#we’re a choir and while some voices fade off the others will sing until you pick up u turn and sing along again

[watcher0033]

Almost 1AM and this exchange brought me to tears.

Hear here, we’ll never stop till the world listens. It’s not forever. It’s now.

[enviedear]

that damn american ᵒⁿᵉ

do you respect yourself?

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in which y/n l/n meets draco malfoy on the first night of the transfer. she decides she doesn’t enjoy him much after he asks her if she respects herself.

PAIRING ⌙ draco x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 2k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four

aaaa okay first chapter i’m so excited lets just jump right in :) you should note this a modern au without voldemort.

your first thought as you exited the hogwarts express was ‘holy shit, i’m literally a sea away from my mom right now’. 

you genuinely couldn’t believe that, one, she agreed this and two, that you were here.

well, of course she agreed. so long as your brother, quinn came as well. that took a lot of convincing since he’s dead set on becoming a professional quadpot player. after the school confirmed that quadpot matches would also be held at hogwarts, he had no choice.

“i really gotta learn how to pack. this backpack is heavier than me, i’m killing my shoulders right now, y’all.” april fusses, thick southern accent dripping off her words.

“jesus christ, i can hear you complaining over my music. i didn’t sign up for conan gray featuring april everson.” sophie snides, turning the volume up.

april gives her an annoyed look and begins walking toward the carriages, you and sophie trailing after the tall girl.

“ah, are you the transfer students?” a scottish voice asks.

you look to your side and spot an older woman.

“yeah, well, some of them. i think the rest are still on the train getting their stuff.” you respond, thinking of your brother and the other remaining fifty something students.

“in that case, the three of you can go ahead and get into a carriage. but when you get to the castle, wait in the lobby please. i’ll be with you shortly.”

the three of you nod and hop onto an awaiting carriage.

“they’ve really got the whole ‘old wizarding school’ vibe down pat.” sophie says, staring at large castle.

“for real. ilvermorny seems so modern compared to this place.” you add.

“well girls, i think we should go in instead of waiting out here. i wanna see more!” april shouts, throwing her hands up at the castle and sprinting inside.

“last one in is a pukwudgie!” sophie laughs, running inside.

you roll your eyes and walk in, “sophie you are a pukwudgie.” 

the ginger shrugs, “whatever. i didn’t come up with the phrase. but check out this decor.”

you look around the castle lobby and see the numerous amounts of stone statues and portraits of old wizards. it’s vastly different from ilvermorny. your school decorates its lobby and school with art from the students, quadpot trophies, famous wands, and banners of the graduated students. it’s much more, lived in.

“i like it but it’s kinda remindin’ me of narnia,” april smirks, “wonder if i’ll meet my very own peter pevensie.”

“i’d much rather meet my very own plate of dinner. even though dad said british people can’t cook.” sophie says.

“what if they don’t have pie! as the president of the ilvermorny pie fan club, i will cause a scene if i don’t get pie.” april jokes.

“april they eat beans on toast here. i think you’re going to have to ask your mom to send you pie.” you giggle. 

the woman from earlier walks in, your fellow ilvermorny students following behind.

“ah, we’re all here,” she says, walking to the staircase in front of you. “my name is professor mcgonagall, head of gryffindor house. now, you’re all going to be sorted. the first years have just finished. and i must remind you that where ever you are sorted, you will remain. the point of this program is to have you meet new young wizards and learn about hogwarts. i understand that you had more leeway at ilvermorny choosing houses, but the sorting hat never makes a mistake. now, follow me.” 

sophie whispers to you, “i heard that the house rivalries here are enemy like.”

at ilvermorny the only real rivalry is between your house, wampus, and april’s, thuderbird. but it’s more of a sibling rivalry, no actual bad blood.

you quite enjoyed the competitiveness of your house, which you shared with your brother. the both of you loved sport, just in two different ways. he was his best out playing quadpot while you enjoyed cheering him on with the wampus cheer team. 

entering the dining hall is a wild experience. the hogwarts students are looking at all of you with a mix of impressed and curious faces. when you all reach the end of the hall mcgonagall lifts a hat from a stool and calls out a name, “taylor allen.”

you watch the horned serpent get sorted straight into ravenclaw and clap along with everyone else. the names continue on until april is called.

she smiles up on the stool and awaits the sorting hat’s decision. after a full minute the hat shouts, “SLYTHERIN!”

april looks surprised but her smile doesn’t fade as she sits down at the slytherin table.

next is your brother who seems to be basking in female attention more than the experience of the new school. you can’t blame him though, he seems to gain fans where ever he goes.

the hat barely touches his head before again, shouting, “SLYTHERIN!”

you furrow your eyebrows at this. you didn’t expect the both of them to end up in the same house, and it leaves you worried that you might be left in a house all alone. 

after more names are called, most of them going into hufflepuff or gryffindor, you hear your name.

“y/n l/n.” mcgonagall says.

you make your way to the stool, ready to hear what the hat has to say. the moment it touches your head it begins speaking, scaring you only slightly. 

‘ah, competitive like your brother and a will to succeed like your friend. you could do good in hufflepuff, you’re loyal to your core. or maybe gryffindor with that daring attitude. you’re just too complicated for that though. i know, better be, “SLYTHERIN!”

there is no way. 

you slowly walk to april and quinn, who look equally as suprised.

“now, y/n, i know we’re friends but i don’t think we’re too much alike to be getting sorted into the same house,” she looks at quinn. “you said they based this off your personality, didn’t ya?”

your brother scratches his neck, “well yeah, that’s what i thought.”

“well whatever, at least we get to be together!” you smile.

“yeah but what about sophie? it would be a bummer if she doesn’t-” april is interrupted by mcgonagall calling, “sophie yates.”

you give april a worried look and she returns it. 

sophie however looks utterly content with the tattered hat upon her ginger head. she’s got an amused smirk on her face, and throws the both of you a wink.

“SLYTHERIN!” the hat bellows.  

sophie rushes toward the table and sits beside quinn who has a bemused look on his face.

“how in the world did we get so lucky?” you laugh, grinning at your friends.

quinn sighs, “how in the world did i get so unlucky. i’ve got three snitches around me at all times now. it was bad enough being in wampus with just y/n.”

april rolls her eyes, “quinn no one is going to snitch on you. unless you pull another stunt like you did in fourth year.”

“i’ve told you like ten times! i didn’t mean to give you the damn puking potion.” he groans.

“you shouldn’t have been trying to give it to anyone. you’re lucky i only told mom. if headmistress wilma would have found out you would’ve been straight off the quadpot team.” you point.

your conversation is interrupted by a deep voice. in the front of the room behind a podium, stands an absolutely ancient man. headmaster dumbledore.

“i’m so happy to welcome our first years and our ilvermorny exchange students. i know you’ve all been waiting to eat so i’ll make this short. this is the beginning of a new school year, and i can’t wait to see what it has in store. now,” the man raises his arms, “let us eat.”

__

dinner was good. but nothing like an ilvermorny dinner. there were no burgers, quesadillas, pie, or salmon. you were going to miss all the diverse food back home, but the slytherin common room sure made up for any complaints.

the room was dark and brooding, but it somewhat reminded you of the wampus common room. instead of the windows showing a jungle, the habitat of the wampus cat, the slytherin common room is underwater.

“dude this is baller.” quinn say to his friend and fellow teammate, sebastian.

sebastian grins, “i can’t wait to take pictures down here. i bet i could make a dope album cover.”

sophie laughs, “yeah so long as you actually finish a song.”

the boy makes a face at her before walking toward the boys’ dorm with quinn.

“having them both here is going to kill me.” you say, eyes narrowed as you watch them walk up the stairs.

“oh who cares! whatever trouble they make is on them. enjoy your year y/n.” sophie says, sitting down on the green couch.

you nod and take a seat on the rug, facing her and april. by now, it’s only the three of you in the common room, everyone else flooding to the dorms.

“speaking of enjoying things, i made us all a new playlist on the train ride.” sophie smiles, pulling out her phone.

“if you put any weird shit on it like you did the last one i’m going to kill ya. there was no reason to add ‘i beat my dick today’ to a playlist with lorde on it. it was disgraceful.” april teases

you laugh and grab the phone out of sophie’s hand. you look at the playlist titled, ‘the time they went to hogwarts’, and notice it has only one song on it.

“there’s only one song soph.” you state, confused.

“exactly,” she says snatching the phone back. “we’re going to add the rest over the course of the year. i want it to tell a story.” 

“what’s the first song?” april questions.

“doin’ time by lana. because it’s still summer, we have to represent ilvermorny, and the song hits.” sophie says, drawing out the last word.

“well, go ahead and play it. we might as well break in the new common room with april’s shit dancing.” you joke, sticking your to tongue out at her.

she flips you off as sophie starts the song.

the three of you dance around the common room and sing off key, aside from sophie, who has had plenty of practice in the thunderbird choir.

you’re leaning on a desk, ‘seductively’ swaying your ass against april as sophie records the two of you, when you hear a throat being cleared.

april and you spin around, making eye contact with a tall platinum blond. 

“what in merlin’s name are you doing?” the boy sneers.

you chuckle, “dancing. why? do british people not dance?”

“of course we dance. but usually we respect ourselves while doing so,” he looks at sophie who’s still recording. “and what is that? how did you get music to come out of it?”

april’s eye bulge, “you mean the phone. honey, i knew y’all weren’t a fan of muggles but you have to be lying about not knowing what a phone is.”

the boy still looks both confused and irritated.

“and what was that little comment about respecting yourselves? are you trying to suggest something?” you say, eyes cold.

“i’m merely asking if you respect yourself. i’ve never met a decent woman who dances like that.” he snides.

“you’re a dick.” you say, simply.

“and you seem to be a bint.” he huffs,

you furrow your brows, “what the fuck is a bint?”

sophie calls from behind her phone, “i’m guessing whore from context clues.”

the boy smirks and grabs a book from the coffee table, “i’m draco. draco malfoy, and if you’d like to not be called a bint i suggest you refrain from grinding against other people in a public area.”

“well, draco malfoy, you’re a little fuck and i could care less what you call me. suck my dick.” you smile sarcastically.

you hear sophie mutter a faint, ‘worldstar’, which causes april to break out in a fit of laughter.

the boy makes one last disgusted look at the three of you before walking up the stairs.

you turn to your friends, beaming, “looks like we’ve already made a friend.”

[nelson-riddle-me-this]

Film soundtrack: Camelot

I have not seen this film or listened to the album before, so here are my live thoughts as I listen for the 1st time.

NEVER HEARD BEFORE | want to listen to | the worst | BAD | whatever | not my thing | GOOD | great | favorite | masterpiece

01. "Prelude and Overture"

Something about how this begins - it feels like they cut an intro, it just starts and I feel out of the loop. Also, as is usual with Broadway-film adaptations of this era, the orchestrations are larger and a little bite'ier. Pretty strings. Got that 20th Century Fox string sound - but wait, this is a Warners movie -OOOHO WAIT IT'S Alfred Newman conducting [longtime head of the Fox music dept.] heheh so I *am* right. Pretty ballads - "If Ever I Would Leave You". OOH these strings on "If Ever I Would Leave You" are GORGEOUS. And tail out. Beautiful!

02. "I Wonder What The King Is Doing Tonight?"

Richard Harris is a lot friendlier than Richard Burton was in the role of King Arthur on Broadway - and I'm into it. Also, I dig the brighter tempo here - makes it feel like we are indeed on the eve of a momentous occasion (wedding). Okay I wish they'd play with dyamics more - especially on lines like "he's wishing he were in Scottland fishing tonight" or "he's searching high and low for someplace to hide". Missed opportunities for text-painting.

03. "The Simple Joys of Maidenhood"

I can't help compare Vanessa Redgrave to Julie Andrews. Redgrave doesn't have an unpleasant sound, but she's lacking personality. I dig the 'Bolero'y millitaristic snare drum. Much of the joy in Julie's performance is how she mixes surface-level sweetness, and conniving seduction (think Betty White as 'Sue Ann Nivens' on THE MARY TYLER MOORE SHOW). But Redgrave's performance doesn't seem to be all that thoughtful. Also, not a fan of that ending, it doesn't feel like an ending, "Oh, it's over! That was it?", but perhaps it makes more sense with picture.

04. "Camelot and the Wedding Ceremony"

Nice bassoon. ?harpsichord?? So far this arrangement is the closest to the Broadway. I wish the strings were legato/slurred on "by order Summer lingers through September". Maybe I am too mickey-mouse'y with the text painting I want, but I prefer specificity. I like the pulling back the tempo a bit there. Love these woodwind lines! Oooh love it again, we're pulling the tempo down, dynamics, and slurring. Love it. Build. Build back up! YES! Lovely! OOoh this little Medievel winds passage! And the chorus! Oh those woodwinds are gorgeous. I need to learn more about them - recorders??? At first the singers didn't sound especially English, more American. As I listen more, their pronunciation is pretty English. But perhaps the harmonies are very American - like what you'd hear in a Disney movie or Mancini score of the era - so even sung with appropriate pronunciation they sound American?

05. "C'est Moi"

Frano Nero. Never heard of him. He's fine, but feels like a step-down from Robert Goulet. He lacks that clear strong edge that Goulet has. He's not as commanding. When Goulet praises himself, I buy it. Like he has the confidence and strength to really sell what he's singing. This man isn't selling me. Maybe that's a choice - maybe they want us to see him as a phony who's over-selling himself. But I feel like I still have that with Goulet and it's better because you feel like you're reading beetween the lines a little more - like resisting an extremely good/slick car salesman.

06. "The Lusty Month of May"

Nice opening. Pretty. I love the slower tempo for this - enhances the seductivness. Gorgeous strings. And we accel! Nice! Good ?harpsichord? Now I still don't like her as much as Julie, but Redgrave works better here than in "The Simple Joys of Maidenhood", staightforward lustiness is a little easier. This 3' section is nice, though I wish it were faster - a merry-go-round, but slightly unhinged.

07. "Follow Me and Children's Chorus"

Gorgeous, tinkly. Gorgeous chorus. They're stereo ping-ponging the choirs!!!! It's really effective. Oh and the childrens chorus is so sweet. This is a completely different approach than the OBC, but it works so well. Helps that this is an utterly divine song. Favorite track on the album so far, probably to remain so. HIGHLY RECOMMEND THIS TRACK.

08. "How To Handle A Woman"

Oooh he's upset and we're fast! This works! Even if he's generally warmer than Burton, Harris can still do angry! And pull it back, sweet and intimate. Oooh this whisper'y smolder bit O.o and now we're past the intro. I kind of like Harris better than Burton - his warmth is really an asset for this character. Oh yikes that Merlin line is very sexist :/.

09. "Take Me To The Fair"

The tempo is - not sure if it's even slower, but it's looser, and I don't like that. The precisely on-the-beat phrasing of the OBC (both vocally and instrumentally) communicates that Guenevere has this all planned out, it's an act, it's a trap, she's manipulating these silly men. Oh, the transition from "well, Sir Sagramore" to "you may sit BY me at the ball" is awful - either she just keeps going through it (but in a weird way) or they did a pickup and spliced her in there so she's slightly overlapping. Sorry Alfred Newman, but this is not IT. Who cast Redgrave? Who thought casting a non-singing actress in a role originally played by a remarkably strong actress-singer? I like the little harpsichord section. Worst Redgrave number so far. An insult to the OBC. I promise this is a good song, got listen to the cast album

10. "If Ever I Would Leave You"

Oh, so we're right into it! Nero's lack of boldness as compared to Goulet kind of works here - sweeter and softer for this intimate love song. Lots of this arrangement is just imitative of the vocal - which is nice but can get a little tiresome when it's not really in-the-pocket. Still this man doesn't have the presence that Goulet does. He just doesn't command your attention. Like this string interlude. Different. Flute :) adding ?oboe? under it. Violins. Now violas? I like it. Oh and I think the violins are doing finger tremolos. Great! The new interludes on this album are gorgeous, when the film people really get to go off and do their own thing, it's great. And are we back to the vocal? Yes, this works. Oh these strings are GORGEOUS. I miss the ?timpani? hits of the original, but actually given that Nero is not as powerful a vocalist, letting the strings lead those hits is a good choice.

11. "What Do the Simple Folk Do?"

Oigg Redgrave. Like the harpsichord and very 'royal' woodwinds. And tambourine. Very medieval. Yay, we DO get a whistling section! This is adorable :) I like this. BOOO Vanessa!!! Oh, I like the "their own folk - throne folk" rhyme, don't remember that from the OBC. Oh and Harris can get big and bold too!!! I really love Richard Harris in this. HE HAS THE RANGE. Oh, is that Marni Nixon? Sounds like her. Did you know the film composer Bronislau Kaper gave her her first break? He needed someone to dub ?Virginia O'Brien?'s singing voice for some picture, and looked in vain until some paige at the studio recommended her fellow-paige, Nixon, and the rest is history! I like this ending! Harris really carries this song on his back.

12. "I Loved You Once In Silence"

The guitar is neat, very different from the OBC - though I confess I don't remember this song as much as the others. See this is something Redgrave can do. Her soft kind of weak voice works for something intimate and straightforward like this. Still, I don't like her voice and every once in a while something in her tone feels so amaeturish that it bugs me. Oh dear, only Redgrave and Nero together. :( they just both seem like space-cases. They're not compelling. Perhaps they have screen presence, but they don't have audio presence.

13. "Guenevere"

Oooh love these ?string harmonics?! Eerie. Like this! The studio chorus is great. Some of the strings are too loud - I suspect that's just a mix issue. Oh I love the tambourine on 2 and 4! I love how large this sounds! That ?horn line? kinda steps on the male vocalists there. Oh I really love every spot the tambourine is here, huh! OH YES! BUILD! GLORIOUS!!!! Oh and the bell.... let the bell toll....... yesesssssssssssss........ fade..... Second-favorite track!

14. "Finale Ultimo" [Camelot (Reprise)]

Aww, Dicky Harris is sad :'( but I love the harp here playing the brass/w.w. figures we heard in "Camelot". Nice clarinets. And the guitar. Nice snare rolls. And here's the big finale! Big chorus! Oooh these harmonies have such body. Love hearing them linger. Get soft. BIG AGAIN! BIG DISNEY MOVIE ENDING!!!!!!!!

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

Ultimately it's not as tight or well-cast as the original Broadway cast album. Vanessa Redgrave is not a good Guenevere - she lacks the spark, sacharine underhandedness, deliberateness, and vocal chops that Julie Andrews brought to the role; and she doesn't supply anything meaningful in their place. Franco Nero is a watered-down Lancelot and lacks the commanding presence and powerful voice that made Robert Goulet so effective [I did some research and it seems Lancelot's singing voice was dubbed by Gene Merlino]. -2 for them, but +1 for Richard Harris, who brings a warmth to King Arthur that Richard Burton lacks, and yet he is powerful, commanding, even angry when he needs to be. The studio chorus is GORGEOUS and truly one of this album's great strenths. The arrangements/orchestrations are very pretty, though don't always feel as thought-out as the OBC. It's likely a larger orchestra, so I understand that things might not be as tight and you might want to take tempos down for that reason, but it really waters down a few numbers. Ultimately this is an uneven album, the OBC is far better. But at the very least I recommend this version of "Follow Me".

[rora-s]

My Coming Out Story

Disclaimer: Due to the personal nature of this story names have been changed as to not reveal peoples identity.  I’m not sure why I decided to post this story now. It’s something I’ve hadn’t written for awhile but never knew when or where to place it. I’m posting it now and I hope that if someone needs it now in their life they can read it and feel a little better about how things are going.  When I was little I really didn’t have a concept of what gay was. I grew up in a loving christian home with my mechanical engineer turned youth minister mom and my current electrical engineer dad who was also the music leader at church for a number of years. There were also my three siblings of which I was the second oldest. My life revolved around church. It was literally where I went to preschool and I spent at least five days a week there well into my teenage years. 

Growing up in this way wasn’t bad. I had a great community and family. However, that changed. I remember thinking during my elementary school days that I thought of guys and girls the same. The only thing was that I understood that when you get married girls marry guys and vice versa. That’s just how it was and I thought everyone felt the way I did. You just had to pair up like that. 

I had heard the word gay and understood the concept of it when I was in elementary school thanks to my church and one kid at my school. My mom told me he was gay and I didn’t believe it because he was so nice and from what I understood gay meant bad. (He came out when we were in middle school and was one of my inspirations later on.) 

Still the first time I had a personal connection with having that label was when some girls started a rumor that me and one of my best friends who was also female had kissed on the playground during recess. This was an outright lie and my violent tendencies at the time due to (at that time) unmedicated ADHD caused me to lash out and beat up the bully which got me sent to the principal's office. I didn’t tell anyone why I had beat up the girl just that she was being mean to my friend. As I was a frequent flyer in the office at that time they didn’t really question me all that hard anyway. Now that I’m older I can’t really tell you why I didn’t tell anyone what the girls said. Whether I was embarrassed, scared, or just too stubborn to give them an answer I don’t remember I just know I didn’t. 

Fast forward to middle school and I was a far more awkward, less violent teen. At this point I was still pretty unaware of the world around me in regards to the LGBT. I knew that there were some kids in my grade that had come out as LGBT that kid I mentioned before among them. Still to me it was something that was viewed as a bad thing they were sinners. It was all what church had taught me whether it be explicitly by some or implicitly by the majority it was still something I picked up on as a child. 

Then one day my mom told me that we had been invited by two of her friends from college to have lunch with them. It was at one of my favorite little cafes so I was really excited. She told me they were psychologists and that they were together. She also told me they were two men. I was shocked. I didn’t think gay people could have significant relationships like straight people. On top of that I couldn’t imagine my mom -- who by all accounts was the symbol of a perfect godly woman to my entire church community -- could be friends with them. 

Her response to my shock: “We’re christians, they are not, we hate the sin but we love the sinner. Despite being gay they are still good people but since they aren’t christians we can’t hold them to the same standard as us. They simply don’t believe in it.” (I paraphrased but this is the general idea of the conversation) 

It was the first time I had heard such a sentiment and I went into that lunch with a curious perspective. I was still a little shy so I didn’t ask about it but I watched them together, made note of their wedding bands (gay marriage wasn’t legal then but they were symbolic to them), and witnessed their love for each other. After that I started finding myself paying more attention to my peers who had come out. Many of which I ran in the same circles as. The more I watched and interacted and bonded with them the more my bigoted thoughts that gays were these lustful bad people faded and I realized they were normal people. 

That’s when I realized something. Not everyone loves both guys and girls and just picks a side. I learned that bisexuality existed. The next step I took in my journey was repression. I was a christian. Christians were not gay. I was not gay. I could not be gay. I was just imagining it and it’s not a big deal. Afterall I still like guys so we're fine. 

This lasted until my sophomore year of high school, choir class, and a girl with freckles, short multi colored hair, dazzling eyes, and the singing voice of an angel. The panic was real and my emotions would not shut up. I couldn't come to terms with it. With any of it. 

I denied my feelings for most of that year until one day I was with two of my friends. We were all writers and talking about different stories we were working on. Then one of them paused in the middle of what she was saying and turned to me saying “these characters are gay. We know you don’t believe in that stuff but that’s what it is” 

I looked back at her in shock and I responded with “that’s okay. I am a christian and while I might never practice that myself I’m okay with other people doing it. Hate the sin, love the sinner” my friend smiled at me and said that was the first time she’d heard such an accepting thing from a christian and continued telling us about her story as we headed to class. 

I was glad I put a smile on her face and made her feel accepted but honestly I felt like a complete piece of garbage. I’d simply parroted back to hear all the stuff that had been shoved down my throat for my entire life. Did I really believe it though? I couldn’t stop thinking about that conversation for the rest of the week. I also couldn’t stop thinking about that girl from choir class but that was honestly nothing new. 

About a week later our school had standardized testing going on. Which divided up kids into computer labs by grade and last name. Me and one of my guy friends we’ll call him Cane had luckily been seated near each other. During one of our breaks when we were allowed to talk. I went over and leaned on the desk next to him. He vented to me about how he had a crush on one of our mutual friends and was thinking about asking her out but was nervous. I gave him encouragement as best I could then he inquired whether I was interested in anyone. Before I really thought about it I answered yes. He asked who and after only a few moments of deliberation I admitted that it was the girl from my choir class. He acknowledged and agreed that she was cute before continuing on. I looked at him in surprise and pointed out to him that she was female. He said he knows and that it wasn’t that big of a deal if I liked girls. I thanked him and asked him not to tell anyone because I still wasn’t sure. He agreed to keep it under wraps but did tease me a little for my crush. 

After that conversation. I finally took the leap and began to look up the LGBT community online. I found forums and support centers and ted talks and messages and christians saying that LGBT was okay. I was ecstatic but still I was worried so I prayed and the more I prayed and researched and talked with other LGBT people the more I felt like a giant weight had been lifted off my chest. Finally I could admit to myself that I was in fact bisexual and I was okay with that and so was my God. 

I still wasn’t comfortable coming out to anyone yet. So I spent more time on online forums for LGBT youth and writers. I learned about the community and I embraced my crush on the girl in choir. Even though it didn’t pan out and I fell for a boy we’ll call him Reese and started dating him my junior year. It felt like things were going okay. I was able to tell one of my friends call them Alex finally that year and they intern told me that they were asexual. We were able to support each other in our closets and were happy. 

During my Junior year even though my feelings for the choir girl faded I ended up meeting another girl in my Fire and Rescue class at the career education center that partnered with my high school. We’ll call her Polly. She was an incredible person, bright and beautiful and unabashedly herself all the time. We bonded over marvel movies and writing. Even though I was dating Reese at the time I was falling head over heels for this girl. It took me a while to figure it out as slowly me and Polly became better friends but I was developing feelings for her.

Finally, my senior I got the courage (with support of Alex) to come out to my main friend group. It was at a marching band competition and everyone was super supportive. My best friend you can call her April she said she wasn’t surprised and Reese who was still my boyfriend at the time said he loved me and would always support me and this didn’t change that. I even came back out to Cane again because I had genuinely forgotten that he already knew. He reminded me of what he said that day. That it didn’t matter and he wouldn’t tell a soul. They were all proud of me for owning who I was. It was one of the happiest moments of my life.

However, it couldn’t last. When I was telling April one of the band mom’s overheard and gave me a shocked and disgusted look. She didn’t say anything but she didn’t have to. She was known for being the gossip of the group and she was a religious friend of my moms. If she had overheard then it was only a matter of time before she told my mother. 

I was terrified. When I got home from the competition I watched my mom to see if she was going to react at all to me. She didn’t and I realized she hadn’t been told yet. I was relieved but knew that I wanted to be the one to tell my mom. I didn’t want her to hear it from a secondary source, especially not the gossip. So I got on one of my forums and talked to some LGBT friends who encouraged me before I took a deep breath and headed into my parents room. 

My dad was away on business so it was just my mother. I told her I had something to tell her and she gave me her attention. I explained that I had come to accept myself as I am and that I knew God had also accepted me as the way I am. I told her I was bisexual and waited watching her. 

She stared at me for a long moment. Her face was a mixture of confusion and fear and the next words out of her mouth I will never forget she asked “does this mean you’re going to hell?” 

I felt like someone had just pulled the floor out from under me. She didn’t understand and spent the next couple minutes trying to convince me I was mistaken or that this was wrong. We stayed civil and eventually she just said she needed to process this and sent me back to my room. I cried myself to sleep that night. 

The next day at school I told my friends what happened and they comforted me. When I got back from school and band practice I hid in my room until that evening when my father got home from his business trip. He came to my door and told me we needed to talk. My younger sisters were banished to their room as me, my mom, and my dad - who had been told by my mom - sat in the living room to discuss the fact that I was gay. 

Shortly after starting the conversation/argument a boy (Derek) who was like my older brother came over. He wasn’t biologically related to us but he had a key to the house, would often come over, referred to us as his siblings/parents, and was referred to by us as our brother/son. Me and him were very close and despite my parents wanting to send him to the other room I insisted he stay as things had already begun to get heated between me and my father. 

Derek helped keep the tension down but there was still plenty of yelling. He acted as an impartial mediator for most of it. My dad yelled a lot, my mother cried, I both yelled and cried. It was a rough night. It ended with me storming back to my room. A while later Derek came to my room and talked with me. He explained that he didn’t understand or know if he agreed with it but he’d make the effort and be there for me. I thanked him.

My house after that was tense to say the least. My parents avoid the subject at all costs. My sisters knew thanks to the yelling that night but didn’t comment on it. The next time my mom brought it up was to tell me that I couldn’t tell my cousin about it because she would spread it to the rest of my dad’s side of the family. She also said I couldn’t tell her mother, my grandmother, because she had a heart condition and it could kill her. Sometimes I still wonder how my grandmother would have reacted had I told her before she died. She once told me she had a friend who was gay and that she cared about him deeply. I think she would have accepted me. 

The first time my siblings brought it up was when me and my two younger sisters were left in the car while my mom ran into the store. We were listening to music and chatting when my sister asked “so how long did you know you were bi” I was surprised because up until then I hadn’t realized my sisters knew I was bisexual. I explained it to them briefly and asked what they thought of it. They both said they agreed that people should be able to love who they want to love. Though my sister Greta thought it was kinda gross because she didn’t get how two of the same gender could have sex. Still it didn’t change anything for them and they apologized for how our parents had been handling it. I was so thankful for their support. 

By the end of my senior year I was out and proud to all of my peers. I came out to my friend Hannah and Derek's girlfriend Mary at the same time as a casual drop in a conversation. Neither reacted at the time but asked me about it later. Mary more directly wanting to understand as both her and Derek are very religious. While Hannah was more of making a comment about me eyeing a girl that I had a crush on and being obvious. I can’t remember when I came out to my older brother James who lives in a different city. However, he never really questioned it beyond being tense when I brought it up around our parents. I was becoming bold in my identity. I had even written a love poem about about girl (Polly) for an english class assignment to stick it too a homophobic teacher. 

I ended up breaking up with Reese pretty early on my senior year as I realized what I felt for Polly. To this day I still consider my feelings for her the first time I fell in love with someone. I cared about Reese deeply and still do but only ever as a friend. Since we were in middle school people had been pushing us together and while we fit together on paper and from the outside. My feelings inside didn’t match and I didn’t want to lead him on. Polly was the one I truly wanted to be with but the same couldn’t be said for her. She had met a boy in her senior year and they were starting to talk. She really liked him and I was her main confidant for her feelings. I took them and I encouraged her to pursue a relationship with the boy because I knew she felt for him more than she did for me. She loved me but only as a friend. As her and her boyfriend got closer I worked to let go of my feelings for her gradually. 

Meanwhile my parents were like a looming dark cloud and it felt like I was stuck in a cage of some sort anytime I left the shelter of my friends. This only got worse when I graduated that spring and summer rolled around. I tried to get out of the house as much as possible but I didn’t drive and this made things difficult. The relationship between me and my parents began to get more and more strained to the point I almost ran away one night after my mom punched me. 

I began to view leaving for college that fall to be the holy land. My montra became that if I could only survive the summer I could make it. Me and my friend Hannah were going to the same college and going to be roommates. I was going to get to study what I loved and be who I was. I went into survival mode. Then the biggest mental strain hit. 

Every year since I was nine years old I went to church camp for a week in the summer. I had been going longer than I was supposed to because my mom was a leader of the camp and my whole family got to go even Derek and Mary. Normally Hannah would come as well but she had something else come up that year and couldn’t. I knew the place very well and absolutely loved it. It was a time of year I looked forward to and couldn’t wait to go back too especially since I was now a worker at the camp instead of just a camper. 

This year was tougher than most. I was given a lecture about not telling anyone that I was bisexual before I left because if they found out I was gay I wouldn’t be allowed to come back to camp. I was horrified at the idea and tried my best not to think about it. Even when I got a crush on my fellow female camp worker. It was a stressful week and it all culminated one night. 

I can’t tell you whether I believed what I felt in that moment. It all felt like a blur like I was about to shatter under the weight of everything bearing down on me all the lying and fighting. I think part of me wanted to believe that me being gay could be prayed away that night and that I could just stop having to deal with all this pressure. So that’s what happened. I told one of my leaders and they asked me a bunch of questions like had I kissed a girl or had sex and then they prayed for me.  

Afterward I told my mom and she literally cried about it hugging me and thanking God that I was healed. I felt sick and I threw up before I went to sleep that night. 

I went to college that summer as a straight girl and I held on to that label for most of my first semester. I loved college. Me and my roommate/best friend Hannah met three great friends that first semester, Sylas, Kurt, and Randall. Sylas was busy a lot so we mostly hung out with Kurt and Randall. All of us played D&D together and had movie nights. Me and Hannah also found a christian group on campus and got settled there. 

I thought I was happy with my life however I still felt sick and disjointed anytime the concept of homosexuality got brought up. It was a hard time and I prayed about it alot. I talked to some of my church friends about how I had turned back to straight. Until one day a video ended up in my recommendations and it was a ted talk. I clicked on it not realizing what it was and found that it was a gay christan woman talking about how these two factors don’t have to be mutually exclusive in life. I was riveted, I watched the entire video twice and felt my heart be convicted. God never wanted me to be straight; he never wanted me to change who I was. I loved me how I was. It was the people who had the problem. 

The minute Hannah got back to the dorm I came back out to her. Her exact words were “ah so you finally figured that out”. I was so grateful to have her in my life and we talked for hours after that. Not long after I started coming out to people again and in turn Randall came out to us about how he was bisexual as well. I finally felt free again. Going back home that winter was tough, however, it was made better by the support of my friends with regular skype calls and group chat messages. Not to mention since my parents thought I was straight they weren’t pressuring me anymore. 

When I went back to school things were still going great and I ended up meeting a girl named Eve in my EMT class. We immediately hit it off and started talking. It wasn’t long before I formed a huge crush on her but she was getting over a break up and I didn’t want to push. Still we became extremely close. Eventually, she did start dating a guy me and Hannah knew from a gamers club on campus. I had missed my shot. Then I went home for spring break and had to stay due to the COVID-19 pandemic. It was hard being away from my friends and stuck in my parents house. Still we all had regular skype D&D sessions and texted a lot on the groupchat. 

During the months I was stuck at home I got a job working at the local Home Depot. I was excited to work as it was my first real job. My grandmother had owned a family business but I didn’t do much other than stock shelves there. Here I was a cashier and I enjoyed my job a lot even though it could get crazy. Then one day I was at my register and a fellow coworker I was aware worked in the paint department approached my register with a polar pop and asked where her wife was. I was confused and she noticed I was new and said not to worry about it and have a good day. I watched after her and saw her go up and greet my head cashier who was a female and give her the polar pop before heading back to the paint department. I was astounded. 

Not long after I had it confirmed that her and the female head cashier were married. Another cashier came out to me as non-binary and another cashier told me her brother was gay and she’d be the loudest ally ever if anyone tried to mess with me. I felt accepted like nothing else. It was incredible to feel so validated and free to be myself in my workplace. 

Going back to school that fall was difficult due to COVID-19. Me and my friends (Polly as well as she began attending college with us that year) could no longer host D&D at my and Hannah’s dorm like we did before because of the regulations. Thankfully Eve came up with a solution. She was the only one of us who lived off campus in a house she rented. We were welcome there anytime. I still had a massive crush on her and when I found out she had broken up with her boyfriend over the summer I almost asked her out. However, another guy had beaten me to it. We ended up going over to Eve’s house multiple times a week and I would go even when the rest of the group wasn’t before long I was sleeping over at her house regularly. Often when it wasn’t even planned. I was even dubbed the most responsible friend by her grandmother who absolutely loved me. 

Then her boyfriend at the time dumped her. The entire group rallied to comfort and support her. She took it really hard and I stayed over for a weekend to make sure she was alright. My feelings really started to grow as we got more physically intimate with cuddling and laying in bed together still it was all considered platonic. I really wanted to ask her out but didn’t know when it was too soon. Hannah and Polly both encouraged me to ask her out. 

Then another boy showed up in her life. I was greatly concerned and disheartened as their relationship was progressing in her typical pattern. I thought I had missed my chance. However, the boy made a fatal mistake as Eve is demisexual. She doesn’t like moving into physical contact beyond cuddling too quickly if at all and he started to push her to kiss him. She immediately stopped the relationship after he made overt moves that disregarded her clearly made boundaries and he was derogatory toward her. 

About one or two weeks later I was over at her house one evening and we were talking about him and dating and life. I finally took a deep breath and told her there was something I needed to tell her and I was afraid it would ruin our friendship. I confessed to her that I liked her and wanted to date her. I didn’t ask her out specifically though because she has told me in the past she has trouble saying no so I left out the question and simply told her how I felt to do with what she felt was right. 

She was shocked and immediately started smiling saying she liked me too. I was elated. We talked more about how we had been feeling and how we had both been worried about what the other would say and how she had been blind to my pining which apparently her last serious boyfriend had picked up on and was why he dumped her. (He later told her that he saw how we were together and began to see that me and her fit better than him and her and he wanted us to be together.) We started dating that night and I immediately called Hannah and Polly to tell them the news joking that since I couldn’t tell my parents that I wanted to tell them and they jokingly responded by giving Eve a talking to about not hurting me. 

The next couple months were ups and downs but me and Eve had each other to support and our relationship was very steady. One night when I was having a depressive episode because of my school situation (I was failing my virtual classes). I called my brother James to vent to him. While he was comforting me I told him that I had a girlfriend and he was immediately accepting, asking all about her and acting like it was normal until I brought it up specifically her being female. He assured me it didn’t matter and that he still wanted to meet her but wouldn’t tell my parents. 

That winter I had to go home again for break which would be a couple months. Eve gave me her spare PS4 and a headset so we could play games together long distance and we spent our last couple days together as much as we could. Prior to me leaving she surprised me with necklaces for us that were each half of the star wars rebels symbol. Her’s had the phrase “I love you” engraved on it and mine had the phrase “I Know”. 

That winter I missed her even after going back to work and finding that another character that is a part time drag queen got added to the staff. They also pretty much adopted me and my head cashier came out to me as gender-fluid. All of them were proud to hear I had a girlfriend and I was finally able to tell someone not my family all about her. I missed her a ton. So me and Eve came up with a plan. 

After some figuring with my parents she was able to come visit for a couple days between Christmas and New Years as my “good friend”. It was a great time. My three siblings that were there all knew she was my girlfriend, my little sisters having figured it out when the three of us were talking. One of my sister Georgie admitted that she was considering herself to maybe be asexual and my sister Greta (who at one point said being gay was gross) came out to me as also being bisexual. We all are able to support each other. 

Eve’s visit went really well and my parents adored her and she adored my parents. Though it was stressful especially right after she left and my grandmother who was visiting asked -- at the dining room table where me, my grandparents, my parents, and all my siblings were sat-- “did your girlfriend leave?” There was a split second where me and my siblings shared a telepathic moment of panic before remembering that in my grandmother’s vernacular she simply meant my friend that was a girl and I simply answered yes. 

As winter break moved along I began to discuss other options with my parents about my schooling. With my ADHD and my manner of learning, virtual classes were not working for me. I had failed most of my online classes meanwhile being near the top of my classes in my in person classes. It was an obvious disparity the only exception being my math class which was a hybrid class and I will admit was a failure mostly due to my lack of ability to understand math. 

I’d already been considering the idea since my depressive episode calling James who’d been the one to suggest it during the fall semester. But now the conversation was whether or not I would sit out the spring semester. After some discussion and the fact that I didn’t have a job in my college town but did at home and Hannah wouldn’t be coming back to school after graduating early. Meaning I wouldn’t have a roommate. (Polly and me had a fight and are not on speaking terms). The decision was finally made I would not be returning to college in the spring. 

It was a hard decision and I had to tell Eve. I took sometime to figure out what I would say since I knew it was going to be hard. Finally I worked out the words and told her that was going to be gone for longer than planned. I knew long distance would be hard and suggest we try to make plans to stay in closer contact with each other that way it wouldn’t be as bad. I’d told her when we first started dating that communication was the most important thing to me in a relationship. 

A week passed and we didn’t really discuss it as we were both busy with our individual jobs. Then I got a text from her saying she wanted to talk. The next text I received was her breaking up with me. She said she didn’t want to be the only one making the effort to see each other since she had a car and license and I didn’t. She further said she didn’t want me to feel like I wasn’t getting what I wanted out of the relationship since she was into physical intimacy. She’d decided we should break up and that was that. But she still wanted to be friends because she liked my family. 

I was very placated in my response. It was a complete shock. Both because it was over text and also it had seemingly come from nowhere. She’d never communicated such feelings to me. 

I reassured her that I never felt like I wasn’t getting what I wanted out of the relationship. I also told her we could still be friends but that it would take us time to figure out our balance with each other. 

I called texted James when it happened and he asked if I was okay. I responded with I don’t know and he immediately called me. We talked for a while and he comforted me about the situation. The next person I told was Alex. They comforted me as well and we figured out a day where we could hang out, watch movies and eat ice cream as the normal break up fix it. I was grateful for both their support. 

I was hurt by Eve’s actions. I took a risk bringing her to my home with my parents. If they had found anything out about us. I don’t know what would have happened and to call it quits without even trying to work through it or communicate how she was feeling. It felt like I wasn’t worth the effort of her feelings or time and investment. 

I’d made the first draft of this before the break up and the ending had read “I hope one day I will be be to get support from my parents as well but even if I can’t, I hope that I will st least be able to be my true self around them and introduce Eve as my girlfriend” 

That’s changed now. I don’t just hope that I can introduce someone as my girlfriend I hope that whoever I bring home will be accepted by my family for who they are and me for who I am. I’m not straight. I never have been. I might marry a man someday I might marry a woman but whoever I bring home. I will still be bisexual and I will never stop trying to be a voice for those who can’t speak up. Once I’m not under my parents roof. I hope I can live my true life and help those who have been muzzled and closeted for far to long as I have.

[illfoandillfie]

Countdown To Christmas

Pairing: Lucy Boynton x Reader x Gwilym Lee

Summery: When Gwilym reveals he has no plans for Christmas Day, you and Lucy invite him to spend it with you.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), Christmas themed girlfriend fluff, orgasm denial/edging, threesome (obv.), dom/sub/dom dynamic, oral sex (m and f receiving), spanking, sex toys - vibrator and strap-on, a teeny tiny bit of cumplay

Words: 9020 (jesus)

A/N: This is my secret santa gift for @laedymoon​ for @dtfrogertaylor​ ‘s Thank God It’s Christmas event! El, I got very excited when I found out I was going to be writing for you! You are my tumblr daughter/wife and I love you so much. I had a lot of fun writing this (I really don’t write either Gwil or Lucy enough) and I really hope you enjoy it!! 

Taglist:  @laedymoon​  @dtfrogertaylor​   @ezmina98​  @vee-ndetta​ @atomic-watermelon​ @kellypenac​ @labessieisallama​ @deakyclicks​ @jennyggggrrr​ @drowseoftaylor​  @hannafuckingsucks​  @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming​ @queenmylovely​ @supersonicfreddie​

THREE DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS

Normally you didn’t leave gift buying so late but this year things just seemed to have slipped away from you. To be fair, a lot of the big things you’d already bought. Your parents were taken care of, and Lucy. And besides, you didn’t really mind heading into the city so close to Christmas. It made you feel festive, especially as the sun faded and the strings of lights decorating each street and shopfront came to life. Aside from the crowds of people hurrying to finish their shopping, it was quite lovely. Light snowfall, a line of kids waiting to get their photo taken with Father Christmas, a choir huddled together singing carols. It just made you more excited for the actual day. You shook your head and squeezed Lucy’s hand as you tried to remind yourself that you weren’t there for the festive ambience, you had things to do.

Together you and Lucy entered Harrods, heading straight for their Christmas display. You were mostly looking for smaller items, fun and maybe a little gimmicky, for the friends you were likely to see over the holiday season and your neighbours, a thank you for collecting your mail while you and Lucy had been away earlier in the year. “D’you think Pam and Harry would like a cookbook?” you asked Lucy as you browsed one of the tables of “Gifts For Her” the store had laid out. “I don’t think they’re that big into cooking. What about this cocktail set? See it’s got a shaker and a couple of flavours,” “Isn’t Harry a teetotaller?” “Oh, shit you’re right, okay forget that. Maybe a puzzle?” Lucy laughed as she pulled the suggestion out of thin air, giving you a look that plainly said Lord I don’t know. You were about to suggest searching in a different part of the store, hoping something would leap out at you as the perfect gift, when a voice caught your attention. “Lucy? Y/N?” “Gwil!” Lucy smiled as the tall, bearded man came over, “Fancy running into you here.” “Finishing your shopping?” “Yeah” you said, “thankfully almost done. What about you?” “I’ve been given a slight reprieve this year. Not doing the whole big family thing we had planned.” “Oh no, what happened?” “Oh it’s not that bad Luce. My parents decided they wanted to spend the holidays somewhere warmer so they’re on a cruise in the pacific right now. And then my brother’s family have all come down with some sort of cold or flu or something, so we’ve all decided to save our festivities until new year's. It’s great though, means I haven’t had to rush buying presents or anything, only looking for something for my niece and nephew now.” “So you’ll be alone on Christmas? Why don’t you come over to ours instead?” “I couldn’t intrude like that,” “Don’t be daft, not intruding if we invited you,” Lucy laughed, “Seriously, it’s just going to be me and Y/N all day. We’re going to my parents for Boxing Day lunch but other than that it’s just the two of us and we’ve already bought more food than we could possibly get through on our own.” “You really don’t mind?” “Of course not Gwil! You’re practically family anyway. We’d have invited Ben too but Y/N spoke to him last week and he’s already got plans.” “Alright, you’ve twisted my arm, I’ll be there.”

You chatted to Gwilym for a little longer before he left you to wander around in search of suitable presents once more. Both you and Lucy agreed you should get him something too, although, distracted by other people’s gifts and a little worn out from having to navigate the crowds, it ended up slipping your mind. It wasn’t until you were at home, sitting on your living room floor wrapping your haul that you realised. “Hey what happened to that book about the Welsh rugby team? The one we were going to give Gwil?” you asked as you finished writing on the gift tag of the present you’d just wrapped. “I thought we decided he’d already read it and left it behind.” You looked over at the small Christmas shrine you’d created. With only the two of you, and your house being more cosy than spacious, you’d decided not to worry about the whole big tree thing. Instead you’d bought a kitschy fiber-optic tree that was small enough to sit on a little table and surrounded it with tinsel, a few cards you’d received and a candle that smelt like Christmas pudding. There was enough space under the table to stack the few presents you’d be opening come Christmas morning. Each of you had two to open, something naughty and something nice, a decision you’d made as soon as you realised you’d not be seeing anyone else all day. “We have to get him something.” “Okay but I’m not going back into the city two days out from Christmas. It’ll be mad and everything’ll be sold out.” “Well what do you suggest then Luce?” She furrowed her brow as she thought for a moment and then she looked at you. “I know that look Lucy, whatever your idea is it’s dangerous.” “Not dangerous. Risky maybe.” “Spit it out then,” “What if we gave him a threesome?” You laughed but stopped when you realised she wasn’t, “Bullshit, you’re not serious are you?” “Well I’m sure he’d like it. Isn’t it every guy’s dream to have a threesome with two girls?” “I wasn’t saying he wouldn’t like it. Just didn’t expect that to be your first idea. You really thought threesome before you thought of the weird little shop up the road?” “That shop wouldn’t have anything Gwil liked, it’s all incense and crystals and hippie stuff. And you have to admit it’s a hot idea. He’s hot. Can’t say I haven’t thought about it before and I know you have too.” “Okay true I have.” “Good, so we’re doing it?” You considered for a moment, “Fuck it why not. It would be the best type of present since it’ll be as fun for us as it is for him. So then how to we give it to him? Like just blurt it out when he arrives or, a piece of paper that says redeem for one free threesome or something?” you laughed and shook your head at the slightly ridiculous turn the conversation had taken. “What about a little coupon book? Then we can give him some other things too in case he doesn’t actually want a threesome. Wait here,” Lucy pushed herself to her feet and ran off down the hall. You listened, bemused, as she opened and closed cupboards, rifling through them and pulling various things free, only returning when her arms were full. She dropped back to the floor next to you and laid everything out. Scissors, a stapler, a stack of paper, coloured pens. “Love, your artsy farsty, you wanna design a cover for the coupons? And then maybe write some things out in nice lettering?” Lucy pushed the pens towards you with her toes as she began mocking up a template to use as a size reference. You plugged your phone into some speakers and shuffled your Christmas playlist, both of you singing along as you set to work creating Gwilym’s present. By the time you were done you had a very cute little book of coupons, suitably decorated with festive colours and a little bit of glitter you’d remembered you had. Inside were ten coupons ranging from One Free Hug to One Free Threesome. You stood up and stretched as Lucy wrapped it and added it to the pile under your little tree.

TWO DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS

Lucy had splodges of batter over her shirt, a mishap with the electric mixer, and flour smudged across her nose and cheek, entirely your doing. She’d got you back, a smear of brown sugar over your forehead though you rubbed it in and thanked her for the exfoliant. Her attempts to act unimpressed, making a big show of rolling her eyes and telling you to get back to work, were admirable but the giggle gave her away. The kitchen itself wasn’t faring much better, splatters of butter and flour and sugar littering the bench and a few spots of the batter that covered Lucy’s shirt also decorating the walls. It was a shame really since you’d spent most of the day cleaning, intending on having the place spotless for when Gwilym arrived. “Is it meant to be that sticky?” Lucy asked over the Christmas playlist you’d once again put on, trying to compare the recipe on her phone to the concoction currently sitting in a blob on the bench, “I thought it was supposed to be firmer?” “Maybe it’ll fix itself as you knead it,” you shrugged, “just put down some extra flour.” “Maybe Gwil will bring some store bought gingerbread with him and save us from ourselves,” “It’s not that bad, look,” you grabbed an extra handful of flour, scattering it over the dough and bench, coating your palms in the remnants. Lucy took a step back, “those come no where near me Y/N, I swear,” You held your white palms up to her innocently before taking to the dough, pushing and pulling it until it began to form a smooth ball which you placed on the beeswax wrap Lucy laid out, “see, nothing to worry about.” “S’pose we’ll find out for sure in half an hour when we roll it out.” She took the wrapped up dough from your hand and placed it in the fridge, “Siri, set a timer for thirty minutes.” While her back was turned you began tidying up the sack of dirty dishes, collecting a little of the mixture that still clung to the edge of the bowl on your thumb, “You don’t have to wait that long,” “Wasn't it half an hour? I’m sure that’s what the recipe said.” As Lucy turned eyes on her phone, trying to find the right part of the recipe, you caught her, sliding your thumb across her bottom lip and spreading the sticky batter there. She looked shocked for a minute before her tongue darted out to taste it, “okay, that’s really good,” a grin spread out across her face as she took a step towards you, and then another, and another, backing you up against the bench. One of her hands fell to your waist as the other cupped your cheek and she brought her lips to yours. You hummed, sucking some of the sweet spiced mixture off her lip. “What do you think?” “Yeah we nailed it,” “Mmhmm, good,” Lucy reached behind you, running her finger along the side of the bowl, collecting more of the leftovers. Slowly she slipped the finger between your lips, biting her own as she watched you suck it clean.

By the time the alarm went off Lucy was sitting on the clean part of the bench, your hands resting on her thighs as you made out. The rude beeping blasted through the jazzy rendition of White Christmas, and your moment, making you spring apart in surprise. Lucy, face flushed and demeanour flustered, giggled as she reached to turn off the alarm, “effective way of killing time,” “Could keep killing time, perhaps in the bedroom,” you trailed your finger over her thigh as you spoke. “But the dough’s ready, we can roll it out now.” “The dough will still be there in a couple of hours.” Lucy raised an eyebrow. “An hour? Half an hour? Fifteen minutes?” “C’mon,” she slipped off the bench, “grab the cutters, would you?” “Not even fifteen minutes?” you waited but Lucy didn’t say anything, “Fine, s’pose baking is almost as fun,” You turned to dig around in the draw for the cutters Lucy had bought. You managed to find them as Lucy lay out more flour and picked up the rolling pin, two cutters shaped like men, one like a Christmas tree and one like a heart. Together you pressed them out and lay them out on the baking trays, occasionally sneaking bits of the raw dough into your mouths. “They look really good,” Lucy said as she placed the last one on the tray. “They’ll look even better when they’re cooked,” “Ha ha ha. Just for that you can stick them in the oven and keep an eye on them while I go have a shower.” “Sure you wouldn’t rather I join you?” you traced your fingers lightly along her shoulder, hooking them under the strap of her bra. Without warning you pulled the strap away from her and let it go, making her squeal as it snapped back against her skin. “You’re a shocker, Y/N.” “You’re the one who put her fingers in my mouth so really I think this is on you.” “Just don’t let them burn.”

For a few minutes you stayed in the kitchen, scrolling through your Instagram feed, liking a few friends' posts about their own holiday activities, as you absentmindedly hummed along to the music. But that got old fast. Figuring you’d smell the biscuits burning if anything went wrong you left the timer ticking in the kitchen and headed out to the lounge room. The Christmas shrine caught your eye. Surely it wouldn’t matter if you had a little peek. Not even a peek, just a rattle. Just to see if you could guess what Lucy had got you. It wasn’t like you were going to unwrap it early, just play a little guessing game with yourself. You tiptoed a few steps closer to the bathroom door, listening to make sure the water was still running and then, having decided the coast was clear, you scurried back towards the tree. Carefully picking up the smaller of the two gifts baring your name, you examined the tag. A red dot. The naughty present. It was in a box, that much you could tell, but it didn’t help you narrow it down much. The size of the box didn’t really give anything away either. It was just an average sized box that could hold any number of naughty items. You gave it an experimental shake. And then, when you didn’t hear anything move, another shake, harder than the first. Still nothing. Perhaps that meant it was made from a soft material, or perhaps Lucy knew you’d try to figure out what she got you and intentionally packaged it so as to limit its movement. Either way, there were too many possibilities for you to work out what it was, so you put it back and reached for the nice present. “And what are you doing?” Lucy’s voice startled you. “Just rearranging, making sure the pile was steady.” “Sure, that’s believable.” “Oh come on Luce,” you turned around on your knees, “not like I was doing anything bad,” “Trying to work out what I got you for Christmas isn’t bad?” “No, it’s not. I’d say it’s perfectly reasonable.” “Well I’d say it’s impatient. Little bit bratty,” You bit your lip, your breath hitching with the word. You knew what bratty meant. “But you’ve been a little impatient all day haven’t you. Wanting to get me into bed before we finished baking. So maybe you need to learn how to wait. And you can start by waiting for me on the bed. No clothes and no touching.” You made to stand up but Lucy just tutted at you. “Didn’t say you could walk, you know how much I like looking at your bum.” With an eyeroll you dropped back to your knees and began crawling towards the bedroom door.

Lucy made you wait for fifteen whole minutes before she followed you into the bedroom. “Luce, what the hell took you so long?” you asked, leaning against the headboard. It had taken every ounce of self-control you had to not touch yourself and you were already feeling antsy, ready for more. “Had to pull the biscuits out since you decided to misbehave before they were done,” she crossed the room, heading towards your cupboard and dug around inside for a moment. When she turned around she held a vibrator in her hand, “And you’re learning a lesson about patience, lucky I didn’t make you wait even longer.” You groaned, suspecting where things were headed. Lucy just chuckled as she moved towards the bed, dropping the vibrator onto the sheets as she kneeled beside you and pushed your legs open. Slowly she ran a finger through your folds, “Already wet for me. Good girl. You ready?” “Yes,” your voice sounded airier than normal, even to your own ears. With one hand she tugged on your hair, making you tilt your head back so she could capture your lips, continuing the kisses from earlier. Her other hand remained between your legs, fingers dragging through the slick and spreading it over and around your clit. You whined at the contact, hoping that if you sounded enticing enough Lucy might forget her plans to punish you. It didn’t work. Her fingers pressed against you firmly, drawing you closer and closer to the edge, leaving you panting against her lips, and whining when she pulled her hand away. “Patience, my love.” “You’ve got that look again. I’m not going to get off tonight, am I?” “Clever girl. Don’t think you’ll be getting off before Christmas Day.” “Lucy,” you whined, but she just laughed, leaning back to remove her own shirt. “Weren’t you wearing a bra before? Distinctly remember snapping the shoulder strap.” “Couldn’t be bothered after the shower. Figured you were going to take it off anyway but then of course I found you being so naughty,” Once more her fingers found your clit, “and my plans changed.” You could feel the familiar tingle creeping up, your hips shifting automatically in an attempt to find more friction. Christmas Day suddenly seemed an age away and you weren’t sure you could wait that long. Perhaps if you distracted Lucy enough, she wouldn’t realise how close you were getting, and you’d be able to steal an orgasm. Licking your lips, you directed your attention to her chest, dragging your tongue along one of her breasts before sucking her nipple into your mouth. Her fingers faltered for a split second and her breath hitched but she didn’t stop. Christmas music floated from the kitchen where it was still playing, but neither of you were in any frame of mind to think about changing the playlist. The sound was punctured by your muffled moan as Lucy pulled you towards the edge, followed by a soft squeak from Lucy herself, as you reach up to tweak one nipple, and drew circles with your tongue round the other. For a moment you thought your plan had worked, that Lucy was distracted enough, but then she pulled her hand away, making you whine and release her breast. “Awww, baby thought she’d get what she wanted?” Lucy mocked, taking your chin in hand. “Maybe,” “Baby was wrong,” she let go of your chin, tapping your cheek twice, “Think we’ll do one more for now.” Before you could say anything in return Lucy had picked up the vibrator and pressed it to your clit. You hissed as she turned it on low, your clit on the verge of being sensitive. It took less time for you to reach the edge again, a combination of the vibrator’s stimulation and how much you’d already endured. She waited until the last possible moment before she pulled the vibrator away, leaving you panting the word please as you tried to grind against thin air. “You’re done, for the moment at least. Might give you a few more before I let you go to sleep,” as she spoke Lucy stood and kicked off her pants and underwear, “But now it’s my turn. Here, hold this.” You took the vibrator from her, tempted to quickly use it on yourself, consequences be damned. Instead you waited. “Oh, good girl. You’re learning,” “Does that get me a reward?” Lucy laughed, “Bold. But yes, alright. It’s not the reward you want though, just a kiss,” she tapped your leg, indicating you should close them, and straddled your waist. You let her pull your arm into position, so the vibrator pressed against her pussy, and turned it on. She hummed as it came to life and brought her lips to yours. Each moan and whine she made was swallowed by you, the kiss only getting deeper and sloppier as she rocked her hips against the buzzing machine. It was close enough to your own skin that you could feel it’s pulsing, but nowhere near close enough to give you any real pleasure. Instead you had to be content with Lucy’s fingernails digging into your shoulder, her teeth scraping over your lip, her legs beginning to tremble as she hovered over you. Her lips parted from yours as she repeated the word yes over and over, her breaths gasped in between, culminating in a long moan as she hit her climax, shuddering through it. “Oh god,” she whined, grabbing your wrist to push the vibrator away. You turned it off as her head fell to your shoulder, still panting as she came down from her high. “You sure you don’t want to watch me cum like that?” “Positive,” she giggled into your shoulder. “Damn.” “Come on, we should get up, gotta finish tidying the kitchen and then I think it’s cheesy Christmas movie time.”

ONE DAY UNTIL CHRISTMAS

You weren’t entirely sure if the morning started off good or bad. On one hand, you woke up with Lucy’s fingers sliding through your slick folds. On the other, she edged you twice, resolutely sticking to her plan to keep you denied until Christmas. You considered that morning to be when she broke you. Of course, you’d played with denial before but for the most part it only lasted however long it took for Lucy to cum two or three times and then she’d take pity on you. The most you’d done was one day and that wasn’t even by design, just an accident while you’d been staying with your parents for a weekend. So the previous evening it had all seemed like a game, a joke even. Surely she was stringing you along. You’d not worried if you came across as bratty, confident that by the time you were hoping into bed she’d give in. Now though, after she’d sent you to sleep with another edge and then woken you up with two more…perhaps she was serious. You were rapidly losing confidence that it would end on Christmas Day, half convinced she was having too much fun to actually let you cum ever again. The idea that she was going to keep you wet and desperate for days rather than hours was scary and overwhelmingly erotic. Knowing that no matter how many times you asked, no matter if you got down on your knees and begged for it, she wasn’t going to give in, only made the need grow. When she was satisfied with the way you whined please she lay down and spread her own legs, telling you it was time you repaid her generosity. “Could have edged you more, kept going until you were so sensitive you were begging me to stop. But I didn’t. So how about you show me some gratitude,” Perhaps it was because a part of you hoped good behaviour would earn you a shorter punishment, or perhaps you just wanted something to take your mind off the way your clit was throbbing, but either way you were laying between her legs within seconds, without so much as a muttered comment about unfairness.  

Despite the uncertain beginnings, Christmas Eve went well. The morning was spent decorating the gingerbread you’d made the previous day, a process just as sticky as the actual biscuit dough had been, especially since there was a small mishap with the red food colouring that left a stain on the benchtop. But eventually you had a decent selection of coloured icings set out in piping bags as well as decorative sprinkles and the like. You and Lucy let your artistic sides take over as you gave the gingerbread men faces and buttons and sometimes hats or scarves. Silver and gold balls adorned the trees like little baubles and Lucy used the sprinkles on a few of the hearts to spell out yours, Gwilym’s and her own initials. When you were done you carefully packed most of them away into a Tupperware box to keep them safe, though you picked out a few of the funnier looking ones to snack on while you watched another cheesy movie.

Halfway through the movie the phone rang. “I’ll get it,” you said, pushing yourself off the couch. Lucy’s hand had been wandering higher and higher up your thigh for the last few minutes and you had already begun to feel the heat in your cheeks rising. The phone call was a good excuse to calm down a little before she could have you begging again. “Hello?” you said into the receiver. “Y/N? Hi, it’s Gwilym.” “Oh! Gwil, hi! You’re not calling to cancel tomorrow are you?” you turned to lean against the wall as you spoke, watching Lucy as she watched you. “No, no, the opposite actually. Wanted to make sure you’re still okay to have me,” You held back a giggle at the unintentional double entendre although you gave Lucy a look, pumping your eyebrows, “of course we’re okay to have you,” “Excellent, really looking forward to it,” “So are we. It’s going to be fun,” Lucy laughed, and you had to cover the receiver so Gwilym wouldn’t hear you struggling not to join her. “I should have asked this when I saw you the other day but do you want me to bring anything?” “Oh um, I think we’re all good for lunch. We’ve got turkey and a few different sides. Plus a Christmas Pudding and we’ve just finished decorating some gingerbread biscuits. If you want you could bring another bottle of wine or two, or maybe some mince pies, but if you can’t be bothered don’t worry about it.” “Wine and pies, think I can handle that.” “Seriously, only if it’s no trouble. We’ve probably got way too much food and drink as is and you will definitely be leaving with some leftovers.” “What’s Christmas without plenty of leftovers? I’ll be happy to take as much as you want to part with, anything if it means I don’t have to cook or go grocery shopping for a few more days.” You did laugh at that. “Anyway, I should let you get back to whatever you were doing,” “Watching Christmas movies,” “I caught Love Actually on TV Last night, still holds up.” “So did we! Absolute classic,” Gwilym’s laugh crackled through the receiver, “Definitely a classic. Oh! Almost forgot, what time do you want me there?” “How about elevenish? Should give us time for a pre-lunch drink.” “Sounds great. Thanks again for inviting me, I’ll see you tomorrow,” “It’s our pleasure! See you then,” you hung up the phone and turned back to the couch, “Gwil just wanted to know if he should bring anything.” “Yeah I gathered,” You dropped back into your seat and Lucy’s hand went straight back to where it had been before you answered the phone, as if there was a magnet pulling her towards your thigh.

By the time the credits were rolling you’d lost track of which movie you’d been watching, too preoccupied with how badly you wanted to cum. “Please Lucy, please.” “Stop asking, it’s not going to happen.” “Can you at least fuck me properly? Keep edging me, I’ll be good and I won’t complain, but I need you to do more than rub my clit, please.” “You want me to finger you hard and fast? Or maybe you want to be fucked with my stap? Wanna feel me deep in your pretty little pussy? “Yes, please,” “You’re really desperate, aren’t you?” she sounded almost surprised by the turn of events. All you could do was nod your agreement, “C’mon Luce, please? You’ll have so much fun and I promise I’ll behave,” Lucy giggled, “I’m already having fun just knowing what a whiny little slut you’ve turned into. And as much as I’d enjoy fucking you, I’m not going to. I want Gwil to see how pathetic you are right now. Besides, you’re way too close and I don’t want to risk you going over.” You whined and let your head hit the back of the couch as Lucy laughed.

CHRISTMAS DAY

You woke before Lucy did, grogginess gone the second you realised what day it was. A glance at the clock told you it was just after 9.00. Carefully you slipped out of bed, pausing when Lucy made a snuffling sound, holding your breath as she snuggled deeper into the warm covers. Careful to skip the squeaky floorboard outside your bedroom door, you tiptoed from the room, thankful you’d had the foresight to slip a pair of socks on as you changed into your pyjamas the night before. As quietly as you could you made your way to the kitchen where the speaker was still set up and grabbed it. Then, just as quietly, you made your way back to the bedroom. With one eye on Lucy’s peaceful figure you set the speaker down and turned the volume up high. You were ready to run the second you hit play on the Christmas playlist, an entirely too loud rendition of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer suddenly filling the room. Lucy damn near screamed in shock, yelling your name as she sprang out of bed and chased you from the room. “Y/N you bitch! I’m so going to get you for that!” You were cackling as she chased you through the house into the living room, stopping with your arms outstretched when you ran out of escape routes. “Wait wait wait,” you said hurridly, almost needing to yell to be heard over the music. “Better say something good or I’m going to have to end you,” “I love you?” Lucy lunged forward and you took a step back, hitting the arm of the couch. On most days you would have been able to duck under her arms and continue running through the house but not today. Today your knees gave way as they hit the arm sending you toppling backwards onto the cushions. Before you could even think to roll off the couch Lucy took the opportunity the universe presented her with and climbed onto your lap, effectively pinning you down. You squealed as she began tickling you. “Luce, god stop, I’m gonna pee my pants,” “You deserve it! That was so mean!” “Bu- ah! - But I’ll ruin the couch,” She stopped suddenly, “Fair point,” You were still panting as you grinned up at her, “Merry Christmas, by the way,” “Merry Christmas,” She said, leaning forward to peck you on the lips. “You gonna let me up?” “Okay but you have to make tea,” “Sure, as long as I can go pee first. I was not joking about that.”

You were just bringing the tea out of the kitchen when Lucy, having turned down the music and brought the speakers out to the living room, called out to you from where she sat on the floor, “Hey, we should open our naughty presents before Gwil gets here,” “Ooo yes, definitely. Here, take this,” you handed her mug down to her, followed by your own mug, “you want some gingerbread?” “A heart please,” “So picky,” you shook your head but collected the requested biscuit anyway. When you returned and took your own seat Lucy handed you the box you’d examined two days previously. You pulled out the gift you’d wrapped for Lucy from the small pile and handed it over. Together you unwrapped your presents, wrapping paper flying as you tore into yours though Lucy was a little more careful. Your gift was a set of silky-smooth lingerie in Egyptian Blue. “Do you like it? I thought the colour would match your eyes,” You ran your fingers over the floaty babydoll, “It’s gorgeous, I love it,” Lucy broke out smiling as she finished unwrapping her own gift, “Well this is interesting,” she began pulling items out of the hamper you’d created, “A candle. Didn’t know you were interested in wax play.” “Not what I had in mind. Mostly just a mood setting thing, but I s’pose your idea could be interesting.” “What else have we got, hot rocks, massage oil,” “Actually, it’s a massage oil slash lube that heats as you rub it in.” “So this is for a sexy massage then,” “Mmmhmm. That’s also why there’s a bullet vibrator is in there.” “Does this mean I can expect you to treat me to a massage sometime?” “Absolutely. I’d say let’s do it right now if Gwil wasn’t coming over.” “Definitely don’t want to be interrupted,” Lucy leaned over to kiss you, “Thank you, it’s lovely and I can’t wait to try some of this stuff out. Maybe I’ll keep you denied until you show me how it all works.”

When Gwilym arrived the presents were safely shut away in the cupboard in your bedroom, the turkey was cooking, and you were on your second lemon, lime and bitters. You opened the door to find him wearing a dorky Christmas sweater and carrying two bottles of wine, a box of Mr Kipling’s Mince Pies, and two packages wrapped up in paper decorated with snowflakes. “Hello hello. Merry Christmas” Gwilym kissed you on the cheek, a few flakes of snow clinging to his beard. “Merry Christmas to you too! Let me take those off you,” you took the wine and led Gwilym through the house to the kitchen, “Can I get you a drink? We’ve got all sorts, bitters, gin, whisky, a bit of champers, some mulled wine going on the stove,” “I’ll start with some of the wine if that’s alright,” “Work your way up to the strong stuff?” “Precisely. Lucy, Merry Christmas,” “And to you Gwil,” she said as he dropped a kiss to her cheek too. “Where can I stick these?” “Presents? Gwil you didn’t have to,” “Oh hush, it’s Christmas, as if I wasn’t going to.” “Fair enough, well, I’ll take the pies, add them to the rest of our goodies. If you take the presents out to the living room, you’ll see where a couple already are. Give me a second to grab a drink and I’ll be out.”

You handed Gwilym his drink and led him out to the small tree, both of you taking a seat as you chatted. Before long Lucy joined you, drink in one hand, box of gingerbread biscuits in the other. As soon as she was seated you got stuck into the presents, torn wrapping paper and excited exclamations flying. The larger present from Lucy that you’d been caught trying to peek at turned out to be a new record player, and the one of Gwilym was a fancy notebook and fountain pen. Lucy loved the vintage hand mirror and set of blush and highlighters you got her, almost spilling your drink as she tackled you with a grateful kiss when she realised it was the mirror she’d seen in an antique store and regretted not buying. She’d gone back for it a week later and found it had been sold. “God I am so glad you finally know!” you laughed as she sat back down and examined it, “You kept going on about it but I’d already bought it and hidden it and I had to stop myself from laughing or spilling the secret every time you brought it up.” Gwilym bought her a book about fashion and style in the 1960s which, while it didn’t elicit quite the same response, was enough to earn him a bright smile and a tight hug. Finally, there was one present left. “That’s yours Gwil, from both of us,” Gwilym wasted no time in unwrapping it, dropping the paper to the ground as he looked at the cover, “Coupons?” “Look inside,” Your stomach felt tight with nerves and you glanced over at Lucy who was subtly shredding a scrap of wrapping paper. With a curious glance at both you and Lucy he began flicking through the pages, “One free hug, nice, a free meal. Do I have to use that to get lunch today?” “No, we’ll give you today free anyway, but you can come back and cash that in any time you like.” “Cheers,” he laughed and kept flicking though. You knew he’d reached the last page by how wide his eyes went. “Does this mean what I think it means?” “If you think it means Lucy and I are inviting you to sleep with us both then yes it does. Do you like it?” “Yes, Christ yes. Do I have to spend it today or is it like the meal one where I’m guaranteed a threesome because it’s Christmas?” “No, that one has to be cashed in I’m sorry.” “Then I’d like to cash it in now, please.” “Right now? You only have one, you sure you want to use it so soon?” Lucy asked. “Positive.” “Don’t want to save it for later tonight,” “Surely we’ll be too full and tipsy to move later,” “Good point.” “So, um,” he seemed a little unsure of how to progress, “how is this going to work?” “Just like sex normally does but there’s an extra person?” “More meant what are your limits and that sort of stuff, Luce” “Yeah I know, was pulling your leg.” She looked over at you as she spoke, “I mean, I think we’re both fine with most things. Nothing too BDSM-y or whatever but Y/N does tend to run more submissive.” You nodded, “Yeah, uh, I guess I like being told what to do, called names, stuff like that. My safeword is red just so you know, not that I think we’ll need it but, better safe than sorry.” Gwil nodded, “And,” his cheeks seemed a little more flushed than before, “this feels kinda weird to talk about but, how….uh, how involved do you want me to be?” “It’s your present Gwil, so as involved as you like.” Lucy seemed a lot more comfortable with the discussion, “ If you’d prefer to watch us that’s cool or if you wanted to fuck us both we’re into that too.” “Okay then, sounds good to me,” “Y/N, love, why don’t you go change into the thing you unwrapped this morning and wait for us in the bedroom. Got some other stuff I want to talk to Gwil about.” With a grin and a racing heart you scurried off to do just that, able to hear Gwil quietly asking what thing?

When you heard the doorknob turn you stood up, the soft material of the baby doll floating around the top of your thigh as you moved. “That’s pretty,” Gwilym said softly, stepping closer to you as Lucy followed him into the room and shut the door behind her, “suits you. Lucy’s got good taste.” “She told you she bought it for me?” “She told me a few interesting things. Like how you’re an impatient little brat who had to be put on denial to be taught a lesson.” Gone was the slightly uncomfortable Gwil from your discussion, now he was all confidence and control. It was a marked difference that made you clench your thighs together. “Oh, that,” “Yes, Gwil knows all about how I’ve been edging you for days now and how pathetically wet it’s made you. I also told him he now gets to choose if and when you cum today.” “What?” you were aghast. With Lucy you’d been maybe eighty-five percent sure she would be true to her word but with Gwil you had no idea what to expect. “That’s right. So you’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you?” “Yes,” you nodded emphatically to show how much you meant it making both Lucy and Gwilym laugh. “I told you she was desperate.” “Desperate enough to suck my cock?” Gwilym had spoken more to Lucy than you but you dropped to your knees all the same, beyond caring how eager you appeared or how much they’d mock you for it. “Christ,” Gwilym muttered under his breath and then, addressing you, “When was the last time you sucked dick?” “Umm, depends. I’ve sucked on Lucy’s strap a couple of times but the last time I did it with a real dick was before me and Luce got together, so over a year. But I got good feedback from him.” “You okay to do it now?” “Sure. Just like riding a bike….probably.” Gwilym laughed and waved his hand in a go on motion. From the corner of your eye you saw Lucy take a seat on the end of the bed, watching. You shuffled forwards on your knees until Gwilym was in easy reach, eyes trained on his belt as you undid it and then his zip. As you pushed his pants down his long legs, he pulled his sweater off over his head. “Thank god. Not sure I could have blown you properly while I was looking at Rudolf’s googly eyes.” “Sure you could have. Because if you don’t impress me you don’t cum. How’s that for incentive?” You almost whimpered as you pushed his underwear down, eyes going wide at what you were met with. He was bigger than you’d been expecting, certainly longer than you were used to. You started slow, grasping the base of his cock, and pumping your fist over him a few times before you began kitten licking around the head as you let instinct take over. You could feel your heart pounding against your chest, and took a deep breath, exhaling in a long stream, the air wafting over Gwilym’s cock. He hummed as you wrapped your lips around him, one hand dropping to rest on top of your head as you adjusted to the feeling. You began bobbing your head, slowly taking more of him in your mouth, stroking what you couldn’t reach. “Good girl,” he said, almost breathless, “look so good on your knees, eyes up.” You shifted your gaze to his face, and hollowed your cheeks, a soft groan his response. Being able to see and hear how much he was enjoying it made you feel bolder so you took him deeper still. You gagged. A string of saliva broke and dangled from your lip as you pulled back, gasping for air. “Sorry, you’re bigger than Lucy’s.” “Don’t apologise. I’m not expecting you to deepthroat me or anything like that.” “Am I doing good?” “Better than good, Y/N,” he groaned as you dragged your tongue down his length and then back up, sinking down onto him once more, “Feel incredible. And Lucy’s having fun too. She must like seeing you being a good little cock whore because she’s touching herself right now.” You whined around him and felt his hand tighten in your hair for a second. “She looks so hot like that. Pulled the top of her dress down so she can squeeze her tits, the skirt all bunched up around her waist. That’s it, just like that.” You tried to take him deeper again, squeezing your thumb in your fist and doing everything in your power to supress your gags. “Jesus, gonna make me cum so-“ he broke off with a gasp as you fondled his balls with your free hand, “oh fuck, soon, gonna cum soon.” Lucy moaned from where she was sat on the bed, as if to prove Gwilym had been speaking the truth about her. You squeezed your thighs together as best you could, needing any friction you could get as your own moan broke free. His fingers once again tightened in your hair, his hips bucking forward slightly with the stimulation, making you gag again. “Sorry, I’m-” he moaned as you picked up the pace, bobbing faster, “god, just like that. Y-you gonna be good and swal-low for me?” “You didn’t bother responding, just squeezed his balls a little as you sucked on his tip.” “Fuck, I’m cumming,” he groaned just before he released his load into your mouth. You kept sucking, making sure to get every drop before you let him go, sitting back on your heels as you caught your breath. “Show me,” You stuck out your tongue, earning his praise when he saw it was clean.

“What should we do with her next Luce?” Gwilym asked, towering over you. “Only seems fair that you get to watch her eat me out,” “That does sound fun. Alright, slut, up on the bed.” You hurried into place, kneeling before Lucy, waiting for her to lie back and get comfortable. She pulled you into a kiss for a moment, tongue sliding along your lip and then into your mouth. Gwilym quickly stepped out of his pants which had been pooled around his ankles and pulled off his shirt, settling himself at the end of the bed behind you. “Lie down,” Lucy said softly in your ear. It wasn’t what you expected but you were too far gone to argue. When you were settled Lucy quickly shimmied out of her dress and swung her leg over you, hovering over your mouth facing Gwilym. “Show us what a good slut you are, Y/N.” Your wrapped your hands around her thighs as she lowered herself onto your mouth, dragging your tongue along her pussy before latching onto her clit. For a moment they let you be, Lucy moaning as you slid your tongue into her entrance and she rocked her hips against you, but then you felt a light touch on your hips which made you squirm. Gwilym slowly dragged your underwear down your legs. “You weren’t joking about how wet she is, were you Luce,” he said, holding your underwear up so she could see the wet patch you’d left. The next thing you felt was his hands pushing your legs open and then his beard scratching against your skin as he lowered his lips to the inside of your thighs, sucking marks that made you whine. “Don’t cum,” he warned you before his mouth finally met your throbbing core. In that moment you were suddenly glad you had Lucy to focus on, sure you wouldn’t have lasted long without the distraction. Each time Gwilym made you moan Lucy was sure to moan too, grinding herself onto you with abandon. You let go of Lucy’s thigh, moving your fingers to her core, pumping them into her as best you could. “Wait Gwil, s-stop or she’ll go over,” Lucy said, tugging on his hair to pull him away from you. He retreated, once again giving his attention to your thighs as you whined in frustration. When you’d sufficiently calmed down Lucy gave the word, and he focused back in on your cunt, adding two of his long fingers to the mix. He avoided your clit for the most part, occasionally nudging it with his nose to keep you on your toes. You could feel Lucy’s legs beginning to tremble and tightened your grip, pulling your fingers free as you focused on her clit, her moans getting louder with each passing second. Gwilym left you again, shifting onto his knees as Lucy caught his attention. You could hear him talking to her softly, encouraging her to let go. She shuddered as she came, riding it out as Gwilym held her up. Finally she climbed off you, leaving you panting and squirming, trying to get Gwilym to finish you off.

“Don’t you look so pretty like this,” he said softly, stroking himself slowly, “you ready to be fucked, pretty girl?” “Please,” “Not yet. Don’t know if you’ve done enough to earn it yet.” “You could fuck me,” Lucy said, eyes glinting mischievously. “No, please, please, I need it. I need one of you to fuck me.” Both of them laughed as you sat up, still begging. “What if I fucked Lucy and made you watch and then we went and had lunch. What if we left you like this all day?” “That’s not fair,” you whined, “please, it’s Christmas, it’s a time for giving, please give me your cocks.” “Well,” Lucy said through a laugh, “can’t deny her logic. Alright, love, up on your hands and knees. Gwil’s gonna play with you while I get set up. The second you were in place Gwilym sunk three fingers into you, “There you go you needy slut, finally getting what you want.” He pushed his fingers into you a few time before he replaced them with his cock, making you mewl and fall forward on your arms. He held your hips tight as you adjusted to him but as soon as you indicated you were alright he began fucking into you, laying a few spanks to your arse just because he could. “You’re close already aren’t you?” “Yes, fuck, so close,” you whined, the days of denial catching up with you. “Cum for me then,” he dropped his fingers to your clit, which was all you needed to finally fall over the edge, crying out as you did. “God such a tight cunt,” he panted as you clenched around him. Yet he didn’t stop. Just held you tighter as he continued to pound you roughly. Barely recovered from your first, you could already feel the beginnings of a second orgasm starting to build in your gut. You gasped as another spank landed on you, surprised by it because Gwilym’s hands hadn’t moved. Lucy chuckled at your reaction and did it again. “Give me a go, Gwil,” His thrusts slowed and then he pulled out, shuffling to the side so Lucy could kneel behind you. “Turn over, love,” she said softly, tapping your thigh. You were happy to collapse on your back, sure your legs would have given out as soon as you came again. If you came again. God you hoped they’d let you cum again. Lucy leaned over to kiss you as she lined the dildo up and sank into you. “Good girl, taking both of us so well,” You whined at the change of position, Lucy leaning down to tug at your nipple with her teeth. Suddenly she let you go, gasping as Gwilym sank into her from behind. He paused for a moment, letting her adjust and then, when he was sure she was fine, he thrust harshly into her, pushing her deeper into you. There was nothing you could do but hold your legs up and moan, able to see Gwilym, holding Lucy’s hips and grunting as he ploughed into her. The sight only turned you on more, every one of his movements hitting you through Lucy, the feeling in your stomach only getting stronger. “Can I cum?” you panted, tugging on Lucy’s hair out of a need to do something with your hands. “Ho-hold it. Fuck Gwil just like that,” You whined, watching as Lucy’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. You used your grip on her hair to tilt her head, attaching your lips to her neck. “Yes, yes, yes, god don’t stop,” her eyes slipped shut. It didn’t take much more before she was moaning through her release, Gwilym grunting as he held back his own. As soon as he slipped out of her, he kneeled beside you. “Fuck her Luce.” His hand came down on her arse, jolting her into moving, “dirty slut wants to cum again.” “Please,” you whined as Lucy found her rhythm again. Gwilym snaked one hand between you and Lucy, rubbing your clit, “Cum for us Y/N,” You obeyed, thanking him through your moans. Lucy’s fingers were digging into your thighs as you rode out your orgasm, Gwil’s fingers still on your clit, until you became too sensitive and had to push him away. “Doesn’t she look so good right now Gwil?” Lucy asked as she carefully pulled out, “Leaking onto the sheets, face still covered in my cum. So fucking messy.” “Mmm, makes me wanna add to the mess.” Before you could register what he meant he was kneeling in front of your face, pulling your head up. Lucy moved behind you, holding you in place as he tapped his leaking tip onto your lips. You hummed as you were pushed down his length, Lucy controlling your pace, as you pressed your tongue to the underside of his cock, a few gags escaping, tears running down your cheeks. It didn’t take long, Gwilym’s groans getting longer as he got closer. He pushed you off him at the last moment, stroking himself until white ropes painted your tits. “Fuck you look like a such a mess,” “A hot mess though,” Lucy said, trailing her fingers through the splatters on your chest. She sucked them into her own mouth, swirling her tongue around her digits. When she was satisfied that they’d been thoroughly cleaned she leaned over you and kissed you again, a sticky white string connecting you when she pulled away. “Fuck,” Gwilym lay beside you, propping himself up on one elbow, eyes glued to your lips, the space Lucy had just inhabited, “Might be the best Christmas present I’ve ever got. Certainly the best I’m likely to get this year.” “Good,” Lucy said, standing and beginning to undo the strap around her waist, “I’m glad you liked it.” “Me too,” you smiled over at him, “It was fun.” “A lot of fun,” Lucy laughed, “Maybe we could be persuaded to give you another round later, after lunch. It is Christmas after all, and what’s Christmas if not a time to be generous?”

[thepavensiestyle]

A Fighter is Born

A bright, sunny day would promise heat for a majority of the early morning. Seeping well into the later afternoon. An expansive sea in possession of rough blue waves would lap up against the sandy shore of a littered beach. The conditions were visible along the horizon as heat waves rose up to distort reality. 

But well beyond this sunny patch of peace, the scenery had erupted in chaos. Nothing natural but rather manmade. An illegal sparring ring consisting a myriad of races that had ranged from humans and elves, to orcs and tauren. Though, there was more where that came from, a lot more. Horde and Alliance both coexisted in order to get a view of this popular event in Stranglethorn. Members of both factions assembled in a friendly clash of one mass for but a singular look at those that would be participating in the center ring. 

The roar of a crowd sounds just as those already on the sparring grounds had first made contact. At first glance, they could be mistaken for gnomes or goblins. But on closer inspection, the fighters were made up of children. Whose ages ranged from 5 to 10 years old. Regardless of those circumstances, these particular fighters appeared well trained. They carried weapons like they’d had years of experience with them. 

Although, deep underground, the sound of the crowd muffled.

The latch of one iron shackle sounded in a faint click as it clamped around the bared ankle of one such human boy. It wasn’t anything to hinder him in any way but it sure was tight. Tight enough to cause discomfort. “There, that’s to identify ya’.” Such was always Kleegal’s excuse on the matter. The well dressed Goblin stood roughly around the height of the 7 year old child, perhaps a few inches shorter. 

The boy was not as well dressed as Kleegal. He wore no shoes on his feet, a patchy and faded shirt along with ripped shorts. Beside him, another Goblin had stood with a drink in hand. This one was a female, her blue hair dolled up nicely in a loose bun on the top of her head. She wore a lack of clothing as well, though not quite so roughed up as the child. “Make sure ya win for us, will ya’?” Was the first thing she’d said. Ena was always focused on the riches that had come from accomplishing such tasks. 

“‘Ey, kid.” Kleegal spoke without regarding Ena for the moment. “Just rememba’, if ya’ lose, you ain’t gonna be allowed back inside for the night. Ya’ hear?” The male would look the boy in the eyes, pressing the threat by the slight tilt of his head. He receives no verbal response other than the light nod of the boy’s head. But he was acceptant of it all the same. “Good, good.” 

From behind the Goblin couple, a door had seemed to swing open to allow for a brutish orc to enter with a child of his own. A child who was also of orc descent and had already been huge for his apparent age. Tall and buff by the looks of it, and staring at the human boy like he was fresh meat. “Ah! Karguk!” Kleegal announces before making his approach towards the burly Orc. 

“We’re about to be called up.” The Orc had spoken in a deep and gruff voice. Complete with the intimidation to scare off a lion. A singular hand would shove the Orc child forwards, allowing him to stumble gracelessly into the room. “You’d better get the little-” Karguk looks over at the human child and grumbles. “-worm ready to lose.” The same hand used to shove his own child would be one to pat him on the shoulder. A gesture used to show off the prominent size differences between human and orc. 

Kleegal would fall to a lean against one of the posts holding up the underground ceiling and laughs at Karguk. “He ain’t gonna lose! We trained him well enough!” This would be enough for Karguk to expel a gutterous series of laughter. 

“And I have trained mine well.” Once again, he pats the Orc child’s shoulder. “I will see you in the stands, Goblin.” That would be when the giant Orc would turn around with the child in tow to leave the underground room. All the while, the remaining trio would stand by watching. Kleegal and Ena with sneers while the human child had nothing short of fear written across his features.

“Well!” Kleegal calls back out just as the door to the room closes. “He was peachy, wasn’t he, Ena?” Laughter commences, until the male was right back to confronting the child. “Johnny boy.” He finally called the child by his name. “You betta’ not lose this one. It’s gonna really put a stake in our career if ya’ do. So let’s do this!”   

Out of the room Johnny had been ushered, and onto the sparring ring outside. The hot sun boring down upon everyone who’s attended. Though it seems the attendees had less of an issue to worry about. There’d been vendors going about selling drinks and snacks for the audience. Many overhangs gave the audience shelter from the merciless sun but standing in the very center would be open for all elements to view. The worst of the conditions being the sun of course. And with the ground being made entirely from sand, standing still for too long meant burning your feet, if you’d been unlucky enough not to wear shoes. Kleegal would only linger for a short time to mumble something towards the human child before he hurried away from the sandy center. Desperate enough to flee the harsh conditions. 

“‘EY LOOK!” From the booming crowd, one voice stood out to them both. “Kleegal’s free laba’! AHAHA!” Then the Goblin’s voice would be drowned out by the loud crowd. Whistles and cheers would sing in an immense choir as voices filled up the entire audience. Though, Johnny and the orc child both stood together in silence, both peering up at the crowd of faces. 

And above all of the sound of cheering, an echoed voice through what can only be described as a loudspeaker would manifest. Another Goblin’s voice. “Ladies and gentlemen! Here we have next on the docket, fightin’ for this swell 13th anniversary of the Black Sun Sparrin’ Ring! This time we got somethin’ a little different! We got a new competita’ with us! Ahaaa! Today will be the day to showcase a series of new faces overall, most of which should be bloody by the end of this! Now we will be featurin’ Yegoth! Also known as Beast! The mightiest orc boy in the land! Challengin’ against Lil’ John! Who we will call, Fish Food!” The name call would promote laughter amongst the crowd around them. “You all know the rule! First fighta’ dropped for 10 seconds is the losa’! Ladies and gentleman, are you ready?!” And with that, the promotion of louder cheers and whistles as the crowd would get pumped for the coming fight. “Alright! Let’s get ready to rumble~!” Shortly afterwards would be the sound of a loud bell that brought the fighting to its introduction. Which had only excited the crowd even more.

That was the same time Yegoth had started forwards, raising his hefty fists up in defense. He approaches Johnny rather quickly despite his immense size. While Johnny would stand by and simply watch to see exactly what was to come of the action. He’s seen fights like these go down but never has he been in the center ring doing the fighting. It wasn’t like the boy even knew how to fight but he braces all the same. 

Yegoth would have been able to land the first hit, while Johnny had taken it like a champion. He emits a loud yelp as the force had sent the boy back several paces from where he’s first started. Already, the side of his face had bruised over and his head rattled by the impact. It was by some miracle he hadn’t fallen over into the sand but he straightened up in an instant. 

Though, this had not seemed to be the end as Yegoth had once again recoiled a fist to land directly into Johnny’s nose just as the human boy turned to face his opponent. Immediately, blood would spurt from his nostrils and the impact this time had pushed Johnny to fall on his ass in the sand. The announcements would come up as this was witnessed. “And we got the first drop in not even two seconds of the intro! Will Fish Food get back up?! Help me count! 10! 9! 8!” He continued to count down while Johnny stayed seated, with the help of the crowd counting along with him. 

Johnny would raise a hand to his bloody nose, barely listening to the sound of the numbers counting down. Although, it was just when the audience and announcer had reached ‘3’ that Johnny had slowly gotten back up. He was relentless despite his desperate desire to flee and leave the area. Not to mention the sudden nausea from the rattling of his brain with all the whiplashing as a result of the punches. Needless to say, he wanted to get out of there. But the only way out was to either win or lose. And losing only meant sullying his foster parent’s names. He didn’t want to do that. 

So he pivots back and raises his arms up in a defensive posture this time, similarly to his opponent’s stance. Yegoth was big and tall but that might have just been an advantage for Johnny. He was small and more agile than his counterpart. The sight of Johnny’s positioning gave cause for Yegoth to sneer and smile with mockery. It was easy to note that the human child had no idea what he was doing and to the orc, it might be the only thing he needs to best him. Use his lack of coordination against him. 

At first, Yegoth had sprinted towards Johnny and feints a punch in his direction. During such an action, Johnny would raise his arms up to cover much of his face but when no impact was made, he instead felt the real punch to his uncovered stomach. He let out a wheezing breath and was quick to drop his arms to protect his stomach, now leaving his face uncovered for yet another punch to his bloodied nose. 

The blow was enough to send him backwards a few steps at first before flopping on his back in a heap onto the sandy dunes. Curling up into fetal position, Johnny would make no move to actually stand back up. Despite the daunting sound of the crowd and announcer counting from 10 to 0. He wanted to throw up in that moment but he held his breath so as not to allow for any spew of chunks to leave his empty stomach. Vomiting would only add insult to injury for both the loss and the obvious tears in his eyes. 

Though once again, one thought would stand out against the others. The thing Kleegal had once said before he entered the sparring stage. About his career and all, Johnny did not want to be responsible for his losses. So again, the boy would force himself back to a stand just as the crowd and announcer made it to ‘2’. “TWO! And Fish Food is relentless! Second time! Could this be his charm?!” The announcer shouted loud, again urging the crowd to laugh and roar in cheer. At that moment, Johnny’s ears had started to ring. Head pounding and heart thumping hard against his chest. His blue eyes locked down on his opponent much like a predator to its prey; just as the orc had begun to lunge for Johnny once again. Time would gradually begin to move in slow motion to a point of stoppage and just before Yegoth was able to close the gap with Johnny, the human would duck down to let the orc’s fist soar past him as he swung it.  Unknown to Johnny, something seemed to have gotten over him. How was he able to commit to these actions with no training at all? In the next instance, none of that seemed to matter as the 7 year old straightened back up to land a heavy blow to the side of Yegoth’s face during his recovery. The momentum from the orc’s punch preventing him from defending his person for a time and so the fist would land. The attack was enough to rattle Yegoth but not completely deter him; he was mostly caught off guard by it. How Fish Food suddenly had the prowess to fight against Beast. When Yegoth pivots back towards Johnny to follow up with an attack, the human had suddenly dropped in a crouch to the sand and collected a handful of it in order to throw it in his opponent’s eyes. Giving cause for a loud yell from the orc to manifest before his hands had risen up to try to clear up the grainy mixture that blinded him. It was in that moment, Johnny would take to attacking every aspect of the orc’s person. Punches and kicks would land on the entirety of his body and it was when Johnny kicked the other in the groin that Yegoth dropped. Sand filled eyes wetting with tears in a desperate attempt to get them cleared up enough to see. Both of his green hands struggled to rub away the countless grains that were stuck under the small crevices and sockets. But in the end, it was for naught. The poor boy was down and laying on his side in the sand while Johnny awaited for a response. Blue eyes rage filled and boring down on Yegoth like he was the enemy of this arena. He had half a mind to continue brutalizing the boy but he does no such thing.  This time, the announcements and the count down from 10 was music to Johnny’s ears. With no prominent move from the Orc to stand back up, he could manage a smug grin up until the 0 mark was struck and the audience both cheered and booed in one chorus of excitement and disappointment. Regardless of it, Johnny turns about in the hot sand to raise his scrawny arms up in celebration. “We have our winna’! An unlikely fighta’! JOHNNY BOY! The Unda’dog who was able to pull through!” The announcements would continue but Johnny tuned it out, smiling throughout. All he could think about was sleeping in a nice bed back home.

[ottelis]

"I gave you my life, Eliott," Lucas's voice shatters, splinters.

Eliott replies softly, broken, hollow, "And I gave you mine."

"No," Lucas says, low and dark. "No, you didn't."

.

.

aka: eliott and lucas grow up together, but are separated when eliott is institutionalized in paris after a severe depressive episode. they reunite two years later when eliott is released, but everything has already changed before their eyes.

epigraph. i. ii. iii. iv. v. vi.

06—memory

tw: manic and depressive episodes, internalized homophobia, minor character death, major character death, suicidal thoughts, and a suicide attempt

december 25th, 1965

10:21

caen, france

~

Eliott wakes that Christmas morning feeling happier than he's felt in a long while. It wasn't that he was unhappy before, it was that he felt  lighter  now. But it  is  Christmas, a holiday he's always held close to his heart. He never received many gifts, but the few he received were always meaningful. He loved opening his presents and giving his parents as big of a hug as he can. Christmas was  warmth,  and  love  . It was seeing his mother's eyes light up when he opens his presents. It was hearing his father's soft, kind voice tell him about how they decided to pick that present out for him, and all the things he could do with it. It was the fire gently crackling in the fireplace. It was dinner at the Lallemants' house, sitting with Lucas and talking about the presents they got and what all happened that day. It was Lucas playing Christmas songs on his piano with everyone singing at the top of their lungs around him. It was going to sleep that night feeling perfectly content and full. It was closeness, intimacy, safety. It was  joy .

Eliott makes his way down the stairs, already able to smell the  pain au chocolat  his mother is making. He smiles, breathing in the smell of warm pastry and bitter chocolate. He  knows this will be the best Christmas he's had in a long while.

"Eliott, my boy," his father chuckles. "Merry Christmas!"

Eliott looks over and sees him placing the last of the presents under the Christmas tree. Eliott grins and bounds over to him, giving him a tight hug. "Merry Christmas, Papa."

His father laughs as he hugs him back. "Go tell your mother 'merry Christmas' now, son."

Eliott turns and goes to the kitchen, kissing his mother on the cheek. "Merry Christmas, Maman."

"Merry Christmas, Ellie," she returns, ruffling his hair. "You're awake just on time. Breakfast will be ready in just a second. Then we can open all our presents."

"Great!" Eliott beams, giving her another kiss on the cheek. He steps back as she pulls the  pain au chocolat out of the oven, the pastry golden and steaming. He excitedly takes his place at the table, already piling food onto his plate. His father takes his place, too, chuckling as Eliott shovels food into his mouth.

"Slow down, Eliott, you'll choke," he cautions through his laughter. "We can't have you dying on Christmas day."

Eliott laughs, too, listening to his father and slowing down. He savors the way the  pain au chocolat melts in his mouth, the way the freshly brewed coffee warms his belly, the way his parents talk to each other with so much love and care. 

"I'm happy," he says, not quite blurting it out but not meaning to say it aloud. 

His parents are silent for a moment, but then they both grin. He thinks he sees tears in his mother's eyes, tears of joy. He feels his father pat his hand on his shoulder, and his heart  glows .

"We're happy, too, son," he replies, his voice ever soft and ever kind. "We're a happy family, aren't we?"

Eliott nods, smiling so wide his cheeks are aching. "We are."

They finish their breakfast in a comfortable, almost musical silence. Eliott feels content, almost like he's fuzzy at his edges, like he's bleeding into the world around him but it's welcoming him into its arms. Like he's fading into a background. Like he's living in a picture, but he knows every shade of every color, every shadow and its shape, every face and all its beauty. The world is beautiful, and he  belongs  in it. It could be  his  if he wanted it to be. He could bring everyone he loves along with him. His parents, Lucas. They could be in his picture with him and they could see the world the way he sees it. Wouldn't that be  wonderful ?

Eliott's excitement only grows as they start opening presents. He picks up the gift he can recognize first; a crisp, clean sketchbook. He flips through the blank pages, imagining all the things he could fill it with. He could create a comic book and put all the drawings and dialogue in here, or do a series of portraits or landscapes. He loves new sketchbooks and all the possibilities they hold within them, only waiting to be seen and realized. He goes through it four or five times, listening to the pages shuffle against each other. He doesn't quite pay attention to the presents his parents are opening, but he knows his father got a new pair of pants for work and his mother got a new book that had come out recently. He waits patiently but excitedly for his next turn so he can open his other gift, the one he can't tell what it is just by looking at it.

Finally, it's his turn again, and he notices his parents giving each other a sly, almost ecstatic look. "What are these faces for?" he asks, chuckling.

"This is a really big present, honey," his mother replies, grinning at him. "Your father and I scrounged up just enough money for this one."

Eliott's eyes widen, and he looks back at his father to see if he'll give anything away. He just shrugs, stretching his hand out a little. "You won't know what it is until you open it."

Eliott grins, tearing open the wrapping paper and the small box inside of it. His mouth drops open.

"A camera?" he asks, awed. "Like Arthur has?"

Both his parents nod at him, smiling like he's never seen them smile before.

"But these are so expensive," Eliott continues, shaking his head. "You didn't have to spend so much money on me."

"You were just so excited when Arthur let you take some pictures with his camera," his father replies. "We knew we had to get you one."

Eliott grins, studying the buttons and gears on the camera. He studies the film canister it comes with, too, imagining the same things he imagined with his sketchbook. He looks back up at his parents, opening his arms. He pulls them both into a hug, saying "thank you" almost a million times. His heart is  bursting .

He watches, grinning as his parents open their last present. His father tells his mother to go ahead and open hers with that same sly look he was giving Eliott. His mother smiles, confused, but takes off the wrapping paper and opening the box. Her hands immediately fly to her mouth. 

"This is that dress I saw in that store window months ago," she gasps. "When did you buy this, Eduard?"

His father looks at her with so much  love in his eyes as he replies, "The day after we saw it. I knew you'd look beautiful in it, and I saw how much you loved it."

Eliott looks and sees the dress. It's a light, powder blue that tucks into a royal blue, pleated skirt. It has a crisp, white collar with delicate flowers embroidered on it.

"Go put it on, Maman," he grins. "You'll look so pretty wearing it."

"I'm about to work on what we're bringing to dinner tonight," she dismisses, shaking her head. "I might get stains on it, and it's just so lovely."

"Just try it on, Noémie," his father replies. "You can change when you start cooking."

She smiles, looking back down at the dress. She looks back up, nodding. "Okay. I'll be right back." She takes the dress and runs up the stairs to his parents' room.

"Maman's going to look so beautiful," Eliott says, his heart bursting even more. He thinks it's bleeding into his voice. 

"You should've seen her on our wedding day," his father replies, his voice wistful, reverent. "She hates wearing white, but she was a vision in it that day. I cried as soon as I saw her enter the chapel.  She was the most beautiful woman in the world. She  is the most beautiful woman in the world."

Eliott grins as he listens to his father, close to tears himself. "I want to love somebody the way you love Maman. And I think I want someone to love me the way you love her, too."

"Someone will, my boy," his father reassures him. "We're all meant to love somebody, I think. Something like a soulmate."

"Are you and Maman soulmates?" he asks, his chest stirring at the thought of love being woven into every part of him.

"If you ask Maman, she'll tell you we're not," he sighs, still smiling. "But your mother isn't romantic like that. If you ask  me , yes. A thousand times, yes."

"How did you know that?" he asks. "That she was your soulmate? That you loved her?"

"I always knew, Eliott," he answers almost immediately. Then he continues, thoughtful and warm. "I think it's a matter of when I recognized it, called it by its name. And I did that when I heard her sing one time at a choir concert when we were in school. You know she has a beautiful singing voice, but that night, there was this  look in her eyes as she sang. Like she believed every word she was singing. Like she knew she had to sing because she had something to say and she believed it was important. Like she was in love with music and life itself. Then her eyes found me and she smiled and her voice was louder and clearer than it had been before. She was singing to me for the rest of the concert. And I've loved her ever since."

He hears the door to his parents' room open, then, and he hears his mother's footsteps. He sits up, his smile widening. 

"Are you two ready?" she asks, her voice floating excitedly down the stairs.

"Yes!" they both reply, equally as excited. 

She appears at the top of the stairs, her hair pulled up into a bun and her new dress fitting her perfectly. She twirls, the skirt of her dress rippling like the waves. A few strands of hair fall loose from her bun, framing her face. She grins, and it makes her glow.

Eliott's father stands up, rushing up the stairs to meet her and kiss her softly. Her arms drape over his shoulders as she kisses him back, and it reminds Eliott of the movies. A love that overcomes any obstacle that stands in their way, a love so powerful and yet so soft and tender. He grins, warmth filling his chest.

We  are  a happy family.

His parents walk back down the stairs, then his father opens his last present. It's a new watch, one that his mother says wasn't too expensive, but she remembered him complaining that the watch he has now isn't working as well as it used to. He studies it for a moment, its fairly cheap but shining band, the gilded lettering along its face. He latches it onto his wrist, promising to never take it off unless he absolutely has to.

It's well into the afternoon now, so his mother changes out of her new dress and starts working on the side dishes they'll be bringing to dinner at the Lallemants'. She sings an old song she used to listen to during the war, one that reminded her of his father when he was a soldier. Her voice floats all around the house like sunlight, the words she's singing promising to wait in perfect patience, in perfect love, for the man she loves. His father is watching TV, and occasionally staring at his new watch for a while. He smiles, his eyes following the second hand tick, tick, tick by. Then, he'll look up and chuckle at a joke in the show, then he'll look back down at his watch. Eliott has already begun sketching in his new sketchbook, drawing dresses he thinks his mother would look pretty in, ones that would make her smile, ones that made her look like she was an actress in a movie. He doesn't know a thing about designing dresses, but he knows what would make his mother happy. Eliott can't help but think that this was what he meant when he said Christmas is warmth and joy. He can't help but think he's the happiest he's ever been.

Soon, they're all getting dressed for dinner at the Lallemants', as well as the party they always hold afterwards. Eliott's wearing a heavy, almost itchy sweater, but he likes its greenish gray color, and he's worn it the past couple years. He supposes it's a bit of a tradition. His father wears his new pants and one of his newer shirts, and his mother once again considers wearing her new dresses, but decides it's better to be safe than sorry. She still wears a beautiful dress, though, a red one with long sleeves and a hem that nearly touches the floor. They all carry a small plate as they walk over to the Lallemants' talking and laughing and letting the biting winter air carry their voices a little farther than they can reach. Eliott's also cautiously carrying his new camera, ecstatic about showing it to Lucas. He really liked Arthur's camera, too, and Eliott figures it could be special if they both have pictures they've taken saved on film.

His father, the only one with a free hand, knocks on the door as they reach the Lallemants' front porch. Madame Lallemant answers, wearing a rich green button-up shirt and dark slacks. She smiles widely when she sees them, offering to take one of the plates from Eliott's mother. Lucas comes running up to the door, his eyes lighting up when he sees Eliott. Eliott feels his chest warm, feels himself become lighter.

"You're wearing  that  sweater again?" Lucas asks, chuckling. "I don't think it fits you anymore,  mec ."

Eliott shrugs. "Tradition? Besides, you're one to talk. That sweater is new, but it's not as stylish as mine, I think."

Lucas looks down at his sweater, a gray knitted one. "What's wrong with my sweater?" he asks, almost pouting. 

"I'm kidding, Lucas," Eliott chuckles, pulling him into a hug. "It's a nice sweater."

He feels Lucas tense a little bit, but he eases into the hug. "Thanks, Eliott."

"Of course," he replies, hugging Lucas a little tighter. He pulls away after a moment, grinning. "Hey, do you want to see my big present?" he asks excitedly, trying to hide his camera.

"Yeah!" Lucas grins, his smile wavering ever so slightly. But Eliott pretends he didn't notice it.

He shows off his camera, his eyes never leaving Lucas's face. His eyes widen, and his mouth drops open a little. He looks back up at Eliott, stammering and chuckling.

"A film camera?" he asks. "Like Arthur has? Don't these cost an arm and a leg?"

"Maman said they managed to get enough to buy one for me," Eliott replies, his words starting to run together a little bit. "I need to toy around with it a bit and figure out how it works, but once I do I can give you some pointers and you can take some pictures with it."

Lucas's eyes widen even more, his lips spreading into a grin. "Seriously? You'll let me?"

"Of course," Eliott shrugs, as if it were obvious. "You liked Arthur's camera, too, right?"

"Yeah," Lucas replies, nodding. His smile fades a little, and he looks up at Eliott again. "Can I see it?"

"Yeah, here," Eliott smiles, handing it over to him.

Lucas turns it over in his hands, his smile returning as he studies it. "It's so cool."

"I know, right?" Eliott replies. "I can't wait to start taking pictures with it."

"Me, too," Lucas grins, giving it back to him. "Don't let me break it, though."

Eliott shakes his head, laughing. "I think you should be more worried about me breaking it."

"Boys, we're eating!" Madame Lallemant calls, making them jump.

"Coming, Maman!" Lucas responds.

They enter the dining room, where a large, tempting array of food lay set on the table. At the center was a decadent turkey, surrounded by warm slices of bread and steaming plates of vegetables. Lucas and Eliott both look at each other, their eyes wide and stomachs beginning to rumble. Lucas looks away quickly, though, and Eliott thinks he saw his cheeks flushing. They quickly take their seats at the table.

"Eduard," Madame Lallemant says. "Could you say grace?"

"Of course," he smiles. "Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen."

"Amen," everyone echoes, signing the Cross.

Lucas pulls his hand away rather quickly, and Eliott once again tries to pretend he doesn't notice. He starts picking at his potatoes, listening to the conversation going around the table. Madame Lallemant asks about his father's health, which has been much better recently. His mother asks Madame Lallemant how she's been doing as far as her mental health, and she says that she's been much better, too. His mother asks Lucas if he's shown him his new camera yet, and Lucas smiles politely and says that he's seen it. Lucas and Eliott both get asked about how their semester went, and Lucas has better things to report than Eliott does, but that's how it always was. Lucas was always smarter than Eliott.

Eliott tries to steal glances at Lucas, but he seems distracted, absentminded. Eliott's first thought is that he could be nervous about playing the piano later, but Lucas did that every year, and he was rarely nervous. Then he thought he could be having leftover nerves from exams, but Lucas is acting differently than he does when he's stressed about school. Lucas tends to ramble to himself when he's working through a math or science problem, but he's awfully quiet right now. Eliott feels the need to again pretend he doesn't notice Lucas's behavior, but he knows him too well not to notice every shift in his face or in his mood, even if it's only for a fraction of a second.

He nudges Lucas, who jumps a bit but then turns to look at him. " Ça va? " he mouths.

Lucas nods, giving him a fake smile.

Eliott raises his eyebrows in response, not believing him.

Lucas's smile drops, and he just shrugs. He tears his gaze away from Eliott, staring intently at his food. Eliott feels himself deflate.

Him and Lucas don't talk much throughout dinner, finishing their food long before their parents do. It goes by fairly quickly, though, and Madame Lallemant starts bringing out the  bûche de Noël , like she makes every year. It looks wonderful, like it always does, and when Eliott looks over, Lucas is genuinely smiling. He maintains it mostly while they eat, and Eliott smiles, too, his heart slightly at ease now.

"Lucas," Madame Lallemant says as they finish eating. "Are you ready for your annual concert?"

Lucas perks up, a sense of anxiety almost radiating off of him. But he recovers and smiles, nodding. "I think so."

"Great!" she smiles back. "Let's all go to the piano, then."

Everyone rises from their seats and crosses the room to the piano, Lucas sitting at the bench and Eliott sitting next to him. Their parents stand off to the side, Eliott's father putting his arms around his mother and Madame Lallemant gazing lovingly at her son. 

Lucas takes a deep breath, lets his hands hover over the keys for a moment, then he begins to play. Eliott recognizes the tune immediately: "O Holy Night." Then Lucas starts singing. 

Lucas has always been a singer, but his voice sounds  different . It's softer, warmer, gentle like a candle flame. It fills, it swells, it sweeps. Usually, everyone would sing along, but they're quiet; listening to every note, every change in inflection in his voice. He's never sounded more beautiful. 

Eliott's eyes can't leave Lucas's face, his eyes. He's afraid he'll miss something there. He doesn't know what that something could be, but he feels like he can't miss it for the world. 

Lucas's eyes are filled with  melancholy  , a  longing  . His lips tremble as he sings, as if they can't bear the weight of the words they  want to say, but can't. But then, he takes a breath and his lips spread slowly into a content, peaceful smile. A blush starts bleeding into his cheeks, the tip of his ears. Lucas looks like a star is exploding within his chest, filling him with a thousand wishes and the fires of millennia. It coats his throat, his tongue, coming out sweetly, almost sickly. Eliott wonders what it feels like, tastes like for Lucas. It must be sweet for him, too, the way he's smiling and the way his eyes seem to yearn for more, but is no longer ashamed of it.

Lucas turns his head and looks at him, and he swears the world stops in its tracks. It's like when he would read books under his blanket, with time frozen and the earth silent, but Lucas is here now, too. It's like he somehow sneaked in through some veil, some barrier, and he's found Eliott. He was looking for him. And he found him. Eliott doesn't mind that he's here, either. He's not a character in a story he can take and mold and shape. He's someone he loves, someone he can't change, but someone he also trusts enough to help him keep the universe in perfect balance. Much like the melody Lucas is playing, much like the kindness that seems to drip from his fingers, Eliott knows his universe is safe in Lucas's hands.

Lucas doesn't look away. He lets his hands remember the shape of the melody, his tongue remember the waves of each note, but his eyes stay focused on Eliott. And Eliott can't quite look away. He feels a  burning  fill his chest. He wonders if his heart heard Lucas's crying out and offered to shoulder some of the burden. But as he lets it burn a bit, as he becomes familiar with its heat and the breathing of its flames, he knows there's only one possible name for this fire, this  burning : love.

He remembers his father's story about his mother, how music filled the air—music nurtured by the lungs and hands of two of the most precious people in the universe. How two sets of eyes find each other and can't let go of each other. How the music shifts, how it finally sees a direction, how it finds something to exist for, to be  beautiful for. How everything makes sense, how every twist and turn and knot the strings of fate took just to allow for this single, breathtaking moment. The moment love blooms, the moment its beholder finally sees its gorgeous petals, its sturdy, smooth stem, and suddenly remembers a seed being planted and watching it grow. For the briefest, deepest moment, Eliott's eyes have never been clearer, and his heart has never sung more from within its cage.

Love.

Eliott's breath pauses, realizing just like he is that from this moment on, it will never fade in and out of the air the way it did before. It has found its direction, its purpose, too. His breath now lives and dies for Lucas, sings and falls silent for his voice, his patience, his smile. It finally escapes his mouth, stumbling and shivering but with  joy .

But Lucas looks away, and Eliott's breath peters out, cracked.

Lucas finishes the song, his voice and the plucking of the piano dying out like a hearth, warm and sighing. The blush leaves his face, and he breathes out the embers still left in his lungs. His fire has been snuffed, gently suffocated. The coals in Eliott's chest seem to burn brighter, hotter now that it seems to burn alone.

Eliott's parents and Madame Lallemant begin applauding loudly. Eliott joins in, clapping weakly and putting on a small, brave smile. Madame Lallemant traps her son in a tight, loving hug that Lucas seems to melt into.

"That was beautiful, baby," she coos, kissing his forehead. "I'm so proud of you."

"It's just the Christmas show, Maman," Lucas chuckles. "It wasn't anything that special."

"It was!" she beams, taking the words right out of Eliott's mouth. She pulls away, placing her hands on his shoulders. "You could've performed that on a big stage in front of the entire world and they all would've loved you."

Lucas shakes his head a little as he bows it, his eyes tracing the grain of the piano bench. He's bashful, glowing. He looks back up at Madame Lallemant, shrugging. "Thank you, Maman."

She gives him another kiss on the forehead, taking a step or two back once she sees that he's a little embarrassed. Eliott hears her apologize in the quietest voice, and he sees Lucas tense a little. He sees him shake his head, but he doesn't hear him say anything.

"That really was amazing, Lucas," Eliott's mother says, still clapping lightly. "You really outdid yourself this year."

"I guess I'd better start thinking about what I'll play next year soon," Lucas jokes, still tense. 

"I'm sure that will be amazing, too," Eliott's father replies. "I can't wait to see it."

Lucas nods, turning to Eliott. He relaxes, just a little. "You're quiet, Eliott," he says. "What did you think?"

Eliott sees the clarity in Lucas's eyes, the slight twitch in the corner of his mouth, the way he's wringing his hands. Eliott smiles, trying to put Lucas at ease. "You're surprising. I've known you all these years but you keep surprising me. That was gorgeous, Lucas."

Lucas's nervous smile changes into a shy yet sweet one. Eliott can tell he wants to smile wider, but he doesn't know why Lucas is trying to hold it back. He's beautiful when he smiles all wide and toothy.  He's beautiful.

The fire crackles then roars in his chest, a new life breathing into the flames and helping them grow.��

What is he supposed to do with them?

"Eliott?" Lucas says, his voice quiet, soft. It almost sends a shiver down Eliott's spine. " Ça va? "

Eliott nods, trying to muster the most genuine smile he could. Lucas's smile widens, and Eliott doesn't need to force the genuineness anymore. Lucas's hand, almost in slow motion, travels over to Eliott's shoulder. His fingers seem to hover, but then touch the fabric of Eliott's shoulder gently, as if they were afraid of what would happen if worlds collided. Lucas's hand becomes comfortable, welcome there, and his smile widens again.

The fire is eating Eliott from the inside out.

"Thank you so much again, Madeleine," Eliott's mother says, snapping both Lucas and Eliott out of their little bubble. "I think we're going to head home."

Eliott's smile falls, and Lucas's does, too. They share another look, one that Eliott is sure is filled with longing. He feels another scorch in his chest. They both stand up from the bench, giving each other a hug. Lucas lifts his chin so his head can rest on Eliott's shoulder. Eliott's fingers brush Lucas's hair, but he lets them stay there for a moment.

"Goodnight, Lucas," Eliott whispers, letting his eyes close for a moment. 

"Goodnight, Eliott," Lucas whispers back, his voice soft and warm as ever. Eliott bites his lip to keep from grinning.

Lucas pulls away first, his hand lingering on Eliott's back for the briefest moment. Eliott pulls away, too, giving Lucas another sweet, genuine smile.

He sees his parents giving Madame Lallemant a hug out of the corner of his eyes. He walks over to her as they walk over to Lucas. She grins at him and holds out her arms. He grins back and hugs her.

"Thank you, Madame Lallemant," he tells her. "Everything was wonderful."

"Of course," she replies. "Merry Christmas, Eliott."

"Merry Christmas," he returns as he pulls away.

He glances over his shoulder and his eyes lock with Lucas's again. Lucas has the sweetest, smallest smile on his face as he looks down at the floor. Eliott can see the blush in his cheeks, even with his face turned down.

"Come on, Eliott," his father calls from the front door.

"Coming," he replies, bounding over to them. He swears he feels Lucas's gaze on his back, and he can't help but smile. 

december 26th, 1965

03:00

caen, france

~

Eliott can't sleep. He can't sit still. He can't slow down. He can't think straight. He can't breathe. He's dizzy. He's anxious. He's bursting. He's exhausted. His vision is just out of focus. His heart is beating ever so slightly off rhythm. His hands are shaking. He picks apart the darkness, banishing it and filling it with all the extra thoughts he doesn't have room for in his head. He plays records so quietly he has to hang his head just above the vinyl to hear it, and it's even still too quiet over the scratching and carving of the needle. He's tried drinking tea but he doesn't quite taste it, only burning his tongue on it. He paces his room on his tiptoes, afraid of the floor crumbling beneath him if his heels ever touched the ground. His lips are pulled taut, and he can't quite tell if he's smiling or just holding back every ramble on the tip of his tongue. Everything is bleeding. His thoughts leak into his blood, his blood seeps just beneath his skin, his skin blends into the air. He's fading into the background again. Only this time, the picture he's been trapped in is unfamiliar. He's been developed onto film that was left in the sun too long, or was too old, or not right for the camera. He doesn't know what to do.

My new sketchbook,  he thinks suddenly.  I can start drawing in it.

He grabs it as well as his pencils and tears out the page with the dresses he drew on it, setting it aside. He stares at the new blank page in front of him, trying to decipher any single thought but they move along too quickly for him to make out anything they said. He's chasing his own tail,  thousands of his own tails.

He exhales slowly, methodically, his eyes trailing over to the corner of his room where his lamp sits. He follows the trail of light as it spills onto the floor. He watches it mix like paint with the moonlight filtering through his window, creating a dreamy, purple hue. Then he sees the darkness creeping behind it, slowly inching forward. It attacks slowly. It bleeds. 

Light and dark,  he thinks again, his mind slowing down.  Light can only reach so far. Darkness can only reach so far, too. What happens at the intersection? What happens the moment they collide, at the place where they fragment?

Eliott shifts closer to his lamp, to the light, his hand immediately sweeping over the page, leaving charcoal trails behind. He builds a bridge, each of its stones trying to break through the mortar and war with the others, trying to chip and crack away at each other. He paves a road, the dirt and the leaves lying on top of each other, litters of bodies and skeletons. He grows a forest, each tree with their own unique circumference, their own number of branches and leaves, their own height, their own love for their neighbors. He forms a night sky, dark and inky and suffocating. He authors an opera between the stars and the moon, songs where the lyrics and the melodies are familiar and the characters are beloved friends. He forges a bond between the self his hand creates more so than the self every grain of glass he's seen reflect back at him. He creates a world, at least a corner of it so far, but he  knows something is missing. 

What's missing?  his brain asks him.  Find it. Find it before it slips away. Find it before it gets bored of waiting for you. Find it before you lose it forever. Find it before your world becomes obsolete, before it becomes timeworn, before it's gone. Find it.

Eliott searches his drawing, his room. His eyes are moving too quickly for his brain to catch up now. He swears he feels his pupils enlarge.

Find it find it find it find it find it find it FIND IT!

He shakes his head violently, trying to knock the thoughts out of his skull. He starts tearing through his room. He rips after thousands of sheets of paper, throws his comforter and sheets off his bed, yanks all the books off his bookshelf, turns his lamp on and off until the constant shifting starts hurting his head and eyes. He can't move fast enough. He can't look hard enough. His heart isn't beating fast enough. His brain isn't thinking fast enough. The thing he's looking for is moving too quickly. It's too hard to see. It speaks in a language that Eliott can't understand. He can't find it. He can't  find it  . He can't  breathe .

He shoves his window up to open it, sticking his head out and taking in gulps of the chilly, inky air. Maybe the thing he's looking for is out there somewhere. Maybe it's buried beneath the sand, or hidden in the seafoam, or seeking refuge in the moonlight.

Refuge. Moonlight. The fear of the dark. Lucas.

Eliott leans out of his window a little more, craning his head so he can see Lucas's house. Lucas always had a lamp on in his room, but when Eliott looks, the lamp is off but the main light to his room is on. He's awake.

Lucas's light can only reach so far. His darkness can only reach so far, too.  Our  light and darkness can only reach so far.

Eliott grabs his sketchbook from off his bed, trying his best to sit on his windowsill so the moonlight can guide his hand, so the light from Lucas's room can help him find the missing piece.

No. He  is  the missing piece.

Eliott turns to the next page, snatching scraps of pictures in his mind and pasting them onto his page. He's mostly just shading as darkly as he can, leaving a space in the middle for Lucas, the missing piece.

His brain still won't stop tripping over its own thoughts. His hand still shakes as he draws, smudging the charcoal. But he's beginning to smile. The pictures are becoming a cohesive story. A boy who's afraid of the light, and a boy who's afraid of the dark.  Love  is what happens at the intersection between dark and light.  Love is what happens the moment they collide, at the place where they fragment. Light and dark can only reach so far, but love can reach father, and it can never fall short.

He fills his sketchbook in a few short yet dragging hours. There's scene after scene, opera after opera, bridge after bridge. Eliott starts becoming comfortable with the cool shadows of the dark. Lucas starts becoming comfortable with the warm pools of sunshine. Lucas and Eliott hold hands. They kiss. Their foreheads touch. The sun rises. They don't leave each other. 

The urgency Eliott has felt all night is practically dripping from his sketchbook. It's obvious in the spots where Eliott pressed the graphite down on the page a little harder than he needed to. It was apparent from almost every single line, bowing and curving and staggering. He could see it in the way he drew their hair, a collection of assorted strands all pulling in different directions. He could feel it as he flips through the several pages where Lucas's lips are against his, watching every shift of their lips, their chins, their hands on each other's faces. This sketchbook, this story  is  urgency. The urge to get over fear, the urge to go after what your heart yearns for, the urge to touch and kiss and feel and love and  be loved.

All Eliott can feel right now is  want , anxiety, pins and needles, suspense. Even after filling his sketchbook. Even after drawing out such an elaborate and desperate fantasy, one that he never really considered before. His hand isn't even tired. None of these urges he feels has gone away. He doesn't know how to make them go away. He doesn't know if he's felt anything like this before. He doesn't remember himself ever feeling high as a kite and then suddenly needing to navigate massive gales and thunderstorms. He doesn't know if this is normal. He doesn't know if something is wrong. He just doesn't know.

He watches Lucas's room from his window, hoping it would calm him down. Lucas turned off his light and turned on his lamp a while ago, but the small flicker of light there in his window is comforting, almost. It's playing with the lightening sky, almost encouraging the sun to rise and share its light. Eliott wonders, too, if Lucas sees the light of his lamp appears in his dreams, maybe his nightmares, comforting him in sleep, too. The thought makes Eliott smile, and his anxiety eases just enough that he can watch the sunrise.

He wishes he had another spot in his sketchbook to draw it. He wishes he had another spot in his sketchbook to draw Lucas one more time.

january 9th, 1966

10:17

caen, france

~

"Eliott?" a voice says, gently beckoning Eliott from his dreams.

Eliott opens his eyes, and a familiar, soft face smiles at him, veiled in sunlight.  Lucas . His eyelashes are long and almost blond in the light, his eyes even brighter and bluer than Eliott knows them to be. Even the side of Lucas's face that's shadowed is beautiful. His light still shines through, just enough to break through the darkness. He really is beautiful. Especially when he's soft like this, sweet and happy. But Eliott can't seem to smile as he studies the line of Lucas's nose, the curve of his lips. His heart can't seem to glow and beam like it usually does when Lucas is next to him. 

"Are you okay?" Lucas asks, his face suddenly slacking with concern. 

Eliott isn't sure. His body feels heavy—his eyelids, his chest, his limbs. His mind is foggy, too, almost lethargic. He doesn't feel sick, though. He doesn't feel like he has a fever, and his nose isn't congested. His stomach doesn't feel queasy, either. It's a little hard to breathe, but does that mean he's sick? He shrugs. "I don't know."

Lucas's brow furrows, and there's a knowing look in his eyes. "Do you want me to get your parents?" 

Eliott doesn't know how to respond. He doesn't want to bother his parents when they might be busy, and he doesn't want to make Lucas get them for him. He decides to shake his head. "No, it's okay."

Lucas somehow seems even more worried now, his eyes frantically searching Eliott's face for something they can't find. "Are you sure you're okay, El? You're not sick, are you?" 

"I don't think so," Eliott replies, trying to examine his own body. 

"Try sitting up," Lucas suggests, standing up and sitting back down at the edge of his bed. 

Eliott manages to, slowly but surely. He feels a little dizzy, but he shuts his eyes and regains his bearings. 

"How are you feeling?" Lucas asks. "Just in general?"

"I'm exhausted," Eliott sighs. "I fell asleep before 9 o'clock last night, but I feel like I haven't slept a wink. And my head feels... Cloudy. Dark clouds. Storm clouds, but they haven't let their rain out yet. But it's weighing down my whole body. My arms and legs feel heavy. My chest feels empty, though, like everything inside it withered while I was asleep and there's just ashes left. I don't... I don't feel like myself, Lucas. I feel like I woke up in someone else's body."

Lucas is listening carefully, but he can't hide the worry on his face. He can't hide the way it steals a bit of the light in his eyes, or the way it strikes the smile off his face. Eliott could see it from a million miles away, from another universe, and he thinks seeing it could kill him every time, every place. He doesn't have much strength left to ask him what's wrong, so he can only feel the pain  radiating  off of Lucas, the pain that  he caused.

"You're worried," Eliott manages to say, his voice flat.

"You worry about me all the time," Lucas replies, tearful. "I know you do. Isn't it my turn to worry about you?"

"Who said you needed to wait your turn?" Eliott asks. "Who said you couldn't worry about me?"

Lucas sighs, shaking his head and avoiding eye contact with Eliott. He shrugs as he replies, "I don't know."

Eliott reaches carefully and takes Lucas's hand. Lucas tenses, inhaling sharply, and his eyes flick quickly between Eliott's hand and Eliott's face. He doesn't squeeze Eliott's hand and he tenses even more when Eliott tries to. Eliott sighs, realizing he's crossed a line. He starts to pull his hand away, but Lucas tenses again. He quickly latches onto Eliott's hand, almost desperately. 

"S-sorry," Lucas stammers, letting go of Eliott's hand. 

"You didn't do anything wrong," Eliott replies, shaking his head. "You don't have to apologize."

Lucas shrugs again. He cradles his own hand in his other one, caressing his palm and his knuckles. He traps it in his other hand, holding and squeezing it tightly, as if caging it to keep it from lashing out, reaching for something it shouldn't. "I know," he mumbles unconvincingly. 

"Lie with me, Lucas," Eliott suggests quietly, all of him hoping he's found the way to make Lucas smile again, make the worry melt off his face. "I'm sleepy. And nothing can happen to me if I'm asleep and you're next to me. You won't have to worry about me as much."

Eliott shifts closer to his wall, leaving space for Lucas to lie next to him. Lucas doesn't move, though. He stares at Eliott, incredulous, anxious. He sighs, squeezing his hand over the other again. He studies the empty space, that same longing charging him during his Christmas concert washing over his face. He glances at Eliott, his eyes flicking over every inch of his face. He has the faintest smile on his face as he nods once, lying down next to Eliott. He tries to keep an inch or two of distance between them, but Eliott doesn't mind. Lucas is warm, wide, and deep. His weight is comforting as it presses down on the other side of the mattress, reminding Eliott that he isn't alone. 

"Thank you," Eliott says.

"You're welcome," Lucas returns, his voice soft, quiet.

Eliott falls asleep a moment later, falling into a complete, almost comforting darkness. He doesn't dream. He doesn't feel, for a moment. And when he wakes, the darkness lingers, tinting his vision and staining his muscles. It seems to darken when he realizes that the sun is setting, and that Lucas isn't weighing down the other side of his bed. His weary fingers brush against a piece of paper resting on his pillow. It has his name on it in Lucas's jagged cursive. He unfolds it slowly, taking a deep breath.

  I'm sorry I had to leave. It was getting late, and I didn't want to wake you. And I'm sorry I couldn't say all this earlier. I didn't quite know how to. But as I watched you sleep and as I listened to my brain remind me of all the things that could go wrong, the words finally came to me.

Earlier, when you were talking about how you were feeling, all of it reminded me of Maman. And when she gets like that, she likes to sleep, too. That's why I'm worried. It makes me sound like a bad friend and a bad son, but I don't want you to be like her, Eliott. Every time she gets depressed she seems to lose another piece of herself and I slowly forget about my own mother. I've seen what the depression does to her, and I'm afraid those same things will happen to you. I don't want you to hurt like my Maman has. And I don't want one of the last few good things in my life to slip through my fingers. I don't want to lose you like I've been losing Maman. I don't want to lose everyone I love. Is that selfish of me?

Sorry. I'll let you sleep. Let me know if you need anything. I may not have the words, but I can be there. I'm sorry again that I had to leave. Sleep well, Eliott. I hope your dreams are sweet instead of dark and bitter. I hope this is just a random spell, and not some twisted sign of something much, much worse. I care about you. I know you know that, but I needed to say it, and I have a feeling you need to hear it. I'm sorry again. I'm so, so sorry.

 Eliott must've read it a thousand times trying to process every word, trying to analyze the bigger picture. And every time he feels worse, his guilt opening its jaws and scraping its teeth against his skin. Every time, he keeps seeing the  look on Lucas's face, the darkness in his eyes. Every time, he wishes he could throw off his blankets and run to Lucas's house, asking him if they can talk. But every time, he sinks further into his bed, melting into his sheets and being pinned down by his blankets. 

He shuts his eyes, hoping for all the things Lucas is hoping for, and so, so much more.

april 11th, 1966

18:30

caen, france

~

Lucas watches helplessly as Eliott smiles and laughs so brightly he's convinced the sun isn't setting tonight, but retreating in defeat as it realizes that something brighter burns beneath it. Eliott  is  brighter than the sun—warmer, softer, closer. How  beautiful  the world could be if Eliott became the sun, and how  miserable  Lucas would feel at the same time. But then again, Lucas is still miserable when the sun is sitting right next to him, when the sun is so close he could only stretch his fingers and touch him. Then again, he'll be miserable no matter where the sun is around the world or within the universe. He's miserable because he's in love and he's afraid that he'll never not be. He's miserable because he doesn't know how much more of this he can take—the burning and the blushing, the serenity and the shame. He doesn't know if he can keep coming to the realization that his father was right all along without feeling like he could implode at any moment. He doesn't know if he can muster another prayer without feeling like the first sinner that God couldn't save. He doesn't know how much longer he can try to convince himself that Eliott could love him, too—that he would be willing to face any God-given punishment or hell itself and hold Lucas's hand all along the way. He doesn't know how much longer he can live like this.

"Lucas?" Eliott says, his voice pulling Lucas out of his thoughts and giving him a soft place to land. His face has fallen, drawn slightly taut with concern. "Are you okay? You seem a little distant."

Lucas nods, almost forgetting to smile. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just thinking."

Eliott's smile perks up again. "About?"

"A lot of things," Lucas decides to say, shrugging. He tries to chuckle, but it doesn't come out like he wanted it to. He looks down at his lap, avoiding eye contact with Eliott, but he can still feel his gaze on him.

"Your maman isn't getting bad again, is she?" Eliott asks carefully, his voice quiet.

"No," Lucas answers quickly. "No, she's doing okay right now."

"That's good, but," Eliott replies, sighing. "What's on your mind, then?"

Lucas bites his lip, and he can feel it trembling beneath his teeth. How could he ever say what he's been thinking? How could he ever admit any of that? 

"Lucas," Eliott says again, placing his hand on Lucas's shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know how to tell you," Lucas replies, trying to fight back the tears filling his eyes.

"Tell me what?" Eliott tries, gently, patiently.

Lucas takes a deep but shaky breath. He shakes his head, closing his eyes. "I can't tell you, Eliott."

"Lucas..." Eliott starts, but his voice trails off. Lucas hears him sigh deeply. "Why not?" he says then, with something in his voice that Lucas has never heard before. Fear?

Lucas doesn't know how to reply. He's afraid that if he starts talking he won't be able to stop until every word that's piled on his tongue and down his throat and in his chest has been set free. He thinks he tastes blood, poison in all those words, and he's afraid, too, that he'll vomit them up and be left with a bitter taste in his mouth. He can't see any scenario where he stays silent, though, and this realization makes more fear bloom in his stomach than anything else. He feels his chest tighten, his lungs squeeze, his heart constrict. His blood runs cold, his fingertips tingle, his head spins. Panic. All he feels is panic.

"Hey, Lucas," Eliott says, his voice much more concerned now. He gently moves Lucas to where he's facing him, and his touch feels like a burn, a scorch. Lucas hears a noise whimper out of his throat, something like a sob or a snivel. He feels like his throat is closing up.

"Lucas, look at me," Eliott says, lightly squeezing Lucas's shoulders. "Look at me."

Lucas musters another mite of courage and lifts his head, his eyes meeting Eliott's. He's spellbound for a moment, watching blue and green and gray mix and bleed into Lucas's favorite color. But there's something like a film over Eliott's eyes, probably concern and worry. Eliott always worries. Lucas has seen Eliott try to hide it sometimes, and he doesn't know if he would prefer if he hid it now or not. But after a moment, the concern melts away and Eliott's eyes soften, fill with kindness. It makes Lucas smile. 

"There you go," Eliott smiles back. "I love it when you smile."

Lucas's smile widens, and the familiar blush colors his cheeks. There's that lingering sense of shame, of course, just beneath his skin and fingernails, but Eliott is stronger than it. His touch is stronger, his voice is stronger,  he  is stronger. Lucas just needs to focus on him, the feeling of his fingertips just barely digging into his skin, the feeling of their knees resting against each other. Maybe if he lets Eliott anchor him, he can stop choking and let all his words spill out. Maybe Eliott won't wiggle free and let himself be whisked away by the ever-changing tide. Maybe he'll stay. Maybe.

Lucas studies Eliott's eyes a moment or two longer, finding every spot where the color changed ever so slightly, finding every spot that shone a bit brighter, finding every perfection and imperfection. He can breathe again, and his words aren't as heavy. He breathes in and out slowly, the last breath he'll take before the long overdue truth he's hidden for so long will be known.

"I don't think I can fall in love with girls, Eliott," he finally,  finally  admits. "That's what's wrong. I think I've been falling in love with boys."

He pauses for a moment, watching Eliott's face carefully. Something lights in his eyes—hope? But his face doesn't change much besides a slight smile tugging on the corner of his lips. He nods at Lucas, urging him to keep talking. 

"It's a sin, I know, but," Lucas continues, almost choking on the word  sin  .

"It's not a sin," Eliott says firmly, shaking his head. 

"It is," Lucas disagrees, his throat closing up. "The Bible says—"

"It's  not  , Lucas," Eliott interrupts, a fire in his eyes and on his tongue. "It's  not  . Do you hear me?"

"How do you know that?" Lucas asks, his chest tightening again. "We don't get to decide what's a sin and what's not a sin. Only God can."

"Because it doesn't make sense!" he almost laughs, incredulous. "And it isn't fair! Especially to you, Lucas! I don't remember you missing a single mass since we were kids. You can quote half the Bible from memory. You know the words to almost every song in the hymnal. You love God and anyone can see it in your eyes. Now all that is obsolete? Just because you like boys? How is that fair? How does that make God a just God? You're not a sinner, Lucas, not like some people at church want you to think you are."

"Then why do I feel like one?" Lucas blurts out, his words trembling. "I've prayed every night, Eliott.  Every night.  After hours of hearing memories of my father and the boys at school calling me a queer, or staring at my ceiling and watching myself fall in love with and marry a girl and having to hear my heart whisper how it could never want something like this, I would pray. And every time, I prayed that all these sinful feelings would just go away and I could be  normal.  That I could prove my father and everyone wrong. I couldn't be a queer. I  couldn't  . The night after Christmas last year I prayed that God would just  kill me  before I let myself give into temptation. That way I had a chance at getting into heaven. Do you understand that, Eliott? I asked God to  kill me  . Why would I do that if it wasn't a sin? Why would I ever lose sleep because I keep listening to the heart beating in my chest and hoping it was just off-rhythm somehow, that it could be fixed somehow? Because I thought it was just blind and can't tell a boy from a girl and that it would open its eyes someday and realize that it was looking in all the wrong places? Why would I do any of that if I didn't think it was wrong or that I would go to hell for it? Why?"

Eliott doesn't reply at first, and the silence is unbearable. Lucas is left to watch Eliott's face, left to scour for any trace of emotion. But his eyes are a little wider, and something like tears are shining in them. His mouth has shrunk to a thin line, and his lower lip is starting to stick out. He shakes his head once, looking off for a moment. Lucas hates the way he needs Eliott to look at him again, the way he needs Eliott to just  say something  . He hates the way he needs Eliott. He feels a tear roll down his cheek, and it's as cold as ice.

Eliott finally looks back at him, and his eyes follow his tear. He lifts his hand, his thumb carefully wiping it away. Slowly, the rest of his hand gently cradles Lucas's face. His hand is soft, warm, familiar. Lucas melts into the touch, leaning into Eliott's hand. His eyes close, and a heavy, relieved sigh escapes his body. Eliott's thumb is tracing Lucas's cheekbone now, and it's so gentle Lucas wonders if anything else in this world could ever hold him so softly, so lovingly. He doesn't want Eliott to stop touching him.

"You can't make it stop, can you?" Eliott asks quietly, placing his other hand on the other side of Lucas's face. "The falling in love?"

"No," Lucas shakes his head. "I can't."

"Well, God made us in His image, didn't He?" Eliott replies. "He made you, Lucas."

"Do you think He made me this way?" Lucas asks, toeing the fine line between hope and fear.

"He shaped you by hand," Eliott answers, his voice the kindest thing Lucas's ever heard. "He's the perfect potter. How could He ever make a mistake with you, Lucas?"

"But if He made me this way," Lucas says, leaning towards fear. "Why would He say that who I am is a sin?"

Eliott sighs, smiling sadly. "I don't know. But He made you, and He made people that are like you, too. He made  me  , too."

Lucas's eyes widen, his heart skipping a beat. "Wh-what do you mean, Eliott?"

"I've realized that my heart is a fickle thing," Eliott replies, smiling softly. "It can fall in love with anybody it wants to."

Lucas feels himself smile. "Even boys?"

Eliott nods, grinning. "Even boys."

Lucas's smile falters the slightest bit as a question comes to his mind. But he doesn't let it weigh him down. He lets it spill. " Can it fall in love with me?"

Eliott's smile softens, the faintest blush staining his cheeks. "It already has."

Lucas's heart doesn't skip a beat this time. It blooms, it flutters, it sighs. His heart doesn't feel wrong right now. It doesn't feel like a well of thick, black ink or a cold, unforgiving stone. Right now, it feels like a garden, the way Lucas has always imagined a heart  should  feel—rich soil to grow from, sweet fruits and hearty vegetables to taste, fragrant flowers to breathe in. Right now, Lucas hopes he can plant a seed in his new garden. He hopes he can nurture it. He hopes it'll inspire him to grow, too. He hopes this can become like the garden his heart is becoming. He hopes, he hopes, he hopes.

Eliott rests his forehead against Lucas's, their noses brushing tenderly against each other. Their lips are a breath apart. Lucas's never kissed anyone before. Let alone a boy. Let alone his best friend. But his heart finally says that the time is right, that the person is right. So—gingerly, delicately—he tilts his head and kisses Eliott.

There's no heat, no hunger. Only the slightest sense of trepidation—the way you cradle the one thing you've always wanted, or the way you sip your morning coffee or evening tea. The way you touch glass, diamonds, gold. It's the fear of the smallest destructions. It's a breath, a blink, a whisper, the ones you wouldn't miss for the world. 

They ease ever so slightly deeper into each other, like the way you ease into a hot bath. The way you wade through the shallow end, the shore, before you trust the waves to hold you, to carry you. Everything is familiar, warm. They know each other better than they know themselves. There's no need to explore, to push and pull. It's like crawling into your bed at night and floating into sleep. It's like coming home. It's like breathing. Nothing has ever been easier. Nothing has ever been more beautiful. Nothing has ever felt more right than this moment.

Eliott mutters against Lucas's lips that he tastes like sleep. Lucas doesn't know what he means, but he smiles. He tells Eliott how he tastes like peace. Eliott doesn't know what he means, but he smiles. They keep kissing, every touch accentuated with a smile, with an almost giddy giggle. They keep kissing, letting the undefinable tastes they've discovered become familiar, become clear and plain. They keep kissing, the world around them stopping for a moment to admire the moment every turn, every revolution has led to. Lucas wishes the world could literally stop in its tracks. He wishes he could be trapped in this moment forever, with Eliott's lips on his and his strong yet elegant hands tangled in his hair. He wishes he could be trapped so he'll know he'll never have to recite a hypocrite's prayer another miserable night. But slowly, the world returns to normal, and time inches forward once again.

Lucas's only wish now is that there'll be countless more moments just like this one—moments where everything is  love.

may 29th, 1966

02:01

caen, france

~

Lucas has held Eliott's hand the entire car ride to the hospital, and Eliott is surprised he hasn't snapped the poor boy's bones in half. But Lucas doesn't seem to wince or flinch. He just squeezes a little tighter when Eliott does and smooths his thumb across Eliott's knuckles. During a particularly dark part of the drive, Lucas kisses his knuckles, one by one. Eliott feels him whisper against the thin, white skin there, feels his lips and his breath. He doesn't know what Lucas said, but the warmth, the care is comforting through it all.

Honey, I need you to get Madeleine to take you to the hospital as soon as she can, okay?  his mother's voice reminds him shakily, sending a chill down his spine.  Papa... He's getting worse.

Eliott closes his eyes, resting his head on Lucas's shoulder. He lets the soft fabric of Lucas's shirt and his sweet, familiar scent drown out every fear creeping across his mind for a moment. He feels Lucas kiss the top of his head, and he says something else, something he can hear this time.

"Everything will be okay," he whispers, his voice quiet and kind. "And I'm here,  mon amour . Always."

Eliott nods, feeling a tear roll down his cheek. He bites his lip, fights to keep more tears from falling. His father will be okay. He has to be. He always has been. It's worse this time, but that doesn't mean he won't get better. He  has to get better. 

But he knows that's not what Lucas means. Everything will be okay when the wounds start to heal, not when his father make a miraculous recovery and they'll get to go home a happy family once again. Everything will be okay when the grief subsides and Eliott learns to smile again, not when his father can breathe a litte easier once again. Everything will be okay after his father can finally rest, not after he survives tonight only to get sick again by the end of the year.  That's  what Lucas means, and  that's what's bringing the tears to Eliott's eyes. 

Suddenly, the car is drifting to a stop.

"Eliott," Lucas says, shaking him gently. "We're here."

Eliott opens his eyes, and he sees the hospital he's visited a thousand times. But like everything else, it's different this time. His father could be dying in there right now, or dead already. He shakes his head, all the tears he's been holding back suddenly spilling over. 

"Eliott?" Lucas says again, his voice brimming with concern. 

"I can't, Lucas," Eliott sobs. "I can't go in there."

Lucas squeezes Eliott's hand tighter, but he doesn't say a word. He sighs, and Eliott doesn't think he could ever forget the way his breath is shaking. 

"I'll go get Noémie," Madame Lallemant says, unbuckling and opening her door. "Stay with him, Lucas." 

As Madame Lallemant walks away, Lucas sighs. Eliott can  feel the pity in his eyes as he studies him. But then he feels Lucas's hand lifting his chin. Their foreheads and noses rest against each other. Eliott is shaking, and he thinks Lucas is, too.

"Eliott, I know this is hard," Lucas begins, stumbling over his words. "But he needs to see you. And you need to see him. And your maman needs you right now, too."

"But what if he's already dead, Lucas?" Eliott chokes out. "What if I walk in there right now and I see Maman crying because he's gone and I was too late? What if I never had the chance to say goodbye? Or what if he is alive right now and I have to watch him die? What if I have to watch  my papa  die? What if he's awake when it happens and he has to feel it happening to him? What if he dies with his eyes open? What if I look at him and I have to see those eyes? What if Maman and I fall asleep and he doesn't, and then we wake up and he's gone? Or what if we all fall asleep and when we wake up he can't? What if I wake up and he's dead and I have to wake Maman up and tell her? What if I wake up to Maman telling me that he's gone?" He trails off, his whole body trembling with the force of his sobs. "Every possible scenario  terrifies me , Lucas. How am I supposed to walk in there knowing that any of them could happen, but that it won't matter because no matter what he's going to die? How are we supposed to live without him? Without Papa?" 

Lucas doesn't respond. Eliott hears him sniffing like he's crying. "I don't know," he finally replies. "But remember what I said? That I'm here. Always. We can just stay together right?"

"They won't let you in his room," Eliott shakes his head. "You and your maman will probably just be in the hallway. You can't be there when I need you most." 

"Maybe…" Lucas stammers. "Maybe they can make an exception. Right?"

Eliott shakes his head again. "That's not how it works, Lucas." 

"Then how can I be there like I promised?" Lucas asks, his voice raised and desperate. "How can I leave you alone like this?" 

"You can be there as much as you can," Eliott replies, still trying to speak through his sobs, his hiccups. "You can hold my hand."

"People will see, Eliott," Lucas mumbles. "They'll know. And so will our parents." 

"I don't care," Eliott croaks. "I don't care if they see or if they know. I want you here. I  need you here." 

Lucas pulls away ever so slightly, his gaze shifting to somewhere off in the distance. Softly, he agrees, "I know." 

"Don't let me go, Lucas," Eliott pleads, gently turning Lucas's head back to him. "Please. Not until you need to." 

Lucas pulls Eliott's hand down and kisses from his wrist up to his palm, his lips and cheeks wet against Eliott's skin with tears. "I won't," he whispers. "I love you, Eliott."

"I love you, too," Eliott returns, letting himself smile. 

"Can I kiss you?" Lucas asks carefully, quietly. 

Eliott answers by pulling Lucas closer, their lips slowly finding each other. The kiss is brief, soft, bitter like salt. It's a wave crashing on the shore, both of them breaking together. 

Eliott pulls away. His lips part but no sob comes out. It's a sigh, but not quite of relief. "I'm ready," he says, nodding. "Just don't let go of my hand." 

"I won't," Lucas shakes his head. "I promise." 

Lucas leads Eliott out of the car, not letting go of his hand like he promised. And when his hand shakes, or when a stray sob makes him tremble, Lucas squeezes a little tighter and maintains the gentle, reassuring pressure. Eliott feels  anchored , supported and carried as they make their way to the hospital entrance, step by step. He needs to hold onto it as long as he can. He needs to memorize every muscle, every curve of Lucas's hand. He can still have him, even when he's not there.

Eliott pauses as they reach the door, halting Lucas in his tracks. Lucas glances at him, concerned yet patient. "I'm here, Eliott," he says, squeezing Eliott's hand a little tighter. "It's okay."

Eliott nods, taking a deep breath. He keeps walking, and Lucas lets him lead. 

Madame Lallemant and Eliott's mother enter the lobby as Eliott and Lucas do, and a flood of emotions fills Eliott's chest. His mother still has tears running down her cheeks, her eyes bloodshot and her face swollen. She grins when she sees him, but her body is overtaken with sobs. She runs up to him, and he lets go of Lucas's hand and envelops her in a hug. He starts crying again, too, burying his face in his mother's shoulder. They hold each other for a few minutes, relief and fear pulling them closer together. 

"How is he?" Eliott asks as he pulls away, the smallest hope that a miracle has happened burning in his chest.

"He's only getting worse, honey," his mother replies, sniffling. "But he's here right now. And he's been asking for you."

Eliott nods, taking a deep breath. "I'll be right there, Maman, I just... I need a minute."

"Okay," she sighs, brushing the hair out of his face. "We'll be in his room."

Madame Lallemant gives Eliott's mother a brief hug, then leads her down the hallway. Eliott watches as they shrink, as they turn and enter what must be his father's room. He takes another deep breath, trying to compose himself. His father can't see him like this. He doesn't want his last memories of him to be the image of his son heartbroken and weeping. He tries to smile, but his lips are wobbling too much to stay steady and genuine. He feels something brushing against his hand, something familiar. He sighs in relief, latching onto Lucas's hand.

"Thank you," he chokes out, turning to face him. "I'm sorry I let go."

"It was your maman, Eliott," Lucas reassures, shaking his head. He takes Eliott's other hand, their fingers interlocking. "And you weren't the one who promised not to let go. I was."

Eliott nods, his thumb absentmindedly tracing the curves of the back of Lucas's hand. "I know."

"I'll hold your hand as we walk down the hallway," Lucas says. "When you're ready. Okay?"

"Okay," Eliott agrees. "Not just yet, though."

Lucas nods, giving him a sweet, patient smile. It falls, though, and Lucas's eyes turn down to the floor. He leans in, their foreheads touching. He's warm, but he's trembling. Eliott rubs his nose against Lucas's lightly, and he sees a ghost of a smile return to his lips. This smile doesn't last long either.

"How are you?" Eliott asks quietly, trying to ignore the pang of guilt that reminds him he should've asked before.

"He's been like a papa to me," Lucas answers, tearful. "He's been a better father than my own papa has, by leaps and bounds. I don't want him to die either, Eliott. And I can't stand seeing you like this either, but... But he's  your  papa, Eliott. Not mine.  Your grief comes first. Not mine."

"You can be sad, too, Lucas," Eliott replies, squeezing Lucas's hands reassuringly. "It's okay."

Lucas nods, a few sobs ripping from his throat. "I'm sorry," he chokes out, letting go of his hands and pulling him into a hug. "I'm so sorry. This isn't fair. You deserve so much better than all this."

Eliott cries with him, their bodies trembling against each other. Eliott kisses the top of Lucas's head, smoothes his hand over his back. He feels Lucas clinging onto his shirt, the fabric bunching up in his hands. Eliott shakes his head then, replying, "Everything will be okay. Like you said. Right?"

"Yeah," he breathes slowly, sniffling. He kisses Eliott's shoulder, right near the dip of his collarbone. He repeats, "Everything will be okay."

They hold each other a moment longer, their tears drying and their breathing evening out. Eliott weaves his hand into Lucas's hair, gently pressing against his skull, hoping it would bring him just a mite of comfort. "I'm ready when you are," he whispers in his ear.

Lucas takes a deep breath. "Okay. I'm ready."

Their hands find each other again before they fully break the hug. They both squeeze, both cling and cherish. They begin their walk down the hallway, their strides matching and the echoes of their footsteps striking the floor harmonizing. With every step, they squeeze a little tighter, breathing becoming a little harder. They see Madame Lallemant standing outside the door, and they watch her get closer, her image becoming clearer. She must've heard them coming. She turns, smiling sadly when she sees them. Her eyes briefly flick down to their clasped hands, but she looks back up at them almost as quickly. 

"He's been asking for you," she tells Eliott quietly.

Eliott nods, his heart sinking as he realizes that this is the moment Lucas will need to let go. He feels Lucas place his other hand on top of Eliott's, caging it in a warm, soft embrace. Lucas gives one last squeeze, then slowly lets go—palm by palm, knuckle by knuckle. There's the slightest moment where their fingertips barely latch onto each other, but the contact is broken both too slowly and too quickly. Eliott's hand feels so much  colder , alone. He curls his fingers into a fist and relaxes slowly, letting the blood flow and the joints loosen. He looks over at Lucas, and he has that same sweet, patient smile on his face. A tear rolls down his cheek, but he quickly wipes it away.

"Thank you , Lucas," Eliott says, his voice clear but quiet.

"You're welcome," Lucas replies, his smile widening. 

Eliott smiles back as much as he can. He takes the deepest breath he can, turning his head forward and walking into his father's room.

He stops just past the door, his heart nearly stopping at the sight. 

His father is paler than he's ever seen him, paler than flour or milk. He's covered in sweat, his hair glued down to his scalp. His lips are blue, almost tinged with purple. His nails are blue, too, and even from where he's standing Eliott can tell that his hands are shaking. His chest trembles uncontrollably as it rises and falls, and his breathing is so shallow and hoarse it doesn't even sound human. His eyes are closed, but they open as Eliott enters. The color is muted, and they're bloodshot, and glazed with an almost milky, shiny film. His father smiles feebly when he sees him, lifting his hand and reaching for him.

"Ellie," he rasps, sitting up and then almost immediately falling into an intense coughing fit. The ventilator mask fogs up, almost hiding his father's lips. His mother quickly stands up, placing a hand on his shoulder and wiping his brow with a cloth. She tries to soothe him, but her voice is thin and choppy. She looks over her shoulder at Eliott, biting her lip to keep it from trembling. 

Eliott is frozen, his blood running cold and everything inside of him telling him to run away. He's never seen his father like this. He thought he'd seen him on the verge of death before, but all those times are nothing compared to what he's seeing now. If he weren't moving and talking, he would look like the corpse he's apparently become. Eliott does everything he can to fight back his tears, fight against his fear. He slowly makes his way to the other side of his father's bed, taking his hand. It's freezing, clammy. Eliott flinches, praying that his father won't notice. He takes a deep breath, gathering his strength as he sits down. 

"You're here," his father says, quieter this time. His smile is still weak.

"I'm here, Papa," Eliott replies, forcing a smile. "I'm here now."

"My boy..." he sighs, becoming tearful. "My little Ellie."

Eliott feels a tear roll down his cheek, but he keeps his smile on his face. "I'm here," he chokes out, squeezing his father's hand.

His father looks over at his mother then. "My darling Noémie."

His mother doesn't respond. She kisses his knuckles, the back of his hand. She opens it and holds it to her face. His father weakly, gently wipes away her tears. 

"I love you both," his father mumbles, glancing between them. "So much."

"I love you, too, Papa," Eliott replies, his voice thick with tears. 

"I love you, too, Eduard," his mother smiles.

"I miss you," his father continues, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Miss you already."

Eliott can't keep smiling anymore. He lets his sobs wash over him, lets them push him until he bends, burying his face in his father's bedsheets. He clings to his father's hand like a lifeline. But soon, this hand will never ruffle Eliott's hair again or pat him on his back or his shoulder. This hand will never cradle his mother's face again or help her with the clasp on her necklace or the buttons on her dress. Soon, this hand will grow even colder, and never hold anything again. This hand will soon forever lay on his father's chest, guarding his still, dead heart. This hand will soon wither until it's nothing but old, sick bones. Now is the last time Eliott will ever hold his father's hand while there was still blood running through it, while there was still a living brain to tell it to move and hold and love. Now is the last time Eliott will hold the hand that shaped him, that taught him that kindness and bravery are the same thing, that reminded him that life is the most precious gift that we receive. How can Eliott live without this hand? He holds it in both of his hands, holds it tighter, kisses every inch of it. He bathes it with his tears, washes it with the words he'll never get to say to him. Perhaps his father's bones will remember. Perhaps the memory will echo throughout the earth. Perhaps it'll reach his father somehow. Perhaps it'll reach up to heaven.

"You're a brave, strong boy, Eliott," his father says softly. "Know that you'll learn to miss me and smile at the same time."

Eliott lifts his head and looks up. His father is smiling, wider and a little stronger. He feels his mother place her hand on top of his. She smiles at him, too, ever kind and loving. Eliott smiles back, weakly but genuinely. "Thank you, Papa. Thank you, Maman. Thank you."

The night wears on, time passing gently by as they live in memory, their tongues spilling with echoes of laughter and singing. There's a haze in the room—a pleasant one. One perfumed with love and understanding and joy, stained with flushed faces and swelling hearts. They smile. They cry tears of mirth and joy. They don't let go of each other. They abandon the world outside and only focus on what matters in this moment: their happy family. Eduard, Noémie, and Eliott. Husband, wife, and child. Kindness, empathy, and joy. What more could they ever need? If you had asked Eliott only an hour ago, he would've said more time. But they don't need more time. If this is the time God has given them, why waste it then ask for more? If this is the time God has given them, He knows that it's all they need. He knows that this time that He's made is beautiful, perfect, sacred. God had given them sorrow and grief moments before, but He made way for joy and healing, too. They don't know what will happen once Eliott's father breathes his last breath, but that's time God has set for them in the future. God will protect Eduard Demaury. When it's time, He will take his hand and guide him home. Perhaps He will leave a blessing for Noémie and Eliott, one of comfort and peace. God is kind. God is loving. God will not abandon them. And that's why they have such  joy .

As God prepares to take another one of His children in His arms, the Demaury family falls asleep together for the last time.

may 29th, 1966

06:43

caen, france

~

Outside Lucas's window, the waves hiss against the shore and retreat quickly back into the sea. They slide against each other, the sand clinging onto the water and the water squirming away, foaming in agony The wind is quiet today, suddenly aware of something else that has appeared in the air—a discordant note from a piano, or maybe a misstroke on a typewriter. The moon has faded from the sky for a moment, but the sun is having his turn. He seems to rise a little slower, as if he's afraid of bring this day to pass. He seems to be burning a little hotter, too, as if he were angry or in grief. He roars, rumbles, "This is the storm, this is the war, this is the burning heat. Brave through, my warriors. To be brave is to be lifeless, to be feeble. All I ask is that you remember, still, to be cruel all the while."

Inside Lucas's room, the only light is the rising sun filtering through his window. Its rays shine on clean, pristine pages filled with Eliott's drawings that he studies longingly, his heart heavy in his chest. He hated leaving him there at the hospital, but he thought his sketchbooks would make him feel better. Besides, his mother wanted to leave and get breakfast made and bring it back to the hospital. He left a note for him, too, so Eliott will know where he is and that they'll be back by seven, just in case. He just hopes nothing will happen until they get back. He doesn't want Eliott to be alone when it happens. He wants to be there to hold him, like Eliott did when Lucas's father left that one night. He hopes now, too, that he'll finally have the right words to say to him. Not like last night, not like when he visited Eliott when he couldn't leave his bed for two weeks. He has to be a good friend, a good boyfriend. Eliott needs him. 

Outside, a tap on his window startles him from his thoughts.   Eliott  , he thinks. Monsieur Demaury.

He rushes over and opens his window, a summer breeze sweeping over them. Eliott is standing there, his eyes bleary with tears, his cheeks rosy from the heat, his hand hovered by his mouth with his nails between his teeth. He's trying to stay quiet, hold back the sobs. He's shivering. 

Lucas helps Eliott through the window, making sure he lands softly onto the carpet. He takes Eliott's face in his hands, the question he already knows the answer to getting caught on his tongue. But once Lucas's skin meets Eliott's, all his sobs escape. He throws his arms around Lucas. With a trembling breath, with a hiccup, he confirms the answer Lucas had in his mind: "He's dead, Lucas."

Still, Lucas's heart drops to his feet. He holds Eliott as tightly as he can. He feels his tears soaking through his shirt, feels his body trembling with the force of his sobs. He feels tears of his own wet his cheeks. He doesn't say a word. He lets Eliott cry. He waits for Eliott, patiently, gently.

Once Eliott starts to calm down, Lucas slowly guides him to his bed, laying him down gently. He lies down next to him, pulling him close. Words start to spill out of Eliott's mouth before Lucas could find his own words, the right ones.

"I woke up when I heard something clatter," Eliott starts, his voice thin. "I look up, and I see a nurse staring at Papa. She dropped the clipboard with his chart on it. Then she started yelling for the doctor, asking for a crash cart. And then I looked at him and... His eyes were open, Lucas. There was no color in them. He was looking out the window. He was awake when it happened. He felt all of it. And I was so  afraid  of that, Lucas. We all fell asleep. I thought maybe he would die in his sleep but he didn't. He was awake. I think I screamed when I saw him. And I woke Maman up and I think she screamed, too. The nurse took our hands and led us out of the room as a bunch of people ran into the room. They shut the door behind them, but I could hear them yelling at each other. Then it got quiet. Then the door opened and the doctor told us that they did everything they could but he was dead. He said we could see him, so he took us inside—"

Eliott starts to crumble again, more rivers of tears streaming down his face. "I didn't recognize him. His skin was almost gray. And his lips were so blue. And his eyes were closed. And he was dead."

Lucas holds him tighter, his chest getting sore from holding back his tears. 

"Papa's gone, Lucas," Eliott weeps, clinging to Lucas's shirt. "And he's not coming back. He's dead. After all those times he got sick and he got better he finally got too sick. The doctors finally couldn't save him. There were so many times where I thought he would die but then he didn't and I remember how   happy  I would be. But he's dead. He's really dead this time. We'll have to tell everyone that he's dead and have a funeral and sing his favorite hymns and I'll have to look at him lying in his coffin and then we'll have to bury him by pouring handfuls of dirt over him and say goodbye for what might be forever and—"

"Eliott," Lucas begs, his voice breaking. "It's okay. I'm here, like I promised."

Lucas feels completely helpless as he holds Eliott tighter, his words failing him once again and grief filling his chest. So, he promises him that everything will be okay. No matter how far time stretches away from him, no matter how many tears he sheds, no matter how much it feels like his world is crashing around his ears. He promises him that he's not alone. And a small part of Lucas hopes he isn't lying to him through his teeth.

june 4th, 1966

12:02

caen, france

~

Eliott's hand shakes, the smallest mites of dirt slipping through his fingers. He doesn't want to open his hand and let it all fall onto his father's coffin, reducing him to the dust that he came from. He doesn't want the dirt to keep piling up until his father is completely buried, never to be seen again in this life, on this earth. When he lets go of the dirt in his hand, he'll be letting go of his father. He's not ready to. But the minister is reciting the prayer much more quickly than Eliott hoped he would, the fateful words making their way to the tip of his tongue. So, he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, hoping it separates him enough from his body that his mind will take over.

"We commend to Almighty God our brother Eduard Demaury, and we commit his body to its resting place: earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust..."

Eliott opens his eyes, and he sees his hand open and empty, remnants of dust staining the palm of his hand. He sees the small handfuls spread across his father's coffin, the beginning of the end.

"The Lord bless him and keep him, the Lord make His face to shine upon him and be gracious to him, the Lord lift up His countenance upon him and give him peace."

There's a chorus of "amen"s, but Eliott's voice doesn't join it. They recite the Lord's Prayer, but Eliott keeps his silence. He only raises his voice to heaven as the congregation is invited to, as the minister prays over the people. But his voice is weak, broken. His words are nonsensical, desperate rambles. But they drown out the words of the prayers, another countless chorus of "amen"s. It keeps his head bowed, keeps his eyes downward so he doesn't have to see everyone looking at him with such pity. It keeps his eyes away from his mother. He thinks he could die if he looks into her wet eyes for more than a few seconds. He never thought he would see his mother in such pain. So, he keeps his head bowed, says his pointless, powerless prayer. 

He doesn't sing "Lead, Kindly Light." All he can hear is his father singing this hymn in masses and around the house. He can hear his father's voice getting weaker, thinner as the years burn on in his memory. Now, he can't hear his father's voice singing his favorite hymn, and he doesn't know if he can sing it ever again without his father's voice supporting him. His mother doesn't sing, either, too consumed with her tears. He can hear Lucas's voice somewhere behind him, its warm timbre guiding Eliott along every word, every lilt of every note. The hymn seems to drag on. Somewhere, in the back of Eliott's mind, he hopes that the more than familiar melody is realizing that this is the first time his father won't sing it. He hopes that it's mourning, too; weeping and groaning as it tries to accept that it will never be the same again, that it's already changing at the hands of someone else, the hands they can't control. 

Then, all at once, the song ends, and silence crashes over the cemetery and the congregation. Eliott hasn't cried a single tear today, but the deafening  boom of it leaves him with a lump in his throat and an urge to bite down on the inside of his cheek. He knows that this is the first of many silences. This is the silence after the burial. There will be a silence after every birthday and every anniversary, a silence every time someone mentions his father's name, a silence every time Eliott tells someone he's just met that his father is dead. There will forever be a silence where his father once stood, silence where he once would've spoken and laughed. The weight of his father's absence, the weight of his father's coffin is something he could never forget. But there'll be people wanting to bear a bit of the weight themselves, and there'll be people that will try to fill all those silences. People sharing their own stories of losing their father, or rambling about how they could never even imagine what Eliott went through. People apologizing a thousand times for his loss. People offering him advice and telling him that they're for him if they need him. These silences will be filled with a million good intentions, and that's why Eliott knows that he can't bear hearing it.

This first silence fills quickly. The congregation says their last goodbyes to him and his mother, and most of their words don't quite reach his ears. His mother hugs most of them, so she doesn't cling to him as much as she has the whole funeral. He thinks that's why he hasn't cried yet. He's a rock right now, his mother's rock. But the weight of his mother is becoming too much for him to carry. He loves her with all of his heart, but that doesn't make him strong enough to show it. He loved his father with all his heart, but it wasn't strong enough to save him. So, he stands to the side, nodding vaguely at muddled voices, weakly shaking blurred hands. 

His friends talk to him, too. Manon, Daphné, Alexia, Emma, and Imane all give him a tight, warm hug and give him sweet, genuine smiles. He believes them when they tell him he'll be okay. Basile hugs him so tightly he can't breathe, but he can hear Basile sniffling and see him try and hold back his tears. It's comforting. Arthur and Yann both linger a moment, asking him if he needed anything. He doesn't know how to answer, so he shrugs but thanks them for coming. They both pull him in for a tight hug. Sofiane and Idriss hold him for a while, too, whispering everything he needs to hear in his ear.

The last person he sees is Lucas, after everyone else has already left. He started crying as he played the first hymn during the mass, and Eliott can tell he hasn't really stopped since. He's trapping and squeezing his hand again, only this time he seems close to crushing it and shattering the bones. Eliott steps toward him, carefully placing his hands over Lucas's. He gently breaks them apart, taking them in his own. Lucas's hands are cold, shaking. Eliott wants to steady them, but he can only imagine how cold his own hands are, how much they're trembling. Thunder rumbles above them, the clouds darkening and shards of lightning bursting out of them. Their eyes meet. There are a thousand things hidden in Lucas's eyes—memories they share of Eliott's father, memories of the father he got but didn't deserve, memories of losing both of them so suddenly and when he was so young. And through all of that, what shines through in his eyes is pain, grief, and  understanding . 

The clouds break open, and so does Eliott, washing and cleansing the earth with rain and tears. He falls into Lucas's arms, heaving with his sobs. Lucas holds him tightly, carefully helping him to the ground as he crumbles. He gently rocks him, pulling him closer to his chest to shield him from the rain. All Eliott can hear is Lucas's heartbeat, strong and steady. All he can smell is the rain and the sea salt that always seems to linger on Lucas's skin. All he can feel is Lucas's arms around him, his lips on his forehead, his hairline, the top of his head. All his world consists of now is Lucas, and the world outside is a breath away, but Eliott can't quite breathe right now anyway. His eyes, his nose, his mouth, his lungs all seem to be overflowing with tears, suffocating him more than it ever has before. At least he knows that if he drowns he'll rest in the safest place he knows. At least he knows Lucas will never let him go.

july 20th, 1966

06:00

caen, france

~

Lucas wakes from the first full night of sleep he's had in a month to someone kissing him. He startles a bit at first, but he opens his eyes and sees Eliott's face smiling at him the way he used to before his papa died. Lucas can't see Eliott's eyes they're so squinted, but he  missed  those crinkles by his eyes. 

"Good morning,  mon amour  ," Eliott almost sings, rubbing their noses together.

"Morning, darling," Lucas hums, smiling back sleepily. He pulls Eliott close and kisses him,  melts  into him. He must've had tea before he left his house. The fragrant taste of it is staining his lips, his teeth, his tongue. It makes Lucas smile even more, warmth softening the edges that kept him and Eliott from becoming one person again. He could almost fall asleep again right here, with Eliott's fingers in his hair and on his neck, his lips against Eliott's, their heartbeats embracing each other. He almost does, but Eliott kisses him a little deeper, their noses smushing against each other. He chuckles, pulling away slightly. "You're feeling better?" he asks hopefully, breathlessly.

Eliott nods. "Things are going back to normal," he replies, his voice sweet and melodious. "I'm starting to feel like myself again."

Lucas grins, his heart warming and glowing in his chest. "Really?"

"Mm-hmm," Eliott beams, nodding. "What about you?"

Lucas kisses the tip of Eliott's nose, and somehow it makes him smile even wider. "If you're happy, I'm happy."

Eliott kisses him again, soft and sweet and gentle. Lucas missed kissing Eliott so  much  . He knows the time has never been right to kiss him like this again, but he's felt it starting to come again the past week or two. Eliott's been smiling more, talking more. He's started taking more pictures with his camera, reading books again, laughing at jokes on the TV again. He's been eating again. Not much, but more than he has before. Lucas's been waiting for the right moment for everything to return to normal, but he didn't need to try and see if the moment was right, because Eliott beat him to it. Eliott was the one who kissed him first, and Lucas can kiss him back without worrying about crossing a line.

"I have a big day planned for us today," Eliott says after a moment, sitting up.

"Oh, yeah?" Lucas smiles, sitting up, too.

"Well, 'planned' isn't the best word," Eliott admits, chuckling. "But I have some ideas. Like, we could have breakfast at the bakery and lunch at the bistro. Then run around town and go in all the shops and buy a bunch of stuff."

"I don't have any money, love," Lucas laughs, leaning his head on Eliott's shoulder.

"I'll buy you anything you want," Eliott promises, grinning.

"Promise?" Lucas challenges, raising his eyebrows. 

"Promise," Eliott nods, giggling. He pulls Lucas close, and his face fits perfectly into the crook of his neck. He plants small kisses there, breathes in Eliott's smell, his skin. He closes his eyes, laughing along. Eliott pulls Lucas away so their eyes meet, taking his face in his hands. "Anything for my Lu," he grins.

Lucas goes to kiss Eliott one more time, but Eliott backs away, tousling Lucas's hair. "We have a long day ahead of us," he says. "We have to get started as soon as we can."

Lucas rolls his eyes, but he chuckles. "I'll go get ready." He gives Eliott a kiss on the cheek as he gets out of bed, and the blush on Eliott's cheeks makes him blush, too. The warmth, the fuzziness, carries him to the bathroom where he quickly brushes his teeth. His mother isn't awake as far as he knows as he walks back to his room, but he makes sure to remember to tell her where they'll be before they leave. 

When he opens his door he sees Eliott lying in his bed on his stomach. He grins again when he sees Lucas, almost jumping up and bounding over to him. 

"I was gone for a minute," Lucas giggles as Eliott rubs their noses together again. 

"I missed you," Eliott shrugs, kissing him softly. He smiles, small yet content. "I like your toothpaste."

Lucas's brow furrows, but he chuckles fondly. "Thank you?"

"You're welcome?" Eliott replies teasingly, kissing Lucas's forehead. "Let's get you dressed so we can go."

"Okay," Lucas snickers. "Are we in a hurry?"

"The sun is only up for so long,  mon amour  ," Eliott reminds him. "It's rising right now, and I plan on staying under it as long as we can today."

Lucas's brow furrows again. "Okay."

"When the sun sets we can go back to your house, or maybe we can go to mine," Eliott suggests, taking Lucas's hands. "We can fall asleep in each other's arms tonight and wake up in the same place in the morning. Does that sound good?"

Lucas smiles, blush staining his cheeks a much deeper scarlet. "That sounds amazing."

Eliott tilts Lucas's chin and brings their lips together, Lucas melting once again. Eliott pulls away far too quickly, guiding Lucas towards his closet. Lucas pouts to try and distract him again, but Eliott starts looking through his shirts.

"You should wear this one," Eliott says, holding one up to Lucas.

"It's just a red t-shirt, Ellie," Lucas laughs. "I didn't even know you gave this one back to me however long ago."

"Yeah, but you could wear it with those blue shorts," Eliott replies, grabbing the shorts he's talking about. "It's simple, but you look amazing in anything."

Lucas wishes Eliott would stop making him blush. "Okay. I'll wear them." 

He starts changing into the outfit and putting on his shoes, and Eliott's grin once he's finished makes his heart flutter. Lucas kisses him again, unable to resist the urge. "Ready to go, my love?" Lucas asks softly.

Eliott nods excitedly, almost bouncing. 

"Let me tell Maman we're leaving first," Lucas smiles. "Meet me at the front door." 

Eliott kisses him goodbye, walking out of Lucas's room.

Lucas makes his way to his mother's room, carefully opening her door. She's still asleep. He doesn't want to wake her, so he borrows a sheet of paper from a notebook she keeps by her bed.

 Eliott and I are going to be out for the day. We should be back around dinnertime. 

  He scribbles a little heart beside it, leaving it on top of the notebook. He leaves her room as quietly as he can, closing the door behind him. He grins when he sees Eliott waiting patiently yet excitedly by the front door. Eliott opens it for him, bowing politely. "After you,  mon amour  ."

Lucas blushes again as he bows in return and goes out the door. Eliott leaves, too, then puts his arm around Lucas, pulling him a little closer. Lucas rests his head on Eliott's shoulder, kissing the spot where his collarbone is just barely exposed. He wants to get in one last display of affection before they go into town and have to hide again. He can't deny that it hurts that he can only love Eliott in the dark or behind closed doors, but he can't deny that they need to value and protect their safety as well.

"I'll race you down the street," Eliott proposes, snapping Lucas out of his reverie.

"Like when we were kids?" Lucas replies, grinning. 

"Like when we were kids," Eliott echoes, nodding. "Are you up for a race?"

"You're on," Lucas confirms smugly.

"All right. The race starts  now  !" Eliott shouts, bolting down the street. 

Lucas blinks, stumbling to a running start. "That's not fair! Cheater!" he yells with a laugh.

"Like when we were kids!" Eliott calls back over his shoulder. His laughter bounces off the boiling asphalt and fills the air, becoming the wind that shakes the trees and ruffles Lucas's hair. Lucas could listen to him laugh forever.

He gains speed, quickly whizzing past Eliott. Eliott always found a way to give himself the early advantage, but he was never as fast as Lucas. Eliott always made jokes about Lucas being tiny and "more aerodynamic", and they always made Lucas blush but laugh, too.  

He hears his feet striking the asphalt, then hears Eliott's feet just after. Their footsteps have become echoes of each other. They've become something close to music. This morning, the world will wake up to this noise, and Lucas falters as he wonders if people will hear the same sweet music he's hearing. Their footsteps, Eliott's laughter, Lucas's own heartbeat drumming in his ears. There could never be a more beautiful piece of music, right?

Eliott starts to pull ahead again. "Will I finally beat Lucas Lallemant in a race?" he asks teasingly, out of breath.

Lucas shakes his head, smirking. "Not today." He calls on his last bit of stamina and surges ahead, letting his footfalls propel him forward and forward. He can just see the town in the distance, and just ahead of him is the old, weathered sign that they both designated as the finish line years ago. He slows to a jog as he approaches it, leaning against it and smiling smugly. Eliott isn't too far behind him, though, catching up a few seconds later.

"I was much closer that time," Eliott sighs, trying to catch his breath. 

Lucas rolls his eyes. "Sure you were." 

Eliott tries to respond, but he only huffs, slowly sitting himself down on the ground. 

"Do we need a breather?" Lucas laughs, sitting down next to him. 

Eliott nods, then lies down on his back. "Yes, please."

"You've lost your touch," Lucas points out teasingly, fixing the sweaty hair glued to Eliott's forehead. 

"Shut up," Eliott chuckles, sighing. "Oh, what are we going to do when we get old?"

"Will we be racing down this street when we're 80 years old?" Lucas asks, chuckling softly.

"Maybe we will," Eliott shrugs. "Can't you see us growing old together, though?"

Lucas's heart warms as he considers the thought. He nods, his lips spreading into a grin. "I can."

"I don't think we'll be here, though," Eliott says, reaching to cradle Lucas's face. "We'll be living in Giverny. By Monet's gardens. We'll be secretly married. We'll have this cute, little cottage. We paint together all day and hold each other all night. Your hair will be white and it'll make your eyes look even bluer. You'll still be so beautiful and I'll wonder why you ever settled for someone like me. But we'll be happy. We will have spent almost every second of our lives together but we wouldn't have it any other way. Can't you see it, Lucas?"

There are tears in Lucas's eyes as he nods. "But I think you'll still be beautiful, too, my love. How could you ever not be? I mean, look at you!"

Eliott blushes, running his thumb over Lucas's cheekbone. Gently, he pulls Lucas down towards him. Lucas lets himself fall, closing the space between them with a sweet, passionate kiss. He can't stop smiling, and neither can Eliott. Their teeth knock against each other and Eliott accidentally bites Lucas's lip. He tries to apologize but he starts laughing, pulling Lucas close. The gentle tremble shaking Eliott's body as he giggles is comforting as it starts to ripple through Lucas, too. He can taste blood, but it doesn't matter. He's giggling, too, and it's hard to stop. 

"I love you, Lulu," Eliott says through his laughter, almost wheezing.

"I love you, too, Ellie," Lucas returns, his laughter turning into a content sigh. "I love you, too."

july 20th, 1966

14:16

caen, france

~

Lucas misses holding Eliott's hand already, but more and more people are arriving in town, browsing the shops and eating at the restaurants. It's strangely busy for a Wednesday, but the weather today is much milder than it has been for the past couple of weeks. Nevertheless, the large crowd that only seems to keep growing is making Lucas more nervous than he wants to admit. He's not holding hands with Eliott or being affectionate towards him, but he still feels like people are staring at them, drawing conclusions. He knows he's being paranoid, but he can't deny the turning of his stomach or the racing of his heart.

But when he looks over at Eliott, he looks like he doesn't have a care in the world. He's scanning the crowd with a small smile on his face, and he has a bounce in his step that Lucas can't keep up with. Eliott has always been more easygoing than Lucas, but the fact that he doesn't seem worried at all is frankly confusing to Lucas. With all these people around them, who knows who might notice something, and who knows who might get confrontational or even violent? 

"There's a lot of people here, Eliott," Lucas says, trying to give him a hint that he's uncomfortable. "Maybe we should go home."

"No, not yet," Eliott replies, looking over at Lucas. "There's one more shop I want you to see. They have these clothes that would look great on you. I just need to remember where it is."

"You don't know where it is?" Lucas asks, his worry starting to grow.

"I have a vague idea," Eliott reassures him, though the effort falls flat.

"Do you at least remember what it's called?" Lucas tries, starting to fidget. He clasps one hand over the other, squeezing tightly.

"I'll know it when I see it, Lucas," Eliott responds, chuckling. He points ahead of them at a corner. "I'm pretty sure it's just around there. Don't worry, mon amour."

"Don't call me that here," Lucas almost hisses, trying to keep his voice down. "There's too many people."

"It's okay, Lu," Eliott says again, emphasizing every syllable. "Everything's okay."

They turn the corner, and there seems to be significantly fewer people in this part of town. Lucas feels himself relax a little, let out a sigh of relief.

"See?" Eliott smiles. "Everything's okay."

"Everything's okay," Lucas repeats, nodding and managing a smile.

"I can see it!" Eliott grins, starting to jog down the street.

"Eliott, slow down!" Lucas calls after him, laughing.

Eliott stops by a shop halfway down the street, holding the door open. Lucas slows down, quickly trying to catch his breath. He smiles and nods at Eliott then enters the store. His mouth drops open as he sees displays of shirts with outrageous patterns and pants in colors Lucas never thought should be worn on people's bodies. He chuckles, looking back at Eliott over his shoulder. "I would look great in these?" he asks, waving his arm vaguely at the clothes.

"I know it's a little gaudy," Eliott shrugs, smiling almost bashfully. "But there's some things here I think you'll really like. Just give it a chance. It might surprise you."

Lucas sighs, nodding. "Okay. Lead the way, I guess." 

Eliott grins, bounding over to the first rack of clothes he sees. He scans through them, occasionally looking up at Lucas then back down at a piece of clothing. The first thing he pulls out is a navy blue shirt with a red and green paisley pattern that makes Lucas bite his lip to keep from laughing. Eliott notices, though, tilting his head to the side.

"What's wrong with it?" Eliott asks, holding it up to Lucas's chest. "I think it would look really good on you. It's blue, so it'll make your eyes look even prettier."

"I'll have to try it on," Lucas shrugs, chuckling. He feels a blush burning in his cheeks. "We could have a little fashion show in my room when we get back."

Eliott's eyes light up, and his grin spreads even wider on his face. "I love that idea. So, you'll give it a shot?"

"I'll give it a shot," Lucas agrees, nodding. 

Eliott jumps, his eyes sparkling and squinting. Lucas grins, too, his heart warming again. The old Eliott is coming back. He's standing in front of him, smiling so hard Lucas feels his own cheeks hurt. The old Eliott is coming back!

Eliott shows him several shirts and pants and shorts that he would never wear in a million years, but they all make Eliott smile, so Lucas agrees to them. He doesn't know when something else might happen to take his smile away. He wants that smile to stay on Eliott's face as long as it can, and if he can help it stay, he'll do whatever he can to do so. 

"Lucas!" Eliott gasps, pulling two things off the rack. They're two blue and white striped two-piece sets, a button-up shirt and shorts. One looks like Lucas's size and one looks like Eliott's size. "We could match!" he proposes, grinning like an idiot while he waits for Lucas's response.

Lucas, unfortunately, is speechless. He lets out a laugh, shrugging. Dumbly, he replies, "I love it."

"Perfect!" Eliott almost squeals, adding them to the stack of clothes he's carrying in his other arm.

"Hey, Eliott," Lucas says, noticing him struggling with the weight. "We should probably go ahead and check out. I mean, do you even have the money for all this stuff?"

"Of course I do," Eliott replies, adjusting his stack. "I promised I'd buy you anything you wanted. And this is getting pretty heavy."

"Here, I'll take it," Lucas offers, giving Eliott a smile. Eliott smiles back at him, carefully placing the stack in his arms. Lucas stumbles a little, huffing. "Yeah, let's go."

Eliott giggles as he helps Lucas to the register, the clothes clattering loudly on the counter.

"So sorry," Lucas apologizes, breathless. 

"Oh, don't worry," the cashier replies, whose nametag says 'Lucille.' She has short, brown hair and kind eyes, maybe only a year or two older than them. "I end up buying too many clothes here, too, and I work here," she adds with a smile. "So, I completely understand."

As she rings up their items, Lucas looks over and sees Eliott pulling out a large bundle of money from his pocket. His eyes widen as he sees him pull out 10 and 20 franc notes and hand them to Lucille. 

"Here's your change," she smiles, placing notes and coins in his hand. "Thank you so much for shopping with us!"

Eliott waves her a quick goodbye as he takes their bag of clothes. Lucas waves goodbye, too, then rushes to catch back up with Eliott.

"Where'd you get all that money, Eliott?" he asks, trying to keep his voice down.

"Maman," Eliott replies a little too quickly.

"She has that much money lying around?" Lucas questions, his brow furrowing. 

"We have a jar at home," Eliott answers, his words almost stumbling over each other. "We put money it to have just in case something happens. And I promised you I would buy you anything you wanted, so I took some money from it for today."

"Does your maman know?" he presses, hoping he'll get the answer he wants.

"Of course she does," Eliott confirms, shrugging. "I'll put whatever I have leftover back in the jar. Everything's okay. Right?"

Lucas nods, unconvinced. "Right."

"Good," Eliott nods. "Let's get home."

Lucas sighs as an uneasiness he can't ignore settles beneath his skin. Still, he walks beside Eliott. They walk down the same road they raced on this morning and countless times throughout the years. They don't talk very much, but Lucas keeps catching Eliott staring at him. He blushes, like always, but his unease gets worse every time.

"You're beautiful, Lucas," Eliott says at one point, smiling sweetly. "You know that?"

Lucas lets himself smile. "You tell me all the time," he chuckles, shrugging.

"I mean it," Eliott replies, his voice soft but confident. "You... You seemed a little upset so I thought I would tell you."

"I'm not upset," Lucas shakes his head, sighing. "All the money freaked me out I guess."

"You didn't think I stole it, did you?" Eliott asks quietly, his brow furrowed.

"No, no," Lucas answers quickly. "No, but... I wasn't really thinking anything, I... I don't know."

"No, it's okay, Lucas," Eliott dismisses, smiling weakly. "Just know that I didn't rob a bank or anything, okay?"

"I know," Lucas smiles back, nodding. Silence passes, and Lucas's smile widens as he has an idea to make Eliott smile a little wider, too. "Am I the most beautiful person you've ever seen?"

Lucas's plan works. Eliott chuckles, nodding. "Yes, Lucas. You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen."

"More beautiful than Yann?" Lucas teases. "Arthur? Idriss? Sofiane?"

"Yes, Lucas," Eliott laughs. "More beautiful than Yann, Arthur, Idriss, and Sofiane."

"What about the girls?" Lucas presses, Eliott's smile widening even more.

"You're more beautiful than all of them, too," Eliott nods. "You're the man of my dreams."

Lucas feels his cheeks get red hot. "What was that?"

Eliott stops, holding Lucas's face in his hands. "You're the man of my dreams, Lucas Lallemant," he repeats, his voice spilling like honey.

Lucas kisses him as he says his name, his worry beginning to melt away. "You're pretty great, too, Eliott Demaury," Lucas smirks once they pull away.

Eliott rolls his eyes, putting his arm around Lucas. Lucas nuzzles his face into Eliott's neck, breathing him in as they walk down the last stretch of street before their houses. 

"Maman isn't home," Lucas says as he looks up, noticing her car isn't in the driveway. "Maybe she's getting groceries."

"Do you wanna wait until she gets back to try on all your new clothes?" Eliott asks, gently shaking the bag from the store.

"I think so, actually," Lucas nods. "But we can try on our matching outfits if you want." 

"Yes!" Eliott grins, nodding eagerly. He starts running down the driveway, dragging Lucas behind him. Lucas yelps at the yank on his arm, but dissolves into chuckles. 

"Someone's excited," Lucas comments teasingly as they enter through the front door. His words are cut off as he's pushed against the wall and Eliott's lips are suddenly on his. He hears the bag crash onto the floor as he kisses Eliott back, weaving his hands into his hair. He giggles as they break for a moment. "Very excited," he breathes, grinning.

Eliott picks up the bag and Lucas takes his hand, guiding him to his room. He shuts the door behind them just in case, leaning against it and breathing out a content sigh. He looks over at Eliott, who's sitting on his bed, and their eyes meet. Eliott grins, his head tilting ever so slightly. Lucas grins back, walking over to him. He looks in the bag and pulls out their matching outfits, unable to hold back his laugh this time. It's adorable, really, and Lucas never thought he would buy matching outfits with his boyfriend, especially when his boyfriend ends up being his best friend.

Eliott laughs, too, grabbing his outfit from Lucas's hand. "We'll wear this on our wedding day."

Lucas smiles, remembering their conversation from this morning. "Will the wedding be in Giverny, too?"

Eliott nods vigorously. "It'll be at midnight, when the moon is all silvery on the water. It'll just be the two of us. And the officiant, of course."

Lucas sits by Eliott on the bed, starting to blush again. "Who'll officiate?"  he asks, waiting to cling onto every word of Eliott's answer.

"For some reason, in my head, I see the girl at the register," Eliott replies, almost giggling. "Because if she didn't say anything when we bought these, I'm sure she won't mind marrying us. What was her name? Lucy?"

"Lucille, I think," Lucas corrects, then shrugs. "You were close, though."

"Lucille will officiate," Eliott nods, starting to fidget with stray strands of Lucas's hair. "I can see us kissing as husbands until the sun rises and people see us."

"What do they do?" Lucas asks, the thought starting to wipe the smile off of his face. "When they see us?"

"See, they get outrageously jealous because they know they'll never have a love like ours," Eliott answers, a shine Lucas doesn't recognize filling his eyes. "They'll never break into every parallel universe and fill all of them with their love like we do. So, they come at us with pitchforks and torches and chase after us, cursing our names and the love we have and spitting on us until we're soaking wet. But, we get away. We outrun them because we're so much stronger than them. They're sweating buckets and they can't quite catch their breaths, but we're fine. We barely broke a sweat and breathing is easier than it has been before. We look over our shoulders as we keep running, and we smile."

Lucas isn't sure how to respond. If Eliott's words were stumbling over each other before, they're bleeding into each other now. They're a thousand colors mixing until they form a brown, muddy puddle, until they're almost indecipherable as distinct sentences and thoughts. He's never really heard Eliott talk like this before. Like he would explode if he didn't get all his words out. He manages a smile, shrugging dumbly. "What do we do after that?" he asks weakly.

"We keep running," Eliott replies, as if it were obvious. "What if all those people start chasing us again? Are we supposed to wait there like sitting ducks, only running again when they're right on our tails? No. We keep running. We're holding each other's hands like we always do, and we push each other forward. If we run faster, we could move the whole earth until it's night again and we can hide like we did on our wedding night. We can't hide in the dark forever, but we have each other, and we'll have each other forever, and that's enough. That's more than enough. In fact, as we keep running every morning, and as we keep hiding every night, we don't need water and food to survive anymore. We just need each other. That's all we need to survive. That's all we need to keep our hearts beating. And we run faster and faster until every grain of soil in the world has kissed our feet, until we've traveled the whole world. Before we know it, the whole world is whispering about Lucas and Eliott. They call us something cheesy and cliched like the Fleet-footed Lovers or something, but we don't mind. They talk about how they want a love as powerful as ours. They go around looking for their other Fleet-footed Lover. People propose using those words. 'Will you be my Fleet-footed Lover?' The whole world will know about us, Lucas. And they won't care that we're two boys in love. We'll make all of them realize that the love between two boys is even more powerful than a love between a boy and a girl. We'll change the world, mon amour. We'll build a new one with our feet, with our clasped hands, and as people have babies and raise them, they'll tell them about the Creators. They'll talk about us. Lucas and Eliott. The Fleet-footed Lovers. We'll create a whole new world, and it'll ripple through all of our parallel universes. We will do this. We will."

Lucas almost doesn't recognize Eliott. Everything about him is wide. His grin, his too bright eyes, his hair pointing frantically in every direction. He's a hole, opening up and looking to swallow up whatever gets too close to him. He's gaping, yawning, his chest a cavern Lucas feels too anxious to traverse alone. His words, his illusions of grandeur were enough to send all the dissipated worry back into the pit of Lucas's stomach, but this face, this body in front of him makes it sink even further, nearly reaching his toes. Lucas feels his mouth go dry, feels his throat close up. 

"Wh-what about our cottage?" he chokes out, taking Eliott's hand in his. "What about painting all day and holding each other all night? Can we not do that anymore? Are we too busy becoming these epic, legendary lovers?"

"No, we'll still do all those things, mon amour," Eliott smiles reassuringly, using his free hand to cradle Lucas's face. "Once we change the world. Once it's ours. We'll have our cottage. We'll have all our paintings and art supplies. We'll have our bed. We'll still only need each other to survive. In fact, we'll live. Live unlike anyone else has before. We'll be the first of many things, the fathers of many things. I know we will."

Lucas musters a smile, leaning into Eliott's touch and closing his eyes. He remembers all the time he used Eliott's touch to ground himself, only to realize now that he's trying to use his own touch to ground Eliott. He places his other hand on top of Eliott's, running his thumb over the back of his hand. He hears something inside him say, wherever you are, come back to me. His chest tightens at the idea of thinking such a thing, and the idea that right now the answer to his prayer is all he wants.

"Hey," Eliott says softly, Lucas opening his eyes slowly. "Maybe we can start by trying these outfits on?" 

Lucas nods, barely widening his smile. He waits for Eliott to climb out of bed before doing the same. He watches him carefully, as much as he hates to admit it, noticing how all his muscles seem to be wrapped around a spring, how his feet seem to just know that they can fly so they try to help him take off. He noticed all these things before, but not in the way he does now. Maybe that should've been some sort of warning sign, a red flag. He takes a deep breath and gets off his bed, starting to take off his clothes. He notices Eliott is stripped down to his boxers and has his back turned, so he takes a step toward him.

"No, Lu, you can't look at me yet," Eliott says just over his shoulder. "Turn around and let me know when you're changed, okay?"

Lucas obeys, facing his window. "Okay." He takes off his shirt and shorts, trying to get changed as quickly as he can. He tries to watch the waves, though they're fairly distant from his window. They're calm, breathing slowly against the shore. He tries to match his breathing to theirs as he works up the courage to tell Eliott to turn around. In, out. In, out.

"Turn around," he manages to say, turning around himself. 

Eliott's eyes light up even more as he laughs delightedly. "You look amazing, mon amour!" he grins, his eyes scanning his body. The outfit suits Eliott really well, too, but it doesn't make Lucas smile like it probably would have under different circumstances. Eliott takes a step forward and pulls Lucas close, kissing him.

Lucas tries not to seem hesitant as he kisses him back, muttering against his lips, "You look amazing, too, my love."

"Not as amazing as you," Eliott counters, deepening the kiss. Lucas stumbles a bit, but Eliott helps him regain his balance. Lucas opens his eyes, noticing that Eliott is looking out his window. "We should go swimming," Eliott smiles, looking over at Lucas. "The sun isn't going down anytime soon. We have time."

Lucas bites his lip, his worry turning his stomach. He doesn't think it's a good idea, though he can't explain why. He tries to think of some sort of excuse, hopefully one that will convince Eliott to stay here in his room. He shrugs, fidgets with the collar of Eliott's shirt. "I don't know," he starts, trying to make his lie as smooth and believable as possible. "It's been a long day, I'm pretty tired. I don't feel like swimming."

"Come on, Lucas," Eliott encourages, taking his face in his hands. "It's beautiful outside, and the sea is calm. It's a perfect day for swimming!"

"I don't know, Ellie," he replies, dumbly. "We can swim another day, can't we? We could go tomorrow. I'd rather stay here with you and kiss you and let you hold me."

"We'll do all that later, Lucas," Eliott shakes his head. "Remember what we agreed to? We'll relax when the sun goes down."

Lucas nods, but doesn't know how to respond. Eliott tilts his head so he's looking up at him.

"Would it make you feel better if I said we'll only stay out there for a few minutes?" Eliott asks, moving his hand to caress Lucas's cheek. "How about thirty minutes?"

Lucas sighs deeply, unconvinced but knowing that Eliott is persistent right now. He nods reluctantly, forcing a smile. "Okay."

Eliott grins, kissing Lucas again deeply. "Let's go!" he says once he pulls away. He takes Lucas's hand and leads him out of his room, out of his house, and down towards the beach. Occasionally, Eliott will look at Lucas over his shoulder, and every time Lucas loses another piece of recognition. Every time, it gets a little harder for Lucas to fake his smile. Every time, he feels a little more strongly that he needs to let go of Eliott's hand. Every time, his worry and his dread tighten his stomach and his chest, send bits of ice into his bloodstream. Every time, Lucas finds himself more and more lost in some strange cosmos. 

As they reach the shore, Eliott sweeps Lucas off his feet, carrying him into the water as if he were his bride. Lucas starts panicking, but before he can find words to say, Eliott throws him in the water. He resurfaces quickly, spitting out water and trying to catch his breath. He hears Eliott laughing, and when his eyes clear, he sees him doubled over. A strange sense of betrayal fills him, a despondence. The waves gently lap against him trying to push him towards Eliott, but he feels frozen. 

"Ça va, mon amour?" Eliott asks, his voice rising above the lull of the waves. 

"Ça va?" Lucas replies, confusing Eliott.

"What do you mean?" he asks, tilting his head. 

"Ça va?" Lucas repeats, taking a careful step towards Eliott. 

"Ça va," Eliott answers, nodding. He chuckles, shrugging. "Why wouldn't I be well when I'm with you?"

"You're not yourself, my love," Lucas says quietly, afraid of Eliott's reply but unable to hold back his tongue. 

"Of course I'm myself," Eliott shakes his head, scoffing. "Who else could I be?"

"I don't know," Lucas admits, shrugging helplessly. "You're different."

"Are you still upset about the money?" Eliott asks, his brow furrowed. "I told you, I—"

"It's not the money, Eliott," Lucas sighs, shaking his head. "Did you hear yourself in my room just now? Rambling about how we'll change the entire fabric of our world as we know it?

"We will, don't you think?" Eliott replies, taking Lucas's hands.

"By running until our feet bleed?" Lucas asks, his voice rising. "The world isn't ready to see us yet, and I'm not ready to run yet, either. Maybe at some point I will, but not now, my love."

"I never said we had to run now," Eliott shrugs, laughing. "I never said we had to get married in Giverny tomorrow. I never said you needed to rush and do something you're not ready for."

Lucas sighs, closing his eyes. He feels Eliott envelop him in his arms, feels his warm lips against his forehead. It doesn't ease his mind, nor his stomach or his chest. It doesn't do anything. 

"I want to go home," Lucas whispers, suddenly on the verge of tears. "I want you to hold me like this in my bed."

"Okay," Eliott whispers back. "Before we go, can I kiss you?"

Lucas nods weakly, letting Eliott gently push him away while he waits for their lips to meet each other once again. Eliott kisses him, slowly and softly, just the way he needs it. It eases everything—just a little, but enough. 

"I'll take you home now,   mon amour," Eliott whispers, smiling against Lucas's lips.

"Merci," Lucas breathes, kissing Eliott quickly.

He feels Eliott take his hand and gently guide him forward. He keeps his eyes closed, tries to focus on the memory of Eliott's lips on his.

From behind him, he hears a wave, large and roaring. He opens his eyes then, looking over his shoulder. It's approaching them rapidly, growing taller and taller until it starts to tower over them. Lucas's heart nearly stops, and his feet are planted to the sand below. He feels Eliott's hand slip away from his, hears him stumble and ripple the water. Before Lucas can start running, the wave crashes over him, pulling him in all directions until he's too disoriented to swim back up. He sees wave after wave crash just above him, all of them merciless and pushing him further and further down.

Once, just once, there's a gap between the waves, and Lucas breaks through, finally breathing air. With the one gulp he gets, he cries Eliott's name.

Another wave crashes over him, and another, and another, forcing him down and under and down and under.

Lucas drowns.

july 20th, 1966

16:22

caen, france

~

Eliott stumbles forward, tripping on the muddy sand beneath him. He hears a wave crash behind him, and he feels it spray lightly against his back. He isn't holding Lucas's hand anymore. He whirls around, but Lucas is nowhere to be seen. 

"Lucas!" he calls, panic edging into his voice. He scans the water, waiting for him to stand back up and return to the shore. But he doesn't.

"Eliott!"  

Lucas's voice is strangled, desperate, a bloodcurdling cry. His hand is just visible as it reaches up into the air. His voice and his hand are drowned out by the sound of the waves; the crashing, the frothing.  Lucas is drowned out by the waves, burying him and pushing him deeper and deeper into the water.

Eliott's heartbeat lurches to a stop as he stands there, helpless, waiting for Lucas to resurface. Wave after wave crashes by, growing and breathing and looming before him. He can't see Lucas anywhere.

"Lucas!"   Eliott cries at the top of his lungs, swimming desperately towards where he last saw him. He beats back against the waves beating against him, his muscles becoming sore and salt filling his mouth and stinging his eyes. He spits out water, blinks it away, pushes past the burn exploding all over his body. One thought fills his mind, his heart.

I need to get to Lucas.

He keeps swimming, looking for Lucas, breaking through every wave that gets in his way.

Lucas's name fills him, becoming louder, stronger than all his aching muscles, his aching lungs. 

I need to get to Lucas.

It feels like an eternity has passed when Eliott spots something in the water—a flash of golden skin, a wet mess of brown hair. Eliott's heart skips a beat, and he's filled with a new strength. He swims as hard and as quickly as he can, finally,  finally reaching Lucas. He tries his best to tread water as he gathers Lucas in his arms. His eyes are closed, but Eliott doesn't have time to try and wake him up. He quickly positions Lucas on his back, trying his best to keep him secure.

He lets the waves push him forward, closer and closer to shore. He focuses on keeping his grip on Lucas, keeping them both afloat. He sighs in relief when he feels his feet touch the ocean floor, trudging through the muddy sand with trembling but desperate and hopeful legs. He keeps walking until the sand becomes dry, until the waves are just noises behind them.

Eliott falls to his knees, the exhaustion finally weighing on him. He repositions Lucas to where he's cradling him in his arms. 

"Lucas? Lucas," Eliott stammers, breathless. "Can you hear me? Open your eyes."

Eliott doesn't think he heard him. His eyes stay closed. Eliott places a hand on Lucas's cheek, but he doesn't lean into his touch. He tries to push his hand gently against Lucas's face, but his head lolls to the other side. He runs his thumb down his cheekbone and along his jaw, and he can feel his cool skin growing colder by the second. Realization socks Eliott in the jaw. Familiarity lingers, spreading to all his limbs and traveling across every synapse in his brain. 

"Lucas," Eliott tries again, unable to hide the fear bleeding into his voice. "Lucas, please. Can you hear me?"

Eliott rests his forehead against Lucas's, rubs their noses together, desperately kisses him. Still no response. Eliott shakes his head, pure panic flooding over him.

"No..." Eliott chokes out, his hand drifting down to Lucas's chest. It's not rising or falling, and despite all his searching, he can't find Lucas's heartbeat. He looks up at Lucas's face again, and he can  see the color draining from it. He looks the same way his father did. Ghostly, almost not real. A shadow, a small flicker of light that's out of focus. "Not you. Not you, too. Not you. Not you. Not you, please."

Tears start running down his cheeks as he lays Lucas down on the sand. His brain turns off, and he feels as if he's watching himself press down on Lucas's chest with all his weight, watching himself breathe as much air into his lungs as he can. He begs Lucas to wake up and open his eyes and  live  , begs his lungs to open and empty and  fill  , begs his heart to stir and drum and  beat . He begs the love of his life not to die, not to leave him, not to be lost to the waves. His desperation is stronger, growing out of his body and reaching out to anyone that could help him.

Another eternity passes by of Eliott nearly crushing Lucas's still, hollow chest, of Eliott feeling Lucas's cold, silent lips against his. There's been an ache pooling down his arms, and he can't ignore the strain anymore, nor the pangs in his lungs. As he goes to give Lucas more rescue breaths, his arms buckle and he collapses just on top of Lucas. He rests his forehead against his, exhausted. He exhales deeply, Lucas's name spilling out of his trembling mouth and falling on deaf ears. He takes Lucas's face in both of his hands and musters another mite of strength, giving him as many more rescue breaths as he can manage.

Eliott pulls away after he gives the last breath he possibly can, his eyes closing. There's only silence for a fraction of a moment, but it spreads and stretches itself out, looking to every other moment in time for direction, for answers. It searches and searches, its body swelling and close to bursting. As it takes its last breath, Eliott's heart whimpers, whispers to it,  begging .

Please. Please let it be enough to save him.

Eliott's eyes fly open when he hears Lucas choking, coughing. He sits up, quickly turning Lucas onto his side. New rivers of tears stream down his face as he hears Lucas take labored gulps of breath, sees his chest rising and falling again. His heart swells as he hears Lucas breathing more easily, the hoarse, shallow breaths becoming deeper, fuller.

"Eliott..." Lucas mumbles after a moment, his voice weak.

A sob rips from Eliott's throat as he pulls Lucas close and clings to him. "I'm here,  mon amour  ," he whispers in his ear. He peppers his face with kisses, threads his fingers through his hair. "  You're here," Eliott breathes, joy bubbling from his chest with a giddy giggle. 

"I'm here," Lucas rasps. Eliott can feel him smiling feebly. He sighs, and his breath tingles down Eliott's neck. It's enough to make Eliott feel like he could explode from sheer relief. Lucas is  breathing again. He can feel their chests breathing together, and he can just barely feel Lucas's heart murmuring there, too. It's slow, weak, but it's there. It'll gain strength every day. It'll heal. Maybe it'll love even more than it has before.

"I'm so happy you're here,  mon amour ," Eliott sighs, kissing Lucas's forehead. "I'm so happy you're okay."

july 20th, 1966

23:32

caen, france

~

Eliott can't sit still as he sits outside Lucas's hospital room, waiting for the doctor to finish more tests. He hasn't seen him since they arrived at the hospital. They were separated almost immediately, Lucas being taken to a room to have his vitals taken and some initial tests being performed. Eliott was told to stay in the lobby, where someone placed a warm, soft blanket around him and a nurse kindly guided him as he recalled what happened to Lucas. It's been nearly seven hours, which another nurse told him is a potential turning point for drowning victims. They either stay stable because they were able to get adequate life support, or they start taking a turn for the worst. They won't let Eliott see him until they're sure that the former happens, or that they'll be able to get him stable if it's the latter. 

As time has gone on, the relief and joy Eliott felt initially has faded. He may have been able to bring Lucas back, but now they're waiting helplessly for something to go wrong, desperately hoping for some miraculous recovery. Eliott can't stomach the thought that he might've brought Lucas back only for him to suffer even more for hours and reach the same fate he did before. Yet it still circles his mind, tangling on itself before it forms a knot that squeezes his brain tight. 

Suddenly, the door opens and Eliott rises to his feet, anxiety blooming in his stomach. The doctor comes out, stopping in front of Eliott.

"He's stable," he reports. "We think you got to him sooner than you thought. We'll keep him here overnight, just in case, and we'll keep him on oxygen and fluids until he has his strength back up. He should be well enough to be released by tomorrow evening at the latest. I'm almost tempted to call this a miracle."

Eliott sighs in relief, nodding.

"Would you like to see him?" the doctor asks with an inviting smile. "He's been asking for you all night." 

Eliott grins, his heart warming. "Yes, please," he laughs. "I can't thank you enough."

"There's no need," the doctor smiles. He claps his hand on Eliott's shoulder, then walks down the hallway. 

Eliott takes a deep breath as he enters Lucas's room, unable to hold back his grin when he finally sees him. 

Lucas has a ventilator mask on his face, but it can't hide his smile when he sees Eliott. He weakly holds out his hand, and Eliott bounds over to him, giving as good of a hug as he can. 

"I was so worried," Eliott whispers, kissing Lucas's ear. 

"I know," Lucas whispers back feebly. Then he says, a little louder, "Come here, Maman." 

"No, it's okay," she replies. Eliott looks back and sees her in the corner. She's smiling but there's this deep  sadness in her eyes, shining and dark. It strikes Eliott deep in his chest somehow, filling him with even more guilt than he had before. She nods, forcing a smile. "I'll leave you two alone." 

"Maman," Lucas starts, his voice dying in his throat as she leaves the room. 

"Does she know?" Lucas asks quietly after a moment. 

"I didn't have the heart to tell her," Eliott replies. "But, earlier, they asked me about the bruises on your chest and your rib. So, they must've asked her, too."

Lucas sighs shakily, closing his eyes. 

"I'm sorry," Eliott chokes out. "I didn't know how to say it."

"It's okay," Lucas replies, shaking his head. "I'm... worried."

Eliott doesn't know what to say. He's frozen by his guilt, consumed by his anxiety. He watches Lucas, listens to him breathe. He looks at Eliott, then, his eyes bleary and unreadable.

"Lie with me, Eliott," he whispers, his voice strained. He holds out his hand weakly again, and Eliott feels tears filling his eyes. But, he carefully climbs into the bed with Lucas, resting his head on his chest. The fabric of his gown is warm but rough and thin, and Eliott can just barely see Lucas's bruises through it. They're a greenish brown, and the color creeps across his skin in thin lines, like veins.

"I'm not hurting you, am I?" Eliott asks, lifting his head a bit.

"No," Lucas mumbles. "Painkillers are working."

Eliott sighs in relief, setting his back down. He closes his eyes and listens closely, carefully Lucas's heartbeat is a little stronger, but still hard to hear. His breathing is slow, deep, still shaky. Eliott thinks he hears Lucas's blood humming through his veins, too. The more he listens, the more he remembers the way Lucas's chest used to sound, and the more he realizes Lucas shouldn't be here right now. He never should've made Lucas go to the beach with him. He should've let Lucas stay home because he was tired. Lucas's lungs should never have filled with seawater, and his eyes should never have closed, and his heart should never have stopped beating. It doesn't matter that Lucas is alive again. He never should've died in the first place. He never should've been a breath away from heaven.

The more he listens, the more he realizes that this is all his fault. He remembers over and over Lucas's hand slipping out of his grasp. The moment everything went wrong. 

"Lucas," Eliott begins, taking a deep breath before he continues, gathering the courage he needs to ask the question and hear the answer. "What did dying feel like?"

Lucas doesn't reply at first. He inhales sharply, exhales shakily. His hand drifts lazily through Eliott's hair for a moment, tugging gently. "Awful," he finally says, his voice barely above a whisper. "Painful. Horrifying. Dark. All I could do... was think about you. And Maman. The last time I said I love you. The last time I said goodbye."

Eliott doesn't respond quickly, either. The guilt deepens, darkens.

"It would've killed Maman," Lucas continues, tears rolling down his cheeks. "It's killing her..." he trails off as he starts coughing, gasping for air.

Eliott sits up, panicked, pressing the ventilator mask against Lucas's face. "Breathe, Lucas, breathe," he begs. "Breathe, please."

Lucas squeezes his eyes shut, trying to breathe as slowly and deeply as he can. His chest starts to rise and fall much more steadily after a moment, but there are still tears rolling down his cheeks. Eliott wipes them away gently, fighting back his own tears.

"Maman," Lucas sniffles, his voice so hoarse Eliott doesn't recognize it.

"Don't talk, Lucas," Eliott says, trying to keep his voice steady and kind. "You'll strain yourself. You need to focus on breathing right now, okay? Just breathe. You're  alive  , Lucas. You're okay. Your maman will be okay. She loves you  so much, Lucas. You're her baby boy, remember?"

Lucas nods, trying his best to smile. 

"She has her baby boy back," Eliott continues, managing a smile. "She just has to deal with the fact that she almost lost you. She's grieving, right now. I'm grieving, too. But everything will be okay. You're getting better. You're getting stronger. You'll be good as new soon. We all need time to heal, you especially."

"I love you, Ellie," Lucas smiles weakly, gently caressing Eliott's cheek. His eyes start to droop. He mumbles quietly, "I'm tired."

"I love you, too, Lulu," Eliott returns, kissing the palm of Lucas's hand. "Get some sleep."

"Goodnight," Lucas whispers, closing his eyes. Eliott moves Lucas's hand from his cheek and places it on his stomach. He rests his head on Lucas's chest again, listening to the weak trickle of his heartbeat. He waits until he feels Lucas's breaths even out. He looks up and sees Lucas's beautiful, sleeping face. Most of the color has returned, and his eyelids are fluttering ever so slightly. He's the most beautiful person Eliott's ever seen, and he's been able to call him his. But he held Lucas's hand and led him to his death, letting him go and leaving him to his own devices when the waves came. He let Lucas die. He breathed life into him again, but that didn't change the fact that his hand is the one that held Lucas by his throat and  squeezed until his body went limp. It wasn't the water. It wasn't the waves. It was Eliott.

Awful. Painful. Horrifying. Dark.

My fault.

He needs to leave. He needs to go home. He'll call his Maman. Or maybe Madame Lallemant could take him home. He just needs to leave. He can't look at Lucas a minute longer without feeling like he could explode.

He carefully climbs out of Lucas's bed, but thankfully he doesn't stir. Before he leaves, he kisses Lucas's forehead. His lips linger for a moment, feeling warmth there,  life . He smells the sea salt lingering in Lucas's hair, his skin, sighing as he pulls away. He gently cradles Lucas's face in his hand. Lucas smiles, but doesn't wake.

"I'm so sorry,  mon amour ," Eliott whispers feebly, his voice thick with tears. "I'm so sorry."

july 22nd, 1966

04:09

caen, france

~

Everything is cold. The tears on Eliott's cheeks, the rough, wooden floor against his cheek, the air around him, the blood coursing through his veins. He can't even remember what warmth feels like. No, warmth feels like Lucas's touch, sounds like Lucas's voice, tastes like Lucas's lips. But he doesn't deserve warmth anymore. Lucas gave it to him so selflessly, so kindly, so tenderly. All Eliott has ever done is hurt him. He's the cold to Lucas's warmth, the ice to his fire. He's no good for him. He'll only hold Lucas back, keep him cool when he needs to burn bright and faithful. 

They've been best friends their whole lives. They've loved each other their whole lives. Why is it just now that Eliott is realizing that everything could've been a mistake? Why is it only now that he's realizing that something was wrong between them, something that doomed them from the start? 

You're not yourself, my love

"I'm not myself," Eliott mutters beneath his breath, singing along with the memory of Lucas's voice.

You're different

"I'm different."

Something's wrong. He'd taken the money from the jar without telling his mother that morning. He'd sneaked into her room and carefully taken it out, shoving it in his pocket and put the jar back. He'd lied to Lucas about it when he asked where he'd gotten the money. It was a half-truth, really, but the fact that he ever hid anything is wrong. The whole day, his heart beat so fast he couldn't keep up with it. He felt he had no other choice but to follow it. It told him to shower Lucas in love and attention and gifts. It told him that he feels good around Lucas so he should stay with him as long as he can. It was that same anxiety he felt at Christmas, but it fixated on Lucas because it eased whenever he was around. He should've known something was wrong, then, too. Falling in love with Lucas, filling a whole sketchbook with some romantic tale of them falling in love. The other day, he let himself ramble on about Giverny and running across the earth because that same anxiety was eating at him, so he entertained another fantasy. He keeps relying on figment, on Lucas, on what he considers safe, on what he holds dear. 

Then there's the few times when he's been so fatigued and despondent he can barely lift his head from his pillow. That dreary day in January, that long and gray month after his father died. Lucas knew something was terribly wrong in January. Why didn't Eliott know, too, deep down? And anyone would've been depressed after losing a parent, but Eliott legitimately never thought he would be happy again. He didn't eat. He only slept, hoping he would have good dreams so he would have something to hold onto and hope for. He barely spoke a word. He didn't draw. He didn't read. He didn't take pictures. He barely breathed. He barely did anything besides exist and hope that he's wrong and he'll find the strength to smile again. Lucas had warned him depression would kill him slowly, softly, as if it were lulling him to some eternal sleep he secretly longs for. He didn't listen. He read the words on the page, but he didn't take them to heart like he should have. He neglected Lucas. He neglected his mother. He neglected himself. But somehow, the depression eased only to send him off the deep end again, only this time, he was flying instead of sinking. No, he wasn't flying. He was falling. He was falling until he hit the water again and started to drown again.

Is this a cycle his mind is starting to subject himself to? Something's wrong. Something's wrong. He can't deny it anymore, but he doesn't know how to acknowledge and address it, either. What do you do when you're suddenly aware that a poison is entering your system, that a virus is plaguing you and you know that you'll never be able to find the antidote, the cure? Let yourself die?

Eliott's tears begin to dry. He sits up slowly, his mind calming and centering itself on a single memory.

Awful. Painful. Horrifying. Dark.

Eliott gets on his feet, a sense of calm washing over him. He walks over to his desk, sitting at his chair and pulling out two sheets of paper and a pen.

His hand is surprisingly steady as he writes two letters, two apologies. The words come to him as easily as breathing, as easily as a trickle of water down a stream. He folds both sheets of paper neatly, nearly perfectly. He takes them and leaves his room.

He enters his mother's room quietly, where she's sleeping soundly, peacefully in her bed. He leaves a letter with her name on it on her bedside table.

"Goodnight, Maman," he whispers. "Sweet dreams."

He walks down the stairs, and they thankfully don't creak. The front door doesn't groan against its hinges, either.

The grass is soft and quiet beneath his feet as he walks to Lucas's house. The moon is fading, beginning to hide her face. The stars are blinking out.

He approaches Lucas's window, hoping he can open it from the outside. He can barely see Lucas sleeping in his bed in the corner. Ever so carefully, the window opens, and he leaves Lucas's letter on his window sill. 

"Goodnight, mon amour," he whispers. "Sweet dreams."

He walks past the spot where the grass ends, down the white, pearly sand, stopping at the shore. The remnants of crashed waves lapping at his feet.

He takes a deep breath, and walks forward.

july 22nd, 1966

05:44

caen, france

~

Lucas wakes with a start, sharp pain erupting in his side as he sits up. He squeezes his eyes shut, exhaling slowly as he waits for the pain to pass. As he opens his eyes, he notices that his window is slightly open, and that there's a piece of paper resting there. He doesn't remember it being there before, and who would leave a letter on Lucas's window sill. Eliott? But Eliott knows that he can tap on Lucas's window if he needs him. A sense of dread he can't explain settles in his stomach, telling him to get out of bed and read the letter.

He takes another deep breath, bracing himself for the pain as he climbs out of bed. He manages to get to his window without much pain, but his dread intensifies with every step, morphing into unease then apprehension then anxiety. 

He picks it up and sees his name written in Eliott's handwriting. His heart starts to race as he unfolds it, as he sees the calm, neat handwriting etched onto the paper. He begins to read, silently praying that he's worrying about nothing. 

 My dearest Lucas,

I'm sorry I wasn't there when you were discharged from the hospital. Whenever I looked at you, all I could see was you when I pulled you to shore. I can't get your face out of my mind. All I can hear is your silence. And all I could think about was how this was all my fault. I could never express how much I regret everything that happened that day. I regret kissing you awake that morning and racing you down the street and buying you clothes and helping you brave the waves. I regret even waking up that morning. I should've just slept all day like I had been for a month, but for the first time since Papa died, I woke up and I wanted to face the day. And I wanted to face it with you. That was selfish of me. And you paid the price for it. You were completely innocent,  mon amour , but you were the one that suffered.

I can't stop thinking about what you said at the hospital the other night, when I asked you what dying felt like. I can't imagine it. It's a pain so few people can say they've felt, but  you  can, Lucas. And that kills me. You shouldn't know what the most permanent thing that a person can go through is like. Not when you're so young. Not when you had so much light in your eyes. But you did, and that's my fault. No one can deny that. When I get to heaven and I'm judged, God will tell me that I let you die and I'll be condemned for that. I deserve it. I deserve every punishment available to me. I don't deserve your forgiveness, though I hope that someday I'll be able to receive it. Maybe in some other life, some other universe.

I've loved you my whole life and yet it wasn't enough to stop me from hurting you. I've hurt everyone close to us. Our Mamans, our friends, everyone. The weight of what I've done is wearing on all of you, when it should only be my burden to carry. So, I'm taking that burden away. I'm letting the waves swallow me up. I'll know what you went through. I'll understand. I'll die and I'll never hurt you again. You can heal. You can start to breathe easier again and your heartbeat will become familiar to you again. My life is a small price to pay for yours. 

When you wake up, when you read this, I'll be sinking to the ocean floor. I'll be painting the ocean the same color as your eyes, and I'll be singing your name until it reaches the waves and they carry it, over and over until the ocean runs dry. I can't imagine doing anything else in my final moments.

I love you, Lucas. And thank you for loving me, too. 

  The letter flutters to the floor from Lucas's hand, its ruffling accompanying the fleeting of a thousand images in his mind. The weight of Eliott's body in his arms, the crack of his ribs as Lucas presses down on his chest, drops of water resting peacefully on his eyelashes, Lucas kissing him for the last time but his lips are cold and still, Madame Demaury screaming when she sees her son, Lucas's fingers hovering over piano keys at Eliott's funeral, a gravestone next to Monsieur Demaury's, thousands and thousands of flowers wilting there, thousands and thousands of tears dripping from Lucas's eyes. 

Lucas throws open his window and climbs out, ignoring his screaming rib and running as fast as he can to the shore. He remembers his own words, the ones that inspired Eliott to take his own life. Pain. Panic. Darkness. Eliott doesn't deserve to feel what Lucas felt. No one does. No one should ever experience something so horrible Lucas believes that a just God could never have designed it for every last one of His children. Eliott deserves it the least. It's not his fault. He never could've known that the water would darken and tremble and scream. It's not his fault. It never could've been and it never will be.

Lucas should have told him when he had the chance. His voice was weak and it hurt to talk, but he could've told Eliott somehow. It's not your fault, my love, please don't ever think that any of this was your fault.

The sun is about to rise, and the world is stained a light, hazy blue. Lucas can see a shadow in the distance, just barely, walking into the water. It has to be Eliott. It has to mean that Lucas isn't too late. It has to mean that he can save Eliott back. Lucas tries to run faster, but his pain is becoming too great to ignore and push through.

"Eliott!" he cries, hoping he can hear him. 

He's closer now, right on the edge where the sand is damp and crumbling. He can see Eliott, still walking forward. He can only see his head, and it's quickly disappearing. No. He can't be disappearing. He has to turn around and swim back. He has to come back to Lucas and Lucas has to hold him again. He can't drown. He can't die. He's just within Lucas's reach, but he's starting to slip through.

"ELIOTT!" Lucas screams, his voice echoing off the air, the water, the sky. His rib feels like it's shattered and he can't breathe anymore, but Eliott  turns around  . He starts running towards Lucas, letting the waves carry him forward until he's falling into his arms. Eliott's body shakes, his sobs come out in wheezes and hiccups, and Lucas holds him tightly, carefully guiding him away from the water.

"I'm so sorry," Eliott chokes out. "I'm so, so sorry."

Lucas doesn't think he can cry, even though his best friend was practically minutes away from death. He remembers all the tears Eliott cried when he woke up, all the kisses he left all over his face, how tightly he held him, but Lucas knows he can't react the same way. Something is stopping him, something that's stirring in his chest and closing his throat. Lucas feels himself begin to shake, too, so he holds Eliott a little tighter.

"You're safe now, my love," Lucas manages to say. "I'm here."

"Eliott?" Madame Demaury's voice calls out. Lucas looks over his shoulder and sees her running towards them. He must've woken her up when he called Eliott's name.

"Maman?" Eliott says quietly, pulling away. "Maman!"

Eliott starts running towards Madame Demaury, calling for her. Lucas watches him fall into her arms, watches her take his face in her hands and ask him what's wrong. She starts guiding him towards their car, leaving Lucas alone on the edge of the shore. That  something  he felt earlier starts swelling in his chest as he watches them drive away, and he finally has a name for it:  anger  . It's a boiling, a scorching, a burning in his throat and in his stomach.

Eliott just tried to kill himself. His only goodbye was a  note  that he left on Lucas's window. He thought his punishment for saving Lucas should be dying himself. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a son for a son. He thought he was committing some act of holy vengeance, divine justice. He thought taking himself away from all of them was the solution, the  only  solution that existed. He thought it was all his fault, but by killing himself, he would've shifted the blame to Lucas. He saved himself and he saved Lucas, but Lucas couldn't save Eliott. How could he ever consider letting Lucas live with that sort of guilt? How could he think he was lifting the weight off his shoulders when he would be adding his own dead weight instead? How could he be so  selfish  ? How could he lack such compassion, such love that they agreed that they shared? How could he leave Lucas in the dark, then thrust more of it on him? How could he leave so many words hanging in the air? Words that were said but never listened to, words that they can never say now? Words that Lucas wishes he could take back, words that he wishes he should've said more often. But it's too late. Eliott is gone. He doesn't know where Madame Demaury is taking Eliott, or what will happen to him now, but for Lucas, he's gone. Eliott left Lucas. It doesn't matter if he thought it was for the best, or if he thought he was doing it out of love and care for Lucas. His intentions didn't matter. His actions did. And he  abandoned  Lucas.

Maybe Lucas was always right. Him and Eliott were both born sinners, but they both had a chance to ignore their nature, to a live a pure and Christlike life. They both gave into their desires, listened to the voice chanting in their hearts and not the one whispering to their souls. They sinned, so they must be punished. Their worlds are imploding on themselves because God had warned them so many times about who they could be and what they could do, but they didn't listen. Maybe this is all a part of God's will. Maybe He's trying to keep them apart so they don't make the same mistakes over and over again. Maybe Lucas was supposed to die, but Eliott somehow managed to defy heaven and save him. Maybe God scrambled and decided Eliott needed to die, but Lucas has defied heaven now, too. Maybe whatever happens to them now is God's plan "C" and they don't need to meddle anymore. Maybe they need to let things be. Maybe Lucas is ready to let Eliott go.

Sunlight starts to peak from the horizon, golden and hazy. It's warm, soft, but it doesn't dampen his anger. He can't breathe. His chest feels like it's on fire. He swears he still feels Eliott's touch brushing against his skin, familiar but cold now. But he knows he feels guilt, knows that Eliott can never touch him that way again. Yet all his thoughts revolve around Eliott, and it makes him want to tear his brain out of his skull. Maybe that would be the only he could ever truly forget Eliott. He starts pulling on his hair, grinding his teeth. Hot, bitter tears pool in his eyes.

He rips open his throat, breaks open his chest, cracks open his skull and  screams  , his voice faltering as he crumbles to his knees. 

[greenjacketwhitehatdocmui]

Anna’s Birthday Segment...

Okay, just to prove that I’m not dead--here’s a segment from one of my older stories that takes place during Anna’s birthday.  It’s not the entire segment, but I thought that some people might find this amusing.

FYI, Daniel Antonini is my OC and, at the time of the scene, he’s been serving as Elsa’s Foreign Affairs Aide for 9 months.

--Doc

[snip]

    Daniel couldn't help but smile as he saw Elsa striding down the hall.  For the last few weeks, she'd been preparing for Anna's birthday.  She'd handled every last detail, even down to the cake.

    He, along with everyone on the staff, had tidied up Elsa's paperwork.  She was going to spend the entire day with Anna, unburdened by either internal or foreign matters.  Things were significantly helped by the fact that Anna's birthday had fallen on a Sunday this year.

    It did his heart good to see Elsa both focused and happy.  There were days when she'd worked herself so hard, he was afraid that she might have gotten sick.

    "Daniel!" she called out, not quite hurrying towards him. Usually, queens made others hurry towards them.  However, this was what he found endearing about Elsa.  "How's everything going with you and the ambassadors?"

    "Minister Hendriksen and I have convinced them to suspend affairs for the day," he reported.  "They are, of course, eager to observe the festivities this afternoon--as am I," he added.

    She brightened up.  "Thank you," she said quietly.  "I know that arranging this couldn't have been easy." She sniffed slightly.

    "Quite all right," he replied with a genuine smile.  "The worthwhile things are rarely easy.  For today, the Gordian Knot of diplomacy is not yours to untie.  I hope that you enjoy your time with your sister."

    “We will.”  She paused for a moment.  “Is there anything else?”

    “What makes you ask that?”

    She sniffled and blinked a few times.  “You have that look on your face.  It’s the one where you’re being observant.”

    “Well, if I may ask, are you feeling well?”  He frowned in concern.  “I can’t help but notice that you’re sniffling a bit. Also, your eyes seem a bit watery. Do you happen to have allergies?”

    “Not that I know of,” she said.  “It’s probably nothing.”

    Daniel’s frown deepened.  All the late nights that she’d spent in preparing for today had probably caught up to her.  That was precisely why he couldn’t just tell her outright to get some rest.  Today was just too important to her.

    “I’m certain that your sister will understand if you need to—to sit for a few minutes,” he said diplomatically.  “You’ve a very full day planned, after all.”

    She smiled and gently patted him on the shoulder. She trusted him enough for that casual contact.

    “I’ll be fine,” she insisted.  “But if you’re really that worried, I promise that I’ll get some rest after today is done.”

    “Please?"

    She smiled.  "There's that mother hen streak again," she remarked. "You know, if you ever find a girl, they'll be very lucky that you care so much."

    He managed a chuckle.  "I am in no particular hurry on that score," he said. "Love tends to go at its own pace."

    Her cerulean eyes sparkled.  For the briefest of moments, he was tempted to do something ill-defined, yet terribly improper given their positions.  The urge faded, reined in by propriety and common sense.

    "Really?" she asked.  "And how long do you think it will take before those two get together?"

    He feigned shock.  "Your Majesty!" he breathed.  "I would never interfere in matters of the heart, especially between your sister and Kristoff!"

    She raised an expectant eyebrow.  It spoke silent volumes.

    "At their pace, probably another year or two," he reported.  "Neither of them feels worthy of the other."

    Elsa sniffled and gave him a rueful smile. "I know that feeling.  There are times..."  She trailed off, her eyes focused on somewhere past him.  She blinked and focused on him.  "Sorry, I should really make the final checks. See you in the afternoon?"

    "I'll be there, Your Majesty," he promised.

    He watched her leave with some concern.  On one hand, Elsa was an adult capable of taking care of herself.  On the other hand, she tended to focus on things other than her health.  He only hoped that she wasn't concealing something serious in favor of Anna's celebration.

    The portly figure of Kai ambled towards him. It took years to attain a gait that was both relaxed and directed.

    "Kai, is it me, or was Queen Elsa sniffling a bit? Does she have allergies or something?"

    "Well, I'm fairly certain that she doesn't have a cold," the majordomo replied.  "It's probably nothing to worry about."

    "I hope not," Daniel said. "Captain Borgman worries enough for everyone."

    Kai smirked faintly.  "Yes, he was a bit put out at Queen Elsa not having an escort. Then again, they’d only be in the way.”

    “It’s not like she’s going to get in trouble while in town,” Daniel agreed.  “I do hope that the two of them are careful at the end of their little hunt.”

    “Oh, I’m certain that they’ll be fine,” Kai smiled. “It’s good to see them so carefree,” he admitted.

    “Hi, Kai!  Hi, Daniel!” Olaf greeted them as he waddled by.  “Are you going to sing to Anna for her birthday?” he asked.

    Daniel knelt down to face the little snowman.  “When they come back from their gift hunt,” he promised.  “I don’t have the best voice for singing, though.  Where are you off to?”

    “I’m going to stick with Kristoff and Sven in the courtyard.  It’s bright and sunny outside,” Olaf said.  "And I get to keep an eye on the cake!"

    "Have fun with that," Daniel said gently. "I'll be out in the afternoon, all right?"

    "Bye, Daniel!  Bye, Kai!" Olaf said brightly.

    Kai smiled.  "You know, I'm still amazed that you're so kind to him.  Not many people could find it in their hearts to treat a snowman like a person."

    "He's just a kid who happens to be made out of snow," Daniel said.  "If he thinks that he's alive, that's close enough for me.  Besides, I think that he's everybody's little brother."

    “I suppose so,” Kai acknowledged.  He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts.  “If I may say, you and Queen Elsa have become rather…close.”

    “We’re friends,” Daniel pointed out.  “We’ve known each other for…nine months?  We see each other every day and we have informal conversations.”

    “And you two have danced together at least twice,” Kai reminded him.  “That in itself is a testament to the positive influence you’ve had on her.”

    Daniel noted what wasn’t being said.  He’d caused quite a stir when he’d danced with Elsa back in December.  In March, there were still rumblings, but those were minimized by the dance lottery.

    “I’m just happy to help,” he said earnestly. “I believe that she’s grown out of her shell.  It would be presumptuous to attribute that to only my small efforts.”

    Kai said nothing.  Instead, he smiled with some meaning that Daniel couldn’t quite divine. If the younger man didn’t know better, he could have sworn that Kai was being smug.

    “Yes, of course,” the majordomo said.  “As I recall, your father said the same thing about helping the late king."  He smirked. "Undue modesty appears to run in the family.  If you'll excuse me."

--------

    Daniel had spent most of the day circulating around the castle.  He didn't get to the courtyard until a few minutes before the appointed time.

    There was a smattering of childish voices behind the door.  That didn't make sense, as the choir was in town.

    "Dry banana hippy hat?!" he heard Kristoff exclaim.

    Daniel blinked.  Then, with some trepidation, he opened the door.

    Little snow creatures with simple, smiling faces were everywhere.  They skittered along on impossible, round feet with incredible speed.  He was agape at how Kristoff foiled their lunges at the birthday cake.

    "Hi, Daniel!" Olaf greeted him.  Well, Olaf's head greeted him from the floor. "Isn't this great?  I have little brothers now!"

    Daniel's jaw did not drop.  He'd spent entirely too much time training to be a diplomat to be taken off guard like that.  Very little intimidated him.  In stressful times, his reactions had to be clear-minded and direct.

    "Blimey," he breathed.

[eaexu]

Private Playlists

filthbois (lincoln x elias)

lips on you - maroon 5 (x) You wanna be reckless, restless, right until tomorrow. Wait. When I put my lips on you, you feel the shivers go up and down your spine for me. Make you cry for me, when I put my lips on you. I hear your voice echoing all through the night for me. Baby cry for me. When I put my lips on you. Just turn off the lights, and you could be my private dancer. When we close the curtains, you and me can forget all our manners. The neighbors must think we're crazy, baby, cause look how easily we keep coming undone

Hands to Myself - Selena Gomez (x) Can't keep my hands to myself, no matter how hard I'm trying to. I want you all to myself, you're metaphorical gin and juice. So come on, give me a taste of what it's like to be next to you, won't let one drop go to waste. All of the downs and the uppers, we keep making love to each other. And I'm trying, trying, I'm trying, trying, can't keep my hands to myself, give me your all and nothing else. My doctors say you're no good, but people say what they wanna say, and you should know if I could, I'd breathe you in every single day

PILLOWTALK - Zayn (x) Climb on board. We'll go slow and high tempo, light and dark. Hold me hard and mellow, I'm seeing the pain, seeing the pleasure. Nobody but you, 'body but me, 'body but us, bodies together. I love to hold you close, tonight and always. So we'll piss off the neighbours, in the place that feels the tears, the place to lose your fears. Yeah, reckless behavior, a place that is so pure, so dirty and raw. In the bed all day, bed all day, bed all day, fucking in and fighting on. It's our paradise and it's our war zone

Animal - Troye Sivan (x) I told you something safe, something I've never said before and I, I, I can't keep my hands off you. While you lie in the wake, covered all in the night before. I'm high, high, high, no one's got me quite like you. I want you all to myself, don't leave none for nobody else, I am an animal with you. No angels could beckon me back, and it's hotter than hell where I'm at. I am an animal with you. An ode to the boy I love, boy, I'll die to care for you. You're mine, mine, mine, tell me who do I owe that to? And as the days fly by, we'll be more than getting through, yeah, and in time, time, time, we'll build a home for two. I want you all to myself, don't leave none for nobody else. I am an animal with you

Young and Beautiful - Lana Del Rey (x) Dear lord, when I get to heaven, please let me bring my man. When he comes tell me that you'll let him in. Father tell me if you can, all that grace, all that body, all that face, makes me wanna party. He's my sun, he makes me shine like diamonds. Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful? Will you still love me when I've got nothing but my aching soul? I know you will, I know you will, I know that you will

art-hoes (jackie x des)

a little death - the neighbourhood (x)  The room was fit for two, the bed was left in ruins, the neighbor was knocking, yeah, but no one would let him in. Touch me, yeah. I want you to touch me there, make me feel like I am breathing, feel like I am human. Dancing through the night, a vodka and a sprite, a glimpse of the silhouettes, a night that they never forget.

BITE - Troye Sivan (x) Kiss me on the mouth and set me free, sing me like a choir, I can be the subject of your dreams, your sickening desire. Don't you wanna see a man up close? A phoenix in the fire. So kiss me on the mouth and set me free, but please, don't bite. You can coax the cold right out of me, drape me in your warmth, the rapture in the dark puts me at ease, the blind eye of the storm. Let's go for a walk down Easy Street where you can be reborn, and kiss me on the mouth and set me free, but please, don't bite.

Love Lies - Khalid & Normani (x) I need a lover to trust, tell me you're on my side. Are you down for the ride? It's not easy for someone to catch my eye, but I've been waitin' for you for my whole damn life, for my whole lifetime. Don't be afraid to tell me if you ain't with it, I see you're focused, yeah you're so independent. It's hard for me to open up, I'll admit it, you've got some shit to say and I'm here to listen. So baby, tell me where your love lies, waste the day and spend the night, underneath the sunrise. Show me where your love lies. I've been so into your mystery, is it because of our history? Are you into me? When it feels so good, but it's bad for you, can't say I don't want it 'cause I know I do. Come on over, I need your company, cravin' that synergy. 

Cherry Wine - Hozier (x) But I want it, it's a crime, that she's not around most of the time. The way she shows me I'm hers and she is mine, open hand or closed fist would be fine. Blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine. Her fight and fury is fiery, oh but she loves like sleep to the freezing, sweet and right and merciful. I'm all but washed in the tide of her breathing, and it's worth it, it's divine. I have this some of the time.The way she shows me I'm hers and she is mine. 

Malibu - Miley Cyrus (x) I never came to the beach or stood by the ocean, I never sat by the shore under the sun with my feet in the sand, but you brought me here and I'm happy that you did.  Cause now I'm as free as birds catching the wind, I always thought I would sink, so I never swam, I never went boatin', don't get how they are floatin', and sometimes I get so scared of what I can't understand, but here I am next to you. The sky is more blue, in Malibu, next to you. We watched the sun go down as we were walking, I'd spend the rest of my life just standing here talking. You would explain the current, as I just smile, hoping I just stay the same and nothing will change, and it'll be us, just for a while. Do we even exist? That's when I make the wish to swim away with the fish. Is it supposed to be this hot all summer long? I never would've believed you, if three years ago you told me I'd be here writing this song, but here I am, next to you

spookie-babes (olive x mur)

High School Sweethearts - Melanie Martinez (x) Can we just be honest? These are the requirements, if you think you can be my one and only true love. You must promise to love me, and damn it, if you fuck me over, I will rip your fucking face apart. Step one. You must accept that I'm a little out my mind. Step two. This is a waste if you can't walk me down the finish line. Step three. Give me passion, don't make fun of my fashion. Step four. Give me more, give me more, more. If you can't handle a heart like mine, don't waste your time with me. If you're not down to bleed, no, oh, if you can't handle the choking, the biting, the loving, the smothering, 'til you can't handle it no more, no more. Go home

Kiwi - Maroon 5 (x) But it's so strange, it's something new, amazing feelings that I have for you. I close my eyes when I'm alone, wonder what it'd be like to make you moan. I wanna give you something better, than anything you've ever had. A stronger and a faster lover, the world it disappears so fast. Sweet Kiwi, your juice is dripping down my chin. So please let me, don't stop it before it begins. So give it up, and don't pretend, and spread your arms and legs across the bed, and when you shake, you won't regret, the things I whisper in your ear

Bed Peace - Jhene Aiko (ft Childish Gambino) (x) Gotta act like I care about this fake stuff, straight up, what a waste of my day. If I had it my way I'd roll out of bed, say 'bout 2:30 mid day, hit the blunt then, hit you up to come over to my place. You show up right away, we make love then and then we fuck, and then you'd give me my space. What I am trying to say is, that love is ours to make so we should make it. Everything else can wait, the time is ours to take so we should take it. Wake up, wake up, bake up, gotta heat the vape up, let's get faded, gotta call your job tell em' you won't make it, ain't nobody here baby let's get wasted. We should just get naked

Past Lives - Kesha (x) We were lovers in a past life, I can see it in your green eyes. Maybe you were one of my wives? In a long lost tribe. There's just somethin' about you I know, started centuries ago though. You see your kiss is like a lost ghost, only I would know, but I, I keep on falling for you. Time after time, I'll make you mine, time after time. See millenniums ago love, we were nothing more than stardust. Just the galaxy beneath us, you found me. Then we made it though the ice age, but I lost you in the crusades. I build the pyramids for you babe, just to see your face.

Nothings going to hurt you baby - Cigarettes after Sex (x) Whispered something in your ear, it was a perverted thing to say, but I said it anyway. Made you smile and look away, nothing's gonna hurt you baby, as long as you're with me, you'll be just fine. Nothing's gonna hurt you baby. Nothing's gonna take you from my side. When we dance in my living room to that silly '90s R&B. When we have a drink or three, always ends in a hazy shower scene. Nothing's gonna hurt you baby, as long as you're with me, you'll be just fine. Nothing's gonna hurt you baby, nothing's gonna take you from my side

messes (patrick x elias)

a lover I dont have to love - bright eyes (x) Let's just keep touching, let's just keep keep singing. I want a lover I don't have to love, I want a boy who's so drunk he doesn't talk. Where's the kid with the chemicals? I got a hunger and I can't seem to get full. I need some meaning I can memorize. The kind I have always seems to slip my mind. But you, but you, you write such pretty words, but life's no story book. Love's an excuse to get hurt, and to hurt "Do you like to hurt?" "I do! I do!" "Then hurt me."

BOY - Charlie Puth (x) You tell me I'm too young but, I gave you what you wanted, baby, how dare you treat me just like a boy...You won't wake up beside me, cause I was born in the nineties. Baby, how do you treat me just like, like a boy, how dare you treat me just like a boy. 'Cause you talk a different talk, and you kiss me differently. Now I don't know where to go, after you love me this way, after you love me so good. How are you gonna tell me you don't wanna stay? 

Slow Dancing in the Dark - Joji (x) I don't want a friend, I want my life in two. Just one more night, waiting to get there, waiting for you, all night, I'm done fighting all night. When I'm around slow dancing in the dark. Don't follow me, you'll end up in my arms. You have made up your mind, I don't need no more signs, can you? Can you? Give me reasons we should be complete. You should be with him, I can't compete, you looked at me like I was someone else, oh well, can't you see? I don't wanna slow dance in the dark

Sexxxx Dreams - Lady Gaga (x) Last night, our lovers quarrel, I was thinking about you, more than I can say, and it was kind of dirty. All night, and the way that you looked at me, help me here, it was kind of nasty, it was kind of trashy. 'Cause I can't help my mind from going there. Heard your boyfriend was away this weekend,wanna meet at my place, heard that we both got nothing to do. When I lay in bed I touch myself and think of you. Last night, damn, you were in my sex dreams, doing really nasty things

the fuckups (em x alf)

earned it - the weeknd (x) You know our love would be tragic. So you don't pay it, don't pay it no mind. We live with no lies and you're my favourite kind of night. So I love when you call unexpected cause I hate when the moment's expected. So I'ma care for you, you, you. I'ma care for you, you, you, you, yeah. 'Cause girl you're perfect, you're always worth it and you deserve it.The way you work it. 'Cause girl you earned it.

Casual Affair - Panic! at the Disco (x) Hey, a casual affair, that could go anywhere, and only for tonight. Take any moment, any time, a lover on the left, a sinner on the right. Lay in the atmosphere, a casual affair. Lay in the atmosphere, a casual affair. Break involuntary ties, a secret so despised, could never find us out. Stay for as long as you have time, so the mess that we'll become, leaves something to talk about

Fetish - Selena Gomez (x) Reaching your limit, say you're reaching your limit, going over your limit, but I know you can't quit it. Something about me got you hooked on my body. Take you over and under and twisted up like origami, I'm not surprised, I sympathize, ah. I can't deny your appetite. You got a fetish for my love, I push you out and you come right back. Don't see a point in blaming you, if I were you, I'd do me too

Hurricane - Halsey (x) I went down to a place in Bed Stuy, a little liquor on my lips, I let him climb inside my body and held him captive in my kiss, and there's a storm you're starting now, theres a storm you’re starting. I'm a wandress, I'm a one night stand, don't belong to no city, don't belong to no man. I'm the violence in the pouring rain. I'm a hurricane

Eyes on Fire - Blue Foundation (x) I'll seek you out, flay you alive. One more word and you won't survive, and I'm not scared, of your stolen power. I see right through you any hour. I won't soothe your pain, I won't ease your strain. You'll be waiting in vain, I got nothing for you to gain. I'm taking it slow, feeding my flame, shuffling the cards of your game and just in time, in the right place, suddenly I will play my ace. 

[allthingskiszka]

My Favorite Asshole Pt.2

This is a Jake Kiszka x reader story but will involve the others. 

This will be a multiple part story and pretty lengthy, I also may be slow to upload because my work schedule is pretty crazy. with that being said here we go!!! (p.s sorry about any errors I will proof-read but may miss something)

Word Count: +1,600

Part One

As the 8th-period bell rang you and Ronnie walked towards the parking lot to meet her brothers and Danny at Josh’s van. You saw a very run down Volkswagon van come into view and a curly-headed Josh laughing and making jokes with a group of teens. You then felt a presence next to you when you looked up you came face to face with Sam, he had the brightest smile on his face.

“How was your first day, songbird?”

“Songbird, I don’t know about that; but today has been better then I imagined” you said with a slight laugh

“Oh you don’t like it, gives me even more reason to call you it, and of course today was better then you expected, you got to meet a really tall, very sexy, long-haired man”

you just rolled your eyes “yeah in your dreams Sammy, you’re not my type and you aren’t a man you’re a boy.”

“Oooo feisty, I like it. If I’m not your type then what is, because I’m everyone's type”

“That’s none of your business, but I can assure you, your not it”

“Wow, that hurt” Sam said with a slight laugh you just rolled your eyes and let out a small laugh when you got to the van you looked around and saw that everyone was there but Jake. You guys joked around for a bit and you looked in the distance and saw Jake walking towards you all holding hand with some girl. For some reason, this bothered you because while Sam wasn’t your type, Jake sure was. You just turned your head as they were a few feet away and started to talk to Ronnie. You heard Josh's voice break through all conversation

“Well if it isn’t the two love birds, Who take there time? We are all waiting on you Jake” Josh said with an annoyed tone to his voice.

“Whoa man, Take a chill pill. I was just walking Sarah to her car. Give me two seconds” you looked back at Ronnie with wide eyes she whispers in your ear 

“Josh can’t stand Jake’s girlfriend, well we all can’t stand her.” you just silently shake your head you guys pile into the van and wait for Jake to get back to the Van. When he got in he immediately started in with Josh.

“What the hell man, why do you have to be such an ass?”

“Me you're the one that took your sweet ass time getting to the van”

“Whatever man just lay-off next time, She doesn’t deserve to be shit on by you all the time”

“Bro, she legit has cheated on you twice and is a total bitch” you were taken aback by this, this is when Sam butts in

“While I agree with Josh, we should drop it. Let Jake get his heart broken again.”

“Fuck off Sam nobody asked you” this was getting extremely heated just as Sam was going to speak Ronnie cuts him off

“Hey all, this isn’t the time or place. You all need to calm down, Jake try to be on time, Josh bit your tongue next time, and Sam don’t go so far next time.”

“Whatever” Jake said with a huff. The drive to their place was pretty quiet Josh had to turn on some music. As Josh turns left on a country road Van Morrison- Into The Mystic starts to play.

“Hey Josh, can you turn this up, it’s one of my favorites” 

“Sure thing” as the song grew louder you started to softly sing you heard Josh and Sam join in and Ronnie just sway to the music; as the song fades Danny spoke

“Holy shit y/n, you’ve got pipes, Sam was right”

“Told you Danny songbird could replace Josh if he ever gets too annoying” Sam said with a laugh

“Thanks, Danny I dabble, and Sam if you call me songbird one more time I’ll kill you, also what am I replacing Josh in?”

“Our band, and I’m not scared of you one-bit songbird” Sam said in a sing-songy voice

“Hey, hey, hey nobody is replacing me in anything, but I dig the nickname. Your officially songbird”

“No, I am not” you say with a slight laugh

“I kinda like it too” Danny Said 

“I won’t call you that if you don’t want to be called that. But I can’t control these fools” Ronnie said with a giggle the van finally came to a stop. Jake was the first one out of the van and in the house, he slammed both doors in the process.

“He has such an attitude problem sometimes, sorry if it makes you feel awkward you’ll get used to it tho” Sam said reassuringly

“Yeah it’s super bad when Sarah is in the picture” Josh said quietly

“You should watch us practice later, we love getting new fans” Sam said with a laugh

“Oh totally, I have some homework and lines to practice, but I down.”

We walked in and Ronnie gave me a small tour of the house and we went and sat our stuff at the kitchen table to do our homework. About 2 hours had past and you guys just finished last of your homework Ronnie spoke up

“I’m gonna jump in the shower real quick before I start cooking dinner, do you want to see if Josh or Jake wants to run lines with you?”

“Sure” you guys got up and walked up the stairs towards Josh room you knocked but there was no answer 

“Maybe he went out, let's go see if Jakes in his room” you reached the last door at the end of the hall and Ronnie knocked softly you hear some light music playing in the background and footsteps coming to the door. As Jake opens the door he starts to speak 

“Josh, I told you to leave me be until after dinner...” as the door opens all the way your face to face with very annoyed jake, his face soon relaxes when he realizes it’s you and Ronnie

“Hey dork, Do you know where Josh is we can’t find him?”

“Nah, he was annoying me about an hour ago but I flipped out on him, he may have gone to the store”

“Oh okay, I’m gonna jump in the shower do you want to help run lines with y/n until I’m out?” Jake seemed to be taking back a little bit

“Sure, She probably needs all the help she can get.” he quickly recovered from his initial reaction.

“Cool, just don’t be a dick”

“Okay Ronnie” He said with an eye roll he then looked at you and opened his door wider letting you in you took a seat on the little couch he had by his window he closed the door and walked towards the record player

“What do you want to listen to?”

“I’m down for anything” your eye wandered down the back of him he was wearing grey joggers that fit him perfectly and a t-shirt that was a little cropped when he bent down to grab a new record his shirt lifted a little revealing his back you zoned a little and as he turned around you were still looking at him.

“Hey y/l/n my eyes are up here” he said with a smirk on his face

“Don’t flatter yourself Jake, I just zoned out” you could feel the heat rise to your cheeks but you quickly got in your bag and pulled out the script

“Don’t worry about it, I zone out all the time staring at people asses” he said with a laugh

“Whatever, do you want to get started”

“Sure” He sat down at the chair at his desk and you guys read your lines, sharing laughs when you messed up, and also getting to know each other a little bit. Time flew by next thing you know Ronnie was knocking at the door interrupting you and jake from your concentration. 

“Foods done, Get your asses down here. Mom and dad aren’t joining us I guess they are on a business trip. for the rest of the week.”

“What trip, they didn’t even tell us about it”

“Don’t ask me, maybe they just wanted to get away for the madness that is this house, How’s it going you guys feel confident in the parts?”

“We’re pretty much guaranteed the parts, Mrs.Jones always gives it to the soloist shes already picked in choir” Jake spoke you met the rest of the crew downstairs and start to eat, small talk broke out and Josh planned a little party for Saturday, You all spoke and joked around Jake even joined in which took you by surprise because he had been so quite previously. As you all finished the boys dragged you and Ronnie out to the garage so they could practice and play for you. As they started to play your eyes were immediately on Jake they way he played the guitar was unlike anything you have ever seen, you soon were broken out of your trance by the sound of Josh’s vocals your eyes start to drift around to each of the boys they all looked like they were having so much fun, you always found your way back to Jake, he caught you staring once and just smiled at you, you shook your head and looked a Sam he was on the keys having the absolute time of his life. You turned to Ronnie,

“They are really good like I’m shocked”

“Extremely good, they make me so proud”

“Nobody plays music like this anymore, What’s their band name?”

“Greta Van Fleet”

“I defiantly am not replacing Josh” you both laughed and went back to jamming out as the boy's practice came to an end Josh asked you what you thought.

“That was fucking incredible, like amazing your voice, Sam on bass and Keys, Danny’s drumming, and Jake on guitar, I mean come on, it amazing you guys are amazing”

“Thank’s songbird” Sam spoke

“Did you zone out at all y/l/n” Jake said with a cocky smirk on his face

“At times yes only during the guitar solos, they were kinda boring” you said with a laugh everyone joined in and jake just shook his head with a smile.

“Hey all as fun as this has been it’s getting kinda late, I think I should be heading home” you spoke “Me too” said Danny

“Yeah okay, I can take you guys” Josh spoke

“I’ll tag along” Ronnie said

As you climbed in the van your mind drifted to Jake. How could he have a girlfriend, this is just your luck. It’s probably for the best because you really like these guys no need to ruin that by falling for Jake. You guys drove in the night listening to music and talking. You couldn't wait to spend more time with the five of them. 

Tags @captainxmoony @lunautica13

[antihero-writings]

The Simplest Gifts Chapter 1: Tied by a Song—Pandora Hearts Fic for Phmonth18 Prompt: Song (Full Chapter)

Fic Title: The Simplest Gifts

Fic Synopsis: Christmas may not be the happiest time for the Children of Misfortune, still, sometimes it's the simplest things that can bring joy

Chapter Title: Tied by a Song

Character Focus: Lacie, Oswald, and Lottie

Notes: I originally started coming up with this prompt for "siblings," but in the end I think it works a lot better for the Phmonth18 Tragedy Trio Prompt: Song Please go easy on me, this was edited fast, and is the first Tragedy Trio fic I've posted!

This is a repost of an old fic!

Chapter 1:

Two children walked through the snow, their little boots sinking into the powder. The girl breathed out, watching her breath form frostbitten clouds in the air before them. The boy, her brother, shivered, putting his hands into his coat pockets.

Lacie stumbled forward to catch up with him, holding onto the crook of his arm.

The town square was quiet, the snow creating an atmosphere of dormancy—though the few people who were there in the little place wore smiles, red noses, and cheerful laughs. They saw some kids putting ornaments on the trees, or throwing snowballs at each other, and though there was longing in the sibling’s eyes, neither felt the urge to join them.

As they passed an old church, notes to a song fluttered out into the winter air, as they often do for lonely children on Christmas Eves.

It took a moment for Oswald to realize his sister wasn’t following him. He turned to see her staring up at the church’s big oak doors, as if tied there by the song.

“Lacie?” he asked, running up beside her.

She stared, her red eyes shimmering like the snow itself, a smile tickling her lips.

Without warning, she grabbed his hand, and dragged him up the steps. But when she reached out towards the doors to open them, Oswald pulled her back.

“Let’s go in!” Lacie smiled, joining his game of tug of war.

“We can’t!”

“Why not, silly?”

Oswald paused, looking up at the the stones and symbols, thinking hard.

“Well I’m going inside,” determination set in to her expression, “If you want to sit outside like a loser you can,” she stuck her tongue out, then grinned and waved, heaving open the doors with all her might.

Music spilled out of the cracks.

She was right; it was beautiful, tempting, almost intoxicating.

As long as he could remember, she had always been enchanting by music.

And in truth, when she herself sang her lullabies and songs, he found them, her voice, quite lovely.

“Wait!” he called as she left him out in the cold.

She didn’t wait.

The door closed with a large bang, sending puffs of loose flakes his way.

He stood there for a moment. Then, his brows set, his arms crossed, Oswald plopped down on the stone steps, back to the doors, incensed by her recklessness, and disregard for his on wishes. There was nothing wrong with sitting and listening to a choir singing, but there were times for such things, time they surely didn’t have. They had to keep going.

She always did things like this; running off without his say-so.

Inside, the world was a dream in white and gold. The glass sent colorful stained patterns onto the floorboards, wreaths and evergreen boughs lined the pews and pedestals, candles shone from the chandeliers and there were even some in an advent wreath at the front. The pretty music was coming from a small circle of women at the front of the church; the notes fluttered like butterflies let loose into the vaulted ceiling of the place, coming down to land on her ears. Lacie’s eyes widened, a smile breaking out across her face.

There were a few other people there, praying, alone, together, a pastor studying the scriptures, another kid, trying to get some relief from the cold.

“Hello little one!” a man’s voice came from her side. He was wearing long white robes that told her he worked at the church. “And what might you be doing here?”

“I just heard the pretty music and thought I’d stop by to listen!” she beamed.

“Well we’re happy to have you.” He smiled back. “Would you care to sit?”

Lacie nodded, shimmying into a pew at the back.

The man went about his own business, as she sat there for a little while, watching the music float by. She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there—(Oswald still shivered in the cold outside, but refused to enter on principal)—but someone who was sitting a few pews up stood to leave. Upon passing her, he turned, the gentle smile, transforming into something akin to fear, or disgust.

“Hello sir!” Lacie kicked her feet back and forth.

Without response, he sped his pace, hurrying out.

I wonder what his problem is, Lacie mused, returning to the music.

Soon enough, as the light outside continued to fade, another person turned to leave, and when she saw her, her expression morphed too.

This time the man who had spoke to Lacie earlier came up beside her.

“Excuse me, but may I ask whatever the matter is?”

“A…” her voice was quiet, shaking, but passionate enough to hear, “A child of Ill-Omen!”

She pointed an accusing finger and Lacie, as if her existence was a crime.

The proclamation ran its course through the space, and set an end to all the pretty music.

Oh. This again.

Everyone turned upon the girl in the last pew; standing on their tiptoes to get a good look at her, recoiling, or trying to exit unnoticed.

She hopped up off the pew, standing tall, that defiance reappearing later in the show.

“My name’s Lacie,” she put a hand on her chest. “And I’d thank you to call me by it.”

Outside, Oswald saw the first person leave in a hurry, then as others filed out, he heard them mutter with icy breath A Child of Ill-Omen.

He stood up quickly, looking back in horror towards the church. All grievance forgotten.

What if they were hurting her? What if they tried to take her away from him? What if…What if…

He burst through the doors, his eyes darting across the room until he found his sister standing at the back, the rest maintaining a healthy distance from her, whispering things about misfortune, ill omen, eyes, and the color red.

He marched up to his sister—“Come on, Lacie”—took her hand in his, in the same way she had before, and tried to pull her away from the place.

“But Nii-sama…” she protested softly.

She always thought she could change their minds. That people like that wouldn’t always be filled with hate, with fear.

“We’re leaving.” His voice may have been a child’s, but his tone held the finality of an adult’s.

They continued to whisper.

He hated to hear those cursed words.

And with that hatred turning cold fingers into fists, he turned towards the crowd, cursing them in return,

“She’s not an Ill-Omen. She’s my sister.”

“Come on, Lottie, let’s make snow angels!” Lily giggled.

The older woman grinned back, and, without a moment’s thought, flumped back into the snow.

The child did the same, both waving their arms and legs, creating wings for themselves out of the cold. Fang and Dug stopped and turned, shocked at the childishness of their comrades, then they smiled at each other, trying not to laugh.

“Come on, it’s fun!”

“I think we’ll—” Fang began, but Dug’s body thudding against the ground interrupted him.

Fang rolled his eyes, laughing before he fell beside Lily.

As they lay there in the snow, laughing, watching the flakes fall from the navy sky, perfectly peaceful, perfectly happy, Lottie heard something.

“What is it?” Fang asked when he saw her sit up.

She paused, listening.

Light notes to drifted to her ears. It was a sad song, sung by a deep voice—as if he the notes themselves were trying to reach heaven, but they were pulled back to earth by the depth of his voice.

It was coming from the church on the grounds. It was a Christmas song, an old one, about bells and hope and stars and children.

She stood—careful to avoid messing up her snow creation—before rushing towards it, as if a string was connected her to the words.

“Hey, Lottie!” Lily called.

She pranced up the steps, pressing her ear to the cracked oak doors.

Could it be?

No, surely he wouldn’t. Surely she wasn’t hearing this, hearing him. Surely this wasn’t what she thought.

It was Glen’s voice.

There were rumors that their master could sing, but, ever the strong and silent type, he would never prove or deny any such allegations. Maybe he didn’t think it was worth his time (as they often found was the case with him and most fun things) maybe he was embarrassed to do it front of people, especially his servants—(it was, however, hard to think of Glen embarrassed)—maybe there was some other reason, like it reminded him of something long ago, and he didn’t want to talk about it…

She placed her hand on it.

Should she go in?

As long as she didn’t, nothing would prove her wrong, would prove that it was him.

Because surely it wasn’t him.

And if it was, he probably didn’t want her coming in and interrupting him. He might yell at her, or punish her.

They never intended on telling Glen, but there were a few Christmas carols they practiced every year—more like Lily made them practice, (though they grew to quite enjoy it)—just for a little something to keep them going during the season. And the song floating through the door just so happened to be one they had practiced.

She took a deep breath.

Could it be?

Could she? Could she find the strength?

Dare she?

She let it out in the form of harmony, pouring from her own lips, the source of the music coming from both inside and out now.

A snowball fight had broken out behind her, and their shenanigans came to a halt at the sound of her voice.

The voice inside stopped too.

She should have guessed as much.

She took another breath, her heart pounding, but she didn’t stop.

As she continued, somehow, the voice inside decided to continue, softer now.

If she moved forward—steps to the song, steps in the snow—what would he do? Would he run off like some scared animal? Should she stay out here for the entirety of the tune, never proving or denying her suspicions?

There was nothing left to do.

Her harmony wasn’t any good out here.

On a particularly long note, she pushed open the doors, stepping in on her little red heels.

Upon seeing her, he shot up.

The singer was, in fact, Glen. All black clothes and hair, his cheeks bright red—(she’d never seen him so embarrassed before. But she probably didn’t look much different).

Before they could decide to stop or continue the song, before he could bolt, or she could pull him back, Lily ran in through the door, Fang and Dug at her heels.

“Hey! Whjya stop?” she demanded.

They stared at each other, eyes wide.

Maybe he just didn’t think anyone wanted to listen.

She nodded at Lily, and started at the place they had left off.

Dug came in next, his voice even deeper than Glen’s, (and not nearly so melodic), still a welcome change to his usual silence. Lily was a bit unpracticed, but the high notes fell from her tongue. Fang next, admiration is his eyes as they turned to Lottie, who couldn’t help but smile.

Glen looked at the ground, and didn’t resume.

Lily stopped, puffing her cheeks in exasperation. She scuttled up to her master, pulling on his cloak.

“Lily!” Lottie stopped too, running up to grab her, scoop her up, and stop her (causing Fang and Dug to stop as well) “You can’t talk to Glen-sama that way!” she shout-whispered.

“But he’s not singing!”

“He doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to.”

There was a moment. Then—

“It’s alright,” the words were dull and held the usual lack of emotion, still they were the last thing she expected to hear.

She looked up, sure her shock was written all over her face.

Fang took Lily from her, and placed her on his shoulders as the two of them started again.

Charlotte and Dug joined quickly, but this time Glen’s voice joined theirs.

It made her want to cry, to hear him singing. All of them, together, like a family, and him…but, like all moments of paradise, the song had to come to an end.

And with the last note, Glen pulled his cloak close, and marched out, leaving nothing but cold wind in his wake.

They didn’t know that was a song that had once pulled Lacie, out of the cold, and that he was singing to remember her. They didn’t even know if he enjoyed singing with them, or if he hated every second. They didn’t know if he felt the same way they did.

But what they did know, was that it would never happen again.

[i-prefer-the-term-antihero]

The Simplest Gifts Chapter 1: Tied by a Song—Pandora Hearts Fic for Tragedy Trio Week—Prompt 3: Song (Full Fic)

Fic Title: The Simplest Gifts

Chapter Title: Tied by a Song

Character Focus: Glen | Oswald Baskerville, Lacie Baskerville, Lottie Baskerville

Fic Synopsis: Christmas may not be the happiest time for the Children of Misfortune, still, sometimes it's the simplest things that can bring joy

Chapter 1:

Two children walked through the snow, their little boots sinking into the powder. The girl breathed out, watching her breath form frostbitten clouds in the air before them. The boy, her brother, shivered, putting his hands into his coat pockets.

Lacie stumbled forward to catch up with him, holding onto the crook of his arm.

The town square was quiet, the snow creating an atmosphere of dormancy—though the few people who were there in the little place wore smiles, red noses, and cheerful laughs. They saw some kids putting ornaments on the trees, or throwing snowballs at each other, and though there was longing in the sibling’s eyes, neither felt the urge to join them.

As they passed an old church, notes to a song fluttered out into the winter air, as they often do for lonely children on Christmas Eves.

It took a moment for Oswald to realize his sister wasn’t following him. He turned to see her staring up at the church’s big oak doors, as if tied there by the song.

“Lacie?” he asked, running up beside her.

She stared, her red eyes shimmering like the snow itself, a smile tickling her lips.

Without warning, she grabbed his hand, and dragged him up the steps. But when she reached out towards the doors to open them, Oswald pulled her back.

“Let’s go in!” Lacie smiled, joining his game of tug of war.

“We can’t!”

“Why not, silly?”

Oswald paused, looking up at the the stones and symbols, thinking hard.

“Well I’m going inside,” determination set in to her expression, “If you want to sit outside like a loser you can,” she stuck her tongue out, then grinned and waved, heaving open the doors with all her might.

Music spilled out of the cracks.

She was right; it was beautiful, tempting, almost intoxicating.

As long as he could remember, she had always been enchanting by music.

And in truth, when she herself sang her lullabies and songs, he found them, her voice, quite lovely.

“Wait!” he called as she left him out in the cold.

She didn’t wait.

The door closed with a large bang, sending puffs of loose flakes his way.

He stood there for a moment. Then, his brows set, his arms crossed, Oswald plopped down on the stone steps, back to the doors, incensed by her recklessness, and disregard for his on wishes. There was nothing wrong with sitting and listening to a choir singing, but there were times for such things, time they surely didn’t have. They had to keep going.

She always did things like this; running off without his say-so.

Inside, the world was a dream in white and gold. The glass sent colorful stained patterns onto the floorboards, wreaths and evergreen boughs lined the pews and pedestals, candles shone from the chandeliers and there were even some in an advent wreath at the front. The pretty music was coming from a small circle of women at the front of the church; the notes fluttered like butterflies let loose into the vaulted ceiling of the place, coming down to land on her ears. Lacie’s eyes widened, a smile breaking out across her face.

There were a few other people there, praying, alone, together, a pastor studying the scriptures, another kid, trying to get some relief from the cold.

“Hello little one!” a man’s voice came from her side. He was wearing long white robes that told her he worked at the church. “And what might you be doing here?”

“I just heard the pretty music and thought I’d stop by to listen!” she beamed.

“Well we’re happy to have you.” He smiled back. “Would you care to sit?”

Lacie nodded, shimmying into a pew at the back.

The man went about his own business, as she sat there for a little while, watching the music float by. She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there—(Oswald still shivered in the cold outside, but refused to enter on principal)—but someone who was sitting a few pews up stood to leave. Upon passing her, he turned, the gentle smile, transforming into something akin to fear, or disgust.

“Hello sir!” Lacie kicked her feet back and forth.

Without response, he sped his pace, hurrying out.

I wonder what his problem is, Lacie mused, returning to the music.

Soon enough, as the light outside continued to fade, another person turned to leave, and when she saw her, her expression morphed too.

This time the man who had spoke to Lacie earlier came up beside her.

“Excuse me, but may I ask whatever the matter is?”

“A…” her voice was quiet, shaking, but passionate enough to hear, “A child of Ill-Omen!”

She pointed an accusing finger and Lacie, as if her existence was a crime.

The proclamation ran its course through the space, and set an end to all the pretty music.

Oh. This again.

Everyone turned upon the girl in the last pew; standing on their tiptoes to get a good look at her, recoiling, or trying to exit unnoticed.

She hopped up off the pew, standing tall, that defiance reappearing later in the show.

“My name’s Lacie,” she put a hand on her chest. “And I’d thank you to call me by it.”

Outside, Oswald saw the first person leave in a hurry, then as others filed out, he heard them mutter with icy breath A Child of Ill-Omen.

He stood up quickly, looking back in horror towards the church. All grievance forgotten.

What if they were hurting her? What if they tried to take her away from him? What if…What if…

He burst through the doors, his eyes darting across the room until he found his sister standing at the back, the rest maintaining a healthy distance from her, whispering things about misfortune, ill omen, eyes, and the color red.

He marched up to his sister—“Come on, Lacie”—took her hand in his, in the same way she had before, and tried to pull her away from the place.

“But Nii-sama…” she protested softly.

She always thought she could change their minds. That people like that wouldn’t always be filled with hate, with fear.

“We’re leaving.” His voice may have been a child’s, but his tone held the finality of an adult’s.

They continued to whisper.

He hated to hear those cursed words.

And with that hatred turning cold fingers into fists, he turned towards the crowd, cursing them in return,

“She’s not an Ill-Omen. She’s my sister.”

“Come on, Lottie, let’s make snow angels!” Lily giggled.

The older woman grinned back, and, without a moment’s thought, flumped back into the snow.

The child did the same, both waving their arms and legs, creating wings for themselves out of the cold. Fang and Dug stopped and turned, shocked at the childishness of their comrades, then they smiled at each other, trying not to laugh.

“Come on, it’s fun!”

“I think we’ll—” Fang began, but Dug’s body thudding against the ground interrupted him.

Fang rolled his eyes, laughing before he fell beside Lily.

As they lay there in the snow, laughing, watching the flakes fall from the navy sky, perfectly peaceful, perfectly happy, Lottie heard something.

“What is it?” Fang asked when he saw her sit up.

She paused, listening.

Light notes to drifted to her ears. It was a sad song, sung by a deep voice—as if he the notes themselves were trying to reach heaven, but they were pulled back to earth by the depth of his voice.

It was coming from the church on the grounds. It was a Christmas song, an old one, about bells and hope and stars and children.

She stood—careful to avoid messing up her snow creation—before rushing towards it, as if a string was connected her to the words.

“Hey, Lottie!” Lily called.

She pranced up the steps, pressing her ear to the cracked oak doors.

Could it be?

No, surely he wouldn’t. Surely she wasn’t hearing this, hearing him. Surely this wasn’t what she thought.

It was Glen’s voice.

There were rumors that their master could sing, but, ever the strong and silent type, he would never prove or deny any such allegations. Maybe he didn’t think it was worth his time (as they often found was the case with him and most fun things) maybe he was embarrassed to do it front of people, especially his servants—(it was, however, hard to think of Glen embarrassed)—maybe there was some other reason, like it reminded him of something long ago, and he didn’t want to talk about it…

She placed her hand on it.

Should she go in?

As long as she didn’t, nothing would prove her wrong, would prove that it was him.

Because surely it wasn’t him.

And if it was, he probably didn’t want her coming in and interrupting him. He might yell at her, or punish her.

They never intended on telling Glen, but there were a few Christmas carols they practiced every year—more like Lily made them practice, (though they grew to quite enjoy it)—just for a little something to keep them going during the season. And the song floating through the door just so happened to be one they had practiced.

She took a deep breath.

Could it be?

Could she? Could she find the strength?

Dare she?

She let it out in the form of harmony, pouring from her own lips, the source of the music coming from both inside and out now.

A snowball fight had broken out behind her, and their shenanigans came to a halt at the sound of her voice.

The voice inside stopped too.

She should have guessed as much.

She took another breath, her heart pounding, but she didn’t stop.

As she continued, somehow, the voice inside decided to continue, softer now.

If she moved forward—steps to the song, steps in the snow—what would he do? Would he run off like some scared animal? Should she stay out here for the entirety of the tune, never proving or denying her suspicions?

There was nothing left to do.

Her harmony wasn’t any good out here.

On a particularly long note, she pushed open the doors, stepping in on her little red heels.

Upon seeing her, he shot up.

The singer was, in fact, Glen. All black clothes and hair, his cheeks bright red—(she’d never seen him so embarrassed before. But she probably didn’t look much different).

Before they could decide to stop or continue the song, before he could bolt, or she could pull him back, Lily ran in through the door, Fang and Dug at her heels.

“Hey! Whjya stop?” she demanded.

They stared at each other, eyes wide.

Maybe he just didn’t think anyone wanted to listen.

She nodded at Lily, and started at the place they had left off.

Dug came in next, his voice even deeper than Glen’s, (and not nearly so melodic), still a welcome change to his usual silence. Lily was a bit unpracticed, but the high notes fell from her tongue. Fang next, admiration is his eyes as they turned to Lottie, who couldn’t help but smile.

Glen looked at the ground, and didn’t resume.

Lily stopped, puffing her cheeks in exasperation. She scuttled up to her master, pulling on his cloak.

“Lily!” Lottie stopped too, running up to grab her, scoop her up, and stop her (causing Fang and Dug to stop as well) “You can’t talk to Glen-sama that way!” she shout-whispered.

“But he’s not singing!”

“He doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to.”

There was a moment. Then—

“It’s alright,” the words were dull and held the usual lack of emotion, still they were the last thing she expected to hear.

She looked up, sure her shock was written all over her face.

Fang took Lily from her, and placed her on his shoulders as the two of them started again.

Charlotte and Dug joined quickly, but this time Glen’s voice joined theirs.

It made her want to cry, to hear him singing. All of them, together, like a family, and him…but, like all moments of paradise, the song had to come to an end.

And with the last note, Glen pulled his cloak close, and marched out, leaving nothing but cold wind in his wake.

They didn’t know that was a song that had once pulled Lacie, out of the cold, and that he was singing to remember her. They didn’t even know if he enjoyed singing with them, or if he hated every second. They didn’t know if he felt the same way they did.

But what they did know, was that it would never happen again.

[yaelaswritingspace]

Sixty Four

Angsty DaiSuga, because why not. Inspired by a combination of reading fractalbright’s beautiful fic distortedly, yours and the song ‘When I’m Sixty Four’ by the Beatles running in my head ‘cuz we’re practicing it for choir. I recommend you listen to it before reading!

“When I get older, losing my hair . . .”

Daichi blinks awake, sleep receding in a gentle wave. The curtain are pulled apart just so, letting warm sunlight stream over the bed, and the familiar tune washes over him, transporting him back to years ago in a matter of seconds.

“Many years from now . . .”

A quiet thump as something is set down on the dresser, the rattle of ceramic cups and small, silvered spoons. Daichi mouths the next words almost unconsciously, blank eyes on the muted orange curtains.

(‘They’ll make it look warm and homey, Daichi - especially since you decided our room would be fine with just plain white walls. Honestly, the sheer lack of taste you have is unbelievable.’)

“Will you still be sending me a valentine . . .”

He squeezes his eyes shut against the memories - a pink tongue sticking out teasingly, brown eyes sparkling, that half smile that blossomed into a delighted grin so easily -  and begins to get up, groaning softly when his back twinges in protest.

The song stops immediately, and warm hands are on his shoulders, easing him up.

“Good morning, Daichi. How are you feeling today?”

He looks up into dark eyes and pale skin, a beauty spot and a sweep of silver hair across the forehead, and swallows the quiet pain easily. It’s become second nature, now.

“Well enough, Koushi. Could you help me to the bathroom? And the kitchen, after I’m done with the hot chocolate.”

“Of course, Daichi.”

It’s maybe half an hour later that Daichi is sitting at the dining table, his hands curled around a cup of steaming coffee. Koushi had handed it to him almost absently, two spoons of sugar and a dash of milk mixed in perfectly. Effortlessly.

(‘Sacrilege, that’s what it is. The only coffee worth drinking is pure black - don’t you make that face at me!’)

Suga would have said that. Suga would have protested, teased him mercilessly, refused to add any sugar at all until Daichi caught him by the waist, pressed him against the counter, kissed him until he melted - and then again until the coffee was abandoned without a second thought. They’d come back later to find it stone cold and undrinkable, and of course Suga would blame him for that, pouting like a five year old while his eyes danced.

“ . . . would you lock the door? Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m sixty four?”

Daichi sips the coffee, feeling the warmth spread through his chest. Yet it doesn’t quite counteract the small, cold pit in his stomach, and he contemplates telling Koushi to stop singing - or at least to pick a different song. Chances are, though, if he did, Koushi would pick something silly, like Crazy in Love - he’s had an unaccountable liking for that song, of late, and if he sang that -

Daichi knows his cheeks are going red, he can feel it, and he hurriedly sips again, firmly pushing away the memory of what he and Suga were doing the first time he heard that song.

(‘You have to admit it does kind of suit the mood.’

“Oh, my g- Suga, it most certainly does not!’

‘I’ll have to go and thank you neighbours for it later.’

‘ . . . devil.’

A cheeky look, pink cheeks, still panting above him, chest rising and falling like an ocean Daichi can drown in - does drown in - over and over and over again.

‘Angel.’

And again.)

The pan sizzles as Koushi slips a spatula under the egg, sliding it off, being careful not to break the yolk. Two slices of bread, a knife and cheese, and then he’s waiting politely by Daichi’s chair, calm as a mountain lake.

“Will you be needing anything else, Daichi?”

“No, I don’t think so. Start with the garden before you sweep, will you?”

“Of course.”

Koushi slips on bright red gardening gloves - Suga’s beloved gardening gloves - and heads outside, clippers in one hand, trowel in the other. Daichi watches him go, hears the song start again, hears it float in through the open window.

“Doing the garden, digging the weeds . . .”

And he can’t resist it any longer. He’s swept back to his twentieth birthday, his twenty-third, his thirty-fifth, his thirty-ninth -

(‘Mine forevermore,’ Suga sings, a soft murmur against his lips. All Daichi can taste is cake cream, sugary and oversweet; all he can smell is sputtering candles, melting wax, Suga’s cologne -

‘Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m sixty-four?’

- and all he can see is Suga, still beautiful with wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and fading hair.

‘Of course,’ he breathes, resting his forehead against Suga’s. ‘Always.’

And Suga smiles back, eyes deep and dark and overflowing with love.)

Daichi blinks, wiping away a lone tear that’s trickled down his cheek.

“Will you still be sending me a - will you still be sending me a - will you still be sending me a -”

He sighs, gets up slowly, sticks his head out of the window. “Koushi,” he calls. “Come in, please.”

Koushi walks in abashed, head hanging. He hates it more than anything when he fails in a function, any function at all - even if it’s something as minor as singing a song he knows Daichi likes.

“It’s okay. Just stand in your charging port for a bit, will you? That usually helps.”

He doesn’t even vocalize an affirmative, just nods and walks away, steps dragging. Daichi sighs again, rubbing a hand over his face before he reaches out and touches the first number on speed dial on the videophone.

The screen springs to life, hologram projecting solid light into the air. The voxels shimmer, blur, and then compose themselves into Kuroo Tetsurou’s yawning form.

“Mornin’, Daichi,” he says sleepily. “Wasn’t expecting a call, something wrong?”

“Hey.” Daichi swallows, making sure his voice doesn’t wobble. “No, it’s just that Koushi needs a checkup.”

“Yeah? What’s the problem?”

“He’s been forgetting more often that usual, vocal function getting stuck, random loss of motor control - the usual.”

“Mhm. He’s, what, at least twenty years old?”

“Twenty four.”

“RIght. Well, it’s probably the usual, like you say. Bring him in whenever you like, I’ll let Futakuchi know.”

“Thanks, I’ll send him in by tomorrow. Were you working the whole night, by the way?”

“Yep. We’re on the verge of a breakthrough with constructing the first accurate, viable empathy program - or so Matsukawa says. He’s been driving us like dogs.”

“Retire already, why don’t you? Leave the revolutions to the younger generation. Besides, you can’t pull that hairstyle off with white hair. I mean, it’s not like you could with black either, but -”

“Oh, lay off,” Kuroo says lazily. “Like you have a strand of black hair left. Besides, I’m only sixty three, you know. Nobuhiko is still active, and she’s seventy five.”

“The mother of the robotics revolution gets a free pass, Tetsu. You don’t.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll retire when I’m seventy, Sawamura, and not a moment before.”

Daichi shakes his head. “At least get some sleep.”

“I’m going, I’m going. God, you’re worse than Kenma. Okay, so send Koushi in, I’ll make sure I’m there myself, yeah?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Cool. Oh, Daichi -” Tetsurou hesitates, pauses in the motion of breaking the contact. “Happy birthday.”

Daichi swallows again, harder than before, pushing it all down. “Thanks.”

He can see a glimmer of sorrowful understanding in Tetsurou’s eyes, even through the hologram, just before it fizzles out. He stays still, staring at the place where the image had been projected, clenching his fists desperately.

But he can’t, he never can withstand it. It breaks over him, a flood of sorrow and nostalgia and I miss you I miss you I miss you resounding through his heart, pounding into his aching body with pain that hardly seems to diminish, year after year.

At least no one but Koushi will ever know how he spent the morning sobbing quietly into the table. But he gets up, eventually, wipes his tears, washes the dishes, opens the curtains, smiles at Koushi when he’s done charging, reassures him, and . . . gets on with his day.

It’s what Suga would have wanted, after all.

And this will happen again next year, he knows, every year from now, it’ll happen even when he can’t remember Suga’s voice or the colour of his hair or how they both clung to Asahi, sobbing, after Nationals. But he takes solace in the fact that even if he ends up unable to remember anything about Suga at all, there will come a time when he will lie under the earth as well, cold and quiet, and when that time comes, when his mind and heart and soul end up somewhere brighter and bigger than this world -

- Suga will be the first one to greet him, smiling like they’ve never been parted.

[ficdirectory]

Somewhere Inside (Disuphere series #4) Chapter 29

(To listen, click here) - 15:30

On the rest of the drive back, it’s hard for Levi not to let guilt eat away at him.  If Dominique and Francesca hadn’t come along, they wouldn’t have been tailed by that ass employee.  Francesca wouldn’t have freaked out about riding in the cart that she thought wasn’t meant for her.

Levi remembers Dominique’s question from yesterday: “If guilt were not a thing, would he want them to come with him?”

What he should have said is, “But guilt is a thing and I’ll be fine.”  But, of course, he hadn’t thought to say that and instead he was super-weak and now they’re probably extra traumatized because of him.

(He knows Francesca, at least, is exhausted from walking for hours around SuperOne.  How insensitive can he be?)

When they park out in front of Frank’s cabin, Levi makes up an excuse to lag behind.  Sends the groceries in with Francesa who wants to carry them.  Dominique promises to give her a hand.

Like he hopes, Dominique is so distracted that she assumes he is right behind them.  But Levi’s not.

Instead, he stays in the car, and when everybody’s inside, he pulls away.  Just drives.  To somewhere private.  Somewhere there’s nobody.  No signs of life.  Then, Levi pulls over.  Parks.  And when he’s sure he’s alone - and he’s sure he can’t hold it in anymore - he screams.

He hits the steering wheel and screams until it feels like his throat is ripping.  How dare he do this?  To his friends?  What kind of terrible person is he?  To make them suffer just so he can make it through a four-hour shift at work without losing his mind?  He had been fine!  He hadn’t needed them.  He could have made it on his own.  Seriously, why would he do this?

Levi keeps screaming.  Keeps hitting the steering wheel, vaguely aware of avoiding the horn, if only so he won’t attract any attention.  

He has no idea how much time passes.  When he stops screaming, he just stares out the window at the fading dark.  He can’t face them again.  Not when he did so much to hurt Dominique and Francesca in the first place.

--

“Seriously, where is he?” Dominique wonders.  “Fran, we cannot lose a whole person.  This is bad.”

“I know,” Francesca nods.  “Do you think,” she gulps.  “Do you think it was a bad guy?”

“No.”  Dominique shakes her head.  “His car’s gone, too.  “So, he probably left to go do something and just forgot to tell us…”

“It’s a good thing Jesus and Mariana and Pearl are next door…” Francesca ventures, nodding at their note.  “Because Jesus and Mariana don’t do disappearing people very good and, you know, Levi’s Pearl’s brother…”

“Yes, babe, I know…” Dominique breathes.  “Why don’t you make yourself a sandwich and grab some veggies and chips for dinner,” Dominique advises.

Moments later, her mouth full of nacho cheese Doritos, Francesca exclaims: “We should text him!”

“Francesca, yes, you’re a genius, thank you.  Let me take your plate outside to the picnic table.  There’s a signal there.”

“What if they see us next door and ask what we’re doing?” Francesca worries.

“Then, we tell them the truth.  Even when it’s really hard.  Friends don’t lie, right?”

“Right, but I wish we could...So we might not get in trouble for losing a whole person…”

“Levi’s a human being.  He has the right to make choices.  Even ones we don’t understand, and even ones he doesn’t share with us.” Dominique says.  All the while, texting.

Levi, we’re worried.  Can you please text and let us know you’re okay?

Francesca wants to text, too, so Dominique rushes in to grab her phone off the charger, where it’s been all day, and then back out.  Relieved that she’s still at the picnic table, and has not vanished into thin air like Levi.

Like a pro, Francesca records a short video:

“Levi, it’s me.  Hi.  Where are you?  Please come back.  I’m having PB & J with carrots and Doritos.  You can have some with me.”  She’s quiet for a moment and then, softer, she says: “I really hope you’re safe and no bad guys got you…”

Francesca sends the video.

A few minutes later, her phone pings.

“Ooh, it’s Levi.  He says: “I am safe.  Don’t worry.” Francesca reads.

Dominique curses under her breath.  He needs to come back not to send some vague-ass text about how he’s safe.  Safe people don’t just vanish.  She ought to know.

--

Pearl feels like all of this just might be okay.  She has enjoyed a gloriously lowkey day, where she slept until God knows when, only to be awakened by a video from Levi (really Francesca) that was for Mariana.  Then, Pearl got up and walked next door to deliver the message, and Mari replied.  And for the rest of the day?  She, Jesus and Mariana have just been hanging out.

They’ve caught up on each other’s lives and business, feeling confident that Levi, Francesca and Dominique are together and looking out for each other.  She glances out the window toward next door.

“Looks like Francesca and Dominique are outside,” Pearl notes.  “Levi must be inside already.”

“I could seriously live off of your hot chocolate,” Jesus insists.  “It’s the best thing ever.”

“Aw, thanks…” Pearl sighs.  “If only it had magic, fortifying powers, to get me through hideous anniversaries.”

“My first was last month…” Mariana shares quietly.  “Since the accident.  It was weird.  And hard.  I didn’t wanna go in a car anywhere, but naturally, Francesca had a thing at school, and we all had to go.”

“A thing?” Jesus asks.  “Oh, yeah, her choir concert.  She was so cute.  But that music teacher had them doing way too much choreo…” he grimaces.

“Jesus, I didn’t know you were such an aficionado of the performing arts…” Pearl teases gently.

“I don’t know what that means,” he tells her blankly.

“That you know a lot about it,” Mariana clarifies.

“I don’t, I just know that doing step-touch-clap choreography, and singing, was way too much for Francesca to do all at the same time…”

“I remember, it took us some time to get in, because I didn’t wanna get out of the car…” Mariana shares, a little distant.  “I don’t know why.  I just...didn’t want to.  And so...Mom was back there trying to like….”

“Drill sergeant you?” Jesus asks.

Mariana nods.  “And that just made it worse.  Eventually I came in.  Because of her massive guilt trip about missing important moments in Francesca’s life and how she knows what that’s like because she didn’t get to see Jesus’s fifth grade concert…”

Pearl’s eyes widen.

Mariana bites her lip and glances at Jesus.  “Sorry.”

Pearl watches as Jesus scoots closer to her.  Takes her hand.  “I’m sorry she said that.  It was a low blow.  I hate that she uses me going missing as an excuse to make you muscle through your trauma…”

“Yeah, well, it worked.  I came in.” Mariana shrugged.

“I should’ve met you guys there.  Stayed with you.  Instead of going ahead inside,” Jesus apologizes.

“You like to keep a low profile.  I get that.” Mariana reassures.

“Do you know you guys have one of the most beautiful relationships?” Pearl gushes.  

Both of them look at her in tandem, twin expressions of confusion.

“I mean, your brother-sister dynamic.  The way you’re there for each other.  Support each other.  I’m learning so much here.” Pearl knows this probably sounds over the top, but she has been deep in the wilderness with Levi lately and any advice on how to be a good sister is advice she’ll take, even if Pearl gets it from observation only.

“We’re just…” Mariana starts out.

“...being normal,” Jesus finishes.

“But it’s not just normal,” Pearl insists.  “It’s...I don’t know…”

“Hey, speaking of Moms…” Jesus ventures.  “How are you doing?  You know?  Since telling off yours?  You worried she’ll come back here?”

“Not really,” Pearl says.  “She’s lived up here for years and that’s only maybe the second time she’s ever stopped by.  Levi’s not used to her harshness.  Her energy.  But growing up around it for most of my life?  That feels normal.  She doesn’t scare me…”

Pearl watches Jesus raise an eyebrow at Dudley.  “Pearl’s braver than me…” he whispers.

It makes Pearl laugh.  And God, she needs to laugh.

--

The dark is invading his car.  Levi pulls out and parks somewhere else every so often so he’s not accused of loitering like Dominique and Francesca (and so that, if they are looking for him, they won’t find him…)

The truth is, he deserves everything that happened to him.  If he’d just behaved himself that day in third grade, nothing would’ve ever happened and then maybe he would’ve gotten the chance to meet Pearl years ago.  But no.  He’d gone and messed it all up.  Because mud felt good?  Like, really?  What kind of excuse was that?

Levi was a rude little shit who couldn’t stop himself from getting filthy and tracking mud inside.  He shouldn’t be surprised at what happened.  He should have expected it.

He tries to scream again, but his voice is a hoarse, croaking whisper.

Levi checks the time.  Knows Feelings Time is probably happening and he is not there for it.  Oh well.  They can all be honest about their feelings about him.  They don’t have to spare him.

Not like they’d understand Levi has no actual feelings.  No way of articulating them except screaming.  And he knows enough to know that him screaming and hitting stuff is just going to freak all of  them out.

He’s done enough damage.

Best if he just stays away from them.

--

Francesca’s crying because Levi’s missing.  Because he missed Feelings Time.  Because she really misses him.  (They didn’t even have Feelings Time because without all of them it wasn’t the same.)  So now all of her feelings are trapped on the inside.

“Can’t we go look for him?” she begs.

“No,” Pearl  says.  “He texted to say he’s safe.  He’s still responding to us.  We have to respect that he might need some space right now.”

“But somebody might’ve stole him!” she bawls.  “I don’t want anybody else I love to just disappear!”

“Francesca,” Pearl says, like Frankie’s being unreasonable.  “I understand you’re afraid somebody might have stolen Levi, but they didn’t.”  She keeps looking at Jesus and Mariana and Dominique too.  “Levi...he’ll come back when he’s ready.”

“I can’t sleep if he’s not here…” she insists.  Her nose is running.  “What if your mom is yelling at him?” Francesca asks Pearl.  “Remember she was yelling at you yesterday?  What if she’s yelling at him like my moms yell at me?  What if he can’t come back?”  she cuddles Night-Night, her old blanket from when she was a baby.  No one teases her.

“My mom isn’t Levi’s mom.  They don’t know each other.  She’ll leave him alone, okay?  I promise…” Pearl says.

But promises don’t mean anything against bad people.

--

Dominique’s thinking Francesca might be onto something regarding Pearl’s mom, but she knows she can’t say anything without outing him.  Eventually, Pearl goes back to her own cabin.  Francesca exhausts herself from crying and falls asleep.

Mariana tries, but she can’t stay awake, and neither can Jesus, after their late night last night.  So Dominique’s the last one up.  She sits at the table, drinking cups of coffee to keep her sharp, even though caffeine wrecks her nerves.  She gets a deck of cards and plays round after round of Solitaire.  Trying not to think about years ago.  Her own disappearance.

It’s just past 4 AM, and Dominique’s drunk a whole pot of coffee, when Dominique sees headlights out front.  They left the porch light on, both here and next door.  She can see clearly, it’s Levi’s car.

Dominique slips outside, flashlight in hand, closing the door softly behind her.  She approaches the driver’s side.  Sees him inside.  He looks pale.  Tense.  Exhausted.  Distant.  She taps on the window.  

Slowly, Levi unlocks the door,  But he stays put.  

Eventually, Dominique comes around the other side of his car.  Gets in.  Just sits.

“Sorry,” he rasps.  “I’m sorry…”

“Hey...what are you sorry for?” Dominique asks, gently, though the pot of coffee she’s drunk is buzzing in her blood.

“Sorry…  I’m sorry…” he repeats.  He sounds like he’s developed laryngitis suddenly.

“Levi, look at me.”  She reaches up to turn on the interior light.  “It’s Dominique.  You don’t need to apologize for anything.  You don’t need to be sorry.”

He nods.  Nods.  Nods.

“No.  You didn’t do anything wrong,” Dominique reassures.  “Is that what happened?  Did you think you did?  Did you feel like you had to run?”

He nods again.

“Okay.  You didn’t do anything wrong.  I promise.”

“Don’t…” he croaks.

“I know you don’t like promises, Levi.  But I mean it.  Why’d you run?  You didn’t...see her?  Did you?”  Dominique feels terrible, but she wouldn’t be doing her duty as his friend if she didn’t ask.

Levi shakes his head.  “I made you come.  You got followed.  Francesca...got exhausted.  She was scared to ride in the cart.  Thought the life jacket cost too much.  I was okay.  Nothing happened.  I hurt you guys...for no reason.”

“Levi, I’m glad nothing happened.  I’m glad we were there.  So is Francesca.  It’s not your fault that we were followed or that Francesca got tired or any of it.”

“I shouldn’t….I shouldn’t…” he stutters.

“Hey.  You should,” Dominique looks at him seriously, nodding.  “You should.  Come inside with me, please?”

“No.  I shouldn’t…” Levi insists.  “I’m terrible.”

“Levi, I’m protecting you, remember?  This?  You being scared?  Feeling terrible?  Like you did a billion wrong things?  That’s trauma, and that’s okay.  I’ve got you.  Please trust me.  Please come inside.”

Slowly, Levi opens his door.  He gets out.  By the time Dominique comes around the car, he still hasn’t moved.

“What do you need right now, to feel safe?” she asks.

“Hug…” he whispers.

“Okay, walk with me up to the porch.  I don’t feel safe hugging by the car,” Dominique explains.

Levi moves woodenly but eventually they make it up the steps.

The minute they’re on the porch, Dominique turns to Levi.  “I’m gonna hug you now, because it’s what you said you needed to feel safe.  You just back up or shake your head or something when you wanna stop.”

Levi nods.

And Dominique reaches up.  Hugs him hard.  She’s not a hugger.  A few days hasn’t changed that.  But, God, she thought she’d lost him.  She thought she might not be able to see him ever again.  Dominique thought every terrible thing Francesca thought and more.

She holds him tight.  Shifts her weight back and forth.  

He hugs her back.

They go inside, and she walks him up to the loft.  Hanging out on the stairs.

“Talk to me,” she urges.  

“I can’t.  I can’t.  I can just scream…” he admits.

“You know, I had a time like that?” she confides.  “It’s okay to have a time like that.  You don’t have to drive away from us to have it.”

“If I scare you…”

“If you need to scream, and if you feel better doing that in your car by yourself.  Go out and sit in your car by yourself, in front of our cabin, or wherever it is.  You go ahead and scream.  We’ll stay inside.  We’ll give you space.  Just...please don’t run again…”

“You guys still want me?  To be your friend?”

“Levi, we never stopped.” Dominique insists.

He hangs his head and Dominique leans closer.  When he puts his head on her shoulder, Dominique doesn’t pull away.

[intenseshipperofkpopidols-blog]

Maybe I can Never Fly.

A repost from my ao3 account. Namjoon was 7 when the wings first appeared, and needless to say he was freaked out . He ran to his parents’ bed screaming at the top of his lungs, successfully waking up his parents, sister, and puppy. He awoke to baby blue feathers littered on his bed, he panicked because he thought it was the cookie monster.It took a while for his mother to calm him down.

A Long

While

“It’s normal sweetie.”

“BUT WHAT IF ITS THE COOKIE MONSTER??!?!?!”

“Its your wings Joonie, mommy and daddy have them too.”

“B-but yours and dad’s are WHITE wings, these are B-BLUE feathers!”

“There are many different wing colors, remember auntie Pam’s  orange wings?”

“oh”

In from kindergarten highschool, Namjoon was often seen as strange and a freak, wings aren’t supposed to appear until age 15, 15.That was a whoooole 8 year difference between  most of the kids! And they weren’t very manly in terms of err manliness. Girls usually were the one with light color or pastel wings, the boys his age had black, gold or that awful dark green color that looks like decay.

It sure as hell didn’t help his underground rapper status.

He wasn’t very rappery.

When he started college, he went to SM JYP YG BH School of Arts, and was a double major in philosophy and music composition. SM JYP YG BH School of arts, better known as 4Arts, due to its long ass name, was famous for being the top IVY league school in art.

 While most rappers were all serious, all macho, huge dark wings, there was Namjoon, with baby blue wings and platinum blonde hair.

So when a talent show for companies looking to scout kids was there. Damn. Fuck. he signed up!There was many people in the audience, most were college kids supporting their friends, and a handful of adults flying high above the crowd to watch the kids on stage. 

Damn say he was nervous as fuck, but luckily Namjoon and his friends were grouped together to perform a song that they wrote, called Cypher pt 2: Triptych.

Hoseok was a bubbly person, with firetruck red (wheeeee ooo wheeee oooo) hair, with gold wings. He had already found his soulmate which was Yoongi, his other friend whom had mint green hair (very intimidating) and fluff white wings. Yoongi was the scariest person Namjoon had ever met.

He had no idea how a person like Hoseok would end up with a soulmate as terrifying and soulless as Yoongi, until they got drunk, but that’s a story for another time.

When they went on stage, the crowd shushed and murmermed for these three were the strangest group of rappers they’ve ever seen.Then the music started, Hoseok rapped first proving to his peers that he wasn’t just a jumpy dumb guy.

“Whoever’s in the ring, we’ll win, rap fighter right hereI’ll say hi, you’ll say bye, a burnt tire, we’re differentFire, hot choir, captivating K-Pop like PSYMy rap is huge, I’ll say right in your ear, bug thatOur riots got successively stronger!”

Namjoon’s turn came up next, and he was nervous as fuck! The adults scouting were strange and loomed over the crowd, literally, since they hovered over the audience.He could have sworn that one of them pointed to him.Then the beat dropped and changed so he walked to the front to replace Hoseok’s spot and started to rap. (ra ra ra raAAAAA)

“I’m a rap wiper, a complete psycho, if I’m a dicer,then I have all the diceCypher, if you’re nice, I’m nicerIf you’re Pride, then I’m a Chrysler,that means I’mma pricelessWho are you to judge my rap? Rapper?”

The crowd cheered from his flow, but they were saving the best for last. Yoongi, that scary little fucker.

“My domain is dopeman.com, scolded many with a micSpeech and action are like shackles,my crime is assault with my tongueYou’re so bad ever since you were bornIf you’re gonna whine about this beat, just leaveLook at the arrogance of the hip-hop con artistsWhen you were playing underground,BTS was playing at ground levelCompared to you who sleeps all night,I’m a workaholic, shopaholicOverspending on my pens that are more in number thanyour fans, if I go all in and shoot, it’s a goal inGoal in, I’m ballin, when I hear your rap,I’m about to throw upMy voice even bewitches your girlfriend!

”The crowd was shocked by the little shit, Yoongi. He rapped damn faaaaaaasst. The crowd was shookily watching the performance, so shook that they were the shookist of that could be shook. The. Shook. Was. Real.

The looming scouters seemed surprised by these three, although they really shouldn’t this top ivy league, MOST PRESTIGIOUS college had the long ass name for a reason. Remember the name? It was SM JYP YG BH School of Arts. The best of the best. The legend - wait for it - dary. The crowd cheered by saying their full names in a chant.

“KIM NAMJOON

MIN YOONGI

JUNG HOSEOK”

How they knew their full names? Namjoon had no idea. Those stalkers, so weird. Must be sasaeng fans.

“Namjooooooon Hyuuuunngggggg!” Hoseok whisper yelled excitedly as they got off the stage. 

“That was the BEST!~”Yoongi just awkwardly patted the two on the head while passing them water, but not looking anywhere near their face.

That hyung of his was terrifying.Namjoon and the others changed into more casual clothes going backstage, but entered their assigned seats in the crowd to watch the other students perform.Then the fog machine went on, making fog because that’s its damn job,  and, the lights dimmed. Students started murmuring due to the scene change.

“Probably a theater major.” Namjoon thought to himself, most likely another Romeo and Juliet play, which was what occured the year before.

Dramatic violin music started playing, and the spotlight centered on a guy in a dark colored suit, with floral embroidery. He had light pink hair and the broadest shoulders ever to shoulder. (The blood sweat and tears photoshoot look) He had huge wings to accommodate his wide shoulders, and they were the same shade pink as his hair.

The guy looked up dramatically to stare into the souls of the crowd and began singing.

“Mitneun ge anya

Beotyeoboneun geoya

Hal su itneun ge

Na igeosppuniraseomeomulgo sipeo

Deo kkumkkugo sipeo

Geuraedo marya

Tteonal ttaega dwaetneungeol

Yeah it's my truth

It's my truth

Ontong sangcheotuseongigessji

But it's my fate

It's my fate

Geuraedo balbeodungchigo sipeo

Maybe I, I can never fly

Jeogi jeo kkoccipdeulcheoreom

Nalgael dan geotcheoreomeun an dwae

Maybe I, I can't touch the sky

Geuraedo son ppeotgo sipeo

Dallyeobogo sipeo jogeum deo”

The whole crowd shut up to appreciate this beautiful angel from Korea. Namjoon was shook. The shookest shooker than the previously shook crowd. He was Shook ™   

The man walked around the stage singing into the microphone making dramatic gestures every 5 seconds.

“Don’t cry. Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry nonononono. Oh. I’m crying. Very manly Namjoon.” Namjoon thought to himself as he had an internal crisis.

“Wide awake wide awake wide awake

Don't cry

Wide awake wide awake wide awake

No lie 

Wide awake wide awake wide awake

Don't cry

Wide awake wide awake wide awake

No lie”“THAT’S VERY DIFFICULT” Namjoon thought sobbing to himself.

“Maybe I, I can never fly

Jeogi jeo kkoccipdeulcheoreom

Nalgael dan geoscheoreomeun an dwae

Maybe I, I can't touch the sky

Geuraedo son ppeotgo sipeo

Dallyeobogo sipeoJogeum deo”

The spotlight on the mysterious pretty boy faded, and the music stopped. The whole crowd was silent.The lights all turned back on, then they all start clapping, it was a fucking encore. People were wolf whistling, screaming loads of things were happening. 

And more importantly that handsome dude was blowing kisses to the crowd.Mystery guy went backstage, and the next person came up to perform, but all Namjoon could think about was the handsome stranger who sang like an angel.

“Yoongi Hyung, do you know who that is?” Namjoon asked hesitantly as Yoongi was the scariest. Yoongi blankly stared at Namjoon making a shiver go down his spine.

“Yes, that’s Seokjin hyung. We have a class together.” Yoongi said with his piercing terrifying  glance.

Namjoon had stars in his eyes thinking of the beautiful man who had performed.The event went on for about 20 more minutes before the last performer went up, and the most important part of the event came up.The scouting.  

One of the many flying adults landed on the stage, and one of the students gave him a microphone. The man had a full black suit, and had circular glasses.

“Hello students, I am Bang Si Hyuk, my associates and I have been evaluating your performances. We will now call up students that have been chosen by my associates.” The man said into the microphone causing Namjoon and his group to sweat in nervous anticipation. Namjoon sweated an ocean.

“The group of 3, Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok. Soloist Kim Seokjin. Dancer and Singing group, Kim Taehyung, Park Jimin, and Jeon Jeongguk. Group of five, Joy, Seulgi, Irene, Wendy, and Yeri.”

Said people came to the stage, some excited, some nervous, Namjoon stood right next to Kim Seokjin, the beautiful angel, smiled politely at Namjoon causing him to blush like he just walked in on Hoseok watching porn. (Trust me that’s happened)

Seokjin looked at Namjoon and said, “Hi, I’m Seokjin I saw your performance. It was great!”

Namjoon looked at Seokjin in surprise, this beautiful man liked his performance??? What?

“Hi, I’m N-Namjoon.” He stuttered out nervously, Seokjin smiled and went back to focusing on the man talking.

Namjoon drowned out Si Hyuk’s speech about getting jobs and other probably important stuff, because he was distracted by the broad shouldered man next to him, ecstatically listening to the speech.

“Oi! Namjoon!” Namjoon shakespearanly snapped his mind back to attention. It was Seokjin talking to him, trying to get his attention.

“We’re done we can head back to our dorms now.” Seokjin continued after successfully capturing the blushing guy’s attention.“Oh.” Namjoon said stupidly to Seokjin. Seokjin pranced like a unicorn off the stage, with a gloomy Namjoon after him. 

“So stupid Namjoon, could have said anything, literally anything.” Namjoon thought to himself walking off the stage.

“So Namjooooon~ Did you get to meet your mystery crussshhh?” Hoseok teased as he walked in the dorm room.Namjoon turned red, and said offended,

 “Seokjin’s not my crush!”

“I didn’t say Seokjin.” Hoseok said pointedly, causing Namjoon to blush even more.He ducked down his head as he walked to his room, feeling the judgy eyes of Hoseok.

The next day at the school was a “field trip.” Any students who brought camping equipment could join the school to camp in the forest, near the beach and the ever so infamous cliff.Namjoon and Hoseok were walking around the forest, while Yoongi was sleeping when the two heard chanting in the distance. 

“Hey Faggot!” “Pink haired chick, but wait! It’s a guy~” “Are you tryin to be cute!”

“Hey, where you going sweetheart?”

Namjoon and Hoseok started walking faster toward the sound of frat boys teasing someone, when they walked through the clearing of trees they saw Seokjin crowded by at least 5 frat boys who were pushing him around and teasing him near the edge of the cliff.

“Whatcha gunna do faggot?” The black-haired leader presumably, said to Seokjin as him and his group trapped Seokjin near the edge of the cliff. They flapped their wings aggressively, like chickens, at him.Namjoon’s eyes widened in fear for Seokjin, he started walking faster toward the group of boys, only to be held back by two of the group.

Seokjin’s face contorted in anger, and he pushed the leader as hard as he can, causing the leader to stumble back in surprise.

“Oh, so the pansy is going to fight back. Huh?” The leader stepped closer to Seokjin causing him to step back in fear. Then the leader pushed Seokjin just as hard as he was pushed, causing Seokjin to go tumbling off the cliff.

“NO!” Namjoon screamed, pushing the group of boys and ran towards the cliff where Seokjin fell. Without a thought, Namjoon dived off the cliff after Seokjin, the two fell at a quick rate before Namjoon reached Seokjin. H

e grabbed Seokjin in his arms and instinctively flapped his wings, causing the two to shoot up into the sky, higher than the cliff the two had previously fallen off of.Seokjin and Namjoon looked at each other in surprise, Namjoon flying high above the forest with his baby blue wings, with Seokjin in his arms.

“I guess we’re soulmates.” Seokjin said with a smile looking up at Namjoon.

“I guess we are.”

[incognitajones]

I managed to delete the original ask somehow, but @englishable sent in a “trick or treat” request (which turned into a full-sized candy bar).

“And keep an eye on Ben!” Poe’s mom shouted after him as the two of them took off down the terrace, toward the stairs to the Mirror Garden. 

Ben couldn’t laugh in public today, but he rolled his eyes at Poe, who smirked back.

They couldn’t run, either, so they kept to a fast-paced, bobbing lope as they weaved through the crowd of dispersing mourners. Until they got out of the main crush, it was like navigating through an asteroid belt: darting from side to side, buffeted by elbows, lekku, tentacles and other appendages. There weren’t many kids, and hardly any were younger than him. Every year, his mother sighed over the aging survivors of Alderaan.

Most years, people held their own private memorials, like his family did. But even then, as the last Princess of Alderaan, his mother had to be seen honouring the dead; she let the holonet drones record their annual ceremony for broadcast. She’d explained to Ben when he was little why that was necessary, and so he tried hard not to show how much he hated it.

Now he was eleven, which meant it was the sixteenth year since the destruction. And since eight was a Great Number, that meant instead of a small family ceremony there’d been a huge public commemoration with thousands of survivors and Senators and planetary envoys and a full-length, formal mourning service.

At least that part was over now. But as he and Poe passed the memorial stone the looming masked figures of the Silent Ones remained in a circle around it. They’d stand there without making a sound all day until they faded into the darkness of night. It creeped Ben out and he averted his eyes, even though he knew they were really just ordinary people on stilts hidden underneath the long midnight blue robes.

“Vader’s balls, these clothes are hot. I don't know how you stand it.” Poe pulled at the high collar of his tunic, stretching it out of shape. “You sounded good, though.”

“Shut up, I wasn't singing that loud. There’s no way you could hear me.” Ben could feel his ears firing up. He shook his head, trying to hide them under his hair, but the braids his mom had put in were too tight and nothing moved.

Ben had been roped into the children’s choir for the service, made up of survivors and descendants of survivors. He understood why he couldn’t be left out but he’d spent weeks sick to his stomach at the thought of being at the centre of attention onstage. In the end, it could have been worse. They’d stuck him in the front row, of course, but among a hundred other kids he hadn’t stood out too much.

Besides, concentrating ferociously on singing in tune and in time helped with the biggest challenge of the day: keeping all the feelings that pressed in on him out of his head.

“You know it was just because of mom,” he reminded Poe. “And because my voice hasn’t changed yet.”

“Honestly, that’s not so great.” Poe frowned. “It’s humiliating, the way I squeak every time I try to say something important. I sound like a droid half the time.”

“At least you’re growing.” Ben hadn't put on a centimetre since last Life Day. He was sick of looking up at everyone he knew. If he was taller, they’d have had to let him stand in the back row of the choir.

He led Poe under the archway into the Mirror Garden. It was quiet now; the tourists from earlier in the day were gone and all the mourners were headed in the opposite direction, toward the Senate chambers for a reception. Something Ben hated as much as his father did, because it meant hordes of people, trays of tiny delicacies he wasn’t allowed to take more than one of, and his mother talking to strangers for hours until her voice cracked, while her back stayed laser-straight but the corners of her eyes drew into the microscopic creases that meant she was exhausted.

Grownups rarely felt one clear thing. It was confusing and frustrating, the way they could be soaked in misery and still burning with rage; they loved his mother (our Princess) and hated her (why is she alive, and not my Jalna) at the same time. And he didn’t understand why she felt stabbing shame every time someone greeted her with the Alderaani phrase “Our sorrow is shared.”

So he was glad Poe was here, even if they weren’t really friends, because the other boy was an excuse to escape the overstuffed, ornate halls with voices and thoughts bouncing off the high ceilings until he could barely think. When Poe mentioned that he’d never seen the Mirror Garden, Ben had thrown his mother a pleading look, and she’d nodded and told them to go ahead even though his dad didn’t agree, judging from the scowl on his face. “It’s safe, Han,” he’d heard her hiss. “Security’s been ramped up all over the quarter. They’ll be fine.”

“Whoa.” Poe stopped short, staring.

Ben looked around. The Mirror Garden was one of Coruscant’s most famous sights; every tourist stall on the planet sold holos and threedee projections and enough flimsies of them to wallpaper Ben’s bedroom three layers thick.

He’d never understood why. The Garden wasn’t anything really interesting, like the ruins on Jedha, just a white stone plaza filled with reflective pools and fountains and waterfalls stretched and pulled into gravity-defying forms. Some were so perfectly still you’d swear they were real glass, until your hand felt the cool moisture. Some moved in ripples that turned the figures standing around them into wavering columns of colour and shadow.

Poe leaned closer to one vertical wall of water, peering at his reflection until his nose almost parted the smooth liquid surface. “How do they get it to do that?”

Ben shrugged. “It’s just grav manip fields. Don’t they have those on Yavin 4?”

“Yeah, no.” Poe snorted. “We’re a rural backwater. Some of the heavy farm equipment might have them, but basically, if it can’t grow turnips we don’t get it.” He lifted a hand, his fingertip a millimetre away from the shimmering plane. “Can I touch?”

“Sure, people do it all the time. It’s not like you can break them.”

Poe grinned and pushed his hand straight through the sheet of water. It flowed seamlessly around his wrist, making his arm look chopped short, like Uncle Luke’s when he took off his prosthetic.

The unending murmur of trickling, falling, running, dripping water surrounded them in a soothing rush of noise. Ben wandered over to his favourite, a rippling pillar of water locked in stasis one drop away from toppling over onto the white pavement. He liked the way his reflection looked in it. You couldn’t tell that blurry, indistinct face was Ben Organa-Solo; it could be any more-or-less humanoid youngling.

But he had a shadow that wouldn’t go away no matter how he moved, and it was in the wrong position for the direction of the light. It looked like a huge dark figure standing behind him. Had a Silent One left its place early and come into the Garden? Ben glanced at the entrance, but there was no-one else in the whole plaza but him and Poe.

Ben turned his back on the fountain, trying to ignore the unease leaking into his head. Why was he so scared? Was it his own feeling, or someone else’s?

He couldn’t stop looking back over his shoulder. Something shadowy and indistinct still hovered in the wavering column of water.

Don’t be such a baby. Think about what dad would say. It’s just a trick of the light on the water.

Ben shivered and closed his eyes. If he couldn’t see it, he could tell himself it wasn’t there. “Poe?” he called, ashamed of the quaver in his voice. “Let’s go back.”

He wanted to be with his mom, Uncle Luke, even his dad. Anyone he could convince himself was strong enough to protect him...

From what—his own head? He shivered again.