#this old guy tried to pass me on a SINGLE LANE with cars passing on the other side and got pissy when I wouldn’t I pull over for him

[thefabulousfab-3]

I have never really understood road rage until today.

[thelittleredheadedmusician]

I don't want to linger any longer

DCU Gen Rating: G Words: 7,523  AO3

In upstate New York there's a very lush, very expensive summer camp that caters to the children of the rich and famous. Bruce and Oliver happen to be those children. And they're less than thrilled to be at this camp.

Alfred was leery of the summer camp. Bruce went to public school partially because of Martha's pointed remarks regarding democracy and public education, partly because of her pointed remarks regarding Thomas's own time at boarding schools and prep schools surrounded by equally rich and entitled boys. Alfred never said anything at the time, it wasn't his place, and would never say anything now but, he whole heartedly believed both. Especially after his own childhood in private schools, even if the times and the British and American systems were very different. Regardless, Bruce was remaining in public school with all the trials it entailed. Including the socializing problem.

He'd always been a quiet, almost shy child but after Martha and Thomas died he retreated far beyond. Even friends from before like Miss Zatara took coaxing and occasionally trickery to get him to interact with. At thirteen and with the beginnings of acne and voice cracks the behavior was partially to be expected. The newfound interest in The Clash was too. Still, Alfred felt strongly that the boy should have the opportunity to at least try and make some friends. So when he overheard some of the women mentioning the summer camp during one of the Wayne Foundation luncheons Bruce insisted they attend "for appearances" (and Alfred was a little worried about the thought process behind that as well but well, one thing at a time) he had to break his normal rule and butt in.

"Pardon me, but what summer camp might this be?" He tried to be as nonobtrusive as possible, it still raised some eyebrows from the women with their pearls and perfect red lipsticks. Their clothes were so immaculate that while he knew they all had nannies, looking at them you never would've even known they had children. Alfred no longer owned a single shirt that wasn't stained somewhere by something, he just hid them well.

The blonde in the most putrid shade of chartreuse he's ever seen recovered first. "Oh! Camp Open Woods. It's in upper state New York, very exclusive but so worth it." Mimi flicked her wrist and half rolled her eyes as though to indicate sending the children she never saw there was the best parenting tip she'd ever taken. Mitzie shifted her hair before continuing, "They've got hiking and horses and like there's a lake." The other women all hum and coo their agreement at how pretty it is, Muffy silenced them with a brow, she was the one who started the story after all. "The kiddos just love it there. Go for a month a time. Would be there year round if they could!" They all nod enthusiastically in agreement.

"Sounds lovely." Which isn't strictly incorrect, but Alfred sincerely doubts these women would actually know whether their children enjoyed the camp or not. "I'll have to look into it, thank you," Alfred excuses himself. He will look into it.

The camp itself does seem the definition of picturesque, with acres of land and woods as well as the lake. The cabins looked to be clean and well maintained. The extensive list of activities alone made Alfred want to go. He reached out to the nannies he'd made friends with over the years, trying to gauge how any of the kids who attended regularly really felt. And the reviews were glowing.

Alfred made an executive decision, the fresh air would be good for Bruce, and called to secure a place for June. Just one month, to test it. Bruce might not be pleased at not having been consulted but Alfred was sure the end results would be well worth it. And if not, it's not like the boy could fire him in revenge. Legal guardianship made that rather tricky.

~

Oliver heard someone stop in the hall outside his room. From where he sat on the floor organizing the old jazz records his mother had given him he couldn't see who it was, the bed was in the way and he didn't really want to move everything just to get up. That seemed like a lot of work. Whoever it was could just come in. Or talk. Whatever. He wasn't moving.

"Are you in here, Oliver?" he finally heard his mother ask, apparently having grown impatient.

"Yes."

"I signed you up for camp. You leave for New York in the morning. It comes very highly recommended, I'm sure you'll enjoy it. Chef is making your favorite chicken parmesan as a treat for dinner at six. I will see you then." The sound of her heels were nearly silent as she made her way back down the hall with its plush carpeting.

Taking a minute to process this, Oliver stared at the short shelves in front of him momentarily. Well there went his record organizing, now he was going to have to try and pack.

~

Bruce narrowed his eyes as Alfred slowed to turn the car onto a narrow lane that was barely a break in the trees. A large, wooden arch above it was carved to proclaim it as the entrance to "Camp Open Woods." Somehow, Bruce managed to narrow his eyes even more. Though he suspected it made him look like he was squinting. Especially by the way Alfred pressed his lips into a tight line, an obvious tell that he was trying not to smile.

The lane curved gently through the trees until they opened up to show a field, teenagers and college students in soft blue polo shirts and khaki shorts were scattered throughout it, directing cars in where to park and kids and parents in where to go next. A girl with brightly colored beads on the ends of her tight braids waved at Bruce through the window as they passed. Tentatively, he waved back at the counselor.

Once they were parked, the sleek black sedan settling a little into the grass as they both got out, Bruce immediately slung his backpack on and beat Alfred to the trunk to pull out his bulky footlocker. "Master Bruce," Alfred chided gently, reaching in to help lift the heavy thing, "I do wish you'd let me do that."

"It's fine, Alfred," Bruce protested. Even if the help was appreciated. "Isn't the whole point of this to teach me to be self-sufficient?" Bruce tried to level his steeliest gaze on the man. The unimpressed look he got in return told Bruce he might need to work on that.

Alfred sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in the process -- and really Bruce didn't think his actions warranted that level of dramatics -- before leveling a flat look at Bruce. "No, Master Bruce. The point of this endeavor is that you enjoy yourself with peers of your own age. Possibly make friends. Build lifelong bonds. Get a nasty sunburn on the first day and minor bear scare on the last."

Bruce frowned and lifted one end of the battered footlocker Alfred had dislodged from the attic the week before. Possibly, it had been Alfred's and come from some hidden corner of the man's room as Bruce had never seen it before even in all his exploring of the manor's nooks and crannies. "Exiting pursued by a bear is not a worthy goal, Alfred," he said dryly.

Lifting the other end of the footlocker the duo began to make their way towards the counselors with carts lined up at the front of the field. "Maybe not for yourself, but personally an exciting and Shakespearean end would be the greatest achievement of my mundane existence."

He snorted, and Alfred wondered where his own penchant for melodrama came from.

"Hiya folks!" The young man next to a cart already loaded with duffels and trunks waved brightly as they approached. "Welcome to camp! Where are you staying?"

Bruce glanced to Alfred and Alfred returned the look, both challenging the other to speak first. If Bruce admitted that he had read and memorized the pre-camp welcome packet then Alfred would see it as a win. If Alfred's patience crumbled before Bruce's then it would vastly undermine the veneer of authority Alfred had managed to paint over their strange relationship. The poor guy standing by the cart was starting to look uncomfortable.

Finally, Bruce broke. He was going to be here for a month, it's not like he'd have to see Alfred be smug during that time. "Pine Ridge," he said flatly.

The counselor visibly sagged in relief. "Ok, great! You're going to toss your gear on that cart up there where Gambit's standing then follow the road to the Health Center to turn in your paperwork and get your head and foot check."

Wrinkling his nose, Bruce nodded. He wasn't really a fan of being touched, even for medical examinations, and was a little glad he got a heads up. He'd briefly forgotten about the fact the packet had said there would be a lice and athlete's foot examination. Not that Bruce had either, which is probably why he'd let it slip his mind. They reached the next cart and a young woman with large sunglasses leant against it. Bruce squinted at the lanyard she had around her neck with an odd badge on the end as a nametag, all the counselors had variations of brightly colored and often glitter coated badges on lanyards. Each as unique as the names on them. Hers had popsicle sticks layered to make a large X and playing cards glued on top so that their back's made a place to write. "Gambit" had been scrawled in looping white paint. With red glitter. Bruce really hoped they weren't going to force him to make a glitter nametag.

"Are you living in Pine Ridge?" She asked, pushing off the cart to stand and raising her clipboard.

"Yes," Bruce said simply.

Gambit nodded. "You can toss your stuff on. What's your name?"

"Bruce. Bruce Wayne."

"Ok, double-o-seven," she smirked, checking off something on her clipboard. "I'm Gambit, head girls counselor for Pine Ridge. But just cause I'm not the one doing bed checks on you doesn't mean I'm not still in charge," she teased. Bruce was fairly certain he heard Alfred snicker. "Anyway, you'll be seeing a lot of me over the next month even though we don't share a latrine. You a first time camper?"

"Yes."

"Well then, welcome Bruce, Bruce Wayne!"

Alfred definitely snickered at that.

"Um, thanks."

She grinned and stuck her pen back behind her ear. "I'll watch your stuff until the grounds guys come and hook the cart up to the ATV to take it up to the cabins. Lucky us, we're on the hill. Nice site, one of my personal favorites actually, but you'll be getting your steps in while you're here. Whole summer or no?"

"Um, just the month." Bruce was starting to get a little overwhelmed in the face of her relentless positivity.

"Rad. Well, I hope you enjoy it! You're gonna want to follow the gravel road trail and head to the health center. I'll see you at dinner."

Bruce nodded and began to walk on, Alfred a step behind him. Once they were out of earshot, Bruce hung back slightly so that they walked next to each other and turned to Alfred. "Do you think everyone's going to be like that?"

"Well Master Bruce, I don't think that children's summer camp counselor is a position that attracts introverts," Alfred replied dryly.

Bruce glared.

"Which isn't to say, however, that every person here would be so enthusiastic."

"Hmm." Bruce didn't say anything else and they made their way to the two-story farmhouse that had a sign hanging from the porch proclaiming it the "Health Center" in silence.

A large group of people were spread out in the grass in front of the porch around a series of low, backless wooden benches. Bruce slowed as they approached, lingering on the gravel. Alfred gripped his shoulder once before gently pushing Bruce forward to step into the grass. Alfred was still a head taller than him, but Bruce was catching up and he couldn't wait for the day he could glare at the man without craning his neck. Alfred looked the picture of cool indifference and collected innocence.

"Excuse me," Alfred called, striding forward and fully expecting Bruce to follow. Which he did, but in silent protest. "Is there a queue?"

"Not really," the teenaged boy Alfred had asked shrugged. "Just give your paperwork to nurse Doc, then pick a spot on a bench and we play monkey."

"Monkey?" Bruce tried to raise an incredulous eyebrow. It was a work in progress.

The older boy's face split into a wide grin. "Yeah! You know," and here he began to howl and jump, scratching at his head in imitation of a monkey.

"Ohmystars, Apollo you're ridiculous!" Another teenager said, her silver painted crescent moon nametag read "Artemis" and the two did look like they could be siblings if not twins. "Theater kids." She rolled her eyes derisively.

Apollo stopped abruptly. "Arty, you're a theater kid."

"Tech kid. There's a difference," she snapped with practiced ease.

"She is correct," Alfred added sagely. Bruce's forehead met his palm as he hung his head.

"Thank you!" Artemis preened. "C'mon, I'll take ya in to Doc." She gestured at them to follow as she turned and headed onto the porch. Having no real other option, Bruce glanced at Alfred before following. Artemis had waited for them, holding open the screen door before shouldering open the second door and leading them into a large room with worn wooden floors and a table with a trio of adults sitting behind it. Some other children and parents stood in front of them and spoke with the adults at the table. Artemis winked and wiggled her fingers in a wave before turning to head back outside. But she stopped short and came to stand next to them again. "Actually, they don't need me out there right now and I'd much rather soak up the AC with you."

Bruce nodded. It was cold in here, especially compared to the muggy afternoon it was shaping up to be. And those polo shirts didn't exactly look comfortable. Neither did the crisp button up and khakis Alfred wore, but Bruce could count on one hands the number of times he'd seen Alfred in shorts or a t-shirt. The group in front of them shifted and Artemis lead them to the table. The burly woman on the end glanced up at them and smiled. Unlike the counselors, her nametag was a pin though she, and the other two adults at the table, still wore the light blue polo shirt. And her nametag also had sequins spelling out "Doc."

"Hey there, you have your paperwork?" she said by way of greeting.

Alfred produced a carefully paperclipped stack from somewhere. Bruce honestly had no clue where. Sometimes Alfred liked to do things like that just to puzzle him. Often times. Bruce was certain he did it routinely just for fun and Bruce's annoyance.

Doc took the stack and looked it over before leaning over to file it in a plastic tub and marking this off on a couple different clipboards. "Alright," she said finally, "you're officially checked in, Mr. Wayne. You still need to be checked over before we can let you run wild. But you're checked in. Welcome to Camp." She smiled broadly and held out a hand, Bruce shook it and managed a small smile in return.

Artemis led them back outside and instructed Bruce to sit, take off his shoes and socks, and wait for Apollo cause she didn't "do feet." Alfred chuckled as Bruce sat, his nose wrinkled, and Artemis took gloved hands and a comb through his hair. Apollo eventually reappeared as she declared him lice free and he poked at and spread Bruce's toes before proclaiming him "good to go!"

As Bruce pulled his socks and sneakers back on --  Alfred refused to buy him hiking boots because they wouldn't be broken in in time and apparently if Bruce was going to be miserable it was going to be his own conscious choice and not due to poor footwear decisions -- Alfred chatted with Apollo about a production of Midsummer that the counselor had done in fall. Finally, Bruce was standing up and slipping his backpack on again.

"Well, I'll let you say bye to your dad and then we'll go find your group," Apollo grinned.

"He's not-" Bruce started but the older boy had already walked away and started talking to one of the other counselors. "Hmph."

Alfred raised a single eyebrow -- Bruce wished he'd just teach him how to do that already -- and gave him a sly smile. "Well Master Bruce."

"Alfred."

They both stood there staring at each other. Finally, Bruce caved and stepped forward to wrap his arms around Alfred. "Bye Alfred," he muttered.

Returning the hug, Alfred replied. "I shall be back at the end of the month. I do sincerely hope that you enjoy yourself, Master Bruce. And I expect letters at least once a week. You should have more than enough stamps for that and if not you have credit at the camp store."

Bruce snorted at that before pulling away. "Thanks, Alfred."

Alfred smiled. "Of course, Master Bruce."

Apollo reappeared then and led Bruce to the edge of the trees and a path there. Bruce looked back once to see Alfred still standing by the benches, waving. Bruce waved back before turning to walk into the woods.

~

Oliver tapped his fingers restlessly on the formica topped table. The other kids all seemed to know each other and once the counselor escorting them to the dining hall left they immediately headed off to meet their friends. Not that he minded, Oliver was used to being alone and could function on his own just fine thanks. But all of these kids would be living with him for the next month at the least. They could at the very least come over and ask him who he was. But apparently, Pine Ridge was the largest unit at camp and so his age group was the biggest if they were staying there. And already there were at least twenty other kids who were all preoccupied and not noticing the blonde kid with a bad haircut.

Tugging at his recently shorn hair, Oliver frowned. He'd been trying to grow it out and it was almost to his shoulders when this morning his mother took him to the barber before putting him on the plane and shipping him off. Supposedly, she thought he'd be too hot with all that hair. Oliver just thought it was a convenient excuse. Oliver respected the trick even if he didn't like it. Especially because he didn't like the end result. His ears were still slightly too big and the cut just emphasized that. No girl would want to go out with a guy with satellite dishes attached to his head. Not that any girl seemed to even want to talk to him right now. Not that anyone at all wanted to talk to him. Maybe if he'd stop glaring at the table? But Oliver didn't really want to be here to begin with.

One of the dinning hall doors opened again and Oliver turned to look. The dorky guy who'd walked Oliver over, and only a dork would name themselves Apollo, and a new kid stood next to him. All dark hair and pale skin that Oliver bet was going to be looking like a lobster by the end of the week. He lingered in the doorway as Apollo said something and turned to leave, scanning the space in front of him. One of the other counselors walked over to meet him, he'd said his name was Sherlock and he was the head boys and Oliver secretly respected him for having the guts to name himself after the world's greatest detective. Sherlock was obviously introducing himself to the boy and Oliver was trying to figure out why the kid looked so dang familiar as his gaze landed on Oliver. And stuck.

That's when it hit him. That kid was Bruce Wayne. His parents talked about him all the time. Mostly, wondering what he would do with Wayne Enterprises once he turned eighteen and could take over and what that would mean for Queen Industries' contracts. Oliver had ever only met the kid once. Right after his parents had died and the whole Queen family had flown out to Gotham to "express their condolences" at the Wayne Foundation's Annual Holiday Party. It wasn't until a couple years later that Oliver realized how awkward the whole thing had been. But that was definitely the same kid, older now but his eyes no less haunted. Oliver blinked and turned away. Bruce Wayne was one kid he'd be happy to leave him alone.

Oliver never did have good luck.

"Oliver Queen?" The kid had come up behind him and without asking, walked around to sit on the bench across from him.

"Yeah?" Oliver winced as his voice cracked at the end. Stupid fraggin luck what the frickety heck stupid stupid puberty.

"I remember you." The kid still hadn't taken off his backpack. They were inside and it's not like someone was gonna steal it. Oliver's own sat on the bench next to him and he barely had anything in it anyway.

"Yeah?" This time his voice didn't crack. Small victory.

"I'm Bruce Wayne."

"Yeah."

The kid's brow crumbled in annoyance and he frowned. "Do you ever say anything else."

Oliver gave his cheekiest grin, oh this was too good. There had never been a more perfect set up. "No."

Impossibly, the kid's look got darker.

Oliver sat and smiled back. The seconds stretch out and Oliver just knew they were each waiting for the other to crack. Bruce continued to glare. Oliver continued to smile.

Finally, his cheeks started to hurt and Oliver took the loss. He was kinda starting to feel like an idiot anyway. "So, this your first summer?"

Bruce relaxed his glare but he still frowned. "I'm just here for a month."

"Didn't answer the question, Brucie."

The frown deepened. "Yes."

Oliver nodded. "Mine too," he admitted. Bruce finally seemed to relax.

"I'm... not sure what we're supposed to do," Bruce admitted, though it looked like struggled to.

Oliver let some of his bravado fall. "Yeah, neither do I. I think we're supposed to have fun, whatever that means."

Bruce's mouth twitched in the direction of a smirk. Oliver took it as a small victory.

"Hi!" A high voice warbled behind Oliver and he turned in surprise.

"Zee?" Bruce sounded just as shocked, though he apparently knew the girl that had just yelled in Oliver's ear. She settled heavily on the bench next to him and Oliver turned to look at her. Long black hair pulled up in a ponytail, bright pink shirt and darker pink shorts, light-up sneakers. She looked younger than him too. Which was confirmed when Bruce said "Aren't you too young to be in this unit?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "I turn eleven in July and I'm here for the summer so."

"That didn't answer the question," Bruce pointed out.

"And the unit is twelve to thirteen," Oliver added, finally recovering from his shock at her sudden appearance.

Pushing out her breath in annoyance, the girl flounced to her feet. "So, I may have heard that you were here and in the dinning hall and convinced my buddy to take a detour on the way to the latrine." She wiggled her arm in the direction of another girl shifting awkwardly by the side door. "We have to sit with our groups at dinner tonight but find me at breakfast tomorrow," she said it like an order and then ran off towards her friend and together they left.

"Alfred," Bruce muttered like a curse.

"Her name's Alfred?" Oliver felt like strange names were just a part of camp life but still.

"Her name's Zatanna." Oh, that was even weirder. "Alfred's my butler."

"Right," Oliver nodded like he understood. He absolutely did not. And Bruce did not seem like he would be explaining.

~

The counselors finally rounded them all up and made them stand in a wide circle, saying that they were going to count off and play get to know you games since one game of like forty people could be fun but maybe was a bit ambitious for first thing. Bruce told Oliver to stay where he stood before wiggling away further down the circle so that there was three people between them. Four groups of ten or so made logical sense and even if Bruce didn't know if he liked Oliver, he at least kind of knew Oliver and would prefer being in a group with at least one person he knew. So Oliver would have to be that person.

They both wound up being number three and Bruce leaned forward slightly to look at Oliver and smirk. The other boy just blinked back at him.

By the time dinner and the opening campfire rolled around, Bruce had come to the conclusion that Oliver wasn't his friend, but he was certainly one of the more tolerable of the other campers. As soon as he'd introduced himself as Bruce Wayne he'd been all anyone else could focus on. Even the kids not from Gotham looked at him with wide eyes. It made Bruce sympathize with the lions at the Gotham Zoo a whole lot more than usual. But Oliver acted like he didn't care. Oliver acted like he didn't care about anything. Just joking and smirking. He gained a gaggle of admirers over the course of the afternoon despite how downright obnoxious Bruce thought he was, but he still didn't seem to care that Bruce was Bruce and that's really all that mattered.

Besides, they apparently were in the same cabin. It just made sense that they hung out together. And if Oliver got sick of Bruce or Bruce got sick of Oliver well lots of kids wanted to ask Bruce all sorts of questions and everyone else seemed to love Oliver.

Even still, they sat next to each other at meals when Zatanna and an everchanging roster of her friends would flock to Bruce. Zee sitting herself down next to him and chattering on about what she'd done in the few hours they were apart. Oliver looked bewildered by the interaction every time. Bruce just nodded along at the appropriate points and asked questions as the fancy struck him. Sometimes he'd ask her stupid questions, like if she was sure the horse she rode that morning couldn't fly so that she would laugh and say she hasn't "learned levitation yet, you dingus!" Oliver's face when that would happen always made Bruce grin.

These meals were the bright spots in Bruce's day. He was... not having a good time. They'd had a swim test first thing Monday morning and Bruce had stupidly forgotten to put on sunscreen, so between swimming laps in the lake while the lifeguards made notes and sitting on the beach he'd very quickly burnt to a crisp. And would have to deal with that for the foreseeable future. Then on Thursday during their hike, Oliver had been behind him and tripped, stumbling into Bruce and pushing them both off the trail. Right into a patch of poison oak. So now Bruce had sunburn and poison oak. To say he was in constant pain was putting it mildly.

Bruce wasn't making friends. He wasn't enjoying the great outdoors. He was just slowly suffering in silence. Especially after Oliver left the screen door open one night and mosquitos had gotten in to use Bruce as their very own all you can eat buffet. So now Bruce was sunburnt, covered in mosquito bites, and still had poison oak.

Doc was really the only bright spot in this hellhole. Her air conditioned domain of the Health Center was quite and comforting. With individual exam rooms that meant Bruce could be completely alone for at least a little while. Which Bruce desperately needed. Being around people all the time was exhausting. And Doc herself had a wry, dry sense of humor that Bruce appreciated and a calm demeanor when Bruce sat and complained about the fact it was all Oliver's fault everything itched twice over. She would just snicker and have Bruce put some slightly odd smelling pink cream on his skin. Then she'd tell him that maybe he should write home about it. Bruce would frown and say "I will."

Alfred didn't seem to care though based on the letters back Bruce received. Or possibly the man was making fun of him. Most likely both. The end of the month really could not come soon enough.

~

Frankly, Oliver had no dang clue why Bruce flippin Wayne decided they were friends. Ok, "friends" was a stretch. But still, the kid spent more time with Oliver than anyone else at camp. Maybe he'd hang out with that Zee girl if she weren't in the younger group, and she did come have meals with them and wander over during all camps, but he didn't even really bother to even attempt to talk to anyone else. Oliver at least tried. If only because he was fairly certain he'd singlehandedly end the Wayne family line if he only talked to Bruce. Besides, the other boys in their cabin weren't terrible. Sure they were a little stuck up and that Brad guy had about the same amount of brain cells as Oliver's old hamster, but they weren't awful people. Which couldn't be said about all their fellow campers. Bruce had pushed one boy off the end of the dock the one morning after he said his third sexist remark in an hour. Oliver had gladly covered for him on that one. Another kid kept picking on two of the girls and Oliver might have possibly sort of filled his bag with rocks and as many spiders as he could find when he wasn't looking. He thinks Bruce saw him do it, but he never said anything once the kid got tired of carrying it and opened his backpack then immediately started screaming.

Neither incident had necessarily endeared Bruce to Oliver though. Especially since the kid had somehow managed to tip their canoe while they were in the middle of the lake. So they both floated there buoyed by their life vests spluttering water and trying to right the stupid canoe while screaming at each other and kicking madly. In the cold lake. They never did manage to flip the boat and the counselors had to come with the little motorboat to fish them out of the water. They were still glaring at each other after Sherlock had taken them to get showered and fresh clothes. He let Bruce mess around with his nametag as he ran their wet, smelly stuff into the Health Center and throw it in the washer that was supposedly there. Oliver was still pissed though so he ripped the plastic magnifying glass out of the other boy's hand. Sherlock's name was just a label stuck onto the handle so you could still use it. Which Oliver immediately did in an attempt to burn Bruce's shoelaces.

Which is about when Sherlock came back. "Hey! Oliver! Cut that out! Seriously dude, what're you doing? And Bruce, you were just gonna let him light your shoes on fire?"

Bruce shrugged. "I have other pairs. And I did dump him in the lake."

Oliver handed the nametag back and nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, he's the one who thought he saw a frog and tipped the thing."

"A fish, not a frog."

"Whatever."

"And you gave me poison oak."

Oliver frowned and scratched at some of his own poison oak. "That was not intentional and I have it too."

Sherlock looked between them. "Right. You two are supposed to see Doc soon anyway, wanna go in now?" They both nod and that was the end of that. For then at least. That night Oliver got up to go use the latrine and forgot to close the screen door again. All five boys in the cabin wound up eaten alive and never mind the fact Oliver was just as itchy, Bruce acted as though he'd planned it just to mess with him.

Still didn't excuse the fact that the jerk got them lost and banned from the stables on the following Monday. Oliver liked the stables. He thought the horses were cool and they seemed to like him. He'd tried to schedule as much riding time as they'd let him after the initial group session. Bruce just so happened to have scheduled some on Monday morning too it would seem. And they both were the same ability level. Great. But they were doing a trail ride, going single file through the woods at the edge of camp, didn't leave a whole lot of room for talking and Oliver was more than ok with that. He wound up behind Bruce at the very back of the group and took it at a leisurely pace which Pancake didn't seem to mind. So long as Oliver stayed behind Bruce he just zoned out. Taking in the forest with its sounds and smells, the warm horse that swayed gently as she walked making him sway too. Oliver should've been paying more attention. Because Bruce decided to take his horse on a bit of an adventure. The two were wandering through the woods for an hour before Oliver realized that Bruce had hijacked a horse and gotten them lost. Another two before anyone found them. They'd completely missed lunch. And they were banned from horseback riding.

Not that Bruce cared, he was only here another two weeks.

Oliver had two whole months.

It's not like his father recognized he ever existed half the time, but his mom sending him off to the other side of the country was a bit much. He'd thought they had an understanding. Apparently not. And now he wouldn't even get to ride the horses.

Which Oliver naturally thought was overkill for himself but it was totally punishment for Pancake too. They had bonded. Not that the riding staff seemed to care when he tried to plead his case. Knox looked a little sympathetic at least. And she called after him when he'd turned to walk back over to Brad and maybe go play volleyball or something. "Oliver!" Knox said again and he paused. "I'll talk to Bambi and see about a probationary period or something. Maybe clean some stables or just make it a two week ban since you're here all summer. Kay?"

Oliver grinned. "Thanks." She returned the smile before turning to go back to mucking stalls and cleaning the tack.

~

Archery, Bruce decided, was the worst. It slapped his reddened and itchy skin even with the arm guard on. The smaller bows they had were too easy for him to pull and sent the arrows almost skittering at the target when he released. The bigger ones and the compound bows were too heavy a draw though and Bruce's twiggy thirteen year old arms just didn't have the strength. Oliver didn't seem to like it either. He seemed like the type of guy who had everything handed to him and most of the sports came naturally to him. Archery didn't. It clearly frustrated him that while he managed to hit the target he couldn't hit the center. Or even the yellow rings just outside it. He managed to pepper the blue ones every time. He could at least use the larger recurve bows at least. Which Bruce wouldn't admit to but was supremely jealous of.

"You just gotta practice, you'll get there!" Legolas reassured him. Bruce and Oliver both raised skeptical brows at that. Legolas had gotten his name because he was a crack shot. Hitting the bullseye just about every time. His encouragement wasn't as meaningful as he meant it. Especially when there was a rumor going around that the other counselors had dared him to shoot an arrow off of someone's head while blindfolded. And that he had managed it. "Though not today," he laughed after checking his watch, "we need to clean up for lunch."

The boys and other campers all turned their bows in and Legolas set them in the shed before returning and sending them to collect their arrows. By the time they were all cleaned up a couple other counselors had wandered out of the woods where they must've gone for a hike on their breaks and decided to head with them to lunch. A week and a half of camp had all the kids falling into a buddy line without even being told and Oliver fell in next to Bruce out of habit. Beaker made them do a headcount, checking each camper off on her list, and let Legolas lead them off toward the dining hall. He also started to lead them in some insipid song about a worm getting stuck in a straw. Legolas would shout a line and around Bruce all the other kids would eagerly shout it back. Even Oliver. Bruce would rather actually swallow a worm.

Inside the dining hall was the usual premeal chaos as counselors took their assigned tables and yelled across the room to each other. Kids swarmed around trying to find seats next to friends or at tables with specific counselors. Bruce scanned the space when a small arm covered in bright string bracelets -- and there hadn't been that many at breakfast, Bruce was certain -- shot up and waved towards him enthusiastically. "BRUCE!" Zatanna bellowed. He was fairly certain she'd pushed her magic into it because he could clearly hear it over everything else. That, or Zatanna was just disturbingly loud.

Bruce began walking to the table she was at and the two seats she appeared to be guarding with her life. Oliver followed and Bruce couldn't explain why. Well at least not beyond the fact that it was just what they did anymore.

"Hey kid," Oliver said by way of greeting. Zatanna preened and smiled. She was a ten-year-old queen and this table was her court. Just no one beyond the three of them knew that just yet.

"Hi Ollie. Oh! I want you guys to meet Hartley! He lives in the cabin two over from mine. He really likes music," Zatanna told them breathlessly, pointing at the small redhead next to her. Bruce and Oliver both sat down across from the two as more kids took the spots further down the table. Oliver waved at the boy while Bruce just nodded. "That's Oliver and that's Bruce, he's my best friend," Zatanna told Hartley and pointed at the two older boys.

Bruce frowned at Zatanna and was glad to see the boy looked skeptical when he glanced between Bruce and Zee. "Isn't he a little old to be your best friend?" he asked a little too loudly.

"Yes." Bruce said. "And we're not best friends."

Zee pouted. "Well until Oliver I was your only friend."

"We're not friends," Bruce and Oliver corrected her at the same time.

"Sure," she said with an eyeroll.

The poor boy she'd dragged into this looked so confused. "So, how old are you?" he finally dredged up the courage to ask.

"Thirteen," Oliver sounded smug. Bruce just nodded.

"Oh." Hartley seemed to shrink in on himself.

"How old are you?" Zee asked, genuinely curious.

"Eight." He was still a little too loud when he spoke, even though he seemed like he was shy.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. He'd been practicing and he knew it wasn't as smooth as Alfred's but Oliver provided infinite possibilities to practice and it was still leaps and bounds better than a week ago. "Aren't you in the nine to eleven group?" he asked Zatanna.

"Yeah," she frowned. "Hartley, how'd you wind up in my group?"

He shrugged. "I skipped a grade and my mom kinda bullied them into putting me in by grade instead of age."

Oliver seemed to hum in understanding. Bruce just felt himself frown. Zatanna met his eye with a slight frown of her own. The moment passed though when one of the counselors started the quiet clap and everyone shut up and turned to pay attention.

~

Oliver was officially tired of camp by the last week of June. A racoon had gotten into their cabin the day before and went though literally all of their things. It didn't eat or destroy anything though, just wanted to make chaos by rubbing its tiny hands on everything apparently. Sherlock had to make another laundry run for them. Gambit had heard about it over the radio and claimed a golf cart just so she could come laugh at the mess before they managed to clean too much of it up, having been off on her break at the time. She left the cart for Sherlock before heading to her own cabin for the rest of her break, laughing the whole way. The other counselors in the unit made a fire for the boys while everyone else got ready for bed and they waited for their sheets and sleeping bags to be washed.

Unfortunately, Oliver had a whole two more months to go. He was officially less than pleased with his mother for this grand idea.

Luckily, Knox found him before the Final Campfire for those who were only there for the month. Taking long strides up the wide stone steps of the amphitheater to where he sat next to Bruce. Zatanna and her little friend Hartley on Bruce's other side. They all watched as the barn staffer made her way towards them, standing out in her jeans and tall muck boots while everyone else was wearing shorts. "Hey, Ollie!" she called as she approached, obviously not realizing that she already had everyone's full attention. "I just got back from the barn and I wanted to be the first to tell you that your ban has been lifted! You're allowed to come back starting Monday, since Bruce is leaving." Here she grimaced over at Bruce. "Sorry, but Bambi kind of decided you were the responsible party and Ollie just collateral damage. Very foolish collateral damage." She didn't bother to apologize for that one though as she turned to look back to him. "So Pancake will see you Monday? She's missed you."

Oliver nodded eagerly. "Yes. Absolutely. I'll talk to Sherlock about changing my schedule right after the campfire."

Knox nodded. "Sweet. Ok, I need to hit the showers. Bye all! I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow!"

They all said their goodbyes and Oliver couldn't stop smiling. Camp still sucked and the one person who made it interesting at least was leaving tomorrow, but at least Oliver's ban had been lifted. He could spend the rest of summer riding horses.

~

Bruce thought that he'd never been happier to see Alfred in his life. The man stood on the porch of the Health Center, talking with Doc when Artemis came to collect him from the dining hall where he'd been sitting on the steps, avoiding singing camp songs. The irony of Apollo taking him to the dining hall at the beginning of the month and Artemis leading him from it at the end was not lost on Bruce. Nor was it lost on Alfred by the sly grin he had when he saw who walked with Bruce. "Have a safe trip home!" Artemis said brightly before heading to Bugs, the camp director, and getting the name of the next camper she was to fetch.

"Well Bruce, I'm sorry that the circumstances weren't better but I'm glad I got to know you," she said and held out a hand that Bruce shook. "Maybe I'll see you next year? And if not, keep in touch. Mr. Pennyworth has my mailing address, maybe you can write me some of your famous letters."

Bruce smirked. "I will."

Doc laughed and the corners of Alfred's mouth twitched. "Shall we, Master Wayne?" he asked. "Your footlocker has already been loaded and you have officially been checked out."

Nodding, Bruce eagerly turned to go search the field for the car. He thought to look back once and wave to Doc, but then he was off and moving. He closed the door hard after he climbed in. Alfred started the car but didn't shift into gear. They just sat there in silence as the vents slowly began to push out cold air.

Finally, Alfred asked what he wanted to. "How was camp?"

"Never again, Alfred. Never. Again."

"That bad?"

"Didn't you get my letters?"

Alfred finally pulled out of the field and started down the long drive towards the road. "I did. I had just assumed that you were exaggerating as is your penchant."

Bruce glared at him. "You were talking to Doc."

"And I realized that you were not exaggerating."

"Never. Again."

"Yes, Master Bruce."

[beauregard-s]

Verdigris | Bill Denbrough

Pairing: Bill Denbrough x Reader (18 yo in this one)

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: language, mild hate-to-love trope and mentions of cheating and toxic relationship

A/n: ‘The one with Baseball Player!Bill and the song Verdigris by Gus Dapperton’

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He can’t stop watching you. 

At the bowling alley on a Friday night. Your arms crossed, a hidden smile on as one of your friends rolls the ball and misses the pins miserably. You probably had a night off, or else you’d be at the arcade trying to tame the thirteen-year-olds that keep fighting over the Pac-Man machine. 

Bill can’t stop staring and it’s annoying beyond belief.

“For fuck’s sake, Bill! Are you playing or not?”

He’s forced to drag his attention away from you under Richie’s hiss only to perceive how everybody is staring at him - except for Ben checking on his shoelaces after tripping on them at least twice already. The looks range from Richie’s pissed one, to Mike, Beverly, and Eddie’s confusion, and laying on Stan’s impassivity.

“I just puh-played two rounds ago, Richie, stop m-mah-messing the order,” he complains, yes, but stepping up and grabbing himself a ball is the same as calling his own bullshit.

His move is absent anyway, only hits three pins because he backs off as soon as the ball leaves his fingers, making room for Ben to go next. Standing more in the back so he can turn his head in your lane’s direction again, all the way across the alley.

Only in time to watch you striking for the second time that night.

Only in time to catch how your eyes automatically fly in his direction right after that.

It’s quick, just a few seconds before you turn away again like at school two - or three? - weeks before, when you shouted out loud in a hallway about how you were cheated on, a thing many girls would hide, never talk about and pray for it to never come up. But you didn’t. When Henry Bowers leaned by your locker and probably tried to slide in some smug explanation, you shut the metal door so loud people around turned their heads and others who didn’t hear it from the first time caught on what was happening as soon as you told him to go ‘get his dick wet with Anna Thompson from now on’.

That being said you stormed out, and your eyes met his because he was frozen in a trance not perceiving at first he was blocking your way.

He couldn’t call you a bully, but nor could he call you an angel. You were Bowers’ girlfriend for quite a while, never messed with him but was never smooth either. You always stood neutral about Bowers tormenting him, almost bored, he noticed. Maybe uncomfortable with the situation if he overthought on that?

Never mattered. Bill recognizes he doesn’t know much about you, never got interested in doing so. Never needed to. You are just y/n, Henry Bowers’ blessed girl - because, thinking about it, yes, someone must be somehow holy to endure that one. Y/n, who he thought that barely minded him but still locked eyes and seemed to flash him a very inconspicuous smile that brought him back to Earth and made him move aside to let you walk into your 6th period class.

Y/n that since then started to hover above him like a little bird of prey, keeping those secretly mischievous eyes on him whenever they shared the room. Driving him insanely curious to find out what all of this is about.

“I swear to God, Big Bill!” Richie cries out in frustration, clapping his hands together in a desperate try to get his attention, “it’s your turn again!”

***

“Homealone again?” Stan asks while buckling up on the driver's seat after leaving the alley almost forcefully when the place closed, Mike’s horn breaking the late-night silence as he leaves to take Ben and Bev home.

“Yeah, for the weekend.” Bill sighs, sinking into the seat and smirking. “Why? Wanna throw a p-party?”

Stan snorts in the dark, turning the keys for the headlights to break through the darkness ahead. “Not after the last one,” he starts the car and leaves while Bill recalls the last party they went to. The party where around 1 am everybody started gossiping about how someone entered a room without knocking and... 

“Y/n l/n, then?”

Bill moves uncomfortably. Of course, the party where everybody found out you were cheated on before you could do it yourself. Stan Uris really sees everything, knows everything, and perceives everything. And also have the gift of smoothly leading people into the point he wants to get to.

“I don’t think so,” Bill says. 

Stan swirls the steering wheel to the left into a quiet street, suffocating another laugh. “So you’re telling me you were not perving on her the whole night.”

“I wasn’t p-puh-p-perving!”

“No!” Stan’s laugh finally comes filled up with irony. “At the bowling alley, at school, whenever she shows up during practices and her great presence disturbs you to the point you miss the pitches… Since she broke up with Bowers, whenever she’s around your mind goes wasted”. Bill grimaces and he goes on. “And judging by tonight, she seems to be at the same place as you are.”

“She’s not at the same p-place as I am because I’m not at any p-place, Stan.” Bill sticks his arm out of the window into the cold breeze, feeling something boiling inside him. That annoyance again. “She’s been teasing me since she broke up with her dear b-boyfriend, it’s all.”

Stan slows down at a crossing, making a snap noise with his tongue. “How convenient, no?” Bill scowls, eyes off the road to look up at his slightly raised brows, and he goes on, “Bowers’ girl gets cheated on and then starts flirting with you, Bill Denbrough. The guy who had his lip split open by those fists more times than we could actually remember.”

“Tell me about it…” Bill’s voice barely comes out as he watches the stores slowly turning into houses with dark windows and faded front porches, trying to smother that burning feeling inside. 

“And you’re playing her game,” Stan adds calmly.

Bill snaps his neck towards the driver's seat again but Stan only shows that same impassivity from earlier, eyes solely on the road. “Don’t tell me you’re not, because you are. I saw it tonight. Besides it, we all know you’re that sucker for unbecoming stuff.”

Bill shakes his head, gnawing on his cheek in bitterness as the car stops in front of a two-floor house and Stan turns the keys, sending them into silence and darkness again, turning on his seat to face a skeptical Bill unclasping his seatbelt harshly.

“I am not. I wanna f-find out what game is she p-playing b-but I’m not playing it myself.”

“Okay,” Stan taps onto the wheel, grinning in his disbelief because he knows Bill well enough to know he may sound like he has his foot down when he’s in fact as unsteady as sand. “But she could put you in big shit trouble, you know?”

Bill gets out of the car, leaning into the window as soon as he closes the door, drawing a cockish grin. “Yeah b-but, again, I’m not playing her game, Stan.”

He assured himself that, even though his mind wanders towards you until he goes to sleep and even though you remain there when he wakes up Saturday morning. 

He’s not playing your game.

But you’ve been testing his limits, slowly getting under his skin somehow with so little effort. Catching his attention when he doesn’t want to give it to you. You’re guaranteed trouble and he hates how you leave him restless whenever you are out of his sight and trouble his mind whenever you are both sharing space.

But he’s not playing your game.

Yet he still finds himself waiting outside the arcade later at night, at a discreet distance with his hands tucked in his jacket’s pockets to keep them from freezing under the fall weather. Bill watches you leading the last kids outta the place, promising an upset little guy they’ll be open early the next day too and turning the sign hanging on the glass door as soon as they leave to warn everyone the place is finally closed. The sweet way you talked to the kid doesn’t match the troublemaker image he painted of you in his mind throughout the day.

He’s not playing the game, but he’s ending it before he goes insane. Being a chess piece is not on his plans. He doesn’t know where you’re going with all of that so he walks into the store, immediately catching your attention.

You’re checking and closing the cashier when the noise makes you look up from behind the counter only to find the surprisingly-not-so-popular pitcher of the Derry High School’s baseball team standing there in between the flashing machines. 

“Hey there, Denbrough,” you say softly, bringing your attention back to the dollar bills. “We’re closed.”

He taps his foot, trying to find the words to say what he wants to say because even though he planned talking to you the whole day, suddenly he feels lost and vulnerable under that nonchalant way of yours. 

“I know, I didn’t come to play.” Bill feels proud of how steady he sounds although he’s clenching his hidden fists. He has the slight impression you are not as confused as you seem when you eye him again. This time deeper. 

“How can I help you then?” 

He thought he had a solid plan, but he doesn’t at all. All he can think of is how did Bowers get you? A straight A’s girl with such sweet talk, pretty face, and bold demeanors. 

“You can help me by stopping m-messing around.” There goes his steadiness through the window, every single drop of it when your lips give him a lopsided smile, closing the cashier and pulling a bunch of keys out of a drawer.

“And what do you mean by messing around?” you walk around the counter and passing by him because even though Bill Denbrough is standing in front of you straight out of a dream in his stupid letterman jacket, a robbery wouldn’t be welcome and you gotta lock the doors and close the curtains. That blocks all the light from the outside, sending both of you into a gloom only lightened by the neon lights around. 

“I mean all the flirting you’re doing.” His voice deepens a tone. “ I want you to stop it.”

He looks adorably anxious, of course. All fidgety when he’s trying to confront you that way but flinching when you turn on your heels to face him, his hands still in his pockets for what? Hide his nervous manners?

Not that you’re that secure yourself with your sped up heart. You wish you had pockets too so you could hide how you poke a cuticle on your thumb.

“I’m not flirting with you,” you say simply. “I know you’d like that, but-“

“You wish, l/n” he hisses and you know you’ve hit a weak spot. Also not that you didn’t know said weak spot exists.

“I know what you’re doing, and I’m not getting in trouble for it.” Bill steps closer, letting his sweaty hands finally fall to his sides. 

“Again, I’m not the one messing around” You see his jaw clench, and go on leaning back against the Donkey Kong machine. “You are.”

Bill snorts and the way he runs his fingers through his auburn hair messing it in frustration makes things to you. Yes, Bill Denbrough in his lettermen jacket is stupid… stupidly hot, even if you hate admitting that.

“I’m n-not-“

“Are you sure?” You defy him, resting your hands on the machine and accidentally hitting the joystick. “So you’re telling me you’ve not been leering me around, casually hanging out with your friends by my locker or… Following my ex-boyfriend around to make sure he’s not coming close to me, Bill?”

Touché. 

You never called him ‘Bill’ before, but thought it would match the soft-turn your voice takes and the little ‘got you’ move you just made. Bill thinks it raises a level. He said he didn’t come to play, but it feels like he did and now he’s losing because you know something you shouldn’t. 

You know last Tuesday he followed Patrick Hockstetter’s car because he saw them harassing you when you were walking home after school. He watched when they pulled over by the sidewalk, Bowers leaning out through the window and saying something that made you argue with him for a while before you kept walking and they drove out. Bill should’ve turned right and drive home, but he turned left and followed them instead, made sure they went home and not after you. 

“I was just trying to m-muh-make sure you were safe,” he reasons but inside he’s recognizing his failure.

Maybe you’ll call him a creeper for that? No, you just bat your eyelashes.

“You really have an unforgiving hero complex.”

“I don’t have a hero complex.”

He does. And maybe an unforgiving crush too because he realizes you’re not the one hovering here. He is. He always thought he never paid attention to you but he did all the time in the deep of his head, dreary by the fact that you ended up with someone like that disgusting jerk.

“A hero complex and a huge neglect towards yourself, apparently” you bicker, the changes in his mind showing briefly in his expression.

“Okay, I m-may be the one m-messing around but you don’t seem like you’re trying to run from it.”

The others have already warned Bill about that, his lack of fear and his broken anti dumbness filter, mainly Beverly, but there he is again. Making dangerous, uncalculated moves, totally improvising his next step to avoid a checkmate from you.

He’s kinda angry, maybe embarrassed, eyes locked on your as he comes closer. You don’t answer because he got a point. From the moment you noticed Bill paying more attention to you after you were publicly free from Henry, you never intended on cutting him off. You fed the fire and now, with his eyes so deep in yours and the smell of his cologne all around you, you let him taste a bit of power to decrease that embarrassment of his. 

“Are you trying to imply that I want you too?” You whisper, no need to talk louder with his chest an inch from yours like that. 

He likes how beautiful you look like that, face shining in verdigris tones flashing from the next machine, the way it turns you into neon pink and back to the blueish-green. He likes how daring you look even if he’s towering over you, inches taller, little knowing how you’re putting on a fight to keep yourself solid and your thoughts in place. Without much success when he leans in and brushes his chapped lips along your soft ones.

“Again, you wish, l/n.”

The previous moves were yours but in a turn, you’re the one getting the final checkmate when you give in and pull him into a kiss. A greedy and heated kiss that showed how you’ve been craving each other. Bill presses against you as he’s trying to challenge the laws of physics, his tongue licking into your mouth as your hands clutch on his thick jacket, feeling his broad shoulders underneath. His hands cup your face, his thumbs gently tracing up your cheekbones in contrast to how roughly his lips take yours, only for a moment before his arms embrace your waist and he smugly slides a large hand into your jeans’ pockets.

He swore himself he wouldn’t play your game, but he feels like he did and just lost it when he leaves your lips and trails the tip of his nose down your neck, feeling how you softly quiver in his arms, breathing in your perfume. Pulling away before everything goes to waste.

“As I said, totally n-not running away from me,” he mutters, leaving you. 

You shake your head slowly, a mazy little smile glued on your lips. “Screw you, Denbrough…” But the words drip out like honey to him as he walks backwards towards the door. 

Bill turns the keys still in the lock behind his back, flashing a cocky grin at you as he pushes the door open. He feels defeated, you do too but somehow none of you regret what just happened in the empty arcade. He can see you don't by the way you look at him as he leaves. It’s not just one of those glances anymore.

He feels defeated, but maybe it will be worth it.

“S-see you later, y/n.”

[isoscele]

Lumberjanes Week Day 1 - First Day of Summer

(This is longer, weirder, and later than I wanted it to be, but isn’t that the spirit of the week?)

                                                        --------- Jo’s last exam is electrical engineering, and she finishes twenty minutes early. Dr. Quispe winks at her as she turns it in, and Jo tries to smile. The constant fog of formulae and diagrams dissipates from her head, replaced by a more all-consuming calculation.

One hour, six minutes to go.

She drops by her room, picks up the single backpack sitting on the bare mattress. On her way out, Gabi pops out of the lounge. “All done?”

Jo’s smile softens, takes on something real. “Yup. You?”

“I still have an essay, but I’ll probably do it at home. Got any big summer plans?”

“Kind of.” She shifts her backpack higher on her shoulders, silently debating how much to say. “I’m going camping with some friends.”

“Oh, cool,” Gabi says. “I wouldn’t’ve pegged you as an outdoorsy type, Jo.”

“Oh, you know.” Something under her skin humming, some outdated circuitry splitting into life. Forty-nine minutes. “In certain circumstances.”

Gabi giggles. As is the case with every one of their sporadic interactions, Jo wonders if they’re flirting. “Have fun! Don’t get eaten by a bear!”

She swans back toward her laptop and empty M&M packet. If she’d looked back for just a moment, she might have wondered what she had said to make Jo look so devastated. 

                                                       ---------

Mal has a pickup truck. It’s disgusting, with a windshield wiper that sounds like a dying macaw and a clutch that, for two heart-stopping seconds at the beginning of each gear shift, refuses to move at all. Mal has always defended it with a vigor previously only saved for her best friends and favorite bands.

Jo slides into the passenger seat. The radio is blasting heavy metal and the interior smells shockingly of mayonnaise; she has to blink hard to hold back her tears. There are some things that are so beautiful, so precious that it’s impossible to look at them head-on. Jo always forgets, when she’s away.

“You’re in the bus lane,” she tells Mal.

Mal obligingly starts the very long process of getting her car to move. “I thought the idea behind going to fancy science school with adults was that bus lanes were no longer necessary. Also, it’s fucking amazing to see you.”

“The buses shuttle students around campus. Also, I’m delighted that you’re here and I want to give you a hug.”

“Motion passed,” Mal says, and they squeeze awkwardly over the two melted Frosties in the cupholders.

The car jolts into first gear hard enough to throw Jo into the seatbelt, and then suddenly she’s laughing so hard she has to hold her sides to keep herself from spilling over. 

“Sorry!” Mal says, “sorry, she’s jumpy around strangers,” which is what she says every summer. It’s a terrible joke laced with an irrefutable affection, and it’s so Mal that it makes Jo laugh even harder.

“We’re not strangers,” Jo says. She pats the center console, feels a little of the polyester flake off on her hand. “Me and this truck go way back.”

“Well, let’s hope you and this truck go way forward, too,” Mal says, “because I’m really not sure the engine’s going to last us to California.”

                                                     ---------

They pull into the trailhead at around six the next morning, and make silent work of the luggage in the back. The sun’s just starting to come up, blinking warily between the table pines. Mal waves her on, and Jo sets off along the winding path.

The first year or two, they mostly stuck to campgrounds and RV parks, warming hot chocolate on the camp stove despite persistent, obnoxious heat. Jo didn’t think much of it at the time, but now she knows that Molly was trying not to inconvenience them, trying to keep them to the shallows of the forests. Trying to keep anyone from going too far, getting too stuck. 

The fact that they were instructed to bring backpacking gear this year doesn’t do much to assuage the constant thread of worry in the back of her mind. This isn’t something they can dip their toes in anymore; the world is always a more dire place than they left it last summer.

The hike is long and treacherous. They go off the trail almost immediately, but neither of them need a map. It sounds cliche to say that they’re following something else, but they are. The anxious chitter of the birds and the sun balking at the edges of the trees and the distant hush of a river form a clear topography in their minds. They walk without discussion, taking each turn as naturally as if they had always lived here. 

Around mile seven, they start to hear voices. Mal breaks into a run, and Jo comes crashing after her. 

They knock straight into April, who catches both of them with practiced ease. For a moment, the air splits with three different calls of incomprehensible joy, and then they’re lowering themselves to the moss as a single, complex organism.

“Holy Felicia Flames, you guys look great!” April hollers.

“I have so much to tell you,” Mal says.

“Are you trying to set the forest on fire?” Jo asks, wandering over to where April has piled an impressive set of branches and old newspaper. She must have packed most of it in herself; the trees around here don’t look like that.

“Might make our job easier,” April says, and then a grim silence falls over the clearing. 

I’m going camping with some friends, Jo had said, as if it was just camping, as if they were just friends. As if Jo’s relationship with these people, the things they had to do together, could be described in such a mundane and immaterial way. As if Jo won’t sit at the fire with them tonight, watching the way the sparks clear the shadows around their eyes, and love them with everything she has in her. As if she won’t hate them, too, for making her come here.

Here they are, in the annual half-second when they don’t know what to say to each other. The moment when the summer teeters, still soft and blameless, on the edge of something sharper. 

But then April asks Mal how the band’s doing, and the moment passes.

“I wish I’d thought to bring pictures,” Mal says. “We played at this amazing venue last January--there was this skylight, and it was pouring rain, and people just kept coming in because it was so miserable outside.”

“Aw, that’s great,” April says. “I’d love to come someday, but y’all sell out so fast!”

Mal scratches the back of her neck, looking embarrassed. “Yeah, sometimes.”

“What are we talking about?” Ripley half-shouts. Jo yelps, and then that turns into more laughter, which turns into an incredible group hug. For someone who carries no fewer than three kazoos on her person at all times, Ripley can be surprisingly stealthy when she wants to. Jo never hears her approaching anymore; first, there’s nothing, and then there’s Ripley.

April hugs Ripley so hard she lifts her off the ground. Ripley immediately starts listing all the weird birds she’s seen this year and asking April to cross-reference them with her encyclopedia of creatures.

And then, of course, there are four.

Jo drifts half a step closer to Mal and extends her hand. Without tearing her gaze from the blot of trees, Mal takes it.

Last year, Molly had been sort of--sick. They’d been camping on a bauld where eagles circled high overhead and the flowers were all this terrible saffron yellow, bent under the shadow of the rocks. Molly had walked with a stick, like the Bear Woman--like Nellie used to use, thick and gnarled. But she said that was temporary, just because of a bad fall, and no one talked about how her freckles had almost overtaken the white of her hands, how her eyes were spotted with yellow and seemed to constantly rove towards the sky.

No one had mentioned much of anything, because the year before that they had buried Nellie in the soft earth beside the lake and they had all tacitly agreed not to talk about it. Maybe that’s what growing up is like--finding more and more things that no one is willing to say. Holding a grief in you that sometimes feels so bright and all-consuming that it can’t possibly be real.

“She’ll be okay,” Jo says, quiet so as not to kill April and Ripley’s buzz. “The forest loves her.”

But that’s a cold comfort, because they have all spent the same six summers learning that the forest’s love can be the most terrifying force in the world.

                                                   ---------

It doesn’t take long at all before a familiar sound comes rolling in from the mountain. It’s a sound like dinosaurs, like goliaths, like the world collapsing in on itself.

It’s a sound that heralds the approach of Bubbles, who these days is about the size of a house. 

I don’t know! Molly had said, laughing, the first time they had seen him again. I guess he was just a baby when we met him. I’ve been feeding him a lot of peanut butter lately, maybe that’s it. 

Bubbles crashes through the trees, chittering so loud that it sounds like the laughter of a god. On his back, perched awkwardly against the scruff of his neck, sits Molly.

She does look okay. Their home hasn’t killed her yet.

There’s a little more white in her hair, a little more curl to her fingernails. But she’s smiling so wide it’s almost like they’re just here to catch up, like just for today they can afford to be a group of friends and nothing else.

Later, of course, will come the campfire, and the birds falling silent, and even the cicadas forgetting to cry, and they will map out another fraction of the world. They’ll find another dozen stone men, sleeping still enough to be dead. They’ll find perhaps hundreds of potential apocalypses, and they’ll spend the month eating little and sleeping less, preventing the end of the world again and again and again until they can’t even remember what they’re saving. 

But right now, Molly slides down Bubbles’ side and yells “Guys!” and the summer bursts into being. 

[shotgun--rider]

Starving

A Dean x Reader oneshot

Y/N comes from a big, unconventional hunter family, and Dean doesn’t know what to do with her habit of casual physical touch. He’s also not prepared to handle her driving his car. 

Word Count: 4115

Warnings: Touchstarved!Dean, aggressive fluffy snuggles, smut

*Female reader

A/N: CONSENT IS SEXY PEOPLE USE IT. Also, for the purposes of this fic the Impala has a manual transmission. I know she pretty much isn’t but sometimes when fics announce themselves fully formed and slightly confused in my head they come with oddly specific stipulations like Baby being manual. 

Aunt Danielle already had six boys when you came to live with her, and the youngest of them was seven years older than you. Your earliest memories involved cousin Joe dangling you upside down, tickling you until you shrieked for mercy, and then popping you up onto his shoulders to carry you downstairs when your aunt yelled for everyone to shut up and come eat dinner. 

Your aunt gave the best hugs, and that was a fact you’d decided in childhood that had never really gone away, even as an adult. She was warm and loving and had been successfully hugging your problems away since the tender age of four. Incidentally, offering hugs was still your go-to method of problem solving for everyone around you, and you had her to thank for it. 

You grew up trying to fit seven people onto a too-small sofa for Saturday night movie night. (It always ended with someone’s foot jammed in someone else’s side and a lot of complaining.) You spent years with the only car in the family being an old two-door pickup, so anyone that was too slow to call shotgun piled into the truck bed to get wherever you were going. (Which only really sucked when it was cold out.) You grew up as the recipient of piggyback rides and, occasionally, getting hauled out of the bathroom in a fireman’s hold if you took too long on your hair as a teenager. 

Somehow, it had never occured to you that that wasn’t everyone’s experience. In your mind, coming to live with the Winchesters was just an extension of the kind of life you’d always had, even though part of you always knew your little hunter family was an exception, not the rule.

The first time it happened, you’d been occupying a guest room in the bunker for maybe two weeks. The living arrangement was still temporary then, Sam and Dean treating you kindly enough but clearly not yet trusting. You’d swung through the kitchen while Dean was making dinner, just trying to grab a bottle of water, and, in some combined habit from your high school waitressing days and your aunt’s crowded kitchen, laid a hand on his back as you slid past. “Behind you,” you’d murmured, the touch only lingering for the split second you needed to cross over to the fridge. 

It was long enough to feel every single muscle in his body tense up like you were holding a gun barrel to the middle of his spine instead of your palm. But it wasn’t your place to comment, not really, so you just fished a bottle out of the fridge silently and went back to the library, reminding yourself that this was a man you barely knew, and would never have known if it weren’t for an especially pesky werewolf pack. 

A month later found the three of you celebrating after a miserably complicated hunt finally finished, arguing over who got to choose the movie. You’d smacked the cap off of your beer on a table edge on the way in and settled yourself in between the still-bickering brothers on the sofa with a roll of your eyes. “Someone better decide in the next ten seconds,” you huffed out with no real annoyance, not even sparing a thought for the fact that the entire right side of your body was pressed against Dean’s. 

His argument in favor of Die Hard was abruptly cut off with a shiver and an almost indiscernible noise in the back of his throat, and he’d avoided the weird look you shot him while Sam triumphantly jumped up to put his preferred pick into the old DVD player. It was maybe the first time in your entire life you’d watched a movie with few enough people to all fit on the couch (even though Sam ends up on the floor after the first twenty minutes) and it felt weird. 

Without thinking, you’d shifted your body into the space Sam vacated and pivoted your legs to land your feet over Dean’s lap, wincing internally when he immediately stiffened, his free hand hovering hesitantly in mid-air for an awkward length of time before he finally set it down, barely touching, over your ankles. Your thoughts had drifted to what his hands, calloused and warm, would feel like on other parts of your body before you snapped at yourself to end the train of thought. Dean obviously wasn’t comfortable around you, and you were going to have to remember that. Even if he was pretty much just unfairly perfect.

That proved to be easier said than done. As you settled into life at the bunker over the next few months, you had plenty of reminders after the fact, when you’d already made the seasoned hunter jump and flinch away from you, but you rarely caught yourself before you reached out to touch him. And getting to know him better really wasn’t helping your case. He was smart, surprisingly gentle, good at watching your back and making you laugh. He loved his car and his brother and a good slice of apple pie almost as much as you thought you could easily love him, and you, evidently, scared the shit out of him. 

You could almost picture your aunt’s face if you told her. I live with a really hot guy and I keep spooking him and I don’t know why. She would have thrown back her head and laughed in her loud, brash way, and then she would have fixed you with a sharp look and asked, well, did you ask him about it?

Staring blankly through the windshield in front of you, you blew out an exasperated breath. Because that conversation would go over so well. 

“Hey,” Dean’s voice cut through your thoughts, studying you with those green eyes. “Still with me?”

Your forehead scrunched together as you looked at him, watching him watch you bite your lip. “Dean, I don’t want to do this. What if I break her?”

He flashed you a grin. “If you break Baby? Start running,”

You huffed, rolling your eyes. “Dean, I’m serious!”

He looked affronted. “So am I. But you’re not going to break her.” Dean reached over, dangling the keys impatiently in front of you until you caved and pulled them out of his hands, trying to quell the nerves in your stomach. “Come on, you need to learn to handle her before you’re trying to figure it out with one of us trying not to get blood all over the backseat.”

You’d been behind the wheel of dozens of cars. You’d spent plenty of time criss-crossing states, though perhaps not nearly as much as Sam and Dean did, and you knew you were a decently competent driver. 

But you’d never driven a manual before. And you’d never tried practicing on a beloved car with said car’s owner watching you the entire time. Said car’s owner who you were possibly harboring the world’s most unbelievable crush on. Who flinched away from you on the regular. 

No, no reason to be nervous at all. Gritting your teeth, you put the key in the ignition, hearing the familiar purr of Baby’s engine come to life beneath your hands. You glanced at Dean, looking perfectly unbothered in the passenger’s seat. “Now what?”

“Press the clutch all the way down. Shift into first, now go easy on the accelerator,”

You got halfway through his instructions before the car made a noise of protest and you instinctively yanked your hands off the wheel, biting your lip again. “Oh, god, okay, I’m sorry, I–” you were rambling and you knew it, not sure if you were apologizing to Dean or to the Impala. 

Beside you, Dean chuckled softly and slid closer on the bench seat, glancing down at your foot on the clutch. “Just let up on the clutch a little slower this time,”

This time, you felt it catch, and Dean guided you through accelerating the car without stalling it. You exhaled, leaning forward just slightly without losing your careful control of the car. “I would rather go ten rounds with a rugaru than ever do that again,” you offered up conversationally, pretending you weren’t desperately white-knuckling Baby’s steering wheel.

To your surprise, Dean let out a loud laugh beside you, and you cursed the stupid driving lesson again for not letting you turn to look at him. In any other car, you would have, but taking your eyes off the road while driving the Impala seemed too big of a risk. 

That didn’t, however, stop Dean from watching you. He walked you through shifting into third gear without taking his eyes off you, and you could feel his green gaze boring holes into the side of your head while you executed a turn onto the next backroad, wincing at the slight grind you were still making every time you tried to get into second and back to third.

“Relax,” Dean said softly. “Stop strangling the wheel, you’re fine.”

You were most certainly not fine, riding some strange mixture of anxiety, adrenaline, and arousal as the sound of the car’s engine and Dean’s low voice warred for your attention. Still, over the next half-hour of aimless driving, you were starting to feel a little less intimidated by sitting in the driver’s seat. 

“Turn left up here,”

You promptly maneuvered the car into the right-hand turn lane, getting around the corner before Dean’s laughter interrupted you. “The other left, Y/N,”

Without thinking, you reached over to punch his arm. “Shut up, jerk, I’m trying,”

As usual, Dean stiffened under your touch, pulling away from you on the bench seat, and you huffed a breath of annoyance at yourself. “Sorry,”

You could feel Dean’s look of surprise, but your eyes stayed resolutely on the road. You passed one mile marker, then the next, the mood in the car suddenly more tense than it was when you were stalling the engine and grinding gears. 

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” you blurted out suddenly, wincing as your voice came out louder than intended. You were back to gripping the steering wheel until your hands turned white. 

“What?” Dean was silent for a moment after that outburst, like he was trying to process. “Do you–Y/N, what the fuck are you talking about?”

That was hardly the response you were expecting from him and you blinked, easing the Impala to a stop on the side of the completely empty road before turning to look at him, one hand braced on the steering wheel and one on the back of the seat. “I just…” you fumbled, looking anywhere but his eyes and that wasn’t helping because that just left you staring at his mouth and you needed to focus. “You jump every time I touch you, Dean,” you finally said softly. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I’m working on–”

“You don’t,” Dean cut you off, looking equal parts bewildered and hesitant. His hand came up to run through his short hair before landing in his lap where he stared down, not looking at you. “‘M just not used to it,” he mumbled after a pause. 

Something in your heart broke at the admission, at the idea that he was missing something that had been so fundamental to you for your entire life. “Dean…”

“It’s fine, Y/N,” he said roughly, still avoiding your gaze. 

“No, it’s not!” you surprised even yourself with the sharpness in your tone, and Dean’s head finally snapped up to look at you, meeting your eyes with green pools that looked almost on the verge of tears. “You deserve to be hugged and touched and loved as much as anyone else,”

You bit your lip, wondering if you were about to go too far. “Can I give you a hug?”

Dean scoffed, clearly not as unaffected as he pretended to be, but held his arm out for you to slide under. “Sure, whatever,”

You slid across the bench seat until you were tucked up next to him, turning your body into his chest as you wrapped your arms around him and laid your head on his shoulder. For the first time since getting into the Impala, you felt the tension drain out of your spine, and you shifted slightly, feeling the solid warmth of his body and the soft flannel he was wearing against your cheek. 

And then you realized he was shaking. Cautiously, you lifted your head, not quite letting him go as you opened your eyes to look at his face, scrunched up like he was in pain. It occurs to you that this is so far from any kind of the manly-slap-on-the-back hugs you’ve seen him exchange with his brother, and even those are few and far between. You were probably completely overwhelming him. “Too much?”

Dean shook his head once, his arm tightening just slightly around you, and you smiled softly at him, tucking yourself back into his side as best you could in the front seat of the car. “Okay,” you whispered, somehow afraid to break the moment if you spoke too loud. “Okay.”

One of your hands slid up to card through his short hair absently, your head still resting against his shoulder, and Dean melted. Every bone in his body seemed to simultaneously give up the fight, falling into you with a quiet noise in the back of his throat that somehow broke your heart and turned you on at the same time. 

At no point in this little driving lesson–hell, at no point since meeting him–did you imagine you would end up with your arms full of Dean Winchester, but you sure as hell weren’t complaining. You were caught halfway between realizing you felt completely safe for the first time since leaving your aunt’s house, and trying to focus on him. Somewhere in the middle of it, Dean had turned his face into your neck, lips hovering over the curve where your neck met your shoulder, and you shivered involuntarily. 

Dean froze, raising his head cautiously to search your face with those green eyes. “You good?” he asked in a low voice. 

“Yeah,” you whispered back, hand playing absently with the collar of his flannel and your eyes flicking between his lips and the freckles on his face. You had no way of explaining why this, a hug in a car pulled on the side of the road, was so much more intimate than anything you’d ever experienced before, it just was. Maybe it was because it was him. Maybe it was always just him.

You could see the same thing reflected in Dean’s expression, and when his eyes darkened and his hands shifted to your waist, you just went along with it, letting him lift you easily onto his lap with a little squeak leaving your lips. 

He smiled, pulling you tighter against him, and when his lips were suddenly on yours you weren’t even sure who moved first. Dean kissed you like he was starving, swallowing your gasp of surprise and tracing his tongue against yours, one hand tangling itself up in your hair. It was electric, stealing your breath and sending warmth pooling low in your belly, and you were completely unprepared for how completely it was taking you over. Your senses had narrowed to just him, his hand on your back trying to pull you closer, the heat of his mouth, his shirt clenched in your hands.

Finally, needing to breath, you pulled back, pushing your hair reflexively out of your face. “Not that I’m complaining,” you laughed softly, “but where did that come from?” You’d seen Dean pick up women in bars like it was nothing before. And you weren’t sure you could be that to him. Not now.

Dean practically growled, his hands tightening on your hips. “Are you kidding me? You driving my car was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,”

You smirked at him, surveying his face, all blown pupils and flushed skin. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied easily, his lips returning to your neck. “Helps that I’ve wanted to do this forever,” he muttered against your skin, pressing kisses to your shoulder. One of his hands slid from your hip to inch its way up your shirt, fingertips grazing your lower back and lighting you up at the touch. You shifted your weight on his lap, rocking forward against the bulge in his jeans and making him hiss. “You should have said something,”

“Sweetheart,” Dean started, pausing with wide eyes as your hands went to his belt. He watched for a moment, transfixed, before his brain caught up and he caught your hands in his, stopping you. 

Your eyes shot up to meet his, worrying your lip again as you watched him, wondering if you’d gone too far. But Dean was still looking at you with unrestrained desire written all over his face. “Get in the backseat,”

He didn’t have to ask you twice. You opened the passenger door with one last graze of your lips on his, almost tumbling off of his lap as you climbed out of the confined space, Dean on your heels. You pulled your shirt off before climbing into Baby’s backseat, smirking at the noise he made behind you. You’d never get tired of knowing the effect you could have on him. 

Settled back on the seat, Dean slid in after you, thankfully still with the presence of mind to shut the door behind him before he resumed devouring you, trailing his mouth from your lips down to your chest, teeth just grazing your breasts through the fabric before his hand snaked around to your back to unclasp your bra. You paused to let him pull the straps off of your arms before you went to work on his clothes, pushing the flannel impatiently off of his shoulders and letting out a frustrated whine when, in your current position, all you succeeded in doing was bunching it up around his biceps. Dean had you wound up too tight already and neither of you were even naked yet. 

He moved away from you just long enough to rip off the exasperating number of layers he was wearing, throwing them somewhere onto Baby’s floor. Settling back over you, Dean’s hands traced a burning path up your torso, thumbs just brushing over your nipples and sending a bolt of heat straight to your core. “You’re gorgeous, baby girl,”

You felt a flush of warmth at the compliment, not sure if you’d use the same words to describe yourself but too caught up to bother arguing. “Dean, hurry up,” you returned impatiently, lifting your hips toward him in search of friction. Your hands slid over his broad shoulders and down his back, feeling muscles ripple beneath your touch and watching the way his face changed at the contact. 

His hand slid down to deftly undo the button on your jeans, working the material off your hips as you pushed yourself up off of the leather seat to help him. His belt went next, and, with a bit of backseat gymnastics, Dean was sitting back on his heels above you with his pair of black boxers the only scrap of clothing left between you. 

You swallowed hard at the impressive tent in those boxers, rearranging yourself on the seat until you could slide your fingers into the waistband, looking up at his lust-blown eyes for confirmation. God, you just wanted to touch him, all of him, but you still wouldn’t do anything without his permission. 

Dean’s hand caught the side of your face, dragging you toward him for a messy kiss. Taking that as a yes, you pulled away after a moment with a breathy smile (and really, where had that come from) and pulled his boxers down far enough that his cock sprang free, bouncing against his stomach dark red and leaking. 

You wrapped your hand around him, thumb swiping experimentally over the tip and earning a low groan from Dean in response. “Wanna taste you,” you murmured, not waiting for a response before swallowing down as much of him as you could. He felt bigger in your mouth than you expected, the first blowjob you’d given that could probably actually choke you if you weren’t careful, but you weren’t about to let that stop you. Your hand covered whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you moved over him faster, trying to wring as many of those little noises out of his throat as you could. 

“Shit, sweetheart,” he breathed, which only spurred you on. You’d never really found that much enjoyment in giving blowjobs before, seeing them more as a favor to your partner, but there was something about this, about Dean, that had you practically dripping onto Baby’s leather seat. You snaked one hand between your legs to touch yourself, desperately in search of any kind of contact, and moaned around your mouthful of Dean’s cock as you circled your clit. 

“Fuck, baby, stop,” Dean guided you off of his cock hastily, crashing his lips into yours for a heartbeat while his hands held tightly to your hips. Then, he carefully laid you back down on the seat, shifting until he was braced above you on his forearms with the tip of his cock just brushing your entrance. 

Desperate and past the point of caring, you bucked your hips up, almost crying in relief when Dean finally slid into you, one inch at a time. You threw your head back against the Impala’s door at the sensation, your mouth falling open in a silent gasp as he finally filled you, holding completely still for a moment to let you adjust.

“Shit, Y/N, you feel so good,” he groaned into your neck, mouthing little kisses there as he went. 

You’d never felt anything like this. No one had ever come close to this, and it wasn’t just that he was reaching places inside you that you hadn’t even known existed. You rocked your hips up, silently begging him to move, and Dean took the hint with a look of such adoration that it took your breath away. 

You sank into an easy rhythm there in Baby’s backseat, your teeth sinking into your lip as you tried to muffle the sounds caught in your chest. Dean’s soft lips moved over yours, coaxing your lip free before shooting you a heated gaze. “Let me hear you,”

His voice was deeper than you’d heard it before, the sound sending a rush of heat to your core, and you clenched your walls around him as he slid over your g-spot, a low wine tearing from your throat that didn’t sound remotely like your own voice. “Dean, god, fuck,”

 The pace of his thrusts sped up, one hand coming down to rub your clit in slow circles with the calloused pad of his thumb. “Come for me, Y/N,”

He was fucking you hard now, his every thrust slamming into your g-spot and a look on his flushed face that you wanted to commit to memory. He groaned roughly as your walls tightened around him, one sharp flick of your clit sending you over the edge into a wave of oblivion. Your vision went white, mouth open in a strangled scream, and you clung to Dean to hold you together as he shattered you perfectly. 

Vaguely, you registered Dean following you over the edge with a growl, and you both laid there in a tangle of limbs in Baby’s backseat, your skin sticking unpleasantly to the leather under your back but both of you unwilling to move. 

“So,” you said finally, “do all of your driving lessons go like that?”

Dean raised his head from where he’d been resting on your chest, opening one eye to stare at you with a scowl. “Only other person I taught to drive was Sammy,”

A laugh bubbled out of your throat, and you slid your fingers through his now-messy hair, a warmth caught in your chest as he arched into your touch, hugging his arms around your waist. “So does that make me special?”

He pressed a half-formed kiss to the skin above your left breast. “Maybe,”

“I still don’t want to drive home,” you said flatly, your eyes sparkling.

Still huddled against you, Dean barked a laugh. “Fine,” he raised an eyebrow. “I can get us there faster anyway,”

So Dean drove on the way back, Metallica on the radio, half of your clothes still in the backseat, with one hand on the wheel and the other in yours. 

[longitudinalwaveme]

A Pipe Dream

The Flash stars in: A Pipe Dream

Dramatis Personae

Wally West, the garrulous, impulsive, and friendly third Flash

Joan Garrick, Jay Garrick’s wife, who is patient, loving, and supportive of everyone

Iris Allen, Barry Allen’s wife, an inquisitive daredevil reporter

The Pied Piper, alias Hartley Rathaway, a Robin Hood-esque thief

The Top, alias Roscoe Dillon, an arrogant, elitist, and top-obsessed criminal

Weather Wizard, alias Mark Mardon, an overconfident, rather stupid robber

Heat Wave, alias Mick Rory, a dim, shockingly gentle pyromaniac

Script

Act I

(Joan and Iris are onstage)

Iris: So, how’s Jay?

Joan: He’s doing well enough, I suppose, but, to be honest, I’m a little worried about him. He keeps claiming that he’s retired from crime fighting, but every time I turn around, he’s wearing that silly hat of his and racing off to fight bank robbers or carjackers or giant, murderous, telepathic gorillas. It was one thing when he was fifty, but now he’s 99 years old, and the doctors say that his heart won’t be able to take much more of his running at super speed.

Iris: What does he say about that?

Joan: That (strikes a heroic pose) “ it will be a pleasure to die in the line of duty.”

Iris: (Laughs) That sounds just like Barry.

Joan: I know, and it’s not funny. Our husbands spend so much time saving everyone else that they never stop to worry about themselves.

Iris: I guess that’s true-but hey, that’s part of what we’re here for, to make sure our husbands take some “me time” occasionally.

Joan: In speaking of husbands, how’s Barry?

Iris: He’s not doing so well. He came down with the flu a few days ago, and I’ve been going crazy trying to keep him from leaving his bed so that he can go fight crime.

Joan: Oh, I’ve had that happen with Jay before. Once, when he had pneumonia, he heard about a shoplifting ring, and I had to call in Ted and Alan-you know them as Wildcat and the original Green Lantern-to physically restrain him so that he wouldn’t leave the house to go stop them.

Iris: Well, I haven’t had to resort to calling the Justice League to restrain Barry yet, so things could be worse.

Joan: You’re right. Things could be worse. We could be having to deal with two sick speedsters each. Or a sick Superman!

Iris: Man, that would be a nightmare. I have no idea how that Lois Lane woman does it.

Joan: Maybe Clark just doesn’t get sick. After all, he isn’t a human, so maybe our diseases don’t affect him and he’s as invulnerable to getting sick as he is to everything else.

Iris: Maybe so.

(Enter Wally)

Wally: Hi, Joan. Hi, Aunt Iris. (Sneezes) How are you?

Iris: Hi, Wally. We’re doing all right. How are you?

Wally: I’m fine, but Linda and the kids all have the flu (Sneezes) and the twins also both have strep. (Sneezes) It sure is lucky that I don’t get sick, or we’d have a real mess on our hands.

Iris: Um, Wally, are you sure you’re not sick?

Wally: Yeah, I’m sure. (Sneezes three times) I never get sick. I had perfect attendance all throughout school, and you can check my records if you don’t believe me.

Joan: Can you at least try to take it easy, Wally?

Wally: I can’t do that! Jay’s retired and Uncle Barry has the flu, and someone has to protect the city! Besides, I can’t deny my adoring fans the chance to see me because I have a few sniffles. (Sneezes) I’ll be fine!

Iris: (To Joan) Is there a single superhero in the entire world who actually rests when they get sick?

Joan: Speaking from experience, I don’t think there is.

Wally: I said that I’m fine! (Sneezes) So, do you want to get lunch? I’m starving!

Iris: Wally, it’s 8:00 in the morning!

Wally: Okay, so let’s get brunch!

Iris: But I just ate breakfast!

Wally: I don’t follow. (Sneezes) I just ate breakfast, too, and I’m already hungry again.

Joan: Wally, dear, you have to consume 980,000 calories per day just to survive, so you have to eat almost constantly. We simply don’t have the appetite or the metabolism to keep up with you.

Wally: Oh, right. I forget that fact a lot-especially (Sneezes) since my kids inherited my metabolism and have to (Sneezes) eat even more than I do.

Iris: It’s all right, Wally.

Wally: So, um, do you want to go to McDonalds with me (Sneezes) and watch me eat? With Linda and the kids all sick, I’ve been cooped up in the house for a week, and I’m going stir-crazy!

Iris: I suppose so. After all, with Barry sick, I haven’t been able to get out much, either.

Joan: I’ll go, too. After all, if you really are sick despite your claims, someone needs to keep an eye on you so that you don’t run yourself into the ground.

Wally: Great! I love you guys so much, and I can’t wait to sink my teeth into (Sneezes) 340 Big Macs! I love McDonalds food!

Iris: (Shakes head) Never change, Wally. Never change.

(Exit All)

Act II

(The Pied Piper is onstage, playing an instrument. Enter the Top)

Top: Top of the morning to you, Piper.

Piper: Oh, good, you were able to make it. Did you have any trouble getting here?

Top: No. There is not a person in this city who would dare inconvenience the Top.

Piper: What about our friends in the red pajamas?

Top: Don’t make me laugh, Piper. The old one is feeble and retired, the young one is impulsive and stupid, and the only one that poses a threat has the flu, and therefore cannot be on top of his game. They could not bother me if they tried. What of you, my friend? Are you still in tip- top shape, or has your life spun out of control?  

Piper: I’m as fit as a fiddle, Roscoe. The Flashes have no reason to hunt down a peaceable man who steals money from drug lords and self-absorbed starlets and gives it to the poor. In fact, if I could only make them realize that the real villains are the members of the 1% who enrich themselves at the expense of the poor, we would be good friends.

Top: But I heard you were homeless?

Piper: I am.

Top: How, exactly, did that come to pass?

Piper: Well, after my last heist, I was going to buy an apartment for myself, but while I was on my way to buying it, I saw a very pregnant woman with two small children crying, and when I asked her what was wrong, she told me that she was trying to escape from her abusive boyfriend but that she had no money, and so I gave her the money and told her to use it to make a good life for herself and her children, and so I was unable to buy anything.

Top: You gave all of the money away?

Piper: Of course! They needed it more than I did.

Top: You, sir, are a fool. This is the fifth time that you have given up a permanent home to help some wretch-the fifth time!

Piper: Roscoe, you of all people should understand what it is like to be an outcast. How can you criticize my desire to help others that the world has forgotten?

Top: Because I am a genius, something that decidedly does not apply to the people for whom you constantly risk your freedom and your own safety.

Piper: Roscoe, my early life was spent in scandalous luxury, luxury that my parents took at the expense of the poor who helped build their empire. It’s only fair that I go without to help them now. (Pause) So, do you know if anyone else is coming to our little meeting?

Top: No. I do not concern myself with the behavior of lesser men like them.

(Enter Heat Wave)

Heat Wave: Hi, Piper! Hi, Top! Seeing you two really warms my heart! (Hugs Piper)

Piper: Mick, I love hugs, but…I….can’t….breathe!

Heat Wave: Oh, sorry. (Releases him)

Piper: Hi, Mick. How have you been?

Heat Wave: I’m okay. I was burning up with fever a couple days ago, but I’m all better now.

Piper: I’m glad to hear that. Do you know if any of the others are coming?

Heat Wave: Captain Cold won’t be here. He’s got a bad case of the chills , and besides, he’s still in prison, and so is Mirror Master. They say hi.

Piper: And what about Glider?

Top: My love is on vacation in the Bahamas. She won’t be able to come.

Piper: Wait. I thought you said that you didn’t know if anyone else could come!

Top: Did I? Oh. My apologies.

Piper: (To Heat Wave) Do you know if Digger is coming?

Heat Wave: He won’t be coming. He broke his leg and told me that he didn’t feel like messing with crutches when I brought him chocolate and flowers.

Piper: Okay, and what about Mardon?

Heat Wave: I don’t know. Last I heard, he was feeling a little under the weather.

(Enter Weather Wizard)

Wizard: Nope, I’m as right as rain!

Piper: Hi, Mark!

Wizard: Hi, Piper! Hey, Mick.

Heat Wave: How’ve you been? I heard you were sick.

Wizard: Nope. I’ve just been taking it easy.

Top: What a surprise.

Wizard: What’s that supposed to mean?

Top: It means that you are a lazy fool who hasn’t done a day’s work in his life.

Wizard: Am not! Why, I stole an entire tractor-trailer full of sports cars in an hour once!

Top: Yes, by sitting on your couch and allowing a tornado to detach the trailer from the cab of the truck and deliver the loot to your house.

Wizard: So? You can’t fault me for conserving energy!

Top: “Conserving energy”, my foot.

Wizard: What’s the matter, Top? Are you jealous of my power?

Top: No. I simply think it is wasted on a man who uses it only to commit petty thefts.

Wizard: (Raises weather wand) Petty? (Waves wand) I’ll show you petty! (Thunderclap)

Heat Wave: Whoa there, Mark, let’s not get hasty. I don’t want you to do something in the heat of the moment that you’ll regret-like destroying this building with all of us in it!

Piper: Mick’s right, Mark. It’s too dangerous to get into a fight here.

Wizard: (Lowers weather wand) Fine. But if you expect me to take his stupid comments forever, you’re chasing rainbows, Piper.

Piper: (to Top) Roscoe, please don’t antagonize Mark. You really don’t want him to make you face the music .

Top: I am not afraid of him, Piper.

Wizard: Well, you should be, because if you don’t start respecting me, our little truce will be nothing more than the calm before the storm!

Top: Whatever you say, Mardon. Whatever you say. (Pause) Shall we get down to business?

Heat Wave: Yeah, we should. Who has a plan for our next heist?

Piper: I do, actually, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be calling the tune on this job. You see, some friends of my parents are importing some very fine jewelery, and I think that those jewels will make for a tidy sum for the poor….

Act III

(Wally, Iris, and Joan are sitting at a table)

Wally: Boy, that was delicious! (Sneezes) I don’t care what Uncle Barry says-McDonalds has the best food in the world!

Joan: It isn’t exactly the healthiest food, you know.

Wally: Yeah, I know-but with the way I burn calories (Sneezes) , it isn’t going to hurt me any!

Iris: Um, I’m not sure that’s how it works, Wally.

Wally: Well, even if it isn’t, I’m young and it tastes good, so who cares?

Joan: I do, for one.

Iris: And so do I.

Wally: Good grief! When are you two (Sneezes) going to stop treating me like a little kid?

Iris: Wally, I watched you grow up. It’s going to take awhile for me to adjust-especially when you keep acting like a crazy teenager.

Wally: I don’t act like a crazy teenager! (Sneezes) I act like a crazy adult!

Joan: Wally, there isn’t much difference between a crazy teenager and a crazy adult.

Wally: Oh, yeah? (Sneezes) Prove it!

Joan: The Trickster.

Wally: Yeah, you’ve pretty much got me there. (Sneezes) Sorry I’m so annoying.

Joan: It’s all right. You’re not annoying most of the time, dear.

Iris: Just some of the time.

Wally: I love you guys. (Sneezes) So, what should we do next?

Iris: We could go shoe shopping. I’ve been needing a new pair of heels.

Wally: No! Not shoe shopping! Linda’s taken me on enough shoe shopping trips to last a lifetime! (Sneezes)

Iris: I was only kidding, Wally.

Wally: Good. Oooh, why don’t we get ice cream?

Joan: You can get ice cream. It probably isn’t a good idea for us to get it.

Wally: Yes! (Disappears, then returns with ice cream and cake)

Joan: Where did you get the cake from?

Wally: China. (Sneezes) They make everything there these days.

Iris: (Laughs) You ran all the way to China just to get cake?

Wally: Well, I was aiming for Hungary, but I overshot.

Joan: How did you overshoot Hungry? You have a full-time residency there.

Wally: Huh? (Pauses, then laughs) Oh, I get it! That’s hilarious, Joan!  

Joan: Why thank you, Wally. I think you and your aunt are rubbing off on me.

Iris: I’m glad we decided to do this. Barry’s a dear, but when he gets sick, he can be a bit of a nightmare.

Wally: Wait, Uncle Barry can be a nightmare?

Iris: Believe it or not, yes. Now, he’s not rude or whiny, but he keeps trying to leave his bed and stop crimes instead of resting so that he can get well, and it’s very irritating to make him stay put, because he gives me these really sad puppy dog eyes when I tell him to stay at home.

Wally: Hah! I knew he (Sneezes) had a weakness besides punctuality!

Joan: All three of you have that weakness, Wally.

Wally: I do not! (His phone rings) Sorry. I need to take this. (Pulls out phone) Hello, Commissioner? The Rogues? What are they doing? Mmm-hmm. Uh-huh. All right. I’ll be there as soon as possible, Commish! (Sneezes) You’re welcome. Good-bye. (Puts away phone) Sorry, guys, I’ve gotta run! The Rogues are trying to steal some jewelry, and I need to stop them.

Iris: No problem, Wally. Go get them!

Joan: And be careful!

(Exit Wally)

Iris: You know, just once, I would like to have an outing that isn’t interrupted by criminals, the Rogues, telepathic gorillas, or aliens who want to take over the world.

Joan: I fully agree with you, Iris. (Pause) Would you like to go shoe shopping with me while he’s gone?

Iris: That sounds terrific, Joan.

Commercial Break!

Act IV

(Enter the Rogues, running)

Piper: (Yelling over his shoulder) Thank you for your generous donation to the poor, Mr. Englewood!

Top: Oh, that was terrific fun! I’m feeling on top of the world right now!

Heat Wave: You’re right, Top. There’s nothing like a nice heist with all of my bestest friends to give me those nice warm and fuzzy feelings.

Wizard: Tell me about it. I’m on cloud nine!

Top: What are you going to do with your money, Piper? I am going to buy a nice suit and some new tops for my collection.

Heat Wave: I’m going to buy some presents for all of my friends so that I can warm their hearts. I’m sure Captain Cold will love a new parka.

Top: I was not asking you, you imbecile.

Heat Wave: Oh. I’m sorry, Top.

Top: Just be sure it does not happen again.

Wizard: I’m going to buy me a new car so that I can finally get a girlfriend!

Top: That will never happen, Mark, and I was not asking you either.

Wizard: Well gee, thanks for destroying my ray of hope, Roscoe.

Top: Moron. (To Piper) Well, my friend? What are you going to do with your share of the loot?

Piper: I’m going to donate it to a charity for sick children. The cries of joy that will produce will be music to my ears.

Top: You are giving away your money again? (Pause) I do not believe you.

Piper: What’s so wrong about wanting to help people?

(Enter Wally)

Wally: Because you’re going about it all wrong, Piper.

Wizard: By the four seasons! It’s the Flash!

Top: Not to worry, Mardon. This one is a mere child. (To Wally) Spin.

Wally: Whoa! (Stumbles, but keeps his balance) You should become a ride at Disney World or something, Top, because you make me just as dizzy.

Heat Wave: It’s time for you to take the heat, Kid Flash! (Fires at Wally, who narrowly dodges)

Wally: No thanks!

Wizard: (Waves his wand) We’re too powerful for you to stop, Flash. Why don’t you take a rain check?

Wally: No way! Defeating a bunch of clowns like you will be a breeze!

Top: Perhaps. Then again, perhaps not. (Spins out of Wally’s way)

Heat Wave: This situation is too hot for you to handle, Flash! You should leave before you get hurt or something.

Wally: Get hurt by one of you? Yeah, right. (He sneezes, and Top grabs him from behind)

Top: You were saying?

Wizard: Nighty night, Flash. (Raises his wand, and Wally sneezes again, causing the wand to go flying out of his hand) My wand!

Wally: (Breaks free) Nice try, Mardon. (He handcuffs Wizard and Top to one another)

Heat Wave: Hey, nobody hurts my friends like that!

Wally: (Taps him on the shoulder) You need better friends. (Handcuffs him to a lamp)

Piper: Flash, I’m not going to fight you. I abhor violence, as a general rule, and I know as well as anyone that my musical hypnosis doesn’t work well on you. However, before you take me away, I want to ask you something. Mr. Englewood hardly needs more money, and everyone knows that his factories are some of the most hazardous in the country for his workers. Why is it so wrong that I take money from him and give it to children who are dying from preventable diseases because of lack of money? You can’t argue that he deserves it more than they do, and he’s wealthy enough that he won’t even miss the money we took from him. Can’t you at least let me give the money away before you take me to jail? Please?

Wally: Piper, if I’m being honest, part of me wants to let you, but here’s the thing. I can’t let you break the law in order to help people. I’m sorry.

Piper: That’s all right. You’re just doing what you were told is right. I can’t fault you for that.

(Wally handcuffs him)

Wally: A word of advice, Piper? If you really want to help the poor, and I think you do, I think you’ll find it more rewarding if you do it on the right side of the law.

(Exit Wally)

Wizard: Well, that was a bust.

Top: For once, Mardon, we agree about something.

Heat Wave: Hey, guys, look at the bright side! At least we’re all still together.

Wizard: True. Nobody can call us fair-weather friends!

Heat Wave: And you know what’s even better? When we go back to prison, we can see Captain Cold again!

Top: I’m thrilled.

Wizard: Aww, don’t be such a downer, Top. You should learn to see the silver lining.

Top: I hate you both.

Piper: (Aside) All I wanted was to give the poor justice. Why is that a crime? The idea of people like my parents helping the poor is just a pipe dream...isn’t it?

Act V

(Iris and Joan are onstage. Enter Wally)

Wally: Hi, Iris! Hi, Joan! (Sneezes)

Joan: Oh, hi, Wally. Are you all right?

Wally: I’m okay. (Sneezes) But I think you were right about me being sick. I just took my temperature, and I’m 114 degrees. (Sneezes)

Joan: 114? How are you still alive?

Wally: Because the baseline body temperature for speedsters is 107 degrees.

Joan: Oh, that’s right.

Iris: Were you able to stop the Rogues?

Wally: Yep! (Sneezes) They’re being transported back to prison now, and all the jewelry has been returned. (Sneezes)

Iris: So, what do you want to do now, Wally?

Wally: I want to go home and sleep. (Sneezes) Running around sick won’t help anything.

Iris: Yes! A hero finally sees reason!

Wally: (Sneezes) Oh, and one more thing? Would you mind (Sneezes) donating money to the Children’s Health Foundation? I have a certain….friend who would really appreciate it.

Joan: Of course we will, Wally.

Wally: Thanks. You two are the greatest! (Sneezes)

[alias-b]

sins of my youth. 006

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: Aftermath of the dance! We learned about the rest of Billy’s night. Both babies struggling before school starts up again. TW: Pica and self loathing. Mentions of guys pursuing underage girls. Taglist open!!!

Chapter 6: Hard Candy

   “Anyone up?”

   “No, everyone is hungover.” Evie looked around. Everything frosted this morning like a peaceful snow globe. Eternal winter. Gorgeous and destructive. She didn’t kiss Fredrick goodbye. “Thank you.”

   “We’ll talk again when school starts up. Don’t call, it’s too risky."

   "But-"

   "I’m just...risking everything to be with you, do you know that?”

   He snatched her wrist when he said that. Pressed down on the pulse there. It sped.

   “Yes...I’ll be careful. Do you still love me this morning?” Unsure of what answer would scare her more.

   He smiled, grip loosening.

   "Yes."

   That sufficed. Evie slid out in her dress from yesterday. Watched some dead leaves whirl through the forest before she got onto the sidewalk. Cherry Lane awaited. Bowers turned his car on to slip away unnoticed so she could walk to her house. Mona's car was gone which meant errands. 

   And whoever her mother brought home to celebrate the New Year with hadn’t stayed.

   Evie had the displeasure of running into a few at breakfast. These men who never lasted. Who froze like a deer in headlights to offer sheepish smiles as if she was stupid about why they were there. Who thought they'd be back. Ha ha. Thankfully, Mona mostly slept with guys not from Hawkins. 

   Billy’s Camaro was nowhere in sight either. Evie went into her house. Greeted Bourbon and crossed to the bedroom. The mess there replayed all of last night again. Dresses strewn all over her bed. Makeup spread on the vanity. 

   Evidence of a girl excited to have a great night. With a striking boy. Where she felt beautiful. She pictured herself holding dresses against her body at the mirror. Spinning. Happy.

   Wishes.

   Evie sucked in some air. Tied her hair back. Hung each dress up again. Pulled her own garment off and tossed it in the trash.

   “Maroon is stupid.” She mused in her bra and underwear. “You should have worn blue.” Sighing to sit at the vanity, fingers rubbed her eyes pink. She organized makeup. Tried and failed to avoid the reflection in the mirror.

   Her mother wouldn’t want to hear of this. So, Evie tried to look on the bright side. Pressed her palms flat. Looked at the mirror. 

   “I danced with a boy. A pretty boy and he made me feel…”

   Isn’t it funny? Pretty funny. The words caught. Piled up and went back down her throat. Perched like they could become a scream but never returned with a vengeance.

   She looked at her skin. Excess flesh. It didn't always bother her. Evie knew what she looked like and how the world preferred to see her.

   A fist banged into her collar. Growling, she beat at herself. Unable to stop. Weak little bashes against herself.

   “Why?" She clenched. "Why do you look like this!”

   Fists rubbed her eyes again raw so no tears could flow. Nothingness. Just her soul spinning out of control all sweet and silent. She always did the world and her mother that courtesy. No use crying over spilled milk, just appreciate what you have. Depression and anger, those were ungrateful little phases and pushing them aside was ingrained into her synapses.

   Mona made it look so easy.

   Evie knocked into the side table, sending her needle felting project to the floor.

   “Fuck.” Snatching items up, a sharp edge plucked her finger.

   Blood beaded against the skin. A single prick like Sleeping Beauty. Evie calmed at the grim sight. Brought the finger to her lips. Sucked.

   Slowly picked up everything else and saw a shiny button there. The same color as her dress from last night. Two fingers held it up so light could stream into the holes. Tiny heavens opening.

   Her mouth watered. She no longer heard the laughter. Fredrick’s heavy breathing in her ear. Her mother chided her to smile through pain. Take bitter life pills with a spoonful of sugar. More noise fluttered away. Thunder while she hid in a dark closet. A hand on her leg.

   Evie ran the big, acrylic button across her lip. Clicked it on her teeth and liked the sounds. Wind chimes in the fall glimmering.

   Hard candy.

   It slipped along her tongue. Shifted around saliva. Evie tipped her head back. Eased it down her throat as if it were another bitter pill.

   Why do this? Just to see if she could. To see what would happen. To silence all the chaos she choked down.

   Dead silence when it was done. Evie sat there tracing her lips with curious fingers. Pictured the pretty button decorating her insides. She could make art inside herself. Snapping her heart back together.

   The exact sensations drained.

   Tired and sore, Evie crawled under her bed covers. Decided to sleep and dream as deep as she could.

** ** **

   Billy’s night before wasn’t much better.

   “What the fuck?” He had blazed back into that shitty bar. Found Brock laughing around his friends and grasped his shirt. “You-”

   “Billy, I think you want to let me go, my dad has too much influence. He’s friends with your mayor, you know.” Brock had his hands up to wave his boys off. Billy growled low at him, inches away.

   “You think I give a shit that you’re rich?”

   “I”m just saying I can make shit difficult on your family. I’m sure your daddy won’t like that, I hear you guys make a lot of noise on Cherry Lane. Could make Fenny’s life harder too, if you care.”

   Billy’s grip loosened and Brock smiled. Tommy saw Billy's eyes change and hadn't even chuckled when the boy returned.

   “Aw, Hargrove’s gotta little crush. That’s cute.” More laughter. 

   That did it.

   A fist smashed into his cheek.

   Brock was sent flying back out of his chair at the same time Billy raced out. Didn't care to watch and enjoy the sight of that boy nearly doing a back flip.

   Money tore from his pocket and shoved into Bubble’s hand.

   “Take this.” Billy didn’t count how much he’d given her. Picking up the pace before Brock and his goons could pursue him. 

   “Billy!” Tommy had called after him, but the boy was out into the cold and headed toward his car.

   Evie was long gone. He still scanned the city in his Camaro trying to spot those brown curls and that maroon dress. Felt like an hour passed. She looked empty when she’d left.

   Billy almost wished she’d cried or hit him. Something. Anything.

   “Shit.” He pulled up to a little blonde waiting in the chill. Holding an oversized jacket close and craning to see down the street. “Hey, weren’t you Brock’s date?” Her face was pinched in discomfort. Shifting steps before she gave a nod. Seemed smaller there alone as drunks rushed about in celebration. “What are you doing?”

   “Mm...waiting for the taxi.” She had a paper towel pinched between her fingers, trying to get a wet stain out of her dress collar. Billy’s gut twisted because he knew what it was. 

   “Get in, I’ll drive you home.” Billy sat back and waited. Reluctantly, she crossed over to join him. Face splotchy like she might have teared up earlier. Pulling pins out of her hairstyle. Billy figured Brock must have ruined it getting his blowy.

   “Thank you.” 

   He revved to go in response after getting the address. Stony and intent on the road for once.

   “It’s this one.” Was all she said once they’d gotten close to her building. Run down and dilapidated. Reminded Billy of the shitty apartment complex he’d lived in with his dad after mom walked out.

   “How old are you?” Billy turned to see her and she cringed.

   “I’m...fourteen.”

   Fourteen. Barely a year older than Max. 

   And he’d only been fourteen when...

   Nausea swept up his throat. Billy hitched to breathe and dug into his pocket for whatever was left of the cash Brock gave him. Felt like a true piece of shit.

   “That guy, don’t go near him again. He asks you to come out or do things for him. Like sexual things... Don’t do it. Just stay away from him. Got it?” Billy reached out and dropped the wad of crumpled cash into her palms. “And don’t get into anymore cars with older boys. They’re gonna hurt you.”

   “You’re not gonna hurt me.”

   “No, kid, I’m not gonna hurt you.” Billy gestured. “Go inside, it's cold.”

   She listened, getting out to disappear into the building. Billy rubbed his eyes because they watered. Music turned up to drown the world out before he skidded off. Made it back into Hawkins and parked at Lover’s Lake.

   Decided sleeping in his Camaro was the better idea than going home. Not wanting to face Evie’s bedroom window or her old, scrutinizing cat. She wanted nothing to do with him.

   Reclined in the back seat, Billy touched his lips and fell into an uneasy rest.

   Woke with his head pounding and birds calling out. A truly grey day. He huffed to get out, pissed near a tree, and made it home to park in the driveway next to Neil’s car. Hadn’t left for work yet.

   A groan as Billy climbed the steps to go in, felt like he might vomit at the scent of a warm breakfast. Susan playing housewife. Setting plates at the table between Neil and Max.

   “Billy, are you hungry?” She caught him. Billy eyed his father reading the paper.

   “No.”

   “Come, sit down. Eat the nice breakfast Susan made.” Neil’s snap had Billy turning to plop down. He looked like hammered shit. Susan settled a plate of fluffy eggs and bacon down in front of him. Max was staring so Billy shot her a look to stop. “What do you say?”

   “Thank you, Susan.” Billy rasped, picking up a fork. 

   “What’d you do last night?” Neil asked without looking up from his paper.

   “Just some party.” A shrug followed. Susan had sat down with her own plate when the doorbell rang.

   “Answer that.” Neil pointed her off so she left her plate to get cold and went into the next room. Billy wondered if Susan's ever eaten a warm meal after getting with his dad.

   “Susan!” Mona’s chirpy voice piped up.

   Billy dropped a bit of eggs in his lap. Had Evie told her?

   “I’m so sorry to bug you early. Can I trouble you for a cup of flour? My poor Evie’s taken ill, I wanted to make her something nice for breakfast. Forgot to pick some up, I didn’t know we ran out. For pancakes. I’ll owe ya.”

   Billy’s eyes were darting all over the table.

   “No problem, come in.” Susan came back in with a measuring cup. “Sorry to hear about Evie.”

   “Just an upset stomach, a couple of my fluffiest pancakes should do the trick.” Mona had followed. “Morning all. Happy New Year. I hope Hawkins made good on the festivities.”

   Billy couldn’t look at her. Just shifted scrambled eggs around aimlessly.

   Neil peered at Mona’s tight clad legs in her little shift dress. Already looking her best this morning after running quick daylight errands.

   “Now, Max, I’d love to see you at my salon with your mama.” Mona clasped her hands and Max snickered because she hinted at that every time she saw the younger girl.

   “We’ll be sure to visit before school starts up again. Won’t we, Max?” Susan filled the cup.

   “Be sure to bring, Billy, I love doing boy’s hair too.”

   “You might convince him to cut this all off.” Neil remarked plainly when Billy’s tired eyes lifted. Mona just smiled.

   “The boys love to look like rock stars these days, sir. It's the in thing.” She took the flour. “I’ll leave you to your meal. Say, how about I make you your first dinner of the new year? I know it’s been such a change.”

   Susan opened her mouth and shut it, peered at Neil for his answer.

   “That’s a wonderful offer,” he replied, “only if we can bring the dessert.”

   There he was. The charming family man.

   Mona gave a cute giggle.

   “I’ll take you up on that. Is six alright?”

   “We’ll be there, Mona, thank you. I hope Evie feels better by then.” Susan wiped her hands on a towel and showed her friend out. 

   “Oh, she’ll be fine. My girl's strong.”

   Billy grew bright pink. Fuck.

   Susan came back to sit down. Got a few bite in before Neil stood and kissed her cheek. Dug a few bills out of his wallet.

   “Make what you like, have it ready.”

   “Thank you, honey.” She jumped when Neil unceremoniously smacked the back of Billy’s head.

   “What!” He cringed away in his chair, dropping the fork with a clatter.

   “You see the kind of attention you get when you look like a fucking fa-”

   “She was just being nice.” Billy shot back.

   Neil sneered and was already making his way out. Max wordlessly reached to pick up the fork and settled it next to his plate. She eyed him again once the door slammed and Neil made his way to work. Susan stared at her cold eggs.

   “We should go.” Max sighed. Something happened between him and Evie. Something ugly. “To the salon.”

   “You hate that shit.” Billy lost his appetite and sat back. Pushing up out of his chair.

   “We’ll need a ride anyways. Neil always has the car and it’s better than the bus.”

   “Do I look like I’m your damn taxi?” Billy snapped. Noted Susan flinching, but she didn’t get between them. Max sat straighter. Too calm and observant.

   “No, you look sad.” 

   “Fuck off.” Billy shoved up and left his plate there.

   “Maxine.” Susan stood. “Billy-”

   A door slammed. Max debated it and went after him.

   “Don’t, he’s upset.” Susan snatched her daughter’s wrist. 

   “Yeah and he’s not Neil.” Max slipped off, leaving Susan to frown at her plate and pull her sleeves down a little lower.

   Summoning more courage, Max knocked.

   “Go away.” Came the muffled reply she ignored. Pushing in. “Just fucking go away.”

   Billy was under the covers. Having tossed his jeans and shoes aside. He didn’t raise his voice, it only got raspier. 

   “Didn’t you take Evie to that party? What happened?” Max shut the door. Crossed toward the bed.

   “Doesn’t matter.”

   “She came home before you. This orange car passed when I was sitting in the open garage fixing my wheel. I saw Evie come out at the end of the street and go home. She looked upset.”

   “An orange car?”

   “Yeah, like a rusty orange. Old car too, a Plymouth like my dad used to drive. I saw a man in the front seat. He looked like a dad too. Evie was in the car with him.”

   Billy’s head lifted to see her. Max didn't often see this look on her brother's face. Horror.

   “A dad?”

   “I don’t know, it was weird. He didn’t drop her off at her house. He passed it and she walked back.” Max shrugged, dared to sit on the bed when Billy pushed up.

   “Did you see his face?”

   “I think I’ve seen him before, I don’t know where. I was too far away. He kinda looked like Neil. Lighter hair.”

   “Mustache. Blond.” Billy’s eyes searched. He got up. “Gotta shower.”

   “Billy, what’s going on?”

   “Nothing, Max." A dismissive hand waved. "Just stay out of it.”

   “You messed up, didn’t you?” She paused when he whirled around. Thought he’d get upset. But, he only exhaled and turned to go. Stopping again when his thought was too much.

   “Max, you know not to get into cars with older guys. Right? Even if they’re pretty? Even if they call you pretty too.” Billy found her eyes and looked defeated. Something else rare for him to show.

   “Duh.” Max shrugged. A beat. “You haven’t told Neil about Lucas.”

   “You haven’t knocked my dick in the dirt with a fucking nail bat. Don't care that you see boys as long as they don't... Just don't let Neil know you hang out with them.” He opened the door. “Out.”

   Max beamed a little.

   “Apologize to Evie.” She passed with an obvious huff.

   As if it was that easy.

** ** **

   “Mom, I really don’t feel good.” Evie mopped around in a robe after taking a long shower. Mona was touching her forehead. A barely there graze before she went to sort some items in the cupboard.

   “You feel fine. It’s just dinner. Socializing is good for the soul.”

   “Mom, I really don’t-”

   “Evie, just smile for a few hours. Please, I want them to feel welcome. You can do that.” Mona waved her hand about.

   Evie shut her mouth. Flashed teeth beyond twitching lips. Moved to go off into her room where Bourbon sat sleeping. His eyes cracked before he gave a purr and resumed slumber.

   "Least one of us had a good New Years." Evie organized some empty decorative boxes and dishes on one of her bookshelves. Hummed in thought at another shelf full of collectibles. Felt the cool metal of an antique key no bigger than her pinkie.

   It tasted vaguely bloody. Clanked around in her mouth. Harsher than the button. Such a forbidden thing. That much was almost thrilling. Evie tried once to push it down. Choked. Coughed it up onto her desk with a small clatter.

   Just grin and bear it. You can suck it up, Mona said in her head. Encouragement. Always necessary. Evie picked up the key, spit trails came from it. Forced it to the back of her tongue. Swallowed once. Twice.

   It seeped awkwardly down. Dropped into her stomach with the few buttons she’d eaten too.

   Evie wondered if they’d dance with her as she navigated the world. Falling back into bed. Debating the musical clicking sounds underscored by growing flowers inside her. 

   She thought of Fredrick winding around her frame. Kissing her jaw. Teaching her things. There was a soft boy before him, but he’d moved out of state. Mr. Bowers plucked her off the floor after her father left. Talked about how it was forbidden too, but it never stopped him from kissing her. 

   This is so wrong. Kiss. But, you're irresistible. Kiss. The world just doesn't understand. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.

   It was funny how you could be so desired by a person who also constantly tells you it's wrong.

   But, that won't stop them. Excess skin. Age. What would bother people more if they knew?

   She’d sit on his bed and he’d join her. Put his hand up her leg and…

   “Evie!” Mona called. “Can you help me here? I won’t let you stay in that room all day for New Years.”

   Evie sprang up to gulp air. Held it. Felt in total control of her existence.

   “Coming.”

** ** **

   Evie hung back when the knocks rang. Stuck her head in the freezer and swallowed an ice cube whole. Wondered if this new habit would ruin her appetite. Wondered why she wasn’t horrified and ashamed of herself. It was just so quiet when it happened. Soothing. None of the ugly white noise in her daily life clustered.

   Nobody needed to know. It was wrong, that wouldn't stop her.

   “Honey! Come in and say hello.”

   Another ice cube slid down her throat. Felt like good practice.

   Wiping cold, wet fingers on her denim skirt, Evie appeared around the corner to see the Hargroves standing in her living room. Billy tried to catch her eyes.

   “Hi,” a shy wave followed, “Happy New Year.”

   “Evie, you look so pretty today.” Susan crossed to greet her with a dish. “I made cherry cheesecake for dessert.”

   “Looks good, thank you, I’ll put it in the kitchen.” Evie pulled it from her hands. Candied and red on top of fluffy filling.

   “Mona, I insist on helping.” Susan had gone on.

   “You’re my guest, Susan.” Mona looked up from Neil’s hand. Pressed in a nice polo and blue slacks. He offered a little bouquet of snapdragons tied together with tissue paper and twine. Also had a bottle of white wine. “It’s almost ready, please sit at the table. Evie just set it.”

   Evie snuck out of the kitchen again and saw Billy there staring pointed at her with an expression she couldn’t read. Averted her eyes to the little redhead next to him.

   “Hey, Max, enjoying break?”

   “While it lasts,” she glanced up at her brother as Evie shuffled away. Mona handed her the flowers to put in a vase. “That bad?” Max addressed Billy quietly.

   “Yeah.” 

   Evie looked at him like he was nothing to her. No anger, no sadness. Just a big, gaping nothing.

   Somehow that was worse.

   “The flowers are lovely, Mr. Hargrove. Thank you.” Evie came out to settle the vase on a side table in the dining room as he pulled out a chair for Susan.

   “We’re neighbors. Neil and Susan are fine, Evie.” He was all sweetness. The doting husband. Billy crept around the corner with Max.

   “I should help my mom.” Evie made herself disappear. 

   “It smells good.” Max crossed to sit down as well across from Billy.

   “I made something special from home. Jambalaya. Tried to go easy on the spice for your stomachs.” Mona brought a dish in after Evie sent some fresh rolls at the table. Her cheeks flush because her mother sat down too quick. The only free spot was the opposite head of the table between Max and Billy.

   She suppressed a groan and crossed to take it. Offered sodas to Billy and Max wordlessly. 

   “Would you like to join me in the prayer?” Mona offered her hands out to Neil and Max.

   “Of course.” Neil only smiled. Evie shifted in her seat. Felt Billy’s eyes burn. Took Max’s hand and stared at Billy’s open palm. Was this a game to him?

   She took it. Squeezed it maybe a little too tight. Stared ruefully at her empty plate. Max noticed Billy’s knuckles pale and smirked at his tense expression.

   “Bless us, Lord, and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive, from thy bounty, through Christ. Bless the Hargroves, we are truly grateful to have them join us tonight. Please guide our children through a successful year, we pray. Amen.” Mona smiled. “Please dig in. I always make so much.”

   “Allow me.” Neil plucked up the wine and poured three glasses for the adults.

   “First Christmas and New years in our town. I have to ask if it was a memorable one?” Mona started conversation. The rolls and dishes were passed around.

   “First white Christmas we’ve ever seen, it was beautiful.” Susan radiated.

   As the adults chattered about boring Christmas gifts, Max turned to Evie.

   “Mom got me some of that felting stuff, you can teach me how to do it now.” She flashed a smile. “Can you show me after dinner?”

   “Sure.” Evie was tearing her roll into two pieces. Eyed the butter next to Billy and decided to eat it without. “Eager to stab something a million times into a cute shape?”

   “Duh.” Max kicked Billy’s ankle. Tried to get him to speak, but he shoved a huge bite of rice into his mouth. “Maybe I can show, El.”

   “El?” Evie sipped her soda.

   “This new girl I’m hanging out with. Chief Hopper’s kid, he wants her to have more girl friends.” Max chuckled, twirling her fork around. “We didn’t...get along at first, but it’s better now. We found things in common.”

   Another kick at Billy’s shin. He glared. Nudged her foot back.

   “Easier when you’re younger.” Evie remarked.

   “We’re gonna find Evie a talent agent this summer,” Mona had spoken across the way, “she won all these competitions these last few summers. Sung for the governor himself at an event when she was only thirteen.”

   “Mom…” Evie blushed. She loved this food and today, it looked ghastly somehow.

   “Being a singer is difficult work.” Neil spoke. “How are you going to make money in the meantime?” 

   “She’s good,” Billy found his voice, “real good. She can make money singing.” A cold stare penetrated. “Miss Mona, weren’t you a pageant queen?”

   That turned the adult conversation for the rest of the dinner. Mona and Susan prattled with Neil stuck between them. Miserable and having to hide it. Billy turned to Evie. Smirked.

   “Can you pass the butter?” She blinked at him. Reached for another roll.

   Billy cocked his head and handed it over. Evie didn’t want to fall into those pretty eyes again. Listened to her mother and Susan chatter eagerly with Neil chewing and nodding every so often.

   Evie saw him fill his glass of wine three times.

   “Let me help you clear this for dessert.” Susan was stacking plates so Evie got up to help. Neil drank his last glass down as he sat back. Clearly extremely relaxed.

   “Neither of you are going to offer extra hands?” He’d barked under the sound of dishes in the sink and the TV in the next room.

   “It’s fine, we have it.” Evie came to set the pie down at the center of the table. Neil snatched her wrist to observe her expression. Eyebrows lifting.

   “You’re a very kind, young girl, Evie. You should sing us something.” Alcohol on his breath welled hot. He was drunk and hiding it better than most. Barely ate any dinner because the spices weren’t for him.

   Max’s fists clenched on the table and Billy moved like he might stand up.

   “Oh, I couldn’t.” Evie replied, another bout of strawberries crept up her cheeks.

   “Can’t be a singer if you’re shy.” He chuckled.

   “She was sick this morning, she probably shouldn’t.” Billy came out of his chair carefully. Eyes direct on his dad clutching Evie’s wrist.

   The fingers loosened so she crossed behind Billy. Paused there so Neil could see who her shield was. Got back into a chair.

   Billy slowly sat back down.

   Neil would deal with him later.

   “Susan, this looks delightful. I hope you’re willing to share the recipe. I haven’t mastered the cheesecake yet.” Mona ushered her friend back in. Neither felt the tension as Neil and Billy stared at each other. Not stopping when the cake was cut and passed around.

   “I’ll write it down for you.” Susan offered Billy a piece, caught Neil’s eyes. “Neil says that’s what made him fall for me. Way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” 

   Neil pressed this tight smile and laughed with the two ladies. None of the kids followed.

   “Better if you just go through his chest.” Max had mumbled. Stabbing a bright red cherry with her fork. Evie suppressed the urge to snicker. Swallowed the sweet treat and excused herself when the meal ended. Max trailed after.

   “Want to show me? No plans tonight.”

   “Sure.” Evie twitched a smile.

   Mona was pulling Susan out onto the back deck while Evie grabbed a basket she kept her craft items in. A body blocked her in the hallway.

   “Evie, can I see you outside?” Neil wasn’t particularly tall, but he certainly had a presence. 

   Her eyes went steady on Billy at the end of the hallway behind him.

   “Yes, sir.” She glanced again and Billy disappeared. “Max, want to use my desk? You've seen my room, I can show you this. Don't mind Bourbon snoring, he's been extra tired today.”

   “Yeah, sure.” Max took it after an uneasy beat so Evie followed Neil out front.

   “It was a lovely dinner, I don’t go much for exotic food.”

   “From New Orleans, Louisiana.” Evie replied flatly. “I guess.” Neil was all pleasantries. Shifting on his feet and breath smelling of wine.

   “You just seem nervous around Billy. My boy has a history.” He gestured. “Not a very nice history with girls like you.”

   “Girls like me?” Evie’s nervous hands rubbed together in front of her. Shoulder’s lifting.

   “Girls who are just a little…” Bigger. Darker. Stranger. Exotic. “Different.”

   “Billy and I...Well, we don’t really talk.” 

   It was clear Neil wanted some admission out of her. Just for the sake of it.

   “I just mean, if my boy has been unkind to you. I’d like to know about it. Billy gets into trouble and it’s my job to keep him out of it.” Neil stepped in. “You’re a very nice girl, boys take advantage. That's all I'm saying.”

   “We…” Evie’s lip wobbled. “We don’t talk, sorry. Billy hasn’t…”

   “If my boy steps out of line, Evie, I’d like to know about it.” Neil smiled again. “Tell your mother I said thank you for dinner. No doubt, she’ll keep Susan busy another hour.”

   “Sure.” Evie watched him step down the porch. Stumbled and recovered quick. “Goodnight.”

   The moment Neil went into his house, no doubt for another bottle, Billy slid out of the front door.

   “You didn’t say anything. To your mom or anyone.” He observed plainer. Unreadable. "Why?"

   “Your dad’s gone, Billy, we don’t have to pretend anymore.” Evie replied without a tone. Stepping around him. Sparing him a beating maybe. No emotion to give him.

   He wasn’t worth it.

   That replayed over and over again. No tears, no anger. Just ice. Cool and sleek. 

   Evie went back into her house. 

   Billy decided another night in his car away from Cherry Lane was better.

** ** ** **

   “You can glue the eyes in now.” Evie applied some from a tube and pushed two tiny eyes into Max’s project.

   “Looks like a monster.” Max snickered at the hideous yellow blob. “It was supposed to be a baby chick.”

   “Ah, takes practice. Just keep stabbing. Give it to your mom, she’ll display and love it forever because you made it.” They sat at her desk under a little lamp. Max looked at Evie twisting wool around to make a shape, plucked up the project she’d made. “Kinda strange, you stab something a million times until it’s pretty. Keeps my hands busy though.”

   “Trying to stay distracted?” Max piped in. Bourbon lifted his head behind them and wandered over for pets.

   “When you get older, all you want is distractions.” Evie shrugged her shoulders and sat back. Let her cat sweep their legs.

   “What happened with you and Billy?”

   “Huh? Nothing.” Evie managed to smile.

   “I know he took you to a party and...he came home  without you looking trashed like he crawled out of a dumpster.” Max paused. “Someone else took you home.”

   “I just got a ride from another friend. I don’t rage like Billy does.” Lie.

   “You’re mad at him.”

   “I’m not mad. I don’t…” I don’t want to feel anything. Sadness and fury. They weren’t to be processed or discussed. They made you ungrateful. 

   “Did you have a bad time? Did he get mad? He gets mad and does stupid stuff.” Mad Max was too sharp for this entire bland town. Evie sucked in her cheeks.

   “No, I had a great time actually. That was the problem.” A wave crashed into her. Covered in metallic confetti. Magical. Crushing.

   “What happened?” Max pressed.

   “It’s not for me to say, I don’t want to-” Evie sprang up and the door opened.

   “Sorry girls, Susan was headed out.” Mona dipped in without knocking. “Having fun?”

   “Yeah.” Max stood up. “Thanks, Evie, I’ll keep practicing. As long as it takes.” Felt like she was hinting at something else.

   “Night, Max.” Evie watched her mother show the younger girl out. Quickly swept her craft supplies back into a basket and plucked up her old cat. Listened to him purr. Decided another long night of sleep and late morning was better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading! Chat with me if you have time :))

Tagged:: @80sbxtch​ @nottherightseason @orxhidshavana @alagalaska @alongcamedolly @kellyk-chan @billy--hargroves

[fictorium]

I don’t if you’re still taking prompts but would you consider: 40. “I never stood a chance, did I?” I always wondered about what it would have been like if Mon-El had said this to Kara about Cat

40. “I never stood a chance, did I?”

Cat could ignore the invitation. In an average week she turns down at least twenty, from brunches to club openings, and doesn’t feel bad about any of them. She makes a point of showing up for her designated charities, for anything Carter asks of her, and the occasional time Adam requests her presence. 

But the housewarming of her former assistant? That shouldn’t even be on Cat’s radar, but she’s between assistants and Kara is one of the few contacts whose missives have been marked as enough of a priority to always break through the noise. It’s been glaring at Cat for what feels like a month, although in reality there’s been only a socially-acceptable week between invite and event. 

The worst part is that Kara isn’t even moving house. She’s still in that converted-whatever downtown that Cat had valued and safety-assessed by her own realtor just to be sure that Kara’s living situation didn’t pose a risk to Cat’s security. Which was a ridiculous pretext, rendered even less necessary by the revelation that Kara is Supergirl. Which, if anything, makes her home more regularly invaded but inherently well-defended. 

No, apparently someone is moving in. Someone called Mike, of all the generic things. Cat has dated a Mike or two in her time and always found them to be lacking, even though it wasn’t technically the name at fault. He’s being welcomed into Kara’s home and her life, presumably a first step on the way to engagement, marriage, and whatever babies might be possible between the anatomy of a Kryptonian and whatever this ‘Mike’ is. Cat finds herself hoping he might be a cardboard cut-out, knowing Kara he’ll have the personality of one while she makes up for his considerable faults. 

So. Absolutely no reason for Cat to attend. To even acknowledge. And yet she clicks the stupid button and confirms her very stupid attendance, because really, what will it cost her after all these months to show up with a nice bottle of something and leave after fifteen minutes? Miranda taught her that trick back in Gotham. 

It’s exactly what she expects, from the moment Cat first steps out of her town car and surveys the apartment building door, propped open with a crate of empty bottles, presumably so no one is responsible for letting visitors up one by one. The music--cheesy and poptastic and full of those infuriating summer beats that get wedged in Cat’s head no matter how much she tries to avoid it--wafts down the stairs to meet her. 

She could be at a launch event hosted by Bruno Mars right now. Or at dinner with Hillary and Huma. Instead Cat is picking her way up a staircase populated by people she’s fairly sure she’s still technically employing, some of whom scatter in habitual fear. At least that never gets old. 

Then she’s at the apartment door, wide open of course, and the space is similarly populated with people Cat vaguely recognizes, including someone her brain has filed away as some kind of federal agent, talking to that Will boy who used to be in her IT department. 

Before Cat can think better of it, suddenly the crowd seems to part and Kara is there, completely with a brand new beaming smile the moment she sets eyes on Cat, right in the middle of her living room. Amongst the fairy lights and the way everyone else in that room fades into the background in an instant, Cat begins to wonder if Richard Curtis is now directing inside her head. 

“You came!” Kara glides over a little too fast to be human, enveloping Cat in the kind of hug she wants to collapse into. Just like every other one they’ve shared. “I thought you must have clicked yes by accident, or your new assistant did, but I hoped you really would come.”

“Do you hang on to all your guests this long?” Cat says, regretting it the second Kara pulls back. 

“Sorry, it’s just been a while since I saw you.”

“I’m aware. Your apartment is... interesting.”

Kara just smiles even more at the half-compliment. “I’ll get you a drink. Don’t worry, I kept a bottle of something decent and a clean glass set aside for you.”

The relief at not being offered punch in a solo cup passes through Cat like a tidal wave, and she accepts the tumbler with at least a triple-shot of Scotch gratefully. The first sip fortifies her. 

“I know this isn’t really the best place to talk,” Cat says as something by Justin Timberlake takes over the speakers. “But I wanted to bring you something. For the housewarming.”

“Well, it’s not really for me. You see--”

“Still,” Cat interrupts. “It’s a milestone for anyone. I wanted you to have something more permanent than wine or some awful condiment set that you’ll only open during a power cut.”

She fishes out the small gift bag from inside her purse and hands it over. Kara scans the crowd. “Do we need to open it together, or can I...?”

“Really it’s just for you,” Cat says, downing the rest of her drink. It’s a decent single malt, and she shouldn’t have rushed it. “You can open it later.”

“No, wait,” Kara replies, and with a boldness borne of not being under Cat’s thumb every day, she actually takes Cat by the forearm and steers her through the space, past some curtains which mark off the bedroom area. It’s even more of a twinkling-light, pastels and faded woodwork paradise, but it’s so utterly Kara that Cat aches to see it. Without thinking, she strides across and sits on the end of the bed.

“Go on then.” Cat hasn’t even taken her coat off yet, though it’s a light one. She watches out of the corner of her eye as Kara unpacks the box inside the bag, pulling out the silver ornament with a gasp. 

“How...” Kara moves into Cat’s sightline, refusing to be ignored or deflected. “Do you know what this is?”

“I did some research. Got a message to another person from... where you’re from.”

“But the only way you could do that is through... James wouldn’t. Ms Grant, did you ask Lois Lane for help?”

“I might have used her to relay a message to Superman, yes. He sent me a drawing, I sent it to the designer, it was nothing. Really.”

“Lois will never let you forget you needed a favor,” Kara replies, holding up the delicate silver ornament on its white ceramic base. “And I should be denying any knowledge of this shape, of these branches.”

“It’s a ring tree, Kara. Somewhere to keep your jewelry together now that someone is invading your space. It used to drive me crazy when things were knocked off my nightstand, or moved from beside the sink and... anyway. A practical thing.”

“In the shape of the last ever tree to grow on Krypton. The ones my family takes its name from. Oh! Look, the crest. Etched right into the base.”

“Sounds like a really thoughtful gift,” says a male voice from somewhere behind Cat. She turns to see a generically handsome male, human at first glance. “Kind of thing someone who really cares about you would get.”

“Mo--Mike!” Kara rushes to him, setting the tree carefully on her nightstand. “I was looking for you! This is Cat Grant, she’s--”

“I know, I worked at CatCo for a hot minute there. Her face is kind of everywhere in that building.” Mike comes around the bed to shake her hand, his look appraising. Cat merely stares him down, refusing the handshake.  “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Cat. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Most of it terrible I assume.”

“Oh, you’d think. Everyone else has horror stories, but not Kara here. No, to hear my girlfriend talk, you’re the sun, the moon, and the stars all rolled into one.”

Cat glances at Kara, who’s blushing furiously. 

“That doesn’t sound like most of my former assistants,” Cat says.

“And I thought, all the times she talked about you that way, that it’s just some one-sided admiration fest, you know? Girls always have these crushes, and I’m the first guy to encourage that, you know?” His leer is as predictable as it is unwelcome.

“Mike, don’t.”

“Then you show up here and the two of you look at each other like something out of one of those movies Kara loves. Like time has stopped, for everyone but just the two of you. Then you sneak in here for special private drinks, and it turns out there’s a real thoughtful gift too. The kind of thing a real thoughtful girlfriend might choose.”

Kara tries to pull him aside then, but Mike never takes his eyes off Cat.

“I never stood a chance, did I?”

A better woman than Cat might not answer. But one look at Kara’s panic, at the darkness that flits across her face because she thinks she’s going to lose Cat all over again, and the decision is made for her.

“No Malcolm, I don’t suppose you did. Oh, I could tell you I’ve been oblivious to Kara’s little crush this whole time, but as you so shrewdly observed, those feelings are reciprocated. I left to give Kara a chance to get over me, to prevent either of us embarking on what could be a very tricky relationship for both of us. And yet. Here I am.”

“Cat?” Kara comes to her then, wonder on her face. “What are you doing?”

“Reclaiming what I believe is rightfully mine. I mean, honestly, Kara. I give you more than enough leeway to pursue things with James, an almost worthy contestant, and you end up with this punk instead? I’m almost insulted.”

“But... but...”

“Oh for God’s sake, how much plainer can I make it?” Cat gets up then, shrugging off her coat before pulling Kara close. As fluid motions go, that was Simone Biles-worthy. No time to dwell on the grace though, because there’s the small matter of kissing Kara right on her stunned mouth, provoking a groan of defeat from the manchild. 

Kara kisses back. That’s enough for the moment. Cat hits pause and pulls back, having made her point there’s no need to be cruel. 

“Kara, why don’t you tell Mike there’s been a change of plan? And that I’m sure I can find a studio apartment somewhere for him to set up home. By way of consolation, of course.”

“Shove your apartment,” he replies, yanking the curtain aside to rejoin the throng of people outside. Some of whom have clearly been listening, since the music is noticeably quieter than before. A dark-haired woman darts to Kara’s side, and they have a brief, whispered conversation before she turns to address Kara’s party for her. 

“Okay everybody, party’s over! Let’s move.”

When the crowd don’t react, the woman pulls an FBI badge from her pocket and a gun from its holster, pointing at the ceiling. 

“Federal agent, moving you all out. Get going, people!”

“Thanks, Alex,” Kara says as people start rushing out. “I don’t know how much you heard but--”

“Enough to warn this one that the badge and the gun will be after her, if she ever hurts you.”

“Agent Danvers, I presume?” Cat stands her ground. “I hope you know I would never. Not on purpose.”

“Oh come on!” Mike protests by throwing his hands up. “She still doesn’t like me, and you get a one-line shovel talk? I really do give up.”

“I’m sorry,” Kara says. “For what it’s worth, we did have some fun. After you stopped treating me like a piece of meat and pursuing me in some kind of game after I warned you not to.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Kara repeats back to him. “You sure you’ll find somewhere to stay? This was a bad idea.”

“I’m fine.” Mike heads out, and Alex follows with a mouthed ‘call me’ to her sister, leaving Cat and Kara alone in the apartment, strewn with party debris on every surface. 

“Do you want to go somewhere?” Kara asks, reaching for Cat’s hand. 

“Why don’t I help you tidy up?” Cat says, and goddamn if she hasn’t lost her mind completely. She hasn’t completed a simple domestic task since the late 90s. 

“Uh, no need,” Kara replies, disappearing in a quiet whirlwind that has the apartment spotless three blinks later. 

“Oh. That’s impressive.”

“I hoped you’d think so.”

“Well, nothing left to do now...” Cat says, looking around. “But make out on that freshly-cleared couch.”

Kara laughs, open-hearted and light, taking Cat by the hand to do exactly that. 

“You kind of ruined my party, Ms Grant. And broke up my relationship.”

“Are you complaining?”

Kara shakes her head. 

“Well then. Shush, and let me make it up to you,” Cat says, situating herself on Kara’s lap and appreciating the flex of muscular thighs beneath her. “The night is still young, after all.”

This time Kara kisses her first, and Cat is more than happy to accept that invitation, too.

[rkiverse]

growing pains, 2.

part one | part two | part three

Summary | Puberty wasn’t really your best friend until she introduced herself to you when you hit your early twenties. However, you wish puberty had befriended your seventeen-year-old self and gave you a huge makeover so that you could impress your long-time crush slash high-school quarterback, Jeon Jungkook. On a journey of finding confidence and self-love, you befriended fate, who had somehow drawn you back to nostalgia; to Jeon Jungkook.

Word Count | 10,044 words (that’s a long ass ride) also pls don’t read this on mobile it might crash!

Genre | lots and lots of fluff and a pinch of angst + quarterback!jungkook and basketballplayer!oc. this starts off with highschool!au but it’s mostly college!au, trust me. also i feel like this is sort of sliceoflife!au and a hint of coming of age.

author’s note: it’s been about a year since i’ve posted the first part. i know, it took me a year to get this up and after months of just putting it off and telling you that it’ll be up (and it doesn’t actually end up happening) here it is. she’s here in full form. but on a serious note, i know that putting this off was just a horrible thing to do to you guys and i know that i don’t owe you an explanation because you didn’t deserve having this being on hold for so long (for a year yikes). but here she is and i’m going to pull through and finish this! so i hope you enjoy this.

second year of university

Your first year of university was quite eventful. You had made a couple of friends in your biochemistry program and on your women’s basketball team. However, you had also become friends with puberty, and you had concluded that you were one of the late bloomers. You didn’t complain, though.

Even though your acne had cleared after updating your skincare routine, and even though your hair was finally tangle-free, you wish puberty never befriended you. Why? Because after your first year of university, you realized that out of all the insecurities you had felt during high school, it had only taught you a lesson to love your true self.

The woman that stares at herself in the mirror today, used to be a woman who dreaded how she looked in the past. She was a woman who tried to live up to society’s expectations, to look and act a certain way, even though it was against how she looked and acted.

It was just a matter of loving yourself. Behind those flaws and behind those traits that people label you with, was a woman who was slowly learning to love herself.

And although you were in a different country fulfilling your scholarship, it only took one heartbeat for you to transfer back to South Korea. Yes, you loved your university and the friends you had created bonds with, but you knew that going back to a place and to people who you call home, is the final road to your happiness and self-love. You had to make peace with your past.

And on top of that, if you were to be quite honest, you preferred the biochemistry program in South Korea better. But you weren’t going to let that defeat the whole main purpose of project self-love and happiness.

“Hello?” You grab your luggage from the luggage pick-up station with one hand and holding your phone against your ear with the other. “Where are you?”

“We’re at the pick-up station, your parents are outside at the pick-up lane.” Hoseok says on the other line, and you notice that his voice had gotten much lower.

You can hear Eunbi saying things in the background of the phone call, but you chuckle when you hear Hoseok hush her.

“I’m coming down the escalator!” You say.

As you head down the escalator with your things, you start searching for two familiar people and you spot them just a few metres away. They have their backs facing towards you, looking at the escalator on the other side of the waiting terminal. You giggle.

“You are? I don’t see you. Where are you?” Hoseok questions.

You hang up and slowly make your way towards them. You can already hear Hoseok yell into the phone before pulling it away from his ear to realize that you had already hung up. Before he dials your number again, you attack them from behind. Hoseok lets out a loud yelp and Eunbi squeaks softly.

As they both turn around, Eunbi stares at you with widened eyes and drops her mini umbrella. It clatters to the floor and you bend down to pick it up. Hoseok somehow chokes on air, and when he finally catches his breath, he starts poking your arm.

“Is there a reason for you to be poking my arm?” You ask teasingly.

“Y/N, is that you?”

“Actually, this is her imposter.” You reply.

“Yah, it’s Y/N, you idiot!” Eunbi exclaims, pushing Hoseok aside and crashing you into a hug.

As the three of you reunite after two years of separation, you decide to celebrate this reunion by crashing Eunbi’s dorm with nothing but burgers, fries, and a laptop to watch movies. After a couple of hours binge watching romcoms, you and Eunbi decide to catch up on each other’s lives while Hoseok had already fallen into a deep slumber on her small bed.

“Have you met someone there?” She grins, popping a chip into her mouth.

You scrunch your nose, shaking your head. “I mean, everyone is beautiful. Everyone is attractive. But I didn’t actually date anyone.”

“So, you’re single?” You nod your head. “And ready to mingle?”

“No!” You exclaim, and she hushes you. From the corner of your eye, you could see Hoseok squirm in his sleep to change into a fetal position. You lean in and harshly whisper at her. “No! I’m not ready, and I’m not going to let you or Hoseok drag me into blind dates.”

“That sucks,” she sighs.

“Why?”

“Because I know a really good candidate.” She teases.

You grab a handful of popcorn and throw it at her. She lets out a soft giggle.

“You’re funny.”

Grabbing your keys and phone from the counter top, you stretch out your arms a final time before heading out. There’s a new school year ahead of you, but you were more than ready to tackle it. Parked in your driveway is Hoseok, along with Eunbi in the backseat.

A ton of things have happened when you had studied abroad for two years. Hoseok was pursuing a kinesiology degree and played for the university’s co-ed basketball team. He proclaims he is still single, but he is open to spice his life up by having an additional person to enjoy his moments with. As for Eunbi, she was pursuing a major in English Literature, and in her Creative Arts class, she had gotten closer to her classmate who was surprisingly Kim Taehyung. Hoseok would always whine about how the two had strong feelings for each other but were too much of a fool to confess. But whenever you would try to encourage Eunbi to confess her feelings to him, she would always tell you that her status with him was a bit complicated.

As for you? You were still the same person. You had just matured. You bloomed in the middle of first year university after becoming friends with puberty. A late bloomer, was what your mother had told you after Skyping with her for two hours on a Sunday evening. But after listening to your friends talk about their love lives and relationships, you were hoping that someday and somehow, fate would befriend you next.

“Get in the car, I have basketball practice in half an hour.” Hoseok urges.

“Geez, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.”

As you hop into the car, Hoseok begins to drive through the neighbourhood. You smile to yourself. The neighbourhoods looked so foreign, yet so familiar because of the memories you have engraved in your mind. From playing basketball on your driveway to sipping lemonade with your best friends on the curb, you knew that coming back was the right thing to do.

“Hey, Y/N, you never really told us why you decided to come back.”

You snap out of your gaze. Hoseok is looking at you through his rear-view mirror, waiting for an answer. Simply shrugging your shoulders, you flash him a small smile.

“I just need to make peace with the past. My past.”

After what seems like ages of driving to campus, you arrive promptly before Hoseok’s basketball practice. The campus field was filled with several sports teams doing their usual morning practices. To the left of the campus field, the track team were doing their stretching routine before hitting the race track for laps. Towards the middle of the field were the basketball players, practicing their shots and passes. Lastly, to the right of the campus field were the football players, practicing their throws.

“Tell me why I decided to attend Hoseok’s practices every other morning again?” Eunbi groans, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

From afar, the both of you could hear Eunbi’s name being called. You glance at a familiar guy, jogging towards the two of you. Kim Taehyung. As he got closer and closer, he looked at you intently until his eyes slightly widened with familiarity.

“Oh, right, it’s because I get to watch Taehyung practice too,” Eunbi says sheepishly, and it’s almost as if she was wide awake at the sight of him.

Once Taehyung approaches the two of you, he nods his head at Eunbi and sends her a flirty wink. Eunbi playfully punches his arm a bit too hard that he ends up letting out a loud yelp of pain. Taehyung looks at you and smiles.

“Hello, stranger.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

You salute him. “Hello, stranger.”

“You look so different, I almost didn’t recognize you.” He chuckles. “I see you’ve ditched the dad hat.”

“Well, not—”

“I hope you didn’t ditch basketball, though.”

“Now that, I didn’t.” You reassure him, and he grins.

Taehyung fist bumps you and nods his head. “Welcome back, Y/N.”

Before the three of you engage further in your conversation, the football coach is yelling at Taehyung to get back on the field. He apologizes for leaving so soon and pecks Eunbi’s cheek before running back to the field. Eunbi looks like she’s floating on Cloud 9.

“A bit complicated, huh?” You tease, nudging her side.

“Let’s just go watch them play, yeah?” Eunbi insists, still in a daze.

The both of you walk down the sidelines of the field, hand-in-hand, and you reach the football field moments later. As the both of you walk a few seats up the bleachers, you take a seat close enough to get a good view of the football players.

From a few metres away, you could see Taehyung walking over to a familiar guy whose face is covered by a helmet. As Taehyung starts talking to him, he pulls off his helmet and you feel your mouth slightly fall open in shock. Jungkook shakes his head and a few droplets of sweat drip off the ends of his hair, leaning in closer to hear Taehyung speak.

“Is that—”

“Yes, it is, Y/N.” Eunbi cuts you off, almost as if she’s read your mind.

You quickly look away, trying to occupy your attention with your phone. Although playing a quick game of 2048 or sending a random good morning text to your sister who could care less was your way of occupying your attention, it had only made you look a bit more obvious of the fact that you were just trying to avoid someone or something in a certain situation.

“Make peace with your past.” You whisper to yourself and Eunbi questioningly raises an eyebrow at you.

Courageously, you look up from your phone and shove it into the pocket of your sweater. The coach blows his whistle and the players are tackling each other. You can’t seem to tell who was who, unless you looked at names on the back of their jerseys. However, you tilt your head in confusion at the sight of one particular player who was just standing there. The player was looking around the field as if they were looking for someone or something. You squinted your eyes to read his jersey, and you feel yourself choke on air. He finally spots you, and he just… stands there, looking at you.

“Jungkook-ah, pay attention!”

But before he could even snap out of it, a football is hitting him straight in the face. Thankfully, the helmet prevents the football from hitting his actual face. He’s flying to the damp grass and lands on his back with a thud. The coach blows his whistle and everyone runs over towards him.

Out of instinct, you stand up and make your way down the field. It seems like you’ve drowned out Eunbi’s scolding voice, telling you to come back and just let the coach do his job, but you couldn’t help it. As an athlete, you learned to look after your teammates and even your opponents. 

As you reach the crowd of players, you squeeze your way to see Jungkook lying on the grass in astonishment. You bend down onto your knees and look at him to see if he was alright. Through his helmet, you could see his eyes staring right back at you. He lets out a soft breathy laugh and his teammates and coach sigh with relief.

“Are you okay—” His coach asks for the nth time, only to be cut off by a loud yell.

You feel yourself being pushed to the side, and somehow, you’re kneeling next to another familiar person. She’s pulling off Jungkook’s helmet and looking at him with nothing but worry.

“Babe, are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened? I literally just left to get us some coffee and I come back—”

“I’m okay, Mina.” Jungkook cuts her off.

It took you a couple of minutes to decipher the words that were coming out of their mouths. They were a couple. They were in a relationship. Jungkook was dating Mina. You snap out of your thoughts, slowly getting up from your knees. As you brush off the grass from your jeans, you realize that Mina doesn’t seem to remember who you were for she just stares at you with curiosity.

“Y/N-ah!” You look over your shoulder to see Hoseok jogging towards you with a basketball under his arm.

“Y/N?” You hear Mina say softly.

Looking at the football players and the coach, you bow your head and excuse yourself to meet Hoseok halfway.

“What’s up?”

“Coach wants to see this best friend of mine that I keep bragging about on the court.” Hoseok chuckles, tossing the basketball to you. “One on one, shall we? You versus me.”

Before the both of you could head towards the basketball court, you hear your name being called. You turn around to see Jungkook back on his feet. He nods his head at you, but never does he flash you a smile. Standing there questioningly, you hear him barely utter a word.

“Y/N, let’s go?” You’re the first to break the stare and you turn around to catch up to Hoseok who’s already a few metres ahead of you.

Hoseok throws his arm around your shoulder and you let out a loud sigh of relief. He erupts into fits of giggles before reaching out to your face to pinch your cheek. You slap his hand away and groan.

“I thought I was going to die back there,” you whisper to yourself.

“Oh, trust me, get used to it. Now that you’re back, you’ll be seeing more of him again.”

Suddenly, you stop in your tracks. Hoseok looks at you questioningly.

“Are Mina and Jungkook… dating, perhaps?” You ask softly and curiously.

Hoseok stares at you for a moment before bursting out into laughter. While he ruffles your hair, you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“It would be a miracle for Mina if she was dating Jungkook.”

“But back there… she called him babe and she even got him coffee—”

“Y/N, Jungkook never dated anyone since we graduated high school.”

When he saw you again after two years, the air was knocked out of his lungs… literally. He was sent flying to the damp grass after taking a football to the face. He wasn’t sure if what he had seen was a dream, but after blinking once, twice, and even pinching himself a couple of times, his answers were given the moment you came into his vision.

“You’re so whipped for her,” Taehyung mumbles after throwing a pillow to his face.

“Hey! I’ve already taken a football to the face; don’t you think a pillow is a bit overboard now?”

“Someone’s salty today.”

From his periphery, he sees Taehyung turn around on his chair to resume his task of completing his essay. Amid the sounds of typing and backspacing, Jungkook finds himself falling into another deep trance. On the ceiling of their shared dorm room were stars that he had stuck with clear tape. He smiles to himself.

“Stars… really?” Taehyung questions the latter who’s in the middle of cutting up tape to stick more stars onto the ceiling. “You know you could just go outside on the campus lawn and watch the stars from there, right?”

Jungkook completely ignores him, sticking the last star onto the ceiling. He smiles to himself.

“Do you think Y/N sees the same stars as I do?”

“Of course, Jungkook, we all live under the same sky.” Taehyung shrugs his shoulders.

“You really think so?” Taehyung diverts his gaze from the ceiling to his best buddy who’s too busy smiling like a little boy who got his candy.

Taehyung shakes his head to himself with a grin spread across his lips.

He takes another pillow to his face. He groans, sending a death glare to Taehyung.

“You’ve been staring at that stupid ceiling for half an hour now. If you want to go star-gazing with her, just go! What’s holding you back?”

Jungkook frowns. He gets up from his bed and grabs his phone from the bedside table. Taehyung watches his friend make his way to the door.

“Tell her I said hi—” Taehyung’s cut off mid-sentence by the slam of a door. “Or not.”

Jungkook pulls out his earphones and begins to play his music. As he heads out of the dormitory for a late-night campus walk, he notices that the lights of the basketball court were still lit up. His curiosity gets the best of him and he finds himself walking towards the court.

“Yah! Hoseok! You’re travelling!” His ears perk up at the familiar voice.

As he gets closer and closer to the court, he sees you playing one on one with Hoseok. You dribble the ball in between your legs, while Hoseok is trying to block you from side to side. Flashing a grin, you fake a left and go to the right. Hoseok is chasing you towards the net but he’s too late when you accelerate and jump up to do a slam dunk. Holding your grip on the rim for a few more seconds, you finally let go and effortlessly fall back onto your feet.

“Studying abroad really made you better,” Hoseok says out of breath. “I can’t even keep up with your pace. But when I do get the ball, you’re already snatching it away from me.”

You smile. “It’s just practice.”

“And obviously skill. I’m surprised you’re this good after only two years.”

You laugh, turning around to head to the bench where your practice bag was. It was getting late, the sky was no longer bright and the Moon had taken over for the night. As you open up your bag, you pull out your bottle of water and chug down what you had left. Glancing up at the stars, you smile.

“Hey, Hoseok, the stars look beautiful tonight—” As your eyes look away from the beautiful night sky, your eyes meet a pair of familiar ones. 

Jungkook was standing a few metres away. Your voice slowly trails off into a soft whisper, and you can’t help but stare at him. But as you’re about to wave at him—

“Jeon Jungkook, nice seeing you here.”

Hoseok throws his arm over your shoulder. Jungkook shoves his hands into his pockets and flashes a small smile. “Hey, I was just going out for a… late-night stroll.”

There was something about him that you admired. His demeanor. He was the same shy guy, hesitant with his actions and awkward with his conversations. He was always looking at others with his curious, doe eyes. But he had matured, his facial features more prominent than the last time you saw them. He had gotten much taller, in fact, much more taller than you.

His eyes meet yours. He flashes a wider smile. “Hi Y/N. It’s nice to see you again.”

“Nice to see you too,” you mumble softly, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“We should hang out sometime before you go back to America.” He insists. “It’d be a shame if we parted ways again.”

Hoseok laughs.

“I think you’re getting something wrong here, Jungkook. Y/N is staying here for good.”

“You’re not Eunbi.”

You’ve come face to face with a girl much shorter than you. Her eyes are wide, and she looks up at you through the eye holes of her face mask. Biting your lip to contain your laughter, she tries to utter a few simple words so that her face mask wouldn’t fall off her face.

“I’m a close friend of Eunbi’s. She knows that I’m coming over, but I didn’t know I’d be arrive here first.” You explain and she nods her head. “May I come in?”

She nods her head vigorously and almost crashes into the closet door while making room for you to come in. As you hesitantly walk into the dorm, you could see her roommate run into the washroom and slam the door shut. Surprisingly, you let out a huff of breath that you had no idea you’d been holding the entire time. When you sit down on their small couch, you watch her roommate slowly come out of the washroom and hesitantly approach you.

“Are you… Y/N?” She asks, putting on her glasses.

You nod your head. “Yes?”

“Eunbi is right.” She says, quickly taking a seat next to you. “You’re much prettier in person, and your skin… what’s your skincare routine? Your skin is so clear and soft and—”

“Uh—I don’t think I got your name,” you cut her off and she clamps her mouth shut.

“I’m—my name is Inha.” She smiles.

“Nice to meet you, Inha.”

“And I am very much honoured to meet you, Y/N.” She squeals. You smile awkwardly, and her laughter dies down. “Are the rumours true?”

“What rumours?”

“You don’t know what everyone is saying about you?” She gasps. “I mean, they’re all really nice stuff, so don’t worry.”

“Nice stuff? I’m so lost—”

“Is it true that you and Jungkook are dating?” She whispers, as if there were people next door pressing their ears against the walls to eavesdrop. “Is it true that you guys had a fling or something two summers ago?”

You laugh. “Where are you getting this information?”

“People are talking about how you and Jungkook know each other,” she explains, “but trust me, they’re all good stuff! In fact, I personally think the two of you should date… you suit each other.”

“I—what—”

“Yah, yah, yah, that’s enough, Inha.” The two of you glance at Eunbi who’s just arrived with a pizza tray and a bag filled with drinks.

“S-Sorry.” Inha mumbles softly.

The three of you head over towards the small dining table set up in the tiny kitchen. Eunbi was never really close to her parents, simply because she didn’t pursue their dreams. Because she decided to pursue her dreams, they had decided to kick her out. And thus, she now lives in a shared dorm with Inha.

As the three of you are huddled around the pizza tray with pizza slices in your hands, Eunbi stares at Inha suspiciously. After two years of living together, you’d think that they’d be the best of friends. Hell, they’ve been paired up to be roommates by the Faculty because their personalities suit each other. But you had never expected this to be the turn out.

Eunbi takes a swig of her soft drink and clears her throat. “For the record, I think you and Jungkook suit each other too.”

You’re close to choking on your pizza. Inha’s too busy trying to finish what she’s chewing and by the time she swallows her food, she bursts out into exclamations of joy. “Finally, we have something to agree on!”

“Have you seen how Jungkook stared at you yesterday? He looked like a deer in the headlights.”

“Are you serious?” Inha whispers loudly.

“I think you guys are just overthinking and overseeing it.” You roll your eyes.

“Come on, I’m sure that crush of yours on Jungkook is still thriving within you—”

“No, it isn’t—” You argue back at Eunbi who has a playful smirk spread across her lips. As you slowly get up to avoid the conversation, you’re immediately pulled back to your chair by Inha.

Inha glances at you bewilderedly. “You had a crush on Jungkook?!”

“Yah, Inha.” Eunbi nods her head at her. “Whatever is said in this dorm, stays in the dorm. If I ever hear that you started spreading all of this to the whole campus, you’re sleeping out in the hallway for the rest of the year. Got it?”

You sigh frustratingly. “This is not going to end well.”

“Oh, it sure will.”

“Agh,” you suddenly groan, clutching your stomach. “Where did you get that pizza?”

Eunbi frowns. She stares at you for a few seconds while Inha is too busy trying to finish the pizza in her hand to grab the last one in the tray. You glance at her for a split second before blurting out another groan.

“I got it from the pizza shop across the road. What’s wrong?”

“I—wow, it’s not making me feel too good—I should... I should go.” You groan, bending over and smiling to yourself when you notice that the both of them are buying your act. “I’ll see you guys later, yeah?”

“Wait—Y/N!”

“See ya!”

You leave her dorm and slam the door shut. Letting out a soft sigh, you run a hand through your hair. From inside her dorm, you could hear Eunbi taking a few footsteps to the door and you don’t hesitate to make a run for the elevator. Luckily, before she could catch you, you’re already hopping onto the elevator. You’re out of breath, but you don’t notice the person standing on the other side of the elevator.

He clears his throat. “Y-Y/N?”

You shoot up, wide-eyed and startled to see Jungkook looking at you with the same expression. He’s the first one to flash you a small smile before you come back to your senses. Snapping out of your gaze, you play it off by returning a soft grin.

“Hey, Jungkook, didn’t see you there.” You chuckle, pressing the button leading to the ground floor. “What brings you here on this elevator on a late evening?”

“I was planning on going for a run around the track before hitting the books,” he shrugs his shoulders. You notice how he’s flat out avoiding eye-contact. “I can’t seem to focus. You?”

You shove your hands into your pockets. “I’m currently caught up on my readings, I just finished hanging out with Eunbi and her roommate, so I think I’ll head home.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything. You take his silence as a sign to just shut up. Instead, you settle on fiddling with the ends of your sleeves, until you hear him clear his throat.

“Uh—would you like to—uh, would you like to go for a jog, or something? I can walk you home uh—right after since it’s getting late.” He stammers, and when you looked away from him, he can’t help but wince at how ridiculous he sounded.

You nod your head. “Sure, I have nothing better to do anyways.”

“R-Really?” He stutters. He didn’t expect you to say yes.

You laugh, and he feels his heart flutter at the beautiful sound. “Really.”

The elevator erupts a soft ‘ding!’ and the doors open to the ground floor. The both of you exit the building, walking side by side. You could sense that Jungkook was sort of awkward around you, for he had left a small distance between the two of you. He was quite timid and soft-spoken, and he was very hesitant with his words. But you didn’t mind at all, because you felt awkward around him too. There was something keeping you from starting a conversation, and you weren’t sure if it was the unsteadiness of your heart, or because you were just flat out shy too.

“You know, you’re literally being talked about all over campus.” He finally breaks the silence. You raise an eyebrow at him and he starts to internally panic. “I mean—not that it’s a bad thing—the things I’ve heard have been nice things.”

“Eunbi and her roommate were literally just talking to me about it.” You say softly. “I’m just worried that those things that they say and spread about me could suddenly transform into horrible things.”

He frowns. “If that happens, then they should be scared of what’s about to come at them.”

“What do you mean?” You question confusedly.

“I’ll give them a piece of my mind,” he shrugs his shoulders.

You gaze up at him, a smile beginning to spread across your lips. “T-Thanks, Jungkook.”

“Don’t worry, I got you.” He says reassuringly.

“Hey, I’m not the only one that’s being talked about all over campus.” You purse your lips into a tight line. “You too, Jungkook.”

“Me?” You hum in reply.

“You and Mina, specifically. I had no idea you guys had a thing going on,” you fake a grin.

He stares at you for a couple of seconds before bursting out into laughter. You glance at him, eyebrows raised, surprised at how he’s laughing so hard. He was literally quiet two seconds ago, and here he was, clenching his stomach and throwing a laughing fit right in front of you.

“Mina and I,” he says in between laughs, “we’re not together. We could never be together. I don’t see her that way… she’s not even my type.”

“Oh?”

“Disappointed?” He asks and you quickly shake your head.

“No!” You blurt out only to feel your cheeks fluster. “Uh—I mean—you guys look good together—so when people talked about the two of you being together, I sort of… believed it. But only because it seemed real!”

Jungkook was afraid that you could hear how loud his heart was beating. Your cheeks were flushed a light shade of red out of embarrassment, and he couldn’t help but stare at you a bit longer than he should. When he notices that you awkwardly look away from him, he snaps out of his trance.

“So, you’re not disappointed?” He teases. He’s surprised at his current behaviour. What is he saying? Where are these words coming from? Since when did he get so flirty?

“I—uh—” You stammer.

He chuckles, reaching out to ruffle your hair. “Good. I wasn’t interested in her anyways. I’ve been waiting for someone else.”

You find yourself looking at how bright his smile was. There was a certain charm that Jungkook had, and back in the day, you had fallen victim to it. But you’re not surprised that even now, you’re still a victim of his charms. There was something about him that you couldn’t move on from, and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“Y/N?”

You snap out of your thoughts to see Jungkook already standing a metre away from you. He’s jogging on the spot, looking at you questioningly. “Are you not going to jog with me?”

“Oh—right!” You exclaim, jogging up to him.

Jungkook falls back onto his bed in a daze. Taehyung tears his gaze away from his laptop, turning around to glance at him. Jungkook’s staring up at the stars plastered on his ceiling, and Taehyung can’t help but smile at how stupidly in love he looked.

As he turns back around to finish his essay, he pulls out his phone and sends a quick text.

to: eunbi (10:23 PM) he’s so whipped for her. [img_1092]

As you run to your lecture room with a banana in one hand and a water bottle in the other, your eyes scan the room numbers to spot for yours. Just as you spot your room, you bump into a figure causing your banana and water bottle to fall to the floor. As you bend down to pick up your things, you bump your heads with the stranger.

“Oh! Sorry—” You exclaim, and it’s almost as if you had gobbled up your words. Looking right at you is a very… handsome guy. He laughs softly, rubbing at his forehead before getting back onto his feet. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“Oh, it’s no big deal. Are you okay, though?” He questions.

“Ah, yeah, I’m okay. How about you?” You ask, completely embarrassed. He nods and flashes you a reassuring smile. “Sorry, I have to get going, I’m late for class.”

He watches you as you give him one small smile before heading to the same lecture room he’s in. He tilts his head to the side in confusion, he has never seen you before. But something urges him to catch up to you, and he does.

“Oh—wait!” He says a bit too loudly. It catches your attention, and you stop abruptly with your hand on the doorknob. You turn over your shoulder with an eyebrow raised questioningly.

“Y-Yes?” You mumble.

“I’m in this class too! Biochemistry, right?” He smiles. You slowly nod your head. “I think we got off on the wrong foot, but let’s be friends, shall we? I’m Joohyuk.”

You blink, thoughts completely blank. Who did this guy think he was? You bow at him and give him one of your timid smiles. “I’m Y/N. It’s my first day in this class and I’m already running late, but it’s okay. Shall we head to class together?”

He nods his head in reply. As the both of you head into the class, the professor flashes you a harsh gaze before continuing his lecture. You’re scurrying to an empty seat that you spot near the middle of the lecture room. At the same time, you could hear Joohyuk following behind you. Just as you reach your seat, coincidentally, the seat next to yours was empty. Slowly turning around to find Joohyuk, you raise your eyebrows in surprise, for he was right behind you, heading for the seat next to yours.

“It’s a coincidence these two seats are empty, don’t you think?” He questions, and you let out a soft chuckle.

Your soft laugh dies down, however, when everyone around you seems to take note of your presence. Everyone’s whispering to each other, and you can’t help but feel yourself sink into your seat. Your gaze looks down your row of seats, and you could only confirm that everyone’s talking about you by the fact that they’re taking a quick glance at you before continuing to whisper to the person next to them.

Your heartbeat starts to quicken. Your breath is caught in your throat. This feeling of insecurity, vulnerability, and self-doubt had been absent since you studied abroad. However, you had never thought these feelings would come back. You hate attention, whether it was good or bad, because you didn’t want people talking about you. But you can’t stop people from doing it, and neither could you stop yourself from feeling insecure about the idea of them saying bad things about you behind your back.

Joohyuk, on the other hand, seems to notice how you’ve grown tense from the atmosphere. He notices how people are whispering to others, how they glance at you, and it leaves him curious. But he feels as if he’s somehow become part of the reason as to why people are looking at you, whispering about you. He notices that your breathing quickens, and he grows a bit nervous and anxious.

You’re too focused on calming down your breathing. You’re too absorbed by the sounds of whispers. You’re tapping your feet against the floor, hoping that it would help you focus on the lecture. But your breathing starts to quicken, and you’re afraid that—

“Hey, are you okay?” You feel a warm hand being placed on top of yours, and to your surprise, you calm down. Joohyuk glances at you with concern. “Do you need water?”

You let out a soft sigh, your body relaxing. “I’m okay, just anxious. Thanks.”

He flashes you a reassuring smile before fixing his gaze on the screen. A small smile starts creeping up on your face. Somehow, all of your worries fade away. Your growing anxiety and your growing pains scurry away.

And the warmth of his hand never seems to go away.

Class ends on the dot, and you’re already scurrying to get out of the lecture hall. Everyone’s taking their time, while you’re trying to squeeze your way through the aisles towards the exit. The whispering doesn’t seem to stop, and you know you’ll hate yourself forever if you decide to listen to what is being said.

Joohyuk watches you amusedly. You’re too occupied by your thoughts, and you were muttering things underneath your breath. As he just finished packing his things, he finds you already at the exit of the lecture hall. He tilts his head in confusion. He squints his eyes in suspicion when he hears the whispering yet again.

“Joohyuk’s so handsome…”

“I know, right?! She’s so pretty too… don’t you think they look good together?”

“I think they’ll be the couple of the campus, it must be fate that they both came to class late.”

“Yeah! They even ended up sitting together, what kind of coincidence would that be? I think it’s fate.”

Joohyuk purses his lips into a tight line. He starts to feel guilty, wondering if you had felt uncomfortable throughout the whole lecture because of everyone around you.

“Hey, but what about Jeon Jungkook? Isn’t he interested in her?”

“I thought he was dating Mina.”

“Yeah, me too!”

He shrugs off his thoughts, throwing his bag over his shoulder as he heads out of the lecture hall.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion as Eunbi continues to belt out into fits of laughter. Her roommate, Inha, went back home to spend the weekend with her parents, leaving Eunbi all alone for once. Eunbi’s laughter echoes throughout the dorm, and you can’t help but look at her ridiculously.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Do you know who Joohyuk is?” She questions. You shake your head. “I can’t believe it! I really can’t.”

“Just tell me!”

“Joohyuk. Nam Joohyuk. He’s the top student, he has been on the Dean’s list for two consecutive years – and counting! On top of that, he’s on the swim team and never loses.” She explains, and your mouth slowly falls open at each fact. “You could tell the heavens took up so much time trying to build a perfect man like him. He not only has the looks, he has the brain of Einstein too.”

You groan, shoving your face into her pillow. Eunbi begins to giggle. “Are you kidding me? I literally embarrassed myself in front of him?! Please, just shoot me.”

“But listen,” she whispers, “he’s single.”

“So, what—”

“You didn’t let me finish!” She exclaims. “He’s single and ready-to-mingle.”

You frown. “And he’s definitely not going to be mingling with me, because I won’t mingle with him.”

“Stop being such a party pooper! I’m sure he’s interested in you,” she wiggles her eyebrows. “On the plus side, I think fate has all the reasons to explain why you both ended up in seats next to each other after showing up late to lecture.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not going to let the event of coincidentally sitting next to him determine my fate.”

“But that’s how I met Taehyung.”

“You’re the only exception.”

Eunbi sighs and falls back against her bed. As the both of you lay next to each other, she props herself up to look at you. You’re completely absorbed in your own thoughts, and you can’t help but feel bothered. There was no doubt that what had happened earlier between you and Joohyuk would soon enough be spread across campus. It makes you let out a frustrated groan, and you rub at your temples. 

“Everyone’s definitely going to be talking about it tomorrow, huh?” Eunbi grins at you.

“Of course.” Her grin suddenly falters. “But be careful. Words can be twisted up.”

Mina walks down the hallway as she heads to her next lecture, and she notices the eruption of whispers. Her ears perk up out of curiosity, but she’s surprised that she’s not hearing her name being the subject of conversation. Y/N. She purses her lips into a tight line and shrugs it off, entering the lecture auditorium to see none other than—

“Y/N,” she sees you seated a few rows up and flashes you a smile. The auditorium was still empty, the seat still unoccupied except for yours. “Nice to see you here.”

At the sight of Mina, you could feel your body tense up. There were gears turning in her head, and you knew that she was planning something. You prove your thoughts correct when she starts heading up to your row to sit right next to you, of all seats. As she grabs her things out of her backpack, she gives you a glance.

“Are you uncomfortable with me sitting next to you?” She questions and you shake your head. 

“Not at all,” you reply softly. She grins.

“Great,” she closes her bag. “Because you’re the only person I know in this class.”

Of course I’m the only person you know. You almost ruined my life. You thought to yourself as you try to make yourself look busy by finishing one of your assignments due this week. Mina clears her throat and it prompts you to give her a side glance.

“Did you know you’re being talked about all over campus?” She asks. “Must be nice to have people talking about you. But don’t worry about what they say, they’ve all been nice things.”

You nod your head to acknowledge her, before returning to your task. The auditorium slowly fills up with fellow peers, who don’t take long to realize that you and Mina are sitting right next to each other. It makes you feel uncomfortable. The whispers come back again.

Once the auditorium is finally full before the start of lecture, Mina looks at you again. “The things they say about you might be nice for now, but if I were you, I’d watch out. Nice things could turn into backstabbing rumours.”

You gulp nervously. She smiles at you, and you’re not sure whether she’s faking it or whether she’s just doing it to irritate you. “But let’s hope that never happens to you, alright?”

“I can’t believe you’re majoring in biochemistry.”

Hoseok huffs out, leaning back in his chair. The two of you are spending your afternoon in the library, catching up on weekly readings and assignments. There was one week left until reading week, where all the students had the opportunity to catch up on their readings. You raise an eyebrow at him before flipping to the next page of your textbook.

He leans in, whispering, “Eunbi told me about Joohyuk.”

“And?” You question, looking completely unfazed.

“There’s something you should know about Joohyuk…” He trails. “And Jungkook.”

“They’re best buddies, aren’t they?” He shakes his head and you frown.

“Well, you see, Jungkook and Joohyuk have always been rivals. Joohyuk is practically the perfect guy you could ever dream of. In first year, he attended the football team tryouts, and he passed with flying colours.”

“And where does Jungkook come in?” 

Hoseok dismays. “Jungkook also passed with flying colours. Both of them were on the same team, but it was almost like they weren’t teammates. They were like rivals, and it was all due to two reasons.”

“But Joohyuk’s on the swimming team?” You laugh, completely confused. 

“That’s the thing,” Hoseok mumbles. “Reason number one, Joohyuk was so whipped for Mina, who was whipped—and still is—for Jungkook.”

“And reason number two?” It’s too much for you to handle that you’re afraid that the second reason is much more worse than the first.

“Jungkook was the reason why Joohyuk was kicked out of the football team. This explains why he’s on the swimming team now.”

“What did Jungkook do?” Hoseok shrugs his shoulders in reply. 

You close your textbook and rub your temples. Hoseok’s revelation and the words in your textbook were both screaming at you to take a break, maybe think and worry about something else for once. But you can’t help but imagine Jungkook and Joohyuk as enemies, two of the most talked about students on campus. And now… you’re somewhat in the middle of it, which is probably why everyone’s talking about you.

“I’d be extra careful if I were you,” he suggests, “the moment Joohyuk finds out you’re connected to Jungkook in some sort of way, he’ll use you in his power to ruin Jungkook.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m sure Joohyuk isn’t that petty and bad to use me to ruin his enemy.”

Hoseok places his hands on top of yours. “Sweetheart, trust me, I’ve seen the two of them brawl, and it’s not the prettiest sight. And it definitely won’t be much prettier if the person they brawl over… is you.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Y/N.” Hoseok waves as the both of you head back home.

You’re walking in the opposite direction as he is, and you plan on making a quick stop at the convenience store to grab some cup noodles. Since it’s almost midterm season, and that only meant that your fridge will soon be empty and your cabinets will soon be filled with cup noodles. It was university at its finest.

You come across the convenience store near your place, and you step in, your feet absent-mindedly dragging you to the cup noodle section. There was a huge variety of cup noodles that you could probably spent at least half an hour trying to pick one that suits your taste. But knowing you, you were on a crunch of time—study time to be exact—and here you were, grabbing anything your hand comes into contact with, and placing it in your basket. 

Once your basket is almost filled with at least a dozen cup noodles, you find yourself at the checkout desk with your eyes squinted at the total. You pull out a few bills and hand it to the cashier, receiving your change in return.

“Thanks,” you smile and begin to head out the convenience store. 

As you step out of the store, you immediately stop in your tracks when you hear the heavy pitter-patter of rain hitting against the concrete. You rummage through your backpack in search of an umbrella, but frown when you realize that you’ve left it at home. The weather forecast proclaimed a beautiful day and a cloudy afternoon, but you guess you could never trust anything at this point anymore.

Sighing to yourself, you decide to make a run for it. Besides, you didn’t live far from the convenience store. Just as you’re about to make a sprint, you hear your name being called. Standing a few metres away is Joohyuk, his umbrella shielding him from the rain as he makes his way towards you.

“Joohyuk, hey,” you smile softly. 

“What are you doing out here in the rain?” He questions, but he seems to answer his own question when he notices the bag of cup noodles in your hands. “Ah, I see. Are you headed home?”

“Yeah, but unfortunately I forgot my umbrella.” You laugh sheepishly, “I was honestly about to make a run for it. I don’t live quite far from here.”

“You live in this neighbourhood?” He asks and you nod your head. “Really? How come I’ve never seen you around? I live here too.”

“You’ve never seen me around because I’ve been studying abroad last year.” You laugh, and he gestures you to walk with him. “Oh, no, I’m good. I don’t live that far!”

“I don’t want you getting sick,” he argues cutely. “We live in the same neighbourhood, let’s just go home together.”

He takes your silence as permission and the both of you are now walking through the neighbourhood. He glances down at you every now and then, and you notice it. You’re too shy and awkward to start a conversation, for this was one of your weaknesses. Being a complete introvert made it extra difficult for you to make any sort of conversation with someone you barely even knew.

“I heard you’re best friends with Jungkook,” he begins and you gulp nervously, recalling the conversation you and Hoseok had earlier. 

You hum in reply. “Yeah, we went to the same elementary and high school. We’ve been friends for a long time.”

He smiles, and you look up at him. “I used to be on the football team with him, actually.”

“Really?” You try to act surprised.

“Really.” He laughs. “I’m surprised Jungkook never told you. I would have assumed he had already told you, since both of you are close.” 

“Oh, no, here’s the thing,” you explain. “Jungkook and I have been friends throughout elementary and high school. When we both went to university, we haven’t spoken to each other for about a year.”

“Ah, I see.” He nods his head, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, a lot can happen in one year, I guess.”

You nod your head in agreement. “I don’t want to be a bit nosy but, what made you switch to the swim team?”

You watch his smile falter. He plays it off by letting out a small laugh. “I guess a certain football teammate and I had some sort of fallout over a girl. Honestly, looking back at it, it seems extremely ridiculous.”

“A girl?” You question. He nods and you sigh. “I guess a lot of things do happen in one year.”

The two of you look at each other before bursting out into laughter. You finally reach your place, and you gobble up your words when he ruffles your hair. His eyes trail down to meet yours, and you swear he stares at you much longer than needed. You’re the first to look away and his cheeks flush a slight hint of pink.

“Uh, I’ll see you tomorrow in class, I guess.” He clears his throat. You look at him, is he nervous? 

He leans down to peck a gentle kiss on your cheek and your eyes slightly widen. You bite your lip, your feet glued to the ground. What was going on? Why was your heart beating so fast? Why couldn’t you say a word? 

“Good night, Y/N.”

“Hoseok, do you mind passing me a face towel?”

Hoseok goes through your bag and pulls out a towel. He tosses it to you and you wipe down the sweat from your face. As Hoseok starts going through his bag, he furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “I swear I brought my water bottle, where is it?”

“You’ve been quite out of it since this morning, Hoseok.” You chuckle. “Maybe you left it at home?”

“Ugh, you’re right. I think I am out of it.” He pulls out his wallet to take out a few bills. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to go to the convenience store to get some water.”

You smile. “No worries. I’ll be right here.”

As Hoseok leaves you out on the basketball court all alone, you decide to fix up your layups. It’s been a couple weeks since you had an actual one-on-one basketball game, and you were getting pretty rusty with your footwork. You loosen up your legs and your ankles before beginning to dribble down the court. 

As you get near the 3-point mark, you dribble the ball a couple of times before making a shot. The shot goes in clean, an immediate swish, and you smile to yourself. From afar, you could hear someone clapping. You look over your shoulder to see Jungkook leaning against the lamp post.

“Jungkook, nice to see you.” You smile and Jungkook pushes himself off of the lamp post. 

“Went out for a jog,” he mumbles softly. “But I could definitely use up a quick basketball session.”

The both of you meet halfway through the court. This oddly feels familiar to you. 

“One on one?” He smirks.

“Sure.” You grin as you toss the ball at him, almost a bit too forcefully. The ball hits him in the chest and he groans in pain. You gasp softly. “Sorry!”

“Someone’s competitive,” he laughs. 

There’s no denying that you feel butterflies in your stomach or how you feel your heart leaping for joy. There’s that same feeling of nostalgia that you miss so terribly. 

Jungkook begins to charge towards the free-throw line. You take notice of how Jungkook’s surprisingly improved since the last time you played basketball with him. He dribbles the ball between his legs, almost as if he’s trying to distract you. You smirk, snatching the ball from him mid-dribble, passing the ball through his legs. You pick up the ball from behind him and begin charging towards the hoop. Throwing the ball up, you toss it into the hoop and it goes in clean.

You shrug your shoulders. “Zero-one.”

“I should step up my game, huh?” He teases. “It’s the only way I could impress you.”

You retrieve the basketball and begin dribbling it back outside of the three-point line. Jungkook starts to approach you, and you start using his method of distraction by dribbling the ball in between your legs. He tries to snatch the ball away from you, but he misses every time. 

You move side by side, and you decide to fake a left. But as you fake a left and begin to move right, Jungkook stumbles on his untied shoelaces and falls to the ground. You completely forget about the basketball in your hands and check up on him. 

He’s laughing cutely as you bend over. You tilt your head. “Are you okay?”

Jungkook opens his eyes to see you looking at him with concern. He feels his heart soften at the sight. He forgets the fact that he’s stopped laughing at himself. “Mind helping me up?”

You hold out your hand for him. He grabs it and pulls you down. You let out a soft yelp. The both of you lie down, back against the concrete. You glance at him to find him already staring at you. 

“Helping you up doesn’t exactly mean pulling me down with you.” You tease.

The both of you burst out into laughter.

Joohyuk parks his car and lets out a tiring sigh. As he pulls out his gym bag from the trunk of his car, he hears faint laughter from a distance. The laughter had seemed to be from two people, and one laugh sounded oddly familiar. He furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

He starts walking down the jogging path. As he walks closer to the sound of laughter, he sees a basketball court. There are two people versing each other on the basketball court. He sees a familiar figure dribbling the ball and tossing it into the hoop.

As he walks closer towards the basketball court, he realizes that it’s you. He smiles. Heading towards the court, he sees another figure lying down on the ground, grabbing your hand and pulling you down with them.

He squints his eyes. “Look what we have here…”

It doesn’t take quite long for his legs to drag him all the way to the basketball court. The closer he gets, the louder the sounds of your laugh gets. He arrives at the basketball court and stops a couple of metres away.

He clears his throat. “I was wondering who was out here at this time of night.”

You and Jungkook slowly get up, glancing at whoever was speaking to them. When you had realized it was Joohyuk, you flash him a small smile. “Joohyuk, nice seeing you here.”

Jungkook glances at you then at Joohyuk. Joohyuk eyes the both of you before shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweater. As the both of you are having a conversation, Jungkook can’t help but feel out of place. It was like he was invisible, and no matter what, he hated feeling left out. But it was almost as if you had heard his thoughts because you patted his shoulder, catching his attention. You look at him questioningly and he gives you a reassuring look.

“I have yet to go out on my night jog, so I guess I’ll see you in class tomorrow?” Joohyuk insists and you nod in reply. “I’ll save you a seat, as always.”

Once Joohyuk’s out of sight, Jungkook gets up onto his feet and offers you a hand. You grab his hand and he pulls you back up onto your feet. As you dust off your pants, the both of you decide to head back. 

After a couple of minutes of walking in silence, Jungkook asks, “you’re in his class?”

You hum in reply. “Yeah. I met him on my first day of class, actually. He seems pretty nice, he’s been saving seats for me ever since.”

“That’s nice of him,” he mumbles softly. “We used to be best friends, actually.”

You purse your lips into a line. Jungkook seems to be deep in thought and reflection, as if he’s reminiscing the past. You can’t help but look up at him as the both of you walk together. Jungkook glances down at you and it prompts you to look away. He smiles because although you reply with silence, it’s the type of silence where someone just knows. 

He’s hesitant to ask you something, but when you look up at him again, he decides that it’s better to find out. “Do you… like him?”

Curious, you ask him, “what makes you ask that?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “It looks like he likes you.”

You bite your lip. Joohyuk was a sudden change of current, attempting to sway your boat filled with feelings for someone else. He was simply someone who came into your life in the most unexpected way. And although he makes you feel warm, you weren’t sure whether that was enough to determine if you romantically liked him or not. 

“I like him,” you nod your head, and Jungkook looks at you hopelessly. “But only as a friend.”

Right when those words come out of your mouth, snowflakes start falling from the sky. Excited, you look up at the sky to watch the snowflakes fall down. Jungkook sighs with relief, but he finds himself falling into a trance when he looks at you. You catch some snowflakes in your hands, and you watch them melt away. Suddenly, you feel something warm and soft being wrapped around you. Looking up, you watch Jungkook as he wraps his scarf around your neck.

You could feel your heart combusting and your cheeks heating up. He adjusts the scarf before pulling away and giving you a soft smile. “It’s getting cold.”

If you could remember one thing from this beautiful night, it would be how you realized that your feelings for Jungkook have never faded away. Unlike the snowflakes falling from the sky, your feelings for Jungkook had never disappeared in an instant. In fact, they had grown stronger.

That night, Jungkook pulls up an old undelivered text message. 

(11:07 pm - July 2017) jk: hey y/n. that day at grad, what i really wanted to tell you was that i like you. a lot. and i was wondering if you’ve been feeling how i’ve been feeling whenever we hang out. there’s just something indescribable that i feel whenever i’m with you and only you and i’m sort of terrified but at the same time i feel… safe. and at peace.

It’s been two years since that text message, and everything remains the same. The only difference is that Jungkook knows that he’s not terrified of the fall, and he is more than sure that the feelings he has for you won’t ever change. 

Jungkook loves being lowkey about his strong feelings for you. Although his definition of lowkey doesn’t necessarily mean or seem lowkey to his close friends, you somehow are oblivious of it all. But he’s not sure whether he should keep things lowkey anymore when there’s another guy coming into the picture.

And that guy happens to be Joohyuk.

author’s note: i hope you like this early christmas gift! i know this was long overdue but i knew that i had to get it done somehow. let me know what you think! hmu :-) i love making new friends!

[blackcatkita]

Coffee Cups and an Underwear Drawer

Book: LoveHacks

Pairing: Mark x MC (Dani)

This one-shot (which was supposed to be a ficlet but you know me) fills a request from @darley1101 and is one of my “Mark and Dani: The College Years” pieces. I hope you like it and if you do, please like, comment, or reblog! I appreciate every single note!

**********************************

“I still don’t understand why you wouldn’t let me drive, Mom. We could have made way better time and I’m the one who knows the city.” Dani pointed at the next intersection from the passenger seat of the car they’d rented to take her back to college half-way across the country. “Turn right up here.”

“Because you’re not on the rental agreement and you drive like a lunatic. You would have tried to lose your dad and brother just because you’d think it was funny.”

“No, I wouldn’t. They have all my stuff in that U-Haul.”

Her mom laughed, then checked the rear-view mirror and her blind spot before moving into the turning lane. “Tell me again why you got an apartment when the dorms are so much more affordable.” Making the turn, she watched in the mirror to make sure the truck was still behind them before speeding up. “The rent in this city is outrageous.”

“Because I’m a senior and all the cool kids are doing it,” Dani answered, watching the house numbers as they passed. Just off-campus, the entire street was lined with old Victorians rented out by Grantmore students. Dani and her roommate would occupy the third floor of one of them, complete with the attic space to do… whatever the hell people did in an attic space. Have parties, she supposed. It was gonna be awesome. “It’ll be fine, mom. I’m splitting everything with my friend Ashley. She’s in nursing school. You’d like her.”

“So because she’ll be a nurse, I’m automatically supposed to like her?”

“I mean, yeah. You’re a nurse so isn’t it like a prerequisite you like other nurses?”

“No,” her mom chuckled. “Where is this house of yours?”

“Oh, shit.” Dani turned around in her seat. “I think it’s back that way.”

“Danielle!”

“I’m just kidding!” Dani laughed. “It’s right up here. Pull up behind that white car.” Unbuckling her seatbelt as her mom stopped the car, Dani bent down to gather all the trash from their road snacks into a recycled grocery bag.

“Huh,” her mom said. “Surprise, surprise.”

“What?” Confused, Dani sat up to look out the window and felt a wide smile spread across her cheeks. There he was waiting for her; her best friend, sitting on the porch steps next to a to-go tray full of coffee cups. Her heart raced, beating two, maybe even three times faster than normal while her stomach flipped and flopped. Weird. It almost felt like she was nervous… but that can’t be it, it’s Mark. Maybe the gas station burrito she ate awhile back wasn’t such a good idea.

“Well, look at that,” her mom mused as Mark stood up and straightened his shirt. “His smile matches yours.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re just friends. He’s probably just here to help me move my stuff… or something.”

“I don’t see any other friends here.” Her mom looked up and down the street before nodding in Mark’s direction. “That is not a boy waiting around to help his friend move her stuff. That is a boy excited to see the girl he loves after missing her for three months.”

“You’re delusional,” Dani laughed nervously. “He has a girlfriend.”

A slow grin appeared on her mom’s face as her eyebrow raised, giving Dani one of the many ‘mom looks’ she and her brother Alex knew so well. This one said- you think you know everything but you don’t know shit. “For now,” she said simply.

“Oh my God, stop.” With shaking hands, Dani smoothed her ponytail. “How do I look? Is my makeup ok? It isn’t all smudged and nasty, is it?”

“Why do you care so much? I thought you were just friends?”

“Ugh, forget it.” Rolling her eyes, Dani opened the car door and stepped out as the U-Haul pulled up behind them.

“I hope one of those coffees is for me!” her mom shouted as Dani slammed the door shut.

Walking up to her new home, and Mark, Dani couldn’t stop the smile on her face if she tried and when Mark met her halfway, he lifted her up in a bear hug so tight she didn’t know how she would draw her next breath. Or even if she wanted to, not if breathing meant he let her go. She pushed the silly thought from her mind as he set her down, still holding on tight. “It’s good to see you, Collins.”

“It’s hella good to see you too, Dani.” His deep voice sounded almost breathless in her ear and his hold loosened, only enough to look into her eyes and smile. “How was the drive?”

“Longer than necessary with my mom driving,” Dani laughed.

“Well, we don’t all think the speed limit is just a suggestion like you do.”

The smile on Mark’s face faded into something softer as he looked into her eyes and when his gaze shifted to her lips and back again, she distantly heard the rumble and clang of the truck’s rolling back door open; reminding her they had an audience. A very nosy but well-meaning audience who would tease her mercilessly for being in love with her best friend. Which was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Yes, of course, it was. Definitely. Nope, nothing to see here, just two friends clinging to each other on a sunny day, not weird at all. A warm flush spread across her cheeks as she let out an embarrassed giggle and stepped out of his embrace, breaking whatever spell his gorgeous blue eyes put her under. “Sorry. I umm…” she mumbled.

“I uh… I brought coffee for everyone,” Mark stammered at the same time. “It should still be hot if anyone wanted some, or whatever.” He looked away and rubbed the back of his neck, the blush on his face matching the one Dani could feel getting hotter on hers.

So he felt it too. The awkwardness, the embarrassment, the warm and fuzzy feeling in his stom… No, Dani, she told herself. It’s just Mark, your best friend, not some stupid crush so stop making it weird. She took a deep breath and smiled brightly, determined to move past… whatever was happening. “You, sir, are my hero.”

A soft, affectionate smile graced his lips as his shoulders sagged in relief. “I try.” With a tip of his head, he gestured at the porch and placed a light hand on her lower back. “Come on, I got you your favorite.”

Falling into step beside him, Dani heard her dad and brother arguing and glanced over her shoulder. Only her mom was visible, standing in the street behind the truck and shaking her head at what was going on inside. Plenty of time for Dani to drink some of her coffee then. All of it, if history was to be believed. Once those two got going it didn’t stop until Dani or her mom took control of the situation. Then they would pout for a few minutes, grumbling under their breath about why they were right before doing what they were told. She turned back around and found Mark holding out a large purple drink with an extra fat straw poked through the top. “You didn’t,” she gasped.

“I did,” he beamed proudly.

“BOBA!” Dani squealed as she took it and cradled its cold surface to her cheek. “Oh, how I’ve missed you.” She took a drink, closing her eyes in bliss as the sweet, nutty flavor hit her tongue. “Oh my god, and it’s taro too. I could kiss you for this Mark, you have no idea.”

“Geez, Dani. It’s just tea.”

“Uh-uh,” she hummed as she took another sip and shook her head. “It’s love poured into a cup and it’s everything.” While she happily chewed away at the black tapioca pearls from the bottom of her drink, the voices by the truck grew more agitated. Now take the goddamn drawers out like I told you to, she heard her dad yell. It took a moment for the meaning of his words to penetrate the boba induced euphoria fogging her brain, but once it did, her face went cold. “Oh, fuck…” she whispered, wide-eyed and slack-jawed with her straw still in her mouth. “They’re gonna find my vibrator!”

“What?” Mark choked as she thrust the cup into his hands.

Heart going overtime, breathless, and seriously regretting her life choices, Dani sprinted down the walkway. If her dad saw what his little girl had hiding in the drawer, she would die. He would die. Everybody would die. Ok, fine, she shouldn’t have relied on just burying it in her unders and put it in a box, but what if her mom unearthed it while unpacking? Not quite as bad, but still mortifying. Even worse if her mom pulled it out and said something like, ‘Oh, I like this model. Good choice, Dani’. Inquisitive or not, there were some things Dani just did not care to know and whether her mom used sex toys was definitely one of them. “Hey! Hi!” Dani shouted as she leaped from the curb and into the street.

Startled, her dad leaned away, lip curled as he looked her up and down, “The hell’s the matter with you?”

“What? Nothing. What do you mean? I’m fine,” Dani rambled, too fast for her words to be seen as anything near casual. “What are you guys talking about?”

“Dad’s bitching about the dresser being too heavy with the drawers in it,” Alex said from inside the truck. To clear the path to the source of Dani’s distress, he lifted a box marked ‘books’ from a stack of three. It was easy for him, thanks to his 6’3 frame, college football physique, and following in her father’s footsteps in the fire department. He set the box down on the other side of the truck and leaned against the open door, crossing his arms as he smirked down at her. “Nice of you and your boyfriend to tear yourselves away from each other to help, Dani.” He chuckled, as usual, thinking he’s funnier than he is as he nodded over Dani’s head. “Hey, Mark.”

“Alex, good to see you again,” Mark nodded back as he joined them, balancing the tray of coffees in one hand and taking a sip of her boba with the other.

“Hey, that’s mine!”

Mark shrugged. “Then why’d you give it to me?” He shot her a wink, then took the coffees, and her boba, over to where her parents were ‘having a discussion’ a few feet away.

“Aww, look,” her brother teased as their mom greeted Mark with a hug he could only return half-way. “He’s even in with the parents.”

Dani turned and scowled up at the stupid look on his face, hand pressed to his heart like the irritating moron he was. “Why are you even here, poop stain? Don’t you have a job you should be at or something?”

“Nope. Took a few vacation days to help my baby sister move into her first big girl apartment.” He shot her an extra-cheesy grin and pushed himself off the doorframe. “We’re gonna move as much furniture as we can first, including your stupid dresser. I’ll bring the drawers over so whoever wants to grab them can.”

“No, wait!” she shouted, scurrying up the ramp. She pushed her brother to the side and walked past him. “I’ll get them myself.”

“Whatever, psycho,” Alex mumbled. “What? Worried I’m gonna see your underwear or something? I used to change your diapers.”

“That’s impressive since you were like two when I was born.” Dani rolled her eyes as she slid out the first drawer and walked over to set it down by the door. “And yes, as a matter of fact, I don’t need you or dad seeing my panties ok?”

“Ugh,” Alex grimaced as she walked past for the second drawer. “Don’t… don’t use that word.”

“What? Panties?” she asked as she placed drawer number two on top of the first and went back for the one causing all the trouble. Mark could take the first two, and she’d take the third. Easy peasy and no one else would have to know what was hiding inside.

“Yes. It’s gross. Coming out of your little sister’s mouth, it’s gross.”

Balancing the drawer on her hip, Dani plucked out a pair of black lace panties and dangled them in Alex’s face. “Panties, panties, panties, Alex,” she laughed, chasing him to the other side of the truck. “Eww… so gross!”

“Mom!” Alex shouted, cowering in the corner as he tried to block the assault. “Dani’s shoving her underwear in my face!”

“I don’t feel bad for you,” their mom shouted back. “I seem to recall you chasing her around the house with your cup after football practice. Payback’s a bitch, Alex.”

“Ha!” Dani cheered. She got one more hit against the side of his head before he pushed her back and jumped out of the truck.

Red-faced, he pointed up at her from the ground while the rest of them laughed at the show. “I’m getting you back for that, shithead.”

“Ooh…” Dani shivered mockingly. “I’m so scared.”

“Fuck your drawers, Dani.”

“When you say drawers, do you mean…” Alex cut her off with a glare, but she raised her eyebrows and mouthed the word anyway.

Lips pressed together as he tried not to laugh, Mark handed back her still full boba and grabbed the two drawers. “I’ll take these,” he said in a pinched voice.

“Thank you, Mark,” she smiled sweetly. Not trusting her brother to not spill or spit in her drink, she placed the cup in the drawer and got a better hold with both hands. “I’ll get the doors open and stuff before we take more up, k?” she told her dad as she walked down the ramp.

“Yeah, alright,” her dad grumbled with a nod. “Don’t be putzing around up there though, we’re burnin’ daylight here.”

“We won’t, Dad,” she grinned as she and Mark passed.

“So I was gonna give Alex his coffee but I figured he might have thrown it at you,” Mark mumbled as they made their way up to the door.

“Nah,” Dani laughed. “He’s all bark and no bite but I understand your concern.” She walked up the porch steps and stopped, looking at what was hanging on doorknob then down at the drawer in her arms. “Ah, crap. I gotta get the key from the lockbox. Here.” She turned around and placed her drawer on top of the two Mark was carrying, making him grunt as the height of which brought all of her undergarments up to his chin.

“So umm… did Ashley move her stuff in yet?”

“Yeah, yesterday. Today she’s showing her sister Sienna around the city,” Dani explained as she punched in the code the landlord gave her. She glanced over her shoulder and held in a laugh at the sight of Mark, cheeks red, and trying very hard to look anywhere but at what was right under his nose. His eyes trailed down, then shot to the side as he cleared his throat and she resumed the task at hand before he could catch her watching. “Hey, what were you going to tell me earlier?” she asked as she got the key from the box and inserted it in the lock.

“What?” he croaked.

“When I ran off you were about to say something.” She pushed open the heavy wood door, turned back around and took the drawer off his hands. “What was it?”

“Oh.” One corner of his mouth twitched in a shaky half-smile as his blush grew deeper still. “I… I just wanted to say that I uh, I missed you.”

The smile she returned spread slowly across her face. “I missed you too, Mark. Like a lot.”

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Jinxed- Part 2

Calum’s so used to fucking up that when a second chance comes his way he’s not sure what to do with it. Demon!Calum. 

CW: Mentions of death. 

Enjoy my masterlist

Support me on kofi. 

No one has my permission to repost this fic, including translations. All rights reserved. Copyright © be-ready-when-i-say-go.

__________________________

Her house is a mess. Dishes have piled up, her laundry is overflowing the basket. She hasn’t returned anyone’s phone call. Her mother has left twenty or so voicemails. Her text notifications are near the hundreds. None of those matter. His notes aren’t slipped under the door. She’s checked every night for one. Like her brain hasn’t computed that he’s actually gone. But he is. There is nothing but that handful of dust. 

When she calls all those old numbers, she gets an automated voice. It tells her that the number she is trying to reach is out of service or has been disconnected. She always sobs on the last word. She is disconnected. Disconnected from a friend. Disconnected from her loved ones because no amount of the phone buzzing and shaking on the table gets her to pick it up. A lifeline has been unplugged. 

Ruby clutches the small jar to her chest most days, or keeps it near. It feels appropriate for all the times Calum would shoot whiskey or hennessey straight out of one of them. Or the time he left a single carnation in one of her mason jars. It was pink, even though she hated pink. The next time he brought white. She carries the little bit of him left in the mason jars he used to always poke fun about. 

She can’t even cry anymore tears. She just sits, curled up in his jacket. She’s starting to lose his scent though. She can smell now is herself mostly. Ruby can’t mess up Calum’s jacket. The least she can do is preserve that. So she peels herself out of, draping it carefully over the edge of her bed and goes to shower. 

She texted her boss the next morning after it happened, after the shock still weighed her down. Ruby explained she’d need to take a couple personal days. Ruby really thought that was all it would take. Like a couple days just to get herself out of the funk. It’s hard to deal with death, but she thinks that she can bolster through. However, everytime she walks into her living room, she stares at the spot he last kneeled and her whole chest shatters. Her lungs can’t expand large enough for hair. She wheezes while tears stream down her face. 

If she could use the sprinkling of his ashes and her tears to sprout him again, she would’ve done so by now. She stands, in that spot, clutching his shirt, praying there’s anything she could do to bring him back. She is by no means, a witch. She tries nevertheless. She prays that anything brings him back. At first she wanted to never know Calum. It would be much easier to never hold onto these memories of falling asleep on him when she just couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. 

The reality though is that she’s happy to have known him. She’s happy to have those random trips for ice cream, even though she knows it’ll make her intestines shiver. If she didn’t have those experiences, what would’ve been the last year and half of her life? Who would she be without the imprint of Calum on her soul? 

____

Her hair is no doubt a mess when she walks into work. She managed to do laundry and put on decent clothes. Her dishes are still not done. She’s yet to take the trash out with all the delivered fast food. But at least she’s taken care of one thing. She was just much too tired to keep her shoulders lifted to properly comb out. Most of the knots are out with her pick and wide tooth comb. 

“Hey stranger,” Tiff says. Her smile is soft, maybe even a little sad. 

“Hey, sorry about being gone for so long.” She can feel the sting behind her eyes now. Fuck, she really thought she had cried enough. How does she even begin to function like her life is normal again? 

“No, no, it’s okay.” Tiff collects Ruby into her arms, combs and all still in her hands. “Shh, it’s okay.”

“He’s gone. I just--I can’t believe it,” Ruby hiccups. 

_____

The weeks pass, blurring into months. Ruby lingers less often on the spot in her living room. She still wears his shirt around the house just for comfort sake. His leather jacket hangs in her closet, now a staple piece even though it’s boxy on her. It’s comfortable. It’s lived in. Even though his cologne is long gone and nothing but the scent of the cleaners is seeped into the garment, she can still feel the lingering of Calum in it. 

She knows he slipped his arms into the same holes. He layered it with a sweatshirt and beanie. There is something of him, his living visage still seeped into the threads that makes her feel better when she wears if, even if she doesn’t need the comfort constantly. 

Ruby keeps up with her dishes now too. Her laundry basket is emptied at least once a week. It hurts less to laugh. She can go about her day easier now. She doesn’t think she’ll ever reach her old normal. But she likes her new normal, the new routine of noticing the small things that Calum used to do that don’t cause her chest to rupture. But she gives a sad smile whenever the thoughts cross her mind. 

Like now, sitting in Kourtney’s car, Ruby is slightly reminded of the times that she and Calum would ride across town, just to try the latest sweet treat. 

“I don’t know how you’ve been single for this long now,” Kourtney laughs from the driver seat. The red light stares down at them and they stare up at it for the moment being. The comment isn’t mostly out of the blue. But their previous conversation about how dating is hard had died down a little. 

Ruby look to her friend through her peripheral. The high ponytail weave still slick and perfectly pinned in place. “I haven’t been single for that long.”

“It’s going on two years now! Ever since your birthday when that creepy guy cornered you at the bar. You broke things off with Darrell, what three just weeks before that?” Kourt risks a glance over. Rubs picks at her nails, the set of extended nails a deep burgundy color. They don’t mention that birthday too much. 

It was brought up once before after Calum’s passing and Ruby broke down into tears. Kourtney and the rest of the girls thought that Ruby and him had been dating and then broken up. But the way she cried and told them that a good friend had passed away, they figured they might be wrong about it. Everyone does their best to dart around the topic. 

Ruby makes sure never to give a name. Part of it feels like a disservice. That she’s silencing him even in death. But the other part knows it’s better this way. That she can’t say his name. Not to anyone. Would she be causing trouble for herself if she does? Would Lucifer come back for her? She’d rather not having the devil himself show up at her door again. Once is more than enough in a lifetime. 

Ruby blinks. It has been two years. Time surely hasn’t slowed. But it doesn’t feel like it’s sped up either. “Well I won’t be taking anymore recommendations from you,” she tsks, sucking her tongue around teeth. 

“You can’t hold Tre over my head forever. I thought she was cool.”

“She’s like the rest of them n--,” She had more to say but Kourtney cuts her off with a wave of her hand, as if she’s heard the guilt trip from Ruby enough already.

“So are we going out for your birthday or not?”

Ruby doesn’t know what she wants to do for her twenty sixth birthday. It feels mundane. It’s not 21 or even her 30’s. Just 26, a tick mark in the calender of her life. Just another day on the wheel. “We could go back,” Ruby offers with a shrug of her shoulders. 

Kourt presses down as the light turns green. “Back to Greenlight? It’s an hour out of town.”

“The music was lit.”

“The drinks were expensive.”

“You’ll have a birthday girl.”

“Why do you want to go back?” Kourtney asks but not without having to tap her brakes to allow for an asshole weaving through the lanes. She flips them the bird. 

Ruby watches, focus blurring on the passing asphalt. She can’t avoid things forever. She can’t hide from what’s happened. Calum’s dead. Though she’s wondered if demon’s can every truly die. Part of her wished she had asked sooner. She wished she had considered what happens when she dies, if she’ll ever cross paths with him again. Should she make some sort of deal with the devil? Calum would probably have her head for something like that. 

“Earth to Ruby!” Kourtney shouts, snapping her fingers near Ruby’s ear. 

“I’m not dead,” Ruby huffs. 

“Why should we hikes our asses all the way to Greenlight? Need to pour one out for them?”

Ruby has to laugh. Calum would not stand for the waste of alcohol in his honor. But it feels appropriate to remember him like that, even if it is wasted whiskey on concrete. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Someone’s gonna have to DD. Because I am not splitting that Uber again. I couldn’t even afford enough drinks for a solid buzz.”

“It won’t be long. But I guess if it’s an hour drive. We better make it worth our while. There’s a waffle joint close by too. Make pretty good breakfast.”

Kourtney parks in front of the mall, lips pursed. “And how would you know that ma’am?”

Keeping her gaze straight ahead, Ruby shrugs. Her lips curve though. The smile slowly etching itself onto her face. “Heard it through the grapevine.”

“Yeah right. Who you fuck that far across town?”

“No one,” Ruby defends. Her offended tone doesn’t last long before her laughter cuts through. It’s shocking that she’s never brought up the night she spent with Calum. But Ruby nows her friends. The would take any amount of scandalous details and run it for miles. 

Kourtney’s nonbelief is clear on her face, especially with the eyeroll. “Yeah and I was born last night.”

The women climb out of the car, laughing. As Ruby slings the purse onto her shoulder, Kourtney leans against the hood of the car. “Was it them? The one that passed away?”

Ruby matches her position. She can trust Kourtney, one of the few that always been more receptive to Ruby’s quiet moments. She’s always been the one that makes sure to keep the things that need to be quiet quiet. So Ruby nods her head. “Just once.”

“You just out here hoeing around and making friends out of them? Only you Ruby. Only you can sleep with someone and be friends wit’ ‘em.”

Ruby closes the car door, walking around the bumper. There’s a small breeze as they walk to the entrance. “It wasn’t supposed to go down like that. We slept together and I thought it was over. But he came into the salon.”

“So it was a guy, huh?”

“Yeah, he came into the salon to see a stylist. We talked for a minute.” Ruby pauses. She can’t admit that Calum turned out to be a giant asshole and a demonic one at that. “He was a bit of an asshole about it. But it was chill. Then on the date with Tre, he happened to be hanging out there too. She was still yelling about getting some ass. We argued and resolved it. Though, things didn’t actually get fix. She just stormed off. He was there. We hung out getting ice cream.”

Kourtney nods. “So you didn’t sleep with him again after that?”

Ruby shakes her head. “No.”

“Was it that bad?”

“Quite the opposite.”

“So why not?” Kourt screeches. 

The mall isn’t too crowded for the moment. Both of them wanted to get out and about early.  It’s only the older people that walk laps with their wristbands and two pound weights. All of them look at Ruby and Kourtney for sudden loud interruption. They are used to the stares from others because their glossy lips, and occasional pop of their gum. They know the hair and the color of their skin makes them an easy target for judgemental stares. 

It’s sometimes exhausting how true the phrase is that there is nothing new under the sun. There is nothing new about the prejudices they face. There is nothing new to the way they are watched, followed around. There is nothing new about losing loved ones. Nothing new about the stories of their lives. There is just new names on the characters they play. 

“Because we became friends,” Ruby answers. 

“You can fuck your friends.” Kourtney throws the 22 inches over her shoulder. Her nails aren’t long. But are a sharp stiletto point and have rhinestones tacked onto them. 

“You shouldn’t though,” Ruby states. 

Kourtney loves Ruby but sometimes wishes she gave more about her life. How to go from fucking a stranger to becoming their friend is a story that others would kill to tell. But Ruby holds it close to her chest. She won’t give the details.  Even if Kourtney tried to push it out of her, it would only be condensed. She’d only ever get the sparks notes version of the truth. “Fine, fine. We’re here for birthday outfits anyway.”

“Why do you need an outfit for my birthday?”

“Because I can’t go to Greenlight raggedy.”

“Your closet is twice the size of mine. You calling me raggedy?”

“Never in a million years, Rubs. Never.”

Ruby purses her lips but says nothing. Their feet carry them down past the anchor stores to a small run boutique. The displays are still neon and fishnets, with a sprinkle of cheetah print bodycon skirts. The shirts are cropped in the stomach but still thick long sleeved. The fashion choices don’t always make sense. As if only the flesh of arms get cold but not a stomach. 

“Are jeans and clear heels look too simple for my birthday?” Ruby asks, the jeans at the first display for her. She owns enough denim to last her the rest of her life if she gains no more weight. 

The question is mostly to herself, a little bit for Kourtney’s response. Kourtney’s already two racks over, thumbing through the previous season’s sequin tops. “No, it’s a very you look. Spice the top up with some glitter maybe. Or some neon?”

Ruby bypasses the denim, finding a blue sequin dress and holds it up. “Kourt, look what I found.”

A small gasp feels the air. “I need it. And I need it now.”

“Your size too.” Ruby dangles the rack from the tops of her fingers, thumbing over the dresses. Birthdays require maximum fun. A dress will have her stressed that her ass is not showing. Though depending on the amount of shots she’s had the stress of not mooning anyone could easily be overcome by the giggling urge to moon someone. She’ll stick to pants though and let the worry reside for another day when she dares a skirt. 

Kourtney takes the dress from the waiting hand and pulls out a red cheetah print top. “Try this?”

“Looks like a dress I have.”

Kourtney watches Ruby glance over the racks. The hangers making a piercing screeching as they scratch with rusted metal over the glossy metal rods that they hang on. Is smart to support her want to go back to Greenlight? Nothing special is really there about the place. It’s popular and crowded, but that’s only because it’s the latest club on the scene and more artists want to play in the club because of it’s blossoming elitist status. But a good time could be had anywhere.

“Are you positive about Greenlight?” Kourtney asks. 

Ruby nods. “As positive as I am black.”

“So hella positive then,” Kourtney laughs. 

It takes one store for them to find the base pieces, a dress for Kourtney and the top for Ruby. It takes three others for the shoes. In the second store, Kourtney finds her heels, black and strappy to neutralize the red glittery bling. And in the last one, Ruby finds a pair of clear heels--on sale. An important caveat for her considering she may not wear the shoes much after her birthday. 

When Ruby gets home, she drops the bag to her couch. She might be crazy to go back to Greenlight. Yes, they are memories there, but who’s to say that she couldn’t build more there. Why should the only ones she has of the place be tainted by a heaviness that could be replaced? 

____

It’s mutually decided that Ruby can’t be the designated driver for her own birthday. She only offered as a way to keep herself on a leash drinking wise. But her group of friends quickly shot that down.  She slips on the gold hoops as Tiff corrals the already tispy group. She can perfectly enjoy a birthday while being sober, or as close to sober as she could realistically be with a shot or two in her. 

Ruby hears the glasses clinking in her living room. The rest of the group has been sipping on fruity wine. It’s cheap, but good. Tiff hands over her tube of buttergloss. “Peachy nudes always pop more with a little bit of gloss. Always.”

Ruby takes it, just taking in the tube of glass, a fair pink. “Noted.”

___

The Greenlight is packed as always. Bodies look like a giant sea, swaying to and fro. Ruby looks over to the corner. Calum’s not there. She didn’t expect him to be there. But she had a fleeting hope. A sliver of it sits in her chest and drops when there’s just a couple talking, leaned in close to each other. Calum would be sitting there, beanie on his head. The look would not be complete without his leather jacket. She suddenly wishes she had it draped over her shoulders.

A whiskey would be in Calum’s hand of course. Maybe he’d wink at her. Maybe he’d just watch her dance with her friends. He’d offer of course to pay for a drink or two, but he’d really only be on the sidelines to let her enjoy the night. At the end of the night, when her world is still swimming with the buzz of her shots, Calum would probably tuck her into bed with water on the nightstand. “No dying on me tonight,” he’d whisper. 

For a fraction of a second, Ruby wishes she had made Calum promise that too. So that she could be angry for his death for him leaving her. But it really wasn’t of his own volition. That was a choice made for him by someone else’s hand.  

“We’ve got a birthday girl!” Tiff shouts, grabbing Ruby’s arm. 

Ruby’s imagined version of Calum disappears as she’s dragged to the bar. It takes her a moment to start reaching for her clutch to grab her ID. The bartender smiles. “And what will she have?” There’s a quick glance at the ID. Ruby thinks it most definitely isn’t long enough to see her age at all. 

“Whiskey. Straight.” The order falls from her lips without her thinking.

Tiff blinks. “Well that’s different than your usual.”

The only thing Ruby does is shrug. She can offer no explanation. It just feels like the right thing to do. The bartender nods and turns. The rest of the girls order shots or fruity drinks strong enough to knock a grown man over. 

The night doesn’t feel too special. Ruby manages to snag a few free drinks for her friends. The music thumps in her bones and the bass shakes her core. The bodies are still moving in mass, a sway. She finds herself looking to that corner again. The couple’s since left and it’s empty. She wonders if that spot feels like wearing Calum’s jacket. 

Telling Kourtney that she’s headed to the bathroom, Ruby sneaks away from the group. She climbs into the high chair, into Calum’s chair. It feels different up here. To watch everyone living their life. To know that someone’s going to home with someone else, to know that they are all in the middle of something—a breakup, trying to break a two year single streak. Whatever the case may be, every single person on that floor has a life headed in some direction. And she gets to watch the intersections. She gets to see how all the webs cross and unravel. 

“I’m very grateful you are a creature of habit. Or finding you would’ve been hell.” 

Ruby’s heart thunders, the veins in her neck thumping clearly behind the skin. She knows that voice anywhere. Even if she’s only heard it the one time in her apartment. She could identify it in a crowd of thousands. “Don’t you have other lives to ruin?”

Lucifer grins. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“That is absolutely rich coming from you. So why the fuck are you here?”

“I’m on a delivery. And I don’t think you’d be too receptive of my other Hunters.”

“To what? Deliver a harsh reminder that you killed one of my best friends? Thanks. Especially on my birthday. Perfect timing. You asshole. You’re such a goddamn asshole.” Ruby slips down from the hair, reaching back up to grab her drink. 

“Just listen for two second,” he hisses. When her hand comes up, he drops the long velvet box into it. “It’s from your friend. He never got around to giving it to you. So I figured I’d be nice. For once.”

“From Calum?”

“Yeah, from him.”

“What is it?”

“Look I’m just delivering the damn thing. I don’t ask questions about what it is. Do you realize that does spoil the whole thing about gift giving?”

“How long has he had it?”

“Again, that is not something I can answer.” 

If it weren’t for the fact that he was delivering something from Calum, she’d smack him. Maybe. It’s not like he’d feel it. Calum didn’t feel the left swing she gave him. Granted, it would be more for the affect, for the spectacle. 

“Apparently it’ll mean something to you. He’s been whining. Enjoy the rest of your day. Drink the spirits for me too.” With that, Lucifer slithers through the crowd. She notes it’s less of a walk and more of a glide. Calum had a swagger to his walk. Never rushed but never slow either. Ruby cracks open the box. 

A gold anklet stares back up at her. A small charm is attached. A mason jar etched into the gold plate with a C and R carved inside as well. Her eyes water. He’s had to have it for a while, holding onto it for some reason, for some sort of occasion. He mentioned getting her a gift. Only to her once. In passing, during Christmas. He said he wanted to give her something to remember him by that wouldn’t be subjected to the erosions all memories face. 

He wasn’t sure what to get though. Wasn’t sure how to give it to her. Sure he’d give her small things--surprising her with candy, or giving her t-shirts that he thought she’d enjoy mostly because of the crazy sayings printed on them. But he wanted to give her something tangible, that would fade to the wear of a machine. 

Ruby looks up back into the crowd. Lucifer’s is long gone. She continues to stare out over the packed dance floor. Will he show back up? And what he meant by Calum was whining? Calum was dead. The dead can’t complain, can’t speak, can’t blink. There is nothing but silence from them, right?

“Ruby! That’s one hell of a piss,” Kourtney laughs. Her eyes are glassy, Ruby notes. Maybe she won’t notice the tears forming in the corner of Ruby’s eyes. 

“Helping another girl,” Ruby lies, tucking the box away. “Zipper got caught.”

“C’mon. We got more shots. We need you.”

Ruby extends the hand not holding the chain. They filter through the crowd, over to the counter. She takes the glass of clear liquor, knocking the glasses together. As the liquid slides down her throat, it burns. What burns more is the thought that Calum might be alive somewhere out there in the depths of Hell.

Ruby crawls back into bed. The gold anklet dances against her skin. The last shot still pounds against her head. But the question would not leave her alone. Could Calum still be alive? She saw the dust. But Calum made her promise that she couldn’t watch. Right now, she wishes she had. She would know for sure, with her own eyes if death had truly ruined her. 

Her computer, even dimmed, still is harsh against her eyes. But she squints and opens a new window of Google, incognito. Like it’s illegal to search questions about demons. If it didn’t hurt to laugh, she’d chuckle at herself. 

Can you kill a demon? 

Ruby waits, blinks her eyes once and Google returns with answers, all in blue. She groans and clicks on the link. There had to be a color for the font that was easier on the eyes in the hangover state filled with curiosity.  

Demon traps, salt circles, holy water, heavenly fire, blades. 

This isn’t actually helping, she huffs. So clicks away from that link and back to the search results. Please work, she begs clicking another link. She skims over the black text. You can’t actually kill a demon. It surely look like Calum had died to her. It felt like he had died. Because if he was still kicking around he’d find a way to find her, to talk to her. 

Unless he couldn’t communicate with her like before. Ruby doesn’t know the first thing about how to communicate with any other spiritual beings. But there’s nary a question that Google can’t at least attempt to answer. 

How do you communicate with the dead? 

Ruby pauses. Should she type in how to summon a demon?

She is trying to summon one, technically. She’ll start there with the dead. To her that is what Calum is. He is dead. A dead friend. No matter the status of his spirit, he is dead to her. There’s seance, alters, crystals. Her brain begins to spin. So she closes the screen and lays back into her purple fuzzy pillows. They can offer some solace from the pounding of too much alcohol and too little water and the sting of tears. Calum can’t still be out there. She can’t handle that. 

___

The leather jacket is overkill. She knows. But staring up at the bookcase of books, she finds warmth in knowing that she is carrying a small part of Calum with her. Titles jump up out at her. Most of them centering around Wicca. She’s intrigued and pulls one down. She thumbs through the pages and holds it into the crook of her elbow. 

The Handbook of Witchcraft slips onto the top of her stack. People pass her by and no one seems to blink an eye. It’s her little secret, her little endeavor. To everyone else though, she is just down an aisle in the bookstore. She is just carrying a stack of books. She is just a patron amongst the fairly quiet calm river of the bookstore. She’s not making a ripple or bothering a soul. She is a nobody taking up space meant to be occupied. 

She settles into the cafe attached inside the store. Her stack is about four high. She might as well get started now. The whirring of machines blurs into the background of her mind. 

“Just starting out I see?” 

Ruby glances up. Another black girl with pink box braids tips her plastic cup at her stack. “Looking for answers,” Ruby says. 

Reaching into her pocket, the young girl finds a pen and takes a napkin from the small stack Ruby grabbed for her muffin. The girl scribbles down the at symbol followed by what looks like a username. “This is my Instagram. Message me if you need help.”

“Thanks.” Ruby smiles. “Like the hair.”

“Gotta get them redone. New in town. Still looking for a stylist.”

Ruby reaches into her purse. She grabs a business card for her and the salon. “I do eyebrows mainly. But the salon I work in is black owned.”

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“It can be hard out there.”

Ruby knows she’s been at the store too long when the afternoon sun fades into a pastel orange. Packing up the stack, she proceeds to the registers. The cashier looks unphased, pushing their reward card and membership. Ruby’s thankful. Her secret is safer for even a little bit longer, safe even from the cashier, who probably cares nothing about her life to start with. 

___

Ruby laughs at herself walking into IKEA, even though her entire house is completely furnished. Nothing is broken either. She’s still here though. She gets lost every time she walks through the doors. Taking a survey of the shop, she takes a deep breath. Just a small end table. That’s all she needs. She’ll start there. 

It takes an entire half an hour and help from two different employees but she secures the end table she needs. It’s on sale, or there’s some sort of special. The small wooden two tiered table is only 10 bucks, not including the taxes. It’s even small enough for her carry herself to her car. Though several employees offer one the flatbeds to help her walk even easier. Ruby know she could’ve easily gotten one for free, maybe with more characters, more knicks in it.

All the articles she read mentioned that the table wasn’t the important part. There would be more money to spend elsewhere. Is it wrong to want to give Calum the best if he’s still out there? The only thing Ruby can do is just give it a shot. As she slides the large cardboard box into her truck, she pauses. It’s just a shot. 

It would be funny to have an ivory cloth to cover it, Ruby thinks. Though black is more fitting. She settles later on, while in Target, for a Halloween themed one, black with silver trimming. It’s clearly been lingering since the holidays. She’s shocked they haven’t been tossed out yet by the store. It hasn’t been that long since the holiday, though. So maybe it isn’t old enough to be thrown out just yet. 

Calum might be pissed. She can almost hear his voice in her head, deeming worthy of at least something solid back. But Ruby figures he has a small silver streak in himself. Even if he refuses to believe it himself.He’d probably refute it. Tell her she’s the only silver streak in his damnation.

Ruby would then tell him he’s much too harsh on himself. She misses those moments, the bickering even though it’s not real. Twisting the last screw into place, Ruby looks at the gold anklet again. 

He’s been whining. 

Is she insane? Has she finally gone off the deep end to be sitting in her bedroom, screwing together an end table to create an altar? Calum might not even be on the other side. He could all the day dead. He could be really good. 

But why the present tense? Was it false hope, some sort of unresolved sadness or fear  that kept her clinging to any gram of hope? 

 Honestly, it didn’t matter. If she was insane, Ruby would find out soon enough, right? If she was insane to try and communicate with a damned soul, then it wouldn’t work. She’d just have a spare end table and a cool table cloth to help her decorate for the holidays. It wouldn’t be a waste if it all went to shit on her. 

___

“You have to set it up for what you need. You can add traditional elements. But they’re really customizable.” 

“I need it for like,” Ruby starts then stops, readjusting her grip on the thread.

“No, no. I need not know,” Jasmine reprimands. Her eyes are still closed. Her fingers still holding the skin taut. 

Ruby cleans up the underbrow before moving to the top of the bone. “Aren’t their guides for this kind of stuff? Could I go to someone else to do this?”

“I mean you could yes,” Jasmine says. Ruby brushes away the plucked hairs and moves to the right brow. “You’re looking for something maybe more along the lines of a psychic.”

“I don’t know. Everytime I think I can do it, I chicken out.”

“Just sit for a few minutes. Even if the altar isn’t complete just sit in front of it for a few minutes. Smudge it before and after. Besides, you’re not going to get it right on your first try. It’s not about getting it right the first time either. You have to feel it, know what you’re looking for, know when you’ve found it.”

Ruby hums, focused now on the string pulling the right hairs from the roots. When done and the brows outlined, Ruby hands Jasmine the mirror. “What do you think?”

“Holy fuck,” Jasmine gapes. “My brows have never looked this good.”

“I do my best.”

“You fucking slayed it is what you did.” Jasmine turns her head side to side, to make sure it’s not just a trick of the light and angle. The truth is no, her brows look this good for every angle thanks to the talent of Ruby. Jasmine adds a ten dollar tip to the fee. “I’ll be back for sure.”

“Glad you’re happy with them.”

Jasmine grabs a couple of business cards from the display on the front desk. “For friends,” she notes before shouting loudly over her shoulder. “Bye ladies. See y’all later.”

The entire shop responds with a shout too. Ruby leans into the glass front desk. The sidewalks are pretty dead. A couple boys hanging out because of the barber shop next door. There’s a convenience store at the corner of the block, where most people grab snacks for before coming into their hair appointments. Ruby would go there to grab snacks before movie snacks. She managed to sneak out of the salon well before closing sometimes and because of that, she could load up before calling Calum. Never texted. 

The rest of the day is pretty slow. It’s only Tuesday though. The closer to the weekend they get, the busier it becomes. Ruby walks into her apartment. It’s quiet and she thinks about turning on her TV. There’s never anything on, so she lets the silence lingers and gets water instead. The table is still bear in the corner of her bedroom. Just the cloth. Ruby finds the shoebox in the top of her closet. She pulls the only photo she has of Calum. Just him reclining on her couch in a green t-shirt and sweats. 

He’s not even looking at her, too busy browsing her computer. He was trying to prove her wrong about the meaning of carnations. This then took him down the rabbit hole of flora meaning, which he spent twenty minutes reading aloud to her. Ruby has since put it in a gold frame. It fits him. So she sets the frame onto the table, just right in the center. 

Ruby sits in front of it. Just admiring the photo. Her clock ticks in her ear. The water sits on the floor, still in the cup. Ruby lights one of the incenses. Rhodney gave her a good deal on them. He helped her get into this apartment. And she just sits. Eyes closing briefly. This is nice, peaceful. Just her, sinking into the floor, thinking about Calum. She lets the lavender scent settle into her lungs. 

Ruby sits cross legged, mind suspended between the reality that she is in her bedroom and the shallow pool of not having to think about anything. She can just bathe in the memories, his love of chocolate pretzels, the way he always smelled a little like nicotine but mostly like wooden musk of cologne.

Maybe Calum couldn’t communicate with her. Ruby knows in her heart of hearts that Calum would fight heaven and high water to keep in contact with her if he could. This had to be on her to figure out. Ruby couldn’t rely on Calum’s supernatural abilities anymore. This was a fight she’d have to take up on her own. 

There’s a small rumble. She can hear the clink of her glass. She thinks it’s the glass clinking against the floor. But she doesn’t dare open her eyes.  Then her phone rings from the living room. 

“Shit,” she whispers, standing up. She was positive she had turned it on silent. But she can never be sure anymore. It’s only a spam call. She was searching for a new health insurance plan and now the companies don’t leave her alone. 

When Ruby returns to her bedroom, her glass of water is still.

___

“You really need at least 4 people to communicate with spirits. Don’t want to be doing that kind of shit alone,” Jasmine hums. She sucks through her straw, the bottom of it clearly in nothing but air. 

“I don’t really have 3 other people that would be down for that,” Ruby counters. The coffee shop is loud. It’s a shock for how late in the day it is. But for those that need the caffeine, it matters not the time of day for them. 

“Well, now you only need 2 more people,” Jasmine grins, finishing off the last of her scone. 

“You’re going to help me?” Her disbelief is clear in her question. Why would Jasmine potentially be subjecting herself to the unknown for Ruby? It’s probably less unknown for Jasmine than it is unknown for Ruby. 

“Of course.”

“You do know what I’m asking you to do right?”

Jasmine laughs. “Yes, I’m aware.”

Her latest hairstyle are crochet locs. The fake hair has the ends dyed royal blue. Ruby notes that she always has to have a pop of color with her hair. She likes it. The way Jasmine’s always so free to express herself. Ruby does that too, with her hair too, but more so through her nails. She’s not sure what color to get this time. Though every time she goes into the nail salon, her eyes drift to the olive green. The same color of the shirt in the picture. 

“You’ve got time to get your nails done today?” Ruby asks. 

Jasmine looks over the black polish she put on about a week ago. It’s chipped a little. It was a rush job on her part.  “I hadn’t planned too, but sure.”

“My treat,” Ruby adds on. 

“Sold.” 

Knocking on Kourtney’s door, Ruby wonders if she’s already gone for the day. She tried to text before driving over it. Kourt hadn’t responded though by the time they got there. Kourtney keeps her car in the garage, so there’s no way to know. The door cracks open just as Ruby’s phone buzzes in her pocket. “Well this is a surprise,” Kourtney laughs. 

“Kourt this is Jasmine. Jasmine, Kourtney.” The two ladies wave at each other. “Think you can squeeze us in.”

“For you, Rubs, always. No matter how last minute it is.”

Ruby knows that tone, it’s joking but serious. “I promise this won’t be a common occurrence.”

“Oh I know it won’t.”

As the drill buffs over Ruby’s growth, Kourtney clicks her tongue. Her nose and mouth are hidden behind the dusk mask. The raised eyebrow is clear. She’s not buying this pitch, not in the slightest. The fine powder flies under the harsh light of the lamp bent over Ruby’s nails. “You want me to do what now?”

Ruby knows what she’s asking is probably insane. “Just be there. That’s all.”

“We are too black to be fucking with spirits.”

Ruby looks over to Jasmine, who just shrugs. Her gel manicure is freshly cured, though she sits under the nail dryers for her toes. “I mean, I totally get where she’s coming from. But at the same time, if you look at other religions, they do the same thing all the time.”

“Like what?” Kourtney tuts, pulling the drill away from her work. Ruby’s hand is still firm in her grasps. 

“Do you know about orishas?” Jasmine asks. 

“Do I know about what?” 

“They’re deities, gods,” Ruby explains. “I mean, it’s not totally the same. In that belief system people who practice are mounted.”

“Mounted?”

“The deity descends and uses the practitioners physical form, or body, during rituals.” Ruby wants to avoid the term possess. That would only serve to fuel Kourtney’s resistance. 

“Just say possess them. You can say it,” Kourtney huffs. 

“It’s not like the deity stays forever.”

“So, for argument sake, people are mounted by these spirits. And you want to equate that to openly knocking on the supernatural’s door and just ask them to chill out with us until whomever you’re trying to contact shows up. Is that what you’re asking me to do?”

“Well, it’s less about just chilling with spirits than it is trying to directly contact one. But yeah, let’s go with that version,” Ruby returns. 

“You’re fucking insane.” Kourtney’s tone isn’t harsh. It’s not even condescending. She just sounds tired, and maybe even a little flabbergasted. She can see Ruby’s desperate. Kourtney thinks she might be too if a friend just suddenly upped and died. It’s different than when Kourtney’s grandmother died. She had reasons. There was an explanation and a clear peace at the end.. Her grandmother was older, had been teetering on the edge really for a while. She wasn’t deathly ill, just getting up in age. She was starting to forget things easily. She couldn’t do the same things as before. In all honesty, her grandmother’s peaceful slip from temporary slumber to a permanent sleep is the best outcome. 

Kourtney changes the bit on her drill, taking down the length of the old set. “If I become haunted, I’m making friends with the ghostman and getting them to haunt your ass instead. I don’t have the time be fucking haunted, alright? Ain’t no ghost finna pay my bills.”

Ruby looks over to Jasmine. She hadn’t expected that to happen. She thought she’d ask. She’d get told no. Ruby halfway thought Kourtney would shut her down when she started talking about the deities. But to have Kourtney agree--that comes from left field. “Are you high right now?”

“No but I just might hint a blunt after dealing with you.”

The room echoes with laughter. “I’ll even roll it for you,” Ruby offers, her chest still hiccuping with tufts of laughter. 

“Nah, it’ll be haunted or some shit. I’ll roll my own blunts. Thank you.”

___

Jasmine’s friend, who only goes by Ash, settles down last in the circle. He’s a psychic, according to his Instagram. Ruby’s talked to him once face to face. His voice is too deep, too alluring. But he doesn’t carry himself like he takes life too seriously. It made him more inviting. The long hair, it’s always braided back. Ruby can appreciate his humor. His stare can be intense, dark brown keen eyes. They don’t ever miss anything. 

As his hands wrap around Ruby’s, his gaze is stern. His tone is softer. He has no qualms with people getting the answers that they need. But he doesn’t want them to do it for all the wrong reasons.“Are you sure about this?”

Ruby’s not really completely sure. She was never really supposed to talk about Calum. She was supposed to keep all this shit quiet. But if it weren’t for her run at Greenlight, she could be at peace. She doesn’t need constant communication. She just needs to verify. Calum really might be out there. “It’s the only shot I’ve got.”

Ash nods. He can understand that. With the board settled down, Ruby begins. Kourtney keeps flicking her gaze about the small circle. She prays to God she doesn’t wind up haunted because of this shit and she prays Ruby’s not diving into the deep end either. Even though Kourtney is not well versed in how hauntings work, she knows that no matter where Ruby goes these spirits can and probably will follow. 

“I am asking if my friend Calum is still out there,” Ruby starts. Her hands are shaking a little. She can hear the quiver in her own voice. 

It’s silent. Ruby watches, blinking erratically. Does she even want to contact Calum? Should be doing this at all? It could be best to live and let die. Kourtney shifts on the floor. They’re all situated in Ruby’s bedroom, around the small little table that holds a picture. Kourtney thinks this must be the friend, this Calum. 

The lights are off. The room’s already decent temperature wise. But Ruby doesn’t miss the small distinct breeze across her face. It’s easy to think that when presented with this scenario she would be brave. But right now, she can feel her gut leaping. “Oh shit. Did anyone else feel that breeze?”

Jasmine, to the left of Ruby, speaks up. “Can the spirit in this room confirm that you are Ruby’s friend? Gently move a piece on the altar.”

Ruby watches the gold anklet. Even in the flickers of the candle light, it glitters more than the picture frame. She placed the charm upside down. Whether it was on purpose, Ruby can’t say for sure. But a part of her did hope that if she were to have any success that the anklet would be the first thing Calum would reach for. He’d know the significance.  

Nothing happens. Ruby probes whatever might be reaching out to them to move something. The minutes pass and there is nothing still. The charm does not flip over. Another breeze does not come by. There is nothing. Just the rising and falling of four chest in Ruby’s bedroom. Any potential spirits that crossed over are thanked. The circle is closed. The candles are blown out. “Did you feel anything besides the breeze?” Jasmine asks. 

Ruby shakes her head. Sometimes she wishes she hadn’t decided to keep her hair short. The longer the hair, and even the longer the weave, she could’ve hidden her disappointment, the wobble of her chin. “Sometimes, you’re not always successful on your first try,” Ash counters. His voice is soft, much like the touch of his hand on Ruby’s shoulder. 

“Thanks,” Ruby answers. Her voice is thick as it leaves her throat. 

It’s rude, she knows. Ruby shuts herself into the bathroom. The door swings close and clicks with a harsh thud. She only needs a moment. Just a second. Just so the first hot tear can run down her cheek. She was a fool. How could she really believe that this would work? Hope made everyone blind. Everyone could probably see that it would never work. And yet, they had hoped for her that it would work. Yet they had sat in her bedroom like children at a sleepover, playing with spirits. 

 Ruby couldn’t be that mad at them. They were only trying to help her. But did no one think to stop her, to save her from this embarrassment? She sniffles hard, wiping at her cheeks. She’s never really had a flush on her face. But right now, behind the copper tones of brown skin, she can feel the heated flush taking over. Why would he do such a thing to her? She was a fucking fool to believe the gift was actually from Calum. He’s dead. His ashes are still in that godforsaken mini mason jar. There is no bringing him back. 

There’s nothing left of him. His soul was already damned to Lucifer. There was no way he would let anything remain. Ruby would’ve done better to just talk to open air than to try and communicate with Calum. She was just a fucking fool. 

With another harsh sniffle, Ruby opens the door. If her eyes are red, they’ll just have to be red. “Thanks for subjecting yourselves to this. I owe you guys.” She doesn’t hide the quiver that takes over her chest. 

“Rubs,” Kourtney sighs, hugging her friend. Ruby shakes like a dog caught in a thunderstorm in Kourtney’s arms. “Do you want me to stay with you?”

“N-no,” Ruby croaks. “I’ll call if I need you though.”

Kourtney thinks for a moment. She could refuse Ruby’s wishes and have to deal with a crying and pissed Ruby or she could just wait for the phone call. Ruby will probably still be crying if she calls, but at least there won’t be any anger. “I’ll be near my phone.”

As the door creaks close, Ruby locks it, bottom and top locks before sliding down the steel door. Here she is again. On her fucking knees crying over Calum again. She wants to laugh. She really does. It catches between her sobs in ragged coughs. “Fucking of course,” she pants. “Of course.”

She pushes her hands and crawls to the edge of the coffee table. Right where she was when Calum died. “I thought it was only lovers that were supposed to hurt like this.” Her speech is interrupted by sobs. But she continues on. “I thought only lovers were supposed to rip your fucking heart out.”

“They say talking to yourself is a sign of insanity.”

Even though her vision is nothing but a watery field of tears, she knows that pale skin. “Don’t you have some other poor soul to torture? Don’t you have anybody else to fuck over? Haven’t you ruined my fucking life enough?” she shouts. Her hand finds a coaster and lobs it before she can even think, still half hung onto the edge of the coffee table. It requires too much energy to support herself on her elbows. She just hangs her weight into the sturdy piece of furniture. 

“He heard you calling. So I had to answer,” Lucifer returns. 

“You’re such a fucking liar.” Ruby wishes she could smite him. Do anything to him to make him feel the ache in her chest. Would it take a bolt of lightning? Did he hold anything precious to his heart?

“I’m many things.”

“Leave me the fuck alone, God.”

Lucifer fakes a hiss, throwing up a cross with his fingers. “We don’t say His name around me.”

Ruby drags the sleeve of her shirt under her nose. Her tears, though they roll down her face, have stopped stinging her behind her eyes. “That’s a corny ass joke.”

Lucifer shrugs, pushing his hands into his pockets. “Figured I’d give it a shot. See if you’d stop cursing me out.”

“You’re still an asshole. So no, it didn’t work.” Ruby finally pushes up from the coffee table and falls into the legs of the couch. She stares out into the open dining room, at the table pushed up against the wall, right under the window sill. Calum would sit most nights that he stayed over in front of it. He said watching the night relaxed him. But she wonders now if she was watching for Lucifer. If Calum knew all along that he was playing with a fire that would burn him. 

It would hurt more if he just disappeared, Ruby thinks. If Lucifer somehow got him in the middle of the night while she was sleeping and Calum just wasn’t there. If he never showed up with another note under her door. That would hurt more. Not knowing would kill her more than knowing Ruby figures. She probably wouldn’t have noticed it at first. But as the days blended into weeks and the weeks turned into months without any contact from Calum--that would kill her. Slowly and then all at once she’d lose her head. 

“Mind if I sit?” Lucifer asks. 

“And if I say I do. What are you going to do? Kill me?”

“I’d never kill for such a frivolous thing.”

Ruby whips  her head to look at him. “You killed Calum? And for what? Being my friend?”

“I don’t have to explain that to you.”

“No, you do! You do have to explain that to me.”

“I don’t,” Lucifer defends. 

“Oh, but you do, Lucifer.” She’s never uttered his name before. It made him too real if she did. Made Calum’s death too real. But right now, after what just happened, or didn’t happen, he owes her that much. She can say his name. It is not lead on her tongue anymore. 

“Ah, she does remembers my name.”

“I could never forget it.”

“Ruby, I don’t owe you any explanation. I didn’t owe it to Calum to make the trip before or this one. But I’m doing it.”

“What the fuck did he do?” Ruby pushes up from the floor. Her face is tight. She knows her eyes are red. There’s probably snot on the sleeve of her shirt. It doesn’t matter though. She’s going to get these answers. “Tell me. What is so wrong about finding a friend?” She searches his gaze, seeing if he’d crack. 

The only thing Lucifer does is take a step forward to her. There’s still a good foot between them. “If you’re boss gave you a rule, and you broke it, couldn’t you be fired for it?” 

Ruby takes a small step forward. “Depends on how big the rule was.”

“I’ve ruled with an iron fist. And I will always continue to do so.” Lucifer meets her step, but only after his statement crosses his lips. 

No one moves again. There’s only another step between them. “Don’t tell me you have a soft spot? You can’t have a soft spot for the person you killed.”

“Calum isn’t a person.”

“He was to me.” Ruby closes the gap. Finger poking at his chest. “He was as real to me as Kourtney, or Tiff. Or anyone else in this world. He was a person to me and that’s all that matters.”

“We are monsters. Me included,” Lucifer states. “He is nothing more than a hound now. Just like all the rest.”

“And who did that to him? Who did that?” Ruby hates to get loud. But the emotion leaps from her. Her fists are furling at her side. 

Lucifer must admit she’s bolder than he took her for and far less fearful than he thought would happen for something that just tried to summon a demon into their bedroom. Though, anyone trying to do that must not hold much fear to begin with. “I know what I’ve done.”

“And is this supposed to make me feel better? Is this you trying to rectify the situation?”

“No. I can’t fix anything now. What’s done is done.”

Ruby cracks, she can feel her core crumbling. The tears come back. She presses the heel of her hands into the sockets of her eye. “Just tell me what you did. Is he really dead?” She pleads. The tough guy act is exhausting. All she wants to do is cry again, curl into her sheets and let the ache fall over her throat in screeches. 

Lucifer, for just a second, lets himself peer down at her. She stands right under his chest. He can see what Calum meant about how endearing it feels. “The Calum you knew no longer exists. You can’t summon him. His physical form is dust.”

“The whip?”

“Turned over to another owner.”

“They’re temporary to you. They’re nothing,” she gaps. It really ought not be a shock. It is the devil she’s dealing with. She’s not dealing with someone human. But it still shocks her. 

“We’re all nothing. Calum got a second shot at his life. And he fucked it up. Like he always does.”

Ruby shoves Lucifer. Her palms hitting hard into his chest. Lucifer stumbles back half a step but plants his feet to catch himself. “He didn’t. He didn’t do anything wrong!” She can see the pointed tail rising behind him. She sees the flash of fire in Lucifer’s eyes. “Do it. Fucking do it, I dare you.” Now she’s really gone insane. To goad the devil like this. But she doesn’t care. 

It’s a steel resolve that stills Lucifer. It stills even Ruby. “You don’t mean that,” Lucifer taunts. “You couldn’t possibly mean it.” 

“You don’t know what I mean and what I don’t.”

Lucifer grins, lowering the tail. “I do know that what’s left of your precious Calum whines for you. He curses himself for messing things up with you. It’s ironic really. To be subjected to an eternal curse and then curse yourself on top of that.”

Ruby just stares. She’s tired of the circle games. She’s tired of begging. If he’s going to explain himself, then he will. And if he won’t explain himself, he can go right back to the place he came from. So Ruby remains silent. Lucifer blinks at her.

 He says nothing either, waiting for her rebuttal. She’s a smart girl; she’ll have something, Lucifer figures. 

A few more moments go by. “Nothing to say?” Lucifer asks. 

Ruby remains quiet. 

“Did Calum ever tell you he was a Hunter for me? Really the head of them. That’s why I gave him the whip.” Lucifer stops for a moment. She look unphased for the moment. He sees the way she’s biting on the inside of her lip though. “I can’t bring him back,” Lucifer admits. “He still exist. Just not like you knew him as. You can’t bring him back.”

Ruby wants to look away. But she doesn’t. She takes a breathe. “You took everything from him. I hope you know that. I hope you know the destruction you’ve caused, Lucifer. Whatever good he had going on in his life, whether it was damned to you for eternity or not, all that good is gone.”

“It’s like the Big Guy said. All I’m good for it stealing, killing, and destroying. We’ve all got our parts to play. I brought you the anklet because I thought it would get him off my back. He’s relentless when it comes to you. He wanted me to give him updates. Him! Like he runs the fucking place.”

“So, tell me, do you give him updates? Why else would you be here?”

“No, actually, I heard you knocking on my front door with that summoning circle. But I didn’t think the others would take kindly to me showing up.”

Ruby has to laugh. She really does and it escapes her in dry tufts. “Tried to summon a friend and I got a piece of shit instead.”

“Yeah, I’m not the greatest, alright. I know. Just because I took Calum’s status away, just because I stripped him of his physical form doesn’t mean he can’t annoy the shit out of me in Hell.”

“And you can’t undo it? Can’t give him back his human form?”

Lucifer shakes his head. “If The Big Guy himself had to flood the earth to start over, there’s no way He’s giving me more powers than Him. He can’t snap his fingers to undo anything and I can’t snap mine.”

“What rule did Calum break? What the hell did he do deserve that?”

“I told you. Rules have to be followed. That’s that.”

“I can’t ever talk to him again. I can’t ask Calum so I’m asking you. I’m giving you the second shot you don’t fucking deserve.”

This isn’t a second shot, Lucifer thinks. He never gets those. Not that he’s ever deserved them in any capacity ever. But Ruby’s pleading stare is maybe just enough to crack his chest open. “I told him not to get too close. I told him that if he got too close to you it would be his head. You might’ve called me a liar. But others would disagree.”

Ruby sucks in a breath, turning away. Her hands cover her face. But that’s not enough darkness so she closes her eyes behind the fabric. “In my house. In front of me!”

“There’s a reason why he told you not to watch.”

She can picture it all now. There was no sound. But she can see, clear as day, a fistful of Calum’s curl in Lucifer’s fist as Calum’s body slumped away before disappearing. She wonders if his eyes blinked close, if Calum had just enough life in him to finish that action. Or they were probably already closed before the last blow was delivered. Was he thinking of her? Was she Calum’s last thought? 

Lucifer’s voice interrupts her buzzing mind. “The anklet’s actually from him. I found it in his apartment while I was cleaning it out. I had some others keep it safe. I wouldn’t have given it to you, in all honesty. I was going to have it pawned. Needed the cash for some other earthly endeavours. But I could never bring myself to fucking do it. So I gave the boy what he wanted. I gave it to you. His last good deed, he called it.”

“Do me a favor?”

“I’m not a middle man for the two of you. I agreed to give you the anklet and I only agreed to check up on you like once.”

“Just one thing,” Ruby sighs, turning to face Lucifer. 

“Just one.”

“Don’t come back to me. Don’t check up on me. Don’t give him updates.”

“This is going to sound ironic coming from me. But he’s going to raise hell over that.”

“Tell him I told you not too. I want to remember him like he was drinking whiskey way to early in the day and always dawned in the leather jacket. I want to remember him like a friend.”

Lucifer sighs. Calum’s not going to like that. But he nods and says nothing as he exits her apartment. Through the front door this time. For a brief moment, Ruby finally realizes that she never opened the door for Lucifer in the first place. Could he have been the breeze she felt? 

She was just torturing herself. Ruby never considered herself to be a masochist. Pain was never really her thing. But all she was doing was hurting herself. This was just a wound they kept picking the scab off of. It would always bleed if it’s never left alone. It can never clot and create new skin. Even if it leaves a scar, the thicker skin is more protection that busted blood vessels. 

Ruby drags herself to her bedroom. Calum’s picture staring at her as she enters. She walks over, placing the photo face down. She’s gotta let him rest. Let herself rest really. What is she doing besides running herself into the ground. That’s all it is. She picks up the anklet, testing the weight in her hand again. It’s cold against her skin and has never been heavy until now. She sets onto the dresser next to her bed. In the morning she can think about whether or not to bear its weight again. 

____

Lucifer can already imagine the roar that’s going to echo off the walls of his head. But he’s really only the message man, yet again. “Good news and bad news,” Lucifer starts. 

“Bad news first.” His voice is harsher, more of a snarl in this state. Body much too large and too hunched for the man he once portrayed. The fire does like it does everyone, making the skin blister and turn a pinkish red. It’s a shock that anyone can hold out at the eternal flick of the flames like he does. 

“You’re going to regret that. She wants to give you a good memory. Take it.”

“What?”

“Let her go. Let her remember you the way she knew you.”

While Calum would hate to admit Lucifer to right. It might be naive to think that Ruby wouldn’t try everything in her power to see him again. He’s not the man he used to be. He’s not in any position to be seen for what’s beneath it all, beneath the lies. “What’s the good news then?”

“You have a friend in her, even still. You’re lucky.”

He surely doesn’t feel lucky. Trapped here as his body is constantly burned and healed all within the same minute. He surely doesn’t feel lucky knowing that he won’t ever be able to answer a call from Ruby again. But if she’s willing to hold onto his memory, even with all the messed up shit he’s done, than he found something to be lucky about. 

Though it’s never rest that finds his soul, Calum remembers the way she laughs and something like peace stills the moment. It’s a quiet calm that only simmers for a moment before the pain kicks in again. He takes the second of calmness whenever they come because they always bring her with them.

[kyndaris]

Flower Trains and Musicality

Seeing an old bridge as we drove along the new Grafton Bridge towards the place we were staying at, my mother immediately wanted to find a way to get close and snap a photo. Put upon by my mother’s disappointment that she hadn’t been able to do it when we arrived, I made sure that, as we packed our bags ready for the next leg of our trip around northern New South Wales, to find a way to get underneath the rickety, single lane death trap for an opportunity with the camera. And as we greeted the morning joggers, it wasn’t long before we were back in the car to take a gander at the park that my grandmother visited a year and a half ago, when COVID-19 was still just a tickle in someone’s throat.

As it was not quite the season, the treas were mostly bare of the iconic purple flowers. My grandmother was quick to reminiscence about her time there, spent with a gaggle of other elderly ladies such as herself. Looking around, she was surprised to see a new playground that had recently popped up. True to form, both my mother and grandmother regressed to their childhood years as they swung on the swings and tried to make music out of colourful xylophones. Being the only adult there, I snapped a few shots and was eager to leave within minutes of arriving. After all, there was still a lengthy drive ahead of us and I wanted to get a good head start.

Our next stop on the tour of northern New South Wales was Armidale. The reason why? Because my mother was eager to take photos of the university campus. Along the way, we rested briefly at a lookout for the Guy Fawkes river. Terrified of the huge flying wasp-like insects, it took me a good long while to sit my tush down on the toilet seat. But I did! By the time I left the compost toilet, my mother had already scoped out the area and was heading down a nearby track to take a look at the scenery. She was followed by my grandmother, who admired the nearby waterfall that she felt was much more admirable than the one at Natural Bridge.

Once I had safely herded the two children back to the car, we were back on the road, winding through several road work projects, before we finally arrived at Armidale at noon. By now, we were hungry and so I, being a faithful navigator, searched up a few local restaurants. With a lot of choices vetoed, I decided to try Paper Tiger - a fusion of West and East. To my surprise, both my mother and grandmother were open to the choices and we had an excellent meal before we headed to the University of New England.

Driving around campus, my mother admitted that she had not taken a photo with the Hogwarts-esque building at the University of Sydney. As an alumni of the University of New South Wales, I was disheartened to hear her say how superior the architecture was at the rival university and tried to point out many of its flaws. Still, it did not deter her and there’s every possibility that one of these days, she’ll go visit the University of Sydney campus just to play Chinese tourist.

Most of the buildings around the University of New England was less than impressive. We did, however, stop by a Museum of Natural History. It had a tortoise display near the front and what appeared to be a dinosaur behind it. Unfortunately, it was closed. And so, we resumed our impromptu look around UNE. Satisfied that we had taken photos of the most prominent buildings, we started on the long journey to Tamworth: the home of Australian country music.

We arrived quite early. After checking in, summoning what little energy remained, we headed to the Golden Guitar. After snapping a shot of the sculpture outside the visitor information centre, my mother was adamant about seeing the Australian Standing Stones. To her dismay, she learned that they were NOT in Tamworth, but actually in Glen Innes.

In the end, she settled for the busts of many music greats at the Botanical Gardens of Tamworth, though she wasn’t very happy about it.

Our last day of travel was really a mad dash back to Sydney. Knowing that my friend had returned from Western Australia and was temporarily staying at Muswellbrook as they looked for more permanent lodgings due to the nature of her husband’s job, I also determined to drop by and say ‘hello.’ This we did. As we caught up, chatting about life and future career choices, we also looked out on the horde of bats that had set up home in the trees behind her hotel. It made me a little uneasy, wondering if there was a possibility of new diseases springing forth from the Australian country. 

COVID-19, while contained and subdued in Australia, was still threatening the livelihoods of many people around the world. Still reeling from the disaster of the pandemic, it was very easy to see the spread of more deadlier viruses. All trapped in those blind flying mammals.

An hour passed in quiet chatter before we were on the road again, reinvigorated for the last part of our journey home. In many ways, it was a mad dash. Three hours it took (trapped due to traffic once we had finally arrived in Sydney because of school zones), for us to finally arrive at our front door. But it was all worth it in the end as we unpacked and unloaded and I finally got to go back on my computer.

The trip around northern New South Wales had its ups and downs. After all, it wouldn’t have been a family trip if we didn’t have a few arguments along the way. While I didn’t get to spy on the Hemsworth family or stalk Zac Efron, I did get to see a few interesting things on my trip, as well as sneak in a bit of gaming. And while I don’t think I’ll ever feel a hundred percent comfortable in the country towns of Australia - I know that I’m no stranger to this country. Small pockets of diversity exist, even in the most far-flung places. True, Sydney probably has them all beat in terms of quality and authenticity of multicultural food, but it’s also nice to see friendly faces everywhere.

[amandabe11man]

While I was slacking off, I decided to finally go about translating that old Hitcher-novelization I attempted when I was 14-15, and here it is! I changed some things that didn’t make sense in my original write-up (check out the Author’s Notes here and there), but I tried to keep it pretty faithful to how I originally wrote it, despite there being, well... a lot to be improved on probably.

I remember I was so stoked to write this, and hell, as you’ll see, I even managed to write down the first sequence before I ran out of juice. Who knows, I might continue some time. Either way, if anyone else in our tiny fandom would like to continue where this left off, feel free to do so, xD

But yeah, let’s start off with some carefully picked intellectual quotes, shall we?:

PART 1

“Man is his own worst enemy.” - Cicero “Better to be alone than in bad company.” - Italian proverb

CHAPTER 1.

Oh, fucking shit, Jim Halsey mused where he sat. I’m out of coffee again! Jim had been driving all night, and it was now half past twelve in the morning. It was still dark and the rain roared against the windshield. He’d seen the odd lightning bolt a few times, but luckily, they seemed to be far away.

Before he’d left his home in Chicago, he’d brewed a generous amount of coffee to bring in his thermos, since he knew he’d probably find it hard to stay awake throughout the long trip. So far, he’d had to stop at seven gas stations to refill his coffee, since Jim was quick to finish a thermos. Now he was on his way to the eighth gas station, while also considering to just skip the coffee altogether and just try to stay awake out of sheer willpower alone. But that was easier said than done. Right now, his whole life pretty much revolved around that damn coffee. But he wasn’t so sure that there’d be another station for another 6 miles or so. In that case, he’d have to pull himself together. That, if anything, was easier said than done.

In the beginning, Jim thought the rain’s roar against the windshield had sounded unpleasant, but as he’d grown more tired in time, he’d started finding it inviting; lulling him to a certain death if he so much as fell asleep for one second. Though, in his case, one second pretty much felt like an eternity. Jim’s head nodded involuntarily. For a moment, the road before him disappeared while the roaring rain sounded more inviting than ever. He’d just take a little nap, nothing more.

There was a sudden loud, blaring sound. Jim’s head shot up from where it had been resting on his chest, just in time to swerve out of the oncoming lane and the big truck that was headed straight for him. He quickly got back into his own lane and allowed himself to heave a sigh of relief as soon as he was out of danger. So far there wasn’t a single sign of a gas station. He’d begun to accept that he wouldn’t be able to stay awake behind the wheel and that checking into the nearest motel would be for the best.

The traffic was scarce tonight. The only cars he’d met, or even seen, had of course been the truck that almost collided with him, a nice-looking Mercedes and a little white Buggy that had passed him. *(A/N: I changed it in the translation, but originally, I had written that Jim had passed the Buggy, for some reason. Either I didn’t realize that particular car’s significance later or I just forgot. ANYWAY--) Suddenly, Jim thought he saw the outline of a building in the distance, most likely a motel. He was just about to turn towards the driveway when he noticed a grayish shadow emerge in the rain. The figure stood with their arm stretched out and their thumb turned upwards. A hitchhiker.

Jim was hesitant about pulling over, but then realized how selfish it would be to just leave that poor guy (who had probably stood there for a long time) out in the rain. He made his decision. Besides, some company might help him to stay awake. Jim stopped the car a bit further down the road and watched through the side mirror as the hitchhiker hurried over in his direction. Once the man had reached the passenger door, he started pulling the handle. The door wouldn’t open. The man then called upon Jim’s attention by tapping his knuckles against the window. Jim unlocked the door and the man could finally settle down in the passenger seat next to Jim. When he closed the door, a horrible squeaking sound was heard. Shitty door. I should oil it.

“My mother told me never to do this”, Jim said, hearing the slight joking tone of his voice and instantly regretting it. The man didn’t reply, and neither did he show in any way that he’d heard Jim’s remark.  Jim started the engine and drove away again.

The silence in the car was deafening, and Jim felt he had to break the ice somehow; start up a conversation.

“My name’s Jim Halsey”, he said, and reached a free hand out to the man. The man responded in kind and took Jim’s hand.

“John... Ryder.”

Suddenly, Ryder surged forward with a sneeze.

“Bless you”, said Jim.

Ryder didn’t reply and the silence settled once again. The only sounds were Ryder’s heavy breathing and the rain’s roar against the windshield, which was starting to get deafening by now. Finally, Jim asked:

“Where should I drop you off?”

“I’m getting your car wet.”

“This isn’t my car”, Jim answered, glad to have finally gotten the guy to talk. “I’m driving it out to a guy in California.”

Ryder turned his head towards him, looking infinitely tired. Maybe just like Jim had felt earlier.

“Do you have a smoke?”, asked Ryder.

“Sure.”

Jim pulled out his pack of Camels and extended it to Ryder, who took one and put it in his mouth. Then he took out a weathered lighter from his coat pocket, lit the cigarette and immediately started inhaling the smoke.

“You’re gonna tell me where you’re going?”, Jim asked again.

“Sure.”

There was a short pause again, and Jim could feel Ryder’s stare on him.

“What are you looking at me like that for?”, he asked.

Ryder’s answer was delayed, before he turned his head away and murmured:

“Just looking.”

Suddenly, Jim caught a glimpse of a little car that looked to have been ditched by the side of the road. It was the white Buggy. He leaned closer to gauge the situation further, but then there was a sudden movement beside him and before he knew it, they were speeding down the road again, pushing 70. Once they had put a significant distance between them and the Buggy, Ryder saw it fit to remove his hand, which had been pushing Jim’s leg down on the gas pedal. Then he sat back in his seat again like nothing ever happened. *(A/N: In my original write-up, I changed this part so that John somehow pushed the gas pedal down himself, without the aid of Jim’s leg. I probably wasn’t sure how I was going to write down what actually happened, so I simplified it. But since it’s kinda an important moment, I changed it now in the translation)

Jim was at a loss for words, so surprised had he been. Now he wasn’t the least bit tired anymore. He turned to Ryder.

“What’d you do that for?”, he shouted while trying his best to keep his voice steady.

“Scared ya?” Ryder grinned at him, cigarette between his fingers.

Jim had had enough. He stepped on the brakes so hard that they both surged forward a bit before the car came to a stop. He then turned to face Ryder, still feeling jumpy. “I think you better get off now”, he said. “Ride’s over.”

Ryder didn’t move a muscle; just kept staring at Jim, who tried again.

“Goodbye.”

Something changed in Ryder’s eyes. Now he almost looked offended; as if someone wanting to throw him out of their car was the most preposterous thing imaginable. Still, he shifted a little and opened the door.

Jim was relieved. Enormously so. Sure he might be in need of some company, but then he’d rather pick up another hitchhiker. This guy seemed fucking nuts.

Ryder held the remnants of his cigarette up for a while, as if examining it, before dropping it on the wet asphalt and closing the door again. And just like that, Jim’s hope was extinguished; just like the faint embers of Ryder’s cigarette, immediately drenched by the rain. Again, Jim was speechless.

Ryder sat back into the seat with a smile on his lips, rain pouring down his face.

“I’m gonna sit here”, he said. Then he turned his head toward Jim again, smile widening. “And you’re gonna drive.” Then he suddenly surged forward and sneezed again. “Excuse me.”

Then it was quiet. Jim didn’t know what to say or how to act, but since he was in dire need of some answers, he asked:

“What was it about the car back there?”

“Why?”

“Thought I saw something, that’s all”, he trailed off.

A sudden flash of lightening lit up Ryder’s face, amplifying the glow of his icy blue eyes while he smiled at Jim, almost amused.

“I ran out of gas”, he said finally.

“So you wanna go to a gas station?”, Jim asked, hope reignited.

“Would help.”

Why didn’t he say that right away?, Jim thought sulkily, while starting the car back up. Silence fell once again, but this time, Jim didn’t feel like chatting. Better to just shut up. He’d have to make due with the roar of the rain instead, while he dealt with an ever growing longing to drop this John Ryder off. And while they were at it, Jim might as well refill that coffee thermos when they got to the gas station too. Finding hitchhikers out here in the middle of nowhere was not a guarantee, after all.

Jim gulped and silently thought back to his mother’s words from so many years ago. Still, he remembered it like it was yesterday; the whole process seared into his brain. Back then, his mom had been suspicious of just about anyone; never being one to see the good in strangers. Jim, just having received his first car, had been given his mom’s advice to never pick up hitchhikers. She’d said:

“Jim, never trust anyone. Wherever you go, there’s going to be all sorts of scummy people. And most definitely never ever pick up a hitchhiker.” Never pick up a hitchhiker... Never pick up a hitchhiker... Never pick up a hitchhiker... His mother’s words resounded in his brain until he was sure he’d go mad, before his thoughts were suddenly interrupted; as if cut off with a scissor, when Ryder spoke.

“Gas stations have cigarettes.”

Jim was even more perplexed now. “What about the gas?”, he asked.

“I don’t need gas.”, Ryder answered. It was as if he was enjoying being interrogated. At that moment, Jim lost any patience he had left, and didn’t even try to hold back his feelings when he yelled:

“WHAT DO YOU WANT?”

Ryder’s voice was husky when he started laughing. Jim didn’t know why he joined in on it. They both laughed for what felt like an hour, until whatever was humorous about the situation disappeared again, if it had existed to begin with. Jim turned to Ryder, still with a hesitant smile on his lips.

“What’s so funny?”, he asked.

“That’s what the other guy said”, Ryder chortled.

“Who’s the other guy?”

“The guy who was driving that car back there, the one who picked me up before you did.”

“Was that him in the car?”

“Sure it was”, Ryder said. “He couldn’t have walked very far.”

“And... why is that?” Jim didn’t like where this was going. And he hadn’t liked the situation to begin with. Ryder lowered his gaze.

“Because... I cut off his legs”, he said as he looked back up at Jim, smiling again. But not in a way that assured Jim that what he just said had been a joke. Ryder continued. “And his arms... and his head.”

He had stopped smiling now, as he looked out the window again. “And I’m gonna do the same to you”, he said.

What? Jim’s mind was reeling. It has to be a joke. It has to be! Jim couldn’t believe he’d been so unlucky as to let a murderer into his car. But that fact was made clearer still when Ryder retrieved something from the inner pocket of his coat. Jim couldn’t quite tell what it was, until the object glinted slightly.

“Don’t”, Ryder warned as he held up the pocket knife, seeming to show it off.

Jim jumped a little behind the wheel, but he knew he needed to try to keep calm unless he wanted to die. He wound up just keeping quiet while staring ahead out the windshield, trying to calm himself down. It wasn’t working. ------------------------- (A/N: Now for some POV-change! Bet you always wanted to know what that old roadworker guy was thinking, huh? Well, wonder no more! Hell, I even gave him a name.

Also I had no idea what job he actually had, so I went with him being a customs officer because... I guess it made sense at the time.)

Henry Rockwell stood right in the middle of what must’ve been torrential rain at this point, trying to make out any cars in the distance. He was middle-aged and had worked as a customs officer for well over twenty years. Unsurprisingly, he’d grown tired of it lately, and was planning on finding a new job before his retirement. He hated taking the damn night shift. Sure, he wasn’t alone on his post, but judging by the other guys’ faces, they were as tired as him. Of course it’s taxing to wait around for hours for passing cars, having to greet tired drivers and be courteous. A lot of the drivers that came by weren’t just tired either, but annoyed. He couldn’t fault them though; having most likely drove all night and just wanting to be done as soon as possible.

So far only four cars had passed, and he hoped that the fifth one would be the last. Then, with some luck, him and the guys would be relieved earlier.

And suddenly, there came the thing he had been impatiently looking for; a car. A red, classic sportscar. *(A/N: Once again, I have no idea what kinda car Jim’s driving...)  Behind the drenched windshield, he could make out two figures in the front seats. The car stopped at the barrier and Henry made his way there, a pep in his step.

The guy behind the wheel wound down the window on his side, revealing himself to be a young guy of around 20. He looked spooked somehow, but there was probably nothing to worry about. Henry leaned forward slightly and looked in through the window, laying eyes upon the man sat beside the young driver. The man looked to be around 40-something and he was wearing a long dark green trenchcoat, that looked even darker after being exposed to the rain. *(A/N: AGA I N  I don’t know? Seriously, I’ve never been able to make up my mind on what color John’s coat is. Just when I’m sure it’s green, I see another picture and it looks grey, etc... It’s like that gotdamn dress (you know the one)) He was slightly leaning forward too, peeking out the open window and smiling. It looked like he had something in his hand. Henry started talking to the driver, but was unable to look away from the man beside him.

“Where in Illinois are you from?”, he asked the young guy, who jerked his head up a little, like he’d been awakened from some kind of trance.

“Wh- what?”

“Your license plate”, Henry clarified. While he waited patiently for an answer, the man beside the kid spoke instead.

“Tell the man”, he told the kid, who started looking even more spooked. Henry swore he heard a light tremble in his voice.

“Chigaco”, he finally managed, not without difficulty.

“I see. My wife’s from Rockford”, Henry replied, wanting to ease the tension. “Do you have a cigarette?”

“No.”

Henry was surprised when, yet again, the man beside the kid spoke in his place. Without thinking, Henry’s gaze travelled lower when he noticed the man making a slow move with his arm, his hand coming to rest on the kid’s crotch. The young man jumped again, letting out a gasp before he could calm himself.

It seemed to make sense now; these two were probably one of those homosexuals couples, with the kid being noticeably scared of being found out. Henry supposed he couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t one of those homophobes, but he could understand if the kid would be embarrassed right out in public. But Henry almost thought it looked like the man was holding something against the guy’s crotch; something that made him all jittery. But really, it was probably nothing. Henry straightened back up and caught the kid’s scared and almost begging look. It was like he didn’t want Henry to go; almost as if he was scared to be left alone with the man beside him.

He shook his head lightly though (Stop imagining things like that), raising his arm to point out the direction for them.

“All right, the road’s clear now. Come on, get going, sweethearts.” “Bye”, the man said, grinning at Henry. *(A/N: I can’t believe I didn’t write down the part where John seems to blow this guy a kiss, dammit.)  The kid looked over his shoulder at Henry one more time before he had to turn his attention back on the road. It had stopped raining now and you could see the dawn on the horizon.

Henry followed the red sportscar with his eyes as it drove away, taking its strange passengers with it. After a while, he went into the booth to call his boss, to tell him he was quitting.

-------------------------

Jim felt when Ryder removed the recessed knife from his crotch and inwardly, he sighed in relief, while still being frozen in fear. Ryder looked over the weapon for a bit, before folding the blade back out and putting the tip close to Jim’s eye.

“Do you wanna know what happens to an eyeball when it gets punctured?” Ryder shifted slightly, continuing, “Do you have any idea how much blood jets out of a guy’s neck when his throat’s been slit?”

Jim steeled himself and said, uncertainly:

“What do you want?”

“I want you to stop me”, Ryder almost whispered. Jim had to concentrate to be able to make out the words. He swallowed.

“Y-you’ve got the knife... You’ll stick it in me before I can do anything.”

“Yeah, so what have you got to lose? Stop me!”

There was a moment of silence again, and then Jim took a sharp breath. He couldn’t hold back the tears any longer; so he started crying. He hadn’t done that since he fell from his bike at age 14.

He twitched a little when Ryder carefully moved the knife over his cheek; almost like a caress. Ryder caught a tear on the blade, and let it continue rolling until it finally fell down on the seat.

“Crying won’t help”, Ryder said quietly. It almost sounded like the words were meant for himself as much as Jim. Then, Ryder said something else.

“Say four words.”

“O-okay”, Jim said without thinking, hoping this might make Ryder stop.

“Say: ‘I want to die’.”

What? Jim jerked a bit in his seat.

“I- I don’t know if I can say that”, he replied, shakily.

“Sure you can”, Ryder said, almost encouragingly. “Repeat after me: I-”

“I-”, Jim parroted, his voice trembling.

“Want-”

“W-want-”, Jim was whimpering now.

“To-”

“... To-”

“Die”, Ryder finished.

Try as he might, Jim simply could not bring himself to say that word. Then he saw it; the passenger door was slightly ajar. He glanced over at Ryder again, who was still staring at him emptily. So Jim took the plunge.

“I DON’T WANNA DIE!”, he yelled and delivered a hard shove to Ryder’s ribcage. The shove was hard enough that the man lost his breath, emitting a loud “oof”. Ryder fell back against the passenger door (What if it doesn’t open...?), which slammed open, causing Ryder to fall backwards out onto the asphalt. As he tumbled down the road, the knife came bouncing after.

Jim quickly checked himself over in the rearview mirror. Upon finding no cuts on his person, he could no longer contain his relief and exhilaration at having escaped with his life. He grinned wildly and laughed out loud. Then he looked in the rearview again, at the little dot that was Ryder, and hollered:

“Haha! Fuck you, buddy!”

-------------------------

Ryder laid on the road, trying to gather his wits after the sudden turn of events. There was an ache in his ribs from his collision with the ground. One of them was probably broken.

He took a deep breath and slowly wobbled back up on his feet, snatching up the knife as he went.

[teen-content-queen]

Fries and Frostys

Fandom: All For The Games Ship: Andrew x Neil Synopsis: When the boys find out Neil’s never had a Frosty, Andrew takes them to Wendy’s.

Read on AO3

The car hummed as Andrew drove the familiar route from Columbia to Fox Tower. Neil sat quietly beside him, eyes closed, listening to Nicky and Kevin argue in the back. Anyone but Andrew might think he was asleep, but he still wore the slight crease in his brow that proved he was very much awake and alert to his surroundings. 

“But I’m hungry.”

“We’re not eating that garbage.” Kevin said, not bothering to look up from his book, a drab tome about one of the Russian czars. 

“You’re such a spoilsport.” Nicky cried, crossing his arms across his arms in a way that made him look 10 years old. 

“Spoilsport?” Aaron quipped from beside him. 

He had his hood up and earbuds tucked in. Whether he was actually listening to anything or just using the earbuds as an excuse to ignore them was up for debate. Nicky just rolled his eyes at him.

“Tell me a bacon cheeseburger doesn’t sound incredible right now?” Nicky asked. Aaron nodded, eyes moving from Nicky to Andrew.

“I mean, I could eat.” He said, in a non committal way that suggested he very much wanted this pitstop. 

“We’re in the middle of the season, we’re not getting Wendy’s! We should be eating clean!” Kevin said, voice a little strained. 

Andrew caught a slight smile form on Neil’s face. It amused Neil to no end when Kevin got worked up over things like this. 

“Kevin, it’s one meal. You were the one drinking those sugary cocktails last night. Doesn’t seem like clean eating to me.”

Kevin shot him a glare over the pages of his book, clearly unhappy to be proven hypocritical. He looked back at the book and tried to affect a commanding tone.

“More reason to not set ourselves further back today. Besides, there’s food back at the Tower.”

“But there aren't any Frostys at the Tower.” Nicky whined. Aaron shifted in his seat, settling his head against the window, no doubt fighting off his hangover. 

“I’ve never actually had a Frosty.” Neil said, mostly to himself, eyes fluttering open to see where they were. The car went very quiet and Andrew gave him a skeptical look. 

“That’s a crime! The boy’s never truly lived!” Nicky said, leaning forward to look at Neil, as if his lack of Frosty consumption might be visible on his skin.

“You’ve never had a Frosty.” Andrew said. It wasn’t a question, more of a clarifying statement. Neil met his look and shrugged, nodding.

“No. We weren’t big on fast food. Mom liked to make everything herself, just in case.” He said, not needing to add more. 

Andrew put his eyes back on the road and flicked on his turn signal, edging into the far right lane and then slowing as he took the exit ramp. Neil looked at the sign and cocked his head.

“Andrew, this isn’t the exit for Palmetto.” 

“I know.” 

“Andrew, no.” Kevin said, voice icy from the backseat.

“Andrew, yes.” Nicky said, pleased as punch.

Neil was still confused, eyes flitting between Andrew, Nicky and Kevin waiting for an explanation. 

“We’re eating inside. I don’t trust you not to spill in the car Nicky.”

Neil suddenly understood, and as he turned back towards the front, he saw the familiar pigtailed girl smiling back at him from the high sign, lit bright to drag travelers from the highway like moths to a flame. 

Andrew found a parking spot out front, away from the other cars to avoid scratches but close enough that he could see the car from the tables inside. 

Nicky jumped out as soon as the car came to a stop and Aaron followed, a little more awake at the prospect of greasy food to soak up the alcohol in his system. Kevin sulked behind, shooting Andrew another look.

“You don’t have to get anything.” Neil said. Kevin moved his scowl from Andrew to Neil before leaving them to disappear inside. Neil watched him stomp up behind Nicky, at the back of a short line just inside the doors.

“We didn’t have to stop.” Neil said. 

He hadn’t meant to get involved in the debate over food or not. He was just as happy to eat some instant noodles when they got back.

“I’m hungry.” Andrew said without inflection. Neil knew that probably wasn’t true. They’d eaten breakfast at the Columbia house and Andrew wasn’t a bigger eater to begin with. Before Neil could argue though, Andrew had his hand on the back of his neck and was shepherding him towards the door. 

Neil was hit with the sweet, heavy scent of grease and fried food as they walked inside, the cacophony of noises almost overwhelming as an exhausted older woman wearing a red visor called out names while a much younger guy with long blonde hair smiled behind a cash register, talking to the mother at the front of the line while tiny children ran around her legs. As she moved off, Nicky took her place. 

“Welcome to Wendy’s. What can I get you?” The blonde boy asked. Nicky met his grin with a matching one and gave the menu a once over. 

“I’ll have a number 2 combo with a Coke, a medium Frosty and…” he looked at the rest of the boys. Aaron stepped up.

“A number 6 with lemonade.” 

Nicky looked at Kevin, who had put on his publicity smile. 

“A number 8. Sprite.” 

He moved out of the way as Andrew hauled Neil forward. Neil just stared at the menu, totally overwhelmed with options. He gave Andrew a pleading look and Andrew gave a single nod.

“2 number 1 combos, with a Coke and a ginger ale. And a medium Frosty and a small Frosty.” He said, looking at Neil for confirmation. Neil’s eyes tracked the numbers on the menu to see that a number 1 combo was a burger and fries. He nodded agreeably. 

As Nicky paid, Andrew moved towards the tables, picking a booth in the corner and plopping down into it, moving in enough that Neil could sit on the edge next to him and forcing Aaron and Kevin to fight over who would be stuck on the inside on the other bench. Andrew pressed his thigh into Neil’s under the table. 

Neil watched the counter, fascinated by the speed at which they produced the food. The mother who’d been in line before them was already collecting two trays, carefully balancing them as she slid them onto the table for her kids. 

“Aaron!” Nicky called, and Neil turned to see their order being plopped onto the counter top. Aaron slid out of the booth, having beat Kevin for the outside spot, and jogged to the front, helping Nicky collect the trays. They arrived at the table, passing out drinks, napkins, ketchup and salt as they redistributed the burgers and fries.

In front of him, his chocolate milkshake was shiny, already melting a little and pooling on the edge of the cup and Neil watched as Nicky dunked his French fry into the Frosty. He looked beside him and realized Andrew was doing the same thing.

“What are you doing?” He asked. Nicky looked up from his plate, clearly lost in his excitement. It took him a moment to realize what Neil was asking.

“Oh my sweet Neil.” Nicky said. “The ultimate Wendy’s experience is dunking your fry in the Frosty.”

“It’s the only reason to get a Frosty.” Aaron said, earning an agreeable nod from Kevin. Neil looked from Nicky to Andrew, who poked Neil’s Frosty with two fingers.

“Just try it Josten.”

Neil shrugged, picking up two fries and dunking them into the Frosty. He took a bit, the salt from the fry mixing with the creamy chocolate milkshake in a way that was disarming but not unpleasant. Nicky watched him expectantly. 

“It’s good.” Neil said.

Nicky smiled wide. 

“Baby’s first Frosty!” He cried, causing Kevin to grimace and chew a little more ferociously beside him. 

With that the boys fell into a comfortable silence as they devoured their meals, Nicky and Aaron occasionally disappearing for more condiments or napkins. Neil ate most of his fries dipped in the Frosty before moving onto the burger. Beside him, Andrew ate slow, watching the door and occasionally Neil. 

Once they’d finished, they cleaned up the table and tossed their garbage. Kevin and Aaron disappeared into the bathroom and Nicky stepped around the building to talk to Erik for a few minutes while Neil and Andrew made their way to the car, leaning side by side against the trunk. 

“Thanks.” Neil said. 

“I didn’t do anything.”

Neil gave him a look. 

“I couldn’t let you go any longer without having tried a Frosty.” Andrew offered, voice impassive.

Neil smiled at him, earning a scowl.

“I still hate you.” He added. Neil nodded.

“I know.” 

“Good.”

They both looked up as Kevin and Aaron came out of the restaurant.

“Say goodbye Nicky!” Andrew called, earning an acknowledging wave from Nicky, who started towards the car. 

“Let’s go home.” Andrew said, leaning into Neil’s side before pushing off the car and heading to the driver’s side. 

“Let’s go.” Neil said quietly, moving to the opposite side and sliding into the car next to Andrew.

[krisroley]

February 9th, 2021

One Small Moment

Today I want to talk to some specific friends who I won't name, but I'm fairly sure that this will apply to way more of just them.

First things first, I'm not going to insult your intelligence by giving you a bunch of platitudes. In my experience, they're nothing but empty calories. Filler and no substance, they're designed to make the person giving them feel better, not the person who needs help. In some cases, people who need help end up feeling worse. I'm one of those people, so I absolutely understand the feeling. So, no bullshit from me. Cool? Moving on.

Let me describe my lack of bona fides right upfront. I'm a guy with a high school education and one year of college because I let my dick do the thinking up to the point that I ended up homeless and friendless. I tried to follow in my Dad's footsteps and join the military and washed right out after six months because I have a mouth bigger than my brain. I come from a family that describing as dysfunctional is exceedingly generous. My dad had anger issues, my mother was a narcissist manipulator, as is my brother. He's got a criminal record and is probably on his way back to prison for at least 12 years as I write this. I'm the voice of reason in my family, and as I have said repeatedly, this should scare the fuck out of you. I got married at 24, and I had three kids by the age of 30. I've been dirt poor most of that time. At this stage of my life, I believe that I am an undiagnosed case of autism from the 1970s because my kids--all of them--are on the spectrum. I didn't have a bad childhood if you looked at it from one angle, but I had a horrible one if you looked at it from the inside out. I inherited my Dad's anger issues and my mother's narcissism. I was a horrible husband for years until my wife walked out on me in 2005. It made me face myself in a way I had not seen before, and I couldn't take it. I had a nervous breakdown. My wife thought I was worth saving, and I am forever grateful for it. I promised I would work on my issues, and I have. Three times in my life, I thought I was at the end of my rope. Not from a thought of suicide ideation, just that there was nowhere else to turn. No one else to ask for help. No one else I could lean on. Just Roley.

That moment right there is the point. The entire lesson. One small moment when your brain says, "Well, you're really fucked now, aren't you?" There is only one answer to that question, and that answer is yes because if you answer no, you ain't there yet. Trust me on this. You have to answer yes. This is the moment where you're accountable to no one but you, and you cannot lie to yourself. You can TRY. It ain't gonna work. Not for long.

Let's not bullshit ourselves. There is a lot of work in repairing a life that you fucked up on your own. You climb up out of a hole for years before you ever see daylight. I was a shut-in for two years because I thought it better that the world forgets about me. I tried to make a living from home in 2006-2007, but this world we live in hadn't come to pass yet, and I was living a fantasy. It made me feel worse that I couldn't provide for my family, but I could barely function as a human at that point. So I decided to do the only work I was capable of: Working on myself. I read every self-help book and mental health book I could lay my hands on. I dug deep into myself to try to figure out why I was the person I was, how I became that way, and the answer was straightforward. First, I thought I was absolutely normal. My behavior, though abhorrent, was how I was raised. My parents treated each other and us kids horribly, but it wasn't physically abusive save for a couple of times I'll keep to myself. I grew up in the same environment I perpetuated. I was continuing a cycle. Secondly, to accept that fact and to change meant work I wasn't ready to take on. But human psychology is a lot like a car in that regard; you can do the work now, or you can do it later, but it's going to cost you a lot more. In my case, it almost cost me everything. It was the third of those three times that I faced myself in the mirror and heard that voice, and this was the time I said yes.

For two-thirds of my life, my story is a story of failure, of self-hatred, of being a bad example. But from the age of 35 to 50, it's a story of repair and redemption. I'll put my humble path to today up against anyone's and dare them to do the work I've done to heal myself and come out who I am today. I'm still married to the same woman for over 25 years now. I've got three amazing kids who I adore. Up until May of this year, I had what I consider to be a dream job until COVID ate it, but I'm still with the same company, and I'm going to bust whatever amount of ass it takes to get my job back or demonstrate the skills I learned there to someone else who's willing to take me. I have a sense of self-worth and purpose that I've never had before, and I'm not taking being a call center tech support agent for the rest of my life. It is a means to an end, and it is not my life's work. I know what that is. It's helping you in the best way I know how: By being not the example of how to fix it, but from showing you by my example, it CAN BE FIXED that you can go from being a person full of anger and self-loathing and cruel behavior to being a person of kindness and compassion and love for people. That you can go from being a person who has no prospects to a person who can go to a job every day that fulfills them personally and professionally. That you can go from being a person who hasn't got their shit together at all to a person that can get morning to night without falling apart at the seams. This is my road, and my lane, but it's big enough for you, and I want you on this road with me. Some of you are gifted and talented beyond description, but the world doesn't know it yet because you have these problems. I know. I get it. I also see who you are, and the world deserves to see you as well. I had no one else to turn to at that last moment, so I did what I had to do. Myself. I'm asking you to take a walk with me because I don't want you to have to do it on your own. I may not know your way home, but I can get you as far as Anchorhead. You can get transport there to Mos Eisley or wherever you're going.

I had to get one joke in there somehow.

Did Joe Know About This?

On the heels of the news of Joe Budden maybe-kinda-sorta-moving his show to Patreon (which is weird since it looks like it’s being hosted on Libsyn now), Spotify has announced plans for multiple business models for podcasts, possibly to include ad-supported subscriptions and a la carte options. These may be discussed at a live stream event later in February.

Asked if Spotify thought customers would be willing to pay for podcasts, Ek on the earnings call responded that he believed there were several new models that could be explored.

“I think we’re in the early days of seeing the long-term evolvement of how we can monetize audio on the internet. I’ve said this before, but I don’t believe that it’s a one-size-fits-all,” he said. “I believe, in fact, that we will have all business models, and that’s the future for all media companies — that you will have ad-supported subscriptions and à la carte sort of in the same space, of all media companies in the future.”

“And you should definitely expect Spotify to follow that strategy and that pattern,” Ek added, more definitively.

The answer seemed to indicate that Spotify is considering some of the ideas in that recent survey — of getting consumers to pay for some podcasts, instead of accessing them all for free or having them bundled into their music subscription.

I wonder if Budden was aware of this and balked. Would there be a revenue split between Spotify and the creators, and what’s the ratio? Now that I think of it, isn’t that what they’ve been crying about re: Apple?

For more than a year, Spotify has been making noise about Apple’s unchecked power over the App Store, and in March 2019, it filed a complaint against Apple with the European Commission. Spotify claims Apple’s practice of taking 30 percent of an app’s revenue is unjustified, and says the company operates as a monopoly on iOS.

Suddenly, I find this Budden/Spotify deal more intriguing.

Wait, You Can Make Money Doing That?

Julie Miller from Vanity Fair writes about Hollywood coming over to the Pod Side for ‘fun and profit’:

…entertainment types began orbiting the audio space about two years ago in earnest, as the number of Americans listening to podcasts every month headed toward the 100 million it is today. It was also around 2018 that agencies like CAA began incorporating audio deals into their development packages. One insider estimates that many celebrities could get a six-figure guarantee per year, with the biggest actors receiving between $1 million and $3 million to launch an unscripted podcast. Scripted projects offer less up-front money but can be adapted into TV shows, films, books, and so on.

For the record, I am Steve Jobs, “Podcasts are Amateur Hour" Years Old. For years, podcasting was seen as less-than, so when I see stories like this, the little imp of the perverse in the back of my head tosses a bone at every true media elitist who, strangely, has a podcast now..

How About Not Doing That?

Chris Curran over at PES has a question about your thin mouth:

When I’m doing my fine-tuned editing on a podcast episode I use TwistedWave or Sound Forge because they allow me to VERY QUICKLY zoom in, highlight very small things like single mouthclicks, and delete them. 

When I try to make the same kind of edit in a DAW (Reaper and others) it takes forever. 

What say you?

For the most part, my workflow tends to remove mouth clicks, or at the very least minimize them. If they still show up through my noise gate, I highlight and remove them. I can’t say this happens often because I like to make sure I keep some water near me while I’m recording. The single biggest thing you can do to prevent mouth clicks is to keep hydrated. Remember, you can’t fix it in Post if it never happens in the first place.

Shot Of The Day

[ofdiablos]

[  HWANG HYUNJIN, TWENTY, CIS MALE, PYROKINESIS  ] ╰  NAZARETH  SONG  just  came  over  half - blood  hill .  you  know ,  the  child  of  HADES  who  was  claimed  five  years  ago ?  i've  heard  chiron  say  that  he  is  INDIVIDUALISTIC  &  TRANQUIL ,  but  if  you  ask  the  aphrodite  kids ,  they'd  say  they're  BIZARRE  &  RECKLESS .  i'd  say  they  remind  me  of  smudged  black  eyeliner  ,  frigid  fingertips  ,  floppy  raven  hair  being  held  from  your  eyes  ,  and  bass  vibrating  from  speakers  ,  especially  since  they're  NEUTRAL .

hi tiny angels !! my name is moe , i am twenty years old , i use she / her pronouns , and i live in the est . i haven’t been in an actual rp group in ... months because of some bad experiences :/ but this rp seemed so cool & the admins seemed so sweet ... i just had to join . i really hope you guys enjoy naz as i continue to flesh him out a lil ! many kithes for u !

𝟎𝟎𝟏  .  𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒

full name  :  nazareth icarus song age  :  twenty gender  :  cis male pronouns  :  he / him romantic orientation  /  sexual orientation  :  biromantic  /  bisexual godly parent  :  hades , god of the dead and king of the underworld . inspiration  :  april ludgate from parks & rec , sydney novak & stanley barber from i am not okay with this , machine gun kelly’s album hotel diablo , maybe trent lane from daria if u squint . and just for the clownery of it all ... jughead jones . pinterest board  :  linked HERE  !! special power  :  pyrokinesis 

𝟎𝟎𝟐  .  𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

bullying tw ?? idk mans didn’t really have a terrible life sry fkdsfkjsd

     nazareth was born and raised in chicago , illinois . his mother had him while still in college , much to her parents’ dismay . however , she was incredibly hard working & wanted to give her son the life he deserved . even though the young mother graduated with honors , her degree in marketing could only get her so far . while she got an unpaid internship at a company in the city just a few blocks away from the family’s tiny apartment , she also had to work as a waitress just to pay rent & keep food in nazareth’s mouth . 

     a few years passed & naz’s mother had moved up enough in the company to be able to quit her job at the local diner . she had met a woman at work who was suddenly spending a lot of time at the songs’ rundown apartment & sometimes naz would even catch his mother dancing around the kitchen to her favorite michael jackson songs . however , as things were looking up for his mom , nazareth was struggling at school . every single class was unbelievably hard for him to understand & the poor boy stuck out like a sore thumb when he was around other kids his age . he was lanky & awkward , but also gave off a weird , brooding energy that did not match any of the other kids . which would have been fine if that meant he would be left alone ! but kids are mean , and that instead meant that he would be frequently exposed to their ruthless torment . 

     this behavior carried on through the entirety of nazareth’s time in the public school system . there wasn’t much he could do about it besides weather the storm & return home to his mother’s warm hugs every day . luckily , nazareth’s mother never mentioned his father or the existence of demigods. this total ignorance brought him safety from monsters for most of his life . however , things started to change when the boy was around eleven years old . nazareth began to see spirits floating amongst regular people . they looked just like everyone else , but there was a heaviness hanging onto their forms as they breezed about . they would hear him if he called out to them , but wouldn’t usually take the time to stop & answer his questions . naz didn’t even like to think of the flames that would flicker at him palms for just a split second when he would get angry . all of these occurrences scared him , quite frankly . 

     finally , nazareth told his mother about all of the odd things that had been happening to him . with a forlorn look on her face & no further words spoken between them , naz’s mother began shoving as many things as she could into one large suitcase . within the next thirty minutes , the two of them were in a car headed to a place his mother called “ camp half-blood ” where the boy would be safe . nazareth continued to ask “ safe from what , mom ? ” but no answer came . she couldn’t bring herself to tell him . 

𝟎𝟎𝟑  .  𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏  𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐅  -  𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃

     nazareth got to camp half - blood when he was just eleven years old . however , he wasn’t claimed until he was fifteen years old . the little boy was lumped in with the hermes cabin for four - almost five - years until his father finally claimed him . as thrilled as naz was to be detached from the large number of campers who inhabited the hermes cabin , he still held a great deal of anger towards his father for taking so damn long to claim him . what was the fucking hold up ? he still isn’t sure to this day & continues to hold a little resentment at all times . but he rarely mentions it .  (  partially because he rarely speaks  )  

     now , with this whole conflict about claiming & cabins , nazareth tries to stay out of it as much as possible . if you ask him about it , good luck getting a straight answer out of him . he switches up what he says every time , just to get a reaction out of whoever he is talking to . nazareth knows too that if he actually gets into a conversation about the whole ordeal , his temper will act up & that isn’t good for anyone . 

𝟎𝟎𝟒  .  𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

     nazareth is anything but a people person . he doesn’t have good communication skills & doesn’t care to have them . he is severely sarcastic & does not care if he hurts your feelings . he is incredibly independent - almost to the point of being overly self - involved . it is extremely rare for him to genuinely care about others simply because how does caring about other people benefit him in any way ? quite honestly , he’s also a little weird . queue that ‘ i’m a weirdo ’ monologue by local Edgelord Fool Jughead Jones . idk man ... just ... good fuckin luck charlie . he’s annoying !

𝟎𝟎𝟓  .  𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃  𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

we might have to get a little creative with connections for nazareth because he is not exactly Mr. Friendly or Mr. Sunshine so it is ... unlikely that he is going to get along splendidly with too many people .

some ppl he can relate to on some level [ friendly connection ]

unlikely pals [ friendly connection ]

people who he just loves to bug and bother [ ??? idk bro connection ]

people who love to bug and bother him [ ??? idk bro connection ]

aw spooky boy has a crush let me cry [ romantic / friendly connection ]

obviously there are going to be a good many people he would gladly fight any day of the week [ not so friendly connection ]

literally my brain is just mush now ... but im so so down to brainstorm or whatever !