#on the bright side i finally have my drivers permit! one step closer to getting my license

[n64gamepak]

mb for disappearing for a day or two i'll post smthn chiluc related later

[mattzerella-sticks]

Buddies, 7.3k words, T, (pre-Eddie/Buck, gay!Eddie, coming out)

(ao3)

After Eddie was shot, there were two big things he had to deal with - recovery, and the near-death realization that he was gay. The latter of which proved more difficult of the two. But as his recovery was aided by a physical therapist, Eddie also found someone to help him come to terms with his sexuality and find acceptance. Eddie wouldn't know where he'd be if Michael hadn't taken him under his wing.

However, the consequences of a failed date - encouraged by Michael - lead to something Eddie didn't think he'd be facing so soon. Coming out to his teammates. Will Eddie find the strength within himself to push through his fears? It shouldn't be too hard... right?

           It’s too stifling for a fall morning in Los Angeles, Eddie thought, as he hopped out of the fire engine and sweat immediately dampened the collar of his jacket. He tugged on the fabric, huffing a tired breath through clenched teeth as he trotted after his teammates. Eddie soon fell into step beside Buck as Bobby began directing them where they were needed along the highway pileup. “Hen, Chim, attend to the drivers who are already outside their vehicles,” Bobby ordered, waving at the few bystanders leaning against cars and cradling different parts of their body, like arms and heads and one visibly bloody side with blood leaking through pale fingertips. Hen and Chimney immediately hurried there before the woman fainted from blood loss. Then, Bobby points at the two smoking cars fused together feet away. “Buck, Eddie, I want you to check on the drivers in each car and assess the damage. If you can get the occupants out safely, you have permission to do so.”

           They nodded, Buck’s face stretching with a grin as he locked eyes with Eddie. “We got this, don’t we Eds?”

           Eddie’s heart skipped at the nickname, and he blamed it on the weather. He blamed the warmth pooling in his cheeks, no doubt tinting his cheeks, on that, too. “Course we do.” He followed Buck towards the wreckage, asking, “Which one are you checking?”

           “I’ll handle the Corvette,” Buck said, “always wanted to have my hands on one, anyway.”

           “Guess that leaves me with the mini-van…”

           Buck shrugged, splitting off wordlessly to inspect the red sports car that, in this moment, resembled an empty beer can littering the floor of a house party. You get what you pay for, in the end. Eddie stifled his giggle, sobering to a more serious expression as he rounds the other, less-damaged, car. He found a young girl behind the wheel, staring straight ahead while white knuckling the steering wheel. An older woman sat in the passenger seat, knocked unconscious by the collision. He wasn’t worried too much, however, aware of the deflated air bags blanketing their laps. Eddie knocked on the door, “LAFD! Are you able to lower the window?”

           He startled the driver from her trance, shaky hands finally releasing the wheel and whipping to her face. She sobbed through her hands, a muffled sound that tugged on Eddie’s heartstrings.

           Eddie knocked again, softer, until she looked at him. He tapped the window slowly, “Can you lower this?”

           She choked on a breath, chest heaving underneath her safety strap as she did what Eddie asked.

           “Hey,” he began, reaching inside to click the safety off, “my name is Eddie Diaz. What’s yours?”

           “Ol-Olivia…” she stuttered, wiping at tears that continued to fall no matter how hard she scrubbed her eyes, “I’m… oh God, I’m so sorry.”

           Eddie unbuckled her seatbelt, checking for any cuts or abrasions because of it. The skin around her neck seemed red and tender from impact, a possible burn, but that was the extent of the damage there. “It’s okay,” he assured her, cradling Olivia’s head in his hands to better assess her injuries. There were scrapes and bruises there, dried blood crusting around her nose. Nothing that screamed ‘emergency’. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

           She sucked in a deep breath, then launched into her story. Eddie listened, running through a mental checklist while she rambled. “I’d gotten my learner’s permit a few months ago,” Olivia explained, “and I’m supposed to go for my driving test in a few months, for my birthday. In the meantime, I’ve been practicing all I can and I… and I thought I was ready for the highway. I mean, it’s not parallel parking, so I thought it couldn’t be that hard. But my mom thought I wasn’t ready and I… I didn’t listen and – oh, oh no! My mom -!”

           “Is okay,” he told Olivia, keeping her eyes on him and preventing any further sudden movement. “I promise.” Eddie surreptitiously scanned Olivia’s mother between beats of her story, noting the subtle rise and fall of her chest. “Is that how you got into the accident? Fighting with your mom?”

           “Well, partly,” Olivia explained, “I…” She hesitated, biting her lip and causing a few more blood droplets to leak past the cut there. Eddie waited, running his hands below the dashboard to check for any strain or damage from the crash that might make extraction difficult. There wasn’t any he felt. “It’s so embarrassing,” she muttered.

           “It’s okay,” Eddie said, smiling, “You wouldn’t believe the kind of calls me and my team have rushed to. I’m sure whatever happened can’t be as embarrassing as a woman stuck in a window because she tried throwing her poop out when the toilet wouldn’t flush.”

           That encouraged a tiny laugh from Olivia, and soon her earlier nerves from the crash disappeared. “I guess…” she sighed, dabbing at drying tear stains with her hoodie sleeve, “I was doing an okay job driving. Better than either I or my mom figured. But then this huge truck barreled by in such a rush that it shook the car and I freaked. I started screaming, and so did my mom, and I didn’t notice that we started drifting and… ugh, I felt like Cher, y’know? From that movie Clueless?”

           Eddie blinked at her. “You know what Clueless is?”

           “It’s a good movie,” she defended, “Plus that’s like… peak Paul Rudd. Although current Paul Rudd is also peak Paul Rudd… he’s really cute for an old guy.”

           He mostly agreed with her, only offended by her closing remark. Paul Rudd isn’t old.

           Paul’s ageless.

           Eddie stood at his full height, backing away to give Olivia space. “You think you can step out of this vehicle on your own?” She shifted, slowly freeing one leg and then the other. Olivia tried exiting, except stumbled after the second foot left the car. Eddie caught her, easing her to the ground. From the corner of his eye, he saw Hen and Chimney approach. “You’re very lucky Olivia,” he said, “you had a great car that shielded you and your mom from some pretty serious damage. My friends are gonna help you two out now. You don’t have to tell them everything, but be sure to answer all their questions and if there’s any pain, okay?”

           “Okay.”

           “Good.” Eddie rose to greet Hen and Chimney, quickly combing through all he learned during his short time with Olivia, stressing the most important pieces of information. “I still have to get her mother out of the passenger side,” he said, jerking his thumb at the car, “once I do that I can carry her to the ambulance so you can do your thing –“

           “Sorry Eddie,” Bobby interrupted, clapping him on the shoulder, “I’m gonna need your help with the other driver.”

           “That bad?”

           “It’s an older car, made with metal instead of plastic,” he said, “guy’s wedged in there pretty tight, cut up, too. And there’s a glass shard running right into his shoulder blade.” Bobby turned to Hen and Chimney, “Once you’re done here we’ll need you on standby to help us. No telling how much blood he’s lost so far, or if there’s any trauma below his waist.”

           “No problem Cap,” Chimney said, “We’re almost done here. Hen, why don’t you go with Eddie and Bobby while I see to Olivia’s mom?”

           “Sounds like a plan to me.”

           “Great,” Bobby led them to the other side of the wreckage, Buck absent from the scene. “He’s getting the jaws,” he told Eddie and Hen. Then, once they’ve reached the Corvette’s driver’s side, Bobby yelled into the open, broken, window, “Sir? Sir, can you hear me? Are you still with us?”

           The man groaned a few indecipherable syllables Eddie couldn’t hope to piece together. He exchanged a short glance with Hen, who appeared similarly unsure. Bobby, meanwhile, continued his one-sided conversation as they waited for Buck to arrive with the jaws.

           “Coming in hot!” he yelled, lugging the jaws over his shoulders, “Where you want me, Cap?”

           “Let’s start with the door,” he motioned Buck closer, pointing at the hinge. “Eddie, grab the middle. I’ll get this side. When Buck snips this free, we’ll gently lower it down and let Hen get in there.”

           “Copy that.” Eddie readied himself, crouching into position. He laid his hands atop the car door, small glass shards crunching under his gloves as his fingers curled. Buck and Bobby talked over his head, working to line up the jaws correctly. During this, Eddie chanced a peek inside at the driver.

           The face he saw, staring back at him, nearly knocked him off his feet.

           Fitting, as that was how it felt when Michael showed him his picture while convincing Eddie to go on a blind date.

           “He works with David at the hospital,” Michael told him, passing his phone over so Eddie would see what David’s co-worker, Dr. Brendan Carmichael, looked like. In the picture Michael found, a selfie from Instagram, Eddie learned more than he needed. That beside the bright, orange hair and freckles splattered across his face like someone flicked a paintbrush over his skin, he also maintained a very strict gym regimen which kept his abs in perfect condition. Eddie’s thumb hovered over the midsection Brendan revealed, careful not to like it on Michael’s account. “He broke up with his last boyfriend a few months ago, and only recently started talking about dating again,” he continued, Eddie tearing his gaze away from the phone to better listen, “David mentioned you, how you were wanting to date again, too, and Brendan’s interested in setting something up. Only question is… are you?”

           It was something Eddie was working himself up to. After breaking things off with Ana during his recovery, and Buck’s focus divided further because of Taylor, Eddie found periods where he was all alone with only his thoughts as company. Because of this, it was harder and harder for him to ignore certain stuff he’d pushed to the back of his mind and crammed into a tiny closet. Namely, his utter sexual indifference to women.

           Almost dying for the umpteenth time put Eddie’s life into perspective.

           He wouldn’t know if the next near-death call might finally succeed where others hadn’t, and Eddie realized how awful it’d be to go without following his heart.

           So he followed it all the way to Michael’s. Eddie knocked on his door late one evening, a fifth of whiskey in his veins dulling the voices shouting how this was stupid, how he and Michael were acquaintances at best and strangers at worst. Then, once Michael invited him inside his empty apartment, Eddie vomited his epiphanies until Michael set his shaking frame down on the couch and forced a glass of water down his throat.

           Since then, Michael had taken on the role as Eddie’s gay sponsor. Michael guided Eddie to a point where he could see his reflection and say ‘gay’ while smiling. He also pushed at the fear that still clung to Eddie, urging him to experience new things, like with this blind-date.

           “I don’t know,” he said, “he does look… really, really nice.” Admitting that never felt like pulling teeth with pliers anymore, thanks to Michael. “I’m just… not sure.”

           “What aren’t you sure about?”

           “I don’t know,” he shrugged, “I… I guess it’s nerves. I’ve never done this before, you know. Is there anything I should know? That makes it different than a date with a woman?”

           Michael shot him a flat look, snatching his phone back. “A date is a date. There’s nothing different about it because it’s with another man. Well… except for when the check comes, and you have to bare-knuckle brawl in the kitchen to decide who gets to pay.” Eddie returned the favor, brows leveling at his friend. Michael chuckled, “Seriously, it’s nothing you need to work yourself up about. Go into it like it was any other date. You’ll have fun – and I’m not laying it on. Brendan is a great guy, from what I’ve heard. He’s got charm and face, which is rare. You don’t find men like us in the wild every day.”

           “Men like us?” Eddie parroted, cheeks straining as he fought against the smile threatening to appear.

           “Me,” Michael clarified, grinning freely, “And Chris Hemsworth. That’s it though.”

           “And this Brendan guy,” Eddie added, “if what you’re saying is true.”

           It wasn’t, unfortunately.

           The night started with Brendan arriving late to the restaurant he chose because of its proximity to the hospital, and only further plummeted as it went on. Brendan criticized his choice in dinner, goading him into ordering an even pricier dish that Eddie hadn’t even wanted. Which Eddie then paid for, although he almost was stuck with the entire bill as Brendan assumed Eddie would cover it. It almost made Eddie reconsider Michael’s earlier crack about brawling. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Brendan’s personality rubbed Eddie the wrong way. He was dismissive of Eddie’s career, unsubtly scrolled through his phone during parts of the evening, and seemed entirely uninterested in Christopher to the point that Brendan interrupted any story about him with an unconnected anecdote, derailing the entire conversation. As the waiter left with their credit cards, all Eddie wanted was to put this date in the rearview behind him.

           Except Brendan’s phone died during dessert, and he didn’t drive himself. “If you could give me a ride?” Brendan suggested, slipping a hand behind Eddie’s button-down and petting his chest, “I’d be very grateful…”

           Eddie wished he could say he drove Brendan home without anything happening, that he was a stronger man. But Eddie gave in to curious temptation. He let Brendan guide him to his apartment bed instead of racing back home to fall asleep in an empty house, Christopher staying over at Michael’s with Harry.

           They jerked each other off in the end; a slight comfort over oral and miles above anal. Once Eddie came, he feigned exhaustion and settled in for a sleepless night. He laid in wait for the morning, where he snuck out of Brendan’s apartment as the rising sun filtered past drawn curtains without a word to his date. Eddie did leave a note, promising he would call soon.

           He hadn’t and had no plan to, either.

           Still, here Brendan was.

           “Cutting in three, guys,” Buck yelled. He proceeded to count down; on one, Eddie heard the snip from the jaws and belatedly realized he needed to move. Bobby swung a second before Eddie, and the momentum of the door made Eddie stumble in his haste to lift the door.

           “Eddie,” Bobby huffed, “You good?”

           “Yeah… yeah,” he nodded, dropping the door on the street at the same time Bobby did. “No need to worry about me.”

           Bobby didn’t believe him, but he stopped questioning Eddie in favor of looming over Hen’s shoulder as she worked on Brendan. Buck leaned against the roof, head ducked inside the cabin, too. Eddie stood apart from the scene as an outlier. He wasn’t sure if it was good to approach. Although, being fully removed meant he wouldn’t know what the other man might say in his condition.

           Only three people knew of his sexuality – Michael, David, and Brendan. Eddie wasn’t ready for that circle to expand.

           Eddie returned, joining the others. He entered to hear Hen finish her line of questioning, her last question prompting Brendan to speak. “The wound on my shoulder is superficial,” he said, gaze unwavering on the side of Eddie’s face. He felt the weight of it, Eddie turned to watch his co-workers instead of Brendan. Bobby’s focus didn’t waver from the crushed dashboard in Brendan’s lap, prodding it in different areas. Buck kept glancing between Eddie and Brendan. “It’s deep, but a clean cut. You can get to that later, because I’m pretty sure there’s something digging into my leg close to my femoral artery.”

           “We’ll get right to it, then,” Hen assured him, “Sounds like you know your stuff, though. You a doctor?”

           Eddie bit his tongue, swallowing his instinctual reply. “Yeah,” Brendan said, “I’m a doctor.”

           “Then that saves us some time.” Hen reached into her bag for a neck brace, placing it around Brendan’s neck while Bobby muttered something to Buck. Buck’s eyes flicked to his briefly before he jogged towards the fire truck. “We’ll have you out of here in no time. Can you tell me where you were headed?”

           “To lunch,” Brendan told her, “We had to push a surgery back a day, and my next one wasn’t until two so I… I thought I’d treat myself to something nice. I already had back-to-back operations this entire morning.”

           “What were they?”

           “Tumor removals,” he explained, “in the brain. Real delicate work. I’ve probably performed over a hundred by now, but I still can’t shake the jitters each time I enter the theater…” Eddie grimaced, hiding it behind his jacket collar. Yes, he knew about Brendan’s job. Hearing it in this context, on the field and not in a dimly lit restaurant, hit differently; like he cared about his patients and didn’t use his position as a point of status. This was not the Brendan he remembered. Regret churned in Eddie’s gut, mixing with the shame and embarrassment already present.

           “I know what you mean,” Hen smiled. She rubbed around the shoulder wound, cleaning it of dried blood to better inspect it. “You can have it all down to a formula, but you will never be sure what might happen when the time comes.”

           “Exactly.”

           Buck hurried back with new tools in hands. He handed a saw to Bobby, “Where do you want me?”

           “Other side,” Bobby said. He tapped Hen on the shoulder, silently urging her off Brendan. “Sir,” he started, “we’re going to be cutting the dashboard off shortly. Don’t be afraid to talk or shout if you feel any pain, okay?”

           “I understand.”

           “I’ll remove the wheel, first,” Bobby said, slipping a pair of goggles on, “don’t move.” He powered the saw on and, in seconds, removed the wheel. Brendan sagged somewhat, breathing stilted and ragged. “Are you okay?”

           “Yeah...” He coughed, “Think my ribs might be bruised, possibly broken. I don’t… I think that’s it. Not sure.”

           “You’re talking, so that’s a good sign.” Hen felt around his chest, then held her stethoscope to hear his lungs. “Nothing out of the ordinary here, Cap. Carry on.”

           Bobby, and Buck now, brought their saws to the dashboard and continued cutting. Hen waited, kneeling, holding a bottle of solution and gauze for when it was her turn again. Meanwhile, Eddie uselessly hovered near her. There wasn’t much for him to do.

           That wasn’t true for long.

           Suddenly he was very much needed, Bobby calling for him and motioning Eddie with the saw. He tripped over his feet, “Coming! Coming!” Rushing to help Bobby remove the dashboard that, along with the glass shard, pinned Brendan to his seat. In doing this, Eddie glimpsed the red-stained leather under his leg. “Hen!” he said, “All you.”

           Hen filled the space where the dashboard had been, attending to Brendan’s wound with practiced speed. As Eddie and Bobby returned, she fixed the tourniquet around his thigh and was partway done with wrapping his leg with gauze. And when Buck sidled towards them, she began removing the glass shard in his shoulder. It was much longer than a passing glance would make you believe. “Yikes,” Buck muttered, “You ever think a windshield could do that?”

           “Old cars like these?” Bobby replied, “Anything’s possible.”

           “He’s good for removal!” Hen yelled over her shoulder, kicking her bag a few feet back. She stands, dusting off her knees, “I’ll go get Chimney and the stretcher, be ready to help us set him down once we’re here.”

           “Buck and Eddie’ll handle that,” Bobby said, “I’m gonna do a final sweep of the area, make sure we didn’t miss anything. Copy?”

           “Understood.” Buck knocked shoulders with Eddie, nodding at the car, “Let’s go get the doctor ready for his ride back to work.”

           Eddie bit his cheek, letting silence give a better response than he could at the moment. If Buck found it odd, like Bobby, he didn’t comment on it. They walked to Brendan’s car again, Eddie going through the motions to get him ready for transit. In that short span of seconds, Eddie hoped his luck might keep his secret safe. That Brendan wouldn’t mention their date.

           He knelt down, waiting for Buck’s signal to lift his legs, when he made the mistake of finally meeting Brendan’s stare. Brendan offered him a tired smile. “This is so not how I expected we’d meet again.”

           …Shit.

           Buck stilled, his hands falling to their sides as he looked to Eddie. “You two know each other?”

           Brendan sighed in the affirmative. “Very intimately.”

           “What…” Buck’s face screwed itself into an expression of confusion, the rainbow wheel in his mind spinning endlessly while he processed Brendan’s innuendo.

           Eddie pounced to fill the awkward silence. “We hung out, once,” he told Buck, “Like, a few days ago, I think? Super casual…”

           “Oh –“

           “Oh,” Brendan interjected, darker than earlier. He coughed, voice straining from the force of it, but he wasn’t deterred. “Oh, really? Hanging out… that’s what you’re calling it?”

           “Uh…” Eddie, taken aback by such an unexpected call out, couldn’t produce more than a few mumbled phrases that didn’t move beyond one syllable nor, when strung together, were comprehensible. Instead he glanced between Brendan and Buck, wasting precious time with silence.

           Brendan, however, formed complete sentences. “So tell me… since I have you, were you even planning on hanging out with me again, or do you leave all your buddies notes like that?”

           In his anger, Brendan shifted and started angling himself towards Eddie. Buck snapped out of his stupor enough to lay a calming hand on Brendan’s shoulder, “Hey! Hey… sir, you need to keep still until we move you.”

           “Sorry, sorry…” Brendan relaxed, albeit his glare was still focused on Eddie. Eddie flinched under the weight of it.

           “I…” Eddie tried, very aware of the sound behind him, of wheels rolling over gravel and measured footsteps. “I was trying to be nice?”

           “Nice?” Brendan spat, “Fuck you, Eddie.”

           “Eddie,” Buck inched closer, drawing Eddie’s gaze from Brendan to him. He spoke softly, like Eddie were one of the many victims they attended to during their careers. Eddie also noted the sharp steeple Buck’s brows, drawn together as if he already filled in the missing gaps of Eddie and Brendan’s story. Shit. “Why don’t you let us handle this?”

           “I…” Eddie found breathing as hard as speaking, managing enough foresight to sharply nod before standing and striding away from Brendan’s car. He passed a curious, concerned Bobby, but ignored his calls. Eddie kept himself tightly wound all the way to the engine. Once he entered, he fell apart. Eddie’s vision blurred, his lungs couldn’t hold enough air, and he melted inside his uniform. All he was able to do before completely shutting down was shoot a quick message to Michael.

           Brendn in acidnt fine but h outd me what do

           Eddie’s grip on his phone tightened considerably when he heard the engine doors open again. Buck slid inside, not meeting Eddie’s wide, panicked stare. There were more doors opening, Bobby and other firefighters climbing aboard. “Hen and Chim are taking that guy to the hospital,” Buck said, “Our work here’s done.” He paused, gnawing on his lip, considering saying more while Bobby slowly pulled them onto the road. “What he said…”

           He missed the rest of Buck’s question. His voice dulled as a sharp ringing in Eddie’s head blocked out every sound around him. Eddie sunk into it, comforted in the simpleness of the noise. He pressed himself against the window, arms crossed over his chest, and watched the scenery blur during their drive to the station.

           Then, when they arrived, Eddie flung the door open and his puddled mass in a jacket spilled free of the engine. He stripped off his uniform in a record-setting pace. And, as he finished, Eddie saw Buck steadily approach, Bobby like a shadow behind him. Both wore similar expressions that warned Eddie of conversations he was not ready for. Because of that, Eddie did something he regret. A course of action so damning it spoke louder than any mangled defense he might put together.

           He hid.

           “Stupid… stupid…” Eddie whacked his phone across his temple, curled into a tight ball outside the building. He snuck through a door in the back, smart enough to not go far but knowing that it’s so rare anyone used this area. It was set aside for the firefighters who smoked, Chimney explained. Those were always a small contingent, never more than one or two per squad. As the years went by, numbers dwindled, and a smoking firefighter became an endangered species. Now, hardly anyone uses this tiny alley that separates the fire house from its adjoining building. Except for Eddie. “I can’t believe I could have such shitty luck…”

           He went to hit himself with his phone again, but a shrill ping cut into his spiraling. Eddie checked his messages – Can I call? It was Michael. He texted back a thumbs up he didn’t mean. Soon his phone shook in his hands.

           Eddie answered, “Hey…”

           “Hi Eddie,” Michael said, tone soft like Buck’s back at the scene. He hated it. Eddie hated how much he wilted because of it, how his nerves started inching away from the edge at the gentle, implied coaxing. “How are you feeling?”

           Eddie barked a short, nasty laugh, wiping beads of sweat off his forehead. “I feel like I’m about to burst into flames.”

           “If you do, at least you’re around people who’ll know what to do.”

           “What if I don’t want them to save me,” Eddie groused, “should I make a break for it before the first spark catches?”

           “Like they wouldn’t race after you…” Michael’s voice trailed, clearly tiptoeing around the words he chose next. “So,” he said, “you ran into Brendan again today?”

           Eddie snorted. “More like some kid ran into his car…” He growled, kneading at his eye with the heel of his hand. “I can’t believe what happened, and how I… how I froze like that. Seriously, what were the odds?”

           “Pretty fucking low,” Michael told him, “But that’s exactly what it was, shit luck. There’s nothing you could have done to not have what happened, happened.”

           “That’s not true,” he sighed, “I could have not gone on that date with him. Or, at least, not let him talk me into his bed.”

           “He’s a charmer.”

           “I had nothing better going on,” Eddie said. He played his words back in his head, silently cursing how brusque they sounded. Was he really the bad guy in this scenario? Brendan hadn’t seem interested in a relationship during their dinner, and Eddie thought his own feelings were on display, too. Buck always said his poker face had more cracks in it than a busted sidewalk. Maybe the note was unnecessary, he can concede. Eddie can’t rewrite history and destroy it, though. “Besides,” he continued, swatting those past regrets away like flies, “Brendan wasn’t all that charming when he outed me, on top of cursing me out in front of the 118.”

           “Man was in a car accident,” Michael reminded Eddie, “He probably had more to worry about than decorum.” Michael coughed across the line, clearing his throat. “That doesn’t excuse what he did.”

           “Yeah,” he said, “I thought it was, like, gay brotherhood that you’re not supposed to out another gay person… or whatever.”

           “I… don’t think he knew. That you weren’t out…” Michael hummed, the noise rattling inside Eddie’s chest. “You’re right, in a way. Any decent gay person wouldn’t out a person before they’re ready. I can’t remember if Derek mentioned your… situation, when setting up the date. I can text him but, Eddie –“ Michael’s sigh caused the line to crackle and break, Eddie shivering as it hit his ear “– Eddie, Brendan and what he might and might not have known isn’t important, isn’t why I called.” Eddie knew. Of course, he knew. “What are you planning on doing next?”

           “That depends,” Eddie mumbled. His free hand tugged on his laces, loosening them slowly. “Do you want to hear what I want to do, or what I’m going to do.”

           “What do you want to do?”

           “Fake mine and Chris’s deaths,” he told Michael, “Start over somewhere new. Maybe on the East Coast, in a small fishing village where I can be a lighthouse keeper and never have to see another person ever again. Just me and Chris and the sea, until Chris leaves or I grow old and die. Whichever happens first.”

           “That’s… dark.” Michael said, “And oddly specific.”

           Eddie shrugged, “I watched the Lighthouse last night. Robert Pattinson jerked it to some mermaid doodle in it. Like… I could do that. Survive off of doodles of hunky mermen, or sailors. Hunky mermen getting it on with sailors… God knows the real thing didn’t work out.”

           “You don’t mean that.”

           “Well, what else can I do?”

           “You can go inside and talk to your friends,” Michael reasoned, “Your team who cares about you, and are most definitely worried because of what happened and how it affected you. Your family, who is ready to accept you for who you are as they always will. But first, you need to trust them and let them in to see who that is.”

           When Michael explained it, the obvious choice also seemed to be the easiest. The tiny seed of doubt, however, planted once Eddie accepted his heart’s leanings and blossomed into a strange bushel of roses with thorny roots strangling his chest, would not let him be. It poisoned his rationality, shredding any confidence Eddie built. “I trust them with my life,” he wondered, speaking barely above a whisper, “why is it so hard to trust them with this? Is it just me?”

           “It’s not you, Eddie,” Michael said. His voice thundered with conviction, startling Eddie. “Believe me, you aren’t the first gay man to feel this way and, unfortunately, you won’t be the last.”

           He sniffed, a wet chuckle escaping past his lips in a raspy breath. “That sucks.”

           “It sure does,” Michael agreed.

           “Does it ever go away?” he asked, “Or… get easier?”

           “I… it’s not a cut-and-dry answer,” he told Eddie, “In some cases, yes. Others… no. It’s situational.” Eddie found this answer unsatisfying. He wasn’t the only one. “Listen,” Michael said, “this might seem scary now, but I, uh – remember that first night. That night you came to my place and confided in me. What did you say?”

           “That I was gay.”

           “Yes…” Michael sucked in a deep breath, hissing his next thought so pointedly it cut through those pesky roots. “Now, imagine you’re me, saying what you said to me, but instead of saying it to me you were saying it to my lovely ex-wife who, at the time, was still my wife, and all this after we’re both a few glasses of wine deep and the kids are asleep.”

           Michael’s past helped put Eddie’s own troubles in perspective. He mentioned as such to him.

           “I don’t want to come off like ‘I had worse’ blah blah,” Michael said, “My point is – you see how good the relationship between Athena and I is. She could have easily kicked me out and then never spoken to me again. But she didn’t. She had every reason to hate me, but she didn’t. Athena loved me when she thought I was straight and continued after learning I was gay. It’s a different sort of love now, and yes, it might have wavered at times, but she stuck by my side like I stuck to hers. Yes, I was scared to tell her, just like you were when you came and told me. Just like you are now. But because I pushed through my fear, I freed us both from being unhappy. Her and Bobby… me and Derek… neither would have happened if I decided to keep my feelings to myself.”

           “Yeah… your life did change…” Eddie rested his head against his knees, remnants of adrenaline from earlier fully fading leaving an exhaustion that set deep into his bones. “I guess that’s what I’m really afraid of. How… acknowledging who I really am, and owning it, how everything will change after.”

           “Eddie, will being gay affect your job?”

           “What?” Eddie yelped, head rising again, neck aching from the whiplash Michael’s unrelated question caused. “No –“

           “Will you being out really make you a completely different, unrecognizable person?”

           “Uh… I – I don’t… no?”

           “Then it sounds like nothing will actually change.” Michael’s tone relaxed and, finally, Eddie let himself do the same. The other man’s speech wrapped around him like a warm blanket. “You didn’t wake up one morning and decide to be gay. It’s something that’s always been a part of you. It’s been there during every call you went out on. You’ll still be Eddie… just a happier Eddie, because you’re allowing yourself to be happy and honest with who you are. That’s what’s important here. Coming out isn’t about other people, it’s about you. You, opening yourself to others to see this part of you, and letting them share in the joy of who you are. And the 118, your friends, will still love you because this… this gay Eddie you have in your mind, is just Eddie. That’s it.”

           Eddie didn’t cry. He wouldn’t be able to hide it, once he went back inside to confront his friends. If they asked, Eddie might mumble a few broken words about allergies then move on. Because he didn’t let his tears fall. “Thanks, Michael,” Eddie said, “I… I’m really grateful for you, being my friend. And that you didn’t turn me away like you should have done when I showed up at your apartment.”

           “I was less afraid of what you’d do,” Michael laughed, “and more afraid what you might do if I didn’t.”

           They ended the call soon enough, with Eddie exchanging a few final pleasantries while Michael’s goodbye was laced with encouragement.

           Eddie stood, riding the aches of pain that came from unfurling his back out of the tight coil he forced it into. He stretched his arms, pointed high towards the sky. Eddie leaned onto his toes, and even lifted his face to better feel the sun shining above.

           Much too warm for fall.

           Despite the heat and his fears, Eddie returned to the firehouse. He slowly crept inside, alert, gaze bouncing around for a sign of his friends. When he didn’t find them on the first floor, not hovering by the truck and newly returned ambulance or biding time in the gym, Eddie passed faceless co-workers on his way to the stairs. Each step Eddie took sounded like beats from a heavy drum, sounding a funeral march. Eddie kept up the tempo.

           As he climbed higher, his head peeked out and Eddie caught a glimpse of the second floor. Like always, his eyes were drawn immediately to Buck. He, along with Bobby, Hen, and Chim, were huddled around the kitchen island. Eddie watched them converse quietly, briefly, the discussion cutting off because Buck, the one currently speaking, turned and saw Eddie. Buck straightened, body taut and tense like Christopher got after Eddie caught him misbehaving. Eddie wasn’t foolish enough to think they were talking about anything other than him. Buck’s face flickers, flipping through emotions like pages in a book too fast so Eddie can’t read. It settled on a steely façade of determination, Buck readying to move. Before he can, Bobby stopped Buck with one hand on his shoulder. He understood.

           Let Eddie come to them.

           He did, slowly, at his own pace. Eddie settled between Hen and Chimney, both firefighters creating a space for him.

           There’s a beat of silence, the air above the kitchen island so weighty Eddie’s shoulders drooped. He fought against it, taking a deep breath. “Hey.”

           “Eddie,” Bobby spoke first, “how are you doing?”

           Michael advised honesty. That’s what Eddie gave. “I’m a little scared,” he admitted with a laugh, staring intently at a divot in the island’s counter, and how his finger repeatedly traced it. “Okay. A lot of scared.”

           “We’re here for you Eddie,” Bobby said, “Whatever it is.” On either side, his friends reached for him. Hen laid her hand over Eddie’s, crushing it in a loving grip, while Chimney soothingly rubbed his back. Eddie glanced at the men in front of him, Bobby looking encouraging at him while Buck…

           Eddie still can’t decipher what it is Buck tries to show.

           If he thought about it too long, he’d lose all the confidence he gathered to arrive at this point. Eddie swallowed past the lump in his throat, attempting to smile. “Thank you,” he said, “really.” Then, without fanfare, Eddie shrugged and told his friends, “I’m gay.”

           Like that, the next breath Eddie took felt lighter. It was unbelievable. No one said anything, but their love and acceptance were visible in other ways. Eddie was almost brought to tears because of them. He reigned his emotions in, maintaining control. If they stayed like this, however, he’s sure to break.

           Eddie cleared his throat, “That’s all. So if we could…”

           “Not so fast,” Chimney said, smirk tainting their tender moment. His hand slunk across Eddie’s back to his shoulder, clamping down and chaining Eddie there at his side. “There’s still the doctor of it all that’s been unaccounted for…”

           “Chim,” Bobby warned lightly, trying his best to play boss.

           Hen waved him off. “Eddie should have his chance to explain,” she argued, “tell us his side of the story. Lord knows Chim and I got an earful about what that man thought of you, Eddie. Filled the entire drive from the wreck to the hospital.”

           “He had a lot of opinions,” Chimney added.

           Eddie sighed. He expected they might have questions, especially about Brendan. He wasn’t unprepared for this. “I went on one date with the man,” he explained, “something Michael set up –“

           “Michael?” Bobby interrupted, tapping his chest, “My Michael?”

           “He’s not just your friend,” Eddie said, “He… he’s been helping me deal with… with all this. This… being gay, stuff.” He shifted, bending forward to press his chest on the counter. “It was Michael’s idea I go on a date with Brendan, sort of like practice. To get more comfortable being… out, in public, with another man. Personally, I didn’t think the date was that special. Brendan was… he had a lot of personality.”

           “Sure was flexing that… personality, despite all those injuries,” Hen agreed, “Kept going on about this – this note you wrote? What was that about?” Hen might have asked coyly, but it was obvious to Eddie she knew.

           He still answered her. “I was going for nice,” he muttered, “I didn’t want to up and abandon him after we… after he invited me over for the night, and we…” They were at work. Eddie couldn’t say more.

           Nothing else needed saying. Even Buck understood, if his rapidly flushing cheeks meant anything. “Oh,” he said, “so you and him… you two…” His pointer fingers on either hand were extended, slapping each other with wide sweeps.

           Hen choked on a snort, shoving Buck’s hands apart. “They weren’t sword-fighting, Buck.”

           “Yeah, I knew that…” Because of his bashful pout, followed by Buck tucking his head into his chest, Eddie didn’t buy his excuse.

           “Okay,” Bobby steered the conversation elsewhere, “besides us and… Michael… have you told anyone else?”

           Eddie shook his head. “Really?” Buck asked, “Not even Chris?”

           “Especially not Chris…” Some of that earlier fear returned, roosting in his chest like a bird returned north from winter. “I never… I don’t know how I would explain it to him or… how much I would have to explain? Like, if I was a single dad from the start, I’m sure it would be easier. But most of his memories are with me and his mom, and I – I haven’t figured out a way to tell him while also not invalidating mine and Shannon’s marriage, y’know?” Eddie agonized over that near constantly. He loved Shannon, truly, and wanted their marriage to work despite not being attracted to her in the way that mattered. Christopher needed her in his life. If that meant Eddie gave Shannon what she wanted, what Eddie pretended he wanted to, it would have been worth it.

           But, in the end, she still went ahead with the divorce. Shannon was more perceptive than he ever gave her credit for.

           “And then there’s the Ana of it all…” Eddie threw out, offhandedly.

           “Wait,” Buck said, “was that why you broke it off with her? When you told me…”

           Eddie’s breath hitched slightly, and he drummed his fingers against the counterspace. “No,” he said, “I… I didn’t have the realization then. I meant it, about us not clicking and… her being another try at giving Chris a mom. Although, being gay would definitely have played a factor in us not clicking.”

           “That’s for sure.”

           Another wave of silence washed over them, this the most awkward of them all. “If that’s it for questions…” Eddie extricated himself from the group, final shreds of adrenaline fading and leaving him exhausted. His mind already set a course for the bunks, planning a lengthy nap as a reward for his vulnerability.

           “Of course,” Bobby rounded the island, moving closer to Eddie. Buck was on his heels, but hung back on the fringes of the group, a few inches behind Hen and Chimney. “I want you to know how proud I am of you, though. I can’t imagine any of what you had to deal with was easy, and if you need anything from us – keeping this information to ourselves or whatever… let us know. We’ll follow your lead.” He then opened himself for a hug, giving Eddie the option to accept or refuse.

           Eddie sagged into Bobby’s embrace, grateful. “Thank you.” Hen and Chimney joined them, squeezing Eddie tighter and tighter. Only Buck kept his distance. Eddie opened his eyes and noticed the younger man watching them, a glint in his eye that struck Eddie’s nerve. Once the others released him, Eddie confronted Buck. “Hey, are you…”

           “Hmm?” Buck blinked, and what Eddie saw earlier disappeared. It vanished like it never existed. Maybe Eddie imagined it? Regardless, Buck smiled in his usual, too-large-for-his-face way and swept Eddie in a giant hug of his own. “I’m proud, too,” he whispered, “And what Bobby said goes double for me. Anything you need, ask… and I’ll be there.”

           Eddie caught himself before he spoke without thinking. Instead, he returned the hug. He rested his cheek against Buck’s shoulder, humming in acknowledgment of Buck’s promise.

           Buck would do anything for Eddie, as much as he would do anything for Christopher.

           Anything… except what Eddie truly desired from him.

           While baring his soul to the group about his sexuality was one matter, confessing to all his secrets was an entirely different sort he hadn’t felt ready for. He doubted he ever will be. Because if he told Buck the reason why he stopped running from the truth, why he couldn’t deny his feelings after being content in doing so for years, Eddie feared Buck would prove the sickening voices in his head right by leaving him.

           Really, Eddie thought, what else was there to do when you learn your best friend is in love with you?

           So he ignored how Buck’s touch skimmed his lower back, the gentle swaying dance they began by hugging longer than necessary, and, as they drew apart, the struck-match feeling of Buck’s lips brushing the outer edge of his ear.

           There was nothing to read into, he reminded himself. He and Buck were friends. Best friends. Best buddies. Buck had Taylor, and Eddie…

           Eddie had hope. Hope, emboldened by his bout of honesty, that there will come a day he found a man he truly loved to share his life with.

           Even if they weren’t Buck.

[codeandcreativity]

Reverie

Summary: Spencer and Maeve visit the Folger Shakespeare Museum. Written for @railmereid's 2K writing challenge/prompt: "Do you think we could pretend?"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Maeve Donovan (PG-13)

Category: Fluff, Angst

Warnings: Allusions to stalking. No explicit spoilers, but this won't make sense if you're not familiar with the beginning of the Maeve arc (Season 8).

Reverie

Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends. -William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

"Do you think we could pretend?" she asks softly.

"Pretend?"

"That we're together."

He looks up, past the scratched and dirty fiberglass casing of the phone booth, down one of hundreds of similarly featured streets from which he might have called her. "How?"

"Your mind is an amazing tool, Spencer. Convince me," she says with a gossamer laugh. "Tell us both a vivid lie."

"A rare vision?" he suggests, warming to the idea.

"Take pains," she says. "Be perfect."

"OK." He slips his hand into his pocket to pull out his own phone. "I'm going to hang up and call you on my cell."

"That sounds like a great start."

He settles the heavy pay phone receiver in its cradle with a satisfying thunk and hits the first speed dial on his cell.

"Hey," she answers right away.

"Hey." He smiles to himself. "You're still there."

"I'm still here."

"Great." He exits the phone booth and walks towards his car, three doors down in front of a coin-operated laundry. "I'm parked outside of Georgetown Laundry," he says, unlocking the door of his horizon blue 1965 Volvo Amazon and sliding behind the wheel.

"I'm right around the corner," she says, voice light with mirth. "Come pick me up."

He follows those welcome instructions, turning the corner at a lazy crawl just in time to see her emerge from the door of her brownstone. Her face is hidden from him by a curtain of rich brown hair as she turns to lock the door behind her. Her figure is mostly hidden, too, beneath a loose white sun dress that falls just past her knees and a gray cardigan that is at least one size too large. She turns at last, her eyes shaded by sunglasses but her smile bright and genuine. She trots down the steps to street level, waving cheerfully as she crosses the sidewalk to his car.

He's out of the car before he knows it, rushing to meet her on the sidewalk. He holds out his hand and says breathlessly, "Maeve."

"I think we're a little past that, Spencer," she says warmly, ignoring his proffered hand and wrapping her arms around him in an embrace that feels like early summer. She smells of cotton and lilac, light and sweet. Without a thought, he buries his face in her shoulder and wraps his arms around her tightly, as if she will float away, an ephemeral thing he must cling to if he is to have any chance of keeping it at all.

"You're really here," he murmurs against her skin. She shivers. He wants to make her do it again, so he says, "Maeve."

She laughs, her hands dancing the length of his spine. "I'm here. Now," she says as she pulls back just enough to see his face. "Where should we go?"

He breathes deeply, soaking in the warm summer air and the tethered feeling of her finally standing beside him. "Where do you want to go?"

She pushes her sunglasses up to reveal pale blue eyes, crinkling with excitement. "Where do you want to take me, Spencer?"

He barely has to think, when she says it like that. "I know a place." He pulls open the passenger side door and offers her his hand again. "Get in."

This time, she takes it, her skin cool and dry against his as she lowers herself into the car. "I should have known you'd drive something with character," she says as he climbs in the driver's side, running her fingers along the vintage console.

"I don't drive it much," he admits, pulling away from the curb and pointing towards their destination.

"I know," she says. "I'm glad you drove it today."

He turns his head for just a second to appreciate the childlike wonder on her face. "Me, too."

"Can I roll down the window?" she asks.

"Of course."

She works the crank until the window is as far down as it'll go, turning her face to the breeze. "I haven't been out of my apartment in so long," she says wistfully.

After a beat, he answers, "I know."

She turns back to him with a reassuring smile. "I can't wait to see where you're taking me."

They drive through tree-lined streets to the historic part of town, calling out landmarks well-known and esoteric, until finally he pulls over and puts the car in park. "I think we're here," he says, squinting through the windshield.

"You think?" she asks playfully.

He chuckles. "Yeah. We're here."

Before them rises a long two-story building with a facade of white Georgia marble, worn by more than 80 years of east coast weather but no less stunning for its age. Tall vertical windows line length of the building, art deco grilles adorning those and the entryway closer to the ground. A series of themed bas-reliefs pose under the windows, figures of stone so well-hewn they seem to not to have been carved from the marble, but to have emerged from it.

"Oh, I haven't been here in ages," she says, hand in his as she leads him up the stairs. Her fingertips hover over the figures, but she doesn't touch. Hers won't be among the hands that slowly erase the figures from the stone from which they were birthed. All the best tragedies already constructed, in word and stone, from Macbeth to Hamlet to Romeo and Juliet , those stupid, star-crossed lovers.

"This sort of artwork is usually installed near the top of the building," he says, watching her face flush with happiness as she traverses the path towards the doors. "The Folgers asked the sculptor to place them closer to street level to give the public a better view."

She pauses a moment in front of crowned Titania, dwarfed by an attentive Bottom, idiots in love. The Fairy Queen's face is turned out, in soliloquy or reverie. Titania's body occupies the same space as her lover's, but her mind is far afield. What a privilege.

She hums appreciatively. "Is there a show today?" she says, turning her hopeful face to his.

He smiles. "What would you like to see?"

"Surprise me!" she says with a grin.

They tour the library until the sun sets, gasping softly at the details of the collection on exhibit in the Great Hall. They admire the finer points of the room itself, with its soaring plaster strapwork ceiling and intricate terracotta floor, inscribed with the masks of Comedy and Tragedy, secreting in its tiles the titles of the Bard's plays. They hover as close to the First Folio as they're permitted.

Their hands never part.

They take in the Elizabethan Theatre, with its three-tiered balconies and carved oak columns, but that's not where either of them want to spend their evening, so he takes her at last out to the garden. And for all the things they've seen today, it's the sight of the formal garden, the smell of lavender and honeysuckle and thyme that pulls the breath from her lungs and she says, "Oh, Spencer."

Palms pressed together, he pulls her closer to his side. He bends his head and whispers, "There's more."

They traverse the garden slowly; she pauses often, to touch an unfurled leaf or inhale the scent of a flower rising brilliantly from the heavily mulched earth. While she drinks in their surroundings, he only has eyes for her. Her dark hair, blunt bangs playful over clear blue eyes, the pretty pink of her cheeks when she catches him looking, the sly curl of her lips that tells him she knows she's got him wrapped around her any way she desires. She has only to say the word.

"They're setting up for the show," he says, pointing down the path with his free hand.

She looks up at him, so pure and full of hope. " A Midsummer Night's Dream ?"

"I can't imagine anything else," he says honestly.

She laughs, soft like a blanket. "I imagine we have our choice of seats."

They do, and when they're settled on a blanket the color of a late summer sunset, she leans over and whispers in his ear, "I brought us something to drink."

"I don't…"

"I know," she interrupts. "It's sparkling apple cider."

Night falls around them and the lights come up. The players on the stage dance and sing through the text seamlessly, interlacing the stories of lovers and actors, tales of fairies and humans, crises of self and burgeoning feminism that make A Midsummer Night's Dream one of Shakespeare's most widely performed works.

As the play proceeds, they turn towards one another, until they are reclining, somehow watching the stage as well as the stars above. Puck makes their appeal to the audience at last, an assurance to the perturbed that what they have witnessed may be nothing more than a dream, to be whisked away by another sleep. There is no applause as Puck sees themself out, only the lingering silence of a theater long after the audience has gone.

They are the players now, alone on the stage.

"Maeve," he says softly, just for her. "Can I kiss you?"

"I think you should," she says, and before he can make a move, she presses her lips to his. Stunned, he reacts only after a moment, his fingers threading into her hair as he pulls her closer. He follows her lead, afraid of taking this ephemeral thing they've made too far. The kisses are passionate but chaste, not that he knows any other way.

Too soon, he feels her stiffen against him. "Spencer."

"What's wrong?" he asks, looking down at her face. The tone of her voice has painted her features ashen. She's only a shade now. A phantom.

He hears a series of beeps, a staccato succession of three.

"I… I have call waiting," she says, her voice truncated with fear.

"Maeve?"

"No one has this number."

"It's OK. Don't hang up. I can get someone to trace it," he tries to reassure her, but the terror in her voice has infected him.

"Spencer, I have to go."

Before he can say anything…

"Goodbye."

"I love you."

"I'm sorry."

"How will I know you're OK?"

…she's gone.

He's standing in a phone booth three doors down from Georgetown Laundry, listening to a dial tone.

-End-

Read on AO3

[ourplaceinthecosmosphff]

Chapter 12. The Caged Bird Sings

‘i am sorry this world could not keep you safe may your journey home be a soft and peaceful one' rest in peace, Rupi Kaur

For as long as I can remember, every time we went out as a family, Louis, Lourdes, and I would fight for the window seats of the car. It's simply what happens when there's three siblings, and only two window seats. When it was a private occasion, my father would drive, mom by his side, and we would fight in the backseat. When it was a formal royal occasion, our parents would take a separate car and the three of us would ride with a driver and a security officer by his side, and we would fight in the backseat. That was how we drove that day, with one exception.

Lourdes and I were not fighting for the window seat.

The procession of the coffin was televised live. It rode through the streets on top of a royal carriage, draped with the Savoy flag with the royal coat of arms, a large arrangement of white roses sat atop monstera leaves, Louis' favorite, according to Peter, which we decided to use to underline the roses all over the church.

Cadie had informed me major networks from around 62 countries had applied for broadcasting rights and permits to send journalists to cover it. Savoy had never been a very famous monarchy before, the British usually took up all the air time, but today was different. Tragedy sells, I suppose.

The actual funeral lasted roughly two hours, from the moment we left the house on a stuffy and warm car, to the moment we left the church. I felt sweat in the back of my head and my hands itched, but there was nothing I could do. The gates were still crowded when we left the palace, but Lourdes and I found it difficult to look at the people; it hurt too much. 

Though the streets were lined with people who’d gathered to watch us pass, watching the funeral on transmissions around parks, or listening to it on the radio, it was also unnervingly silent. The only noise was a general hum of sniffling, or sometimes loud crying, and the eventual shout from the crowd, with messages of support to our parents or ourselves, and promises to our brother that he wouldn’t be forgotten. 

It was exhausting, looking stoically ahead pretending to be unbothered by the fact that my brother shouldn’t have to be remembered, he should have been here. He should have had the chance to leave his mark in the world. He had such plans for his country and the rule he’d play in it. 

"Ma'am?" Joyce asked, from the front seat. "Do you need anything?"

Quietly, I shook my head no, and she repeated the question to my sister. Cadie would normally ride with us, but right before we left the palace, she had informed me it wasn't possible.

"Apparently," she had told me, "your new security protocol means you must have two protection officers with you at all times."

I pushed this new crum of information into a little box along with all the other questions I had about my new role within the royal family. My little box was heavy, full, cracking open against my will, but today was not the day to open it.

We walked behind out parents, Louis being carried ahead by the Royal Guards down the aisle to the sound of the Sainte Marie Madeleine Cathedral choir, a capella, singing I Heard the Voice of Jesus Say. The gothic Cathedral had been laid with white brick, which had become beige with time, but was still bright and lively, with purple and blue window glass and high domes.

"I heard the voice of Jesus say,

'Come unto Me, and rest;

Lay down, thou weary one, lay down

Thy head upon My breast'."

The Choir repeated the words until we were at the altar, where we stood, now a family of four, before my parents did the sign of the cross, and walked on to take their seats lining the sides of the altar, reserved for royals and family, and today occupied by us, our family on our mother's side, and foreign royals, who were always given family placement.

Unfortunately for me, Harry, his father and brother, had all been seated to the opposing side of the altar, which meant he was completely in my line of vision for the duration of the service.

Lourdes and I waited until our parents had walked on before we touched our foreheads, chest, and both shoulders in name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, before taking our seats next to our parents in the front row. It wasn't necessary to do the sign of the cross at the altar, though traditionally Catholics did it whenever we passed any church, but after a few tabloids criticized us for not doing it on church services in the past, simply because they didn't see us do it when we got out of the car, we had been instructed to do it as publicly as possible, so people could see.

Before out parents, place only former monarchs could occupy, sat our grandparents, so Lourdes and I lined up to curtsey and kiss their cheeks before taking out seats. Her mind was too far gone and she mostly didn’t speak anymore, but after I kissed her, my grandmother found my hand and held on tightly before I could move away. I looked at her, confused, and tried to give her a comforting smile; she reached over and cupped my cheek.

"Dieu vous bénisse." ‘God bless you’, she stuttered, voice rispid, low.

"Amen." I responded, on the same tone, squeezing her hand before standing up.

But she held me still, stronger than I thought she could be at her age. Instead, she pulled me down again, pulling my head beside hers to kiss my cheek.

Whispery, in my ear, she asked how I was. "Comment allez-vous?"

Avoiding the looks from my family around us due to the delay, I responded quickly that I was well. "Bien, grand-mère."

I pulled away again, but again she pulled me close. "Je ne te crois pas. Mais vous pouvez le faire."

'I don't believe you. But you can do this.'

Finally allowing me to go, she petted my hand and smiled. I lowered my head and took my seat.

The Archbishop began to speak as I braved to look at the first rows below, to make sure Peter was with friends, and in a close enough seat.

"We are gathered here today, to give thanks to our Lord, for the life of His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Louis-Adolphe of Savoy, seeking the comfort of the Holy Ghost for the hearts that will miss him most, after this untimely departure..."

I tried to tune out, but I couldn't. I heard every heartbreaking word. The Archbishop spoke of my brother's short life, of his joyful spirit that drew all around him closer, and asked that we may all remember him for his smile, and joy, and the joy he brought others.

There was a hymn, which I couldn't hear. When we stood up to sing, opening our programs, I remembered choosing the font, the songs, the paper. I remembered we chose On Eagles Wings, to be sang then by the student choir of the catholic boarding school Louis had attended, but the words did not register. Instead, I felt my heart beating in my head, almost lightheaded. Was it just me, or was it too warm? Had the Air coolers been turned on? I couldn't stop fidgeting with my gloves.

Finally, my mother reached out and held my right hand. The gesture took my by surprise, as she had barely looked at me for a week. She pressed out hands together tightly, but continued to sing following along to the words on her program.

She was wearing a black, wrap coat-dress with large, white lapels and cuffs, tight at the waist but round in the skirt that extended past her knees. Her large, round hat was black with white flowers on top, and I noticed that she wasn't wearing her usual statement necklace today. Instead, from her neck hang only a thin, gold scapular medal. I couldn't confirm without coming closer, but I suspected it was the Saint Sebastian scapular that had belonged to my brother.

We all got a scapular necklace on our confirmation day, as teenagers, and Louis had picked Saint Sebastian as his patron saint because he was the patron of athletes. The thought made me smile in that dreadful day. 

After the song, we sat down as the Archbishop announced one of Louis’ closest friends from the Edinburgh University Polo team, of which my brother was the captain. He read a bible passage, and then there was another song. This was followed by the Prime Minister, a central-left leaning middle aged man, who took the stand to make a brief statement on how proud my brother had made his country, with particular focus to his time on the military.

There was yet another hymn, when I noticed my sister’s hands were shaking. I tried to think of something to comfort her, maybe hold her hands in mine like my mother had done, but this was when I noticed I, too, was shaking. 

As the Cathedral fell silent after the song, Lourdes knew it was her turn to take to the altar and read the poem I had found her. But my sister didn’t move.

“Hey.” I whispered, leaning towards her. Her shaky hands fumbled with the program, which stated she was next, and me after her, but she still didn’t get up. “Lourdes?”

“Are you alright, dear?” Our mother asked, leaning over me. Lourdes gave her a quick, bitter look, and sighed.

“I can’t, Maggie.” She whispered, her voice nearly breaking.

I passed a hand up and down her back, comforting, and leaned over, so no one could see my response.

“It’s okay. I’ll go up with you. It’s just reading, you can do it.” I nodded, looking at her. She looked at me uncertain, so I nodded, encouragingly. “I’m next anyway. I’ll go with you. We can do it.”

She looked at the altar, down at the rest of the full Cathedral, and at the menacing cameras, “Nothing we can’t fix, right?” 

I smiled. “Nothing at all.”

We stood together, and step by step took to the large, wooden pulpit, covered with black silk, avoiding looking at the coffin, or, in my case, at anyone else. I kept my hand to my sister’s back, hoping it was comforting, and she found the copy of the poem already at the altar, waiting for her.

“When great trees fall, rocks on distant hills shudder, lions hunker down in tall grasses, and even elephants lumber after safety.”

She did really well. She read poetry the way we were taught as children, enunciating the words clearly, reading each line slowly, taking pauses to look up and connect with the audience. She almost didn’t stutter at all, if it weren’t for the ending.

“Our memory, suddenly sharpened, examines, gnaws on kind words unsaid, promised walks never taken. Great souls die and our reality, bound to them, takes leave of us. Our souls, dependent upon their nurture, now shrink, wizened.”

I had chosen a poem slightly vague in the hope it would be easier for Lourdes, but even in her tender age of thirteen she could understand the final verses, the ones where it stopped being about trees, and started being about souls. That’s when she choked, paused, cleared her throat, and continued with a shaky, whispery voice the microphone barely captured.

“...And when great souls die, after a period peace blooms, slowly and always irregularly. Spaces fill with a kind of soothing electric vibration. Our senses, restored, never to be the same, whisper to us.” She paused again, and I saw tears stain the paper, “They existed. They existed. We can be. Be and be better.” She looked up, bravely. “For they existed.”

She took some time to fold the page, looking down, and then looked at me with trembling lips. 

“I’m sorry.” She shook her head, drying her eyes.

“You did great.” I whispered, petting her back.

“Do you want me to stay with you?” 

The question, the sweet, selfless concern for me even through her anguish, brought a knot to my throat that I had to swallow in order to speak. “It’s okay, you don’t have to.”

She stepped down from the altar and walked back to our seats, where mom reached out her hand before she sat down and pulled her over to my seat. 

In the pulpit in front of me, right under Lourdes’ poem, sat the two pages with my eulogy, a letter I wrote to my brother, thanking him for being a wonderful, faultless, military man. Louis himself would have hated it -- we both knew our time in the armed forces was a brief rite of passage at best, a PR stunt at worst. 

But it was when I looked down, and moved the folded page of Lourdes’ poem behind my letter, that I decided I couldn’t read it. The words were still visible, ‘we can be, be and be better, for they existed’.

Taking in a deep breath, I looked up, down the many, filled rows in the wide Cathedral, and did the one thing I had been taught from infancy never to do: I improvised.

“Dear--”, I cleared my throat, a little taken by the sudden volume of my voice in the microphone, “Dear--”

The thing is, we’re not meant to be personal -- royals, I mean. We’re meant to be an institution one should admire, but not necessarily relate to. If people relate to us it begs the question, why are we needed? Why are we special? But… as I bit my lower lip in anxiety so hard it actually hurt, watching all the faces in front of me, I knew there was simply no other option. I couldn’t do this to him. I couldn’t erase who he was over who the family needed him remembered as.

So instead of starting by addressing the congregation, I skipped to the part I knew was more important.

“This past week my family and I have experienced kindness like never before. Not only from our dear family and friends, but from people all over the country we have never had the joy to meet. We were born and raised here, and as such, each of us already knew that at the hearts of every Savoyen, by birth or choice, lays incomparable kindness and compassion to our neighbours.”

The next part was a thank you to every branch of government and official who had expressed their sentiments that past week, but it wasn’t important. So I skipped it. “My brother was Savoyen, and as such, he had that in common with all of you.”

I should have read the part about his time in the military and how it shaped who he became, but I knew it wasn’t true. It had changed him, sure, like everything in his life, but it wasn’t important either. So I thought of Louis, of his last pieces of advice, about standing up for myself and deserving nice things… and improvised.

“Louis-Adolphe always strived to highlight the best possible outcome to any circumstance. He seeked to always see people not for who they were, but for who they could be. He had some kind of innate goodness that always made me feel slightly guilty for not being better, which he would have been upset to find out, because he never allowed anyone around him to speak ill of themselves.”

I looked to the section of the Cathedral where his friends were sitting, his university friends, traveled from Scotland, and his old boarding school friends, who’d come from all over the country, and some from all over the world, to be here, to remember him.

“He went out of his way to make people feel welcomed, accepted, equal. I have heard from more than one old classmate that they never thought Louis really knew their name before he reached out and asked them, by name, if they wanted to sit with him and his friends for lunch, or be part of their group for a project. You may have heard similar stories over the past week, and I hope you’ll continue to as the time goes by. But if I’m honest, and I think my brother would have told me to be… as much as those stories are heartwarming and comforting at this terrible time… they’re only one part of who my brother was. They’re true, yes, but… my brother was more than that.”

I stared at the paper, more to distract myself from the confused looks from my older family members than anything else. My brother wasn’t just the achievements worthy of the family tree. He was more.

“The problem with remembering someone as a perfect, faultless public figure is that in memorializing them we also risk romanticizing them, and what is that if not erasing part of who they were in favor of creating a beautiful, shiny memory that is, if not real, just easier to remember?”

All eyes on me now looked… intrigued. Worried. I had a pulsating stomach ache and my heart was beating too fast, so I looked, at last, to my left, and found the pair of blue eyes that I knew would not be judgemental. I was right. Harry was looking at me with the same soft yearning that had made me so uncomfortable in London, only a week ago. It gave me strength to continue. 

“I want my brother to be remembered, but I want him to be remembered for who he was.” I told them, “Louis… Louis was real. Real as in that quote from The Velveteen Rabbit, by Margery Williams, that our mother read to us as children, ‘Real isn’t how you are made. It’s a thing that happens to you.’ It’s what happens when you are loved for a long, long time. ‘Once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand’. My brother should have been loved much longer, but he was real.”

I felt the pain in my throat before hearing my magnified voice break. I paused, drawing in a long, deep breath.

“He had a… sarcastic, teasing sense of humor. He had a lot of opinions on things most of us don’t think too much about. If you weren’t drinking a Manhattan or a Sidecar, he likely had thoughts about your choice of drink. He thought cargo shorts should be abolished. He thought modern art was boring. He called dibs on the window seat in every car ride. He hated driving, but also hated having to walk anywhere farther than six blocks, and he hated peas.”

I heard a low chuckle, and looking to my right, I was faced with the sight of my own father silently laughing to himself, eyes closed, my mother’s hand in his. It gave me strength to continue.

“You heard from Jackson earlier how passionate he was on the Edinburgh University Polo team, and though I agree with him, I think he would agree with me that despite the passion, Louis wasn’t great at polo... He was okay.” I shrugged, casually, drawing a general chuckle from the piews. The smiles gave me strength to continue. 

“He wasn’t some undiscovered genius, but he was really smart. Louis started studying classics in University, he loved literature and philosophy… but he later changed to social anthropology and social policy, because he… he wanted to better understand the world. He wanted to learn how to be better for, well… for you. For his country.”

“My brother should have been loved much longer, but he was loved.” In the front rows, after our extended family, I could see Peter. He had a friend holding his hand, but his eyes were on me, a smile in his lips. “Not just by us. Not just by you. By the people outside this Cathedral. By the wonderful people outside of our home right now, who have congregated at our gates every day this week to be together, to honor him, to bring flowers to a boy they should have had the time to meet. I’m so sorry you haven’t. You should have. He would have loved to meet you… He loved attention.”

I laughed, just as I felt two tears escape my eyes, and tried to catch them in my gloved hands as fast as I could, but my voice was now strained, shaky.

I stared at the paper, at the wishes of better days that would surely come, every word made more bitter than the last. So I didn’t read them. Instead, I thought of what my brother would have wanted.

“If I was a better person… Better yet, if I was Louis-Adolphe, I would finish this with an optimistic reminder to all the good that is yet to come despite the pain we are in today. My brother would want us to know that we can come together through hard times and come out stronger than before.”

But that was the biggest tragedy: my brother had wanted a lot of things. He wanted a graduation, parties, trips. He wanted to come out to our parents and to be his truest self while helping our country grow and thrive. But he would never have that chance. 

“But I am not him. And I will continue to try to be the better version of me he thought I could be, but today, I am not.” Another tear fell down my cheeks, as I struggled to speak through an aching throat. “Today I am just his sister, who won’t get to see him graduate from University in six months, who won’t get to stand with him on his wedding day, or tease him when he inevitably became an annoyingly protective father. Today my parents lost their only son, my sister, who is too young to be wearing black, knows what grief feels like, and far too many people with a lot of love for my brother in their hearts, don’t know where to put it.”

In my seat, Lourdes was crying again. Our mother reached an arm around her shoulders and, this time, Lourdes didn’t flinch. 

“Today I understand W. H. Auden when he said, ‘The stars are not wanted now; put out every one… For nothing now can ever come to any good.’ I understand Frost’s ‘Nothing gold can stay.’ Today I just… miss him. So, yes, as Louis would remind us, there will be good. We will come together. But today?” I sighed, as I caught another tear in my cheek. “Today he existed, he was real. And maybe just for today, that’s enough.”

There was a moment, a few seconds long, of silence, where I realized I didn’t know how to end it. So I merely looked down, and back up before saying, “Thank you.” And moved to leave.

As I turned, seeing the look on the Archbishop’s eyes, I remembered I was supposed to introduce the next song, so I turned around, back to the pulpit, just as we heard a loud, distant rumble from outside. Confused, I looked around, checking if there was some kind of emergency, but the doubt was quickly extinguished. It was the crowd outside. They were… cheering.

I looked at my father, uncertain, but he was smiling up at me with a sad look in his eyes.

“In honor of my brother, our dear family friend, Constance Parrish-von-Bernstein, will now perform one of his favorite songs to destroy at karaokes.”

It was Drops of Jupiter, and she did an amazing, if very Constance, job. My friend was wearing a midi length black dress and her short, freshly blonde hair, had been styled with fifties curls that matched the simple, round, black fascinator with a see-through fishnet partly covering her eyes. She was accompanied by the Cathedral’s orchestra, and started as poised as the occasion, and her look, demanded. 

But after the first chorus, there was a drum beat, violins, and a soul vacation, chasing her way through a constellation, and I don’t think Constance could have sand the words ‘plain ol' Jane, told a story about a man, who was too afraid to fly so he never did land’ with any less energy than she did, which is precisely why she was the right person for this, because that was the only way my brother ever sang that song, if in a much worse voice. By the time she sang the bridge, Constance’s voice was louder, her hands were in the air, her eyes closed, and her performance so beautifully her own we couldn’t help but smile. 

My cousins then took turns leading the standing congregation on the Lord’s Prayer, before a minister delivered a short message of togetherness on the face of tragedy. Then there was another song and by the end, my father stood and walked to the pulpit, ready to deliver his own eulogy.

He walked calmly, stood before the pulpit with unshaken hands, looked up with sadness in his eyes, and started speaking about Louis. He spoke strongly, clearly, but not without some nostalgia to his words. Every ‘was’ instead of ‘is’ in reference to my brother was, after all, a dagger to the heart. My whole life, my father had been a steady, stoic presence; it was in his nature, it’s how he was raised. He was born to be king and kings had a duty to be an unwavering sign of comfort and strength. At times such as today, it was hard to remember this facade may be just that: a mask; something he did for the country, not for us, not for Louis, nor himself. 

“And thus, my son,” he went on, lively, if sadly, “was a powerful light through the darkness, not only in our lives, but I’m sure, in yours as well. In the lives of all those lucky enough to have met him. From an early age we knew he had in his heart a natural love for his home that so many of us can relate to, a need to see Savoy and its people standing strong, well represented, well cared for. It’s what he did, it’s who he was. A carer. I wish--”

He gulped, and one of his hands came up to cover his mouth in an anxious move. His hand was shaking.

“Today, I am sure Louis-Adolphe would have rested easy, knowing our future rests in good hands...” He paused, dramatically, staring down at his printed speech, “...that of my brave, intelligent, capable daughter, Crown Princess Marie-Margueritte of Savoy, who, as his older sister, helped us teach my son to love his home and, I have no doubts, will excel in this new role as she has in everything else in her life.”

Feeling my heart beating in my throat - and the eyes of the entire Cathedral on me -, I didn’t stop looking at my father. His eyes found me now.

“Her brother would have been as proud and supportive of her as we are.”

I looked down, motionless. He continued to speak for another while, before thanking the country for their support and stepping down. When he reached us again, he stopped before me, grabbed my hands in his and pulled me to my feet, enveloping me in a quick, strong hug, before stepping away again, back to his seat, his eyes avoiding mine.

I was so utterly confused it took me a long time to realize we had to stand up again. The Archbishop led us in a final prayer, blessed my brother’s coffin, and soon the choir was singing again. 

I tried to focus, to center myself around the only thing that mattered today -- Louis. But just as I risked a look up, my eyes found Harry again. His lips moved calmly to the song, his eyes on the lyrics on his program. 

‘...my brave, intelligent, capable daughter, Crown Princess Marie-Margueritte of Savoy’, the words ringed in my ears just as Harry looked up, his eyes darting straight to me, with purpose. When they met mine, I could see it: his hands on mine, his lips on mine, his life with mine, as one. 

I felt a chill down my spine just as I remembered my father’s voice again, claiming his conviction that I would ‘excel in this new role as she has in everything else in her life.’ Painfully, I took my eyes from his, feeling my palms sweating again.

My sister asked if I was okay and I didn’t know how to respond. For a whole week, feeling lost and helpless, he had avoided me. Delegated his own son’s funeral to me, demanded no one call me Crown Princess, allowed my mother to self-exile in her room, avoided any request to meet with me, refusing to answer any pertinent question because it was ‘not the time’. One week when all I had was a moody teenager and a lot of plans that needed to be made, and I had nothing from him. Even in private, in his office, in our home, I was left alone.

One week when not only us, but the entire country mourned and waited with baited breath, probably wandering, as I was, if I was capable of my new role. All I wanted, all I had needed, was for him to tell me I was. To explain what I needed to do, what was coming, and all I had was nothing. 

Lourdes pulled me to my feet as the royal guards prepared to carry the coffin out again; the funeral was over. The choir still echoed the words of Blest Are They as we filed behind my parents to make our exit, and I felt sick to my stomach. Walking out of our seat area, down the steps to the aisle, I stole one last look to the life I could have had; Harry was already looking at me, my sadness in his eyes. His brother was looking at him, intrigued. I gulped, and stared ahead.

I wanted to remove my gloves, but Lourdes was holding my hand and refusing to let go. I started biting my lower lip, trying to keep it from trembling as I felt a knot in my throat. We started filing out, the coffin leading the way, my parents behind, and each of us in the order of the line of succession, but I stopped.

I couldn’t move. My feet felt too heavy on the floor, the memory of my brother’s body inside his new wooden home, too heavy in my head. How was I meant to believe I could take on any of it? My own father couldn’t say it to me, even if he did seem to be able to say to the entire world. Did he even mean it? Or was that line about just one more thing he did for the benefit of the country?

On my left, Lourdes was holding on to my hand and asking if I was okay, reminding me we had to move. I felt myself breathless, heart beating painfully in my chest, when another hand reached for my right one. I looked over, finding Christopher.

“Hey, bunny.” He whispered, a small smile on his lips. “Are you okay?”

He’d been sitting in one of the first rows, close to Peter and Faye, right after the initial rows with our extended family members. It was almost right next to this spot I seemed to have frozen.

“It’s okay, love,” he added, grasping tighter to my hand with both of his, “I’m here, I’m right here with you, we can do this.”

He passed an arm around my shoulders and led us out of the Cathedral. 

I didn’t stop to remember it was a bad idea. I didn’t think that Chris wasn’t family, and so had to wait until we were all out before he could leave with the other guests, I didn’t think of the optics. He was there, warm hand in mine, reminding me my life had been calm and happy once, when he was in it, and if so I could get there again.

So I just held on to the past and tried to ignore the awful, heartless present.

--- ---- ---

The burial was private and fast. The Priest who baptized Louis made a final prayer. My mother cried harder than I had ever seen before. Lourdes fell apart, but allowed me to hold her. I watched, struggling to breathe, wondering if we would ever feel anything other than that pain.

We didn’t have time to compose ourselves, we were just expected to, and then had to be presentable for the post-funeral reception where we stood, side by side, as a family, while our guests came by to give us their condolences and say nice things about the service.

In between people, I tried to talk to my parents, but never could. My father always had an advisor or politician in his ear about work; my mother was still glassy eyed and distant, and seemed to notice none of my words, just how my hat looked. Even if they did seem to listen, I found myself having to choose between them and Lourdes, who was neither eating or drinking, and eventually started to look like she was about to faint, so I found Natalie and had her and her sister Sarah take her to her room and make sure she rested.

Eventually, when we were done talking to people, I cornered my father before another official approached.

“Papa,” I started, as softly as possible, trying to remind myself to be delicate in these trying times, “I want to talk about your eulogy today.”

“Was it bad?” He asked, fixing a strand of hair behind my ear. “You did wonderfully, honey.”

“I need to talk about… this. About my new position, my new title–”

He sighed. “Not now, Maggie.”

“Why?” I asked. “You were willing to talk about it to everyone from the pulpit today--”

“The advisors told me there had been unrest about… all of this. Some assurance of our support was needed.”

“Is that it?” I asked, almost laughing, humorlessly, “Is the support even real or-?”

“I told you, not now, Maggie.”

“When? It’s been a week, I have questions, I have… a job–”

“Margueritte.” He admonished, harsh, but whispery. “Your brother’s body hasn’t been in the ground for one hour, I think you’ll find this can wait.”

Schooling his features to be as stoic as the public knew them to be, he turned away from me and the conversation was over.

I felt guilty almost immediately. I told myself he was right. It was too soon. There would be plenty of time. We didn’t need to rush this just because I was impatient… but my hands shook. A knot so big took over my throat I could no longer breathe. I turned around, ready to find the next person I had to talk to, but couldn’t. So I left the room in hurried steps and, alone in the hallway, ran towards the South staircase, taking off my shoes as soon as I could so I could run faster.

I knew this was stupid, I knew I was needed. It was my job, my duty, to stay and make conversation, build a sense of togetherness with our family and supporters. Still, my throat hurt from the knot I was trying to suppress, and my head hurt too much, and I was so tired of pretending to be fine when I wanted nothing more than to explode into a million pieces. 

In the upper floor, closer to the South wing, there was a set of simple double doors to the servants’ passages, a set of corridors that in old times were used to get through the palace without being seen, and staff today used as shortcuts. It was emptier, more private, so I walked in and climbed up the stone stairs towards the west tower, no clue where I was going, but glad to be alone. 

My shoes became too heavy in my hands and my head hurt too much, so I dropped my shoes to the floor, telling myself I could come find them later, and started trying to pull out the bobby pins in my hair to remove my fascinator, but there were too many of them, and my hands were shaking, and it was all too much, and I was afraid to trip on the steps, and finally I could only pull my hair and scream, throwing the few pins in my hands to the floor, closing my eyes tightly and hoping I could just pass out and wake up months into the future when things were… better.

I painted, breathless, and finally allowed the tears I’d been suppressing to fall freely down my cheeks. 

“Marie--?”

Jumping slightly, I turned back to see Harry. He had my shoes in his hand like we were in Cinderella, if Cinderella had been in the middle of a mental breakdown when the prince found her. 

Overcome by shame and regret, I cried harder, letting out a cold, sarcastic scoff.

“Mon Dieu, of course you’re here!” I patted my cheeks with my cheeks with both hands, trying to dry them as I continued up the stairs.

“Marie, I just want to help--”

“I’m fine!” I told him, not turning back, but he raced up, past me, blocking my way.

“You’re not,” he whispered, “and that’s okay.”

“I’m telling you, it’s fine, I’ll be fine!”

He held onto my arms when I tried to move past him, and I felt the knot in my throat get worse, and more tears escape my eyes, and my knees buckle as, back to the wall, I slid down to sit on the stone steps, now crying openly, against my will.

“I’m fine!” I said, rather uselessly, amidst a hiccup, “I’ll be fine, just go away.”

He sat down in front of me, still holding onto my arms, unbearably close. 

“Okay.” He said. “If you want me to leave, I’ll leave. I just wanted to say… that you don’t have to be fine right now…”

I shut my eyes as the pain moved away from my throat through my whole body; I gave up trying to contain my tears, it wasn’t like he couldn’t see them, anyway. So, before he got up, I just reached over and grabbed two fistfulls of his suit and kept him in place. I didn’t so much lean forward to cry on him, as I just… fell. As if I didn’t have the strength to sit up anymore. As if his chest was magnetic; as if my head belonged in the crease of his neck. 

His arms wrapped around me and, miraculously, I wasn’t ashamed anymore. I wanted to be, I felt I should be, but I wasn’t. I felt… hurt. Broken. Lonely. But not ashamed. I felt his warm palms smooth over my back in a calming motion, and my crying only got louder. 

“I can’t do this.” I cried. “I can’t do this…”

“Hey, hey…” He whispered, “Of course you can.”

I shook my head, “My brother is gone, Harry.”

His arms tightened around me. “I know.”

“I can’t do this.”

“Of course you can.” He repeated. “Even he knew it. You were one of the smartest people he knew.”

“Even my father doesn’t think I can.”

“Your father is only human.” He looked down, cupping my cheek with his hand so I’d look at him. “He is flawed.”

I was unprepared for the blue hue of his eyes up close, after so long. I could almost count his faint freckles. The sight was so astonishing it almost calmed me. I sat back up, leaning back from his only slightly. 

“And if he can’t see how amazing you’ll be at this, then it only proves it. I can see it… Your brother could see it… Those people outside of the Cathedral today could see it. Didn’t you hear them cheering for you?” His lips curled into a smile at the memory, “They can already picture you in a crown.”

I shut my eyes forcefully again. “It’s not, not that simple… I have a job, I have--”

“Marie.” He stopped me, holding on to both my hands with his, “I know. I know this is a lot… but there’s no part of this that I don’t think you can do.”

We let the silence sit still for a moment. When I looked at him, his profile illuminated by the window behind him, I was reminded of how handsome he looked in a suit. Feeling ashamed of this very thought, I raised my hand to feel my hair, realizing it was as messy as I had left it when he surprised me. I started trying to pull out the bobby pins when he looked at me.

“Heavy hat?” He asked, a soft attempted smile in his lips.

I scoffed, sarcastic, “Heavy is the head that wears the… hat.”

He sat up, coming closer to me, and tentatively, started to feel around my hair slowly with his hands for the pins. Finally realizing just how dramatic the moment had been, I finally felt the full embarrassment I had earned in the moment. But the silence was... comforting; it felt warm, and the touch of his fingers made me want to lay my head in his chest and fall asleep. 

“I know it’s a lot.” He said, whispery. “But for whatever is worth, I liked your eulogy.”

“...I improvised.”

He smiled. “I thought you may have. It was good, sincere, and appropriate...ish.”

I took my eyes from his chest, finding his eyes focused on my hair, “I’m glad you’re here.”

He looked at me. “Here in… the stairs?”

“In the country. For the funeral.”

He nodded. “Me too. I wasn’t… I wasn’t sure it was, appropriate.”

“...Ish.” I teased, making him smile.

“Had to fight for them to let me come. They only said yes because you guys were over only a couple of days before.”

He pulled a couple of pins, and put them in his pocket to free his hands.

“...Did you ever wonder?” I asked; his eyes found mine, but he focused on my hair again quickly after. “What you would do if, God forbid, if this happened to you?” I explained.

His hands stopped moving; he brought them down, putting another couple of pins in his pocket. He seemed thoughtful for a few seconds, but still not any closer to an answer.

“No, of course not.” I answered for him. “Changes to lines of succession are such a thing of the past. With all our security and the eyes of the world on us, who could ever think something like this was possible?”

He sighed, and I thought his eyes might look watery, but it could have been my own.

Eventually he pulled the last pin and ran his hands around my hair one more time, slowly.

“I think that’s it. How do I--?” He pulled out my fascinator,  and I smoothed my hands over my hair, feeling the presence of one more pin that I didn’t have the energy to pull out.

He held out his hands to give me the pins, but I was too busy looking into his eyes, so instead he put them all in his jacket pocket, and the hat next to my shoes.

“I want to say something, but all I can think of is asking if you’re alright.”

When I scoffed, sarcastically, he shook his head, blushing. “I know, stupid question. I just…” He looked at me, “I want to say something, but I don’t know what.”

“Me too.” We sat in silence, when I tried to lighten the moment. “Though I’m surprised you can’t think of anything. No inopportune questions? No sage wisdom about how to survive grief in the public sphere from the expert?”

He grinned. “Right, the expert… Prince Harry and his perfectly functional childhood, who never went to Vegas or wore a terrible costume to a party…”

And then I laughed; a sincere, heartfelt, short laugh. Can you imagine? 

“I don’t know… you turned out okay.”

“I’m obviously not a great person to ask… but,” he sighed, “I guess, distraction. Distraction would be my best advice.”

“Use distractions to suppress the pain, got it.”

He laughed, something that still felt rare and exciting, even amidst all of this. 

“Not what I said! Just… you know… time will do most of the work, you know? In… well, I hate to sound like a therapist, but in healing. You’ll need time. It’ll feel like too much time. It’ll feel like time is slowing down, but… time is the only thing that helps. And until time passes, there will be... a lot. The press, the rumors, as soon as they can’t milk the funeral for headlines anymore, they’ll start to make things up. So, from the pain and from the outside mess, I suggest…”

“Distraction.” I completed his sentence, and he looked at me.

“Yes.” He nodded.  “And… try to be honest. About your feelings, with the people you love and who love you.”

I had to look away; it felt to me there was a question that needed to be asked here - are you one of those people? - but I couldn't ask it. So I looked away, leaning back to rest my back against the wall. 

“Yesterday was supposed to be our first date.”

He gulped, and looked at me intensely for two brief yet long seconds, before looking away. 

“Maybe in an alternate reality we would be going on our second one right about now.” He added. 

From his tone, it was clear he hadn’t meant for this kind of distraction. But I couldn’t help it, I was desperate to talk about it; that alternate reality we almost had.

“I would have chosen the passion fruit sauce salmon.” 

He smiled. “I would… I would have thoroughly researched the wine list to chose something fancy and make you think I’m sophisticated.” 

I laughed again, softly, feeling my cheeks blush. 

“And then would have ruined it by ordering something dumb like… like the French onion soup that would make you not want to kiss me later.”

His words hang in the air like perfume as our smiles faded. My eyes were on his, but he refused to look at me.

“I would have kissed you.” I whispered, and now he looked at me.

I knew I had nothing he wanted anymore. Or, better yet, I knew I had a lot he didn’t want now. I knew it should be enough to stop this conversation and make us both focus on our now very different realities, but it wasn’t. Because our reality at that moment was one: we were there, sitting in the stone, narrow steps of a staircase, facing each other, thinking of what we could have had which, only a week before, was all we had ever wanted. That was the only reality that existed in that very fleeting moment, and it was such a comforting one, such a peaceful one, that I wanted to stay in it. To drown in it. To forget any other existed. So I let that novel hope take over my heart, and leaned forward to press my lips to his.

“Marie--” his hand cupped my cheeks as he leaned back.

“I’m so tired of feeling pain.” I confessed, whispery, kissing his neck when he looked away. “I just… I just need to feel something else.”

I kissed his neck softly, running my hand up his leg as I did, moving up to his ear; his grasp became tighter, now in my hair. His breath came out heavy; his familiar smell taking over my every sense, “Help me.” Looking into his eyes, I brushed my nose against his. “Help me feel something good.”

But just before I could kiss him, his hands were in my arms again, this time pushing me ever so slightly away.

“Marie…” He said, looking away, his breath tantalizing as it his my lips. His hand resting above mine, pulled it away from his leg. “I just… I don’t…”

I looked away, now more ashamed than before, and gulped. “Of course. I understand.”

I grabbed my shoes and hat, and got to my feet.

“Marie, please, let me--”

“I get it!” I shouted, flinching at my own volume. “Sorry. I get it, it’s okay.” I said, calmer. “Of course it’s okay. Really.”

I climbed the final steps up, trying to will the floor into opening up and swallowing me whole. 

I opened the first door out of the stairs space and walked out into a semi-chamber with cement walls and a set of wooden doors. I marched towards the one in the general direction of my room.

“Marie!” Harry called, following me in hurried steps. He held onto my elbow, pulling me back. “Please, Marie, just--”

“Stop calling me that!” I pulled my arm from him, feeling the familiar threatening knot on my throat as my eyes watered.

“...Marie?” He asked, confused. “It’s your name.”

“Yes!” I nodded, looking to the floor as I felt my cheeks wet again. “...but you never used it before.” I confessed, softly.

I cleaned my tears to avoid his eyes. 

“Ma--” he stopped himself, so I never found out which version of my name he was going to use.

“I get it.” I told him, calm. Then, drying another tear, I tried to smile. “I know it doesn’t look like it, because of the crying, but I do, I promise.” I nodded, emphatically. 

He looked at me, eyelids fluttering, eyes sad, hands fidgety. 

I shrugged, still trying to smile. “I get it. Last week you flirted with a girl who was free to flirt back. I’m not free anymore.”

Turning around, I opened the door and walked out as fast as I could.

By the time I walked into the shared sitting room in our apartment, I had already cried again and dried my cheeks as well as I could. The dogs were walking around, playing together. In one of the sofas, scrolling through his phone, was Christopher, as if I had traveled in time back to when I came home to him everyday after work. 

He looked up at me, and smiled. “Hey, baby.”

I walked over to him, dropping my shoes and fascinator to the floor. He put his phone away, brows creasing as he inspected my features. 

When I got to him, his hands cupped my cheeks softly, as they’d done so many times in the past. “You’ve been crying?” He asked, concerned, before delicately kissing my forehead. “It’s okay, bunny. It’s gonna be okay.”

Reaching up, I pulled his hands from my face, and laced our fingers together. I made my way to my room, pulling him after me.

Then I closed the door, hoping to leave the pain outside.

--- ---- ---

Outfits

[A/N: Sorry about the delay! I’m home and so grateful to you for reading!!!! Let me know your thoughts????? THANKS]

[vegalume]

Title: The North Road

Author: Vega-Lume

Beta: Chicory

Series: Gundam Wing

Pairing 1+2

Cliché, thy name is Vel. Warning, tharr be sap and a smidgen of angst here.

Gundam Wing Holiday Gift Exchange 2018

Gift for @dthjoey

(I am so sorry it was so late)

Summery

After becoming stranded, Duo finds himself in to company of stranger who soon becomes more.

Please forgive any mistakes in grammar or punctuation. I did a considerable rewrite after it came back from the beta, but not wanting to make the recipient wait any longer I decided to post it as is.

   The North Road

By Vel

Duo sighed and tapped the screen on his phone to bring up the GPS app again, only to have the screen dim again a second later. The little battery icon in the corner was blinking between yellow and red, showing that the device was nearly drained, and he in his infinite wisdom had packed the charger in one of his many boxes rather than putting it where he could find it right away.

His company was opening a new office and wanting a change Duo had accepted the offer to transfer. So here he was with all of his worldly possessions stuffed in his little car trying to find the tiny hotel he had planned to stop at for the night, but the GPS wasn’t working properly and thanks to the heavy snow he didn’t have a clue as to where he was now.

“This isn’t going to work,” he grumbled as the phone finally died and he still couldn’t pinpoint where in his journey he actually was. According to his time schedule he should have already reached the town where the hotel was, but he only saw trees and snow. He hadn’t even seen another car for well over an hour.

He had to have made a wrong turn somewhere.

Pulling onto the shoulder he threw on his emergency lights, popped the trunk, then climbed out into the snow. Making his way to the back of his car he rummaged around in the boxes, trying to remember which one he had put the charger in. He usually charged his phone in the kitchen, so theoretically the charger should be in one of the kitchen boxes.

“Yes!” He shouted when he found the charger in his favorite coffee mug. Not bothering to reseal the box he simply shoved everything in well enough to get the trunk closed again before climbing back into the car.

He plugged one end into the USB port and the other to the phone and waited a moment. Nothing happened. It was then he realized he couldn’t hear the heat blowing through the vents anymore.

“No…” he whined in the realization that not only was the car battery dead, but that he currently didn’t have a jump starter. He had loaned it to a colleague two weeks ago and they hadn’t given it back before he lift. In the rush to get tings packed for the transfer he had forgotten all about it.

“Shit, shit, shit!” he slammed a hand on the steering wheel.

He had about three hours until sun down and hadn’t seen a car since lunch. He could sit and wait for a car to come by, but with the battery dead there was no heat. The rapidly falling snow would also make it harder for any passing car to see him, especially with his car also being white, and he wasn’t sure how long the car would stay warm inside.

Though he hadn’t seen any other cars, he had seen fences along with cattle and other livestock.

If there were animals, there had to be people around to take care of them.

He sat in the car a while longer then made up his mind. He scribbled a note to let anyone that might find the car know that he had left because of the dead battery, and in which direction he had gone then tacked it to the steering wheel. He then bundled up again and made sure he had his phone, wallet and keys before venturing back out.

He knew it was safer to stay with the car but no one would be missing him. He didn’t have any family or anyone he would really call a friend, and he wasn’t due to start at the new office for nearly a month. They wanted to give him plenty of time to settle in before starting.

He couldn’t risk waiting that long for someone to come looking for him.

Sure that he had everything that he needed and could carry without dragging himself down, he climbed out and made sure the door was locked before heading back the way he had come.

He stayed on the road because there were no curves or dips. Even in the snow he would see a car long before there was any chance they driver could hit him.

After what felt like hours of trudging through the snow he didn’t see any cars, but the trees were thinning out and the fences were coming into view.

He walked along the one to his left until he found a locked gate, and though covered with snow he could see tire impressions in the ground.

Ignoring the ‘No Trespassing’ sign, he ducked through the wood and started following the impressions away from the road.

It seemed endless.

As the sun started to set Duo had begun to regret his decision to leave the road. Ahead there was nothing but white as far as he could see. No buildings and none of the cattle he had seen when he had driven by earlier.

Looking back he had gone far enough that he couldn’t see the fence either, but he could see darkness where the trees were and started debating on whether he wanted to try and find shelter in the trees. Though there was a greater risk of becoming lost that way. Or he could keep following the tire tracks before the snow filled them in and he couldn’t see them anymore.

With a deep sigh he fixed his eyes on the tracks and kept moving.

The sun was nearly gone when he finally saw something.

As he got closer he realized it was an outbuilding of some sort. It was too small to be a barn but didn’t look like a storage shed or anything like that.

He jogged up to it and found the wooden door was locked with a large padlock and there were no windows. He yanked the door in frustration then dropped down to sit in the meager shelter of the overhang.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, nor was he aware of the hoof beats approaching but he certainly didn’t miss it when the man in the hooded parka suddenly appeared carrying a rather large double barrel shotgun, leading a very large, dark colored horse.

He stood there, shotgun tucked along his side with the muzzle pointed down and seemed to study Duo for a few minutes before calling out to be heard over the wind, “Can’t you read?”

Duo was confused for a moment then remembered the ‘No Trespassing’ sign.

“Sorry,” Duo called back. “Um, my name’s Duo Maxwell, I got stranded on the road when my car battery died. I was looking for help.”

Though his face couldn’t be seen in the shadow of the hood, he could see the man’s head turn to look back the way Duo had come.

He grunted then said with a nod to the left, “Come on, you can warm up at the house and I’ll call someone about your car.”

“Thanks,” Duo said sincerely as he struggled to his feet. He was exhausted and hungry but thankful that his man had somehow managed to show up when he had.

Duo watched as the man slid the shotgun in a holster on the horse’s saddle, then gathered the reigns in one hand before starting off without waiting to see if Duo was following.

In the darkness he hadn’t seen it but off to his left near the trees was a cabin and just before that a large barn where they stopped first so the horse could be tended to. His host was silent as he settled the animal, making sure it was warm and comfortable before continuing on to the house.

His host opened an unlocked door and stepped inside then gestured for Duo to follow.

In the small mud room the man removed his coat and stomped his boots before opening a curtain that kept drafts from the door from reaching the warm kitchen just beyond.

His host didn’t look anything like Duo had expected. Without the parka he stood a good six inches shorter than Duo, and had a lean, wiry build that made him seem almost small in comparison to how Duo had imagined a rancher would look.

With large blue eyes and a smooth lightly tanned face, he looked quite young, though Duo expected he was older than he appeared.

His dark hair looked messy and damp and the t-shirt and sweat pants gave Duo the impression that he had jumped from the shower to see what a trespasser was doing around his shed.

Duo removed his jacket as well, hanging it on a spare peg then ventured into the bright, warm kitchen, making sure the curtain was fully closed behind him.

The savory aroma of stew and coffee made his empty stomach clench with want but he ignored it for the time being, preferring to look around.

The cabin was small from what he could see it had a cozy, homey feel. A large archway in the wall opposite of the mud room opened into the living room where an impressive store fireplace stood.

All off the walls were done in a warm, honey colored wood and the furniture looked old, like it might have belonged to his parents or even his grandparents, but was perfectly in place in the cozy house.  

Venturing further he peeked around the arch before following in the direction the other man had gone. His host had moved across the room stopping at a small table that sat beside the front door, and then began leafing through the book resting on top.

Looking around, Duo spotted two doors on the other side of the room. Both were open to receive the warmth of the fire. The one closest to the kitchen was a bathroom which meant the other room was most likely the bedroom.

The man was standing just past the front door dialing a land line phone. He held the handset to his ear, listened and then said, “Yes, this is Heero Yuy out at Wing Zero Ranch. I have a man out here whose car broke down east on the North Road. He said his battery died.” He paused, listening again then turned to Duo and asked, “What kind of car?”

“A white Ford Focus,”

“A white Ford Focus,” he repeated into the phone. “No, he doesn’t seem to be,” he continued before pausing to listen again. “I’ll let him know, thanks.”

Duo sent him an inquiring look.

“Weather permitting someone should be along to check out your car tonight. If they can find it they’ll call back here.” He seemed uncomfortable having company and made an awkward gesture towards the couch, “You can sit and warm up.” He fidgeted for a second, and then disappeared back into the kitchen.

Duo couldn’t help but smile. Although he had put on a tough front out at the shed with that rather intimidating gun, his apparent shyness was actually charming and even a little cute.

But Duo got the impression that his host would not appreciate being thought of as cute.

He sank down into the comfortable sofa and held his chilled hands out to warm them while he waited for Heero to return or for the phone to ring, whichever happened first.

As comfortable as he had become he almost missed the quiet tread of bare feet as Heero slipped behind him to duck into the bedroom. He emerged several minutes later redressed in a dark flannel shirt and blue jeans. He had even put on a pair of sneakers.

“I apologize,” Heero said as he returned “I’m not used to confronting trespassers while dressed in my pajamas.”

Duo chuckled and rose to meet him, “We weren’t properly introduced. I’m Duo Maxwell, trespasser.”

The corner of Heero’s mouth twitched upwards as he shook his hand, “Heero Yuy, pajama clad rancher.” Duo’s smile widened. Heero nodded towards the kitchen, “come have some stew.”

“Thanks,” Duo replied gratefully. “I’m starved.”

“I already ate,” Heero said as he lifted the lid from a crockpot. “So you’re welcome to as much as you want.”

Taking an offered bowl, Duo filled it then carried over to the small table.

After topping off his coffee Heero joined him.

“So how exactly did you end up on the North Road?” Heero asked.

“I’m guessing it’s a back road?” Duo asked in reply, after Heero nodded he continued. “I was supposed to be on the highway but my GPS wasn’t giving me the proper directions. I’m guessing I made a wrong turn somewhere.”

“It’s not that hard around here, the wireless coverage is almost nonexistent. That’s probably way your GPS wasn’t working, and there are about thirty roads like that one. You were actually pretty lucky to end up on mine and even more lucky that you went south. Although it’s not really much more than an access road for my property, it divides the land for my cattle and helps prevent over grazing in some parts. It also makes it easier to get the winter feed truck to them when they’re on the north side. There’s nothing else north before hitting another access road, other than about 400 acres of empty grazing land and my herd of cattle.”

Duo’s face lit up, “if the tow truck can’t get to my car can you jump it with your truck?”

Heero shook his head, “My ranch hand took it into town this morning and he isn’t expected back until sometime tomorrow.”

Duo deflated a bit and focused on his stew. “This is delicious,” he said after a few bites but Heero just shrugged it off.

“It’s just something I threw together this morning.”

“Well, I think it’s fantastic.”

The faint blush on Heero’s face was nearly missed when he ducked his head and took a sip from his mug.

The phone rang then and Heero shot out of the room to answer it. He returned a few minutes later looking thoughtful.

“The truck can’t get to your car tonight, a truck plowing the main stretch blocked access and with the snow still falling, there’s no way for the tow to get down there.”

“Damn,” Duo muttered.

“You’re welcome to use my phone. Is there someone expecting you tonight?” Heero asked.

“No, there isn’t anyone waiting for me. It’s just I’m transferring for work and pretty much everything I own is sitting out on your access road.”

Heero seemed to mulling over something then said, “You’re welcome to my couch for the night and if you’d like I can saddle up Old Mac and ride out to your car and get you some of your clothing or something.”

Duo smiled at the offer, “That’s very kind of you but you don’t have to go through all that bother. I’ll be fine for one night as long as you don’t mind me sleeping in my shorts.”

The blush was back and it took all the strength Duo not to laugh at how sweet he found it.

Heero vanished into his bedroom into his bedroom again and returned quickly with an armload of bedding that he dumped on the sofa.

“The days start early around here, especially in winter. I’ll need to get to bed soon, but if you want to take a shower the bathroom is just through there,” he gestured to the door. “And you’re welcome to watch TV if you’d like.

“I’m exhausted,” Duo confessed. “Go on to bed, I’ll probably be asleep the second I lay down.”

“Goodnight then.”

“Night Heero.”

The room was still dark but comfortably warm when Duo woke to the sound of Heero puttering around the kitchen. A few minutes later the smell of fresh brewed coffee filled the room and Duo sat up. Peering over the back of the couch he spotted Heero sipping from the same mug he had used the night before as he stood by the sink looking out of the window.

Without a single glance towards Duo, Heero set the mug in the sink and left the room though the curtained off doorway.

The clock said 5:30 am.

It was over an hour later when he returned. By then Duo had showered and tidied up the sofa.

“Good morning Heero,” Duo greeted from the couch and received a true smile in return.

“Good morning, Duo. Would you like some breakfast?”

“Can I help?” Duo asked and Heero looked surprised.

“If that’s what you really want.”

Duo hopped up from the couch and went over to his new friend. “Glad to help, just show me where everything is.”

Together they settled at the table getting to know each other a little better, over toast and bowls of warm oatmeal.

Duo was just telling Heero about his new job when the phone on the living room rang and Heero hurried to answer it. A second later he turned the TV on.

“That was my sister Hilde, she works for the Forestry Services. She told me to check the news.” He explained as changed the channel, finding the 8 am news.

Joining Heero by the TV, Duo watched the bright red warning feed scroll across the bottom of the screen.

“...WINTER STORM WARNING IN EFFECT FROM 1 PM THIS AFTERNOON TO 6 AM SUNDAY...”

“Sunday is four days away,” Duo said shooting Heero a worried look.

“This Hazardous Weather Outlook is for portions of Central Orefield and Deer County. Snow will move into the area this afternoon, and continue overnight. Expected accumulations of 4 to 6 inches are likely by sunrise.”

The woman on the screen looked down at the paper she had then looked back up at the camera.

“The snow is predicted continue through Saturday evening, before ending after midnight. Additional accumulations of 3 to 5 inches are likely. In all expect close to ten inches of snow before this storm passes.”

“I need to make a call,” Heero said quietly before turning away.

Duo nodded absently, his eyes still fixed on the screen as the warning started from the beginning again.

“Quatre?” Heero said softly into the phone, “Yes I’d like to speak to Trowa.” He paused as he listened for a moment. “Yes I saw the weather…  No I want you to stay in town, I can manage here. Yes I’m sure, you don’t need to be out on the road when the storm hits… Okay, I’ll see you in a few days.” He hung up and turned to where Duo was now seated on the couch. “I called Trowa, my ranch hand, and told him to stay in town. I know this isn’t what you want to hear but it looks like you’ll be stuck here for a few more days.”

Duo nodded, figuring as much.

“I need to bring the cattle down from the north so they’ll be easier to tend to when the storm hits.” Heero explained as he started for the kitchen again. “Since Trowa has the truck, I’m going to need to go out there with Old Mac and bring them across the north road. If you want to come with we can check on your car while were up there and you can get a few things.”

“Okay,” Duo agreed. “But let me help you out with the animals, at least until your hand can get back here.”

“Dress warm,” Heero said as he started for the back of the house. “I’ll go get the horse ready then come back for you. You can use whatever extra outerwear you can find in the mud room.”

Duo waited just outside the door bundled in a borrowed hat, heavy work gloves that were a little small, and his own coat. The sun was just up, washing the property in a soft blue. The snow was just fluttering in light flurries now but the thick clouds held the promise if the storm yet to come.

He could see Heero appear in the door of the barn leading Old Mac. The huge Draft horse was hitched to a flatbed sled with low, straight sides. It was clear that it was used to transport goods or feed rather than people.

Heero waved him over when he saw Duo standing out back, seeing the signal he jogged over to the man and his horse.

“I ride on Mac when he’s hitched up,” Heero said when Duo got to him. “You can ride up behind me or in the flatbed. It’s your choice.”

After eyeing the height of the horse, Duo took a step closer to the sled. “I’ll go with the sled, thanks.”

Heero seemed to understand and moved around to open the tail gate. Though the side was probably low enough to climb over, the wood was a little slick from the snow so it was safer to go through the back.

Once Duo was in and seated settled towards the front, Heero closed the gate and mounted the horse with a practiced ease.

The horse started to walk and the sled moved smoothly behind him. They didn’t travel far, stopping at the same shed Duo had tried to shelter in the night before.

Climbing down from the horse, Heero moved to the back and asked Duo to stay near the front as he lowered the tail gate again, then went over to the shed and unlocked the large door.

Inside the shed was filled with hay and sacks of feed.

“I’m just going to throw a couple of bales in the sled to encourage the herd to follow us back here since they’re more used to following the truck. Once they’re over I’ll give them a proper feed.”

“I’ll give you a hand,” Duo started to move but Heero waved him off.

“It’s okay,” He said hefting the bale like it was a sack of potatoes and carrying over to the sled. He set it at the end and pushed it in. As he started over to get another, Duo scooted towards it and pulled it in farther so there was more room for the next one.

Heero added five more before doing up the tail gate, then went back to lock up. Duo settled back where he had been before and soon they were on their way again.

As they moved away from the house the ride in the sled became less pleasant and by the time they reached the gate Duo was more than happy to get out again.

Heero dismounted to unlock the gate, “Which way to your car?” He asked and Duo pointed to the right.

Heero guided the horse through the gate and closed it behind him before climbing back up and taking them down the road. They actually went right past Duo’s car without even seeing it at first. Some thirty feet or so away, Duo saw the black of a tire and called up to Heero.

The narrow road made turning the horse and sled around tricky but to Duo it was clear Heero had substantial experience and the turn was made without mishap.

A moment later they were pulling to a stop next to Duo’s car.

“You might want to tie something to the mirror to make it more visible,” Heero suggested after Duo had opened the trunk. “The tow truck will be out here right after the storm and plowed up snow might make it even harder to spot.”

“Good idea,” Duo agreed. Pulling a vibrant red t-shirt from his suitcase he closed it in the top of the driver’s door so it lay flat over the outside of the window. Hopefully it was large enough and high enough off the ground that it would remain visible through the storm.

“If you have any valuables that you’re worried about, there’s more than enough room to bring them.” Heero said after Duo threw his suitcase and a smaller duffle into the sled.

Duo thought about it for a second, then went back to the car and pulled a small cardboard box containing some pictures and mementos from the back seat and added it to the sled as well.

“There,” he said after locking the door. “There’s nothing left in there that I can’t live without.”

After Duo climbed back in Heero looked down the road trying to judge how far the car was from the side road so he could give the tow company a better idea where it actually was should they call back, then did up the tail gate again.

Soon he was up on Old Mac and they were moving once more.

They stopped yet again at the gate and Heero climbed down, then started digging through the large saddle bag.

Duo stood in the sled and called out to him, “Let me help.”

“Okay,” Heero agreed and showed him what to do.

They first unlocked the gates on each side of the road then Heero led Old Mac into the north side and well away from the entrance. When he returned he swung the gate out into the roadway and looped a rope to the end, which was then tied to the fence across the way. The action was repeated with the other gate, making a chute for the cattle to pass from one side to the other without straying down the road.

“Just stay here by the gate,” Heero instructed as he mounted the horse again. “They’re all going to come up at once when they realize I’m here with food. I’ll ride across with Mac and they’ll follow through the chute. I’ll give you a signal with they’re all through and you can close the gate.”

“Got it,” Duo confirmed and moved to the end of the gate where he could slip the loop off to close it when ready.

The snow was thickening as Heero rode off through the other gate and disappeared down an incline. Though the wind was picking up, Duo heard the animals long before he saw them some twenty minutes later.

Old Mac appeared again with Heero safely on his back, and what looked to be well over a hundred shaggy red bovines following along behind trying to make a snack of the hay in the sled.

They obediently walked through the chute into the south acreage, all herded together.

Watching Heero carefully he saw the man raise his arm as a signal and Duo quickly pulled the loop free and closed and locked the gate. Moving across the road he untied the other gate and locked the chain before gathering up the ropes and joining Heero who had rode back to pick him up.

“About half way to the house we’ll stop and you can dump the bales. The twining is safe for the cattle so you don’t have to worry about it.”

Leaving the tailgate open Duo wedged himself near the front and held on as Heero rode off towards the house, the cattle keeping up and trying to snag bites as they went.

After a while, Old Mac slowed and Heero signaled for him to dump the feed. Bracing, Duo pushed out with his feet and shoved the hay out onto the snow covered ground. Several of the bales broke open on impact and the animals ambled over and started eating.

Scooting down he pulled the tailgate closed as Old Mac continued back towards the house and his stall in the nice warm barn.

“We need to stop and grab another feed before for the cattle before heading back,” Heero informed him as the slowed by the shed. “Don’t bother yourself,” Heero said as Duo hopped out to help.

Duo just smiled and hefted up bale and carried it over as well. The weight of it was shocking, especially after how easy Heero made it look. They had to have weighed a hundred pounds or so each.

He counted around thirty bales in the sled as they moved them from the feed shed to the sled, Heero easily moving most of them as Duo just wasn’t used to carrying so much weight.

The sled was full again and they walked together as Heero led the horse away from the shed back through the gate a few yards back. They dumped the hay and a protein supplement there before going back.

It didn’t take long for the cattle to show up, and once most of them had appeared the pair started back to the barn where Heero carefully backed the horse up so the sled was parked beside a flatbed cart with large rubber tires that was clearly meant for the same purpose as the sled. Once it was right where Heero wanted it he unhooked the horse before removing the rest of the saddlery and rugging him up.

It was almost 11:30 when they reentered the house carrying Duo’s bags and the box from the back seat. As they set the items on the table they were greeted by a warmth that almost felt too hot after having been out in the cold for the last three and a half hours.

Going back to the mud room they hung up their outerwear, then Heero went to check his answering machine before switching the TV to the weather channel.

The storm warning hadn’t changed for the worse or better.

“The phone lines are down,” Heero informed him when he joined him in the living room. “I’m going to leave my cell plugged in, even though there’s no reception out here most of the time.”

He went into his bedroom then to charge the phone.

Duo glanced over to the console where the TV sat and saw his phone sitting where he had left it when he had plugged it in before going to bed.

“Want some lunch?” Heero asked when he came back and Duo nodded.

So Heero made them a quick lunch soup and sandwiches and they sat together on the sofa to watch a forensics program.

Just as the hour long show was ending an emergency signal sounded in the TV and the red message began scrolling across the screen again.

As if on cue the wind picked up causing the shutters to rattle and the snow thickened, falling heavier that it had most of the morning.

“Are you going to need to go out to feed the cattle again today?” Duo asked.

“No, but I will need to tend to Mac and the chickens hiding in the barn. The cattle won’t need anything more until tomorrow, but I will need to go out in the morning to make sure their water isn’t frozen over.”

“How do you manage to do all this on your own?”

“My sister and I grew up doing this; it’s like second nature to me. However, I don’t do it on my own all the time; Trowa is usually here to help me.”

They talked for a while longer and as the day progressed they became even more comfortable in each other’s company.

That evening Duo offered to make dinner and the surprise of Heero’s face made him wonder how often someone did nice things for him.

After supper Heero ventured out into the storm to tend to the animals in the barn and when he returned they settled on the sofa to watch a movie.

By the time it was over they were shoulder to shoulder and Duo wanted nothing more than to drop his head on the other man’s shoulder and never move again. But it was late and Heero was an ‘early to bed’ kind of man and gently excused himself for the night.

The next morning Heero had already been out to the barn and back and had started a meal in the slow cooker before Duo had even woken up.

After breakfast they bundled up again, hitched up Old Mac and started off to the pond where the cattle got their water when in the south acreage. Though it was still snowing heavily the large horse had no problems carrying them across the land and much to Heero’s relief the water was still fluid and didn’t have any ice that need to be broken up.

They took some time riding along the fence, checking for damage as best as they could as they sought out where the herd had settled themselves. Heero visually inspected the animals to make sure they were all okay before they started back to the house. Even without the sled full of feed the herd started following them back to the gate.

Like yesterday they loaded up at the feed shed and fed the cattle near the gate before heading inside and having their own lunch.

They spent another evening together on the sofa, only this time they started out with their sides pressed together.

By the third morning Duo was adapting to Heero’s routine and woke while the other man was still in the shower, so he slipped off the sofa and started the coffee. He was rewarded with the sight of Heero clad in just a towel, moving to his bedroom after the shower.

Before breakfast he joined Heero in the barn as he cleaned up and fed the horse and chickens.

Then they spent the day doing pretty much what they had done the day before, only it was more difficult now as the snow had been falling nonstop over three days, and was well over a foot deep out on the flat now.

It took them over an hour longer to get out to the pond and another hour using the tools to open it up so the cattle could reach the water. Duo couldn’t imagine Heero doing this all on his own and was beginning to think it was fate that had caused his car to die when and where it had.

Reaching the house after 4 in the afternoon, they were both grateful to have a hot meal already waiting for them.

The 5 o’clock news informed them that weather was expected to get worse as the evening progressed with an estimated accumulation of an additional 6 inches.

“I’m going to bring Mac in early and settle him for the night,” Heero announced, setting his mug on the coffee table. When Duo moved to follow Heero placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Stay and keep warm, I shouldn’t be long.”

“Want me to pick out a movie and make some more coffee?”

“Sounds good,” Heero replied with a smile then left to bring the shaggy horse in from his small sheltered yard.

Duo finished watching the news broadcast before heading to the kitchen to make another pot of coffee.

Sitting back on the sofa with a warm cup in his hand, he surfed channels for a while before setting the cup down to go to the shelf filled with books and movies, searching the titles for something they could watch when Heero got back.

It was only after he selected a title that he realized that Heero had been gone longer than he had been the night before. He only had the patience to wait another 10 minutes before heading out the back in just his coat with the laces of his boots still untied.

The barn door was open and a sliver of golden light could be seen from inside.

“Heero?” He called out after seeing Mac comfortably settled in is stall and several brown and white chickens pecking at corn spilling from a bag with a split along the side that lay near the stall door.

“Here,” Heero replied and Duo turned to see him seated on an upturned bucket with a pinched expression on his face.

“What happened?”

“I slipped coming down the ladder to the loft and landed on me feet wrong. I’ve either sprained or broken my ankle.”

“Shit,” Duo whispered in sympathy. “Do you think you could get back to the house if I helped?”

“Yes,” Heero replied so Duo helped him to his feet.

They moved slowly out the door and Heero waited, leaning against the wall while Duo turned off the lights and bolted the door. They took their time closing the distance between the two buildings and by the time they made it to the house they could barely see in the sudden white of the worsening storm.

“Sit here,” Duo instructed when they neared the dining table and Heero sat. Crouching before him, Duo removed the boot from the injured ankle as gently as he could. It was already swelling and close to twice the size it normally was.

“Do you have any bandages, something I can wrap it with?”

“There should be an Ace bandage in the first aid kit under the sink in the bathroom.” Heero replied.

It only took Duo a few moments to fetch the bandage and wrap the support bandage around the swollen appendage. He propped the foot on the other dining chair, and then a bag of peas from the freezer was wrapped in a dish towel and placed on top.

“Rest here for a bit then I’ll help you to the couch and you can prop it there on the coffee table while we watch the movie,” Duo said after taking Heero’s boots to the mud room, “Unless you would rather just go to bed.”

“No,” Heero replied quickly. “I want to sit with you and watch the movie.”

Warmly snuggled together on the sofa they watched two movies before reluctantly parting for the night. Duo helped Heero to the bedroom, getting his first real view of the comfortable room, dressed in cool, light shades of blue and grey.

“Do you need any more help,” Duo asked after Heero took a seat on the large bed.

“No, and thank you.” Heero replied. “I’ll be fine for the night.”

“Okay, goodnight then,” Duo’s voice sounded a little disappointed as he left the room, closing the door as he went.

The house was dark and eerily quiet when he woke the next day. For the first time Duo found that Heero was still asleep and a moment later he realized why. The power had gone out sometime during the night.

It was barley 6 according to the wall clock in the kitchen; the weather warning said the storm was expected to start breaking down at 6. As Duo used a match to light the burner on the gas stove he felt a pang of sadness at the idea he would be leaving soon.

He started heating the water for coffee then stood near the sink to watch the dawn wash over land through the window there, just as he has seen Heero do that first morning.

The herd was closer to the south end this morning. Though the snow was still falling he could see the dark shape of the shaggy cattle standing close together to keep warm.

Heero’s door opened just as Duo was pouring the coffee. The smile of greeting he received as Heero hobbled into the kitchen gave Duo another of those sad pangs.

“Are you okay?” Heero asked, apparently seeing something on his face that revealed how he felt.

“Yeah,” Duo replied. “I’m just wondering if the storm will actually end today like the news said.”

“Oh,” Heero said softly and took a sip of the coffee he had poured for himself. They stood together quietly, each lost in their own thoughts as they watched the day grow brighter. The snow was lighter than it had been and continued lighten as the sun rose.

“I need to go out and take care of Mac.”

“I’ll do it,” Duo said, placing his mug in the sink. “You need to keep off that foot as much as you can until a doctor has seen to it. If it’s broken, you don’t want to make it worse.”

Heero had shown him how to care for the horse the second morning, while explaining many of the other aspects of running a ranch, very much in the same way a teacher taught an eager pupil.

He agreed and so Duo bundled up and trudged through the deep snow to the barn where the big horse waited patiently for his breakfast.

It didn’t take him long to lead Old Mac around to the sheltered winter yard where he could eat the meal Heero had prepared for him the night before, then he cleaned out the stall before heading back to the house.

Heero had made oatmeal with the remaining hot water, and set out several oil lamps for light. He had also turned on a battery powered radio, listening for any news that another storm might be brewing. So far all signs showed that they could expect several nice days before another storm front would hit sometime on Friday evening.

“Mac looks happy that the snow is letting up,” Duo commented after joining Heero at the table.

“He’ll be able to go out in his paddock tomorrow if the weather continues improve,” He replied absently.

Duo took a bite of his breakfast, and then was just about to ask if something was bothering him when they heard the sound of a large truck pulling into Heero’s front drive.

Someone was knocking on the door before Heero even managed to hobble out of the kitchen.

“Heero?” A woman’s voice called from outside.

“That’s my sister, Hilde,” He explained as he started to unlock the door. “She probably got someone to drive her up here in one of the Forestry Service’s plows.”

Sure enough, Duo spotted the huge green Forestry Service plow sat rumbling at the end of the drive just before the petit woman pushed her way inside and shut the door. There was a bit of a family resemblance. They both with blue eyes and messy dark hair.

“I saw Trowa in town thins morning and he told me you had spent the storm out here alone. I’ve been calling all morning!”

“I’m fine, and I wasn’t alone. Duo has been with me though the entire storm.”

“Duo?” She asked as she spotted the stranger standing in her brother’s living room.

“Duo Maxwell,” he offering her his hand and the woman eyed him in confusion right before her eyes lit up and she snapped her fingers before pointing at him. “You own the Ford Focus Treize’s crew hauled in to town this morning, the one with the shirt in the door?”

“Yeah, that’s my car.”

“Funny, Treize didn’t say anything about you staying here with Heero.”

“I didn’t talk to him when I called it in,” Heero interjected. “I talked to Dorothy and she doesn’t work on Sunday.”

Hilde nodded in understanding, “Well Mister Maxwell, if you want a lift into town you’re more than welcome to come with me.”

“Heero hurt his ankle in the barn last night; he really should have it seen to.”

Hilde gave her brother the stink eye, “Get your boots and get in the truck.” He opened his mouth but she pointed to the kitchen and he limped away without a word. “He never would have told me,” she confided in Duo. “He hates hospitals.”

“Let me grab my bags,” Duo said turning away get them from where they sat in the corner of the living room.

“Let me help,” she said when she saw that he had three and offered to carry the box for him. He accepted, and since he was already wearing his boots they went right out to put them in the truck.

“Wufei, Heero’s coming into town with us. Can you stay here and keep an eye on things until Trowa get’s here?

“Of course,” the dark haired man in the driver’s seat replied before grabbing his coat and climbing out.

By the time the three of them returned to the house, Heero was ready to go.

“Wufei is going to stay here until Trowa gets back.” Hilde informed his as she helped him out to the truck. “I’ll pick him up when I bring you back later.”

“Thanks Hil.”

Heero sat quietly between Duo and his sister in the cab as the pair talked over him. It took almost an hour to reach town and Hilde drove the truck to the garage where Duo’s car was. She helped him with his things again.

“Thanks for taking care of Heero last night.”

“It was the least I could do after all he did for me.” Duo replied.

She smiled and clapped his shoulder before climbing back into the truck and driving away.

He didn’t get the chance to say a proper goodbye to Heero.

“You own the Ford Focus?” A tall man with auburn hair asked.

“Yeah, thanks you bringing it in for me.”

“No problem. Everything else looks fine so far. If you could give me your keys we can give it a good look over and see if anything needs to be repaired. There are no other cars needing work this morning so it shouldn’t take too long if you want to wait here. If not there’s a restaurant just down the block. You can go get a meal and then come back later.”

“I think I’ll stay,” Duo replied and the man, who introduced himself as Treize led him to a waiting area with a TV and a few vending machines.

Treize returned a while later, informing him that they only needed to replace the battery because the old one was completely dead.

The bill was settled and less than an hour after arriving in town Duo was on the road again. He had gotten directions and was finally on the proper highway.

Around 1pm he spotted the small hotel he had planned on staying at when he had gotten lost, but drove right past it. He just wanted to get home. The roads were already pretty clear and if he just kept going he should reach his destination in about six hours.

But as he neared the city the cars became more numerous, everything got louder and his progress slowed to a crawl. It was well after 10 when he finally made it to his new apartment.

It was located in a monstrous, steel gray and glass apartment building that looked more like an office than a home, and everything in the one bedroom was sharp lines and stainless steel.

He hated it.

“I’ll get a few more checks in the bank and move the moment I can,” He told himself after he had a good look around. Too tired to do much more than turn on the heat, he climbed into the bed that was designed more for style than comfort, and fell into an uncomfortable sleep.

He woke at half past 5 wondering why he was so cold, and remembered where he was.

The pang hit him again.

“Damn it,” he cursed throwing the blanket off and going over to the only bag he had brought up from the car. He took out his phone and unlocked it with the intent of calling Heero, only to realize he didn’t have his number.

Damn it!” he cursed again.

Forgoing the shower he ran a brush though his hair and threw on some clothes before grabbing his keys and phone. He rode the elevator back down to the parking area and got in his car.

Luck was with him and he missed most of the morning commute traffic making a distance that had taken 11 hours the day before take only 8 hours today. He made it back to the town of Deer Creek just after 2 in the afternoon.

He made one wrong turn trying to find the road that led to the front of Heero’s property, but recognized a landmark when he turned around.

It was almost 4 when he pulled in beside a heavy-duty rust colored pickup truck that sat in the driveway.

Taking a deep breath he walked up the freshly shoveled and salted path and knocked on the door.

It opened a moment later and Heero was there, surprise clearly written on his face.

“I never got to say goodbye and I realized that I never want to,” Duo blurted and Heero smiled softly.

“Then don’t.”

Gently he took Duo’s hand and led him inside, then closed the door.

 Owari

 -          The horse got its name because I wrote most of this while sitting in my kitchen as my daughter did her online schooling. I was looking around the room trying to think of a name for the horse and spotted an ancient box of macaroni and cheese (Old Mac), the rest is history.

-          According to Google cattle eat about 25 lbs of hay a day. The bales usually average between 55 and 75 lbs each. I rounded the weight up to 100 lbs each for the story to make it easier to figure out how many bales they had to put out for Heero’s herd of 100 animals. It was just quicker for two people to move thirty bales in bad weather than it would have been to move 50 or 60 bales.

  I’l post this up on AO3 in a day or so after a beta has had the chance to look it over again

 @thisweekingundamwing @thisweekingundamevents

[muinaru-novel-blog]

Chapter Thirteen - The Baker’s Occupant

Erik walked beside Tocks, which waddled along on its two weasel hind-legs as they moved through halls. The walls of the halls were magnificently decorated; they were painted with a grand scene of birds and insects flustering through thickets, brambles, and lush trees. The ceiling two was finished with a master fresco of deep-grey clouds lined with trims of gold and silver, as if they were struck by the light of a setting sun.

Eventually, Tocks brought Erik to the exit, which was sealed by two very large wooden doors. Stood in front of the doors were two beings, with a Groke-esque appearance, guarding the exit. The beings held a rifle each and stood straight, with their head held high. As Tocks approached them, they immediately opened the doors, allowing in a stream of light to illuminate the entrance hall.

Now out in the bright sunlight, they continued down a pathway, passing under a sandy-coloured stone archway, which was etched with carvings of again birds and insects living amongst thick foliage.

Erik asked, as they proceeded onto a cobblestone courtyard, “What is with all the birds and flowers. They’re everywhere.”

Tocks explained very quickly, “The Causorian ancestors believed birds and insects are very important to the health of the forests. They continue on the designs out of tradition.”

They moved towards a vehicle waiting just outside of the courtyard’s gates. The driver by the car looked, like the guards at the door, Groke-esque, only a stouter and not as muscular as Groke or the guards.

The driver opened the door and quickly Tocks jumped inside, shuffling to the far side of the car. It waved Erik inside and called in hast, “Come on, come on. Don’t you want to go home?”

Erik nodded. He climbed inside and apprehensively fastened the seatbelt. As soon as Erik’s seatbelt clicked, the driver slammed the door shut and marched to the front of the car. The vehicle wobbled as the driver jumped inside, shake Eric from side to side. The driver started the engine and a gentle jitter shivered through the seats.

Once the car set off, Tocks turned to Erik and explained, “Erik, Tocks needs you to keep a secret.” It clasped Erik’s forearm and asked, “Tocks needs you to omit our previous meeting in the forest from your memory; inform no one about it.”

Erik nodded but his brow skewed with confusion.

Tocks shook its head and observed, “Tocks can see you are confused and possibly mistrustful.” It looked intensely at Erik’s eyes and continued, “As you can see, Tocks does not look like a typical machine. Tocks was designed to spy on enemies. Who would suspect a weasel, would you?”

Erik nodded, “I guess not.”

Tocks continued, “Anyway, Tocks has been collecting information on the shades; sensitive information, of which you are not permitted to hear and neither are many other beings.”

Erik shrugged, “Okay.”

“But Tocks wants you to know that Tocks is very gratefully for your help on that day and Tocks is also happy you have brought Kingdom’s book back, however, Tocks thinks it is best you return home.” Tocks abruptly stopped and turned away from Erik, focusing out of the window.

Erik began to feel warm and started fidgeting awkwardly with the window winder. Tocks looked at Erik with confusion. Erik noticed Tocks bemusement and remarked, “Warm isn’t it.”

Tocks nodded, “The temperature in this car is optimal for earthlings, I suspect you are anxious,” and again Tocks abruptly turned away, focusing out of the window.

Finally, the vehicle stopped sharply in front of a wide harbour. Erik gazed down the jetty of which the car had stop in front or. He followed the planks of tightly knitted wood of the jetty, which ran far out over the lake. Erik’s gazed stopped as they struck an imposing ship, which shadowed over the jetty. It was very same ship that had rescued Erik from the prison, however the balloon was at this moment deflated and crew were energetically packing it away.

Tocks snipped, “Out you get and follow Tocks.” As they walked towards the ship, Tocks explained, “The being Tocks is looking for is Herax. He’s the one who saved you, if you do not know. Tocks is sure he will be quick to return you home.” As Erik followed, his gaze was repeatedly drawn out to the swelling of grey clouds that brewed on the horizon behind the dam.

The wind was strong, dragging tall ripples across the lake and sweeping a stiff breeze over the jetty, pushing Tocks and Erik closer to the edge. Tocks stressed, “Be careful not to fall in the water. Keep low, it will reduce the impact of the wind.”

Eventually, Erik and Tocks entered the shadow of the ship, which sheltered them from the heavy cross winds. Tocks looked up to the deck of ship towards Tyru, who stood at the stern, directing the crew. It whistled loudly and drew Tyru’s attention. Tyru smiled and shook his head with disdain. Tocks shouted, “WHERE’S HERAX?”

Tyru pointed across the ship and shouted to Herax, “HERAX, THE LITTLE RAT THING WANTS YOU?”

Herax stepped a foot onto the banister of his ship and grinned down at Tocks. He waved over Tocks’ attention and called, “WHAT CAN I DO YOU FOR, TINKERTOY?”

Tocks respectfully requested, “I WAS HOPING, IF IT WOULDN’T BE TOO MUCH TROUBLE, THAT YOU WOULD RETURN ERIK ─ THIS DEAR BOY,” Tocks pointed to Erik, “TO KINGOM’S MANOR, SO HE CAN RETURN TO HIS WORLD?”

Herax frowned. He walked to the rope ladder, quickly descended, and strode up to Tocks. He looked down upon the weasel with repugnance, holding the handle of his blade, which was attached to his waist, and, with a tone of irritation, he refused, “I will not take him.”

Tocks stiffened its shoulders, pointed at Herax and snapped, “Look here─”

Herax quickly interrupted, “A typhoon is coming in from the North-West, no ship will be sailing until tomorrow.”

Tocks dropped its paw and uttered solemnly, “Oh.”

Herax smirked and quickly corrected his gaze over to Erik. He enquired, “Why are you returning the boy, I think he should first be looked over by Lirish.” He walked over to Erik and knelt to the boy’s eye level and explained, “It’s very interesting that the mindless shades should have kept you alive.” He turned and looked at Tocks and added, “Almost as if they’re not entirely mindless.”

Tocks shook its head and snipped, “The boy is not an experiment neither a prisoner here. He has the right to go home.”

Herax chuckled, “Home can wait. What’s there to go home for anyway?” He shook the boys shoulder and groaned, “Nothing, am I right, just school and bossy parents.”

“Actually,” Erik murmured, “I should good back to see my mum.”

“Your mum?” Herax scoffed, “Don’t you see her every day?”

Erik elaborated, “She’s … very unwell. She has cancer.”

Herax face dropped and he turned at looked at Tocks, which simple shrugged. Herax reverted his gaze to the boy and apologised, “Oh … sorry … if I had known, I’d …” Herax swallowed and continued, “Well … I wish it changed matters, but I still can’t take you to Kingdom’s manor. The ship is already being packed away, ready for the typhoon.”

Tocks walked between Herax and Erik. It looked at Herax and stated, “In that case, I’m going to take the boy to a temporary containment room, where he will be kept safe and out of sight until the storm passes.”

Herax objected, “Nonsense.” He gripped Erik’s shoulder, “Erik, would you like to be kept in isolation?”

Erik shrugged, “It doesn’t sound great.”

Herax chuckled, “Doesn’t sound great, haha, of course it doesn’t. I tell you what, I’ll take you to Lirish anyway. Don’t worry, she’s not some mad scientist, she’ll just ask you some questions. After that, you can play with the many cool gadgets there. Also, I know a young girl about your age who might want to meet your acquaintance.”

Erik wondered, “Zelesa?”

Herax smiled confusedly, “You know her?”

“I was just talking to her, before Tocks had her taken away.”

Herax looked at Tocks and frowned, “Well … that isn’t very accommodating, is it Tocks?”

Tocks scowled, “Sorry, but I must object. The girl is a menace. I do not approve of this. The boy’s presence should not be advertised around town. I cannot allow this.”

Herax shrugged, “I’m sure you don’t want to allow it.” He picked up Tocks by the fur at the back of its neck and lifted it up off the ground. Herax smiled and asked, “But what is it that you can do about it?”

Tocks warned, “I will have the guards arrest you.”

“For what? The boy is going willingly with me and he is a free being, isn’t he?”

Tocks folded its arms and, as it dangled in Herax’s hand, it huffed, “Fine, but as soon as the typhoon has passed he must report back to the harbour, so he can be returned home where he belongs.”

Herax nodded with a cheeky smile, “Of course.” And gently placed Tocks down onto the ground. Tocks waddled of quickly down to the end of the jetty, leaving Erik behind with Herax.

Herax grabbed the Erik’s shoulder, knelt down and asked with grin, “How are you doing? Feeling stronger?” Erik observed the face he had seen from the prison, only now it was cleaner and much kinder in the light of the evening sun. He nodded in response to the question and Herax further asked, “Have you eaten since you’ve been up?”

Erik shook his head and explained, “Only a piece of fruit.”

With a chuckle, Herax lifted the boy’s arm and remarked, “Look at those scrawny arms, you need some meat.” He looked up at the ship and called to Tyru, “TYRU, I’M TAKING THE BOY TO SEE LIRISH. YOU FINISH UP.” Tyru nodded and wave his hand with concurrence.

As they walked down the jetty, Herax griped, “Something about that weasel makes me uneasy.” He looked down at Erick and smiled, “I guess it’s something that you should be troubled with.” He patted Ericks back and announced, “Let’s get you something to eat.”

At the end of the jetty they stopped at an open carriage attached to two horses. It was safeguarded by one of Herax’s younger crew, who had a black bandaged wrapped tightly around his hand and two of his fingers. He was doze in the back, wrapped up in a blanket.

Herax shook his head and grinned, “That would be Duelf asleep.” He didn’t bother to wake the crew member up and simply jumped up on to the carriage, grabbing the reins. Erik followed, sitting next to Herax, and immediately Herax stuck the reins, calling, “Hi-yah.”

The horses jolted into gear and cart jittered along the bumpy dirt road, towards town situated just over the hill. Despite the rough journey, Duelf remained asleep. Herax smirked, “That’s our chef. He’s useless at everything else, but he sure can cook.”

As they reached closer to the town, Herax explained with a wide grin, “Lirish is your typical genius,” and elaborated after a momentary pause, “she’s odd.” He looked at Erik and further added, “But she’s very sweet,” which he reiterated within a murmur, “very sweet.”

 The dirt road within the town was bordered by wooden walkways on either side, of which the buildings loomed over. The structures were mostly made of wood, but the few larger buildings were made from bricks and mortar.

“Whoa!” Herax called and the horses slowed to a halt outside of a bakery. The place was called, Jones’ Bakery, as indicated by the well-craft calligraphy held within a wood sign, which swung just above the door.

The bakery was only small and occupied a slender space between two much larger buildings that stretch four storeys high. The upper floor appeared to be used as accommodation, evident by the resident’s linen and garments drying over the balcony.

The horses drank from the trough outside as Herax tied the reins a wooden beam. He explained, just as they ascended the small steps to the front entrance of the bakery, “This place has great pies. They’re made here fresh.”

Herax pushed open the shop door, pinging a small bell, which pinged once more as the door closed. The high-pitched sound summoned the presence of a stout man, wearing an apron covered in flour. He looked old, much older than Herax, but he moved very fluidly. He stepped up to his counter with a warm smile, cleaning his hands with a towel.

Herax introduced the man as he walked to the counter, “This is Terrance, an old family friend. Terrance, this is Erik, the boy I told you about.”

Terrance pinched the speckles up from his chest, which were suspended by a delicate chain, and examined the boy. He scoffed and assessed, “He needs a good meal, how old is he?”

Erik answered quickly, “Fourteen and three months.”

Herax muttered, “Really, thought you were younger. No matter.” He grabbed the boy’s shoulder, moved him up to the pies, and assisted, “Choose one of the pies, they’re very good.”

The pies behind the glass were sized to be a hearty meal for one. They were priced with high numbers with a currency symbol alien to Erik. The cheapest pie was 100 whatever’s and the most expensive was 400 thing-a-me-dos. Erik assessed the descriptions: Tiorup filled pie with tupis; Yumil & Tuilo; Til & Tul; Tuilo mixed with Moko & Lop. The list went on in this incomprehensible manner.

Erik softly admitted, “I have no idea what they are.”

Herax chuckled, “Right, of course. Well … urm …” He looked at Erik and assessed, “give the boy a Crium & Yilo, earthling’s will probably like that. The meat tastes like earthling pork.”

Terrence affirmed the order and proceeded to package a pie. He delicately placed the pie into a wrap, which had an opening at the top, designed to push the pie up through for eating on the go.

Herax passed Terrence the payment and, as he did so, he asked, “Is Lirish upstairs.”

Terrence grinned and quipped, “I don’t know if she’s seen day light all week.” He clarified, “Yes upstairs alright, doing her god knows what experiments.”

Herax smiled and expressed, “Good, I’m bringing this boy to her, see if she can explain why the shades would keep the boy.” He thanked the baker and stepped back out of the door, guiding Erik out with him.

The pair made their way around the back of the building, passing through a door, which lead to a set of narrow steps, which lead up to a solid door. Herax knocked heavily on the door with a whimsical tune and a woman inside called, “Who is it?”

Herax replied, “Hey Lirish, it’s Herax, I’ve brought that boy with me. I thought you might want to meet him.”

There was no reply from Lirish and pair stood in silence, but Herax didn’t seem bothered, he waited patiently. Suddenly, there was a series of clangs and clunks of locks being released, and finally, the door swung upon.

There stood Lirish; a short, curvy woman. She appeared to be from the same beings of which Herax belonged to, based upon the distinguishing larger ears and nose. Her hair was braided neatly around her ears and a bandanna was warped around the top of her head, where pair of speckles sat. One ear was pierced several times with small rings and on her neck, and tattooed on her neck was a swirly abstract pattern.

Lirish requested, “Well, come on in then.”

Inside, it was a mess of machinery clutter. The place was filled with old machines parts and broken machinery. Some of it was stored on shelves, others hung from the ceiling, but a great deal was just stack around the room.

Some of the machines were as big as Groke, others smaller than Tocks. A few were covered in fur, like tocks, however the fur was often torn, exposing the mechanical chassis underneath, also, they generally missing a great portion of their limbs and often a head. Most of the clutter was just indistinguishable piles of metal.

Lirish waved, “Come, come.”

The pair followed her into a room filled with glass vials. The vials were filled with peculiar liquids, many of which radiated with a vibrant colour. A few contained a solid shard of metal or a mysterious organic matter. Most gruesomely was a store of jars, each containing an animal limb or an indistinguishable blob of organic cells, possibly an organ.

In the centre of the room were three cups sat around the kettle, which was just beginning to boil. Close by was a sizable tin box, which was decorated with the imprinted imagery of an array of assorted biscuits, which, hopefully, the real thing was stored within.

Lirish dropped some tea leaves into an infuser, which was shaped like a little bucket, and she sat it snuggly into a little teapot. She enquired kindly, “Do you both want tea.”

Herax clapped his hands and announced, “That sounds nice,” and quickly, he took a seat by the table. Erik followed suit. He placed his pie on the table and moved his seat up close.

The kettle boiled shortly after they sat down and Lirish proceeded to fill the pot, pouring the water through the tea leaves. Whilst the tea brewed, Herax asked, “So, what did you learn from the book.”

Disconcertedly, Lirish frowned. She shook her head and replied, “The book is gibberish; just rows of nonsensical mesh of squiggles.” She retrieved the book from a nearby work bench, which was stacked with papers. She placed the book on the table and explained, “I’ve had the librarian look at it and she’s never see such a language.”

Erik interrupted, “You’ve never seen English? But you’re speaking it.”

Lirish scoffed, “Of course I’ve seen English. I know we speak it. Ever since the arrival of Mr Kingdom, English has been the standard cross-cultural language. But his book is not in English.”

Erik crossed his brow, “But it is.”

Lirish sighed, “If it was, would I have said it was gibberish?”

Herax picked up the book and flicked the pages. He grunted and smiled, “I’m not the best reader but that’s not English.” He showed the book to Erik, who looked at the pair with confusion. He raised hand and opened his mouth but said nothing and slowly lowered his hand.

“Well, what? Clearly you noticed something.” Lirish impatiently asked.

Erik explained with his lip curled up, “It’s English.”

Lirish snatched the book and examined it closely. Her eyes narrowed. She gazed at the Erik, who sat timidly in his chair, with his arms held close to his body. Lirish suddenly smiled and walked around the table. She held the book in front of Erik and asked, “What does this line say?”

Erik read slowly, “The crystallisation is often unstable but a compound of sodium-flouriphil mixed with acids of a Trelip fruit, will keep the crystallisation from liquidising.”

Lirish visibly jumped for joy and cried, “Amazing, absolutely amazing. I cannot believe it. I believe Mr Kingdom has made a book that can only be read by eyes of an earthling.” She looked at Herax and announced, “I believe we have quite possibly found the reason the boy was kept alive.”

However, Herax quickly reminded Lirish, “The shades are mindless, they can’t read the book, let alone have the intelligence to know they need an earthling to read it. Someone has to be controlling them.”

Lirish shrugged and quickly snapped her attention to the book, asking Erik, “Please, transcript the book for me, word for word. I wish to read it all.”

Herax informed, “The boy is only here for the one night.”

“But … but,” Lirish manically stuttered, “it’ll take me weeks, if not months, maybe even years to simulate a looking glass capable of mimicking the qualities of human eye. I honestly have never done such a thing, as such, I have no idea if it’s even possible.”

Eric sighed and enquired, “I could transcript some of it? Something important, maybe?”

Lirish puckered and twisted her lips to one side. She hummed inquisitively for a few seconds until finally concurring, “Yes, yes.” She opened the book and asked, “Please, read the index and I will tell when to stop.”

Erik did as she had asked and Lirish nodded along whilst Erik read through the index. She hummed occasionally with interest and at times she tusked, rolling her eyes, until Erik dictated the heading, “The Mining of Muinaru.”

Lirsh jolted up and exclaimed, “THAT ONE!”

[miss-m-and-her-blog]

Mr. Perfect (Chapter 17: Last)

TITLE OF STORY: Mr. Perfect CHAPTER: 17 AUTHOR: hiddlestoner-and-cumberbabe WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: AU Gigolo!Tom GENRE: Romance, Fluff, Drama FIC SUMMARY: Mr. Tom Hiddleston is an international gigolo and renowned playboy that has sent London women’s hearts aflutter, and also all the women around the world. He’s charming, sexy , tall, smart, sophisticated and extremely handsome. But with his new client, Julie Rose Trillo, his life will change forever. RATING: T WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: There are some British swear words and also curse words, so beware though hehe :P FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: Finally, I finished it! :D Once more, thank you for @thfrustration for letting this multi-chapter fanfic be posted in their blog; it means so much for me, honestly ^_^ Thank you so much, guys, and because of that, here’s a little list of those fellow Hiddlestoner/Tumblr users that gave Mr. Perfect some loving uhuh ;)

Tom is determined that he will see J.R. at the job fair. But will destiny permit him so? While J.R., will she ever let her heart decide this time of her happiness?

----

Tom turned around to where Ajay, Ajay’s mother, Mrs. Adita Ranjit, and Bailey sat in the couch as he presented himself on a navy-blue suit, partnered with a black tie and a baby blue shirt.

“So, how do I look? Comments?” He giddily asked, and then he pointed at Ajay,

“You look like you’re going with a client.” He playfully quipped and Bailey and his mother lightly slapped his shoulder for that remark.

“No, Tom, you look great. Very professional.” Ajay’s mother, Adita, gave him relief with her words.

“And smashing, too, I’d say.” Bailey commented last.

Tom sighed and then came to them to give them all kisses in the cheek to thank them. Ajay tried to refuse his kiss on the cheek but ended up with both of his cheeks kissed by Tom.

“Man! Come on!” Ajay wiped his cheek with the back of his hand.

“Thanks so much! Well, wish me luck. I hope that J.R. notices me there.” He sighed while he is pinning his cuff links.

“Come here, Tom, and I will tell you something.” Adita motioned to him to come closer. Tom got down on his knee and listened intently,

“You want to get the girl? You have to work for it. Tell her how much you feel. You know us women; the truth is always the best.” And she pinched his cheeks that left a smile on his lips.

“Thanks, Auntie.” Tom replied sweetly.

“Uhm, Tom, it’s 8am. The job fair starts at 9am.” Ajay reminded him, while tapping his wrist watch.

“Oh, blast! I have to go! Bye, guys! When I come back, I won’t be single anymore!” Tom, along with his sleek body bag, shouted out as he ran out of the room and out of their flat.

Everything felt so beautiful and majestic to Tom. The sun was just shinning right, the blue skies looked so bright, and the air felt like magic was floating all over. He couldn’t think of any negative thoughts, or even bad scenarios; all that he could think about is J.R.

What she might be wearing today, is she doing well while hosting the event? Is she okay? Those were the questions that are running up and down his mind while he waited for a taxi on the street.

He immediately got one and there, he is happily on his way to Renovis.

“Where to?” The driver asked Tom.

“Regent Street, the Renovis building.” Tom enthusiastically replied as he settled at the back seat. The driver did not said anything back and only chewed on the gum on his mouth.

Tom was about to sit properly when the car took off so quick, that he almost fell out of his seat. Tom tried to keep himself on his seat as the reckless driver sped their way on the road.

Then he noticed that the driver was wearing headphones on both ears, and that he could almost hear the banging music that was blaring off of the pieces.

Tom could only grunt in disgust, but he was pulled over to the left when the driver turned on a corner.

"Now I know how my clothes feel when they're in the wash." Tom muttered through gritted teeth.

The driver kept on turning hard on every corner and almost brushing the car's hood onto the next car's bumper, that sent Tom's heart hanging in the edge.

He did kept a tight grip on a handle near the windows, but that didn't stopped the inertia, pulling and pushing him from his seat. Suddenly, Tom realized that they are about to cross an intersection, and the driver couldn't resist but to beat the red light.

"NO! You tosser! You'll get us both killed!!!" Tom screamed out at the back, but the driver didn't heard a thing from him.

Tom held his breath and closed his eyes, also praying that they might cross the intersection safely.

And just like all of the angels in heaven heard him, they got safely across but the hell-for-leather ride kept on. The Renovis building was almost at the far side of his view and maybe a few blocks away, but he could only wish to arrive safely at the job fair.

And to see J.R. once again, perhaps.

But, his train of thought was derailed when the car stopped with a violent force that slammed him into the window behind the driver.

"What the actual fuck?!" He screamed out as he tried to see what happened, and there, their vehicle crashed onto another taxi, that placed a large bent on the car's hood.

The driver removed his seat belt and he went outside and argued terribly with the other driver whom he crashed his car on. The other driver then now grabbed the reckless man by the collar and there was a fist fight that was about to ensue.

Tom had no time to for this as his wristwatch had just ticked a quarter to 9 o’clock.

He went out of the taxi and he can clearly hear the screamed argument better when he heard the taxi driver shout out to him,

“Oi! You haven’t paid your fare yet!” His eyes glared at Tom.

Tom, who already had his back turned, faced the man, and held out his middle finger at him.

“I ain’t paying for nothing.” He spatted at him, then he ran at the opposite street to use his Uber app, even though he had already used his free rides and that he may have to use his own money to pay now.

Why couldn’t have you done this earlier, stupid?  He thought to himself.

Tom only waited for five minutes for the his ride to arrive, and as soon as she got into the car and sat shotgun, he blared,

“Regent Street, mate, Renovis building, and step on it please!”

The driver looked shock and almost nervous, but then Tom sighed and slumped back on his seat.

“I’m sorry, I was just having a bad day; see that taxi that crashed on to another car, I was his passenger. And I’m very late for a job fair.” He apologized calmly and the driver had a hint of smile at the corner of his lips.

“Everyone’s dying to get at that bloody job fair, though, I understand.”

“Thank you. You say everyone?” Tom asked, curious.

“I’ve had two passengers earlier who was also going to Renovis this morning. How about you, you up for a job there?” Then their vehicle turned to a shortcut.

“Yes-- well, no. I’m going to see someone there.” Tom then brushed the back of his head with his hand.

“Who? Girlfriend?” The driver asked.

Tom almost laughed but tried to contain it that it turned to giggles. He felt like everything today is topsy-turvy, not anymore magical just like earlier. Maybe destiny is telling him not to go for J.R., but as far as he knows, it’s what his heart is shouting at him.

“Maybe. If ever she would let me be his boyfriend. It still depends.” Tom sighed now.

Then, right at the corner, he could see the Renovis building, tall and proud. Tom breathed in deeply, it was time to go and meet his fate.

----

J.R. saw her reflection from a glass door that she passed by. She wore a stunning blue dress; the top was adorned with sewn aqua-blue thread on baby blue sheer fabric. While the collar of her dress was a simple wing collar, while the skirt that reached above her knees were styled as billowing pleats. She didn't wore her hair in a bun but down, that flattered her whole outfit. J.R. was like a princess that whenever someone would see her, they would greet her with a slight bow.

She was headed on to Martin's office, to remind him that the event is about to begin. When she finally reached the door, she gave a knock and Martin called out for her to come in. She found her brother sitting over his desk, his laptop still open.

Still can't let go of work. She quietly thought with a smile.

"Kuya! It’s time.” She sang at him when she reached his table.

"Of course, J.R.. I was just looking at some photos here that Victor sent from Morocco." He pointed at his laptop monitor.

"Really? Let me see!" J.R. hopped beside him and looked on to the screen. J.R. saw the photos, they were taken at a wedding reception; Mason and Aicha's wedding.

"Aww, that's so sweet. I'm happy that Mr. Mason got to spend his leave that way." J.R. sighed.

"I'm glad that Victor had finally moved on to a new chapter in his life." Martin agreed.

He went on to the next photo and they saw a group photo of Mason, Aicha, Salima, Henri and even McCord who came with him to Morocco.

"Dom! He's there too?" J.R. pointed out.

"He also took his leave, and I had news from Ms. Van Vorst that McCord left Morocco with her cousin on a trip to Paris." Martin raised an eyebrow, and J.R. already got what he meant.

“Those cheeky bastards. Probably having the best Parisian holiday ever.” J.R. quipped, but then they both gave out a laugh at it.

Martin then placed a hand on J.R.’s, “I’ve something to tell you first, take a seat.”

She sat in front of his desk and listened very well. Then, Martin took out a folder from his drawers and showed it to J.R..

“I have asked Alex for an endorsement deal with us. She agreed and that she is taking off from her semi-retirement as a photographer. She also told me that she will be coming back as a model, and that the producers from Asia’s Next Top Model has offered her to be the show host.” after a while, he opened the folder and J.R. saw photos of Alex that are part of her portfolio.

There were three or more photos, and all of them declared how good of a supermodel is Alex.

Suddenly, Martin showed the last picture and there, J.R. gasped and paused for a while.

It was a picture from their photo shoot with Alex; when she was still with Tom. She could remember it clearly as day, the pose where they both sat over a window; Tom embracing her from behind, as if they were star-crossed lovers staring lovingly outside the window.

“Oh, how did this get here?” Martin asked then he studied the photo, while not noticing that J.R. just went quiet as the dead.

“Tom might have been an escort, but he sure looks like a model too.” Martin wondered then his gaze drifted towards J.R.

“Are you okay, J.R.?” He asked, but she only nodded in response.

“Are you thinking about him?”

Then J.R. looked up and met her brother’s gaze, “No. Why would I?” she tried to pretend that the photo didn’t had any effect on her.

Martin sighed and placed down the picture. He gently tapped the table with his index finger then he started,

“I know you think about him, Julie. Especially after the day he returned my payment for his services.”

J.R. stared out into the windows, as if trying to fight an urge to say something.

“I know too that he loves you. I saw it in his eyes whenever he was with you. But I feared his presence might just remind you of Nathan. He only looked like Nathan, but he is another person and he can’t be compared to him.”

Now, J.R. faced Martin and said, “What are you trying to say, Kuya?”

“That he doesn’t only loves you; you love him also, am I right?”

The question felt like an arrow that pierced J.R.’s chest. Can her brother be right with what he is talking about?

“No, I--” J.R. spoke but Martin followed up,

“I’m not even mad, J.R., if you love Tom. I want you to be happy, that’s all I want to say. And that’s what you should do; find him and you will find your happiness.”

J.R. let out a deep exasperated sigh. “If only it’s too easy to do, Kuya, I would’ve done it by now.”

Martin chuckled, then he stood up with the help of his cane. “Who knows, you might see him today.”

He walked towards her and she stood up, they were ready to go out.

She took his arm then said, “Be careful what you wish for, Kuya.” J.R. sassed.

-----

The minute Tom arrived in Renovis, he already saw the long queue that leads to the Job Fair inside. One needed to get in line just to get a visitor’s pass and booth ticket.

“Damn!” He cursed as he saw that the queue leads down almost into the business plaza of Renovis; where there are a lot of cafés and small stalls of ice cream parlors and also restaurants.

Before he went into the line, he saw a small light show and music inside the convention center and that caught his attention. He walked into the entrance of the convention center but he was stopped by the security guards wearing prestigious suits that somehow made him look like he a peasant.

“Sir, do you have a visitor’s pass and booth ticket?” One of the guards that looked as mean as Mason stopped him from going in.

“Uhm, not yet. Can’t I go inside already?” Tom demanded like a child.

“No, Sir. You have to get on the queue first, then when you have a visitor’s pass and booth ticket, only then you can go inside.”

Tom wasn’t paying attention to what the guard was saying because suddenly, the program has started. An emcee had already introduced J.R. and Tom craned his neck just to get a look at her.

But he was being kept pushed out by the guard that for a moment he lost his balance and fell on his bottom. The guard then ignored him this time, but Tom tried to peer into the glass door to see J.R..

J.R. stood up and went into the podium to speak. Tom felt breathless because even from a distance, he could feel the anticipation of seeing her again.

And not only that, J.R. took his breath away with her look today. If he could only eat his heart out right away, Tom has done it already.

J.R. then started speaking, “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. First off, I want to introduce myself; My name is Julie Rose Bellegardé-Trillo, I am Sir Martin McLeod’s half sister. For those who have worked here for the past three years, they would recognize me for being Renovis’ endorser back in 2014.

“I have been in a long absence for three years; the reason why is that I got into a car accident and was comatosed for two years. I became an amnesiac for a year. But anyway, enough of that; I’m not here to talk about my past, because I’m here to talk about not only my future, but our future.”

Tom could only hear the muffled speaker that was inside the building but he fixed his gaze towards J.R. who is almost a hall away from him.

“As the new Renovis’ HR Department Head, it is my duty to ensure that the standards of hiring employees here in our company, will not just remain as the same, but to also improve. The quality of people hired will dictate the future of our corporation. But why a job fair, if you may ask; it is also for the future of our goodwill with our partners.

“The HR Department of Renovis can only hope that this event may not just help our companies, but also people who are deserving of a better professional career. Once again, good morning to all of you, and let the fair begin.”

Her speech was met with applause and there, J.R. sat back with Martin as the emcee announced other parts of the programme.

Tom stood back from the glass and the guard was still looking at him, he pointed at the queue and Tom inhaled sharply as he had no choice but to fall in line.

“Alright, alright.” Tom grumbled as he started to go over the plaza where the end of the queue is.

As soon as he got in line, he felt like something is really stopping him from even getting close to J.R..

Why is that now I wanted to be with J.R., everything seems just not to fall in place?  He thought with contempt.

He crossed his arms and hoped that he won’t have to wait for long while on this queue. And this time, destiny seems to be cutting him some slack as the queue was moving quick.

Yes! Some good sign for the day! Tom rejoiced.

While on the queue, he noticed that there are somethings that have changed with J.R.. He thought that maybe J.R. is just like that because she is herself again. Her childish side is no longer noticeable now that she’s regained her memories.

He wonders, will she even acknowledge him when they see each other? Besides, she was the one who told him to stay away.

Heck, would I even get to talk to her amidst this big crowd? In between this ocean of people wedge between the two of us? Tom pondered

As he was enveloped with his thoughts, he didn’t noticed that he was almost near the booth for the ID and ticket.

Tom is now confused whether destiny is with him or not.

After a few more minutes of falling in line, he finally received his visitor’s pass and booth ticket, to which it directed him to his first booth, and incredibly, the Renovis booth. He felt his legs move into a sprint as he wanted to get there as soon as possible.

Not caring if he bumped into somebody while running towards the glass doors of the convention center, Tom got there in a minute and the guard who stopped him earlier made him pass when he saw his ID and ticket.

Tom entered the main hall and he tried to look for the directions that leads to the Renovis booth.

Inside his mind eye, he wished that he would see her there, as an interviewer, perhaps. And maybe, just maybe, she might notice him.

Tom rehearsed it in his mind on how will he act when he finally sees J.R.. Would he smile at her? Say Hi? Or maybe go on ahead and ask if he could talk to her in private.

No, you twit, that is just insane! He scolded at himself, but then when he lifted his head, he was already at the Renovis booth and once again, there is a line that he needed to get on.

Tom, already feeling stupid and tired, still got on the line and waited for his turn to be interviewed and to have his resumé submitted.

His patience was almost waning, but Tom kept his cool, because there were thousands of scenarios that are still optional, but all of those were running up and down his mind as he devised how will he get to meet J.R. in person.

For him, it was like trying to get an autograph from his favorite actress. He blew out a raspberry as he stood in line.

Then out of the blue, a short man with balding red hair gave Tom a nudge at the back.

“Hey, you nitwit, I was there first. Why did you took my slot?”

His voice almost sounded like Bugs Bunny’s that when Tom looked back, he tried to hold a giggle.

“You think I’m talking funny at ye, eh boy?” He then threatened Tom, but he was almost a few feet shorter than him that if Tom held his balding head, he won’t be able to land a punch on his body.

“I’m sorry sir, but I got here first. I’ve been in this queue for five minutes now.” Tom explained.

“You can’t fool me! I just went over to the loo and there, you’ve taken my place!” He now screamed at Tom that made other people look over at them.

“Please, sir, I was here first.” Tom now tried to stop his lips from stretching into a smile as the balding man looked like an angry Pokémon.

To no avail, Tom finally snickered, and there, the man grabbed him by the collar and pulled his shoulders down.

“Why you--!” The man shouted but then, they heard a security guard shout at them to break the tension between the two.

Because Tom was pulled down to the balding man’s level, he had to look up to see the people standing in front of them.

His eyes popped and his jaw dropped when he finally saw her there, standing with her arms crossed in her chest, and her eyes narrowed. But still, she looked lovelier than ever to him.

“What is this, sir, what is the squabble all about? What did this man do to you?” J.R. spoke with such authority that Tom couldn’t believe his own ears that it is J.R..

“He took my slot here in the line! He’s a one cheating arsehole and a git, for all I know.” The balding man yammered on.

But J.R. only rolled her eyes, and to end this situation, she ordered, “You can take your place now, sir. But you-- come here.” She pointed out at Tom.

Her lady boss tone was somehow scaring Tom, but he didn’t cared, that lady boss is the woman of his dreams.

“Yes, Ms. Trillo?” Tom playfully replied when he was now face to face with her.

“I will have to talk to you, personally.” Then she turned to the blonde woman with glasses on her right, “Natalie, have Mr. Hiddleston escorted to my office. I will be waiting there.”

Other applicants heard J.R. and whispered among themselves while looking at Tom.

J.R. only turned her back on Tom, but he felt like he had just been sprinkled on with fairy dust that he felt like he can fly.

She disappeared among the crowd, but Natalie now caught his attention,

“This way now, follow me.” She instructed him and Tom was led to the next building, the main building itself. He was made to surrender his visitor’s pass and booth ticket for another visitor’s pass for the main building.

Natalie escorted him to the elevators to which they got up to the 19th floor; the floor that mainly belongs to HR.

Tom could feel his heart already on his throat, ready to jump out and dance about when they arrived at the 19th floor.

He wondered, whatever J.R. wanted to talk to him about. Once again, he tried to imagine what would happen once he is in J.R.’s office. Humorously, his mind went in to naughty places where J.R. might seduce him and have her way on him above her desk.

Tom had to suppress a smile and shooed the dirty thoughts away,

No brain, please, not those kind of thoughts. Tom thought.

He was led into an office with cubicles ranging from corner to corner, there, Natalie said, “Welcome to Renovis’ Human Resources Department.”

Natalie walked beyond him and Tom only followed her into the labyrinth-like office that he swore they took one or more turns that lead them nowhere J.R.’s office.

He once thought that she may only be misguiding him, but once they took the last turn, Tom saw the door to J.R.’s office.

“You can go in; wait for Ms. Trillo inside.” Natalie instructed, then Tom went in.

The interior of J.R.’s office felt like a museum for everything that represents beauty; Tom sighed at the sight of the white marble floors, the cream-colored couches and seats, and also, her wide desk made out of glass.

Behind her desk were the bookshelves and stands where framed photographs sat quietly but were very much noticeable from afar.

He approached the stand carefully and saw for the first time a photograph of Cassandra and Robert. J.R. looked exactly like the mixture of those two good-looking people; then his attention went to the other framed picture, it is a photograph of a young Martin, no older than 20, and a 12 year old J.R..

Martin was leaning on his cane while J.R. held his arm and they were both laughing when the picture was taken.

Out of all those pictures, he tried to look for at least one photograph of Nathan; but there was none. Suddenly  he wondered why J.R. would not have a picture of him.

Before he could think more about that thought, J.R. entered the room and she saw him standing over the photos. This seemed not to have caught his attention, and so, J.R. cleared her throat and,

“Mr. Hiddleston, please, if you are done ogling at my family; you can sit now.” And she pointed out the seat in front of her desk that very much looked like he was going to be interviewed for a job.

Tom tried to act formal as he quietly sat in front of her desk. J.R. took her seat after a while, then, her eyes darted towards him that made him feel a little bit terrified.

He only stared back for a minute when J.R. raised an eyebrow, “Are we just going to stare at each other or are you going to hand me your CV?”

His senses were alarmed and he clumsily fished out the transparent folder that contained his CV. After handing it out to J.R., she quickly flipped it over and read the part of his job experience.

J.R. was only quiet as she read on, but Tom craned his head up to see which part she was reading.

Without looking up at him, she said, “So, the last work you had was in a modelling agency? Then you graduated from London Metropolitan University with a degree in Psychology-- but you haven’t worked for any other company after that. Why is that?”

There, both of their eyes met; she was studying him, but Tom could only stare back at her. He knows to himself that he have missed her terribly. If only he could say it to her out loud, but the way she acted made him feel queasy.

“I-- I became an escort after the modelling agency.” Tom told it simply as that.

“And besides that, you had no other professional work whatsoever?” J.R. inquired.

“No. Just that.”

J.R. then shifted on her seat and sighed. She couldn’t keep on the charade, she knew that she had to ask him the question she really wanted to ask him.

“Why are you here, Tom?” J.R. then placed down his CV and her pen on the desk.

Tom now shifted in his seat and answered as earnest as he can, “To apply for a job. There’s a job fair today, ain’t it?”

She waved her hands off and said, “Don’t get smart with me, please, why are you really here? No-- Let me ask you the real question; why did you returned the payment my Kuya gave you?”

He could feel her confusion underneath the strict facade, but he just doesn’t get why she needed to know that.

“Because I didn’t needed the money. I did the job he offered me, because I wanted to do it not for the financial part. I realized that after everything.”

J.R.’s brows furrowed, then she got up from her chair and stood closer to Tom.

“Seriously? What do you think you are doing when you took the job? Charity? Out of your kind heart, you just did it?”

“I wasn’t worthy of that payment. I never was.” Tom sighed.

“Could you just tell me the truth why you did it? Was that a stunt or something?” J.R. couldn’t help it but her the tone of her voice became higher. She just wanted to know the truth; or maybe, she was afraid of knowing the truth from him.

He looked up to her, with his baby-blue eyes looked like it was begging for her,  “Not because of that--”

But she spoke out, “What then?”

“Because I love you!” Tom let it slip out, and that made him rouse from his seat.

J.R. had to hold on to the desk behind her when she heard those words from him, but he kept on,

“Why are you doubting me? Like you are saying that it’s impossible for me to love you? I gave back the money because I didn’t wanted it to be like you were just some common client to me. And you were never a client to me, J.R., you were something else and more.”

The passion laced within his words felt like it had reached out for J.R., that she now tried to suppress herself from embracing him.

This can’t be. He couldn’t be this honest. It’s impossible. She thought.

Tom then went for his bag and tried to dig out a medium-sized journal. When he got it out, he handed it to her but J.R. hesitated from getting it from him.

“This is a journal I wrote while we were traveling together. I wrote everything I can write, every entry was about you and even when I’m with you. If you still doubt me, even though I have worked my way through this job fair just to see you again; read it. You’ll know that I’m not lying, I do really love you, but I doubted myself because you’re way out of my league.

“What could I do at that time, J.R.? I’m just a gigolo; an escort. You were everything I ever wanted and I was just nothing.”

J.R. finally reached out for it and took it from his hands. Her eyes felt like watering but she tried to stop herself from crying.

Tom felt his heart had broken into two; he never knew that J.R. could say those things to him. Somehow he wishes, they were back to the time they first met, when everything were just simpler.

“I think I’m not up to work here or be interviewed by you. I’ve already been judged. But if you wanted to know how I really feel for you, until now-- read my journal.”

He left the room and closed the door loud and quickly.

J.R. could only her heart drum out loudly, and she felt the leather of the journal on her fingertips.

Maybe he is right. Maybe it is love. But what about I feel? She pondered.

She took a deep breath and opened the journal. The pages opened to the night that they stargazed under the Moroccan skies; how Tom withheld himself from kissing her, but wrote down how much he wanted to.

Then, she flipped it at the beginning, there she saw a list that Tom had checked already, but one was left unchecked.

It said;

    1. Make the trip to Palawan

    2. Then to Paris

   3. Lastly, to  Morocco

   4. Go to the ‘Pink House’

   5. Tell J.R. I love her then...

From #1 to #4, they were all checked; but #5 was not yet done.

J.R. felt something deep within her, like something had awakened in her. She felt brave and touched, and that she knew she had to be, if she doesn’t want to lose Tom.

Out of a sudden, she hastily placed down the journal on her desk and felt her feet step up into a sprint as she opened her door.

J.R. looked left and right to see if Tom was still there, but he was gone already.

Her breath quickened as she felt the panic stab her in the chest. Her feet still continued running over the corridor and into the maze of cubicles.

If anybody saw her, they might just think that their boss is running wild and crazy all over the office.

But, Tom was nowhere to be found and she had asked a few people if ever they saw a tall and handsome man pass by. The only answer she got was a no, and it only made her panic more.

No, Tom. You can’t go just like that. I need to be with you, and you need to be mine. J.R.’s mind only repeated those words over and over again.

Little did she know, Tom is standing and waiting for the elevator lift to pass by the 19th floor. But every time the door would open, it would be too crowded for him to get on.

And so, he stood there, with his shoulders slumped down and his hands on his pocket, while remembering the scene earlier.

Why is she doubting me? Couldn’t she see right through me? Or maybe it’s just that I never stood a chance from the beginning?

This made Tom sigh with grief. He could already hear their sympathies and see the look of pitying in their faces when he gets home.

He shook his head, trying to dismiss those thoughts. It was no use for him anymore; he tried and there he knew that some things are just impossible.

The elevator door opened but it was crammed with too much people going up. Tom cringe at the elevator attendant; he was not going inside and he is not going to jam himself in that elevator, just like he is not going to stick himself in to J.R.’s life because she had evidently made it clear that she doesn’t want him in her life.

Tom tried to smile, “No thanks, I’ll take the stairs.”

And there he left the spot he had kept for minutes and he started going down the stairs.

After a while, J.R., running as fast as she can while wearing heels, reached the elevator doors. She immediately pressed the down button, but the elevator lift is still at the 25th floor and was slowly making its way down to the 19th.

“Come on, come on. I need to get down!” She impatiently muttered as she watched the LED screen of the floor indicator.

The elevator doors opened and a mechanical ding went up; but when the doors opened, it was full of event organizers or assistants that are busy for the event at the convention center.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am, the lift is full.” The attendant told her, but it was not the time for her to be moving slow, and so,

“No! All of you out, I have to go down; it’s official business!” were the only thing she could say but she saw all of them had a look of surprise and shock.

The people inside went out, one by one; her alibi worked and now they are quickly going down to the ground floor.

As she impatiently watched the numbers on the screen, she could already imagine Tom, leaving the premises; taking a taxi back home.

She might just look for his home address and talk to him then, but she could not let him go today without telling him what she really feels for him. And that she also need to apologize for everything hurtful that she may have told him.

When she reached the ground floor, she went to the security station and informed the guards to look out for a man named Tom Hiddleston and not let him leave Renovis.

Tom, where are you? J.R. worriedly thought as her eyes searched everywhere.

Meanwhile, Tom wound up at the business plaza and saw a gelato store.

A little sweetness wouldn’t be that bad, when all I’ve got from her is bitterness. He thought to himself and there he snickered. Maybe he is just comforting himself.

He went in and saw that the place had only two or three customers who ate their gelato at their tables.

Tom chose the chocolate truffle flavor on the biggest cup to which he chose to eat it outside. He found a lonely spot near the veranda, a few steps of stairs where he can sit.

“Ma’am, we couldn’t find Mr. Hiddleston, He’s not here in the building.” a security personnel, Handel, informed J.R..

“Did anyone looked near the convention center or the business plaza?” J.R. asked him then he paused,

“No, Ma’am. Not yet.” He replied sternly.

“Well then, we’ll look for him there.” J.R. demanded, but Handel asked her,

“We, Ma’am?”

J.R. eyed him, “I’ll come with you to look for Mr. HIddleston. It’s your top priority to find him, and also mine’s.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Handel cooperatively answered.

They started making their way into the convention center, but J.R. decided to split up and she will lead a team to look for Tom at the business plaza.

It was already high noon, and the summer sun is bright and shinning over J.R., whom had a few bullets of sweat on her forehead.

Her dress was beginning to be itchy because she had walked over a few yards from the main building to the business plaza. Her feet are now aching and her knees felt wobbly. But she didn’t cared, the only thing she needed to do is to find Tom, and she doesn’t care anymore if she could get blisters on her feet.

When they arrived at the business plaza, she instructed the team of security personnel to split up once more, and that she would do her own searching.

J.R. found the dining stalls and stores, she searched how and low for Tom; whether he might be sitting alone on one of the restaurants or maybe standing next to the gelato store.

She felt desperate, and she wanted to scold herself for letting Tom go when he’s already there in front of her.

J.R. had to sit for a while as she can feel the tiresome search had already gotten into her.

She saw a veranda with a few stairs to sit upon, but when she finally got near it, she saw a man sitting there and eating a gelato, all by himself.

His blond hair and daddy-long-legs was just enough for J.R. to know that it is Tom.

She had no time to waste, J.R. ran to his side and called him, “Tom!”

He was sure that the voice that had screamed for his name is J.R., and it is not the gelato or his imagination.

Tom slowly turned his head back to see who called him, and he was not wrong at all. His eyes widened as he saw her with the frantic look on her face and a little bit haggard all over.

Tom knew the best response; he turned his head around and ignored J.R. He might just play a little hard-to-get this time.

J.R. bit her lip in anguish, and there, she stood right in front of him.

“Thomas Hiddleston, I called you!” She shouted at him while her hands were on her waist.

“There’s no need to shout, Ms. Trillo! Here, you want some gelato?” Tom invitingly offered her the gelato, but J.R. had only her brows in a furrow.

“Are you kidding me?” J.R. finally replied.

“Nope, not one bit. So, what are you doing here? You thought I already left didn’t you?” Tom teased her as he took another spoonful of gelato in his mouth.

“No. I wanted to ask you something-- that checklist in your journal... What did you wanted to do after telling me that you love me?”

Tom smiled mischievously and there, he stood up, now leveling with her gaze.

“That’s my secret. Why would I tell you that?” He then pouted at her, and he knew that she couldn’t keep another minute in a straight composure because of his teasing.

“Besides, there’s no reason anymore to let you know what I wanted to do so I could check that out of the list.” Tom scooped a big portion of the gelato and tried once again to offer it to J.R., “You sure you don’t want some? It’s good, it’s chocolate truffle.”

J.R. could only purse her lips and side-eye him, but Tom extended his hand that holds the spoon so she could reach for the gelato.

She shrugged off the pressure and then she ate the gelato on the spoon. The sweetness of the gelato and the dryness of her throat didn’t agreed to each other that she gave out a loud cough. Tom patted her shoulder and settled the cup down

When she swallowed down the sweetness, she started talking, “Tom, I want to say sorry. I really am sorry for I have said to you earlier. I want to apologize for ever doubting you... I don’t know why I doubted you; maybe it’s just that I was afraid-- I don’t know with what, but I was just scared.”

Tom loosened the teasing face and his eyes softened. She was looking through his soul, and he knew he had to listen for what she has to say.

“I was scared that I might lose you if I let you in. As you can see, it’s a tragic truth that some of the people I love are not here anymore.”

J.R. looked away and a tear-drop fell from her eye, but she continued, “But, that’s not really the point that I’m trying to get to-- What I’m trying to say is that I want to move on now, and Nathan told me so. You may not be Nathan, but you’re very much different from him--and now, I want to know you this time.

“Can you help me with that, Tom?” J.R. smiled at him.

Tom felt his chest heave and his lip tremble. Maybe, some things are not that too late, or too soon.

“I will help you with anything, Julie Rose, anything. I’ll even lend a hand so you could find your way into my arms.” He endearingly replied.

There, Tom reached for J.R.’s hand and placed over his heart; he also had tears in his eyes by that time, tears of wonderful joy.

J.R. sniffled as she took a step closer to him. Tom then placed a hand on her waist, pulling her into his body.

“Would you like to know what I would do after I tell you that I love you?” Tom’s mellifluous tone melted her right there and then, but she managed to say,

“What? What are you going to do?” J.R. looked up to him, her face just a few inches away from his.

“I will tell you that I love you, then, I will kiss you.”

J.R.’s lips stretched out into a wide smile, “It’s about damn time you check that out from your list, then.”

She closed her eyes and leaned up to meet his lips.

J.R. couldn't be more sure than this, and it is no brainer that she wants to be with Tom, and so does he.

For the very first time, Tom kissed J.R., and he swore that he could feel the butterflies in his stomach flutter stronger than before, that the fireworks in his mind-eye had just went off and everything felt so much brighter than ever.

When Tom let J.R. go for a while, she added, “Wait, you haven’t told me directly that you love me.”

“Nah, I do more than I say, baby.” Tom sweetly teased and there, J.R. giggled.

But for the second time around, she pulled him to a longer kiss.

For Tom and J.R., it was definitely a wild roller coaster ride of fake brain diseases, malevolent nurses, and terrifying cliff-sides.

Though, they could say, the road still smooths out in the end. And it isn’t just one smooth way, it was the sweetest; the greatest, and the most self-discovering end.

There is no looking back for Tom, no fear for J.R.; just loving each other is what they could only know.

It didn’t mattered whoever they are in the past; what they value the most is who they will be in the present and the future, and that is together.

END.

[exo-one-shots]

Drive Me Crazy

Written By: Admin T.Pot Summary: Y/N has asked Sehun to teach her how to drive cause she just got her permit and her driving test was in 2 weeks. Sehun agrees to teach her, and although she says she knows the basics, she doesn’t really know how to actually drive a car. A/N: Sorry for the long wait guys TT I didn’t know which was easier to finish cause the fics and shots I’ve started to write offline were all just starters and I didn’t really think them through;; but I finished this one TT I’ve been really stressed and busy I couldn’t really bring myself to write cause of the exhaustion and part laziness;;; But here you guys go TT one is finally finished;;; And since it’s Sehun’s birthday still LOL ... I promise to come back soon ! So wait for me !! Word Count: 3000

[Sehun ! I passed the written test ! I scheduled my driving test to 2 weeks from now. Could I ask you to probably teach me ? Please ?]

I couldn't help but smile at how she asked me. Of course I was down to teach her. I even offered to not too long ago. But I know how she is. She never wants to be rude so she asks even if she knows the answer. I quickly text her back, but instead of saying yes,

'What will you give me in return ?'

And sure enough, a reply comes within 30 seconds.

[That's not fair ! You offered !]

'It's been a while. Have you checked the expiration date ?'

[What ?? You can't put an expiration date !! That's really not fair TT]

My smile widened at the image of her pouting while texting, clearly taking this literally. She was too easy to tease. Not that I'm a sadist, but she's really cute when she's in her whiny mode. Which is quite odd knowing how I get annoyed at even the slightest bit of a pitch in a girl's voice. But Y/N is always different.

'You owe me.'

[...Fine... I'll buy lunch...]

'Dinner.'

[But dinner is more expensive !]

'Exactly.'

[...I hate you...]

'What ? You want to pay $80 for driving lessons ? Okay, fine with me.'

[No !! Sehun TT I love you TT]

By now, my smile has turned into low giggles. Sounds disgusting and I can't even understand why I always get all giddy when I'm making fun of her, but I can't help it. It tickles my heart to see the words. But my mind instantly drifts off and my smile is gone in an instant and an unsatisfied expression with my brows furrowed takes its place... I deeply sigh at the thought that depresses me every time...

If only we were more than friends...

---

"Sehun-ah ~" I see Y/N frantically waving her arms as she runs towards me.

A gradient smile placed on her soft pink lips. I try my best to keep myself from running towards her, meeting her halfway, and pulling her into my arms for a tight embrace and giving her kisses all over her face. It was hard at first to keep myself calm, but I've gotten used to it during the years.

I carefully watch her running across the empty parking lot of our school and I couldn't help but depict the future. She wasn't far now, only a few steps but I bet she's going to trip on her own fee- yep. She did. But good thing I was fast enough to catch her.

"Tsk. Watch your step and don't run," my tone came out colder than intended but I guess she's used to it, since she knows I'm not one to express myself.

"Heh, sorry," she giggles while sticking out her tongue and raising her eyes with her head low.

She doesn't even know how adorable the expression she's portraying is. It's the exact reason why my face always cringles up when she does it, wishing she only did that in front of me and not where others can see her.

If you're going to think this way, just make her yours already, Sehun.

I keep telling myself, but it's not always easy as it seems. Like I said, I'm not an expressive person and if I go back to the time when we first met, I'm still worried that she's going to be afraid of me again. We were introduced by our mutual friend, Chanyeol, but unlike him, since I was always quiet and had a serious, almost annoyed -- blank, in my defense -- face on, she wasn't so fond of me. Better yet, since she's very shy, she was quite afraid of me.

On the other hand, my first impression of her was 'cute'. And if anyone knows me, I really like cute things. I know. Surprising for a guy like me, right ? You'd think I'm into clubbing, drinking, and big breast cougars. Well, that's what most people will think, based on "how rich my family is", "how I am so good-looking", and just cause I have such a face. But believe it or not, I'm a simple guy. I like walks in the park, playing with my dog, and just going for a drive to the beach.

And being the simple guy that I claim myself to be, I like simple girls. Girls like Y/N, who doesn't plaster her face with so much make-up, who doesn't try get to me by playing innocent, and who doesn't really know me from what she's heard but knows me from spending the time to get to know me.

So yea, little things like sticking out her tongue as she giggles apologetically drives me insane. But I can't be too forward and tell her my feelings cause she's the type to take things slow. Funny, how liking someone turns you into a very observant person. I feel as though I know every little detail about her.

"Okay, so should we start ?" she looks up to me with sparkling eyes.

I nod, with the slightest smile. Barely anything. She smiles widely and reaches to open the driver seat's door. I make my way over to the passenger's seat. It was quite awkward. I never imagined I would be sitting in the passenger seat of my own car. And I'm not too sure if I'm 100% comfortable with having someone else drive my car; but it was good, cause I was with her.

"So, I know the basics. Don't worry too much on telling me how to start the car or you know... driving," she laughs. I smirk. "I guess, just be with me as I practice driving around ?"

I nod in approval as I wave my hand, signaling to her that the car is all hers. She giggles in excitement. Her small hands softly strokes the wheel handle. I slightly cock my head questioning what it was that she was doing.

"Hehe, hi baby. I'm going to be the one taking care of you today okay ? Daddy is still in the car so don't worry about being alone with me. I won't do anything to hurt you, so please bear with me, okay love ?"

Then Y/N dramatically threw her around the wheel, hugging it while patting it like she was trying to comfort it as if it was a living creature in pain. I let out a snort unknowingly. Y/N swiftly turned her head to glare at me but I quickly avoided her eyes by turning my head towards the window while covering my mouth with a fist.

I felt her intense stair on the back of my head, and so I tried to keep the laugh in but the air left my nose, breaking the silence in the car.

"Stop laughing !"

"I'm... not laughing," I tried.

"Then say it to my face !"

I swallowed in the laughter trying to leave me and turned myself back around to face her. Little did I know that she was now leaning closer to my side with her elbows resting on the armrest in between our seats. The both of us froze. My eyes locked into hers. This was the first time we had our faces so close to each other. My eyes roamed down her delicate features and were fixed onto her lips slightly open with her front two teeth slightly showing. I swallowed the urge to kiss her and brought my eyes back up to her meet her eyes.

As soon as our eyes met, her eyes widened and started to wander to a different place at every blink trying to figure out where to put her eyes on. I wouldn't have minded just staring at each other all day. But it wasn't long till she turned her face forward and avoided the contact.

"L-let's d-drive...!!"

I kept my eyes on the side profile of her face. Her cheeks were flustered bright pink, she bit her bottom lip and blinked twice, looking like she was thinking about something. Then she shut her eyes and slightly shook her head, as if she's getting rid of a thought. I hold in a laugh while trying to figure out what's going through her head that's making her look this adorable. But I don't question it as she started the engine.

"Okay, since there's no one here today, how about just driving around as freely as you want ?" I say, just to chase the tension away, since it seemed she wasn't going to talk first.

Y/N nodded. She stepped on the break and turned the gear into drive, but when she lifted her foot and stepped on the pedal, the car pushed forward hard enough for both of our heads to hit the head rest. Y/N quickly stepped on the breaks realizing her mistake. The forced pushed both of us forward. I felt my heart rate speed up faster than when I was with her.

"Yah !" I shouted out of instinct.

I saw Y/N flinch at my outburst. I then realized I raised my voice at her for the first time. I wasn't mad, I was just surprised. And I should probably tell her that, since she's looking like she's committed the worst crime possible. So I cleared my throat and told her I was sorry, but she came back with a sorry as well.

"You're car's... pretty sensitive..." she bit her lip.

"Try stepping on the pedal more slowly and gently," I sighed.

Y/N nodded and tried. But again, the car lashed out and then came to a quick stop. I sighed again as she apologized. Good thing there wasn't any cars or parking blocks at each parking spot. But I couldn't take this anymore. My patience has finally hit its limit.

"Park the car," I finally tell her.

Y/N looked guilty. She did as I said and I got out of the car. Y/N put her head down as I closed the door and kept it there until I got around the car and opened the door to the driver's seat.

"Get out," I said, coming out more harsh then intended.

Her lips pursed into a frown, looking like she could cry any minute. She slowly undid her belt and stepped out the car, still not making eye contact with me. As soon as she was out, I sat at the driver's seat. I pushed the seat back until there was enough space in front of me, but also close enough for me to reach the pedals.

"Get in," I say, trying to sound softer than before.

Y/N finally lifted her head from the ground and looked at me with big eyes, clearly not understanding the situation. Since she's so easy to read, I give her the answer to her unspoken question.

"Since you don't know how to control your pressure on the pedals, I'll show you."

But seeing her reaction, which was just standing there still looking confused, I sighed in surrender and pulled her by her wrist but gently enough so that she fell into the seat without hurting her. She gave in and sat down on the space available.

"Take your shoes off," I told her.

She did as I said and I took the shoes from her and put it on the floor in the passenger seat. She then made herself more comfortable by wiggling into the seat. And in that moment, I was starting to regret my suggestion. But it was too late to back out now. Y/N was fully in the car with both her legs in the car. I sighed inwardly and closed the door.

"Seatbelt ?" Y/N asked as she looked back, shifting a bit on the seat.

"Yeap..." I tried then reached for the belt.

I pulled it around Y/N and clipped it in. The belt caused Y/N to rest her back fully against my chest. The way her body fit perfectly into my embrace felt like heaven. There's nothing I would ask more of if only I could keep her in my arms like this all the time. I sighed at the thought.

Then I realized another heartbeat other than my own. I blinked and tried to focus my senses and in doing so I realized her heartbeat was just like mine, beating rapidly. I let out a soft scoff, happy to know I'm getting some kind of reaction from the contact. I get a slight glimpse of her cheeks from the back and see that she's turned bright red.

"Shall we start ?" I asked.

"Y-yes...!" she jumped.

"Alright," I chuckled. "Put your right foot on top of mine. I'm going to drive so that you know how to control your pressure."

Y/N nodded as she took in a deep breath. She let it out shakily, indicating she was ready. I placed my foot with hers on top of mine on the break and put the car into drive. As I slowly lifted my foot, I felt her concentration from how she went stiff as I stepped on the pedal. It made me smile.

"Hands," I stated, and she instantly lifted her hands to hold the wheel.

I brought her hands up to cover the back of mine so that she knows how to handle the wheels while turning them. Her fingers weakly slipped in between mine when I lifted my hand a bit to turn the wheel. I felt her fingers trying to find their way out from in between mine, but I held them in with a slight grip, not wanting her to escape.

"Se-Sehun... Can we stop the car for a second...?" she asked cautiously.

I raised my eyebrows in question, but still complied to her request. I slowly brought the car to a stop and put the gear in park. I didn't let go of the wheel, still not wanting her to move her hands. But to my dismay, she broke free from my not-so-hard grip and took in a deep breath.

"I think... This is enough for today...?" I could just feel her bite her lips.

"Why ? It's only been like 5 minutes since we actually started to do something," I tried to low-key convince her to stay longer.

"Well, like... I think I'm good on the pedal part," she breathed.

"...."

There was a long silence between us, and I don't know if it was just me, but I could hear the sound of our heartbeats beating together. And I couldn't tell who's was faster.

"I'll get out of the car now," Y/N suddenly stated and started to reach over to grab her shoes.

But before she got far, I grabbed her wrist.

"Wait..." I said, but it came out softer than I wanted, almost a whisper.

I brought her hand back in front of her and now my arm was around her waist. I slowly let go of her wrist and gently made my way to her hand, slipping it under her palm so that I can hold onto it by interlocking our fingers. I moved my left arm and her hands quickly lifted off my hand. I brought my left arm around so that I was now hugging her by the waist. Y/N flinched at the touch and her body was still stiff.

"Umm... S-Sehun...?"

"Mmm," I answered, letting her know she can say what she wants to.

"What... Are we doing...?" she sounded confused, but also troubled.

My brows came to a frown, realizing she might not appreciate these actions. I sighed. I knew I should be letting go of her, but I really didn't want to. And my indecisiveness caused me to rest my forehead on the crook of her neck. I closed my eyes, feeling as though I couldn't hold these feelings inside me anymore.

"Y/N..." I felt her head turn slightly towards me, and so I lifted my head a bit to meet eyes with her.

She blinked multiple times with the bright red color in her cheeks.

"I like you..." I whispered, embarrassed to say it louder.

Her eyes widened while her lashes fluttered. Her face started to flush even more. But the fact that she wasn't pushing me away gave me the confidence to continue.

"No, I love you..." I said as I rested my cheeks on the back of her shoulder, still looking into her eyes which weren't as wide anymore.

"You drive me crazy in everything you do, and I can't help but feel like I want you all to myself... I want to make you mine and keep you in my arms forever..." I calmly blinked, although my eyes were roaming around her features trying to see if anything about her expression showed some kind of rejection or even acceptance.

But instead, I decided to ask her the question.

"Can we be more than friends...?"

After hearing the question, Y/N turned her head forward and dropped them to look my arms that were wrapped around her securely. I then felt her soft hands on my left arm, and then she gave me the slightest nod.

I lifted my head and my eyes widened. I wanted to make sure she said yes. I had to make sure. And so I let go of her hand and brought my hand up to her face to have her turned towards me. Our eyes met for a brief second before hers roamed off.

"Really ?" I asked, almost sounding scared to hear otherwise.

Y/N brought her left hand and grabbed onto my wrist that was holding onto her face. Her lips curled up into a sheepish smile.

"Me too..." she giggled. "I like you too."

And with that, I might've lost my mind. I couldn't help myself and went forward to place my lips on hers. And just as I imagined, they were soft, sweet, and I needed more. Y/N was stiff with tension. I lightly licked the bottom of her top lip asking for entrance and she slightly opened her lips allowing me entry, and once the kiss deepened, her body loosened up and melted in my arms.

Her reaction was just so precious, it made me smile.

I can't believe she's finally mine.

[topfygad]

Volcanic Wonder: Hiking Congo’s Mount Nyiragongo

Climbing Mount Nyiragongo is a mythic quest that ends in a rare sighting of the world’s largest lava lake. | By Alicia Erickson

Adventure Democratic Republic of the Congo | POSTED ON: April 8, 2020

  Trekkers to Mount Nyiragongo have to make their way on treacherous lava-coated rocks. Photo by: Michael Runkel/robertharding/Dinodia Photo Library

A boat floats on the glassy waters of Lake Kivu at dusk. The moon is aglow and a fisherman casts his pole for the final catch of his day. My mind locks into this meditative scene, momentarily forgetting the worn-out city where I am staying: Goma, the capital of North Kivu province in the eastern part of Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC). Next morning, my friend Allison and I are to begin our trek to Mount Nyiragongo, an active volcano deep inside Virunga National Park, with the world’s largest lava lake.

Virunga, one of Africa’s oldest parks, is a mercurial landscape full of volcanoes, glaciers, savannahs, forests and Afro-alpine vegetation, all of which hold a rich cluster of wildlife within. This natural bounty has placed the park at the centre of a civil war for decades. Violence has endangered many species, in particular the mountain gorilla. In recent years, however, tourism has opened up, enabling visitors to trek to Mount Nyiragongo.

  From Goma to Virunga

We set out for Goma on a rainy November morning, anticipating a quick, hassle-free journey. Goma is most easily reached from Rwanda, where the closest international airport is located. As I was living in Kigali, Rwanda’s capital, at the time, I broke up my trip to Goma by stopping in Musanze, a Rwandan town in the North Kivu province near Volcanoes National Park, another region teeming with lakes, volcanoes, and wildlife.

The volcano last erupted in 2002, streaming through the city of Goma. Photo by: Yannick Tylle/Corbis Documentary/Getty Images

Forgetting that it was Umuganda—a national holiday falling on the last Saturday of every month, where Rwandans took up community service—our journey didn’t begin until noon. Delayed buses, torrential rains, cancelled visas, a handful of other complications, and many hours later, Allison and I had finally made it to Goma, which is in eastern DRC. Frank, our driver for the weekend, greeted us at the DRC-Rwanda border and navigated us through the city. We drove by an old airport littered with abandoned airplanes and through the town’s narrow streets cluttered with single-storey concrete buildings and buildings lined with coils of barbed wire. Congo is a place of survivors. Goma is gritty and rough, a testament to the years of warfare and instability that have ravaged its people. Yet there is a vibrancy that resides side by side with the chaos here. Streets are cluttered with aluminum shacks selling tropical fruits, bright kitenge fabric, and cell phone kiosks. Motorcycles honk and rev as they weave in and out of alleyways.

About 30 minutes later, we had made our way through Goma’s complex labyrinth to our home for the night, a peaceful enclave on Lake Kivu, just in time to watch the moon rise over its placid waters.

  Climbing Through the Rain

We wake up with the sunrise in anticipation of our climb. The skies are clear and the sun shines as Frank drives us towards Virunga. A nervous energy lingers as we approach Kibati Patrol Post, the starting point for our trek. Mount Nyiragongo’s last eruption was in 2002, the effects of which can still be seen in Goma and the national park.

Clockwise from top left: The volcano’s nightly eruptions are a prized sighting; Virunga National Park, where Mount Nyiragongo is located, hums with rare birds and animals; Hikers usually rest in metal cabins atop the mountain; Virunga is also the habitat of giant lobelias, common to forests in East Africa. Photos by: Yannick Tylle/Corbis Documentary/Getty mages (lava), Michele D’Amico supersky77/Moment/Getty Images (bird), De Agostini/P. Jaccod/De Agostini Editore/Dinodia Photo Library (plant), Kostyantyn Storozhenko/shutterstock (cabin)

A group of 10 eager climbers from different nations gather at Kibati along with a team of rangers armed with AK-47s, and porters carrying our food supplies. The hike starts at a gentle incline through rainforest terrain. Ahead of us, the volcano looms ominously. Behind us, the Great Rift Valley stretches for miles in thick green forested hills, extending west into the heart of the Congo and in the east towards Kenya. The sun shines bright as we take our first steps.

We have a long way to go. The hike starts at 6,525 feet and ascends to 11,382 feet over just a few kilometres. After the first rest point, the ground beneath us shifts to slippery volcanic rock. The terrain becomes increasingly uneven and challenging to navigate.

Within an hour, I can feel the first few drops of rain. At first, the light drizzle is a reprieve. But as it quickly turns into a torrential downpour, I long for the sweltering heat. Our ponchos and rain gear are well-intentioned but useless at this point. Water cascades down my face and backpack, while I scramble up the slippery escarpment. The higher we climb, the further the temperatures plummet. Time, temperature, sight—all start to blur together as I will one foot in front of the next, the volcano farthest of my preoccupations.

We huddle in a tin hut at the final resting point before the summit. The rain has subsided but I am soaking wet. Shivering uncontrollably, I curl into a ball to try and keep warm—a feeling that seems quite fleeting at the moment.

Between the summit and I is one last climb up vertical slopes entirely comprised of lava rock. With little traction and no clear path, I start to walk, hindered by the thick fog and the force of the wind. Soon, my chilled hands lose all sensation and I am unable to grip onto my walking stick. I methodically place one foot in front of the other as the campsite slowly draws closer.

  Transfixed by Lava

After another hour or so, I clamber up the last of the rocks to reach our home for the night. At the top, a dozen metal shacks are built into volcanic rubble for sleeping. Stripping off my wet clothes, I layer on every piece of warm, dry clothing I can and set off across the precarious volcanic rock to finally witness what we have come for. Over the edge of the rim, the lava lake comes into view, bubbling and sputtering from the crater a few hundred feet below.

Sub-freezing temperatures at the top can only be escaped by squeezing into the makeshift shack, where our dinner cooks and our clothes dry over a toasty fire. I periodically duck inside to warm up and listen to park rangers and guides recount stories.

“I would come up here every day if I could,” one park ranger muses.

Though they are in high spirits and won’t talk about it, I know these rangers have witnessed the violent invasion of the park and have lost more than one comrade in the fight to protect Virunga.

Once I seal the warmth in once more, I bundle up to make my next trip outside to marvel at the volcano.

“You are fortunate it rained so you can see,” our guide tells us. “Many people don’t get to see the lake clearly. This is nature, it is unpredictable.”

Clockwise from top left: Goma, capital of North Kivu in DRC, is a strife-torn city, afflicted by years of civil war; Rangers to Virunga are often armed to protect tourists; Lake Kivu is flanked by DRC and Rwanda on either side; The lava lake is sometimes blanketed by fog, hindering the wonderful view. Photos by: Great Pics – Ben Heine/shutterstock (market), Juan Alberto Casado/shutterstock (ranger), Chris Dennis Rosenberg/Moment Unreleased/Getty Images (camp), Ben Houdijk/shutterstock (lake)

Lucky does not quite capture the immensity of Mount Nyiragongo’s offerings. The night sky is tinted pale pink from the lava’s gold and orange flames. Rivulets of lava form an exquisite and complex tapestry, as ribbons of fog dance around the volcanic sphere. We stand as long as we can bear the numbing temperatures, mesmerised by the fiery mosaic.

  The Way Back

In the morning, we wake for sunrise and for one last peek at the lava, only to find ourselves enveloped by a blanket of fog. The lake, once vibrant in the dark of night, is now invisible. We pack and prepare for our inevitable departure, blindly forging our way down the mountain.

Descent proves to be more precarious than the ascent, the rocks slipping from under us as we carefully manoeuvre our way out to the slick forested slopes where our adventure began.

At the bottom, we wait for Frank to pick us up. “Pardon,” he slurs in his thick French-Congolese accent. “There was a protest in Goma today. Roads were blocked. Cars were burned. People were shot.”

Without warning, we are jolted from our nature-induced trance into reality. Here we stand, on the cusp of the two universes in the eastern Congo. One foot in the jungle and the other in the solemn world of political strife. As we drive away from Virunga, we are unsure of what adventures await us next in Goma. We hold onto the quiet from Mount Nyiragongo for as long as we can, not wanting to leave behind our wild escape yet.

  To subscribe to National Geographic Traveller India and National Geographic Magazine, head here.

Getting There

Flights from Mumbai and Delhi to Kinhasa, the largest city in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) usually require one or more layovers in the Middle East or Africa. Goma is a two-hour flight away from Kinhasa. Some visitors also fly into Kigali, the capital of Rwanda, which is a three-hour road trip from Goma. Treks to the summit of Mount Nyiragongo begin at the Kibati patrol post. Park rangers lead all treks and porters (unaffiliated with the park) are available for hire. Travellers need permits and must book treks or hiking tours in advance, which can be done through visitvirunga.org. 

  Visa

First-timers to DRC need to apply for a visa with minimum three months validity (Rs13,250) through the Democratic Republic of the Congo Embassy in Delhi.

  When to go

The best months to visit are from July to October.

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[topfygad]

Volcanic Wonder: Hiking Congo’s Mount Nyiragongo

Climbing Mount Nyiragongo is a mythic quest that ends in a rare sighting of the world’s largest lava lake. | By Alicia Erickson

Adventure Democratic Republic of the Congo | POSTED ON: April 8, 2020

  Trekkers to Mount Nyiragongo have to make their way on treacherous lava-coated rocks. Photo by: Michael Runkel/robertharding/Dinodia Photo Library

A boat floats on the glassy waters of Lake Kivu at dusk. The moon is aglow and a fisherman casts his pole for the final catch of his day. My mind locks into this meditative scene, momentarily forgetting the worn-out city where I am staying: Goma, the capital of North Kivu province in the eastern part of Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC). Next morning, my friend Allison and I are to begin our trek to Mount Nyiragongo, an active volcano deep inside Virunga National Park, with the world’s largest lava lake.

Virunga, one of Africa’s oldest parks, is a mercurial landscape full of volcanoes, glaciers, savannahs, forests and Afro-alpine vegetation, all of which hold a rich cluster of wildlife within. This natural bounty has placed the park at the centre of a civil war for decades. Violence has endangered many species, in particular the mountain gorilla. In recent years, however, tourism has opened up, enabling visitors to trek to Mount Nyiragongo.

  From Goma to Virunga

We set out for Goma on a rainy November morning, anticipating a quick, hassle-free journey. Goma is most easily reached from Rwanda, where the closest international airport is located. As I was living in Kigali, Rwanda’s capital, at the time, I broke up my trip to Goma by stopping in Musanze, a Rwandan town in the North Kivu province near Volcanoes National Park, another region teeming with lakes, volcanoes, and wildlife.

The volcano last erupted in 2002, streaming through the city of Goma. Photo by: Yannick Tylle/Corbis Documentary/Getty Images

Forgetting that it was Umuganda—a national holiday falling on the last Saturday of every month, where Rwandans took up community service—our journey didn’t begin until noon. Delayed buses, torrential rains, cancelled visas, a handful of other complications, and many hours later, Allison and I had finally made it to Goma, which is in eastern DRC. Frank, our driver for the weekend, greeted us at the DRC-Rwanda border and navigated us through the city. We drove by an old airport littered with abandoned airplanes and through the town’s narrow streets cluttered with single-storey concrete buildings and buildings lined with coils of barbed wire. Congo is a place of survivors. Goma is gritty and rough, a testament to the years of warfare and instability that have ravaged its people. Yet there is a vibrancy that resides side by side with the chaos here. Streets are cluttered with aluminum shacks selling tropical fruits, bright kitenge fabric, and cell phone kiosks. Motorcycles honk and rev as they weave in and out of alleyways.

About 30 minutes later, we had made our way through Goma’s complex labyrinth to our home for the night, a peaceful enclave on Lake Kivu, just in time to watch the moon rise over its placid waters.

  Climbing Through the Rain

We wake up with the sunrise in anticipation of our climb. The skies are clear and the sun shines as Frank drives us towards Virunga. A nervous energy lingers as we approach Kibati Patrol Post, the starting point for our trek. Mount Nyiragongo’s last eruption was in 2002, the effects of which can still be seen in Goma and the national park.

Clockwise from top left: The volcano’s nightly eruptions are a prized sighting; Virunga National Park, where Mount Nyiragongo is located, hums with rare birds and animals; Hikers usually rest in metal cabins atop the mountain; Virunga is also the habitat of giant lobelias, common to forests in East Africa. Photos by: Yannick Tylle/Corbis Documentary/Getty mages (lava), Michele D’Amico supersky77/Moment/Getty Images (bird), De Agostini/P. Jaccod/De Agostini Editore/Dinodia Photo Library (plant), Kostyantyn Storozhenko/shutterstock (cabin)

A group of 10 eager climbers from different nations gather at Kibati along with a team of rangers armed with AK-47s, and porters carrying our food supplies. The hike starts at a gentle incline through rainforest terrain. Ahead of us, the volcano looms ominously. Behind us, the Great Rift Valley stretches for miles in thick green forested hills, extending west into the heart of the Congo and in the east towards Kenya. The sun shines bright as we take our first steps.

We have a long way to go. The hike starts at 6,525 feet and ascends to 11,382 feet over just a few kilometres. After the first rest point, the ground beneath us shifts to slippery volcanic rock. The terrain becomes increasingly uneven and challenging to navigate.

Within an hour, I can feel the first few drops of rain. At first, the light drizzle is a reprieve. But as it quickly turns into a torrential downpour, I long for the sweltering heat. Our ponchos and rain gear are well-intentioned but useless at this point. Water cascades down my face and backpack, while I scramble up the slippery escarpment. The higher we climb, the further the temperatures plummet. Time, temperature, sight—all start to blur together as I will one foot in front of the next, the volcano farthest of my preoccupations.

We huddle in a tin hut at the final resting point before the summit. The rain has subsided but I am soaking wet. Shivering uncontrollably, I curl into a ball to try and keep warm—a feeling that seems quite fleeting at the moment.

Between the summit and I is one last climb up vertical slopes entirely comprised of lava rock. With little traction and no clear path, I start to walk, hindered by the thick fog and the force of the wind. Soon, my chilled hands lose all sensation and I am unable to grip onto my walking stick. I methodically place one foot in front of the other as the campsite slowly draws closer.

  Transfixed by Lava

After another hour or so, I clamber up the last of the rocks to reach our home for the night. At the top, a dozen metal shacks are built into volcanic rubble for sleeping. Stripping off my wet clothes, I layer on every piece of warm, dry clothing I can and set off across the precarious volcanic rock to finally witness what we have come for. Over the edge of the rim, the lava lake comes into view, bubbling and sputtering from the crater a few hundred feet below.

Sub-freezing temperatures at the top can only be escaped by squeezing into the makeshift shack, where our dinner cooks and our clothes dry over a toasty fire. I periodically duck inside to warm up and listen to park rangers and guides recount stories.

“I would come up here every day if I could,” one park ranger muses.

Though they are in high spirits and won’t talk about it, I know these rangers have witnessed the violent invasion of the park and have lost more than one comrade in the fight to protect Virunga.

Once I seal the warmth in once more, I bundle up to make my next trip outside to marvel at the volcano.

“You are fortunate it rained so you can see,” our guide tells us. “Many people don’t get to see the lake clearly. This is nature, it is unpredictable.”

Clockwise from top left: Goma, capital of North Kivu in DRC, is a strife-torn city, afflicted by years of civil war; Rangers to Virunga are often armed to protect tourists; Lake Kivu is flanked by DRC and Rwanda on either side; The lava lake is sometimes blanketed by fog, hindering the wonderful view. Photos by: Great Pics – Ben Heine/shutterstock (market), Juan Alberto Casado/shutterstock (ranger), Chris Dennis Rosenberg/Moment Unreleased/Getty Images (camp), Ben Houdijk/shutterstock (lake)

Lucky does not quite capture the immensity of Mount Nyiragongo’s offerings. The night sky is tinted pale pink from the lava’s gold and orange flames. Rivulets of lava form an exquisite and complex tapestry, as ribbons of fog dance around the volcanic sphere. We stand as long as we can bear the numbing temperatures, mesmerised by the fiery mosaic.

  The Way Back

In the morning, we wake for sunrise and for one last peek at the lava, only to find ourselves enveloped by a blanket of fog. The lake, once vibrant in the dark of night, is now invisible. We pack and prepare for our inevitable departure, blindly forging our way down the mountain.

Descent proves to be more precarious than the ascent, the rocks slipping from under us as we carefully manoeuvre our way out to the slick forested slopes where our adventure began.

At the bottom, we wait for Frank to pick us up. “Pardon,” he slurs in his thick French-Congolese accent. “There was a protest in Goma today. Roads were blocked. Cars were burned. People were shot.”

Without warning, we are jolted from our nature-induced trance into reality. Here we stand, on the cusp of the two universes in the eastern Congo. One foot in the jungle and the other in the solemn world of political strife. As we drive away from Virunga, we are unsure of what adventures await us next in Goma. We hold onto the quiet from Mount Nyiragongo for as long as we can, not wanting to leave behind our wild escape yet.

  To subscribe to National Geographic Traveller India and National Geographic Magazine, head here.

Getting There

Flights from Mumbai and Delhi to Kinhasa, the largest city in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) usually require one or more layovers in the Middle East or Africa. Goma is a two-hour flight away from Kinhasa. Some visitors also fly into Kigali, the capital of Rwanda, which is a three-hour road trip from Goma. Treks to the summit of Mount Nyiragongo begin at the Kibati patrol post. Park rangers lead all treks and porters (unaffiliated with the park) are available for hire. Travellers need permits and must book treks or hiking tours in advance, which can be done through visitvirunga.org. 

  Visa

First-timers to DRC need to apply for a visa with minimum three months validity (Rs13,250) through the Democratic Republic of the Congo Embassy in Delhi.

  When to go

The best months to visit are from July to October.

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from Cheapr Travels https://ift.tt/2VnuYEY via https://ift.tt/2NIqXKN

[topfygad]

Volcanic Wonder: Hiking Congo’s Mount Nyiragongo

Climbing Mount Nyiragongo is a mythic quest that ends in a rare sighting of the world’s largest lava lake. | By Alicia Erickson

Adventure Democratic Republic of the Congo | POSTED ON: April 8, 2020

  Trekkers to Mount Nyiragongo have to make their way on treacherous lava-coated rocks. Photo by: Michael Runkel/robertharding/Dinodia Photo Library

A boat floats on the glassy waters of Lake Kivu at dusk. The moon is aglow and a fisherman casts his pole for the final catch of his day. My mind locks into this meditative scene, momentarily forgetting the worn-out city where I am staying: Goma, the capital of North Kivu province in the eastern part of Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC). Next morning, my friend Allison and I are to begin our trek to Mount Nyiragongo, an active volcano deep inside Virunga National Park, with the world’s largest lava lake.

Virunga, one of Africa’s oldest parks, is a mercurial landscape full of volcanoes, glaciers, savannahs, forests and Afro-alpine vegetation, all of which hold a rich cluster of wildlife within. This natural bounty has placed the park at the centre of a civil war for decades. Violence has endangered many species, in particular the mountain gorilla. In recent years, however, tourism has opened up, enabling visitors to trek to Mount Nyiragongo.

  From Goma to Virunga

We set out for Goma on a rainy November morning, anticipating a quick, hassle-free journey. Goma is most easily reached from Rwanda, where the closest international airport is located. As I was living in Kigali, Rwanda’s capital, at the time, I broke up my trip to Goma by stopping in Musanze, a Rwandan town in the North Kivu province near Volcanoes National Park, another region teeming with lakes, volcanoes, and wildlife.

The volcano last erupted in 2002, streaming through the city of Goma. Photo by: Yannick Tylle/Corbis Documentary/Getty Images

Forgetting that it was Umuganda—a national holiday falling on the last Saturday of every month, where Rwandans took up community service—our journey didn’t begin until noon. Delayed buses, torrential rains, cancelled visas, a handful of other complications, and many hours later, Allison and I had finally made it to Goma, which is in eastern DRC. Frank, our driver for the weekend, greeted us at the DRC-Rwanda border and navigated us through the city. We drove by an old airport littered with abandoned airplanes and through the town’s narrow streets cluttered with single-storey concrete buildings and buildings lined with coils of barbed wire. Congo is a place of survivors. Goma is gritty and rough, a testament to the years of warfare and instability that have ravaged its people. Yet there is a vibrancy that resides side by side with the chaos here. Streets are cluttered with aluminum shacks selling tropical fruits, bright kitenge fabric, and cell phone kiosks. Motorcycles honk and rev as they weave in and out of alleyways.

About 30 minutes later, we had made our way through Goma’s complex labyrinth to our home for the night, a peaceful enclave on Lake Kivu, just in time to watch the moon rise over its placid waters.

  Climbing Through the Rain

We wake up with the sunrise in anticipation of our climb. The skies are clear and the sun shines as Frank drives us towards Virunga. A nervous energy lingers as we approach Kibati Patrol Post, the starting point for our trek. Mount Nyiragongo’s last eruption was in 2002, the effects of which can still be seen in Goma and the national park.

Clockwise from top left: The volcano’s nightly eruptions are a prized sighting; Virunga National Park, where Mount Nyiragongo is located, hums with rare birds and animals; Hikers usually rest in metal cabins atop the mountain; Virunga is also the habitat of giant lobelias, common to forests in East Africa. Photos by: Yannick Tylle/Corbis Documentary/Getty mages (lava), Michele D’Amico supersky77/Moment/Getty Images (bird), De Agostini/P. Jaccod/De Agostini Editore/Dinodia Photo Library (plant), Kostyantyn Storozhenko/shutterstock (cabin)

A group of 10 eager climbers from different nations gather at Kibati along with a team of rangers armed with AK-47s, and porters carrying our food supplies. The hike starts at a gentle incline through rainforest terrain. Ahead of us, the volcano looms ominously. Behind us, the Great Rift Valley stretches for miles in thick green forested hills, extending west into the heart of the Congo and in the east towards Kenya. The sun shines bright as we take our first steps.

We have a long way to go. The hike starts at 6,525 feet and ascends to 11,382 feet over just a few kilometres. After the first rest point, the ground beneath us shifts to slippery volcanic rock. The terrain becomes increasingly uneven and challenging to navigate.

Within an hour, I can feel the first few drops of rain. At first, the light drizzle is a reprieve. But as it quickly turns into a torrential downpour, I long for the sweltering heat. Our ponchos and rain gear are well-intentioned but useless at this point. Water cascades down my face and backpack, while I scramble up the slippery escarpment. The higher we climb, the further the temperatures plummet. Time, temperature, sight—all start to blur together as I will one foot in front of the next, the volcano farthest of my preoccupations.

We huddle in a tin hut at the final resting point before the summit. The rain has subsided but I am soaking wet. Shivering uncontrollably, I curl into a ball to try and keep warm—a feeling that seems quite fleeting at the moment.

Between the summit and I is one last climb up vertical slopes entirely comprised of lava rock. With little traction and no clear path, I start to walk, hindered by the thick fog and the force of the wind. Soon, my chilled hands lose all sensation and I am unable to grip onto my walking stick. I methodically place one foot in front of the other as the campsite slowly draws closer.

  Transfixed by Lava

After another hour or so, I clamber up the last of the rocks to reach our home for the night. At the top, a dozen metal shacks are built into volcanic rubble for sleeping. Stripping off my wet clothes, I layer on every piece of warm, dry clothing I can and set off across the precarious volcanic rock to finally witness what we have come for. Over the edge of the rim, the lava lake comes into view, bubbling and sputtering from the crater a few hundred feet below.

Sub-freezing temperatures at the top can only be escaped by squeezing into the makeshift shack, where our dinner cooks and our clothes dry over a toasty fire. I periodically duck inside to warm up and listen to park rangers and guides recount stories.

“I would come up here every day if I could,” one park ranger muses.

Though they are in high spirits and won’t talk about it, I know these rangers have witnessed the violent invasion of the park and have lost more than one comrade in the fight to protect Virunga.

Once I seal the warmth in once more, I bundle up to make my next trip outside to marvel at the volcano.

“You are fortunate it rained so you can see,” our guide tells us. “Many people don’t get to see the lake clearly. This is nature, it is unpredictable.”

Clockwise from top left: Goma, capital of North Kivu in DRC, is a strife-torn city, afflicted by years of civil war; Rangers to Virunga are often armed to protect tourists; Lake Kivu is flanked by DRC and Rwanda on either side; The lava lake is sometimes blanketed by fog, hindering the wonderful view. Photos by: Great Pics – Ben Heine/shutterstock (market), Juan Alberto Casado/shutterstock (ranger), Chris Dennis Rosenberg/Moment Unreleased/Getty Images (camp), Ben Houdijk/shutterstock (lake)

Lucky does not quite capture the immensity of Mount Nyiragongo’s offerings. The night sky is tinted pale pink from the lava’s gold and orange flames. Rivulets of lava form an exquisite and complex tapestry, as ribbons of fog dance around the volcanic sphere. We stand as long as we can bear the numbing temperatures, mesmerised by the fiery mosaic.

  The Way Back

In the morning, we wake for sunrise and for one last peek at the lava, only to find ourselves enveloped by a blanket of fog. The lake, once vibrant in the dark of night, is now invisible. We pack and prepare for our inevitable departure, blindly forging our way down the mountain.

Descent proves to be more precarious than the ascent, the rocks slipping from under us as we carefully manoeuvre our way out to the slick forested slopes where our adventure began.

At the bottom, we wait for Frank to pick us up. “Pardon,” he slurs in his thick French-Congolese accent. “There was a protest in Goma today. Roads were blocked. Cars were burned. People were shot.”

Without warning, we are jolted from our nature-induced trance into reality. Here we stand, on the cusp of the two universes in the eastern Congo. One foot in the jungle and the other in the solemn world of political strife. As we drive away from Virunga, we are unsure of what adventures await us next in Goma. We hold onto the quiet from Mount Nyiragongo for as long as we can, not wanting to leave behind our wild escape yet.

  To subscribe to National Geographic Traveller India and National Geographic Magazine, head here.

Getting There

Flights from Mumbai and Delhi to Kinhasa, the largest city in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) usually require one or more layovers in the Middle East or Africa. Goma is a two-hour flight away from Kinhasa. Some visitors also fly into Kigali, the capital of Rwanda, which is a three-hour road trip from Goma. Treks to the summit of Mount Nyiragongo begin at the Kibati patrol post. Park rangers lead all treks and porters (unaffiliated with the park) are available for hire. Travellers need permits and must book treks or hiking tours in advance, which can be done through visitvirunga.org. 

  Visa

First-timers to DRC need to apply for a visa with minimum three months validity (Rs13,250) through the Democratic Republic of the Congo Embassy in Delhi.

  When to go

The best months to visit are from July to October.

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source http://cheaprtravels.com/volcanic-wonder-hiking-congos-mount-nyiragongo/