#there’s loads more I just couldn’t be bothered to sift through every episode

[midnight-love-song]

Who wore it best? :>)

[toohardtoforgetcth]

Too Hard To Forget

Chapter One

Warnings: swearing, angst, moody Cal cause who doesn’t love that, hospital setting

3,923 words

A/N: this is the first chapter of my musician!Cal series! there is a prologue too but it’s optional as it could potentially be triggering for some. it’s my first piece of writing i’ve ever posted so feedback is appreciated! hope you guys enjoy :)

Parker Daniels could barely keep her eyes open. She was at the tail end of her night shift, just finishing up her rounds before she called it a night and crawled into her bed. She didn’t usually work nights, but a colleague called in sick and she was the only one available to cover, so her typical ten-hour shift turned into a draining 16 hours. To say she was brutally exhausted was an understatement.

“Parker, honey,” Diane, the night shift office administrator, sounded softly. “You look beat. We’ve got things covered here. Go home and get some rest.”

Parker shook her head. “I’m almost done. Just have to give Mrs. Jordan her meds.”

“Hannah just got here, I’ll have her do it,” she insisted. “Go home, dear. You need sleep.”

Parker flashed her a grateful, but tired, smile. “Thanks, Diane. I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

She disappeared into the staff room to gather her things and exited through the back door of the building into the staff parking lot. The warm July air ruffled her hair as she dug through her bag for her car keys, the neon red lights from the emergency sign on the hospital connected to Westhill Retirement Home illuminating her face in the darkness. Parker unlocked the door of her black Honda Civic, dropping in and letting her head fall back on the headrest. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, then started the engine, grateful for the short ten-minute drive back to her apartment.

As soon as she opened the door, her grey tabby, Loki, meowed incessantly at her feet.

“Hi, handsome,” she whispered, crouching down and scratching his head. “Sorry I was gone so long.”

He trotted over to his food dish and sat, waiting for her. Parker filled his dish, dropped her bag on the kitchen counter, and shuffled down the hall to her bedroom. Thankful that she didn’t have to work in the morning, she washed her face, changed into her pajamas and crawled into bed. She was fast asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

• • • • • •

“I just sold out of my last copy yesterday, but we should be getting more tomorrow. I can set one aside for you if you like,” Calum offered begrudgingly.

Sometimes—actually, quite often, Calum wondered why on earth he had a job in customer service. His love of music drew him to Rudy’s as a teen, but now, in his mid-twenties, his cynical and less-than-sunny disposition made him question what he was still doing here. When he was a kid, he would spend hours sifting through the vinyl albums, fooling around with the instruments, and saving up his allowance for his first guitar and a new CD every time he could afford one. He gladly accepted when Rudy offered him a job, but it was more for the staff discount than anything—Calum really hated dealing with people. He had a short temper, and this particular customer was testing what little patience he had left. He’d been browsing around the store for the last half an hour, but that wasn’t the problem. The problem with this guy was that he was asking Calum stupid questions every time he tried to get back to work, like the prices and aisle location of every single record he was interested in, even though both were clearly labeled on signs above the shelves. Calum was getting annoyed—he had shit to do.

“Can you check in the back? You must have more somewhere,” the man asked, gesturing to the stock room behind Calum.

“Listen, buddy, I don’t have any more, in the back or otherwise. If you don’t want me to put one on hold, then leave and let me get back to work,” he snapped impatiently.

The man’s jaw dropped, shocked at Calum’s blatant dismissal. Shaking his head, the man left the store, muttering under his breath about disrespectful kids. Calum was hardly a kid, but he couldn’t be bothered to argue. He didn’t give two shits what anyone thought of him.

He was about to head back to the last aisle he had attempted to do inventory on, when Tom, Calum’s boss, cleared his throat. Calum whipped around, facing the old man.

“Calum, my office, please.”

Calum rolled his brown eyes, following the short, bald man into the stock room and then into the little utility closet that doubled as a makeshift office for the owner of the store. Rudy passed away earlier this year, and his jackass of a brother took over ownership of the shop. Rudy was much nicer, and although Calum didn’t particularly like much of anyone, he most definitely preferred Rudy over Tom. He wasn’t sure Tom even liked music. He gestured for Calum to sit in the chair opposite his desk as he sat in the armchair behind it.

“Calum,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his beady eyes. “If you don’t stop scaring away my customers, I’m going to have to let you go. You need to get your attitude in check.”

“My attitude? Dude has been hounding me for the last 30 minutes, Tom. I haven’t been able to get anything done. You want your customers inhibiting the productivity of your staff?” he replied sarcastically.

Tom shot Calum a disapproving look. “I mean it, kid. This is your final warning. My brother may have let you get away with murder, but I will not tolerate this kind of behaviour,” he said sternly with a wave of his hand, dismissing Calum.

• • • • • •

After cashing out his last customer just after eight, Calum shut off the lights in the store, setting the alarm and locking the front door behind him. He pulled a cigarette out of the pocket of his leather jacket, lighting it and taking a long drag. He inhaled deeply, feeling the nicotine drift down his throat and into his lungs. Calum knew it was a bad habit. Gram hated it. But it was a habit he couldn’t seem to kick, no matter how many times he tried for her. It calmed him, relaxed him. And after today, he needed it. He stepped out into the cool night air, one hand in his pocket as he walked, the other holding his cigarette. He finished just before he reached the front of a one-story brick building, stubbing it out under his boot as he stepped through the sliding doors.

Calum nodded his head at the receptionist, having walked these halls many times before. He turned left into the last room at the end of the hall, the permanent scowl on his face replaced with a genuine smile at the sight of the only woman in this world he loved.

“Hey, pretty lady,” he grinned, kicking off his boots and sliding onto the bed beside her. “How was your day?”

The old woman smiled fondly at her grandson, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “My day was just fine, dear. Got up nice and early, ran a marathon, found a cure for cancer, you know. Just small stuff,” she winked.

Calum chuckled, folding his hands behind his head. “Impressive. Wish my days were as productive as yours.”

Gram wrinkled her nose, catching a whiff of smoke from the cigarette Calum had just put out. “Oh, Calum. When are you going to quit that awful habit of yours?” she chided. “You’re going to land yourself in this hospital bed right next to me if you keep it up.”

“I can think of worse places to be,” he shrugged, resting his head on her shoulder.

• • • • • •

Just after nine, halfway through their second episode of Golden Girls, a woman dressed in scrubs knocked on the door to Gram’s room. Calum glanced up, shifting slightly on the bed to allow the nurse some space to look her over. She checked her vitals, then handed Gram a dixie cup with an assortment of pills, along with a second cup of water to wash them down. When she was finished, the nurse tossed the cups into the trash can beside her bed. Calum noticed Gram’s eyelids fluttering.

“Are you getting tired?”

Gram gave him a lazy smile in response.

Calum chuckled. He slipped off the bed, tugging on his boots and jacket. “Get some rest. I’ll see you Tuesday, yeah?” He planted a kiss on Gram’s forehead. “Love you, pretty lady.”

“I love you too, dear,” Gram smiled as he disappeared from view.

» » » » » »

Parker slept in late on Monday morning, a luxury she was rarely afforded. She woke up feeling rested and ready to enjoy her day off, which consisted of making breakfast, going for a run and cleaning her apartment. Around one, she stepped out of the shower, wrapping herself in a towel before checking her phone. She had a text waiting from her best friend, Jenna:

Yo bitch, meet me at Enzo’s. New café on Fifth. Lunch. You have half an hour. ;)

Parker laughed to herself. Jenna was charismatic and about as blunt and upfront as they came. She had a give-no-fucks attitude, and she was also one of the most genuine people Parker had ever known. They’d been friends since college, and no one in this world knew her like Jenna.

• • • • • •

“Hi, babe,” Jenna pulled her into a tight hug. “How’s life? How’s work? It’s been a long time.”

Parker laughed, rolling her grey eyes. “I saw you on Friday.”

“I know, I know. But it feels like ages.”

It was a cool, breezy day for the middle of July, so they opted for a table on the patio to enjoy one of the milder summer days. The girls caught up over nachos and a pitcher of beer. Parker was not, nor had she ever been, one of those people that felt satisfied after eating a salad. She was happy to work out regularly if it meant she got to continue eating the greasy, carb-loaded foods she loved. They chatted about work and family and how Jenna was struggling to choose between the three boys she’d been talking to. She was still rambling on when Parker became distracted by a tall, dark and handsome stranger, walking in their direction on the other side of the street. He was the textbook definition of a bad boy—dressed head to toe in black, complete with a leather jacket, a cigarette between his lips.

Jenna noticed Parker’s distracted expression, following her gaze to the dark-haired man.

“Uh-uh, no way,” Jenna shook her head. “Honey, that boy’s middle name is trouble.”

Parker’s grey eyes drifted from the stranger back to her friend, tilting her head questioningly. “Do you know him?”

“Of course not,” Jenna furrowed her brows. “But look at him. He reeks of heartbreak and bad decisions.”

Parker glanced across the street again, but the stranger had already disappeared. The girls paid their bill, left the café, and Parker never gave him another thought.

» » » » » »

Calum didn’t start work until noon on Tuesday so around nine, he decided to bring breakfast for Gram—coffee and donuts from her favourite bakery downtown.

He entered her room holding up the bag of donuts, and Gram’s face lit up. “Have I ever told you that you’re my favourite grandson?” she beamed, taking the bag from his hands.

“I’m your only grandson,” Calum rolled his eyes.

He sat on the bed and handed Gram her coffee. Around 11, a nurse peeked her head in the doorway. “Morning, Grace!” she chirped brightly.

“Oh, come in, Parker, dear,” Grace motioned with a wave of her hand. “This is my grandson, Calum,” she added, taking notice of Parker gazing at the man sitting next to her on the bed.

He was handsome. No, that didn’t even begin to cover it. He was gorgeous. He looked oddly familiar to her, though Parker had no idea where she knew him from. She supposed she could ask, but he didn’t look to be in a chatty mood. In fact, he didn’t look to be all that approachable at all. Parker took in the outfit he was wearing—black shirt, black jeans, black boots—and then her eyes drifted to the chair beside the bed. Laying on the arm was a leather jacket, and Parker noticed the edge of a pack of cigarettes in one of the pockets. That’s when it occurred to her—he was the stranger from the street outside the café. Calum glanced up and said nothing as he gave Parker a curt nod.

Grace elbowed him in the side. He shot her a look, then he stood, shrugging his jacket on over his broad shoulders.

“I gotta get to work, but I’ll stop by after, yeah?” He bent down and kissed Gram on the cheek. He brushed by Parker a little too forcefully without so much as another glance before he disappeared down the hallway.

Grace wore an apologetic look when Parker’s eyes finally found hers. “Don’t mind my Calum, he’s—” she paused for a moment, contemplating her words. “Well, he’s a little rough around the edges is all.”

Parker forced a smile. “He seems nice,” she lied. He didn’t seem nice at all.

Grace looked at her knowingly. “I may be old, dear, but I’m not dumb,” she chuckled. “I know he’s not the most pleasant, but he’s good to me, and that’s more than I can ask for.”

“I’m sure he’s lovely, Grace,” Parker assured her as she set Grace’s medications on the table beside her bed.

» » » » » »

Parker saw Calum several more times throughout the rest of the week. Although he clearly lacked basic social skills, noted in the way he gave Parker the cold shoulder every time she saw him, it was obvious how much he cared for Grace. Parker only ever saw him smile when he was with her. He was there twice a day almost every day—sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes for hours. Grace took every opportunity she could to tell Parker that he wasn’t all bad. She wasn’t convinced, but that didn’t stop her from trying to be friendly towards him, even when he ignored every attempt she made. She even talked herself into believing he was having an off day when he bumped into her in the hallway. He knocked everything out of her hands, including her coffee cup which spilled all over the floor. He said nothing—just continued walking like nothing had happened. People have bad days, she thought. But she was starting to think maybe Calum was just an asshole.

» » » » » »

Parker and Jenna were walking downtown, window shopping and wasting time in the sunshine on Saturday afternoon. Parker stopped outside one of the shops, grabbing Jenna’s hand and dragging her in. “I wanna get the new All Time Low album,” she explained upon seeing Jenna’s confused expression.

“Why don’t you just listen to it on Spotify like a normal person?” Jenna muttered. Why anyone would pay for music you could get for free was beyond her, but Parker just rolled her eyes and tugged her inside.

She browsed through the aisles until she found what she was looking for, bringing it up to the front desk with Jenna trailing behind her. Parker set it on the counter, waiting for the man standing behind it to finish what he was doing so she could pay. Parker found herself admiring him from the back, even though she couldn’t see his face. He had tattoos snaking up his hands and arms, disappearing under the sleeves of a faded black t-shirt. The shirt hugged his biceps tightly and he had a wide, muscular frame that was obvious even under his shirt. She didn’t realize who it was until he turned his head to the side.

Calum.

Parker blushed, embarrassed at herself for checking him out. She didn’t even know he had tattoos. She had never seen him without his signature leather jacket, which struck her as odd, since it was the middle of summer, and who wears a leather jacket in the summer?

Calum reached out, sliding the CD on the counter towards him, scanning the barcode without looking up.

She smiled her most genuine smile. “Hey!” she greeted brightly.

His brown eyes finally flicked up to meet hers, not a single spark of warmth in them. He took the debit machine out of its holder and set it on the counter in front of her without a word, looking utterly bored.

Parker frowned. She was becoming a little bothered by his blatant disregard for her. Did he not recognize her? She tapped her card on the machine, waiting until the approved message flashed on the screen before picking up the CD. She glanced up at Calum again, but he wasn’t looking at her. In fact, it seemed like he was intentionally avoiding her gaze. “Right. Well, see you around, I guess.”

Jenna waited until they were out of the store before she questioned Parker. “Was that—do you know that guy?”

Parker nodded.

“How? And more importantly, what the hell was that about?” Jenna demanded.

“I have no idea,” Parker admitted truthfully. “I met him the other day at work,” she explained. “He’s the grandson of one of my patients. Actually, I’ve bumped into him a couple times this week. But he obviously doesn’t remember me,” she muttered.

“Or,” Jenna countered, “he’s just a big ol’ douche with a stick up his ass.”

“Yeah, he’s a ray of sunshine, isn’t he?” Parker laughed.

“Hot as hell, though. I’ll give him that,” Jenna mused.

• • • • • •

Calum finished work late on Saturday night, after Tom demanded he finish the inventory that he couldn’t be bothered to do himself. Calum was already on thin ice with Tom, so in the interest of keeping his job, he kept his mouth shut and stayed. Calum hated most aspects of his job, but inventory wasn’t so bad. He closed the store at six and put a Radiohead album on the record player while he worked. He might have finished an hour earlier, had he not been distracted by thoughts of a grey-eyed girl with a pretty smile. He replayed today’s encounter back in his head. Parker was the last person he expected to walk into the store that afternoon. He was taken by surprise, even more so when she walked up to the counter with one of his own favourite albums. He had been rude to her—on several occasions—he knew, but for some reason he couldn’t explain, she rubbed him the wrong way. But Calum had to admit, Parker was beautiful. There was something about her eyes—steel grey with flecks of blue, and her brighter-than-the-sun attitude that never seemed to falter. Calum briefly wondered how much it would take to make her angry. She kept popping into his head at the most inconvenient times, and it pissed him off.

» » » » » »

Parker was sitting behind the reception desk, eyes glancing up at the sound of the front door opening. Her heart stopped momentarily when Calum walked in. She cast her eyes down quickly, avoiding eye contact. He said nothing to her nor to the other two women sitting behind the desk next to Parker, his path clearly set for Grace’s room at the end of the hall.

Parker had seen Calum at Westhill two more times since their meeting at the record store, and there was no way that Calum hadn’t recognized her—she deduced that he just wasn’t fond of her. He made that point painfully obvious, but she was bound and determined to change his mind, being that he didn’t have any good reason. She was perfectly polite and she took good care of Grace. Usually, Parker wasn’t bothered by people who didn’t care for her, but for some reason she couldn’t explain, it irked her that Calum didn’t. At noon, armed with her tray of medications and Grace’s lunch, Parker headed down the hall to Grace’s room with the intent to strike up a conversation with Calum and kill him with kindness.

As she was about to go inside, she overheard Calum talking to Grace. He didn’t usually have much to say—Parker could count on two hands the number of words she had ever heard him utter—and she was intrigued by the sound of his voice. It was deep and raspy, and Parker swore she could hear an accent she hadn’t picked up on before. She wondered why Calum had an accent and Grace didn’t.

Parker leaned against the doorframe for a minute, just listening to him talk animatedly to his grandmother. She wasn’t really listening to the words he spoke so much as the way he spoke them. His voice was surprisingly soothing, and for the first time she noticed he had an infectious laugh that made Parker smile.

She was distracted a moment too long because when she looked up, Calum was outside the door and levelling her with an angry stare. The smile slipped off Parker’s face immediately.

“You make it a habit to eavesdrop on people?” he snarled.

“Oh—no,” she tried to explain, looking down at her tray. “I was just—”

“Just what?” he cut her off, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just being fucking nosy and invading what little privacy we have here?”

“Honestly, I—I wasn’t—” Parker stuttered, but words failed her when he lifted his hand, slamming it next to her head on the wall. She wanted to kick herself for flinching—now he had no doubt she was afraid of him.

Calum leaned in close, close enough for Parker to see the spark of anger dancing in his brown eyes. “Stay the fuck out of our private conversations, understand?”

Parker instinctively backed further into the corner she had been standing in, feeling incredibly threatened by Calum. His expression was deadly—Parker couldn’t even utter any words to explain herself, looking dumbly up at him while her heart pounded and her hands shook so violently she almost dropped her tray. So much for convincing him not to hate her.

He lingered a moment longer before dropping his hand, the fire in his eyes burning into hers once more before he turned down the hall.

As soon as he was out of sight, Parker let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. She closed her eyes briefly to compose herself before entering Grace’s room, quickly setting the tray on her nightstand and leaving before she could say a word.

If Parker was on the fence about Calum before, she wasn’t anymore—he terrified her.

• • • • • •

Calum was beginning to get fed up with Grace’s irritatingly sweet nurse. Or rather, fed up with the things she was making him feel. He would be lying if he said it didn’t excite him, the way he got a rise out of her when he cornered her outside of Grace’s room today. He had seen her coming with that stupidly sweet smile on her face, and their encounter couldn’t have gone better if he’d planned it. She reacted exactly how he had hoped, and seeing the fear in her eyes—fear of him—gave Calum a sick sense of satisfaction. Maybe now she’d leave him the hell alone and he could let his mind wander in peace without worrying about thinking of her.

[thelifeoftuan]

I haven’t really ever talked about this before (in public, anyway, and currently, really only one person knows all of this wholeheartedly and in more excruciating detail), but I felt compelled to just put this out there today. Hahaha! It’s not a big deal. At all. Ergo, posting it on tumblr and letting it sift in between my reblogs of Chinese dramas, Bulbasaur propaganda, and mean twitter. Hahahahaha!

One of my coworkers had gifted me a rather expensive-looking bottle of wine for the holidays. I posted a picture of it on my story kinda joking that perhaps I should finally start drinking alcohol, because raging alcoholism couldn’t be any worse than how I have been feeling lately with the climate of this country (that’s for another post for another day...). Honestly, I was hoping people would reply offering to take it off my hands, because I definitely do not know what to do with it and I didn’t want it to go to waste. And then a number of people who might not know me as well messaged me, surprised that I have never drunken alcohol. I offered to send the bottle to one of them, after which they informed me that I can’t personally send alcohol through the mail. Hahaha! Fail. Which goes to show just how much I do not know about alcohol, ‘cause I didn’t even know such a law existed. I honestly probably shouldn’t joke about it, because this issue is pretty personal to me. Again, it’s not a big deal in the grand scheme of things. And I don’t ever get mad or irritated about it. And it’s not something I really ever disclose unless someone really, really, really wanted to know the reasons why I have never drunken alcohol and will never drink alcohol. But, what the hell, here they are: 1. I was raised that way. Growing up, there wasn’t a single ounce of alcohol in my household (that I knew of, hahaha!). One of the Buddhist principles is to not engage in any behavior or activity that alters the mind and impairs judgment, which includes consumption of alcohol. Every Sunday, that precept was ingrained into my mind. But of course, growing up, I saw many, many, MANY of my elders drink alcohol, amongst consumption of other things that went against this precept. At first, it baffled me. Why did they preach these things to me yet do the opposite? Then I sort of understood a little bit about the compromises people make with themselves during adulthood. I won’t ever consume alcohol, but eventually, I got to a point where I was okay if others did and even if they did so around me. It didn’t make me uncomfortable anymore as long as they are responsible about it and no one is harmed. And you know, in the instances where people around me have been a little too overzealous with their consumption, I make sure that they are safe, help take care of them if asked to, even help clean up messes if I need to... but I have gotten to a point in my life where I felt no need to question or judge people for their consumption of alcohol. As long as people are safe, responsible, and happy, (and I am not yacked on--true story) who am I to be bothered, right? 2. I have an addictive personality. I know this from all the times I’ve cleared a 12-pack of Dr Pepper in a span of 24 hours. I have obsessive and compulsive tendencies. I know this from all the times I’ve nearly driven myself to near insanity pouring over unnecessary details and minutia. I have a mental disorder. I know this from my formal diagnosis of major depressive disorder. And over the years, given my many episodes of mania--while slight and somewhat mild (hopefully)--I fear that I may suffer from bipolar disorder. And I know from my training as a physician that mind-altering substances, especially alcohol, will exacerbate my symptoms, and I do not want add raging alcoholism to my list of problems that I am trying so desperately to keep under control. There’s a saying that “doctors make the worst patients” and I will have to stand by that when it comes to myself. I know myself well enough to know that if my mental illness ever spiraled out of control (again), I would suffer dire consequences (again). And so, to avoid the unraveling of my life and prevent my mental illness from besting me, I choose not to drink alcohol. 3. Alcohol killed my best friend. This is probably the biggest reason for my lifelong abstinence from alcohol. I don’t need to, nor do I want to, rehash the sad story of how I lost my best friend, but this is the most important reason I have for making the choices that I make when it comes to consuming alcohol. In some strange way that doesn’t seem to make much sense when I try to put it in words, I choose not to drink alcohol so that I can avoid tarnishing my memory of him, so that I don’t feel like I betrayed him. He was my best friend. And we were supposed to be together for the rest of our lives like we had promised. But I lost him in perhaps one of the worst ways possible. And I feel like if I were to ever partake in consuming alcohol, a part of him, perhaps the most important part of him that still lives within my soul, will die as well. It sounds like an irrational, nonsensical reason. But it’s my irrational and nonsensical reason. And if it keeps my heart and my soul intact, I will hang on to it. I kinda chuckle to myself when people comment on my teetotalism, whether if it’s with complete shock or if they try to persuade me to try it for once in my life. I just continue to politely decline. People will ask me why I don’t drink sometimes, and I’ll tell them, “It’s really just a personal choice.” Because that reply is not as loaded as this post. But to anyone who “knows” me and finds this post and has ever been curious about why it seems like I “have a stick up my butt about drinking alcohol,” ...well, I hope you’ll come to find that I really don’t have a stick up my butt and understand that, rather, it’s a knife wound through my heart that I have been trying to keep closed for a very, very long time now. That’s all for now.

[my-one-love-is-music]

Be My Player 2? Ch. 27

Happy season 7 y'all!! My emotions were pulled in about 10 million different directions over the course of 13 episodes and if any of y'all need some emotional healing, hopefully this can help haha.

I'd also like to take a minute to say that earlier this week, this fic celebrated it's second birthday and it's unbelievable to me that this fic is two years old and has come so far. The response to this has been absolutely incredible and I'd like to thank each and every one of you for taking the time to read it and here's to many more chapters as I continue this story!

Also on AO3!

Keith breathed a sigh of relief when he walked out onto the floor of the restaurant and spotted George behind the bar. He’d spent all morning working on homework and he was practically braindead, knowing he’d have no energy to deal with persistent coworkers if he’d been stuck with Kayla on his shift.

George looked up as he approached and smiled. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to show.”

Keith stifled a yawn and swung around behind the counter. “Sorry. I’m not trying to be lazy on purpose. Getting back into the swing of school has just been tougher than usual so I’m really glad you’re the one I’m working with tonight.”

“Thanks, I guess?” he said with a chuckle as he set a drink on one of the available trays and picked up a new ticket. “I feel like I should be insulted by that.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Keith said. “I could use a friend around while at work.”

George paused, his eyebrows furrowing. “Everything’s okay with you and Shiro, right?” he asked.

Keith blinked and grinned. “Yeah, of course! We’re doing really great actually and are probably going to watch a movie after I get off tonight. Although with how I’m feeling I might fall asleep before we even get started.”

George relaxed. “Good. I’d hate for the two of you to be having relationship troubles on top of all the other stress you’ve got going on.”

“Nah,” Keith said fondly as his brain sifted through memories of his boyfriend. “We’re really good. I’m just waiting for Spring Break to get here so I can see him again.”

“How are you handling being separated?”

Keith let out a breath and readied the bottles for the drink he was making. “The first few days were rough. It’s gotten a little easier since we both have things we have to do, but I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t rather have him around.”

George nodded. “I can imagine. Vacation will be here before you know it and you’ll be back together again.”

“Yeah…” Keith said, more than a little wistfully. He glanced over at George and saw his knowing smirk, snapping him out of his thoughts. “School and work will make it feel like time flies by. I won’t have a second to spare to sit around and miss Shiro.”

George chuckled. “Yeah, hold onto that. Don’t let yourself lose that spunk. You’re going to need it.”

“Don’t I know it,” Keith grumbled.

George grinned, and they continued working in silence. Keith was glad to give his brain a little bit of a break from any form of mental strain. He could pretty much make every drink in a daze at this point. He didn’t need to focus on his work as much as he did when he got started as a bartender since the craft was second nature to him now.

Maybe he could convince Hunk and Pidge to buy a ton of booze and he could mix drinks for them. It probably wouldn’t get them drunk as quickly as straight shots of vodka and tequila, but he knew it would be fun nonetheless.

The night and the orders coming in were slow for a Saturday, but Keith wasn’t complaining. It was better than a rush they couldn’t control, and he hoped it would last for the rest of the night.

George passed him a glass as he pulled bottles of alcohol from under the counter, mixing the drink before setting it next to the ticket on the tray. George took his dirty mixers and dumped them into the sink, sticking his hands into the soapy water to start washing as Keith hung to the side and waited for the next drink to come in.

He sighed and crossed his arms, eyes roving over the few tables of patrons he could see from his place behind the bar. He let his mind start to wander now that he didn’t have anything to focus on.

~~

Keith dug his hands into his jacket pockets as he slipped out of the back door of the restaurant. The sky was dark, and the kitchen staff were doing their last rounds of cleaning before they got to leave for the night. Keith didn’t envy that kind of work when he got to leave so much sooner than they did. He also didn’t have to come in as early since they had kitchen prep, too.

The snow and salt that was still left on the sidewalks crunched under his feet as he walked back to his place. For once, he wasn’t in much of a hurry and the cold wasn’t bothering him too much despite being in the throes of winter.

Keith’s head tilted back, and he looked up between the buildings. He couldn’t make out any of the stars and the moon’s light was muted behind the clouds that hung over the city. It was supposed to snow again that night and he hoped it wouldn’t be too deep when he had to leave for work the next day.

His breath puffed out between his lips and he turned his gaze back to the sidewalk. He walked past a few strangers who were out, but they all kept to themselves, eyes focused on the walk in front of them. Keith didn’t mind. Interacting with strangers was one of his least favorite things to do.

Keith pulled his keys from his pocket as he jogged up the steps to his apartment building. He unlocked the door and pushed inside, the warmth of the building enveloping him like a hug. He hurried up the stairs to his floor, knocking the lingering salt and snow off his shoes before he walked into his place.

He threw his coat over the back of the couch and started stripping out of his work clothes as he walked into his bedroom. He changed into a pair of broken-in sweats and threw on a hoodie. The cold hadn’t been so bad when he was outside, but a chill still managed to linger in his bones now that he was in the confines of his home.

He pulled the sleeves of his hoodie down so they were almost over his hands and grabbed his computer, climbing into bed. He pulled his blanket around him as he started up his laptop and snuggled down inside the fabric. It was slow to start, and he drummed his fingers on the casing as he waited for the different programs to load.

Keith’s phone vibrated next to him and he picked it up, smiling when he saw it was Shiro texting him.

Shiro: You home?

Keith: Yup. I’m getting my computer set up now.

Shiro: Great! I’ll get rabbit set up and you can join my room when you get on there.

Keith: Sure

He leaned forward and adjusted the pillows behind him before he slouched down, trying to get more comfortable. His computer felt so slow and he wanted everything to load so he could get to Shiro.

Finally, after too long, he was able to open his web browser and pull up rabbit. There was already a notification waiting from Shiro and he clicked on it, taking him to Shiro’s room where Netflix was up on the screen.

He clicked on the mic, impatient as it took a couple seconds to calibrate and connect properly.

“Hey,” he said, probably a little too gruffly.

“Hey, baby,” Shiro said. “How are you?”

“Tired,” he sighed.

“Busy night?”

“Not really, actually. It was pretty slow. At least for me and George. But the amount of homework I had this morning and then work was a strain and I’m exhausted.”

“I’m sure it’ll get better.”

“Yeah,” Keith sighed. “I’m just ready to spend a nice night with you and watch a movie. I’ll warn you now though that I might fall asleep.”

Shiro chuckled and it made something warm curl in Keith’s chest.

“I think I can forgive you this time,” he said. “Are you going to be busy tomorrow?” he asked.

“I’ve got work tomorrow night, but my morning should be free. What’s up?”

“Well…” he said, and Keith could hear the grin in his voice and thinly veiled excitement. “I figured since we’re getting close we should book your plane tickets.”

“Close being a relative term?” Keith asked with a chuckle.

“Close in terms of needing to make travel planes,” he said.

“Okay,” Keith said. “It’s a date.”

“Not a very romantic date,” Shiro grumbled.

Keith shrugged even though he couldn’t see him. “It’s the best we can do right now. But if you really want something romantic, we can watch a rom-com tonight.”

“Eugh,” Shiro said and Keith could almost see his grimace. “No thanks. I think I’ll be the nerd I am and watch some sci-fi.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth, babe,” Keith said, letting himself sink back into his mattress. The cold was starting to recede, replaced by a strong warmth that spread from his chest.

“Does this mean I get to pick the movie?” Shiro asked.

“Sure,” Keith said, grinning. “But you better make it good.”

He watched as Shiro scrolled through Netflix, going through the shows and films suggested for him. He clicked on one and read the description.

“This sound good?” he asked.

“Sure,” Keith said, unable to stifle a yawn.

Shiro chuckled and hit play. “Don’t fall asleep on me.”

“No promises,” Keith said, lazy grin pulling at his lips. “You’d physically have to be here to stop me.”

Shiro hummed as the intro to the movie started to play. Keith was more focused on the sound of Shiro’s voice than what was happening on the screen in front of him. “If I was there with you then I wouldn’t mind letting you sleep.”

Keith huffed a laugh. “And why’s that?” he asked.

“Because,” Shiro said. “I’d be able to hold you and watch you sleep. I’d know you’re getting the rest you need and not working yourself to death.”

The warmth in Keith’s chest spread. “Well, you’re just going to have to trust me for now.”

“I know,” Shiro sighed. “And I do, but…”

“But?” Keith prompted.

“But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t much rather have you here with me.”

“And I’d much rather be there with you,” Keith agreed. “But we still have another month and a half before that’s going to happen.”

“Keith?”

“Yeah?”

There was a pause, the only sound between them coming from the movie on the screen.

“I love you.”

Keith smiled and snuggled further under his blanket. “I love you, too.”

Shiro’s laugh was soft and sounded giddy. Keith was feeling the same.

“If you get too tired, let me know and I can shut off the movie and let you sleep.”

“Okay,” Keith said.

He looked at the screen but wasn’t really seeing what was going on. Not that it mattered all that much.

~~

Keith grumbled when his alarm went off. He reached for it, swatting his hand on the bedside table until he found his phone and was able to pick it up to shut it off. He yawned and rubbed at his eyes, trying to fight through the lingering sleep that wanted to pull him back to his dreams.

He forced himself to sit up and sat there, looking around his room as he tried to get his thoughts in order. There was a chill to the air that he’d been able to ignore under the blanket and he wrapped his arms around himself, wanting to fall back into bed go to sleep.

He grabbed his hoodie he’d discarded the night before and tugged it on, crossing his arms over his chest as another violent chill moved through his body.

“What the hell,” he grumbled, climbing out of bed. He flinched when his feet hit the wood floor and cold seeped into the bottoms of his feet.

He tiptoed over to his dresser and pulled out a pair of socks, awkwardly balancing to shove them onto his feet. He hurried into his living room and checked the thermostat, gaping when he saw the temperature was under forty degrees.

He rushed back into his bedroom, snatching his phone from the bedside table before dialing the number for the superintendent.

“Hello?” he asked, voice obviously tired.

“Hey, it’s Keith and the heat-“

“Say no more,” he sighed, interrupting. “The heat’s out in the whole building. I’ve put in a call to have the maintenance crew come in and they’re going to get here as soon as they can. The snow’s pretty bad outside and they have to come across town so sorry to say that it might be a few hours.”

Keith blinked. “Oh,” he said. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Of course,” he said. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Nope, that’s it.”

“All right,” he said. “Call if you need anything else.”

“Sure,” Keith said, ending the call. “This is going to be fun,” he grumbled to his empty apartment and sighed. He could at least be grateful that he still had electricity.

He shuffled into the kitchen and started rummaging through the cabinets, searching for something to keep him warm. He found a can of instant hot chocolate mix and set a pot of water on the stove to boil. As he waited, he retrieved his computer and several blankets and set them up around the couch to have somewhere warm to retreat.

His phone buzzed as he was mixing the boiling water with the hot chocolate mix into a large mug. He absentmindedly stirred the mixture with a spoon, picking up his phone to find a message from Shiro waiting for him.

Shiro: Morning, babyyyyyy

Keith smiled and carried his phone and hot chocolate into the living room, getting comfortable among the blankets before he replied.

Keith: Cold morning

Shiro: Awww, need someone to come warm you up?

Keith: Yeah, actually. The heat’s out in my building

Shiro: Shit

Keith: Yeah, it’ll hopefully be fixed by the afternoon, but the snow we got was bad and I don’t even want to think about what the roads look like

Shiro: You got anything to keep you warm?

Keith: Lots of blankets and hot chocolate, but that’s about it. I’m kind of wishing I had a space heater, but I don’t even know where I could go buy one or if I’d even want to go outside when I don’t have to.

Shiro: Sorry

Keith shrugged even though Shiro couldn’t see him.

Keith: Can’t be helped. The best I can do is deal with it. I’ve got work later so that’ll give me somewhere warm to go if the heat’s not on soon.

Shiro: You at least ready to book your plane tickets?

Warmth bloomed in Keith’s stomach that had nothing to do with the hot chocolate he was drinking. He bit his lip, excitement spreading through him.

Keith: Definitely.

He reached for his computer and nestled it over his blanket covered legs, clutching the warm mug close to his chest. His phone started to ring, and he answered it quickly, cradling it between his shoulder and his ear as he typed in his password with one hand.

“Hey,” he said, keeping his attention on his computer that was booting up.

“Morning, babe,” Shiro said. “Have you looked at any prices yet?”

“Nope. I’m just getting my computer powered up now, so it could be a minute or two before I can get on the internet. The one good thing about this morning is that electric is still working. I really don’t know what’s up with the heat.”

Shiro hummed. “Yeah, that is kind of strange… Maybe there’s a short or a connection slipped.”

Keith sighed. “I guess we’ll find out,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. He opened his web browser. “Okay, what airport am I flying into?”

“Melbourne International Airport,” Shiro answered.

Keith hummed, typing in the airport and the flights there from Chicago. “These aren’t bad,” he said, scrolling down through the list of flights that was only a couple hundred bucks for round trip tickets.

“What time do you think you could get in?”

“Well, I can finish up my classes on Friday and pack that night and leave Saturday morning. I’d get there in the middle of the afternoon, but I could stay until the next Sunday if you’re okay with me staying a little over a week?”

Shiro chuckled. “Do you even have to ask?”

“I just want to make sure,” he grumbled.

“I’m perfectly fine with you staying that long. Hell, I’d welcome it. I’ve missed you so much that I want to spend as much time with you as I can.”

Keith bit his lip and felt his chest warm despite the cold that permeated everything around him. “I’d have to get a noon flight back,” he continued after Shiro’s words had hung in the air too long.

“That’s fine. I’m good to take you there and pick you up whenever you need it. My schedule’s a lot more flexible than yours was.”

Keith smiled. “Okay, give me one second. I need to grab my wallet so I can pay for these.”

Warm butterflies exploded in his stomach. He hadn’t even thought about it much before now that this was actually happening, but now there was no mistaking the face he was going to fly down to Florida to see his boyfriend. It was something he never would’ve expected to happen in his life.

“I’m going to put you on speaker, okay?” Keith asked.

“Sure.”

He hit the speaker button and set the phone to the side as he started booking the tickets. He typed in his personal information, grin getting wider as he reached the bottom of the page and put his payment information in.

“Okay,” he said softly before clicking the payment button. “It’s done,” he said when the confirmation flashed. “I’m officially coming to visit you over spring break.”

“Make sure to send your flight numbers and info to me,” Shiro said.

“Don’t worry,” Keith said, picking up his phone. He took it off speaker and leaned back against the cushions, eyes still locked on his computer. “I’ll get all of that to you later.”

“Hey, Keith?” Shiro asked.

“Yeah?”

“You’re coming to visit me.”

He breathed a laugh, chest ready to explode. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

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