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#the playlist also includes songs for him in his main stories
forta-ver · 2 years
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I'm listening to the playlist I made for Rick back in 20....14? 2015??
Nostalgia for Distortion. Nostalgia for Hype y2. Nostalgia for all the pokemon AUs he exists in and his ill-fated nuzlocke runs.
Nostalgia.
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jakeyt · 2 months
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Covet: Chapter 9 (Part 2 of 2)
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Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader
Covet Summary:
Life was good. No, life was great. 
Was. 
Until.
Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.
You welcomed him into your life—your home. 
Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in. 
Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want.
At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.
Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); angst; fainting; regurgitating profusely; nausea; extreme feelings of stress and anxiety; extreme feelings of sadness; abandonment issues; allusions to a dark, forgotten childhood; therapy; mentions of EMDR therapy; prenatal visits; arguing/raising of voices; heart issues addressed (POTs); use of heart monitors; hemoglobin kits mentioned; emergency room visit and all that might entail (e.r. visit is a longer one, so strap in); revisited, vivid memories of sex; jealousy; body changes as a result of pregnancy; negative self-talk; looooots of baby talk; pregnancy hormones (and this is nothing compared to what's to come - that's all i'll say); reader still being sad while she checks Jake out; oh! and Joshua Michael Kiszka being the perfect angel he is <3 (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)
Chapter Word Count: 32.6k+ (what the actual-?)
a/n: hi my lovely readers <333 i am deeply apologetic for the time you waited to receive this chapter, but i hope the length (holy fucking shit, btw) will make up for it. i really will try my damndest to not take almost a month next time.....
BUT, as you guys have learned, my chapters are very rarely "short" in length, so you can rest assured i'm quite literally busting ass trying to write the chapters in the near-month span of time between updates. lol <3 (while also doing real-time life w a job and family to tend to every single day)
this story is my baby that has been outlined for months in a google doc and i refuse to release chapters until they're completed with everything i deem necessary to include. i promise it's all for the good of the story and for the ultimate enjoyment of the readers (you!). <3 i'm never purposefully leaving you hangin', babes <3 ily all more than i'll ever be able to properly express. 🫶🏻
special shout out to my sis for being my go-to beta, ear, advice-giver, helper, AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN when it comes to all of the silly little stories i write. @joshym. you are my favorite. you know that. and i love you. so fucking much. forever the daniel to my samuel :)
and another shoutout to my wonderful pal @welightthefire - GOD, i love you. y'all, this lady has been my main source for all things baby related and i'd be hurting without her help on alllll things baby and pregnancy. <3 babe, you are the bomb and you better KNOW IT.
Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤 (fr, i listen to it nonstop when i write this.... all of the songs are pertinent to the story and aid in telling it - either already or eventually.)
Covet Masterlist
-🌼🌼🌼-
“The covetous person is full of fear; and he or she will who lives in fear will ever be a slave.”
-Horace
-🌼🌼🌼-
Your stomach dipped all the way to the heels of your feet, your body feeling a rush of equal parts cold and hot. 
There were no words spoken for several moments, and almost as soon as you’d said it, Josh had turned to face the front. Jaw clenched tighter than you’d ever seen it, he put the car in drive as his hands wrapped tightly around the wheel – 10 and 2. His back was ramrod straight and his jaw didn’t stop flexing as you swiveled to sit to look out the windshield alongside him.
Your stomach was churning— for multiple reasons. On top of the anxiety in the moment, you also hadn’t been eating much as of late. Your appetite was almost nothing — save for pickles and Cosmic-fucking-Brownies. 
It had blossomed seemingly out of nowhere. 
After your night of Mac and Cheese with Jake, you had started borderline craving it afterwards—alongside the brownies and pickles. But, when you’d made some for yourself, you came to realize, with the first bite to your mouth. . . That Mac and Cheese was no longer your friend. 
Although, it had made very close friends with the toilet, as you’d bent over it hurling until every last bit of the yellow food deposited in front of your sweaty face.  
Surprisingly, you’d still been hungry after puking. . . but unfortunately, everything else you’d tried to eat either ended up in the toilet or in the trash from the smell alone. 
And, to your utter demise, Cosmic Brownies had been ruined that day, too. Their contents eventually met the toilet when you’d tried to snack on one that same evening to fill your empty stomach.
Suffice to say, the nausea had started to kick your ass and this particularly tense situation was doing you no favors.
All you could do was steal glances at him, awkwardly, for the thirty or so minutes it took to get to the women’s clinic. He wasn’t talking at all which was so unlike Josh. You’d never gone this long being in the same space as him where he wasn’t talking. The man loved to talk. And you loved to listen and engage.
But that was not the energy that was transpiring between you two.
You would have normally put on music to fill the hollow, painfully silent space. But, you couldn’t bring yourself to move, much less put on music that would just add to the discomfort that you’d created with your confession. And, honestly, it felt like you were already making too much noise every time you took a deep breath. 
Besides stealing the occasional peek at him, you watched the multiple semis that passed you, and the forests that lined the highway, full of leaves with changing colors. 
And Josh just drove. Just fucking drove. And, even worse, he drove normally. Better than normal, actually. Unlike ever before, he was following the highway’s speed limit, all while not getting emotional anytime someone pulled an asshole move on the road. 
He seemed to be putting every bit of his energy into three things: focusing on the road, keeping his jaw clenched tight, and not moving his hands from 10 and 2 unless he had to look over his shoulder to switch lanes.
Once you pulled up to parallel park on a busier street in SoHo, you’d made up your mind to tell Josh to just drive back and that you could hitch a ride with an Uber. 
You didn’t want to make him feel any more uncomfortable than he apparently already felt. 
For one, he didn’t need to be here if he didn’t want to be. And secondly, you couldn’t fucking handle any more right now. The whole point of him being with you was because you were already fucking stressed before you’d ever even told him. And at this point, it seemed you’d been correct in your assumption of him being angry. 
But right now, his reaction didn’t fucking matter. This appointment mattered. Your baby mattered. You needed to be in some sort of decent mind space before you stepped foot into the place. And whether or not that included him was relative to his response when you informed him of this.
You breathed in and out heavily, shutting your eyes as you did so. Once you opened them, you pressed the unlock button on your door, signaling to him that you were ready to get the show on the road. You didn’t have time to fucking sit here and let him sulk. 
Releasing a deep breath once more, you finally turned to look at him once you’d unbuckled. Then, once facing him, you mustered the firmest tone possible at that moment. “Josh,” you started, sharply. He blinked slowly and flexed the muscle in his jaw once more before he turned to make eye contact with you. 
Fuck. His eyes. . . Was he angry? Sad? Indifferent? You couldn’t fucking tell. You’d never seen him so guarded. God, you shouldn’t have invited him to this. You really had started to hope that he would react more like Elsie and Gia thought he would. 
But he hadn’t, and you were faced with whatever the fuck this attitude was that he had chosen to wear. 
Once it was obvious he was going to look at you as you spoke, you continued. “You don’t have to go in there with me,” you began, firm yet empathetic. “I won’t make you. I will go in on my own. I have to. For my own reasons, I have to keep this appointment today. But you don’t have to come in if you would rather not,” you stated, steady and sure. He was free to fucking leave if he wanted. “You can fucking leave. I will not make you go in if you’re angry or upset or uncomfortable. I’ll get a damn Uber and you can drive back to the complex to get your car.”
He seemed to come back to the present, blinking several times and shaking his head. He rubbed one hand down his face, just as Jake did when he would get stressed. 
The similar reaction made your tummy feel fuzzy and desperate for the security you needed at the moment. You needed someone right now. Even if you were willing to do this on your own (which you were), you could really use his support at the moment. 
You unlocked the doors once more, making sure they were ready to go before you reached for the handle. 
Resolutely, you looked over your shoulder before you addressed him once more. “I’m sorry that I made you angr—.”
“I’m not angry,” he finally said softly. After clearing his throat to talk properly again after not talking for so long, he continued. “I’m shocked and— I’m just feeling a lot of things,” he iterated, his eyes begging you to understand. And, you did. “But I am honored that you wanted me to come with you today,” he said, his face transforming to once again show you your Josh. He was back. Grabbing your hand, he finished his thought. “And I would love to go to this appointment with you.”
The tears that filled your eyes and trailed down your cheeks one by one couldn’t be helped. 
“I couldn’t have done this today without you,” you said, voice cracking with emotion. You popped the glovebox to get a napkin to wipe your face, not looking at him as you kept on. “I’ve been so scared for this, and the only person— besides Elsie— that I wanted here with me, was you.”
He reached over to hold your hand, and you tucked the napkin into your lap for backup when you caught his eye again. Before he spoke again, one tear escaped his eye. With one hand lightly squeezing yours, the other dashed up to wipe at the new wetness under his eye. 
Then, after shaking his head, he raised a curious eyebrow to address you. “Wait,” he said wetly before clearing his throat. “Is this your first appointment?”
“Yes,” you blinked, a blush skirting over your cheeks. “I’ve been in denial of it all until super recently.” You sniffed, feeling a couple more tears escape your eye at the topic of conversation and finally talking to Josh about it. It was, admittedly, a lot. “It took me a hot fucking second to come to terms with all of it, so I’m just now at the first appointment.”
He nodded, brows still furrowed as he looked down briefly before finding your eyes again. “How far along are you?”
“I think I’m technically like eleven-ish weeks,” you replied, doing quick math in your head. “I would need to look at my app to give you an exact number. Normally I have it right at the front of my brain, but my nerves are fucking wracked right now,” you bashfully swept your eyes over your hands, interlocked on the armrest. “For obvious reasons.”
You heard him hum and took that as your sign to look at him again. He was watching you carefully, quizzically. His eyes squinted as you, yet again, flushed under his stare. 
“What?!” You hastily spit out, nervous. 
“Does he. . .?”
Knowing exactly what he was asking, you quickly shut down his train of thought. “Jake doesn’t know,” you informed him, tucking your chin as you quietly repeated yourself. “He doesn’t know.”
“Alright,” he responded, not questioning you in the slightest. Your eyes flashed up to meet his: the color of cocoa and sparkling. “Does Elsie?”
Without any words, you gave him a look that answered his pondering thoughts. 
He chuckled, and you joined him by huffing a little laugh, just under your breath. You felt your cheeks loosen with an easy smile. Your shoulders were relaxing more and more by the second. The familiar, natural sense of joviality with him was settling your frazzled nerves.
You eyed the clock on the dashboard and suddenly realized that you were cutting it very close to your appointment time, with no more than a few minutes to spare before you would be running late. 
Sensing your sudden shift in mood, he took the keys out of the ignition just as you unlocked the doors once again, and opened yours. 
“Let’s go inside,” he encouraged, mimicking your action as he opened his own door behind your turned back. 
When you were out of the car, and waiting (sort of) patiently on the sidewalk for him, you physically shook out some of the anxiety that had made home in your bones for the last several months. 
He officially knew that you’d had sex with Jake. He knew that now. And he knew that it had resulted in a baby. He knew enough for now.
And it actually seemed like things were going to be okay. Maybe Elsie had been right all along (though you’d never tell her that).
Your thoughts were affirmed when he came up beside you, pulling you into a hug as soon as he was at your side. A full-on Josh hug: arms wrapped securely around your shoulders. You did your best to hold back tears, so as not to soil his stark white sweatshirt.
Pulling away before you could let any inevitable tears take over, you looked up at him to see his dimple, present in his cheek. You couldn’t help the single tear that trickled down your cheek at the overwhelming feeling of normality. He was warm. He was real. He was Josh. 
He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, bringing you to him once more before taking your hand in his and wrapping it up tightly. 
Peeking up at him through wet lashes, you saw his face was still turned up in his signature grin, his eyes, slightly playful as he gave you a knowing look he’d given you a thousand times before. 
“You’ve got this, mama,” he reassured with a wink, opening the door to the clinic for you.
-🌼🌼🌼-
The place was fucking amazing. The pictures you’d seen on its website hadn’t done it justice at all. The environment was trendy and relaxing and comfortable. Soft music, similar to that of a lullaby played in the open space, only illuminated by the natural light of the day. No overbearing fluorescent bulbs.
Thank God.
As you made your way to the front desk, you decided to let go of Josh’s hand. 
For some reason, it just felt right to do this on your own. Felt right to make this stride on your own. You could handle the front desk.
“You go sit down,” you offered, motioning to the couches that filtered the chic waiting room. “I think I can do this part.” 
“You sure?” He asked, brows dipping to show his genuine concern. “I’m with you every step of the way. I mean it.”
Your eyes drew wet at the words, but you sniffled and cleared the emotion from your throat when you went to grab his arm through the soft white material of his sweatshirt. “I love you so much for that. I can’t even tell you, Josh,” you told him, a tear escaping despite your efforts. “But I’ve gotta take this step on my own.”
He nodded, needing no further explanation. “I’m over here if you need me,” he threw a thumb at the couches behind him. 
You watched as he walked to the couch nearest to the front desk, sitting comfortably on the blush pink velvet that covered it. You tipped your head at him once, showing him and yourself that you were starting your trek to the counter. 
Once there, you were greeted by the kind smile of a woman most likely in her fifties or sixties, her thick black-framed glasses taking up more than half of her face. Her tanned complexion was flawless and her lips were full with red lipstick as she stretched them over perfectly white teeth. Her jet-black hair was half-up, half-down, haphazardly thrown up with a claw clip, but looking flawless nonetheless. 
She matched the modish aesthetic of the clinic to a T. 
“Hi, babe,” she cheerily greeted you with an out-of-place Southern accent in SoHo, her voice still low to keep the room quiet. “You have an appointment today?”
You froze. The reality of it all suddenly came barreling towards you.
Fuck. Shit. Yes. I do have an appointment today. I’m pregnant. I’m standing here, waiting for an appointment because I’m fucking pregnant.
Dammit. What the fuck? I’m. . .?
You standing here suddenly seemed completely astronomical and unreal– was this truly what life was for you now? While thinking about it nonstop, you’d also not been thinking about it to the extent that it would’ve taken for all of this change to click. This was real. Real life. 
You were carrying a human child. 
And you were at your first appointment for it.
Goddamn.
Blinking several times, you tried to keep your grounding firm as your eyes traced her features a thousand times– searching your suddenly static-filled brain for the most simple word in the English language. 
“Y-y-y–,” you shut your eyes tightly to reset. Come on, y/n. You’ve got this. It’s just one word. 
But you suddenly weren’t sure if you ‘had this’. Your hands began to shake uncontrollably at your sides; you wiped them repeatedly on your leggings. 
But before you could moisten the fabric covering your thighs completely, you went to place them on the counter, touching your current surroundings to center yourself. To hold on to what was real. 
Gia would be so proud.
But then your brain raced right back to the true reality of it all. The reason you were freaking out in the first place was because of the real you couldn’t escape–not that you wanted to, by any means. . .right?! You wanted this. You wanted this. 
You DO want this, y/n. Deep breaths.
The voice sounded so eerily similar to your therapist’s that it helped you to grasp onto a flicker of stabilization. 
This reality was not new. You’d known it was real. You had known there was (probably—hopefully) a kid in you for the past few weeks. And being in this place didn’t make that anymore different than before— minutes before when you’d stepped through the door of the clinic. 
Then you’d walked up to the counter and had one simple question asked of you.
You shook your head once more before blinking open your suddenly-wet eyes. 
But you couldn’t look up from the floor. From your high-top, white Chuck Taylors, now off-white and stained from years of wear. 
And swirling before your eyes in ways they shouldn’t be from the amount of nerves encapsulating your brain. . . Your stomach was rolling.
All of a sudden, you felt a familiar arm wrap around your trembling shoulders, strongly holding you to his chest to keep you stable. The cologne that came from the person, along with the overwhelming rush of relief that came with his presence was a dead giveaway for your new company.
Everything settled.
“Yes,” Josh stated, clearly, for you. “Yes, it’s her first appointment. Y/n? Y/l/n?”
A couple of beats and a few clicks from a mouse followed his words. Then you heard a clipboard clack lightly against the counter and a pen getting clicked open before she sat it on top of the board. 
“Whenever she’s ready,” her voice assuredly spoke, so soft and warm. “I’ll get y’all back there when the time feels right.”
You’d effectively curled tighter into Josh before you looked back up at the sweet lady, meeting her eyes with embarrassment laced through every feature on your face. The muscles in your jaw relaxed when you met her eyes, finally speaking. 
“Thank you,” you muttered. “I’m so sorry.”
She tilted her head at you, sending an understanding wink your way. “No need to apologize, sweet pea,” she calmly hushed, her voice sounding reminiscent of any old Southern woman you’d ever seen in a movie. “It’s a whole lot to deal with. We get it.”
Your lips quivered up into a small smile, eyes watery. “That means a lot,” you sputtered, fresh tears making their way to your jaw. 
Dear fucking God. The tears had to stop at some point. You’d always been a crier, but these motherfucking hormones were just bringing out the absolute most. Pulling out all of the stops. Your emotions, pre-pregnancy, were already shaky, at best. . . and they were apparently just getting progressively worse with the damned baby hormones.
The anxiety was understandable. But the crying? It was almost nonstop. And it was getting old already. 
Though, you knew–you knew–that it wasn’t even fucking close to being over. If everything today went accordingly and you officially found out there was a whole ass baby growing inside of you, you knew that this spike in emotions was only the beginning. 
Sharing one more smile with the lady behind the desk, you walked with Josh back to the waiting room couch he’d been occupying prior to your blessed meltdown. 
-🌼🌼🌼-
Unashamedly, you let Josh fill out all of the paperwork. You were still tense and uneasy, but the way you’d handled answering the questions, with him right by your side helped more than you’d intended it to. The process had just been an easy ebb and flow, answering basic questions about yourself. 
And questions about Jake—but Josh answered those with zero problems. Basic Father-Of-The-Child shit that Josh could ramble off in his sleep. You couldn’t help peering over his shoulder as he answered those. You couldn’t explain the intrigue— you just thought it funny seeing him answer questions about his twin. . . Like it was nothing. 
Then came questions about your menstrual cycle. Which were not your favorite to have Josh write the answers to— but you didn’t want to put pen to paper, so you continued to let him write even those, too.
The rest of the process went easily. He’d rattle off a question, and you’d answer it. That was how it’d gone for roughly thirty minutes. 
He’d clicked his tongue, drawing a line down the section about past pregnancies. And then he’d come to a question that made him give you a look. He had one eyebrow raised as soon as he’d read through the last question. 
The last question. The last question that had been slightly unwelcome and less than wonderful to have him fill in for you. 
You didn’t know why you hadn’t thought of it being on the sheet. Your mind had been too focused on other things for the past several days. Like hopelessly depressing scenarios involving your baby’s wellbeing and telling people and eating fucking pickles. . . you just hadn’t really given much weight to possible questions on this initial patient questionnaire. 
You pulled your body back slightly, your own face morphing to one that mirrored his. “What?”
“The last question— they want to know if you’re sexually—,” he cleared his throat, shaking his head once before before continuing. “If you’re sexually active.”
You blushed deep crimson—your cheeks, flaming hot. You knew exactly where his mind went because it was where yours went with the question. 
Are you still having sex with Jake?
You coughed briefly, clearing the awkward air before you responded. “No,” you divulged, your eyes flitting up to his: big, wondering and deep chocolate. “No. We’re not— fuck. I’m not. I’m not having sex. I don’t know if he is,” you rambled, bringing a hand up to slap your forehead. Your heart rate even accelerated the slightest bit, hurting your chest. What in the fuck? That's unnecessary. It’s one question, y/n. Quit being nervous—there’s no need. “But—I’m not having sex. Not sexually active, no.”
Josh brought your hand away from your head, which was suddenly breaking out in a cold sweat. You found his eyes: open and willing to listen and understand. Your heart rate slowed considerably at his expression. “It’s okay, y/n. Either way, I don’t care. It’s your life.”
You blinked away more tears—god, fuck. Not trusting yourself to speak, you simply nodded in response. The response was what you’d needed to hear from the beginning. Would things be different if you’d heard those words from him at the beginning of all of this? 
It was no use to imagine. You hadn’t heard his affirmation before now, and at this point, it was officially too late. You’d hurt Jake. Jake had moved on and proved to you that you really weren’t that important to him.
And, the sad truth: even if Josh was okay with it, you had plenty more reasons to keep your title with Jake strictly roommate—friend at most. 
Also, officially, the mother of his child.
Clasping your hands over your tummy, you watched as he checked the “no” box. Then, you watched his eyes scan the sheet quickly to check for any missed questions, clicking his tongue against his teeth all the while.
Thankfully, it seemed you’d successfully answered all of them when he got up to walk the sheet back to the counter for you, where a nurse now occupied the seat, you’d observed. Scrubs, making that apparent.
You had been too busy spacing out on the many questions Josh had asked of you, per the sheets. You hadn’t the mind to pay attention to where the receptionist had gone.
Josh came back over to you shortly to get your driver’s license from you, along with your insurance card. 
“They’ll need these on file,” he said, flashing both at you once you’d given them to him. He brought them back after they’d scanned them into the system, but went up to the counter to answer any questions they may've had as you waited on the couch. 
He was seriously the best. You, proving to be completely useless, didn’t hinder him from being the most incredible friend whilst you sat, doing nothing. 
Before too long, once (you assumed) the general information from the sheet had been entered in the system, you heard your name called from the door to the side of the desk, and you were steadily ushered to the back by a nurse. (With Josh in tow, of course. He wasn’t going anywhere.)
“Nice day outside?” The young nurse, blonde hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, asked politely, as you stepped off the scale she’d weighed you on. 
“Yeah,” you responded, glancing over your shoulder at Josh. “Nice fall day. But a little warmer than we like it, huh, Josh?”
He nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yes,” he responded. “Definitely not enjoying my choice of clothing today. . . Not the day for a sweater, I’ll say.”
The nurse hummed, taking in the information as she grabbed a cup from the counter with your first initial and last name on it. “How long have you guys been together?” She addressed you once with a smile, looking between the two of you with a twinkle in her eye. 
You didn’t mean to squawk with a laugh. 
But thankfully you didn’t have to worry about it because Josh did, too. 
The laugh was, once again, exactly what you needed to calm you down. Your shoulders, still releasing their tension from earlier, became more and more relaxed with each giggle you released. Josh was holding his mouth and shaking his head, his smiling eyes closed while you answered the question. 
“We’re not together,” you explained, the laughter dying down as you caught the nurse’s wide eyes sympathetically. “He’s my best friend. Dating my sister, actually.”
“Oh,” she grinned shakily, eyes jumping back and forth between the two of you. “You both just–he’s here with you today—and you two just seem to fit so well together.”
You smirked, throwing a sideways glance at Josh who was watching the woman with the same sympathetic gaze as you. He must’ve sensed your staring, though, because he quickly threw a look your way. 
He winked at you before adding in his two cents. “I mean, you weren’t wrong. We do mesh incredibly well, but her sister’s had my heart for a helluva a long time. However, I am the uncle,” he informed her, pointing to himself before throwing the same pointer at your tummy. 
It made your heart flutter a thousand beats per minute at hearing him say, for the first time, that he’s the uncle. Josh being bound by blood to the little bean growing within you is another reason you feel assured in your decision to keep it. It’s part of Jake, and part of your closest confidant (aside from Elsie) for years. You’ve obviously thought about it plenty of times before now, but finally hearing Josh acknowledge it was something your heart desperately needed.
“My brother is the father. I’m just her best friend–don’t know what he is to her, though," he finished.
Your eyes widened as you were still getting used to hearing Jake being referred to as the father out loud. . .
Better get fucking used to it, though–nothing you could do about it. 
You also weren’t sure what to make of Josh’s last statement–was he still upset with you that he didn’t know anything about Jake’s role in your life? The inflection in his tone sounded a bit more sneering than you would have liked.
Whenever she spoke next, you were able to snap out of it, recovering quickly.
“Whoa,” she said, blowing out a breath. “That’s. . . wow.” Shaking her head, she looked at the cup in her hand, handing it over to you before she continued. She seemed to be done with the conversation, and ready to get back to the task at hand. “Every woman that comes in for her first appointment gets her blood drawn and urinates in a cup,” she motions to the plastic container she’d handed over to you, then taps at her arm as she watches you carefully for her next spiel. “We draw the blood so we can use it to identify your blood type and to look for other conditions we may have to monitor or treat during your pregnancy.”
Damn. That was a hell ton of information. What do I even make of all of that?
It was your turn to just stare blankly at her and offer a simple okay before she was pointing to the room with the open door, across the hallway, for Josh.
“You can wait in that room for her,” she stretched a little half smile over her delicate features. “She will be there shortly.”
He gave you two thumbs up and a reassuring grin before going in the direction she’d told him. Then she was leading you to the nearest bathroom so you could pee in your fucking cup. After giving you a few instructions, along with a sterile wipe, and informing you on how to get an uncontaminated urine sample, she was letting you in to the single-person restroom. 
It definitely matched the trendy environment of the rest of the clinic and was cleaner than probably any other public restroom you’d ever been inside. You did exactly as she’d instructed and made your business quick before handing off the sample to the same nurse from before. She sat it in a window where someone behind immediately grabbed it. 
“Going off to the lab,” she half-smiled, but quickly tipped her finger to signal you to follow her further down the hallway. “Now I’m going to draw some blood real fast, and then you’ll be free to go wait for the doctor in your room.”
Sitting in a chair in a room towards the back, a couple of other nurses went about their business as your nurse cleaned your arm, using a cotton ball with her now-gloved hands. 
“Does getting your blood drawn freak you out?” She apprehensively questioned before she went to insert the needle. “Or these?” She wiggled the needle in the air to emphasize.
You shook your head, pursing your lips. “For some reason, those are two things I’m totally fine with,” you spoke, your voice tilting up at the end. “I don’t know why they don’t freak me out—everything else fucking does.”
God, shut the fuck up, y/n. Let her do her job.
The blonde gave you an odd look, as if you’d spoken too much for her taste. 
And that pissed you off. You no longer felt bad for talking too much. 
You fucking asked me, bitch.
Thankfully, you were able to get rid of her in minutes-time. As soon as she’d bandaged your arm over a cotton ball, she pointed you to the room she’d sent Josh. 
“Thanks,” you mumbled with a small, semi-annoyed smile before making your way to the room where Josh waited. 
His eyes were huge when you made your way into the small exam room. 
“Holy shit,” he breathed. “You’ve got it cut the fuck out for you, huh?”
You gave him a look that said Seriously? and rolled your eyes. “Duh, Josh,” you replied, taking in the small room with pretty pictures of babies all over the walls. “I kind of already knew that. Since I am the one carrying the fuckin’ baby and all.”
God, that was harsh, y/n. He doesn’t deserve your anger like that.
Both of his hands went up to guard him as he crossed one leg over the other. “Jesus, y/n,” he sighed, eyes huge. “Give me a damn break. I didn’t even know until today that you were pregnant. Didn't fully know any of it. It’s a lot for a guy, I guess.”
“Damn, I’m so sorry that it’s so much for you as a man, Josh,” you scowled, your voice not hiding any of your irritation with him for his last comment. 
Seriously, y/n?
To be fair, as amazing as Josh truly was, he was still a man— and half of the time men didn’t know their heads from their assholes. Didn’t ever know the proper times to say stupid shit. (Or, to not say it at all.) 
You had to put it in perspective, though . . .because you kind of sucked at saying ridiculous shit, too. So you could only get so angry with him.
“That was a stupid thing to say,” he admitted. “Sorry.”
You tried to laugh it off. You didn’t want there to be unnecessary tension right now—it was the very last thing you needed. “It’s fine,” you encouraged. 
You propped yourself to sit the best you could on the edge of the beige-matted table. The thin paper that covered it crinkled underneath you– made you feel like you were making way too much noise for the tiny room.
“I’m sorry for being short. I need you. For multiple reasons. But right now. . .I just need you to be with me when I find out if this bean actually exists in my loins. . . If I’ve been imagining it the whole fucking time, or if I’ve lost it. . .,” you swallowed. You had to blink back the tears gathering in your eyes as you trailed off at the dreaded possibility. “I just need you to see with me if there’s anything sad to be seen,” you added, voice suddenly wet. 
“Hey,” Josh spoke, softly. “Look at me.”
You swiveled to do as he said. The attempt to not cry was useless. The tears were drenching your cheeks. The fear that had settled so deeply in your bones since the day you’d heard that podcast was coming to light, as you’d just uttered the worries aloud for the first time. 
Barely seeing Josh through the wetness that clouded your vision, you replied the best you could, albeit extremely pathetically. “Yeah?” 
“Why are you worried about those things?” He asked, so quietly, eyes gleaming to bring light. Grabbing your hands, his eyes became suspicious slits when he addressed his next question. “Y/n. . . Have you given yourself any time to feel excited about this appointment? Or have you just focused on the anxiety you’ve built up, surrounding today?”
You bowed your head out of embarrassment. “I’ve been excited, Josh. . .,” you muttered, completely aware of the lie. 
“Mmm,” he responded, rubbing his chin with one hand as the other still grasped both of yours, sure and comforting. “I suspect that’s untrue. . . I know you, my love.”
Gasping on a sob, you closed your eyes to stop crying, covering your face with your hands. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey, hey, hey,” he said, squeezing your hands, down and away from your face. He held them still with one of his own, the other helping to slide his chair closer to you. “Don’t you dare be sorry, mama— there’s no reason. This is just the beginning; you’ve got plenty more opportunities to be excited. . . I’m sure plenty of women get worried before this first appointment. There’s a lot up in the air before the first time you see the little thing on the screen.”
You opened your eyes to look at him. And though they were still wet, nothing else was coming from your ducts— thank god. “Yeah?” You asked, desperate to know he actually might understand, tone begging him to tell you you’re not crazy. “You think?”
He nodded with his lips pursed, his new mustache squiggly with the action; his brows, tied together, and eyes, serious. “Oh, yes. I know it. You are not alone, love,” he reassured you, helping your heart rate slow to normal for the millionth time that day. “But that’s why I hope every single one of those women has a person who is there for them on days like today.” He paused, setting his eyes firmly on you before continuing. “Because, today, we are going to discover and conquer whatever we find out from that screen—,” he tilted his forehead toward the monitor screen, “Together.”
Your eyes welled, lip sticking out with a pout. God, you loved him. You truly couldn’t have done today without him. “I really need a hug from you.” 
Without question, he was up and out of his seat, wrapping his arms snugly around you. You tucked your nose into his neck, breathing in his cologne— the familiar smell of his patchouli exactly what you needed to feel secure in the moment. 
You were busy focusing on his breathing, in and out, in and out, when the door received a knock and creaked open behind his back. He must’ve heard, too, and moved away from hugging you and back to his seat as you both watched for the doctor to walk through the door.
But the only person you saw was. . . the receptionist? What was she doing in—? 
“I’m Dr. Rose,” the beautiful lady—who was a doctor apparently, not a receptionist—greeted you with that same, thick Southern accent. “It’s nice to see you doin’ better since I last saw ya, babygirl.”
You blinked several times, feeling immediately at ease with the familiar face. “You’re a doctor? Not a receptionist?”
God, stupid, y/n. Duh. She just said that, you moron.
She chuckled. “Yes ma’am,” she replied, as she clicked on every button on the monitor needed to complete the appointment. Afterwards, as things whirred to life, she went to open the laptop she’d carried in with her, sitting atop the counter. “I’m your doctor, sweet cakes,” she twanged in her western tone. “I’ll be with y’all until the very end of this wonderful journey we call pregnancy.”
You grinned, appreciative of the fact that you were already familiar with her—even if it was from the tiniest interaction earlier. But you couldn’t hold onto that feeling for too long before you got nervous of the impression you’d made earlier with your anxiety attack (or whatever the hell that’d been). 
With concerned brows, you cleared your throat before offering up some words of your own. “I’m so sorry that the first time you met me I was acting like a basket case,” you apologized, extremely self conscious. Crossing your legs tighter, you tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. When that still hadn’t been enough to contain the nervous energy, you let your hands rest on your belly. 
Tapping away at the small bump, skin tight under your sweater, you waited for her response. 
She gave you a look that immediately eased you. Her brow, raised, and beautiful red lips quirked up in a small grin. “Now, little missy, I told you earlier that we get it and I meant it.” Dr. Rose sat on her rolling stool, wheeling over to the table. And once there, extended it to be higher so she could talk better with you closer to eye level. “You are not the first one to get all nervous at your first prenatal appointment—or any OB appointment at all— and you’re certainly not the last—far, far from it,” she smiled wide, close-lipped and completely empathetic. Her deep set, big, brown eyes— lashes so long and curled to perfection— showed you how much she cared, behind her big black frames. “Now, how about we get to the good stuff?”
There were obviously a couple tears dripping down your cheek, and you pushed them away as you nodded. Your tummy did all of the flips and tosses and turns—your skin was practically buzzing with nerves. 
You were so close to seeing the truth.
Facing this head on.
“Go ahead and lay back for me,” she instructed. You did as you were told, bending an arm behind your head, trying to get comfortable in skin that felt restrictive. As she stood up, clicking a few buttons to get the monitor screen situated, she asked some questions. “Now can you give me a small debrief on your health history? Anything you can think of? Don’t worry about digging too, too deep right now. We have your blood samples and urine sample that will also aid in indicating any abnormalities.”
The word abnormalities wasn’t your favorite thing to hear, but you didn’t let it sit tight in your brain as you pondered anything she might need to know. 
“Um,” you dipped into the more current issues you’d faced. “I guess. . . anxiety? Depression? Do those count?” 
Dr. Rose hummed in approval and gave a small grin as she went to get a few materials from the cabinet.
“I think the anxiety is worse than the depression, but they’re both persistently just. . . there,” you contemplated what else. . . nothing much was coming to your mind. “I also got my tonsils taken out when I was like 12 years old. . .?”
“You say that as a question,” she commented, a lilt in her voice and a smile on her face, showing that she found it funny. 
“I did have them taken out,” you huffed a laugh, rolling your eyes at yourself as you pushed back a few strands of hair that had fallen out from behind your ear. “I’m just kind of. . .blanking. I know there’s more, but I’m just–just fucking nervous.”
“That’s understandable, sweetie pie,” she assured, her thick Southern accent making your heart rate settle just a bit.
“I know I’m probably missing a few things. Like, there are parts of my childhood that are hazy at best, so there might be things buried back there that I can’t tell you today,” you informed carefully, hoping she understood. When she nodded, you took that as your sign to continue. “I’m seeing a therapist right now who is actually helping me dig up some of it, so I might have a few more answers for you next visit.”
There was a moment of silence as Dr. Rose continued to prepare the sonogram machine, the obnoxious clacking of keys and buttons covering the dull electrical hum that surrounded you. However, that singular moment of time seemed to carry on and on as the nerves in your body seemed to twist your gut to the point that your organs felt close to pushing out of your belly button.
It was as if simply mentioning your mental health – and whispering of your past – was enough to send you into a mini spiral. The muted lull of the clinic didn’t help anything. . . the almost soundless environment, wrapping you up in its emptiness and choking you.
Tap, tap . . .  Tap, tap . . .  Tap, tap . . .
You tried to focus on the thrum of your fingertips along the tender skin of your swollen abdomen, hoping and praying it would keep your thoughts at bay.  
She was taking a long fucking time–which you were sure was normal and warranted. 
But, God. The room just started feeling smaller and smaller as the thoughts got bigger and bigger. You were in the room that was about to tell you the truth of the matter and you still seemed so far away from finding out. . . You weren’t sure what to think. 
Were you even ready to see what the ultrasound was about to show you?
Josh must have noticed the nervous energy you were exuding as the stoppers on the legs of the chair made a sharp scraping noise against the sterile linoleum tile, making you cringe the tiniest bit. He moved his chair closer to the side of the table next to you, opposite of where Dr. Rose sat on the other side.  His dark eyes made contact with yours and his brow raised as if to say, ‘are you okay?’.
All you could manage to do was nod in response, brows knitted.
“Alrighty, I’m going to put some of this gel on your belly and then you’ll feel a bit of pressure once we start.”
You were half expecting a chill to make you jolt with the application of the thick gel, much like you'd seen in movies - you know, where it’s freezing cold and uncomfortable - but as it fell against your skin, you were surprised to be met with a warm temperature that relaxed you.  The clean scent of the gel overpowered your nostrils, but not in a bad way.  It gave you something else to focus on as a slight pressure from the head of the wand, came to push lightly against your belly, just above your pelvic bone.
The black and white image appeared on the screen and. . . showed you nothing. 
Nothing. 
Emptiness. Empty stomach.
Amidst the gray static on the screen, there was nothing but a big black spot that resembled a the shape of a bean.  You had to force yourself to look away, an all-too familiar stinging feeling in the corner of your eyes, showing up again.
All this time, the acceptance of your pregnancy and the effort and hard work you’d put in to create a better life for yourself (and this part of him inside you). . . had shown to be completely pointless.  The feeling of hope that you'd begun to welcome into your life was on the brink of shattering and it didn’t help that Dr. Rose wasn’t saying anything. . . wasn’t doing anything aside from sliding the wand against your empty stomach.
God fucking dammit. All of your worst fears were coming to fruition and every moment you stared at the bleak screen you felt the emptiness on the screen envelop your heart until—.
Thump thump.
You felt your breath catch in your throat as Josh gently grabbed onto your arm, reassuring, and pointed at the screen above you. On the screen, displayed clear as day right in front of you, was the outline of a baby’s delicate profile.
The soft curve of its forehead, the splotchy spikes of a tell-tale spine, a little belly, the slightest movement of four tiny limbs protruding from the sides and bottom. . . and the tiniest flicker in the center of it all.
You couldn’t tear your gaze away as Dr. Rose started to press more buttons and a bunch of small dotted yellow lines showed over the image of your baby, measuring from point A to point B. She was speaking, but you couldn’t be bothered to listen to the words she was saying. All you cared about was the miniscule movements on the screen as a leg kicked up or an arm pushed out.  
It was beautiful, striking, amazing, wonderful, unbelievable, and real. . . so very real.
What you had found yourself questioning for weeks wasn’t just a thought, but now cemented reality. The concerns you had and the voice in your head doubting you were silenced to nothing - because the life growing inside you, the product of you and Jake, was right in front of you.  
The product of the best night of your life was finally proven to be the best part of you and it was real.
Thump thump.
The steady sound of a little racing heartbeat drew you back to the present and to the words your doctor was saying to you.
“Profile looks darn good, placenta is anterior, there’s the umbilical cord. . .,” She spoke as she pointed with her finger to each shape of white that was mixed into the static. “Heartbeat is 160, there’s the bladder and the kidneys, oh!” Dr. Rose exclaimed with a chuckle as she seemed to record a movement. Upon playing it back in front of you, she explained the movement as a little hand with five fingers moved up towards a space by the baby’s nose. “The little angel is wavin' at you, mama,” she looked down at you with a knowing smile. 
Your heart swelled more than you’d ever felt in your entire life. This was . . . otherworldly. Absolutely earth-shattering. There were not any words you could string together that would do this moment justice.
“Wow,” you muttered, voice officially clogged with the tears that relentlessly poured down your cheeks. You sniffled. “It’s. . . moving?”
“Sure is,” she winked. “Has been for a while. You have an especially active little one – already. Prepare for some monster kicks here in a couple months, mama.”
“Wow,” you repeated.
“Gets it from their uncle,”Josh said, sniffling behind you.
You smiled over at him. You felt the joy he did. All around. More. This was your baby. Yours and Jake’s. God.
“Exciting, huh, babe?” She asked knowingly. 
All you could do was nod. You weren’t sure you could stop smiling. . . it was hurting your cheeks, but you welcomed it. This was. . . this was everything. Everything you could have ever wished for.
“I know it, honey bun,” she agreed, her red lips perked with joy for you. “Also, according to the size of the baby and the start date of your last menstrual cycle, I would say you are at right about 12 weeks, little missy.”
Once she’d confirmed the gestational age, you saw her scoot the cart back a bit and wipe the wand she’d used with a sterile wipe, putting it back in its slot. Then, she cleaned your belly of any leftover jelly. You just watched from where you were still leaned back, head resting on one arm behind it. She stripped her gloves and tossed them in the nearest waste bin.
“Twelve weeks. Yep,” you breathed, pulling your shirt down. Your cheeks lifted even more at officially knowing (relatively) how old your little bean was. “Based on my last period.”
“Yes. Because, oddly enough, that is technically when the pregnancy started,” she explained. “On the first date of your last menstrual cycle.”
Dr. Rose went to grab a packet, a pamphlet, and a few free-flying papers, all paper-clipped together, from the counter. You sat up as she clicked her way back to you on her stilettos. She kept talking as she handed them to you. “I don’t wanna clog up our time today with all of the technicalities – unless that’s what ya want?” She offered. 
You shook your head no. Today, all you’d come in wanting to know was that your baby was alive. And you knew that now. And fuck, it felt nice. Better than. 
Except . . .
“Is the baby healthy?” You asked worriedly, needing to hear her tell you.
“Positively. One hundred percent, mama,” she confirmed, her teeth sparkling behind her red lips. “From what I could see on the scan, you’ve got a perfectly healthy baby squirmin’ around in there.”
You internally and externally let out a sigh of relief that had needed released for a fat second. The baby was okay. Healthy. Moving. Alive. 
Everything was going to be alright.
You looked down at Josh, his face glowing, cheeks glistening with tears. “I’m so proud of you,” he choked. 
Another tear slipped down his cheek as you felt one well in your eye. You didn’t know why he was proud of you, but the words made your emotions spike. You were proud of the little life inside of you. . . already doing its best to live its best life.
“Back to what I was sayin’ before,” Dr. Rose went on. Your eyes found her, clicking off the machine. “In that paperwork you’ll find all of the technicalities and logistics about the pregnancy. Which vitamins you should take. Prenatals our clinic suggests. Recommended foods to eat. The baby’s size week by week. When I say everything, sweetie, I mean ev-er-ything,” she emphasized in her twang. “You can find the same information on our clinic’s website. There is a help tab on there for our mothers-to-be, but I always provide physical copies for my girls. I also recommend downloading at least one pregnancy tracker app to get notified with updates – it’s just convenient and fun.”
“I downloaded one recently, actually. It’s been amazing. Thank you for everything,” you weakly offered. You also had to know. . . “Will you be the one delivering the baby?”
“Sure thing,” she affirmed. “With ya till ya want rid of me. Speaking of that day, our partnering hospital is Cedars-Sinai, so that is where you’ll end up having the baby,” she paused, bringing her eyes to you. “Since you indicated on the form that you would prefer a planned hospital birth over a planned home birth.”
“Correct. Hospital birth for me,” you affirmed.
“Now, we are going to schedule your next appointment for four weeks from now,” she continued, opening her tablet and typing out the information for her calendar, presumably. “How does December 8th sound, honey bun?”
You didn’t check your calendar, because you would make that day okay. Anything you needed to do to make it happen. “Sounds perfect,” you replied, practically jittering with excitement for the next one. “When will I find out the gender?”
“I always have my girls wait until week 18,” she responded, turning buttons off on the machine before scooting it back where it had started. “So, when you come in for your next appointment, we will actually have ya schedule an extra lil appointment in there to see what our little buddy is in there.”
“Got it,” you told her. 
“Your sonogram pictures will be waitin’ at the front desk for ya,” she said, washing her hands. Then, after she dried them, she grabbed her laptop. “And finally, your due date is–at this point, according to what we know–May 23rd.”
The date was suddenly the most important you’d ever heard. 
It was the day you now felt you’d been waiting for your entire life.
Without ever knowing it. 
This baby was already changing your heart for the better and everyday, it seemed like all the little (alive and moving) bundle of hope did was bring you unadulterated joy. 
The most precious gift that you’d made with someone so precious to you.
-🌼🌼🌼-
Once you’d finished the appointment, Josh had asked if you had any plans. And when you’d said no, he ended up driving you both to a cute little cafe he'd heard about in SoHo. A place that, even from the outside, oozed with a charming aesthetic. 
The two of you sat there, pointing out every single detail of the sonogram pictures, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the tiny feet, tiny hands, and the itty bitty, adorable body that belonged to your baby. . . You had never seen something so beautiful. You were sure of it.
And after that, you’d taken some time to catch up. You’d talked about him and Elsie, Elsie and her travels, and the fact that you’d started going to therapy. (Next to the baby, he was most excited about this.)
All you’d ordered was a Sprite since you weren’t feeling the most hungry as of late. Josh had followed in your lead and only ordered drinks as well. Honey tea and a glass of water. He’d made sure to tell the waitress to grab you a water, too. 
And after a quick trip to the bathroom to relieve your ever-aching bladder, you were back at the table. 
Back at a table where Josh was giving you a look. His eyes were narrowed, a mischievous grin turning his lips up to show a dimple in his cheek.
Just as you’d sat down, the waitress was bringing Josh a new, piping hot tea, since he'd (apparently) already finished the first. 
And then, as soon as she was gone, he was talking.
“I sort of had a weird inkling of something going on. . .,” Josh noted as he stirred, then took a long swig of his tea, steam still emitting from the top. “Goddammit!” He gasped, a pained expression painting his features, as he coughed over the warm temperature of the beverage. “Hot hot hot hot,” he repeated to himself, finding his ice water and taking an even longer swig.
You couldn’t help the burst of laughter that bloomed in your chest, flying past your lips as he continued to down the water. All you got in response was him flipping you off with one long digit, and a wrinkle, knitting his brow.
The sinking feeling in your stomach couldn’t be ignored, though. . . you’d heard what he initially said. How had he known? God. . . how long? Your mind was a frenzy as you forced yourself to stop laughing to focus on the serious subject matter at hand.
“How?”
“Well, y/n,” he replied smartly, motioning to the cup. “It just came from the pot, I’m sure. Don’t you see the damned thing is steaming? Why did I even take a–?”
“No,” you stopped his rambling to clarify your question. “How did you . . .? Did you seriously know?” As you were still air-quoting the last few words, he was already nodding his head to answer you. “How? Why? What did we do wrong? I-I mean- God. Do Sam and Danny know, too?”
“Now, I didn’t say I knew,” he corrected you, feeling at the sides of the mug to test the temperature. And, yet again, he was met with the scorching temperature, thus hissing and placing his hands around the plastic of the water cup. “In essence, I said I had an idea. And you didn’t do anything wrong. I just– he’s my fucking twin, y/n,” he set you with a stare that said ‘Remember?! Can’t fool me!’, before he continued. “And where you’re concerned. . . I know you very well. You’ve been my best friend for several years. . ." he reminded you. "Oh, and I’m also a fucking empath. Which you, my dear, were the first one to ever point out my empathic tendencies. . .,” he winked at you with a grin on his full lips. “You should’ve known you couldn’t keep that shit from me. Not without me getting suspicious as hell.”
“Are you mad?”
He stuck his lip out, looking down at the tea, running his finger tip along the rim of the mug before he wrapped his hands around it again. Apparently not at a burning temperature anymore, he decided to bring the cup up to his lips, pinky up as he gripped the handle. This time, he closed his eyes in relief at the taste of the honeyed tea on his tongue. When he placed it back down, he continued watching it, lips still pushed out in a pout as he shook his head, brow wrinkled.
“Nah,” was all he supplied, his eyes hyper focused on the white ceramic mug.
Of course, you were not convinced. “Josh. Look at me.”
When his eyes slowly slid up to find yours, you found at least one reason he hadn’t been looking at you. There were wet pools accumulating in the ducts of his deep brown eyes. He breathed in deeply, his chest expanding with the giant breath before he blew it out, a lone tear making its way down his cheek. 
“I–,” he started, shaking his head and messing with the front of his curly mop of hair. He dropped his hand to tap against the table. “It’s not that I’m mad. It’s really hard to make me mad. I’m more mad at Jake. He makes me mad very easily when he wants. Because I know he can do better. . . Like starting this with you and not having the balls to see it through and leaving you with a baby in your belly.” It was as if the steam had been transferred from his cup to his ears, his nostrils were flaring as he shook his head and squinted his eyes shut. 
Damn, he and Jake look very similar when they get angry, you suddenly discovered.
“And now, he’s just been fucking Maya while you’ve had to deal with–.”
The tears came instantly. Your vision was blurry before you were even able to process that the tears were there. 
“Oh my god, y/n. I’m so– fuck. I’m sorry,” Josh tried, his tone willing you to hear him out. 
You blinked furiously, covering your eyes with one hand. But, finding it useless to try to hide the tears, you just let them fall freely as you now took deep breaths, your eyes piercing through the window of the cafe. “Can we please not–?”
“Y-yeah, Goddammit,” he nervously fluffed the front of his hair. “Y/n, please look at me.”
Forcing your eyes away from the clear autumn sky, you found his eyes, earnestly begging for you to listen to him. “He wasn’t– he hasn’t– I don’t–,” he growled under his breath, reaching forward for your hand. Which you only stared at until he spoke next. “Please, just take my hand.”
So, you did as he asked and looked at him with desperately sad eyes. 
He watched you carefully for a few minutes, letting the tears leave as he reassured you and apologized a couple more times. 
He cleared his throat, blinking his eyes a few times before apparently deciding on a new conversation. “When did you guys begin. . .?”
You knew he was asking when you’d started fucking his brother. But he obviously wasn’t going to say it. 
Nice turn in conversation, Josh.
“It’s complicated,” you offered wetly, not in the mood to talk.
He hummed, before raising a brow with searching eyes. He was trying to get through to you. “Was it that night at Baby’s All Right?”
How the fuck did he know that–?
But, like you said, it was more complicated–because, no, it really didn’t start at Baby’s. 
“Technically," you sniffled, swiping a finger, then a thumb under both of your eyes. "It started before and after that night. It was a long, drawn out thing that shouldn’t have ever started.”
Instantly, you felt guilty. 
The words felt wrong to say. . .the first thing coming to your mind – the baby. 
If it hadn’t started, you wouldn’t have the baby. The sweet little bean in your belly with a beautiful, beating heart. You placed a steady hand against your tummy to make up for the harsh words. 
And the second thing. . . you couldn’t begin to imagine never getting to be that close to Jake. . . you were grateful it had started. . . But you also hated yourself for ever letting yourself get so tied up in Jake Kiszka.
Figuratively and literally. God. Stupid.
“Yes, it should have,” he affirmed, your eyes flickering to him. “For my niece or nephew alone.”
“You’re right,” you agreed, eyes filling with more tears at the conversation and the spiraling thoughts in your mind. “But, I guess, if we are getting technical. . .," you sniffed. "It started that night he left the venue so pissed and you were equally as pissed with him.”
He seemed to think on that for a second or two, trying to go back to the night to which you were referring. Once he finally found it, his eyes lit up with a twitch on his lips. 
“He was mad that night,” he remembered, his hand squeezing yours. You decided to pull yours away from his as you felt it beginning to perspire. Wiped them on your pants, waiting for him to continue. “And now I know why. You weren’t there.”
“Essentially, yes,” you confirmed with a tilt of your head. You couldn't help but snicker with the next part. “It started when I got home.”
Josh’s lips stretched to the point that his eyes bulged and his cheeks puffed out. He blew out a breath while his eyes stayed huge. “And that is all I need to know about that night.”
You couldn’t help but giggle at his expression and his words, to which he lightened with you, falling into a soft moment of laughter alongside you. 
When the humor died down, he took the initiative to speak. And you let him. You really weren’t feeling like talking. The smells of the cafe, for one, were starting to make your stomach turn. “I could’ve guessed that it started around that time,” he began. You quirked a brow, asking him to explain further. “He . . . he changed around that time.” You didn’t speak, which told him to continue. “You see, when he first got to New York, he was so fucking surly and rude. He wasn’t just like that with you, mama. He was short as hell with me, too. And the other guys got his bad side – especially Sammy. His heart was broken and he didn’t know how to handle his shit. He started coming back into himself around that time, though. . .Middle of summer. He sort of peaked around the middle of summer. And if I am doing the math right. . . that is when it was happening?”
You nodded an affirmation, impressed by the quick math. 
“Yeah, he was Jake again,” he expressed, eyes tearing up again. “He was joyful for the first time in years. I hadn’t seen him act so freely and fun since before he and Amelia started dating. There was always something stopping him when he was with her – she was stopping him. But you. . . you must’ve encouraged him to be himself. You didn’t turn down the challenge. You took a chance on my brother.”
After considering the words, the lightbulb appeared above your head. That conversation the day in the record shop. The same day you’d played over and over again to convince yourself out of being with Jake. You’d focused on the other words so much that you’d forgotten all about the positive things–the possibilities that had been discussed that day.
You remembered it now. You'd been talking about high school. And how Jake had sort of decided to fuck all when Josh hadn't. . . and it had turned into you bringing up your love of a challenge. 
Josh had nodded, lips turned down, his eyes still holding a little glint. “Yup. Get my point now?”
“Yeah, but like I just said, I’m not one to turn down a challenge. Just like you, Josh. And your brother. . .I’ve learned he is nothing if not a challenge.” 
He had nodded, knowing you were right. And he’d known you long enough to know that you did indeed enjoy overcoming any problem life may hand you.
God, what had happened to you? Where had the desire to accomplish challenges gone?
Why had you given up? Had you given him up? Or had you simply been done with that challenge? Had Jake just been ready to fly? Had you done what was best?
But, you sidelined those thoughts and decided there were more important matters at hand. Like Josh telling you more about how he was feeling.
“So. . . you’re not hurt?” You asked, your voice hoarse from not talking. You cleared it, and tried again. “You’re not hurt?”
“A little, I guess,” he nodded, eyes studying you.
“That’s fair,” you encouraged – glad he was sharing his heart. “I’m sorry for not telling you. But I just kept hearing your voice in my head–that same day we talked about challenges– that same day you’d told me something and it repeated itself over and over to the point that I tried to resist things happening with Jake. Mostly for you, Josh. I didn’t want to betray you. Didn't want him to betray his dreams. But then it just became something bigger that I couldn’t control. It was . . . different than anything else I’ve ever experienced. I couldn’t stop it from happening.”
“Did you want to stop it?”
“I tried to convince myself that I wanted to . . . but I never did. Not really. I wanted him the whole time, but I felt wrong for it. I was totally disregarding what you’d said to me. . . Going against your wishes for him.”
His eyes got big as he took another sip of his tea, that at this point, was probably lukewarm. But if it was, his face didn’t show it. He licked at his lips and peered at you pensively, curiously. “God, y/n. I’m sorry. What did I even say? I don’t remember,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I hate that my words have been just fuckin’ tormenting you, mama. I’m so sorry.”
“No,” you said, pointing your finger at him, your eyes serious to communicate your point. “You don’t be sorry. I’m the one who was in the wrong. Not even Jake, necessarily,” you included the last part, just on Jake’s behalf. “I was the one who did it even after you’d confided in me that you were happy Jake was getting to live life for himself for the first time – without having to worry about being hung up on a girl. And, then I just let myself be that girl you didn’t want for him – I was the girl to get in his way while he should’ve been living for himself.”
“In the spirit of fairness, though, I told him that he needed to take a break from women. He didn’t listen to me either. Well, sort of. . . he actually did follow my advice, I guess,” he encouraged, his eyes searching yours. “Because I also told him that I wanted him to think of what he wanted first.” His tone lifted as he winked at you. 
Your brow wrinkled . . . what was he trying to say? 
He continued, “Which, I guess, my dear, after the dream . . . was you.”
Feeling suddenly lightheaded and loopy with Josh’s words, you let them settle for a minute or two before saying anything more. 
And, the waitress had perfect timing. She filled the open air by asking if you needed anything. First time she’d been back in a hot damn second. Josh asked for a new tea, and you asked for another glass of Sprite. 
All that you could think in that moment was that you really had been the opposite of the right thing for Jake. So, you decided to speak your mind.
“But. . . no,” you declined his words, shaking your head. “No, Josh. He didn’t put himself first – he had a woman – me – that he was focused on instead of learning himself.”
He took a bit to consider your words, his eyes squinted at you as he pursed his lips. The waitress came back to the table as the conversation lulled for his response. 
As soon as she left, though, the two of you were back to it.
“Y/n,” he began, his lips growing into a sure smile. His hands came to clasp in front of him, his hair bouncing with each disbelieving shake of his head. “He did. He moved here. He started pursuing the dream. He got a job he loved by teaching lessons.” Thus meeting Maya, you snarkily thought. “He did put himself first. Did all of that, and then he pursued you.”
. . . you hadn’t really thought of it that way. Not once had you considered that. 
God. What if you’d told Josh a long time ago? Chances were, he would’ve eased your fears and worries. . . but instead, you’d assumed he’d think the worst and let your thoughts derail. 
Would you even be in the predicament you were today? 
You knew the answer. The answer was most likely no. You wouldn’t have the baby because there would’ve never been a night - the night - to relieve your Jake-induced stress. Because you would have already taken the time to talk to Josh. . . He would have reassured you before you even had time to ever get to that depressive point.
Would he have convinced you to be with Jake? 
You didn’t know. . . but. . . it was too late now. 
You were where you were now and there was nothing you could do about it. 
And none of this ever worked in how Maya had already been in the picture – maybe she had been part of the reason he became happier in the middle of summer.
In the end, she could be the one to thank for this– it could most definitely not be you. The sad truth of the matter was, she had probably been filling his cup all along. . .while he was filling yours.
While you were letting yourself get tangled in him, he was feeling the same emotions. . . but for her. Because, in the end, she was easier than you.
You couldn't find it in good conscience to be with him anyway.
Because, well, you still wouldn’t have wanted to distract him from his dream with a relationship. His dream was too valuable to possibly table for you. You were too much of a mess that he could get distracted by, rather than taking the time to fulfill his dream.
She freed up his time with her carefree nature. And you only infiltrated his time with your darkness. She was sunshine, brightening up his paths.
You had to figure you out before you could ever make someone as happy as Maya made Jake. 
Before you had this baby.
However the tables turned, they had already turned. And it was too late to go back and change anything now. You weren’t even sure what you would change–or what you would think if you could turn back time. There was too much filling up your brain–your life– to make the wisest decision. 
It didn’t matter anyway.
So, you told Josh all you could think to say. The same words you’d thrown nastily in Jake’s face, you threw harshly in your own.
“Well, I guess I served my purpose.”
-🌼🌼🌼-
When Josh pulled your car into your space, Jake’s was nowhere to be found. As always, you couldn't help but wonder where he was. He hadn't worked today so he was probably with-.
“I really am most mad at my brother.”
“Try not to be,” you encouraged lamely. You really didn’t care too much about him being angry at anyone right now. . . all you really cared about was getting upstairs to your bed to take a nice, long nap. It had been a day. 
“I’m going to be for a whi–.”
Tap tap tap.
Both of your eyes turned to Josh’s window. Outside of the driver’s side was Jake. You could see all the way down his loose shirt. It was open and tempting his tanned skin and firm chest, while his necklaces hung loosely in front of him, as he was bent over to peek into the car.
But. . . you could see the heated glare from his eyes, even through the tint of his Ray-Bans. His nostrils were flared and his lips had curled into a faux smirk. 
When Josh rolled his window down, you heard Jake's breathy chuckles that had no indication of anything truly humorous behind them. They sounded more bitter than anything else. 
“What have you two been up to?” he questioned, the inflection on the word ‘you’ paired with his snide tone told you he was probably less than thrilled to see you and Josh together. Alone, at that. 
But why? Why the fuck would he care?
You were struck completely motionless and silent, feeling nauseous again, desperately trying to swallow down that all too familiar sensation. But this time, it wasn’t due to the hormones wreaking havoc in your tummy, it was Jake’s presence at this incredibly horrid time that had your belly flipping in slow motion somersaults. 
Josh huffed a laugh that nearly replicated Jake’s. Mimicking his twin to further his irritation, no doubt. You knew Josh was in no mood to put up with Jake’s piss-poor attitude, especially given everything he had discovered. You were tightly holding your breath at whatever the hell could possibly come from Josh's mouth, hoping that he would say as little as possible.
“Funny that you should ask, Jacob,” Josh retorted. He turned his head to the left to make eye contact with his twin, his fingers were still gripped to the steering wheel with a force that turned his knuckles stark white.
What was he about to say? Shit. He knew better. . . right?
“Because," Josh began. "I don’t exactly believe it’s any of your business what we're doing. In fact, I know it’s none of your business.”
Ironic. . . because it most definitely was his business. He just didn’t know it. Not yet.
He flashed Jake his classic Josh grin, extra wide with eyes squinted, an extra, added dramatic flair of his fluttering eyelashes to seal his condescending statement. 
You let out the breath you had been holding, thankful that Josh kept from saying too much. This was not how you wanted Jake to find out. Although, you still had no idea when or how you would approach that. 
All you knew for sure, was that this wasn’t the right time. 
Jake had stood firm the entire time, a brow raised with an obviously fake grin that held his lips in a tight line. His first response was a snicker through his nose and a patronizing simper, just shy of a full on scowl. 
“‘Kay, got it,” he sneered. Then, he was patting the side of the driver's door with his opened palm before swiftly turning on his heel to walk away. He forcibly shoved his hands in the front pockets of his black jeans as he sauntered off, and you couldn’t help but notice how it stretched the fabric even tighter against his perfectly, rounded ass. A sight you still fawned over, admittedly. 
How could you not?
But you broke your gaze quickly once Josh turned to face you once again. Even though he finally knew about the special addition that you shared with his brother, you’d still feel awkward (and a little guilty) as fuck if he watched you gawk over him so openly. Especially on a day so sensitive as today.
Josh had let out an exasperated sigh deep from his lungs, his jaw clenched and hard when he finally shut the humming engine off. “I have so much that I want to say to him,” he muttered, mostly to himself as his tone was hushed.
Yeah. Me fucking too, you thought to yourself. Don’t you think I get it?
Without the engine running, the car had become dead silent. The type of silence that allowed you to hear the rapid beating of your own heart clearly in your ears. (You even thought for a moment that you could hear Josh’s, too. That kind of quiet. Like earlier. Right after you'd told him.)
It gave you time to ponder. . . Despite his incredible response to all of this today, you still worried. Because, for the first time in the literal years of having Josh as your safe haven, you feared that things could have changed far too much for him to ever look at you the same again.
But then, your never ending train of overthinking was put to a halt when he placed a loving hand on your knee. When his warm eyes connected with yours, they reassured you that he wasn’t planning on going anywhere. At least not anytime soon.
“You ready to go inside, mama?” 
His sweet smile that you had loved for years lit up his once hard features. Seeing the signature grin lifted some weight off your heavy shoulders.
You nodded your head and unbuckled your seatbelt as he did the same. But as you lifted the latch on the passenger door, another thought began clouding your mind, a question that you felt you needed to ask someone. That you needed to ask Josh.
“Hey. . .,” you started as he already had one foot out the door.
He stalled his movements and promptly turned his head to face you. 
“Yeah?” he answered, the same smile still cocked in the corner of his mouth.
“When should I tell him?”
He situated himself back inside, resting his back against the dark leather. His eyes were cast on yours, soft and kind as you’d always known them to be, yet a seriousness found within them. 
“That’s up to you, mama. You have to decide when the time feels right.” His gentle hand reached to grab your shoulder in a reassuring gesture, effectively pulling you away from your burdening thoughts. 
Once you’d finally made your way out of the car, you heard him clear his throat and looked to see what else he had to say. He was squinting at you through the autumn day’s rays when he finished the line of thought he’d started in the car.
“But. . . knowing my twin, he’d want to know sooner rather than later. Don’t wait too long, love. He’s got a good heart, you know that. Give him the chance to step up like I know he will.”
-🌼🌼🌼-
Friday, November 11, 2022
You’d missed the show completely. As you knew you would. 
Josh had known you were going to show up later than usual since your school work was (quite actually) burying you. Specifically, it was thanks to a 20-page paper that was due tonight. 
Thankfully, you’d been able to finish it in time to at least meet the boys at the bar (smoke free, Josh had clarified on the phone) they’d decided to hang out at after the show. You hadn’t hung out with them after a show in forever. Hadn’t even been to a show in. . .well, you didn’t even know how long.
The reason could be mostly chalked up to your intense homework load this semester, but part of you knew you’d also been trying to avoid them due to the addition of Maya. 
It just didn’t feel the same anymore. And you knew you couldn’t force yourself to pretend. So, the extra school work turned out to be a pretty good excuse. At least you weren’t fabricating anything when you’d told them you couldn’t make it. (Although you would prefer if you didn’t have so much fucking homework.)
But you did miss watching Jake perform. You missed the faces he’d make while playing his guitar, the ones that so closely resembled the one’s he’d make with you. The way he’d thrust himself into his beloved instrument, or pull it close to his body with a force that left your head reeling and your body in dire need for him. 
As much as you missed all of that, something you missed even more was witnessing how his passion exuded through his entire body while he played. How his love for his art was so wonderfully evident as he put so much of himself into every song he played. 
And with the way your body kept betraying you – literally pulsing with desire for him anytime he was simply near you . . . to the point of needing to relieve yourself with your hands or a toy. . . You were weak as fuck. You figured it probably wasn’t the best idea to watch him perform like that with your hormones going ballistic.  
Too many factors worked together to make you feel rather uncomfortable about being near him in that capacity. But. . . here you were. Waiting at the bar for them to arrive. 
Putting yourself in a situation where he’d inevitably be near – sitting at the same booth as you, most likely. Admittedly, it wasn’t your most incredible idea. But Josh telling you the other guys had been missing you made you realize how badly you’d missed them. 
So. Here you were. Scrolling on pregnant influencers’ Instagram pages for helpful tips and testimonials (and occasionally Jake’s page, just to torture yourself) as you waited for them.
Just as you’d thought to send Josh a text letting him know you were at the bar and sitting at a booth near the back, you felt the urge to pee like no other. Your belly had sort of popped in the few days that had transpired since your first ultrasound. You were learning that twelve weeks on your body was the. . . rounder version of twelve weeks. . . Which was not working in your favor to hide your changing body. 
Thankfully, the rest of your body looked mostly the same as normal – save for your boobs which were still about as big as they were in your Shining twin costume (not growing too much more yet, but continuing to be sore as hell). They weren’t giant, per se, but they definitely looked noticeably bigger and felt fucking heavy.
So, you were officially having to wear looser-fitting clothing to avoid anyone looking at you differently. To be fair, to most eyes, it probably would've looked like some weight gain around your midsection if you wore normal clothing. But to you, it literally just looked like you were pregnant. 
You were definitely getting used to waking up every morning to a body that looked just a little different than the day before. Noticed every little change—but they didn’t feel little to you. . . Anything that changed felt massive to you.  
. . .Hence why you were being overly cautious with the giant sweaters. . . Because, to you, it looked so obviously different that you didn’t want to risk people thinking anything or asking any questions.
And, thanks to your newly expanding uterus and a spike in your progesterone (according to your Ovia app), you were beginning to actually wiggle in your seat from the urge to pee. It was all rather unkind on your poor bladder. . .  You had to fucking relieve yourself soon or you would be peeing your leggings. It would be embarrassing as hell to pee yourself and smell like it for the entire evening.
Though, you realized, as people started filtering in, that you couldn’t get up to pee. . . It was too much of a risk that you’d lose the one big booth to this hastily growing Friday night crowd.
Just as you’d started contemplating your lack of options, a particular laugh you’d gotten (unfortunately) used to, made its way through the crowded bar. Your eyes zoomed to the dark haired, caramel-skinned beauty who’d taken up residence in Jake’s life. 
Maya. 
Her laugh was just as beautiful as she was. . . Directing every eye in the front of the establishment to her as they joined in on whatever she was laughing about. She was a force to be reckoned with and it was obvious anytime you saw her. You were pretty sure you could see her chocolate eyes actually sparkling, all the way from across the bar.
Then, here you were in a giant ass Pratt hoodie with plain black, ratty leggings and your white Chucks. Feeling bloated and gross. . . And still needing to really fucking pee. So you had to put your insecurities to the side and get up from the spot you’d effectively heated up for the last twenty minutes because your one and only solution had just walked in. 
You didn’t want to walk away and lose your spot, so you did the only thing you could think to do. 
“Maya!” You called in her direction, tucking your phone into your hoodie pocket with one hand while the other waved at her. An incredibly forced smile was plastered to your face. 
Is this the first time I’ve ever spoken to her? You wondered briefly. 
Even though you knew the answer. 
Yes, definitely the first time I’ve ever talked to her. Weird. And funny fucking cause for it, too, you giggled to yourself, just behind your close-mouthed grin.
It was as if she’d already seen you, because she looked at you with a knowing look. She sent you a (stupid) wink and a (stupid, yet admittedly kind) wave, along with a wide smile—bright white teeth complimented by her full lips. 
Standing up had caused your bladder to go into emergency mode—a sensation similar to nearly bursting was the only way you could describe it. And, strangely, you suddenly felt sort of dizzy from the overwhelming pressure. 
That’s odd, you thought absently, brows wrinkling ever so slightly with the feeling. Ignoring it, you kept waving. And, the smile slipped from your face as you urgently motioned her over. Getting the hint, she said goodbye to the few patrons she’d been talking with and made her way to you. 
Long, wavy hair, inky as the night sky, flowed in waves around her shoulders as she sweetly pushed through people on the way to the booth. 
Every man she passed had to do a double take, watching her as she passed by them. . . You didn’t blame them. She was a fucking dream. (And you hated it.)
Body positively snatched and voluptuous in her all-black outfit. Her large breasts, exposed just right in her extremely low-cut black shirt. The shirt dipped all the way to the middle of her rib cage, exposing a lot of her perfect, perky breasts and tight abdomen. The tiny waist just below the dip was intimidating at best and had you feeling extremely self conscious of your nearly non-existent waist (thanks to the tiny friend living inside of you). You were glad you couldn’t see her ass, because you knew the exquisitely round part of her would have you heading for the door rather than the restroom. 
God, why did she have to look like a damn model? It was the worst possible thing for you. You were sure of it.
Once she was finally at the table, you didn’t want to stand there and stare at her. She had you feeling ready to jump out of your unfamiliar, changing body. Made you feel like nothing, just by standing there.
And, most importantly, you were nearing the risk of peeing with a singular movement at this point. You really weren’t sure how you’d make it to the restroom, but you had to try. 
You were already toeing around the table, out of the booth, when you spoke to her, averting your eyes and finding the restroom sign instead. “I’ve gotta pee really fucking bad,” you hastily said, taking the final step from the back of the booth. “Can you save this table for me so we have a place to sit?”
“We?” She questioned. “Y/n, I would definitely normally save it for you and your friends, but I have to work on finding my own place since I’m waiting here for Jake and the—.”
“Jake and the guys, I know.” You snapped, eyes flashing as you finished for her, not focusing on your facial expression. You were almost positive you rolled your eyes at her comment. 
Does she not know? Why? Did no one tell her?
Bouncing on the heels of your feet, back and forth, you quickly continued. Matter at hand. “I’m here to hang with you guys, too, but I’ve gotta—.”
“Pee!” She finished, a giggle that was probably supposed to be cute left her lips. “Go! I’ll save it. Go, go, go!” 
You were already walking away with her last sentence, hearing her from behind your back as you focused on not wetting your pants on the way to the ladies room. 
-🌼🌼🌼-
When you got back out, you were instantly met with the sight of all of the guys at the back booth you’d saved.
Your eyes, sadly, found Jake and Maya first – sitting practically on top of each other in the back corner of the booth. She was wrapped up in Jake, while engaging in a conversation with Sam. And, even though she seemed to only be halfway listening, Sammy kept on talking like she was interested in only him. 
But with the way Jake’s hand toyed with the hair over her shoulder and eventually traveled to squeeze (and hold) her waist. . . you knew why she wasn’t fully listening. Sammy would not be getting her full attention any time soon, and you knew that from personal experience. If it were you Jake was playing with like that, you would have tuned Sam completely out. 
Pushing any emotion down that threatened to boil up to the surface, you kept on walking to the booth. 
And when you got close enough, all of the attention was suddenly on you. The first one to notice you was Danny, who got up from his end seat on the booth to greet you with a giant hug. You sank into him, feeling all of the love that he was emitting sink into your sore body. 
Then, Sam was loudly exclaiming your presence, telling you that he was waiting for his own hug. 
You went around the three brothers who wanted to give you a squeeze. 
Sam hugged you especially hard, making your boobs ache like no other when he pressed hard against you. Gratefully, Josh had been paying attention when you caught his eye with a pained expression and had loudly determined that it was his turn.
After Josh had grasped you from Sam and given a loose hug, you stood awkwardly. Waiting. But for what?
But. . .you knew what. . .knew why.
It was Jake’s turn. 
Though, all you got was a little close-lipped smile and a half-wave with a head nod from his spot next to his supermodel girlfriend. 
You reciprocated with essentially the same response, your stomach falling to your feet as you did so. It was ludicrous to think he’d get up for a hug, too. Especially with Maya sitting next to him with her perfectly-fucking-manicured hand clutching the inside of his thigh. 
God, you needed to feel him close to you, though. You needed your hand on his inner thigh, dangerously close to a place on his body that’d been so accustomed to yours. You couldn’t help the way you yearned for him to be inside of you again. . . It was fucking embarrassing as hell.
And, then there was an incredibly intrusive thought. 
It told you that, for some (strange) reason, the idea of his pecs pressing into your sore breasts. . .sounded extremely appealing. (And the thought of his hands or his warm, wet mouth on them? Fuck.) 
But— you knew at this point, there was a fat chance of that ever happening.
He didn’t want you near him like that. And definitely not his hands or mouth on you. So you were sure he did not want a measly hug either.
And right now? In this bar? At this exact time? Obviously-fucking-not. Why would he move away from perfection? For you? In your frumpy-ass outfit? As you glanced down self-consciously, you even noticed one white sock peeking way higher than the other from your high-tops. 
Small details. Small details that showed how much of a fucking mess you were in comparison to her.
When you heard his laugh cut through the wave of emotion you were feeling, you looked back up at him. Only to see that he was engaged with Maya and Sam in some (apparently) hilarious conversation. 
He didn’t give two shits about you that way anymore. Why would he?
The terrible things you’d said to him in the kitchen were the first reason that came to your mind. Haunted you everyday, reminding you that you didn’t deserve his attention. 
You bet she, in her utter perfection and 'sunshiney' ways, would never tell him the things you had. He was probably relishing in the mental break she provided him. A break from the emotional thunderstorm that was you. 
But what the two lovebirds didn’t know was that you were carrying a part of him within you that she couldn’t do a thing about. No matter what she was to him, she didn’t have what you did. 
Though, the depressing truth of the matter was even if you were carrying his baby, Maya was still the one falling asleep next to him more nights than not. You had a piece of him, yes, but she had all of him. 
Fuck. That felt selfish. Without even thinking about it, you brought your hands up to your stomach as an effort to apologize to the little lemon-sized baby in your tummy. 
You are enough for me, you desperately thought, looking down, hoping to translate the words somehow to your unborn bundle of hope. You give me plenty of joy. 
“Y/n,” Josh spoke, breaking you from your reverie. 
“Mmm?” You hummed.
Then he was leaning over, whispering so quietly in your ear. “You’re about to give particular notice to your stomach.”
Shit. You instantly dropped your hand, looking around to make sure no one had noticed. 
Thankfully, no one had. 
You mouthed a ‘thank you’ to your best friend, and scooted into the space he and Daniel had left for you, between them, on their side. 
Sitting again helped to balance you, as the dizziness from earlier kept coming back in tiny spurts. You didn’t know what it was all about, but you knew it was probably something attributed to pregnancy. It was probably something normal that you didn’t need to be worried about. 
But, you figured having someone to lean on would help to keep you steady. So, you found Josh’s shoulder, pressing against him. It was more than necessary, so you let your shoulder lazily lay against his arm. The closeness to a safe person felt overwhelmingly comforting in the otherwise emotionally-wrought headspace you were experiencing. 
-🌼🌼🌼-
About an hour later, you found yourself humming along to the music that had gotten progressively louder over the time you’d been sitting with the guys. Getting lost in the melodies felt nice. And you’d noticed, walking in that night, that it was soul music night, according to the sign on the front door of the bar.
Your favorite.
After sitting with them for only a few minutes, making small talk with Sam and Danny to catch up, you’d essentially let yourself become an observer. You’d just listened to them talk about all of these new, sudden opportunities that were coming around for them.
So much was changing. 
They were essentially done with the smaller gigs. Their label’s management had put their foot down that they were done with those. They wanted them going to more popular, reputable places to get their name out there. The label had taken it upon themselves to work with their manager to put them in bigger venues. They’d even begun advertising the boys with promotional pictures and posters all over active streets in Brooklyn.
“We’ve had photoshoots, y/n,” Sam had boasted in wonder at one point, making sure to involve you in the conversation. “Photoshoots! Like, real rockstar things.”
“‘S fucking nuts,” Daniel agreed, nodding beside you, sending you a small smile. “People working on wardrobe for us and all that shit.”
“Well, you are rockstars,” you told Sammy genuinely, letting your eyes skate to each of the boys (save for one). But, when you finished your statement, you let your eyes find him. And his eyes literally melted into yours. Like he’d been waiting for you to acknowledge him. “You’ve been ready for this for a long time. I’m just glad you are finally getting to live it.”
But you tore your gaze away before it could become too much. Though, the snicker you heard from Maya made your eyes cut to her. You forced yourself to hold your tongue. Didn’t trust yourself with what might come out of your mouth. What had her feeling all bitter and shit? She didn’t get the fucking half of it.
That particular thought had your hands falling to clasp tightly against your tummy, thankfully hidden by the table. 
They’d also begun working on their first album (which you knew about), but its release date had officially been set in stone for May. It was daunting for you and felt huge to you, so you couldn’t imagine how it felt for them. 
It was all moving so fast. . . Which, if you were being honest, terrified you for what was to come in the near future. The little bean that was set to arrive around the time of the album’s release. Because of all of your recent . . .changes, it just felt like a terrible time for things to feel so unsure and abnormal. 
You knew it was selfish to feel that way. You did. It was just impossible to not feel worried and anxious. 
The stress inevitably started climbing up into your upper back, creating tension. And, Josh, being Josh, must’ve sensed a change in your demeanor. He’d wrapped his arm around your shoulders when you started feeling all bunched up and jittery. You’d leaned into it, needing the incredible amount of comfort in his embrace and presence. 
The music was setting your mind at ease from the tension you felt in your body. It also helped to alleviate the awkward air you felt with the proximity of Jake’s guest. Who sat there looking so beautiful all night. Jake’s arm hadn’t left her shoulders all night, twirling her long waves between his long fingers. You had to look away at several points. It didn’t take long for the sight to become too much. Your ever-present nausea only increased by watching them. 
So you didn’t watch. Didn’t allow yourself to look at him.
You breathed in the music. The music saved you. You just listened to the music. The world was a blur. 
But, when they all joined in on mutual excitement, all smiles and voices getting louder, you tuned back in just slightly.
And when you did, they were talking about one particular thing they were all looking forward to: a special event of sorts that was coming up. 
Apparently it was a huge thing for this event to take place. One final step before embracing the stardom. It would happen in a few months’ time — once the label execs heard a few songs, and released them as singles. Then, they would get to preview them to the public. 
It would be an intimate type of event, more like old times, but for a few semi-important people who worked for the tour management team and whoever else wanted to come. It would be a listening party where the boys would play their new music. And according to the boys, it was the label’s attempt to get an idea of touring being a possibility. 
A lot of it was pinned on if the turnout was good. On how the guys interacted with the crowd. How the performed. . . It would be a sort of audition for the tour management team. 
“I have faith that they’ll love us,” Sammy said, buzzing with excitement. “I’m speaking that shit into existence.” 
The rest of the guys agreed.
Your eyes inadvertently snapped to Jake when he spoke next. “And once we start touring. . .,” he said, grin huge and his eyes shining at the other guys. “That’s when it all becomes fucking real. And it’ll be here before we even know it.”
Your stomach fell.
Josh squeezed your knee after he’d said it, knowing exactly what you were thinking.
Your thoughts were fucking spiraling. Looking down, you closed your eyes to will the tears away— tried your best to be subtle with your bundled up emotions. 
You felt so excited for him. You wanted it for them—for him. All along, you’d wanted him to live his dream. The one he’d had for so long. But the idea of him going off and away. . . All of them being so far away, all of the time, right at the time your life would be inevitably changing for the rest of forever. . . It was a lot to wrap your mind around.
It had your stomach tied in fucking knots—the idea of Jake being a dad, but not getting to be one. Leaving you. Leaving the baby. It wouldn’t be a bad thing, per se, but it was going to hurt like hell. 
You swore, right then and there, that you would not let him give it up for anything. Not a baby, definitely not you (not that he’d want to abandon it for you) — it was the last thing you wanted. The last thing that would happen. 
He would live the dream. Even if you had to force him to do so.
No matter how badly you already knew you’d  want him around during that massively  transformative time. . . You were capable of doing it on your own. And Elsie would help. She would most definitely be around, you already knew. 
But. . . Jake. 
You shoved the thoughts down to the tresses of hell, literally planting your feet flat on the floor to center yourself to present time. Shifting a bit, you laid your head on Josh’s shoulder, letting your eyes drift closed after a while. Didn’t sleep, no, but you felt like you could have. Your body felt loose and weak from the night’s stress slowly leaving your body as you focused on Josh’s steady breathing and the music. 
As the night wore on, the volume had ended up getting so loud that everyone practically had to yell at one another to have a conversation, even within the close confines of the booth. 
So, you had to blink your eyes open at that point. It was too much. The over-stimulation was soon approaching. You could feel it. You felt. . . heavier than normal. Like, you were being pulled down to the earth with exhaustion. Which was new, but probably just over-stimulation.
Even with your eyes open, they were hooded. You were so tired, you felt as though you couldn’t open them much more. And the dizziness from earlier was back with force. 
So you focused on swaying your body a little to the rhythm of each song, tapping out the beat of each on the table. Josh had instinctively begun humming along with you while still managing to keep conversation with everyone else. He’d sneak the occasional smile to give a sign of him remaining loyal to your company as well as the others’.
The melodious harmonies of Stevie Wonder’s "Please Don't Go" had been a surprise, as it was a more unpopular hit of his. It was a welcome distraction to listen to a song you knew well over the speakers, for all ears to hear. Nothing beat hearing songs you loved, playing in public spaces. 
Oh, Stevie. His songs had historically been known to bring you peace. Always had. Always would. Stevie's music never failed to meet you where you were emotionally. This song, not being an exception, and hitting extremely close to home for the present time. . . But still, the tension you’d felt all night began to dissipate, sizzling out almost completely with the beautiful ending of the track.
Just as the heavy weight of your anxieties you’d carried all night had lifted, the next song started to ring throughout the building.
Only this time, the feeling it gave you was a far cry from the previous. 
You knew it instantly. You’d be able to hear this song even if it weren’t blaring throughout the building. 
As soon as the first note sounded, it sent a vibration straight to your heart and a swarm of butterflies (that actually felt more like bees) to your tummy. 
You hadn’t looked at him yet, but you felt Jake’s eyes piercing through you. 
You didn’t want to look at him. Not yet. 
Your hormones had been far too out of whack for that. You knew you’d cry instantly upon seeing his face while this song played at a volume that you now wish was much, much lower.
Aretha’s powerhouse voice repeated it over and over again. 
You’re all I need to get by, you’re all I need to get by, you’re all I need. . .
No, you weren’t looking at Jake. But he was still the only vision clouding your mind’s eye. 
You were back on your living room floor. . . his eyebrows bunched together with each heavy thrust into you, the sweat that accumulated between them, the perspiration and exertion that could only come from real intimacy. . .passion.
And it was plain to see that you were my destiny. . .
His coffee colored eyes that bore into you as his body connected with yours in the most intimate way that it could’ve. 
And when I lose my will, you’ll be there to push me up that hill. . .
How he filled you so completely, stretching you the only way you ever wanted. . . How, in that moment, it felt like he was made to fit you. Your body, your heart, your life.
I don’t know what’s in store, but together we can open any door. . . 
Without even meaning to, your eyes met his. 
And while Maya was going on about whatever she felt the need to talk about, he was watching you. His eyes were extremely thoughtful. . . So much being communicated behind them. 
If you were delusional, you’d even go so far as to say he was admiring you. . . The way his eyes flashed a bit as you watched him, too. 
But you weren’t delusional. 
Though, you just knew that he was thinking the same thing as you. . . He knew. He knew this song was special. 
And as much as you attempted to not wear your emotions, with your condition, it was impossible.
You felt your eyes prick with tears as the song came to an end, and you quickly put your head down for what you knew was coming. And when the small drop hit your cheek, as soon as it appeared, you wiped it away. 
You looked back up, sniffing once and shaking your head.
Why did I have to fucking look?
“God, I wish they’d play music from this century here for once. Or at least something halfway decent,” Maya snickered, her attention on Jake, pulling his gaze away from you with her ignorant remark. “This song could put me straight to sleep. Music like this is meant to be left in the past where it belongs.” 
What the hell? What was even the point? 
What she said had your blood boiling with red hot rage. Of course she had to pick this song to insert her disgusting opinion.
And how was Jake, of all people, in a relationship with someone who thought so little of older music? How did he put up with that shit? It would be really fucking hard to hear things like that all the time if you were in his shoes.
A look of pure disgust washed over Josh’s face, and you knew he wouldn’t take her shit laying down. Not when it came to good, classic soul music. Not to mention, Aretha was one of his biggest vocal inspirations. “How can you not appreciate the Queen of Soul? She paved the way for singers of every genre, her voice is timeless and immaculate. To criticize her is to criticize all music.” 
His defensive tone had everyone silent for an almost uncomfortable amount of time.
You wanted to chime in and let her know that you agreed with everything he said. But you felt it best to keep your mouth shut given the real reason you were so pissed. Didn’t trust your emotions to stay steady enough to get your point across. 
This was personal.
To your shock, it was Jake that ended up breaking the awkward silence at the table. “You know, babe, some of us have some pretty significant memories tied back to music like this,” he asserted, sharply, pulling away from her, dropping his arm from her shoulders to look at her better. “This song specifically. . . At least for me.”
Your heart leapt into your throat at what he was implying. Significant? He couldn’t mean. . .? But then he flashed his eyes to you. And you knew. 
Fuck, Jake. The butterflies let completely loose in your tummy at the implication. At the look. 
He continued, his voice growing softer, while staying assertive. “And it could very possibly be hurtful to others when you say surface level shit like that.”
Maya scoffed, rolling her eyes. This was the first time you’d ever witnessed the woman be something other than a dream. “So I can’t have opinions, hm?” 
“I never said—,” Jake tried, getting interrupted by her continuing. 
She was piercing him with a glare, tone biting. “Did you ever stop to think about how it hurt my feelings when you refused to see 21 Savage with me? And after I got us the tickets, no less?” 
You didn’t mean to snort a small laugh at her words. 
But. . . 21 Savage?!
Thankfully, you weren’t alone in finding amusement in the words as everyone else had a similar response. Sammy spit out the drink he’d just taken, some of it even coming out of his nose. Daniel had clapped a hand over his mouth and dragged it down his face, closing his eyes in the process. 
And Josh turned to you as soon as you turned your sights to him. He made eyes at you, raising his brows with a grin threatening to turn into a laugh. If he could’ve spoken, you assumed he’d say something along the lines of ‘oh, shit.’
Sam was the next to speak, barely able to catch a breath as he wiped the leftover drink from around his mouth with a napkin. “Maya, my dear,” he giggled, the words distorted a little by the wipe of the napkin. “You surely can’t have an emotional connection with his music?”
“Maybe I do,” she retorted, scooting away from Jake a little. Crossing her arms over her cleavage, she eyed Sammy, judgmentally. “Maybe it saw me through some really hard times.”
“Did it?” Danny tried, his face seeming earnest in pursuit to find sense in her music taste. 
“Well,” her eyes found Danny’s, but darted around a bit, still. “Not necessarily. . . But I do enjoy his music. . . Which is my prerogative.”
Josh’s brow was quirked. He stared her down, his face a mixture of amusement and annoyance. “Maya,” he cleared his throat. Her eyes found him, hard and defensive. But it was obvious she was losing some steam. “There is a difference between enjoying music and having it change the entire trajectory of your entire life.”
Before she could sputter out a response, the waiter was back at the head of the table with the two pizzas the guys had ordered. 
“One pepperoni pizza,” she said, placing one giant tray of pizza on the table. 
Your nose immediately picked up on the overwhelming scent of cheese and pepperoni. You had never smelt something so greasy. This was even worse than the greasy smell at Waffle House on the morning you’d gone with Elsie. And where there, you could find some sort of nostalgic comfort in the smell of it. . . there was nothing that could make this pizza’s smell appealing. Fuck.
“And. . .,” Sammy’s excited tone broke through your nauseous reverie. 
You didn’t look up, only watched in near agony as the second pizza, filled with every vegetable in the book, was sat right in front of you. Every fucking vegetable had it’s own special, rancid smell that you hadn’t ever noticed until now. 
Goddamn. And it just got worse as you let your eyes follow a slice that Sam took off the tray, cheese so disgustingly stringy, to his waiting mouth. The way his teeth sunk into the pizza and the oil slipped down his chin. . . You felt the bile rise in the back of your throat at the sight. The dizziness set in again. Then there was the cheese that came to the corner of his mouth as he chewed his first bite with an open mouth. 
Closing your eyes, you tried your best to will it away. 
But you couldn’t. It was too late. Behind your closed eyes, all you could see was the sight again, but this time, in slow motion. . . more and more repulsive with every flash of the image. 
You found Josh’s leg, hitting it repeatedly to indicate that you needed out of the booth. Your other hand, held tightly over your mouth, which felt as though it could explode with projectile vomit at any moment. 
That would be real cute. A really effective way to make Jake look at you. . . but not for the reasons you’d want. 
At. All.
Thankfully, Josh got the hint and quickly scooted out of the booth to allow you out. 
And as soon as your feet hit the concrete floor, you were speeding to the bathroom once more. This time, immediately landing on your knees over the toilet with a hand clutching your hair, as you retched the (very little) contents of your stomach into the toilet.
It was alarming, to say the least, as you saw only clear saliva goo floating around in the bowl. . . no food accompanying the sickness you’d just produced. 
I haven’t eaten today, you thought suddenly, wiping your brow of the sweat that had accumulated. Nothing to puke out because everything sounded vile.
And then the dizziness was setting in again as you rose from your place on the ground.
You really hadn’t been eating much at all. And pickles, being the only thing you could stand to eat, did not give you proper nutrients. You knew that. 
Have to figure something out, you decided as you washed your hands. Disturbingly, you saw four hands instead of two and it was daunting at best. Need to go home and do some research so I can figure out how to fucking eat something.
By the time you got back to the booth, you already had your keys out of your belt bag. 
Josh gave you a sympathetic grin. He mouthed an ‘I’m sorry’ and you just shook your head, reassuring him with a mimicked ‘It’s fine’ in response.
When you snapped your head up from Josh to say bye to the others, you realized that Jake was watching you closely. Pensively. Unsurely. 
You gulped, setting your eyes on him. If only you knew, Jake. . . But, suddenly, anger was flaring in the place of any butterflies. Lack of food and pregnancy could do that to a person. But you don’t know. So quit looking at me. 
“You feelin’ sick, Baby Dragon?” Sam said, breaking you out of your staring contest with Jake.
“Yeah, noticed you weren’t drinking tonight. . . you okay?” Danny interjected. 
“O–Oh, yeah. No, yeah,” you shook your head, which only caused your head to throb. Shit. “Just tired. Exhausted from school.” And from carrying a human life in my uterus. “I wanna get home and rest.”
“I forced her to come tonight,” Josh added. He looked at you before exchanging looks with the other guys, emphasizing his point to help you out. “She has had her nose to the fucking grindstone. I insisted she needed a night out.”
“Forced her?” Jake scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “God, y/n. If you don’t want to come, then don’t come.”
You fumed at his words. What the fuck? Just minutes ago he was jumping to defend your song. “He didn’t force me,” you growled back at him. Don’t test a pregnant woman carrying your goddamn baby, Jacob. “What he meant was that he encouraged me to come since I haven’t been around for a while.”
“And why’s that?” Jake pushed, continuing to jest at you. Is this a game to you, asshole? 
“Jake,” Josh snapped, tone sharp and heated. 
“School,” you asserted (with a partial lie), shutting your eyes when you started seeing two of him. When you opened them to stare back at him, you focused hard as you continued to see four brown eyes instead of two. “But that’s not really any of your business is it, Jake?”
He was silent, his jaw clenching. Then he looked back to Maya, starting a conversation with her, effectively shutting you out. 
You weren’t sure how long you could put up with the hot and cold act from him. You knew that he was hurt, but you preferred the moments in recent times where he’d shown the soft side of his heart. The Jake side of his heart. 
The one flashing through your mind at this moment was on the night of the Halloween party. When he’d picked up the dropped brownies for you and then offered to help you carry stuff to your room. . . albeit he had been drunk. It’d still been him. You knew it. It was something he’d do. . . you knew him. 
And you knew him well enough to know when he was acting like an ass, it meant he was hurt. You weren’t oblivious to the recent hurt you’d inflicted on him. . . but why was he suddenly reacting like this again? Why now?
When another wave of dizziness took you over, you had to once again shut your eyes to keep your balance, and you held tight to the strap of your bag. Your head was also, once again, pulsing.
You opened your eyes and tried to stay steady, as you didn’t want to worry the three who cared. Pulling your phone from the pocket of your oversized hoodie, you shook your keys at the guys who still watched with concerned eyes. 
“Be safe,” Danny offered sympathetically, reaching a hand out. You grasped it, rubbing your thumb over the back. 
As soon as he let go, Sam was up and pulling you into a hug. Once he’d succeeded in killing your boobs again, he held onto your shoulders. “We miss you,” he said, breath thick with alcohol that was making your stomach turn. You held your breath and tapped at his hand politely before scooting back from him. “Love you, y/n.”
You repeated the phrase back to him before Josh got up, presumably to walk you to the door. “I promise I’ll start coming around more often again,” you told them. “I miss you, too.”
And just before you stepped to head toward the exit, you found Jake’s eyes again. 
They were softer now, showing concern he couldn’t hide at your current state. But there was still that fire behind them that you’d learned was purely Jake. And it made your heart thump a little harder in your chest.
-🌼🌼🌼-
The tiredness was unreal. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time you were so fucking exhausted. Everything that had been happening recently–the therapy, telling Josh that you were pregnant with his twin’s baby, being pregnant with said baby (and worrying that you weren’t), taking sixteen-fucking-hours of classes. . . it had been a lot. That much was obvious as hell. 
And tonight had been emotionally taxing for sure. . . and knowing you, you knew it was more than extremely possible that the emotions alone had been what’d finally done you in. Drained you for all you were worth.
Well, that, and the lack of food in your system. And the persistent barfing.
You'd been poring over the resources that Dr. Rose had given you access to. And, one of the links on their site had informed you that it was extremely possible for the fatigue to peak around this point of the pregnancy–ten to twelve weeks.
And considering you were right about at 12 or so, it was on the mark.
But when you’d read that, you hadn’t been expecting the feeling to be similar to that of being weighed down to the Earth by heavy-ass lead. You were dying to fall into bed and sleep off the exhaustion–right after taking a measly Tylenol for the pounding headache that’d been burgeoning for the past several minutes. 
All you could do at this specific moment, though, was focus on driving–and pulling into the apartment complex with as much precision as possible. The pain in your head was beginning to make your vision blurry and the things around you waved in ways you knew they weren’t supposed to. Goddamn. 
You finally made it to your parking space–by the grace of some higher entity. But, as soon as you tried to move to get out, everything around you began to spin at an accelerated speed. Moaning, you brought two shaking hands up to your eyes as you closed them. You started to count to ten, trying your best to take deep breaths–but even that was getting hard to do. Fuck. 
Finding your motherfucking bearings was proving to be a task and a half. 
And your head was just fucking throbbing relentlessly. 
“Dammit,” you groaned again, the words slurring just a bit. 
Somehow, though, you were able to make the trek from your car to the complex’s staircase–so close, yet so far, from your place. But you could feel the way your heart was thrumming quickly in your chest—just pounding against your ribcage from the basic action of walking.
Everything began waving around you again. You felt like you were floating and your head was becoming lighter and lighter by the second; the only reminder that it housed a brain was the raging, convulsing feeling in your skull. 
Your vision was incredibly blurry at best, as you looked from the base of the stairs, all the way up to the top. The top of the stairs was hardly visible. 
Shit. How the fuck am I going to climb these steps like this?
But, you weren’t able to contemplate it for much longer before everything started fading more and more, until you felt yourself falling and all you saw was a black abyss.
-🌼🌼🌼-
The hand you felt holding yours was the only thing that weighed you down to the white room. The other things that you immediately noticed: the sound of steady beeping (which was incessant) and the smell of antiseptic and bleach wafting from the bedding. 
The bed itself felt reminiscent of high quality cardboard, but the sheets were warmer than you would’ve expected. 
Letting your body relax back into the warm, polycotton sheets, you began to drift back to wherever you’d been. But you felt something hold you to the present. It was the someone with the hand who was helping to keep you conscious. The thumb that swept purposefully across the back of your hand tied you to the real world before you could escape to the one behind your eyelids.
Then you felt the hand holding yours squeeze the slightest bit tighter. Your lids were heavy when you squinted them open–immediately hating the way the fluorescent lighting assaulted your irises. You didn’t know if it was possible, but you were damned sure you could feel your pupils adjusting to the overbearing beams from the bulbs. 
Moaning, you reached your free hand up to cover your eyes. And when you did, you noticed the influx of tubes, taped to and sticking out of your hand. Specifically, the needle connected directly to your vein. What the fuck was going on?
Amidst your confusion, you finally processed who the hand was connected to as you heard his voice.
“Yes, yes,” Josh said in response to something. You noticed that he was seeming to squeeze your hand in little pulsing intervals. When you squeezed back to indicate you were awake, his eyes were immediately on you, abandoning his conversation. “Y/n? Oh, fuck,” his voice was thick with emotion. His gaze became wet as he checked your face over. “I was so worried about you.”
You didn’t know what to say, since you weren’t really sure why you were here or what had happened to get you here. . . All you could remember was being tired and dizzy with a pounding in your head. 
You tried to speak, but it was in vain, as your throat was dry as fuck. All that came from your lips was a measly croak. But, thankfully, Josh was immediately coming to your rescue with one of the hospital’s giant plastic cups, filled to the brim with water. He held the straw to your lips and you sat up a little to have better leverage to take a drink. To your surprise, the pounding in your head was gone, and there was no dizziness accompanying your movements. 
And no nausea – best part of all.
As soon as the water slipped past your lips, you shut your eyes in utter relief. Water had never tasted so good. You weren’t sure if water even had a taste, but at that moment, you swore it did and that it tasted like liquid gold would. 
Once you’d had enough for the moment, almost draining the large cup, you backed away and leaned into the pillows that awaited behind you. 
Sighing in relief, you tried to say words again. And this time, it worked. “What’s going on?” You slowly spoke, your head still feeling slightly airy. You let your eyes trail to Josh’s, questioning him. “Why am I here?”
Then, you started panicking. You shot up from where you’d settled against the pillows, clutching your stomach. The IV’s connected to your hand pulled at your skin, stinging. You ignored the pain though, and felt your tummy. It was still round, but obviously that didn’t mean– oh no. Your deepest fears came to life in your head, piece by terrifying piece. The baby. 
“Oh, fuck, Josh,” you said, your eyes were wild and immediately drew wetness, which ran steadily down your cheeks. No no no no no. “The baby? Is the baby–? Oh–.”
“Yes, yes,” Josh shushed you, running his free hand over the top of your head. “The baby is fine. Already checked and looks the same as it did a few days ago,” his eyes shone with reassurance. “Nothing is wrong with the baby.”
“Heartbeat?”
“Steady as can be.”
You felt your lungs fill with air again. “Okay,” you breathed out, leaning back into the pillows once more. “Okay.”
“But you on the other hand,” he started, his brow raising and eyes burning into yours. “You need to be giving yourself proper attention, mama.”
“I—?” You shook your head. You knew you weren’t the most attentive to yourself, but you’d tried very hard to be more self-serving recently in some regards. Longer showers, Friends, Cosmic Brownies (RIP) and pickles, therapy (if that counted). . . “I’ve been trying. . .” 
But the vomiting is proving some of that to be impossible, Joshua, you thought silently, snidely.
“What your friend is trying to tell you,” the doctor began. Your eyes shifted to her, an older woman with delicate features whose gray hair was pushed back by a pair of readers. Then her brows wrinkled. “Well—friend? Father of the baby?”
You both spoke at the same time.
“Oh, no—.”
“Not me,” Josh corrected with a laugh, his smile bright and humored underneath his new mustache. “That’s my brother’s baby in there.”
Ridiculously, you began to blush at hearing Josh say it out loud. You were learning that any time it came from his lips, it made your breath catch in your chest just a little.
Jake’s baby. 
“Oh, my apologies,” she smiled, her crows feet wrinkling, voice wise with years of experience. “I just wanted to proceed using the correct title to address you. Speaking of which, I am Dr. Stevens. It’s nice to meet you, Miss y/n.”
“Same to you,” you answered with a tiny, unsure smile and nod. “Thank you.”
Dr. Stevens hummed, then came to sit on the end of the bed, same side as Josh. You eyed her curiously as her expression turned a touch more serious. “Miss y/n,” she said, sounding like you’d imagine a caring mother would. “You are here because your iron was frighteningly low,” she said, concerned and checking your chart. “If it had gone untreated one more night, you would have been incredibly ill and unable to function properly at all come morning.”
“What?” You asked, shocked. Anemia wasn’t a new thing to you, you’d always had it. How had it intensified so quickly? “I mean, sure, I’ve always had mild anemia. Just kind of a thing that’s been there . . .haven’t thought about it in years, actually,” (because of some damn triggering, buried memories attached to it). “But I’ve never had – it’s never been as. . . Intense as this,” you held up your hand that was covered in tape and inserted tubes.
“Well, honey, you’re carrying a baby now who also needs those vital nutrients to help it develop,” she counseled. “And proper hydration,” she reminded. You nodded, eyes zoned in on your hands, full with pieces of plastic and tape, and not her face. When Dr. Stevens spoke next, her voice was the most stern it’d been so far. “And prenatal vitamins– those are essential for you and the baby.”
Your eyes flicked up to hers. The way she pierced you with her stare made you lean back like a scolded puppy. Your tail would have been between your legs if you had one.
Why hadn’t you bought any damned prenatals yet? Fuck all.
“Yes ma’am. I don’t know why I haven’t been taking–,” you tried, huffing. You were ashamed of yourself. “God, I feel bad,” you placed two hands on your tummy and looked down at it through the hospital gown you’d been changed into. “How has all of it not harmed the baby?”
“Well, again, tomorrow would have been a completely different story had you not been rushed in tonight,” she reminded, talking you through it slowly. “But we’ve got fluids pumping through you to get you back to normal.” She motioned to Josh, you looked at him with a small smile that he reciprocated. “And your friend has promised to take you for a prenatal run tomorrow morning. To find the ones that you feel might suit you best.” Dr. Stevens smiled, looking over at your bedside table. Your eyes followed, seeing the small medicine bottle sitting there, waiting for you. “For now, I have a couple ready to send home with you,” she assured.
“I’ve never been the best at prioritizing my health,” you mumbled, messing with a loose thread on the hospital gown. Josh held the hand that was anxiously picking at the material, making you stop. You looked over to see his kind, encouraging eyes. “I have ingrained my brain with several unhealthy, learned habits,” you admitted, finally looking at Dr. Stevens again. “So I guess this was a reality check of sorts. That it’s not just me anymore. I can’t just ignore what I need to acknowledge.”
You didn’t know what was inspiring the constant flow of transparently deep emotions to all of these unknown people in your life, but you weren’t totally opposed to it anymore. 
Dr. Stevens’ face contorted to show that she had sympathy. You were relieved. But when she spoke next, her voice was firm. “You’re right. This baby is forcing you to take care of yourself so he or she can survive and come out healthy and happy. I believe this baby is teaching you some proper life skills. But you need to be eating well to help this child have a good, healthy time in the womb. . .help him or her thrive at this vital stage in its life.”
God. She was right. You had seen the words Failure to Thrive on multiple sources you’d checked out about pregnancy. . . .always just skimmed past them, as it didn’t seem to pertain to you. But, of course it did. The vomiting. Not taking prenatals (seriously, what the fuck, y/n?). The lack of eating anything (save for the baby pickles). . .
You’d been so in your head about the present state of your health that you hadn’t taken nearly enough time to consider the baby. 
“I’ve just never been bad about eating. This is new,” you confided. “And it’s just gotten worse this past week or so. . . I haven’t been able to eat. Everything has made me want to vomit.” Then you decided to add, “Well, everything besides pickles. They’ve been my only source of any nutrients – which I know is pathetic, by the way – I just–just can’t even be in the same room as most food, much less eat it.”
“You’re experiencing a severe case of hyperemesis gravidarum, which is just a fancy way of saying that you’re excessively vomiting during your pregnancy. It’s due to a drastic change in hormones. Your HCG levels are through the roof, where they’re usually not. Most women just have to suffer through it,” she said in response, handing you sheet with the fancy medical term at the top. “That is an information sheet. Keeps you informed on the ins and outs of why you might be experiencing it.” She sighed before going on. “It will pass, honey. Give it a few more weeks and you should be over the worst of it – if not before. But being anemic makes it that much worse,” she explained, flipping her readers over her eyes and looking through the papers on her fancy clipboard. “You’ve just gotta stay on top of those preexisting conditions.”
“And not taking the prenatals. . .,” she scolded, making you look up from scanning the sheet. She gave you a look. “Is what has you in this condition. You should also be taking an additional iron supplement. I’m. . . sure you didn’t tell your OB about your previous anemia?” She wondered aloud. 
“No,” you murmured. “I really haven’t seen it present itself since I was really young. And it wasn’t really severe. . . at least I don’t think,” you rubbed your forehead, suddenly experiencing several sad moments in time. From a long time ago. So, once again, you bared your heart and explained.  “There are things from my childhood that I’ve forgotten. And even though I do actually know I experienced bouts of it during that time, I haven’t ever really acknowledged it because I just kind of forced myself to forget about it.”
Really, for some godforsaken reason, thinking about your anemia only brought back very unwelcome flashes of your mother’s house. . . and other dirty places you didn’t want to think about. Hence why you’d blocked it out.
Josh squeezed your hand– tried to bring you back.
Thankfully, Dr. Stevens continued before the thoughts could take over. “I am sorry, honey,” she said, empathetic. But, she continued on professionally. “The hard truth is that some of the things that have always sort of laid dormant can come back with a raging force during pregnancy. . . simply considering that the pregnancy is essentially a revamp on your body,” she paused when you chuckled at the word ‘revamp’. Yeah, right. She smirked at it, too. “I know, funny word choice. Doesn’t always feel like you’re revamping,” she flipped to the next page in her chart. “What I mean is, things can come back up and be bigger–stronger–than before. One more thing that is changing and increasing in your body. Medical conditions from the past may come back and get more ‘intense’,” she winked at you, using your word from earlier. “But, it’s important: now that the anemia has shown itself again – so aggressively –  at a time that your body is already very vulnerable. . .” She sighed, flipping her readers back into her dark gray hair before unclipping a paper from the chart and handing it to you. “It’s time we get a handle on all of it before it possibly shows its ugly face again.”
The sheet she handed you included several foods that you could eat to remedy the morning sickness. Some of which had made you feel like puking – or actually puke. But, there were a few things you didn’t have at home. Boring, bland foods. Things you just never bought. A few fruits and vegetables. . .
And a shit ton of vitamins.
“A lot of plain Jane stuff on there, I know. And vitamins, vitamins, vitamins,” she acknowledged. “But those supplements and bland diet are what will see you through the dark ages of this morning sickness. We need to treat that first. And then, you should be able to ease yourself into other foods and get your iron levels healthy again for you and your baby. Please focus on following that guide of foods and vitamins and just call my extension – which I attached to the top of that sheet – if you have any issues.” 
She then passed one more sheet over to you and added one more piece of information. “This sheet will include the Hemoglobin Kit I’ve ordered for you and it will be sent to the address your friend provided for us within the next few days. Please be using it to check your hemoglobin levels. Hemoglobin is the main component of red blood cells–a protein– that we need to see at normal levels. I’ve included where your levels should be on that sheet. They should never be too low or too high. Please read the information on the sheet and in the kit to answer any additional questions you may have. This will help you to track of how your levels are doing and if your anemia is spiking again,” she said, her voice seeming to drone on and on in your ears. “And again, call if you have any questions or concerns.”
As you continued reading through the paper, she unclipped another and handed it over to you.
You really were thankful for the documents, really, but dear god there were a lot of them. Virtually and physically. From your OB visit and tonight. It was overwhelming . . . made your skin feel tight and overheated.
It was also a lot of information for you to over-fucking-think. 
I’ll have to take them to Gia. She’ll help me sort through them, you reassured yourself, taking a deep breath in and out to calm the nerves. 
“And the morning sickness should. . . pass sooner rather than later?” Josh’s question broke through your reverie. Your eyes shut to refocus on the present moment and not the papers.
“It should, yes. For most women, it does,” the graying doctor confirmed. “You’re. . .how far along? I’d estimate about eleven, maybe twelve weeks?”
“Yes,” you nodded. “Twelve weeks according to my OB.”
“Yep. You should only have a few weeks – or less – left. Just try the foods on that sheet. The vitamins. Stay hydrated. There are several recommended supplements the sheet provides. You can find most all of them on Amazon.” 
You handed the sheets over to Josh, needing them away from you for the time being. You needed to be in the now. Needed to focus on anything else the aging, wise doctor may need to say. 
To put it plainly, tonight’s event landing you in the hospital had you scared shitless. And learning as much as possible from her would hopefully wind up putting your mind at ease. . . though, at this moment, it just had your heart rate increasing rather quickly.
She eyed the monitor next to your bed, moving closer to it as she observed something. “There goes that heart rate again,” she squinted at the vitals once more before pushing her glasses into her hair. She looked down at her chart, her lips pursing and readers going back on as she checked it over. “That’s another thing I want to address,” she hummed, sitting next to your legs, facing you and Josh from her seat. “Have you been under a lot of stress lately? A major change? Besides the baby? Mentally, perhaps? Emotionally?” She questioned. “Because while your iron levels were scarily low, your heart rate was also dramatically high. Which, yes, is related to the iron levels. . . but, I thought I’d go ahead and check as more often than not, it can pertain to an extreme amount of stress your heart is under from other sources.”
You stuttered out a response that involved you beginning therapy for the first time in years. You tried to touch on how you were experiencing a lot of emotions around what you would eventually be talking about in therapy. . . how you’d already bared your heart to Gia and opened up every single gate possible to effectively begin therapy. 
“I wanted to do it. Still do," you explained, needing Dr. Stevens to know that. “I would do it all over again right now if I needed to. She’s already helped me so much – after only one session, just with me basically projectile vomiting my past and emotions all over the room.” You took a breath, before finishing. “It doesn’t make it any less difficult though. It hurts. Physically, it hurts to talk about it all. I know it will all come together in the end. I trust the process–I trust my therapist. But it was extremely taxing – on top of everything else I’m feeling right now.” You glanced over at Josh before adding, “The baby’s father is. . . he’s just. . .”
“A lot,” Josh finished with a half-chuckle. “He’s a very good guy. He’s just a lot.”
“I have a lot of feelings about everything happening in my life right now, I’ll just say that,” you ventured to tell her. “And I had somewhat of a handle on my anxiety and depression before I got pregnant, but it’s also been something to resurface in a brand new way with the pregnancy hormones. Without me even knowing it sometimes. And before I know it, my heart is actually hurting my chest from the amount of pressure I’m putting myself under.”
Josh scooted his chair over closer to you and wrapped one of your hands in two of his, holding on tightly.
“It hasn’t all really clicked until now. . . that all of it might be related to my. . . issues,” you confirmed aloud, peeking over at Josh just briefly before looking back to Dr. Stevens. You’d just spilled your entire heart and it was making you feel extremely uneasy. God, she hadn’t asked to hear all of that. “I’m so sorry about spilling all of whatever that was,” you waved your hands around before combing them through your hair, trying to breathe deep breaths. You found her eyes, which you now realized were green. “I really–god, fuck. I’m– that was a lot for you to hear and you didn’t ask for the whole–.”
“I needed to hear it all,” she consoled you, tapping a comforting hand on the top bed sheet, rather than your leg. “It helps me assess the situation. . . and from what I’ve heard, it sounds like the most probable cause of you fainting tonight was due to the iron deficiency and your heart.” She assessed the numbers on the blinking monitor yet again. “It just hasn’t slowed much since you’ve been here, sweetie. Even with the medications we’ve given you to temporarily alleviate it, it’s still been sitting at around 120 beats per minute. And since you’ve been awake, it’s spiked enough to cause some concern to this doctor.”
As she expressed her concern again for your thrumming heart, (which you had noticed an increase in it’s pounding as of late) it began beating a little harder once again, causing an unpleasant tightness within your sternum. You winced. 
Josh noted the change almost as quickly as you did. His hands that held onto yours began squeezing even tighter, the skin of his palms now wet and clammy. He brought your hand, wrapped in his, up to his chin. The hair on his chin was unfamiliar to the last time you’d touched his face (who even knew when you last did that), but it still felt familiar enough against your knuckles to calm some of your nerves.
You couldn’t help but look at him with wide, fearful eyes. His eyes were steady on you, his attention only breaking from you to look at Dr. Stevens with a nonverbal note of worry for you. 
She stood from the bed and came to stand beside you, inserting the buds to the stethoscope around her neck, and held the circular part to your back. “Cough for me, sweetie,” she told you, her calm demeanor forcing you to come back from your momentary freak out. “Make it a big one.”
You found it to be an odd request, but you weren’t in any place to question this doctor who had shown you nothing but kindness. And offered help when you, apparently, so desperately needed it.
You did as she said, and forced the best cough you could muster. It instantly relieved the tension in your chest, even lowered your heart rate a bit as you watched the blinking numbers begin to drop on the screen. 
“Wh-what was that? Am I having a heart attack?” You felt silly asking her that. . .but you didn’t know any better, it may as well have been your body plummeting straight into a cardiac arrest. 
This was all a lot, and now you were very hyper aware of every little change in your heart that you felt, saw, or heard from the screen.
She chuckled softly, taking the stethoscope away from her ears, hanging once again around her neck. She watched your vitals intently as the blood pressure cuff attached to your left arm (that you hadn’t noticed yet) began squeezing you rather uncomfortably. 
“You’re not having a heart attack, my dear. Not even close,” she reassured. Although, you still felt the worry present in the pit of your tummy that you were unknowingly clutching again. “I am no stranger to the intense effects of anxiety. I’ve seen it time and time again. I think that was a big part of the palpitation episode you experienced a few minutes ago and the persistent increase in your heart rate I've seen so far tonight. However, I would like to conduct a little further testing. Just want to be sure your heart is nice and strong – for you and for the baby.”
You felt the air from Josh’s lungs release against your knuckles as he let out the breath he must’ve been holding, squeezing your hand just as tight as before. As terrified as you were, his presence provided the safety net your spirit needed to not be thrown back in a massive panic attack. 
She sat down on the bed next to you once again, her kind eyes offering little comfort right now as you start to feel overwhelmed with the sudden discovery of so many things that were apparently wrong with your body.
“If you can remember, have you ever been rather sensitive to the heat? Maybe suffered from heat strokes during your youth?” 
Her question had your mind yet again returning to your past that had been kept securely behind a locked door with no key. A place you didn’t venture often. 
But it did bring forth some hazy recollections of your days as a child, playing outside in the thick,  dry summer heat. How you couldn’t stand to be out in it for very long without feeling. . . faint. And dizzy. So fucking dizzy. 
A long since forgotten trait of yours that you never thought to pay any mind to. 
“Um– yeah, actually. Now that I think about it, Summers were always a challenge. I couldn’t stand being outside for much longer than a few minutes some days without feeling like I could pass out or throw up,” you huffed a humorless laugh at the memories playing back in your head. Miserable times. “It was. . .fucking awful.” 
You’d suddenly started to remember all the times you felt faint as a child. But it wasn’t always from the rise in temperature. Sometimes, it was from the stresses your mom tossed your way, the fights, the troubles that brewed in your home. It became more and more clear that fainting was most definitely not new to you. You just couldn’t remember. 
“Okay,” Dr. Stevens continued, her hand now patting your shin as she seemed to pick up on the unease of remembering your past. “What about when you go to stand up after a period of being seated or lying down, does your vision become a bit obscured at times? Like you’re seeing stars? Tunneled vision, maybe?”
“I mean, y-yeah,” you stuttered. “Sometimes. But it doesn't last for very long. Doesn’t everybody experience that, though?”
You had no clue where she was going with all of these questions— questions that she seemingly already knew the answers to. Of what it all meant, you weren’t sure. But you knew you needed her to cut to the chase soon before you began plummeting even further down the anxious path you’d started paving. 
“What does it mean? Is this something I should be worried about?” You asked through newly developed tears you had no control over. 
Your mind was running rampant with only one singular thought: the baby. What does this mean for the baby? 
“You don’t need to worry, sweetie. This is actually a lot more common than you think.”
She stood up from the bed, unclipping one more piece of paper from the board she’d been holding prior to sitting down. She handed it over to you, the paper weighing your hand down with what you were to find on it. 
But before you could begin to worry about what was on it, she was explaining it to you.
“That sheet is going to inform you on the ins and outs of Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome, most commonly referred to as POTs,” she seriously informed, her eyebrows dipping to show concern for your worries that you knew were painted all over your face. 
“That’s a funny name,” Josh giggled, the breath from the laugh he’d let out fanned against your knuckles. “Like pots and pans. . . you know?”
You wanted to slap him because, shut the fuck up, Josh, now is not the time, but. . . try as you might, it actually calmed you down a bit. You couldn’t help the tiny ghost of a grin that floated over your lips.
Dr. Stevens glared at him, causing him to stop his little joke, before she continued on. “POTs,” she enunciated the name while flashing her eyes to Josh, “is nothing to be concerned with, but it is a valid heart condition that does require a bit more testing to confirm if it’s present or not. Just to be safe.” 
You peered down at the sheet in front of you and the bolded print that you tried so fucking hard to not be too overwhelmed by. It wasn’t the worst possible condition, but it was still a fucking heart condition that you could possibly have. And with everything else that’d happened tonight and your current life predicament. . . it was causing your head to spin.
Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS) is a condition that causes a number of symptoms when you transition from lying down to standing up, such as a fast heart rate, dizziness and fatigue. While there’s no cure, several treatments and lifestyle changes can help manage the symptoms of POTS.
As you read the small print across the page, she told you exactly what it was she suspected you had. “To put it plainly, your heart can’t pump blood quickly enough to your body, resulting in a higher heart rate and a lower blood pressure that can sometimes cause you to faint.” She came close to your bedside again, “If you don’t mind, I am going to need to listen to your heart again.” 
It took you a bit to come to, but when you did, you finally nodded in response. She placed the cold end of the stethoscope against your chest while securing the buds in her ears to listen to you.
“This, combined with your lack of eating that caused the extremely low iron levels could have developed from your pregnancy. Although, I’m willing to bet they’ve been present your entire life. Certain instances can trigger them. Stress, severe anxiety, or pregnancy. In your case, dear, I’d say it’s all of the above. A bit of a trifecta, you could say. The ingredients for the perfect, terrifying storm.” 
“Jesus, mama," Josh breathed, his lips faintly brushed over your knuckles as he continued to hold your hand close to his face. “You have got to start taking care of yourself. I can’t stand to see you like this.”
You knew that. God, you knew that. It had always been easier said than done. But it was no longer all about you anymore; the moment the life began growing within you, it gave you a newfound motivation to take care of yourself for the little life you were now responsible for.
“What other testing needs to be done?” You asked. You were hesitant of what her answer would be, but if it provided a step in the right direction towards becoming the healthiest version of yourself that you could possibly be, you were all ears.
“There’s a specific test, a tilt table test, that must be done to provide us with a little more insight to the specifics of your case. However, it’s not safe to perform it while you're pregnant,” she explained. “So for now, I’m just going to send in for a heart monitor that will be delivered to your house in the next week or so. You’ll wear it for four weeks and that'll give us plenty of information in the meantime. I’m also going to refer you to one of the best cardiologists we have on staff here.”
A heart monitor? That sounded utterly terrifying to you. 
“I am also going to insist that you keep track of your hemoglobin levels daily,” she continued. “You can also buy your own blood pressure cuff to partner with the hemoglobin kit we have set to deliver at your doorstep. You should be able to apply your insurance to the purchase of the blood pressure cuff, if you decide to include that step as well,” Stevens took a deep breath before going on. “Keep a daily journal to log your numbers. Just a notebook to track your blood pressure and hemoglobin levels. It’s vital that you do these things, y/n. Fainting like this can not be a normal occurrence. It’s not good for you or the baby.” When she spoke next, you felt your heart leap into your throat. “The lasting effects on you or the fetus could be life threatening if you’re not careful. . . could be terribly detrimental to the baby’s development—specifically his or her little body or brain development.”
Life threatening. Detrimental. Baby’s development. Little body or brain development.
You heard your heart rate go up on the monitor, but you weren’t about to freak yourself out any further by looking at the changing numbers. You literally felt your pulse quicken and your breath become shallow in your throat as you struggled to take full breaths.
Focus on the now. Focus on what is real. What is right now. Baby is not in trouble yet. 
You have time.
You brought a thumb and middle finger up to your temple, rubbing away furiously to relieve the oncoming headache that had been simmering at the surface for the past several minutes. Your other hand found its home on your swollen belly.
It was all so overwhelming–staggering, really, and you weren’t prepared for any of it in the slightest. 
But, then again, how would someone prepare? You felt as if you were living in a brand new body, much different from the one you’d lived your whole life in up to this point. There was so fucking much out of your control and unknown. It was all pushing down, heavily, on your already-tense shoulders.
“Relax, mama,” Josh sensed your tension, and knowing you as well as he did, he knew it was time to start helping you articulate the right questions. He brushed his thumb across the back of your hand as he calmly asked, “What do we need to do if her numbers aren’t. . . normal? What are some measures we can take to get them to where they need to be?” 
The fact that he was willing to stand alongside you during this whole thing, that he wanted to, it was such a comforting thing to know at this moment. Not that you had any doubt in your mind, but hearing him say something as simple as ‘we’. . . it just warmed your heart completely. 
“Lots of fluids,” she answered through a sincere smile. “And an increase in your salt intake to help your body maintain those fluids.” She handed you yet another sheet and sat back down next to you, looking you in the eye with a stern, motherly expression. “That should help you out with foods to eat and fluids to drink, in addition to the sheet from earlier. But, honey, you need to change your diet. It’s essential that you incorporate healthy eating habits at this point in your pregnancy. After you’ve gotten your body accustomed to the bland foods on the other list I’ve supplied you, you need to start adding lots of iron heavy foods to your meals. Meats, leafy greens, rice. . . things of that nature.” She searched your eyes, hers kind and knowledgeable from years in the field. “Alright?”
You nodded your head in confirmation, wondering how the hell you were going to make that happen with the way normal food left you utterly disgusted at the present time. 
“We’ll make sure of that, doc,” Josh responded in your place, throwing a wink at you as he knew damn well how horrible your food aversions had been. 
“M-my therapy,” you found your voice. “It’s going to be intense. It will cause my body stress.” Dr. Stevens looked at you quizzically before you went on, “It’s called EMDR therapy. Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing; although, I’m sure you’ve heard of it in your profession. I don’t know all of the logistics yet, but I know it’s not a conventional form of therapy. What do I do if I wish to continue that? Should I continue it?”
“It should be safe, as long as you make sure to have a thorough discussion with your therapist after each session. That is dire in helping your body and your mind process it all in a healthy manner. In order to have a healthy body, you must also take care of your mind, especially in those circumstances. I do want you to consult with your therapist over how much stress you’ll be able to handle at any given time. Don’t let your mind go too far. If you have a good therapist, they’ll know the signs if you’ve had enough, though, don’t be afraid to tell them.” 
If there was one thing you did know about all this uncertainty, it was that you could trust Gia to not lead you astray, or towards anything that would be detrimental to your mental health. 
Dr. Stevens smiled, her clipboard once again tight in her grip before she stepped further to the curtained room you were shielded by. “Do you have any more questions?” 
Josh glanced at you, waiting for you to say anything or waiting for you to communicate something for him to say on your behalf. You were sure you had questions, but you were just fucking flooded with stress to the point that all you wanted to do was sleep. . . just ready to get home.
Also, seeing as it was an emergency room, the idea was to get patients in and out. Wasn’t supposed to be the length of a standard visit. 
You’d taken up too much of her time.
So, you shook your head at Josh and then looked to Dr. Stevens to tell her no thank you.
And when you did, you glanced down at the name on her coat and the name of the hospital stitched into the white fabric. You hadn’t even noticed. . . .  Cedars-Sinai.
Same hospital I’ll have the baby at, if all goes according to plan, you suddenly realized, the thought bringing you a weird sense of peace. And it will go according to plan.
-🌼🌼🌼-
Josh went about gathering up all of the documents that had been handed to you and the prenatal pills provided as a nurse came in to disconnect all of your tubes and shit. He'd waited outside the curtain. and asked the nurse a few more questions as you'd changed back into your clothes.
And on the ride home, he’d put on peaceful music over the speaker of the car. He was used to doing it when you rode in his car as you hated riding in it. But tonight? Tonight you found comfort in the hunk of creaking metal. 
Because it meant you were going home. 
When you got home, Josh helped you up to the apartment and went about opening the front door and setting up your bed for you. All while you brushed your teeth, pulled up your hair that smelled like hospital, and changed into your comfiest PJs. 
Just as he’d tucked you in and was about to leave, you pulled on his hand and begged for him to stay. You really didn’t want to be alone for the night, mumbling as much to him. 
So, like the perfect friend he was, he set up a pallet on the floor as you tossed him a pillow from your bed. 
And to your solace, sleep found you as soon as your head hit the satin of your pillowcase. 
-🌼🌼🌼-
November 14, 2022
Every Monday being your therapy day was honestly the perfect way to start your week. You’d decided that on the way to the counseling practice on the chilly November afternoon of your second appointment.
You already knew it would be like it had been before. Before, (on your first and only other visit before today’s) it had just felt like a breath of fresh air to talk to a licensed professional like Gia. She was just fucking amazing. And you knew every week would be like before: a fresh start with a confidant who could give you killer fucking advice. A little date of sorts with a licensed professional who was positively eager to help you get through your week (life, generally) the best you possibly could.
Well, at least your therapist was eager to do that. 
Even as you sat on her trendy, camel-colored leather couch for your second appointment, you felt completely comfortable and at ease with Gia. She had already become one of your favorite people. 
You’d spent the first thirty minutes or so filling her in on telling Josh, your first prenatal exam (also showed her the sonogram pictures, which she’d loved), and the emergency visit. No details had been spared and you made sure she had time to give you any advice or words of wisdom she deemed necessary. But she’d really just let you have the floor and talk. 
Once you wrapped up your scary details from the night of the E.R., handed over all of the documents you wanted to sort through with her, and talked through them until you felt more ease about all of the anemia and heart shit, she’d looked at you seriously. 
Pinned you with a stare, her eyes sparkling like emeralds as she thoughtfully assessed you. 
She sat down her tea, and then wheeled herself over to you. Her oversized sweater was a turtle neck that matched the color of her couch, and the too-long sleeves of it touched your hands as she grasped them loosely in her hands. “Y/n,” she began, peering at you openly through her circular, wire framed-lenses, “We do not have to do EMDR. I want to remind you, it is entirely up to you if you choose to go that route. If you are fearful of it causing too much stress, I understand wanting to venture down another therapeutic route.”
“No,” you shook your head, a small smile curled the corner of your lips to reassure her. “I want to do it. I believe it’s what will work best to get to the heart of things. Don’t you?”
“Yes,” she agreed, brow knitted. “I just don’t want you to feel any unnecessary stress during this vulnerable time in your life.”
“As long as you promise to help me wrap it all up with a good talk at the end of each appointment,” you suggested with hope evident in your tone. “To wrap it up as much as we can for me to make it through the week.”
She grinned. “I can do that,” she affirmed with one certain nod, her loose bun, full of her soft blonde hair bounced with the action. “Did the doctor recommend continuing it?”
“Yep. Said it shouldn’t be an issue if we manage to discuss it all at the end of each session,” you offered. “Doesn’t want me carrying around anything unresolved that could make my stress levels increase.”
“Well, that’s definitely doable,” she confirmed with a wide grin. Scooting back, she grabbed her tea from the repurposed desk in the corner of her office before propping her ankle on top of her bent knee. “So, if you do wish to continue with EMDR, I’ll go ahead and explain it a little better than I have yet.”
“I do,” you said as a final agreement. “What should I know before we start?”
So, Gia proposed EMDR and all of the benefits that could come from the specific form of therapy. You listened to every detail readily. Were you scared? Yes. Were you anxious to begin? Also yes. It was intriguing and a little exciting to be so close to finally diving deep into the curves and corners of your mind and memories. 
Once she’d finished with that, she was rolling her chair back over to you and placing her elbows on the ends of her thighs as she bent to talk intimately with you. When she spoke, the smell of spearmint on her breath was oddly calming. “There’s something I feel I should mention before we begin. A bit of a warning that you should heed. Some clients experience this, some don’t. But something to be aware of, nonetheless.” 
Your eyes widened at her use of the word ‘warning,’ and her sudden change in tone made you believe this was something a little more serious. You knew there were risks involved with this somewhat unconventional form of therapy, but you hadn’t let yourself delve into all of them just yet. You had tried your best to leave the ball in Gia’s court to explain it all to you. 
And you knew that anything deemed risky, Gia would let you know of them before you agreed. Any online research wouldn't be nearly as viable as it would be coming straight from Gia’s mouth. 
Still yet, your heart beat just a little faster in preparation for whatever she had to tell you.
Deep breaths, y/n.
“Tell me,” you asserted. In search of some extra comfort, you placed a hand on your belly, the pulse vibrating in your palm also immediately triggered the fear in you that your heart was possibly over exerting itself.
Deep. Breaths. Gia’s got this. She won’t let you do anything too risky to your health. She wouldn’t let you.
“Some people report experiencing rather intense flashbacks that can come unannounced. And when I say intense, I truly mean just that, y/n. If they come, they can be debilitating.” 
This was the first you had seen her eyes downturned, a picture of worry painted within her emerald green irises. “There have also been accounts of severe nightmares—well, more along the lines of night terrors. The kind that can wake you up in a panic. I just want you to be aware of these possibilities before we begin. I need you to promise me right now, that if these things do happen, you’ll call me. I don’t care if it’s in the middle of the night or the middle of the day, you have to call me, and I will answer.” 
Middle of the day? They could come then, too? Shit.
“Is it. . .  really that serious?” You took a moment to ponder your question, not entirely sure what to make of it all just yet. (And you couldn’t help but wonder if Jake found out about these little occurrences during his research before bringing the idea up to you.)
“It can be,” she noted with a stern tone that sent yet another wave of anxiety through your tense muscles. “That’s why I need you to make me that promise. That isn’t something you should ever experience alone. As I said, it can be debilitating.”
Your mind began turning furiously with the thought of having to experience flashbacks. Would they be flashbacks to things you already remembered? Or worse. . . things you didn’t? Both?
If you were being honest with yourself, you knew the answer and it was honestly terrifying to you.
For a split second, you started to doubt whether or not this was the right solution for you. But, you couldn’t deny any longer that you did need the help. You had to be better. For you and for the life that was growing inside of you. The baby needed a healed mother. 
And you knew Gia was the perfect person to guide you through it. You trusted her, and that was something that has never come easily for you. 
“I’ll admit,” you began, still holding tight to your belly, reminding yourself of the growing reason why you needed to do this. “I’m nervous. But I still want to do it. I promise I’ll call you when— if— that happens. . . but, what if you’re not available?”
“Don’t be nervous. You’ve got this.” She flashed you her sparkling white teeth in a smile that put your spirit right back at ease. “And I do my best to answer. It’s my job as your therapist to see you through this. Some don’t take it as seriously as I do, but I know that you’ll need me in your corner and I’m happy to be there. I signed up for this, just like you did,” she grinned, once again using her feet to scoot her back to her desk, in her plush, light pink chair. “But, on the off chance I’m not able to answer, I would immediately contact someone you trust to see you through it. Hold you. Talk to you. Just be there with you. Whatever you need. Someone who would be willing to do that.” She opened her laptop before turning to you, an idea seeming to spark in her mind. “As a matter of fact, before our next session, why don’t you make it your assignment to think of the person you’ll go to in situations like that? Just one person for now and if you think of more, then double whammy.”
She winked, and you just sent a barely-there grin back to her in response. As she went about clicking open tabs on her computer, you knew you didn’t need until next session to think of your person. 
Because as soon as she started talking about that person, you were back in the hallway of your grandparents’ home – right outside your bedroom. And the person next to you right then and there. . . he was the one you wanted with you if the terrors hit. 
Not Josh. Not even Elsie. 
But Jake. 
Would he be okay with that though? Would it be worth asking him?
Gia was once again speaking as she clicked through a few buttons on her laptop. “Y/n? You okay, love?” 
You looked up, finding her eyes waiting for yours. “Oh–oh, yeah,” you stretched your lips to make the best smile you could. “Just being an overachiever and already brainstorming my person to contact.”
She hummed, giving you a sneaky smirk. “Does it happen to be a certain roommate of yours?”
Eyes bugging, you were shocked that she’d guessed. But were you really? She sorta kinda (definitely) knew the depths of your heart. She'd probably known who you’d want to pick as soon as you'd known it. 
Nodding sheepishly, you decided to ask, “Is that a bad idea?”
“I don’t believe so,” she assured. “From what you’ve told me about him, he seems like a pretty good guy and I think he’d be more than willing to help you if you needed him.”
“Really?”
“Really. It’s also super convenient because he lives with you,” she insisted with a final wink before she said, “Anything I might’ve forgotten will be in the PowerPoint I’m about to send to your email. But, I’ve gotta say, I’ve done it enough times with enough clients, I think I’ve covered every base for today.” A few beats of silence passed before she triumphantly pressed a button. “Aaand, sent!” 
Then, wheeling back over to you, her pristinely white Nikes made the smallest squeak on the stained concrete floor of her office. “Okay, so today,” she began. “How are we feeling?”
“Really good,” you confidently responded, wiping your palms against your leggings before a true smile fit to your features. “When will we start?”
“I think next session we will find your safe place,” she said with a raise of her brow. “I will explain what I mean by ‘safe place’ next time, and directly after, we will send you there. Try not to worry about it until then, okay?” She requested, eyes searching yours for an answer. To which, you nodded. She continued with a grin. “For today, I want to call it quits with the EMDR talk. . . Let you rest. Unless. . . you have any questions, of course. . . .”
You wracked your brain, and when you couldn’t think of anything immediately, you told her you didn’t have any questions. 
“Come with some next time if you think of any. And, my email is always open in between visits if needed–even if it’s just a minor inquiry you have,” she reminded. “Oh! And I’m not sure if I mentioned this yet. . . but, if we need to ever schedule an emergency visit over Zoom or in the office. . . that is also always, always on the table. I know that these things get heavy, and I want to be here for you through all of it, y/n.”
“Got it.”
Although, something did come to your mind as you were both standing to leave the session. You hadn’t given the question much thought in your own mind (shockingly). It had entered your wave of thought the day of your first prenatal appointment. When you’d asked Josh. 
But since then, your mind had been too preoccupied with everything else that had recently happened that this thought had been put on the backburner. 
But, you were curious what her opinion was on the matter, now that it had resurfaced. 
Right before she opened the door, delicate hand on the handle, you grew sweaty. But you needed to ask the question, because if you didn’t do it now, it would be tormenting you until next Monday. 
So, you asked her the same question you’d asked Josh.
“When should I tell Jake about the baby?”
She turned her shoulder, her eyes stern when she responded. “Soon. . . sooner rather than later. Just focus on what is real.”
Sooner rather than later. . . same exact words Josh had said.
-🌼🌼🌼-
It had been a long day of classes and the short shift at the Black and Gold after your classes had completely wiped you out. 
When you got home, all you’d wanted to do was take a nap to sleep off the exhaustion from the short day. Before pregnancy, you wouldn’t be hitting a wall so early in the day, but now that you were, you could hardly function after going nonstop for more than a few hours. 
Your body was functioning in overdrive, trying to produce enough energy to sustain two lives. . . and you were still getting used to it. Honestly, you weren’t sure you would ever get used to it.
But before your nap. . . you wanted to take some time to release some of the soreness in your changing body with a warm shower. You were sure to grab a towel from the dryer because, even though you knew Jake wasn’t supposed to be home for a few hours, you still didn’t want to risk him seeing you. The idea of him seeing any slight changes on your body made you cringe. You weren’t sure if you felt comfortable in your body yet, so you definitely didn’t want him seeing it. 
There was also the enormous, glaring factor of him seeing the changes and realizing what was going on. You really still just looked bloated (albeit very, very bloated). . . but you had a feeling that he would catch on. He’d gotten very used to what your body looked like for the better part of the summer, so you could see him noticing your stomach protruding more than it ever did before. 
He’d know. . . you just had a feeling.
After a day of trying to wear regular jeans, you’d decided it was a bad idea to wear your normal sized jeans anymore. The tight waistband had cut into your abdomen all day and squeezed you like a motherfucker. Thankfully, there’d been a lull in customers before the end of your shift, and the oversized sweater you’d worn had provided enough coverage for you to unbutton the jeans when you were alone in the store. 
But when you finally got to take them off, you breathed a sigh of relief to be out of the confines of the stiff clothing. And the big, fluffy sweater had gotten to be too warm by the end of your shift, so taking that off had also been extremely relieving as well. 
After you’d tied your hair back and heated the shower a little cooler than your usually steaming hot showers, you had to get used to the temperature as you stood and lathered up your belly, giving yourself your daily time to just observe how it was growing. Ever since your visit to the E.R., you’d become more conscientious of how it was growing.
You were new to this pregnancy thing. You didn’t know if it meant your baby was okay or not if your belly wasn’t growing at a certain rate.
To your utter relief, over the past few days, you had finally been able to eat more–following the lists of food Dr. Stevens had given you. You occasionally got nauseous, but the puking had limited significantly with the suggested bland, healthier foods and constant Ginger Ale (which you’d actually found much more delicious and helpful to your twisty stomach than Sprite). 
Then there were the Preggie Pops and the heaven-sent PregEase: both of which had been fucking life savers. (Both stayed safely locked away in your room, on a shelf in your closet, right next to where you’d pinned the sonogram pictures.)
Once you’d let the quick shower relax your muscles exactly like you’d needed, you took your time drying off. And once you’d washed your face and changed into bike shorts and a giant t-shirt, you weren’t so tired as before. So, you’d settled into the couch with your phone, a book, a fluffy blanket, and a delicious bowl of sweet red peppers and pretzels.
It had become a go-to snack as of late. 
You were looking forward to finishing the steamy romance that had popped up on your BookTok a few weeks back, but you wanted to look into BookTok reviews for the second book in the series before you finished the first. Just to prepare yourself. 
Though, when you opened your TikTok app, you didn’t look into the book. No, instead, you found your fingers searching ‘13 weeks pregnant’. You wanted to see how other women looked at this point in the game. You couldn’t help wanting to compare your progression to other women. It wasn’t a healthy course of action – you knew that. You just had to see. . . get an idea.
You saw a lot of videos of them talking about entering their second trimester. Which, like your Ovia app had already informed you today, you knew you had officially passed the first trimester. . . which was a massive thing to you. Passing the first trimester meant several exciting things. A few being: the chances of your baby surviving the pregnancy increased tenfold; the morning sickness started screeching to a halt (thank god); and you’d be able to find out the gender of your baby in a few short weeks.
Though, the other glaring thing at the front of your brain was how you needed to tell Jake. Because of the fact that you were already in your second trimester.
The main thing you were concerned about was staying healthy, though. . . you were really hoping you were doing okay at keeping yourself healthy; you needed your baby to be healthy. All of your numbers seemed to be getting back on the right track as you’d been tracking your hemoglobin for the past few days. It was all very comforting–-you felt better.
Just as you clicked on a video about symptoms at week 13, the front door opened to show Jake coming through. You quickly shut the app off and locked your phone, pretended to be reading as sweat accumulated in your arm and knee pits. (Lovely.) 
Though, you couldn’t help but turn your body to peek at him in his peacoat, with a scarf wrapped around his neck, and a beanie covering his ears. Much like he’d looked on the night of the macaroni and cheese and therapy talk. 
He had a little chill in his bones, it seemed, as he shook them out when taking off his coat and scarf. His hat was next, leaving his long hair staticky in its wake. He smoothed it back with one more chill before he was off to the counter, dropping off the mail and his keys. But he didn’t immediately go to his room. He went about opening a drawer, finding a pair of scissors and heading to the mail on the counter. 
You did notice a package now that you looked closer. And he was hurriedly going about cutting through the yellow protective packaging.
Out of nowhere, you decided to speak. No idea where it came from. Curiosity killed the cat was all you could come up with.
“Whatcha got there?” Whatcha got there? Okay, first of all, what the fuck?
He peered over at you, raising a brow before lifting the now-open package to display it to you. “New guitar part I ordered.”
“Oh,” you blinked, not sure what else you’d been expecting from him. Of course he wasn’t about to make pleasant conversation. Not when something had apparently climbed up his ass where you were concerned for the past several days. 
Once again, you were right back at square one at the most inopportune time. It made you question your idea to make him your go-to person for your expected night terrors. . . but you didn’t want to let go of the possibility yet. Not yet. 
“Have fun with that,” you offered, turning back around to the book you most definitely didn’t want to read at the present time. Instead, you took a nervous bite of a pepper. 
“Um, y/n,” he said your name with a question in his tone. “What the fuck is this?”
Your heart tripped over itself in your chest. What had he found? Without looking at him, you decided to just go ahead and get your ass off the couch to survey the situation. 
He was holding the box containing your heart monitor in his hands.
Fuck. You really didn’t want him to be privy to that part of your life. For whatever ridiculous reason, you were embarrassed by it. 
Deciding honesty was the best policy, you decided to just flat out tell him. “I went to the Emergency Room the other night,” you started. “And the doctor just wanted –.”
“The Emergency Room?!” His voice raised a decibel, obviously alarmed at the new information. “Wait . . . is that why Josh had to leave the bar–? The same night you were gone all night.”
“Wait. . .how do you know I was gone all night?”
“I live with you, y/n,” he scoffed, talking to you like you were an idiot. 
You felt your blood pressure rise, your heart beating in your ears. “Yes, Jake, I know this,” you matched his tone, the hormones working in your favor this time–making you angry rather than sad. “But why the fuck were you awake?”
“I was waiting for–,” he stopped, clearing his throat before starting over. He looked down, a crinkle in his brow. “I couldn’t sleep.”
He was waiting for. . . who? Waiting for. . . what? Your curiosity peaked, but you ignored it for the time being. 
“Well, not that you need to know, but yes. I was at the E.R. that night,” you explained. “Something happened that landed me there and it resulted in them wanting to track my heart activity. Nothing huge.”
And for once, you didn’t feel bad for lying to him. Your nerves were lit on fire with irritation towards him. 
He doesn’t need to know.
“You got a heart monitor in the mail,” he stated, not dropping the possible severity of the situation. "And you're saying it's nothing huge?"
Without a second thought, you were yanking the package from his hands. 
“It’s. not. your. business, Jacob,” you squeezed the package until the plastic wrap squeaked from the tight grip of your fingertips. Then, something else clicked. “Why the fuck were you not looking at the name on the package? Remember, like you said, you live with me. You know that not all of the shit that comes in the mail is yours.”
“I just wasn’t thinking–.”
“Kind of fucking invasive, Jake,” you interrupted hotly. “Don’t you think?”
“Well, it helped me to know something was wrong with your heart. You wouldn’t have told me if I hadn’t opened the package,” he argued back. 
“You didn’t need to know!” You said, your voice raising at the same speed as your blood pressure. “Still don’t!”
“But Josh sure as hell does, right?” He demanded, swinging his finger towards the door, his jaw clenching. “He needed to be your knight in shining fucking armor, huh?”
“Why the hell do you care?!” You fumed, the question exploding from your chest with the same emotion that had tears gathering in your eyes at the question. Angry tears. Confused tears. 
“I don’t!” He snapped, his beautiful, brown eyes, hard. His jaw, set and tight. 
His words sat in the air for a few minutes. Your stares were intertwined; swimming with tangled emotions. The air felt hot and heavy as it surrounded you. It was taut with newly spoken (and still unspoken) surmounting feelings and disequilibrium. Nostrils were flaring. Both of your chests heaved, the sound of his breathing mixed with yours in a way that made you want to slap and kiss his pursed lips.
You didn’t let yourself stand there much longer – needed to get away from him. Without speaking to him, you tore your eyes from his, gathered up your stuff from the couch, and tried to walk with as much dignity as you could to your room. 
Somehow, you were able to get the door open with your hands inexplicably full, and after you’d entered and before you could shut it behind you, you shot a glare his way. He was still watching you.
“Fuck you, Jake.”
-🌼🌼🌼-
November 17, 2022
The next night saw your ass in the shower again. 
Except this time, you were sitting in the tub, legs drawn to your chest as close as possible with your rounder tummy, and chin on your knees as you let the warm water soak you through. 
You’d already shaved and washed everything. So, now, you were just letting yourself be.
Your thoughts had been spinning since last night. So, in an effort to help your heart, you’d invited Josh over for a movie when Jake left to give lessons for the day. And, of course, he’d said yes without question. 
You’d spent the day drowning yourself in popcorn and Canada Dry (Josh surprised you with a new 12-pack when he’d arrived) as you’d watched all three Bridget Jones movies. Back to back to back. They weren’t Josh’s favorites, but he humored you by trying to indulge in the trilogy – even managing to laugh at the funny parts. 
Between movies, he’d let you cry on his shoulder. Or, intermittently, during the movies. . . By the time he’d left, your tears had positively stained the white long sleeve tee he was wearing. 
He didn’t ever ask what it was about – who it was about. And you never told him. But you knew he wasn’t oblivious to who caused your emotional episode.
Now he was gone. Had been for about an hour. And Jake wasn’t home yet. Not that you fucking cared. 
You’d meant it when you told him what you did. Fuck him.
Though, the devastating matter was that you couldn’t decide if you were more mad at yourself or him. Everyday was a replay of the day in the kitchen. And you were sure he replayed it everyday, too. . . and he was definitely allowed to feel hurt after the horrendous shit you’d thrown at him.
But what was with the back and forth? Hot and cold? How he’d been okay the night with the mac and cheese? How he’d spent his time researching therapy for you to try? How he’d been quick to defend your song to his girlfriend? 
And, just as quickly, he was snapping at you. Getting upset out of nowhere. Instantly angry with you when you’d come out of the bathroom at the bar. Getting pissed for no reason at you and Josh for sitting in the car. Telling you last night that he didn’t care about you. 
Was that true? Did he not? It fucking killed you if it was true. But you couldn’t blame him if he didn’t care. Why would he?
You took the moment to stretch your legs out in the shower, watching as the water painted your skin with droplet after droplet. Then, you looked down at your tummy, extra round after a day of pigging out. 
Placing a pruned hand on it, you looked down at the part of your body that housed your human. Surprisingly (not), tears clouded your voice as you spoke to it, rubbing the skin reassuringly. “I’m so sorry that your mommy and daddy are so fucked up.”
After letting a few tears fall to meet the tight, rounded skin of your tummy, you forced your legs to stand up. The feat was proven a little difficult as they’d fallen asleep, but you still managed. Regretfully, you’d turned the water off. You didn’t want to leave the shower but you were officially prune-y as hell.
And, as you gathered a towel to wrap up in, you realized you were also very fucking tired.
You carefully attached the heart monitor’s adhesive to your chest like the instruction manual (and multiple videos you’d watched) told you to, and followed it with the monitor itself. You then checked to make sure the phone you’d been given with the kit was ready to track what it needed.
Finding your phone on the counter after you’d washed your face and brushed your teeth, you decided Josh deserved a thank you after putting up with you the last several days.
Especially after you’d just rocked his motherfucking world . . . and he’d been so cool about it.
God, you just loved him.
You, 10:17 p.m.: I’m so glad I have you. I mean it from the bottom of my heart that I wouldn’t make it through this pregnancy without you. And your love and amazing fucking support. I’d be lost without you.
And after you sent it, you began towel drying your hair, then brushed through any tangles the best you could. 
When you heard a ding! sound from the living room, you spent a few minutes thinking it was your imagination. But when you heard it a second time, you realized it was most likely not in your head, and that Jake was home. 
So, checking your appearance once more, you wrapped the towel as tight as you could around your body before shutting the light off and opening the door. 
You glanced up to see if he was in fact home, and the sight that met you had you stop in your tracks. 
Josh’s white phone case with the little triangle symbol he’d drawn on it one day at the B&G. 
In Jake’s hands. 
Jake’s face, looking at the screen of said phone, mouth open in shock.
And as soon as you closed the door to the bathroom, the smallest sound of it shutting, made his eyes slowly slide up from the phone to your face.
He held the phone up, showing you just what he’d seen. Fuck. 
“You’re pregnant?”
You took a careful step forward, the blood in your veins frazzled and vibrating. Deny deny deny. As long as you can, y/n. “What gives you the right to be in Josh’s phone? Your invasiveness really knows no fucking bounds these days,” you clipped, voice shaking in spite of yourself.
He blinked a couple of times, a smile forming on his mouth. A wide, sarcastic one, which turned into an astounded scoff. “Really? That’s what we’re going to focus on right no–?” He shook his head, clicking the phone shut before taking a few cautious steps towards you. “His face I.D.; it opens to me. I’m his fucking identical twin.”
“Prove it,” you challenged. 
“Was already planning on it,” he snipped. And right in your line of sight, he opened the phone, putting his face in front of it. Then, it was turned to show you. The same tantalizing screen as before. “Proven.”
“Well. . .,” you faltered, scrambling. “Why did you have it?”
“It was laying on the counter. I went to grab it and my keys,” he jingled the keys in his other hand. “I was going to take it to him,” he explained, sounding exasperated and patient all at once. An anomaly. “But when I picked it up, I looked down, and it opened.”
He took two steps back, once again, holding the phone up to show you the text screen. The gray bubble had never looked so horrifying as it did in that moment. The sweat accumulating on your forehead proved your entire skin care routine pointless. You were shaking. Your skin felt like it was going to fall off from the vibrations taking over underneath it.
“Now,” he started slowly. “Will you answer my question, please?” 
His voice broke on the last word and it triggered a single tear to trickle down your cheek. 
“Yes, I am.”
“Whose?”
“Really, Jake?” You questioned, the question making your heart break. How could he–? 
His eyes went soft momentarily, pleading with you. “I just need to hear you say it, y/n.”
“It’s yours, Jake. The baby is yours. Who the fuck else?”
-🌼🌼🌼-
a/n: this monstrous chapter was a fucking doozy and you already know i wanna talk about it!! come to my asks and we shall chat <333
oh, but i'm just wondering........ what do you think reader's safe place will be? ;) a place? a person? both? hmmm....
ty for being the best readers in the world and pleaseee never hesitate to send in your wonderful thoughts! love youuuu <3
& as usual, it wouldn’t let me tag some of y’all. :( so please check to see that you’re down there because if you’ve asked to be on the taglist, i tried to tag you. buuuut tumblr wouldn’t let me do it for everyone 🙃 ugh. and if i somehow forgot to tag someone, please also let me know that! (i'm a NOOB and i have terrible memory)
Taglist: @joshym, @gretavanfleetposts, @alyson814, @fretaganvleet, @lallisonl, @writingcold, @gvfpal, @twinszka, @jessicafg03, @reesetrippingthelight, @sacredjake, @laurenlovesgretavanfleet, @gretavangroove, @222headedcalf, @dreamssingold, @carbondancingthroughtime, @raviolilegs, @way-to-go-lad, @jakekiszkasmommy, @katgvf, @objectsinspvce, @jaketlover, @vanfleeter, @thetroublegetssoloud71, @seditabets, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlove, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend, @aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon, @gvfmarge, @creadliz98
(and, due to t*mblr’s shitass guidelines, i will be adding the other tags in a reblog of the story!)
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orbmanson7 · 7 months
Text
Will Logan Ever Be Happy?
An Extensive Analysis of Logan Sanders' Spotify Playlist and Predictions for the Future of His Character Arc
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Logan's Playlist on Spotify
Logan's Playlist on YouTube Music
A few quick notes before we delve in…
This is an extensive analysis in the sense that it's currently around 16,930 words long. Please feel free to read it at your own leisure.
The description of Logan's Playlist on Spotify explicitly states to listen to these songs in order of their listing. This indicates a progression of sorts – of feelings, events, and the plot of the story being told here. It is important that we listen in order, and it seems like Logan would prefer us to listen this way to best understand what it is he is trying to convey.
The repeated themes found throughout many of these songs include: isolation, depression, regret, nostalgia, perfectionism, miscommunication, being the odd one out of a group, recognition of flaws, loss of control, being disliked, a love and familiarity for learning, and finding solutions to problems.
It should also be noted that a handful of these songs are told in second-person perspective, using “you” to indicate a main subject, as though the story is being told by the speaker about someone else’s actions to that someone else, rather than explaining anything outright about themself or how they feel about it. By doing this, the speaker is instead choosing to focus on others and only allowing the listener to sense and interpret how the speaker was affected by what the other party in the song had said or done. This by itself can easily indicate Logan’s insistence to let others take that stage, even when it’s his turn to tell his story, or to show off the faults of others in lieu of focusing on his own failings.
It may be important to remember that as we continue.
The Elements by Tom Lehrer is a simple starter song, as we know. Logan began as a friendly teacher character, someone to help guide Thomas through learning and encouraging curiosity and wonder within him. He helped Thomas to find solutions to problems with the most useful answers, and implored him to keep trying, keep researching, until he truly understood a topic. This was something good, something commendable.
In particular, this song involves a listing of the complete periodic table of elements, something that Logan, as Thomas’ Logic, likely would have to have known very well, considering the focus of Thomas’ major in college. This would have been information Logan used frequently in Thomas’ studies and schoolwork prior to the events of the series, which helps to signify this early interpretation of Logan’s character.
This is the early beginnings. It’s a solid starting point, telling us what we need to know about Thomas’ perception of who he believes Logan is meant to be.
Immediately after, we have White and Nerdy by Weird Al Yankovic, which, similar to the first song, is meant to give us a sense of Logan’s character. Thomas sees him as a helpful teacher, but he also sees him as a very nerdy, reserved, uptight, and pretentious kind of person who likes learning trivia and reading mystery novels and watching sci-fi shows and doing puzzles and making wordplay jokes. This fleshes Logan out more as a character, not just showing us who Thomas sees but giving us more perspective on what to expect from him.
[lyrics:
I wanna roll with the gangsters
But so far, they all think I’m too white and nerdy]
Early on in the series, the sides only appeared momentarily to help offer suggestions and advice to Thomas relevant to what he needed. There seemed to be less cohesion with the group, mainly due to a lack of narrative at the time, but the sides still appeared to work together so long as each stayed in their respective areas of expertise. Despite that, lyrics in this song seem to imply Logan had already seen himself as an outlier to the rest of Thomas’ sides. He recognized that this came at fault of the interpretation of his character, the personality he displayed, his mannerisms, even his interests.
From the very start, Logan was being viewed as something different and distinct in comparison to the other sides.
These first two songs are meant to be reminiscent of not only our first impressions of Logan’s character, but also of Thomas’ overall impression of him early on in the series.
Within the first few episodes, this is how Logan was interpreted and seen, as a nerdy but supportive teacher-like character. Based on Thomas’ vine character of the same attire, Logan was originally meant to be respected but relatable, someone who could understand the kids he was teaching, but was also full of incredibly useful knowledge and knew exactly how to convey that information in a way that would encourage and enlighten those around him.
As one of Thomas’ sides, however, he was minimized to only being Thomas’ Logic, someone who still had an incredible wealth of knowledge and used it to teach and guide Thomas specifically, but he was also someone who was meant to be more stereotypically “nerdy” by Thomas’ standards. He was still able to act as an instructor to Thomas and to the audience watching, but his status of authority was diminished, because now he was no longer a teacher, he was merely another part of Thomas.
This is where Algorhthym by Childish Gambino comes into play. This song indicates a recognition of the world and how it functions, but also a fear to do anything about it, to step out of line. This lends to Logan’s perfectionism, yes, but it also shows that Logan is highly aware of his position as Thomas’ Logic, and what is expected of him. He knows very well that he does not perfectly fit the mold that Thomas has made for him to fill.
Early in the song, there are mentions of misunderstanding directions and testing the waters in objectionable ways.
[lyrics:
Made us the guinea pig and did it with no permission
Told her to call a friend, didn’t tell her to listen
So very scary, so binary, zero or one
Like code is like coal mine canary]
Being put in a position without a choice in the matter, Logan is very aware that he has a big role to fulfill. He’s being depended on to do his job right. But there has, at no point, been any guidance for him to follow. It’s not as though there’s a training manual out there on how to be Thomas Sanders’ Logic, which means Logan can only attempt to figure it out as he goes along.
Now, this is no different from the other sides, as they all lack any kind of instruction on how to do their jobs, either. They all just have to make mistakes and learn from them to improve and get better with time. And, typically, this should be a good thing, but in Logan’s particular case, his job requires him to be relied upon as the one with the answers and solutions, so if he’s seen as someone who makes mistakes, that ruins his ability to be trusted to give those answers in the first place.
Making mistakes would contradict his purpose as Thomas’ Logic, but if he didn’t make mistakes, he couldn’t learn from them and get better like the rest of them. However, it’s inevitable that he will make mistakes because he has no idea how to do this job because he didn’t have any training involved before he started. But if he makes mistakes, he could lose that job, or the job itself could become misconstrued or defunct due to his failures. It’s an unpleasant and repeated cycle with no clear end.
Logan aims for perfection, knowing the risk of failure is so high and comes with such consequence, but he still has hope that something might work out. He also doesn’t seem to have much of a choice otherwise.
But he's already beginning to loop back around in circles over this, even so early on into the series, and this leads him to questioning why the world works this way. Just why does it contradict itself so much?
[lyrics:
I dream in color, not black and white]
He already realizes that he is seeing everything in a different way than Thomas and the other sides do. The world is so much bigger than the arbitrary parameters that are being set for it. Understanding and learning may need rigid guidelines to teach a beginner, to not overwhelm them, but once you know the basics, you can take those training wheels off and start exploring just about anywhere. If you want to try more adventurous feats, you’ll need better gear, more specified knowledge, but it’s not as though you are barred from entry. There is always more to learn, you simply have to go looking for it.
But the world somehow seems to think that’s not the case. Many believe that you either know something or you don’t, or that things can only be either one way or another, with no nuance involved. Instead of understanding all the shades of gray and color in between every moment, every idea, that there’s fluidity and the ability to shift and change at almost every turn, they choose to rely on what they’ve already learned and refuse to challenge it, even when the opportunity arises to do so. The world has so much more to offer than the black-and-white to which people often cling.
There’s so much space in between every atom, infinite amounts of empty air, that which we can barely comprehend, yet we see an object, a person, or any full form as completely solid, contradicting what we expect. We may say a penguin cannot fly, and yet you could put one as a passenger on an airplane and that could be considered flying. It has just done what was thought impossible. It is all about our perspective and the rules we set in place for our world that limits what we believe we know and understand, but that doesn’t mean that’s how the world actually works.
Unfortunately, changing someone’s mind can be very difficult, especially when you’re the one who contributed to them learning those basics to help them conceptualize the topic in the first place. It can be very hard to teach someone that knowledge is genuinely limitless, especially when they have found less use for it as time goes on and no longer have a desire to keep learning.
The song then indicates that the way a human behaves doesn’t always make logical sense, but that they value their life and experiences.
[lyrics:
Humans don’t understand, humans will sell a lie
Humans gotta survive, we know we gon’ die
Nothing can live forever, you know we gon’ try
Life, is it really worth it? The algorhythm is perfect, mmh]
Logan can comprehend this notion, even if he doesn’t quite understand and see the world in the same way as Thomas does; even if he believes some of his actions are illogical, he knows Thomas’ ability to live his life to the fullest is something memorable. He can recognize its importance overall, even if he doesn’t fully agree with how it’s done.
Logan likely comes to realize by this point, even so early on, that compromise is the best option here, just as we saw in the episode The Mind vs The Heart. Even if he doesn’t see things in the same way as others, he can still meet someone halfway, and hope that they can meet him halfway in return.
However, nothing is ever that easy, it seems. Just because he’s willing to step back and take another’s perspective into account does not mean others will do the same for him.
This more or less encapsulates the rest of the song from his perspective. He learns to stop challenging that which doesn’t want to be challenged, attempts to follow what is expected of him, even if what is expected of him is a perfection that he is unsure can even be achieved. He has to compromise some of these details and nuances so that the world can still run on its bizarre rules, for Thomas’ sake, and this results in him having to step away from his goals to make way for the others’ instead, or even to be pushed away when his insistence to the contrary isn’t appreciated, like we saw in the episode Moving On Pt 1: Exploring Nostalgia.
He learned fairly well that day that sometimes emotions took priority over intelligence, and even if Logan didn’t fully comprehend the purpose they served in solving that dilemma, he was attempting to find a proper answer that would be of benefit to Thomas regardless. But what he learned instead was that his efforts were unwanted simply because he was viewing the situation from a very different perspective than the others were.
As such, he began to learn not to question these parameters that the world operates upon. He needs to do what he can Within those parameters to ensure Thomas’ survival and simply hope that he’ll thrive with knowledge (and Logan) as his guide.
And that is exactly why the next song is Fitter Happier by Radiohead. The whole song is a monotonous text-to-speech vocalization of varying guidelines one may expect for someone to appear as and/or be human. As the list goes on, the more inhuman the stipulations become, betraying the real purpose behind the list, that this is someone attempting to appear perfectly human while misunderstanding what that means entirely.
Again, Logan was never given a guide on how to do his job, so he had to just make it up as he went along and attempt to do it perfectly without any help or reassurance. From Logan’s perspective, he knows his goal is to make sure Thomas survives to live his happy life, but his expertise in helping Thomas achieve this relies on knowledge and facts, not emotions or empathy. This results in Logan’s attempts coming off as unempathetic, cold, and strict, not to mention completely missing the point of living.
But because he is doing this solo, and because he has awareness of the consequences of failure, he is aiming for perfection and doing his best with what resources he does have – which happens to be his own intelligence and what he can learn through research. Unfortunately, when it comes to life and living, Logan’s limited only to the facts, and his primary focus is Thomas’ survival, nothing more.
[lyrics:
Not drinking too much
Regular exercise at the gym, three days a week
Getting on better with your associate employee contemporaries
At ease
Eating well, no more microwave dinners and saturated fats
A patient, better driver]
This is why some of the lyrics list guidelines such as “regular exercise at the gym” or “eating well, no more microwave dinners and saturated fats.” These are the types of recommendations you would hear from a doctor or nutritionist, examples of efforts that may result in longer life. If someone only cared about extending their life or living healthily, these would be excellent suggestions. But when they are devoid of any emotion, removed from relationships with family and friends, absent of aspirations and goals for someone to enjoy said life, the suggestions instead become robotic and inhuman. Yes, you can live longer by following these steps, but you may not enjoy the extra time you are given to do so if you only follow these suggestions and nothing more.
This is something that was discussed during the Why Do We Get Out of Bed in the Morning? episode, where Logan asserts that creating a balance of daily tasks to maintain his wellbeing will allow Thomas to live a long life. Roman argues that if Thomas spends all his time taking care of himself, it doesn’t give him enough time to pursue his dreams and he insists that he must instead take risks and give priority to his aspirations. In the end, Thomas found his motivation in a balance of both of these recommendations, that he should maintain his health while also taking the chance to achieve his goals.
While a human genuinely needs that balance, to have both sides of this argument included to find true motivation to keep going, these individual sides within Thomas are always likely to see their own mindset and opinion on the matter as the priority, as the “right” way to do things. This is exemplified by Patton’s addition during the end credits scene, where he offers his opinion on the topic about having the opportunity to add positivity to the world. His belief is only an addition to the discussion and wouldn’t detract from Logan and Roman’s suggestions, but it shows that each of Thomas’ sides have their own views on what the real answer is meant to be and that they do not agree on this notion, even if they do see eye-to-eye at times or are willing to work together for Thomas’ sake.
This song is likely meant to remind us of that episode specifically, and what Logan’s opinions on the matter were at that time, indicating his goal is for Thomas to maintain a balanced and healthy lifestyle so that he has the ability to survive and live a long life. It shows us that without the others, there is a lack of balance, but it also shows that Logan is striving for perfection, with special regard to Thomas’ needs, not necessarily his wants or desires. After all, that’s Roman’s department, right?
And this is a big factor in why the sides don’t often get along with each other. They each have their own idea of what is actually best for Thomas, and when it comes to Logan, he has an easier time arguing his points because he has all the data to back him up. This doesn’t keep the others from fighting against him, nor does it keep Thomas from taking the others’ side anyway on many occasions, but it’s still something he can rely on when everyone else is against him.
But even if he cares about Thomas’ survival most, is what he’s proposing truly the “right” way to go about it?
If he learned anything from Why Do We Get Out of Bed in the Morning?, the ending of this song may indicate he recognizes that Thomas may well live a long life with his suggestions, but would not necessarily be happy in that life, so perhaps perfection isn’t the right goal to have in mind.
Happiness, however, can be very subjective. For instance, happiness to Logan would likely involve the satisfaction of a job well done, or the opportunity to learn something new, so what would life for Thomas be if he couldn’t have that?
This is what leads us into the next song, Medicine by STRFKR, which continues the thoughts on perfectionism and the problems that arise from it. Perhaps due to the events associated with the last song, Logan has come to realize that the goal of being perfect is either truly unattainable or, as this song seems to suggest, prevents the desire to continue learning once reached. Logan, of course, would not want Thomas to have peaked when it comes to obtaining knowledge, as there will always be something you don’t know, there will always be something new to learn. If perfection removes a desire to know more, he wouldn’t be able to encourage Thomas to learn anything new, even something for his survival. As such, his goal of perfection is flawed.
However, this now completely conflicts with his earlier notions about his own aspirations of perfection, as he must be knowledgeable and helpful for Thomas, to provide him with what he needs without flaw, without failure. He must be perfect, but perfection is not possible. He must be perfect, but perfection begets disinterest and prevents further learning. So, perfection should not be his goal because it will be of overall detriment to Thomas.
His new goal needs to be something else, but he must still maintain something as close to perfection as possible, because Thomas’ perception of him cannot be altered. Thomas will still expect perfection of him, but he can never truly attain it because it’s both impossible and would ultimately remove his purpose to Thomas as Logic. Such a feat is even more difficult to achieve than perfection, so he’s very much stuck at this point and will need to figure out a new solution to this complicated problem.
[lyrics:
Sorry
So helpless
So help you
Any way you like]
When in doubt, Logan knows he can turn to one thing: Thomas’ preference on the matter. If Logan can’t decide on the best course of action, he will instead choose whatever it is that Thomas wants, as that is how he may obtain his happiness even when working with a less-than-perfect Logic.
After all, if perfection was not the true goal, then perhaps it was meant to be whatever Thomas wanted instead. Logan didn’t need to reach perfection, he just needed to reach Thomas’ expectations. The goalpost had moved, but it was still in sight, and now he’d just have to create a new strategy in order to find success, meaning it was time for some experimentation to his approach.
[lyrics:
(spoken behind music)
The following of them does not depend on believing in anything, in obeying anything, or on doing any specific rituals
Although rituals are included for certain purposes because it is a purely experimental approach to life]
Between the events of Why Do We Get Out of Bed in the Morning? and Learning New Things About Ourselves was a fun little promo episode known as Crofter's: The Musical, and while it may not seem all that relevant in the grand scheme of things, it’s important to remember the focus of the episode relied on Logan’s extraordinary adoration of Crofter's jam.
Given his love for the product, he was ecstatic at his opportunity to be recognized through that which he admired – by being featured on a specialized version of the product itself. It’s a high honor, it’s respectable, it’s cherished. This is a great moment for Logan, seeing a lot of his efforts come to fruition in an interesting and unique way.
However, it is soured by Roman’s bruised ego, as he prefers his spotlight and sees this one moment as Logan being viewed more favorably than him overall, and then it is further ruined by the mention of Logan’s wordplay and puns throughout the episode as him acting unusual, notably unserious. Logan becomes rather concerned during the end credits scene as the others point this out about him, and he realizes that he needs to maintain the status quo after all.
His experimentation in finding a balance, of what was acceptable and what was not, resulted in him understanding that he could not engage in sillier interests publicly so as not to alter the others’ perception of him and his purpose to Thomas or tarnish his reputation as a practical, reliable, knowledgeable side. He must continue to keep emotions removed from his position as Logic, even with perfection off the table as a motivating factor.
Now, before we move on to the next song, I want to re-establish whereabout in the timeline of the series we are by this point.
We had the early origins near the start with The Elements song and White and Nerdy, which likely took place somewhere within the first couple episodes that featured Logan. We dipped into Algorhythm, which likely took place around the time the actual plot and deeper characterization began appearing in the show, somewhere between The Mind vs The Heart and Moving On Pt 1 & 2. Then, Fitter Happier seems to strike some similar chords as the episode Why Do We Get Out of Bed in the Morning? from Logan’s perspective alone, meaning we’re fairly far into the series already. Medicine is somewhere around Crofters: The Musical, which means we are about to get to Learning New Things About Ourselves.
That was an episode that definitely served as a big turning point for Logan and how he readdressed his role as Thomas’ Logic and perceived how he was meant to fulfill his position.
This is also the point in the playlist where things seem to take a much darker and negative turn.
For now, we move on to the next song, which is The Watchtower by The Dø.
Now, @intrulogical has a great analysis of the meaning that may be associated with this song from Logan’s perspective, that Logan may overthink and prefer to hide away from others out of shame when he doesn’t perform adequately, that he recognizes his mistakes and has, on multiple occasions, offered to leave the discussion in order to benefit the others and Thomas. He has taken to suggesting his removal from the situation when he doesn’t seem to have the solution they need or when he has become emotional in times where he shouldn’t be, meaning that he has come to realize it may be a better option for him to leave, rather than stay and potentially make the situation worse.
We already know that he has come to understand perfection is not possible but must still maintain something akin to it, feeling shame when mistakes are inevitable. We know he experimented with his approach to no avail, where he learned he must remain emotionless and cold to be successful. The amount of stress from trying to meet expectations, maintain restrictions, and adapt himself for the others’ benefit is beginning to take its toll on him.
The Watchtower is a song that seems to suggest Logan’s methods are what make him a true outlier among the group, but the lyrics literally start out with “I’m breaking, I need another start” which would mean this is a reaction to his stressful situation, not an action Logan chose in advance.
But he is still prepared when reacting like this. He has weighed the options; he has taken past experiences into account. He has more knowledge now on how to be Thomas’ Logic in a way that fits Thomas’ expectations, and he is no longer blindly attempting to do his best without failure and is instead using what failures he’s already had to recontextualize his understanding and guide his next actions.
But he still needs to appear as flawless as he possibly can, for Thomas and the others, so that he still embodies his role as Logic, so that he can still be relied on and trusted to do his job. While he recognizes perfection is not possible, he will still get as close to it as he can.
While stress may be a factor, this may explain some of the true motivation behind his desire to hide away in these moments, or at least his belief that it would be easier to solve these dilemmas from farther away.
[lyrics:
From the watchtower
Where we can see things coming
Good or bad, at least we see things coming
From the watchtower
Where we can read the future
Whatever it says, at least we know what’s up]
Within these lyrics, we can see that this is a very divorced perspective to have, as though Logan prefers to solve issues from a distance, removed from the situation itself and able only to view it, not directly interact with the parties involved.
Using his influence on Thomas to solve the issue without being present in Moving On Pt 2 after he abruptly left in Moving On Pt 1, Logan has shown that he can be successful when he isn’t there to be talked over and insulted, be overwhelmed by everyone’s emotions and concerns, or have his own uncontrolled emotional outbursts. He can stay unbiased, practical, and clear-headed from a distance and achieve the best results.
This explains why he attempted to leave after his outburst in the episode Learning New Things About Ourselves, because he had seen prior success in doing so.
However, it’s clear that there are some consequences to this approach.
[lyrics:
I don’t mind
if I’m impopular
I’m thinking
And no one in particular]
Another repeated notion throughout the series that Logan is now well aware of is that he is not very well liked. While this seems to stem from a combination of the expectations put on him and his stricter handling of the others’ more outlandish ideas, at this point, and the lyrics suggest he tries to make it seem as though it doesn’t bother him. But we know otherwise, because Logan does continue to attempt to garner favor from Thomas, the other sides, and the audience. It’s why he picked up the slang word flashcards, and it’s partly why he tries to use more relatable metaphors and analogies to explain complicated subjects. He does want to be liked, respected, and Heard, even if he claims otherwise.
His attempts to remove himself from the group to benefit Thomas and perform his duties from afar only seem to add to this dislike that’s been building for him. His absence prevents him from building and maintaining any relationship with the other sides (not that he was making much progress with that around that time in the series regardless). When he has his outburst in Learning New Things About Ourselves and tries to then leave the discussion entirely, he is quickly stopped by Patton who insists he stay instead. He would have preferred to leave, knowing he was more beneficial to Thomas if he was unemotional. Unfortunately, because he stays, he is unable to resolve the issue for Thomas like he had before, and instead spent the rest of the episode uncomfortable and unable to relate to the emotional concepts that were applied.
He comes away from that situation recognizing his own misunderstanding of the others’ actions in their attempts to help Thomas, but there is no solution found, only a slight improvement to Thomas’ mood about the discussion on the whole. And on Logan’s part, he was also left without a solution, resulting in him adding this as another failure to his list and believing that he will need to do more to better accommodate the other sides and Thomas’ emotions in order to achieve the best results.
[lyrics:
I’m breaking
I need another start
Far away from the city lights]
This follows the lyrics at the end of the song, repeating exactly how it started. Nothing was resolved here; Logan only sees his mistake and feels ashamed for it. He still wants to solve Thomas’ issues from a distance, but now he’s more aware of the emotional stakes that he hadn’t been implementing in his solutions before this point.
He has decided that he’ll do better, but he isn’t sure how to do that exactly, and he’s still hurting, but that’s left unacknowledged.
And Logan only comes to realize that the others are pulling away after this, as we see in Selfishness vs Selflessness, where he wasn't included in the courtroom scenario and pushed to the back and out of the way after the one moment where he could be helpful.
Logan can see that this is what Thomas and the others want for him, to stay out of their way, because he apparently can't understand them in the way they prefer. Never mind the fact that the inverse is true, too.
And that leads us to the next song, The Breach by clipping.. At a minimum, this song is very concerning, but also a helpful indicator as to what seems to be happening and possibly even why.
[lyrics:
Generally operating normally
A small anomaly has become evident
And probably should be noted]
In simple terms, something has changed, and likely not for the better. Something is different.
If we’re aware of the timeline of the story, this is sometime after the episode Learning New Things About Ourselves, which means it's likely about Remus’ arrival in Dealing with Intrusive Thoughts and how it signifies Thomas’ declining mental health.
Something specific that should be mentioned about this song first is its lyrics. They are read as a computer observing a situation, assessing the variables, and stating plainly the solution to be enacted by others. This is similar to what Logan was able to successfully do in Moving On Pt 2 and would have preferred to use as his approach in Learning New Things About Ourselves, which is to stay distant from the situation itself but address everything calmly and without emotional disruption.
However, the lyrics are also given in very quick succession, indicating a hastiness to the necessity of these instructions. This could mean that if the subject does not act swiftly, the results may not be optimal.
[lyrics:
First: the recommended course of action should be to
Administer a sedative to all the cargo via ventilation
The ship is fully capable of automating this
But requires an approval code from the administration]
As he learned in Learning New Things About Ourselves, Logan has to better accommodate the other sides’ emotions (as well as Thomas’) and their concerns on the matter in order to competently resolve the issue, so appearing and calmly explaining what needs to be done is the approach he chose. But that didn’t work out at first due to the same issues he’s been having this whole time, which is everyone’s reluctance to listen to him as well as their insistence on keeping him out of the group, especially while they are all so emotional themselves in that moment.
In order for this to work, he would need to convince Thomas and the others to trust him and to listen to what he had to say. In reality, Logan can only give them the advice they need here, he can’t actually fix it for them, hence the lyric, “but requires an approval code from the administration.” They can’t logic their way out of this but using logic can guide them away from the overly emotional response and provide the instructions needed to find that solution.
Logan applies the instructions from the song – administer a sedative? Calm the others back down. The importance of alacrity? Speak with confidence, stay positive. Send security immediately? Logan took charge of the situation at hand because no one else was handling it.
Logan keeps himself level-headed, refuses to show any emotional response (not to Remus, not to Virgil, not to Patton), and displays his worth as Thomas’ Logic to the best of his ability. And it works fairly well, as he manages to calm the other sides and Thomas down while also warding Remus off and tiring him out. It took longer than he probably expected, but he accomplished what he had set out to do.
Despite the end of the song sounding like an electric-powered warzone, the episode Dealing with Intrusive Thoughts had ended on a positive note for Logan, as he was praised by Thomas for being cool, with how he handled the situation so smoothly and didn’t let anything affect him. This marked a success for Logan, and he now knows that addressing situations with swift action, getting right to the point while also allowing for the other parties to vent their feelings on the matter, and staying composed and unemotional himself while addressing the problem was the best course of action, at least while Thomas was in this type of mindset and far more stressed than he had been in the past.
Perhaps he really has finally figured out how to be a proper Logic for Thomas after all.
Unfortunately, whatever elation he had in that episode doesn’t last long, as our next song, Letter C by Zach Sherwin, is all about being embarrassed by others and reflecting back on the situation later to think of something cleverer that could have been said in response.
As this is something he has dealt with a handful of times in the series as a whole, Logan wishing he could have thought up a better comeback to the others’ insults in the moment is not unheard of, and it could easily be inferred that he’s done this type of reflection on his own many times.
[lyrics:
And now it’ll linger forever but I’ve been stewin’ over
What I’d say to him if I could do it over]
The song lyrics mention how this situation lingers, that it’s something Logan thinks about repeatedly, even though we know there have been multiple moments like this. He remembers it for a long time, he thinks back on each one, wishing he could have done something more when he had the chance.
This is a moment more steeped in pride than obligation to his duty as Logic, however. While his desire to be viewed as clever and informed comes from the expectations of him as Thomas’ Logic, his desire to be respected as Better than the other sides in this particular way does not.
As was told in Learning New Things About Ourselves, it seems Logan habitually criticizes the others and becomes more standoffish in response to stress and a lack of order, as though the lack of control in a situation supercedes his judgement on how to behave among the other sides. In attempt to regain that control, he tries to place himself and his importance in the matter above others, which only causes additional problems.
In reality, all the sides should be balancing each other out, but the system currently in place is not balanced at all, and we often see sides like Logan further down the ranks than others on a regular basis. This can explain his desire to level it back out or rise even higher, to prove that he should be listened to and respected, and he could easily convince himself that his reason for this desire stems from his necessity to Thomas as opposed to any correlated feelings of shame or pride.
Thomas needs his logical side, someone to act as his voice of reason when the others are too emotional and rowdy, someone to provide unbiased facts instead of the others’ leaning opinions, someone that he can trust to always be in his corner and do what’s best for him every time. While the others turn Thomas’ gaze to the future or the past, Logan does everything he can to keep him steady in the present, so long as Thomas actually listens.
Logan had spent a lot of time to change and be better for Thomas, to meet and exceed his expectations. He adapted his thoughts, his methods, his temperament, all to best accommodate Thomas and his needs. So, it makes a lot of sense that he’d have a lot left unsaid after everything he has tolerated throughout the series. He wishes he could have the respect he believes he’s owed instead of continuing to endure insults left and right, but for now, he can only make up such scenarios where he comes out on top in his mind.
A moment of respite comes with what's next on the playlist, Galaxy Song from Monty Python (as sung by Stephen Hawking), which has a delightful message of enjoying the wonder found in our universe. There’s already so much to learn on our planet, but there’s endlessly more available to us out in the rest of the ever-expanding universe.
The song jabs at the inevitable stupidity of some people but chooses not to complain or find a way to be better than them. Instead, one should choose to refocus on something positive, to distract themself rather than to dwell on it. It’s better to think about something you enjoy rather than something you hate, right? And this makes it seem as though it’s a response to the last song in this way, that Logan has dealt with another insult or stressful situation and was unable to respond in the way he preferred, so now he’s choosing to ignore it and think about something fascinating to pass his time in a healthier and nonjudgmental way. Ignoring the situation is no better than stewing over it, but at least this way he gets to think about something he appreciates.
Neither of these songs seem to have a particular place in the overall storyline from the series, by the way. They seem to embody multiple similar occurrences over the course of the show, indicating that this has happened before, continues to happen, and will likely keep happening in the future. However, it’s not a great situation to repeatedly have to handle, especially if Logan is still as stressed as we know he is, and if he simply keeps permitting it to happen without speaking up properly about why it bothers him, then it will never change.
The next song, Streaks, is itself a very interesting song that embodies a lot of nostalgia, both good and bad, that Logan holds about his past with Thomas – teaching him, helping him study, guiding his path through school and college. Sadly, we know that Thomas proceeded to let his Chemical Engineering degree collect dust so he could instead pursue an acting career and become a successful Youtuber as an adult. To Logan, these more creative interests overtook his studies and Thomas’ potential for a stable and well-earning career.
[lyrics:
All these years of filling out papers
Building a future
Keeping your head down
Tryin’ to keep a head on your shoulders
Keep it creative
Make it your own somehow]
From these lyrics, we can see the inclusion of creativity as a secondary to getting the work done, showing something that was discussed in Why Do We Get Out of Bed in the Morning? as Logan proposed that Thomas maintaining a healthy lifestyle and doing his work tasks needed to take priority over creative pursuits and aspirations. This could imply that, during Thomas’ school years, Logan may have had a lot more say in what Thomas should do to be successful in his classes and to get into college, and that he didn’t turn away Thomas’ interest in creativity but preferred it to not take priority over his schoolwork.
But, as we know, what may have started as a creative outlet soon grew into a genuine interest and then a full acting career that negated the entire point of all of Logan’s hard work. If Thomas had wanted to be an actor or a Youtuber all along, why did Logan put so much effort into getting Thomas to study, to do his work, to get into college, to earn his degree? He couldn’t even be proud of such an accomplishment because it served no purpose to Thomas as an adult. It didn’t signify anything except wasted effort on Logan’s part.
[lyrics:
Throw ‘em in the water
Let ‘em sink or float
Give ‘em what they need to move on
Then you let them go]
This sounds like something you’d hear from a parent watching their child grow up and move onto adulthood and pursue their own life away from the family home.
Logan had done his part, he taught and guided Thomas in everything he needed to know in order to achieve success. And when it came time for Thomas to follow through, he proceeded to veer off to a completely different path and Logan could do nothing but watch it happen. Thankfully, though, Thomas Had found success, just not in a way that Logan had expected.
He hadn’t even prepared for this type of eventuality – it was unknown territory.
But Logan could adapt, he could make this work. He’d shown he was able to overcome past obstacles, and he found ways to implement research and education into Thomas’ creative career, giving him an opportunity to still learn something new. He just needed to stay relevant and keep Thomas’ interest and continue encouraging him to learn. However, that proved much harder to do when Thomas refused to listen to him.
Thomas had grown to require much less from Logan over time, having moved away from the days of tests and studying to bigger and better adventures. It left Logan with very little to do for Thomas but maybe to appear when he had no one else to turn to.
It was as though it wasn’t just Thomas’ degree that he’d placed up on a shelf to collect dust, but Logan, too. To stay tucked away, unused for years, only ever coming in handy for very specific situations and nothing but an embarrassment or eyesore in others. What use could he possibly have anymore? Why should Thomas be proud of him when he didn’t need him for anything?
Now, if you’ve noticed, these past few songs seem to lean more heavily toward emotions than the ones that came before them. Letter C was about embarrassment and feeling shame over his mistakes and how he’s been treated, trying to use his pride to combat it. The Galaxy Song was about relief and ignoring the situation to escape to wonder and curiosity as a coping mechanism. And now Streaks is about nostalgia, the wistful longing for what once was, and the painful memory of what came of that despite all his effort.
He’s embarrassed, he’s running away from the problem, he’s sad.
You see, Logan is trying to find a solution here by using something similar to what the other sides might try when they are the ones struggling. He’s copying their methods. Roman leans on his pride to sooth his ego and to make himself feel better, Virgil runs away and hides from his issues, and Patton delves into nostalgia and strengthens his sadness, feeling it deeply.
This implies that Logan doesn’t quite understand how to handle whatever it is that he is feeling, but he's paid close enough attention to what the others have done, even if he doesn't understand why or how it's meant to help. Now that he's searching for some sort of solution on his own, he experiments, tries something new based upon his research and facts, rather than asking for any kind of help.
Remember, he can’t tarnish his image as a near-flawless Logic that is supposed to already know everything, who they’re supposed to be able to rely on. So, he will have to solve this one on his own, too, by just trying things out until he eventually gets it right. That is what the experimental approach is for, after all.
But these emotional songs are only the beginning, and they’re about to take a stark turn.
Next is What I Do For U by Ra Ra Riot, which is a song absolutely steeped in frustration and anger. In so few lyrics, it says a lot of what Logan has been mulling over lately in the storyline. We know his frustration over everything has been building more and more.
[lyrics:
I want you to survive
Anything you need]
This song gets right to the point with its opening lyrics and even the chorus. It tells us that Logan’s efforts, all these recommendations to Thomas, all the schedules and planning, all this encouragement for him to eat healthy and take better care of himself, all his guidance and advice and helpfulness serve one purpose and one purpose alone – to help Thomas survive.
[lyrics:
What I do for you
I do for you]
Everything he does, he does for Thomas.
But does Thomas recognize that? It doesn’t seem so.
And this, of course, bothers Logan. It doesn’t just bother him, it angers him. Logan has put in so much of his time and energy over the years into doing everything perfectly for Thomas, with no help in doing so this entire time. Prioritizing Thomas’ wellness over everything, listening to the others even when he couldn’t understand their emotions, remaining level-headed and calm around their puns and insults and threats, hiding his interests and holding back his words so they wouldn’t think less of him. He has worked against obstacles and odds of which the others aren’t even aware. He has bent and molded and reshaped himself in so many ways to better accommodate everyone else, to match their expectations, to make them happy. He did it for them.
But what does he get in return? Mocked, disrespected, and ignored.
And, worst of all, Logan knows just how important he is to Thomas! Well, in function, at least. Thomas would not survive without Logic, and yet Logan seems to be the only one to recognize that fact. He can’t even be respected for his function, his purpose in keeping Thomas alive and well. It’s one thing if they didn't like Logan, but wasn’t the fact that he was needed for Thomas’ survival enough for them to tolerate him, at the very least?
[lyrics:
I’m your only hope
And I’m your savior too
Every single test
You’ve been ever carried through]
On top of that, and as we saw in the Working Through Intrusive Thoughts asides episode, Logan has been attempting to solve Thomas’ issues by himself, relying on his knowledge and experience with Thomas to determine the best approach in every situation without consulting the other sides at all. At some point in the series, Logan came to believe that he was the only one who actually cared about what Thomas needed, that he was somehow the only one actually keeping Thomas alive. He believes he is the only side who’s clear-headed enough to handle Thomas’ problems, the only one who can act as a voice of reason, the only one who offers practical and useful solutions.
This is, unfortunately for Logan, not actually true, but it makes sense why he would come to this conclusion, considering that every side disagrees on what they think is best for Thomas. The other sides tend to focus on their own self-interests and goals as guiding factors while Logan is the one who deals the most in absolutes and factual information. Something that Roman suggests can be complete fantasy, impossible to ever achieve. Something that Patton suggests can be unreasonable to follow through on or would only hurt Thomas in the long run. Something that Virgil suggests can be rooted in negativity and self-doubt, bringing Thomas’ mental health down as a result. Janus’ suggestions can be incredibly biased and not always socially acceptable. Remus’ suggestions…well. They can be both uncomfortable as well as impractical.
But Logan never gives impossible, impractical, or biased recommendations to Thomas. He uses research to find what would work best for the situation, then applies it to his knowledge and experience with Thomas to determine what would suit him most, and then suggests it outright, explaining in simple terms a way in which it can be implemented.
He does all the hard work for Thomas, so that all he’ll have to do is simply follow through. Each time, he does this with Thomas and his needs at the forefront of every offer.
Yes, he can go overboard a bit, just like all the other sides, but he thinks that just means he needs to be flexible and allow for some exceptions to balance things out, allow Thomas to be happy in his survival. After all, he has learned so much over the course of this series, hasn’t he?
He learned to compromise with those he disagreed with in The Mind vs The Heart. He learned that too much or too little of any side’s influence could bring detriment to Thomas in Accepting Anxiety Pt 1 & 2. He learned that emotions could override intelligence and present a major problem in Moving On Pt 1 & 2. He learned that finding some balance between his suggestions and the others’ was optimal in Why Do We Get Out of Bed in the Morning?. He learned that such balance could not be applied to himself as he had to maintain his role as an unemotional Logic and stay serious in Crofters: The Musical. He learned that he needed to expand his understanding of why Thomas preferred emotions over intelligence despite the need for both in Learning New Things About Ourselves. He learned that the other sides and Thomas could apparently solve their issues without his presence in Selfishness vs Selflessness. He learned that his method of taking action and solving the issue for them when they were too emotional to do it themselves was more efficient in Dealing with Intrusive Thoughts. He learned that, despite his willingness to help, the others much preferred to solve issues without him in Putting Others First. He learned that his method of efficiency in solving Thomas’ problems on his behalf was not particularly welcome and would not earn him the respect he desired in Working Through Intrusive Thoughts. He learned that despite continued efforts, the others still won’t listen to him or to each other in Have I Grown? – Five Years Later. He learned that, as the logical side, the others would always assume he was against them and their ideas in Can Plushies Improve Our Health?
He's learned…a lot. Overall, he has concluded that he is needed but not wanted, that he has the answers but not the perfect method to apply them, that he apparently should allow for emotions to guide the other sides and Thomas while keeping himself cut off from them entirely, and that he should be implementing logic only where it is most required or when specifically requested.
Logan has found what he believes should work best for Thomas, but has also realized that Thomas is refusing to listen. Thomas doesn’t want to do things that benefit him, he doesn’t want to do things that will make him feel better, and Logan certainly can’t force him to do them, either, even when he’s sure it will help. Are the suggestions the problem or is it because it’s Logan suggesting them that keeps him from doing it?
Logan is very determined to perform his function, to keep Thomas alive and well. He wants to empower him to overcome the mental health difficulties he’s been facing lately, and to allow him to take care of his needs, but Logan’s doing all of this by himself because he doesn’t believe anyone else is capable nor wants to do what has to be done.
The other sides prefer to only dabble in the fun parts, the emotional parts, and leave the complicated and messy stuff to Logan alone. And if Thomas refuses to listen just because it’s Logan telling him the answer, then it puts everything at a standstill, including Logan’s purpose for even being there.
It frustrates him. He feels like he’s been put in this unwinnable position, always made out to be the bad guy when all he does is care about Thomas’ survival and wellbeing.
[lyrics:
I couldn’t ever give up on you
But don’t thank me]
He, quite literally, could never stop doing his job as Thomas’ Logic. He could never stop doing his part, keeping everything afloat, making sure that Thomas can still function, even when Thomas’ mental health is fighting against him at every turn.
Throughout all of Working Through Intrusive Thoughts, we see Logan pause or postpone his plans so he can redirect Thomas and attempt to salvage his mental health, give him time to refocus. He knows it’s a priority right now. He has learned time and time again that emotions are more important than logic in this world, even if logic is the reason he knows and can implement ways to help Thomas to calm down and manage those emotions.
Logan knows by now that he can only help when he’s asked to or when he’s needed most, but after every obstacle and barrier he’s managed to push through, after being the only one who cares enough to do anything to help, he’s left tired and frustrated. He just wants Thomas to listen, for once, for his own benefit, so that he might understand what it is Logan hasn’t been able to say because he’s been pushed down and away for so long.
He shouts out “Stop ignoring me!” to Remus, but Remus knows it’s not really him that he wants to yell that at, and he’s right. Logan’s frustration is mostly with Thomas, and this song shows that very clearly.
He won’t give up on him because he physically can’t, but maybe he has stopped caring about why that is. Maybe he will just do his job, meet the bare minimum of expectations, and not care about the rest anymore.
When Thomas asks him “What’s next?” in the Have I Grown? anniversary video, Logan simply responds, “You tell me.”
He knows his opinion doesn’t matter. He knows no one listens to what he has to say. His suggestions are ignored, his advice is unwanted. Why should he bother giving a damn any longer if Thomas and the other sides clearly don’t give a damn about him?
And that’s where we get to the next song, Erase Me by Ben Folds Five.
This is a very pivotal moment, and it’s notable that it seems to be something that will happen in the near future of the series, because, as of the last song, we have already surpassed all currently released (and relevant) episodes of Sanders Sides in this timeline of the playlist. Erase Me will be related to whatever happens next in Logan’s arc, which also means everything from here on out is more of a prediction than an analysis.
[lyrics:
What was our home?
Paper, not stone
A lean-to, at most]
There’s a lot going on from the very start of this song. First, Logan’s perspective of the mindscape, the “family” of Thomas’ sides, and the system they’ve been using to keep Thomas going was clearly built on shaky foundation, paper-thin and ready to fall at a moment’s notice. Patton holding back negative emotions and then pushing Thomas to prioritize others over himself, Roman pushing himself too far and letting passion fuel Thomas’ every move in desperate attempts to look like the good guy, Virgil’s persistent presence alone despite his efforts to do better only to turn around and assume the worst of Thomas’ opinion of him, Janus’ meddling and his attempts to get Thomas to understand his issues without saying anything outright and only confusing him more and making him feel more guilty, and Remus being abrasive and outlandish to grab Thomas’ attention at every chance he has even if it comes at a detriment to Thomas’ health. It really was only a matter of time before things fell through.
Thomas struggling the way he has been was bound to happen because he wasn’t taking care of himself, he would only listen to some sides far more than others and wasn’t listening to his voice of reason much at all. This created an unfair and, at times, toxic environment for the sides to live and work in. All of them constantly trying to grab Thomas’ attention was what kept them from paying attention to Thomas and what he needed instead.
This became increasingly evident after Janus showed up in the narrative, and has been explicitly clear since Remus’ arrival, too. Thomas is not doing well mentally, and his sides are all stressed out which is making it worse. Logan can recognize all this from a detached, outside perspective despite also being just as affected. He’s been trying to keep things together for Thomas, working on his own to fulfill every role being left undone while the others are too upset to handle things as they typically could, but unfortunately, Logan’s finding it hard to care anymore.
[lyrics:
And when you pulled
Your half away
Gravity won
Like it always does
Did I weigh a ton?
Would it be easier
To just delete
Our pages and the plans we made?]
So, this song is sung in a very accusatory tone, poking at a specific person (mainly because it is originally a break-up song). The speaker is very upset and angry with the other party, and they are relaying their observations and asking why, asking if it was their fault this happened.
“And when you pulled your half away” implies that Logan was not the instigator of whatever preceded this incident, but as we saw with the last song, Logan holds some beliefs about Thomas and the other sides that are not fully true but are not exactly contested either. He could easily see their insistence in pushing him away, ignoring him, and refusing to listen even when Thomas is in desperate need of help as their act of pulling away from him, even if he is the one who has finally let go.
And while I don’t want to get too particular with my predictions, I do believe it’s very possible a last straw for Logan at this juncture may very well involve Thomas’ mental health and what he genuinely needs for survival.
If you’ll remember, Logan now believes he is only truly needed when it is absolutely necessary and there are no other options, or if he is specifically requested to help in some way, so if there is a situation that requires his attention, only for him to show up and be rejected yet again, he may just give up at that point.
And Logan thinks he is the only side genuinely looking out for Thomas, not just for his needs but his wants, as well. Thomas had specifically asked for his help in the Working Through Intrusive Thoughts episode, only for him to take on multiple roles to keep Thomas calm enough to handle himself. And Logan was the only one who bothered to ask Thomas what He wanted in the Can Plushies Improve Our Health? promo video, before even making his argument that everyone else assumed would be in opposition but turned out not to be.
Logan sees himself as that last remaining straw, really. If something is going to finally break him, it will be Thomas and the others. It will be their negligence, their refusal, their rejection of him that finally bends him too far, pushing him to a point where nothing can ever be the same again.
[lyrics:
So what will you do
With no me for you
I know what we said
What if I left
A thing or two?
We know that you don’t seem
To think about what you need
‘Til you reach to find that you’ve—
Erased me]
Like I said, Logan sees himself as the only one holding Thomas together. He believes that, without him, everything would fall apart and turn to chaos, and he’s probably right about most of that.
These lyrics are the speaker predicting what will occur, that the others won’t even notice his absence until they need him for something, and that’s when they’ll realize he’s already gone. This indicates a potential plan to leave, maybe not fully ducking out but certainly not sticking around either. Something that would keep Thomas’ logic functional for use while also allowing Logan a reprieve from him and the other sides, where he would only be used as one would a tool; tucked away in storage until the moment it is needed, then put right back afterward.
Leaving is the key here, though, and it’s something we’ve already seen result in detriment to Thomas back in Accepting Anxiety Pt 1 & 2, and yet, Logan has come to believe that this is a favorable option. Why? Is this to help him feel vindicated, to teach them a lesson?
It's not as though they want him around enough to stop him from leaving anyway.
You know, both the title and chorus of this song portray a very particular message, as “erase me” is not the speaker’s action, because he is not the one erasing himself. Rather, it is a suggestion to the other party so that they can finally be rid of the speaker. The lyrics are also taunting with these words, as if to say that this is what the other party has wanted all along anyway so they should just do it already.
Logan is asking, pleading, for Thomas to let him go because he obviously doesn’t even want him around. Logan doesn’t want to put up with this anymore, and as angry as he is at how he’s been treated, he knows he can’t just give up on Thomas, he’s literally a part of him. This has to be Thomas’ decision, Thomas’ action. Thomas has to be the one to push Logan away, the one to erase him.
Logan isn’t just angry at this point, he’s miserable. He knows he’s unwanted and barely needed, as he serves so little purpose to Thomas in his current career and doesn’t get along with any of the other sides despite everything he has tried to do to correct that. They’ve made it clear they don’t want him around, and they have already proven they can solve issues on their own without his help. He doesn’t need to be there, so why won’t Thomas just let him go?
[lyrics:
Erase me, and you’ll never have to face me
Erase me, Option-Command-Escape me
And if you feel nothing, guess what I wanna be?]
A fun little tidbit of knowledge here, but the Option-Command-Escape function on an Apple computer is its force-quit option, to completely cease a program from running. The program can’t do this itself; the user has to combine those three keys to make it happen. And when they do, the program will have closed and shut down completely. Often this is used when a program isn’t working the way it’s supposed to, when it fails to do its job. By doing this, you put it out of its misery.
Logan isn’t just asking to leave, to only benefit Thomas from afar or only as needed, he is essentially begging for death. He no longer wishes to function at all, because he believes he has no purpose to Thomas or the others. He is pleading for Thomas to let him go, find someone else who could do a better job as his Logic, someone who they’d actually enjoy having around.
For Logan to reach this low of a point, something truly devastating has to have happened to him. I cannot possibly predict what may truly set him off in this way, but given the most recent events in the series, he isn’t all that far from this point already. Likely, it will involve his worth and use to Thomas, and it won’t just be that he was forgotten or tossed aside like in SVS and SVS:R, but that Thomas or the others doing something that will clarify his uselessness out loud, where it can no longer be denied. There will be a divide that leaves him alone on the other end, finally and truly aware that he will never belong here.
Desperation that turns to anger to hide away its shame and misery, Logan won’t just duck out like Virgil had in Accepting Anxiety Pt 1. He would lash out, make sure Thomas and the others knew exactly why he wanted to leave, and begging that they be the ones to cut that connection for him. Maybe he will do something to push the issue, to give them a reason to do it. Perhaps the Orange side will emerge at this point, either to assist him in whatever he’s trying to do or to take over for him or something else entirely.
Regardless of what happens, Logan has now hit a very low point, and everyone knows it.
The next song is Art is Dead by Bo Burnham, which by itself can imply quite a few things.
As if simmering down from the initial blast of heat in the last song, there's still anger and annoyance here, but also a realization.
Something I want you to understand about this song before we relate it to Logan and why it’s included in this playlist is that the speaker is talking about a position, specifically an entertainer, and is saying that what they do is problematic. The speaker is complaining about another party, only to then turn around and include themself within that party. They are not just saying “entertainers are bad and here’s 50 reasons why.” They are saying “entertainers are attention-seekers, and so am I.”
So, when you then put this into perspective with Logan and the message he’s been trying to convey, he is pointing out flaws that he sees in what is likely Roman, as well as Thomas, but he’s also including himself as part of the problem. He recognizes that he, too, seeks attention – from Thomas, from the other sides, from the audience. And he doesn’t feel that it’s a good thing, he sees it as shameful because he knew why it was an issue, and yet he kept doing it anyway.
This seems like a moment of self-reflection, to see that he is not above the others at all, in fact he’s not that different from them when it comes down to what they all want, which is Thomas’ attention. Every single one of them is trying to be heard, but Thomas has only been listening to some of them. And most of them never feel that what they do get is enough, no matter how much it is.
This song shows that Logan knows he wants Thomas’ attention, but also that he doesn’t feel he’s done enough to deserve it. He believes he hasn’t even earned a right to complain like he has. He’s ashamed for how he’s acted because he thought he was supposed to be better than this. He doesn’t deserve the respect he thought he was owed; he doesn’t deserve anything.
With this song, he has somehow managed to dig even lower than his last low point, he’s just sorry for all the trouble he’s caused. Maybe his emotions got out of hand, maybe the Orange side caused problems but it was his fault because he let it happen – who knows? Even if he felt vindicated in the moment, it was clearly fleeting, and now, after the events of what happened, Logan only feels worse.
And then we get to Equation from The Little Prince next on the playlist, and we’re still in that zone of self-reflection, but it’s no longer about how Logan’s just like the others. No, now it’s all about his own flaws, his own failures, and everywhere that he’s fallen short.
Logan has now managed to dig even deeper than his lowest low, folks! It just gets worse and worse! Can you believe it?
[lyrics:
Will I ever know
How white is the snow
Does it matter after all?
Will I ever learn
How to fly like birds]
In this lowest point, Logan can only come up with questions that have been left unasked. Did he hurt Thomas? Did he ruin whatever he had with the other sides? Will he be forever trapped in this world Thomas created for them, with no way to truly explore the real world, to see its full wonder? Will he ever have a chance to do better, to be better, to hope again? Will he ever reach his true potential? Did he ever even have a true potential?
He had attempted and failed to find perfection for so long. He believed it was just a matter of trying, of wanting to meet Thomas’ expectations of him, that if he put his all into it, then he could see it through and be what exactly what Thomas wanted him to be, to be what everyone expected him to be, to be what Logan himself hoped to be.
Hours, days, weeks, years… In the end, it was never truly possible, and yet he had kept foolishly hoping for so long that he could be enough for Thomas. He had called the others’ ideas irrational, when, really, it was him all along with the impossible dreams.
[lyrics:
Are you good as gold?
Are you far from hope?
Are you well alone,
Dad?
Will I be a brave?
Will I be a bright?
Will I be a good grown-up?]
The future was never certain, but now Logan could never be sure of anything. What will become of him? What will become of Thomas? Is it even possible to recover from this, to start over, to get better?
We then move on to the next song, Sunrise from In The Heights. Logan is not doing well, but something he definitely needs more than anything right now is some sort of hope and motivation to keep trying and keep going.
Sunrise appears to be a song meant to involve either Roman or Patton communicating with Logan, but the purpose in its placement on this playlist seems to infer emotion as a motivation to learn, if you break the romantic intent away from the song itself, that is. Anything can motivate one to learn, even love, and Logan must be able to recognize this and understand that emotions and intelligence do not have to have a clear separation and can instead work in tandem. Learning isn’t just about curiosity or survival, it can have very emotional ties, as well.
For so long in the series, Logan has insisted he did not have emotions, even when this was clearly false. He believed that keeping himself removed from emotions would help him succeed in his job as Logic, that the others would be able to rely on him much more if they could trust his knowledge to be unbiased and unmotivated by unpredictable emotions. He assumed that divide between the two was necessary, and that if the two merged or collided, he would be unfit to do his job, that he would not be taken seriously.
However, doing this kept him from understanding and processing his own emotions as well as being unable to empathize with Thomas and the other sides. He only grew to misunderstand and mistrust emotions more and more as time went on, becoming startled and confused at his own outbursts, not aware of why he would feel a certain way or have a certain reaction to a situation, because he refused to let himself experience that emotion, to feel it. His lack of understanding directly resulted from his choice not to engage with emotions at all, despite their importance.
And finding that importance is where this song comes in, because the crucial point Logan had been missing all this time was that emotions can encourage one to learn, inspire one to research. Love can motivate someone to learn a new language, so they can communicate, as we hear in this song. But something like anger can motivate someone to research an important topic so they can fight for what they believe in with facts on their side. Sadness can inspire someone to look into advice and ways to help, not just for oneself but for others, too, employing empathy and logic side by side. Fear can motivate someone to find truth, to create familiarity with routines and schedules, to calm down cognitive distortions to maintain peace of mind.
Logic and emotions do not need to be separated; they can work together very well. In fact, most people use both in tandem every day.
For so long, Logan had set for himself a barrier he could not, would not cross. He knew there was nuance to the world but learned over time that he could not display his own. He resorted to that black-and-white thinking for the others' benefit and then to his own, finding that it was all-or-nothing when it came to Logic or Emotions. He believed one would merely taint the other, so they must be kept apart, even if that left only he alone on the other side, as the only logical side.
Despite the unfairness and discomfort, he didn’t want to challenge what he had come to think was right, what he’d been using as his basis for how he was supposed to act, which is why he refused to learn more about it, to never dare change the perception that he held.
He had given up, letting the world and its arbitrary rules dictate who he was and how he should be…but that was never meant to happen.
Once he realizes where his thoughts had steered him wrong, it will be like a whole new world of opportunities has suddenly opened up to him, giving him so much more to explore and learn. It will give him what he was missing this whole time. It will bridge the gaps he’d been unable to cross.
Logan does serve a purpose, and it's an incredibly important one, but it’s not something he was ever meant to do completely alone like he has been.
And that, of course, is where we get to the next song, One More Time with Feeling by Regina Spektor.
Firstly, this is a song about recovery, which is definitely where Logan would be by now in the story, processing what happened, and attempting to move forward and do better. As many know, recovery is not linear, and it’s certainly not perfect.
But given everything that has happened, it’s not all on Logan to improve himself on his own. Yes, he will need to allow himself to feel emotions so that he can understand them better, and he’ll need to learn ways to implement feelings alongside intelligence when working with the other sides to help Thomas, but the other sides need to do their part here, as well.
They have pushed him away, refused to listen to him for so long, often for petty reasons that blossomed into their eventual negligence. It won’t be easy to fix that level of miscommunication between Logan and the others. It’s not as simple as Logan finally speaking up, or the others promising to do better; it will require a lot of work from both ends before anyone can truly meet in the middle on this.
Logan had spent a lot of time before all this, trying to find ways to meet the others halfway, only to met with nothing in return. He gave up so much of himself, and now resents their choice to only take and never give anything back. Once the others finally reciprocate and show that they do genuinely care about him, only then will Logan have the chance to start this journey, to finally begin to get better.
The lyrics that we hear a few times in this song “this is why we fight” can have multiple connotations, such as an explanation of why the group miscommunicates and argues so much, why they don’t get along. But it can also mean that this is their motivation to keep trying, to fight for what they believe in.
I believe both of these meanings are present in Logan’s perspective of this song.
[lyrics:
Oh, everyone takes turns, now it’s yours to play the part
And they’re sitting all around you, holding copies of your chart
And the misery inside their eyes is synchronized and reflecting into yours]
Earlier on in the song, Logan believes that the others don’t understand his predicament, even if they want to help. They are still separate from him, even if they’ve all had their own issues to overcome, that doesn’t mean they actually comprehend what he’s going through, how it feels, what it means.
He experiences the world so differently from the rest of them. How could they ever possibly understand?
They are pushing him to do something he cannot do well – to open up, to reach out, to feel – and it’s only condescending and antagonistic how they keep insisting that he try again every time he fails.
“This is why we fight” during the chorus is his condemnation of their actions, that he doesn’t think the others can meet him at his level. He is not in a place yet where he can believe they’ll listen to what he’s actually saying, he can’t trust that they’ll bother to explain these unknown things to him in a way he can understand. And this is why they continue to fight, to argue, to not get along, because they aren’t properly communicating, they’re just making the same mistakes again and again.
[lyrics:
You thought by now you’d be so much better than you are
You thought by now they’d see that you had come so far
And the pride inside their eyes would synchronize into a love you’ve never known
So much more than you’ve been shown]
Logan thought he would be better, not just in regard to being the best he can be for Thomas, to succeed as his Logic, to know what to do, and to have the answers, but also in terms of his own recovery. It’s difficult, and some days are worse than others; he makes progress and then he doesn’t, and it’s shameful because he has such high expectations for himself.
He’s so used to aiming for perfection that when failure is consistent like this, it feels wrong to be told it’s actually okay, that it’s normal.
But he wants to prove that Thomas’ efforts and the efforts from the other sides have not gone to waste on him, that he is improving. And yet, he keeps failing anyway. He was supposed to be perfect; he was supposed to be reliable! But now look at him. Even with their help, he’s still messing things up.
He just wants to make them proud, he wants to earn that attention and respect that he couldn’t get before, even if he knows he still doesn’t deserve it. He wants to prove that maybe he can deserve it, though.
“This is why we fight�� during the next chorus is his agreement with the others, that this is the motivation to keep trying, to keep going. Someday, he can be better. Someday, he will be respected and trusted and relied upon in the ways that he wants. Someday, they’ll be proud of him.
Until then, the fight is worth it.
This leads directly into In My Mind by Amanda Palmer as the next song, as we see Logan has held very high expectations for himself, which is why failure had hurt so much. But now that things have changed, he may be beginning to challenge these expectations, to expand upon them and understand that he has a chance for something different now.
[lyrics:
Because I will be the picture of discipline
Never minding what state I’m in
And I will be someone I admire]
Part of the issue really did come down to lyrics like “never minding what state I’m in” because Logan never put himself as a priority. This entire time, even at his lowest point, Logan was never the one who was important, not even to himself.
He was okay with this because this was never about him, it was about what Thomas needed or wanted. His willingness to bend and remake himself to benefit the others was surely a sentiment shared by all of them, that this was just what was needed to accomplish his job.
It’s not until Logan finally realizes that this is not the case, that he needs to put himself in some priority, too, that he’ll ever begin to improve and truly get better, able to be himself or enjoy anything he does again.
A big part of recovery is not setting your motivation on someone or something else – you need to get better because you want to be better. You need to believe you deserve to be happy, to get the things you want. Logan can say he’s doing this to benefit Thomas, to build back a relationship with the other sides, to earn back his position and demand respect as Logic, but that will only fail until his motivation is simply that it’s something he wants to do, for him. When attached to others and their expectations, those strings only come with guilt and can end up making his situation worse.
Logan has to do this for himself.
[lyrics:
And it’s funny how I imagined
That I would be that person now
But it does not seem to have happened
Maybe I’ve just forgotten how to see
That I’m not exactly the person that I thought I’d be]
It starts with recognition, the realization that he hasn’t met those expectations he held for himself. There’s still judgement and he still feels guilty about it, wondering how he could have let it get to this point. Maybe he just wasn’t paying attention properly, maybe he should have remembered that he’d already decided long ago about perfection being unattainable and how that was supposed to apply to him, too.
[lyrics:
Not like me now
I’m so busy with everything
That I don’t look at anything
But I’m sure I’ll look when I am older]
He regrets having missed out on the present, not having the chance to experience the wonder of the world that he so admires due to all his efforts towards achieving perfection and doing his best to handle everything by himself. He was so busy trying to do everything so precisely and getting the result he wanted that he hadn’t given himself the opportunity to enjoy anything in all that time.
He could do activities if they were productive, if they served a purpose, but he was a hypocrite, always aware and sharing the wonder of the universe and all that exists within it, amazed by the here and now, yet spending all his time locked in, looking away from the present while trying so hard to maintain it.
How long did he spend, convincing himself that just as soon as he achieves what he set out to do, then he would have time to do that? How long would he have kept going if something hadn’t finally snapped and broken everything, forcing him to confront this?
Would he have missed out? Would he have been somehow worse?
[lyrics:
And it’s funny how I imagined that I could be that person now
But that’s not what I want, but that’s what I wanted
And I’d be giving up somehow, how strange to see
That I don’t wanna be the person that I want to be]
Finally, a breakthrough. While not quite acceptance, Logan is finally starting to see the difference, that he wants things in a different way now than he did before.
He kept trying to strive for perfection in his recovery, but didn’t he recall how badly that had gone last time? He knew perfection wasn’t attainable, but he believed that was the expectation Thomas and the others had for him. He kept trying to get to it, no matter what it cost him, and that’s how he wound up here in the first place.
And now, after everything, things have changed. Thomas is listening, at least more than before. The others do care, and try to make sure he knows it, too. Logan had wanted to get better, to make them proud, to prove that he deserved what they were offering to him, but… that wasn’t even the point of it all.
All this time, he’d thought he still needed to be perfect, that that was what he wanted, but now that he’s finally had a chance to look inside himself, to experience wonder and curiosity again, he has realized that what he really wanted was to be accepted.
He didn’t want to have to change himself so the others would listen, he just wished they would actually want to listen to him, to like him for who he is, to let him be himself without requiring him to change, to only be the best, only what was needed, only Logic.
He wanted to be more than Logic; he wanted to be Logan.
With that, he finally realizes that doesn’t have to focus on perfection for Thomas’ sake and survival. He can focus more on himself more instead, on what he actually wants from the world, what he wants to do, and what he wants to try. He can be what he wants to be – more than Thomas’ Logic.
Having finally realized what it’s all for and being given the time to explore that, we get to the next song, Not Perfect by Tim Minchin.
This is a song that attempts to use facts and knowledge to explain feelings and thoughts, bringing context to situations that Logan had struggled in doing before this point. Finally beginning to understand what it is that’s going on inside, what these feelings are and why they’re there, to have the words he needs to adequately describe it to someone else, it all must be so relieving.
There’s still uncertainty, sure, but it’s a lot less stressful now, knowing there’s a way to talk to the others, to actually communicate what he means. He may still be startled, caught unawares, but he doesn’t have to shove it down and away anymore. He knows how to pause and reflect, let himself experience it, and he knows how to control his own behavior in reaction to it.
It’s far from perfect, and there’s still a lot he’ll need to learn, but he does so enjoy learning, doesn’t he?
[lyrics:
This is my earth and it’s fine
It’s where I spend the vast majority of my time
It’s not perfect, but it’s mine
It’s not perfect…]
Another thing to note about this song is the ownership behind most of the lyrics. “This is my earth” and “it’s not perfect, but it’s mine.” That sense of belonging is something that Logan has always wanted, and to be able to not only express that, finally, but to feel that it is real, that he is no longer just an outside observer but a part of the world as a whole, must be incredible.
He’s finally found his place, and though it was here all along, he no longer feels trapped in a cage or left collecting dust on a shelf. He has his place, he knows he’s a part of something greater, and that he’ll be appreciated for who he is.
This song has a perfect matching bookend, by the way; it’s three songs from the end of the playlist whereas Algoryhthm was three from the start. Both of these songs involve one’s differing view of the world, recognizing not only how it works but their place within it. One deals with that negatively, the other more positively.
In Algorhythm, Logan still had wonder for the expanse of the world but found himself trapped by the parameters being set. It didn’t matter that he knew things didn’t have to run in this way, he had no power to change it. He was given no other choice but to give up and go with the flow. He could only change himself to match it, knowing he was an outsider who didn’t belong but had to make do with his circumstances.
In Not Perfect, however, he still has that differing view of the world, but instead of being the outlier, he’s now able to find comfort in knowing he has a place within this world. There are so many wonders everywhere, all around, in the biggest and smallest of things. Yes, he sees the world differently, but so do others, and that’s amazing! He may feel alone at times, he may feel infinitesimal among the great expanse of the universe, but he is never truly alone. He knows he belongs here. He has those who understand him, and he doesn’t have to change for anyone. The world can accept him for who he is, always.
It's as though whoever curated this playlist knew precisely what they were doing. They cared deeply enough to ensure this story, Logan’s story, was told exactly the way it was meant to be, to describe the highs and lows, to explain the truth behind every note, and to inspire with hope anyone else who may be struggling, as well. This story, this playlist, says to us calmly and clearly that everything is going to be okay. It’s not perfect, but it’ll be okay.
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In Human by Tank and the Bangas, we get to hear that acceptance, that love on full display.
Things have finally slowed down now, a song for a moment that comes at a more comfortable and soothing pace. Logan finally has the time to look around and see what he’s been missing while he’s been so busy with everything else.
This is another song that uses facts not only to describe and evoke emotions, but to inspire awe and wonder. Emotion-driven curiosity, channeling all the wonders of the world, of you, as your inspiration and guide to learn more and appreciate the here and now.
[lyrics:
Don’t you ever become complicit
With living life on a shelf]
Logan had gone so long pushing away parts of himself simply because they were flawed, not partaking in his interests because they didn’t fit the mold he so desperately wanted to fill. But now that he’s found his place, he can appreciate his chance to finally be more, to explore and share what he’s learned, knowing he’ll be heard.
Something we’ve seen from Logan since the very beginning is just how deep and wide his wonder goes. He loves the world, the universe, and everything found within it. He holds such fascination for the innumerable amount of living species in the world, for all the technology that’s been created and built, for every concept born of a mind. Logan loves the world so much, and he wishes so much for others to cherish what can be learned from it, as every moment, something new emerges. So many possibilities, so many chances to do more, see more, be more.
Logan was never meant to be someone who was pushed away, kept from the world that he loves so dearly. And now that he finally has the chance to be himself, to be accepted for who he is, we see that he immediately turns to what he loves most: wonder, and the opportunity to share it with others.
Knowledge can do so much for so many, but it’s best purpose is to be shared openly and freely, given to all who will take it. It’s not meant to be inaccessible, locked away, kept elite behind paywalls and tuition fees. It’s a part of what makes the world as amazing as it is, and Logan knows this and wants it to be shared.
[lyrics:
You have to continue to live
There are too many more interesting lessons]
Logan had made it his upmost priority in life to ensure Thomas’ survival, but this was something that eventually led to him burned out, begging for his own life to end instead. This journey, this long arc full of ups and downs, gave Logan the chance to see that his priorities were misaligned. He needed to take care of himself, he needed to give himself significance, because otherwise, he’d be constantly pouring from an empty cup.
He had to choose not only to live but to give himself the chance to do what humans do, to experience life, to enjoy it. Whatever time they have, they will make the most of it, because it can’t just be about survival.
Back in the song Algorhythm, Logan learned that humans do things very differently, that they don’t always act in ways that make sense, that sometimes they don’t prioritize survival despite its importance. In Fitter Happier, his interpretation of what it meant to be human was so disconnected from reality, misunderstanding what it was truly all for. But now, he has been given the chance to experience that broader spectrum; he’s no longer cut off from emotions and the ties they make to every moment in life.
There is so much more you can do with emotions as your guide, as the heartbeat to fuel your curiosity, your will to keep learning.
[lyrics:
And if you never knew
That that was enough to just be
You obviously don’t know
A thing]
This song has marked this moment out clearly for Logan, that he is finally an important and valued part of Thomas, that he belongs here and has a place here with the other sides, within the world, within the show. And it wasn’t perfection and changing himself to suit their needs that got him there. He was able to accept himself and give himself the freedom to explore and discover more, to find his own way to benefit Thomas, to be Logic, without strings, without repression, without solitude.
Being unabashedly himself was enough. He was enough for Thomas.
And then we get to the last song on the playlist, Time Adventure from Adventure Time.
A charming song to complete the set, to bring us back to how happy and smiling Logan had started out at the beginning of it all, though this time there’s a lot more depth to that smile. He knows more now; he’s learned and changed and improved in ways he never knew possible at the start of all this.
[lyrics:
Time is an illusion that helps things make sense
So we’re always living in the present tense
It seems unforgiving when a good thing ends
But you and I will always be back then
You and I will always be back then]
Existentialism with a positive twist, Logan can recognize the world for what it is, for how it works. But there is always that encouragement to remember where we all are, in the here and now.
Logan values the present the most, even if he’s someone we know who relies on the past for experience and the future for motivation. In comparison, Roman values the future and what it can hold, Patton values the past and what it can mean, and Virgil mixes between the past and the future to keep Thomas on a steady path. Logan is one of the only sides, other than perhaps Janus, who values the present moment above all else.
He wants Thomas to see what’s right in front of him instead of ignoring it for what he remembers of the past or what he hopes for the future. It’s okay to want those things, to appreciate them, but disregarding the present only results in missing out on the world around him, on what’s already available to him right now.
Logan sees Thomas’ potential and aspires for him to achieve it, but he can’t keep his mind on faraway goals without doing what he can in the present. Make a plan today that you can enact tomorrow. Brainstorm that story right now so you can write it later. Hug that friend today so you can remember it later when you miss them. There’s always a reason to act in the present, to live your life right here and now.
This ending song shows us that Logan has grown so much, and came to be happy at the end of the story. He’s come to understand himself, the others, Thomas, and the whole world so much better than ever before and is better for it. From this point on, things will surely be different, but now he has everything he needs to face anything that may come his way. He can rely on his knowledge, but also trust that he has his friends at his side, that he has their support. He knows Thomas values him and what he has to say, and that he can tell him when things are tough, when he needs him to listen.
He is heard. He is loved. And he loves in turn, all without having to do anything but be himself.
Something I absolutely adore about these last few songs on the playlist is that even though Logan is doing better now, after everything he’s gone through, he’s not showing this newfound satisfaction and happiness in the ways that you’d expect of most people. He’s doing it his own way, the way he likes doing it, and he’s thriving for it!
He prefers to work alone, having the time to think and contemplate strategies and plans without interruption. He likes reading in a quiet room, exploring fascinating new worlds and concepts all on his own. He likes sharing what he’s learned, and being relied upon for his knowledge, given the opportunity to explain ideas to others in the hopes that it will fascinate them and encourage them to learn more themselves.
He's not changing himself to do what others want of him. He’s not trying to fit some mold, to be okay by anyone else’s standards. He’s just…being Logan. And that’s everything I could ever want for him.
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This playlist has involved such an amazing journey for Logan; it’s a story told through something humans will always love to share – music!
It showed us every crucial moment of Logan's arc, from what we've already seen in the show to what we know is bound to come next. It's clear that Logan has so much more to learn, especially from the other sides, who will be able to understand him once they finally try to communicate effectively and work together for Thomas and for themselves. The situation will improve, they will be happy, someday.
Someday, we’ll get to see the real conclusion to this character’s story, and until then, we can hold out hope for a good ending.
130 notes · View notes
lazypanartist · 1 year
Text
Bullied! Reader x Giacomo Headcanons
I saw one of these, couldn't stop myself! Might also be drawing Gia in the school uniform but you can't prove anything
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Warnings: spoilers, mentions of bullying, probably OoC, no beta, not necessarily canon compliant
Notes: set ~1.5 years before the main story, I've been feeling Very Bad™ the last few days, so it's kinda disjointed I think
-----
It's not uncommon for bullying to happen at the academy
It's ALSO not uncommon for the teachers to ignore it
You yourself had seen it happen..
Popular people like Eri beaten down as someone new came by
Ortega getting bullied for his family's wealth, how "easy" he must have it
You, though?
You were in the majority
People being bullied for their interests..
Or for being "weird"
Mela for her attitude
Atticus for his obsession with ninjas, as well as his craftsmanship
And Giacomo for his interest in music
Books slapped out of hands, items swiped off desks
Name calling and harassment followed you wherever you went
But you weren't the only one
You were approached with the idea of Operation Star by Eri one day, after a bad bout of bullying
Of course, you were all too eager to accept
It wouldn't have done you any good to turn it down
And besides, who doesn't want to get back at their bullies?
So, you were in
Modified school uniform? Check
Fancy shades? Check
A cool pose? Check
A catchy sign-off? Check
All set!
You met Giacomo at the execution of Operation Star: the pushback against the bullies of the Academy
He just laughed when he saw you with Eri, offering you a grin and a hand
He pulled you onto his Starmobile before turning his attention back to the plan
Glancing towards you every once in a while as the cowards fled the area
The operation didn't take too long, and the newly minted Team Star rolled out into the night
---
It didn't take any convincing for you to join Segin Squad
Giacomo welcomed you with open arms
While Eri sat laughing at how obvious he was being
He asked you to help him run the squad
Help train newbies
Recruit other people you'd seen get bullied
And go on supply runs into Cascarrafa out of uniform
Whenever the squad bosses had to meet up on their own, he trusted that you'd keep the base running in his stead
All in all, a great relationship built on trust even before a confession
He shared his love for music with you, having you rate new tunes before he showed them to anyone else
Wasn't hard, with you by his side almost all the time
In turn, he'd listen to your interests, lending an ear and some praise
Honestly s2g Mela and Ortega already thought you were dating at this point
Atticus is the biggest shipper lmao
---
Giacomo definitely confessed first
He'd been hiding a new song from you for a few days, saying he wanted to perfect it instead of letting you listen to the WIP
Not too incredibly surprising, but he was putting a lot of effort into making sure you couldn't hear it
The grunts outside his tent alerted him every time you came over, instead of parting to let you pass
He snapped his laptop shut every time you came near him
AND he wouldn't let you scroll through his playlists!!
At all!!!
After about two weeks of this, he had another of the grunts find you and direct you to his tent
He almost sheepishly handed you his headphones, making sure they were settled on your head before he pressed play
The intro started similarly to the Team Star theme, then dropped
(IDK the specifics of music or it's making, so. Bare with me please)
He made sure to include similar structure and rhythms to ones you had pointed out in his other work
At the end of it, instead of an encore, his voice sounded from the headphones
"Y/n, I've been meaning to tell you for a while, but.. I like you. As more than a friend or right-hand man. Would you be willing to be my partner?"
You took off the headphones, smiling at him
And that was all the answer he needed
---
Bonus:
Mela and Ortega had to give Eri and Atticus money.. both had bet on you two already being together
Atticus called it puppy love, while Eri just laughed and said you would've told her if you had been dating
Which is how the bet came to it's conclusion
222 notes · View notes
belaephemeral · 11 months
Text
🎵 POV/character spotify playlist masterlist
Hi everyone! Over the past few months I’ve been working on these so I’d like to share some POV/character playlists I’ve made! I’ve included a little drabbles to introduce them and I intended them to be playlists that emulate what it is like to be their significant other or reflect the personality of the specified character.
Feel free to recommend me some music or share playlists of your own! I hope you enjoy both reading and listening to these!
CHARACTERS
GENSHIN IMPACT: Zhongli, Xiao, Yelan, Childe/Ajax, Wanderer, Diluc Ragnivndr, Lisa, Signora, Kaveh. 
HONKAI STAR RAIL: Himeko, Kafka.
ENSEMBLE STARS: Arashi Narukami, Tsumugi Aoba.
TWISTED WONDERLAND: Malleus Draconia, Jamil Viper, Rook Hunt. 
PARADOX LIVE: GOKULUCK
DANGANRONPA: Byakuya Togami, Nagito Komaeda, Kokichi Ouma, Gonta Gokuhara, Kaito Momota. 
FFXV: Ignis Scientia
HYPNOSIS MIC: Ramuda Amemura
POV playlists for Genshin Impact, Ensemble Stars, Twisted Wonderland, Paradox Live, Danganronpa, FFXV, Hypnosis Microphone utc. 
I will update this post whenever I make new playlists!
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KEY: favourites ❤
Author’s Note: sorry in advance if some of the song choices may not fit the character, I mainly listen to the song and then after that, I ‘feel’ which character it suits. they also tend to be the songs that inspire my oneshots of the character or embody how I perceive them. 
GENSHIN IMPACT
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ZHONGLI
POV: you're falling in love with the wangsheng funeral parlor's consultant ❤
Genre: kpop/jpop, soft romantic.
Description: the idea of soulmates are part of the many stories you’ve been told by your parents. the concept of this idyllic conditional love is one you’ve yet to expect and frankly, you may be fine never finding a partner with the many people who’ve disappointed you throughout your lifetime. well, that is what you thought before you started sharing lingering, fleeting, and ephemeral glances with the handsome consultant a few doors away from your family’s store. you can’t help but be drawn to his ethereal, almost celestial, beauty when you realise this is the same man you’ve seen in the murky dreams of your childhood. when you reach out to lower his hand and propose to pay for the meal you’ve shared together, instead of reassuring him that you’ll handle the bill, your hand instinctively finds itself in his. you flush and try to laugh it off but you are on the verge of succumbing to a wave of embarrassment as zhongli’s thumb tentatively and tenderly brushes over the back of your hand. slowly, your fingers intertwine. like they were always destined to be there together, like missing puzzle pieces finally fitting together. for once in your life, you feel complete. for once, you feel an overwhelming sensation consume you as the consultant warmly gazes at you with those glowing amber orbs. 
(a love letter from a zhongli main) 
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XIAO
POV: conqueror of demons is infatuated with you.
Genre: kpop/jpop, traditional, slow, melancholic, wistful/yearning, cathartic
Description: your calming, serene presence makes his karmic debt dispel itself from reemerging onto his skin, his worry over hurting you with it dissolving into the recesses of his mind. on the rooftop of wangshu inn, you lean further into his warmth as the cold night breeze bites into your skin. upon seeing the way your shoulders shudder as you shiver, he brings you into his being. the action settles the thoughts racing in his mind and the restless worries that normally cloud his head this time of night. your hand is warm in his and now the only thing he can bring himself to worry about is whether you can feel his heartbeat, thundering in his chest, with the way you're laying against him. 
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YELAN
POV: you and the valley orchid are more than just "business partners" ❤
Genre: kpop, deep house, r&b, soft romantic, seductive
Description: being of noble birth, you’re starting to get tired of the cushy and constraining life your parents have set out for you. you don’t know how to feel about your betrothed, neither the responsibilities laid out before you in the next coming years. it was unexpected when you encountered the mysterious and enigmatic valley orchid during an evening stroll outside of your estate. what was even more astounding was the suspicious offer she put forward, admitting she’s witnessed the strength you possess during the night prowls you regularly embark on (ones you thought were inconspicuous enough). she offers you a job (of sorts, you aren’t exactly sure how you’re getting paid) to target certain known individuals for the ministry of civil affairs. you’re pretty sure what you’re doing is illegal, but with every rule’s she’s broken in your book, she’s a criminal. one who’s extracted the truth from unfortunate individuals in immoral ways, dirtied her immaculate hands with the blood of the tainted and knows every way to best you. yet another crime on top of those is undeniably stealing your heart. you just hope she doesn’t steal the vestiges of your wavering dignity tonight as she corners you in the depths of your family’s estate. well, it’s not like you mind. you’re starting to lose track of the many firsts she’s taken from you (firsts she definitely doesn’t want your betrothed to take before she does, stimulating her competitive spirit). nevertheless, you desperately hope she takes another with the way she stares you down like your her latest prey under the glow of the moonlight and the intoxicating kiss she presses against your lips, leaving you breathless under her touch. 
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CHILDE
POV: analysing the enigmatic 11th fatui harbinger, tartaglia
Genre: kpop/jpop, duality, energetic, dark 
Description: even within his internal conflict, he longs to bask in your presence like a moth drawn to a flame, a lonely ship guided by a lighthouse, a sunflower leaning towards the sun. but he can’t, he tells himself. he can’t succumb to his selfish desires and pull you into his world of devious activities conducted in the cover of midnight or the pain of ever learning of his true form. he can’t love you because that’s selfish of him. he can’t put you in danger because of what he does day in and day out. because his love burns brightly within his chest, he’s willing to burn his entire existence from your mind so you can forget him. but he’s just ajax - a selfish boy with selfish desires. he can’t help but gravitate to you. he can’t help that he wants you - in more ways than one. so how can he resist when you offer yourself so willingly to someone like him. surely you know the consequences, right? but maybe the risks are the last thing on his mind as he descends into you like a wave crashing onto a shore. drowning you fully in him and his pleasure.
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SCARAMOUCHE/WANDERER
POV: traversing the world with your soulmate, wanderer. 
Genre: kpop/jpop, a mix of genres (slight duality theme)
Description: you follow wanderer on his travels, witnessing how he navigates the world with his new identity, traverses the planes of his newfound persona, and explores the inner-workings of his being with you by his side. although, at times, that other side of him shows. it’s rare but you do sometimes catch glimpses of the fearsome, manipulative and calculating balladeer resurface from the calm and playful exterior he puts up in front of you and the other people you encounter along your travels. regardless of the different sides he possesses, you’re ready to give up everything for him, sacrifice yourself to give him the life he deserves. you'd even kill. this is something you realise as you both stand over the bodies of your enemies, weapons in hand, residual elemental energy tinkling at your fingertips. By his side, you’ll venture the world together and explore his ever persona, until he finds a version of himself he’s most comfortable.
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DILUC RAGNVINDR
POV: celebrating your birthday with your beloved, diluc ragnvindr
Genre: kpop, birthday-themed
Description: in the bustling tavern, the smile that splits across your face aches with how much fun you’re having surrounded by your companions in the warmth of the angel’s share. as per your request, diluc has reserved the entire place to celebrate this joyous occasion with the key figures of the knights of favonius you’ve befriended (and distastefully, he recalls, a certain cavalry captain but let’s not forget the troublesome bard you’ve invited and is indulging in the complimentary bottles of dandelion wine that line the grand table). for once, he feels his lips quirk ever so slightly as your laughter tinkles in his ears and your joy fills him with an unbridled sense of happiness. as the hosts of the party, you both find yourselves behind the bar to refill drinks and place more food platters onto the table. playfully, you bump your hips into his before pressing a chaste kiss against his cheek. you’re flushed by how much fun you’re having and he loves how it looks on you. alongside that, you’re excited to finally go back home to the dawn winery with your beloved to finally open your present. after all he’s wrapped up so nicely in the new outfit he’s commissioned, draped in a rich crimson and adorning silver chains and embellishments. the least you can do to unravel it all. it’s your birthday day after all. anything you says goes, right? even if it was unspoken, he can guess the wish you made as you blew out your candles. he will do everything in his being to make that wish come true and so much more. before fulfilling this however, he’ll spell out his affections for you against your skin. he’ll await your every command tonight. it’s your special day after all, just say the words and he’s all yours. 
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LISA MINCI
POV: the partner of the knights of favonius' head librarian
Genre: kpop/jpop, soft, romantic, chill, implied wlw
Description: in the comfort of your arms, you and your partner find yourselves lazing on the window seat of your shared abode, basking in the sun that streams across your languid forms and illuminates the woman dozing against your chest. you aren’t used to this slow pace she’s used to. in contrast, your busy lifestyle means you aren’t able to enjoy tranquil, quiet moments like these very often. however, every time you come home to visit your darling, she always makes it a point to drag you into a small cosy nook in your house or the library to have a cat nap with her. she makes it her responsibility for you to relax whenever you’re with her (though you’re aware it’s mainly because she knows this is the only way you’ll condone her constant lethargy). you chuckle at her languor as she nestles herself into you, making sure she’s comfortable against her human pillow. gently, you place a tender kiss against her forehead. you hope that simple gesture blesses her dreams with the way she smiles in her sleep instantly after it. maybe, you think as you surrender to the fatigue that sinks into your body, you could get used to these lazy afternoons with your beloved.
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SIGNORA
POV: the crimson witch's faithful lover
Genre: kpop/jpop, orchestral, a mix of different genres (she’s a very complex character)
Description: faithfully, you stand by her side, conquering the world together and witnessing how she makes it bend to her will. you relish every second you spend alongside her. even if she initially stated that you’re only a valuable asset she could not afford to lose, a vessel of great power to assist her in carrying out her grand plans, a partner (in the strictly working sense) to help her achieve the aims given to her by the great tsaritsa, but you know it’s so much more than that. it’s so much more than what you ever thought it could be - if the red marks across your neck and the crimson lip stains that adorn your pulse point are anything to go by. whatever you have with her goes well beyond the working relationship you started of with. it’s because of this ambiguity that you relish in the masqueraded dance you share upon a bloodied battlefield of crystalline flowers, flittering moths, and fallen bodies. although you dutifully serve the tsaritsa, you loyally obey signora’s every word. 
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KAVEH
POV: the renowned sumeru architect (not so) secretly adores you.
Genre: kpop/jpop, art-themed
Description: pressing a kiss against the nape of his neck, you carefully tug free the silky blond locks secured by the rouge ribbon he’s tied into his hair. you pull away to catch him stir from his abrupt nap atop his work desk once again, murmuring nonsensical mutterings into the arms he’s propped his head on and snuggling into the large sheets of drawings and calculations beneath him. you hope he isn’t drooling onto the plans he’s worked so painstakingly on as you gather his curled form into your arms to carry him into his bedroom. just as you tuck his head into your chest and secure your hold on his lithe frame, you catch a glimpse of kaveh’s personal notebook sprawled onto the table. the little remarks that line the margins of the pages makes you chuckle but you stop to admire the graphite depictions of yourself that litter the next page. planting another kiss onto the crown of his head, you begin to exit the study room. to kaveh, you’re his muse, his inspiration and his purpose. he dreams of capturing your beauty in every medium, he wants to portray your every single feature, which he adores you so much for, and he aspires to paint his undying love into your being. although, the latter is an issue for another night. at least in his dreams, he is able to do the same. perhaps, when he isn’t too busy with his projects, he’ll turn those dreams into reality.
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MULTI-CHARACTER
POV: summer vacation at the Golden Apple Archipelago
Genre: kpop/jpop summer playlist
HONKAI STAR RAIL
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HIMEKO
POV: you're as beautiful as the day i lost you.
Genre: kpop/jpop, mixed, full of longing/implied reincarnation, implied wlw.
Description: "I'm sure we're about to embark on a fascinating journey together." even in this life, where you've sacrificed your heart and conquered hell, himeko is just as breathtaking as the day you met her, when you exchanged rings, and your last kiss goodbye. it's a shame she doesn't remember you, her wife.
KAFKA
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POV: the flourishing romance between you and the infamous stellaron hunter. 
Genre: kpop, mixed, pining
Description: to be added.
ENSEMBLE STARS
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ARASHI NARUKAMI
POV: walking down the runway with arashi narukami
Genre: kpop/jpop, deep house, r&b
Description: this isn’t your first runway. although it is the first you’ve shared with the renowned model trio of yumenosaki academy. adorning luxurious silks that feel like air against your skin, glittering jewellery that rests against the expanse of your clavicle and line your wrists and fingers, and glamorous cosmetics that enhance your already beguiling features, you glance to the opposite side of the bustling dressing room. your countless years of experience in modelling mean that gliding in heels are no problem for you. but why do the gorgeous electric violet eyes across the room make you trip up? why does the way her mouth curves into a sweet smile instantly draw you to her? why does the playful glint that flashes over her visage make you want to smear the bold rouge painted over her supple lips onto your own? you can’t help but gravitate to her. with the way she lures you in with her spellbinding beauty and competitiveness, it’s not surprising how the silks and jewellery you adorn gradually pool around your intertwined forms. to her, this is another runway in the comforts of her personal room. with all of your experience, you’re determined to put on a show she’ll never forget.
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KEITO LECTURE CIRCLE
POV: bibliosmia and the descent of petrichor
Genre: soft kpop study playlist
Description: studying with BIBLION. 
TWISTED WONDERLAND
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MALLEUS DRACONIA 
POV: you're bewitched by the king of the abyss, malleus draconia
Genre: kpop/jpop, PIXY-centric, based on overblot malleus
Description (potentially spoilers for chapter 7): in this capsule of time, where the clock stops ticking, where the world around you is frozen in a state of suspension, where the shadows coagulate into permanent shapes across the cobblestone floor, you realise it is only you and him. surveying the slumbering forms of your companions, the truth of the reality you’re regrettably living in settles deep into your heart. as your body is racked by an overwhelming sense of disbelief, you don’t hear the sharp clack of heels that approach your figure nor the heavy drag of a tail against the floor and grows louder as it nears you. frightfully, you whip around to witness one of your friends, your beloved tsunotaro, grow closer, ever closer to your trembling form. you feebly press your palms into his chest as he leans into you, desperate for some space to comprehend what he’s done, to understand the full extent and gravity of the actions he’s taken. weakly, you resist his advances as he grabs your chin and pulls you into him, trailing ink across your lips and jaw as he does so. at some point, you’ve stopped fighting, you’ve stopped countering his advances, and you’ve stopped yearning for the sweet and gentle tsunotaro you’ve gotten to know over these past few months. at some point, you surrender to him, falling deeper into his depths, allowing him to drown you in his affections and the love he holds, one that’s only for you. as you waltz over the world he’s frozen, you’re slowly starting to indulge in this fantasy he’s created. you’re starting to take pleasure in being his, the lover of the king of the abyss. truly, this isn’t the way you wanted to confess to him but maybe this is what you needed to express your undying devotion to the heir of the briar valley. the thought immediately vanishes as his lips descend onto yours once again, eager to claim you once again tonight. dragons are fiercely protective of their treasure. it’s only right, he thinks whilst marking his name into your skin, that he guards what’s rightfully his.
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JAMIL VIPER
POV: whisked away into the tundras by the vice housewarden of scarabia
Genre: kpop/jpop, hip-hop, dance-pop
Description: regardless if he uses his unique magic, he should know how his presence spellbinds you. his gorgeous charcoal eyes are hypnotising, his straightforward and caring nature is enthralling, and the saccharine words he whispers into your ears are the only hypnosis he needs to get you to follow his every command. His every being is electrifying: that much is proven as he slips his hand into yours (his very touch casts a spell on you), brings you closer to him (the spicy perfume that he adorns renders you defenceless), and connects his lips to yours (his very taste is absolutely intoxicating). As you admire him under the vibrant luminance of the fireworks above the both of you, you wouldn’t mind falling into this hypnosis once more. the smile he flashes you makes you make to want to fall once again into his temptations and dive into him fully. the night is young, you remember, you have all the time you’ll ever need to understand the hold he possess over you. for now, you’ll relish in this dazzling display of fireworks with the enchanting male by your side.
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ROOK HUNT
POV: they don't deserve you, mon amour.
Genre: kpop/jpop
Description: you deserve so much more, mon trésor. and he’s right. you really do. with the way he tenderly holds onto your hand, how he brings your form into his chest as your own squeezes and shudders with a painful feeling you’ve become accustomed to over these past few days, weeks, months (at this point you’ve stopped counting), you wonder how you could ever desire more. how you could ever want anyone else when he’s by your side, unfailingly your loyal partner, who’s supported to you all this time. that’s why he’s your best friend, your partner-in-crime, your most trusted confidant. maybe that’s all you’ll ever be. but with the way his heart thunders into his chest to the way his eyes briefly flicker to your lips and you do the same in response, perhaps there is still some ground you’ve yet to cover in your relationship with the enigmatic beauty from pomefiore. 
(getting over your toxic ex-friends with your confidant rook hunt)
PARADOX LIVE
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GOKULUCK
POV: rebelling against the system with 獄Luck (GOKU LUCK)
Genre: kpop hype playlist
Description: setting the world aflame with HANCHO, PITBULL, smoking dog, and anonymous.
DANGANRONPA
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BYAKUYA TOGAMI
POV: you detest the ultimate affluent progeny, byakuya togami
Genre: kpop/jpop, rap, hip-hop, dance, money-centric
Description: you hate his guts. you fume at his inherent smugness and that suffocating sense of self-entitlement he prides himself so much on. he’s arrogant, insensitive and conceited. god, the sight of him infuriates you tremendously. wiping it off his face is the only thing on your mind as you grab his pristine collar, and furiously pin him against the wall. but why do you feel utterly powerless as an image flashes before you of those same irritating lapis blue eyes staring into yours with love and a foreign gentleness that looks out of place with the haughty male you’ve understood over the past few weeks. why do you feel absolutely defenceless when he forcefully yanks you forward and presses a kiss against your lips with the passion only a lover could hold? 
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NAGITO KOMAEDA (spoilers)
POV: you're his ultimate hope.
Genre: kpop/jpop, pop-rock, synth, based on another episode: ultra despair girls nagito komaeda
Description: you’re his ultimate hope. but honestly, who you are you kidding? he's your ultimate hope. you'd do anything for him. you'd sacrifice your soul, surrender yourself wholly to his every whim and you’d willingly let him drown you fully in his despair, just to fulfil his unbridled obsession for hope. the same hope he’s eliminated in this world brimming with hatred, madness and absolute chaos. nevertheless, you'd go to the ends of the world for him. sacrifice every single ounce of humanity you have just for him. because whilst you are his sun, he's your universe, and you'd gladly burn for him. 
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KOKICHI OUMA (spoilers)
POV: witnessing a commendable performance from the "mastermind"
Genre: kpop/jpop, villaincore
Description: it’s amusing, honestly. how he could possibly think that this elaborate scheme of his would convince anyone - that this “mastermind” lie, this twisted performance was actually plausible. but you know better, you ponder as your eyes bore into his own, swirling with that corrupt despair he claims he’s so familiar with. however, you know so much more than he ever could about this world, about the puppeteer who holds all of your strings. well, you’ll just watch this carefully crafted game of his whilst waiting for it to fall apart like a house of cards. it’s only a matter of time.
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GONTA GOKUHARA
POV: the ultimate entomologist melts your heart ❤
Genre: upbeat, romantic, a bit of melancholy
Description: you aren’t one for this mushy love stuff people nowadays seem to obsess over. especially not in this game of life or death. however, you can’t seem to help to stop the way your heart flutters at every adorable action the ultimate entomologist makes, nor the warmth he emanates every time you embrace him (you’ve done it so often he’s started affectionately calling you ‘snuggle bug’). Regardless, you can’t stop the way your walls melt around him or stop fawning over the blinding beam he shoots you. when you grab a handful of his collar and crash your lips against him, you can’t help but think ‘well, who’s the pot calling the kettle black now?’
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KAITO MOMOTA (slight spoilers)
POV: the luminary of the stars is your universe 
Genre: kpop/jpop, space/universe themed 
Description: you abhor the optimism he unfailingly displays, day in day out, rinse and repeat in this absolute hellhole. but, you eventually find that you can’t, not when he’s a brilliant light in this desperate situation, a star in this night sky that seems to want to consume your every being, the unending universe that holds all of you and everyone together in this sick game where lives are nothing but numbers and objects of entertainment. you just wish you could’ve spent longer in the stars with him before the next day came.
FINAL FANTASY VX
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IGNIS SCIENTIA
engine revving, hearts roaring (a night drive in the regalia.) ❤
Genre: kpop/jpop, R&B, dark synth, sensual
Description: a night drive in the regalia but you’re not sure if a simple ride is all he desires. not with the way he’s looking at you. truthfully, you're not sure when he fixated those crystalline sea foam orbs on your figure but when you stare back, they darken into pools of oceanic teal, hazed with a grey fog that sinks into the flecks of aquamarine that speckle his bewitching optics. in this moment, he's a predator but, as prey, you don't give in easily - you’ll dance around his elaborate trap before he finally snaps, and makes you his. 
HYPNOSIS MICROPHONE
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RAMUDA AMEMURA
POV: his smile is downright tooth-rotting
Genre: kpop/jpop, sweets-themed playlist
Description: the sweet flavour of artificial strawberry and sugar of the lollipop he’s recently popped into his mouth invades your senses as he pulls you closer against his mouth. you experimentally lick his bottom lip to taste more of it and you can feel the corners of his mouth curve upwards against his lips. in return, you smile and relish at the way you connect perfectly pressed against each other. you’d take this delectable sweetness over the bitter, metallic taste of cigarettes. oh right, that’s why he’s kissing you, you’ve yet to go on your latest sugar supply run. it seems that he’s slightly pre-occupied - surely he knows at this point you’ll never let you go. oh well, you think as he guides you to the couch of his studio, he knows how to use his cuteness to his advantage. his smiles and his demeanour is downright tooth-rotting - if he keeps up at this rate, it’s bound to give you a cavity at this point. well, you think as your back hits the plush sofa, you wouldn’t have it any other way.
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vendetta-if · 1 year
Note
hello! i wanted to tell you that this game is one of my most favorite pieces of writing i’ve read. it’s probably weird that i always cry when i read it and it’s always the same scenes, the way you wrote viktor and really fleshed him out is very good. i say that because he’s my favorite character in the whole thing, it’s strange but it’s the first time i loved a character wholeheartedly. first time i read this i cried so much when he passed, it’s just so so sad. i loved how he always picked MC, he was always there. it’s kinda hard for me to read this when it’s updated bc i just stay sad for a few days but i still really really love this game. i hope this isn’t weird, i just really really appreciate him and you for writing him. so thank you <3
Aww ☺️ Thank you so much for the kind words and yes, I also love writing Viktor a lot 😭 I’m glad that I can still write him in the side stories, but I also have something in mind regarding him in the future 😉 Not in this main story of course, but I’ll probably share more once I’m more confident and sure about it.
And don’t worry, I also cried when writing the funeral scene 😔 I rarely cry, but writing that scene just got to me, somehow. Also, you’re right, Viktor will always choose and prioritize MC; MC is his everything. That’s why I think the AU where MC died instead of him is a more heartbreaking and angsty one and it is definitely a crueler fate for him than death.
I’ve said this before, I think, somewhere, but MC right now still have their future ahead of them, especially after they’ve finally found their closure, they’ll be able to settle down and make a family with their chosen RO(s).
But for Viktor, MC is their future and in the AU where MC died… It really leaves him a hollow shell of the man he once was and he would stop at nothing to avenge MC and even once he succeed and he’s still somehow alive… It’s impossible for him to heal mentally and emotionally. All he has ever wanted is to be there for MC in every stage and important events in their life, and maybe, he would also get to be a grandfather.
I recently rediscover “Time in a Bottle” by Jim Croce in my playlists and I found out that he wrote the song for his son when he first heard that his wife was pregnant. The lyrics are about spending time with loved ones and how it feels like there's never enough time. And now, I can’t help but picture it being one of Viktor’s favorite songs and he often sing along to it for little MC… and now I’m sad 😭 I gotta include this somehow in the story later on.
youtube
If I could save time in a bottle The first thing that I'd like to do Is to save every day till eternity passes away Just to spend them with you
If I could make days last forever If words could make wishes come true I'd save every day like a treasure and then Again, I would spend them with you
But there never seems to be enough time To do the things you want to do, once you find them I've looked around enough to know That you're the one I want to go through time with
If I had a box just for wishes And dreams that had never come true The box would be empty, except for the memory of how They were answered by you
But there never seems to be enough time To do the things you want to do, once you find them I've looked around enough to know That you're the one I want to go through the time with
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digital-chance · 9 months
Text
WIP: you still would've been mine
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"Hundreds of years ago, they fell in love, like we did And I'd die for you in the same way if I first saw your face" - Timeless (Taylor Swift)
overview
status | planning, writing, researching
genres | romance, slice of life, historical fiction, wwii fiction
target length | 10k-40k words
setting | 1930-1940s NYC and WWII & 2011 to now in NYC
(more info & links below cut)
synopsis
Steven "Steve" Rogers wakes up in the 21st century after crashing into the ice in 1942, leaving behind his life as the mascot of the USA along with his childhood in Brooklyn NYC. The Winter Soldier, a man left behind in the war recovers his memories as the man known as James "Bucky" Buchanen Barnes after meeting Steve in the modern time. Steve and Bucky recall their childhood and their experience in the war as they recover.
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"Black and white, saw a thirties bride And school lovers laughing on the porch of their first house The kinda love that you only find once in a lifetime The kind you don’t put down." - Timeless (Taylor Swift)
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wip tags | #wip: ysbwm / #yswbm / #ysbwm ideas / #ysbwm research
rating + content warnings | [mature rating] swearing, descriptions of war, period-typical homophobia, graphic violence, blood, depictions of PSTD, depictions of survivor's guilt, grief/mourning, mentioned torture
tropes + themes | lgbtq+ characters, poc characters, childhood friends to lovers, forbidden love, canon divergence, domestic, slice-of-life, amnesia, backstory, ww2, ww2 letters, love letters, tragedy, gay tragedy, rescue missions, revenge, slow-burn, eventual romance, sharing a bed, chronic illness, sci-fi, bionic arm
inspo |  the thirteen letters (ao3 stucky fanfic), lessons in normality (ao3 stucky fanfic), captain america marvel films, timeless by taylor swift, these prompts by @lyralit, these prompts by @thelonelyempath, letters from Gilbert Bradley to Gordon Bowsher, and these letters, and this book.
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main characters
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☄️ steven "steve" grant rogers aka captain america born on july 4th, 1923, male (he/him) , gay - has a strong sense of justice, a good judge of character, stubborn, and romantic - often described as a noble man who is steadfast and idealistic. - struggles with "man stuck in time" status
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❄️ james "bucky" buchanen barnes aka the winter soldier born on march 10th, 1924, male (he/him) , bisexual - loyal, resilient, honest to a fault, headstrong, - described as charismatic and a ladies man - survived 70+ years of brainwash by HYDRA
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links
pinterest board | spotify playlist & playlist post | research masterlist | on ao3 | etc
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notes
the thirteen letters is such an incredible series. after reading the series for the first time, i was stunned. it is incredible. it is not just fanfiction. it is literature. i do not have the words for how much i like i nor how impactful it is to me. even if you don't like the ship, it is so well researched that it puts published fiction to shame, truly showing the experience of LGBTQ+ individuals and the reformations queer people have pushed for for years. if i could, somehow, create this story up to this exquisite story's standard/image, it'll be one of the most happy moments of my writing career.
---
i am aware that writing for stucky/stevebucky in 2023 is very uncommon and may be considered by some cringy. frankly, idrc. it makes me happy to write about them. plus this is tumblr, like 70% of everything on here is cringy. come on. also i am ignoring marvel's infinity wars & endgame. i am ignoring and including other movie or comic timelines/plot points/characters to my discretion.
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[credits:: if anyone knows the urls/users for the authors of the thirteen letters, please let me know! title is a lyric from taylor swift's song: timeless. banner art by @lalawooo, cropped, full image nsfw]
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philtstone · 4 months
Note
for Spotify wrapped prompts: lotr characters of your choice + #11?? (trying my luck to see if I somehow don’t land on a Bollywood song but will be thrilled no matter what!)
#11 -- main hoon na (I'm here now) so funny story my spotify wrapped playlist does NOT include numbering. no numbers. god knows why. and i am not counting my way thru that list. which means i will simply be selecting an inspiration song from the list for each of these prompts, but that still is not saving u from the bollywood of it all. so, to really hard launch things, im splicing the goofiest most spy kids ass incredibly sweet movie of all time with -- of course -- the hippie camp counsellor au
Aragorn's headache has been building since well before lunch, but the relative absence of any sort of real amenities at this truck stop has only made it worse.
First: because outside of a measly bag of chips, which he insisted be shared by Arwen (prone to blood-sugar-related headaches), Eowyn (technically still growing her frontal lobe), Frodo (looking too solemn for a thirteen year old, also still growing), and Sam (who immediately offered his share to Frodo), Aragorn has not eaten anything since their stop at the forlorn Wendy's last night.
Second: because, in pursuit of something more sustaining than said measly bag of chips, Merry and Pippin went investigating. Alone. And now they've been misplaced.
“Under construction! To be replaced by what? A corporate behemoth without any soul?! Without a whit of warmth? Grand oak tables! The ambiance of a fine dining experience! My cousin Balin’s restaurant was no ordinary truck stop facility! The spaghetti bolognese alone made it worth the detour! How many a road trip did I take as a boy –”
Gimli is only twenty one, so this is not so significant as all that. 
“Do you think we wouldn’t have misplaced them if we tried to find another Wendy’s?” Legolas asks philosophically, as if Gimli is not standing beside him on the verge of tears.
“We haven’t misplaced them,” Aragorn says. They definitely have. “We must simply ask around – they couldn’t have gotten far. At worst, they have squirreled their way into one of these trucks, and we would definitely notice that.”
The obnoxious horn-blowing alone, Aragorn thinks.
“They could have been kidnapped,” says Legolas, all pragmatic cheer. “Or run over. Or they could be trapped in one of the toilet stalls – the locks stuck on Gimli for a good five minutes when we were in there.”
“Gone!” wails Gimli, who gets very theatrical when upset. “Erased! An institution of road-side relaxation! Oooh, how could Balin not have told me? And for it to be replaced by a barren Travel Center with nothing but a few vending machines! I wasn’t prepared for this kind of tragedy to happen in my lifetime …”
“Legolas,” Aragorn grits out, “some optimism, please.” Gimli is going through multiple stages of grief, so Aragorn lets him be. “Let us put our heads together and do something constructive.”
Canvassing the truckers seems as immediate a solution as any, so that is what they do.
“We’re looking for the cousins of my father’s friend’s nephew,” Gimli describes emotionally to a confused old woman in a cowboy hat and her somewhat tree-shaped husband. “If anyone would have appreciated the smoked smash burgers of my own cousin’s menu … but it’s all lost now! Could you’ve seen ‘em?”
“We’re looking for two very small children,” Legolas says solemnly to the biker gang Eomer had serendipitously known from university, but who eye them with suspicion nonetheless. “You know, the kind you look at and immediately think, oh God, small children, if you’re the sort to not like children much.”
“We’re looking for two pre-teen boys,” Aragorn clarifies at every interval, feeling desperate. “Aged twelve and eleven, with fair hair, coming up to no higher than my hip. You couldn’t miss them if you tried; one of them is wearing a Super Mario t-shirt.” 
“Oh, that will be Pippin,” Legolas confirms from behind him. “Terrible taste in video games.”
Gimli dabs tearfully at his eyes with a large checkered handkerchief he pulled from the back of his jeans.
It’s not that he’s truly worried Merry and Pippin have been kidnapped – they do have a rudimentary grasp of stranger danger – only Aragorn is supposed to be exercising leadership on this trip. He is the driver, after all. Even if he still isn't wholly confident in his grad school options.
“Maybe you could do MSF or something,” Legolas wonders aloud, as they look underneath a particularly rusty-looking sixteen-wheeler for their runaway tweens. “Next year I mean, in between things. I’m sure Uncle Elrond would consider that a viable career. You had the pamphlet in your backpack last month and everything.”
“You need a medical degree to do MSF, Legolas,” Aragorn says tiredly; it’s not that he hasn’t thought about it.
“What if you started your own version of MSF, with herbal medicine,” Legolas continues, undeterred. “I’m sure that would be popular amongst middle class white moms. And you’d be an entrepreneur.” 
It would somewhat defeat the whole point, but Aragorn appreciates the brainstorming. 
Back to Merry and Pippin – technically they are Gandalf’s responsibility – but Gandalf is in the bathroom, so they feel like his, and, furthermore, Aragorn’s getting a bit nervous about leaving Frodo and Sam in the van all alone for so long. Two days ago they found a feral possum in the trunk who they kept on because it has an uncanny sense of direction (it will scratch at random points on the map when it’s not screaming and hissing from the back seat), and though it won’t stop chewing on the hem of Frodo’s jeans, Frodo refuses to let them toss it out of the car; he insists he and the possum can communicate. Aragorn would think he was lying if not for Sam also insisting they can communicate – he has absolutely nothing good to say about the Possum’s personality – and, well, Sam’s a stoutly practical kid. So certainly they must be being truthful.
But the poor possum could bite them, left unattended.
Aragorn decides to try the biker gang one last time.
“Please,” Aragorn says, “they’re like our younger brothers; we can’t just leave them to fend for themselves.”
“Hmm,” says the gruffest of the lot, after a prolonged bout of contemplation. “There was a fist fight or something by the portapotties — I saw a kid’s backpack lying around afterward.”
Of course it had to be a fistfight, Aragorn thinks, as Gimli goes pale and Legolas places a delicate mourning hand flat upon his breast. They march over to the portapotties, accordingly. Sure enough, the backpack is there, but Merry and Pippin are nowhere to be found.
Aragorn kicks at the side of the nearest portable. His toe clips it awkwardly, so he has to sit down for a minute, limping, and resist the urge to bury his head in his hands.
“Oh,” he hears Legolas say. “Oh, alright. Yeah. Yeah. Uh huh.”
Aragorn looks up. 
“It's Eowyn,” Legolas says, holding his phone up somewhat unnecessarily. “She says they’re in the van.”
“This whole time?” asks Gimli, slow of voice.
“Well, no. They’ve got deli sandwiches with them. Real ones. Apparently the honey ham is pretty good.”
“Give me the phone,” Aragorn says; Legolas does.
“Hello,” it is not Eowyn, but Arwen’s musical voice on the other end of the line. Aragorn wonders if she perhaps anticipated his mood from the other end of the truck stop and so had the forethought to rescue an unwitting Eowyn from it. Arwen does occasionally demonstrate a telepathic sort of vibe when it comes to him. “We heard your yell from all the way over here – is everything alright?”
Oh. Right.
“Put Merry and Pippin on, please,” Aragorn says, because he couldn’t bear to be rude to his girlfriend and his toe really is throbbing, so he can’t trust himself. “Are they – there, yes. Yes. Well I can hear them in the background. Arwen –”
“Hullo Aragorn,” comes Pippin’s voice, after a staticy smartphone handover.
“I will leave you here next time,” Aragorn says.
“No he won’t,” says Legolas.
“No he won’t,” says Gimli.
“He’s just a little hungry,” chimes in Arwen, a muffled distance from the receiver.
“Well, that’s alright!” says Pippin, before Aragorn can protest. “We got you sandwiches, didn’t we?”
“Oh, yes,” adds Merry, just as close to the phone. “We picked one up just for you. Saved it and everything from that biker gang and Frodo’s possum.”
“Oh, he’s named it now. Calls it Smeagol.”
“I thought he said it introduced itself.”
“Oh, yes, it did do that. Sam disagrees though, says it’s named Gollum.”
“Terrible name for a possum.”
“Don’t you think so? But anyway, your sandwich is safe with us.”
And, despite it all, Aragorn finds that he can do absolutely nothing else but laugh loudly, fondly, and for a long while.
13 notes · View notes
officially-tilly · 1 year
Text
How do you write so much?
Hey everyone! Minor update on story then onto my writing routine: I have a big event I have a 6-8 hour drive to, work, then back this weekend, so I will not be uploading a new chapter of Where Devotion Lies. That being said, I did want to keep my Ask box open all weekend for questions, and in this post FINALLY detail my writing process for anyone who wanted to know how I write 10 - 14K in a single week!
Routine: My biggest thing is, I have a routine when I write. I put on the same starting song (the rest of the playlist doesn’t matter), and have the same drink next to me. This tells my brain “Oh, it’s writing time!” when I got for it. Music: The first song I put on is usually a 3-5 minute long song. My goal with music is to be background noise yes, but also a timer. My playlist will always be around 35 - 55 minutes long total as I will tell myself “this is my writing time”. That’s all I expect out of myself. 35 - 55 minutes of writing. Nothing more, nothing less. Junk Draft: Blank documents can be intimidating. I will combine my notes and my first draft of every chapter into one, messy document. There’s no pressure for it to look nice if everything around it is trash. I will only keep my first draft complete with spelling errors and mistakes, in this document. First draft writing is *always* bad, no matter who you are. If you try to write after seeing/reading your polished, perfected, beta-read work, it’s trying to compare a finished painting to a sketch. Junk drafts are *important*. Summary time: Once I have my drink, music, and junk draft ready, it’s time to start actually writing. Not the first draft of the chapter. Nope. A run-on sentence that’s just an abbreviation of what I want the chapter to contain. These typically look like “Cloud is so done right now that he decides to ‘not my problem’ everything around him, including his obvious Stalkeroth, turks, terrible COs, and anything not in his control, so he does his missions, gets yelled at, eats some food, and overall just chills while PLOT is happening elsewhere, fuck the main plot.” Once I have this summary written, hey guess what? I’m writing! Writing Time: Now that I did a silly summary of the chapter, I go right into writing, after all my total writing goal is to write until my playlist is done and with the summary I’m more than half-way through my playlist! This should be easy to keep going, right? (Do I trick myself like this every time? Yes. Yes I do). My goal isn’t “hit this many words”, it’s write the summary in long form. If I get stuck at any point, or don’t know how to transition, I simply write “Then Cloud did A and went to B” with using A as the action I wanted him to take, and B as the next place he needs to be. My first draft isn’t meant to be *good*, it’s just meant to be *done*. I will keep plowing on, and if I hit a snag of not knowing a word or character name “Watermelon” works as I can search for the word later to fix it, and “And then that was over.” is completely reasonable in my first draft. *Let it be trash*. During this stage I usually have between 3 - 5K written. Break time: Once my first draft is as done as it’s going to get (all the actions needed from the summary are written), then it’s time to leave it alone for at least a day. Sometimes, if I’m in a very good groove I will go back to replace the filler words “Watermelon” with actual names, or words I wanted to use. Otherwise, I leave it alone. Second draft: I do my routine (Drink & Music), then I copy the first draft of the chapter and throw it into a different writing program and usually into a different font style to revise. This will change how my brain reads it. Now, it’s time to read that with the mindset of “Let’s expand the interesting things”, Is there a “Cloud goes here” bit? Let’s talk about it! I will go in and explain how Cloud gets there, why he wants to go there, and what happens once he does. Does he pass anyone on the way? Did something happen, and if so, what? Answering those will fill out the chapter extensively. My second draft isn’t about fixing grammar either. It’s adding details I care about, and fleshing out what’s there. By this stage I’m usually at 7 - 10K Beta Reader 1st look: Now it’s time for Beta Readers to come in and tell me where the flow gets stuck, slows down, or doesn’t work. They will also tell me where I hit it, where they want to see more, and overall, react to reading the chapter. I use Google Docs and allow them to comment on it as they read. I will sit in discord and wait for questions, observations, and other goodies to come in. Third Draft: After another break, I do my routine, then get to my third draft. Taking the feedback from the Beta Readers, I will fill in any gaps, fix any logic missing, and tweak the story how it needs to be handled. Did they ask why a green gem was given to Cloud instead of a red? Maybe there’s something mysterious I didn’t even think about going on now! Does the trip back and forth from a mission seem short? Guess it’s time for something to happen, or a conversation between characters to take place. This is my draft to make the chapter *breathe* and fully make it come alive! I will also go “Ok, what does the character SEE, does he TASTE anything, HEAR anything, FEEL anything, or is the area hot/cold to him?” This is time to fill in the chapter with more senses to connect the readers to what the character is going through. This stage I’m usually at my 10 - 14K at the end. Third Draft, Listening: This is my time to plop my draft into Word or any other writing program with a Read Aloud function. Time to *listen* to my draft to fix any wonky sounding sentences or odd phrases. This will usually results in 200 - 1K of revisions, but not always. Beta Reader 2nd look: Now, it’s time to fix grammar and spelling! I hand over my previous draft to my Betas and let them fix all my mistakes. Does that sentence seem weird? Let’s fix it! This is the final stage before I publish it. Publication: I submit it as a draft into AO3 to await the day/time I decided the chapter will go live on. From there, I will take that version and put it into my “Final Draft” document with the others to marvel at how much control I lost over the word count of my story. This process starts on Saturday, and the publication happens on Friday. A whole week of my process laid out! I also will not write on publication day as that’s a day for me to enjoy reading comments to get hyped to write the next chapter. <3 With all that said, let me know if you all have any questions!  
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recentadultburnout · 8 months
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Info for writer in Thai series fandom: some music genres and foreign media in Thai
*Due to Tumblr's limit, this repost has fewer examples than on AO3*
Notes:
This chapter is partially because we have so many main characters who love music—an entire group of music lovers in some cases—so I feel like it would be a good topic, and partially because I wanted to introduce you to some of the songs I like. Did you know that at one point GMM was kind of a monopoly in the Thai (pop?) music industry? Not that they are small now by any means. They own so many copyrights, and they kept remixing and using them in the series. I do enjoy those songs, so I'm not complaining lol.
Let's start with some genres that are probably not known internationally.
เพลงลูกทุ่ง -phleng luk thung-country music
Phleng = music, song, melody, composition
Luk = child
Thung = field
Originated in 2480 B.E./1937 A.D.
Luk Thung is a modernized version of Thai country music. It has quite a distinguishing feature, both in the way people sing it and the instrument itself. It has a sibling called Luk Krung, which, unlike Luk Thung, is not a popular genre any more. Luk thung is a popular genre. There is a time when BlackPink is trending worldwide and at number one on many charts but still loses to a Luk Thung singer, Monkaen Kaenkoon, in terms of view count in Thailand. So, yeah, Luk Thung is popular. It’s not considered trendy, tho. Probably because we have a pretty classist society and Luk Thung's target group isn't, like, the elite or the wealthiest.
What the song's lyrics usually are about -Life, specifically the life of the poor. And love—I'm pretty sure love is the most popular topic in everything, whether it's tragic, funny, or touching.
Dancers - The dancers, specifically their outfits, are one of the highlights of the Lukthung show. It needs to be showy and eye-catching. Glitter and feathers are frequently featured. Even if you don't recognize the music as Lukthung, you would probably recognize an army of dancers clad in a very striking outfit as a part of a Lukthung show.
Example
From series
This one is a cover of Got Jakrapun’s, aka King of Luk Thung's, song.
youtube
เพลงลูกกรุง - phleng luk krung
Phleng = music, song, melody, composition
Luk = child
Krung = city, capital, metropolis
Originated in 2474 B.E./1931 A.D.
As previously mention, Luk krung and Luk thung are kind of sibling terms. But unlike Luk Thung, Luk Krung is not a popular genre any more. Every once in a while, someone will pick an old song to cover, but there isn't much of a new one, if at all.
Well, actually, since the definition of this genre is so vague, a lot of songs would technically count, but when the word Luk Krung is mentioned, people do have a certain expectation in mind, and it's pretty much "when grandma is still young". I doubt this term would ever be used to describe any new song that does not actively go for a retro vibe.
The Suntaraporn Band - Suntaraporn Band is a very old band and has produced many Lukkrung songs. They were the first ones to start producing what is considered Lukkrung music, actually. It was born in 1939 and is still active to this day.
Example
From series "I Will Knock You" - The song in the background is an original version, and this series also uses a rearranged version as an OST.
youtube
This playlist is not from a series but from the novel "I Will Knock You". They are songs that were mentioned in the novel.
youtube
Some singers
Gun Napat
-He also sings many other genres. To be honest, he actually didn’t sing Lukkrung song that much. But he’s great at doing it. You may recognize him as the one who sings A Tale of Thousand Stars OST.
Charin Nuntanakorn 
-He has done a lot of things and has a lot of songs, including the one he begged a song writer to write so he could sing it to his now-wife. That song and its background story sounded like peak romance when my mom told them to middle school me.
The song -> https://www.youtube.com/embed/U7XubPfCXtY
เพลงเพื่อชีวิต  - phleng phuea chiwit
phleng = music, song, melody, composition
phuea = for
Chiwit = life
Songs in this genre are about the lives of people, especially those of the lower class, and talk about the difficulties of being taken advantage of, as do songs calling for democracy and political satire. Songs are considered to be in this genre based on their lyrics content, not their music style. Many songs in this genre are also Lukthung genre.
Example
Commoner Band
- This band is formed purely to express political opinion, which is mainly disapproval for coups and people who gain from them.
TaitosmitH
-I see some people ask about songs that were played in LOL2023. One of them is Taitosmith's song. It's the one that's played by Ohm, Nanon, Sea, Gemini, Pond, Phuwin, Khaotung, and Joong. It's called ยุติ-ธรรม.
youtube
Caravan Band
- one of the first phuea chiwit band
youtube
This one isn't the band’s original song, but it's quite a symbol. Its lyrics are from Chit Phumisak’s, an activist’s, poem.
Singers who are also actors and have acted in a BL series
Kob Songsit
-Theerapanyakul dad from KinnPorsche
-Botkawee's dad from Be My Favorite
-Older Songpol from 55:15 Never Too Late
-He's done some musicals too, and they're great.
-The song Phupha plays in A Tale of Thousand Stars is his song from a musical he stars in, Thawi Phop(ทวิภพ) The Musical.
Here a full song with English sub
youtube
Nok Sinjai
-Older Jaya Janiya from 55:15 Never Too Late
- She has been in many dramas and musicals. She and Kob Songsit have done some musicals together before.
Nat Sakdatorn
-Kit(Chopper’s dad) from Never Let Me Go
-Sam from Friend Zone 2: Dangerous Area (2020)
-He is not really known as a professional singer, but he stars in the same musical with Kob Songsit and Nok Sinjai, and I love that musical’s songs.
So, here is the musical I mentioned.
youtube
It's called บัลลังก์เมฆ (banlang mek- cloud throne) the musical. This version is kind of the cut version, so the story line is quite rushed, but the songs are all there.
Nok Sinjai as Panrung, the protagonist Kob Songsit as Kuea, Panrung’s second husband Nat Sakdatorn as Pakon, Panrung’s youngest son
The story is about Panrung, who should have a smooth sailing life, but due to her horrible decision-making and being an asshole and dictator-mom, she ruins her own life and also makes her children's lives a disaster.
The characters consist of Panrung, her two ex-husbands, her current husband, her four children, her ex-friend, who is also her current husband's ex-wife, and their son.
The songs are good. The theme song is iconic. The plot is....
Jeep Wasu
-Older Seksan from 55:15 Never Too Late
-His other nickname is Jeep Ror Dor(จิ๊บ ร.ด.) from his famous song with the same name. Ror Dor-ร.ด.-รักษาดินแดน-Territorial Defense If Thai men do not want to be conscripted, they can choose to apply to be trained while they are still students. Those trainees are called ร.ด.
Lookwa Pijika
-Gun's mom from My School President 
Mos Patiparn
-Kiao's friend from Past-Senger
-He also plays a musical
Intira Jaroenpura
-Our favorite BL mom
-She is more actor than singer, but she does sing a bit
-Thun's mother from He's Coming to Me
-Vanika, Thana's Wife, from 3 Will Be Free
-Her movie, Nang Nak(นางนาก 1999), made me relocate a Buddha image to under my pillow to maximize protection.
-Her half sister, Mai, is a big-name singer.
Some more Thai singers and bands
Bird Thongchai
If you watch anything from GMM regularly, then you've heard his song before.
For example, The Gifted 2 uses his song as background music, and the Never Let Me Go pilot trailer uses one of his songs and Our Skyy series name and the theme song are from the song, which was originally his too. Many of the songs that randomly came up in variety shows are his, both the songs the staff edited in and the songs people sing or make jokes with.
He started his career as a singer in 1983 and is still active to this day. He has been a household name since I can remember. His voice is very unique, and he is always open to new things.
youtube
Palmy
-Palmy's songs are never boring, and Palmy herself is also an interesting person.
-Friend Zone movie OST is originally her song.
youtube
-This song plays with the concept of losing Khwan and even has an explanation about a ceremony to call it back at the end of the MV. There is no English subtitle for that, tho.
Tattoo Colour
-This band’s name is a pun! Tattoo in Thai is Sak(สัก) and colour is Si(สี). Together, สักสี sound like ศักดิ์ศรี which means prestige, honor, fame, or honour.
Foreign media in Thai
Music
Thais have a large K-Pop fan base. My best friend has been a fan for more than a decade now, and the fan base seems to have only grown bigger since. J-Pop and C-Pop are not as popular, but I have personally known a few fans, and there is one in my timeline every once in a while, so I assume their popularity is steady.
And there are, of course, those big names: Taylor Swift, Harry Styles, Rihanna, Ed Sheeran, etc.
Animation
There is Japanese anime, of course. Japan is pretty popular in Thailand in general, whether in culture, products, or media. Anime, manga, novels, or even nonfiction books are getting translated all the time and are very easy to find.
China’s animation has started to gain popularity these past few years.
And there are American animation like Cartoon Network and Disney.
Books
Chinese books are always around, I think? In my understanding, (modern?) Wuxia genre market has its peek in Thai around 2500  B.E. or 1957 A.D., not that I would say it not popular anymore, but like, around that time there are some big translator that to this day people will still adopt their translation of idiom from them, so like, they are BIG. In present, Chinese books often has its own section in book store. If you are a Danmei fan like me you might notice before that there are a lot of official translation in Thai, it is a bless really. I would be reading a random unofficial translation on the internet, the translation not even half way, I was dying to know how it gonna be next, and before I know there is an official, complete translation I can get.
Japanese book also often has its own section in book store too. I would say that in a main stream book store the amount of Japanese book are less than Chinese but there are niche book store that sell  Japanese books exclusively, and that is something. Those type of store will mostly cater to anime fans, so the book I talk about are usually something that has an anime adaptation or was adapt from anime, it will also have other merch.
Korean books are getting translate to Thai quite often but less than Chinese and Japanese for sure.
Books in English also get translate often too and books in English as it is are usually the biggest section in the books in foreign language(non-translation) category.
Usually if it is a classic or famous enough it likely to be translate at some point, no matter what language its original from.
Tv show- series/verities
US, UK, Korea, Japan, China, and India drama are what I know for the fact that there are a certain amount of avid fans out there. For verities, for Korea and China, I saw fans make a fan sub for their favorite group, but for Japan, there is an official sub and dub for quite a few programs, last I checked. Does that mean Japan verities are more or less popular in Thai?
In conclusion, it's usually the US, UK, Korea, Japan, and China. 
Index
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pyrriax · 1 month
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for once, i'm here with something a little different!
my gift for @cowboyjeremiah for the @mcyt-valentines exchange is this playlist :D
apologies for the delay with your gift! i had a fic planned (and am including what i have written here, while planning to get it out and properly gifted to you as soon as possible) but got hit with pain & life, so i'll do my best to explain the major concepts!
Warm candlelight all around soaks the room in its gentle glow, even as the spring sun begins to set outside. Everything is covered in the swirl of soft pink and white, cherry petals collecting in every crevice and making hiding places out of spots nobody thinks to look. And just outside the window stands someone who Branzy hasn't seen in months. Clown is back, after so long away, off in the Fray, off fighting and returning only blood soaked and staining the ground in crimson and gold. None his own, no blood daring to pour from the cracks on his mask. He's still as pristine as the day he left, perfect in a way that Branzy's sure should worry him, the truth of welcoming in this lost dog baring its teeth. An ugly, perfect grin, all full of teeth, sharp and ready to snap. Yet, there's no growl, no snarl, silence speaks of something trained, someone fine tuned and sharpened to a point. Dangerous, in a way that only proves that he's alive, that they're both alive, alive as can be. It comes easily, comes almost naturally, to welcome in the danger because really, is that not all he knows? Or, rather, all he'd like to know? Stain the pristine white and perfect purples with dark crimson, sully the perfection that he's always known with the imperfection of the outside world. Welcome home a bloody soldier, and happily tend to his wounds, because what is he if not trapped here with the purpose to serve? [...]
so, welcome to the seraphim au. where branzy is a god (a seraph) and clown is... human? (not really, he isn't. he's a machine, something made to replace seraphs in battle)
a lot of the thought going on here is "what would happen if you flipped the power of their dynamic, while keeping them relatively similar?"
an example of a seraph, though this isn't... how branzy looks? he strays far more human, purely because of how attached he is to clown.
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the playlist's main focus is the general vibe of the world, especially the choices of songs (but especially with the artists, you'll notice a few which focus on religious topics, and especially have hymn-like qualities.) and especially its focusing on the concept of clown and branzy's dynamic.
but, overall, the changing of seasons and the ruining of imagery which is traditionally seen as something soft is the main focus. a god often viewed as benevolent is drawn toward the violence and blood of the world, finding solace in clown's stories. it's a parallel to clown trapping branzy in the end, even if it's vague about it!
there's also. this piece?
Finally sitting down to rest and just sitting in silence with Branzy. They haven't seen each other in a long while, yet they settle in regardless, Branzy handing Clown a letter, carefully penned and addressed to him, looking away when Clown looks at him for clarification Branzy is embarrassed, having handed Clown such a bold show of heart, a love letter. Something that's so open and real to him, it's no different from an xray, of a photo of his ribcage, handing him his beating, bleeding heart. It's love, it's truth, it's him.
i think we need more victorian era shows of love in the world, give somebody an xray
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mindswriters · 2 years
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i have a very specific stranger things headcanon which i'm going to expose rn while i explain WHY in my head Eddie Munson is the one destined to kill Vecna!!!
first of all we're going with the obvious facts, Vecna is a creature from the Upside Down but just as the other creatures from previous seasons, he also exists at D&D as "a undead creature of great power, spell caster and dark wizard."
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next, Eddie is a Dungeon Master, a hell of a good one, who has Vecna as his main character at the most important campaings, which means he gets to "control" him like a puppet, and probably knows a lot about his powers and weaknesses. Now, y'all seeing the tattoo in his forearm?
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this is the mf tattoo!!! long hands, the whole figure controled by strings, just like a puppet plus the fact that Eddie would 100% tattoo his own main D&D character as a puppet because he shows off damn good how it is to be a DM, so yeah, let's assume that Eddie Munson has Vecna as a Puppet tattoed in his skin.
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and of course the guitar scene is included here, cuz we all know that this must be one hell of a important moment for the season, or even the final battle, briging Eddie who is a new character for the highlight of importance. and for the song he is playing, i was going for the theories that mentioned The Final Countdown as a classic one and Rainbow In The Dark cuz Eddie has Dio painted in the back of his denim vest.
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well, that until this down here happened. spotify and netflix created this personal playlist with songs that would save each user from Vecna (the link was posted at the official strangerthingstv insta stories). most of songs were added according to your personal likes, but when comparing playlist with my friends we noticed that some songs were in everyone's playlist, like Should I Stay or Should I Go, Running Up That Hill, Separate Ways and other songs from the original soundtrack.
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but one song in special caught our attention, it was in all of our playlists, even tho none of us recently listened to it, and that's Master Of Puppets by Metallica. and please tell me that you already know what i'm thinking. the song was released at March 3th 1986, like not even a month before the date they are at in the show, genre trash metal, 8 minutes!! and it's Metallica so of course Eddie likes it.
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also, look at those goddamn lyrics!!! really??? I'M SCREAMING and idfc if El is the only one who's powerful enough to fight Vecna when this shit makes so much sense!!!! i mean Eddie plopped from nowhere into the Upside Down shit, coincidentally being a guitarist, when one of the only weapons they have against the villain is MUSIC, he's a dungeon MASTER who has Vecna as a PUPPET not only at the game but painted in his pure skin!!! HE'S 100% THE MASTER OF PUPPETS and no one can tell me otherwise!!
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i know that this is probably not possible in the real plot of show but in my head it is so real 😭😭 they could totally match this theory with the one of Eddie being number 010 and make it happen!!! either way, i believe my man is the one who can fuck up with Vecna's life and laugh at his face while doing it! my master <3<3<3
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jakeyt · 29 days
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Covet: Chapter 10 (Part 1 of 2)
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Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader
Covet Summary:
Life was good. No, life was great. 
Was. 
Until.
Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.
You welcomed him into your life—your home. 
Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in. 
Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want.
At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.
Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); angst; extreme feelings of stress and anxiety; feelings of sadness; abandonment issues; allusions to a dark, forgotten childhood; therapy; EMDR therapy; arguing/raising of voices; heart issues (POTs); use of heart monitors; hemoglobin kits mentioned; jealousy; body changes as a result of pregnancy; negative self-talk; baby talk galore; pregnancy hormones (. . .but just wait for part 2 lol); reader continues being sad while she checks Jake out... but now we see jake being sad while he checks reader out lol; mild description of oral sex (m! receiving) (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)
Chapter Word Count: 27.4k+
a/n: hi, loves :) i am sorry for the wait! won't go into detail, but life is a mf beast rn, and i'm rolling w it the best i can. this is a hobby. and while it does take up the majority of my free time, it is also not my main job! so, please be patient as life isn’t easy!
without further ado, here is chapter 10, pt 1... you will get pt 2 tomorrow - it is all set and ready to upload, but i must let the anticipation rise after pt 1. ;)
part 1 includes a hell-ton of stuff that i've been waiting to write - and been waiting for you to read! eek! this chapter is the beginning of a ~new chapter~ in everyone's lives... so, strap in <3 things are about to get real interesting......
as usual, thank you to my lovely sister @joshym for being my encourager and for aiding in expanding on ideas when i feel stuck as hell lol i love you more than words can properly articulate <3
Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤 (i listen to it nonstop while i write this story.... all of the songs are pertinent to the plot and assist in telling it - either already or eventually.)
Covet Masterlist
-🌼🌼🌼-
"Conscience and covetousness are never to be reconciled; like fire and water they always destroy each other, according to the predominancy of the element."
-Jeremy Collier
-🌼🌼🌼-
November 17, 2022
After several moments of standing there, you started to feel very naked under Jake’s stare. 
The realization that you were still butt-fucking-naked under your towel had you wanting to escape the entire situation. It added one more reason why you wanted to hide in your room for all of eternity.
You didn’t know how to process what had just happened. . . All you knew was that any idea of a nice talk where you revealed the truth to him. . . Was gone. 
He knew now. And you were freaking the fuck out. 
-🌼🌼🌼-
Jake’s POV
There was no doubting her. Not for a single second. The baby was mine and I’d known it in my heart before I asked. 
I really just wanted to hear her say it. 
During our time together, just like she’d been it for me, I knew in my heart that I’d been it for her. I’d known her, backwards and forwards. And, within that time that I knew her so well, we’d become close. So close that, without meaning to make it—us— more, we’d made it more. 
I gave her a better look, not able to put into words what the fuck I was feeling. Let my eyes trail down her body, covered only by a towel. 
She adjusted her towel, tighter around her body. Was she self conscious? She shouldn’t have been. She was always beautiful. And I was afraid pregnancy was only going to enhance her beauty. . . I noticed as she tightened her towel, the action made her full breasts spill even more from the top of the towel. I averted my eyes, willing my dick to not react. Instead, I trained my eyes below, on her belly. 
And now that I knew, I could see. Even through the fluffiness of the towel, I could see a certain roundness to her belly that had never been there before. A full-blown bump. Still small by some standards, but big enough that I should have fucking noticed. 
Not able to help it, my eyes scanned her heaving chest, the tops of her tits fully exposed above the towel. It made so much sense why I’d noticed them looking bigger. . . Because they were bigger. Growing. Every day. To nourish our baby. 
Our baby.
I looked away from her. . . I couldn’t look at her right now. Not when she— when I. . . God.
How had I been so oblivious?! I lived with her for Christ’s sake. Was it my fault that I hadn’t allowed myself to be more present in her life? Was it because I was seeing Maya now? God. No. It wasn’t on me to watch for things like that anymore. Not since she’d told me that I’d served my purpose. That I was just convenient. . . And all of the other hateful shit she’d spit in my face that day in the kitchen. 
The day my heart fucking broke after pounding in my chest. . . Pleading with her to help me understand all of it. But she hadn't fucking stopped . . . Just kept going. Breaking me. Saying things I never, in a million years, ever wanted to hear from her. 
I’d let her become more in my life. I thought it was meant to last. Thought that she had become my someone. More than relationship. More than friends. She had just . . . Been there. She’d nestled into a place made just for her in my heart. Like she was supposed to have been there all along. 
I’d never wanted her to leave. But she’d wanted to. She’d put her foot down, not leaving any goddamn room for argument. 
And my heart. . . Fucking broken after beating the hardest it ever had in my chest. . . Shattered into an infinite number of tiny shards at my feet. I’d spent days picking up the shreds, my hands getting cut every time I tried to fix in me what she’d torn apart. There was a part of me that knew exactly why she’d done it. I fucking knew. Knew that she didn’t think she deserved happiness or some shit. But there was no use in entertaining what I knew when she refused to acknowledge the truth. 
The night we’d smoked and I’d told her that I— and then she’d told me that she— Jesus. The moment had been so real, so solid. . . The words had fallen from my lips without any hint of question. Even being under the influence, I felt the connection we’d made in that moment. I thought about the words everyday for weeks after I’d left the kitchen on that hellish day. 
Then there was the transcendental sex we’d had when we made it into her room that night. She’d been so wet, waiting for me. . . Fuck it all. Wait— not— no. The night we’d smoked. . . We hadn’t used protection. Was that when—?
The inside of my brain was just going fucking insane and I couldn’t— goddammit!
I ran a hand through my hair a couple of times, the other one still holding my keys. I  needed to do something with both of my hands. Besides balling them into fists and creating divets in one palm with my fingertips and the other with my keys.
I was tired of just standing there, in front of this woman I’d fallen for at a time when I thought I’d never wanted to love again. . . The same woman who’d shattered me. And, now, the very same woman who was carrying my child. . . 
There was no use in trying to organize any thoughts. Pacing seemed to be the only option. So, back and forth, back and forth, I walked in about a foot of space. Just waded in these uncharted fucking waters. All I knew at this moment was she was pregnant. And she’d lied to me about it. 
How long had she—? How far along was—?
And why in the hell had Josh known before me?! Of all fucking people . . . Fuck! 
“Jake,” her voice tore through the catastrophic mess of shit in my head. 
I didn’t look at her. How could I? When she’d left me in the dark. Once again, prioritized Josh over me. Even when it came to my child. Absolutely fucking incredible.
“Jake, please,” she muttered, voice cracking on the word please. My heart couldn’t handle the sound. “I can’t— I’m not in the right state of mind to just stand here and—.” I stopped pacing and peered up at her finally, my hair surely a mess around my hot face when I let my eyes pierce hers. 
But as soon as I made eye contact with her, I softened. I hated to see her cry. Hated it. And the sobs suddenly wracking her were unexpected. It hurt my heart to stand there and watch her like that. 
But— she’d brought this on herself. Right?! Fuck. 
As much as I wanted to walk to her and hug her, I didn’t. I stayed where I was, offering a half-assed look of pity. It wasn’t her turn to hurt over this. I was the one just finding out. Not her.
“Y/n,” I tried, weakly. But god it sucked to say her name right now. “Just— god. There are so many—.”
“Questions, I know,” she finished, walking a couple hesitant steps toward me. But I took two back, away from her. 
The way her body slacked at my action made me want to take it back. There were a lot of things I wanted to do. Some understandable, some not so much. I wanted to cry. Kiss her. Hug her. Feel her. Help her. Scream at her. 
But, she was right. I did have so many fucking questions. 
“How long?” I asked, breath shallow, never letting my eyes leave hers. 
She kept up, not looking away from me. “How long have I known? Or how long have I been—?”
“Both.”
“I—,” she stuttered, closing her eyes tight, her beautiful face contorted in what I could only assume was emotional turmoil. 
I watched as she balled her fists, clenching them a few times. Then, as she released them, she seemed to plant her feet firmly on the floor— her body, rigid and straight. 
When she opened her eyes and found mine again, I could clearly see the tears that had accumulated on her lashes. And her eyes, that would forever take my breath away, were daring to shed more of them.
“Don’t cry,” I couldn’t help but calmly reassure her, my voice soft as I went to stand closer to her again. Not close. Just— closer. “Just. . . keep going. Talk me through it. Talk us through it.” 
She breathed deeply, in and out, once. I strained to not let my eyes fall to her chest— to admire the way her fuller breasts would rise and fall. . . I resisted, focusing on her eyes. Her face, rivaling all gods of beauty. . . 
After taking one more calming breath, she began. “I’m three months along,” she paused momentarily, as if thinking of something. “Three months today, actually.”
Three months.
“And how long have you known?”
“I’ve known for about a month,” she responded, bringing her shoulders higher and sniffling once. She blinked once, tightening her fists once more. “That’s not to say I told anyone right away. I kept it to myself. I was scared. I didn’t know what the fuck to do.”
I let her words sit in the air for a few minutes, thought them through at least five times before I couldn’t keep the next question to myself any longer. 
“When did Josh find out?” 
Her jaw flexed as her fists bunched up; eyebrows, drawn together as she glanced down briefly, her eyes snapping back to mine. “Why the fuck is that important right now?”
Oh, she wanted to get angry? Okay.
“Seriously?” I said, my tone sharp as I pointed a finger at her. “You telling my brother about my baby before me is pretty fucking disheartening. Especially when I — fuck. You know why it’s important.”
“I’m sorry. . . I’m stuck on something you said. . . When you called it your baby,” she leveled, stepping toward me once. I didn’t move, only stood taller and sighed deeply, nostrils flared. “Please, tell me more. About how you’re the one who had to find out all by herself. And if you’re the one who had to find out all by herself, you’re probably also the one who’s going to have to stretch her body out to carry this baby for the next six months,” her voice rose with every word she spoke. She sighed, a smile shaking on her lips, yet lacking any positive emotion. “I must’ve fucking forgotten.”
All I could do was stare at her; because, in spite of all of that truth, I was still angry with her. She’d twisted my words. She knew what I fucking meant. 
She just wanted an opportunity to pin something on me in her moment of insecurity. 
It was definitely something she would do in a state of upset. Hell, it was something I would do. Without a thought. I was known for it. Could I be upset with her for doing the same thing? Dammit. I just felt conflicted as hell — didn’t know how to feel about it all. 
I was happy. Really. Truly. Completely over the moon ecstatic at getting to be a father. I just— I couldn’t wrap my mind around the idea of it. All of the information, the reality of my life. . . It wasn’t sinking in worth shit. Though, at the same time, it felt so incredibly real. 
On the same hand, I also felt completely betrayed to not know a damned thing until this moment. It was fine that she waited to tell me. No question about that. But telling Josh before me still pissed me the fuck off. . . And it would until she understood why it made me so angry. 
She’d confided in him about the baby I helped her make. When she hadn’t even told me. Probably hadn’t even been planning on telling me anytime fucking soon. Because of her determination to keep me out of the loop when it came to our child, I’d had to find out on my own. By accident. 
All because I was a motherfucking identical twin. What were the chances of that shit?
I didn’t get to have a moment of joy at the thought of being a father because I was too busy reading how grateful she was for Josh amidst this pregnancy. All I could think about was how she hadn’t been grateful for me. Hadn’t been grateful enough to keep me in her life. 
She’d pushed me out. But not Josh. Definitely not Josh. She would never say to Josh what she said to me in the kitchen.
I couldn’t take it.
Unable to control my actions, I started acting before thinking. . . Not even looking at her, I focused only on the keys in my hand, still waiting for me to go somewhere. I had to go somewhere. Had to get the fuck out of the apartment that had brought me both my greatest days and my most heartbreaking. 
And this day was officially both.
Pulling the door open without even thinking about it, seeing through blurred tunnel vision, I heard her say my name, once again choking on sobs behind me. Even after I closed the door, she continued to wail my name. 
My heart was longing to stay back with her. Begging me to stay where I knew I needed to. The guilt was heavy. Baby or not, my heart yearned for the woman. Even when I shouldn’t want her, I did. And I really shouldn’t after what she’d said in the kitchen.
I knew it was a dick move to leave. I knew it. But I had to. Couldn’t explain it. So, with blurred vision and hearing her repeat my name and begging me not to leave, I continued down the cemented, outdoor hallway and to the stairs. 
End of Jake’s POV
-🌼🌼🌼-
Gone. Found out about it and then he was just. . . gone. 
You stood there long enough to let him walk back through the door. Until he might’ve come back, ready to make things right.
You waited too long. But when you started getting a chill from standing there in your towel, you were suddenly ready to put some clothes on. Ready to hide. Maybe Jake had the right idea to run away.
In the case he didn’t come back tonight, you didn’t want to be waiting for him all night, getting your hopes up. . . only to have them crushed.
Your heart was already burning in your chest, all the way down to the pit of your stomach, at the worry of him not returning.
-🌼🌼🌼-
You firmly decided on leaving for a bit. Follow his lead. You went about your business to get your ass out of your home before it swallowed you whole in your fears and worries of Jake.
But. . . driving sounded stupid as hell. You wouldn’t have been able to see past the clouds of tears in your eyes to safely arrive at your destination. And, as sad as you were, you weren’t sad enough to want to wreck your car. The baby’s life was the first you considered. But–then. . . you realized you had a burning desire to keep going for you, too. . . despite Jake leaving, you wanted to keep going. The sadness hadn’t completely overtaken you.
So, you’d wisely decided to schedule an Uber. And while you waited, you hastily pulled your cute gray sweatsuit (thank you, TikTok shop) onto your body as quickly as you could, making sure to put on a sports bra underneath to hold your boobs in place. They continued to hurt like hell. You really needed to get a maternity bra.
And then, after you’d fed Stevie, you waited for the Uber and prayed that it would show up before Jake got back home. 
Well. . .if he came back home tonight. It was very bold of you to just assume he would. Why would he want to return? Your own mother left you because you weren’t worth anything. And tonight, Jake had made it perfectly clear he felt the same way your mom had.
The Uber showed up in no time. . .sooner than you’d scheduled for it to arrive. 
As the black Toyota Solara finally came into view, you wiped your tears for the millionth time since Jake had left. The sobs that wracked your chest hadn’t stopped painting your cheeks since he’d walked out the door. Because, well, he had left you. The one person you wanted with you for this had left when you needed him most.
-🌼🌼🌼-
Applebee’s. The sign to the restaurant had you feeling the urge to do happy dance, even amidst your raging emotions. But you concealed it for the sake of your Uber driver.
For the past few days, you’d been craving their alfredo specifically. The fear of ruining it like you’d ruined so many other foods, had kept you from DoorDashing it. 
But tonight? Tonight you’d decided to treat yourself, and instead of being scared that you’d throw it all up, you took the chance. Thus, scheduling the Uber to drive you to fucking Applebee’s. Of all places.
You’d been sitting for probably five minutes at a booth (comfortably, but definitely lonely), when the rain started pouring down outside your booth’s window. 
And at approximately the same time, you noticed the large group of men around your age at the bar, backwards baseball caps and muscles presumably only huge from steroids. They were screaming at the top of their lungs as a football game droned on on the TV in front of them.
The rain, the jocks. . . made you long for your bed immediately. . . Made you wish you would have just stayed home to wallow for the sole opportunity of letting the thunder lull you to a (much needed) restful sleep. Though, based on the night’s events, you weren’t sure how peaceful that slumber would actually be. Or how quickly it would come.
Thankfully, the prospect of going home came as soon as you started longing for it. The young waitress came by to ask for your drink order, but you went ahead and ordered the alfredo you’d been craving – along with the soft pretzels and cheese which automatically stood out to you when you’d opened the menu. 
Now all you were hoping was that you wouldn’t end up vomiting your guts up over your toilet later. Or worse, all over an Uber driver. You were taking a chance. This was the first time you’d eaten out since starting your new journey of eating and nausea meds. 
Speaking of, you promptly popped a PregEase in your mouth, directly from the stash in your belt bag slung across your chest.
You were thankful for the meds, but at the moment, you were actually totally fine with risking it. The one reason being: food was working as a pretty fantastic distraction from your problems for the time being. So. . . you were letting it do its job.
When the waitress brought your water out to you, your phone started buzzing and ringing in your belt bag, succeeding in interrupting you thanking her. The reverberations felt so good against your boobs (don’t fucking judge); at this point, you were convinced your chest was bound to feel like two heavy bags of tiny nails, for the rest of your life. Nothing brought them relief, and the phone felt surprisingly nice.
She kindly smiled, bringing your attention back to her from your boobs, saying she'd be back soon with your appetizer. You responded with a similar smile to hers and went about balancing all of the shit in your belt bag to get your phone out. 
You figured it was probably Elsie. She was the one most likely to be calling you at this time of night. She was known for using the late hour to openly vent to you about her day. Though, since Josh, the calls had become fewer and fewer. 
Finally getting the phone out and peeking at the screen, you were suddenly wishing it was Elsie. Because, the name staring back at you was making your tummy feel like swirling electricity. 
The process of getting your phone out had taken long enough, though, that you’d missed the call completely. You weren’t sure if it was a bullet dodged or a missed opportunity you were instantaneously longing to happen again.
You didn’t have to contemplate it for too long before his name was lighting up your screen again. And it was admittedly weird seeing his name with your current lockscreen wallpaper. . . A couple days ago, you’d impulsively taken a picture of the sonogram picture from your first appointment and made it your wallpaper. 
What if you’d accidentally left your phone where he could find it? Damn. Were you wanting him to find out on his own? Was that going to be your pussy ass way of telling him? Or were you just being impulsive and dumb?
Once again, the call went to voicemail. Except, there wasn’t time for him to leave one with how quickly he was calling you back.
Goddamn, y/n. Answer, your inner encourager forced you impatiently.
Swallowing thickly, you went to slide your finger over to answer. Your body was swimming with an increasing amount of anxiety. But, you answered it.
��Hello?” You spoke faintly, your belly flip flopping. 
He’s probably calling to say he’s packing his shit and moving out.
“Where are you?!” He asked, his voice ragged and worried. Uneven with what could only be fear. “I got home and you weren’t here and I’m freaking the fuck out. Are you okay? Are you safe? Are you with someone?”
Wait. What? Why was he scared?
For some reason, you wanted to be obtuse and not answer his questions. Apparently you were just feeling like an asshole tonight. You didn’t know. You were just tired as hell and didn’t know how to approach him. You wanted to tell him. But, you didn’t.
“I’m fine. I’m just not home.”
“Y/n. Fucking duh. I just told you I’m here,” he replied, impatient but still concerned. “Where are you?”
“What if I don’t want to tell you?” Lie.
He sighed. You could imagine him running a hand across his forehead. His eyes were most likely closed, out of patience. Damn. You’d gotten real used to stressing him out if you could guess the motions.
“Then don’t, I guess,” he relented, voice tense and irritated. “Can you just let me know you’re safe?”
As if on cue, the guys at the bar went ballistic. It made you tense up and roll your eyes at the disruption they were causing to the entire restaurant. But, specifically how they were shouting in the middle of you talking to Jake.  
“Are you at a party?” He gaped, sounding utterly shocked.
Yet again, the men started screaming at the top of their lungs, proceeding to yell a variation of the words Yes! and go-go-go-go!, plus a bunch of other shit you couldn’t understand.
You couldn’t help the growl that came from your mouth, your eyes slowly closing in annoyance. “No, Jacob. Do you really think I’d be at a party?”
“Jesus, sorry,” he apologized. He let out a deep sigh, causing the speaker to rattle a little into your ear. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m worried about you.”
Worried about–? What?
Lay off of him, y/n. You were crying buckets before you left home because you wanted him so badly. Come on. You know he is not the cause of the football fuckers going ham. Don’t take it out on him.
You let out a giant sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Tried to tune out the men to your left. Because Jake. Jake was on the phone. And it didn’t take rocket science to know that you really wanted to see him. Quite frankly, you felt the need to see him. 
But. . .did he want to see you? Or was he just being kind? Only worried about you because he was a decent human being? With no underlying, deeper meaning other than you being pregnant and alone? Did it make you weak if you told him where you were? 
Who cares? Just tell him.
“I’m at Applebee’s,” you sighed, rubbing your forehead before placing the same hand over your round belly to trace shapes against it. 
“Are you with someone?” He asked, tone smooth with a slight edge behind it.
“No, Jake,” you grumbled. Why did he care?
“Do you want me there?” He questioned apprehensively, sounding like it was what he wanted.
But why? He’d left you.
“Do you want to be here?”
“Yes–well,” he paused. “Only if you want me there.”
“Do you think I want you here?”
Why the game of 20 Questions, y/n? His night has already been hard enough.
You knew why. You were avoiding the impending confrontation of seeing him again. Just as much as you did want to see him, you were putting it off because you were nervous. There was no telling what would be said. Would he leave again? Would he say he didn’t want to be in the child’s life? Did it even matter?
“Yes,” he softly responded, waiting for you to confirm or deny.
He was right. And he’d unintentionally answered both of your questions. Yes, it mattered and yes, you wanted him here.
So, after telling him which Applebee’s you were at, he told you he’d be there soon and to stay put before he hung up. The sloppy jocks suddenly started cheering again, clapping each other’s backs. Though, in spite of them, you couldn’t help the quiet smile that swept over your lips.
He was coming for you.
-🌼🌼🌼-
There were about ten minutes between your apartment and Applebee’s, so you waited. 
Just ten minutes. But time crawled.
You were equal parts excited and terrified to see him. The only plausible solution to ease you while you waited, was to watch the door. Your brain was tripping over questions and curiosities all based around him, but just like you’d tried to do all night, you ignored them. Just watched. the. door. 
In reality, you really didn’t have much time to think about a whole lot before Jake was walking through the doors.  Not wearing a rain jacket (or a jacket of any sort) to cover him from the rain. . . which meant he was soaking. wet.
And oh no no no no. . . seeing him like that was not good for your baby hormones. Fuck. Why hadn’t he grabbed one before he left the apartment?!
He was going to catch a cold.
To be totally truthful, you were quite happy he hadn’t put one on. . . Reason being, you could see every single droplet that dripped from his hair. . .that touched his skin. You watched each one fall from the long strands of his wavy locks. Some dripped one-by-one, down the thick column of his neck. And others, directly to the tanned skin of his chest. . . Some even trailing to a hidden place underneath his shirt. . .
He was wearing a light blue button down, the material completely stained from the heavy, unrelenting downpour. You wanted to just peel it off of him–take care of him. You wanted to remove each piece of clothing, carefully dry every part of his body. . .
Not even meaning to, you caught yourself biting your lower lip before soothing it with a lick of your lips. . . 
Okay, y/n. Biting and licking your lips? Seriously?! Stop.
You turned around, pinching your eyes shut. Honestly, ogling over him in this very public space was not ideal. Shouldn’t have been ogling him at all. He wasn’t yours. But dammit your body couldn’t help but heat in his presence. 
Though, the atmosphere of the restaurant did not match your mood at all. In addition to the hoard of men with their beer, the place had become busier – bustling with groups of women and men alike. 
The football guys were still the worst part. You were getting sick of them–on your last nerve.
The continuous hooting and hollering that emitted from the men was obnoxious at best. Stereotypical men. In their natural habitat. They hadn’t stopped acting like heathens during the game and whooped loudly at every Republican ad that played during the commercial breaks. . . Beer bottles repeatedly clanged against each other. You were coming to realize there was zero chance of them quieting down. 
And suddenly it dawned on you that the idea of having to talk to Jake in an Applebee’s, during a (presumably important) football game, sounded dreadful. Having white college men as background noise was the last thing you wanted.
You looked back over towards the door, anxious to set eyes on a real man. Only to find he was finally making his way to you. His shoulders, broad, but shaking and shivering. He kept his arms tightly at his sides, hands in pockets and arms flexing with the shivers, beneath the thin material of his button down. 
You didn’t look too long, though. . . Turned back around — didn’t want to stare long enough for him to catch you. You shook your thoughts away. And for the first time since you’d sat down, the young, drunken men were slightly welcomed as they helped to keep you nailed down to the present with their ludicrous screams. 
Before you knew it, his body came into your view, walking down the small aisle to your table. God, he was handsome. Even with flushed cheeks and wet hair sticking to his face, he was beautiful. 
When Jake finally slid into the booth, he was still shaking off his chill. He cupped his hands around his mouth and breathed harshly into them before clapping and rubbing them together under the table. You knew you were in a daze watching him and you’d stay that way if you didn’t try to speak soon.
“Are you trying to catch a fucking cold?” You hastily questioned him, raising your eyebrow for emphasis. 
He stilled momentarily, setting a steady glare your way. “I rushed here. I didn’t think about grabbing one before just focusing on getting here.”
“Why the rush? You knew I was safe.”
“I was anxious to see you.”
Your heart leapt into your throat. So anxious to not grab a cover for this rainstorm? Why? 
“But you’re the one who left me,” you responded hesitantly after taking a minute to consider his words.
Suddenly, he stopped shaking. He cast his eyes down, sweeping over the table as he chewed at the inside of his cheek. 
“I didn’t know what else to do,” he muttered before glancing up at you with eyes that read regret. “It was not the right decision. I know that and I’m so sorry. But I was just feeling a shit ton of emotions and I— I didn’t know what else—.”
“To do. I know,” you finished for him, nodding along to remind him he’d already mentioned that. “That’s not a valid excuse.”
He looked about ready to agree, but then his brows wrinkled and he tilted his head. He looked unsure. “I’m not sure if it’s valid or not, but it’s definitely not an excuse. I quite honestly didn’t know how the fuck to react, so that’s how I chose to feel it. Just needed to leave and refresh by—.”
“By fucking Maya?” You bit back.
What–?
Shit. Where the hell did those words come from? You hadn’t even. . . fuckfuckfuck. Nothing like fully exposing feelings you harbored.
“Excuse me?” He clipped back, voice alternating to a deeper tone. Aggravated. 
You stuttered out a reply the best you could. “I–I was– I didn’t mean to–,” you bowed your head, ashamed of yourself. “I don’t know where that came from. I’m sorry.”
Really, you were very sorry. It was uncalled for. 
His response was unexpected. “Don’t be sorry,” he softly said, sighing. Your eyes drew up, waiting to hear what else he had to say. You were not expecting him to reassure you. If you were in his shoes, you’d be appalled. He was rubbing his forehead when he tiredly responded, “Emotions are high right now.”
“Yeah, I guess. Except. . . I don’t really have a reason to be a bitch because I’ve already dealt with this,” you explained, motioning to your belly at the word this. “I’ve accepted it and I need to just. . . calm down.”
He snorted a laugh, brushing the tip of his nose with his pointer finger. The black hair-tie wrapped around his middle finger flashed into view. “Y/n, honey,” he started. But–you were slightly incoherent. Honey? What the fu–? “You’ve always been emotional. In all situations. No matter what,” he blew out a breath, a shiver running up his spine. He was drying off, slowly but surely. “I, of all people, would know.”
That last bit distracted you momentarily from him calling you a pet name. A sweet one at that. But. . . you weren’t focused on that. Rather, you were reeling at the fact that he’d just essentially made mention of the fact that he was the victim of you exposing your raw emotional state.
All you could think about— as you saw a glimpse of hurt flash over his brown eyes, him no doubt thinking of the same thing—was the kitchen. That blessed day in the kitchen where you’d gone full blast on him.
Avert avert avert.
You coughed, trying your best to clear the air. “I know it was probably necessary for you to go—leave. . . To think somewhere else, but . . . it did just suck for you to leave,” you admitted shyly. “It wasn’t an ideal time to be alone. Although. . .,” you sighed, watching his face as he concentrated on you. “I guess I brought it on myself. I should have told you sooner.”
“I am curious. . . Why didn’t you?”
“Because I was afraid of that happening,” you truly stated, waving your hand towards him. “I was afraid of you . . . leaving or something that would hurt like hell. . .”
He nodded, pursing his lips as he considered it. “I understand that,” he caught your eyes, his own, soft. Then, suddenly vulnerable. “But. . . wouldn’t it have been easier to tell me first? And wasn’t it maybe more daunting to tell Josh? I mean you had to tell him about–,” he motioned between you two. You couldn’t help the blush that painted your cheeks. Then, he looked curious, brow quirked. “Wait. . . does he even know that it’s mine?”
“Yes, he does,” you confirmed with a barely-there grin. 
He looked like he wanted to ask you something else, but ended up shaking his head and looking down at his lap, his hands moving to twiddle beneath the table before he did. 
“You’re partially right. It would have made more sense to tell you first,” you agreed partially with his earlier statement, watching him. “But I’m not sure it would have been easier. . . there are factors in the way–between us. . . people that don’t deserve to have their lives changed.”
When he looked up from where he’d been watching his hands move, his eyes met yours. You shared a look, and you knew he understood why it would have been difficult. He knew the people–the person–you were referring to. 
“I see your point. But. . .,” he cleared his throat. “It’s just me. No matter what’s changed between us. . . I’m still me. And this particular situation only concerns you, me, and the baby. No one else,” he clarified. “So, just because she’s in the picture now. . . it doesn’t mean you need to keep things from me.”
She's in the picture now. . . Stupidly, those words broke your heart.
The waitress was suddenly at the table with your food. All of it. Pretzel sticks, cheese, and your main course. She set your order on the table, but you knew you didn’t want to be here much longer. Not when you heard the hollering begin again towards the bar. You were also growing increasingly more tired by the second. 
“Can I get the alfredo to go?” You asked hopefully. 
“Sure! You want me to bring boxes for the rest, too?” Her large gray eyes were wide and bright with her seemingly innocent youth. “Just in case.”
“Yeah,” you grinned, leaning your arms on the table. “Sounds good. Thanks.”
She had nodded and was beginning to walk off when she noticed Jake sitting with you. When she saw him, her eyes bugged out and she stopped in her tracks before continuing any further.
“Wait–,” she started, her brow lifting. “Are you. . . in a band?”
His eyes darted to yours and then back to hers before he answered with a wide grin. “Yeah, actually,” he replied. “I am. It’s called–.”
“I know what it’s called!” She shrieked, her face lighting up instantaneously. “My friends and I love you guys. We’ve been to a few of your shows. We even saw you at the festival and got your demo CD! We went just for you guys,” she gushed, not pausing for more than a second. “I was so excited when I started to see your posters all over,” she rushed out, squealing a little. “We’re so excited for your shows coming up!”
His grin loosened, his cheeks flushing along with hers. “Well, thanks for coming to see us when we play,” he softly responded. “We have some other music being released soon. With a label,” he winked, glancing your way. You blushed, too, for whatever reason. What was happening in front of you? “Be on the lookout.”
The waitress’s smile took up her entire face. “Oh, we will!” She nodded enthusiastically, watching him closely for a few seconds longer than necessary. “I have to tell you. . . you’re so much hotter up close. I mean, from far away, hell yes. But right here? Oh my god.”
You decided you were definitely ready to leave. 
The guys at the bar began exploding at the football game just then, the rain was still pattering against the window, tempting you. . . and then there was the apparent fangirl who did not want to leave. . . your eyes flickered to Jake’s. He’d been watching you, waiting for a sign.
“Do you mind grabbing those boxes?” He asked politely, his smile a bit more forced now. 
And he didn’t even have to ask twice before she was nodding excitedly and racing off to get him what he wanted. 
-🌼🌼🌼-
Thanks to Jake intervening and then quickly getting your food in the boxes for you, you were in his car within fifteen minutes. He’d effectively taken over the bill and paid for you, and had run to grab his car while he made you wait at the door. 
“You don’t need to be getting sick,” he’d explained, right before he covered the front of his face, beeping his car unlocked, and running to pull it up.
Your heart fluttered in your chest at the way he was tending to you. 
But before you could feel too giddy about it, you felt weird about it. You didn’t want him to suddenly like you again just because you were carrying his baby. He didn’t need to go above and beyond—you didn’t want him to feel obligated to do anything. So, as soon as he’d pulled his Jeep up (and helped you up and inside of it, effectively getting himself soaked again), you got in and waited for him to get in.
As you sat, it encouraged you even more because he’d even gone the extra mile and turned on the seat heaters. He was doing too much when he didn’t need to.
He’d started driving as soon you got in, and you tried damn hard not to watch him drive. Because, you’d just learned, that for some asinine reason, your fucking baby hormones went into overdrive when you’d tried watching a soaking wet Jake behind the wheel of his car. The way he leaned back, relaxed, one arm resting on the console between you two. . .
So, in order to distract yourself, you brought up your winding trail of thought. 
“Please don’t start caring about me again just because I’m carrying your baby.”
You heard him scoff under his breath, the sound alone making your heartbeat quicken as you waited for his response. 
“Start caring about you again? What does that even—?” 
Crossing your arms under your (always sore) boobs, you sat up straighter in your seat to keep some sort of dignity as you further explained. “Jake, you’ve been distancing yourself from me for months now—and for good reason, mind you—I just don’t want you to start doing nice things just because of this situation,” you sighed, deciding to instead lace your hands across your stomach. Training your eyes on your thumbs that tapped your sweatshirt, you continued. “I don’t need you overextending yourself on my behalf.”
He didn’t say anything for a while, and next time you looked up, you were already at the second to last light to the complex. Biting your lip, you contemplated what to say to break the heavy air in the car. . . you always hated when you felt like you’d said something wrong. And you knew you were very good at saying the wrong thing. 
So, you decided on an apology. “I’m sorry if something I said was wrong,” you offered, pitifully. It had been a long night. There was no way you wanted to end it with him mad at you. “Really. I just—.”
“You’re overthinking, y/n,” he promptly cut you off, making a turn to the last light. “I never stopped— I didn’t stop caring about you when we stopped—,” he blew out a breath, stopping at the red light. 
“I’m sorry I said tha—.”
“No. Don’t be sorry. You’re right; I have been distant. And, again, you were right when you said it's for good reason. It’s been for damn good fucking reason,” he clipped, letting the words sit in the air for a minute. “But just because I’m not talking to you or falling asleep next to you—.” He coughed. You could imagine he was shaking his head. “It doesn’t mean I don’t still want what’s best for you. Hence why I’m the one who initiated the therapy conversation. I kept my end of the deal and researched for you because I care.”
Your insides had officially turned to mush and you weren’t sure how to process that he still cared so deeply. But, he was right. . . Him bringing up the therapy showed his heart. . . You knew his heart. Knew how deeply he felt things. . . What you would continue to wonder was why you were something he hadn’t stopped caring about. When you’d been such a massive bitch. You weren’t worth it.
Heart beating quickly in your chest, you cleared your throat as he once again passed through a green light. The last one. You were almost home. 
Gotta wrap it up quickly.
“I’m sorry again,” you muttered. “For not telling you sooner.”
“Don’t be. It was your call to tell who you wanted first,” he sighed, turning on his right blinker to turn into the complex. “I just need to get out of my head about it—need to not let it piss me off.”
You looked out the windshield, the rain had let up. It was only sprinkling now. Taking a deep breath, you admitted to him what you knew to be true. “I really should have told you before Josh. I know that.”
Glimpsing for a millisecond from the corner of your eye, you saw his lip quirk before he looked your way at the perfect moment. Your eyes met briefly before you turned back to observe the parking lot through your window.
“Really?” He questioned warily. “Do you mean that or are you just saying it to make me feel better? Because you don’t have to do that just because I’m being a pussy abou–.”
The snort-laugh that came from you was unintentional, but you couldn’t contain it. “Jake. You aren’t being a pussy.” You turned your head to get a better look at his face now that he’d parked. His eyes waited for yours, highlighted by the fluorescent light he’d parked underneath. Right next to your Jetta. Smiling, you surely stated, “And, yes, I mean it. Truly. I know it would’ve been the right thing for me to tell you first.” 
Considering the car was still running and in park. . .it seemed he wasn’t anxious to get inside. He was content like this. . . at least that’s what you gathered from the way he’d swiveled his body to face you better from his seat. So, you continued on with honesty, while you felt brave. “I was just really scared. Scared to tell you and learn how you’d react. . . I didn’t want to disappoint you with something you really do not need to be responsible for . . .”
Then, the unthinkable happened and he was reaching over to hold your hand over the console. It was a feeling unlike any other–the feeling of his skin against yours. The comfort of his hand, the warmth, the callouses that scratched your flesh the slightest bit as he rubbed the top of your hand with his thumb. How long had it been since he’d touched you?
His voice and the squeeze he gave your hand brought you out of your daze. “Y/n. . . look at me.” You did as he said, following his soft, gravelly tone, finding his eyes with your own. “I am the furthest thing from disappointed.”
“But–,” you shook your head, your brow wrinkled as you searched his eyes. “But the way you left. How angry you were because I hadn’t told you yet–or–or before Josh. . .”
“There’s a difference between feeling plain old upsetedness and full on disappointment,” he clarified, his eyes swimming in yours. His strong hand lightly held yours, squeezing once more. “I assure you, I was never once disappointed tonight that you are having my baby.”
. . .having my baby. The words bounced around in your head. . . hearing him say those words just. . . did something to your heart.
“I’m excited about all of it. Honestly.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners with how his eyes lit up at the sentiment. “I mean, it was a lot to wrap my mind around and I still haven’t totally grasped the reality yet, but. . . I’m happy. Very happy,” he squeezed once more, still not moving his hand from wrapping the top of yours. “And I really hope you let me take responsibility as the father of the baby, because I really want to know this child. . . already matters so much to me.”
Your heart clenched at his words. . . He meant them and you knew it. Jake’s heart was arguably the most genuine, honest, exquisite you’d ever come across. So, it really didn’t take a second thought to utter your next words. “You can absolutely have the responsibilities of a father. . . if that’s what you want,” you raised your eyebrow with the word if. And at that, he’d nodded with an I do spoken quietly against the lull of the A/C. 
Though, there was one thing that he needed to know. The protective mama in you — that part of you needed to say this for your baby’s sake. He or she would not hurt like you had your whole life. 
“However,” your tone got serious, unwavering. “You can’t pull the shit with leaving like you did tonight with the baby. If you want the responsibility, you’ve gotta be sure.”
“I am,” he said, not missing a beat. “I won’t do that again.”
“I mean, you can do it to me. I can handle it. I’ve learned that that happens. . . but the baby. . . I just–.”
“I’m not leaving either of you alone in this,” he assured, leaning closer to you. Your heart skipped a beat. Due to still drying from the rain, he smelled like the Earth– fresh, sweet, real. Solid. True. “I know you won’t be alone because you have Josh and Elsie and so many other people, but. . . I want to be in this with you and the baby.”
“What about Maya?” You lightly asked, slightly confused. 
“She’s not going anywhere anytime soon,” he responded quickly. Too quickly. It made your chest tight and a giant rock hit the pit of your stomach. “But she will understand that I have to be there for you.”
Not trusting yourself to talk with the tears gathering in your throat, you just nodded before bowing your head to look at your little tummy. Reassurance in the sweetest, most innocent form. 
He took a deep breath, the rush of his breath, fresh from a mint he’d sucked on on the way back. “I really shouldn’t have left you tonight,” he firmly stated.
You looked up from your belly, blinking a few times to register that he was speaking so closely to you, close enough for his breath, now brushed your cheek. Not super close, but close enough. Much closer than he’d been for a while. 
He continued, “And you shouldn’t have to feel guilty for telling me on your own time. You are the one who was in charge of all of those decisions. It’s your body. Your body that’s growing the baby. . . So, it’s your right to decide things like that,” he enunciated, his intent to reassure, clear in his tone. “It just sucks a little bit for me that it was Josh, but that’s on me. . . not you. But even with all of that, I really should not have left. That gave you the opposite idea of what I wanted to give you. . . It was just a-fuckin’-lot to process all at once.”
“Yes, and you are completely entitled to believing that it was a lot–that it is a lot,” you reassured him, regretting a few of your words from earlier. “Even if you’re not the one carrying the baby, it’s going to be intense for you as the father. Maybe even more so–.”
He made a little noise of disagreement, but you just gave a quiet grin, holding up a hand.
“. . .in some senses. Especially since you can only experience it from the outside. I’m the one who is experiencing all of the changes, all of the time. I’m reminded every time I look down or touch my belly, but you don’t have that luxury every moment of the day.”
“Yeah, but it’s still more for you,” he argued.
“It’s okay, Jake,” you smiled. “I still agree. Trust me. I just wanted you to know that I understand how it might end up feeling for you. I was just afraid I made you feel like you weren’t validated in feeling overwhelmed. Leaving made sense. It’s just the worst feeling for a girl with abandonment issues,” you chanced a look down at your tummy, feeling awkward approaching so many personal feelings. It felt weird that it still felt so natural. He just brought it out in you. You quickly covered, not wanting to seem overbearing. “W-which, I can handle it–it is not on you to–”
“No, it is on me,” he seriously professed, eyes earnestly holding onto yours. “I knew about your past and I still left you. I am seriously so sorr–.”
“Jake,” you sighed his name, looking up at him again. His jaw was flexing, eyebrows turned in. “Stop apologizing,” your lips lifted in a soft smile, bringing a hand to sit on top of his. “We all do things we regret and it wouldn’t be fair for us to hold those things against each other. . . when we’ve all done thoughtless things in the heat of the moment.” At the last bit, your eyes left his to flash at your tummy.  Your hand left the top of his to delicately hold your small bump. “Example A of a ‘Heat of the Moment’ moment.”
A quiet beat passed, his face thoughtful as his eyes studied your own before he spoke. 
“I don’t regret that one though,” he said, eyes so big and so beautifully deep with emotion. 
Wetness was suddenly gathering in the corners of your eyes when you traced them over him—over his chest, tanned and exhaling so handsomely with every breath he took. You looked away from his perfect pecs, and back up to his eyes. 
“I don’t either.”
There were a few slow, nearly silent moments where all you could hear was the sound of your combined breaths with the A/C blasting against you both. Your hands still held each other, gripped each other. His hair was dry. His face was dry. And in the secret dimness of the night and the bright light of the tall lamp outside, you could see all of the delicate markings and freckles on his face. The light birthmark on the tan skin of his cheek.
Before you could think to do another ‘Heat of the Moment’ thing (weird term, but it definitely applied to you), and do something like rub the skin of his birthmark with your thumb, he was breaking eye contact, skin contact, and shutting the car off. 
“Better go inside,” he said, pausing as he’d just taken the keys out of the ignition. “It’s getting late.”
“It also might start pouring again,” you added, opening your door, trying to make conversation. 
He didn’t open your door that time, like he had at the restaurant. He just sent a quiet smile your way before getting out of his side. He did, however, wait for you to meet him at the rear bumper of the car before heading back to the apartment. You matched one another’s steps in silence. It was a bit awkward now, unlike the calm, still moment in the car. Your breaths, having combined in the shared space. . .
When you’d made it inside, he told you to go get ready for bed and that he’d feed Stevie and take care of the rest of the apartment.
“You just go to bed,” he waved you off, his expression kind. “It’s been a long night and you need rest.”
He obviously wanted to help, so you let him. Albeit, you let him do so while your heart fell a bit in your chest at your evening with him coming to an end. You hoped that there would be more times like this in the future with the baby you now both knew you shared. 
Absently, you tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, then nodded and gave a faint goodnight. Once you were getting into bed in a giant t-shirt to cover the bit of ass exposed at the edges of your comfortable granny panties, you heard a little knock against your cracked door. 
You waited for him to come in since the door was still cracked, but he didn’t.
“Yeah?” You called, brows drawn in.
He opened the white paneled door just enough to show him at the threshold of your room. His hand was on the knob while he leaned with the opposite forearm against the doorframe. You did very well at not blatantly checking him out. That was something to be proud of. 
Though, you couldn’t be too proud, because you knew it was just because your tiredness had hit you like a ton of bricks. It had been impossible to ignore as soon as you’d felt the cool, soft cotton of the gray oversized t-shirt touch your skin. 
Your blinking was becoming slower and slower by the second. But your eyes perked up a little when he cleared his throat, suddenly interested in anything he had to say. Even if it was something as simple as Stevie not being hungry. Just wanted to hear his voice once more before going to bed.
And you got exactly that as his eyes swept over your face briefly, deep in thought. “I really, genuinely do want to help however I can with the baby stuff—however you want me or need me. I want to help you because it means I’m helping the baby. Our baby.”
Okay, the next time he referred to the baby being his, you were sure your heart was going to beat completely out of your chest. It did things to you.
“Alright,” you responded tiredly, a slight blush warmed your cheeks. “That sounds good.”
When you loudly yawned, he nodded with a quiet grin fitting his handsome features. He began to shut the door, but just before he could, he opened it once more.
“I–,” he cleared his throat. Your stomach felt airy and light at the possibility of what he might say. You didn’t know what to expect, but him talking to you was just. . . exactly what you needed. “I took a drive and listened to music, by the way.” 
You blinked, brow furrowed with confusion. “. . .What?” 
“When I left tonight. I just drove around and listened to music,” he said, his amber-brown eyes, so earnest. “Cleared my head with music.”
“Why are you telling–?” You sleepily wondered aloud.
“I. . . didn’t go see anyone,” he elaborated. “Just wanted you to know that. Also, I promise I won’t tell anyone–including Maya– until you’re ready.” 
“Okay,” you squeaked, unsure of what else to say.
After observing each other for just a few moments after he’d spoken, he suddenly dipped out with a quick ‘Goodnight.’
The thunderstorm picked up again right after he’d left you, Stevie racing in, all frazzled, with her tail fluffed out at the sounds of the storm. The sleep that threatened to cloud your vision was a most welcome friend as you let yourself become cozy under your soft, high thread count sheets and fluffy, featherlight duvet. Your head was nestled against the pillow, Stevie snuggled against your ankles, purring. And your brain was just wandering off to slumberland when you understood why he’d said what he did about not being with anyone. . . it finally clicked. 
He’d wanted you to know he hadn’t been with Maya like you’d assumed. Like you’d brashly accused him of at Applebee’s.
. . .But why did he care to tell you? 
-🌼🌼🌼-
The next morning, you sat at the counter with a book about pregnancy, taking notes. It was the end of your new morning routine. 
You didn’t have class or work for the day, so you were enjoying some much needed down time. The idea that you’d be able to take countless naps literally made goosebumps rise on your skin. 
“Hey.”
And now you had even more goosebumps erupting at the sound of his raspy voice. 
“Morning,” you replied, highlighting a line in your book about staying ‘physically active’ during pregnancy. 
“Morning. You feeling okay?”
“Mhm. . .” you replied, halfway present and barely looking up from the page and the sticky you were jotting a note onto.
“Taking notes?”
“So many,” you giggled, your eyes finally looking up to find him dressed and ready for the day at the Keurig, preparing a cup of coffee. “All the time, I’m doing research.”
“I believe it,” he replied, clicking his K-cup in the holder. The hot drink was trickling into his mug when he looked at you in question. “Based on your research, can you have caffeine? Could I make you a coffee or something?”
“Um, not the safest in high amounts,” you pondered, flipping to the page where you’d just read about that a few days ago and quoted the book for him. “‘Drinking caffeine during pregnancy has some major health risks. The caffeine gets digested much slower and goes through the placenta into your baby’s bloodstream,’” you droned, feeling obnoxious with the long response. 
“Interesting. Anything else it says about it?”
You raised a brow and gave him an ‘mhm’ before looking at the page again. “‘This means that the caffeine side effects of a racing heart rate, high blood pressure, and a stimulated nervous system affect you and your baby. The result is a higher chance of miscarriage. Even small amounts have been known to cause a 13% increase in low birth weight for your newborn,’” you glanced up, he was rubbing his chin, listening to every word. So, you finished out the paragraph. “‘Try switching to a naturally decaffeinated herbal tea, but do consult your doctor or midwife as certain herbs can cause premature labor.’”
“Have you tried any herbal tea?”
You made a gagging motion. Herbal tea honestly did not strike your fancy at this stage in your life. “The baby says herbal tea sounds disgusting,” you joked. He huffed a laugh with you as you finished your thought. “I’m looking into smoothies to start the day. I’m actually going to try making a few today since I’m home all day.”
“Cool. Just thought I’d offer,” he finished. 
Or so you thought.
After getting his coffee off the Keurig, he made his way around the counter to sit in the barstool next to you. Heat washed over your face at his closeness.
“Speaking of doctor or midwife. . . which are you going with?”
“Doctor,” you answered. “Her name is Dr. Rose. Sweet, middle aged, Southern lady.”
“Oh, you’ve had your first appointment?” He asked, sounding curious and a little apprehensive. 
“Yeah. . . First one last week.”
“Oh,” he replied, sounding just a little discouraged. But he tried to cover it. “Cool. How did it go? Did you have to go alone?”
“Mhm,” you said, suddenly digging into a page and very seriously taking notes on a sticky note about random ass shit you could care less about. “Josh went. It went well.”
He hummed, not responding right away. And you knew why. 
You really did feel guilty now that you’d taken Josh to your first appointment and not Jake. He was the baby’s father, after all. And thinking about how he’d have reacted to seeing the baby with you, both of you, for the first time. . . You were suddenly very downcast as you thought of the missed opportunity. 
“But you can come to the rest of them with me,” you rushed out, suddenly looking up at him as you said so. His eyes were huge as he watched you be neurotic. God, you were annoying. “If–if you want. I don’t want to pressure you.”
“O–of course. Yes,” he stuttered. “You tell me when and I’ll be there. Every single one.”
You realized he sounded eager and thrilled, not frightened like you feared. 
“Okay,” you acknowledged, slightly breathless. 
Once again, you were in the same situation as you had been last night. He was, once more, so close. Right there. Your shared breathing, the only sound comprehensible to your ears in the calm, quiet of the morning. His breath, smelling of coffee, should have turned you off. . . but it didn’t not at all. And the way he went to lick his lips, just once– his eyes, not leaving yours. . . 
Then, he was jolted back to reality, blinking furiously. 
“I’ve, um, gotta go run some errands and then I have a meeting with the label,” he suddenly said, rising up. He grabbed his cup, rushing around, dumping it in the sink before grabbing a cinnamon bagel from the pantry. He bent to get a Zip-loc bag from a lower cabinet, and your eyes moved on their own to his ass in his light denim jeans. 
What. A. Sight. Now you were darting your tongue out to sweep over your lips.
He zipped up the bagel and left it on the counter to hurry to his room. When he reappeared, he was holding his phone, sending a text based on the sound, before he tucked it into his front pocket. He also held a beat up guitar case. 
“Still carrying around that same old case?” You grinned, a brow perked at the sight of the duct tape holding it together. A few stickers here and there, littering the case. “Not a new one to match your new rockstar life?”
“The case adds character,” he winked, your blushing face, the victim. Then, he was on his way to the door, keys jingling out of the bowl on the counter and into his hand. “Let me know if you need anything today.”
You were responding with an agreeing noise and word as he shut the door behind him. But when your eyes scanned the counter again, you saw the bagel. Even though it was just a bagel with cinnamon swirl, it was still his breakfast. He needed to eat. That’s what had you rushing out the door after him, your page getting a quick sticky pressed into it.
And, as soon as you saw the twinkle in his eye at you remembering to grab the bagel for him, you realized that you just wanted that. If you were being completely honest, you’d just needed that one last smile to start your day. The perfect start to a morning, you’d say. 
-🌼🌼🌼-
You decided to order some chicken fajitas from a local restaurant. DoorDash was your new best friend with the pregnancy cravings. 
Chicken fajitas were a new favorite for the baby. A weekish ago when you’d first tried them as a pregnant woman, you’d learned they tasted more delicious than they ever had before. They didn’t make your tummy roll.
As you waited for the food to arrive, you decided to do some tidying around the apartment. You washed a couple of dishes you’d left in the sink from the morning, and picked up notebooks, textbooks, and toys of Stevie’s from around the living room. Then, after further inspection of the living room, you realized it could handle a sweep or two with a vacuum. And after that, you decided to Swiffer the kitchen. Didn’t feel like full-on mopping, but you had to round out the floor cleaning. 
Before you could head to your bedroom or restroom to clean those spaces, a boundary was drawn for you when you heard a knock at the front door. DoorDash. Food. Fajitas.
Suddenly, unashamedly, your mouth was watering. Food took total priority over cleaning and you left the vacuum and Swiffer precisely where they were. You never left them out after cleaning, but you were hungry, okay? 
But just as you’d made it to the door, you didn’t have to open it. Instead, you heard polite conversation from the other side, thank you’s and have a good night’s. 
Before he opened the door, you went ahead and did it for him. And so, when you did, there was Jake, holding your food. The fajitas didn’t matter much anymore. 
Well. . . That was until he walked in and you got a good whiff of the steaming, seasoned vegetables and grilled chicken. Priorities were back to normal real quick with an embarrassing rumble from your stomach. 
-🌼🌼🌼-
Once you’d eaten all of your food in basically one bite, you sat on your sofa with a damn good book you were quickly becoming entranced by. But about twenty minutes into you sitting there, Jake appeared from where he’d disappeared to shower after he’d sat your food on the counter.
“You know, I keep thinking about something,” Jake started, coming to sit on the opposite end of the couch from you.
He was freshly showered— looking and smelling fucking delicious–hints of citrus came from his drying hair. Then, you smelled the warm and slightly sweet scent of sandalwood as he moved, propping his pajama clad legs on the coffee table in front of you two, unsticking his ripped t-shirt from his probably still-wet chest. You tried very hard not to watch him situate himself, too. The way he adjusted the inner seam of his pants, dangerously close to his. . . 
Yeah, you looked away. Focused hard on the book you were trying your damnedest to read. His body was a massive distraction. 
Trying to not be totally inappropriate, you replied to his earlier statement, still training your eyes on the page in front of you. “What were you thinking about?”
“I brought up the therapy thing the other night,” he started. You gave an absentminded ‘mhm’ in response, finally finding slight interest in the characters in front of you again. “And I’ve been wondering. Did you ever give that a second thought? Starting therapy?”
You blinked your eyes a few times, trying to catch up with the more serious topic of conversation. Looking up from your book, you closed it and put it to the side. When you placed the novel on the coffee table, he followed your hand back to you. His eyes found yours and your eyes fluttered again. You shook your head. “Yeah,” you trained your features, letting a smile float to your lips at his attention to you. “I actually–um–I started going.”
His features showed unkempt elation at your words. His eyes, bright and a wide smile on his lips. He sat up, facing you better than before, a foot balanced on the floor as the other bent with his body leaning towards you. “Seriously?!”
“Yeah,” you blushed. Why did he care so much? Surely it was mostly for the wellbeing of the baby. Right? 
You know he cared before he knew about the baby, a calm voice hushed in the corners of your mind. Just let him in. Don’t be afraid.
Clearing your throat, you kept up with your thoughts and tried to open up in spite of your ever-swirling unsureness. “Thank you for doing the research. Really. I’m super grateful. You gave me the push I needed and I’ll never be able to thank you enough. The baby, too,” you added. “I wanted to get better for the baby. You two made quite the team in helping me want to be better.”
His cheeks reddened, complimenting his skin tone and the few freckles and scars that dotted his cheeks. He shook his head, “Don’t thank me. I just wanted to help–that’s it. You made the brave move to start,” his lips twitched with a quiet, close-lipped grin. “How’s it going? Well–no–you don’t have to answer–that’s not my–.”
You ignored him, suddenly feeling this urge to fill him in. “I love my therapist. Like, she is already one of my favorite people on this fucking earth,” you beamed, thinking of Gia’s wonderful aura and personality. “And we actually start EMDR in a couple of weeks.”
“Oh,” he started, surprised. His eyes widened as he leaned back into the arm of the couch nearest him. “You decided on EMDR, too?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, glancing down briefly before letting your eyes dance with his again. “That seemed to be the only logical route since there’s so much shit to dig through that I don’t even–can’t even remember. It seemed like the most intensive form of therapy and I needed that.”
“Are you afraid of what you might find?”
“Yes,” you replied without question. “But, that’s the only way you can properly heal. Sometimes things that feel right–like EMDR, because it just feels like the right path already– those things, they’re going to probably also feel a little uncomfortable and feared at first. But, it all leads to the ultimate destination of being healed. And that’s what matters most.”
There was a quietness, a cozy silence that settled between the two of you. A few moments where you shared breaths and your gazes intertwined. . . It felt heavenly to share space with him like this when things felt normal and all right between the two of you. There wasn’t another word for it. 
His eyes were sincere with his tone when he broke the silence. “Y/n,” he breathed your name, making your tummy flutter with the most illustrious butterflies. “I am so fucking proud of you.”
Suddenly feeling like you were getting too much praise for something you were doing for the baby rather than yourself, you shook your head and brushed him off with a wave of your hand. “Don’t be,” you encouraged with a little scoff, shaking your head. “It’s not a big deal. Really.”
“I will be proud and it is a big deal,” he concluded. “All I’ve wanted is for you to feel closer to being whole–you deserve it.”
“The baby deserves it most,” you argued–didn’t want to be self-centered on the subject. “It’s for the baby.”
“Well,” he cleared his throat, crossing his arms across the chest of his white t-shirt. “I want you to focus on helping yourself, too, y/n. Please,” he asked, tone softening. Your eyes flickered across his. “I brought it up in the first place because I wanted you to feel better.”
You took it as food for thought, nodding at his words. Truly, you did consider what he’d said. . . his opinion mattered a helluva lot to you–probably too much. But you didn’t want to waver from who you were doing it mostly for. Your hand found your tummy as you reached the coffee table for your book and Stanley. 
Taking a big sip from your trusty tumbler, you eyed him once more before opening your book. You didn’t want him to feel obligated to stay in here with you when you were sure he had better things to do. “I will remember that,” you offered with a small grin, flipping your book open to where you dog-eared it. 
You waited for him to get up from his spot on the couch, but. . . he didn’t. He stayed put, situating his body to face the TV. 
In your peripheral vision, you saw how his legs spread across the cushion and once again tried to ignore ignore ignore. But you couldn’t help the thought that there was just something so fucking enticing about Jake Kiszka manspreading. It was gross when every other man did it. But Jake? All it made you want to do was straddle his sturdy hips.
Fuck. Focus on the book. Come on, y/n.
“Also. . .you realize, if you are craving something,” he began, pulling you from your book yet again. “You don’t have to DoorDash it. I’m always willing to go get you the food you are wanting.”
To put it simply, you were surprised by the turn in conversation. It was sort of random, but also not random all at the same time. 
For no reason whatsoever, you decided to combat the sweet offer. “What if you’re with Maya when I’m craving something?”
Why the fuck were you like this? Honestly, it felt mostly like a form of protection from getting your hopes up too high. . . it was a coping mechanism. But you hated it. It was stupid.
He hummed, thinking. Then, he piped up with an answer in no time. “I’ll just try to make sure we hang out here more than her house. Simple.”
Oh, joy.
“You’d rather be here than her massive mansion of a home?” You questioned, trying to not think about seeing her stupidly stunning face more than you wanted to. 
“Well, yeah,” he confusedly responded. “This is my home and I like being here.”
His home. He liked being here. The words pulled at you–in every direction. Broke you and made you wish things were different.
“How does she afford that, by the way?” You unapologetically nosed, not wanting to sit in any downhearted thoughts. It was rude to pry, you knew. But you didn’t really care at the moment.
He chuckled raspily, reaching to the coffee table for the Roku remote. When your eyes immediately looked over your book to peer at his waist, you didn’t think twice about it. It was whatever. “She’s the financial manager for this big corporation on Fifth Avenue.”
Your stomach fell. Jesus. Besides having trash music taste, apparently she was incredibly intelligent, too? What didn’t she have? You couldn’t even figure out what the fuck you wanted to do with your life and she was financially managing a giant ass company?Depressing as hell. Showed you your worth once again, in comparison to her. She was someone and you were literally nobody. 
“Can I watch something?” He asked you, patiently waiting. You gave a half-ass ‘yeah, of course’ in reply, not fully present. 
And when he eventually turned on some documentary about pirates that sort of piqued your interest, too, you decided to close your book for a final time. And you didn't put any more substance to your gloomy self-consciousness. It was your own fault you were feeling this way now–being nosy when you shouldn’t have been. Prying into someone’s life who’d never done anything wrong to you. 
Yeah, she’d slept with Jake. . . but did she even know that you’d also–? Shit. Did she know that the woman her boyfriend lived with used to fuck him, too? How in the hell would she react to the news if she didn’t already know that–? Your stomach twisted into knots at the thought of her finding out about. . . all of it.
The courage sprouted up as a historian started speaking on an infamous female pirate. “Does–does Maya know that we used to. . .?”
His brows dipped, thoughtful, turning down the television to acknowledge you’d spoken. But, he kept watching the documentary, his eyes honed in on the black-boxed subtitles. “No, actually. No she doesn’t. Didn’t really feel the need to tell her.”
Of course he didn’t feel the need. It kind of really hurt, but it wasn’t on Jake. Not at all. You knew very well that the sex probably wasn't as important to him as he’d once expressed. You’d been so angry and hateful to him, enough to drive away any sort of deep, lingering feelings that might have lied there. 
He knew that it wasn’t special enough that she needed to know. It was something of the past. All that mattered now was her. Only now. . . There was one inevitable reason it would have to come to light. You didn’t give voice to the obvious. The fact that, now, he would have to tell her. And you both knew it. 
As he turned the volume up a couple notches, you couldn’t help but wonder how the fuck would she react. 
-🌼🌼🌼-
November 21, 2022
You couldn’t have made it to your car any faster if you tried. Looking at your parking decision in hindsight, you realized you should have parked closer to the campus advisory office. But you hadn’t. You’d left your car parked where it had been for class. So now you had to walk a much longer distance that you could have avoided. . . If you’d just thought ahead.  
And in depressing moments like these, you wished you would have. The tears that flew down your cheeks in steady tracks made you beyond grateful that you hadn’t worn mascara. You’d had to meet with your advisor today to touch base and talk career plans. . . It was something that Pratt had decided to add to all program studies, for senior students. The idea of the meeting was to help students feel supported. 
But you didn’t feel fucking supported. Not at all. The way your advisor had blatantly judged you for even daring to bring up the idea of being a lyricist. . . She had instantly struck your idea down with a curt shake of her head and furrowed brows. Her eyes had lit up with laughter. But thankfully, she hadn’t been so terrible as to actually laugh in your face. 
Her words hadn’t been much better than that alternative, though. She’d unabashedly, condescendingly criticized your idea of becoming a lyricist. She made you feel stupid for ever even thinking of it as a possibility. 
“I’m not saying it’s impossible, but there’s a very slim chance that a label will take a fresh graduate. That’s a career you have to prove yourself in. Takes a long time to do that, a lot of experience that you don’t have.” 
The snarky tone in her voice pissed you off. Her words stuck with you enough that they dared to crush every dream you had about your future, which is something an advisor should not do. They should encourage, not discourage, to the point of making their advisee’s feel like utter shit after an appointment. 
So, as you finally made it to your car, you tried to contain the sobs that threatened to escape. . . but to no avail. Because, over and over again, you thought of how your advisor–someone who should be helping you to pursue your dreams–basically told you that you weren’t good enough for the one thing you wanted to do. She’d told you as much in her “officially official doctorate-level” advisor lingo. If her goal had been to completely crush you, she’d done just that. 
You were glad your next stop was therapy because you desperately needed to hear Gia’s two cents.
-🌼🌼🌼-
November 21, 2022
You spent roughly 30 minutes filling Gia in on the past week of your life. She heard all about you telling Jake, talking to your campus advisor, and any other thing that came to mind to tell her. 
When you started the session, Gia had let you know that you only had the first thirty minutes because you needed to find your mental and emotional safe place by the end of the session. It was today’s goal to establish that place. Finding your footing in the safe place was a vital precursor before you began EMDR. She’d had great advice for your life update, once you’d effectively word-vomited all over her. 
To your utter relief, the career thing didn’t bother her at all. Her expression barely changed as she’d shrugged. The first thing she’d done was assure you that everything would be fine and it would work out and that you have time to figure it out, despite what societal norms would tell you. So, even though that had been the biggest, most terrifying thing on your mind when you’d shown up to counseling today, you decided to not worry about it since Gia didn’t seem disturbed by the news at all. 
“Anything is possible,” she’d reassured you once your tears had momentarily stopped after telling her everything your advisor had said. “Don’t let a few words–opinions– from one woman make you disbelieving of that fact.”
Her opinions on Jake were positive, too, which made your heart swell in your chest. Though, it simultaneously broke for the fact that you couldn’t kiss him and hug him and be with him to tell him what she thought of him. Would he think it was weird if you told him what she thought of him? Would it freak him out that you’ve talked about him enough to Gia that she has a solid preconceived opinion of him?
“And Jake. . .,” she’d remarked at the end of the thirty minute mark, rolling back in her chair to her desk to get a big swig of her herbal tea. Your baby thought it was gross, your stomach rolling, but good for her and her nasty tea. “He is an outstanding example of a man. I’m impressed with his actions, his words. . . all of it. He seems like a stand up guy, and I hope I get to meet him one of these days,” her grin was sly, but you didn’t know why. 
So, yes, while your heart beat erratically and longingly at her words about him, it simultaneously broke your heart for the fact that you couldn’t kiss him and hug him and be with him to tell him what she thought of him. Would he think it was weird if you told him what she thought of him? Would it freak him out that you’ve talked about him enough to Gia that she has a solid preconceived opinion of him?
It made you think, as you watched her type notes on her laptop . . . Would you have told him if you were still seeing each other? Surely so. . . But maybe not. . . you weren’t really the best at complimenting him. And you sort of (desperately) hated that.
Don’t fucking think about it, y/n, a thoughtful, protective voice said to you. Just think about you right now. 
So, you did the best you could to shove any thought of being a bitch to him from your mind. And instead focused on Gia’s comfortable couch. Soft camel-colored leather. The way the cushion sank under you felt like sitting on a dense cloud. She was making light conversation before getting to the nitty gritty. You focused on her the best you could. 
Today would be your first venture into the realm of EMDR. . . . And you were anxious to begin this long-awaited journey of replenishing your soul with the incredible gift of reprocessing. 
“The safe place we are finding today will be where you go when things become too much during our EMDR sessions.” Gia wheeled closer to you in her light pink office chair, the smell of eucalyptus and mint following her, as she must use it as a sort of body oil or spray. She carried the calming smell with her everywhere. And the office, so wonderfully consoling with the scent of lavender. The little machine that spurted the essential oil every 10 minutes. All of these things combined, keeping the room drenched in calm. 
“There are places your mind is going to take you, some darker than others. These are scenes from your life that you will need to experience again in order for us to process through them so you can heal through them. Considering, you know, EMDR is simply a reprocessing technique,” she explained, adjusting her wire lens frames on her nose. “In order to not feel trapped, claustrophobic, or overwhelmed in these memories, you will need to have a safe place to turn to–a place to run to–a scene to easily unlock. It might be unknown to you until you actually plant your feet in that scene, but this place is already the natural wave your brain takes to feel safe.” She added one more thing to this train of thought. “This will just be the first time your brain is able to fully experience it. . . because you’re actually giving yourself the permission to do so.”
She held her hands out, palms up, and you took the hint and placed your hands in hers. As you would have guessed, her hands were soft as silk, matching the rest of her fairy-like aura. She squeezed once, lightly before continuing, “Now, I will be there the whole time, watching you, to monitor if you are doing alright. Sometimes you can sense it and get out, and other times it’s a little bit trickier. I will watch your eyes and the way your muscles tense, to gauge how I believe you’re feeling. Your body language will speak the words you may not be able to. This is an incredibly intricate form of therapy that we will wade through together. You will never be alone.”
She grinned, and you did the same. The way she explained these things to you was so assuaging. Were you scared? Hell yes. Of course you were scared. You were about to experience events that had become so dark and secreted in your mind, that they’d left you deep, lasting trauma. . . for a second time.
The re-experiencing aspect was daunting. But. . . you weren’t intimidated. You felt strong to withstand what was to come from your mind. There was the sense that you could overcome the darkness that was buried–some forgotten, some not–in your mind. . . especially if Gia was there to help you through it.
She let go of your hands after giving one more reassuring press. Then she was wheeling back to her desk.
“How are you feeling? Are you comfortable?” Gia asked, grabbing a round, average size cloth, zipped bag off of her desk and placing it in her lap. 
“I’m honestly feeling very much at ease right now. And, yes,” you replied honestly. You pressed your hands into the cool leather of the couch you were sitting on, your hands sinking into the ideally aged material. “I love your couch.”
“That’s good,” she smiled, full lips stretching over her white teeth. “Now, I want you to do a few calming exercises with me. We will start with deep breaths, then we will practice a few eye movement exercises. You just let me know when you’re ready.”
Not wanting to wait any longer, you responded readily. “I would love to begin whenever.”
“You’re sure?” 
“Yes,” you replied, brows fixed and eyes serious. “The sooner I can heal from this, myself, the sooner I’ll be healed for my baby. I’m ready.”
She raised a perfectly trimmed, coffee-colored brow. “You’re incredible, y/n.”
You rolled your eyes, but thanked her nonetheless. You weren’t incredible. Your baby was, and he or she was why you were doing this. The baby was your push, without even being born yet–the baby was the powerful one. 
Gia had you complete a variation of calming breathing exercises to center yourself. And after those, you completed eye movement exercises for the first time in your entire life. It was . . . odd, yet equally nice.
“Your body is loosening. You’re letting yourself transcend–easing your mind,” she said, voice airy and light. Your form felt just as light as her tone. “Now, open your eyes. We’ll do a shortened version of those techniques right before we begin. 
Your eyes slowly opened back to reality to see her unzipping the round black case she’d been holding in her lap. When she opened it, the contents of it were brand new to you. You’d never really seen a thing like the devices she was moving to hold in her hands. She pulled out two little black devices that were attached to a chord plugged into a slightly larger black box. This one, though, had knobs and buttons decorating the front of it. Your curiosity was growing by the second.
She wheeled her chair over to you once more, holding the black gadgets in each hand.
“These are tactical paddles,” she said, motioning for you to take them. When you did, she turned a knob on the black box she was still holding, sending a full vibration to the ones in your hands. “They’re buzzers that will help activate both sides of your brain during the session.”
They were buzzing one by one as you held them in the middle of your palms. You couldn’t tell if it was just your imagination, but you swore you felt each side of your brain moving right along with them. She scooted back a bit, giving you space to experience the feeling. She adjusted the knob just slightly once she’d moved away and you felt their vibrations speed up a little. 
“Do they feel okay?” She asked, situating the frames of her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose. “How are you feeling?”
“It’s strange,” you said without thinking. “It’s very comfortable to hold them. . . but that is part of why it’s strange.”
Gia loosely giggled at that and reassured you that that reaction was more than typical and that she always considered that particular combination of feelings a good place to begin.  
After completing the body relaxation practices once more, you were being guided by Gia. “Relax your body. Lean back. Lay back. Whatever feels best for you.” With the last word, she adjusted the paddles down to a more neutral setting. Your hands felt tingly in a weird, yet contented way.
“Bring to mind the intention that you are practicing feeling safe when you actually are safe,” she softly said, soothing. “One of the best ways to evoke this feeling of safety is to imagine being in a place that you might really enjoy being–wherever you may feel naturally safe, peaceful, and/or calm.” She paused briefly, the paddles changed speed as your head started to become light. “It can be a real place or a place that you’ve come to imagine in your mind on instinct. This is the place you travel at the idea of feeling serene.”
You breathed an ‘okay’ in response, but focused more on the way the instruments in your hands were aiding in sending you somewhere. You felt the atmosphere of your mind slowly changing–equally present and not.
The word Gia had earlier used. . .’transcend.’ It was the perfect word because you currently were completely, wholly transcendent.
“I’m right here,” Gia quietly, gently reminded you, as the blackness behind your eyes took hold, becoming the only thing your five senses could grasp, aside from the sound of Gia’s gentle guidance. “You are doing great.”
You felt the instantaneous feeling of a light breeze brush your face. It pushed you back, but you also felt the feeling of your body keeping still. There were two places. Reality: Gia’s office. And somewhere completely unknown. . . You were somewhere new. 
This wasn’t a place you’d ever been before. The barely-there sounds of birds chirping in trees within a forest that guarded you, on all sides, reverberated off the walls of your mind. The sounds, the breeze– they helped you find your footing. And suddenly, your feet were bare against the partially warm, partially cool feeling of damp dirt. Rain had recently come to this place. You could smell the rain. But every crevice of your mind knew it wasn’t raining anymore. No, you knew that the moment you opened your eyes, you’d find a light, clear blue sky, maybe a couple wisps of clouds painting against the beautifully blank canvas of azure. But you weren’t opening your eyes yet. You focused on everything else taking shape around you. 
The paddles continued to transfer varying speeds between your palms, but it was the last thing on your mind. They were the guide that you knew to follow, but didn’t have to concentrate on. 
Your nose tuned in to the smell of flowers around you. . . All kinds, but there was a particular plant infiltrating your mind the most. . . Though, you knew you wouldn’t be able to place it until you opened your eyes. It was strange because you knew the smell, but your lack of sight was keeping the name of the flower hidden. 
Other things were hidden with your eyes still closed, but you kind of enjoyed the blank space. 
This season. . . the most wonderful tiny person was bound to grace the world in this season. Spring. It was springtime. You knew that much. Once your mind realized the season you were placed in, your eyes opened a little more to the scene around you. 
Lavender. An entire field of the wonderfully fragrant plant, surrounding you with its calming notes. And it was beautiful. Never in your whole life had you been in such a beautiful space, yet your mind had no problem creating it for you. 
“Tell me what you see, but keep your eyes closed for me,” you heard Gia’s voice, although it sounded a hundred miles away. It was hushed, distant, like you were hearing her through a tunnel–only an echo in your mind. It was strange. Your physical form was still seated on the comfy couch, but you were standing amongst the most lovely sea of lavender. 
“I’m. . .I’m not really sure where I am,” you whispered, feeling like raising your voice would disturb the serenity of this place you’d stumbled upon. “I’ve never been here before. It’s–it’s incredible.”
Much like Gia’s, your own voice felt muted in your head. But, unlike her, you were standing in the middle of a narrow tunnel, whereas she was at the end. You were traveling somewhere. Obviously.
“That’s okay,” she tells you. You suddenly felt the paddles quicken ever so gently in their pace, but they felt good. Comforting. Real. “Just tell me everything you’re seeing right now.”
“Lavender. . .A field of lavender. A forest surrounding me. Blue sky. . .,” You couldn’t feel much of saying the word lavender. “So much of it. I could just lay in it, let it surround me.” 
“So you’re outside– good. What else do you see? Is there any wildlife?” The echo of her voice became even more distant as you began walking around, searching for whatever else was there with you. 
Deer. A whole family across the field, taking nourishment from the flowers and emerald green grass. They weren’t like normal deer, though. They didn’t run from you as you approached them. They weren’t scared, they just existed peacefully within this place. Then, you heard the birds begin chirping again, as if on queue. 
“Birds are singing. . . There are deer,” you felt yourself telling her, still in amazement with your next words. “They’re really beautiful. And they’re not afraid of me. . .? I can almost touch them.” 
This was entirely unreal, yet all too real all at once. Never in your wildest dreams did you ever believe your mind was capable of this. Yet, there you were, witnessing the most alluring scene that you were sure didn’t physically exist anywhere on earth. Only in your mind. Safely in your mind. No one could destroy it, no one could infiltrate it. It was all yours.
“That sounds wonderful, y/n. Let's focus on a few other senses. Tell me what you smell,” Gia’s sweet voice sounded as if it was coming from the sky, from the wind. It was all around you, yet so far away. 
You felt your present body take a deep breath through your nose, trying to get the best whiff you could of everything surrounding your psyche. 
“I smell the lavender. It’s overwhelming, but in the best way. God it. . .It smells so good. So. . . Fresh. It’s newly bloomed. And I can smell rain. It’s not raining now but it was.”
“Good,” Gia softy said. “What can you touch? Tell me what it feels like.” 
You reached down to run your fingers over a spray of the dark violet flowers, their scent became even more powerful as you lightly ruffled them. 
“I’m touching the lavender,” you told her. “The buds are so soft, so light to touch. They feel delicate, but I know they won’t break. They’re sturdy. But they aren’t stiff.” 
Aside from the way they felt against your hands, they also emitted a feeling of pure peace. Of tranquility. A good, clean energy unlike anything you’d ever felt. 
“I can almost feel them too, y/n.” You heard her giggle quietly across the field. “What are you  doing? Are you standing, sitting?”
You then felt the urge to lie down. So, you did. Your body felt weightless in your mind as you let yourself fall backward, landing softly amidst the blooms. It felt like the most comfortable bed you’d ever laid in. But before you answered her, you felt your hands within your mind reach down to your tummy. You had to know if your sweet baby was there with you. 
And as you laid your palm gently over your tiny bump, you felt it. Your baby was with you, safely tucked away in the most calm place you’d ever known. It only made sense that your physical form of comfort found its way to your mental one, too. Feeling your bump here made you feel. . .complete. Although, there was still something missing. You didn’t know what, but you felt it. But at that moment, your baby was all you needed. 
Or so you thought. 
Because when you let yourself sit up from where you’d laid in the magnificent, flourishing field of flowers, you finally felt complete because the last person you needed had arrived. 
He was standing across from you, on the opposite side of the field. His long, wavy chestnut locks, flowing just the slightest bit in the breeze of the dreamy spring day. He wore a blue suit. A dark blue, three-piece suit with a dark blue shirt underneath it all to match. 
He was so handsome. Beyond stunning. The most immaculately created person. . .
He didn’t stay there for long before he was making his way toward you, striding as he naturally did. His walk, so smooth and sexy–always. 
As he came closer, you were learning that, in this realm, time moved just a tad bit different than normal. He seemed to make it over to you in less than a minute, even from the other end of the expansive field of light purple. 
Then, he was right beside you, lying down next to where you still sat next to him. He’d placed his left arm behind his head, to balance and lift himself a little. And, his left arm, spread out, ready for you to lay beside him. Lay with him. 
He didn’t say anything, but you knew that was what he wanted. You’d laid this way with him a million times before.
So, you moved to lay with him in a way that felt like coming home. You laid back, so comfortably relaxing your tired muscles as you placed a hand on his chest, and one side of your face against it. Curling your body into his, you laid one leg over his, your body facing toward him. Your bump was pressed snugly and safely against the side of his abdomen. Safe. 
Everything was safe here. Truly was the safest place your mind could conjure. You felt his steady breaths against the top of your head as you looked out past him, to the side of the field. Where the birds still chirped in the trees and the deer still meandered. 
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice equal with the breeze–quiet, calm. His breaths hit your head with each word, he was so near. . . but his words also echoed amongst the trees, all around you. 
Then, it was Gia’s voice you heard whisper through the trees. 
“You’ve found it, haven’t you? Your safe place,” she questioned knowingly, her tone lilted with excitement for you. 
Had you? 
Before you could consider it any longer, his hand came up to rest against your head, brushing so delicately through your loose strands of hair. Your body hummed, feeling one with the wind as he held you. Protected you. Stayed with you. Your body was telling you your answer in your curated fantasy, communicating it to your concrete form as you uttered it aloud.
“Yes,” you sighed, your body on the couch and still in Jake’s arms. You were vividly existing in your imagination and in reality all at once. This feeling would take some getting used to. While you were in shock, you were also not shocked at all. “Y-yes, I’ve found it.”
Jake . . . was he–? 
The lavender was glorious and the field you laid in, the soft ground, was better than any bed you’d ever graced. . . The deer were exquisite and lovely. The song of the birds, sounding like mystical, heavenly hymns. . . The sound of the trees brushing together in the warm breeze of the cool spring day, making their own music, and better than any white noise you’d ever experienced.
But Jake. . . None of those things even came close to the way you felt in his arms. The way you felt light as air and at ease the moment he’d graced your presence. You’d felt your peace and the baby’s when he’d graced the scene. Still did, as you melted into him, his breaths, his heartbeat, helping you feel free and firmly planted, one with all living things–all at once. There was no question that it was him. 
Jake was your safe place.
-🌼🌼🌼-
“Now, I want you to make sure you’re finding quiet time to locate your safe place,” Gia advised, getting up from her rolling chair as soon as you’d risen from the couch. “It’s essential to practice before the sessions. You want it to be an easy place to locate during the really hard resurgence of memories,” she coached you, pushing her chair to her desk. 
“Got it,” you agreed, head still swimming a little as you steadily came back to reality. The prospect of traveling to that place in your spare time was a little intimidating. . . But also very exciting. 
Seeing Jake so vividly in such a serene atmosphere on a regular basis sounded like paradise. You could definitely find time to practice that. 
“If you’re not opposed, I would maybe find someone to drive you to your sessions,” Gia suggested, going to clean the paddles with a spray and microfiber towel. You tuned back in, alertness settling in. “These sessions,” she made eye contact with you after bending over to grab her tube of Clorox wipes. “They are bound to be–no, they will be incredibly intense,” she used a towel she’d retrieved from the container to wipe it down. “Just someone you can trust to be there for you afterwards. . . so you’re not alone when you’re coming down from these memories that will present themselves again.”
Still smelling hints of lavender and feeling the warmth of a chest beneath you in some other heavenly reality, you knew who you’d pick. Was it a crazy idea? What did Gia think? Would she tell you her opinion or would you be forced to figure this out on your own? You didn’t want to seem crazy . . . . or weird.
You had just found your voice to respond when she started speaking again.
“Who do you think would be the best–?”
“I actually have an idea of who–.”
The way your chest bubbled with laughter alongside her was wonderful. It felt like the most genuine giggle you’d ever exuded. You truly felt like you were in a sphere of incomparable serenity. The way your body felt. . . you felt complete. You felt self-assured. Still smiling, you raised a brow and motioned one hand to emphasize that she should continue with her train of thought. Your other hand safely held your belly, right where your baby was resting in its safe cocoon. 
“You might not like it,” she grinned. 
Instantly, you knew who she was talking about. 
Gia sighed, settling the paddles securely back in their zipped black bag. Her eyes found yours, testing the waters. Then she offered her opinion in a firm tone, “Jake would be ideal. He would be my option,” she winked, encouraging.
Your chest exhaled in relief. You weren’t crazy. 
-🌼🌼🌼-
Gia had sensed your unsureness as she walked you to the front desk. She was taller than you with a sort of swagger in her trendy set of corduroy overalls. 
Nerves were wracking you, sweat already pricking in your armpits. You’d voiced your concerns to her in her office to which she’d told you to follow her.So, you had.
And when you made it to the front ‘desk’ (a tall counter with a window in front of it), you linked your hands under your belly with a sigh. Gia stopped at the counter and leaned on the heavy, light gray granite–opposite of where you stood on your way to the door. She leveled you with a stare, her fingers tapping against the expensive granite. 
“I’m just going to tell you this,” she sighed, a tiny little grin on her full lips. “Be confident. Have confidence. You can do it. Just try it out. Seriously. All you have to do is give it a try. I see it in you, y/n,” she firmly stated. Then, she got even more serious with a furrow in her dark brown brow. “Let. Him. Care, y/n. Don’t you dare work to control him just because you feel like you don’t deserve it.”
-🌼🌼🌼-
So, when you got home, you somehow found it in you to take Gia’s advice . . . and you immediately went to talk to Jake. The more you contemplated it on the drive home, you realized you weren’t really too nervous to ask him anymore. . .
The nerves had dissipated little by little as you’d rehashed your time in your safe place. How seamless things had been there. . . it felt like before. Like normal. . . and even though it wasn’t your normal anymore, you were clinging to it. It was giving you courage. And the fact that Jake was literally your safe place was giving you courage. 
Yeah, he made you nervous because he was Jake, but he also eased you so effortlessly because he was Jake. He was safe. 
He wasn’t perfect, no. But, he was someone who was permanently, preciously ingrained in your heart. Today had officially proved that. And you were carrying the sweetest little piece of him. . . that helped the nerves for sure. There was a piece of him that was always with you. And now that he knew about said precious baby, things genuinely seemed to be normal between the two of you again. . . as normal as could be at the current time.
It had you knocking on his bedroom door. 
It dawned on you as you delivered the knock that you hadn’t even thought of checking his parking space to see if he was home.  You’d been too anxious to see him and ask him what you had been encouraged to ask. . . .Before you lost the magic courage. Because, yes, let’s be real, he still made you nervous as hell. He was Jake.
It was all confusing and weird. As you stood there, waiting for longer than you’d planned, you realized he might not even be home. You could be standing here waiting for nothing. Or worse, Maya was in there with him or some shit and you were going to open the door to–.
Jake.
The door had opened to show a very sleepy, very effortlessly handsome Jake. His hair was all tousled like he’d been in a deep slumber. And when you looked past him, his bed was a mess from a nap. . .but no curvy, beautiful woman occupied it. 
The only thing you saw laying in the bed was a book, right next to the fluffed pillow where his head had been resting. It was open, laying face down with several sticky notes peeking out of the pages. And all that you could make out was a picture of a pregnant woman on the cover and the word ‘Expecting’ on the cover before your attention was brought back to him talking.
“Y/n?. . . You okay?” He was talking, voice patient and calm, but sounding as though he’d said the words a time or two before you’d come back to. 
You were quick to cover your ass to hide that you had been spying in his room. 
“Sorry,” you shook your head, looking down and clasping your hands under your tummy subconsciously. His eyes followed your hands, a little smile forming on his lips. You continued, “I just wanted to ask you something.”
His eyes opened, as if waiting for what you wanted to ask. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “What’s that?”
You cleared your throat, suddenly a little nervous, but suddenly worked to picture him in the field of lavender. And then you were okay again. He was Jake. He was safe. “I–,” you glanced down, then back up to his kind, tired eyes. Just say it, y/n. “Would you mind going to a few of my therapy appointments with me?”
“Yes,” he replied, without any hesitation whatsoever. “Of course. Special ones or. . .?”
“All of them,” you blurted, needing to clear it up. Honesty. Just be honest. Don’t fear his reaction. He’s Jake. 
Eyebrows wrinkled, his lip quirked. “All of them. . .? Like, all of the special ones or–?”
“All of the appointments. Any of the appointments I have that you can make it to. I just need someone safe to go with me,” you rushed out. 
He blinked a few times, a gentle shake of his head before his eyes got sincere and a smile spread over his pretty lips. “And you chose me?”
“Yes,” you simply answered, not trusting yourself to say anything more. There was a definite part of you still reeling from today’s session and seeing him when you imagined somewhere safe. 
Standing there for a few seconds, you could tell he had a million questions floating through his mind. And, knowing him, you knew he was probably wondering why you hadn’t chosen Josh. And, to be totally truthful, you hadn’t once thought of Josh at the prospect of someone safe being there with you to see you through after the sessions. 
Jake seemed to be the only valid option. The only person you wanted to go with you. Even if Elsie were still living here, totally accessible and available, you knew Jake still would’ve been your first choice. The therapy had been his idea. He had asked you how it was going. He was someone you trusted to talk to, and he was someone invested in this with you. And he was him.
“I’d love that,” he responded softly. “When are the appointments?”
He’d love it? Your heart was thumping in your chest at the words. Absently, you thought of your poor heart monitor, and how it was going to be picking up some crazy data due to this man. 
“Every Monday,” you quietly responded. Then, you thought, before getting your hopes up, you’d better tell him what he was really in for. . . because he might end up eating his words once he found out his job in it all. “You’ll just have to wait for me. You could run an errand or two or whatever while I’m in my hour-long sessions. . . and sometimes they might go over.” He nodded, seeming fine with that. You were shocked. Didn’t know why you were shocked because he was naturally so thoughtful. You knew this. “And then, you’ll have to be there afterwards. And I might be emotional. This form of therapy is intense,” you explained. Then, you thought . . . “Well, you probably already know that because you. . .”
“Found it,” he finished, eyes twinkling. “I’d still love to go. You’re not going to scare me away from it. I know you’re afraid of that.”
Why the fuck did he even care to read you like a damned book? Surely your thought processes didn’t matter that much to him. But, you remembered his voice, reassuring you after Applebee’s. Cleaning up some toxic thoughts you’d let form.
“. . .I didn’t stop caring about you . . .” 
“. . .Just because I’m not talking to you or falling asleep next to you . . . It doesn’t mean I don’t still want what’s best for you. Hence why I’m the one who initiated the therapy conversation. I kept my end of the deal and researched for you because I care.”
Then, it was Gia’s voice. What she’d told you that day. . .just before you’d left.
“Let him care, y/n. Don’t work to control him just because you feel like you don’t deserve it.”
Let him care. 
You decided to just continue on with the only reasonable response, eyes, filling with tears, trained on your fidgeting feet. “Thank you,” the words came out as a whisper. But you shook your head. Confidence. Looking up, you tried again, smiling with your eyes. “Thank you.”
His eyes held yours for a moment. He just let his eyes sink into yours. . .like he’d done so many times before. Just as he had in times past, he was letting himself read you. You could tell. 
Not able to help it, your cheeks filled with heat at his stare. Your heart picked up speed. You had to speak again. Break the quietness. The calmness in his observant, knowing irises was too much.  
“Will Maya be okay with it?” 
Why you chose to break the ice with her, you didn’t know. Probably to get his mind off of you and back on her. Where you knew he wanted it to be. He might have still cared for you, but she was the woman he loved. To him, you were sure that she mattered in this just as much as you did.
He shut his eyes once briefly, and with a shake of his head, he was back. His eyebrows dipped, pursed his lips with a curt nod. “Oh, yeah. I’m sure,” he assured. He tightened his fingers against his biceps. You couldn’t help but watch his strong hand flex. “I’ll–um, I’ll just tell her when the appointments are so she knows I’m not available on those days.”
Shit. You didn’t want to take him away from her. You hadn’t even thought of that. That would definitely be selfish. And not available on those days? Like, not available at all? Was he planning on spending entire Mondays with you?
Hurriedly, you offered a response to make sure to clear the air. “Oh my god. I didn’t even think of you having to–,” you groaned. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t go with me if it’s going to interrupt your plans with her.”
His brows wrinkled. “I never said that.”
“It was implied,” you defended your thought process. 
“No, it wasn’t.”
You were suddenly irritated that he wasn’t understanding why you felt bad. “I just don’t want to be selfish, Jake. That’s all I’m saying. God.”
He rolled his eyes, hands getting stuffed in the pockets of the sweatpants he was wearing. You just realized how low they hung on his hips. You could see the very bottom of his stomach with the way he’d cut his t-shirt, just above the hip bones. You flicked your eyes back to his face when he spoke again. And, again, your face was hot. 
“I was literally saying I want to be there for you and I need to tell her that’s what I’m doing on those days,” he explained, tone sharp and patient all at once. He was putting his foot down.
You conceded. But. . . it made you think of something. Maybe it was the tan stomach of his skin and how badly you wanted to run your fingers across it. Or perhaps it was the fact that the woman in question might not be privy to one important detail. 
So, you asked. “Does she know I’m pregnant with your baby yet?”
His baby. 
You ignored the thought, instead training your mind on the serious matter at hand: would she be okay with it if she knew you were pregnant with his baby?
“No,” he curtly replied. Then, his tone was entirely calm when he stated, “She won’t know until you give me the okay to tell her. I told you that already.”
Flushing, you found his eyes. You tried your best to match the sincerity in his irises with your own. “Thank you for being considerate of that.”
“Of course,” his lips twitched to a small grin, then fell back to a purse. He chewed the inside of his cheek.
Fuck. You needed to wrap this up. You were wasting his time. But–you had to know. . . 
You cleared your throat, replacing your hands from below your tummy to cross under your boobs. The way his eyes flickered down with the action couldn’t be ignored and it gave you the push to ask. “. . .what does she know about us?”
“She knows you’re my friend and that we’re close because we live together,” he offered.
For some reason, the fact that he’d called you his friend made your heart leap into the bottom of your throat. It made you sort of sad, yet happy at the same time. Sad that you couldn’t be more, but glad that he was willing to call you such a wonderful thing. Did he seriously trust you to be his friend?
“We’re friends?” You shyly pondered. 
Aaand hormones were officially in control of your dialogue. It was time to wrap it up. Quick. You eyed the ground, embarrassed at your lack of control over questions.
But, his response was measured, so sweetly assuring you with his next words. His voice was soft and raspy, “I never wanted to not be your friend.” Then, suddenly, he was touching you. His hand was placed on your cheek, lifting your face gently to look into his eyes. There was no saving the response on the heart monitor data. And the swarm of buzzing butterflies in your tummy. You lost yourself in his gaze. “No matter what happens, you are my friend. I always want to be your friend, honey.” 
Honey. 
Your pulse increased tenfold and you couldn’t help the flutter of your lashes, your eyes watery yet again. 
His hand was still on your cheek, and a warm blush had settled in them when you mumbled, ashamed. “I hate you ditching your girlfriend for me. I don’t want to be selfish.”
A finger smoothed gently on your cheek, just beneath your lashes. “You’re not being selfish. And I’m not ditching her,” he removed his hand, and your heart sputtered a few times, trying to balance all of the emotions transpiring within you. He reached behind him, grabbing the handle of the door and shutting it behind him. When he moved forward with the motion, you stepped back. Didn’t want to risk getting too close. His eyes found yours as he consoled you. “Please quit thinking of it like that. I promised to be there–to help you–you a long time ago, and I intend to keep that promise. Let me.”
You were back in the hallway at your grandparents’ home. He was coming to sit next to you, against their beige, textured walls. The house, smelling like the pie that was baking. Familiar and safe. But the home had been the last thing making you feel safe in that moment. It was the man sitting next to you, telling you to let him help you.
“I want to help you. Let me.”
The same night he’d made the promise to find a therapist for you. Then, you were in his bed that night. . .Your cheek, on his damp chest.
 Tears were falling on his chest, your chest was tight as they kept coming, his skin prickling in their wake. “I–I’m sor–sorry.”
“Why, baby?” His voice settled your nerves. Warm. Soft. Him. 
“I hate that you have to see me cry,” you sniffled, wiping at the tears on his chest. But instead of letting you continue, he’d held your hand there, so you could feel the stable beat of his heart. 
“If crying is what it takes to heal, I’m here to listen to you as you wade through it.”
And, then, again. . . those same words filtered through your memory through a warm haze. 
Laying on top of him, in his bed, as you’d stared deeply into the darkness of his eyes, he’d earnestly spoken to you. “I want to help you. Let me.”
“Okay,” you sighed in the present time, your eyes not containing the pools accumulating in them, a singular tear falling down your cheek. 
Thankfully, it happened when he had decided to go back into his room to get something. And as soon as you’d brushed it away, he was back in front of you and had his phone in his hand. It was open, his fingers above the keyboard to show he was about to start typing. 
“What do you want me to tell her you need me for?” He looked up at you, hands steady around the phone as his eyes waited for you. His eyes, open and willing to help. Willing to understand. “I don’t have to tell her that it’s for therapy.”
“You can tell her it’s for therapy,” you responded. His brow raised, as if to ask ‘you sure?’, to which you responded, “I’m sure,” you grinned. Then, you continued on with what would be a valid excuse to give her for why you wanted him to go. “Just tell her you have to drive me to the appointments I have on those days because it’s a long drive that I don’t want to take by myself.”
His lips lifted easily, eyes tired, still, but wholly there with you to help. “Okay.”
As he typed, you stood there–so grateful for him. God, he was amazing. You could not believe there was ever a time you’d thought any different. Jake Kiszka. . . he was the man of fucking dreams. You knew he was. And you’d. . . let him go.
But, as you still believed, it was for good reason that you’d cut things off.
It kept lines drawn and clear and simple. Kept him focused on the dream. It just helped. Right?
Once he’d shoved the phone in his pocket and you’d heard the sending noise and the click of the phone going off, you decided to go ahead and let him be. You began walking to your room, and he started walking in the direction of the front of the apartment. Just as you’d opened your door, suddenly very sleepy and sore from your body growing a human, you spoke again. “Thank you, Jake.”
He turned as soon as you’d spoken, his gaze calm and falling on yours gently. His eyes felt like the breeze on a warm, spring day. The same sort of day you’d imagined in your safe place. 
“Don’t thank me,” he started. His phone chimed in his pocket, but he didn’t even reach for it. Instead, he crossed to you once more, your chest heating at him coming close again. And, once more, his hand reached up to delicately hold your face. The callouses that grazed your cheek brought so much comfort. They were familiar and felt like peace. “This is something I want to do. You don’t have to thank me.” 
Your mouth opened to dispute and as soon as you did, he saw it. 
At this, his lips lifted and he held your cheek fully in his palm, eyes boring into yours as he spoke. “Don’t argue with me. I mean every word. And you know it.”
-🌼🌼🌼-
Life was finally feeling peaceful again with Jake back in it, and in the know about the baby. Having him as a friend in your life was filling your cup – just the mere knowledge of him being there made you rest easier. Every morning was the same. A comfortable, reassuring sort of same. 
You’d wake up, and lay in your bed for a few minutes, rubbing your belly. Checking the Ovia app to read something new about the baby to start the day, you’d also check the size of the baby on that given week for the 100th time on that given week. After clicking your phone off, you would lay there and ponder your day and everything that you had to do. 
And once your feet touched the ground, you were walking to grab underwear, a maternity bra (because, yes, you’d purchased one with the speed your boobs had grown). Then came the outfit you’d set out the night before. (Even though sometimes, there would be a last minute change in wardrobe due to day-to-day changes in your body – the insecurities were slowly becoming very real, the more your body changed. And even the teeniest, tiniest changes were strikingly obvious to you.) 
The bathroom was your next stop. You’d take off the heart monitor before your shower, brush your teeth, and in the shower, you would glance down at your belly, water washing over it, to reflect on the person inside of it and how he or she was growing. And these days, you spent a lot of time wondering if the baby was a he or she. . . Just as you’d lean towards one guess, you’d lean towards the other. On certain days, you would wash your hair and if it hadn’t been very long, you’d skip that step. 
Once finished with the shower, you’d observe yourself to see if any stretch marks had grown, and at this point, a few had shown up, so a special cream was one the way that would be added to your morning and nightly routine to help prevent those from sticking around. Now, all you did was brush your hair and usually put it in a claw clip to avoid sweating profusely by keeping it against your neck. Then, you’d replace the adhesive of your heart monitor and adjust it to track your heart rate. 
You were so ready to be done with the stupid fucking device. It was a pain for many reasons. . . and you just hated the way it looked on your chest. It was a huge blemish on your changing body. A body that you were already feeling insecure enough about, even without the monitor.
When you’d trail back to your bedroom after your shower, you finished out the routine by taking your prenatals, checking your hemoglobin (which was doing consistently well, relieving you every time you saw the numbers stay positive), and you would pop a PregEase into your mouth to chew. The chewable had helped drastically with your nausea, and you weren’t planning on stopping it any time soon.
Finally, you’d go to the kitchen counter after making a smoothie in your BlendJet, and sit there to sip it as you read through The Panic-Free Pregnancy, taking notes in a notebook you’d purchased solely for baby notes.
And, now, since Jake had found out, he’d greet you in the kitchen or on your way to the bathroom to shower and he’d check on the baby. Check on how you were feeling. It always made you blush with the fact that he cared to check in. It was just really fucking sweet of him. Showed his heart. Of course, it wasn’t for you, it was for the baby. But still. . . it made your heart skip a beat. 
The day before Thanksgiving was no different. Except, this morning, Jake stopped you just as you’d grabbed your backpack and opened the door to leave for school. 
“Hey,” he called out to you. Your phone buzzed in your black LuluLemon, slung across your chest. When you turned, he flashed his phone screen towards you briefly. “Josh just texted in the group chat and asked if it was okay for us to have Friendsgiving here like you usually do. Day after Thanksgiving. Want me to tell him it’s fine?”
“Of course,” you grinned, getting your phone out to see the text for yourself. But, as you did, you also saw you were cutting it close to make it to class on time. Grabbing your keys out of your bag, you quickly responded, opening the door wider, one foot out. “Just tell him yes.”
He began typing as you went to walk out, the Jetta gave its signature beep across the parking lot as you unlocked it. But just as you stepped out, you stopped. Fuck. You’d have to clean the place. 
Normally, it would be no big deal, but you were still working long hours and keeping up with several classes while also being pregnant. . . 
So, you stepped back into the apartment, hand still holding the door open. You glanced up at him, accepting your fate. “I'll probably be cleaning the apartment tonight. I don’t want to have to fight any real baby tiredness on top of any food baby tiredness tomorrow night. I already get sleepy at the end of Thanksgiving Day, and I’m sure it’ll just be worse this year with,” you pointed to your belly. 
His eyes twinkled, but he didn’t say anything. . .probably because you were rambling and he was annoyed by it.
You twisted the knob, needing to leave, but wanting to let him know, “You can find something to do tonight so you don’t have to be around me and my obsessive compulsive cleaning habits.” 
He raised a brow, placing his phone on the counter. “Would it be okay if I helped you clean?”
“Um,” you faltered, nervous of him seeing that cringeworthy side of you. “I get really intense when I clean for special events.”
“I’m sure,” he grinned, winking. Your tummy swarmed with butterflies at the gesture. He continued, “But I still want to help you. Will you let me?”
Let him.
“I get kind of scary.”
“I don’t care.”
You measured him with your eyes, contemplating. It wasn’t that you wouldn’t love his help. . . It would be fantastic to have someone help you. You just didn’t want to scare him away. 
You’re having his baby, y/n. Did you scare him away when he found out about that? Or did he want to help you then, too? And what about when he–?
“Sure,” you said, promptly cutting off the voice in your head. “You can help. I’m just warning you. My control issues are bound to go haywire when I deep clean.”
“For good reason,” he defended. “In that circumstance.”
Your lips raising into a soft smile couldn’t be stopped. “Thanks, Jake.”
The soft smile didn’t leave your face as you made the trek to your car. 
Then it all came crashing down when you passed Maya in all of her graceful, voluptuous beauty, right before you got to your car. Your outfit of a giant sweater and loose AE jeans suddenly paled in comparison to her sexy black pencil skirt and tight white button-up shirt. Her perfume, sweet and expensive, wafting off of her in waves as she passed by you with a smile and a quick wave. Then there was you: wearing your Bath and Body Works body spray that you got on sale for $5.95.
Her heels clicked past you as your old white Nikes caught a rock and almost made you trip, eliciting a weird noise from your mouth. Hand on the belly, you caught yourself – not so gracefully. When you looked behind you to see if she’d witnessed it, she was already knocking on the door of the apartment. . .and being greeted with a kiss from Jake. The smile was absolutely wiped off your face at the sight of that.
Of course, your mind traveled to a not-so-fun place as you buckled into your car and went to turn on your soul music playlist. You just sat there, contemplating once more how much it sucked that you couldn’t be with him. It was even more sad with your predicament – it made your heart jump into your throat that you couldn’t complete the natural circle of two parents with a baby.
The song that started off the playlist was perfect for bringing you out of your slump, though. The Commodores singing about being ”High On Sunshine” reminded you of how serene and peaceful you’d felt when you’d woken up. Life was going well. . .Truly, completely well. You didn’t need a relationship with Jake to complete a circle of sorts. . . Really. Especially at this point in your life.
You could be friends – it really wouldn’t be so bad. Just friends. You’d take what you could get. Things would be fine.
-🌼🌼🌼-
“I don’t mind you telling her now,” you mentioned that night, packing up a nice dinner he’d made after you’d cleaned the entire apartment. 
He’d made chicken fajitas. 
Considering the meal was a crowd favorite (the crowd being you and the baby), it had been wonderful when you’d found out tonight how damn good he was at making them. Although, saying that you were packing it up into leftover containers with him. . .was a lie. 
You were leaning against the ledge of the counter top, watching him put it in Tupperware. He’d told you to sit and rest your feet and that he would worry about putting it away. Only agreeing halfway, you sure rested but didn’t rest your feet like he’d asked. After quietly accepting the offer with a quiet okay, you nodded your head. Then, you went to stand against the counter. 
“Please. Sit.” He’d encouraged, his voice slightly impatient, already weary with you. By the look in his eyes, you knew that he knew it was no use and that you weren’t going to agree. “You had to go to school and workwork today. You should rest your feet.”
Even though your feet did hurt like hell, you still weren’t about to let him boss you around. 
“Nah, I think I’m good,” you replied, shrugging. You took turns balancing and bouncing between each foot, totally giving you away. “I sit around too much.”
“Y/n.”
“Jake.”
He’d given you a look. And you had stared right back until he gave up and rolled his eyes before going about his business. 
In the present time, he was once again peering at you. But this time, his eye brow was raised in curiosity. “What?” He asked, unsure.
“You can tell Maya if you want,” you repeated, your eyes encouraging. “Tell her that you’re having a baby,” you laughed under your breath at that. A piece of hair fell from its place behind your ear. “Or, I guess, if we’re being technical. . . That I’m having your baby.”
He didn’t laugh along with the funny wording, just continued looking at you like you’d grown three heads. 
“Why?”
You didn’t know. All you knew was that Maya wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. So, in order to save Jake some extra stress, he’d better tell her sooner rather than later. That was it. 
“Just want it to be out in the open,” you stated plainly, shrugging once more. “Josh is going to tell Sam and Daniel for me soon. . . Explain all of the nitty gritty details of us so I don’t have to again.”
His face sank momentarily. Though, it didn’t last long enough for you to be sure if it wasn’t something you’d imagined.
“On top of that, I’m telling my grandparents tomorrow, so you just go ahead and tell her,” you explained further, trying to convince him it was okay.
He blinked a few times, probably processing it all. And then he responded.
“Okay,” he finally said, lips making a lopsided grin, eyes still containing a sense of curiosity.
“Okay,” you echoed, suddenly feeling the reality of him telling her. . . the reality of Josh telling Sammy and Danny. . .
It was about to be out in the open. Everyone was about to know. Not counting the doctors or Gia, a tiny total of four people in your life knew. Only four. You, Elsie, Josh, and Jake. And now, that number was about to increase. And with your permission, no less. 
-🌼🌼🌼-
November 24, 2022
You were on your way to your grandparents’ house, Elsie being your chauffeur when you filled her in on all of the therapy appointments (though, not the person secured in your safe place), your heart monitor in all of its ridiculous, agonizing glory.
Then, the boys’ careers came up in conversation. The music. The albums. The photoshoots. You even told her about the fan who called Jake hot. And as she was laughing about the fan interaction, and how uncomfy she was sure it made you, you thought to text Jake something that needed to be said. Something you’d believed in with your whole heart since the beginning. His career. 
It was even more important to you now that you were going to have his baby. It had trailed through your mind enough times that you knew you needed to share it with him. 
You, 12:02 p.m.: Please don’t put your career on hold for me or the baby.
It took a few moments, when Elsie was in the middle of telling you that she wasn’t sure how she felt about other girls calling Josh hot. You were absently agreeing on not being sure about it when you got the notification of his response.
Jake, 12:05 p.m.: I won’t. I’ll figure it out. 
And while you were in the middle of having one hard conversation, you decided on another. Something that broke your heart to say, but you believed in it just like you did the other topic. It was going to be awkward to talk about in person, so you were going to be a coward and hide behind the phone to say it.
You, 12:06 p.m.: We also don’t need to be in a relationship.
After sending it, you instantly realized the perspiration that had gathered on your palms. Instead of talking to Elsie, you just stared at your phone. After finding out, he’d turned his read receipts on, so you were able to see the moment he’d seen the message. 
While cleaning the night before, you’d asked him about it and his response was that he had done it so there weren’t any holes in your communication about baby-related things.
Jake, 12:08 p.m.: Never said we did. I don’t need that.
I don’t need that.
Translated, you knew it was a way of saying it would cause unnecessary stress. And you’d be remiss to ignore that the stress would most definitely result from you and your stupid emotional instability. And that thought just reminded you that the baby was the most important person to work on being emotionally stable for–not its father. 
Nonetheless, his response hurt way more than it should have. It cut fucking deep. For no reason whatsoever, because you knew he had a point. You believed the same as he did. Your previous text said as much. You just had to think logically. 
Jake, 12:09 p.m.: 1, I’m already in a relationship
Jake, 12:09 p.m.: and 2, it’ll be easier for us because we won’t have to worry about a relationship. It’s good that we’re just friends.
He was right. He made sense. You knew it. It was good to be just friends.
You, 12:10 p.m.: You are very right. I’m glad we’re on the same page.
Jake, 12:10 p.m.: and as far as touring and the band goes, we can figure out how to handle a baby in all of it. We’ll just work in a few more breaks or something
Jake, 12:11 p.m.: don’t worry about that. We’ll be fine. 
Jake, 12:11 p.m.: and by “we” I mean you, me and the baby
Right as you’d pulled up to your grandparents’ home, you sent him a final text about it. If you were being totally honest, the conversation made you feel sick to your stomach and you just wanted to focus on the fact that it was Thanksgiving. 
There was also the fact that you were more than just a little nervous about rocking your grandparents’ entire world. 
You, 12:22 p.m.: Thank you for talking to me about this. We can talk about it more at some other point. Have a good Thanksgiving!
Instantly, he read it. But it took him a bit to respond. You knew he was busy with family and Maya. And again, your stomach was knotted at another thought. Her. Them. Dream couple.
Jake, 12:25 p.m.: for sure. We’ll find time :) 
Jake, 12:25 p.m.: happy thanksgiving, y/n. I’m thankful for you. I really hope you know that.
With that last text, your heart sped up, your monitor phone beeping repeatedly in your belt bag to notify you of it. As if you couldn’t already feel the way your heart was about to literally beat out of your chest at his words. You grumpily unzipped your bag to get it out, locking your phone on your lap.
“Holy shit, dude,” Elsie exclaimed as she shut off the car. “Are you okay?! What’s happening?!”
You reassured her that it was just your monitor telling you your heart rate had gone up. But you made an excuse for why. Didn’t want her on your ass.
“I’m just really nervous to tell Grandma and Grandpa,” you lied.
You didn’t have to wait long for it to stop beeping. Thank God. It was annoying as hell, calling you out when you did not want to be called out. Finally, it turned off, though.
Elsie’s eyes became sympathetic, her delicate hand coming out to squeeze your sweater-clad arm. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be there the whole time. Deep breaths,” she calmly assured, taking a few with you. “And they’ll honestly just be really excited. Grandma, immediately. . . but Grandpa. . .”
“. . .Might take him a while,” you finished.
Your Grandma wasn’t necessarily your greatest worry, but she had been known to judge a time or two. . . Your Grandpa on the other hand. . . he was in a constant state of disappointment. All in all, you really had no fucking clue what to expect. Within seconds, the two of you were busting up at the thought. He was a pain in the ass. The definition of a crotchety old man. Laughing with Elsie was therapeutic. And this laughter in particular was incredibly necessary.
She waited for you to feel calm enough to go inside, and once you did, you got out to follow Elsie to the door. You never responded to the text. Didn’t even react to it with an exclamation, thumb, or heart. You didn’t want to mess anything up. 
So, you just let it be your last positive push before going inside your grandparents’. Because, while it hadn’t been the reason to make your monitor go batshit crazy, it was still incredibly nerve wracking to tell the people that raised you. The idea of telling them that you were pregnant by a man you weren’t in a relationship with. . . yeah.
You closed your eyes momentarily to locate your Safe Place. You’d gotten quite good at finding it. All you had to do was close your eyes and call it. But as Elsie unlocked the door to let the two of you in, the present time was unkindly welcoming you back in with anxious arms. 
Deep. Fucking. Breaths.
-🌼🌼🌼-
Thanksgiving was one of your favorite holidays. Christmas was your absolute favorite, but Thanksgiving was right up there, just behind it. 
For one, it meant your whole family got to be together for a holiday, and you loved getting to spend time with your family. It felt more special than just about anything else. . . and Thanksgiving was so great because it was just a day where you sat around, eating food, being with each other, talking and laughing. It was a holiday meant to force you to ruminate on why you were thankful for each other– a holiday that was designed to bring out the best in a person.
The hope that your grandparents would only have love in their hearts when they heard your news was the only thing that had pulled you and your nerves through the doorway. The same doorway you’d entered through a million and one times before. Except this time, someone else was entering with you. Your hand touched subconsciously to your rounded belly. There was nothing you could do about your predicament now, so you could only hope for the best responses they could muster.
As you walked in, the smell of your Grandma’s ever-famous smoked turkey flooded your senses, momentarily calming you. It reminded you of the main reason Thanksgiving and Christmas were your favorite holidays. They’d been that way for years–as long as you could remember. Her turkey was an absolute favorite of yours dating all the way back to your childhood. Cooking was her love language, and you first learned that before you ever went to live with your grandparents. You could remember loving it and finding solace in the taste of her full, home cooked meal on the rare occasion that your mom decided to celebrate the holidays with her parents. 
The taste and aroma of your Grandmother’s food represented peace for you–especially her holiday food. Holidays were special because they were the only time you were ever able to escape your mother and the now-hazy situations she’d put you in for the first ten years of your life. And then, when you’d gone to live with them, you’d finally found safety and security. . . The taste of her food had just continued its pattern of bringing you the feeling of comfort.
The times your mom would tote you and Elsie over state lines to see them were always very special. They were bittersweet memories for you. It was the only way you’d been able to see your grandparents then, as she never made them privy to your changing living locations. The three of you were always on the move. Never in one place for too long. But every home was dirtier than the last, a new man who would occupy it, as if anxiously anticipating your arrival.
You shook your head at those times–didn’t want to think about it for too long. Those thoughts led down dangerous, terrifying, dark paths that you didn’t want to experience on a day like today. Those times were the ones you’d explore in EMDR with a licensed professional at the ready to help guide you. 
You’d decided years ago that you weren’t going to venture down those paths alone. Didn’t want to bother Elsie, so instead, you’d instead pushed the memories away to near nonexistence. And. . . today was not the day you planned to change that. You wanted Gia with you for that, thank you very much. 
As you walked closer to the kitchen, you heard the sounds of your grandparents’ laughter, sounding so much like you were used to. . . You could only hope and pray to everything that it would continue on as normal—as normal as it could be—after they found out your big news. 
The warm hugs and expressions of joy that greeted you as the two of you rounded the corner were both a reassurance and an added stressor to your shaky nerves. You really didn’t want to shake their world too much. . . Didn’t want this to change. This was your first true home. They were your first people.
The people who took you and your sister in when you had no one else, the ones who raised you, showed you love when it felt your entire world lacked it. You couldn’t quite rid the apprehension to tell them. You would not be able to until the news officially left your mouth. 
-🌼🌼🌼-
“I’m pregnant.”
The sound of forks clinking against plates and the deafening sound of silence surrounded the entire dining room. You weren’t sure where the fuck it had come from–why you’d chosen to say it when you did. . . but there was no doubt it was out now. No questions were asked. Not yet. All eyes in the room, trained on you. Everyone sat still, totally unmoving and in total shock. 
Thankfully, only a few moments of it had to pass before your sister broke the silence. She was trying to buy some peace for you. Just as much as you, she was not a fan of awkward silence or tension.
“I, for one, am so, so excited,” Elsie beamed, looking back and forth between your grandparents, whose mouths were still clamped shut. “It’s going to be wonderful–the sweetest addition to this family!”
After only a few seconds of Elsie’s attempt to ease the air, your Grandma started blinking and you soon realized that she was blinking back tears. Oh no. . . was she upset? Disappointed? The woman who raised you so well – loved you better than anyone ever had before, who took you in when no one else wanted you. . . She didn’t need to sit there feeling any negative emotions only because of your careless decision. Just like she’d done for you, you needed to comfort her in this moment of unclarity. 
You went to rise from your seat, beginning an explanation you weren’t quite sure of yet once you were standing. “Grandma, I–.”
“Babygirl!” Your Grandmother exclaimed, bursting into tears. And before you could make it from where you stood beside your floral padded chair, she was walking to you – as fast as her frail legs could carry her. Even though you watched her every move, the feeling of her arms wrapping around you came before you expected it to. “We couldn’t be happier. I don’t even have to look at your Grandfather to know he’s as ecstatic as me. I know he loves you just like I do,” she sighed, squeezing you gently. Her shaky, familiar voice spoke softly in your ear, “A baby is the greatest gift – especially if it’s one of my babies’ babies.”
You blinked back all of the emotion that nestled comfortably into your bones. The distinct, wistfully familiar notes of Chanel No. 5 wrapped around you as tight as her arms. And, suddenly, the scent had you back in a mirage of memories where she was holding you just the same. 
The first time a boy had broken your heart at thirteen years old. When you fell off your bike the month after you moved in with them, crying more over your mother than the bike wreck. Anytime you and Elsie got into some asinine bickering match that only your Grandmother could settle. . . So many times she’d held you just like this. Except this time, you felt it differently, gripped closer to her, not ready to let go. . . you’d needed this so badly. Hadn’t even realized just how badly you needed to feel her hold you after finding this out. 
You sniffed, finally letting yourself part from her. She wasn’t going to be the first to let go, so you made the move. “Grandma,” you looked directly into her eyes, getting lost in the aging, watery icy blue irises. “Your approval – and Grandpa’s,” you glanced at him briefly, a small smile on his face as he watched you. Your heart leapt. “It meant more to me than anyone else’s.” 
Elsie huffed and made a noise. Your Grandma giggled at Elsie’s indignance. You rolled your eyes, turning to your sister for a split second to give her a look, then faced the aging woman once more. “Almost anyone else’s. I was just scared to let you down, although I. . .,” you paused momentarily, blinking back tears as her perfume infiltrated your senses once more as she pushed some hair delicately behind your ear. “I should have known better than that.”
“My precious babygirl, there is nothing you could ever do that would make us think less of you,” she insisted, bringing her hand down to your arm, softly soothing circles into your flesh through your sweater. “Not only have we told you that your entire life, but I could only hope we have been able to show it to you. Just how much you mean and how we are always on your side – no matter what.”
-🌼🌼🌼-
The rest of the dinner and dessert went on about the same, with your Grandpa actually receiving the news very well–only grumbling slightly at the idea of the father not being around.
To which Elsie had quickly defended with a correction, pointed straight at your Grandfather, her eyes glued to him. “Don’t be so quick to make assumptions, Grandpa.”
You’d joined in, too, not wanting her to have to approach that on her own. It wasn’t her responsibility to have to make any reassurances for your mindless decision. 
“He is in the picture, Grandpa,” you assured, swallowing your bite of pumpkin pie. Your eyes linked with his, begging him to understand. “I never said he wasn’t. I only said that I didn’t want to tell you who he is yet.”
After that, he’d simmered down on the father subject enough for dessert to finish up. And, as Elsie and your Grandma went to put away leftovers, you led the way to the living room to set up A Christmas Story. It was a Thanksgiving tradition to watch it after stuffing your faces to the point of exhaustion. 
Just as you’d gotten the movie queued up, you heard his telling sigh behind you. His years-old maroon, fabric recliner, moaning with the sudden weight of a person. You gave him the slightest smile, still unsure of how to act around him as he’d been supportive, just quiet about it. 
His reaction could definitely be expected, but you didn’t want it. You just wanted him to not act crotchety, just this once. Problem was, you were kind of stuck on what to say. So, instead of saying anything to initiate conversation, you sat on your phone, checking Instagram stories. 
So many fucking coupley photos with the most generic captions. But, to your complete relief, nothing had yet been posted by Jake or Maya (yes, you followed her now–for no other reason but to torture yourself). Just as you were about to check your Ovia app for the second time that day, you heard your Grandpa clear his throat. 
You just acted oblivious, though, not wanting to look up unless he actually wanted to talk. Didn’t want to push him or anything. . . poke the bear. 
“Sugarplum,” he started, using the nickname he’d penned for you years ago. 
Your heart lightened at the nickname. Anytime he used it, you knew he was about to say something sweet and slightly outside of his comfort zone. And by that, it meant he was going to say something particularly tender and sweet. Two things he was not used to being. . . Save for the heart he’d had when he started using the nickname. It had come at a sensitive time. 
The nickname came from a precious tradition. After you’d come to live with them, he’d started the tradition. The man had been determined to make you and your sister feel better, and he’d always been better with actions than words. So, the year your sister and you had come to live with them, he’d started taking you to the Nutcracker. It was a whole thing. 
Every Christmas season, your family of four would get all dolled up (you and Elsie, having had matching Christmas dresses and ringlet curls–hair-sprayed to the point of crunchy– the first couple of years). Then, you’d go eat at Carmine’s before attending a performance of the Nutcracker ballet – always at David H. Koch Theater. 
You weren’t sure what he was about to say, but the nickname always meant it was going to be rather softhearted.
“Sweetie,” he sighed. You looked at him, seeing every wrinkle and age spot on his worn features. His face held every ounce of compassion you were sure he could muster. Your eyes already teary at the cold, snowy memories you’d just re-lived, and seeing him in such a vulnerable state had you gasp just slightly. “I love this baby. I love you. And I am so happy for you–overjoyed,” he said, singing it in the tone of the Stevie Wonder tune. You gasped on another breath, a tear springing from your eye to cheek. “Very, very much so, honey.”
“Really?” You couldn’t help but mutter.
“With all my heart I mean it,” he confirmed, eyes crinkling at the edges with a smile in them. “I only get short-tempered about the father because I don’t want to witness the child being abandoned or betrayed by men the way you and Elsie–,” he shook his head, draining a thought he was in the middle of. He grunted, eyes glassy when he looked at you again. “I don’t need this baby’s father being absent like yours was, is all. I get infinitely resentful on the subject of the people who did you and your sister wrong. . . and I just can’t have that for my great-grandchild either.”
There was no response you could possibly give save for the intermittent sniffles that accompanied the tears that wetted your cheeks. So, all you did was nod, a shaky smile on your lips. The man deeply loved you. You knew that. But, it made your heart hurt in a strange way when he’d say things that truly proved it. . . since he so rarely did. The baby must have meant a lot to him already, for him to feel so inclined to bare his heart like this. 
“I love that child and I will protect it in my role as long as I can,” he said, his own voice wobbling on the words. “I promise you, Sugarplum. Just like I did for you and your sister.”
After a couple of moments, you found something to say, out of the mess of emotions hugging your heart. 
“This baby’s father will be nothing like ours,” you said, without a doubt. You barely remembered the man who’d helped make the two of you. He hadn’t ever really been around–a sperm donor at best. “He’s an incredible man. The baby is very lucky to have him.”
The words pinched your chest, your stomach twisting tight on what you’d said. . . Jake was so wonderful. Even if he didn’t want you, he wanted the baby. You knew that. You knew it. You had seen it in his eyes the moment you’d said the baby was his. Jake Kiszka was special and you were glad your baby would be part of him–was already part of him. You were glad the baby had him.
You just weren’t ready to tell your grandparents it was him. . . you didn’t want either of them to unrightfully judge Jake if they were to know. Especially your Grandfather. . . they’d had such an honest, genuine connection. It had been magical to witness. Jake, having been the person to bring the old man out of his shell for the first time in your entire life. 
You knew you had to tell them soon, but it just didn’t feel like the right time quite yet. . . There was so much going on already. The two of them finding out the identity of the baby’s father could wait just a little longer. 
-🌼🌼🌼-
You got home around eleven o’clock that night, after taking Elsie to Josh’s. The night had been exactly what your soul needed. Time with your Grandma and Grandpa, as well as a car jam session with Elsie on the way to her boyfriend’s apartment. 
The reason you’d finished so late was because your grandparents hadn’t really wanted the night to end. After sitting through every end credit of A Christmas Story, you’d rented the brand new A Christmas Story Christmas on the Roku TV you’d Christmas-gifted the two elderly people a year ago. 
Although, you hadn’t ended up paying much attention to the movie since your grandparents had been determined to hear all about Elsie’s travels and your current. . . predicament. They had also questioned you about school.
Thankfully, you’d given a few barely-there answers and the conversation had basically concluded on that subject. There hadn’t even been an onslaught of career-based questions. All of the baby-related inquiries had been a good distraction from that. 
They’d even stayed up past their bedtime of nine o’clock, aiming to hear every last detail of your life and Elsie’s. But, there’d come a point that your Grandpa had fallen asleep as he’d tuned out, signaling the end of the evening. 
So, at 11:00, you were finally pulling in to the apartment complex, safe and sound into your designated parking spot. Jake’s car was where he usually parked it, you noticed. But, you already knew he was home. He’d texted about an hour back asking when you’d be home, to which you’d responded with an I don’t know, a little flutter in your tummy as you typed. 
Even though he hadn’t responded, it didn’t crush you. Truly. You were becoming accustomed to your present relationship with him. . . well. . . .at least you were really trying to become accustomed.
On the way up to the apartment, you barely made the last step with how utterly exhausted you were. The act of carrying a child was not easy work and honestly, your grandparents hadn’t been the only ones staying up past their bedtime. You’d kept the heavy-lidded blinking at bay at your childhood home, but as you unlocked the door, you let out a long yawn which felt like it’d been waiting for hours to be released. Because it had been. You hadn’t wanted to be rude while engaging in conversation. Felt so relaxing and the action in and of itself had totally drained you. Your comfy, cozy bed was calling you.
When you entered the apartment, you were assaulted by the wondrous smells of something sweet and sugary–the scent was closely comparable to cake or cupcakes. You almost let your nose drag you to the source, but when you looked into the kitchen on your trek to your bedroom, you hastily decided against that idea. And you suddenly felt like you were going to profusely vomit. 
Jake, with his back facing you as he leaned against the kitchen island, his fingers grasping at nothing, only gripping what he could of the counter his ass was pressing against. His beautiful locks of hair were all stringy and messy–the telling sign of hands having been run through it. His moans were enough to make you grow chills from both distaste and lust. The sound of him reaching his release was unlike any other. . . 
But the infuriating fact that it was coming from the tanned, curvaceous woman on her knees in front of him. Who, unfortunately, you could see from the side of the island. And to make matters worse, she was barely fucking clothed. A tiny sheer dress of black lingerie, the only thing you could see from your vantage point. She had her free hand bunched into the material at the back of his gray t-shirt, holding onto him for dear fucking life as she went to town.
When the bile rose to your throat, you knew you had to get away before you threw up. You did not want to puke up any Thanksgiving food, thank you very much. Couldn’t ruin the sentimental dishes only because of Jake and his frustratingly beautiful girlfriend. 
To your relief, once you made it to your room, quiet as a mouse, you found your Stanley as cold as you’d left it (praises-fucking-be for Stanley insulation). And you didn’t have to force sleep after you’d taken a quick makeup wipe to your face and put on an oversized Pratt t-shirt. 
The moans and groans and whiny-fucking-sighs from the kitchen faded out in no time as sleep almost instantly found you. 
Thank fucking God for the tiredness that came with making a human. 
-🌼🌼🌼-
a/n: see you tomorrow w part 2... Friendsgiving will kick off pt 2... there is so much to come ;)
ty for being the best readers in the world and pleaseee never hesitate to send in your wonderful thoughts! love youuuu <3
& as usual, it wouldn’t let me tag some of y’all. :( so please check to see that you’re down there because if you’ve asked to be on the taglist, i tried to tag you. buuuut tumblr wouldn’t let me do it for everyone 🙃 ugh. and if i somehow forgot to tag someone, please also let me know that! (i'm a NOOB and i have terrible memory)
Taglist: @joshym, @gretavanfleetposts, @alyson814, @fretaganvleet, @lallisonl, @writingcold, @gvfpal, @twinszka, @jessicafg03, @reesetrippingthelight, @sacredjake, @laurenlovesgretavanfleet, @gretavangroove, @222headedcalf, @dreamssingold, @carbondancingthroughtime, @raviolilegs, @way-to-go-lad, @jakekiszkasmommy, @katgvf, @objectsinspvce, @jaketlover, @vanfleeter, @thetroublegetssoloud71, @seditabets, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlove, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend, @aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon, @gvfmarge, @creadliz98
(and, due to t*mblr’s shitass guidelines, i will be adding the other tags in a reblog of the story!)
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buttertheflame · 4 months
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A List of Things To Come
*a long post*
I was on hiatus for about 5 years, but I think it's worth the risk of coming back. These are some thoughts and hot takes I've had since then up to now. My professional life is busy, but when I have the time, I'll share. Anyone interested?
Here's a preview, categorized by fandom:
A Song of Ice and Fire:
For asoiaf canon, I’ll speculate on what Jon and Val could have been, and what they could have had together, if he had not kicked the bucket. I’ll also contrast it with Jon's dreams of a life with her, and why he put the torch to it. :( Because of the root of her dislike of Mel and Shireen, I figure she will not be pleased with un-Jon.
Game of Thrones:
In GoT canon, Jon did not love Dany as much as the script suggested he would. In fact, they both failed to take responsibility for the other person. I haven't seen anyone make a statement like this before. (The PTSD is real.) But fic writers did pick up on this and tried to fix it in canon compliant stories, with a lot of success.
Supernatural:
In Supernatural s12-s14, Mary should have found her sons to be way more weird, specifically with each other. But given what we see of her in s6, her characterization is consistent. She would have, and did, ignore the red flags for an idea of family.
I’ll share approving thoughts on Sam and Dean's relationship in the final seasons, disapproving thoughts on the final season of Supernatural, and how I speculated it would either go Gencest or Destiel. We know what happened. No one walked away happy and I think the fandom was all the better for it.
Destiel is not canon. It only became a one-sided love confession. (I know there's a lot of speculation on what happened b/w the studio, the writer's room and the post-production team. Idc. Not gonna touch it.) Thoughts on how I think SPN could have made Destiel go 100% canon involve tweaking the execution and balancing out the themes of Sam and Eileen's love story, the big bad plot, and Dean and Cas's 'love' story.
Outlander:
Outlander (show-only) thoughts, foremost on Roger Mackenzie. He has vexed me from the first time he appeared on screen. I love him dearly, but he vexes me, for how he consistently affects the plot and how that defines his role among the main cast. Later on, I'll run through my favorite moments, episodes and narrative arcs.
Miscellaneous:
I'll share a list of favorite ship-centric fics I've collected over many, many, many years. (Gotta be over 10 years' worth). Along with blurbs that explain my recommendation in a non-spoilery way. Fandoms include: Harry Potter, LOTR, Supernatural, The Walking Dead, ASOIAF, Game of Thrones, Star Wars (Sequel Trilogy), The Flash, Shadowhunters [look away book fans <3], Hannibal (show-only).
I'll also post drafts of fics I never got right and never finished. Mostly GoT-canon divergent Jon/Dany fics.
Most importantly, some very dear friends have encouraged me to vent and hype up my Jonerys fic series "We Could Live Together" as I write it. It's GoT-canon divergent, but I alter some of what occurred before 6x09. Then the story re-enters book territory and moves toward ADOS conclusions. I'd also love to break down and discuss songs from the playlists when it strikes me.
This is the summary of Part 1, "A Long Way Home" (published):
After the Battle for Winterfell, Jon was captured by Bolton men then later found by Daenerys not far from Dragonstone. Their meeting blossoms into the most honest love--until Jon suddenly leaves for Winterfell, only to return to Dragonstone months later with more terrifying tales of dead men and Winter storms. When Daenerys chooses to send her armies north to fight the dead, all is certain but the matter of their bond. After the pain they'd endured, can they come together again? Or will separation be too powerful to overcome? *or* A romantic tale of choice and second chances.
This is the summary of Part 2, "Awake For Ever In Sweet Unrest" (in-progress and unpublished):
Winter has come and further fractured the realm. Yet Jon and Daenerys's betrothal and alliance is well known throughout the Seven Kingdoms. The secret that threatened to break them has made their love stronger, casting a fragrance of hope that draws to the last Targaryens all who seek refuge from political turmoil. Cersei Lannister has fled King's Landing in favor of establishing a bank in Lannisport, to guard against her deposition by the Iron Bank. Euron Greyjoy has set up a naval blockade at Oldtown, yet manages to beguile the Hightowers. And Walder Frey's sundown years threaten to pull his House into a civil war. From the Wall, Jon and Daenerys begin to wage war on the Others. Yet the age of wonder and terror, of gods and heroes, leads them and their enemies in the least expected ways. It begs the question: does all happen the way it must? *or* A romantic telling of the new War for the Dawn.
This is what I've been doing the past few years: working, (dating lol), re-reading the books and joining theory discussions on other sites. What touched my heart was readers asking for me to continue the fic series. Even as I considered it, I was conflicted. Since the show and book canon are so enmeshed, I think we were really vulnerable to being whipped and scored by D&D. But we all found ways to lick our wounds. I'm grateful we were able to become closer and stronger. I'm glad to be a part of it.
So that's my preview. If you've read this far, thank you. <3
There's more to come.
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tuesday again 4/11/2023
more concise than usual. don't get used to it.
listening
the trombone is an underutilized instrument in indie rock. this is a delightful music video, the vocals bother me a lot less now that i know they're deliberately going for a robotic effect.
youtube
if you liked the Killing Eve soundtrack (largely brought to you by Unloved and Junoire), that sort of very smooth lightly psych-rock flavored thinking woman's music to smoke clove cigarettes to while slouching around used bookstores, you may like this song! reading this back it sounds kind of snotty but sometimes you need a french woman main character song to make doing errands feel like being on a secret mission
i found one of their previous albums, Psycho Tropical Berlin, sort of a one-hit wonder with Hypsoline (the credits song for As Above So Below) but it really is a fucking banger
i want the album art as a shirt So Bad but not enough to pay $25 shipping from france about it.
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i think this was off the spotify weekly discover playlist? can't imagine where else i would have run across it
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reading
remember the vampire-adjacent private detective novels i was reading? not the ones from last week, the earlier ones. the author alexis hall chucks you a free short story Sand and Ruin and Gold if u sign up for his mailing list.
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i think the orca comparisons are a touch heavy-handed at times, but the imagery in this thing...i really am a sucker for the rot of a coastal tourist trap. i bear no fondness, but i do give them a weary nod of acknowledgement. this town is a construct for other people to enjoy. i typed out a very long thing about how the economics of tourism shaped the town and everything about the civic calendar down to the school year, but--it was not really meant to have real residents or be a real place. there was absolutely nothing to do and nowhere to hang out without paying for anything in the off season.
It was just after closing on Reunification Day, the last of the stragglers gathered up and banished back to their world. A spiral of faded, plastic bunting from the celebrations had blown into one of the pools. I went to get a pole to hook it out but heard a splash and turned in time to see Nerites leap from the water in a gleam of skin and scales. The wind whisked the ribbon from between his fingers, and he reached after it, his body twisting sinuously in the air before he crashed into the pool again.
I’d never seen him—or any of them—move like that before. The jumps and slides we taught them were supposed to mimic their natural behaviours, but they rarely performed them spontaneously. And this was something else again: a wild leap and an ungainly splash, more beautiful to me than the most perfect bow or spin because it seemed so absolutely heedless.
He surfaced again, almost vertical, spinning in the pale-grey spray, one hand catching for the bunting’s tail. A tug, and it tumbled from the sky, nothing but a lifeless piece of string.
i am beginning to remember that all the shit that really sticks in my brain is in short stories and novellas you (general, including me) have never heard of.
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watching
star wars resistance. i am finding this far more enjoyable than the bad batch or the mandalorian bc it has something of a storyline that it sticks to, even though most of the runtime is a teen... he's not really a teen, he was a new republic pilot so he's probably like twenty but in my heart he's like fifteen. part of the appeal of ds9 for me was a very consolidated set of recurring background characters and getting to see that there are other things/factions/people all working for their own ends. baby's first practice spy mission.
the ship design is really killer: it asks and answers the question "what if a pirate spaceship was also a galleon?"
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i find myself excited to watch the next episode, which is not a familiar feeling when i watch star wars stuff. i really hope s2 holds my interest as much as s1 did.
why am i doing this? i have seen all the star wars except for: most of the LEGO stuff, most of the addendum and errata for tcw (including the crystal crisis arc), the holiday special, and most of the droids and ewoks animated shows. like i am Really scraping the bottom of the barrel here, even though i'm not really sure why this show fell into such obscurity.
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playing
a bit cranky with weird west, bc i think to get past this stealth level i will have to dismiss my companion (can't seem to knock out guards unless i'm standing up, the companion AI has a very loose definition of "staying close" and is only "invisible" if you're also crouching, and you can't direct your companion to stay put in one place OR to stay close/stay crouched permanently. i may have exhausted most of the appeal of the world on my first fifteen-hour run through the first story. i am more than a little disappointed bc i did have a fuckton of fun in those fifteen hours and was expecting the good times to continue.
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making
still halfheartedly poking away at the baby blanket, less than half a repeat this week and i don't feel like getting up, digging the blanket out of the catproof bag, and putting enough lights on for a real photo. this is repeat 7/10 tho so we are slowly approaching the end
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twosides--samecoin · 4 months
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Some asks for you :3c
3. What's your favourite fic you've written?
6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time?
11. Do you have specific playlists for writing fics?
18. What's one of your favorite lines you've written in a fic?
24. Share a moodboard for (one of) your current WIP(s)
Hi, thank you so much!
3. What's your favourite fic you've written?
Long Time Running is my one and only; I love it very much. I think it is the best creative work I have ever made. I never did creative fiction/writing before I started the fic and I am so glad I did.
RJ MacCready wakes up hungover after a failed Med-Tek run. Instead of finding medicine for his child, he's forced to start over. My Sole Survivor sends him to Vault 150 up in the mountains of Banff National Park; readers and RJ return to Boston with.. a second Sole Survivor :)
It's also about immigration, culture shock, boxing, martial arts, dreams, psychology, neurodivergence, battle couples, dead parents, found family, diegetic music, pop culture references, comedy, travel and Dogmeat. It is set in Fallout 4 with flashbacks to 3. I would recommend it to anyone who wants to be swept into a world with a lot of descriptive detail, long chapters and/or anyone who wants to read a different take on F4/RJ MacCready's story.
6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time?
I have not been able to keep up on fics written by other people since I started writing two years ago. The reason is primarily ethical - I don't want to plagiarize, I also don't want to be deterred from exploring my story in an attempt to avoid what another author is doing. However I am immensely grateful for @bardic-inspo , I had never read fanfic or visited AO3 before finding Bring the Gasoline and maybe never would have had the "I could do this" lightbulb go off had I not read it.
11. Do you have specific playlists for writing fics?
Long Time Running - Every Song Ever
Full, chronological music reference list including chapter titles & diegetic music!
18. What's one of your favorite lines you've written in a fic?
“Crisse de calice de tabarnak, fuckin’ American bullshit,” she said as she slammed the door.
24. Share a moodboard for (one of) your current WIP(s)
I am unable to share one as visual imagery is too spoilers, but I can confirm this chapter gets its own playlist. I can hint that it's a playlist that covers genres that are not in the main one >:)
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