#welcome back to me and my irrational fears that I'll probably be more surprised than actually mortified if they somehow do occur

[justablah56]

god I just realized that it's completely possible for the dndads crew to have seen my dndads polls and reference them on podcast and I am now full of fear

[apixrl]

DRIVER'S LICENSE.

katsuki bakugou x fem! reader

WARNING(S): angst. cheating. swearing because it's bakugou.

word count: 4.5k

song: drivers license // olivia rodrigo (i wonder why...)

note(s): so i captioned this *at the time of writing* 'hello and welcome to i've had the worst two weeks ever so i wrote a katsuki oneshot to cope' and it's probably one of my most personal pieces of writing tbh

"-come Tuesday and we'll potentially see an end to this heavy downpour of rain. Temperatures will be on the rise to around-"

The talk on the radio cut short at the jab of your finger, heaving a great sigh which faded into the muffled pitter-patter of rain from outside. The streets had been showered with heavy downpours for the last week or so, no sign of sun or a still and restful day. Notwithstanding the miserable outdoors, the windscreen wipers on your car never ceased in their duty to grant you a clear view of the road ahead. And whilst you were grateful for their devotion, it didn't feel clear in the slightest. In fact, the road had never felt so blurry.

Shivering against the cold night chill and tucking your knees cosily to your chest, you eyed the raindrops on the windows. They raced against one another before they dripped down to your car's body, their glossy presence obvious thanks to the many hues of street lamps that surrounded them. You could have watched them for hours, being honest. Something about the droplets of water battling it out quite enticing. Anything to take you away from the cruel reality you were living in.

Your heart ached and yearned. But to no avail, the one you ached and yearned for didn't love you back.

Not anymore, at least.

Just the mere thought provoked a pulsating pang to resonate throughout your entire body. A pang filled with grief and sadness. Anger and hurt. You missed his sun-kissed face on the sunny mornings. You missed his eyes and how they gazed at you from across the room. You missed the smiles and laughter he would only show for you and you alone. The sense of glee and euphoria that came with that honour. Yet all of it was gone and there was no way you could get it back.

The memories of what had been triggered more waterworks. Hot, salty tears dug at the corners of your eyes and trickled down your face. Your motionless car concealed your cries and sobs. Every thrash against the wheel as you questioned to nobody in particular what went wrong and why. How you didn't see the signs sooner. What you could have done better. When he stopped loving you. If he ever planned to stop loving you. Whether it would have hurt more if you found out sooner.

All these questions with nothing to answer them.

Katsuki Bakugou had always fascinated you. From the very moment you met. You accompanied your friend on a double date, and he was the guy who she matched for you. Whilst he originally acted as though a blind date was the last place he wanted to be, underneath the aggression you could tell there was something much more genuine and true.

And your assumptions were correct. Truth be told, Katsuki Bakugou was one of the most genuine and truest people you had met (at the time). Once it was just the two of you, he allowed his true colours to unveil. Through the smallest of kind gestures that still haunted your mind to this day. Then upon confrontation, as you bid each other goodbye at your back door, his denial resulted in a flirtatious contest which then proceeded to an intimate night that changed your life forever. From there your mind was set.

He was the one.

Emphasis on was.

So blinded with a fairy tale love you grew so accustomed to, you never saw it coming. Never in your two-year relationship - that had so much strength and commitment built on top of it, never did you think that Katsuki Bakugou would throw it all out of the window like it was nothing. Disregard your loyalty and adoration for a drunken one night stand that slowly became an occasional hookup. Which soon became a mandatory pastime once a fortnight. Then twice. Maybe more than that. You wouldn't put it past him with what you knew now.

He kept it from you for nearly six months. Six months. The only reason you discovered his lies and deception was because you were let off early one night from work. You worked a night shift, see. Your last job had fallen to shambles, and it was temporary whilst you searched for a new one. And whilst that did take a toll on your relationship with Katsuki Bakugou, mostly finding time for intimacy since his working hours were during the day, none of that gave him any right to go and do what he did.

That wasn't one of the only reasons, you knew that for sure. There were other motives for his lack of loyalty. But you were never told. After you froze at the sight of another woman under his hold and stormed straight back to your car to flee. After he chased you down the flights of stairs in nothing but baggy pants into the streets of a twilight Musutafu. After you screamed into the darkness and belted your fists against his chest. Fists that were driven with rage and hurt and every emotion that burned like the hottest of fires and froze like the coldest of ice. He never even told you. He never made an effort to address it. Nor had he attempted to call or even try to visit your Mom's house - where you stayed as you searched for a permanent place to live. Just because you retreated for your car and cried that it was over, he never tried. But that didn't mean you weren't allowed an explanation. An apology. Something to give you a form of closure and a reason to move on. But you never did.

That wasn't even what hurt the most, either.

As silly as it was, the thing that hurt you the most was the very car you sat in.

EIGHT MONTHS AGO . . .

The red glow of traffic lights hit Katsuki's vermilion irises as he stared dead ahead at the long line of vehicles, the ash-blond heaving a sigh into the air. His finger tapped impatiently against the steering wheel he gripped with one hand, the spare rested casually against your upper thigh affectionately.

"I can't believe we have to sit through this torture just to go to some damn party," Katsuki grumbled, taking a glance over at you. His brows furrowed when he met you peacefully slouched down, nose dug into your phone as you presumably played some sort of game to pass the time. Like you had no care in the world for your predicament.

"It's your best friend's birthday, love," You mused back, Katsuki surprised you even listened based on your focused expression directed towards your phone. "It's not like we can just miss it,"

"Yeah, but we could have missed all this pain by taking the train instead of driving across town during rush hour,"

"Trains are icky, the seats would have ruined your suit and my dress," You pointed out, looking at the blond over your screen, sending him a sweet smile. He cocked a brow, a smirk creeping its way onto his lips as a scoff of a laugh broke out between them.

"Right, and laying down like a sloth is gonna help keep your dress uncreased?" He returned, amused at your realisation. At his comment, you sat up faintly and pouted your lip.

"Driving means more time to play Gravity Pops, and so does traffic,"

"Seriously? That's the game you're playing? You're such a dumbass,"

"Yes! I'm in the top 11% globally! I need to get to number one!" Was your protest, your arms flailing ahead of you briefly for dramatic emphasis. Katsuki clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, though the small smile plastered over his lips betrayed his initial reaction. Unable to deny your determination, he spoke with confidence and almost a sense of pride.

"Number one, hm? Clearly rubbing off on you aren't I?"

"In a way, yes,"

"That's my girl," Katsuki remarked, earning a giggle from you that was uplifting to hear. It was there your attention went back to your phone, but Katsuki wasn't done. "So, speaking of cars, Y/N," Hearing his chosen tone - which sounded suggestive, you eyed him closely. Hesitant to reply as you had a sense of what he planned to say.

"...Yes?"

"Have you thought any more about getting your driver's license yet?"

Called it.

"...No,"

"What?" Katsuki began, tilting his head. He was surprised that he felt surprised. You had said those words in regards to this topic countless times. Still, he persisted. "Is that a no meaning you haven't or no meaning that you don't want to?"

"Both?" You half-guessed, sheepishly grinning at the look you were sent. "Look, cars scare me okay? And so do roads. And people. My nerves wouldn't be able to handle it! I can barely communicate with people face to face, so me being on the road is a recipe for disaster!"

"I know but -," Katsuki exhaled sharply, understanding your reasoning. You had voiced these concerns when confiding to Katsuki about your fears of the road. Something built and corrupted from social media as well as phobias and fears in general, it was a battle you had yet to overcome. You wanted to drive but was terrified of messing up or causing chaos on the road. Potentially inflicting harm to someone and yourself. You still weren't sure what triggered it all, but over the years it had manifested into something quite irrational, to say the least. Katsuki had been supportive of it and whilst he truly would love to always act as your personal taxi - you couldn't hide from it forever. It wasn't his job to keep you in your comfort zone. That, and he couldn't always be there for you that way. What if he was miles away and you had somewhere urgent to go like the hospital? "It's not as scary as you think. I know it's hard to believe that but seriously. The freedom you get from driving is amazing,"

"I'll think about it a little longer, okay?" You said with hesitancy, looking at Katsuki for a sign of confirmation. He nodded in defeat, knowing you probably needed more time and felt put on the spot. So he averted his eyes back to the road to check if the traffic had moved at all. It had not.

"Okay," Katsuki said. "But I can't be your taxi service forever,"

"But I like you being my taxi service," You jokingly said, a little sadness in your tone. "Your road rage is funny and I like watching you get out of the car and walk to my door after pulling up in my driveway,"

"What do you mean?" Katsuki asked, catching the twitch of a smile on your face upon saying those words. It struck his interest in what you could mean.

"You know, like when you say you're coming to pick me up?" You explained. "You pull up at my driveway and I don't know... simple things like that just remind me of how much I love you. It's dumb really, but it's important to me,"

"Really?" Katsuki questioned in disbelief. How something so small and meaningless could mean so much was puzzling. He couldn't understand why it was so special to you. But that didn't invalidate it in any shape or form. So he pushed that aside, replacing his wonder with gratitude. He returned to your bashful and flustered features, feeling a smile grow on his face.

"Yeah," You said, shrugging to downplay your words. "I love you. Stuff like that means a lot to me,"

"I love you too, even though you're a dumbass," Katsuki said, humbled by what you had said. The two of you shared a gentle exchange, your hand grabbing hold of Katsuki's as you gave it a squeeze. He squeezed back, and silence ensued. Had he realised such a thing sooner, then Katsuki would have pulled up in your driveway much more than he had been doing. But at that a thought struck his mind, victoriously smirking as he had an idea on how to potentially sway your worries. Or begin swaying it. Something was better than nothing, after all. "But what if I wanted you to pull up in my driveway one day?" His words caused you to look over at him in curiosity, hearing the seriousness in the question. It caught you off guard momentarily, having to contemplate as you gradually concluded that he had a point.

"Well one day, maybe I will," You vaguely replied and sat up a little bit. The hand holding yours pulled back and lifted to land on your shoulder, gripping reassuringly tight.

"I hope you do, I'd like to get in on this driveway action," He joked and smirked, faith riddled in his expression. You giggled ever so slightly, tempted to lean forward and peck Katsuki on the lips in thanks, but never a thing was to happen as the alerting red light from outside switched to warm amber.

"Ah!" Katsuki yelled in triumph, his attention leaving you swiftly as he got back into the driver's seat. Giving you no opportunity to respond to him and overall ruining the moment. "Took fucking long enough!"

The light turned green, and he set the car in motion, leaving you with your thoughts and the words he had uttered that day as the traffic stood still.

All your efforts, all your time devoted to getting over your fear of driving and the road as a whole... all of it was pointless. You did it for him. You promised him you would overcome your fears and better yourself. He built that motivation up brick by brick until you could grab hold and seize control. He wasted all that time to get you to reach such a stepping stone only to abandon it once it was through.

Just so you could pull up in his driveway, just like he requested. And what did you get in return when you finally did? A stab in the back and the loss of your other half.

You wiped your eyes via the sleeve of your hoodie, dampening the cuffs. Sniffling and exhaling a shaky breath, your gaze landed on nothing in particular. Yet somewhere within your clouded mind, you found interest. As that was where your gaze remained for a certain amount of time. You weren't sure how long exactly. It could have felt like an hour and only been five minutes. Or it could have felt like five minutes and was actually an entire hour. Either way, the clock ticked on and didn't wait for you to stop.

It was a good thing you had pushed your fears down and rose above them. It just pained you that you didn't even do it for yourself. Without Katsuki Bakugou, you never had any intentions of doing so. As a matter of fact, you had set out to take the train or bus for the rest of your life. Hell, you were going to use a bike and scooter if you got desperate. Had he even acknowledged how much work you put in just to get where you were? Was all that effort part of the reason why he decided to cheat? There was absolutely no telling. Absolutely no telling at all.

You wondered what he was doing now. Was he laid in bed resting peacefully? Out with his friends for a boy's night only? Maybe cooking his favourite curry? Possibly on a late-night jog despite the harsh weather? It never stopped him other times.

Did he ever think about you? Regret what he did and the actions he took? Had he ever considered apologising? Would he ever apologise? What if he was celebrating the fact you were no longer in his life? Had there ever been any love there for you in the start? Did he ever actually want you to get your driver's license because he believed in you? Or was it so he could get rid of you with much more ease? Make his departure less severe and less selfish? A way to justify his choices because it's not like you were hopelessly left to suffer everyday life now that you had a means of transport. Was he really that cruel?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sharp jingle of your phone, the device lighting up as it sat in the passenger seat to your left. It took two or three rings for you to glance over at it, E/C eyes sore and drained from crying out. You squinted them to read the caller, seeing the name 'Work' fade in and out on the brightly lit screen. For a second or two you argued back and forth on whether to even bother picking up. Something about reaching across for your phone requiring a magnitude of energy you no longer possessed. Having spent it all on your cries of agony and the deprivation of your old life as a whole.

However, you had ignored your work in the last couple of weeks too many times now. So many times that pulling the same stunt again would probably risk you losing your job. It's not like your work was interested in why you felt such overwhelming pain... all they cared about was you turning up to do what you were hired to.

So using a forceful hand, you leaned over to pick it up. You fumbled to grip your phone and accepted the call with a dainty tap of your thumb. Then you blinked away your tears and subtly sniffed, pressing your phone to your ear to address the caller.

"Hello?" You practically croaked, quick to clear your throat and push any signs of upset down. It was presumably dry from how much you'd cried in the last two hours.

"L/N! Hey! Glad you finally picked up!" Unlike the droll and unvarying tones of your boss, the person on the other end was much more lively and greeting. So much so you could only assume it was none other than your work colleague, Etsuko. Probably the only person you genuinely liked where you worked, and the only person who made the time pass by faster. "I was worried you were gonna leave me on answer phone again,"

"Hm, what? Oh right. Yeah. Sorry about that. Haven't been feeling too great," You lied, even though it wasn't a complete fib. You hadn't been feeling great at all. You had never felt so rock bottom. It all just originated from your mind over anything else. But when did work care about that?

"Sounds like it, I hope you've been okay!" Still cheery as ever, Etsuko followed up with a laugh to fill the silence you created by not saying anything. "Is everything well? It's nothing serious, is it?"

"No. It's not. Just some dumb cold I caught," You excused. "I'm better now, though," Slouching down in your seat, you decided to ask the question that had been roaming your mind the last minute or so. "So why are you calling?"

"Oh, right!" Etsuko said. "Mr Kobashigawa was just wondering when you planned on coming back - for schedule reasons and to get people to fill in for your shifts,"

"I er...," Not entirely sure how to answer, you stuttered as your words cowered away in your attempt to speak. "I don't -,"

"It's okay, he doesn't need an answer yet," Etsuko reassured. "Maybe in the next day or two, though? He wasn't really specific, being honest,"

You sighed at the guilt brewing in your stomach. You weren't even sick for crying out loud! Why were you lying just so you could wallow in your own sadness?! Like that was going to change anything! Sitting around and crying wasn't going to give you what you wanted. You weren't getting him back. Katsuki Bakugou wasn't yours anymore. He made that clear by cheating. By making minimal effort to give you an explanation. By causing you so much pain with little care or concern. Why couldn't you get it through your thick skull that your feelings didn't matter anymore?! That they were being wasted on a lost cause. A lost relationship!

"Well I mean -," You started, running a hand through your hair as you tread carefully on your words. "I could come in tonight? Has Mr Kobashigawa got someone to fill for me yet?"

"Um... no? I don't think so?" Etsuko answered, uncertainty in her voice. "Let me go check. Be right back!" And with that, the line fell dead. The call didn't end, just Etsuko placing the phone down to get an answer for you. Leaving you all by your lonesome once more.

Reflecting, you could see the logic in your thoughts. The best course of action would be to hold your head up high and live life the way it was before. When you were happy. Just... excluding the factors that actually made you happy. Which was him. Wouldn't that be healthier than crying all the time?

Yes, it would. But was it what you wanted? Not really.

"L/N!" The voice in your ear startled you to the point you nearly dropped your phone, panicking through a gasp as you fiddled to grab hold of it again.

"Wa-! Careful you nearly scared me half to death!"

"Oops, sorry!" Etsuko giggled softy, sounding as perky as ever. "I'm just excited to tell you that nobody's filling in your shift! You can still come in for ten-thirty!"

"I-I can?" You asked. After an upbeat 'yeah!' filtered through your ears, you considered your options. Remaining in the serene, quiet confines of your car with only the downfall of rain to accompany you sounded like utter bliss, given how you felt. But you felt an internal kick up the backside which told you - no... demanded you to just get over this moping attitude of yours and look on the bright side. To get over the lack of closure and simply... move on.

Yeah... if he found out you were an utter train wreck thanks to the damage he inflicted; Katsuki Bakugou would probably revel in it. He had a history of gaining pleasure from other's misfortunes... or it was rumoured he did (during his younger years, anyway). You had never wanted to believe it but you couldn't find a reason to refute it anymore. After all you had been through, it seemed to fit his character and personality more than ever. So with that fact apparent, you held a firm forefront and searched for a determined tone, and made your answer to your friend.

"You betcha I'm coming in! I'll see you in half an hour!"

Too enthusiastic? Probably. Still, it was better than acting pessimistic and hopeless. No matter, however, because that was exactly the attitude Etsuko had been hoping for.

"Alrighty!" She exclaimed, smile audible in her voice from the other end. "I can't wait to get our dynamic duo going again! I've missed you!"

"Yeah, me too, 'Suko," You hummed in agreement.

"Great! Catch ya later my partner in crime,"

"Heh. You too, dumbass," You found a reason to smile from her childish behaviour, though your choice of wording seemed to hit a nerve. It did more than that, it practically reverted all that confidence and progress you had made in the last ten minutes of being on the phone. All from one innocent word that escaped your lips.

Dumbass.

That's what he used to call you.

The phone call had ended without you even noticing, your phone still pressed to your ear as a small buzz sounded into it. You stared dead ahead, flashes of all the times he had said that word to you running through your memory. It was his form of a pet name. Some might see it as a little degrading on the surface, but you never minded. Once you learned the deeper meaning of the name, it became something equivalent to the likes of 'Sunshine' or 'Angel'. If anything, you ended up preferring it to those sorts of nicknames. Hence why Katsuki Bakugou had called you it on so many occasions.

No. Stop it. You can't let something like that bother you. Not after the efforts you just went to. Stop. Shaking yourself out of it, you returned to reality and permitted your phone to drop onto your lap. Your hand once holding it gripped onto your steering wheel, the other following shortly behind to do the same.

"I love you too, even if you're a dumbass,"

That rung in your head one final time, tormenting and mocking your present. The things you'd be willing to do to hear him say that to you one last time...

"No," You firmly shook your head, banging it lightly against the headrest to return yourself to reality. An attempt to knock those words to the back of your mind where you could lock them in a securely tight safe for the rest of eternity. "Just... just don't think about it. Easy. Just focus on what you're doing now," You reached for your keys which sat in the ignition, taking hold and turning them ever so slightly. Your car stirred to life, engine rumbling and the dials lighting up in a form of warm greeting. "You're going to work. No more feeling sorry for yourself,"

No more feeling sorry for yourself.

Your eyes set themselves on the road ahead. The vacant, dark and solitary road that didn't wait for you to make your decision. Life moved on after all, so if you were going to do anything - it was to catch up and take the winning lead.

So despite your circumstances; your inner desires and wishes and begs for what you wanted back but to no avail would ever get, you pulled out of your parking space (which had long exceeded the time limit, thankfully nobody was around to see) that drowned in pitiful rains of the night, and began to make your way down the street. In search of a place better than the one you were trapped in.

An endless road that wasn't all that clear, you were going to tackle it. Not for anyone else, unlike the last time you met difficulty and hardships. No, no, no. This time it was for your sake. All the mental energy to recover and become a better version of yourself, in the endgame it was all for you. You could push past all the deceit and lies you had been told and you could push past your normality which was him. Katsuki Bakugou. The man that hurt you as nobody had ever done before. You could create new normality without him.

A thought of forever he created and destroyed, resorted to driving alone past his street, never to be thought of again.

[writerpyre]

Fulcrum, C9: The Dark Between The Light

Hey, hey look, it’s a goddamned miracle. A Fulcrum update! Language warnings and distressing themes herein.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/4937683/chapters/42956831

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9246859/9/Bound-Part-III-Fulcrum

Yes, hello readers, it's been a long while... nearly three and a half years for this fic, if my math is right. Figured out yet again that Boundverse helps me to cope, so this finally got done as a fixation-distraction thing. I'm happy with how it's turned out, so one step more and all that. :)

There are notes on my various sites saying why I'm not actively posting as much, but I am ticking along with things as life permits. Hope this update is enjoyable and starts moving the plot along some. Please feel free to drop a comment etc, as usual. I can't promise when the next will come, but as always, rest assured I will not abandon my babies.

The Boundverse turned seven at the start of March, and heaven knows it's nice to get back to where it began, even if SEVEN years have passed since I first posted, and I'm still attempting to get this first arc completed. Many thanks to LexietFive for her support and beta-ing services, you're amazing.

Anyway, love to you all, and welcome to Chapter Nine of Fulcrum.

The thing about families? They're manipulative, and bossy, and overbearing. Sometimes, you can't fathom how it is that they can be so motivated.

Scott's words - likely intended to mollify and distract me (because he's the epitome of that manipulation; learned at our father's knee, and co-opted for his own purposes) - causes my mouth to drop open. Far from being the thing that calms me down, all I can say I'm feeling is downright anger, surging hot and sick in my gut.

"I- you - What?" I manage. Words are probably taken as me not hearing; not quite understanding in my exhaustion; not that I'm incredulous. I've got to try and calm my temper, because yeah, I'm mad, but it's not entirely their fault...

"We brought the wedding to you." Scott repeats, his expression uncharacteristically smug and yet, wary. "Dad and I sorted it, and the happy couple agreed. Sherry wants you to be there as much as you do John."

"It's the least we could do for her. And you," Virgil adds, his arms still crossed, but his gaze softening from his death-glare. His mouth twitches in amusement. Ass. "She's been there to listen when you've needed someone else, other than family. And we know how much you were looking forward to it. Dad's been doing arrangements for a while. He and Scott let us in on it today, he was confirming details while we were out just now. She and you both need this." He shrugs, and his deep hazel eyes - the green hardly noticeable the majority of the time - crinkle at the edges. "I wish you hadn't bitten our heads off first though, we wanted it to be special."

My lips tighten, and I can actually feel the dry skin on my face cracking as I shake my head. "You… You had no right to do that!" I snap, and the looks on their faces are almost comic in their surprise. Pfft. "You didn't ask me, you didn't consult me… How… How dare you!"

I'm being irrational, and approaching hysterics to boot, but to freaking hell with it. I am so done with all this bullshit.

"John wh-" Gordon tries, but I shake my head furiously, even though it makes my ears ring. "Shut up, Gordon." My second-youngest brother subsides, his lips compressing. Great, that's the second time I've cut him off today.

I don't dare look at Alan.

None of this is his fault, but I know that if I see him and all his innocence and naivety, I'll lose my temper altogether. It's a fuse waiting to be lit as it is, what with everything else that's going on. My inability to control my temper when I feel as sick as I do now is not my best trait.

My hands come up to rake through my hair, and I growl low in my throat as I look between my siblings. I find myself avoiding Dad's gaze. I can't deal with his expression at the moment, even if I'm sure he'll understand my feelings. Closing my eyes momentarily, I pinch the bridge of my nose. I feel nauseous and tired, and suddenly, I just want to cry, in that dry way that never really gets anyone anywhere. I know I'm probably confusing a hell of a lot of things, and I hate making excuses for myself, but I know that in this case, I have a perfectly good one.

"No." I say, opening my eyes again. As if repeating the word is going to sort anything whatsoever. "That was out of line." I croak. "You don't get to decide for me, none of you get to make that sort of choice."

"But…" Scott cuts in. If not for the anger coursing through me at the sheer arrogance of them, I would feel sorry for him as his mouth moves. Unmasked shock is painted across his face, and my chest aches. "Just... listen, John. We thought it would-"

"You thought it would help me." I both cut him off and finish the sentence for him, wincing as the words snag down my throat with the bitter deadpan of it. "You assumed it would help me. You didn't ask me. You didn't even consider my thoughts on the matter, you jumped in, and stamped all over what I actually want."

Scott makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat; neither he nor Virg look well. Gordon raises an eyebrow. Well, it seems he's unamused. Alan and Dad are silent. My attention is brought back to Virgil as he just shakes his head.

"What do you want then, John?" he asks in exasperation. "We're not mind-readers, no matter how much you might think we are." Well that freaking stings. "You don't tell us much of anything that's going on in that big brain of yours. And you're not listening to a single thing we're trying to say either, you know. It makes it really hard to work you out."

I feel myself tremble for a moment as I try - unsuccessfully - to rein in my frustration; not only with what I'm dealing with existentially, but that it's so hard to make myself clear to people when I'm not within the easy realm of professionalism. Even my family. Always. Goddammit.

"Do you know how damn tenuous everything is for me right now?" I demand. "None of you are stupid. None of you. You know me, you know what goes on with all this." I sweep my arm in an all-encompassing approximation of urgh. "We've all been through this before. Everything is just so fucking uncertain; I am well within my rights to not know what the hell I want if I need to." My breath hitches and I hug my legs tighter; addressing my kneecaps rather than see the expressions on my brothers' faces.

"I… I want desperately to see Sherry get married." I whisper. "But do you know how much it hurts just to see my reflection in the mirror right now?" I swallow harshly, plucking at my pyjama shirt. "This… trainwreck I'm living, I'm in no shape to be dressing in a suit of any description. Everything hurts, my hair's falling out, my skin is so dry that just sitting here in bed makes me want to claw it off. I'm a skinny, walking scarecrow, and I'll…"

I cough, trying to dislodge the globby ball residing beneath my tonsils, sucking in a deep breath. I let the words run free. I can't bear to see their faces. I've kept so much of this to myself, it feels horrible and anxiety-inducing to realise that I'm speaking any of my stupid, petty-sounding fears. But they're so real it makes my soul hurt.

"I… I'll be the centre of attention… Sherry should be the star of the show, herself and Sky." I shake my head. "It's… overwhelmingly kind that you've all helped them do that for me... Arrogant," I smile wryly, a spasm. "Though kind all the same. But… Cancer… It's visible now, there's no fucking denying it, and I'm not…" I bite my lip, relishing the sting. "I'm not ruining my best friend's wedding, turning up looking like a walking corpse because of this. I'm just so unwell right now, anything could happen, and it'll make everything memorable in the wrong damn way." I manage, forcing the words out. "I can't do that to her… I won't."

"But John," Alan says, as my voice trails off. I feel nothing but tired. Always so fucking tired... "We didn't say anything about you actually going. Just that we were bringing it to you… you're jumping to conclusions!"

I rub my face, and just shudder, because I realise it's true; I've jumped the gun and not listened. I've gone haring off on my own little train-track of doom and not read between the lines. Not even metaphors are going to help you now. Moron.

I know immediately, exactly what my family have done to help. Even with their own pressures and me and my issues, and everything else that's going on… I snort in frustration and amusement, and a cough tears through me. I shake it off forcibly, even though it hurts. I cover my face, tears pricking at my eyes. For the umpteenth freaking time since this hellride began, I can feel my insides shrivelling as my lungs constrict even further atop them.

"I've missed out on so much…" I choke, wincing at the pressure on my aching ribs. I press my left hand against my side as my chest constricts against my volatile emotions. "Scott's birthday, a proper Easter - for all we know that could've been my last - and I was stuck in fucking hospital, coughing my lungs out for it. Now this… It's too much. This… this isn't fair. It's just not fair!" I hate the way my voice cracks. None of them can think of anything to say. I don't blame them, really. I still can't look at them.

"Can you guys go?" I wipe my eyes with my pyjama sleeve, clearing my throat abruptly as I address my knees again. "Please? I need to think and… and process, and I just… I just need to rest. I'm sorry." I manage.

"Alright, John." I can hear from Dad's tone that he's using his Look to ensure that no-one argues. My father's good at that.

None of them say a word, but I hear their footsteps; keeping my head down to stave off the waves of anxiety until I hear my bedroom door close. Blessed silence.

I let out a sharp breath, coughing slightly past the burst of discomfort that flares in that damned right side. I scrub my eyes with one hand, clutching my sore stomach with the other. I feel like crap, but I also want to get dressed; ignore this trash cycling in my brain and feel as much of an approximation of normal that I'm ever going to get in the current circumstances.

Take a breath, Tracy. In and out.

In the everlasting, wise words of Nike: Just do it.

##

Getting up and trying to get organised for the shower is more of an exercise in patience and sheer stupidity than I'm willing to admit to. Especially when I can barely stand upright, and my body is determined to drop me on my ass if I don't keep one palm planted on the wall or some other close-to-hand surface. Ooooh, the determined, not-particularly-helpful internal monologue proclaims. Punning!

Thoroughly and grimly amused by my brain interjecting random statements on said internal monologue - both of which are instrumental in actually making the damn thing happen, coincidentally - I do my level best to convince my wobbly knees to take my weight as I survey my room, wondering if it's worth trying to cross from one side to the other to get to my case of clothing, or head straight to the bathroom with my toiletries bag, put these things back on - damp as they are from sweat, and gritty: gross - and then come back to change into the fresh things.

Oh, the choices you gotta make when you've got limited reserves of energy.

I decide on the take-the-clothes option, and wobble over to my bag to fetch the sweatpants I had on yesterday, plus a fresh cotton shirt and boxers. My hoodie can wait 'til I come back, as I know I'll only find myself overheating in the steamed-up bathroom, but I do grab my pump-bottle of Aqueous Cream, knowing I'll regret it heartily if I forget. Because of the erythema that comes hand in hand with the radiation treatment - unchanged in more than seventy years, despite scientists (like Brains') best efforts to the contrary - my skin is irritated, sore, and easily aggravated by the friction of my clothes. Due to this, it is therefore further exacerbated by the use of something even as normal as your generically-sold, yet good-quality bath soap, even those designed specifically for sensitive skin. Sucks to be me, but there it is.

My feet are cold as I stumble across the hardwood, my twisted ankle stubbornly protesting the pressure with little flinches of pain aimed up the outside of my leg. Biting my lip anxiously, trying to shove the previous conversation from my mind, I pray that Dad won't decide to come back and try to talk to me, because he will protest this absolutely. He'll probably argue that I'm not strong enough.

After last night's escapades, and the one before, I'm not positive I could voice my disagreement without lying through my teeth. I don't blame him in the slightest for wanting to keep me within whatever precarious state of wellbeing we can call this - but I need to do something for me that doesn't involve someone ordering me around and telling me what to do to achieve it; helping me do something that I've managed to do without any help, for most of the past fifteen-and-a-half years. Might be stupid, but us humans can be so very, very stupid. Just ask me and my brothers, for example.

Tracys. We're all very particular brands of danger-magnet asshole when it comes down to it.

##

It takes me the better part of an hour, and I'm a shaking, sore and miserable mess by the time I stagger back into my bedroom, but I'm finally clean and ready for a goddamned nap.

My stupid, stupid mind won't let me though, it never really does when there's too much stuck in it, and my really super-old fallback of recalling complex mathematical algorithms from memory does absolutely nothing when I'm in this state. I've managed to successfully drown out the previous conversation with my family through application of the amount of effort I exerted in order to get myself through my washing and shaving routine unhindered (yes I made the decision to shave; my skin didn't really thank me for it, but who cares?), but I know that once I stop moving again, it's probably not going to stay stuck in the corner of my mind for much longer.

Using a drone for me to see my best friend get married isn't the worst thing they could've come up with, but it's the principle of the thing, and it being them telling me, not Sherry having the choice or option even, of telling me herself that's the problem!

Some might say I'm jumping the gun, but honestly, the fallback to earlier technologies, especially something as robust and as generally unobtrusive of one of the now-outdated, later-model Syntax drones from the 20s isn't going to cause much of a hassle. A camera hooked up to my laptop, a comfy spot for me, and the ability to see my friend get married to her soulmate and the future father of the many, many children she'd assured me they'll be having… not the worst state of affairs I've ever been involved in. It was just the way my family had gone about it: not even giving either of us the choice in the matter, taking that ability to anticipate and execute it ourselves, was in my opinion, quite rude when it came down to it.

I groan as I sink down onto my mattress, feeling damp and sticky and gross despite the shower and change of clothes. Who am I kidding? I'm being a baby, and I need to suck it up and admit it, at least to an extent. But honestly, they know better than to spring things like that on me, especially at the moment! For crying out loud, I could be dead by the end of the year for all we know, and they're keeping stupid things from me that they'll know I'll obsess about! It comes from the kindness of their hearts, but at the same time, it really freaking pisses me off when they go and do things like this on me, however well-intentioned.

The injustice of the entire thing rankles every single freaking day. It's the 2050s, and they've not found a reliable cure for cancer, any cancer. Not just mine. There's still always the chance that it's going to return, no matter what you do, how well the treatment works, and in my case, even being past the supposed five-year-guarantee mark makes no difference on whether or not it'll come back. And with my history of heart weakness due to my previous rounds of chemotherapy, and the subsequently obviously-heightened risk when it comes to treatment of any kind, plus the lungs and the current renal and gastrointestinal challenges, well… Let's just say that in my case - which is obviously the only one that matters to me right now - nothing is guaranteed, even with this possibility-for-success-with-a-clinical-trial carrot dangling in front of my face. There's always something, lurking around every corner; unable to anticipate anything, all but expecting the reality that anything even with the smallest margin of succeeding always runs the risk that it's just going to fail anyway.

Conversely, nastily; the unpredictability of it all tends to come back and bite you in the ass at the most inconvenient times, much like my irritating idiot siblings, after I've told them to go the hell away.

"What do you want, Virgil?" My eyes roll reflexively towards the ceiling as I catch him suddenly lurking outside the now-open door; his sandy hair in a sad attempt at his usual spikes. It's too long to try styling it right now, I note absently, but try telling him that. "I don't want to argue about it." Nevermind he or someone has opened that door, ignoring the hard-and-fast rule that has always existed since forever, wherever we've lived. "Freaking knock next time would you?" I grip the edge of the bed as the sarcasm bites in my chest, and I swallow convulsively against the rising nausea as I stare at my knees again. Fucking Radiation. That shower was a bad idea. I huff out a breath, trying not to actively tremble.

'Wasn't me, for starters," Virgil ducks his head around the doorframe, locking his gaze with mine warily. Eye contact. Not a bad sign... "Was Dad; he came back up while you were showering, but he wants to know if you feel like lunch?" He raises his hands, eyes wide in his suspiciously-pale face. "Don't shoot the messenger." Ok… so that's some possible approximation of a white flag. Apparently. So it seems that pretending nothing has gone down is the game right now, for Virg at least. I can work with that. He's probably like me and feels too shitty for this crap to go on with the intensity it started with. Nevermind he's like me and has always been the figurative, if not literal peacemaker out of the five of us boys.

It beats having another fucking meltdown, sure, but I'm under no illusions that Virgil's apparent willingness to let the argument go for now will force the rest of them to let me hold off on the 'discussion' that I know I'll be subjected to later; resultant sulking aside.

Brilliant. I've got more pressing matters right now though; namely that it's expected that I eat and put forth no arguments into the bargain. I make a face even as my stomach protests in direct opposition. Logically, I need to eat as the freaking dietician sheet and the doctors demand; practically, it's a much harder concept to swallow. Pun not intended.

"Does anyone care if I say no?" I give in and glance at my brother properly. Virgil looks at me as though I'm going to explode again at any minute, but then his inner mediator suddenly emerges and he tips his head with a quirk of his lip. Whoop; under the rug the debris goes... "I'm really not hungry."

"I think they care," He says carefully, "But much as I know you'd prefer not to, it's not going to work." Despite the lightness of his tone, the affirmation of my previous thoughts still feels like an internal gut-punch. Virgil shrugs helplessly.

I feel myself deflate, even as I close my eyes; feeling worse than I had before the altercation, worse than the argument I overheard this morning. It wasn't even Virgil's fault, the argument I woke to; he'd defended me when it came down to it, and that wariness in him… I put that there before, despite him sitting up with me last night. My temper got the best of me, the humiliation overrode it all, and I don't like it. I've apologies to make when I see the others, and I want them to apologise to me and fuck, I just want to go back to bed and hide.

Perhaps it's childish, but I can't take much more of this.

Feeling my gut roll ominously, I take a breath, shuddering as the mess in my chest shifts, making my side spasm. Oh yeah, I forgot; every emotional reaction garners an equal and even more frustrating physical one… Yeah, I need a nap. But food first, apparently, and hopefully not another argument on top of it. I should go downstairs, if I can manage it. I should, but most of me just wants to hide. Fuck. That's not even an excuse, because I should move around if I feel I can, even if I feel as though my legs are jello incarnate.

"Ok…" I say wearily. "What is it, so I can try and convince myself it's worth it? I assume Dad wants to know if I'm coming down or not?" In opposition to my wants of before, I don't want to be isolated up here all day, even if it's half my fault, but neither do I want to deal with the aftermath of my bomb-drop either.

"He does, yeah." Virg seems uncomfortable, probably itching to help me, I assume. Idiot medics-in-training develop that trait super quick. I roll my eyes a little. "Mashed spuds for you, sausage if you think you can stomach it. He says he'll bring it up to you though, if you want."

God, this conversation is getting frustrating again. I don't mind potato; that and sausage I can stand, as long as there's nothing like pepper or salt to irritate my stomach. Crap, do I, don't I? Spit it out, Idiot.

"Yeah, I'll come." The words come easily, even as my resolve forms, and Virgil seems to realise that as he meets my gaze; his arms wrapping unconsciously over his chest. "If the others are down there I don't care, I'm not talking about before." I warn him. "Later, maybe, when I've calmed more. If they push, I won't be responsible for my actions."

Virgil seems to deflate himself this time, in obvious relief that now the objective of his mission up here has been at least half-reached - that I've not blown up at him - and he looks up with an even more exhausted expression to look me in the eye again, a small, relieved smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he considers his reply.

"Well, Scott and Gords won't like that, but we've all got issues."

I nod shortly, rubbing my aching forehead. "Yeah; they're just going to have to deal for the moment. I know that it's… obvious and all, but I'm exhausted."

"FAB." Virg's grin is full-blown now, even through the exhaustion on him. Yeah, we all need fucking therapy. He looks awful, and I'm suddenly reminded of the fact that Scott and I still haven't finished our conversation from the other night. I'll have to get Dad in on that somehow, both before I research moving out; if I can go through with it in the end of it all… That's if I don't try and deck my moron of an older brother first. Back to Virgil though. Be present Tracy, I tell myself. Goddammit.

"I'll follow you down." I promise, wiping my suddenly-damp face as I suck in a breath of my own, ignoring my throbbing head. "Just, give me a few minutes."

"Sure," Virgil nods and leaves, and I cover my face with my hands, shaking even more as I realise I've gotten through one conversation today without taking someone's head off.

At least I've made up with one of them. Sort of anyway.