#think i might be relapsing in my ed which is. not so fun

[tinylittlebab]

:/

[diaryofasuperstar]

Here we go again

TW: ED

Hey there!

I don't even know where to start.

I am 20 yo and based in Paris and this is not my first time on tumblr. (I go by she/her)

I don't know if I have an ed, or if I'm just mentally unstable, but let me tell you, my eating and my mind feels pretty disordered to me.

I have been struggling for the past 7 years, with long lapses of time where I would force myself to feel good in my body, and find 101 excuses of why I will never truly look like I want and that I am beautiful the way I am, but also a lot of "relapses" where I would just stop existing for a while and starve myself.

I also have no idea what I actually look like lmao.

I have never been underweight and I have also never attained my ugw, which I think is the reason why I have never actually gotten better, and why I will keep coming back.

If I am here, you might have perspicaciouly understood that I relapsed again.

I am absolutely not here to encourage anyone to follow my bad habits nor to harm themselves. I just need a space where I can freely express my struggles without anyone close to me knowing.

I know that I will be posting some f up stuff but please understand that tumblr is literally the only safe space out there for us.

fyi I haven't weighed myself in a couple of years because it would trigger me too much, and I am still not aware of my weight. I am planning on weighing myself when my weightloss will be noticeable enough.

I convinced myself that I weigh somewhere between 75 and 85 kg (165lbs and 187lbs). I am 1,68m (around 5'6). My goal is to be in the 50s by the end of this year.

I know that I will probably fail again but like they say, qui ne tente rien n'a rien, so might as well try again. Worst case scenario I will hate myself a little more.

more fun facts about me: I am an absolute history nerd, really into politics and human rights issues and I am also bi.

[jayyyz-stuff]

ok so this is a little thing about why i don’t want to recover at the moment so people don’t think i am pro ana or s/h or whatever else

ok so first off my grandparents in a way don’t believe in mental illnesses but they do at the same time

so like they know what mental illnesses are and they know people have them etc etc but they make it hard for me to recover. this is because they think if i take a little pill all my mental illnesses will go away and i will stop s/hing and stuff. sometimes they even yell at me, shame, me and even punish me when i relapse. you might think “then don’t s/h” it honestly isn’t that simple. so pretty much i don’t want to get help because i don’t want them to find out.

another reason is it’s a addiction. which if you didn’t know already addictions are hard to quit. after a while, for me, it becomes something i want to do all the time constantly 24/7 but i can’t even though i want to.

and for the ed part i just don’t want to tell then because they in a way make fun of skinny people not directly but sometimes when we are alone will say “they need to learn how to eat” etc etc assuming that they just don’t eat. them knowing i might have a ed would probably suck because they will probably tell me “just eat food it’s not that hard” etc and i know this just by knowing them and the way they act and think.

and yes i live with my grandparents.

those are all the reasons i am gonna add for now it might change over time though.

[chronic-invisibility]

I stopped coming on here for like almost a month i think bc i added some tags onto a post i reblogged and the op called me out and said i completely misunderstood everything (except they misunderstood what i was trying to say so fuck me ig) and i got upset and dipped. In the meantime, lots of stuff has happened, but also not much.

I went back to university, the semester started last Thursday and it’s going well so far, I’m majoring in Museum Studies bc I am a big nerd, and it’s a 100% online program so I’m still working and I don’t have to like, move to Arizona, which is good.

Work is meh, we’re starting vaccine clinics again soon so I’ll be doing that again with this season’s flu and covid shots, and maybe other vaccines as well I’m not sure what the regulations are now. We still only have one pharmacist on staff so we’re stuck with a rotating cast of floaters, some of whom are more helpful than others. And the customers are still horrible, that hasn’t changed. I got yelled at for 10 minutes today by someone who’s doctor called in over a dozen prescriptions and then faxed us and cancelled all of them so we put them all back, which was a mistake apparently and then after we finally got it sorted and got them called in again, we were supposed to close in 10 minutes so it was physically impossible to fill 15 prescriptions for one person, and she wanted us to stay open late just for her, which legally we can’t do and also no, we want to go home and she was being so rude we didn’t really want to help her at all. So yeah, work is work

In good news, I’ve been talking to someone i matched with on a dating app (my intro that they messaged me about was mcr related, so you know they’re a keeper) and we’ve been on 2 dates and text a lot and we’re planning on hanging out again this Tuesday. They’re a special ed teacher and they have adhd so they get how my brain works and they work with kids whose brains work similarly to both of ours, and they’re really funny and cool and smart and nice and pretty, I really hope this keeps going well bc I really like them.

I watched the newest season of Heartstopper twice in a row after it came out, reread all the comics that are out (Alice Oseman is still publishing them, too, so that’s nice) and then rewatched both seasons in a row. It’s so cute and so good and i can feel the hyperfixation building. I’ve watched it enough that I keep slipping into a british accent when I talk, which is entirely unintentional but not the worst thing. I can also do it on purpose, but i tend to pick up accents from people I hear talk a lot, which is maybe the only fun side effect of masking my whole life

I’ve seen a few really good plays and musicals recently, I know I saw The Sign in Sidney Brustein’s Window before i stopped posting on here, but that was really good, and then I saw Kimberly Akimbo the other day, it was INCREDIBLE. The music and the writing are amazing, obviously, and the actors were all so good, again obviously. They won 5 Tony’s last season, including for Best Musical and Best Featured Actress in a musical and Best Lead Actress in a musical, which were so well-deserved, I seriously cannot hype this show up enough. There’s so many good shows on Broadway right now and I wish I could see them all, there were a bunch I wanted to see but closed before I got the chance, too, including Prima Facie starring Jody Comer, but I bought the script for that one.

In less fun news, I think i might need to put a read more here bc there be triggers coming

Between my chronic GI issues (trying to see a specialist about it again but there’s a whole mess of problems with that i just don’t feel like typing) and watching season 2 of Heartstopper and also rereading it and seeing Charlie struggling with his eating disorder, I’ve lapsed pretty hard with my own. I can’t really call it a relapse bc I was never really actually trying to recover, but I was trying for a while to eat a little more normally, but that’s basically out the window now. Thanks brain, so helpful of you to see a person struggling with a similar mental illness to mine and say “well they’re sicker than you so you suck and also you need to work harder at being sick like them” like FUCK OFF that’s not helpful and also Charlie is literally a fictional character and most of the storyline is about how he’s trying to get help for his ed and how awful they are, and his ed and mine aren’t the same, nor are our reasons for being disordered. So that’s not been fun.

I also realized (after watching a video by a therapist reacting to the scene when Ben assaults Charlie in Heartstopper and then going and obsessively researching legal definitions) that what happened to me in the summer of 2019 would probably be classified as a rape, not just a sexual assault. Which it also was, but what happened falls under the legal definition of rape, not just assault. So I’ve been spiraling about that, even though I still remember almost none of it and once again my garbage brain has decided that I’m somehow not allowed to be that upset or say I’m traumatized bc I don’t experience two of the most common symptoms of ptsd (flashbacks and nightmares) so clearly, this is all me being dramatic, even though basically everything else fits. And those aren’t required to be diagnosed with ptsd. Not that I WANT ptsd, but for whatever reason I feel like i’m not allowed to even say i’m a little bit traumatized by what happened bc of that. Again, stupid brain. I also realized after talking to the person I’ve been talking to (idk if we’re officially dating, maybe i should ask) about boundaries and what we’re both comfortable with, that the last person who I’ve had any “romantic” physical contact with was the person who raped me, and also the only sexual contact I’ve ever had (unless i’ve blocked out more than just the one assault I know happened) was with that same person, so now i’m extremely anxious about doing anything with the person i’m sort of maybe dating, even though neither of us are interested in just jumping right to physical intimacy, they’ve also experienced similar situations so they’re anxious about it too, and also they’re a nice person who i’d trust to not push it if i wasn’t comfortable with something, but idk how to say “i’m anxious about kissing you even though i like you and i want to kiss you bc the last person i kissed was the person who raped me over 4 years ago”

I’m working on finding a new therapist now that i’m done with my IOP and i know that’s going to be one of the (far too many) things i need to deal with in therapy, as well as all the other trauma from that summer, and from my previous university experience, and my whole fucking childhood, and also my other issues that aren’t necessarily trauma related, although most of them probably are to a certain extent bc being an undiagnosed audhd person who also doesn’t realize they’re trans until they’re an adult is inherently traumatic.

I don’t know if there’s any other big stuff I want to/feel like I need to say that’s been going on, not that anybody will probably read all or any of this. But yeah, a lot is going on, but also not much is actively going on. This was a lot longer than I thought it would be. Oops.

[mid-student-hannah]

ok SO I'm gonna expand on this later but basically posting htis now tupos and all so that I don't forget.

I need to average 10 hours a unit a week. that's 40 hours study a week including classes. This is not something I got when I was studying before and that was in part bc I went 'well... gotta Study All Day' and then simply didn't. So I need more structure.

I work decently with half hour blocks, more so than 25 minutes I think. If I can get myself to focus it works well. (I need to expermient with self-medicating with caffiene, honestly, maybe try energy drinks as well - anything that I can figure out that might help, even if a placebo efect.) This means I need to average - anyway, I did figures earlier today and they came down to if I try and aim for 15 blocks a day, which gives a bit of leeway if I'm planning on studying six days a wekk give or take. Hence if I aim for 8-10 blocks in the morning (assuming studying at home and no classes) and the remaining 5-7 in the afternoon (ideally I'd then get the evening off). Classes of course are included in this. I haven't looked up time for commuting from my planned residence. Depending on how long the commute is I might go in to uni to study even when I'm not classes.

Need to look up when there are assignemtns and also work out the whole taking notes situation. Basically I would need ideally to make a list of these are the things I have to do everyday and the things I ought to do (there is a difference). I want to try the whole pull a random task out of a hat thing too, a combination of that and also what do I want to do. I need fun things in there too.

Ideally I need to hit the various food targets I have (gradually assembling an additional-to-meals plan as time goes by, and trying to get a better idea of portion sizes; this is daunting but I need to figure it out beforehand or it won't happen I know that).

I need to get work of some kind I think but that's not something I want to deal with just yet. I need to look at how much classes I have also. Honestly I'd consider trying to go back to my old job briefly even though it's not very fulfilling in terms of experience or career. Anyway.

I want to keep up with my hobbies as best I can. Need to set up stuff for art, like plan out things so that I can work on that without too much brain required at least to some extent if I just wnat to art without thinking. Probably want to pull my stories into places where I can be doing smth with them every day or every couple of days, somehow. I ought to go walking every day. Honestly vaguely considering getting an exercise bike or something because then I can read/listen to audiobooks for uni while still exercising I dunno. Could turn into bad fueling ED tho. Then again I think it's very likely I'm gonna relapse to a greater or lesser extent bc of uni. With whatever bad coping mechanism/s. Need to look further into electric pianos so that I can play piano whenever as a stress reliever. All of these things are dealing with stress ina healthy way. That's the worst for me I think. Also photography helps and helps me ot feel like I'm doing something good and useful.

Need good sleep schedule. I'm thinking of trying to end up with nine hours sleep time, which includes tucking self into bed and also more pertinently Ransom. Gives leeway for terrible sleeping at times too. Not getting enough rn both bc brain won't switch off and also bc I keep going to bed too late for the hour. Like rn even if I slept right now I'd get seven hours twenty minutes bc my alarm goes early.

But yeah I need to work out something more structured with studying or whatever. need to look up my units too to figure these things out. I need to have textbooks and I need to read them. I didn't really last semester and that was a mistake. And I need to figure out how to take notes. Possibly brother's graphics tablet will help. Maybe look at getting a ReMarkable if I can see one for cheap somewhere. Need to practise handwriting in whatever form too because yeah that's a problem.

I need to figure out something to do with various problems that consume my brainspace. A bunch of htem were more repressed bc of giving in to ED and now they're louder again bc I'm in recovery.

I'd also have to work out how to take care of Ransom while I'm away at uni during the day. He's also a stress reliever too.

I don't know how accommodations for mental health problems work there either but I need to get accommodations I think (talk to psych).

Structure is good for me but I need to make sure it's not something that will make things worse and make me overwhelmed also. Need to give myself enough downtime so that I can cope. Anyhow things as they were last year didn't work, and if anything my mental health is significantly worse than it was then, even though in some ways it's improved.

Need to go back to doctor so I can pursue ADHD diagnosis stuff too. That was supposed to happen this year. It. Didn't.

I need to find an app that I can use to record the time blocks in some way. Maybe on my phone so I can have it next to me. I'll need to have some kind of time lock on Discord I think and maybe tumblr even though I want to be using this sideblog or stuff. Then again I can post from my backup account perhaps if I sign out of my main, since I have all my sideblogs shared with it. I dunno. Thoughts be thoughtsing. Also this is way longer than I intended. Maybe I shall come back and edit or add to it and put in dot points.

Gonna ramble about my units soon tho once I've looked them up and all. Also gotta check with student connect. Am I repeating myself? who knows.

[recoveryfriend]

since there have been a few posts circulating about dental care lately, i think maybe it’d be good to make my own post about dental care for those with eating disorders.

most people in the ed world know how harmful purging via self-induced vomiting is for the teeth, but in reality all eating disorder behaviors are extremely bad for your teeth. those who restrict their calories or nutrients end up weakening the jaw bone through malnutrition, which also weakens teeth and leads to dental erosion. restriction can also have a dry mouth effect, which puts you at higher risk for tooth decay. those who purge via vomiting expose their teeth to stomach acid, which wears away enamel and increases the risk of tooth decay. and people who binge expose their teeth to high volumes of sugars/carbohydrates, which sets up an acid attack that will ultimately lead to decay—which is even worse if the binging is followed by purging.

so, here is some dental hygiene info that could’ve saved me a lot of money and teeth if i had known them before recovery!

disclaimer: i am a recovery safe blog, and do not promote ed behaviors. but everyone deserves to know how to take care of themselves best, even if they’re still engaging in disordered behaviors or aren’t in recovery at all! so this post will not center around recovery, because it is for people in relapse or pre-recovery. therefore, it might be triggering if discussing ed behaviors at all will make you uncomfortable.

a lot of times people with eds fall into all-or-nothing thinking, and rationalize that they’ve already done so much damage to their teeth so it doesn’t matter if they get worse. they’ll get exhausted easily and convince themselves that ending the day with tooth brushing isn’t that important, because they’re so tired. or, sometimes anorexics feel like they can hold off on brushing because they haven’t eaten that day. do not fall into these impulses, and definitely push yourself to brush!

but if you really are too exhausted to brush more than once a day, it’s most important to brush at night. get single use flossers or waterless toothbrushes if fatigue is something you struggle with severely. it’ll help, and you can even keep them by the bed if it’s what you have to do.

most well informed bulimics/people who purge already know that they shouldn’t brush their teeth for at least an hour after vomiting. what not a lot of people consider is that the same is true for brushing in general! don’t brush for at least an hour after eating or drinking anything, but especially acidic foods (and this includes sugars!) because you risk brushing the acid into your teeth.

if you vomit, afterwards swish with baking soda or oil pull with coconut oil to reduce acidity if you don’t have access to mouthwash. even just water will help.

use mouthwash/rinses after vomiting or eating, but not after brushing. mouthwash has less fluoride than toothpaste, and will wash away the fluoride you just applied to your teeth when brushing. obviously, water and other rinses will do the same. don’t swish after brushing at all.

online pro-ed spaces love to sing the praises of black coffee and diet coke. but who knew, bathing your teeth in acidic liquids often is pretty bad for them! so if you drink multiple cups of coffee or any soda a day, drink it with a straw to save your teeth a bit. pour your coffee over ice cubes if you only have plastic straws (or if drinking hot coffee with a straw is weird to you). swish with water when you’re done, if you’re able.

something that might be helpful: because the acidity situation is similar, view consuming coffee, sodas, and high sugar binges similarly to how you view self induced vomiting in terms of aftercare. that means swish with something immediately after, and don’t brush for at least an hour later.

another thing people with eds love: gum. so if you’re a gum chewer, make sure you choose a sugarless gum with xylitol to help your teeth a bit. xylitol gum can be helpful because it promotes salivary flow, which will also help a bit with dry mouth. hard candies are effective with this too.

about dry mouth: dry mouth can expedite the formation of cavities, and dry mouth is an effect of most disordered eating behaviors. if you have dry mouth, swish water around in your mouth a little bit when drinking if you can remember to. if you can swish semi frequently with mouthwash (alcohol free), that’s even better! they also make rinses with xylitol for this express purpose.

don’t use a whitening toothpaste or mouthwashes with alcohol. they’re abrasive, and will exacerbate the sensitivity you likely already feel. use a desensitizing toothpaste if you can, and an alcohol free fluoride mouthwash.

people with eating disorders are often embarrassed to go to the dentist because they’re afraid they’ll be called out for their ed behaviors, because dentists can often notice the affects of disordered eating before anyone else can and are the first line of defense. you might also feel a little guilty at the dentist because of significant effects on the mouth from ed behaviors— like bad breath, sensitivity, and tooth erosion. please don’t let these be deterrents to seeking dental care! especially if recovery isn’t at the front of your agenda, dental care really is extremely important. don’t hide from your dentist, tell them what’s going on so they can help you properly.

lastly! this is just general advice, but if you struggle to remember how long to brush for, something that was really fun and helpful for me was creating a brushing playlist! go through your spotify library, and add songs (or maybe a few stand up comedy bits for zest) that are roughly 2 minutes and some change! then when it’s time to brush you have a timer that isn’t totally boring!

if you can find it in you to care about protecting yourself from health hazards, even if you’re not ready to recover yet—that’s a valuable step towards caring for yourself fully. so if you’re scared of the ways disordered eating has harmed your teeth, and feel compulsed to take care of your health, that’s great! any step towards learning to care for yourself is valuable part of the journey. i hope you’re finding ways to offer yourself love and keep yourself safe, in whatever form they come in. the recovery community is here to support you, no matter what point in process you’re in.

[notcolleen]

realizing how much i crave outside validation bc my current situation is: feeling really proud of myself for pulling myself out of a relapse that would have inevitably landed me back in treatment, but also being unable to fully voice that pride bc i never let anyone know how bad it had gotten lol

so that’s when i turn back to tumblr aka the social media platform that has honestly seen way too much of my Worst over the years (consider that a tw for ed behavior talk behind the cut)

[[MORE]]

for ppl that don’t know, i just got back from a ~10 day trip to oregon (half of which was spent on a greyhound, a nostalgic throwback to my Journey to Rainrock in 2014 lol) — and before i left, i was feeling really stuck because i was feeling better mentally (thank you ect and therapy) but also still trapped behaviorally with bingeing and purging and restricting/compulsive movement outside of that

i was in a virtual “emotional eating” dbt group, but i was not being honest with them because they made it clear that the group was for “disordered eating” and not a clinical eating disorder — and the director was someone i had previously worked with while inpatient, so she was very aware of my history, and i think on some level she knew i was holding back information lol but it was super anxiety provoking feeling like at any moment i could slip up with what i said and be kicked out

im technically still in the group bc they are able to hold my place for two weeks, but i also really need to go back to work and want to have full availability there so that i can actually get hours (and ultimately it wasn’t very helpful bc it truly wasn’t the right level of care) — so im gonna need to make an awkward phone call on monday and explain that i don’t need them to hold my spot (typing that out for accountability so that i don’t just ghost them, which is 100% my pattern 👀)

anyway, before leaving for my trip, my brain was 50/50 “you can use this as an opportunity to fully relapse and lose 46291846 lbs” and “you can use this as an opportunity to pull your head out of ur ass and start breaking patterns and build new neuropathways and all that fun recovery stuff” but either way the one thing i knew i needed to stop was the purging, bc it was destroying me physically and mentally and causing issues all over the place

so i can officially say it’s been 11 days without purging and while that seems insignificant in the grand scheme of life, i know how important those days are. this is one aspect where my black and white thinking is helping bc once i have built up any number of days, it’s easier (👀) to say “no this is not an option anymore”

(and yes the cheesy tracker apps are actually very helpful, especially when you get to collect trophies lol)

my brain is still a mess (every time i ate my mood crashed and the guilt i felt was ridiculous) and now i have to battle the part of my brain that wants to start recovering in the ✨healthy✨ way (aka quasi recovery) and im still struggling a lot with feeling the need to compensate with movement

but i also was able to create more safe foods (not in like a “black coffee is my safe food #anarecovery❤️ type of way, but in like a “i know now i can eat peanut butter and trail mix and other previous trigger foods and don’t have to purge”)

and i was able to have moments where i knew i overate (probably bc mentally, part of me was still like “okay after eating this im not allowed to eat until x and it will only be y foods and only if i walked z amount before !!” so of course my brain/body wanted the most food it could get in that moment lol and also because i was so used to overeating bc i knew i would purge after) but even with that, i still didn’t let myself purge so now i know i can survive if i do overeat. other aspects of my recovery might be iffy, and i feel like im constantly going back and forth with a lot of it, but i want to take purging off the table forever. and that feels possible rn 🙏

so that’s where im at with that. i also hid my scale right before i left (the next step is to donate it but i don’t want to be tempted when i get it out lol) so other than getting weighed when i have ect (although that was initially for them to send to my dbt group so idk maybe not) (also ultimately i want that to be blind weights but it’s hard to give up that sense of control in seeing my weight tbh) i won’t know my weight — and that’s kind of terrifying but i was never happy when i knew it anyway so ???

in other news, i shaved my head and i think i actually need to go even shorter bc right now i feel like a chia pet 🤡 and i have been called sir 3 times since shaving it, including being told that the mens rest room was being cleaned so i couldn’t use it (the woman ended up giving me my coffee for free after that bc she felt bad lol but tbh “sir” feels much better than “ma’am” to my gender confused lil brain 👀) which is funny bc other than the hair i think i present myself pretty ~femininely lol

in other other news, i love my cat and my cat loves boxes 🥳

[dawniebb]

Face reveal bc yes

So, guys...especially from the Renegades fandom bc i’m the most active there: you saw the title lmao. This will...barely get notes (i wonder if it’ll get notes at all) buuUUUT YEAH LET’S GOOOO (If you’re gonna reblog pls be respectful bc i have issues and btw reblog ONLY if we are mutuals)

THIS IS ME! <3 HELLOOOO!!!

Now, if you want to stop here, do it. If you don’t...well

I’m going to tell you a story about myself and why I decided to post this.

First of all, I’m not celebrating anything. I’m just celebrating me, I guess (?) and in fact I’ve been wanting to do this since my parents got me a She-Ra cake for my 20th birthday back in May, because I loved that thing and felt the physical need to shove that thing into everyone’s faces But I didn’t because I didn’t feel ready enough...then that thought left my mind, and it came back like two weeks ago.

I’ve had mental issues since I was in like...elementary school. I’m sure I had felt depressed before I turned 12; however, the first memory I hold of feeling so, it’s when I was already 12. Because it was then when I realized that I wasn’t just a dumb kid who didn’t know how to make friends xd To this day, I genuinely feel like I was suffering from isolation bullying; you know xd my classmates purposely excluded me from activities, they would find any excuse for not letting me join their work teams and stuff like that; during my last year at elementary school, I only had like one friend, and that one friend and I shared a sort of abusive/toxic relationship, as in: manipulation, “we’re best friends. you should only talk to ME”, and then this friend turned her back at me too, because she decided to join the rest of the group and ignore me.

lol.

And I remember wondering what was I doing wrong. Like, why didn’t people like me; why didn’t they want to hang out with me; why did everyone seem to have friends except me. And then I got trapped into a very...dark place, and I remember being overthinking one day, because I tend to overthink a lot...and I remembered this specific kid who was in the same class as me.

I was in the line for the teacher to check my homework, and this kid, a boy, was behind me.

You see. I’ve always been chubby xd I don’t think I’ve ever been skinny since I was 2 years old or so, because by the time I was in kindergarten my classmates’ moms were already calling me a ‘little meatball’ thinking it was a fucking adorable nickname because Mexican moms can be pretty shitty sometimes don’t let the media stereotypes fool you not all of them are all cheerful and upbeat and when I was in elementary school, for some reason, besides being chubby, I had a really bad posture. And this boy who was behind me started imitating my way of walking and his friends were laughing, so I turned around and asked him wtf his problem was xd and he turned around to his friends and asked “Do you see how hunchback she is?” like I wasn’t even there xd and I genuinely tried to slap him but I couldn’t, and he said “Yo, stop moving because you’re going to cause an earthquake”

And my mom has always felt personally attacked for the fact I’m...u know, fat. She has always been very insistent on the fact I need to lose weight and stuff like that. And her, mixed with my experiences at school, made me feel like I wasn’t enough.

But my mind started saying things like “And u know why you aren’t enough? Because you’re fat”

Because, like, the day of the hunchback insult, when I told the teacher, who was a very shitty teacher btw but i’m not talking about her again today (i’ve already talked about her in MANY of my university papers, because I’m studying to be an English teacher), she turned around at him and said “Don’t listen to HER” and to this day I still don’t know why xd

But it made me feel like I wasn’t enough. Because I was fat.

Lol x2.

To this day, I still don’t know if I have an ED. Like, I genuinely don’t know. But I can safely say that, if I have one, it’s more likely BED... because, through the years, I managed to lose weight when I turned like 15 and I had my quinceañera party, but then first year of high school came and I had a relapse into depression...like, this might come off as a very unpopular opinion, but junior high school was dope for me x’d I remember it as one of the best years in my life, right after my second and third year in high school (high school in Mexico lasts only three years) and so...when I started my first year in high school and got fucking depressed again, I gained ALL that weight back, and even doubled it. During my second year of high school, I met my friends. The friends I still keep with me to this day. And they accepted me like the fucking train wreck I was, failing math like three times in a row and crying about it every single one of those times  because I’m pretty sure I have dyscalculia but my parents won’t listen to me they think i’m just lazy when it comes to math even though they know i cant even read a fucking clock . And them, along with my another very close friend who I met via fanfction when I was 12, helped me go through it. Like, I did have some issues with my body during high school, but not as much as you would expect. They were getting pretty bad in my first and second semester, but during the other four my friends managed to stop me from losing my mind, even when it all went to shit in my third year again for different reasons.

Then I graduated from high school, and I made friends there too. Although my best friends are still my friend from fanfiction, my friends from high school and just one of my university friends. And you know...I was left...pretty scarred from the shit that happened during third year of high school, and even if I didn’t feel like I was *that* depressed, I did gain a lot of weight.

Like, the highest I’ve ever been. Then my dad got sick during October from last year, then my two doggies were murdered god i fucking hate my neighbors the same day my dad was released from the hospital and my mom went kinda nuts during December and I wanted to just...yeah.

So I did a lot of emotional eating. Like, y’all don’t understand.

It was like...I would go to uni and eat a brownie. Then chocolates on my way home. THEN a “a snack” like...fucking rice krispies. Then a huge ass meal, with soda bc why not. Then I would have either cookies or hot cheetos as a treat after my huge ass meal,

I’m a short person xd carrying that much weight was making my ribs and back hurt, as well as my legs and feet; my breathing was freaking awful, and there were some days were I got SO paranoid I just said things like “i’m gonna die today” or “out here trying to get diabetes like the rest of your family, aren’t you??” :’) but i didn’t tell anybody. My parents are not really an option in this case, BUT I didn’t tell my friends, because then I would have to explain that I ate a lot and that was something I was EXTREMELY ashamed of.

When February came, I was scared of going out, because I knew I would have to choose what clothes to wear and nothing fit me anymore and, the things that did, looked super stretched on me and, u know, I was sore. My health was getting bad. But I didn’t like to feel that way.

AND I MUST CLARIFY HERE. I’M WORKING ON THAT. I’M ACTUALLY A BODY POSITIVY DEFENDER, I JUST DIDN’T LIKE HOW *I* LOOKED AND, BESIDES, I WAS GETTING SICK. I GENUINELY THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE AT SOME POINT. I’M NOT SAYING BEING FAT OR CHUBBY IS DISGUSTING. NO. I BELIEVE ALL HUMAN BEINGS ARE EXTREMELY BEAUTIFUL. AND IF I’M WRITING THIS IS BECAUSE I WANT YOU TO KNOW RECOVERY IS DISGUSTING AND DIFFICULT SOMETIMES AND THAT IF YOU’RE GOING THROUGH SOMETHING LIKE THAT: I’M SORRY. NOBODY SHOULD EVER FEEL LIKE THAT. I SUPPORT YOU. AND I HOPE THINGS GET BETTER. AND NO MATTER WHAT OTHERS SAY, YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL. YOU ARE TO CHANGE ONLY IF YOU WANT TO CHANGE. BECAUSE IT’S YOUR BODY. KEEP HOLDING ON.

But going back to the story...

My friends used to tell me I looked pretty all the time, which I appreciate a lot to this day. But my parents were like

Me: I’m fat and I look deformed.

Them: I agree.

Because yeah.

Just before the pandemic madness happened, I went on a school trip with my uni friends and one of them triggered my isolation trauma in the worst way possible...and that, somehow, ruined ALL the photos I took throughout the trip. Because I wasn’t enough. Because I was deformed and fat and I looked like an apple. Because nobody wanted to be seen near me. And my personality was shitty.

Like, I should’ve known I was worth it. I’m still worth it and I know that. But I wasn’t less worth it when I was chubbier. And maybe I didn’t look as bad as my head made me believe. But at the time my mental health was extremely awful.

Now, covid happened.

Not gonna lie. Quarantine fucked me up as much as it fucked everyone else, but for me...by not going out, I stopped being near trigger foods, and I was even able to consult a dietitian.

I’ve lost 15 kg since March. And I’ve managed to love my past self, but I love this one because changing it was my decision. Sure, my parents didn’t help a lot, but in the end it was MY decision. I’ve come to accept I was worth it even when I felt disgusted by myself, and all of those awful things people said or did to me, like my friend during that trip...

I didn’t deserve any of those things. Because NO ONE deserves to be treated that way.  No one deserves somebody else making fun of them. No one deserves somebody else doing awful things to them that they know damn well that they trigger their childhood trauma. No one deserves to be judged for the way they look.

I was in a very dark place, and sometimes I’m still inside there. And like...during all those times, I kept posting in here.

I remember being next to my dad in the hospital, telling him “Guess what? Supernova drops this week” or “We’re going to watch TDP together, right?” or “Let me talk to you about She-Ra...” ....those were things that like...saved my life for a while, though mostly Supernova. Because, actually, Marissa Meyer has helped me in my fucking darkest years x’d from my third year of high school until now.

Her books didn’t take my depression away, but they did make things a little lighter for me, even when I felt like dying.

And I know this fandom is like..full of minors, so...I don’t know if any of you need to hear this: But you’re worth it.

If you want to change anything in your body, do it because YOU want to.

Because YOU’LL like you better.

Because it’s YOUR body, and it’s the only part of yourself that you and other people can touch.

Nobody should ever tell you you’re worthless because of your weight and your physical appearance. And if they ever do, then they’re the ones who should apologize, not you.

Nobody has the right to mistreat you, abuse you, or use your own body against you.

As for me...my ribs don’t hurt anymore. Nor does my back or my feet, and my breathing is getting better; I took the conscious decision to lose weight but, like I said, now that I’m not in such a dark place, I’m staring to realize that the past me wasn’t as hideous as my mind was making me believe. She was okay; she was broken inside, but she didn’t deserve anything that happened to her, nor did she deserved to treat herself that badly.

I posted my photo just to celebrate that I can finally said I’m not disgusted anymore. I can finally see myself in pictures again. And see my own reflection. Or go through my closet. Or do my makeup, because I LOVE doing my makeup and I was even ashamed of that. I’m not fully okay yet, but I’m healing.

So, if there’s any little Dawnie around here: I hope you give yourself a chance and realize you’re beautiful.

I hope that, if you change, it’s because you wanted to do it.

I hope you know that it’ll get better even if the healing process it’s not that easy.

I hope you know there’s people who love you.

I hope you know that you are beautiful. You were always beautiful and, no matter what path you choose, you’ll always be beautiful.

And worth it.

And human.

And important.

Take care of yourself, because you’re wonderful, no matter your size <3

[archipelagolago]

Hi!

I would love to hear more about Make me feel (tell me how to stop feeling)

And Drop Everything

If you're happy to share please 💛🍒

Thanks for asking!

Make me feel (tell me how to stop feeling) is one of my favorites! And one of the few longer fics I'm working on. It's actually the title of chapter 2 in Because the rumble of this earth feels like a melody of off-key you & me. Which is about Billy showing up in Cali ~6 months after Starcourt during an earthquake and having no memory of the past until Steve, Max, Robin, and El find out he's alive from a news story on tv and fly out to Cali to go get him.

Billy gets his memories back pretty damn soon after they get to him. Which is not fun for him and triggers a freakout paired with an earthquake bc he came back with the power to make concentrated but intense earthquakes.

And the rest of the fic is basically about Billy trying to ease his way back to reality & him and Steve slowly & cautiously building a relationship on unsteady footing. Also repairing his relationship with Max & figuring out how to manage his powers. + Use of powers for chaotic neutral purposes (bc i resent the 'character either uses powers to save the world or end it' plotline and i kinda just wanna write Billy using his powers to freak people out in a gas station so he can swipe some snacks while they're distracted by an earthquake or billy starting earthquakes so he doesn't have to deal with uncomfortable conversations, like, 'oh you want me to talk about my emotions? Oh shit there's an earthquake, guess we'll have to have this conversation another time').

(Also bc the title is for chp 2: chp 2 is about Steve & Max & co. arriving at the hospital to go get billy and the emotions and memory recovery associated with that)

++

Drop Everything is a vent fic from when I first started writing for Harringrove (i usually use vent as a way to get into a ship and get a feel for the characters so a lot of my first stuff is usually vent) and i probably won't finish it & doubt I'll post it anywhere if I do.

It's about Steve feeling ambivalent about an eating disorder relapse and Billy finding out about Steve's history with this eating disorder and trying to support Steve in ways that are realistic. So, i do kinda like this one bc it speaks some truths and as someone who has experienced much fluctuation with the severity of my ed over the years I resent the way they are usually written.

So who knows? I might finish and post it somewhere just bc it's kinda different than most people write it? (Kind of spitefully bc often people write eds as very surface level and focus primarily on the way it functions when someone is in it the deepest. And as fine as that is, I'd prefer to see more representation and interpretation of it that falls all across the board and dives into the complexity and continuation of it once it exists in waters that aren't drowning you as much. + exploring the reality that some things stay lasting long after we call them 'over' and thinking about what that can mean.)

And ofc eds are unhealthy, life-threatening, unsustainable, harmful to both you and the people you love, but ultimately, they're a coping mechanism. So you can't really undo an eating disorder without repairing some of the pain & trauma that brought it into existence. And people prefer to skip that in fic bc it's long and complicated and uncomfortable. But it's the truth so? (Like people will do the 'i love you so you have to get better' or 'you're beautiful, you don't need to do this' and bam! the character recovers! but that's unrealistic and kinda deceptive, truth is, it takes a lot of support and a lot of personal work to get through that shit. And even then, things will still be unsteady at times)

[juupajaa]

Hey I recently just found your blog and I love it!

I have been in and out of recovery since 2018 but been in a deep relapse since the beginning of 2020. I am currently working with a therapist and dietitian atm, but am struggling a lot because I just don’t feel sick enough to get better because of my weight. I had lost a lot of weight in 2018 due to my ed and got help with a treatment program and then relapsed after being discharged. I then had gained weight from b/p and almost gained all my weight back that I had lost and since then have felt so gross and guilty about it. I’ve been in and out of treatment since 2018. It’s been super hard to get myself to eat and when I do I end up purging because I feel like I don’t deserve the food. I’ve never been underweight. I know I’m causing damage to my body but there’s a part of me that feels like I don’t need to get better because I don’t look sick. Yet i know I am because my blood work and side effects say so. I’ve always compared myself to the other patients and felt like I never needed to be there because I always felt like I wasn’t as severe as them. Is there any advice or anything I can do to help with this?

Well first off I can assure you that even you had been the thinnest person in there, you would still have felt this way. I know that might sound like bullshit, but trust me, it's more a rule than an exception. It doesn't matter how badly you've suffered or how much damage you have done to yourself, it's never enough for our eds.

To me it sounds like you were repeatedly left hanging too soon and unprepared. I don't know what kind of treatment they do where you live, but eds definitely need a long outpatient period, even after the disordered behaviour has ended. I'm talking years. Once the behaviour is under control, there should be a long and intense process of practicing healthy coping skills as well as recognizing and correcting disordered thought patterns as they come (and they will come, no exceptions), specifically in order to lessen the chances of relapses, which are so very common in eds. Learning alternative coping skills is an absolute must in order to ever recover successfully.

The absolutely fantastic news is that you have a dietitian and a therapist! If that isn't already happening, you might want to suggest to your therapist that you'd like to learn and try out different coping skills. Another thing you might wanna suggest is to figure out how to be more critical towards the disordered thoughts and how to start slowly challenging them.

But as you said, if you barely even have motivation to try to recover, that's probably the first place to go. This you can do on your own, but it might be more practical with a therapist. What I found to be the most effective way to start getting out of the ed fog and into recovery gear, was to start daydreaming about the ideal future and ideal me. Take it as something fun to do, as daydreaming should be fun. Try to picture what kind of a life you'd want if anything was possible. Do you have an ed in your ideal future? How did your ideal future self beat their ed? What did they learn from that period in their life? How does that person treat themself? Or others? How does that person dress? What do they do for fun? What kind of dreams and goals do they have? Do they get to relax and chill?

Trying to picture better things for yourself can be a powerful thing in getting motivated to get better. Eds often beat us to the deepest hole in the ground, so much so that we forget that we could also have nice things in life if we only got rid of this awful thing that's abusing us.

I hope that gave some answers. You can always come ask for more help or advice if you feel like you don't know what to do next. I'll help if I can. Also, trust the professionals in your life and try your best to learn as much as you can from them. Remember that you can always ask them questions and voice your preferences. It's their job to help you help yourself, not cure you, so don't feel like you shouldn't take active part in your own recovery. Say what you feel and think, and ask whatever questions come to your head🤗

[wellesleyunderground]

Pandemic Pregnancy by Jess Sirizzotti ‘10 (@JezRebelle)

Having your first kid during a global pandemic makes for a very weird experience. Though the much anticipated “quarantine baby boom” turned out not to be the reality, there were still many pregnancies that started, continued, or wrapped up in 2020-2021.

Being pregnant during a pandemic is about as isolating as you’d expect. Reduced immunity plus *gestures vaguely* everything meant that a lot of people grew a person in unprecedented ways. What I struggled with the most (beyond the overarching panic and dread of a world on fire) was that there was no benchmarking. I could have made it nine months at work before telling anyone, because they only saw me on video conference from the clavicle up. There were no hospital tours, no childbirth classes, no expectant parenting groups. 

Whenever you’re going through it, there seems to be no middle ground between dry, evidence-based medicine and projecting yourself entirely into the astral plane for communing with the ancestors. Here are a few things that helped me through my pregnancy, and some things I wish I’d known earlier.

Illustration Credit: Mercedes deBellard

Prep work

There are plenty of guides about how much you should have saved or what kind of physical shape you should be in. Some of that is helpful.

Oddly missing from those guides is “get a handle on your traumas.” Talk to a therapist. Talk to a partner. Talk to yourself in a diary where you ask yourself questions about what you want to carry with you and what terrifies you about having a kid. There are questionnaires for people donating living organs, and it does not hurt to say, “Hey, if there is a problem with ANY OF THE MYRIAD OF THINGS THAT CAN GO WRONG, how would I work through those feelings? What are the boundaries I want for this process that will make me feel safer or in control?””

If you’re getting pregnant with someone who will raise this kid with you, get into it with them. Have very specific conversations about what you will do about parental leave, diapers, daycare, requests for tattoos from a twelve-year-old. My husband and I would read the Care & Feeding parenting column from Slate, debating how we would handle the conundrums of different letters before getting the “answer” from the columnist.

Also, get as full a picture of family pregnancy as you can. You might know your own birth story, but what about the other half of the genetics you’ll be juggling? I, personally, managed to mash up my MIL’s hyperemesis gravidarum and my mom’s gestational diabetes which has been...not a great time.

And ask *lots* of questions. I had pretty low-stakes issues making it into the world, but it turns out all my dad’s generation of siblings all needed to stay in the NICU. My dad had multiple full-body blood transfusions in his first days. That would have been helpful to know!

That said, what I was most shocked to learn is that there is no way to know what kind of pregnancy you’re going to have until you’re in it. Even if you’ve had a kid before—you can have wildly different experiences! There’s literally no way to know in advance!

Pro tip: you can’t know for certain what pregnancy will be like for you, but getting a broad picture can help it seem less like a cliff jump into the unknown.

Getting pregnant will take longer than you think

Once again, for those in the back, GETTING PREGNANT WILL TAKE LONGER THAN YOU THINK. 

For starters, you will need to stop not getting pregnant, which has been the focus of most young adult lives since your fertility started. I had to get my IUD removed and also get revaccinated for a bunch of things (rubella, flu, tetanus). If you were on the pill, it may take a few months to get everything out of your system. Then, you will do something to try to get pregnant and wait for two weeks. Whether it takes two weeks, two months, or ten years—it will feel like a very long time.

Especially because by this point, I felt ready to have a child. I looked at the calendar and thought, “Oh good, the kid will be X horoscope sign. They’ll have their birthday during the school year. Their birthday will be X year, and that will be easy to remember.” I made plans.

And then I just...didn’t get pregnant. And kept not getting pregnant. Every month of getting my period was so frustrating. I had charted my cycle! I had taken my temperature to figure out if I was ovulating! I swallowed these giant prenatal vitamins that are the size of a human toe!

Some people do get pregnant instantly, and many blessings on their ultra-efficient plumbing. Some people get pregnant when they don’t want to, and they should be able to have a choice about whether to have those kids. 

For most people, there will be a while between deciding to have a child through pregnancy and getting one started. It is happening everywhere, to countless people, and is one of the hardest, loneliest, most unintelligible experiences—made worse by the fact that people are shoving their feet into their own faces around you for the entire experience. You’re surrounded by people getting pregnant (magically! easily! with barely a whisper of effort!), people asking you when you will become pregnant, people congratulating you on not being pregnant because you can go out, drink, get really into aerial silks, etc. And you will have to not punch them in the face.

If you are under 35, most doctors will not even talk to you about fertility issues until you have tried for a year. That’s a minimum of twelve cycles of trying, twelve “I feel really good about this month” conversations, twelve pregnancy tests that say you’re not pregnant, twelve months at a job you may not like but stay at because they have good parental leave benefits or insurance coverage.

After a year (and after you get on their schedule) a fertility specialist can offer you fun adventures like getting dye injected into your fallopian tubes to see if they’re blocked, approval to shoot yourself up with expensive hormones (at home! with a real needle!), and any of the other amazing methods technology and medicine have discovered that tweak any of the multitude of handoffs that need to happen for a pregnancy to “take.”

If I can ask one thing, assume at least one person in earshot of your public conversation is trying to get pregnant and can’t—and be a little kinder.

Pro tip: get the cheaper pregnancy tests with lines rather than the electronic ones with words, because there are few bigger downers than seeing “NOT PREGNANT” month after month.

Find a practitioner you like

Because eventually, you will want to strangle them. It’s important to start with someone you like, so that the strangling phase will be late in the pregnancy and not a sustained hatred for nine full months.

Whether you’re pregnant or working with a reproductive specialist, having someone who listens to you will help. Some people cannot deal with hippie woo woo, some cannot imagine a pregnancy that’s all medical jargon. If you’re a person of color or want to have certain cultural traditions respected from the get-go, vetting at the beginning can avoid being at loggerheads later. Take some time to reflect on good and bad medical experiences you’ve had, and if you have options, choose someone who will not make you hyperventilate every time you have an appointment.

For me, I knew I needed a doctor who would not give me a hard time about weight gain. I have a history of disordered eating and (pre-pregnancy) was competing as a super heavyweight lifter, so am used to plenty of unsolicited opinions about my weight and what I should be doing with it. Pregnancy is fraught enough to take a single off-hand comment to an extreme, and I was deeply uninterested in negotiating an anorexia relapse while battling all the pregnancy changes.

If you have some time, shuffle up your pre-pregnancy appointments to get a feel for different doctors. I pulled up ZocDoc for my insurance network and came up with some finalists: had my annual exam by one, my IUD taken out by another, and my MMR re-vaccine done by a third. I knew my practice was right for me when the doctor offered to take all weight measurements patient-blind for the entire pregnancy.

Pro tip: think about what style of doctoring would make you feel better during this time, and give yourself the gift of one less thing to stress about.

Taking information in

Like the best of us, I enjoy a Wikipedia rabbit hole. I’m an especially good finder and am frequently tagged in as the friend who can unearth the secret Tumblr or yearbook photo of an elusive crush. I can find anything, and have a Jeopardy-level mental trapper keeper for bizarre edge-cases.

This is...not great for pregnancy, especially when unleashed on the “seems legit” constellation of mommy blogs. There are a million things that can go wrong with a pregnancy, and past a certain point, knowing more does not make you more likely to avoid or survive them.

Think of it like a fractal. Having the general shape of the tree: useful. Hyperfocusing so hard on one of the branches that you lose days in front of the computer screen, diving deeper into medical texts and unconfirmed narratives until you completely glaze over: less so.

Knowing this about myself helped me manage the unceasing amount of feedback offered by everyone from doctors to bystanders. I limited myself to one book (Emily Oster’s Expecting Better, which is wonderful), a doctor I trusted, and small doses of the Wellesley pregnancy group. I still couldn’t stop myself from reading every op-ed about miscarriage and stillbirth, but I was able to process them as things I was choosing to read instead of a compulsion I could not turn off.

Pro tip: really think about how much information serves you. It can feel like knowing every little thing will make you an expert who is ironclad against any malady. That’s, unfortunately, not how it works.

Sending information out

Like information gathering, you’ll want to decide how, when, and who to share information with. Having a pandemic pregnancy gave me a lot more power over when I disclosed than I would have had normally—I was sick as hell and it would have been a first-month discussion at work rather than a third-month one. It has allowed others to have entire pregnancies in private, only announcing when the baby has been delivered.

I found it helpful to think of pregnancy updates in concentric rings: my husband and I in the innermost circle, immediate family and some friends next, wider friend group and extended family, and then everyone else. I didn’t have to give minute-by-minute updates to everyone in the world if I didn’t want to, and a quick “Oh actually that’s private” was usually enough to keep any especially nosy questions to a minimum.

There were people who surprised me with wanting to know much more, and some who heard “baby” and unsubscribed. Both are fine!

Pro tip: if at all possible, curate a group of friends who are far from having first kids so that you can be assured of a rapt audience of “WHAT can happen??” Plus, at least one friend with a recent kid who’s very organized who can tell you what’s helpful to buy and what is BS.

Particular pandemic weirdness (good and bad)

While it has been lonely, it has also been wonderfully private. Some particular strange markers:

It is very odd to go from several months of zero physical contact with anyone outside my apartment directly into an intravaginal ultrasound.

My husband is going to meet our doctor at the delivery, because no one except patients is allowed past the lobby at our practice.

I will likely not need to buy any maternity clothes, because my pandemic outfits of blousy shirts and stretchy pants to work from home will suit perfectly.

No one touches my stomach unless I want them to.

Remote birthing classes allow you to snicker as much as you’d like from the comfort of your couch.

Things I did not know and wish I had

The way they count how far along you are starts from the first day of your last period. That is not when you got pregnant, but is the easiest way to have a consistent range for all patients (who may or may not be tracking ovulation spikes).

It is normal to have spotting-level breakthrough bleeding at some point during your pregnancy. The books will tell you this. Your doctor will tell you this. I am telling you this now. It will not make a damn bit of difference, because the moment you see blood, you will panic and be certain you are having a miscarriage. No one will be able to convince you otherwise until you get checked out.

Your entire digestive system slows waaaay down to accommodate a pregnancy, and is part of the reason for nausea. I had heard that you will need to pee all the time, but hadn’t heard that you will almost entirely stop pooping. And then once a week, you will crap yourself inside out.

The placenta can grow wherever it wants, including smack-dab over your cervix. This offends me more than I can say. That’s where the baby needs to go out! (C-section is required in these cases)

A cesarean birth is a horizontal cut, like an envelope opening and then they squeeze the baby through it. I always pictured it vertical, like opening a book.

Acronyms are a minefield on pregnancy forums. For months, I read posts thinking “FTM” meant “female-to-male trans person” instead of “first-time mom.” Don’t be afraid to Google to keep your bearings, but also feel free to create your own—DH can be “Dear” or “Damn” Husband depending on context.

“Morning sickness” is a misnomer. It can happen all day. It can happen for your whole pregnancy, though most women see a gradual decrease after the first trimester. I’m mid-way through my third trimester, and still throwing up six times a day. If I had known that earlier, I would not have tried to “stick it out” for as long as I did: cooking meals from scratch, insisting that pre-packaged snacks were for wimps. If you are sick, get comfortable EARLY. You don’t get extra points or a better baby for staying miserable, so you might as well lean in to Couch and Cheese Central. If it clears up, great. If not, at least you’re not already tired from trying too hard.

Around 4% of babies are born on their due dates. Do not assume your third trimester will be the length you would like it to be. My doctor has proposed a 37 week induction (because of all the sickness and gestational diabetes). While that is technically full-term, that news was given to me in such a way that low-balled the panic of being A FULL MONTH EARLY. As in, LOSING A THIRD OF THE TRIMESTER.

The baby is lower than you may expect—actual location is generally half-way between navel and nethers. If you’re patting the top of a pregnant person’s stomach (with their permission), you are far away from where the kid is.

There is no good news during a pregnancy. The best you can hope for is continuing to meet the baseline. I am so much more understanding of gender reveal parties, because it is literally the only test result that you can have an opinion about. No ultrasound or blood test will come back with, “Congratulations, your child is gifted!” or “They’re going to be so good at tennis!” It is nine straight months of finding out you’re high risk or not for sickle-cell anemia or tuberculosis. I stopped writing them down after awhile because it felt like every one was, “Oh damn, I didn’t even know we were still concerned about that.”

“Round ligament pain” is the technical term for sharp, stabbing pain in your groin caused by all the ligaments in your hips and crotch helpfully loosening to allow for gestation and birth. This can start as early as 14 weeks, which one would think is way too fricking early for it, but nope. You’d be wrong. The general recommendation for this is to keep your knees together, to which I say, “That particular ship has left the harbor.”

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 69

~*~Sebastian~*~

Emma is not the first woman to learn to say I love you in Romanian. She is the first one to learn it so I'd hear it attached to my name. Until she asked me the question, I had no idea I had a preference or how much having someone put in the effort for me to hear it would mean to me.

I want to stay like we are right now. The feel of her in my lap, pressed against, and holding on to me is the most relaxing and comforting feeling. I thought Celie was crazy when she had wished Emma was with me after our last session. Now, I understand. Emma waiting for me to do the thing that trips me up, knowing it, and her expression when I realized I'd done it. As Celie had said, the comfort and acceptance were more than I could imagine. I don’t know what could be better.

I'd immediately caught Emma saying "that summer" instead of "rehab." I knew from what Eli had said, and what Emma hadn't, that there was more than she was saying. Her slip was good. She was trusting me. Her lack of trust had no more to do with me than me not wanting to admit my fear had to with her. All either of us could do was to be a safe place for the other to grow. I've heard about this safe place but never been there before.

I didn't want to pretend I hadn't noticed her slip. That would have both of us lying. I did want her to know I was going to leave it alone. I believe if and when it's something I need to know, she'll tell me. My Emma does not hide from difficult conversations.

Little did I know we were about to have another one.

Emma started a trail of kisses on my neck and wound up at my mouth. After a very nice kiss, she sat back. I dropped my hands to her hips, waiting for whatever was coming. "Since your fans have decided you’re about to propose, we should discuss."

I laughed. For many reasons. I should have known from the way she'd reacted and her apparent inability not to not talk about things that this conversation was coming. This conversation being the last one I wanted to have. Ever. My laughter might have been more psychotic than humor. "Were your kisses to distract your commitment phobic boyfriend from having a panic attack?"

"Are you?"

"Having a panic attack? Not yet."

She shook her head, "Commitment phobic."

Yes, definitely. Maybe? I shrugged, "Fuck if I know." I hadn't thought about my impending proposal since Olivia had mentioned it. Very unlike me, but I'm getting used to these surprises.

"I'd rather you didn't."

"Have a panic attack?"

"Propose."

I closed my eyes, shook my head, and laughed again. The reason is unclear. I really should be having a panic attack. I'm not even close. Also, not even close to proposing. Possibly verging on psychotic that I’m allowing this conversation.

Emma ignored me. "Marriage has never been a goal for me. I'm not against it, but I'm not sold on the whole premise. My parents have a more business like marriage."

I was surprised, "They don't love each other?"

"I don't know. They may love each other but I don't think they’re in love. They're very tangled together personally and professionally. If I have to pretend I'm unhappy so Amy doesn't relapse they have to avoid divorce. It's not like I don't have good role models for marriage. Ed and Jill are still crazy in love. They were together ten years and Harper was two before Ed proposed. I don't know why they decided to do it." She paused and looked lost, like my question had interrupted her train of thought. I saw when she found her place. "What I was saying... if it was important to my partner, that's different. It's not something I need. It makes sense for health insurance or tax purposes. Otherwise," she shrugged, "not so much. Vows and paperwork don't guarantee anything or give me what I want."

Emma is still in my lap. My hands are still on her hips. Hers have moved down low on my biceps. We are still close. I am still present in this conversation and not starting a fight or trying to get out of it. Instead, I'm going to ask a question to which I care about the answer. "What do you want?"

"Nothing that will surprise you." Emma smiled and laid her fingers over the spot on my side. She didn't even have to look down to find it. "I want words whispered in the dark after making love, glances across a room, whole conversations without speaking, voices so loud the neighbors complain because of fighting so hard to make it right." She frowned and shook her head. "Paperwork and a ceremony won't give me that."

"No, it won't." I said very calmly. Emma laid her head back on my shoulder and I ran my fingers along her back and in her hair. "Do you want my opinion on my impending proposal?"

"No." Emma laughed, sat back, put her hands on my face, and kissed me. "You're not sure if you're freaking out about the conversation or because you're not freaking out. I don’t think you’re sure what your opinion is."

She wasn't wrong. "I'm ok with not knowing. Are you?"

"Do you love me?" The corner of her mouth started to curve.

So did mine, "Yes"

"That's all I need you to know."

I full-on smiled, "Then I got you covered."

She moved her hands around in between us and on my stomach, "This whole conversation was to eliminate expectation and pressure."

Yet again she both works around and through my shit. My lips were a tight line as I shook my head and slid my hand under and into her hair, "What am I going to do with you?"

"Oh, I bet you have some ideas."

"Only about a hundred." I pulled her closer, bringing her to my open mouth. The taste of her, the soft touch of her tongue against mine, the warmth of her mouth made everything alright, but there was nothing wrong. Nothing at all wrong.

Emma's fingers were in my hair when she moved back to meet my eyes, "What do you need, Sebastian?"

"Nothing I don't have in my lap."

I absolutely hate the split second of thought that she's playing me. She's not. I don't think she is. The thought came and went. She wouldn’t. I have no doubts.

Her arms went around my neck and she nuzzled against my ear, "It's ok if you wonder if I’m lying to make you feel safe and then trap you. Because you know better.”

I moved away and glared at her. "How do you do that? Are you a witch?"

"Absolutely. Every Friday before the last full moon I did a seeking spell."

"Don't you mean a love spell?"

"No. Didn't you see The Craft? Love spells don’t work the way people think they do." She gasped, "Or was it The Covenant? Wait, you're the witch."

"I'm not a witch, I'm your wife." Given the rest of this conversation, the Princess Bride quote seemed appropriate. We both started laughing. I love laughing.

I don't know when the right time to talk about shit is, but I'm pretty sure we wouldn't be having this conversation if not for fan comments. There’s more coming. I'm going to get it all out there. Might be too much, but fuck it. "Next up is wondering if you're pregnant."

Emma cringed, "I'm not."

"We're not engaged either. Reality is irrelevant. Let’s just get this out of the way. I love kids. I love how excited they get, how real everything is, the questions and how they take things in. They're like people. Only better." Emma smiled and nodded. "There's a lot of baggage around having kids, from me being one, but I do want kids. Plural."

"Me too."

I gave her a questioning look. I wasn't sure exactly what she was agreeing to.

"I want kids, plural, and also have baggage."

"Excellent, We're even." She nodded and gave me a thumbs up. We were going from serious conversation to play. I laughed and gently punched her shoulder, “Glad we had this little talk.”

Emma grabbed my face with one hand, squeezed my cheeks, “I was only addressing the engagement rumor. You went for babies.”

“I said I love you first.”

“I told you I was falling in love with you the night we kissed.”

The way she kept a straight face was incredible. I screwed up my face and held up a finger, “One, you never used the word love.” I put up another finger, “Two, it might have been the same night, but we were way past kissing. I distinctly remember being naked, satisfied, and tired.”

“It was still the night we kissed.”

I looked up and moved my head around, “Technically.”

Emma puffed out a breath, narrowing her eyes, “Fine, you win.”

“Oh, I think we’ve both won.” I kissed her, but backed away quickly. “Actually there is something I need.”

“What’s that?”

Her fingers in my hair threatened to derail my train of thought. “I need to meditate.” It occurred to me this might be bad timing. “Nothing to do with the last half hour. I just usually meditate. I can start to tell when I haven’t.” Again, with the foot in my mouth. “Not that I’m feeling it.” I growled, “Let me try again. Meditation is something I do to keep myself level. If I don’t meditate for a couple of days I start to notice. I usually meditate sometime right before and after I see you. We’re going to be together for over a week. I need to meditate sometime. I know you don’t care if I do. It’s just not something that’s been part of us.” There was an equivalent for her. “Like you don’t practice guitar while I’m around.”

“That’s my zen. I have too much of a monkey mind to sit in silence. I don’t understand what focus on your breath means. Am I counting, noticing the in and out of my stomach, noticing the air passing through my nose? I get too focused on if I’m doing it right. I love a good guided meditation. I need something to focus on.”

She’s very cute. “How about this. I meditate. You do a guided meditation or read or whatever. Then you practice and I’ll watch.”

“You want me to sit with you?”

I nodded, “I do. Not always.” I ran my hands up her back. “You feel good. I want you near.” She stood up and took my hand. I started to smile, “I should warn you. I think I’m going to be pretty turned on after guitar practice.”

“There’s a bonus.”

It took a little while for me to focus and let my thoughts go. Despite the seriousness of our conversation, there'd been a lot of fun too. The only thing left hanging was my opinion on marriage. My opinion is pretty close to hers. It's tangled up with wanting kids and I didn't want to go into everything. There's nothing I have a problem with her knowing, but we're not there yet. And frankly, I'd had enough. I’d put us out there and had a conversation about marriage and kids. Two out of the three I’d brought up and the other was a consequence of the picture. Historically I don't do any of those, at least without a lot of kicking and screaming. Emma had said she was proud of me. I was proud of myself too. I wasn't feeling overwhelmed, and saying enough assured that. We'd covered a lot of ground, both of us, and both were not ready to go into what I'm sure is our darkest places.

Meditating was ninety percent maintenance and ten percent current. The current was trying not to overthink, to let the conversation and feelings be what they were. They were good. I wanted Emma to sit with me because whether it's real or in my mind I can feel her. The comfort and acceptance, I need, no, I want to keep beside me.

My timer went off and I took a few deep breaths before opening my eyes. Emma was right where I left her, sitting on the couch behind me sitting on the floor. She was scrolling through something on her phone, putting it down when I turned around and crawled over her. I knelt between her legs and held her face while I kissed her, "Thank you."

Her hands held me right behind my armpits, "Anytime."

"Where's your guitar?"

"Guest room."

I jerked a little, "I've never been in that room." I stood up, taking her hand, and heading up the stairs. "Do you play something specifically for practice or just play?"

"I have some specific warm-up things then just play. I have an app that holds music and switch to learning something new after I’ve had some fun. I've usually got a few things I’m working on."

We entered the room and Emma clicked on the light. I got past the entryway and gasped when I looked around. The gasp turned to a laugh, "First thought was where did you get all these Pearl Jam posters?"

Emma smiled, "There is a storage unit with all the merch. I go shopping." She led me to the corner, "Acoustic and electric. What do you want to hear?"

"Weeks ago was acoustic. Electric ok?"

"Yep!"  She picked up the blue guitar and checked the plugs before turning it on. "I need to warm up my fingers then you can look through, pick out whatever you want. Can't promise it will be good but I'll learn it."

"Can we take a guitar to my place? Continue the meditate and practice thing."

"Let’s make sure you’re not bored to tears first"

I grabbed her for a kiss, “I won’t be."

Being close while Emma warmed up I am sure I can not play guitar. Each hand doing something different, but with perfect timing. I don't have that coordination of fine motor skills. Gross motor is my thing. I can quickly learn a fight scene or something physical. I walked around for weeks playing with that knife to get my fingers to cooperate. After about five minutes she was ready to play something real.

There was a large screen iPad attached to a stand and pedal. Emma opened the program and showed me how she had things organized. I went to her file of "Favorites" and picked one.

After the second, I asked," You don't sing while you play?" She wasn’t, but I knew she could.

"Not usually. I'm working on technique and getting the music right. I do for fun and sometimes singing along makes my fingers work better. Plus, my guitar playing is much better than my singing. I'm good at guitar but only a passable singer."

I did exactly what I expect from her when talking about my performance. I told the truth. "I think you're better than passable. You're not Adele, but I enjoy listening to you."

Her expression said she was amused. "Let me practice some more, then I’ll do something for you."

I winced and closed my eyes, "So turned on."

I picked a few more from her favorites and the file of things she knew. She took over choosing from the "working" folder. I liked watching her repeating sections to get them right, her frustration when she stumbled, and her satisfaction when she got it. She worked through sections before going back to play through. After working through a few songs she put the electric guitar down and picked up the acoustic. "Requests?"

"You pick. There's not a folder for things you can sing along to."

"This is true." Emma immediately started playing. I recognized "Stay" by Lisa Loeb and smiled. The smile stayed in place until she ended the impromptu concert with the INXS song from the party. Not sure if she was finished, but I was.

I crooked my finger, "Come here." Emma put her guitar on the stand and walked over, standing between my legs with her arms resting on my shoulders. I ran my hands up her thighs, over her hips, and lifted her shirt enough to kiss her stomach, "It's been too long since I've been inside you."

"Are you having withdrawal symptoms?"

"Definitely."

She reached between my legs, her grip tight, "This is a problem. Are you in pain?"

I hissed in a breath with her stroking me, "If I say yes will you kiss it and make it better?"

"Absolutely." Emma let go of my cock, moved her hand under my chin to turn my face up, and kissed me. It was a slow kiss with a quick swipe of tongue. Enough to have me wanting more. I always want more. Her fingers ran over my beard as she pulled away. "Stay here. Take off your pants. I’ll be right back."

Her shirt came flying at me from the hall while I was taking off my shorts. She was back in under thirty seconds, naked, and holding a strip of condoms. Those were dropped on the bed as she knelt where she had been standing. "Let's see what I can do to help you out?"

I leaned back on my hands, watching. Emma’s right hand held me at the root, holding my cock steady, while she licked me. Little licks where I liked best and long licks up my length. I liked the tease. I liked watching her tongue against my skin as my brain registered the soft, warm, wetness. She went lower to give my balls the same attention. I dropped my head back with her gentle sucking and her hand running along my length. Her free hand went up my chest and to my face. I turned my head and sucked her thumb into my mouth, using my tongue to circle her thumb like she had the head of my cock. Emma took the hint and moved her mouth back to my cock, sliding her mouth down until I felt the head of my cock contact the back of her throat. She swallowed around me, creating an amazing grip on sensitive spots.

"Love when you do that. When you're trying to swallow me."

Emma backed up, running her tongue around my head a few times before taking me deep again. I pulled my shirt over my head and laid back on my elbows on the bed. I wanted to keep watching until I was inside her. I tore open a condom and handed it to her. I was treated to watching her put it on me with her mouth. "Didn't know you could do that."

Emma kissed my hip before placing a sucking kiss on my side that wrenched a moan from me. "What fun would it be if you knew all my tricks at once."

She had a point. "Can you tie a cherry stem in a knot with your tongue too?"

Emma laughed and paused her ascent up my torso. "I was a little sister in a fraternity. What do you think?"

"I think I'm buying you an Amaretto Sour." Stupid bar trick, but still fun, because I know what her tongue can do.

My eyes drifted shut and I took in the feeling of her mouth and hands. Her fingers were all over, which was a nice contrast to the directness of her kisses. As she crept higher, I laid my head to the side, smiling with the first touch of her lips to my neck. I shivered at the contact.

I was being the world's laziest lover. My hands were barely even touching her. She just felt so good. The sucking, the kisses, the touching, all lighting up my nerves. I put a little effort in when her mouth met mine. However, she was quickly gone and on to the other side of my neck. Emma ran her tongue around the shell of my ear. I hoped my moan sounded appreciative.

"Do you want me to fuck you, Sebastian?"

Hello!

My eyes popped open, "I think I would like that very much." Silencing me with a kiss, I felt Emma's hand around me again. She pushed up, leaving a hand in the middle of my chest, and sank down on my cock. Emma's eyes drifted closed with a moan turned sigh, "Such a good fit."

I couldn't disagree, "Yeah." She moved along my length, switching up the movement of her hips and tightening her inner muscles. She looked as good as she felt, pleasure written on her face.

I continued my speaking only participation. "Feels good, baby."

Emma laid over to kiss me and I ran my hands up her thighs to grab her ass. She sat back up and continued riding me.

"Touch yourself for me."

There's a sight. Without question she did as I asked, her fingers going between her legs and moving against her clit. Her rhythm on my cock didn't change. Fuck, I liked watching her getting us both off.

Emma reached further back, her fingers on my cock as it entered her, "Who's going to come first?"

"I'd like that to be you."

"Would you?"

I smiled. Slow and dirty. "I wanna feel it."

She ground down on me and focused on herself, barely pulsing her hips "You want to feel me tighten up and come all around your cock?"

"That's exactly what I want. To be buried deep inside you when you come. I want to watch too."

"Let me help you out." She put a hand behind her, between my legs, and leaned back.

I did enjoy the view. I grabbed a pillow and shoved it behind my head, raising my head up enough to see better. I could see my cook, slick with her where I entered her body, and where her fingers were rubbing. Her eyes were closed and her body moved in waves. She needed to come quick or I would.

"Bastian, gonna come."

"Oh, thank god." I hadn't meant to say that out loud.

Emma looked at me and started to laugh, but was stopped by her orgasm. Her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth dropped open, and her body stopped moving. I felt her tighten around me, each pulse pushing me closer to my own release. The hand between her legs moved to my chest to support herself as she lowered herself to kiss me. I wanted to suck the taste of her off her fingers. I stretched up as she pulled away.

She whispered, "Your turn."

Unexpectedly she pulled off my cook and went back to kneeling by the bed. She replaced the condom with her mouth. "Fuck, Emma." She worked me fast. Going from the all over feeling inside her to the concentrated feel of her tongue right where I needed it. Felt so good and I held on for as long as I could. Emma took me deep and I cried out for her as I came.

Emma's fingernails raking down my inner thigh sent a shiver of aftershock through me. She kissed below my belly button, "Feel better?"

"I was feeling good before, but sure." I stretched my arms out to the sides and arched my back with a shit eating grin on my face.

Emma gasped and propelled herself up my body, landing on me with an “Oof.”

I laughed, “That was a wrong answer?” I flipped us over, trapping her on the bed.

She laughed and tried to push me off. “Where was all this energy fifteen minutes ago?”

I pinned her hands, “I was conserving.”

“Liar.”

I kissed her, “Yes.” I kissed her again, deeper. She wasn’t fighting me anymore. Not that she ever was. “I liked being lazy.”

“When I tie you to the bed and do wicked things to you I’m also gagging you so you can’t make your wants known.”

“Na, you like hearing me moan too much.” I nudged her face to the side and kissed her neck. Once softly. The second time longer with my mouth open and tongue making nonsense patterns. I let go of her hands because I wanted them on me. One went to my back and the other went into my hair. Perfect. I moved further down the slope of her neck, knowing I was in the right place when her grip tightened. Her nails dug into my back and she pulled my hair just a little.

“Mmm, I do enjoy that.”

“Come on.” I pushed away from her, standing up and taking her hand, “I need more room to work.”

[cyberdva]

Trick Or Treat- Richie Tozier X Reader (Imagine☆)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Summary- The reader and The Losers Club decide to go Trick Or Treating, while Richie tries to continuously flirt with Y/N. The rest of their friends are fed up with Richie’s banter and try to get the two together with a bit of help from each other. Just their luck Richie had already done the job for them.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Main Masterlist

IT Masterlist

Word Count: 2k

Date Uploaded: 10/30/19

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: Halloween is tomorrow, so why not bless ourselves with a poorly written Richie fic. 

 ☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

“Hey Eds, what the hell are you supposed to be?” Richie bolted out his front door running to meet up with his short friend who was inconveniently covered in toilet paper.

He shot his friend a glare, “I’m supposed to be a mummy, you think my mom would let me be anything else.”

Richie laughed, “Aw, your mommy picked out your costume again.” He made a kissy face and inched towards Eddie. The other boy jumped away.

“What the fuck are you even supposed to be anyways?”

Richie pulled his cape under his eyes and hissed, “I’m a vampire, it’s completely obvious Eds.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, “What are you going to do? Bite Y/N?”

Richie went even paler under his white makeup, Eddie was one of the only people who knew about Richie’s enormous crush on Y/N.’

“That shut you up,” he mumbled. Just in time, Stan met up with the two bantering boys, his face had makeup with cold dark eyes and light green skin, a zombie.

“Are you guys fighting again?” Stanley tried his best to remain neutral in these arguments, even though they make no sense. 

“Richie is talking about how much he loves-“ Richie slammed Eddie’s mouth shut. Only muffled shouts could be heard. 

Stanley looked around for Bill and tried to stay involved in the conversation, ”Wow, Richie has a crush. What a shocker.” The two boys were barely paying attention as they fought in the background. Eddie ended up winning and vigorously tried to wipe off any germs that Richie has left on his mouth. Beverly came up behind the disheveled ‘mummy’ and jumped on his shoulders. It resulted in a shrieking sound, Eddie was just about to head home if Bill didn’t show up moments later. 

Beverly has decided to dress up as a cat, a normal costume for someone her age, and Bill dressed up as Marty McFly. He was late on the trend but hadn’t gotten the chance to dress up like him before. 

Ben came wandering up the street and sat next to Beverley on a half-empty bench, Bill took notice. He was dressed as one of the New Kids On The Block, which highly amused Beverly. 

“Where’s Mike and Y/N?” Bill wanted to get the show on the road and stay near Beverly as much as he could. There were so many houses to explore and so little time with the dumb curfew in place. 

Beverly sat down on the grass, “Mike said he was meeting Y/N at her place, they should be here any minute.”

“Since when do they hang out alone?” asked Richie. 

“Why do you ask Richie, are you jealous?” Eddie snickered at the confused boy. 

“Am not!”

“Yes, you are.”

“Eddie you know wha-“

Mike cut both of them off, “Sorry we’re late, Y/N wanted to make sure she had everything ready.” The whole group relapsed when they saw her costume, a makeshift clown, that looked a tad-bit like Pennywise, stood in front of them. Mike was dressed as Doc from Back To The Future to match Bill. All of them had exceptional costumes, except for Eddie. 

“Eddie, what are you wearing?” was the first thing to come out of Y/N mouth. 

“See even she agrees with me that your costume sucks!” Richie gaped. 

She frowned, “I didn’t say that I just want to know why he’s covered in toilet paper.”

“Well, you meant it.”

“Yeah, I did.”

Eddie let out a huff, “Are we going to get candy or not.”

The sun had already set and the already cold temperature began to drop even lower. It was only 7 and that didn’t leave much time until 10. The day before everyone tried to map out what houses would be the best to go to, but it ended up with Richie scribbling all over the paper and Bill lecturing him on proper behavior, exciting isn’t it. They ended up scrapping the map and just running around through town. 

“How about we start by Main Street and make our way to Jackson?” Mike had the best sense of direction out of all of the Losers, a natural talent he developed while bucking through town. 

Stan nodded, “That sounds like a good plan.” They all made their way up the street, separating into their smaller groups. Eddie, Richie, and Y/N held up the back, mostly joking about Eddie’s trashy outfit. Beverly and Bill decided to lead all of them, flashlights in hand, discussing some leftover English homework. The middle has a mix of Ben, Stan, and Mike as they chatted about which house had the most candy. 

The streets began to quickly fill with smaller children. Really no one in their grade had decided to go out for candy, a party had been the main focus for the high school students. As per usual, none of the nine kids had been invited, they didn’t even know of the event, better that they didn’t. All they hoped was that Bowers or any other new bullies, or harassers had decided to gang up on them. 

Ben stopped the group and pointed at a giant green house, “Guys look at the size of that one! I bet you they have a lot of candy!”

“That’s what she said.” Richie joked. 

Y/N just looked at him, “How does that even make sense.” They both laughed as they approached the house. Richie has the need to be funny in front of her, regardless of how loud he really was, if he made her laugh it was worth it.  The rest of the teens were halfway up the driveway while the other two jokes about phony decorations.

“Could you guys be any slower,”  complained Bev. Her voice was strongly overpowered by the teens’ hearty laughs. The night began like that, the group would get candy and move onto another house and so on. All of a sudden the perfect idea popped into Richie’s head.

“Do you want to go do something?” Richie beamed, he had a devious plan and it had to work.

“What do you mean?” he pulled her away from the rest of the group.

“Let’s go do something fun, come on this is so boring.” Y/N shrugged in response, as much as she wanted to hang out with her friends whatever Richie was thinking sounded a lot more entertaining. Richie tried to compromise, now was his chance! 

“Come on, please!”

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

The moon loomed over the Losers Club as Mike shivered, his costume wasn’t enough to keep him warm. He felt like his parents were getting impatient just by the hour, they weren’t too happy with him being out with his friends so late. He wished that this could go quicker, but with Bill that might just be impossible. 

“Come on guys, this is the last house on the street.” He huffed. Wait… someone’s missing. He tried to do a headcount and two were gone. Y/N and Richie, of course. 

He looked around, but there was no sight of them. No one seemed to notice their disappearance, but it was quieter. Stanley noticed Mike behind him and they linked up. They filled each other in. The rest continued on in confusion.

“Where did they go?” Stanley shined his cracked flashlight around the neighborhood, all he could see was heaps of children.  “Have you guys seen the two jokesters around anywhere?” Stanley called out a few shouts of “No!” and “Where are they?” emerged from the teens.

Eddie smiled, “Maybe Richie finally made his move.” He slapped his mouth shut, no one else knew about Richie’s ‘dirty secret and he sure as hell didn’t mean to enhance it.

The group stopped walking, “Wait he seriously likes her.” Ben asked. None of them really seemed to care anyway. It wasn’t a huge revelation.

Eddie shook his head, “Just pretend I said nothing.”

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

“Just this way,” Richie guided, “I swear we’re almost there.”

A singular beam of light gleamed in front of them, Y/N could barely see anything. The area was of course familiar, The Kissing Bridge. She had no idea on why Rich brought her there, her costume began to itch, few bugs began attacking her arms and legs. The bumps would be worth it in the end. They made their way inside the rickety old bridge, it creaked with on small footstep, ready to collapse. Frogs croaked in the bathroom and Y/N didn’t know why she was there.

“Rich, what are we doing?” she slapped a mosquito on her elbow, the silence was cut with a knife.

“I dunno,” he shrugged, “I personally didn’t want to go collect candy with them.”

She laughed, “That’s an interesting way to put it, but seriously, what do you want to do?”

He thought, what could they do that would be fun, curfew was coming in quick and there was no stores open.

“We could skip rocks?” What kind of response was that? Skipping rocks, how interesting.

 Surprisingly she nodded her head and the two began to walk down a hill. Leaves crunched below them, the boy started to collect pebbles

He handed her a few, he picked the small and round ones just for her, “Here, take these.

“Thanks.” Their hands brushed together and the throwing began. Few rocks managed to skip, none of them paid any attention to the activity. Both drifted off into a sort of dream-like state.

“You know what, I’m just gonna say it.” Richie’s emotions got the best of him.

Y/N turned to look him in the eyes, completely oblivious to what was happening, “Say what?” He took a deep breath, “I like you alot and I needed to know if you want to go see a movie with me. Only if you want.”

Y/N’s eyes went big, “Wait really? I’d love too!”

Relief washed over him, “Good, I thought you liked Eddie or something.”

“Wow, good one.” she laughed.

The rest of their night went swimmingly, jokes and stuffing their faces with candy. The perfect Halloween night for a teen, even if they were home late, far passed the curfew. All worth it.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

[vexedtonightmares]

last dance (elu ballet au) chapter dix-sept - epilogue

Lucas is in his final year at the Paris Opera Ballet School and he’ll be damned if he lets his former friend-turned-rival Eliott steal the lead role in their production of Swan Lake.

aka- lucas and eliott are rivals who are forced to room together for their final year of ballet school before they try to enter the company. we can all see where this is going.  

i. ii. iii. iv. v. vi. vii. viii. ix. x. xi. xii. xiii. xiv. xv. xvi. xvii.

ao3

it’s so strange to be at the end of this fic, but thanks so everyone who’s read, commented, given me kudos, or supported this fic in any way. this version of lucas and eliott really mean a lot to me, and i’m glad they mean a lot to some of you too. 

also sorry not sorry this is nearly 20k words but i’m a sucker for an epilogue.

l’amour gagne toujours. alt er love.

**tw: eating disorder, ed relapse, bipolar disorder, mentions of manic/ depressive episodes**

6 MONTHS LATER

Lucas sat frozen in his chair and set his phone down with shaking hands. He couldn’t decide if it was a good kind of shaking or a bad kind of shaking yet. He was fucked, he was so utterly fucked. He wished he had more time, but it had been six months, so he should have known this day would come eventually. 

Eliott called out as he entered their suite, nearly singing his voice was so full of love for Lucas. It made him soften, just a bit, until he remembered why his hands had been shaking and his heart dropped to his stomach. 

He couldn’t believe they only had a few days left at school, it seemed like just yesterday he was standing on stage performing as Prince Siegfried in their production of Swan Lake. It seemed like just yesterday he was auditioning for the show. It was crazy how long and how short six months could feel. 

For example, for the last four months Lucas had been able to overcome his eating disorder. Not completely, he didn’t think he’d ever overcome it completely, but he was in a much healthier mindset now, thanks to Angelique and his friends and Eliott, and he really thought he might be able to make this last. There were still some daily struggles, mostly with his OCD and anxiety, but his medication did help, and so did therapy. 

His clothes fit him better too, he didn’t feel ashamed every time he looked in the mirror. Instead of seeing skin and bones he saw muscle, color in his cheeks, and less darkness under his eyes. He didn’t hate catching glimpses of himself anymore, and Eliott made jokes about his ass way too often, but he still appreciated the normalization of it all. 

He’d tried to do the same for Eliott, never be overbearing but provide support when Eliott had days that were too bad or too good, or maybe even a mix of the two. They’d fallen into a nice rhythm, the two of them, and their friends teased them endlessly for acting like a married couple. Lucas secretly warmed inside every time they said so, not that he’d ever admit it aloud. 

Eliott poked his head into the room, grinning ear to ear. “G’day mate,” he said in an exaggerated Australian accent, and Lucas’ stomach roiled over itself again. That was the newest development in the great story of Lucas and Eliott, their decision for their futures. It hadn’t been a precise thing, they’d just taken a map and spun around a few times with their eyes closed, pointing and seeing where their fingers might land. Australia, it seemed, was what the fates had decreed for them, and they were both more excited than they could put into words. 

They’d both used a weekend earlier in the spring to audition for the company, and they both made it, celebrating all night when they’d found out. Most of their friends were staying in Europe, it seemed, but Sofiane had also auditioned for the Australian Ballet and gotten in unbeknownst to any of them. It would be fun to be there with him though, Lucas and Eliott had rationalized, especially given the fact that Lucas was much closer with him now than he had been six months or a year ago.

Eliott frowned and entered the room, and Lucas realized he hadn’t responded. The truth was, he didn’t know how to. He’d gone with Manon and Daphné when they’d auditioned for the Royal Ballet for moral support, but they’d convinced him to audition last minute, and the call he’d just received had offered him a place in the Royal Ballet, should he want it. The bad thing, the thing that was making his heart beat rapidly and his stomach ache with unease, was that he did want it. More than Australia, despite all the plans he’d already made. 

Eliott tapped Lucas’ wrist with one finger, grounding him and drawing him back into the present moment. “Are you ok?” Eliott asked, voice coated in sweetness. 

Lucas nodded, then shook his head, then froze again, searching Eliott’s face for the right way to tell him that he wanted to go to London. Maybe it wasn’t too late for Eliott to audition, too.

“What’s wrong?” Eliott asked, sitting down on Lucas’ bed, probably still trying to gauge what Lucas was feeling. 

Lucas didn’t want to say anything, because if he said it, then that made it real. And he didn’t want it to be real. But he did. But he didn’t. He just really didn’t want to part ways with Eliott, but the more he thought about it, the more he knew London was where he belonged. 

“I was offered a contract for the Royal Ballet.” He wasn’t consciously aware of opening his mouth to speak, and judging by Eliott’s expression, maybe he hadn’t even spoken at all. He swallowed and opened his mouth, prepared to repeat, just in case, when Eliott sat back abruptly.

“I heard you.”

The softness in his voice wasn’t there anymore, and Lucas panicked internally. He never should have said anything, he never should have answered the call. If he didn’t know that he had a place in the Royal Ballet if he wanted it, he probably wouldn’t have wanted it, and he and Eliott could live out their Australian dreams together. They’d only chosen Australia because Lucas’ finger had landed on it on the map, Eliott probably hadn’t even wanted to go there in the first place. He shouldn’t have said anything, he shouldn’t have—

“Do you… want to accept?” Eliott’s words were slow, and Lucas still couldn’t get a read on him. 

Tears pricked the corners of Lucas’ eyes as he admitted, “I do.”

In an instant, any defenses Eliott had built up dropped completely. He pulled Lucas closer by his hands, desk chair rolling over to where Eliott was still seated on the bed. His eyes were open and understanding and Lucas was struck with the feeling that he didn’t deserve someone like Eliott. Eliott laced their fingers together.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” was his only question, which seemed justified but also way too mild a reaction. 

“I didn’t think I’d make it,” he answered honestly. His audition had been a mess, at least in terms of preparation. He’d probably danced fairly well, but he’d mostly done it because Manon and Daphné were excellent with peer pressure and he’d been too happy as of late to worry too much about it. He never really thought it was an option until it was one.

Eliott’s expression changed only in small amounts, the slight furrowing of his eyebrows or downturn of his mouth. “I didn’t even know you auditioned.”

Lucas shrugged helplessly. “Manon and Daphné convinced me, you know how they are. I really didn’t think that it would matter, because I was almost entirely certain I wouldn’t get offered a contract.”

“But what about Australia?” 

What about Australia. That was the question, wasn’t it. “I wasn’t feigning enthusiasm, just so you know. Until like fifteen minutes ago I was all in,” Lucas said, knowing how bad it sounded regardless. 

Eliott dropped his head but didn’t drop Lucas’ hands. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I don’t know,” Lucas scrambled for an explanation, realizing that there wasn’t one. He should have just been honest from the start, then maybe Eliott would be going to the Royal Ballet with him. His voice took on a strained tone. “I really don’t have an answer.”

“I don’t want to go without you, but I would never forgive myself if I made you come with me,” Eliott admitted. 

“I want to be with you,” Lucas promised, “I just… I can’t explain it. When I was in London, I felt something inside my chest, a feeling that wouldn’t go away. I haven’t felt it in a long time, at least not in relation to ballet, and I think I’d be stupid not to chase it.”

“So, you’re sure, then, that you don’t… that you want to go to London?” Eliott confirmed. His head was still down, so Lucas couldn’t see his eyes and how they might be reacting. It didn’t seem right that he should be able to decide something so monumental so quickly, but maybe it was a sign that he was making the right choice. 

“We’ll still talk every day, right? And come home for the holidays, or visit each other here and there. And who knows, this probably won’t be forever, maybe I’ll realize I made the wrong decision and come running to Australia in a few months,” Lucas tried to joke, but part of him was serious. 

Eliott finally looked up at him, through his eyelashes. “Lucas, if you’re going to do this, you need to stop worrying about me, ok? Of course I’d rather be with you, but I’ll be fine, and so will you. Better than fine, because we’ll be living our dreams! Distance makes the heart grow fonder, right? Don’t go into this thinking about plans to fall back on, go into it as if this is it. I don’t want you to live half a life on my account.”

“I can’t imagine sleeping without you,” Lucas said, taking in all of Eliott’s words and processing them to the best of his current ability. 

Eliott just shrugged, squeezing his hands. “Well then we’ll just have to make the most of the time we have left. Or I could print a pillowcase with my face on it for you to use in London.”

Lucas laughed, vocal chords still thick with unshed tears. “That’s not a terrible idea…”

“Wait, you have somewhere to live, right?” Eliott asked, just as the thought came into Lucas’ own mind. He did not, because he hadn’t been planning to be in London. 

“Well, the thing about that is…” Lucas trailed off, but Eliott simply rolled his eyes fondly. 

“We’re going to figure that out before anything else.”

“Eliott, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Eliott reassured him, pulling him closer again until he was practically in Eliott’s lap and not on his chair anymore. Lucas leaned in, waiting to see if Eliott would respond, and he did, meeting Lucas for a short but emotion filled kiss. It told Lucas everything that he needed to know and let the anxiety ease its way out of his mind and out of his body. 

When they pulled away Lucas looked at Eliott with heavily hooded eyes. “I still love you as much as ever.”

“I know,” Eliott said, “I never thought you didn’t. Sometimes we have to do things for ourselves, though, even if we think they might hurt the people we love. Never choose me over yourself, Lucas, not when it comes to your happiness.” 

“But what about you? Did you even want to go to Australia? It’s so far away, and you don’t know anyone there, and—”

“Lucas, Australia still sounds fucking amazing to me, I promise. Plus, Sofiane will be there too. I need something completely new, I think, and what’s more new than Australia?” The usual light had returned to Eliott’s eyes, and Lucas finally allowed himself to exhale. Eliott went on about Australia and all the things he was excited for, and Lucas indulged him, even chiming in with a few things he was excited for in London. A nine hour time difference wasn’t ideal, but they’d both have completely different perspectives on the world at the same time, and that was kind of cool. In a sense, it was almost like they’d be living in different universes, bringing the multiverse theory to life. 

“Just don’t go falling in love with another Lucas,” Lucas said, wrapping his arms around Eliott’s neck. 

Eliott scoffed, like the statement had offended him. “I could never. Not in a million years or universes.”

So they kissed again, and Lucas breathed a little easier, excited for all the possibilities ahead of him and still overwhelmingly in love with the boy who’d urged him to chase new dreams even when the old ones would have made him happier. 

1 YEAR LATER

The winter wind nipped at Lucas’ cheeks, but he could hardly feel it, too hopped up on adrenaline. This was the first time he’d be seeing Eliott in person since he’d left for Australia, and he was so excited he could hardly sit still. They’d debated meeting back in Paris, but Eliott had wanted to experience Christmas in London and see Lucas’ new home of sorts, so that was what they had planned for. 

Eliott’s parents obviously wanted to see him as well, so he and Lucas would go back to Paris at the end of their holiday break from their respective companies and meet up with them as well as some of their other friends from school before Eliott left again for Australia and Lucas left again for London. They only had two weeks total, one in London, one in Paris, and Lucas planned on taking advantage of every single minute.

He’d been living with Manon and Daphné since they’d all moved to London and joined the Royal Ballet, which wasn’t as horrible as it sounded. They were still the cutest couple he knew (other than himself and Eliott, obviously) and living with two girls was much more organized than with Yann or Eliott over the years. They were spending the holidays back in Paris with Mika and Lisa, Manon and Lucas’ old flatmates, probably so they could visit with Emma, Imane, and Alexia as well. As far as he knew, Emma and Imane had stayed in Paris at the Paris Opera Ballet, and Alexia was attending university in the city as well. Imane and Emma had both been shocked to have been offered contracts in the company, but they deserved it. He was pretty sure Chloé and Sarah in their year had stayed in Paris as well, but everyone else had dispersed across the world. 

Yann had gone to Berlin, and he’d been loving it based on what he’d told Lucas. Lucas was also dying to see him, he’d gone far too long without best friend idiocy hours. Arthur, too, Lucas longed to see, but he wouldn’t have to wait as long. Arthur was supposed to meet him and Eliott in London for dinner later that night, choosing to spend the holidays in a city that didn’t remind him of things he’d rather forget. Lucas knew the feeling. He’d offered to have Arthur stay in the flat he shared with Manon and Daphné, since the two of them were gone, but Arthur had insisted on staying elsewhere with no explanation. He’d gone to the Dutch Ballet and was enjoying it quite well considering the fact he’d wanted to quit a year ago. Lucas felt like Arthur might have been keeping something from him, but he never pried, knowing Arthur would tell him when he was ready. Hopefully he wasn’t in love with Lucas again, but he didn’t think that was the case. 

Lucas had made some new friends too, while in London, though none of them compared to the ones he’d grown up dancing with. Noora, from Norway, was really close with Manon, and they were eerily similar in Lucas’ opinion. She’d originally gone to London to be with her boyfriend, and she’d considered quitting ballet for him, but in the end she realized that she was worth more than her relationship with him and if he didn’t support her dreams then she didn’t need him around. It seemed to have paid off, because Noora was only two years older than them but she was already a principal dancer in the company.

Daphné had been jealous of Manon and Noora for a while, but Noora had apparently been seeing a lot more of one of her old high school friends recently, Eva, and she’d enlisted Manon and Daphné’s help in winning her heart.

There was also Sander, who reminded Lucas a lot of Eliott, but with bleached blond hair. Sander was the most chaotic of their new friends, but Lucas appreciated that energy because the girls were overall too sensible for him. Well, other than Isa. She and Lucas had hit it off right off the bat and she kept claiming he reminded her of one of her friends back in the Netherlands and would have to introduce the two of them when he came to visit, which he was supposedly doing over the holidays. Lucas wouldn’t mind hanging out with them and Eliott, he thought Eliott would like Isa a lot, because there was no way not to like Isa.

“Excuse me, do you know where I might find my boyfriend?” someone said to Lucas’ left and immediately his heart started to flutter. He’d been so distracted he’d forgotten where he was and why he was there. 

He decided to play along. “What does he look like? A handsome French sort with dazzling eyes and a great ass?”

Looking Eliott in the eyes for the first time in six months was intoxicating, and Lucas could tell that Eliott felt the same way. They both stood there frozen, just looking at each other like they were the only two people in the world. Then Eliott snapped out of it. “I was going to say he kind of looks like a hedgehog, actually. Short… fluffy hair…”

He didn’t have the opportunity to finish, Lucas threw himself into Eliott’s arms and Eliott accepted him readily, pressing their lips together in what felt like the first kiss they’d ever shared. Maybe they looked a little dramatic, and maybe people were judging them, but Lucas didn’t care one bit. His soul had ached in Eliott’s absence, and now he felt whole again. 

“… but he does have a great ass,” Eliott finished once they separated, goofy smile on his face.

“I love you so much,” Lucas said, not even embarrassed by the fact that he was on the verge of tears. 

Eliott’s hands brushed both sides of his face as he pulled Lucas closer to him, resting their foreheads together. “I love you too. I missed you so much— god, I don’t even know where to start.” 

“Let’s start with a nap,” Lucas suggested, leaning away and holding his hand out for Eliott to take. Eliott took it, and they started to walk away, Eliott dragging a suitcase behind him.

“I’m not that tired—” Eliott tried, but Lucas shook his head. 

“Three things. One, yes you are, jet lag is a bitch, two, I’m not about to have you fall asleep during dinner with Arthur later, and three, you have no idea how much I missed sleeping with you.” Lucas ticked off each one on his free hand, and Eliott raised his eyebrows suggestively. He blushed bright red. “I meant— you know what I meant.” He paused, growing redder still. “But that too.”

Needless to say, they made their way to Lucas’ flat much more quickly after that. 

——

Eliott looked much more well rested by the time they started walking to dinner, even though they really hadn’t slept that much. First he’d had to give Eliott the grand tour of the two bedroom flat he’d come to call home (well, not first, first, they’d had some other business to attend to before that), and then they’d talked for quite a while, not even about ballet, just about life. 

It wasn’t like they hadn’t spoken nearly every day they’d been apart, but being there in person was entirely new and entirely the same all at once. They fell quickly back into old patterns and Lucas didn’t think his smile had left his face once, even while he slept tucked into Eliott’s side.

It was snowing while they walked, and Lucas had offered to pay for a cab, but Eliott insisted on walking, taking advantage of all the city had to offer. In such a short amount of time Lucas had really come to adore London. It didn’t compare to Paris, of course it didn’t, but he could see himself being happy there for a very long time. He didn’t want to say anything, but he’d secretly been harboring the fantasy of Eliott joining him there next year.

Eliott was wearing a beanie and his cheeks were pink from the cold, but his hand was laced through Lucas’ and his eyes were full of wonder like the cold was the last thing on his mind. He kept rambling about all the things he wanted to do while they were together and Lucas had barely responded, watching and listening with such adoration usually only reserved for puppies on Instagram. 

Two hands appeared over Lucas’ eyes and he laughed shortly until he realized it couldn’t have been Eliott, whose hand was still in his. His brows furrowed, but then he realized that if Eliott wasn’t freaking out there was only one person it could be. 

“Arthur?” he asked, and the hands fell from his eyes, the boy in question jumping around to stand right in front of him. 

“Lulu!” They both broke into wide grins meeting halfway for a tight hug. Arthur and Eliott hugged afterwards, with only a little bit less enthusiasm. Lucas wondered briefly how many people from school Eliott had kept in touch with. 

“How have you two been?” Arthur asked, falling into step beside them.

Eliott and Lucas shared a glance, deciding how to answer and who was going to answer first. Eliott raised his eyebrows, and Lucas spoke. “Better now that we’re together.”

“Ugh, did not miss you two being all sappy and gross, that’s for sure,” Arthur said, pretending to gag. They entered the restaurant, Lucas catching a curly brown haired boy’s eye as they did. 

Lucas looked away from the boy who was still looking at them, rolling his eyes at Arthur. Eliott teased, nudging Arthur’s side, “Aww, we’ll find you a Lucas someday, then we’ll complain about how gross and sappy you are.”

To Lucas’ surprise, Arthur flushed bright red, blinking rapidly. His eyes caught on something over Lucas’ shoulder. “About that—”

He was cut off by the same boy Lucas had just locked eyes with clearing his throat and blushing either from the cold or from something else entirely. Lucas looked at him, then at Eliott, then back at him, but he was no longer paying attention to Lucas or Eliott. 

“I was wondering when you’d get here,” the boy said in a soft voice, to Arthur. Arthur was still bright red but his eyes held a gleam of joy. 

“Here I am,” he said, and both boys grinned stupidly. Eliott and Lucas exchanged another glance, this one with wide eyes. 

The boy took a small step closer to Arthur. “There you are.”

Lucas felt like he was encroaching on something and briefly wondered if this was how other people felt about being around him and Eliott. Of course, he could have been reading into things… but nope, the boy with the curly hair just kissed Arthur and Arthur looked like he’d made it to heaven and was never coming back down. 

Eliott cleared his throat softly, more to remind Arthur and the boy of their presence than to intrude on something intimate. Both boys turned to them with wide eyes, the curly haired boy looking happy and open and Arthur’s expression shifting to something more nervous. 

“This is my boyfriend, Lucas,” Arthur said, eyes looking everywhere but Lucas and Eliott. 

Lucas broke into a wide grin that he tried to downplay for the other boy’s sake. “Nice to meet you, what’s your name?” Lucas asked. 

Arthur looked at him with exasperation. “Lucas.”

“What?” Lucas demanded defensively. Was it so weird to ask someone’s name? 

Arthur’s boyfriend laughed, shaking his head. “No, my name, it’s Lucas, Lucas Van der Heijden. I assume you’re the famous other Lucas I’ve heard so much about?”

Lucas shut his eyes in embarrassment, trying to figure out how to not look like an idiot from here on out. “Fuck, sorry. Yeah, I’m other Lucas, and this is my boyfriend, Eliott.”

Other Lucas, who Lucas decided he was going to refer to in his head as VDH so he wouldn’t confuse himself, had an accent that sounded vaguely familiar, though Lucas couldn’t quite place it. Just as Lucas was about to inquire into VDH a bit more, the host gestured for them to follow to a table. Lucas met Arthur’s eyes with a look that said, You are not off the hook for not telling me, and Arthur levelled him with one that said, Sure, Mr. I dated Eliott in secret for months while we all lived and danced together. Which, fair enough. 

They sat in a booth, Eliott and Lucas across from VDH and Arthur, and Eliott asked the question that was on Lucas’ mind. “So how and when did you guys meet?”

“We dance together, Luc is in the Dutch Ballet as well,” Arthur answered, and Lucas smiled slightly at the nickname use. It was like when Eliott called him Lu, so intoxicating and so intimate all at once. 

VDH nodded, grinning at Arthur. “I’m from the Netherlands, so I graciously introduced him to all the best things our country has to offer.”

Ah, so that’s where the accent was from, and he recognized it because of Isa. “One of my friends at the Royal Ballet is from the Netherlands,” Lucas said, trying to relate in any way he could. He liked VDH so far, but he was always scared of new conversations with new people. 

VDH perked up. “Oh, really? That’s awesome, I have a friend here too. That’s why we’re here, actually, I wanted to visit her here for the holidays and Arthur wanted to visit you, so voila.” That answered the question of where Arthur was staying. 

“How’d she end up in London?” Eliott asked, thanking the server who supplied them with menus and glasses of water.

“Same as Lucas, she’s in the Royal Ballet,” Arthur answered.

“Isa Keijser?” Lucas asked at the same time VDH said, “Isa Keijser? I don’t know if you know her.”

They stared at each other for a minute, then burst out laughing. “You must be the French dumbass she’s always talking about, then,” VDH said with half a grin, and Lucas scoffed. 

“She could very well be talking about Manon or Daphné,” he argued, and Eliott levelled him with a stare. He rolled his eyes, cracking a small smile. “But, yeah, she was probably talking about me. She’s told me about you too, actually, she just never referred to you by name.”

“It would be so her style to intentionally not tell you my name to confuse us when and if we met for the first time,” VDH sighed fondly. Lucas laughed, nodding in agreement. The waiter returned and Lucas realized he hadn’t looked at the menu. Truthfully, he wasn’t very hungry, but he wasn’t about to say anything when Eliott and Arthur were there and that was the entire reason they’d met up. 

He wasn’t slipping into old habits, he was fine. Things had just been so busy leading up to the holidays and he’d been missing Eliott extra and food was never something he’d paid enough attention to. Ok, maybe he was slipping back into old habits, but he had it under control. Now that Eliott was there, he already felt better. 

Regardless, he ordered something random off the menu, knowing that Eliott would probably like it if he didn’t, and tuned back into the conversations being had. Eliott was telling Arthur and VDH about Australia, about the places he’d been and the people he’d met. Apparently Sofiane had hit it off immediately with two dancers from Germany, Mohammed and Amira. He said Amira reminded him of a slightly softer but no less badass version of Imane, something Sofiane likely noticed too. Eliott had hit it off with an Italian boy named Niccolo, who he’d told Lucas about already. He wasn’t a dancer, but he was a piano accompanist and he composed music in his free time. Lucas had joked that Niccolo would replace him as the composer for Polaris and Eliott had assured him that could never happen, not in a million years. Even though Lucas had been mostly joking, it warmed his heart to know that Polaris was still their thing. Shay was another one of Eliott’s friends in Australia, from America, and Lucas had met her over Facetime a few times. She reminded him of himself in some ways, kind of like Manon and Noora, and he really wanted to meet her when he visited Eliott. 

Lucas was surprised but glad to see a new light in Arthur’s eyes as he talked about dancing in the Dutch Ballet, and Lucas could tell that Arthur was a little surprised by it himself. Arthur had found a completely random flat when he’d moved to the Netherlands, and his roommates, Liv and Ralph, were already friends with VDH, so they’d been forced to hang out quite often. Apparently VDH was practically the star of their company, but Arthur had given him a run for his money. Instead of turning it into a rivalry, they’d slowly become friends, then more, and the rest was history. Lucas knew who Liv was, vaguely, because Isa talked about her friend Liv a lot and he assumed this had to be the same person. It was crazy, how small of a world it was that they lived in.                   

Their conversations flowed nicely the rest of the time they sat at the restaurant, and Lucas pretended not to notice the small looks Eliott was giving him all night. He didn’t know what it was all about, but he figured Eliott would tell him later when they were alone. 

He was glad that Arthur had found someone— his own Lucas if you will— that made him feel like the best version of himself all the time. Sure, he didn’t necessarily need it, but he deserved it. He supposed he’d never have to wonder again if another universe Lucas and another universe Arthur had ended up together, because somehow they had in this one. Maybe VDH was a parallel version of Lucas, wouldn’t that be something. 

After what might have been anywhere between two and four hours, Lucas noticed Eliott’s eyes starting to droop and they decided to call it a night, promising to hang out together again before Eliott and Lucas left for Paris. Once they parted ways, Lucas tucked himself close into Eliott’s side and started going on about VDH, Arthur, and VDH and Arthur. He paused when he realized Eliott wasn’t responding. 

“Is everything ok?” he asked. Maybe Eliott was just tired, he rationalized. 

Eliott looked at him, face serious, voice casual. “You barely ate anything.”

Lucas’ heart dropped to his stomach. He should have known Eliott would notice those things. It hadn’t been intentional, it really hadn’t, he just didn’t have an appetite. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Lucas said, “But I’m not— I’m still doing good, I promise.”

“Lucas…” Eliott started, but Lucas cut him off.

“I promise, Eliott. Ok? I just get distracted by conversation when we eat, you know that.” He was vaguely aware that he sounded a bit like he was pleading, which didn’t bode well for him. 

Eliott sighed, stopping to turn and face him head on. “I just want to make sure that you’re ok. You’re the most important person to me, and I worry about you even when I know I shouldn’t.”

Lucas stepped closer so they were toe to toe. “I worry about you too. It’s the nature of caring, to worry, but I believe in you, and I know that you can handle whatever life throws your way, you’re too strong not to. I need you to think the same of me.”

“I do, Lucas, but—” Eliott cut himself off, entwining his pointer fingers with Lucas’. He continued, “I trust you. And I believe in you. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met, I know you can handle whatever life throws at you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t wish you didn’t have to, you know?”

Lucas did know. He’d known it since he’d come to Eliott’s house and found him curled into a ball on his bed looking like he never wanted to leave. If he could make it so Eliott only ever experience the good in life, he would do it in a heartbeat. He nodded. “I know.”

“I just love you too much to ever want to see you anything less than one hundred percent happy, which I know is a stupid dream, and I do love when you’re a grumpy little shit too, but you deserve the world even though you have a habit of forgetting that,” Eliott said. 

Lucas closed his eyes, letting the winter wind settle across his face and letting Eliott’s words be imprinted in his mind. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too.”

“Now why don’t we go home, and I’ll make us both a big blueberry-bacon muffin filled breakfast tableau tomorrow morning,” Lucas suggested, ghosting his lips close to Eliott’s. Eliott smiled leaning in ever so slightly.

“That sounds amazing, love,” he agreed, leaning in further, and Lucas pulled back. 

He squinted. “Love?”

“When in London,” Eliott said with a dopey grin and a shrug, and Lucas kissed him senseless right there in the middle of the street. Everything was how it should be. 

18 MONTHS LATER

Lucas was panicking. None of it had been intentional, but he’d skipped over a month of therapy sessions and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten an actual meal, and it was starting to show. He wasn’t quite where he’d been in his last year of school, but he was pretty close. He’d ridden the high of seeing Eliott for a week or two after the holidays, but then they’d started casting and rehearsal for a new show and even though he was just in the corps rehearsals were a million times more taxing than they had been at school and he felt himself slipping ever so slightly day by day without Eliott there to ground him. It didn’t help that Eliott had seemingly forgotten about him, Facetime conversations going from daily to weekly to whenever they could find time. He knew Eliott was busy with his show as well, but it still stung to not hear from him for days on end.

He’d wanted to tell Eliott about everything that was going on inside his mind to try to find some clarity, but he didn’t want their first real conversation in almost a month to be about something so negative. So, he got better at hiding things again, feeling ashamed for doing so but having no intention of stopping. He wouldn’t see Eliott in person for a little while anyway, so all he had to do was get himself back on track by then and he’d never have to own up to the fact that he’d been faking happiness for a few months.

Manon had noticed, and she’d tried to talk to him, but when he didn’t want to talk there was nothing she, or anyone (besides Eliott) could do to make him. Still, she was watching him closely, and he knew that she’d intervene if things got too bad again. 

It was Saturday, so he had a day off and had planned on spending it in bed watching tv and trying to forget that Eliott had cancelled their Facetime date for that day, even though he didn’t have rehearsals on weekends either.

The buzzer to the flat rang and Lucas rolled his eyes, wondering if Daphné had forgotten her keys again. “Manon, the door,” he yelled, receiving no response. Groaning, he got out of bed as the buzzer rang again, peeking his head into Manon and Daphné’s room and finding it empty. He didn’t know when Manon had left, but cursed her for making him get out of bed, especially if it was because she and Daphné had both forgotten their keys. 

He pressed the button to let them in, unlocking the door to their unit and hoping they would just walk right in instead of waiting for him to open that one too. Just as he reached his bedroom door, there was a knock, and he groaned again, yelling, “It’s open!”

A muffled voice came from the other side of the door. “Special delivery for Lucas Lallemant!” 

Lucas froze, because he recognized that voice. Even though he might have been hallucinating, he ran to the door as fast as his feet would carry him, throwing it open and finding Eliott on the other side, a bouquet of flowers in hand. His smile was so bright that it nearly brought Lucas to tears and Lucas launched himself into Eliott’s arms, pulling him into the flat. 

Eliott threw the flowers onto the table before fully hugging Lucas back, stiffening once he did. Lucas pulled away, confused. “Everything ok?”

Eliott looked down at him, face pale, then blinked a few times and forced a smile. “Yeah, of course.”

Lucas smiled, lacing his arms around Eliott’s neck. “What are you doing here?”

“I missed you,” Eliott said with a shrug, “Wanted to surprise you.”

Lucas’ heart melted as he buried his face in Eliott’s chest. Eliott continued, “I know I haven’t been the best boyfriend recently. I’m really sorry about it, and I wanted to make it up to you. I can’t stay long because of rehearsals, but I wanted to make sure you know that you’re still the most important person in my life.”

“I missed you so much,” Lucas said, holding Eliott tighter than ever. “Want to…” He trailed off suggestively, nodding to his bedroom. Eliott’s face turned red but his eyes were bright with longing and desire. 

“Of course,” Eliott responded, and that was all Lucas needed to crash their lips together, stumbling across the flat until they made it into his room, slamming the door shut behind them in case Manon or Daphné arrived while they were occupied. 

Lucas pulled off Eliott’s shirt, peppering kisses down his neck and his torso, making Eliott’s breaths ragged. Eliott’s fingers fiddled with the bottom of Lucas’s shirt and Lucas grinned into another kiss, allowing them to separate only long enough to remove his own shirt. He moved to pull Eliott back in for a kiss when Eliott stopped him, same wide eyed anxious look he’d had on his face moments earlier. 

Lucas frowned folding their hands together, and Eliott wrenched them apart, leaving Lucas to go sit on the edge of the bed with his face in his hands. Lucas didn’t know what was wrong, what had changed. When Eliott finally looked at him, his eyes were red, like he was on the verge of tears.

“You told me everything was fine,” Eliott said, “You told me not to worry, and that you’d tell me if there ever was a problem.”

Lucas froze where he stood, understanding more clearly the cause of Eliott’s current distance. He picked his shirt up off the floor and put it back on, wrapping his arms around his body as if that would do anything to cover it. “There isn’t a problem,” he tried, but Eliott shook his head, devastation turning to anger. 

“Lucas there’s barely anything left of you.”

Lucas shook his head, sitting down next to Eliott and reaching for one of his hands. Eliott pulled away, looking betrayed. 

“How long has this been going on again? It’s been this way since Christmastime, right? Maybe even before?” Eliott broke off, putting his head in his hands again. “You don’t trust me, is that it? Lucas don’t you see what you’re doing to yourself?”

“Maybe it isn’t about you!” Lucas said angrily, and Eliott blinked up at him in shock. That was a lie, a little bit of it was about Eliott, but he wouldn’t give Eliott that satisfaction of thinking he was the only thing in Lucas’ world.

Eliott’s voice turned pleading. “Lu, don’t you see that I’m just upset because I care about you?”

“I know that you do.” Lucas ran a hand through his hair, sobs bubbling up in his chest and begging to break free. Eliott looked at him, really looked at him, and the dam broke wide open. “I just feel so alone. I have so many people here that I really like, but none of them are you, none of them are Yann or Arthur or Basile or Imane. I have Manon, but she has Daphné, and every time I see them, I think of you. But I don’t even have you, not really, because you have a beautiful amazing life without me, and I’m just the fucking mess of a boy you stupidly fell in love with. I’m good, but I’m not good enough. I was only ever good enough for you and that’s not even true anymore. The only thing you do is worry about me, I can see it in your eyes, and that’s not a relationship. Maybe you do have reason to worry, but I don’t feel like a real person when that’s all I see when I look at you. Worry, worry, worry. I’m not a child, I’m an adult, and yeah, I’m fucked up on so many levels that you probably should worry, but I also fear I’m never going to get better until people stop fucking worrying. You care about me, you care about me, you all fucking care about me, but I’m always the problem.”

Eliott’s arms wrapped around Lucas as he sobbed, spilling tears onto Eliott’s shirt. It was a new shirt, Lucas noticed, and for some reason that made him cry harder. “I’m tired, Eliott, I’m so tired, because I never sleep anymore, and I feel like I’m dying all the time. I don’t want to die, but I think I might and I don’t know how to stop it from happening.”

“Lucas, Lucas, look at me.” Eliott’s eyes were wide and wild as he held Lucas’ face in his hands. “You’re not dying. I won’t let that happen, ok? I could never let that happen. I’m not— ok, maybe I am a little bit worried about you, but I promise it comes from a place of love. I try to live minute by minute, like you told me when I was diagnosed, and I want you to keep trying to do that too. In this minute, how about we breathe, ok?”

Lucas nodded, infinitesimally, tears still streaking down his face. Eliott breathed in deeply, and Lucas followed, feeling his eyes water and his mouth wobble even as he did so. Eliott kept his hands on Lucas’ face, breathing out and waiting for Lucas to follow. They did that a couple more times, until Lucas’ heart rate was back to normal even if slow tears were still falling.  

“Lucas,” Eliott said, dropping his hands to Lucas’ hands. “I don’t love you because I have to, I love you because I want to, and I choose to every day.”

Lucas shook his head. “You say that but—”

“Lucas. I love you. There are no buts.”

Lucas sniffed, clenching Eliott’s hands in his. “I was so happy. I was doing so good.”

“We all have setbacks. Healing takes time, and in that time we’re allowed moments of weakness, because they only make us stronger going forward.” He paused, looking like he had more to say but didn’t want to say it. “I, um, had a depressive episode, a little while back. When I stopped responding like I usually did. I remembered you talking about not wanting to worry, and I figured it would pass because I was taking my medication and going to therapy, but it didn’t pass for a long time. I still feel like I might not be back to one hundred percent, but I knew the only way to get there was to see you again, so here I am.”

Lucas blinked in surprise He’d never even considered… he felt like an idiot. “You have no right to be mad at me for not telling you things, then.” He’d forgotten that he got a bit too defensive when confronted with his own faults.

Instead of rising to Lucas’ defensiveness, Eliott crumbled. “I know. It wasn’t because I didn’t trust you, its just I— I’m a bad person, a bad boyfriend, I know that, but I never wanted you to.”

“Eliott you’re neither of those things.”

“Neither are you.”

“Eliott.”

“Lucas.”

They looked at each other earnestly, honestly, seeing more than what was on the surface for the first time in far too long. It was easy to get swept away by love and longing when they were only together for a short amount of time, easy to put aside the hurt and the pain and let themselves feel loved, but in reality they were two lost boys still trying to find a way to live in a world that was determined to break them down to nothing. 

“I know things have to change,” Lucas said, because now that Eliott was there, he did. He couldn’t stand the broken look in Eliott’s eyes when he’d realized Lucas was back to who he’d been a year and a half ago. He continued, “But I can’t count on you, on us, to make that change.”

Eliott furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”

“I need to learn how to come back from this on my own.”

Eliott’s face hardened. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.” He truly didn’t know. The last thing he ever wanted to do not be with Eliott, but it wasn’t like they were really together at the present time anyway, and clearly he couldn’t cope properly with that. “I think maybe I have to stop being so dependent on you to make everything better.”

“Lucas—” Eliot sounded confused, and Lucas couldn’t blame him. “You’re anything but dependent on me. Sometimes I wish you needed me a bit more, because being there for you is one of my favorite things.”

“I am too dependent, though, because I can’t function properly without you around. Maybe it has nothing to do with you at all, but I need to figure that all out on my own. I learned to love myself a little more with you, but I need to learn to love myself without you, do you understand? I hate myself so much, all the time, but you put those rose colored glasses on my eyes that make me not see it for a little while. It’s not a bad thing, it’s a great thing, actually, but you’re in Australia, and I’m in London, for who knows how long, and I don’t want to always have to count on other people to bring me back to a healthy state of mind, I want to be able to do it myself, or at least realize when things are getting bad and feel comfortable reaching out.” He was spewing words without thinking about them, but he realized they were all true. 

Eliott bit his lip. “So where do I— where do we fit into all of this, then?”

It hurt Lucas more than anything, and he regretted the words before they even left his mouth, but he knew it was the right thing to say. “I don’t think we do, at least not right now.”

“But Lucas…” Eliott’s face crumbled and Lucas felt pain twist in his chest like never before. “You’re my forever.”

“You’re mine too,” Lucas said, urgency in his voice. He meant it, he really did. He’d never love anyone like Eliott, and he didn’t want to. “We might just have to put a pause on forever until I figure out who I am on my own.”

Eliott dropped Lucas’ hands, and the loss was felt by both of them instantly. Lucas stammered over his words, feeling sobs bubble in his chest again. “I- I don’t expect you to wait for me. You have so much love to give, and I don’t want you wasting it on me. You’re free to find a new forever, if you want.”

“I could never,” Eliott said, shaking his head. His voice was thick, but he looked more certain than ever. “You’re my forever, Lucas, I can wait as long as you need me to. I want to.”

It went against every bit of his better judgement, but he couldn’t help himself, he pulled Eliott into him and their lips met in a searing, sorrowful kiss. It tasted like tears on both ends but neither of them cared much. Lucas knew he was making the right decision, but it hurt so badly and he just wanted to ease the pain, if only for a moment. He could tell Eliott felt the same, so when Eliott lifted Lucas’ shirt, he gave in willingly, undoing Eliott’s jeans and finishing what they’d put on hold. He hoped dearly it wasn’t the last time, that it was just a goodbye for now, but if it was the end, at least they went out with a bang. 

2 YEARS LATER

Paris looked as beautiful as it always did, but Lucas was seeing it with new eyes. The last six months had been a lot, mentally and emotionally, but as he looked out at the city he knew so well, he knew that it had all been worth it. Sure, presently he was only seeing it through a few windows, but after a few more papers, a few more signatures, and he’d be back to the hustle and bustle of everyday life, and he finally felt ready to tackle it. 

He’d been more of a mess than usual after Eliott’s impromptu visit from Australia, even though their decision to pause things between them had been Lucas’ idea. Fortunately for him, Manon had enough and forced him to make changes for real. He started going back to therapy, but it wasn’t enough, and he made the painful decision to put his career on hold to get his life back on track and checked himself into a facility in Paris that specialized in eating disorder recovery. Paris had been the only option for him, really, because no matter how much he loved London, his heart was in the city he’d called home for eighteen years. 

It had been hell at first, and he’d regretted every choice he’d made since Eliott’s visit, maybe even before then, but as the days turned into weeks and then into months, he knew that he’d made the right decision. He kept up with his ballet, giving himself private lessons in his room during free time because fucked up or not, he was still planning on dancing as long as humanly possible. He’d kept in touch with all of his friends, but particularly Manon, Yann, and Arthur, and that had really pulled him through a lot of hard times. He hadn’t spoken to Eliott since he’d left Lucas’ flat in London for the last time, and though he ached to, a part of him was fearful that Eliott had forgotten him, left him like people in his life always tended to do.

He wasn’t allowed his own phone while in treatment, so he couldn’t even check Eliott’s social media to see what he was up to in Australia, if he was doing ok or not, so he tried his best not to think about it. Of course, Eliott had been one of the many things he’d talked about in therapy sessions, but all of it had only made him realize that Eliott truly was who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

It hadn’t ever been a doubt, not really, but Lucas felt comfortable enough in where he was and who he was that he knew he wouldn’t place all his value into solely his relationship or ballet ever again. He was a pretty great person, it turned out, it had just taken him nineteen years to realize it. 

He was handed his phone back, and he turned it on for the first time in months, bombarded by a barrage of notifications. He deleted most of them, knowing they’d been sent before the senders had known where he was and that he didn’t have use of his phone. Thankfully, he had no messages from his father. He hadn’t been expecting it, he hadn’t heard from him since before his last year at school, when he’d caused him to have a breakdown in front of Manon, leading to Lucas’ summer in the colloc, but there was still that fear that one day he might try to reenter Lucas’ life and make it hell. 

There were messages from Eliott, a lot of them, as well as some missed calls and voicemails, but Lucas couldn’t bring himself to look at any of them. He knew that he should have told Eliott where he was going, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to. He knew Eliott would support him in something drastic as this, but he also hadn’t wanted that pity, that worry that had prompted all this in the first place. 

“Lucas?” the receptionist said, and he realized she’d been trying to get his attention. 

He blinked and smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, um, yes?”

“You’re free to go,” she said with a warm smile that he couldn’t help but return. He hadn’t felt this kind of happiness since the show, his final year of school, and this happiness had nothing to do with anyone other than himself, which made it better than anything he’d ever experienced. He was sure there would be more moments throughout his life to top this one, and that this one might pale in comparison to other memories over time, but this feeling, this moment, was all his own.

It was all his own, but in realizing that he realized that it didn’t have to be all his own, that he wanted to share it, because he knew that it wouldn’t diminish the joy he felt on his own. He wanted to share it with Eliott, but he couldn’t because Eliott was in Australia, and Eliott probably thought Lucas didn’t love him anymore. 

Well, he’d share it with Imane, then. Since she was still in Paris, he’d called her the week before to see if he could stay with her until he found his footing wherever he was off to next, and she’d readily agreed, only hesitation being that she was living with Idriss currently, and Idriss still spoke to Eliott frequently. It wouldn’t be a problem, he’d assured her, because he did plan on reaching out to Eliott again, hopefully pressing play and picking up where they left off. That was, if he wasn’t too much of a coward to do so. 

He pushed open the doors and breathed in the fresh, winter air. It was nearly Christmas, and there was a very thin layer of snow dusting the pavement, something that didn’t happen very often, and Lucas felt like it was there just for him. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back to the sky, smiling despite everything that he still needed to do to get himself fully back on track. In this one minute, he didn’t have a care in the world. 

He opened his eyes, gazing up at the sky for a minute and all the stars dotting it, seeing his breath in the air as he exhaled before he dropped his eyes back to what was in front of him and stepping back into the real world. 

Just as he took the first step, his eyes caught on someone at the end of the sidewalk, leaning against a streetlight like they were exactly where they were meant to be. It couldn’t be— he had no way of knowing where Lucas was and when he was getting out… Lucas took a few hesitant steps, breath catching in his throat as he took in the sight of Eliott Demaury, grinning ear to ear like his Christmas wishes had just come true in front of his eyes. 

Seeing Eliott there, smiling like he was, Lucas couldn’t stop his own smile from overtaking his face, walking quicker and quicker to the man of his dreams. “Eliott, how did you— what are you—”

He didn’t have a chance to finish, because Eliott met him in a few long strides, cupping his face with both hands and kissing him so hard he saw stars. He kissed Eliott back, wondering briefly if he was dreaming. 

“Lucas, I love you so much,” was the first thing Eliott said when they broke apart, foreheads resting together like they did so often. They swayed there together for a minute, neither one of them speaking, dancing to the music of their souls finding their way back to one another. 

“I love you too, Eliott, I love you too.” Lucas was crying, but these were tears of pure joy, pure love, and they both could see it. “You look great,” he said, because Eliott did, there wasn’t a day that he didn’t.

“You look better,” Eliott countered, and Lucas laughed, a loud joyous sound. 

“I am,” he agreed, “Better, that is. I’m sorry for everything, for not telling you where I was going, for not calling, for suggesting we pause in the first place—”

“Hey,” Eliott cut him off, running his thumbs up and down Lucas’ cheekbones. “You have nothing to apologize for. Look at me, look how happy I am. It’s all because of you, because I get to see you, hold you, love you, and wait for you, even if I wasn’t entirely sure you wanted me to.” 

He was happy, Lucas could see it, there wasn’t a hint of worry in his face, even though there was plenty of reason for there to be. It made Lucas feel a little lighter, smile a little brighter. Fuck him, even his thoughts were coming out in stupid rhymes now. 

“Thank you for waiting,” Lucas said genuinely, because if he couldn’t apologize he could at least show his gratitude. 

“It was my pleasure,” Eliott said, “Now come on, let’s go home.”

He stuck a hand out for Lucas to take, and Lucas obliged with a beaming smile. “Home?” he asked, but Eliott just raised an eyebrow, planting a kiss on his forehead. 

—— 

Home, it seemed, was the house of Harold and Caroline Demaury, a place Lucas hadn’t visited since Eliott was diagnosed two years ago. The year before when they’d visited Paris, he and Eliott had stayed with Imane and Idriss, visiting with his parents for dinner but nothing beyond that. He texted Imane about his change of plans and she told him that she already knew, but her flat was open to him anytime in case he had a change of heart. This partially answered some of Lucas’ questions about how Eliott had known where he was and why he was there, but there were still more answers he’d need before the night was up.

Harold and Caroline welcomed him like their own son, and Lucas wondered what Eliott had told them about why Lucas was in Paris, or if he’d told them anything at all. It wasn’t very late, but Lucas was a bit exhausted so he didn’t engage much in conversation. Eliott picked up on this, eyes softening with understanding as he placed his hand on Lucas’ leg. 

“Mom, Dad, is it ok if we call it quits for the night?” he asked, smiling earnestly.

“Oh, of course. You two must be tired. Let me know if you need anything at all,” she said, warmth evident in her voice. Lucas and Eliott stood to leave the room, and she spoke up again. “And Lucas? I’m glad to have you back here, and know that you’re welcome anytime.”

He smiled, feeling Eliott’s hand slip into his. “Thank you, Caroline. It means a lot.”

They walked the short distance to Eliott’s bedroom in silence, hand in hand. Lucas didn’t know what he should be feeling at the moment, but he mostly just felt happy. Maybe that was wrong, maybe he should have waited before jumping back into the life he’d put on pause, but it felt right being there with Eliott and his parents.

Lucas tried to speak, but Eliott cut him off by throwing a hoodie his way, raising his eyebrows as he changed out of his own clothes into more comfortable ones. Most of Lucas’ things were still in London, actually, he hoped Manon and Daphné hadn’t gotten rid of them or gotten a roommate to take his place just yet. They’d assured him he needn’t worry about the rent while he was away, but he was a bit worried regardless. 

Eliott was wearing a simple pair of sweatpants and a red t shirt Lucas recognized as one of his, but he didn’t say anything because he wasn’t even sure if that fact had registered with Eliott. They both crawled into bed, Lucas in Eliott’s hoodie and his underwear, but they had no intention of sleeping just yet. They needed to talk, and most of their best talks happened in hushed whispers, faces nearly pressed together sharing the same pillow. 

“How did you know where I was? And when I was leaving?” Lucas asked before Eliott had a chance to say anything. 

“I still talk to people from school too, you know,” Eliott said, then, “Imane told me, she thought I’d want to know, please don’t be mad at her.”

Lucas shook his head. “I’m not mad at her.” He didn’t say anything else, trying to figure out what to say. That question had been answered, but did he even have any more? Should he apologize for leaving Eliott in the dark for so long? 

“Was this presumptuous of me?” Eliott asked, voice strained. 

Lucas furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”

“Was it presumptuous of me to be there, to think you wanted me to be there?” Eliott’s voice was small, like he was scared of the answer. 

Lucas looked at him a little more closely mapping out the face of the only person he’d ever loved, at least in such an eternal way. Before he could answer, Eliott continued, “I just wanted you to know that of all the people that have left in your life, I’ll never be one of them. I know that ‘for better or for worse’ is a marriage vow, but I’m in it with you one hundred percent, for better or for worse. Even if the worse requires a little time apart to figure things out, know that I’ll always be rooting for you, and that I’ll wait for you no matter how long we’re apart.”

Lucas placed his hand on the side of Eliott’s face, and Eliott melted into the touch, closing his eyes instinctively. “It wasn’t presumptuous of you.”

Eliott’s hand rested on top of his on Eliott’s cheek and all Lucas felt was warmth. “I thought about it a lot, what I would do and say when I saw you again, because I’ve fucked up so many times by now that I figured I’d owe you a million apologies if you even wanted to see me at all. But then, when I saw you there, I realized that all I wanted was you and that I wasn’t going to stand in my own way anymore. I know who I am without you now, and I’m comfortable with that person, but I don’t think that it’s a bad thing to love myself a little bit more when I’m with you, because it only shows how much love I’m capable of giving. I’m in a better place than I’ve ever been, and I can’t thank you enough for allowing me the time to figure out a lot of the shit that’s been circulating in my head longer than I can remember. I’ve had time to heal on my own, but I’m ready for the beginning of the rest of my life, a life with you by my side. If you still want to be there, that is.”

Eliott opened his eyes. “Of course I do. Of course I want to be there. I love you exponentially, remember?”

“I love you exponentially,” Lucas repeated in a whisper, allowing himself a smile at the memories of laying exactly like this but under entirely different circumstances. He looked at their hands, then into Eliott’s eyes. “I do too, I love you exponentially. Even when I was figuring things out, that stayed the same, me loving you more and more every day.”

“Can I kiss you?” Eliott asked, and Lucas nodded.

“Yes.” 

A soft, gentle press of the lips was all it was, nothing like the whirlwind kiss they’d swept each other up in earlier, but it was the perfect kiss in the perfect moment. Maybe the universe was on their side, after all, if it had all led to where they were in that specific instance. 

“What are you going to do about ballet?” Eliott asked, and Lucas was glad he hadn’t avoided the topic. It was Lucas’ second love, after all. 

“I can’t go back to the Royal Ballet, even though I really did enjoy it there,” Lucas confessed with a sigh. Truthfully, he didn’t want to. He felt he’d worn out his time in London, but was grateful for it nonetheless.

Eliott trailed one hand up and down his spine idly, an action that Lucas found to be quite comforting. “There’s a new director at the Paris Opera Ballet, you know.”

Lucas didn’t know. “What?”

Eliott nodded. “There have been a lot of changes, actually, according to Imane. Most of them for the better.”

“Oh?” Lucas really didn’t want to get any of his hopes up, but he wanted to return home more than anything. It was a bit ironic, that he loved this city so much considering all he’d been through in it, but it also contained most of his happiest memories and greatest moments of healing.

“I think I’m going to audition,” Eliott said, “That’s part of why I came back here, other than for you.”

Lucas blinked at him. “Really? What about Australia?”

“Australia’s fine. But it’s not Paris, and you’re not there.” 

“Don’t make your decisions around me—”

Eliott huffed out a small laugh. “All due respect, Lucas, but don’t even start with me. It’s been a year and a half since we left, and all I’ve thought about is how much I want to come home, yes, to you, but also to Paris, my friends, my family. I had Sofiane but it wasn’t enough. This is where I’m meant to be, I know it now.”

“I think this is where I’m meant to be too,” Lucas admitted, “I think I’ve always known, in my heart.”

Eliott swallowed, and Lucas watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “I was also thinking… I don’t really want to live with my parents if I come back here.”

“Understandable,” Lucas agreed with a small laugh, and Eliott’s traced the lines it left on his face. 

“I was wondering if you’d want to get a flat with me, if you’re sure you’d like to be here in Paris?” Eliott asked, and Lucas’ smile faltered. 

“Are you serious?” 

Eliott nodded, then backtracked, “Unless you think it’s too soon, or you need more time, or—”

“Hey,” Lucas cut Eliott off, lacing his fingers through his hair. He pulled Eliott’s face closer to his, kissing him gently. “I’d love to get a flat with you.”

Eliott’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Really,” Lucas promised with a smile. “We make quite the roommate duo, if I remember correctly.”

Eliott laughed, a sound that Lucas wanted to capture in a jar and keep with him forever. “That we do.”

Somewhere in the distance, church bells rang, and winter wind whistled by, and Lucas and Eliott found home in one another again, not for the first time, but for the last, because this time would lead to forever. 

3 YEARS LATER

It was so strange, being in the same place he’d grown up, performing the same pieces he’d practiced a million times, but in a completely different way. Eliott had waited until his two year contract with the Australian Ballet was up, auditioning for the Paris Opera Ballet with Lucas in the meantime, and now the both of them were exactly where they were meant to be. Imane was still at the company, but she was the only one of their good friends still there. Emma had quit ballet while Lucas was in treatment, something he hadn’t found out about until he’d auditioned, but she seemed happy, so that was all that mattered. Lucas was still trying to convince Yann and Arthur to come back from Berlin and Amsterdam, respectively, but Yann loved Berlin and Arthur had his Lucas, so his pleas fell on deaf ears. 

Sofiane stayed in Australia for another year, but Imane had told them that she suspected he’d be coming back to Paris soon as well. Lucas suspected it had something to do with her, but she refused to entertain any of his questions on the subject.

Eliott and Lucas’ flat was tiny, there was barely enough room for the both of them, but Lucas loved it with all his heart. Eliott had gotten him a piano for his twentieth birthday, and Lucas had gotten Eliott a record player, complete with a set of dubstep tracks on vinyl that Eliott loved for god knew what reason. He’d regretted that purchase a little bit, but the look on Eliott’s face when he’d given them to him sat in his memories and made his bleeding eardrums worth it. 

Lucas and Eliott had also attended a few cooking classes in their free time, partially as a way to normalize healthy eating habits, and partially because if Lucas had to eat one more blueberry-bacon muffin he was going to throw Eliott’s dubstep records out the window. It was easier with Eliott, of course, but Lucas still worked on himself often, even going back to Angelique for weekly therapy sessions. She’d been pleasantly surprised to hear that he was back in town, and he’d been pleasantly surprised that she was willing to work with him again. 

Eliott was still going to therapy too, but Lucas sensed something a little different about his behavior recently, and he wondered if there was anything he should have been doing to make sure everything was going ok for him mentally. 

It was four in the morning and the two of them had to be up early for rehearsals in the morning, but when Lucas blinked his eyes open blearily and saw that Eliott wasn’t in bed beside him, he realized Eliott must never have gone to bed. 

He got out of bed, trying to adjust his eyes to the dim light as he made his way into the living room to see why Eliott was still up. The brightness hit his eyes harder than he’d expected and he braced himself against the wall, squinting. 

“Eliott?” His voice was groggy with sleep but Eliott looked up at him from where he was seated in the middle of the floor, surrounded by papers. Some were drawings, some looked like sheet music, and some looked like notes written by an unsteady hand. It gave Lucas flashbacks to three years ago. 

“Eliott, come to bed,” he tried, knowing it was useless when he saw the light in Eliott’s eyes. 

“Sleep?” Eliott laughed, “Come on, Lucas, I’m on a roll!”

Lucas nodded in agreement, knowing that the best he could do was offer quiet support until the euphoria gave way to the darkness lurking beneath. “I can see that. Do you want to tell me about it?”

Eliott’s eyes lit up again, and Lucas sat down beside him, hanging onto his every word. Well, at least until tiredness overtook him again. He wasn’t even aware of falling asleep, and felt kind of bad about it, but when he woke up a few hours later, Eliott was holding him from behind, likely having carried him to bed. He could tell Eliott wasn’t asleep by the pattern of his breathing, but at least his body was resting. 

Lucas didn’t mention their middle of the night conversation but he did remind Eliott to take his medication, taking his own at the same time. Eliott peppered him with kisses all throughout the morning, something Lucas would never complain about, and when they went to practice, Lucas was just grateful that he would be able to help Eliott through whatever this was, if it was a manic episode, a hypomanic one, a mixed one, whichever. Eliott hadn’t had a manic episode since the one that had led to his diagnosis, so this was still new territory for both of them, but Lucas knew they could both handle it, for better or for worse. 

——

The depression hit a few days later, so fast that Lucas hadn’t been expecting it, even if he was. It wasn’t the deepest hole Eliott had ever fallen into, but it wasn’t the shallowest, so Lucas did everything he could to help ease even the smallest fraction of pain Eliott was going through. 

A few days into the depressive episode, Lucas made Eliott breakfast in bed, even though he wasn’t sure if Eliott would eat it, because he knew that it was always something that Eliott did to cheer him up and make him feel special. They didn’t have rehearsals for a few days because the new director was out of town, so there were no obligations for either one of them.

Even after being away for two years, they still had quite the reputation at the Paris Opera Ballet, mostly amongst the dancers. Their friends, old and new, knew what was going on and offered support in any way they could, but there were still whispers around the company of them being lazy or crazy or undeserving of what they had. Lucas knew how to handle it, he’d been dealing with similar shit practically his whole life, but it hit Eliott harder than Lucas had expected it to. Eliott had always been the star, even when the director was being an asshole, everyone had been on his side, because the director was so clearly in the wrong. But now, facing a group mostly made up of people they didn’t know very well, every negative or ignorant comment hit Eliott with twice the impact, and Lucas could only do his best to try to pick up the pieces. 

It didn’t help anything that Lucille, Eliott’s ex-girlfriend was a soloist in the company and everyone fawned over her like she was the next Svetlana Zakharova. Eliott had told him plenty about Lucille, and all of it left a bad taste in his mouth. Clearly, Lucille wasn’t very fond of Lucas either, but he wasn’t in the mood to try to change her mind. She probably felt that she was still owed Eliott’s love, even after years apart, simply because she felt entitled to the best of everything.

Lucas was about to be on his way into the bedroom with his tray of breakfast for Eliott when two arms wrapped around his middle, head resting on his shoulder. He set the tray down and turned around, smiling softly as he looked Eliott in the eyes. They weren’t as bright as they usually were, but the dull haze that had coated them for the past few days wasn’t there anymore, and Lucas was happy to see the colors he loved a bit more vibrantly. Eliott’s eyes were still his favorite color, that would probably never change. 

“I was just about to bring you breakfast,” Lucas said, nodding his head to the tray. He watched Eliott look down at it, surprise evident on his face.

“You made me breakfast in bed?” he asked softly.

Lucas nodded, wrapping his arms around Eliott’s neck. “Of course. It always makes me feel better when I’m down, so…” he trailed off, seeing an unreadable emotion in Eliott’s expression. “Was it stupid, to do that?”

Eliott’s brows furrowed instantly, head snapping back to meet Lucas’ gaze. “What? No, of course not. It’s just… I’ve been so awful to you these past few days, you don’t need to do anything like this for me.”

“Eliott,” Lucas sighed, “You have not been awful to me at all. Need I remind you that I was intentionally awful to you for like five years back in school?”

“That was different—”

“It was and it wasn’t. You’re allowed bad days, Eliott, and I’m not going to try to fix them for you, because I know that’s not what you want or need. Maybe you’ll yell at me or ignore me, but I’ll always be there to make you breakfast in bed or cuddle with you at night, ok?”

Eliott ran his hands up and down Lucas’ back. “Ok.”

“Good,” Lucas beamed, wiggling out of Eliott’s grip. “Now go back to the bedroom, I have a surprise for you that may or may not be breakfast in bed.”

Eliott smiled, the first one Lucas had seen in days, lifting his hand up to salute Lucas. “Aye, aye captain.”

In hindsight, breakfast in bed probably would have worked much better if Lucas had remembered to grab silverware, but Eliott had tucked Lucas close once he entered the room and set the tray on the bed and hadn’t let him go. It didn’t matter, though, not really, because Eliott was smiling, and Lucas was eating, and they were going to be ok.

No, they were going to be more than ok, they were going to be great. Greatness wasn’t measured by the number of good days versus the bad, it wasn’t measured by anything, really, it was just a simple fact. They were going to be great again, no matter what the present had in store. At least, that was what Angelique had been trying to help him understand. She was also helping him to understand that the days that weren’t great were vital to his existence, because when everything was good, nothing was. 

It was all a bit confusing at times, if Lucas was honest with himself, so he focused on the simple things when it all got to be too much. The sun beams twisting their way through Eliott’s hair in the morning, curtains parted just so. The curtains themselves, a bright, golden yellow, Lucas had picked out because they reminded him of Eliott. The way Eliott buttered Lucas’ toast for him, knowing exactly how he liked it, and the way he did it without thinking twice. Falling in love more and more every single minute wasn’t scary, not anymore, because it was Eliott, and scary wasn’t even a word in Lucas’ vocabulary around him. 

“Thank you,” Eliott said, leaning his head on Lucas’ shoulder. “For the breakfast, and for everything.”

“You’re welcome,” Lucas said, because they both knew Eliott didn’t need to thank him, but Lucas was starting to allow people to thank him for things when they wanted to. “Thank you for being you.”

Because, flaws and all, Lucas was still the person Eliott loved more than anything, and Eliott was still the person Lucas loved more than anything. Maybe it was partially because of their brief stint as rivals, one sided as it might have been. Not caring how the other person saw you broke down every wall before they even got close enough to fall in love. They’d learned to love every ugly part of each other because those parts hadn’t really ever been hidden, because they hadn’t cared to hide them. 

Lucas kissed Eliott’s forehead, loving when Eliott made himself small and tucked himself into Lucas like he could shield him from the world. He probably couldn’t, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try.     

5 YEARS LATER

Eliott was leading Lucas by the hand, blindfolded, and Lucas couldn’t have been happier. They’d been on a date to celebrate their five year anniversary, going out to dinner at a fancy restaurant because they were technically adults now, that was what adults did, but Eliott had blindfolded Lucas immediately after and told Lucas to trust him, as if there was any other option. 

They were both wearing suits, partly because they were celebrating an anniversary, and partly because they both had suits they never wore and didn’t want them or the money they’d spent to go to waste. Lucas had tried to keep his cool all night, but he’d been dying to take Eliott’s clothes off since the minute he’d seen him all dressed up. He didn’t honestly look that different than he did at seventeen, but he looked more Eliott, and in a suit he rendered Lucas completely incapable of coherent thought.

“Eliiii,” he whined, Eliott’s hands still on his shoulders, guiding him. 

Eliott’s laugh was music to his ears, despite the fact he was still blindfolded and had no idea where they were going. “I always forget how whiny you are,” Eliott teased.

“I am not whiny!” Lucas gasped indignantly, dissolving into giggles when he heard Eliott laugh again behind him. After a few more minutes of walking, they came to a stop, so Lucas raised his hands to remove his blindfold, but Eliott swatted them away before he could do so. 

“Dude!” Lucas laughed, and Eliott groaned. 

“This is not the time for you to call me dude,” Eliott complained, and Lucas scoffed.

“I’ll call you dude whenever I want to, dude.”

He heard Eliott sigh, and he smiled triumphantly until he felt Eliott’s hands push him gently. “What the—”

He ripped off the blindfold as he stumbled backwards, landing in something wet. Once he cleared the water from his eyes he saw Eliott standing on the street in front of him, shit eating grin on his face. Lucas surveyed his surroundings, fully intending to be mad, but then he realized where they were. 

“The fucking fountain,” he said, no mirth in his voice at all. 

Eliott nodded. “The fucking fountain.”

“I can’t believe you’ve waited five years to push me into a fucking fountain,” Lucas said, shaking his head. 

Eliott raised his eyebrows. “Not just any fountain!”

“Not just any fountain,” Lucas agreed, “Although, if memory serves, you should be in here with me.”

He vaguely wondered if the water was ruining his only good suit, but decided he didn’t really care. Maybe it was time to get a new one anyway. He held out a hand, and Eliott laughed. “You really think I’m going to fall for that?”

“I don’t think you have a choice, Demaury,” Lucas said, wiggling his fingers, and something shifted in Eliott’s expression. He grasped Lucas’ hand and Lucas pulled him into the fountain, Eliott sputtering indignantly even though he’d known it was coming. 

Eliott stumbled into the fountain clumsily, falling on his ass, and Lucas burst into hysterics. It took him a minute to regain control over himself, and when he did Eliott was still sitting in the fountain, looking up at Lucas with a glimmer in his eyes. 

“I’m not helping you up,” Lucas said, raising one eyebrow and crossing his arms. The corner of his mouth twitched, threatening to collapse him into another bout of laughter, but he remained steady as Eliott shifted from sitting to kneeling, one foot braced on the ground. Lucas sighed overdramatically, holding out a hand. “Ok, fine, I’ll help you up. But only because I love you.”

Eliott’s fingers ghosted over his briefly, not long enough for Lucas to grip them to pull him up, before they disappeared inside his suit jacket, like he was looking for something. He smiled as he found whatever it was, and Lucas became acutely aware of how they were positioned. 

Eliott, on one knee before him, Lucas reaching out a hand, both of them in the fountain that had started it all. 

His heart stopped beating. If he was wrong… but if he was right… 

“Lucas, I’ve loved you since we were children, even if I didn’t know it back then,” Eliott said, and Lucas’ heart started beating again, threatening to burst out of his chest. It was loud inside the fountain, but Lucas almost didn’t hear it, the only thing on his mind the man in front of him. The man, the boy, the love of his life. 

Eliott continued, “You’re the only one I want to see first thing in the morning, even on the bad days, and you’re the only person I can’t picture my life without. I know we’re still young and we’ve got our whole lives ahead of us, but I made you a promise five years ago, and I still mean every word. I promised that no matter where we were, you were it for me. You’re the one I love. We’ve been through more ups and downs than most people probably have to go through in their whole lives, but I wouldn’t trade a single second of it, not if it led us here. You have the most beautiful soul I’ve ever seen, and some days I still pinch myself to make sure that this is all real, that you actually chose me. But you did, and I chose you, continue to choose you, and that’s never going to change. And sure, marriage is kind of an arbitrary institution that our generation is moving past as a whole, and our love and commitment to one another speaks loud enough on its own, but Lucas Lallemant, will you marry me?”

Lucas froze with tears in his eyes, watching as the water from the fountain pelted down on Eliott’s head, soaking him more and more with each passing second. He didn’t notice the small crowd of people that had started to surround them in the fountain, whispering and videotaping them. 

A million years passed in a single second when their eyes met, each of them staring into the depths of their favorite color. The world restarted, and Lucas smiled, letting tears mingle with the water on his face. 

“Yes.”

The grin that broke out on Eliott’s face was unlike anything Lucas had ever seen, so blinding he feared he shouldn’t look right at it. In the blink of an eye, he was on his feet, surging forward and capturing Lucas in a time bending kiss that made him feel like he was floating amongst the stars, happiest version of himself in any universe. 

They broke apart laughing as the people that had become voyeurs to one of their greatest moments of personal joy applauded and cheered. Eliott slipped a simple ring onto Lucas finger, and Lucas made a note to himself to get one for Eliott as well. 

“We should probably get out of the fountain now,” Lucas suggested, and Eliott shrugged. 

“Probably,” he agreed. 

The people that had gathered congratulated them as they clumsily hopped out of the stupid fountain that would probably be the site of their wedding if they weren’t careful. They were only twenty-two, but five years together felt like a lifetime, and Lucas had honestly been thinking a lot about marriage and what that might bring for them. They already acted like they were married anyway, why should they wait on making it official?

Lucas couldn’t stop looking at the simple band on his finger, surprised at how well it fit. He was soaked from head to toe, and the season was teetering on winter, but he wasn’t cold, not with all the warmth that had filled in his chest.

Eliott clasped his hand, smiling down at him like he’d done five years ago, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Lucas didn’t know if Eliott even remembered that was exactly what he’d done after their first kiss, but Lucas remembered, he’d always remember every second of that night, even the fight that had preceded it all, such a trivial thing that had led to something so monumental. 

Everyone surrounding them had more or less dispersed, realizing Lucas and Eliott were done putting on a show, so they walked back to their flat peacefully, content with each other’s presence.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about something,” Eliott said as they walked, thumb rubbing Lucas’ ring. 

Lucas laughed minutely, wondering what else there was to be thinking about. The only other major thing they’d done recently was renew their contracts with the Paris Opera Ballet, if that could even be considered major. “Thinking about what?” he asked. 

Eliott swallowed, looking up at the moon. “Well, I—”

He broke off as Lucas’ phone started to ring. Lucas swore under his breath, he’d been certain he’d put his phone on silent. He glanced up apologetically at Eliott, who simply shook his head to indicate that there were no worries. Grabbing his phone from his pocket, he released Eliott’s hand when he saw the caller ID. Why was the director calling him? He hoped he hadn’t done anything wrong that he’d forgotten about.

The new director was great, though, so he wouldn’t have been worried about her calls if it hadn’t been the first time she’d ever called him. She liked to stay involved professionally, not personally, and most of the time he really appreciated that. Of course, there were some personal things he and Eliott had to share with her, but she never looked at either of them any different knowing what she knew.

“Hello?” he answered, not meaning to phrase it as a question but still completely in the dark as to the reason for the call. When she started to speak, it wasn’t that Lucas wasn’t listening, he heard every word she said, but his head filled with a buzz, blocking out everything in the outside world. He was registering the words he was hearing, but he wasn’t sure he was responding, at least not coherently. It couldn’t be true, this couldn’t be happening.

His mind left his body, only coming back down when Eliott placed a hand on his cheek. He didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, phone frozen in front of him, wide eyed blank expression on his face. 

“Lucas?” Eliott asked, concern written all over his face. “Is everything all right?”

Was everything all right? Was what the director had just said real? 

“I…” he began, trying to find the words he was looking for. “She…”

“She?” Eliott prompted, still looking nervous. 

“I’m a principal dancer in the company,” Lucas said, or maybe didn’t say. He wasn’t sure. 

Judging by the way Eliott’s eyes got so wide they nearly took up his entire face, he had, in fact, spoken aloud. “You what?”

“The director,” Lucas said dazedly, “She called to tell me they’re making me a principal dancer in the company.”

If Lucas had thought Eliott’s smile before was blinding, that had nothing on this one. “Are you serious? Lu! What the fuck that’s incredible! At twenty-two years old! And you’ve only been a soloist, what, for a year?”

Lucas nodded, brain still fuzzy and uncomprehending. He and Eliott were both soloists, Eliott had entered the company as one. It didn’t seem possible… maybe they mixed up Eliott’s number with his? All the other principal dancers were older than him, not by much, admittedly, because ballet didn’t have many dancers aged into their late thirties and forties, but still.

“Is tonight real?” Lucas asked, because he’d also just gotten engaged. Somehow that seemed a million times easier to stomach than the other news he’d received.

“It is,” Eliott said softly, toning down his blinding smile as he realized that the pure disbelief that Lucas was feeling was too present for him to feel any form of happiness. 

Lucas blinked up at Eliott, shaking his head. “Why wasn’t it you?”

Eliott furrowed his eyebrows. “Why wasn’t what me?”

“You should be the principal dancer… are you sure they didn’t call you? This is my phone right?” Lucas was spiraling a tiny bit, thank god for Eliott, being steady and grounded when his head started spinning. 

“Lucas, they meant to call you, not me, because you deserve this. You’re the best dancer in the company by a mile.”

“But you’re better, you’ve always been better.”

Eliott shrugged. “Maybe I’m not what they’re looking for. Besides, I wouldn’t want to be a principal dancer anyway.”

Lucas gawked at him. Was the whole world flipped upside down, was this an episode of Stranger Things? “That’s always been your dream.”

“Maybe, like, top three dreams,” Eliott agreed. 

“Eliott what are you talking about?” Lucas asked, feeling his brain enter his body again, bit by bit.

“That was what I was about to talk to you about, actually,” Eliott said sheepishly, “Though I’m not sure if now is the right time anymore.”

“Eliott. Tell me.”

Eliott sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Principal dancer has been my dream, but there are two others that outweigh it, and I already have one, and I think it’s time for me to start reaching for the other one seriously.”

Lucas blinked. “Ok?”

“The dream I have, it’s you,” Eliott said, and Lucas levelled him with a look, causing Eliott to laugh. “I’m serious! I can’t help it if you’re the Rapunzel to my Flynn Ryder—”

“I’m Flynn Ryder and you know it,” Lucas interrupted, earning a short laugh.

“—But my other dream, well, you know this one too, actually, is Polaris. I want to commit to Polaris full time, quit the company in the meantime.”

Now Lucas’ eyes turned into saucers. “You what?”

“I know I should have said something before now, but I wasn’t totally sure until now,” Eliott said quickly, words running together, “I’ll still be here, though, with you. It won’t be like Australia, in fact, I still want you to compose the music, but I understand if you don’t want to or don’t have the time…” 

“Eliott,” Lucas laughed, “I’m not mad, how could I be mad?”

“You… aren’t?” Eliott clarified hopefully.

“No! Just surprised.” He paused, taking both of Eliott’s hands in his. “I’ll support you in whatever you want to do, you know that, right?”

Eliott nodded, gripping his hands tighter. “I do. I just didn’t want you to think it was because you’re a principal dancer now, or anything.”

“The thought never even crossed my mind,” Lucas answered truthfully. They were long past the jealousy and rivalry. If Eliott had made principal dancer, Lucas would have been equally happy for him. 

Principal dancer. Now that he was back on earth, it was sinking in more and more. He wasn’t the first of their friends to be a principal dancer, but did Manon really count? She hadn’t ever even been in the corps, soloist straight out of school. Her and Daphné were still thriving at the Royal Ballet, and Noora and her girlfriend had ended up moving in with them to take Lucas’ place. He was pretty sure they were getting their own place soon, but was glad that they’d kept the gay alive in his absence. He missed Manon a lot, and he couldn’t wait to rub it in her face that she may have been principal dancer before him, but he was engaged before her. 

“I’m a principal dancer in the Paris Opera Ballet,” Lucas said aloud, finally believing it. 

Eliott smiled. “You are.”

“I’m engaged to the man of my dreams,” he said. What a day it had been. 

Eliott pulled him close. He realized they were both still soaking wet, and laughed. “You are,” Eliott said again, bringing them closer still. 

“I love you, Eliott,” Lucas said, observing the stars reflecting in Eliott’s luminescent eyes. “I didn’t say it before, but I should have. Even though you know it, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“And I love you.”

If he wasn’t mistaken, Lucas might have seen a shooting star soaring behind Eliott’s head. He didn’t make a wish though, because he realized he didn’t need to. He had everything that he’d ever wanted. 

And this was only the beginning.            

10 YEARS LATER

Lucas was standing backstage, like he had so many times before, but this was the first time he’d been truly nervous. It was the opening night of Polaris, a ballet Eliott had choreographed and staged, and he had composed music for. Five years ago he never would have expected this to come to fruition so quickly, but there they were. Five years ago, he wouldn’t have expected a lot of things, but life had many surprises. 

It was absolutely insane to think that in such a short time he’d become one of the most sought after dancers in the world, and he still didn’t believe it to be true, but there had been some definite successes since he’d become one of the youngest principal dancers in the company. He had no intention of leaving Paris anytime soon, but he had done a few performances at different places around the world in the meantime, stunned that people would travel any distance to see him dance.

Professionally, he was still Lucas Lallemant, a decision he’d struggled with a bit since marrying Eliott, but he’d decided to stop allowing his father’s influence to control his life and what he did with it, showing the world that Lallemant wasn’t a dirty name, even if they’d never known that it was. Everywhere else, though, he was Lucas Lallemant-Demaury. Ten years ago he’d told Eliott he wanted to be a Demaury, and he hadn’t changed his mind, but it was important for him to take ownership of who he was because at the end of the day, a name was just a name. He wouldn’t let a name scare him anymore.

Eliott had risen to great prominence as a choreographer, staging pieces around the world that brought audiences to tears and filled them with joy. Polaris was his first full ballet, and everyone close to him knew that this was the only one that had ever really mattered, no matter the time and care he put into others. If his other pieces had been so impactful, the world clearly wasn’t ready for Polaris. It was the first ballet in history to star two male leads in a romantic story, which was groundbreaking enough as it was, especially to be put on for the first time in such a company of prestige.

They were more successful than either of them had ever expected to be, especially at the young age of twenty-seven, and for the most part they still didn’t know what to do with that success. They’d both been very outspoken about mental health and LGBTQ+ rights, which seemed like a good place to start, and they’d gotten a dog, a little Pomeranian named Ouba, who they loved only second to each other. They’d discussed kids, but Lucas knew that he had no intentions of leaving the stage anytime soon, and Eliott hadn’t too many dreams and plans he wanted to pursue to consider raising a child. They reserved the right to change their minds in the future, but in the present moment they were happy with it just being the two of them and Ouba taking on the world one minute at a time.

The world rejoiced when Eliott had announced he was coming back to the stage to perform opposite Lucas in the lead roles, though Lucas had known that was his plan from the beginning. Working so closely with Eliott was something he’d missed, and Eliott had missed too. He’d composed all the music with a little help from people in the industry trained for this sort of thing, including Eliott’s friend from Australia, Niccolo, and practicing to the music he’d heard in his head for ten years was a visceral experience. He couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to perform on stage in a little under an hour. Then again and again for as long as the show would run. 

All of their old friends from school were in the audience for the performance, which filled Lucas’ heart with joy. Well, they were supposed to be in the audience, but Eliott had invited them all backstage for a little pre-show reunion, despite the fact that the cast should have been focused. 

Imane and Sofiane were in the show as well, as they were both dancing with the Paris Opera Ballet, and they both had prominent roles because Eliott would accept nothing less for them. Plus, they were still two of the best dancer Lucas knew, and they deserved every bit accolade they had or would receive in their lives. They’d gotten married a year after Lucas and Eliott had, and Lucas knew that they’d been discussing some of the things Eliott and Lucas discussed recently. Imane loved ballet, and Sofiane loved Imane, so Lucas didn’t expect any Alaoui kids in the near future, but he did think there would be some eventually, and expected to be referred to as Uncle Lucas when they did come into the world.

Yann wasn’t dancing anymore, which had come as a bit of a shock to Lucas when Yann had visited and told them he was going to ‘retire’ from the dance world two or so years back. He’d met a girl in Berlin, Emmeline, but they’d moved back to Paris fairly recently and things seemed to be going quite well with them. He tried not to tease Yann too much about the fact that he’d dated an Emma, and now an Emmeline. Lucas knew that Yann was planning to propose to her any day now, but if he knew anything about Emmeline, it was that she’d probably get around to popping the question before Yann could even get down on one knee. He liked her a lot. 

Arthur wasn’t dancing anymore either, at least not in a company. He’d taken his abuser to court while dancing in Amsterdam and the settlement payout had been much more money than Arthur had ever been expecting, so he’d put it towards starting his own ballet school in Amsterdam. Lucas had been a bit sad to hear he wouldn’t be coming back to Paris, that his life was elsewhere now, but he and VDH were still together, and he seemed happier than he ever had been, so Lucas was happy as a result. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t still tease Arthur for having a crush on him ten years ago, especially not when Arthur asked him to come teach master classes for his students. Definitely not. 

Basile was living large, doing whatever it was that Basile did best. Last Lucas had spoken to him he’d been applying to schools to go back and get his doctorate in French, because he wanted to be a professor. Lucas had been surprised at first, but then he’d realized that he’d never actually known what it was that Basile wanted to do with his life, so he accepted it with no more than a shrug. He wasn’t dating anyone presently, but Yann and Lucas had secretly been planning to set him up with a girl named Leia, who’d danced with them at school and they’d recently gotten back in touch with because she was friends with Emmeline.

Alexia had become quite the fixture in their lives, surprisingly, because she’d helped Eliott a lot with blocking and planning Polaris. She may have quit ballet a long time ago, but Lucas could tell she was still very passionate about dance, and he thought she might have a future in choreography if she wanted it. She was also their designated dogsitter, which had somehow led to her reconnecting with Chloé, who Yann had briefly dated— and Lucas had too, but that didn’t really count— and apparently now they were planning on moving in together. Oh, how small the world was.

Emma, surprising all of them, had married Alex briefly, then got divorced, then married him again. Lucas was pretty sure it would last this time, knew that it only hadn’t lasted the first time because both of them wanted to experience a little bit more of the world before settling down, soon realizing that their hearts kept finding their way back to each other and would keep doing so. They had a kid together, a little spitfire named Amelie, and she and Lucas got along a little bit too well for their own good. Emma and Lucas had always had a friendship teetering on chaos, so it was inevitable that the same would be said for her daughter. 

Manon and Daphné, of course, were still together. Lucas still held it over their head that he and Eliott got married three months before they did, but everyone knew that it was in good humor. In fact, they were expecting their first child together, something Lucas definitely hadn’t seen coming. He’d also assumed they would adopt, but Daphné had wanted to have a biological child and Manon had agreed. They’d had an anonymous donor, and Lucas had feigned offense that they hadn’t wanted his dna. Manon was terrified of having children, at least physically, but apparently Daphné had really wanted to be the one to carry their baby, so it had all worked out for them. Lucas didn’t know whether or not she planned on returning to ballet after the baby was born, but he supposed Daphné and Manon would figure that out amongst themselves. Manon was probably more famous in the ballet world than he or Eliott could even dream of, which was unsurprising to everyone but Manon.

They were all there, looking the same and yet so completely different than they had ten years ago. It was terrifying to think ten years had passed, because in some respects Lucas had no idea where the time had gone, but in some ways it also felt like three whole lifetimes had been lived in the last ten years. He was still doing well, had only had a minor relapse of his eating disorder during his first year as a principal dancer, but Eliott had been there through it all and he’d made his way out of it stronger than ever. Eliott had a few episodes, having to change his medication after the most recent one, but he’d been good for a long while too, and the depression hadn’t hit as hard in both of his most recent episodes. He attributed it to Lucas, though Lucas would never agree, knowing that it was just brain chemicals doing whatever the hell they wanted to at any given time, but it made him happy to make Eliott happy in whatever way he could. 

Manon looked regal and sharp, every bit the prima ballerina she’d shaped up to be, red lipstick perfectly applied like it always had been as she ran over to Lucas to hug him. Daphné was right behind her, albeit a bit slower given her current condition, but she looked just as beautiful as Manon but in a softer way. 

“When are you due?” Eliott asked her excitedly as the two of them hugged, and Daphné beamed, lacing her hand with Manon’s. 

“Eight weeks,” she said, catching Manon’s eye. The way the two of them looked at each other… if Lucas didn’t have Eliott to look at like that, he probably would have pretended to barf all over the both of them. 

Arthur and VDH approached next, who Lucas refused to refer to as anything other than VDH, which Arthur rolled his eyes at every time but VDH himself had said he didn’t mind at all. Isa and some of her friends had joined, standing a bit on the outskirts of the group because Isa was the only one who knew Lucas well. He recognized Liv and her girlfriend Engel, because Arthur had lived with Liv and Isa had talked about the two of them all the time, so he assumed the other three girls must have been Janna, who danced in Sweden, Imaan, who wasn’t a dancer, and Esra, who was a well known name in the dance community for being the first hijabi muslim principal dancer in the American Ballet Theatre. Lucas was a bit intimidated to be in her presence, actually, because he’d followed her career and admired her so much, but she seemed very down to earth from what he’d heard through Isa. 

“You’re going to kill it,” Arthur said pulling him into a hug. He was wearing the same glasses he’d worn back during school, but they still suited him. “And if you don’t, I’ll let you join my tiny tots ballet class, see if you can learn something from them.”

“Ha ha,” Lucas deadpanned, smirking despite himself. “Tiny tots, huh?”

Arthur widened his eyes in a don’t ask sort of way. “Past me was an ambitious man,” he lamented. 

VDH nudged his shoulder. “Shut up, the kids love you. And you love them, no matter what you say on the contrary.”

“I just picture them all as baby Yoda,” Arthur admitted, earning him another nudge. 

“Dude, the baby Yoda meme died, like, ten years ago,” Lucas laughed. 

Arthur scoffed in offense, putting a hand up to his chest. “Baby Yoda is eternal.”

Yann entered their conversation at that moment, raising his eyebrows when he noticed all of them bursting into uncontrollable laughter. “Three Musketeers back and better than ever, huh?”

“It’s been way too fucking long, man,” Arthur said once he caught his breath, wiping his eyes for errant tears. Lucas nodded in agreement, just as Baz joined the circle. 

“I sure hope you didn’t forget about me,” he pouted, and the three of them pulled him into a bearhug, Eliott engaged in conversation with Idriss, Imane, and Sofiane, and VDH moving back to talk with his friends. 

“As if we ever could,” Lucas said to Basile, ruffling his curly hair. 

“I sure hope not! Just because I don’t have a hot boyfriend, doesn’t mean I’m not still a part of the group, right?” Basile scoffed indignantly. 

Yann cocked his head to the side. “Pretty sure I don’t have a hot boyfriend, Baz.”

“But you totally could, if you wanted to,” he said, as if that explained everything, and the three of them burst into even more laughter. Lucas had to get control over himself, otherwise he’d have to redo his makeup, a task he really did not want to complete for a second time that night. 

A hand tapped his leg and Lucas looked down with a grin to see three year old Amelie Delano, looking mischievous as ever. “Uncle Arthur said to call you Uncle Lulu,” she said breathlessly, in that way all three year olds did. 

Lucas glared at Arthur, who became suddenly interested in the set on stage. Lucas bent down to be eye level with Amelie. “You can call me whatever you want,” he said, because if he was being honest it was adorable to hear a toddler call him Uncle Lulu. 

Emma appeared at Amelie’s side, sighing deeply. “There you are, I should have known you’d be with Uncle Lucas.”

“Lulu,” Amelie said indignantly, and Emma raised one eyebrow in Lucas’ direction, holding back a laugh. 

“Lulu,” Lucas agreed with defeat, giving her tiny hand a high five. 

“Break a leg out there,” Emma said as he straightened up, giving him a high five of her own. 

“Yours, maybe,” he said with a half a smirk, wondering if she remembered one of their old inside jokes. At first she looked confused, but he saw the exact moment she remembered, laughing in a nostalgic sort of way. 

She pointed at him. “Still the same, I see.”

“Why mess with perfection?” he joked, knowing full well that he would never have been standing where he was if he’d actually stayed the same person he was back then.

A hand wrapped around his waist and he turned to see Eliott, softness in his eyes that was reserved only for Lucas and Ouba. “We should get ready,” Eliott said, and the nerves kicked in again. 

“We should,” Lucas agreed, and he saw Eliott read the anxiety in his eyes. The two of them moved a little bit out of the way of everyone, finding their own bubble of peace amidst the chaos like they always did. 

Eliott put his hands on either side of Lucas’ face. “Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not,” Lucas lied, and Eliott saw right through him again. 

“This show, it’s everything to me,” Eliott began, and Lucas frowned. 

“How is that supposed to make me less nervous?” 

Eliott laughed, shaking his head. “Let me finish, Lu. It’s everything to me, because of you. Because I had a dream, and you helped me turn it into a reality, and now I’m living out a dream I never knew I had, the dream of us dancing side by side in a story I’ve held close to my heart for almost twelve years. I don’t care what it looks like to the audience, maybe I should, but I really don't. All I care about is you and I giving the performance I know we’re capable of, because it’s fueled by all the love we share. I’m not afraid, because you’re the best dancer I’ve ever known, and because of all the shit life’s thrown our way, we’ve made it out stronger each time. We can handle anything on our own, but when we’re together all the struggles and pain turn to pure magic, consuming every atom of my being.”

“In another universe you’re a poet, I think. Or maybe a songwriter,” Lucas said dumbly, struck by the power and intention in Eliott’s voice, the love and care in his words. 

Eliott smiled and leaned in close, brushing their noses together, like he was waiting. Lucas closed the gap, kissing Eliott deeply. He pulled away, Eliott chasing his lips, and placed his hands on Eliott’s face, each of them holding the world in their hands. 

“I’m not afraid,” he said again, and this time it wasn’t a lie.

“Not afraid?”

“Not afraid.”

“Well then, let’s go give the audience the show of a lifetime,” Eliott said, dropping his hands from Lucas’ face and holding one out to him. Lucas accepted it following him back into the hustle and bustle of being backstage the opening night of a ballet. It was Lucas’ favorite place to be, other than wrapped in Eliott’s arms. They took their places in the wings, breaths in synch and hearts on fire.

Eliott had been so many of Lucas’ firsts. First friend, first enemy, first love, first heartbreak, first (and only, if he had anything to say about it) husband, first person Lucas had shown himself to completely, every crack and bruise and flaw most people would flinch away from. Eliott never flinched, which was what made him the last of everything too. 

He would be Lucas’ last love, his last husband, his last kiss. There were so many firsts left in his life, and even more lasts, but Eliott would be a part of all of them. And he would be a part of all of Eliott’s. 

Lucas looked out at the stage, a mix of melancholy and longing filling his body. There would be a last dance too, of course there would, but that was another thing Lucas wasn’t scared of anymore. He wasn’t scared, because he knew that Eliott would be right there for all of the firsts and all of the lasts, even his last dance.

He looked at Eliott, finding his hand and squeezing it once.

Especially his last dance. 

The curtain went up and the music began to swell, and Lucas stepped onto the stage, leaving Eliott’s hand behind him. 

Even after years of training, the Paris Opera Ballet was still everything Lucas dreamed it would be. And, he realized, gazing out at the audience, each person waiting for him to blow them away, it was all his. It always had been.

He smiled, and began to dance.

[talix18]

November 2

I just want a word processing program. I'm not trying to be difficult. A word processing program that will estimate for me how many words I've written. Which requires a computer Operating System to run said program, preferably with an Internet connection in case there are updates to said program. The computer on which I'm typing this is an unknown number of years old. I know I got it when my ex lived with me, and he's been dead for several years.

That's a hazard of loving people in recovery, especially from drug addiction as opposed to alcoholism. The drugs out there are not those of your elders and they are nowhere near as forgiving of overdoses. My ex became my ex when he relapsed. A couple of years later he got some fentanyl with his heroin and it killed him. Drugs are bad, mmkay?

Anyway, the computer. I am...working with an OS that's 10 years old and have 6 gigs of RAM. (That's before I stuck my 2 gig thumb drive in to use as extended memory.) I'm clearly fighting hard for something to write about here. I'd rather get this done early in the day so I don't have to dread it, but writing about myself is almost as tedious as being myself.

Today is a good day, so far. I made it out the door to yoga and got my eyebrows done on the way home. Eyebrow waxing is my only consistent beauty practice. I'd like to keep up with my hair and not just put it up wet every day but let's face it – I'm stingy with my time and money and can't commit to something eight weeks from now. My hair is going gray and makes me look my actual age, which I alternately don't care about and am horrified by. Now I have extra guilt doing home color – my adopted niece graduated from Paul Mitchell hair school and would happily accept my money for getting to practice on my head, but she's located just far enough away to be inconvenient.

Plus getting out of bed is hard enough. I'll gladly take 15 extra minutes to check the Internet that will still be there when I get to work over putting on make-up and drying my hair. Is this about depression, laziness, or feminist resistance to society's expectations? I'd like to have fun with my appearance and my wardrobe but dammit – do I have to start so bless-ed early in the morning?

(This whole “early in the morning thing” is BS, by the way. I learned how quickly I can get myself showered, dressed, and out the door at my most depressed and now resist any attempt to plan further in advance.) Yes, I want to look nice in pictures but I don't want to do the work necessary to achieve that.

This is a theme in my life – there's a lot of things I want to do and be without taking any of the steps that might lead me in the correct direction. Sometimes it's a question of not knowing what those steps might be. Recovery has blessed me with the crazy notion of finding someone who has (or knows how to do) something you want (to know how to do) and ask them how they did it. I'm not sure if this is as mind-blowing to everyone as it was to me. It may be one of those things that falls into the category of “it feels like I missed some fundamental How To Be A Person class that everyone else took.”

This is a common feeling among recovering people. None of us feels like we fit in; everyone else knows something we don't; we are missing some fundamental quality that would have made life fall neatly into place. (Which brings me to the topic of the people who just needed to put the drugs down and be pointed in a productive direction vs. people who are still disasters clean. Guess which group I fall into.) Which reminds me! Last night the Internet gave me the link to an article in Oprah's magazine that describes the midlife-crisis currently hitting the women of Generation X. So this here writing project? Completely unnecessary. But I've set this challenge for myself and I love no motivation like shame and guilt. So I'll keep writing and see what I end up with.

Where was I? Oh – the things I want without wanting to do the work to get them. I've always wanted to play guitar but only enough to take a handful of lessons. My last attempt was valiant – I bought myself a beautiful guitar and showed up pretty consistently for group lessons at a friend's house. After a few months, there was pain in my strumming arm almost constantly. Especially painful were things like gripping the scoop I use to clean litter boxes, which is a thing I try to do every day. I went through physical therapy twice before the pain went away, and it's still not completely gone. My intention is to go to the adorable guitar shop where I bought my guitar (where they also give lessons) and ask someone (who knows how to do something I want to know how to do) if there is a way I should be doing it differently. That has been my intention for many months now.

What is it? What is the problem? 1. Think of a thing to do. 2. DO THE THING. That's it, right? There's not some 1.5 secret step I'm missing? There must be. Unless this is that executive function thing they talk about? There are the things I know I want to do (currently: clearing out yet more of my wardrobe so I can get rid of my TWO broken dressers [why do I have two broken dressers?] and acquire a new piece of storage for my clothing; taking my books off the bookshelves so they can be moved and I can get new flooring and also get rid of some books)(besides the regular stuff like exercise and eat foods that make me look and feel good and learn how to program and garden and oh maybe clean my damn house) and there is the crushing lack of motivation and energy.

(I'm thinking this whole NaNoWriMo thing coincided with an increase in the dosage of one of my meds which has given me a temporary “up” sensation? Like I sat through my laptop trying to repair itself so I could write rather than wandering off and doing something [or nothing] else. Honestly, me getting a thing done sooner rather than later is not a thing. I still haven't emptied the litter boxes from yesterday.)

(It occurs to me at this point to wonder if my expectations aren't set unrealistically high. Hi, my name is Teri and I was in Gifted & Talented classes and was told I had Such Potential, and have done no impressive or soul-fulfilling thing with my life. Welcome to my expectations. Not to mention this existential dread that I didn't even have words for until college when I took philosophy and learned that existentialism is a thing. This is my ONE opportunity to be alive and ultimately the only rules are those I choose to follow and This is what I've done with it? This is my life?)

(Which brings me to capitalism, specifically late-stage capitalism. I was born to the grandchildren of farmers and immigrants without the financial means to pick and choose which hobbies would distract me from my inescapable death. I watched my mother survive two divorces and [unbeknownst to myself] decided that I would be able to take care of myself. I wouldn't depend on anyone else for lodging or food or miscellaneous entertainments; I would do it myself. [This has a lot to do with why I am Single. Unmarried. Don't get too close – you may offer to take care of me and I might weaken and let you and then my guard will be down and then life will have me where it wants me.]

Late-stage capitalism. In which I, a consumer, trade my time and energy for money, which I then trade for comfort, convenience, and distraction from the awareness of my inescapable death. Knowing that, sooner or later, NONE OF THIS WILL MATTER bumps up against my desire to look younger and be attractive and matter in some absolute sense. I have a “safe” government job [thanks, Dad] with good insurance which is a Big Deal when you have a chronic condition like mental illness. I have a small home, a car that's paid for and still runs, and two cats for whom I am responsible. That there are no children is partly on purpose; partly because I never wanted to be a single mom, and partly because I didn't meet their other parent while I was young and foolish enough to consider parenting.)

Where was I? Expectations. In recovery, expectations are set-ups for resentments. Hmm. I may have to think about that. If nothing matters, expectations are silly. There are no shoulds. There Is No Way To Derive An Ought From An Is. (My favoritest of all the things I learned in philosophy.) Except that my best idea, recreational drug use, got me in legal trouble, put everyone else at risk, and (now that they know about it) makes my loved ones worry about my health and well-being. So it benefits all of us that I remain clean. And it increases the likelihood that I'll stay clean if I treat my mental illness, which requires (in this ever more dystopian hellscape) money and/or insurance. Which requires a job. Which is easier to maintain if I have a safe place to sleep and food and clothing. All of which requires effort to maintain. We haven't even mentioned recycling and volunteering and staying informed about the current state of the ever more dystopian hellscape. There are a lot of plates to keep spinning, despite the fact that eventually they are all going to shatter and it won't ultimately matter to anyone who will endure. (Existentialism is heavy.)

But haha! Daily word count achieved! Now I can get my active minutes in (exercise boosts both physical and mental health) and figure out how much time I have before I need to be where I'm supposed to be next. Because social activities and meetings make living more meaningful. Lather, rinse, repeat.

[amanharwara]

Eminem - Music To Be Murdered By (Album Review)

“Music To Be Murdered By” is the latest release from the legendary rapper, Eminem. This is his eleventh studio album. Eminem released the album on 17th January without any prior announcement, similar to his previous album Kamikaze.

As you might know, Eminem is one of the biggest-selling artists of the previous decades. Very few artists manage to touch his sales numbers. Even the two of his worst albums managed to put up numbers that for most rappers would be their highest. Needless to say, he is one of the biggest artists in the world with a huge global audience. A lot of his audience is very passionate, which is one of the reasons all of his albums seem to do so well.

The project is a double-album, including two labeled introductions and one labeled outro. For those of you who don’t know what a double-album is, it is composed of two different albums. This one, in particular, is split into two portions containing 10 songs each. The album features 12 artists across eight songs, including artists like Ed Sheeran, the late Juice WRLD, Royce, Black Thought and Q-Tip. The album title and cover have been inspired by one of the most influential and prominent directors and filmmakers of all time, Alfred Hitchcock and his album, “Music To Be Murdered By”. Multiple songs on the album reference him.

His previous two releases have been inadequate trash. Revival and Kamikaze are two of Eminem’s worst albums ever released. Although, don’t take my word for it. You might want to give them each a listen yourself to understand why I say that. My gripes with Revival were the bad production, absolutely cringe lyrics and some of the worst flows. Kamikaze continued that trend of bad lyricism mixed with bad flows, and also attacked new-age rap like a grumpy old man. Two consistently terrible records from someone whose music I enjoyed and adored for a long time is the reason I went into this album with very low expectations. And let me tell you, the album barely manages to exceed even those low expectations.

The album starts with the intro, titled “Premonition.” Em continues the attack on “mumble rap” that he started on Kamikaze. He also talks about his career on the track, from his years of being one of the undisputed rap legends to being bombarded by criticism for his previous few records. The track features a generic trap beat, instances of which can be found on quite a few other songs on the album. However, the one on this track is at least a bit bearable. The track contains its fair share of corny lyrics. At a point, he is boasting about being “as fly as your zipper.” I think the track sets us up perfectly for what the whole album is going to be.

Next up is the “Unaccommodating,” featuring Young M.A. The track contains one of the better trap beats on the record. Also, M.A.’s feature is one of the saving graces on the album. This is because she can flow well on the beat, unlike the certain another rapper on the track. Although, I’ve got to give credit where it’s due. Em is pretty good at this “fast rapping” game that white kids from the suburbs love. If rap was all about talking fast, then Em would be the GOAT, of course. But that’s not the case. One thing I found funny about this track is the line where Em says that his pupils have gotten cornier. Yeah Em, that’s because they’re learning from one of the corniest teachers ever, you. He comes up with some of the wackest lines, I swear. “Where’s Osama been? I been laden lately” This is a line from the chorus of the track. The track contains even more corny lines, peep:

“Cause I met your bitch on the internet now I’m getting head like a Pillow Pet”

“That’s why they call me Kamikaze, it’s plain suicide, yeah”

Em’s old friend and frequent collaborator, Royce da 5'9", joins him on the track “You Gon’ Learn” along with White Gold. White Gold comes in with the chorus, which sounds rather boring to me. Royce comes in with an amazing flow that fits well on the beat. Although, he did make me cringe hard at the colonoscopy line. Overall, his verse is very enjoyable to listen to. Em comes in with his verse containing some very corny lyrics. He has mastered the art of corniness at this point. At least, his flow is a bit better on the track. I couldn’t even be bothered to put up some of the corny lyrics here. I’d recommend you give the track a listen and find out yourself.

Ed Sheeran collaborates once more with Em on the track “Those Kinda Nights.” This is one of the most trash tracks I’ve heard on the album, with some horrendous lyrics. Also, the flow on this one is annoying and irritating. The chorus by Ed is bland and nothing special. I can’t put into words how much I dislike this track.

“In Too Deep” describes details of a toxic relationship that Em and his partner were involved in. I do like the slow and kinda punchy beat on this one. However, I can’t say the same about Em’s rapping. I mean, it’s not as terrible as the rapping on some other tracks, but it’s not any good either. On the chorus, he goes back to his Recovery style of singing which doesn’t sound too good. This is an average track, better than some of the worst tracks but nothing too good.

“Godzilla” starts with Em’s annoying staccato flow which then evolves into an amalgamation of the annoying staccato and the annoying fast rap. The beat on this is good, though, pretty fun to listen to. But that is the only good thing about the track. I was hoping when Juice WRLD (R.I.P) comes in, that it would be at least a bit more enjoyable to listen to. However, even that expectation of mine was deceived. I didn’t enjoy the track other than the beat.

The track “Darkness” interpolates “The Sound of Silence” by Simon & Garfunkel. I’ve gotta be honest with you, the track has grown on me at least a little bit since I first heard it. While the beat is a little bit generic, I do like it. It is slow and kinda melodic, sets the tone for the lyrical content. Speaking of which, the song is written from the perspective of the murderer responsible for the largest mass shooting in US history. It also brings to notice the gun control problem in the US. This is one of the tracks that I think is good and you should give this one a listen.

“Leaving Heaven” sees Em reflecting on his success and what turned him into the person that he is today. He raps about extreme resilience after having been put under very terrible circumstances by life. The beat sounds reminiscent of something that would be on MMLP2. When the Skylar Grey-sung chorus hit for the first time, it did interest me a tiny bit. But that interest waned off by the second time the chorus hit. Also, Em seems to fall back into his annoying staccato rhythm on the verses on the track. Another below-average song, which while not terrible, leaves a lot of room for improvement.

Next might be the only song on the album that I’ve enjoyed thoroughly. And that song is “Yah Yah,” with its amazing use of sampling. It samples Busta Rhymes’ “Woo Hah!! Got You All In Check,” which is a song that I enjoy a lot myself. Denaun went crazy with the beat on this one. The features list on this track is pretty amazing as well, featuring Royce, Q-Tip who you might know from “A Tribe Called Quest” and his solo work, and Black Thought who you might know because of his amazing rap prowess and his work with his group “The Roots.” While I would’ve loved a verse by Q-Tip, he is only featured on the chorus along with Royce. Royce’s verse is pretty good, followed by another good verse from Black Thought. It’s good that Em’s verse is at the end, which makes it easier to skip.

On the twelveth track of the album, “Stepdad” Em attacks his deadbeat dad for leaving him and his mother when he was still a toddler. I hate the chorus on this one. Em’s flow on this sounds similar to some of his older works like Relapse and The Eminem Show. While the flow can start sounding a little annoying at times, it isn’t as bad as the chorus. And the lyrics are pretty good and not much corny when compared to other songs on the album.

The latter half of the album falls flat on its face and is even annoying at points. Marsh is one hell of an annoying song. I can’t even sum up my hatred for it. I’m sorry but I don’t have anything to say about this garbage. Never Love Again sounds like something out of Revival. Little Engine has an interesting and fun beat to it, but the chorus is annoying and Em’s lyrics aren’t any good. Lock It Up’s Anderson Paak feature is alright, nowhere near what my expectations thought it would be. Farewell is another piece of garbage with extremely cringe lyrics and annoying delivery. No Regrets contains a feature from Don Toliver which I couldn’t really care about. It sounds like a very generic trap song. The final song I Will is a reunion of most of the members of Slaughterhouse. This is a bearable track with an alright chorus from Em and an alright beat.

Overall, the album is another disappointment in the Eminem catalog. However, it’s not as much of a colossal letdown that his previous two albums were. It is a huge improvement when compared to Revival and Kamikaze. One of the good things about the album is that Eminem finally collaborated some new artists from the “mumble rap” scene instead of acting like a grumpy old man waving his cane at the kids. While some of the songs sound like generic trap songs, there a few good songs here and there. Some songs are absolute garbage and some are tolerable. It’s a below-average album from someone who I still think is capable of bringing better music than this.

Rating: 4 / 10