kate might treat you to a taste of would-be campus humiliation later if she’s feeling particularly charitable, though.

Your boyfriend’s grip is heavy on your hips. Happy to have you back. You feel one hand coast over your lower back and down to grope your ass as if trying to keep you in the palm of his hand. White-knuckle hold withstanding, JT presses his chest flush to your backside and uses his free hand to yank every remaining hindrance to your navel.

He wants you on display.

Your gasp is rivaled only by Tyson’s pitiful whimper and twitching, touch-happy fingers.

The ginger’s chuckle is molten and deep, mouth barely a breath from your ear, his eyes pinning Tyson still.

Your mind rewound back to when he made this proposition, wondering how the hell you got from there to here.

“Bend over, sweetheart. Arch that back nice and pretty so we can show Josty what a good girl he’s been missing out on—what a filthy thing you’ve turned into.”

As soon as you’ve done just that, your boyfriend drives home. It’s fast and dirty; primal. He knows there’s no need, but JT marks his territory anyway.

You watch Josty’s mouth part like he’s about to ask you something. Staring through his eyes as if ducking into his pesky daydreams and up-too-late musings, all specifics watery and indistinct.

Ultimately, you wind up disappointed by silence. But, with the slow return of your boyfriend’s bare cock between your soft inner walls, it dawns on you; JT had used a condom last time. Even made Tyson retrieve it for him. The depth of your relationship is sinking in; that’s what you’re now watching. He’s mulling over the information, caught somewhere between wanting to swallow his guilt one go and choking on his own assumptions.

JT follows your charged concern, performs a similar triage, and then gives you a concise nod through the fogged-up mirror.

I’ll handle it.

At that, your walls noticeably ease, and he shudders, groaning as even more of him sinks deeper to occupy the newfound space. He gets a few strokes out before Josty slots his body between your palms to lean in. Here, he does something that collapses the simple but effective status quo. 

“Fuck, kid. K-Keep doing that.”

Keep rubbing your clit.

Keep playing with you.

Keep being an accessory to his pleasure. To yours.

Be present.

Be here.

“Such a fucking mess, baby. Don’t know how Compher gets anything done with you there, sweet and ripe for the taking.”

The two halves of Tyson’s demeanor are antithetical, and infuriatingly so, a saccharine smile split open by filth. It paints a sordid picture that must stand for itself, as you find it impossible to pluck out of thin air any coherent thoughts.

Be that as it may, your friend did not set out for a reply. At least not one other than the befuddled stuttering you’re doing.

A familiar palm shoots to your raw neck—tender, inside and out—lightning quick. You're yanked up before you can blink. JT mercilessly nips at the gaps in between his tight grip, hips pushed just as firm against the swell of your backside.

Still, he furthers their madcap banter. “I dunno either, Josty. And, believe me, the little vixen sure as hell doesn’t make it any easier. Sometimes I think she’s tryna milk me dry for good.”

If Tyson Jost were ever going to cream his pants—post-pubescence, it would be now.

Like, right fucking now.

The proclamation of your third orgasm is wondrous. Proud. Grateful. One of your hands flies back to catch the nape of JT’s neck to steady yourself as he continues pistoning in and out of you. Tyson's generous touch stays, too.

Your back arches this go around, head rolling against your boyfriend's shoulder before slipping back down towards the counter, free palm absorbing the impact of the abrupt sway. Too much, too much—it’s all too much for your tender muscles and soupy brain to handle. You surrender to the plethora of sensations, each more overwhelming than the last—half-collapsed back against into your boyfriend, half-crumbled forward into his best friend’s damp, tented lap.

“Not gonna last, sweetheart—y’feel too damn good, s’tight and warm, always strangling my cock—know you’re close, too. Gonna give me what you promised, Compher? Please, pretty girl—need to feel your perfect pussy squeezin’ me dry.”

It's refractory; your world goes from washed-out to vivid and back, over and over, as though impatiently flipping between channels.

You’re a tangle of sticky limbs and physical reverie, blanketed by a warm afterglow and cleared air. Body scaffolded by muscular forms on either side, your mind gives your body permission to slacken at last. JT’s arm winds around your midsection when it becomes clear the all-consuming exhaustion is giving way to the relaxation that eluded you for so many months. Tyson massages your arms, your hands still cemented to his knees. Your head drops to his shoulder, too heavy for your bruised neck.

For a long while, no one says a thing. Not intentionally or for fear of disturbing the peace; there’s simply no need. No words exist to shoulder that much weight, none able to capture precisely what emotions swirl between you. Silence says enough—silence says it all.

Banging cuts through your sex-drunk stupor. Again. The abrupt sounds function like metaphorical smelling salts, restoring consciousness and rousing decorum laid dormant. Your mutual, unadulterated bliss circles the drain in the absence of a psychological plug, ripped free, half-baked.

JT reluctantly leaves you empty and dripping, tucks himself away, and cracks open the door—only as wide as is necessary. Behind his imposing physique, you remain hunched over Tyson, waiting for your boyfriend to make the problem go away; you’re too tired to take any initiative.

Golden hair and familiar grey-blue eyes fill the gap, shining in your periphery. Barely a sliver, that’s how much of this your boyfriend’s willing to share with the world. You like that, and judging by his lopsided grin, so does Tyson.

“Paging Mrs. Compher!” Gabe hollers over JT’s head. “Clean up on aisle ‘Kate.’”

Just hearing her name puts you back in action. Damn you, maternal instincts.

You scramble to right twisted fabric and smeared makeup to a soundtrack of expletives. It’s pointless, though, because nothing settles how it should. No amount of smoothing, brushing, or tucking seems to help. Hazy vision and the legs of a newborn fawn don’t exactly lend themselves to effective primping.

And it’s not like you’ve got a hickey-remover magic wand stashed in your purse, either. 

Accept your fate, you acquiesce with a sigh.

Tyson does a piss-poor job muffling his laughter, which lands him a crisp swat to the chest.

As you stumble over, you catch the end of your boyfriend’s irritation. “—and you’re sure there isn’t anyone else to hold her hair back? Why can’t you do it?”

The gears in Gabe’s skull clank so loud you can hear them over the audible chaos seeping into your haven—he’s intoxicated, not stupid.

“CupKate wants her mommy.” The blonde winks at you over JT’s shoulder. His tongue gives a knowing click of approval at Tyson’s equally disheveled state. “And what do you care, Compher? Smells like you three already made your express trip to Pound-town, USA. How was it? I hear the weather’s hot and steamy this time of year.”

“Real mature, Landy, real mature,” JT scoffs.

The sound just revs him up. “Says the fucker who’s locked in a frat house bathroom with his girlfriend and his best friend. One of whom, might I add, looks like they got mauled by a hormonal freshman after a high school dance.”

“Can you two go measure your dicks, I don’t know, anywhere but in the way? I have a child to tend to.” 

You almost have to laugh. At the situation and at the words coming out of your mouth. At Kate, sick to her stomach like a kid who ate too many sweets on a holiday. 

Years have passed, but you’re all still the same.

“Me-yeoh!” Gabe sing-songs while miming what you assume are claws scratching at nothing.

Again, his drink is the sole casualty of his jubilation. A golden wave sloshes over the rim and onto the floor. The spray makes JT’s jaw tick.

The former winger offers a sheepish grin in repentance. “Whoops?”

Your boyfriend steals a glance to check that you’re decent, then side-steps out of your way with an exasperated sigh. His dilated gaze flits over your ruffled appearance, shamelessly drinking in the state of your throat but tripping over the questions dancing in your eyes.

He juts his head in Landy’s direction with a sardonic eye-roll. “Go on. Save your damsel, Mother Hen. I’ll fill you in on in the Uber back to the hotel.”

“Meet you out front?” You ask, and he nods.

You dart back to Tyson, plant a chaste peck on his flushed cheek, and then repeat the gesture with JT and his peeved lips. It’s faint, but they instantly soften for you.

Before they know it, you’re slipping out the door. Gabe gets an affectionate pat on the shoulder as you squeeze by him before you disappear in the direction of the Girls Only bathroom; no significant differences, only marginally cleaner and occasionally stocked with helpful accouterment—chivalry isn’t dead!

Lingering in the wake of your departure, Gabe sways like an inflatable man on the curb of a car dealership. A smirk twists his lips. “Nicely done, boys. Nicely done. Can’t say I thought we’d see the day—or that either of you had it in ya—but I feel like a proud father.” He wipes a phantom tear, the final straw. “Makes you wish you listened to Daddy Landy sooner, huh? Think of all the lost ti—”

JT slams the door in his face. Through the wood, Gabe cackles.

The two men slip back into sync as they wordlessly scrape themselves back together with the time and privacy you were not afforded. 

As JT yanks his jeans back into place, his belt clanking around like a bell’s hourly chime, a black velvet box tumbles to the floor, and Tyson’s stomach along with it.

The air shouldn’t, but it turns on a dime. Their progress is seemingly more fragile than expected.

“If—uh, wow.” A crunchy, anxious bark of a laugh cuts his thought in half.

JT doesn’t interrupt; he holds space for the blossoming discomfort.

Tyson rubs the tense knots along the back of his neck as his eyes drill into the floor. “If I’d known this would be our swan song, I would’ve tried to enjoy it more. I don’t know—savored it, I guess?”

“This,” JT says, scooping up the dud he hopes isn’t hanging fire. “— is what I wanted to talk to you about earlier.”

Before they got into it in the garage, before they’d been forcibly separated by Erik and Nate. Before they, punch-drunk and drunk-drunk, teetered between tears and anger in the shadowy, too-quiet backyard.

They spun in circles until they had nowhere to move but on. To make amends, to stumble through chary half-apologies that mean more than they say.

JT’s alleviation was short-lived; his calm trepidation squashed before it could fly. Tyson now understands why.

Tyson balks. “Me?”

Your boyfriend sighs through his nose, pinching the bridge. He’s bidding time. Digging for the right words but knowing there are none.

“I love her—and I know you do, too. I’m not upset; she makes it hard not to fall for her.”

Tyson’s head hangs lower, chagrined.

JT continues, “I’m going to ask her to marry me, but I didn’t want to do it without talking to you. Without making sure you’d be okay. Eventually. The last thing I wanted was for you to be blindsided or to feel even more left out.”

Tyson can’t help but snort at the sheer absurdity. “Left out… God, how pathetic am I? Getting all butt-hurt over a relationship that isn’t even mine.”

“Pathetic was going AWOL.”

Josty winces. He doesn’t argue because he has zero ground to stand on.

“But feeling something? Far from it.”

“I didn't—don’t want to take her from you. You have to know that, Compher.” The hurt’s been hammered from his voice. Left behind is softened sincerity.

JT’s smile is just as downy. “I do, and you’d be wasting time by trying.”

Josty chokes on an unforeseen bubble of laughter.

You love JT Compher so openly and ardently it might as well be a neon sign plastered to your forehead. He’s always been it for you. There’s never been any competition, Tyson Jost included.

“Thank god we got this ironed out before the wedding,” the older forward chuckles as he leans back against the counter.

They’re side-by-side, as they should be.

“Why’s that?”

JT digs into his other pocket and pushes something into the palm of his best friend, whose cheeks flame tout de suite in response. With a bump of his shoulder, your boyfriend tacks on, “Something to remember tonight by.”

Tyson shoves the memento into his own pocket, then raises a quizzical brow.

Your boyfriend grins.

“The best man pining over the bride while giving the groom the cold shoulder would make for an awkward wedding, don’t you think?”

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[kusundei]

god forbid i just woke up rn but. god. GODDD. god. im actually. still tweaking a little.

NO BECAUSE TODAY WAS SO. SOOOO. I feel crazy. i watched jt happen and goddd god he just always finds more ways to plant himself into my head. more ways to make me fold all the fucking time. more ways to ensure i will be actually infatuated by him and crazy im just soooo. SOOOO. UGHHH.

no cuz he literally. i. i was shaking so so MUCH TODAY he just makes me so nervous. it gets to the point esp in photography where i get nervous knowing im about to see him. THAT CLASS HAS ALWAGS MADE ME NERVOUS BUT NOW ITS JUST. godd. how i would do something. ialways want to do something. ANYTHING. i never really do unless he does it first cuz i am scared and afraid. i hate that ab myself i will. never take initative no matter how madly i want something i am too scared of fucking something ul that i never will do anything for myself. (jd how you would condemn me constantly. how you are a horrible tiny voice in my head reminding me i am not good enough always.) I just. UGH. i want to i always want to. THAT FIRST TIME when i grabbed his hand while walking past him and he literally like. idk how ti explain that but he like. grabbed me back. i. i am fucking WEAK. GOD IM ACTUALLY A WRECK HE JUSTMAKES ME INSANE??? god the way i stood up there smiling like an idiot while that guy talked i. am. i am sososo infatuated with you i cannot. my god and then sitting down. i kept pointing u out to the girl just like. god.

u r the one good actor there idk. heh. GOD. the way she asked me if we were a thing after you came pver the first time oh my GOD OH MT FUCKING GOD. the way you were looking at me. the way you kept smiling at me and when u sat down u laid your head on my leg im. immm. IMMMM. i was shaking. so fucking bad my face I WAS BLUSHING no thank god it was dark because when u ran off i just. put my head in my hand sfor a bit. perchance prompting the gjrl to ask. but god you. you make me. more crazy. fall in love with you more. i. cannot explain it. i just i WANTED TO i truly did god forbid you were standing sitting down there next to me and i just. wanted to touch you somehow. THE WAY I GOT A DUCKING PHOTO TOO im just i am sick i am SICKENNNEDDD i. cant stop thinking about it. i wanted to brush my hand through your hair or something. i. immm. IMMM. god. good. fucking. god. “i can tell from how you look at him” whaaat. WHAAAT. “you look at him and you were smiling the whole time i could tell you were in love with him or just really really gay” like thank you. i am. like. madly i cannot get him oht of my head hes the only thing i think about ever. the way she pointed out my constant giggling and blushing and how id point you out all the time. the way she said she thought we would be cute. yeabim fuckinf SICK

everytime you came back over there i wasnt really trying to ignore her but you just. take up all my attention. you always have all my attention i could stare at you forever but i feel weird jts just. youre so distracting. you are so cute. so. attractive??? you attract me. cloud my thoughts. GOD i wish i took some sort of photos of you today i had good chances but i didnt wanna be weird. but j do have that photo of you laying on me so i digress. im just so. UGH. no u r seriously the cutest thing ever i just. i. iiiii. i cant help it. YOU ARE SO CUTE WITHOUT TRYING TO BE everytime you looked at me i just wanted to freak out i love you. i love your face i love your voice . your mannerisms the way you carry yourself. how you interact with other people the way you laugh. hell even when youre tweaking youre so cute its distracting (sorry.) just i am seriously in love with YOU. everything about you. i genuinely adore you. i still cant believe its like reciprocated im so. baffled? im so used to pinning for someone. or someone pinning for me and i struggle to reciprocate. in a selfish manner that was ayden. pinning with no clear end goal. fun but alsohorrible. sickening. he also ruined me. jd as well. as much as i hate to admit when i first got into a relationship with her would i say i was in love wirh her? no not really. i actually was extremely detached from her it was just that. she was familiar. i knew she wouldnt go. thjs is my evil sam confession of tonight but genuinely i. had gotten wirh her in the most evil way. cuz i was off the rails on medication and delirious and i confessed to her (and 2 other people) on a whim to see what would happen. and j knew she would say yes because icwas fucking evil. do i deny and feelings fr her? no not at all. she became my everything. me being in a relationship with hercaused me to fall in love with her. hard. codependantly. thats why you baffle me. i havent felt this sort of way about anyone thjs quickly and in a long time. this is why i dare compare it to ayden and jd because. jd took time. but god i was inlovelovelove with her. ayden? i was also in love with him. i could compare it slightly closely to me right now ab you but i wasnt this crazy. also my attraction to him i realized qas maybe leaning more on a . physical side? and personality of course aiding his case but i digrees. jd i loved inside out for her. is she pretty? of course. but j never really considered it a factor to anything. bella? i didnt know her irl but i was also in lovelovelove with her and was infatuated but it was her personality that drew me in. its just i mention it sm because like. the way i feel about you is like jd (that sort of love where i loved her so much it made me sick. i wouldve done anything for her and i was in lovelovelove with her because she meant so much to me. UNCONDITIONAL LOVE) but i wasnt pbsessed with her. inever felt like how i did wirh ayden or bella with her. freaking out over snall things. with the other two, focusing on ayden more, i was like. infatuated. felt more like me fiending because i could imagine myself in a relationship with him and such. but it wasnt a lovelove thing. j wouldnt call it that . with you its so. different? i feel weird saying it because it truly does soort of feel like a selfcest thing but i like. i love you unconditionally. i am infatuated by you. i have never loved someone like this before in such a small amount of time let alone thjs strongly. and you just make jt sooo muchhh worse YOY ENABLE ME you make me crazy.

okay no more blabbing about jd and ayden (god.) tday i was just so. sooo. no because when i hadfirst gotten there and was following him around i felt like i was beinf judged. i mean of course like im not there normally but WILL. WIIIILLL. i was scared. also me following yoy into the black box the first time i started freakinf out in my own head becauseof qhat i kept saying before but godforbid i will never initiate anything. i just. iwanted to hold your hand. wanted to hug you. maybe. perchance. oh my GODD your smell its driving me jnsane now also just you in general im noticing mtself fall more in love with your appearance too yoyre jist so, ? CUTE?? i could stare at you forever you r so pretty. yourface i just. ugh. the way u smile the way u talk just everything i am seriously. in love with you. anyway your smell gets stronger everyday and god im trying to act like its not making me insane but it is. it is making me fiend more. YEARN. idk why i have such a weird thing with smell im lkke a dog. but god. GODD. im tweakijg out thinking ab it. when i was walking around stage following you. when i looked at you and you ran off. when you kept getting flustered? embarrassed? because i was looking at you? yeaah. i. IMACTYALLY IN LOVE WIRH YOU AOH MY GOD. i just no i cant. im trying not to mention that maybe i am also falling for youappearance wise cuz to me jts not super important and has never been but its aidinf in my insanity and sorry. heh. the suit. THE SUUUUITTT. i. yeah. makes me crazy. you r just sosoocute i want to stare at you without feeling judged i want to look at yoy forever. just adore you from afar. because i truly do. like ugh. UGHH. you stood so close to me all the time. in the blackbox god sitting there with jamario and will and . i forgother name. but they were all talking to me and ROSZA. i see you. im not blind. but god j felt like they all fuckinf knew. AND BEE. i see you from across the room. its just like oh my goddd. nk because you kept doing that thing to my knee and ugh AAYGHHH OH MY FHCKJNG GOD. i. i. you make me weak. i feel so dumb all the time you MAKE ME FEEL LIKE A GIRL I. GOD. when i grabbed you that time and put ur hands back believe me i wouldnt kept my hands there if i didnt get embarassed and u didnt say anythghinf. cuz oh my god GOD GDGOS. the way you kept freakinf out made me freak out mkre and more in my head i dont know how you do it. idk how you think i don’t reciprocate this and jm not crazy in love with you bcuz i am. im just so. SOOO. UGH. and when u moved to sit next to me and u rested ur head on my shoulder yeah that was my last straw. “youre crazy..” YEAH. YEAAAH. YEAAAAAAH. no i meant that you r crazy. and youre driving me insane. i want to do so many things with u i have so many ideas i am seriously in love with you but this feels like a situation. just a little. god forbid it im njst not the biggest fan of situations with no title to it. god jts entertaining though bht i like that confirmation. the title makes me more comfortable. more likely to do things. but i digress i do anything for you. happily im nusr. AUGH. i eish i stayed for cultural night but we had to go i wish in the car i held your hand or something nobody wouldve seen anyway im just. IM STJLL THINMING ABOUT IT i miss your smell. i miss your touch your hands r SO SOFT? IM? GAY???????????????? i literally i adore every inch of you i miss your voice i feel strange sleeping. god forbid i still dabble in those audios to sleep but they feel weird now. cuz i want to sleep to ur voice. like how j used to do with ayden (i hate you and j was crazy) jm just UGH. oh god today was justso. so sosososo lovely j wish it went on forever j wish i had been in drama (lying but not rlly) i wish i didnt have 10 thousand things to do this week and i wjsh i wasnt stressed and that i had my car and that jobi jjsf. goddd. GODDD. im. imm soooo. OK ILL STOP I THINK IGE MENTIONED EVERYRHING TODAY IM NUST SOSOSOS. SOOOO. SOOOOOO.

id put the lhoto i took in here but i feel bad. its for me only i suppose immjsr. so. in love. with you.

[aereres]

Stuck On You - Cale Makar

Summary: What started as a friendship between you and Cale takes a turn during one of the best summer vacations of your life - a week in a campsite with your new friends from Colorado.

A/N: A self-indulgent Cale fic, who would have thought lmao. Definitely not my best work but I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: a couple swear words, mentions of break-up

Summer. Summer held something you couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was the road trips with music blasting from your car’s speakers, or the endless nights spent drinking cheap beers with strangers while sitting on docks. Maybe it was the seasonal loves, the ones you’d talk about with your friends after coming home, or maybe it was the memories.

Summer had always been something you had never missed, no matter how hard school got, or how good your job paid people to stay during the hottest months of the year; and, in Colorado, it wasn’t any different.

You were gasping for breath when you finally reached the perfect spot for camping, your backpack heavy on your shoulders as your friends walked past you. The excited giggles that left their lips joined the sound of birds chirping as they pushed their own belongings on the ground.

“Oh my God,” Johanna laughed, Andre’s arm wrapped around her shoulders as she looked around the empty side of the forest your getaway was going to take place in. “This place is beautiful,”

“It is,” Sydney said from beside her, eyes cast on her bag as she started to take some stuff out.

You were still taking the beautiful view in, a smile on your lips as you realized that summer was finally starting. A new summer, you thought, with new friends and a new spot.

“Y/N, just come here already!” Andre yelled from the distance, pushing you out of your trance. “Your tent is not gonna build itself,”

“I’m coming,” you giggled, jokingly rolling your eyes your friend’s way as you pushed your backpack down your shoulders, looking around for an empty space for yourself.

“I’m here-”

The breathless words were mumbled behind you, making you turn around quickly to find a flushed face. Cale’s cheeks were their usual dark shade of red, sweat lining his forehead as he tried to gain back his breathing.

“Oh- hi, Cale,” you smiled, heart fluttering when your eyes met his face. “You doing okay?”

“I was a little late,” he mumbled, waving JT’s way before his eyes gently settled on you. It seemed like he had realized you were there in front of him just then, his body tensing as a small smile formed on his lips. “Hi, Y/N,”

“Oh my God,” Nate huffed. “I’ll literally let the two of you sleep with the bears if you don’t start with the tents,”

“Fine, fine. You guys are annoying as hell,” you mumbled, brushing past him to reach one of the last two empty spots, throwing the bag that held your tent on the ground. The paper that slipped out of the opened zipper was filled with instructions, the words so small you almost struggled to read through them. If it wasn’t already difficult enough, the drawings explaining how to set up the tent weren’t helping, either.

You were just starting to understand something when your friends’ loud laughter filled your ears, along with the sound of bottles of beer being opened. You laughed to yourself, taking one of the many thin poles in your hands as you tried to figure out where it was supposed to go, one of your palms burying itself in your hair.

You had never been the greatest at building things, and you weren’t surprised when you grew close to calling one of the guys and ask for their help. Their tents had been built in less than half an hour, helping you prop up yours wasn’t going to be too difficult. Right?

“Here, give it to me. I’ll help you,” the familiar voice snapped you out of your thoughts, as deep as you remembered it to be. Cale was standing beside you, arms folded over his chest as he gave your work a quick look, a teasing smirk on his lips. “Never been camping?”

“Not really,” you giggled awkwardly, handing him the item in your hand as he figured the mess out. His feet carried him to the left side of the tent, sliding the first part of the tube in its place.

“Alright, go on the other side,”

With Cale’s help, building a tent had never been easier. He knew what to do and where to start, he honestly made it look easy. Your shelter was ready after just a couple of minutes, and you found yourself smiling Cale’s way as soon as he mumbled a quick ‘we’re done’.

“Really?!”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, taking his place by your side again as the two of you gave the results one last look. “Looks better than mine down there,”

You giggled, turning around to wrap an arm around him, pulling him in a quick hug. “Thank you so much,” you said, pushing a stray hair out of your eyesight. “Wouldn’t have made it, without you,”

“You’re welcome,” Cale said rather rushedly, his cheeks blushing slightly. You weren’t able to see the way he flushed, though, turning around way too quickly to unpack your bag and getting the last few things for your shelter out.

As you pushed your phone out of your pocket, you realized just then how messily the butterflies in your stomach were dancing. And it was all because of Cale.

-

The sounds of the fireplace were comforting you as everyone enjoyed the first night of the summer together with a beer in hand. Loud laughter was coming from the Avalanche players, and you could hear a few laughs and giggles coming from your own friends, too.

“I can’t believe they gave you a penalty, man,” Tyson admitted, referring to Nathan’s last call on the ice that cost the team a power-play goal. “It was a clean hit and we all saw that,”

“Yeah, man,” EJ agreed, tipping his head back as he finished his beer.

“Call was ridiculous,” Nate agreed, shrugging slightly to signal the end of the conversation before letting an arm wrap around his girlfriend. “What have you been up to, Y/N? You’re the only one we don’t see too often,”

You chuckled at his words, shaking your head as you swallowed the last piece of s’more in your mouth. “Just been working, trying to get a promotion,”

“You go, girl,” Johanna cheered, making you laugh. “And Christian?”

The laughter left your body as soon as your ex was mentioned, the last words of your final argument repeating themselves in your mind. “Christian?” Was all you were able to mumble, eyes cast on the fire as you buried your hands in the pockets of your hoodie.

“Your boyfriend,” Susanna stated, making you chuckle out bitterly.

“Well, ex-boyfriend,” you sighed, shrugging when you looked up to see a few shocked faces. “Broke up a few months ago, now,”

“And you didn’t tell us?!” Mikko yelled, his voice loud over the mixed words of shock from your friends.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, casting your eyes to your lap as everyone kept talking, slowly starting to express the way they all almost despised your ex. Nathan - and his girlfriend agreed with him - said something about Christian hitting on his girl, Tyson complained about the fact that he had never seemed to treat you good, and all the girls agreed with him.

Thinking about your break-up on the first day of your summer vacation wasn’t something you had planned, so you silently kept to yourself, hoping the conversation would drop quickly. Your eyes lifted up from the orange flames of the fire, finding the stars illuminating the dark sky, so subtle yet so beautiful. All the voices of your friends were silenced as you admired the beauty of the night, a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in finally leaving your lips.

A gentle hand nudged your elbow, your attention snapping towards the person to your right in a quick second. Staring back at you was Cale, a soft smile on his lips as he held a stick with a roasted marshmallow between the two of you. “For you,”

“For me?”

“I know you love roasted marshmallows,” he mumbled, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. “Just thought of making one for you, I guess,”

A small smile formed on your lips at his kindness, cheeks burning as you accepted the stick. “You’re too sweet, Cale,” you mumbled, your shoulder leaning against his as you grabbed the candy from the top of the branch, pushing it in your mouth.

He grabbed his own marshmallow and slid it in his mouth, your eyes meeting as you silently looked at each other. His cheeks grew bigger from the size of the candy, a small piece of it coloring the side of his mouth.

You giggled, his own laughter following yours as you swallowed. “Hang on, Cale,” you mumbled, coming closer to him as you tried to ignore your heartbeat picking up its pace. “You’ve got something-”

Your palm cupped his scarlet cheek, warm against your skin as your thumb smoothed the sticky substance away, your eyes barely leaving his as the two of you sat back in place. Both of your heartbeats were loud, cheeks burning as you acted as if the closeness hadn’t affected you in any kind of way.

You silently hoped nobody had paid attention to the two of you, knowing the guys wouldn’t hold down the chirping; but when you looked back at the team and wags, they all seemed to be too focused on their conversation to even notice Cale’s burning cheeks, or your fingers slightly touching.

You were the first one to wish everyone a good night, that day, to retrieve in your tent and listen to your heart beat loudly. You felt like a teenager again, feeling just so jittery after the interaction with the man you had always spent too much time looking at, and had always looked for whenever you’d join the group at any kind of event.

You had always repressed whatever you had been feeling for Cale, pushed it to the side to avoid any kind of rejection. But the way Cale smiled your way, the way he helped you out whenever he could, the way he tried to find subtle ways to gently touch you.

Something in you, that night, was guessing that your feelings might have been mutual.

-----

“Does this happen every time you guys go camping?” You asked Sydney breathlessly as you took a look at the hiking path in front of you. You were already two hours into the hike, the guys all walking ahead of you as if the uphill path wasn’t tiring them, at all. “Like, do you ever get a break when hiking with the boys?”

“Nope,” Sydney giggled from beside you, stopping in her tracks to take a sip of her water. “You’re a newbie to our camping trips, you’ll get used to it,”

You laughed along with her, looping your arm around hers as you followed the rest of the group through the sunrays-lit forest, sweat threatening to line your forehead. Walking in front of everyone was Cale, laughing along with Nate as you watched him, a smile of your own forming on your lips.

The moments of the previous night kept repeating in your mind as you silently walked, hoping the man living in your mind wouldn’t notice the fondness in your eyes whenever he looked your way.

“So, you and Cale?”

The words leaving Sydney’s mouth had your cheeks burning, the smile on your face quickly turning sheepish as you kept walking. “What about me and Cale?”

“C’mon,” she laughed, looking at you with an eyebrow raised. “Last night?”

You rolled your eyes with a chuckle, shaking your head slowly as you looked at the path in front of you. “That was nothing,”

“Nothing?!” She cried exasperatedly, pushing your shoulder as she kept walking. “You looked like you were going to make-out on the spot,”

“That’s not true,”

“That’s more than true, Y/N,” she laughed, silence settling between the two of you after her teasing words. Maybe you and Cale hadn’t been that smooth, you thought. Her elbow was quick to hit your ribcage after a few minutes, her eyes finding yours again as a small smirk formed on her lips. “He’s single, you’re finally single. You should give it a thought,”

“It’s just a stupid, small crush,” you admitted. “Nothing more,”

“Then why not try and see where things would lead?” She stated, knowing she was right. “I’ve never seen Cale act like that,”

“Like what?”

“Like a smitten teenager,” her honesty had you laughing, your head shaking as you were the one to push her shoulder, that time. When your laughter died down, her voice made its way inside your ears. “But really, you should try,”

She didn’t give you time to give her a response, slipping away from you to reach her boyfriend’s side, who had called her name. You were left on your own once again, staring ahead of you, your eyes focused on the back of Cale’s head as you struggled to keep up with the group.

Was it so easy to notice? The way your cheeks would heat up, or the way your smile would turn giddy as soon as he’d be close enough to have your fingers brushing against his. Was it that easy?

“C’mon, Y/N! We’re almost there!” EJ yelled from the front, his toothless smile shining from the distance as he walked backward. You laughed, throwing your head back for a quick second before meeting eyes with a smiley Cale standing by his side.

His cheeks were their usual scarlet color, hair slightly tousled from being pushed back too many times, but he still looked like the kind of person who would steal your heart in no time.

-

“Good night, Y/N,” Tyson was the last person to leave the fireplace, a smile on his face as he walked towards his tent, the silence of the night engulfing you in a warm embrace.

Your eyes drifted up towards the sky - as they always did - and found the patterns of stars painting it. The moon was shining brightly that night, its rays illuminating your face as you silently thought about your day. And Cale.

The hike had gone surprisingly well: the various hours under the hot sun had been worth it, the view from the top of the mountains so beautiful you could never forget it. But you couldn’t just forget Cale, his lingering touches, and the way his eyes would be staring deeply at you whenever they could.

When he had helped you down a particularly high, rocky step, your breath had hitched, the feeling of his rough yet gentle hands on your waist pushing the butterflies in your stomach back to life. You were sure you had never felt so deeply connected to someone, the way Cale was making you feel just so unknown to you. You didn’t want things to end.

“You sure you’ll be okay out here on your own?”

Your head snapped towards the source of sound, the nest of tousled blond hair you knew too well finding your eyes in less than a second. “Yeah, don’t worry, Cale,”

Your gaze fell back on the stars, ignoring the sound of his footsteps until the shuffling of his body next to yours snapped you out of your thoughts again. “The stars are beautiful, tonight,” was all Cale mumbled as your shoulders touched.

“City pollution doesn’t do them much justice,” you chuckled, wrapping your arms around your folded legs as you sent him a quick glance. “I should probably come here more often,”

“It’s such a nice place,” Cale stated, a layer of comfortable silence settling between the two of you. Your body leaned against his on its own command, your head almost resting on his shoulder as the sounds of the crickets surrounding you pushed you into a state of calmness.

His body seemed to tense for a second, but his arm wrapped around your middle when he realized there was nothing you wanted more than to feel him close to you. He was silent for a few minutes - just enjoying your closeness and the warmth your body held - before letting his eyes close.

You didn’t recall walking back to your tent, the next morning when you woke up, but his hoodie still covering your body was a tell-tale sign Cale had brought you back after a while. You buried your flushed face in your pillow, that morning, the sun warming up your tent as you still felt Cale close to you.

Did he feel the same way?

-----

“Oh. My. God. Y/N!” Johanna yelled, trembling as the chilly water of the lake hit her back, all thanks to your splashing. You giggled at her exaggerated reaction, dipping underwater to escape any of her splashes as she tried to look for revenge.

The sun was setting after another long hike, its reflection painting the lake an orange shade as you cooled down, enjoying the last day of the vacation with the team. It was a summer you were going to remember, but you felt stressed, in some kind of way.

Your heart was beating for someone, and that someone was Cale. You had never felt as close to him as you did on the trip, and you felt like something was going to happen. Eventually.

But the trip was coming to its end: you’d have to go home and get back to your schedule, the guys would go back in full swing to their own jobs, and you weren’t ready to give up on the progress you and Cale had made, not yet. It felt as if the universe wanted you to be happy, giving you Cale and feelings you just couldn’t hold back, and just a small time to find your happiness.

The water had stopped moving around you, and you realized just then that Johanna had left, and you were - yet again - on your own. The water had started to cool down even more due to the dark clouds already painting the sky, pushing you to sit on the dock with a towel wrapped around your shoulders to warm up.

The world seemed to grow quiet as you watched the clouds move, reminding you of the sleepless night you were going to spend in your lonely tent due to the upcoming rainstorm. You smiled, though, taking a deep breath as the sound of laughter from the distance slowly put your world back into motion.

“You’re going to get a cold,”

“Would be worth it,” you giggled, watching Cale move until he was sitting next to you on the dock. “What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you, dinner’s almost ready,” he mumbled, his own eyes falling on the sky. You hummed, wrapping the towel tighter around your shoulders as you scooted closer to him.

“I’m going to miss this,” you whispered truthfully, your cold fingers busy on the strings of your bikini. “Camping, nights in front of the fireplace, you guys,”

“Same,” Cale admitted. “I don’t want it to end, you know? I’m going to miss you,”

Your heart fluttered at his words, sending the butterflies in your stomach in a spiral for a quick second as he kept talking. “And it’s stupid to say, because I see you just so often,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “But I’m going to miss you, and what happened between us here,”

You took a second to let his words sink in, just how quickly they made your body feel warm and how they made you feel like a teenager in love all over again. “It doesn’t have to end, Cale,” was all you whispered, your eyes meeting his as you let your heart beat loudly, not caring if anyone heard it.

“I didn’t think you’d feel the same way,” he said, honesty slipping from his lips as he let a hand cup your cheek tenderly.

“And I didn’t think you’d feel the same way, either,” you giggled, your chest warming up unexpectedly when his lips brushed up in a smile. You admired him, letting your eyes rake across his eyes, then his nose, his rosy cheeks, and - soon after - his lips. “Promise me we won’t let this go to waste,”

“We won’t,” he whispered back, his free hand lacing with yours as your lips finally met. Your world felt complete, at least, it seemed like it. With his hands on you and his gentle kisses, you felt alive, you felt like you were finally home.

One of his kisses turned into two, and two turned into three. As warm as he made you feel, your body heat was lowering and you had to pull away with clattering teeth before you bit his lip a little too hard. Your foreheads met for a moment, your eyes closing as you spent one last moment with him, the closeness having you weak.

“You’re freezing,” he stated, eyes carefully taking notice of your purple lips and shaking limbs. “Let’s go, you need to get changed before you die on me,”

“I’m fine, Cale,” you giggled, taking his hand to stand up with him before you started to head towards your camping spot, where the rest of the team was making dinner. His hand stayed in yours as he led you towards your tent, not caring - or worrying - if your friends saw.

Dinner was quite uneventful after that. You ate in silence as you missed Cale’s touch, a smile on your lips as you caught him staring your way from the distance. You didn’t set up the fireplace, that night. Rain started to hit your skin by ten, and everyone pretty much understood your last night had come to an end.

You had wished Cale goodnight with a subtle squeeze of his hand before heading towards your tent, sliding under your covers as you thought about the events of the day. Your mind went back to the man that stole your heart, thinking about the way your heart would stutter every time he’d look your way, or just how quickly your mood could change when his skin touched yours.

Saying you were stuck on him was an understatement.

The tiredness from the activities started to kick in - your eyes feeling quite heavy as you pushed your phone away from you - but the sounds the rain made, the fear of a storm and just what it could cause, they were keeping you up.

The raindrops were hitting the fabric of the tent harshly, and as much as you tried to relax, you just couldn’t. It was well past midnight when an idea popped in your mind, but you just couldn’t. It was too much, and too early.

You rolled to your side, your air mattress making a squeaking noise as you did so. It was too early. Your phone vibrated, pushing you out of your thoughts as the screen lit up, a new message waiting to be read.

I’m outside your tent.

Your brows furrowed at Cale’s text, looking up to see that, in fact, someone was standing outside your tent. You crawled towards the entrance, pushing the zipper down until the cold hair of the night hit your face, and your eyes met Cale’s frame.

“What the hell are you doing here? You’re going to catch a cold!”

“Would be worth it,” he repeated the words you had used earlier that day. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” you whisper-yelled, almost dragging him inside before you closed the tent back up. “What are you doing here, Cale?”

“I noticed you couldn’t sleep,” he mumbled, sitting on the edge of your mattress as his eyes stayed on your features even in the darkness of the night. “And I couldn’t sleep either,”

You giggled, shaking your head when you had realized you had had the same idea at the same time. You had been so close to joining Cale in his tent to relax and let all your worries leave your body, but he had beaten you at your own game.

With your last ounce of courage, you pressed a quick kiss to his blushing cheek, pulling him along with you to lay on the mattress. “Just come here,”

You were facing each other after you slipped under the covers again, his eyes staring into yours as you felt your body snuggle closer to his at its own command. One of his arms wrapped itself around your body, pulling you even closer as you felt a tender kiss being pressed to the crown of your head.

“Get some rest,” he whispered in your hair, your face buried in the crook of his neck as he talked. “I’ll be here in the morning,”

“Good night, Cale,”

“Good night, Y/N,”

-

Morning came quickly, too quickly for your liking. The sun was weakly lighting up your tent, its rays shining against Cale’s skin just right. He was still with you - as he had promised - and you were sure there was no better way to wake up than to open your eyes and see Cale, before anyone else.

He was breathing shallowly, eyes still closed as his arms kept tight around your waist, no sign of him waking up just yet. Your heart was a fluttering mess: you’d gone from complete strangers, to friends, to what seemed like lovers. And, God- you didn’t want it to end.

One single digit of yours ghosted over his soft cheek, starting to trace his features as lightly as it could as you admired him with all you had, hoping he wouldn’t wake up from your motions. A long sigh left his lips at your touch, eyelids squeezing for a quick second before he let them open.

“Good morning,” he grumbled, voice gravelly as he closed his eyes for another moment.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” you whispered, retrieving your hand as he pulled you closer. “Slept well?”

“Yes,” he dragged the last letter, the smile on his lips making you giggle. “You?”

“Like a baby,”

“That’s good,”

Silence settled between you as you enjoyed his warmth, brain running way too quickly at just eight in the morning while you traced shapes on his clothed chest. “They’re gonna chirp the hell out of us,” you giggled.

“Oh, God,” Cale chuckled, his palm landing on his face as he remembered about his restless teammates. “Might as well just die in here,”

You giggled, tugging the tent’s zipper open and grabbing his hand to get him out of your bed. “Just let them talk,” you whispered in his ear before stepping outside, stretching your limbs. His quite taller frame struggled to exit the tent, but when he did, a chorus of gasps surrounded you.

“I knew it!” Johanna yelled, receiving a slap from a sleepy Sydney when her loud voice scared her. “I fucking knew it!”

“Cale is getting it, guys!” Tyson said loudly, making Cale’s cheeks heat up.

“Shut the fuck up, Josty,” you spat out jokingly, pushing his shoulder as you found an empty spot to sit on. “Don’t chirp my boyfriend,”

The weight of Cale’s body sitting next to you was enough to distract you for a second, but his thick voice in your ear really took your breath away. “Boyfriend?”

You bit your lip, looking up at him innocently before sending him a quick smile. “Only if you want to,”

He hummed, jokingly leaning down to press a kiss on your cheek, your heart beating loudly against your ribcage. “I’ll think about it,”

Breakfast was over in a rush, and you found yourself packing your belongings with sad sighs leaving your lips every now and then. Even though summer had barely just reached its peak, you weren’t ready to leave the memories of the camping trip behind just yet.

On the hike back to the parking lot, your hand stayed in Cale’s. It fit in his palm so easily you couldn’t help but think you were never going to stop holding his hand, as pathetic as it sounded. The air was chilly, and it held sadness as you two and the rest of the group walked back to your cars.

“I don’t want this to end,” Susanna said, hugging you tightly as you all said goodbye. “I’m going to miss you girls,”

“We’ll find a way to see each other, babe,” Sydney reassured her as they embraced each other.

“Y/N,” Nate greeted you with a smile, a smirk on his lips as he hugged you. “I’m hoping to see you at our next game with an eight on your back,”

You punched his shoulder jokingly when you parted ways, laughing along with him. “I’ll miss you too, Nate,”

Your last goodbyes were sad, numerous people piling in cars as you waved their way, your back resting against your car as you sighed softly.

“So,” Cale mumbled from behind you, stepping closer to your frame as he looked down at you. “Would be interested in our next game’s ticket and my personal jersey, as Nate suggested?”

You giggled, shaking your head as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “I mean, maybe,” you joked, biting on your lip as you let your eyes meet.

“As my girlfriend, you should probably say yes,” he said, looking down at you with a smirk as he gave you no time to respond, his lips meeting yours in a kiss.

“Girlfriend?”

He matched the smile on your face, leaning down to press another kiss before mocking your words from that morning. His voice was smooth, making your heart beat faster than usual, the butterflies in your stomach so crazy you were worried he could feel them.

“Only if you want to,”

Taglist: @thirstyybitch @bellaguarneri @boqvistsbabe @trashforbarzal @captaindaddies @keithseabrook27 @heatherawoowoo @sidscrosbyy @laurenairay @nathan-baelieu​

[jess-rewatches-prodigalson]

Alma Mater (S2, E3)

My time-stamped thoughts for this episode. As always I reference Malcolm’s mental health. A lot. So if that’s going to be a trigger for you, don’t keep reading. 

SPOILERS AHEAD:

0:20 - There’s no way Martin is actually going to escape Claremont until AT LEAST the season finale.

0:55 - Anyone else annoyed that Ainsley isn’t in Martin’s fantasy? I mean - it’s completely in character but it still pisses me off. 

1:49 - I’m sorry - what? How will pouring Malcolm a drink help this fictional situation?

2:00 - Malcolm ruining Martin’s fantasy dream is honestly such a mood. 

2:10 - “That little kill joy.” haha 

2:21 - Malcolm has a stationary bike. Of course he does. But why does he listen to the personal trainer lady (who I assume was a recording programmed on the bike)? Malcolm doesn’t seem like he needs praise or motivation to exercise. He probably does it the way I do - mindlessly as a habit. A habit built from the knowledge that if I skip a morning workout I will feel more unsettled and anxious than usual before lunch....and don’t even get me started on how quickly my depressive thoughts escalate. 

2:24 - ....I’m still convinced/hoping that this is a false memory Martin has planted in Malcolm. I’m all for Malcolm whump and Malcolm trauma...but the thought of Gil, the team, and Jessica finding out that Malcolm committed a crime terrifies me. I don’t want him to go to jail. I don’t want Gil and the team to turn their back on him. I don’t want Jessica to blame herself (more than usual).

2:39 - I love that the “Malcolm pretty much only feeds himself liquorice and lollipops” is still canon this season.

2:42 - OMG. That is not a helpful affirmation. Like maybe for anyone? If you’re traumatized/depressed/anxious “consider the past and you shall know the future” is not comforting or inspiring. It’s the opposite.

2:48 - I’m loving how confidently Malcolm has been shutting down Martin’s manipulation. #soproud

2:52 - Anyone else super upset that Martin is the person with whom Malcolm discusses his mental health the most honestly? 

3:12 - Check out the way Mr. David looks at Martin here. Does Mr. David already know about Endicott? Or is he just like, “Bitch, spit it out so I don’t have to keep guessing your current family drama.”?

3:17 - “Let’s have another session today.” .....Does Martin really think he’s Malcolm’s new therapist? DOES MALCOLM THINK THAT? IS THAT WHY HE ISN’T SEEING GABRIELLE? HAS MARTIN MANIPULATED HIM INTO THINKING THAT HE DOESN’T NEED GABRIELLE?!?

3:22 - hahahaha OMG. Mr.David is so done with Martin’s theatrics.

3:32 - Ok so two things:

Martin’s insight on Malcolm’s mental health/coping mechanisms is disturbingly on point. Almost like he’s an attentive, caring, father (which he isn’t). 

How long was Gil outside Malcolm’s door before he knocked? Do you think he overheard Malcolm’s side of the conversation? I kind of hope he did. But only if it means I get to see Gil asking Malcolm about it.

3:50 - “Put me on speaker.” I’m torn. Part of me is so proud of Malcolm for denying Martin’s need for attention....but part of me is living for a Martin/Gil showdown where they fight over Malcolm in front of Malcolm.

3:54 - Ok. So Gil was a jerk last episode but I forgive him. Gil just showed up at Malcolm’s apartment to tell him about a case instead of calling Malcolm. Gil knew Malcolm would be upset. Gil knew that Malcolm needed to hear this in person. <3 My heart is full. <3 

4:12 - Concerned!Gil is everything. Look at how much he cares about Malcolm and what this case will inevitably bring up for Malcolm. You can almost see how badly Gil doesn’t want Malcolm on this case. 

4:13 - “What if I said I need you?” Damn. Gil knows. He knows that Malcolm desperately doesn’t want to ever disappoint Gil. Gil is Malcolm’s hero and, when Malcolm is thinking straight, he’d do anything for Gil. 

4:17 - <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 Gil looks so sad when he notices Malcolm’s hand shaking. Can a heart simultaneously break and heal? 

4:23 - Oh yeah. Gil definitely wanted Brumback dead for what he did to Malcolm. He doesn’t even try giving Malcolm the “you’re being insensitive” look. 

4:42 - Wow. That school is nicer than my university. 

4:47 - Do you think Gil’s been to the school before? To visit and/or pick up Malcolm? ....I really want to believe he did. Gil looks like he’s leading Malcolm through campus. Gil looks like he’s familiar with the campus. Surely that means he visited Malcolm there. Right?

5:17 - So...was the “office under water” thing officially a prank? It’s brutal. Forget the murder, Brumback would’ve expelled kids for that prank. 

5:27 - I love how Dani looks at Gil for clarification here. She’s like, “Malcolm is upset, ranting, and making no sense. I’m not going to set him off further by asking more questions. But I need to know what the hell he’s going on about.”

5:40 - Soooo is JT texting Dani? Or is Tally? I really hope it’s Tally. I hope Dani’s texts are all reading something along the lines of “He won’t stop pacing and panicking. If he doesn’t calm down I’m going to slap him.”

5:43 - I love the look of disbelief that Gil shoots Dani when her phone goes off. haha

5:52 - hahaha Gil so heard Edrisa the first time. He was just giving her a chance to conform to professional social standards. 

6:03 - hahahaha OMG. Edrisa is a treasure.

6:56 - awww Malcolm, baby. :( This boy has so much trauma. I love it. 

7:07 - I’m assuming Malcolm’s ‘high school’ was grades 10-12 (not 8-12 which is common in the area of Canada where I grew up) so that means Tom Payne is currently being passed off as a 15-16 year old. It kinda works. But ngl - I spent most of this scene thinking “could they not hire a kid because of COVID?” 

7:12 - I’m not actually mad that Tom Payne was allowed to play high school Malcolm though. His performance in this scene is really moving. “Be someone new.” :( <3

7:45 - Sooooo Malcolm changed his name before he was legally an adult. If it’s his legal last name (we see “Bright” on pill bottles in S1 so it’s his legal name now at least) Jessica had to have signed the paperwork. Damn. I wish I was there to see that process regardless of when it became his legal last name.

7:49 - Baby Malcolm looks so comforted by Martin’s acceptance of his new name and new school. It breaks my heart. 

8:00 - Wait. There was a teacher who liked Malcolm at this school? The son a serial killer? AND the teacher recognizes Malcolm 15 years later?!? Nah. I don’t buy it. I love Malcolm but I feel like the teachers would’ve avoided developing any sort of relationship with Malcolm even if they didn’t have a problem with him. 

8:05 - Hold up. This school is so fancy. Are you telling me they don’t have outdoor security cameras? Surely those would’ve told you who the suspects for the desk thing were at least. 

8:15 - awwww poor Malcolm looks shattered here. :( 

8:31 - “Easy. Let’s keep an open mind.”  That is pure Dad!Gil energy and I’m here for it. 

8:39 - Of course. Of course Jessica is involved in the rich school. 

8:51 - I’m on Gil and Malcolm’s side here. Jessica is putting her reputation over Malcolm’s mental health. Shame on her. No no. I will not stand for this - and neither will Gil. Damn. Look at how pissed he is on Malcolm’s behalf. <3 So sweet. 

9:06 - “Pop-pop’s aquatic center”!?!? Soooo is Pop-pop Jessica’s grandfather or Malcolm’s? Either way give me more information about the extended family. Are they dead? Did they disown them after the Surgeon business? I WANT ANSWERS FEDAK. 

9:15 - I swear. Malcolm is the best son/brother ever. The sacrifices he makes for his Mom/sister are unreal. Also - how much do you want to bet that Malcolm was thinking about the Endicott murder coming out when Jessica said, “how soon until they connect that back to me?”. Malcolm looks so sad here. 

9:23 - Nah. I don’t like Delaney. Even on the first watch I was put off by him. Something about him just creeps me out. He’s showing a weird amount of affection for Malcolm 15 years after Malcolm finished school. IDK maybe I was just upset that someone was trying to mimic Gil’s relationship with Malcolm? 

9:27 - oooooooohhhhh Mom and Dad are fighting. hahaha Malcolm looks so uncomfortable. Gil looks livid. Is Gil pissed because Jessica dumped him or because she totally just neglected Malcolm’s well-being for her own? Probably both. Either way, it’s endlessly entertaining. 

9:53 - I’m on Gil’s side here. She dumped him (like a f**ing moron) because she “doesn’t want to hurt him” and because she’s “broken” and “cursed”. Yet - she manipulates her way into cases. Making her business Gil’s. Gil should be pissed - she broke his heart. Again. Like he’s literally been choosing to hang out with Malcolm, Jessica’s (let’s face it) broken son, for more than 20 years. Jessica’s crazy if she thinks that she’s going to get Gil killed or hurt just because she’s a Whitly. Malcolm’s technically a Whitly - Gil hasn’t died yet. 

10:15 - “Not usually.” Dang. That was icy.

10:50 - Yo this is one messed up bible study. Take it from someone who has attended many young adult/teenage bible studies. This is crazy. Usually it’s: read the bible for 5-10 minutes as a group, discuss how you interpreted it for 15-20 mins, pray as a group for 5 mins, then like an hour of tea/coffee, cookies, board games, and general chatting about normal stuff like romance, school, and personal drama. 

11:44 - “Poor Tally.” hahaha I’m willing to bet that Tally is texting Dani - not JT. I just can’t imagine a panicking, first-time father, texting his little sister with accurate medical details about his wife’s pre-labour experience. He’s probably way too panicked to remember the medical jargon that is “foley ballon”.

12:00 - I’ve watched this scene about 30 times. I’m in love with it. Tom Payne’s performance is haunting and I’m a sucker for emotional whump. I love how Dani is concerned about Malcolm but respectful enough to pry until he shuts down. I love Malcolm’s little speech about the hand tremor (even though it doesn’t make sense because baby Malcolm’s hand was shaking when Shannon interrogated him - but that’s a whole different can of worms I’m not going to rant about).

 12:39 - Does anyone else think it’s weird that there’s a bolt on the closet door? Why isn’t there a lock in the door handle like every other interior school door? I mean, I guess it’s because they can be unlocked from the inside and Nicky would’ve needed a key....but still. The things I forgive for the sake of plot. 

13:25 - Damn. Brumback was a real jerk. “I know what you really are.” Do you know how painful that would be for Malcolm to hear? Regardless of what he almost did to Nicky? Everywhere Malcolm goes people accuse him of being just like his father. Is it surprising that in a moment of weakness, with teenage hormones, Malcolm snapped and said, “Eff it. They think I’m a murderer anyways.”

13:26 - OMG. How bad were the kids at this school?!?! Brumback expelled so many kids. Holy hell. Also - Brumback is wearing a wedding ring. Did he get divorced before he died? Did his wife pass away before him? Why was his family not part of this investigation at all?

13:31 - Brumback writing “Malcolm Whitly” instead of Malcolm Bright is....ouch. I just. My heart breaks for Malcolm.

13:37 - OMG. Traumatized people going through PTSD flashbacks should not be unattended next to a pool of water. Honestly - I thought our boy was going to drown. Which the whumper in me would’ve loved but also I don’t think it was right for the plot on this one. 

14:38 - Martin is such a liar. He definitely thinks he’s God’s gift to the Earth. 

15:02 - Martin knows a lot about the security zones. Something tells me this isn’t the first time he’s contemplated escaping. 

15:04 - Oh shit. Daryl has an imaginary cell mate. I know that’s a serious mental illness and I shouldn’t laugh but OMG. The moment Martin realizes that Daryl is delusional is priceless. hahahaha

15:25 - How much to do want to bet Mr. David has a red key card? Martin’s grin confirms it. 

15:40 - Wow. The classrooms in this high school are really big. I would’ve thought this fancy private school would have smaller class sizes.

15:49 - YES. OMG. Malcolm walking into that classroom soaking wet is golden. *chef’s kiss* Look at Gil’s face - it’s a mixture of concern and disbelief. He’s soooo worried about Malcolm right now. <3 

16:07 - It’s a good thing Malcolm’s rich because that phone is never going to be useful again. 

16:20 - ahhahahaha OMG. WTF. Gil’s little twinkle-finger wave is hilarious. 

16:38 - This whole scene Gil is just staring at Malcolm with so much concern. It warms my cold, dead heart. <3

16:46 - Do you think Malcolm looked for his name in the book? Is it the same book? Do you think Brumback expelled enough kids that this is a new black book?

17:08 - Ok. So I immediately don’t like Louisa. That level of confidence and self-absorption is very unattractive. 

17:25 - Louisa volunteers in the library. That’s how she got access to the poison. 

17:35 - “Dude. You’re dripping.” “Yeah. Water does that.” Can Malcolm be this sassy every episode?!? I’m living for it. 

17:57 - “Boys right? Oof” haha I love Malcolm talking to teenagers. I want it in every episode. ALSO - the jock’s story about the two girls - I’m sorry, but I just don’t see how that an expulsion level offence unless the kid is leaving something out of the story. 

18:31 - Of course they talked about this before they came there. DELANEY WARNED THEM. But mostly to keep his little cheating ring hush hush. 

18:55 - And just like that we’ve been blessed with Malcolm in casual clothes. Wish I could’ve seen Gil question Malcolm’s swim though. 

19:26 - OMG. Edrisa is such a cute little nerd. <3 Protect her at all costs. 

20:00 - Gil and Jessica arguing is amazing. I’m loving it and hating it. Because I want them to live happily ever after in a fairytale world but I do enjoy the drama. 

20:06 - hahaha look at how Jessica just pushes Gil to the side and plows on to Malcolm. This woman is fierce.

20:11 - Yes. Yes Malcolm. Tell Mom she has unrealistic and insensitive expectations of you.

 20:18 - What kind of school is this?!? The board of trustee members are buddy buddy with the students?!? 

20:22 - “They’re all from impeccable families.” “So was I” Mic drop. Watch Malcolm drop the truth bombs. This is maybe the best line in this episode. 

20:30 - “And just like you - none of them is capable of murder.” .....well this sentence is going to come back and bite Jessica in the butt later this season. 

20:44 - The fact that these kids think Edrisa is a freshman is actually hilarious to me. 

20:50 - OMG. “Welcome to boarding school. Bitch.” I was ready for Louisa to die right here. She just punched Edrisa and then called her a bitch. No no no. Edrisa is a quirky treasure and we must protect her. 

21:00 - Damn. I wish we got to see the team’s reaction when they found out one of their teenage suspects assaulted their favourite M.E.

21:10 - Why is it soooo attractive when Malcolm wears casual shirts under a suit jacket? 

21:53 - “My vote is for Louisa. The girl’s got a heavy fist.” hahaha I love Edrisa. SO SO much. 

22:05 - Soooo is Jessica some sort of consultant now? They used her to interview cult extractors and now rich, teenage murder suspect. Is she the “rich person investigator” now?

22:11 - Does Louisa know that Malcolm is Jessica’s son?

23:04 - Louisa is a bad liar. 

24:15 - Delaney should be ashamed. He told Nicky who Malcolm’s dad was. He is the reason that Malcolm got locked in a closet for 3 days. He is the reason Malcolm is claustrophobic. This man should have his teaching license seized and be charged with child abuse. What he did was absolutely despicable. 

24:35 - “My mom’s sending a car.” It’s nice that Malcolm doesn’t always refer to Jessica as “mother”

25:00 - This is heartbreaking. I hope Nicky got expelled. If he didn’t - Malcolm experience a bigger injustice than we were lead to believe. Look at Nicky walking away from Malcolm. That kid has no remorse. I don’t blame Malcolm for seeking revenge. Malcolm keeps getting burned by people. Something had to give eventually.

25:30 - The biggest crime this episode committed is that we only saw Malcolm getting comfort from DELANEY. Honestly. Where was my papa Gil moment?!? Or a Dani+Malcolm moment?!?

25:51 - I doubt Delaney tried to stand up for Malcolm. He probably encouraged the expulsion. 

26:05 - “Please.” Yikes. This has been torturing Malcolm for years. Who sold him out? Who ruined his last chance at a happy childhood? Who allowed him to be traumatized further? Who gave him the hand tremor (assuming we’re ignoring the S1 canon). 

26:38 - What. A. Getaway. This school is full of crazy rich kids.

26:55 - “This time”?!? Doesn’t Martin always root for the killer?

27:05 - I love everything about this interaction between Martin and Malcolm. I love how upset Malcolm is. I love how Malcolm calls out Martin for being a bad dad. I love that Martin just sits there and takes it. Martin even looks a little sad. It makes me wonder - did Martin know about Delaney’s cheating ring? Did Martin manipulate Delaney into thinking Malcolm was a threat and convince him to get Malcolm expelled? I can see Martin doing it. If for no other reason than to tarnish the “Milton legacy” at Remington. 

28:04 - UGH. I want to see how Malcolm got out of that closet SO BAD. Who found him? How close to death was he? PLEASE TELL ME IT WAS GIL. Why didn’t Jessica investigate when Malcolm didn’t show up at the Hamptons as planned? 

28:13 - “How you wish that were true.” Ouch. Martin is a real asshole. He knows just how to destabilize Malcolm’s confidence. 

28:56 - Even now, Martin is trying to manipulate Malcolm. Their relationship is so dysfunctional, beautiful, heartbreaking, and complex. I could watch them interact forever. 

29:31 - Look at that little head shake from Mr. David. Martin’s cell is not soundproof. Mr. David heard everything. Mr. David always hears everything. Mr. David knows about Endicott. Istg. 

30:12 - Delaney is a scumbag. He might not be a serial killer but he’s another male, adult asshole who gained Malcolm’s trust and then stabbed him in the back. 

30:37 - OK. So I know, I’ve been hypothesizing that Mr. David is an ally to Martin’s crazy schemes, or that he worked for Endicott, or that Martin is going to try to kill Mr. David. BUT YO. IF MR. DAVID DIES I WILL THROW HANDS. HE’S SUCH A GREAT CHARACTER. 

31:40 - This is a weirdly fancy room for video games. Also I miss JT. He should be here. I wish he was here. He would’ve been so good in this episode. Can you imagine his facial expressions and comments when he finds out little tidbits about Malcolm’s teenage past?! It would’ve been comedic GOLD. Couldn’t Tally give birth during a less interesting episode?!?! 

32:15 - I’m convinced that Malcolm isn’t actually upset that Delaney’s crime is running the cheating ring. I think Malcolm’s upset because he just realized the only positive male role model (aside from Gil) that he had as a teenager was a manipulative liar who betrayed him. Malcolm just realized that this dude never cared about him and he’s crushed.

32:27 - Wait. Does Delaney make the kids pay him for the answers? Because that actually makes sense. 

33:08 - This whole scene where Molly runs out of the back room and Dani says, “who are you running from?” is really cringey to me. 

33:19 - Oh great. Now the guy who betrayed Malcolm is touching the back of Malcolm’s neck. JUST LIKE GIL DOES. Well....something tells me that’s going to taint how comforting Malcolm find’s that gesture coming from Gil for a while. Malcolm just isn’t allowed to be happy. Even for a moment. It’s a shame. I also love it. 

33:40 - Awww...poor Malcolm is claustrophobic and he gets locked in the vault with a dying man. Look how desperate he is to get out of there - to save Delaney and to save himself more mental distress. 

33:53 - Look at Malcolm panicking here. He tries to hide his panic as concern for Delaney but he’s clearly freaking out about being trapped in a smallish space. 

34:25 - Yep. Malcolm didn’t think he could trust Daryl because Daryl is delusional. SO Martin threatens to murder Daryl and then metaphorically stabs the dude in the back. This is perfectly in character. 

35:25 - Damn. Louisa is seriously mentally ill. She has zero empathy. 

35:57 - Malcolm projecting his mental issues on the killer du jour is always simultaneously cringey and amazing to me. 

36:26 - I’m not going to lie. Daryl screaming “He’s a Judas” as he was dragged away was hilarious. 

37:04 - Holy shit. This took a turn. I’ll be honest - I don’t blame Malcolm for almost killing Nicky. But it does scare me. 

38:35 - That story must have been haunting Malcolm for 15 years. I bet you he’s never told anyone not even Gabrielle. He’s had nightmares about it. Because he knows he’s capable of murder. Just like Martin. That terrifies Malcolm more than anything in the world. 

39:12 - sooooo Delaney just heard that whole confession. Delaney lives. Something tells me this is going to be a problem for Malcolm when Endicott’s murder is investigated later in the season.

39:35 - “Are you insane?” “Maybe.” That’s it. That’s the show. 

40:00 - Two questions: 1) Where is Dani? 2) Why does Gil not know where Malcolm is right now?

40:22 - Look Fedak screwed us over. We didn’t get to see Gil find Malcolm half-dead on the floor of that library vault. BUT this scene almost makes up for it. 

40:24 - Malcolm wrapped in a blanket is so so cute. I just want to hug him. I want Gil to hug him. Ugh. <3 

40:28 - I love that you can tell that Malcolm and Gil have had this sort of discussion about Malcolm’s sense of self-preservation numerous times in the past. Gil looks sooooo pissed. And concerned. 

40:35 - Malcolm’s imitation of Gil makes me so so so so happy. I just. Ugh. It’s adorable. Look at how exasperated it makes Gil. Look at Dani’s reaction to it. This might be the greatest “found family”. scenes this show has given us to date. 

40:55 - “All in a day’s work.” Oh yeah. Gil is super concerned about Malcolm’s mental state. Gil is Worried. I want to see more of it. 

40:57 - I love that Dani just can’t wait anymore. She’s so precious. Look at how excited she is about JT’s baby. <3 I’m in love. She’s so soft here - it’s beautiful and rare for this show to let the audience see this side of Dani. 

41:00 - GIL’S REACTION. <3 OMG. I LOVE HIM. HE LOOKS SO HAPPY. I HOPE JT AND TALLY DUB HIM THE BABY’S UNOFFICIAL GRANDFATHER. 

41:02 - MALCOLM’S FACE. <3 <3 <3 IS THIS THE FIRST TIME HE’S EVER SEEN A BABY? HE’S SO ENAMORED WITH THIS CHILD ALREADY. LOOK AT HOW MUCH MALCOLM ALREADY LOVES JT’S KID. <3 <3 IT’S SO SOFT. I LOVE IT SO SO SO SO MUCH. 

41:22 - I can’t decide about this scene. On one hand - I think it’s really mature of Malcolm to apologize to Martin. It’s a courtesy that Martin doesn’t deserve. ON THE OTHER HAND - I wonder if Malcolm is only apologizing to throw Martin off balance. I wonder if this is Malcolm’s attempt to manipulate Martin for once. Either way - I love it. 

42:25 - Martin always gets the last word. He always worms his way into Malcolm’s brain and screws with Malcolm’s sense of self. I hate it. But I also find it so captivating. 

43:05 - Sooooo is Martin committing the murder next episode? Or is he just manipulating someone else to commit a murder? Either way - I’m excited. 

If you read this far - I’m flattered. I also think you’re a little crazy. But thanks for hanging out. 

[notgonnarememberthis]

Murphy’s Law

Hellooo. This has been sitting in my drafts for a minute and right now I think everyone needs a little break from the stress. The idea for this fic is the missing scene from when Jessica pulls Gil out of the trunk to when Malcolm gets to the hospital because it’d take 2 hours. I hope y’all enjoy this little exploration it was a lot of fun to write and plan this out with my best friend. The title is based on literally murphy’s law where “anything that can go wrong, will go wrong”

Jessica tries her best to keep her breathing steady, to not focus on what happened and put all of her attention into driving.

God when was the last time that she’s driven a car at all?

15 years ago, maybe. Ainsley had a fever, she was alone. Malcolm was at Gil’s, she didn’t have a choice. She was so scared…

It’s the closest she’s ever come to calling Martin, herself. The thought fills her mouth with disgust and she has to shake her head to force the memories away. For the slightest moment she’s thankful for Gil’s taste in old cars. It’s similar to the one she was taught to drive in, it feels more automatic than she would know what to do with in a much newer one, one that she might own. Her hands clench even tighter around the steering wheel.

This was so much worse than a fever.

It’s the sound of Gil’s breathing, as labored as it is that keeps her tears from falling. As long as he’s still breathing she still has time. The smell of blood is overwhelming, all of her senses are so damn overwhelmed.

She almost cries in relief at seeing the hospital.

She pulls in quickly in front of the giant emergency room sign. She spares only a moment looking around, pleading that she sees some doctor or nurse on a break. With no such luck she runs back over to the other side of the car pulling the door open.

Her heart drops when she sees his eyes are closed. “Gil,” She calls to him softly. The tears come down in full force when she sees his chest rise and fall. “Come on,” She reaches in pulling him out of the car but he’s a dead weight against her. “Gil please I need you to wake up.” She sobs. “You need to help me, come on.” He doesn’t wake, he’s completely unconscious either of blood loss or pain.

She pulls on him but stumbles backwards. She loses balance in her heels under the weight of the two of them. Her ankle twists painfully before she hits the pavement with him in her lap.

“Somebody help me!” She screams in desperation. Sobs wrack her frame as she holds her hand over the wound trying to stop the bleeding. Her head bows as she hears the doors slide open, three sets of feet racing towards them. A fourth comes wheeling a gurney and just like that he’s lifted off and away from her.

A man helps her to her feet and she’s back into action once again. “What’s his name? What happened?”

“His name is Lieutenant Gil Arroyo with major crimes. He was stabbed and dragged into the back of a trunk. I wrecked into the car to get him out.”

The man nods his thanks, turning his full attention to Gil. “Lieutenant, we’re going to do our best to help you.”

“His blood type is A positive, he has no allergies, and he’s on no medication.” She follows the gurney along until a hand stops her, grabbing at her elbow.

“Mrs. Arroyo, you can’t go in. You need to let the doctors do their work.” She turns to the voice. A much younger blonde woman looks at her with a softness that hurts so badly. That’s the kind of compassion that this world tears apart. She would be eaten alive.

“I’m not-” She tries to correct the girl, but sobs take over once again. “I can’t leave him.”

“I need to get you checked out, okay?” She asks. “You said you wrecked the car, correct?” Jessica tries not to let her irritation bubble to the surface with a sigh.

“I’m fine.”

“It’s only procedure ma’am.” Jessica looks down at her again. Her eyes, they remind her so much of Ainsley. “Let me help you.” She nods following her to a spare bench.

“What’s your name?” She asks weakly.

“Tiff.” She smiles gently. “Yours?”

“Jessica, Jessica Whitly.” Realization settles over the girl’s face.

“Oh. I’m sorry I assumed you were married to Lieutenant Arroyo.” Jessica swallows the guilt at the back of her throat. Maybe, once upon a time, that could’ve been a possibility. She’s almost relieved when the girl doesn’t seem to recognize her. “Can you tell me, completely, what happened?”

“Depends, would you believe me?” Sarcasm, her best defense, coats her tongue. 

“I’ve seen a man who lived through getting rebar through the skull and make a full recovery. Try me.” Jessica sighs, detailing the horrors of the night to this poor girl as she checked on her. She winced slightly when the girl grabbed the ankle that had twisted but otherwise, she was unharmed.

Just then the doors burst open and they wheeled Gil quickly out of the room. She stood up, ready to follow when the girl puts a hand on her shoulder. “They’re taking him back to the operating room. He just stabilized enough to move him.” The girl’s eyes fall to her hands, still stained a deep red with blood. “Other than a sprained ankle I think you’re perfectly fine. We’ll need to do an x-ray for confirmation but that can wait. Let’s get you cleaned up, ok?”

She nods, numbly following the girl to the nearest bathroom. She washes her hands wishing that she could get rid of the smell burning her nose. She knows it’s stained her dress and the shoes, even though they’re black she can still smell it.

“Does he have anyone you can call? A wife? Next of kin?” Jessica almost laughs.

“I’m his emergency contact.” She sighs. “His wife died three years ago. No children.”

“Well he was very lucky you were here. Not many people would know that much information. It was very helpful.”

“God, I need to call my son.” She looks around for her purse, surely she must have had it. Maybe she left it in the car. “He’s like a father to him he’s-” Oh god, Malcolm is probably on a plane by now. She’d given Gil the money to get him out of the country until his accusations cleared up. She needs to try. “Did you see my-”

Her question stops in her tracks as she remembers what happened again. She’d left her purse behind when she smashed the plate into Nicholas’ head. She stashed her phone inside when she tried to call 9-1-1.

“I lost my phone.” A bitter laugh escapes her. Tears fall all over again, ones of frustration at the world.

“You can borrow mine.” She makes a mental note to look into the girl later. Truly pay her back for the help that she’s given. “I can bring you to the waiting room if you’d like, maybe I can wait with you until your son comes.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” She smiles sadly. “You shouldn’t have to be alone right now.”

“Thank you.” She whispers.

Her fingers shake as she dials Malcolm’s number. She bites her lip as the phone rings twice, trying to think of what the hell she was supposed to say to him.

“Mother?”

She almost cries with relief. “Malcolm,” She sighs.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” She can almost see him sitting up, looking around in a panic.

“Gil’s in the hospital. He was stabbed.”

“I’m in Connecticut, I’ll be there as soon as possible. Don’t leave, it’s not safe. I’ll call Dani and JT so they can come to the hospital. They’ll sit with you until I can get there. Where’s Ainsley? Where’s your phone?”

The rapid fire statements throw her off as she catches up Malcolm on what happened. She almost loses all sense of where she is until she feels something heavy settle on her shoulders. The blanket is a welcome warmth against the frigid hospital air. 

She calls Ainsley too but she’s stuck in the office until she can get out of the emergency press meeting. She promises to pick her up some clothes from the house before coming over after she gets off, though. It will be a welcome relief to get out of the dress that feels like it’s suffocating her. The intern, Tiff, has to leave shortly before either Dani or JT arrive, but it’s not without her having the ability to thank her for her kindness.

She will feel better when Malcolm and Ainsley both are there. Until then, she holds desperately onto what little control of her life she has left.

After all, it couldn’t possibly get worse.

[shinebrightlikeamalcolm]

Reader telling Malcolm shes pregnante 💖

You had every piece of evidence in a bag, and it was going in the picnic basket you were making up for your scheduled afternoon date in Central Park. The team had given you an actual evidence bag, because if you couldn’t laugh about this sort of thing, well, you might just break down in fear.

You wanted a pretty place to tell him, something special, but nothing too elaborate or too public in case of the potential subsequent meltdown. You had Gil, Jessica, pretty much everyone on standby, and a radio for communication if things went well for his family to come in and celebrate….or in case things went horribly wrong. Jessica’s driver would be on the scene in case he ran. Gil’s was there in case he needed to get away with a father figure. Various types of alcohol were being packed in case he needed a drink, and she had his fast acting anxiety pills as a back up. As a group, they’d thought of everything.

Operation Baby Heist (it was JT’s idea) was in full effect.

You knew he’d fight it. You knew him that well. Each piece of evidence saying you were pregnant wouldn’t be enough to convince him on its own. Your weapons of choice were a photo of your last period cycle in your tracking app,  three sanitized and capped off pregnancy tests, of different brands (because science? More variables drawing the same conclusion would help), a urine analysis test result, a blood test result, paperwork with an estimated due date (you’d even waited past the normal safety window to make sure things were even more solid and set in stone) and finally, a sonogram with “Hi, Dad!” typed up on it, and to make it even more clear, an arrow pointed to the little splotch that was in fact, a baby. Your baby…and Malcolm’s.

Evidence bag on hand, Malcolm Bright wouldn’t be able to deny he was going to be a father

You called Gil and said you were on your way, and Gil said Malcolm had just left the precinct. He was not having the best day; hand tremors had been noticed and he seemed tired, as usual. Damn. You’d hoped for better conditions. But you said to carry on, as you walked down the stairs to Jessica’s waiting car, and the grandmother and aunt to be waiting there. Jessica was already drinking.

“Mom, calm down, it’s going to be fine,” Ainsley encouraged, the tone of her voice suggesting this was probably the tenth time she’d said it. Jessica waved her off.

“It’ll be fine eventually, but today? Oh we’ll see. You know your brother…”

“Hi, mom to be here…” You interrupted, waving a bit, and the conversation on hand not helping your nerves.

“Of course, sorry (y/n),” Jessica said, taking a deep breath. “I’m just,” her hand was in the air making dramatic gestures, “so worried about him.” You nod slowly, a hand resting on your tiny little bump. It honestly just looked like you were bloated right now.. But you knew it was there; a piece of Malcolm, a piece of you, mixed together with a little bit of oversight and some unprotected sex. You weren’t married, and originally you thought that would be a big cause for concern. But Jessica could care less; that wasn’t a scandal anymore, and it was a blip in the eye of the Whitly family’s story. 

“God, and his genetics! What if it’s a boy? What if it looks like him!” You heard as Jessica kept drinking, and you take a deep, shaky breath.

“All the things I’ve wondered about too…” You confess and God almighty you wished you could drink. Because you loved Malcolm with all you had, but you wondered sometimes about the legacy you carried.

“Mom, be helpful or get out of the car,” Ainsley hissed, always a buffer, and you were especially grateful for her. Your focus needed to be on Malcolm, not his mother. “This is good news, and (y/n) and Malcolm are going to be amazing parents, and I am going to be an amazing aunt. And you’ll be a semi decent grandmother,” Ainsley joked, trying to relax everyone as they arrived at a drop off point at Central Park.

They all got out of the car and walked through the park together towards the designated spot for the picnic. Malcolm was walking, they had the advantage of timing. The team had snuck from the precinct and were driving over too. It was going to be a challenge, all of them hiding from Malcolm, and you hiding any motives from your profiler boyfriend. 

When you got there, Ainsley and Jessica were the first to sneak off, cell phones on them, plus a radio. Gil helped you set up the picnic, and told you good luck as Dani and JT scoped out a good hiding spot, away from the direction Malcolm would be heading. And then, you were by yourself, waiting. The red wine looked so so so tempting. But you stayed away from it.

The breeze is perfect, the temperature just right. The area wasn’t super crowded right, and only a few tourists were in sight. Everyone else was just a local minding their own business. You eye the brie and especially the fresh grapes; they sound extra good to you right now, and you pluck a few. You bite into them and the juice and texture taste delicious to you. Your cravings so far had been reasonable and unsuspicious. If anything, the thing you’ve craved more lately, was Malcolm. Your sex drive had been through the roof, and you’d begged more and more for him, and to stay in his bed, even though you had a spare bed across from his in the open floor plan. But you’d just wanted to sleep beside him….

For an impressive former FBI profiler, he still suspected nothing. Too many thoughts, too many memories and terrors had kept him blind to what was happening in front of him. And you didn’t blame him; it meant you got to, hopefully, happily surprise him. 

“He’s getting close,” you hear Gil say on the radio, interrupting your thoughts. You thank him, and turn the sound off, and hide the radio as you lead back on your hands, enjoying the weather, and trying to calm down your racing heart.

But it doesn’t calm; it races all the more in joyous anticipation as you finally see Malcolm and wave him over. You see the little smile on his face at the picnic you’ve set up, and watch him hide his hands in his jacket pocket as he walked to you. 

You felt the light little flutters deep in your core, like soft butterfly wings inside you, and you smile even more. Every instinct as old as time makes you crave wanting to touch your lower abdomen softly at the feeling of the flutters, but you can’t. Not yet. 

You barely hear him say hello, but you feel Malcolm’s soft kiss in greeting, and you wished you’d chosen someplace private. With the soft little butterfly wings moving inside you, and his gentle smile, his cologne, and that kiss, you were already flush, and your breasts, already more sensitive, were aching at the brief contact from his chest against yours. 

You shake the fuzzy feeling from your head as you both start to eat, and pass various cheeses and breads back and forth to each other, and he tells you how nice this was. His hands are shaking, and you ask him what’s happened. You want the air clear before you tell him. You don’t want murder or Martin Whitly on his mind when you tell him. 

“Another memory…don’t worry about it now.” You examine him closer, and sigh.  

“You went and saw him today…didn’t you?” There’s no anger in your voice. It’s disappointment. Of all days, why today? Martin was fully occupying his mind right now. And part of you wants to call it all off. 

But the baby was coming, regardless of Martin Whitly’s presence in their life or not. So you fight against the fuzzy feeling in your head distracting you from the task at hand, and taking Malcolm’s shaky hands in your own, massaging them gently. Sometimes it helped. The anticipation in you was making you feel almost sick. It was now or never, but as you open your mouth, he does the job for you. He reaches for the wine and pours himself a glass. Your body is warm and you can feel the anxious excitement coursing through every fiber of your being. 

“Do you want some?” He asks. You smile slightly, and your own hands begin to shake. 

“I’d love to…but I can’t drink.” He’s already pouring you a glass, never expecting a no. But he quickly stops and frowns and looks up at you. 

“You’re stopping drinking? You don’t drink that much (y/n), I think you’re ok…” 

“No, Malcolm…I mean…I can’t drink.” You smile softly at him, leaning your head in just a little, urging for him to get it. 

The bottle fell from his hand, red wine pouring onto the grass. His eyes were wide, brows lifted, and his mouth had parted in shock. “You can’t be -” 

“Malcolm, I’m pregnant.” You finally say. 

“You can’t be…we’ve been careful!” You can’t help but laugh at the statement. 

“Not careful enough!” You knew he wasn’t going to believe you, so you pulled out the very literal evidence bag, and his eyes go even wider as you hand it all to him. 

“Three tests -” 

“Can be in conclusive….” He said as he opened the bag. 

“Urine test at my GYN’s…” 

“Still not a guarantee…” 

“Blood test, due date, and a sonogram…” You finish with a sigh before he can interrupt you again, as he looked through at everything. He ignores the pregnancy tests, and even the test results. What he picks up is the due date. 

“You’re…you’re almost three months along…” He says quietly, and it seemed like acceptance, but also like disappointment. You nod slowly. 

“Yes, I’m almost done my first trimester.” You say as you watch his face. The initial panic as changed to worry. “I’ve been taking all necessary medicine, seeing my doctor, I promise…the baby is healthy, and so am I. We’re both ok.” 

“How did I miss this?” The self-loathing was dripping off his words as he clutched the sonogram. 

“It’s ok…you’re not the one carrying a baby.” You reach out to touch his hand but he pulled away. It makes your heart feel like it’s being squeezed. You just wanted him to be happy with the news, but you’d known that was a long shot.He still hadn’t run, and that was a good sign, but it was the bare minimum. Gil sticks his head out from a tree, and you try to casually gesture with your hand for him to go back. Fuck. 

“No it’s not ok! I should have known sooner, I should have…” You lifted your eyebrows, curious where this was going. “I should have been taking care of you.” And you burst out laughing again. 

“Malcolm, it’s not your job to take care of me, the same way it’s not my job to take care of you. We watch our for and care for each other….” 

“(Y/n) I can’t be a dad.” He finally blurts out and you know your face looks crest-fallen by the subsequent look on his. He’s hurt you, and it’s the last thing he wants to do. “I can’t even take care of myself properly, let alone a kid! I can’t put the burden of who I am, of who…of who he is…on a little baby.” 

“Well, you are going to be a dad Malcolm,” more panic has set on his face as he looks back at the sonogram. And you pull out the words you didn’t want to say, but had planned for just in case. “Look…I’m keeping it. You know I wanted to be a mom. I love you so much Malcolm, but I can, and will do it without you if you don’t want to be involved, or if it’s too much for you….I….I would understand.” Tears are forming in the back of your eyes, and your vision clouds. You blink them away. You’d always thought this could be a possibility; that he would leave, that you’d be on your own and he couldn’t do this. But it’s the last thing you wanted; you loved this man so desperately. He says nothing and you continue, your voice struggling not to crack.

“I know who you are, I know your family, I even went to meet your dad. I know who he is, I researched what he’s done, so I could understand. I’ve been to therapy with you, and to doctors appointments with you. I’ve watched you change your medications, and try to sleep. I’ve seen your night terrors. And I know your father wasn’t there for you, I know he ruined your childhood, but he doesn’t have to ruin this. You can be better than him Malcolm…I know you’re better than him! This…this baby won’t be a Whitly, it’ll be a Bright.” 

One tear escapes without permission, and his face crumbles. He reaches out and hugs you tight, the sonogram still in his hand as he holds you tight. You said the right words, the words he needed to hear; your unwavering faith in him. And he can’t stand to see you cry, especially when he knows he’s the cause. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry (y/n), I’m just…” 

“Scared, I know…me too, I’m scared too Malcolm. And I know, it’s a shock, it’s a surprise…” He was crying too, tears filling his eyes, but…he was smiling. 

“It’s a good surprise…it’s…it’s an incredible surprise,” he said holding you closer. 

“You’re going to be a dad,” You beam up at him as he holds you and he hugs you back, and he’s still clutching to the sonogram like it’s a lifeline. 

“I’m going to be a dad…” He finally says, and he kisses you softly, smiling softly in the kiss. You were his strength and his hope; as long as he had you, he knew he could do this. “We’re going to be parents…” 

“A family,” You tell him, and as you do, you lift up the radio and tell everyone to come in, and then Malcolm saw the rest of his family running to them in a bigger surprise; Jessica, Ainsley, Gil, Dani, JT…his real family. They were all here, and running towards the pair to embrace them. Malcolm held his mother first, in a tight and reassuring embrace from her. Then he hugged Ainsley, and then, Gil, who whispered to him he was going to be an amazing father. 

The group hug that followed was nothing he’d ever expected, and just what he needed, and you can’t help but watch him, and finally you touch your tiny bump. You’re so loved, you think to the tiny life there. You’re so loved. You’re going to have a family, but you and Malcolm both had one all along. 

[pynkhues]

Would literally pay cold hard cash for the Annie/JT/Nancy fic you outlined in your tags. What a fabulous dynamic yes please.

I mean, it’s the ultimate dream, haha. I can’t promise I’ll ever finish this, but have a little snippet of an Annie x JT x Nancy fic:

-

“Okay, no,that’s not what I meant,” Nancy insists, briefly closing her eyes, shaking herhead, so her blonde hair fans all about her face, and JT throws up hishands, or well - - not his hands.

One of hishands.

One of hishands because the other is firmly settled on holding Dakota at his waist, thekid latching onto JT’s chest like some sort of fleshy, toddler-shaped barnacle,and okay. There are three questions here for Annie.

“Uhhhh,yeah,” JT says, eyebrows halfway up his forehead as he hoists Dakota up hiship, flailing an open-palmed hand in Nancy’s general direction. “You’re callingher poor.”

It’s enoughto make Nancy splutter, reel back, affronted, and - - okay.

Question one.

How, of allthe people at Annie’s birthday party, have Nancy and JT ended uptogether in her kitchen.

“What I said,”Nancy insists, her tone borderline shrill. “Is that I haven’t had frozen shrimpegg rolls since I was in college, and maybe I wasn’t expecting it at a partyfor a grown woman.”

Anniesquints, grabbing a few of the empty glasses stacked precariously on herspeakers, because - - y’know what, Nance? Annie is a grown woman.She has glasses instead of plastic cups. Hell, she could be the mostgrown-ass woman in this entire apartment if you count Beth just cashing in on herpostponed highschool rebellion by letting gangfriend straight up suck on herearlobe on the couch right now, and she’s pretty sure Ruby and Stan are gettingtheir freak on in her bedroom and - - okay, she can’t be too mad atthem. They did come around way early to help her set up, and maybe they crackedinto the drinks a little early, but, hear her out, she - -

“And that sh- -“ JT pauses, looks at Nancy, gormless for a moment, and then at Dakota,readjusts his hold on the toddler, who’s drooling all over a teething ring, beforerefocusing on Nancy. Nancy’s gaze darts, right as a flush builds up her neck, and JT purses his lips, before he says: “Stuff is goodparty food. Just because you wear some sorta postcode as a uniform and talkabout canapes and horderves and shit, don’t mean this,” hegestures then, to the plate of only half defrosted egg rolls currently sittingon Annie’s kitchen bench. “Ain’t what people, a few drinks in, want to actuallybe eating at parties.”

And it’s enoughto make Nancy huff, for her to fold her arms over her chest, to look a littleaffronted, a flush still building up her chest, but - - she isn’t trying to takeDakota out of his arms, Annie thinks, and it’s enough to make her blink.

Because thething is, she hadn’t really expected either of them to come in the first place. It was her34th birthday which is about as much of a nothing-birthday as youcan get, and she’d thrown it down as an offer, because - - fuck, y’know, it’dbe nice to not have to celebrate with the usual suspects – Ben and Beth andRuby and Baby Tyler and whatever collection of weirdos she currently works with, a few whoshe’s pretty sure took way too many disco biscuits before they arrived, and y’know,Annie was totally cool with that, only - - only her gaze catches as JT cups Dakota’shead to his chest, toddler slobber – having dripped down from the teething ring– all over his hand, which twists something up inside her, but more importantly brings Annie to question two.

Why is JTholding Dakota?

“I - - ” Nancyflails a little, her eyes wide, and so blue, unblinking, her nose all pointy, glowering upat JT. “I’ll have you know that my spa donates a full treatment every monthto a local charity, so, trust me. I know about - - ” she flails briefly, and JTlooks at her, raised eyebrows and pursed lips, but there’s something in Nancy’s sparkthat seems to fan his, and Annie watches - - feels a familiar heat in her atthe prospect. “Things,” she settles on, and JT laughs, scoffs, scootingDakota up his hip, staring down at her like he can’t quite believe she exists,and that just brings Annie to question three, which - -

“Are they flirting?”Ben asks, somehow newly behind her shoulder. He’s munching on one of the littlesandwiches Beth had brought over, and Annie resists the urge to slap it out ofhis hand. “Aren’t you like, dating both of them?”

She doesslap it then. Ben jerks his head back, stares at her for a moment in shock, all- - tall - - baby - - man thing. Annie glowers.

“I’mnot dating either of them,” she insists, and Ben gestures down to thefloor where his sandwich lies in at least eight parts, and Annie instead spinson the spot just to watch JT hike Dakota up his hip and for the flush to rise further up on Nancy’s neck.

Whatever twisted in her earlier just twists all the more.

[accioharry]

just stay for a moment & heal with me | brightwell (post 1x10)

dani reunites with malcolm after his kidnapping. 

this fic is based off the song All of the Love in the World by Lily Kershaw. I fell in love with it and it's literally brightwell and now I'm emotional!!!

read here on ao3 | word count: 3.2k

Dani woke up to her phone ringing on her nightstand. She grumbled, knowing full well she put her phone on do not disturb before she fell asleep. The moonlight coming in from her window allowed her to see in the darkness as she fumbled for her phone, answering it without even checking the caller ID.

“We got him,” Gil’s voice came through before she could even say anything. “Malcolm…we…we got him.” His voice was full of emotion, as though he couldn’t believe it himself.

She shot up like a light, suddenly fully awake. Her hand shook as she gripped the phone. “What…what? Is he...” she couldn’t bring herself to say it. “Where? How?”

“He’s alive, but it’s not looking good Dani,” Gil’s voice cracked. “Just…get here, to the hospital.”

Dani had never obeyed an order so quickly as soon as Gil hung up the phone, presumably calling JT or Edrisa. She nearly fell out of bed, rushing to her dresser to throw on a pair of jeans and an old college T-shirt. Her mind was racing in a thousand different directions. They got him. They got him…They saved him.

It had been six weeks since Malcolm disappeared, taken by the Junkyard Killer. Six weeks of Dani crashing on the couch at the station, of Gil and Jessica fighting, of JT not cracking a single joke. Six weeks of Ainsley bringing coffee for the team on her way to work every morning and Edrisa bringing homemade desserts every other night. Six weeks of exhausting every resource, every lead, every interview, and they always came up with nothing. For six weeks, Dani had never felt so alone.

Malcolm Bright came into her world unexpectedly, crashing into her life like a hurricane. At first, she didn’t know what to make of him. Here was the son of The Surgeon, one of the world’s worst serial killers, brought onto a case without any clarification from her colleagues. Within hours of meeting he was in her arms waking up from the worst nightmare she had ever seen someone go through. She frantically caught him as he held a person’s hand in a cooler after a bomb had gone off in a building. She made sure he stayed alive the night he accidentally got high, admitting to him more about her past than she had ever planned on sharing.

That was the night she started to feel things for Malcolm Bright, but she’d never admit that. The night he told her she could trust him, and the night she decided to let him in.

Then he was gone.

The drive to the hospital was the longest drive of her life. It was raining but Dani didn’t think about running back inside for an umbrella. At 2 am the only thing on her mind was Malcolm. An ambulance passed her apartment complex as she was walking to her car, and her heart stopped. The chances of it being Malcolm were next to nothing as she knew darn well Gil would have a police escort to the hospital, but it still made her pause. It still made her heart drop as the rain fell on her.

The street lights felt like spotlights as she drove. Each one highlighting a different part of her short time with Malcolm Bright. She smiled to herself as she remembered when Malcolm brought her tea, or when he told her that her hands were too cold. She didn’t bring gloves and knew JT would tell her she’d get hypothermia, but she didn’t turn back. Her hands were cold and all she wanted was Malcolm to get the chance to tell her that one more time.

She parked badly but didn’t stick around long enough to check. She followed the sounds of sirens to the back of the hospital, to the ambulance entrance. She recognized Gil helping Jessica and Ainsley out of a police car, no doubt he sent an officer to pick them up.

“Gil!” She called, running to catch up to them. She was out of breath by the time she reached them, Jessica putting her arms out to steady her. In the past six weeks, Jessica and Ainsley Whitly had become something of a family to her, another part of Malcolm’s life she never thought would intertwine with her own.

“Dani, where’s your umbrella?” Ainsley asked. Dani shook her head.

“Where is he?” She asked as they walked into the ER. There were cops everywhere.

“They flew him in about a half-hour ago, he’s in surgery,” Gil explained. A helicopter meant things were serious…it meant Malcolm didn’t have a lot of time left.

“Where was he? What happened?” Dani knew she was still shaking, but she wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline or the cold.

Gil pulled her and Ainsley aside as Jessica spoke to doctors across the room. “I need to prepare Jessica and Ainsley for this, but I meant what I said on the phone, it’s not good.” He gestured for Ainsley to step aside. She refused.

“Gil,” she protested. If Dani had learned anything about the Whitly family in the past six weeks, they all were extremely stubborn and resilient. Asking Ainsley to walk away would be asking Malcolm to walk away from a homicide case. It wouldn’t happen.

Gil stared at the two for a moment before nodding. “We found him about two hours north of here, in the middle of nowhere in a cabin. Watson was shot on scene after he attempted to shoot at officers. Malcolm was in the basement.”

“What was his condition?” Ainsley asked.

“He…he was barely conscious. I got to him first and he was dehydrated, starved, and badly injured. There was…a lot of blood. He was holding on for us, and when they prepared to take him to the hospital...” he trailed off.

“He what?” Dani asked. When Gil didn’t answer she raised her voice and asked again, “What happened?”

Nothing could have prepared her for when Gil said the words, “His heart stopped.”

Suddenly, Ainsley had dropped into the chair behind her. Dani was frozen, stuck standing in what felt like hell. This had to be hell because what could be worse than this? She didn’t even realize she was crying until she felt a teardrop.

“No,” she mumbled. “He didn’t die, he’s…he’s in surgery. He’s going to be fine, right? Gil, please tell me he’s going to be fine.”

“Dani, I can’t promise anything…you know that.”

“I should’ve been there!” She argued. “I should’ve been with him! Why didn’t you take me with you? Why’d you send me home tonight?”

“It was a long shot, Dani, you’re too close to this. The FBI said they didn’t want any of us there, I fought tooth and nail just to override that for myself. I did my best, but I knew it was better to not disappoint you again in case we came home empty-handed.”

“But you didn’t come home empty-handed,” her voice broke. “Gil…I can’t…” she sobbed, feeling Ainsley’s arm pulling her down into the chair next to her.

“Dani,” she started. “He’s going to be fine, he held on for us, remember that. He held out until we got him, now we have to hold on for him.”

Dani nodded, looking up when she heard footsteps entering the room. JT and his wife came in, both looking frantic and confused. Both were speaking to Gil in hushed tones, probably not to alert Jessica. Dani knew Gil would tell her in a few minutes, but wanted to spare her the pain for as long as possible. JT came to her, pulling her into his arms, and Dani let herself cry.

Malcolm was in surgery for eight hours. Gil broke the news to Jessica about Malcolm’s heart stopping, and Dani feared she’ll never forget the sound of Jessica Whitly’s heart shattering. Gil and JT did their best to comfort her, reminding her that Malcolm was still alive, just as Ainsley had to remind Dani. Regardless, his heart had stopped. They got there in time, but was it enough?

Dani paced the halls of the ER for the first few hours until Edrisa showed up around 4 am. She took one look at Dani and shuffled her and Ainsley out the door to the nearest 24 hour Starbucks down the street. Together the three of them sat and watched the sunrise, as the city woke up and began their day. Cars honking, people running in for coffee before work, even doctors from the hospital coming between their shifts.

“How can the world still be going?” Ainsley had asked at one point, her eyes not leaving her coffee cup. “How are they so oblivious to what’s happening?” Her voice was so quiet, it reminded Dani that even though she was hurting, Ainsley was hurting more. She was still Malcolm's baby sister, the one who saw his night terrors first hand and slept on the floor of his room when they were children. Dani didn’t say anything, but Edrisa reached over and took Ainsley’s hand.

They got back to the hospital around 7 am, not even realizing they had spent the past three hours in a coffee shop. Dani felt guilty but also knew the fresh air was good for her. They had brought back breakfast for everyone else, even though Ainsley had begged Jessica to go with them, knowing it was no use. The ER was different, a shift change meant new nurses and new doctors, new families waiting for their loved ones. A doctor had come out at one point, briefing Jessica and Gil about something Dani didn’t understand. Something to do with his brain activity and that was all she needed to force herself not to listen anymore.

Malcolm was out of surgery at 10 am.

By some miracle, his heart kept beating. The next 12 hours were critical for his brain, but things were looking positive. A doctor had the group moved into a private waiting area in the hospital as Malcolm was taken to be admitted to the ICU. He had a punctured lung, a few broken ribs, and had wounds on his abdomen causing him to bleed out, most likely from a knife of some sort. His lack of oxygen and his heart working to make up for the lost blood is what put him in the cardiac arrest.

Right now, Malcolm needed blood and a lot of it. The critical part was until Malcolm woke up, there was no way to tell how much damage was done to his brain during his arrest.

Dani refused to go home and change, let alone leave the waiting room. Jessica, Ainsley, and Gil went into the ICU first, not wanting to overwhelm Malcolm or the nurses. The doctors were slowly taking him off the sedation medication, but the time it would take him to fully wake up would at least be a few days. Regardless,

Dani knew she was here for the long haul, regardless of the circumstances.

Ainsley came back around thirty minutes after she had gone into the ICU. Her eyes were red and her face was stained with tears. Her normally curled blonde hair was falling out of the messy bun she had it in when she arrived, and Malcolm’s old college sweatshirt looked as though she had been chewing on the sleeves from her nerves. She sat down in the chair next to Dani, tucking her feet under her.

“How is he?” JT asked after a moment of silence. Ainsley took a deep breath, fiddling with the sleeves of Malcolm’s sweatshirt.

“He’s on a lot of morphine,” she started. “The nurse said he could potentially hear us talking to him, but he wasn’t reacting to anything Mom or Gil were saying,” she wiped tears from her eyes. “They aren’t giving him any more sedation medication, so he could start waking up in a few hours or as long as a week.”

“How are his injuries?” Edrisa asked, sipping her coffee.

“It’s hard to tell. The doctors decided he didn’t need to be on a ventilator because he never crashed during surgery and his heart rate was able to maintain normal levels once they started the blood transfusion. The nurse who changed his bandage on his stomach said it looked better already compared to when he came in, but he isn’t out of the woods yet. Not until we know his brain function.”

“Go see him, Dani,” JT said. Dani shook her head.

“Family only,” she muttered, nodding to Ainsley. “It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

“Gil pulled strings. We all can’t go in together until he’s out of ICU, but I can sneak you in Dani.” Ainsley stood up. “He’ll want to hear your voice.”

Dani had never been in an ICU. It was a small unit with nurses at every turn. Code blue machines were parked in the hall, ready to go at a moment’s notice. Dani noticed one was outside Malcolm's room as they went in. Gil and Jessica had stepped out of the room when she and Ainsley arrived.

Dani covered her mouth with her hand to hold in her cries when she saw Malcolm. He looked so vulnerable, so broken lying in that hospital bed. He was connected to too many machines to count, one for his oxygen, one for his heart, and one for monitoring his brain function. Ainsley nudged her so she’d walk into the room.

“He might hear you if you talk to him,” she muttered, before stepping out herself.

Tentatively, Dani walked towards the bed. If you took away all the machines, Malcolm just looked as though he was sleeping. He had a bandage on his forehead, one on his chin, and Dani knew the rest were under his hospital gown. The only sounds in the room were the machines, and Dani was so grateful to hear the heart machine. It meant he was here, that he was alive.

He was home.

She moved to walk around the bed, but her hand brushed his. She pulled back…he was so cold.

“Your…your hands are cold,” she said, forcing her voice not to break. She stared at him for a moment waiting for him to blink, to smile, to laugh, even though she knew he still had the sedation medication in his system. Gently, Dani put his hand in her own, careful not to pull on his IV. She tucked it under the blanket. The nurses would have to access his IV for medication, but for now, Dani wanted him to be warm. He needed to be warm.

Malcolm woke up three days later.

Even though she wanted it to, life didn’t stop. Dani was needed at the station and was grateful Gil had placed her and JT on desk duty while Malcolm was in the hospital. It wasn’t safe for them to be in the field when their minds were somewhere else.

Dani had gotten into a routine of going to the hospital after work, meaning that during the day she was going stir crazy sorting through case files that needed to be digitalized. On day three, she had enough. She told Gil she was taking a sick day, and he had smiled at her knowingly, gesturing his head in the direction of the hospital.

Dani stopped at home to grab another book and a coffee. It felt like a lifetime ago when she and Malcolm had gotten into the topic of reading and Malcolm had a list of book recommendations at the tip of his tongue. Most were about serial killers, not surprisingly, but Dani had taken note anyways. She didn’t look at the list while he was gone, but now had a small pile of books on Malcolm’s hospital nightstand that she had read. When everyone stepped out to speak with doctors, Dani even read out loud to him.

She wasn’t expecting Ainsley to run at her when she entered the ICU. Dani panicked, what happened? What went wrong?

“He’s awake!”

It took Dani a moment to process what Ainsley said. “What…what?”

“Apparently it happened last night. My mom didn’t call me because she wanted me to sleep, but I found out when I got here this morning. He’s been responding to us most of the day, but sometimes he struggles, especially because his body has been through so much. They’re going to sedate him so he can sleep without night terrors tonight because they don’t want him to hurt himself.” Ainsley let out a huge breath, having said all of that without pausing.

“But…” Dani shook her head. “His brain? It’s fine?”

“It looks like it, physically anyways,” Ainsley’s voice softened. “He isn’t talking about anything he’s been through; he just stops talking if we come close to mentioning it. Even if I tell him about things that have happened while he was…missing…he stops.” She shrugged, crossing her arms. “It’s more than I expected to be honest,” she looked back at his hospital room. “He’s been asking for you. I’m going to call my mom,” she patted Dani on the shoulder on her way out of the ICU.

It took Dani longer than she’d like to admit to getting her legs moving towards Malcolm’s room. Once she had processed everything Ainsley had said, she nearly sprinted to his room at the end of the hall.

Malcolm was watching something on the television, the curtains of his room pulled back to let the light in. He was sitting up in bed and once he heard her, his eyes turned to Dani. As soon as their eyes met, Dani knew she was going to cry again. She rushed to his bedside.

“Hey,” she smiled softly, not wanting to overwhelm him. God, she missed those blue eyes. She gently sat herself in the chair next to his bed, fully prepared for

Malcolm to ignore her when he turned back to the TV.

“You said my hands were cold,” he whispered. Dani wasn’t sure if it was the mental or physical trauma that made him speak so quietly.

She wiped her tears with her sleeve. “You heard me,” she murmured.

He nodded. “You read to me…it was nice.” She moved to cover his hand with her own. He wasn’t cold anymore.

His eyes found her own. “Thank you for finding me.” It was the first time he acknowledged the past six weeks.

“That was all Gil…I wasn’t there,” Dani felt the guilt build in her stomach. She bit her lip to stop herself from breaking down in front of him.

“You were,” he murmured, a tear falling down his face. “You were always with me.” He had visibly relaxed since she had entered the room, and his hand that was in hers held on tight, as though he was afraid she’d let go. She didn’t.

He was silent for a while and Dani assumed he had fallen asleep. She muted the TV and with one hand, awkwardly reached in her bag for the book she brought. She looked up to see that Malcolm’s eyes had met her own once more.

“Can you read it out loud?” He asked.

Dani nodded, reaching with her arm to brush the hair out of his face. “Yeah, I can.”

Malcolm smiled softly and drifted off to sleep. Thirty minutes later, that’s how Jessica and Gil found them: Malcolm with his hand in Dani’s, her head in his lap, with the book half opened, both sleeping soundly.

[grannygerd]

I’m Lynn from PVRIS! AMA

I’m Lynn from PVRIS. We just put out our new album Use Me which you can listen to HERE. This Saturday, we’re going to be playing our first album White Noise front to back in its entirety for the first time ever. You can get tickets for the live stream HERE.

Proof: https://imgur.com/9K4IgJf

DieDunkleFritte: Hey Lynn, would you rather have really small hands or really small feet? Best regards from germany :D pvrisofficial: Feet!!! Need normal sized hands to play instruments! haha

Nikkiestables: Lynn!!! I was in the US for my exchange and was going to FINALLY see you in person but I couldn’t:( do you think in the future you would tour Asia? Which parts would you like to explore? (Please say Hong Kong) pvrisofficial: We'd love to tour Asia more! We've loved the places we've been in Japan, Singapore, & South Korea so far! Would love to add Hong Kong!

ShadeOfNothing: Hey Lynn! I’ve been a PVRIS fan Since White Noise and I’ve loved seeing the band’s sound evolve through the years. I know you’re a huge believer in astrology, past lives, and the paranormal, so I was wondering if there were any crazy experiences you had witnessed or drew inspiration from while writing/producing Use Me. Thanks so much! pvrisofficial: yessssssss I am a nut. I didnt make Use Me in a haunted church this time but i DO think I stayed at a haunted airbnb. Food kept disappearing and then one night a giant ghostly handprint was left on my guitar case and my hand was way too small to have created it.

hinterscape: Hi Lynn! I've been following you guys since ~2014, you're awesome and I look up to you. Do you see yourself making music forever or how long do you see it if not? pvrisofficial: FOR-E-VER! It might take different forms and go through different stages but i think i will always be creating music!

imaliveunfortunately: Hi Lynn! First of all I love you and the style of music you've put out recently. I saw you at Reading last year, and in Manchester in 2017 so I'm really happy to seeing PVRIS get the exposure it deserves :) So it's gotta be asked, I understand there's issues with the label, but what are the chances of Mvdonna and Blood On My Hands being released? Whether it be as singles, on a new EP, the next album, etc? They're just damn good tracks pvrisofficial: I want them to come out SO BAD too haha. I want to make sure the production is perfect so its now a matter of finding the right collaborator for them.

CookThePasta: Do you believe in life after love? pvrisofficial: yes

OldManMalekith: Hi Lynn! How did working with JT on Use Me differ from your previous experiences with producers? Everyone that I've seen or heard work with him puts it as a really positive experience, and he helps make great stuff! pvrisofficial: He is the BEST. He was very similar to Blake in the sense that he was incredibly nurturing and encouraging, dedicated to making sure it was 100% everything I wanted and always stood up for me if the label ever tried to change it. His production style is definitely different but its extremely diverse. It's a lot punchier and crisper and a bit more minimal than in the past but i think it almost makes things more impactful that way!

villanelleinsuits: Hi Lynn! You’re a creative genius, thanks for existing. If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be and why?? pvrisofficial: I would love to live in the UK countryside!!! Maybe Bath or something.

Queenio01: How are you feeling today? pvrisofficial: Sleepy but EXCITED to rehearse!

dancorcoran: How often do you get recognised by fans in day to day life? pvrisofficial: Not too often! I usually get recognized at coffee shops and starbucks though? and Lush hahaha

jessica_pasta: Hi Lynn!!! Was wondering how do you make your synth patches? What synth sounds are your favorites? Thanks so much! Love PVRIS and all that you do ❤️❤️❤️❤️ pvrisofficial: I use Zebra a lot and also use a Prophet Rev2. One of my favorite things is to throw synths through different effects to get an entirely new sound!

ImadaPC: Hi Lynn, I got a question. What inspires you to make music and why? pvrisofficial: What inspires me is wanting to hear something I havent heard! I want to hear all my favorite artists and influences into one thing so that's usually how PVRIS stuff is inspired haha.

staceelogreen: What are your stand out albums of this year!:) pvrisofficial: Great Q! 070 Shake - Modus Vivendi Tinashe - Songs For You (technically 2019 but I've been jamming it all year) They. - The Amanda Tape KAYTRANADA - Bubba (2019 but it came out late 2019 so it counts as 2020 for me!) Howling - Colure

DH00338: What are you most excited about in terms of this new era of PVRIS? pvrisofficial: More writing!! and more collaborations!

creewitch: Hiya Lynn! I hope your morning is going well. When have you felt the proudest of yourself and why? ☺️ pvrisofficial: Oooo good Q! I always think there's room for improvement so it's hard to feel pride, but I am definitely grateful for my resilience through the crazy shit haha.

liky_gecko: Because you’re from the Boston area, what are your favorite spots to eat/hang out there? I may be going to school there pvrisofficial: Do itttt! My fav spots are a little outside of the city.... the Crane Estate, Mt. Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge, Maudslay State Park in Newburyport, Portsmouth NH, Shedd Park Cemetery in Lowell.

goszkv: Hi Lynn! Was wondering if you'll ever consider coming to Poland :( ofc post corona pvrisofficial: yes!

cecy_db_11: Hi Lynn! Can't wait to see you guys this Saturday. How do you feel once the songs you write (your personal feelings and thoughts) are available for the world to listen? Do you get used to that over time? pvrisofficial: Still getting used to that to be honest. Once songs are out, I weirdly stop listening to them. Prior to that I listen in the car a lot and drive around testing songs out haha.

musicfan1976: Do you think the spring 2020 shows will still happen or be rescheduled again due to Covid? Stay healthy and take care. pvrisofficial: I truly have no idea.... :( you take care too! <3

yikesmiles: Hey Lynn! I hope you’re well! I’ve always been curious, what was it that inspired you to make music? pvrisofficial: Good Q! WHen I write, I try to write music that I want to hear that hasn't crossed my path yet.

LeahLNurse: Is there any unreleased songs you wish made it onto White Noise? pvrisofficial: Nope!

JRuiz1775: Hey Lynn! I remember the first time I saw and heard you guys was when you opened for Pierce the Veil and Sleeping with Sirens. I was hooked and have tried to see you guys anytime you are in my area. My question for you is what is your favourite tour experience? What is your dream tour to be on? pvrisofficial: There's SO many favorite tour experiences. I love touring the UK and Europe a lot, exploring before shows is my favorite thing and has some of my favorite memories. Our UK/EU tour with BMTH was one of my favorites.

ac-36: hi lynn! i love your music so much, it means a lot to me. if you were to remake your past music now, how do you think it would be different, and what do you think the future direction of the band will be? pvrisofficial: I would definitely approach the drum production a bit different but keep it pretty similar with the other textures/instruments! Future direction can go anywhere! Definitely want to keep taking risks and trying new things, but still keeping it dark!

staceelogreen: If you could go back in time to give yourself advice, what would you say to your past self? pvrisofficial: Take it easy on yourself.

NouveauJacques: Hi Lynn, huge fan and I love the power behind your music. Do you ever write songs that are too emotional and feel conflicted about putting into an album? pvrisofficial: usually if they feel too emotional or heavy, I know they need to be released haha

Defiant-Strawberry37: Hi Lynn, hope everything's okay with you and the band. I'd like to ask you what PVRIS' era you think is the best and why? Hope I can see you guys someday soon acting in Portugal. Love you all! PS: why so Lynnda? *portuguese pun intended, beautiful = linda in portuguese* ly! pvrisofficial: Thanks! I love every era tbh but I'm definitely always the most excited on the present moment!

pvrisbae: youre the cutest little soul ily. whats ur fav song at the moment? pvrisofficial: Brian showed it to me! It's "Too Late" by Washed Out.

agnespvris: Hi Lynn!! Have you had any good laughter when you've been looking through the #pvrismemes ?? pvrisofficial: oh you betcha.

whothefuckisrvmi: ok so im not understanding shit about this app but im here for you pvrisofficial: thank u

vioIentbounce: hi lynn! what do you think will be your favorite song from use me to play live? pvrisofficial: I think.... Good To Be Alive or Gimme A Min

jaydenc30: hi lynn I just wanted to say how much I appreciate you and everything you do! I hope you are doing well, what was the first song you wrote for use me? What’s does PVRIS’s future look like to you? pvrisofficial: First song for Use Me was Old Wounds! I wrote it before the second album even came out haha

IrlandaBDelao: Hi lynn, would you be down to open commisions for tattoos? If so, how much would you charge for a drawing? pvrisofficial: I wish! I do not have time to at the moment :( but if I have time in the future, you will be first to know so you can get first dibs!

CookThePasta: are you really looking at all of our memes?? pvrisofficial: trying OUR BEST!!

nonoplznowhy: why did your parents name you Lynn? pvrisofficial: Lyndsey* but they always call me Lynn or Lynds. I was named after my mom's childhood bestfriend named Lynn, she passed away when my mom was pretty young :(

golrip: What is your favourite song on awknohawnoh and why? That album literally changed my life and shaped me into the person I am today so I would really love knowing your opinion. also: what's your favourite the weeknd song/album? pvrisofficial: NOLA 1! It was my favorite to write and the memory around that time is magical. We wrote it in New Orleans and it's my favorite city.

bnizz95: Hey Lynn!! I saw you guys perform for the first time live in Cambridge last September and im so excited about the stream. I was wondering what your favorite song/songs off this album are? Also, do you still steal rosemary from your neighbors? Hahaha pvrisofficial: hahaha I have a little rosemary plant that I use now :)

vioIentbounce: are you still making collages? if not, have you taken up any new artistic hobbies lately?❤️ pvrisofficial: Little collaging here and there :) I've been researching a lot of interior design and fashion design lately!

fee-lixdawkins: Hey Lynn! Excited for the livestream! I know you’re an AFI fan. What is your favorite album and song(s) by them? Would you ever want to tour with them? I’d kill to see that happen! Take care! pvrisofficial: Brian is the bigger AFI fan! I cant pick a fave Im scared

ivykrvft: How does it feel to (kinda) be performing again as an entire band after all these months? pvrisofficial: Really good!! Definitely going to be weird without you guys in front of us!!

Ariana_0918: hi lynn <3 i wanted to know when you saw florence in concert what was your favorite song she performed live? pvrisofficial: Cosmic Love. She played it first and it was acoustic, I instantly cried hahahaha

TheSinger_Z: Hey Lynn! How old were you when you first started writing songs? What is the most memorable prank/joke that you have pulled or has been pulled on you while on tour? How many instruments do you play and what’s your favourite? I just want to say thank you, you’re my biggest inspiration when it comes to music (I sing and I’m learning to play guitar and hope to do it professionally when I’m older as I’m only 14 😬), and I’m really thankful for you guys. I got meet and greet tickets for November 30th for the White Noise stream, so see you then! pvrisofficial: i was in the 3rd grade. the songs were horrible. Its not really a prank but we love having our in ear monitor tech do the worm on stage sometimes. Extra points when he does it in costume. I can play 7 instruments! Looking to add more to the arsenal over time. I love piano a lot and drums. Keep it up, can't wait to see you be a star!!! ALso the livestream is the 21st! DOnt want you to miss it :)

CheezeGrenade: I missed out on a lot of concerts growing up and I couldn't make it to a concert out of state that I bought tickets to about a year ago. Will you guys play through Awkohawnoh again in anyway? Such as Half/Winter/No Mercy/Walk Alone. Litterally that album and the one before got me through alot of depressive phases in my life and Awk has really inspired alot of my writing for a series I want to create someday. pvrisofficial: I cant wait for you to start writing it! You got this! We will be playing through AWKOHAWNOH but the date is not announced yet :)

srankie: Are y'all Pats fans? Red Sox? Bruins? Cause if not the Eagles family will accept you with open arms pvrisofficial: NEW ENGLAND/BOSTON ALL DAY BABY!

macauley7: Could u please ask harry styles if u could tour with him? I need a pvris x harry watermelon sugar vibes thanks pvrisofficial: I'll call him right now.

brisbubbles: Hey, Lynn! Can’t wait for Saturday! I was wondering, how do you feel about singing old tracks from WN since you relearned how to sing? What has that experience been like? Wishing you and Brian the best! xzlinx: I am wondering about this as well. Maybe I am just nosey but I wonder about the process of retraining your voice and what exactlt happened. It must have been insanely difficult on her mental health but goddamn what a trooper bc Use Me is unbelievable! pvrisofficial: Great questions!!! Singing WN is definitely a little challenging to begin with because I'm older and my tone isn't the tone of 19 year old me anymore haha. A big thing was anxiety which caused me to choke up a lot and tense my chords. Then when i was being coached, out of fear of damaging something we had to rebuild and start small and light which we think caused the chords/muscles to atrophy, which set it back further haha. I eventually went to another coach who then was able to take my "retrained" voice and then strengthen it up and rebuild it back to where it was before!

ImOnlyHalfAlive: Hey Lynn! First, I can't express just how much PVRIS has meant to me over the last couple of years. Your music has helped me through so much, and I will forever be grateful. My question is: What's a life mantra you've always lived by? pvrisofficial: Life mantra (theres a lot but this one I always connect to when it comes to career): Patience and persistence is key.

Okosano: Hi Lynn and greeting from Germany! The one and only important question here : Whats your favorite comfort food? pvrisofficial: Favorite comfort food...... Indian food! My absolute favorite.

Ok-Personality1480: What’s your favorite tea pls 🤠 pvrisofficial: Throat coat for singing, housemade chai for joy.

CookThePasta: Do you know the muffin man? pvrisofficial: yes

LynnGvnnFvn: What were the creative differences between writing an album like White Noise or AWKOHAWNOH and Use Me? pvrisofficial: Age, time, locations, different producers and collaborators!

unit525: How are the submissions for the meme competition looking? Any front runners emerging? pvrisofficial: It's a CLOSE call for a lot of them...

LynXiger: Which song from your discography is your least favourite and why? pvrisofficial: I wont say incase it is anyone's favorite!! hahaha

lgbtiffany: do you have a tendency to incorporate spirituality into your creative processes? love the album and can’t wait for the stream ✨❤️ pvrisofficial: I think creating is spiritual in itself! You're channeling sound and melody and MAGICCC! So yes!

vessed1: hiii. I’d love to know who found the White Noise mirror ☺️ pvrisofficial: Me too

LynXiger: What is your favourite genre to listen to? And how has this changed over time? pvrisofficial: I'm a big sucker for hip hop and pop... really anything that's catchy and hits hard and has cool production!

nicthehic: Hey Lynn! Been a huge fan for a long long time and took up doing music professionally because I was inspired by you and the rest of Pvris’ rise and work ethic. I was wondering if there was anything you would do differently while recording your first album and any advice to new ish band working on their first professional project (in the midst of covid no less) and any tips to make our first album just as great and timeless as white noise Thank you! pvrisofficial: Awww this is awesome! I'm sure you're gonna crush it! I definitely would have wanted to make the production a little different but keep a lot of the same fundamental aspects/textures. Do what YOU feel you want to create and dont feel any outside pressures. Crush it! Cant wait for you to record!

minidudette106: Hey Lynn, Do you ever think its crazy that people get tattoos of your lyrics & ones inspired by your music? also wondering what your thoughts are on pineapple on pizza? lol pvrisofficial: I used to get freaked out bc I didnt think my lyrics were great but now I think its so cool! haha.

Hot-Lime3627: Hi Lynn, how is Opal and the other cat whom you took care of during quarantaine doing ? pvrisofficial: They are back with their owner! I truly miss them every single day... they were my little fluffy pals.

kelcea244: How do you keep your creative muscle flexed so you’re ready to create? And do you create every day? EDIT: Also really sad you guys weren’t able to make it over to the UK this month! We’ll be so psyched for you when you do come! pvrisofficial: We are sad too!!! We can't wait to get back whenever it is safe to play shows there. I miss it every day! I try to create every day even if it's just 5-10 minutes, always good to keep those muscles flexed!

socksgrowonbushes: first of all i just want to say how much i admire you, you’re amazing :) my question is what is your favourite song you have ever written? is it one that’s on an album? one that hasn’t even been released? i’m curious pvrisofficial: Use Me!

LadyEpicenter25: What the significance of playing in Arizona?! pvrisofficial: Resources to make the stream happen and rehearsals happen :)

bitchesonthephone: I have one question and one question only: When will we get Let’s Go Vertigo? pvrisofficial: NEVERRRRRR

Antique_Performer_45: Hi Lynn! I’ve been a big fan of PVRIS for a few years now. Which song from Use Me was your favorite to write? I love you guys! pvrisofficial: Use Me! or Good To Be Alive!

JadeAdelaideee: Hello!!! You’ve been a huge help with me realising I was gay, is there anyone who you would look up to when you were younger who sort of helped ease that journey? 💕✨ pvrisofficial: tbh i didnt have many. It was the scattered bits of magical gay representation on teen tv shows like Degrassi/Skins etc. haha

brandonjback: what song are you most proud of from AWKOHAWNOH? pvrisofficial: Anyone Else and NOLA 1!

DixieF: A question I've been waiting ages to ask. Why are you guys so awesome? pvrisofficial: We got awesome parents!!!

Emmahumphrees: Out of all yours songs what is your favourite lyric?? pvrisofficial: "On the porch the ceiling's painted baby blue dressed to the nines just like the sky in early afternoon 'cause it's midnight and the ghosts might be coming soon" Its a reference to a New Orleans superstition that the baby blue porch ceiling would ward off spirits in the night to trick them that it was the daytime sky.

lgbtiffany: what was the most difficult part of trying to regain your voice when you were having troubles with it? pvrisofficial: Definitely just getting on stage every night knowing it wasn't working and having to pretend it was... haha. Super embarrassing.

cnnrtower: Hi Lynn! MA fan here who first saw PVRIS open for A Skylit Drive at the Palladium in 2013. Super incredible to watch the journey for the band / yourself as an artist! What was the first gig/experience that made you stop and realize that PVRIS was going places? pvrisofficial: one of our first headline shows in CT back in 2015. Show was crazy!!

KimLC24: I was just wondering how you get your inspiration to do your art and music? because it can sometimes be hard to even get motivated let alone create pvrisofficial: Totally relate and understand! I won’t lie, the older I get, the more I need to hype myself up and set a tone to create, especially when there’s so much music swirling around us at all times (the internet/streaming/etc). I almost always have a moody or dreamy movie/show playing on my ipad next to me while I work so that way there’s an inspiring visual going.

deadweighttttt: Hi Lynn!!! What’s your all time favourite lyric from the album?! pvrisofficial: HII!! "Do you even notice how easy you've got this? Taking wings off a goddess if I'm being honest"

Pvffreis: Hi Lynn, I have no idea how to use this/reddit but great to see you here! Hope you're doing good? <3 Update: I figured out how to edit comments ayyy I just signed up to ask you this very important question: Red or green apples? pvrisofficial: Idk how either but I think I got it!! Red apples! W PB

dancingonslowsand: Hi Lynn!! Been following PVRIS for a while and I’ve loved seeing how your sound has evolved over the years. Do you have any idea of what direction you want the band to go in the future? Or are you just riding the wave and seeing what happens? Also what’s your fav bird pvrisofficial: Thanks so much! I definitely plan to just keep riding the wave… I feel like every album leaves some room for the direction to go anywhere so the next chapter never feels too restricted. I have been feeling pretty hyped and high energy lately so I feel like it may reflect that a bit! Fav bird is… PENGUINS (even though people debate that they are mammals.)

pvrisofficial: Okay my friends, I gotta head out and get to rehearsals! This was so much fun, sorry I couldn't get to every Q. Love yall! See you guys so soon! <3

November 18th, 2020

[sammysreelreviews]

Counting Down The 10 Most Shocking Moments From My Favorite TV Shows

So I just finished Jane the Virgin and it inspired me to make a list of moments in television that had me fucking SHOOK. Maybe some other things happened in the show that were just as crazy but these are the moments that affected me personally. This list was so spontaneous but it might be my favorite one cause it was a nice trip down memory lane. Any who, here are the moments that have fucked me up along the years! 

WARNING: LOTS AND LOTS OF SPOILERS!!!

10. Gossip Girl: The Dark Prince

Let’s be clear Gossip Girl stopped being the show it was by season 4 by adding insane story lines but one that was realistic was Queen B marrying a real life prince! Although there are some minor hiccups Blair finally has the dream wedding she always wanted. Unfortunately everything comes crashing down when Louis basically tells her that she means nothing to him and the marriage is now just for show. This SHOOK me cause Louis was such a good guy until that exact moment. Ugh the moment he whispered those vile words to Blair her heart dropped and so did mine.

9. Elite: So who’s actually dead?

From the beginning it was clear that one of the promiscuous teens of Elite was going to die it’s just not who you’d expect! In the first episode you find out that it’s none other than Marina! She was such a big part in the first episode I didn’t think her character would be the one to kick the bucket. Yes I am aware that the real mystery of the show is who’s the murderer but Marina being dead threw me for a loop.

8. On My Block: The Quinceañera from Hell.

On My Block is supposed to be funny and it was until the last fucking episode of season one. Ruby decides to throw his crush Olivia a Quinceañera and everything goes smoothly, she even gets to face time her parents that got deported, until Cesar’s past comes to crash the party. Let me explain. Cesar finally joined his brother’s gang and had the job of executing Latrelle who’s from an opposing gang. Cesar is too sweet for his own good and lets him live. Unfortunately Latrelle shows up to Olivia’s Quinceañera, uninvited, and fires at Cesar but hits Ruby and Olivia in the process. In the end of the episode two ambulances are on their way to the hospital and ones lights go off indicating one of them has died. At the beginning of season two we finally find out that Olivia has passed which is sad and like talk about the worst birthday party ever!

7. Pretty Little Liars: Boo!

There were literally 100 different A’s on this god forsaken show but the final A reveal was definitely the best. Spencer and Ezra have been kidnapped by A in a weird underground whatever thing and Spencer wakes up to her reflection only it’s not her reflection ITS HER TWIN. The elite PLL fans like myself always had theories of Spencer having a twin but when it actually happened I couldn’t believe my eyes. When Alex puts her hand down and says “boo!”... chills literal fucking chills.

6. Vampire Diaries: Dead girls walking.

I could honestly make a list of the top ten shocking moments from the Vampire Diaries alone but this one had 15 year old me shaking in my Ugg boots. Jeremy’s first love Vicki died in season one, which was like WILD for 2009 let me tell you, and his other lover Anna also died. In the season two finale we see two shadows walking around following Jeremy in his house and they’re none other than Vicki and Anna looking straight at Jeremy and even speaking to him. At this point in the show people coming back from the dead was unheard of and this is why it beat everything else.

5. Dark: What REALLY happened that night?

Ok so Dark has a lot of WTF moments like the entire show is a total mindfuck but in season 2 they answered a question and I was not prepared for the answer. Let’s back track realllll quick. Mikkel goes missing in the woods one night and no one finds him BUT Mikkel is alive and well he’s just in the year 1986! In the cave he went through there was a wormhole that took him to the past but the question was, how the fuck did he even end up there!? In the last episode of season two Jonas, Mikkel’s son (I know it’s confusing) goes back in time to stop Mikkel from disappearing to make everything right. Jonas talks to his dad, adult Mikkel, and Mikkel drops the bomb that Jonas was the one to lead him to the fucking wormhole in the first place!!! Everything about this show is absolutely insane but I mean this shit was INSANE. I literally could not believe what I was hearing and honestly neither could Jonas.

4. Jane the Virgin: Have a nice day bae!

Michael begins his day going to take a test and he doesn’t come back. I am so team Michael just so y’all know so I loved the flashbacks of the fair with Jane this episode. What I DIDN’T like was the end of this episode. When Michael “died” I dead ass did not watch the rest of season 3 until it was streaming on Netflix. I sobbed so bad and then at the end of the episode when Jane gets the phone call that Michaels “dead” WOW that shit HURT. Thankfully I decided to keep watching the show cause at the season 4 finale Michael is alive and well but has a little amnesia. I literally will never forgive the writers for ripping my heart out and stomping on it.

3. American Horror Story: Running in circles.

Violet tried to kill herself and Tate saves her by making her throw up except, she didn’t actually survive. Violet is depressed and stays home and it’s not until she tries to leave the house do you realize she’s actually been dead for a couple episodes. Its heartbreaking cause she’ll be stuck in that house forever but the moment you see her dead corpse was absolutely disgusting and heartbreaking at the same time.

2. Skins: Where’s Cook’s main hoe?

When Skins came back for a 7th season wrapping up the lives of Effy, Cassie, and Cook I thought we were gonna get some closure but what I got from Cook’s episodes was very unexpected. There’s honestly a lot going on in Skins Rise but Cook’s second episode has him facing off his psychotic boss Louie. Let me give a little backstory. Cook deals drugs for Louie but Louie made Cook drive his girlfriend Charlie around. Cook being Cook fucks Charlie while simultaneously cheating on his own girlfriend Emma which makes it super awkward when the three of them runaway together to get away from a psychotic Louie. Before Cook absolutely beats the shit out of Louie he’s in the woods looking for Emma and he fucking finds her in a clearing HANGING on a tree!!! Like WHAT THE FUCK!!! Skins has never been THAT brutal and I honestly think it was the most jaw dropping moment that ever happened on the show. God I love Skins but I did NOT love that death like can my baby Cook just be happy!?!

1. Degrassi: The Next Generation: A night to forget.

I was 13 the first time I got my heart broken, the perpetrator, Degrassi: The Next Generation. I was OBSESSED with this show I watched it from the very beginning. JT was my literal MAN like I loved him so much and when they CRUELLY killed him off I legit didn’t want to go to school the following Monday. JT dying is number one because it was my first big TV death and I’ll never forget it along with Liberty’s blood curdling screams.

[heilewelt]

In words: Americana Showcase Festival UK, Januar 2019

My favorite festivals are the small and relaxed ones where every venue is just a small club within walking distance and it’s comfortable to get in every venue because there are no massive lines, the people are relaxed, no pushing and everyone is playing on time. Those are a few reasons why I fell in love with the Americana UK Showcase Festival in London the other week. A small, wonderfully curated festival in the heart of Hackney. It’s made by the Americana Music Association UK and part of the conference which took place during daytime. This year I left the conference part out but I’m pretty sure I won’t next year.

I initially went to London to (finally) see Arkansas Dave live. We met in Nashville during Americana Fest 2018 and drove around downtown to do our interview – I just arrived to late to catch him live. So, London it was. I’m so glad I went. They were amazing. The stage was shaking. Literally. Dave is not holding back on stage and when he jumped the stage would shake. The drums were shaking. Mikey was smiling behind his drums. He had a different drummer than usual but he got one of my most favorite: Mikey Sorbello of The Graveltones. I love his style. He knows Rock. Their set was a little less Americana and more stomping Rock’n’Roll. Heating up the freezing cold room or just me because I couldn’t stand still. Of course their set was a little too short – round about 30 minutes. Maybe the only downside of a showcase festival.

Once again I was lucky. The line up of the whole festival was very, very good. Arkansas Dave’s performance had been the cherry on top of two beautiful days. I also want to tell you about my ice cream performances. I was very fortunate to see Kaia Kater again. She is a Folk musician from Canada. There’s always something very earnest about her performing her songs and the way she combines traditional with modern and - as you can hear especially on her latest album “Grenades” – her own and her families stories. The Empire Bar was full. And even some other bands were seen – like Birds of Chicago. Later that same night I’d see them on stage of the Night Tales. Another highlight.

The duo, JT Nero and Allison Russell, were joined by Steve Dawson on guitar. One of the things I like about these guys is that Allison Russell actually plays a clarinet, an instrument I don’t see to often on stage. And I love how the voices work together – the roughness and the smoothness. Beautiful. My favourite moment of their set was the performance of “American Flowers” at the end and how all the music industry people joined in to song along the chorus – according to JT Nero something you shall never attempt. Haha. Well, it worked fine and was such a beautiful moment.

Ida Mae is a duo who moved from London to Nashville, musically being more at home in Nashville than in London. I’ve seen them last year in Nashville and now again in London and they’re wonderful. Growing love with every time I see them live. There’s something very comforting in their music and Chris Turpins voice and the harmony with his wife’s Stephanie Jean’s voice. I absolutely love their newest single “If You Don’t Love Me” – live it becomes even more emotional. These two are one of the bands who I believe have a big and bright future ahead of them. They’re endlessly on tour.

Here is my universal tip for you: never leave the venue when a white haired man with beard and cowboy hat enters the stage. That’s why I caught Asleep At The Wheel as a duo at a packed Moth Club. Well, a quarter of Asleep At The Wheel: Ray Benson and Katie Shore. Of course I’ve heard of them before but never saw them live. What a shame! Country right from the heart of Texas, plenty of stories and laughter. Some great cover versions, Asleep At The Wheel Songs and a song written by Benson and Shore over skype – modern times are not all bad. I’m not sure what venues they usually play but seeing Ray Benson on such a small stage felt pretty special.

I’ve only recently heard about Ethan Johns for the first time – he produced two albums which will be released soon: William the Conqueror’s “Bleeding On The Soundtrack” (release date: 15th of February 2019) and Ida Mae’s soon to be released debut album. Both on my watchlist. Johns didn’t play alone. He had The Black Eyed Dogs with him, his everchanging backing band, more a collective of musician/friends who meet on stage to play together or a public rehearse. It was fascinating to watch him as he has this way of directing the music even while they play.  Keeping it all together and then again let lose for a little jam at the end of a song.

I guess every festival must end with a bang. That’s why Whiskey Shivers were the perfect last band. Barefooted, moustache wearing perfect last band. Barefoot in a venue that was basically an open garage at temperatures around 0°C. They sure kept warm as there is no way that they or us could stand still. Trashgrass at its best, although I don’t know what it would sound like at its worst. Joyous last gig, especially when they played a song amongst the audience. Would have been even better without cell phones and cell phones’ flash lights but you can still close your eyes and listen and dance.

The Americana Music Association UK also held an award show at the Hackney Empire on the third day of the conference. There were winners, wonderful speeches, Bob Harris and performances from artists like Mary Gauthier, Graham Nash, Ethan Johns, Israel Nash and more but for me the most outstanding, remarkable performance was from Rhiannon Giddens! She left her banjo behind and sang without any amplification. How it used to be in this impressive, old British theater and even in last row on the balcony I’d get goosebumps. So amazing. I’m so glad I finally got the chance to see her live after so many years of listening to her music.

I can’t wait for the next edition of this wonderfully curated little Americana festival. You can feel the passion in every moment and the love for the genre when you talk to the visitors. I just loved it. 

Thank you for reading,

Dörte

P.S. all photos (c) Dörte Heilewelt, a few more photos on my flickr.

[rose-color-boy]

All the reasons why teen challenge is the actual worst place

And why you shouldn't allow anyone to send their kids there:

*disclaimer, this is all of my personal experiences with what happened to me and what I saw happen to other people*

*also to clarify it was an all girls program that was 15 months long*

*mentions of self-harm, suicide, drugs, eating disorders. Proceed with caution*

•first things first, I was 13 when I went into the program; October 2013. I went against my will, my parents believed it would help with my issues with self-harm, suicidal thoughts, eating disorder, etc. (they had good intentions, they really did)

•first thing they do is go through all of your stuff. You have to try on every clothing article to make sure it's within guidelines. I spent a lot of time sitting in the shower stall crying my eyes out. Anything that is against the guidelines they set aside and jt goes back to your parent(s)/guardian(s). They took away a paper that I had written down my friend's phone numbers/addresses so I could send them letters

•your first three-four months you're on "pink" which is where you have to wear a pink wristband, and you are not allowed to talk to anyone else on "pink" you can't talk to them, say their name, even making eye contact wasn't allowed

•Your first three weeks you're on "sister" which means another girl was assigned as your sister, to teach you the rules and be like an assigned friend. You had to stay within six feet of each other at all times. For three weeks

•you're not allowed to send or receive any mail from home for those three weeks. And for I believe it was 6 months, it was only people living in your home. If you have siblings who don't live at home, too bad. You gotta wait to send them letters

•No phone calls home for one months. Phone calls were every other week on fridays-Mondays. You had 20 minutes, staff memebers sat in the room with you and took notes about what you were talking about. Phone on speaker. If the staff didn't like what you were talking about/the way you were talking to the phone they could hang up the call.

•so much religion shoved down your throat. Every night 20 minutes of reading the Bible. Chapel on fridays, church on Wednesdays, two church services on sundays. Always praying, in order to graduated you had to complete a devotion curriculum. Also "god god god" and if you weren't Christian they desperately tried to convert you

•extremely strict rules, especially on conversation. Some were: you can't say the names of your friends from home. No talking about previously having a boy or girlfriend, can't talk about tattoos (can't even say the word), piercings , homosexuality, rap music, other religions, and so much more

•required to eat all of your food unless you had allergies

•no medication unless it's for medical reasons. No meds for mental illnesses, they said God and Jesus could make you better, not medication. One girl had a potassium deficiency, and would literally cry because her legs were in so much pain but they wouldn't allow her to take supplements

•the girl from above? She sprained her ankle, and she limped for three months in hopes that they would send her home or her parents would bring her home. Staff took away her crutches and told her she was faking and to get over it (she was faking, but they still shouldn't have done that. Her parents took her home shortly after)

•they were so awful about medical stuff. We had to ask for medication, and the "nurse" on campus decided what we did or didn't get. One of my friends complained about ear aches for months, and they did nothing until her ears started bleeding. I complained the same about a sore throat, did nothing, until I went to a staff memeber sobbing because breathing hurt so bad and there was nothing I could do to make it stop

•we got to visit our families every other months for a weekend, it was called "pass" and it was time to visit and get all of our toiletries and anything else we may need. Everyone cried when their parents left, and there was about a week depression afterwards. (They went through all of our stuff that we brought back. Made us take off our shoes, socks, shake our bras to make sure we didn't have anything we weren't allowed)

•after a year we got six day home visits. Three of them, and you had to have them to graduate. When you got back, you were drug tested, all our stuff searched again

•sometimes they would randomly search your stuff

•20 girls to a dorm, showers were 5 minutes in the shower, 3 minutes to get dried off and dressed. 10 minutes at the sinks in the bathroom (you were assigned a sink and a toilet stall and could only use that one)

•everything was dictated. The bunk bed you slept in, what chair at what table you sat at, even the place you stood while in line

•the punishments were awful. You could get months added to your 15 months, you could be on "loss of privileges" which was: no mail for 3 weeks, no phone calls for 1 month. No "pass" visits, when we went to church on Wednesdays and got AWESOME food, you a bag lunch (a sandwich and chips), no watching movies.

•I remember one girl with a severe eating disorder, sweet girl doing great now. We had a decision to a degree with how much food we could get. She had to get the max amount of food, which actually is extremely unhealthy. You're supposed to gradually work your way up. They didn't care, and her mom took her home after a few months because of how awful it was

•I personally was there for 20 months. 20 months. Two months added because I got behind on that devotion curriculum (it was my way of acting out, by not doing them). One because when I was supposed to visit home, my brother got in a car accident and I wasn't able to go home because my parents had to help him move back to Orlando. Two because they felt I wasn't "ready to go home yet"

•this place did not help me. Not at all, I actually got worse. And you know what did help? Having a support system at home. Allowing myself to be who I am. Since coming out and embracing myself as trans and pan, I've been happier, more free. I still very badly battle depression, but now I have friends and people to help me through it. I have a dear friend who has helped me work through my eating disorder, people who love me. That's what's been helping me. Not shoving religion down my throat, not giving me all these rules and regulations.

So to all my guys and gals and kiddos and friends I made through that place, I love y'all. I made some wonderful friends, and that's the only good thing about that place. Some do the girls rejected the system of that program, and I love and admire them.

Anyways, that's my big rant-y post

[notgonnarememberthis]

find your way (back to me) - chapter two

The reception for this fic was so fucking sweet, this really went beyond what I expected I honestly just thought this would be a self service fic but it hit off so well. Honestly, wrote the next chapter to cope with the anxiety of being home and general holiday stress so I hope y’all enjoy it. And thank y’all for all the sweet comments they mean the fucking world to me.

Jessica tries not to let the sigh escape her throat, she really does. But when Gil comes in arms loaded with gifts it probably took him weeks to save for she can’t help it.

She can afford literally anything he wanted to buy for her or the kids and then some, but she resisted.

If not to see the proud little grin on his face when he knows he absolutely nailed the gift that the recipient never even knew they wanted.

He’s quite good at knowing what people never knew they needed.

She invites him in, nonetheless, taking some of the load off, only with a little chiding that he still shouldn’t carry so much. It has only been a few months since his injury. He needs to give his body time to heal. 

Malcolm and Ainsley would arrive soon, hopefully carrying something that wasn’t a twist-on. But for now she would enjoy Gil’s company. His warmth wards off the cold that always seemed to linger in the hollow rooms. His smile lights up even the darkest corners as she leans into his embrace. He pulls out old records that collected dust for years, grabbing her hand and swinging her around the room with more grace than anyone would expect.

They don’t even notice when the children arrive. Only when Gil spins her and she nearly runs straight into Malcolm do they realize they are no longer alone. The laughter catches the air like a flame, spreading across the room with an infectious glee that most of them had not known for far too long. Gil pulls Ainsley in next, taking her as his next partner.

She almost bursts with joy when Malcolm takes her hand to dance without hesitation. His movements are still but he is letting go, allowing himself to enjoy the small moments in life that don’t revolve around homicide.

She’s so proud that she feels tears building behind her eyes.

The music fades and the silence takes over, no longer as deafening but rather content.

Jessica startles awake to a loud crash. Immediately she regrets opening her eyes as pain rips through her head. She reaches up to feel where it hurts but something is holding her down.

It takes a few seconds for the world to come into focus, once it does she wishes desperately for the peace of the dream. Her hands are zip tied to the chair she’s sitting in, her neck and head both ache like nobody’s business. She shuffles through her mind to try to remember what the hell happened. There was a crash, then her world was spinning, she checked on Adolpho… Oh god, Adolpho.

A soft sob of realization takes over her. What happened between the crash and now? How the hell did she get here? She was on her way to a meeting for becoming the head of Eve’s charity in her honor.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” Fake sincerity drips from a figure previously hidden by the shadows. She stiffens, suddenly all too aware of her situation. She holds still, as if that would help, if she wouldn’t move they wouldn’t see her. If she closes her eyes she can open them again to the warmth and happiness radiating from her family. “Sorry for the mess, had to improvise.” The shadow gestures absentmindedly. 

“Who are you?” Her voice rasps painfully. She wonders how long exactly she was out for.

“Oh, that doesn’t matter. I’m much more interested in you.” He comes closer, enough for her to recognize that he’s wearing a mask. “Jessica Whitly, my you are a sob story if there ever was one.” He walks across the room, footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. “Disgraced daughter of the Miltons, married to a serial killer, and dated another socialite exposed to be heading a dubious business,” he sighs. “Truly Shakespearian, have you thought about selling the rights to your story?” 

“Are you done?” She tries not to let her voice waver, her fear shakes just beneath the surface, but she’s not running or hiding now. Malcolm and Gil will find her. She just needs to stall as long as she possibly can.

“Hardly.” The venomous glee sends a chill down her spine. He tilts his head in a way that flashes her back as if she were in Claremont all this time. “Just killing time until our guest arrives.”

“I can give you all the money you want, just let me go.” The bark of a laugh makes her jump, immediately regretting the sudden movement as pain pierces her skull yet again.

“I don’t want your money. It can all burn for all I give a shit.”

“What do you want then?” She pleads.

Even with the mask she can feel his deadly grin, like a cat taunting it’s prey just before it pounces. “You.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Gil checks his phone yet again, waiting for Malcolm’s text. He told JT to get Ainsley and get both of them back to the precinct immediately. He almost wishes he’d done it for himself, having them in his sight would be a hell of a lot more comforting right now especially as he stares at the lieu of pictures scattered across his desk.

He trusts JT, though. He’s getting them here as fast as he possibly can with two out of three of the most stubborn people he’s ever met in the back of his car. No doubt they have hundreds of questions that poor JT doesn’t even know the answer to, he’s simply following orders and right now they’re on a strict need to know basis.

Colette will lock Malcolm down as soon as he arrives. He’ll be able to loosen the reigns, but only a little. He’ll be lucky to leave without Dani or JT personally handcuffed to him. Hell, Gil will be lucky if she doesn’t choose him to be handcuffed to Malcolm.

He hears the door to his office open and he feels the lump in his throat develop once again.

“Why are the FBI here?” “Why did I just get pulled out of work and rushed here?” “Why isn’t mom answering my calls?” “Why did we get escorted here by two more cop cars?”

The two siblings speak simultaneously and he sighs raising a hand to stop them. He braces himself delivering the news as impersonally as he could to the two people he basically watched grow up. “You’re both familiar with the kidnappings and murders in Boston?” They nodded, going to talk again but he stopped them with a pointed stare. “This morning there was an accident, one of the cars matched the plates of the car Agent Swanson has been tracking for that case.”

“What does that have to do with us?” Ainsley asks, fingers playing with the hem of her sleeve, it’s a nervous tick he’s known since she was 12. Her mother tried to break the habit but was never really successful.

“The other driver was Adolpho.” Ainsley’s eyes widen, she looks to Malcolm who only nods solemnly. “He died on impact.”

“Oh my god.” Malcolm reaches over, squeezing her hand. He watches the younger man straighten, preparing himself for the next blow. He’s all too familiar with the practices and knows that Gil has more to deliver to them. He nods, silently telling him to continue.

“We found this in the backseat of the car.” He turns the photo of Jessica’s phone to them and watches as the dots connect in both of their heads. “We also found blood on the back window that we believe is your mother’s.”

“You believe?” Ainsley’s voice cracks for the first time that he’s heard in years. Even after Paul Lazar, even after Endicott Ainsley didn’t waver. “What do you mean you believe is hers? Where is she?”

“You think the killer took her.” Malcolm whispers. Almost as if he says it too loud, it will make it true. His hands fly to his eyes sucking in a breath when Gil nods in confirmation. He knows it’s his way of trying to keep tears back, just long enough to keep his head from going into full meltdown and instead switching to investigator. “Dani found CCTV footage of the wreck. The suspect’s car redlight, crashing into Adolpho without even slowing down. The man climbs out of the car and goes out of frame. A couple minutes later an ambulance shows up, another man helps your mother into the back and they drive off.”

“Shouldn’t she be fine then? We just need to find out want hospital they took her to. She’s probably logged as a Jane Doe if she doesn’t have her purse either. She probably hit her head and she’s confused or unconscious and we need to-”

“Ainsley.” Malcolm’s tone stops her. He’s already read Gil’s expression, knowing what’s coming next.

“The ambulance on the scene was reported stolen just an hour before the wreck.” He watches as Ainsley’s face crumples, despite her best attempts to hold it together. Malcolm pulls her into a loose hug, rubbing her back in comfort. He can tell only by the slightly uneven breaths that Malcolm is crying as well.

His eyes sting and every fatherly instinct wants him to go to them and hug them. Tell them everything will be fine just like he did 20 years ago. He gives them time to settle again, determination overpowering their shock and grief. “What can we do?”

“Right now, stay in sight. I’ve already got the FBI pressing hard enough on this pushing for a clean end but I don’t think that’ll be the case. Something doesn’t feel right. I’m assigning each of you an officer and if either of you tries to shake them or go off on your own I’m putting you in a holding cell.” He raises a brow at the two of them. “Understand?” 

“Yes.” They answer in unison. Gil tries not to think about the two kids, hardened too young. With only each other and their mother to hold onto in the storm that raged around them. Now with one less thing anchoring them to this earth.

“Let’s get to work.” XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The clanging of metal pulls Jessica’s attention from the deep abyss she allowed herself to sink into. The man had long left with the promise of the “guest” lingering over her head. She busied herself praying to every deity that she could think of that Malcolm, Ainsley, Gil, all of them were safe. She stopped believing in God long ago but her desperation outweighs her beliefs right now.

Different, slower footsteps shamble in front of her. This man looks younger, his physique, at least. He places something down against the wall before dragging a chair in front of her. She feels bile rise in the back of her throat when the something against the wall groans in pain. The man shuffles back over to the body, lifting it with ease yet again and placing it in the chair across from her. He secures the wrists individually to the chair before standing behind it. She stares at him for a moment, she swears his movements almost seem hesitant.

The static of a radio starting up breaks the relative silence. “Take off his hood.” She recognizes the voice of the man who was taunting her earlier. The other figure does as he says, removing the bag from over the tied up man’s head. Fearful bloodshot eyes meet hers. “This is Tommy Moore. He is a resident at Montgomery and from what I hear? He will make a promising young surgeon one day.” She swallows hard trying to calm the nerves building up in her stomach. “Do you know who she is Tommy?” The poor boy can only get out a whimper. Her heart sinks when she hears the sound of a gun cocking from behind him. “Answer me!”

“Y-yes.” He chokes out. “I saw her on the news. She was looking for a missing girl o-on Christmas.”

“Do you think she would choose your life over her own?” Tommy bows his head sobbing openly. “Please don’t do this.”

“Let him go.” She begs.

“Well would you Mrs. Whitly?” The sentence cuts deep. “Would you choose your life over his?” She closes her eyes, a few tears sliding down her cheeks. She thinks of Malcolm and Ainsley, no idea of where she was. She thinks of Gil, pouring everything he has into finding her. She even thinks of Martin, the horrid man who no doubt has caused this somehow in some way.

And then she thinks of her dream. She holds onto the smell of Gil’s cologne surrounding her as they spin around her living room, the sound of Ainsley’s laugh bouncing off of the walls as Gil dips her, Malcolm’s smile brighter than she remembers it being in so very long.  And she hopes they forgive her. “No.”

The silence feels as if it stretches for hours. She waits for the gunshots. She waits for the pain and then the utter nothingness of death. “Perhaps you didn’t understand my question. Would you die so that Tommy here can live?”

“Yes, I would.” The boy cries only get louder, mixed with tragedy and relief. She almost wants to cry with him.

“No!” The voice roars and they hear something from the other room crash. “You’re doing this wrong!” Another stretch of silence, this one even longer than the last. “You would rather die, so that he can live?!” Tommy looks at her, finally, and the realization strikes her. His eyes looked familiar, the same shade as Martin’s. His curly, unkempt hair even the shade so similar she’d assume he was a relative had she not known Martin had no other family. Everything was a subconscious push so that she’d choose her own life over his. This was a losing game.

“I choose his life over mine.” She says with more anger than before. She wouldn’t fall for this game. Even if it meant her own she wouldn’t put an innocent life on the line. She hopes for her children’s sake that they find her eventually. She hopes that they find peace.

“Shoot him.”

“What?” The man with a gun asks before either of them could.

“Shoot him!” The shot makes her ears pop. She never knew a gun could be that loud. Blood hits her face causing her to flinch, watching in horror as the boy slumps forwards. A cry rips through her throat as she struggles against the bonds tying her down.

“Why?!” She screams. “Why did you do that?!” She folds over on herself trying to contain the panic threatening to swallow her whole. Every fiber of her wants to fight back, to fight her way back to her family. Her head screeches in pain, spots flashing in front of her eyes. It only seems to get more intense though as her world tilts and spins with an effort to stay awake.

“You chose wrong.”

[it-is-bugs]

TDBM Thinkie Thoughts: 5.8

Finally to 5.8.  Where did this season go?  And I've nattered so much that I've got to put it under a cut!  

Continuing the unfortunate trend from 5.7, we get 10 pounds of flour stuffed into a five pound sack.  Way too much plot than is necessary.  It just finalized my thought with 5.7 that the end of the season would have been better served by doing a 2 parter of a single over-arcing plot line.  

We know Ned is doomed because he got more lines in the first 5 minutes than he's had in the previous five seasons including dramatically confronting Munro: "You bothering my girlfriend?"  Ah, the glorious days when women were men's property who had to be protected from other men.  

Ned got in over his head with his girlfriend.  Don't hook up with the ex of some two-bit hood even if he doesn't murder you. Poor Ned.  We all adored you!

JT and CM's excellent faceacting as they rush in is just spot perfect--both are heartbreaking but different from each other. The touch of Lucien's hand on Matthew's back briefly as he supports his friend without making him look weak in front of the lads.  How Matthew removes his hat and puts it over his heart before giving orders.  Lucien closes Ned's eyes, straightens his broken neck, and later how he strokes Ned's hair once they're in the morgue.  

Matthew's really strong this episode.  How he reins in Lucien, after a season of telling Charlie to get him have his head.  He's not going to let Lucien just cruise along as usual and it takes a few times of Matthew saying it for it to sink in for Lucien.  

The girlfriend is just a whiny mess for most of the episode--Sorry Dead!Ned, she wasn't good enough for you.  

After spotting the newspaper, dramatic run by Rose--surely SOMEONE would have called her if Charlie was really dead.  Calm down, honey.  Their completely flat chemistry continues as he comforts her.

"William!"  Lucien chases Munro out of the station.  Munro will only respond when he calls him "Munro."  Doesn't Lucien remember that Munro doesn't like to be called William?  

Munro rants that Lucien has no respect for rules and authority.  Uh...says the corrupt cop?  That's what's meant by unreliable narrator.  "God help him (Ned) if you're on the case." OH, you mean the guy who solved all the crimes when you were running this place?  

What I mean by way too much plot: Munro returned to Melbourne in disgrace, under the cloud of corruption...so he continues to accept bribes, this time from Walter?  Whose girlfriend Ned manages to steal while he's stationed in Melbourne on secondment?  Then Ned returns to Ballarat, the girlfriend joins him, Walter follows them, and Munro follows him?  *clutching head*

I did grab onto one thing; what was Munro going to do with this gun?  Did he wanted to solve the case and look like a hero?   

Like that Patrick quite likes Jean but still hates Lucien.  Let's not soften him too much.  

Bill and Charlie bust in on Way!Overacting!Walter in bed: "You're worried I'm holding a loaded weapon?"  Covers up under his chin, hands at waist, and he's obviously naked. Ack!

We finally get a naked ass on this show and it's NOT the one we want!

Really great scene with Matthew firing Lucien.  JT can go a bit far in the seething direction, but I really liked his choices here.  Then Lucien has to do the walk of shame from his desk.  

Who was it that named it Pet Rock Christopher? I understand why the show went with the Pet Rock, but it was jarring to me.  Christopher's name would have been on the Ballarat war memorial seen in 1.2.  Or perhaps a plaque inside the church.  Jean had said in the past that Christopher doesn't have a grave (Not even in the war cemetery in Papua New Guinea?), so had she requested that a rock be installed right by the church front door?

I loved seeing Jean proudly shedding her old role--"I worked for Dr Blake" and putting on her new one, "We're engaged."  And then Munro peed in her cornflakes and he was dead to me before he was dead.  Again, he's the other side of Lucien's coin alright.  Didn't we hear that your wife left you?  I guess her marriage gave her a lot of pain.  

I liked the touch of Lucien giving Cec his annual Christmas tip.  Cec check's the size as Lucien walks away.  Hee.  

Lucien refuses to believe that Munro has just come to watch him fall from grace.  "I was only ever doing my job."

It's helpful to get the details of what a police surgeon is actually supposed to do: "Your job is to inspect crime scenes, perform autopsies, fill out death certificates."

"You do what you do because you have to."  > True dat.  That's it, that's the show.  

"We're two sides of the same coin."  Yes, if one is black and one is white.  

"Because I've become expendable.  It offends my sense of justice."  I don't even know where to start with that.  Justice, like helping Genevieve's killer cover up his crime?  Like that every crime seemed to be him settling on the first obvious suspect and trying to railroad that person, instead of letting Lucien do his job and find the real killer?   

So I assume that he came to kill Walter and without any true expectation of coming out alive?  

So he ends up taking a bullet, but ironically for Lucien.  Lucien gets to say that classic cliche line: "You're going to be fine!"  Er...  

Unlike Munro, Lucien isn't a petty person.  He has to give credit where credit is due: "You saved my life."

With Munro's line, "It's my job," you can see that he wants to be a hero, to fit in, to be liked.  He knows what a policeman is supposed to be, he just hasn't done it very often.  

Speaking of coppers doing their job, wow, this wasn't a good episode for Ballarat's finest.  One constable dead, Walter knocks down Bill right there in the station and escapes, then Charlie's thumped on the head in the morgue.  

It must have been a difficult episode to film with both bodies on the slab being actors well known to the principles. Did they have to fight laughing or crying?  

It's torture to just watch the autopsy for Lucien.  Matthew knows how to punish him.  Alice "Gotch'you," as she pulls out the bullet gives me life.  I also appreciate how she says that she didn't like Munro and that's it.  Take down that note.  When you're dead to Alice, you're literally dead to her.  

Lucien gets his mojo back by stealing evidence.  

Billie the Madam has a nice turn.  Calls Lawson Matthew.  Hee!  She loaned Ned the money for the ring, then was shaking him down for repayment...  WAY TOO MUCH PLOT.  I had wondered how Ned afforded that ring, but was this necessary?  Do we really believe Billie sneaked into the station and snapped Ned's neck?  

When she's all over Charlie, I'm left wondering if Rose/Charlie is public knowledge?  I'd thought so by this point but perhaps not?

Yet oddly with all this over-plotting, other parts are left out.  Did Baker go back for the notebook or was he looking for Lucien to kill at the morgue?  How would Baker have known about the notebook?  Did we see him having access to the radio transmissions?  Did he lead Lucien to the pub so he could lie in wait for him there?  

Delightful, Jean's trying to say goodbye to her church in peace and here's Fr Emery.  

When he compliments the flowers, she responds: "So glad you've noticed."  A nice dig.  "I always do."  And from her expression, we know that he never says anything.  There's that lesson on how to retain parishors, Em.

The church is her home.  That's what the loss will be. It was an important thing when Lucien's gave her one sort of home, but this one has been with her longer and must be closer to her heart.  It was always hers, not given to her by Thomas and Lucien.  

When Bill is kicking the shit out of Over!Acting!Walter, I see that he learned alot from almost losing his job over beating up a suspect.

Really nice touch of Baker using the morgue table's head prop as a weapon to bash in Charlie's head.

After running through the streets with tear-filled eyes, Rose doesn't seem to care that Charlie's been assaulted.

Perhaps this is why Pet Rock Christopher is right by the door?  So Norm can find Jean easily?  

I really love Gary Sweet's performance. It's rather terrifying with his maniac manner. It's hilarious that he had stood over a dying Lucien and then gets ticked the Lucien didn't in fact die.  

But then he makes the fatal error of pushing Jean's button; self-pity; she can't stand that.  She's just made this  massive, life-changing decision and doesn't have time for Norm's pity party.  

"For God's sake, Jean," wails Lucien when she charges the killer. She'd made her decision and she couldn't go back.  If Lucien is gone, she's not just going to go back to the church.  She's had a fundamental sea change in her way of thinking. And she's just really really pissed that this whinger may take this New Jean away from her.  That and she keeps catching a heel in the turf, it's hot as hell, and she probably left the Christmas roast cooking.  She needs to get home, like now.   

Nice touch that Matthew needs Lucien to escort Norman across the uneven turf.  The way that things have been going, Norm could have run off and the Ballarat force would have suffered their final humiliation for the episode.  

I love that Alice and Bill are overdressed compared to the others at the Christmas party.  They must feel the most outsiders to begin with, and now this.  Alice's gown is lovely and Bill looks like his mum washed his neck, so it's all good.  Bill leads the toast to Ned, but no one will toast Munro but Lucien.  Gosh, didn't you back Munro, Bill?  Hmmm....lots of revised memories in this episode.  

It makes me  the whinger now, but what was Jean's other present/s for Lucien?  A new set of pajamas?  A new dressing gown?  

"You know I snore."  

"For better or worse, Lucien."

To be the voice of doom, but it's not snoring that Jean needs to worry about from sleeping with Lucien, but let's save that for S6, shall we?

[youllwantmeback]

PART 1 - BEGINNING OF THE SEMESTER

CANAL SQUARE - LUCAS’ APARTMENT

Two high school friends, Lucas and Meika, lay sprawled on a couch, discussing their upcoming junior year in college. 

Lucas: I don’t have time to study or do homework. I work too much and I have to still spend time with Kim. Priorities!

Meika: Are you serious? I have two jobs and yet, I STILL have time to study AND do my homework for class. I would think that college would be top priority.

Lucas: I mean, it sorta is, but it also sorta isn’t.

Meika: So basically, it sounds like you aren’t sure where your priorities actually lie *laughs to herself*

Lucas: You have more control of your life than I do.

Meika: But -

At that exact moment, Lucas’ new roommate walks into the apartment door. Both Meika and Lucas look up, halting their conversation. Adam, Lucas’ new roommate and old high school friend, looks in their direction.

Adam: Uhh hey guys. I’ll just go to my room.

Meika looks at her hands and begins to pick at her nails.

Lucas: Alright dude, I’ll see you later!

Adam: Yeah.

Adam walks around the kitchen bar and disappears behind the bedroom door, closing the door after he walks inside.

Meika: I still cannot believe you chose to live with him.

Lucas: You can’t blame me. He’s the one who texted me asking if we still needed another roommate. I couldn’t just say no because of you.

Meika: Yes, you totally could have! He was the love of my life, Lucas. He fucked me over so many times and he STILL believes he didn’t do anything wrong. It is so messed up.

Lucas: Meika, you can’t let him get to you. Yeah, he didn’t treat you the best, but you are better off now. We both know that. Hell, he probably even knows it. 

Meika: He better know it. I cannot believe I waited for him to come back for three years. What a freaking waste of time.

Lucas: I told you that you shouldn’t have.

Meika: Yeah. Yeah. Whatever Lucas. I have to get to class, but I’ll talk to you later, okay?

Lucas: Sounds good! Have fun in Microbiology. *Flashes a smile and gives a thumbs up*

Meika: Don’t remind me *laughs*

Meika gets up off the couch and grabs her bag. She waves goodbye to Lucas and walks out the door. Lucas turns on the PlayStation and begins to play a game of NBA 2k17. 

Lucas: Yo, Adam! You wanna play me in 2k?

Adam: Yeah, i’ll be right out.

Adam walks out of his bedroom and heads to the kitchen.

Adam: You want something to drink?

Lucas: Yeah, get me a Gaterade. 

Adam gets two drinks and walks into the living room, where his ex-girlfriend and love of his life was previously sitting. 

Adam: Here ya go.

Lucas: Thanks man! How was class?

Adam: It was class. Lots of science. But overall, not too bad. I like living on campus so I can just walk everywhere rather than commuting everyday.

Lucas: I totally get that. I hated commuting Freshman year. I’ll never go back.

Adam: Neither will i. So...uh why was Meika here?

Lucas: *looks over at Adam with a weird look* We were hanging out and talking about our classes and whatnot. 

Adam: Ah I see. So, what kind of classes is she taking?

Lucas: Why don’t you ask her yourself dude?

Adam: I don’t know. I kinda ruined things with us. I don’t think she wants to hear from me.

Lucas: She did want to hear from you, that is, until you ignored her every single time she tried to reach out to you. But you're right dude, you did ruin things. 

Adam: Yeah, I’m aware. I was just overwhelmed.

Lucas: *looks at Adam with complete disgust* Overwhelmed?! By what? I’m sorry but that is a terrible excuse. You ignored her. You reached out to her and gave her hope again. She thought you two were actually going to date again and make things work. You led her to believe that. Then you went and ignored her as if she didn’t even exist. There is NO excuse to be made. You fucked things up, and there is no going back. 

Adam: *looking down at his hands* Yeah, I am aware of that. Do you think she would meet up and talk to me? I just want to explain and apologize for everything.

Lucas: Explain? No. There is NOTHING to explain, Adam. Don’t you get that? You did this. You can try to apologize but I really think you should just leave her alone.

Adam: I want her to know that I never meant to hurt her or lead her on in any way.

Lucas: Okay, but the thing is, every time she hears from you or sees you or even hears your name, she is hurt by the memories. She will always love you, but you have hurt her so many times. If you ask her to talk, she won’t deny you because that would hurt her to say no. She is always thinking of you and your best interest. She could never tell you no. But in doing so, she will be hurt by seeing and talking to you. 

Adam: It’s just so hard. I fucking hate it. I’m going to go find her after her class and ask her to talk.

Lucas: Good luck dude.

CAMPUS // NURSING BUILDING

Adam walks out of the apartment. He begins to walk towards the Nursing building, which is where Meika has Microbiology. After 20 minutes, he finally gets outside, just in time to see students filing out of the building. Adam sits on the ledge and waits for Meika. 

He finally sees Meika and begins to walk towards her, until he sees that she is with someone. Meika is walking with another guy. She is laughing and smiling more than Adam has ever seen her. 

CANAL SQUARE - ADAM’S APARTMENT

Adam turns away, trying to go unseen. He begins to briskly walk back to his apartment. Once he arrives, he busts into the front door.

Lucas: What the hell, dude? I’m watching a scary movie and you scared the shit out of me. *Lucas looks up at Adam* What’s wrong?

Adam: She, she was with a guy. She was laughing and smiling. She looked so fucking happy. Happier than I’ve ever seen her. 

Lucas: That might have been the guy she is dating .

Adam: WHAT!?!? She is dating someone? Why didn’t you think to tell me that before I went there?

Lucas: I didn’t find it to be important. I thought you were wanting to talk to her, not kiss her. 

Adam: Fuck. I am SUCH an idiot. She looked so happy.

Lucas: Yeah, you are an idiot. She is really happy and Kaleb is a really nice guy.

Adam: That’s his name? How do you know that?

Lucas: Well, he’s been over here before. She brought him when she came to hang out with me and Kim.

Adam: She’s finally happy with a nice guy who probably actually deserves her and treats her right. Perfect.

Lucas: There is nobody to blame but yourself. 

Adam: Yeah, thanks. I’m gonna get ready for class. I’ll see ya later.

Adam walked back into his bedroom and slammed the door shut. 

CAMPUS // SCIENCE BUILDING

Meika and Kaleb are walking across campus, headed towards Kaleb’s next class. 

Meika: I’ve literally never heard half of the words Professor Jones just said.

Kaleb: C’mon, yes you have! We went through this last semester in Physiology. You know most of them!

Meika: You are totally lying. Professor JT never said anything like that last semester.

Kaleb: Maybe you just didn’t pay enough attention.

Meika: I had a cute lab partner so it was a little distracting *winks*

Kaleb: You’re too sweet, but that’s also the reason we aren’t lab partners in Microbiology! 

Meika: Fine! *pouts* Will you at least be my study partner? 

Kaleb: Of course I will, Meika. Anything for you!

Meika: I knew you’d come in handy! Ha!

Kaleb: Oh, so that is why you’re dating me? So I can help you pass your science classes?

Meika: It’s the major reason *winks*

Kaleb: Ha, you’re so funny!

Meika: I know! *smiles* Here we are, science and technology building for the genius I am dating!

Kaleb: Oh no. You’re walking me to class like I did for you.

Meika: What?! You did NOT walk me to class. Well, you sort of did, but it doesn’t count because you were IN the class too!

Kaleb: Totally counts! *winks*

Meika: Whatever. 

Meika and Kaleb arrive at room SL227.

Meika: Here we are. Have fun in class! Text me after? I’m probably going to go hang out with Lucas for a little bit. 

Kaleb: Yeah, I definitely will! We can go back to my apartment and study for Micro after, if you want.

Meika: Sounds great! 

Kaleb walks into the classroom and Meika turns down the hall, towards the exit door. As she walks out of the exit, she runs straight into someone coming inside.

Meika: Oh my god! I am so so sorry. 

Person: It’s fine. No worries, I went in the wrong door like an idiot. I’ve been an idiot all day, so what’s new?

Meika: Adam?

Adam: Oh..Meika. Sorry.

Meika: Are you okay?

Adam: Yeah, I’m okay. Like I said, it was my fault. 

Meika: You having a rough day?

Adam: I really have to get to class. Sorry.

Adam rushed off down the hallway and turned around a corner. Meika continued to look at where he disappeared. All the memories of her and Adam rushed through her head at once, good and bad. She tried to shake them away as she walked to Lucas’ apartment.

CANAL SQUARE - LUCAS’ APARTMENT

Meika walked into the front door of Lucas’ apartment and found Lucas with his other roommate Keegan.

Meika: Hey guys!

Keegan: Meika, what’s good?

Lucas: Hey! Back so soon? 

Meika: Yeah, Kaleb has another class before we are studying so I was hoping to hang out with y'all a little bit longer. 

Keegan: For sure! Sit down and let me destroy you at 2k. 

Meika: I’ll have to pass on that one, Keeg. Sorry. *laughs*

Keegan: Whatever. I’m going to head to my girlfriends’ anyways. She’ll get destroyed, just not in the same way. *winks*

Meika: You disgust me.

Lucas: Please leave now. 

Keegan: Bye guys!

Lucas: So how are things with Kaleb?

Meika: Pretty good! He is super nice and he treats me really well.

Lucas: You have always deserved that, you know? I’m really glad that you are happy, Meika. 

Meika: Me too, Lucas. Kaleb makes me really happy. He’s not too serious about things, but he cares at the same time. 

Lucas: I’m happy for you, really happy. 

Meika: Thanks Lucas. I appreciate your approval of Kaleb! *winks*

Lucas: Always looking out for you! Kim should be here soon!

Meika: Ugh. I’m always the third wheel. This isn’t fair. 

Lucas: You have a boyfriend. Shut up.

Meika: Fine. I wonder what they are learning in Bio 3 right now. 

Lucas: No, you don't.

Meika: You’re right. I hate science. *laughs*

CLASSROOM SL227 - BIOLOGY 3

In Bio 3, the professor is sorting the class into partners. In the middle of the room, two males are sitting by each other, decided upon by the professor. 

Male 1: Hey. So, I guess we are lab partners. 

Male 2: Yeah, it seems that way.

Male 1: I’m Kaleb. Pre-med.

Male 2: Adam. Forensic Biology.

Kaleb: Nice to meet you! Forensic sounds really cool.

Adam: You too. It’s not bad, I guess.

Kaleb: Seems like I have the most qualified lab partner in the room!

Adam: Doubt it.

Kaleb: *under his breath* Not the friendliest though.

CANAL SQUARE - LUCAS’ APARTMENT

Lucas: I hate that you always beat me at my own game.

Meika: I used to play my brothers’ PlayStation when he wasn’t home. It’s natural for me! 

Lucas: This is why we never hang out.

Meika: What? We literally always hang out! *laughs*

Lucas: I hate you even more for that statement.

Meika: No, you actually don't! *smiles*

Adam bursts through the front door and looks at where Meika and Lucas are playing video games. 

Adam: You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

Adam walks across the room, into his bedroom and slams the door shut. 

Lucas: *screams at Adam* You could’ve shut the fucking door, you dick!

Meika: What the hell was that?

Adam decides to throw open his bedroom door and stares at Meika. 

Adam: What the hell was what?

Meika: Why are you so angry? What is wrong with you?

Adam: Get out of my apartment.

Meika: What?

Adam: You heard me. Get the fuck out.

Lucas: Woah, Adam. Stop. Meika, you can stay. It’s my apartment too. 

Meika: It’s fine, Lucas. I have to go anyways. 

Adam: You want to know what my problem is?

Meika: Not really actually.

Adam: Well, I’ll tell you anyways. My problem is that I walked to the Nursing Building this morning to talk to you after class. But then you came walking out with this guy laughing and smiling. You came out of class looking happier than I’ve ever seen you. That hurt me. I was pissed off.

Meika: Adam, what did you expect? Did you expect me to wait my entire life for you? I got the hint. You didn’t want to talk. I wasn’t going to push that. I understood.

Adam: That’s not all. Guess who my fucking lab partner is? Go ahead, GUESS!

Meika: I don’t know.

Lucas: KENDRICK LAMAR!

Adam: It’s Kaleb. It’s your awesome boyfriend. So first, I had to see you looking so happy. Then, then I get to be lab partners with the guy who is making you happy. That should be me. I should be the one making you happy, Meika. We both know it.

Meika: You had your chance. Actually, you had several chances. You took them all for granted. I gave you so many fucking chances and you took it all for granted. You thought I would always be there waiting. But look, I’m not. I’m done with it all, Adam. 

Adam: No. No, you aren’t. You know you are still in love with me. You’ll always be in love with me. Don’t lie to yourself. We will always feel this way for each other. No matter who gets in the way. 

Meika: What the hell. I’m not lying to myself. I will always love you, but we do not work well together and we will never. We had our time and it didn’t work. Let’s leave it at that. 

Adam: No. You should be mine.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Everyone looked around at each other.

Lucas: I guess I’ll get it.

Lucas opened the door and Kaleb was standing on the outskirts. 

Lucas: Oh. Hey Kaleb. Come in.

Kaleb: Sorry to show up on your doorstep. I tried to call you, Meika, but you didn’t answer. I’m out of class, so we can go study now if you want to. 

Meika: Yeah, sorry about that. Let me get my bag.

Lucas: Don’t forget your laptop! It’s charging in my room.

Meika: Right! Thank you!

Meika walked out of the room and into the bedroom to retrieve her laptop and charger. When she turned around, Adam was in the room too.

Adam: I want to talk.

Meika: You’ve said a lot already, Adam. Plus, I need to go.

Adam: Meika, everything came out wrong. I just want to talk to you. Please.

Meika: As you can see, I have to go. Another time.

Meika walked out of the bedroom and back into the living room, with Adam on her heels.

Kaleb: Hey, Adam, right?

Adam: Oh yeah. Hey Kaleb. 

Kaleb: Meika! This is my Bio lab partner!

Meika: Oh really? I went to high school with Adam. 

Adam: Yeah, that’s how we know each other..

Meika: Alright, well I will talk to you guys later. We have to go! See ya!

Kaleb: Bye Lucas! See you later Adam!

Lucas: Bye you two!

Adam: *whispers*  Bye.

RIVERSIDE - KALEB’S APARTMENT

Kaleb and Meika are sitting in Kaleb’s room, studying Microbiology. Meika lays on the bed with books and notebooks spread open all around her. Kaleb is sitting at his desk with just one book open.

Meika: I’m never going to understand your studying techniques! 

Kaleb: I know. Things just seem to click if I read them.

Meika: You’re so lucky. I am such a visual person. It sucks. You’re a natural genius, Kaleb. I’m lucky actually.

Kaleb: *looks at Meika* How did it go from me being lucky to you being lucky? Why are you lucky that I am a supposed genius?

Meika: Because I’m dating you. *smiles*

Kaleb: You’re adorable.

Kaleb gets up and walks over to the bed. He sits on the edge and leans down to kiss Meika. Meika blushes.

Kaleb: I still can’t believe you blush.

Meika: I literally have never blushed once in my life. 

Kaleb: Whatever you say!

Meika: I mean, Adam did say that he saw me with you after Microbiology and I looked happier than I ever have before.

Kaleb: Wait, Adam saw us together?

Meika: Uh, yeah?

Kaleb: Was that why he was being such a douche in Bio?

Meika: Don’t take it personally. He’s always like that.

Kaleb: Really? Damn.

Meika: I’m sorry Kaleb. You don’t need him. You are a genius all on your own! *kisses Kaleb’s cheek*

Kaleb: Thank you. You are just too sweet to me. 

Meika: It’s so you’ll help me pass Micro *sticks tongue out at Kaleb*

Kaleb: You’re the worst!

Meika: *laughs* And somehow, you are still with me!

Kaleb: It’s your genius mind!

Meika: Now I know you are lying! *laughs*

Kaleb: I think you're extremely smart, Meika. Honestly. Believe in yourself.

Meika: I do, sometimes. But thank you Kaleb. You always tell me what I need to hear!

Kaleb: Now, come on, my little genius. We need to continue studying! *kisses Meika and walks back to his desk*

CANAL SQUARE - LUCAS AND ADAM’S APARTMENT

Lucas and Adam are watching TV in the living room. Both of them look like they are more deep in thought than watching the TV.

Lucas: Dude. What the hell was all that? 

Adam: I don’t want to talk about it.

Lucas: Tough luck, because we are. You cannot tell someone to get out of our apartment when I am the one who invited them over.

Adam: It’s hard to see her, okay? Especially with another guy. It sucks and I am aware that it is all my fault, but that doesn’t help the hurt at all.

Lucas: Yeah, i get that, but you will have to deal with it because she is my best friend. I’m sorry. I won’t have her over all the time, but I won’t ban her from this apartment. I’m sorry for the way things ended with you two, but it’s life. Things happen. People move on. 

Adam: I don’t want her to be happy.

Lucas: What? You want her to be miserable all her life? You want her to wait for you all her life, when both of us probably know that you would never go back. You want her there for when you actually want her. She doesn’t deserve that. She deserves a guy who will want her all the time, through the good and the bad. She deserves the best out there. We both know that. Let her be happy. Maybe she will come back to you in the end. But let me give you some friendly advice dude. If Meika comes back to you, do NOT push her away again. Accept her. Do not take her for granted again. She would have given you the world. She would have done anything for you. You were always her first priority. So if by some miracle, she comes back to you, don’t fuck it up again, okay?

Adam: I wouldn’t. I know it’s hard to believe me when I say that because I’ve said it before, but I mean it this time. She never really looked happy with anyone else before. I haven’t seen her with anyone else, so I didn’t really realize how badly it would hurt and affect me. It does. I finally feel it now. It sucks. If she was to come back, I would never let her go again. At the same time, I hope she doesn’t come back, not because of me, but because of her. For her own good, her own happiness and wellbeing, I hope she never comes back to me. I could never make up for the past.

Lucas: That is very respectable. You can’t change the past. You just have to change the present in order to change the future. Be a better person and guy in general to prove the difference. Maybe she will recognize that. Maybe not. It’s hard to see, but in the end, it would make you better overall.

Adam: You’re right. Thanks for talking to me. Tell her I apologize for yelling at her. Also, she can come over whenever. I will be okay. I’m sorry.

Lucas: It’s okay. I understand it is hard sometimes, but you gotta work through it all. Maybe you should text her and apologize. It would mean more coming directly from you.

Adam: Yeah, you’re right, again. Alright, well I’m going to work on some classwork. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Thanks again.

Lucas: No problem man. I’m going to play some basketball. Have fun with the work.

Adam walked into his bedroom and went straight to his desk. He sat down and stared at his phone. Finally, he picked his phone up and began a text message addressed to Meika.

RIVERSIDE - KALEB’S APARTMENT

Kaleb and Meika are still studying in Kaleb’s room. Meika is starting to pack up her stuff, getting ready to leave. 

Meika: I should get going soon. I need to get home for dinner.

Kaleb: I could make us dinner if you wanted.

Meika: Of course you can cook. What aren’t you good at?

Kaleb: I’ll let you decide over time! Do you want me to make us dinner? 

Meika: It sounds fun, especially being with you, but I really should get home soon.

Kaleb: Okay, I’ll walk you to your car.

Meika: Thank you. I’m going to get a drink for the road! Be right back!

Meika walked out of Kaleb’s room and out of sight. Kaleb is laying on his bed where Meika was previously laying. He is smiling to himself, when Meika’s phone buzzes. Kaleb looks down at it, ensuring it is not Meika’s parents trying to contact her. 

Adam: Hey Meika. I am terribly sorry for earlier. I am sorry for yelling at you and telling you to leave. I understand that it is also Lucas’ apartment, so you are free to visit whenever you please. I am sorry for getting so angry at you and putting all the blame from the past on you. I really do want to talk with you about everything, but I understand if you do not feel comfortable doing so. I want you to know that you were never in the wrong - it was always me. I am so sorry I tried to blame you for every bad thing that happened. Also, most of all, I am sorry for never answering your messages. You didn’t deserve to be ignored. You deserved a response of some kind. I regret the way I treated you. I will always love you. Kaleb is a really lucky guy. He seems very nice and like he deserves you. You deserve to be happy and I hope you find that happiness, whether it is with Kaleb or elsewhere, you deserve it all. I apologize again, Meika.

Meika walks back into the bedroom with a flavored water under her arm. 

Meika: Are ya ready to go?

Kaleb: *looks up at Meika, confused* What is this about?

Meika: What do you mean?

Kaleb: This text from Adam. What is it about?

Meika: I didn’t know I got a text. Let me see it and I’ll let you know. 

Meika takes her phone from Kaleb’s hand and reads the message she received from Adam. After she is finished reading, she looks up with shock in her eyes. 

Kaleb: Meika? Are you okay?

Meika sits down next to Kaleb and looks at him.

Meika: Yes. I am perfectly okay. *grabs Kaleb’s hand*

Kaleb: Meika, what is all that about? What happened earlier?

Meika: I used to date Adam. In high school. I fell in love with him. I always wanted to try again with him, but he was so back and forth with his own feelings, it was hard to pursue something like that. I held onto the relationship for so long. I tried reaching out to him about six months ago, but he wouldn’t respond back. He was supposed to help me study for my nursing test, but he just stopped responding. I finally gave up hope then. He got mad at me earlier because he went to talk to me after Micro and he saw me with you. He noted how happy I looked. How it upset him that someone else was making me laugh and smile, that it was not because of him. It didn’t help that you became his lab partner. He just wanted to explain things to me, but honestly, I wasn’t really interested in listening to his excuses again. So, yeah, I think that’s all.

Kaleb: Do you still love him?

Meika: I will always have some love in my heart for him. He was the first guy I fell in love with. That love will never disappear. But no, I do not want to be with him.

Kaleb: Are you okay? 

Meika: *looks at Kaleb’s bright blue eyes* I am completely okay. Thank you. *kisses Kaleb*

Kaleb: I’m always here for you. No matter what. Let’s get going before you miss dinner though.