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Of a Sun and Flower

Pt. 2 You Fit Me

Pairing: Pedro Pascal/OFC

Summary: Conflict induces a positive development when Nini meets the right person at the right time.

Warnings: alcohol, drug use, a psychoanalysis by someone who is not in any kind of medical field (me), symptoms of anxiety and depression, mentions of past abuse and overdose, domestic fights (with resolution, phew)

Notes: Well well well, if it isn't my late ass. Sorry, is all I can say. Life gets in the way and this chapter was fkn hard to write. Actually, I'm working on making Book 1 a real novel now, might be a real published author. Wheee

Also find this fic on Ao3 -here- or the series' Masterlist -here-

Length: 8.8k

You Fit Me

The floor was littered with old chewing gum and spilt, sticky puddles of alcohol when I lowered my gaze at my mechanically piloted feet. It was hot, too hot underneath my wig, too hot between these strange bodies. With nothing but numbness in my mind, I made my hips sway to the rhythm of the heavy beat, felt the base resonate in my chest and alter my perception as my nostrils filled with the scent of people's sweat, cheap liquor and the stale dampness of the fog machines.

My eyes wandered into the dark corners of the club, where hidden figures were locked in a passionate kiss or lived out their high with their mouths wide open as they gazed into the flickering lights. They were but quick illuminations of limbs and faces, pale picture frames of colourful people dancing to a heavy electronic beat. A hypnotic voice was singing and people upon people danced to it like they were in a trance. The air was thick and condensation threatened to drip from the ceiling. It was easy to be sucked into their midst, give in to the alluring promise of forgetful hedonism and just float into the river Styx. Float into another dimension while fate would handpick the gluttons who would descend into the third circle of hell.

What would Pedro say if he saw me like this? Not having fun and denying myself any peace. Was I pretending to push myself into a nihilist universe to chase fatalism and toxicity? A blind person would have been able to see it.

Maybe I wasn't drunk enough to stop my mind from constantly wandering back home and wane between regret and anger. However, I was intoxicated enough to tilt my head into the sticky air, close my eyes and remain in the eternal Asphodel meadows for a little while longer. I felt so alone yet free of all that I knew. An anonymous, ordinary soul drifting through the night.

My state in limbo felt complete until a slimy touch seized my hip and I was promptly forced to take a step away. "No!" My protest fell on deaf ears.

"C'mon, baby. You gotta try this!" A guy in a gay club of all places forced a shot on me. He waved a friend over who brought more glasses that were filled with some kind of dark liquid.

I batted his wandering hands away and yelled at him to leave me alone.

"Fucking fa-." I could read the slur from his lips before he took another leering step towards me. How easily his words shattered against the heavy armour I had braced my soul with.

"She said no, dickface! Fuck off!" A woman with rhinestone eyebrows stepped in. Her shrill voice was loud against the music and she shoved him away. She flipped the man off and cackled at the range of slurs he threw back at us. "You okay?" My saviour hollered in my direction once he'd left us alone on the dance floor.

"Yeah, thank you!" I yelled back. I had seen and gone through worse things. Infinitely worse. "I'm sorry-" I gestured aimlessly when everything became too much anyway. In an attempt to escape, I made my way through the crowd and to the bathrooms.

I had no clue how much time I spent trying to sober up inside the stall that was plastered with graffiti and scribbles. A stick figure lay horizontal with x's crossed over instead of their eyes and memories of last summer flashed through my mind. Overdosed eyes had glazed over into a blur and I recalled how scary it had been to not be able to move my body as I nearly choked on foam and vomit. In a hazy fever dream, Pedro had found me just in time and in the worst way possible. How terrified he'd been. How stupid I felt about the way I behaved again.

In my overwhelmed state, I kept ignoring my phone as it buzzed for the millionth time this night. Pedro's ID blinked up again, the pet name I gave him mocked me along with all the hearts we'd sent back and forth in our recent past. Such a stark contrast to his currently unanswered texts. I wasn't tone-deaf to their urgency.

01:34 - Baby, I just need to know if you're ok, then I'll let you do your thing. Promise

Can you please pick up?

02:04 - Where are you? I can come and pick you up, wherever you are. I'm not mad at you

02:11 - Please just tell me you're safe

02:50 - Leonie, this has to stop! You've made your point ok?

03:00 - I swear tfg, the least you could do is answer! You care at all??

03:01 - *(Angel deleted this message)*

03:02 - Pick up the fucking phone.

The last text, I imagined he had written before pulling his hair out in sheer frustration. A full stop. Yikes.

"Fuck." I whispered to myself.

Inside the filthy stall, I closed my hands over my eyes and slumped over with my elbows resting on my knees. I tried willing my cramp to go away or at least deal with the pain of heavy guilt setting into another part of my stomach. "I'm such a fucking fraud," I admitted to myself in a moment of clarity and regret. Impulsive and short-tempered Leonie van Fleet, the misophonic asshole who doesn't know what she's doing, everyone. Round of applause.

A voice in the stall next to mine ripped me out of my thoughts. "Does anybody have a tampon?" They asked obnoxiously above the dull sound of thumping music.

"I do! Hold up." I yelled back immediately, pondering on my last one and deciding giving it away would limit my time here but maybe having no other choice was a good thing. "I'll trade you for some toilet paper." I put my hands through the bottom of the stall door and crouched down, hoping I wouldn't lose my balance when chipped white nail polish met equally broken black polish as they grabbed for the tampon.

"Thank you so fucking much. My night is saved." They said, made the exchange and I felt dizzy when I decided to end my crisis and finish up myself. "No problem, that's what uterus pals are for." I slurred before flushing and walking up to the sink. I felt a little more drunk than I had originally thought.

"What was that you were saying?" The voice sounded nasal like it's been through quite a bit of crying before. "You're a fraud? What do you mean by that?"

Nosey, this one.

"I mean uh... I'm pretending to be this destructive version of myself. Or what am I doing here?" I was reeling with thoughts while washing my hands with barely existent soap. With no option to dry them in sight, I let the water drip as I stared at my reflection. A stranger stared back, a vision of everything gone wrong.

"Sounds like you've put a lot of thought into it." The voice ripped me out of my tunnel vision again.

I crossed my arms and the words somehow kept flowing out almost too easily. "I just keep making the wrong decisions," I spoke above the sound of the distant, thumping beat. "Just don't know why. Maybe just to punish myself for my perfect life." I narrated my unthought-through, impulsive actions and concluded my crisis with the afterthought of a selfish brat. "You know what? What's worse is that all I do is punish the person that matters to me most."

"Huh." The toilet flushed and out the stall came the same woman from earlier and a look of recognition washed over our faces. "Oh, it's you!" We burst out at the same time. She was of similar height, maybe in her early forties but it was impossible to say with that skincare routine she had going for her. Apart from the eccentric decorations on her face, she had black shiny hair and red-painted lips. "The self-punishment over a hypothetical would make sense if you think you might not deserve the positive things in your life. Have you been through some shit? Apologies for assuming-" She washed her hands messily and also noticed the lack of soap. "I'm drunk."

My brain caught up with her a second later. "Yeah, horrendous stuff." I dramatised in my tipsy state and leaned my weight against the neighbouring sink.

I lacked the ability to comprehend how she could have been so spot-on at first sight. Maybe my cry for help was painted above my head as obvious as the neon sign of this club. The woman spoke with an equal amount of compassion and anger. "Many of us have. Bullied and chased out of our homes. Fewer rights as a marginalised group. It's worse even for the trans community. So many places where you must have felt not accepted. I'm sorry, that had to be tough."

"I'm... Yes, that's true but I'm not trans." I informed her with a smile, amused she'd thought I was.

She froze like an elephant in a porcelain shop. "That wig-"

"It's a wig, yes." She had a fair point for assuming. It was a high probability in a queer scene club like this and my heavy makeup and a wig I hadn't even glued on.

"Well..." She grinned, making it obvious to me that my hairline was crappy enough for me to not pass as a woman. "Anyway then, your partner, she's the best thing in your life and you're emotionally dependent on her?" She asked before bending down and took a sip straight from the tap.

Feeling like such a fraud again, I suddenly felt ashamed. I was out of place. "He is. I hope I'm not but the truth is, I couldn't live without him. He's the best thing in my life." I corrected her and she coughed into the stream.

"Damn, I assumed you'd at least be part of the L in the alphabet mafia. What were the odds?" "No, it's fine. We're in a queer club so... I'm sorry for invading this space. I guess I just wanted a peaceful night out. Can't escape men anywhere though. Surprise." I chuckled at her before being serious again. "Karma. I haven't been treating my partner well these past couple of months." Suddenly admitting it felt devastating and my voice quivered so much, it made her turn her entire body and meet me with a worried frown. "I had a very abusive dad and I'm afraid, so fucking afraid I'm the abuser now." I was taken aback by my confession, for it was so unlike me to bring up my past, let alone to a stranger. However, there was something about this woman. Something so comforting and familiar, I had to reveal a well-hidden part of my life to an equally drunk stranger in a filthy bathroom.

Yet I received nothing but her entire attention and while her presence felt comforting, her voice was clear and cool as ice. "My best guess is you have tried to cope with everything yourself, depending on whatever distracted you and fed your love deprivation." She deducted.

I gaped at her. "How-"

"Do you mind?" She pulled a cigarette from a battered package and I shook my head 'no' when she offered me one. "I think I get it now. Wait for it-" She climbed onto the heater and blew smoke out of the tiny window. For a moment, she digested the first drag, smoking in a kind of club where nobody would bat an eye anyway. I felt like a lost little kitten, staring up at her with big hungry eyes. It nearly seemed she gathered information by scanning me from head to toe. "You have some kind of European accent, maybe you were new here at some point and lonely. You're a petite, pretty little thing with daddy issues in a queer club, still unable to escape that predatory behaviour from earlier. So in theory, you know how to protect yourself because you had trauma to deal with but you feel deep hurt all the time. Plus, a loving partner and a domestic fight, equals the fragile state you're in. Babe, you're trying to run away from happiness. It's called self-sabotage."

My throat hurt from having swallowed too hard. Mind completely blank from unadulterated surprise, I stuttered. "Self- self-sabotage... is that what this is?"

She clicked her tongue. "It's a behaviour that makes you think you have control over the negative outcome of your actions and be in charge of your pain. It's not real. You're just calming yourself with predictability." She had opened her arms like she had presented me with a magic trick and I was the stupified spectator who couldn't appreciate her art form. Although, what she said, sounded perfectly logical.

Impressed by her quick mind, I stood there with a frown between my brows while I took my time to process. "I was not expecting free therapy at three in the morning," I said numbly.

"Surprise." She grinned like a Cheshire cat despite the thin veil of tears that was still evident in her eyes.

"Are you in a psychological field of any kind? You seem so..." I tried to think of a better word than 'intelligent' and a kinder word than 'crazy yet wise. "Analytical."

She disposed of the burning cigarette through the crack in the window and hopped down to me. "Psychiatrist in crisis." She winked before turning to the mirror and giving her lips a fresh coat of red paint. A burst of frustration made her voice quiver. "But I have come to the realisation my work is fruitless in a world where people keep having normal fucking reactions to toxic post-capitalism. I'll never accomplish anything." She stopped doing her makeup to let go of her rage as she reenacted a conversation with one of her patients. "Oh, you're having a burnout and you live in a constant state of anxiety? You're a single mom working two jobs and you still can't pay rent let alone your medical bills but sure, you must have problems because Mercury is in retrograde." She was close to crying again and angrily tossed her lipstick into her purse. "I'm supposed to help people but all I see are unsolvable problems and stupid shit." She stared ahead in a nearly manic way and then breathed out like she was trying to get it out of her system.

Our tearful eyes locked in the mirror and I felt we had bonded in that moment. "I'm Giulia." My new companion introduced herself then.

"Nini." We shook hands and I came straight back to the point with something she said that had bothered me. "How did you know I have some unresolved issues?"

She didn't conceal an ironic smile. "You were talking to yourself in a bathroom stall. That's not a tough one to guess." She was right and my eyes started to become blurry before she interrupted me with a suggestion. "Wanna go outside? Dr Oswald will see you now." She offered with the grin of a siren who seemed to lure me in with a promising song of mental stability. After a short consideration, I sighed and nodded.

My path tonight had brought me to a club with a bright pink neon sign buzzing above its entrance. This hole-in-the-ground club's heavy electro-dance beat could only be revealed when its doors swung open. After falling shut, the soundproofing reduced the thumping music down to a dull ache in my memory. Some friends had shown me 'Nomi's' a few years ago and my disguise was either good enough to remain anonymous or simply nobody was bothered by the fact that a celebrity, and a hetero-normative one at that, was floating through an LGBTQ scene. The buff goth lady simply nodded at us before setting us free into the cold night.

Giulia poked me in the arm. "You hungry? I'm starving."

I shuffled about in the cold, considering if my anxiety was treatable with some food, then everything would be fine again. "I could eat."

"Wanna get kebab or pizza?" She held onto a street light and swung around playfully.

The corners of my mouth turned down into pathetic pout. "Chicago pizza?"

She smiled and frowned at the same time. "Yeah, why not? I know a place that's still open."

We talked on our entire way to the pizza place, shared our worries and doubts and she listened like we were two old friends who had finally reconnected but had never grown apart. The more she poured her interest into my problems, the more she lit up and somehow, I had overshared my entire trauma history. I was free to pretend to just be someone ordinary while in reality, I was opening up to a past life my public persona only dealt with when ugly rumours after a speculative peer-review turned into invasive interview questions. Giulia on the other hand had no idea who I was. To her, I was just another lost person.

The buzz of the alcohol had somewhat lessened during our cold morning walk. Some delis were already opening their shops for the day while the pizza place served their last customers.

A chosen New Yorker claiming Chicago-style pizza was superior was a dangerous opinion to have. Yet, I never felt more certain of it when the cheese string connecting to my piece seemed to never end. I chuckled darkly and groaned in delight while Giulia gave me an approving "Yeees, get in there."

"All I needed was some damn pizza." I sighed lowly, and yet again, battled my crisis with humour. "Can you believe that my ex-therapist advised me to go on a crash diet? All he wanted to talk about was my weight and my sex life. He wanted to stop me from being a massive kinky bitch and why would I want that?" Both of us cackled.

"Shit." She frowned, the doctor having a habit of leaning into me when she found something interesting. "I don't get how someone like that is able to keep a license."

"Yeah! Right?" I cried out, mouth full of hot pizza. I found enjoyment in being a hot mess when I mimicked his voice. "Oh, doesn't matter if you have a drug history. I have you under my wing, this is completely safe. Now here's some Ketamine. And boom, I'm dealing with withdrawal, cheers. Thanks a lot, dickhead."

"You weren't safe with him. Therapy shouldn't be manipulative." Dr Oswald stated.

"I swear, I have no verbal filter anymore. Being off meds is the worst." Though I had conveniently left out the part that I was famous, I remembered we were still in public and I shouldn't talk about too private things. I stared into the starless night above Manhattan and missed them as much as my sanity. "I can't help missing this... howling loneliness and complete lack of ego inside what was just mind fog." There wasn't any other way to describe ketamine to me. My nose clogged up at the pain and struggle of it all. "My sweet boyfriend- I was so mean to him and I know I'm also on my period and extra mean and the sauce I made was way too runny!" I sobbed at this point, nearly inarticulate, drifting off towards a point that was still very important to me.

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad." "It was practically water!" I sobbed out at the memory of our unsatisfactory dinner last night, shoulders shaking from crying.

"No... I meant what you said about being mean." She clarified while I suppressed a threatening hiccup. "What's your underlying concern?" Doc redirected our conversation with an annoyingly stereotypical therapy question but I guessed that had to be part of it.

"You know, I lost my cat-" A gulp broke my speech and I breathed until I got it together. "And it shouldn't feel this marginal but watching her die and realising I wasn't over my mum's death and feeling this profound sense of grief made me realise that maybe I don't want to be loved like that when I die. This much." Thick drops of tears streamed down my face and I knew I must have not made a lot of sense. "Never expressing this much love again. Feel the way I'm feeling... in that moment. I never stopped grieving and I figured, if he'd hate me, that would be easier."

The look she gave me was one of full understanding. "Go on, you got this." She encouraged me with a firm hand on my shoulder.

I wiped my face with my sleeve, snot, tears and makeup got stuck on the black fabric. "You know what my angel said? He said he could never hate me and he would never regret loving me, that I taught him that." I stifled myself with more pizza.

"Sounds like your person is there to help you navigate your pain," Doc said. "Maybe you're looking to become the people who would rather love like no one has ever loved before than to avoid the greatest suffering."

It seemed Pedro and I kept growing together. Through good and bad times. Despite the hardship, we still remained a unit and maybe that was all that mattered.

I soon rediscovered that food made everything better again and I filled the hole in my soul with cheese until my phone started buzzing in my pocket. Pedro was calling again.

"That's him?" Giulia asked with a look at the caller ID showing that 'Angel' with a load of heart emojis was calling. I showed her a picture of him and me together from our last New Year's celebration and she cooed at our big smiles. "I miss him," I admitted.

"He looks sweet. A bit... older than you, I guess?" She slurred back.

Bless her heart, she didn't recognise him either. "A bit." I downplayed our eighteen-year age gap. "Truth is, I am lucky to be with this treasure of a man, he's kind, sexy, smart and so talented." I gushed over him.

"But you've not communicated about your argument?" A slight smile spread on her lips despite her seriousness and somehow, I saw someone competent past those rhinestone eyebrows.

"No. I ran. Like always." I said in pure disappointment in myself. "I don't know if I fucked up for good this time. I can be such a bitch these days. But imagine me going home after this, what the fuck." I chewed slowly. "He already worries so much." I already knew my eyes were puffy and my lips were swollen from biting them. "Pedro thought he'd get a fun and bubbly, nurturing girlfriend but then he met my insecure dramatic traumatised and needy ass. What if I can't give him everything he deserves? He somehow still settled for me." A fresh tear ran down my cheek, this time I thought it might have been a happy one.

"You don't think your relationship is healthy?" Doc asked with a cough and I shrugged my shoulders. My fingers played with my sea glass necklace. "Do you think it's bad that... I don't feel like I'm not constantly on fire?"

"You think about the mind games that kept you interested?" "Don't call me out like that." My eyes narrowed.

"Let me ask you something. Does your relationship feel like an up-and-down roller coaster?"

I felt stupified and stammered out. "No?"

She kept insisting. "When someone has a hard time, do you make time to be there for the other? Not to improve things but just to be there."

"We can be miles away from each other at times but... yes. He's my lighthouse." I smiled widely despite her not getting the reference.

Giulia licked sauce off her thumb. "Do you bring the inner child up in each other?"

"Always." I laughed with tears in my eyes at every happy memory. I recalled our Christmases, birthdays, interviews and public events or simply the ordinary evenings just between the two of us.

Dr Oswald's shoulders relaxed with a sigh. "I think your relationship is more than healthy. Healthier than average couples. Don't let your insecurities talk you down, grow from them." With that, she shoved her last bite of pizza into her mouth and clapped her hands-free from crumbs.

My eyes skipped between her and the floor awkwardly. "Thanks, I guess."

She hummed before sharing an amused memory. "When my ex was fed up with me, I made her a sock puppet and tried to talk about it. She never called again." She demonstrated it with her glove. "Why don't you trust people?" She voiced her hand.

I gave her a fond smile as we began our walk back. "You're weird," I said with a chuckle as I retrieved a pre-rolled blunt from my purse and held it up to Giulia in an offer.

She grinned before passing me her lighter. "You're a cliché." She watched me light joint and take a practiced drag of the spicy herb.

"You're the one who said she dismembered Barbies as a kid." I countered with a deep exhale.

"Don't pretend you're not just as weird. You probably tortured your Sims or played with scary spiders or something." Giulia assumed, judging by my goth outfit by all accounts before taking a drag herself.

I couldn't help but play a joke on her. "There were indeed only spiders in the basement to play with," I commented dryly and her eyes closed while mine widened. Having just listened to the story of my sad childhood and the fact that my father used to lock me up in the cellar, she choked on the smoke. For a moment we were both shocked by my words until I noticed she was slowly breaking into laughter. She tried to keep it behind her hand but now we were both finished trying to hold back and instead of trying to work through and process my trauma, we let go of a hollering laugh. She at least tried to remain decent. "That's not funny. That's so not... funny."

I thought I was allowed to think it was. "It's a bit funny." She shook her head no, tearing up when she gave me my weed back. "See, you helped me already. I could talk about my dad without having an emotional breakdown. It's been easier already but I haven't felt this... relieved in a long time." I blinked away my tears stubbornly, finally admitting to myself that I was not fine and I was constantly reacting to my trauma. I decided then and there that if I would ever mistreat a future child of mine, I would not deserve to waste any more oxygen on this world. "You're really good at this. Knocking sense into people." I said sincerely.

"I appreciate you trying to end my lost cause. You made me feel like I'm not a total failure after all." She said on our way back through the calm side alleys. Our steps echoed from the red brick stone walls as we passed the joint back and forth.

"Are you kidding me? I appreciate your work so much. You do matter. This was... this was really helpful. I mean it." I saw her bottom lip trembling at my promise.

"Thank you. You're very nice."

Like a cool cat, I flicked the joint away. "I have my moments." She let me drape my arm across her shoulders as we made our way out of the last alley.

The night was slowly lifting and my mind felt light as a feather when the club came back into view. "I don't think I'll go back inside again." I said at the end of our journey.

Giulia turned and her hands clapped onto her sides with a sigh. "Now imma tell you what I'd say as a therapist and imma tell you what I'd say as a parent from an Italian household." She took a step closer and lowered her voice, her concern sounding far from patronising. "I would very much like to test you for PTSD and bipolar disorder and I want to break down generational trauma and introduce you to the right medication and progressive, beneficial habits because you girl, are not making wise choices." She finally put her finger down. "Second, and this is my nonna speaking-" Suddenly she raised her voice and I jumped. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE? GET YOUR ASS HOME, PRONTO." She gestured like her Italian grandma and I chirped out a laugh.

"O-okay." I was met with a passionate grin I had to somewhat dampen. "PTSD has kind of already been diagnosed though." A deep intuitive feeling matched and I somehow knew she would be able to help me.

"No depression?" "It's more of an anxiety disorder." "Shame. People with depression have the best Spotify playlists."

I blinked at the sound of her disappointment. "I would very much like to become your patient." I decided then and there.

"Fantastic." She wrestled her hand into her boot in return to give me a white business card with a font that promised a brutalist interior design. 'M.D. G. Oswald' written on it with an office address in Manhattan not far from here.

"Fancy," I noted and tucked it away into my bra. She seemed genuinely happy at the encounter. "God knows, I've made my partner age ten years tonight. After this-" I began to walk backwards towards the street. "I owe him a lifetime of happiness... and no more runny sauces."

"Try creme fraiche next time." Giulia advised me and the only thing I could do was comment with an awkward 'ah.

I shifted my weight from one to the other foot, pointing in the direction of an approaching cab. "I should probably... I'll give you a call." I turned one last time after I had already managed to hail it. "Hey Doc, one more thing."

"What?"

I couldn't have addressed her with a sterner tone as I stood by the open door of my ride. "If you ever tell me I need to forgive my dad, I'll be out the door." I threatened and at first she looked puzzled, but then saluted me in understanding and we smiled at each other.

I was already inside the taxi when she whistled sharply with her fingers and provoked me to roll the window down. "Ey, one last word of advice." She began as she stood in front of the door back where our journey had originally started. "Make up with your fella. If he's mad, suck his dick. He'll get over it."

"Amen!" A bunch of suddenly cheerleading people roaming the club's entrance in their colourful outfits contributed with loud and some lewd additions.

I nodded and sank a little deeper into my seat with my cheeks heating up at her thumbs up. "Thanks." Giulia slapped the roof of my taxi for goodbye and as I drove off, I looked back to see her going back inside the club.

~~~

At around five in the morning, the house was dark and perfectly quiet. Everything seemed to go according to plan if it meant Pedro had finally gone to sleep. The key and wind chime at the door hardly made a noise when I crept inside, yet having to greet a pathetically whining Edgar who had been waiting for me on the doormat required an advanced level of discreteness. "Hey, good boy, hi! Oh, dear. Oh, dear." I went over to pacify our boy before I snuck inside bare feet with my shoes dangling from my fingers.

Completely parched, I passed into the kitchen, unloaded all of my belongings onto the counter and fumbled at my earrings with a sigh. My mouth tasted weird.

I was stretching towards the glasses when sudden bright headlight illuminated the entire room and scared the living hell out of me. His sudden appearance had been nearly enough to drop my glass before I could even retrieve it from the cupboard. "Kut, fuck! You scared me!" I cursed after swishing around to see one particular unpleased Pedro in the French doorway. His frown only deepened and he gave me a thin-lipped stare as he leaned against the frame and crossed his toned arms over his chest.

I knew I had to look like an absolute mess, yet I gestured around as if I couldn't see what the point of him busting me like a naughty teenager was. This was terribly like a bad childhood memory of my father doing practically the same thing, the only difference was that I wasn't scared of Pedro. He was dressed in his old pyjamas and his hair was adorably ruffled post-shower but his softness was entirely replaced by harsh tension. Deep bags cast a shadow underneath his eyes and it was then that I noticed the sheen of tears in their hardness, something between pure anger and also, relief.

"Hi." I gulped, sensing I was in deep trouble regardless. I slowly pulled my wig off my head, discarding the long black strands as they flowed off my shoulders. He didn't echo my greeting as usual.

My eyes skipped to the floor at the sight of his obvious disappointment in me and I wondered if I would manage to raise any kind of reaction from him other than eyes that stared daggers into my soul. Pedro's anger was a chilling thing to behold. It was rare.

His chest first expanded and he tore his hand over his mouth like he needed to stop all the necessary curses from tumbling out with his next exhale. "How was it?" He asked instead, ironically with a sharp edge to each word. His eyes radiated a kind of severe heat that promised this was merely the calm before the storm.

I forced myself not to stutter but my heart beat out of my chest. "It was... nice. I feel good. Really good. Better um... I thought you'd maybe be asleep by the time I get home."

"Oh, really?" He parroted with dripping sarcasm, finally stepping down the few stairs and stalking intimidatingly closer. I shrunk underneath him and bumped into the counter, wincing at his proximity more than the impact. "Where were you?" He growled, jaw clicking.

Irritation glared up at me at his patronising tone and I realised I wasn't done provoking him after all. It was like I couldn't stop myself. With an attitude, I raised my chin and snarked up at him. "Why does it matter? I'm no longer there."

"Did you take anything?" He turned my face into the light above with force and I blinked, irritated at the examination. The light was too bright and his grip pinched my cheeks a little too harsh for his gentle character. He held heated eye contact that made my pride resolve and finally crumble. "Leonie, did you take anything?" He bit down at me after he couldn't detect something unusual about the dilation reflex in my pupils.

I freed myself from his grasp. "No, I didn't! Let go of me." I pouted childishly and he let it be for the moment, stepping back and letting me go like my touch burned him. "I'm fine!" I added when he walked away from me.

He faced the garden, his broad back casting a shadow onto the blueish-hued floor when I dared to speak up again. "I'm... I'm tired. I think I should just go to bed." I tried to sneak my way out but he was quicker to strut to the couch and toss me a pillow.

"No, you're not." He ordered, clearly insinuating I was sleeping here tonight.

"Fine." I bit out and aggressively fumbled with a blanket while he turned around and didn't take another look at me. A gush of air pushed through his nose when he walked past me.

I could only watch as he went to leave, a rush of sympathy and guilt provoking me to finally do the right thing. "I'm s-"

He broke off my apology. "Go to sleep and sober up. We'll speak in the morning."

A heavy stone settled in my heart. "Pedro."

He went to go upstairs and not once turned to look at my sad, lost form that waited in vain for a sign of forgiveness.

~~~

When I woke about five hours later, it was by the sound of items banging in the kitchen. The smell of something delicious sizzled in a pan but my stomach dreaded it and my head felt like it could burst. The first wave of sickness crashed into me when I remembered the resemblance of hatred in Pedro's eyes. Mine opened to the sight of his chocolate curls bouncing as he chopped something with a knife. His gaze was still turned down even though he must have seen that I was up and the more I told myself that he didn't care for me anymore, the more I felt like I deserved it.

The smell of bacon suggested that the thick tension hanging in this house was merely a delusion. Normally it meant something different. A cosy breakfast with a newspaper and coffee, loving banter and plans for the future.

Pedro discarded something into the bin when I sat up and disturbed Edgar, who had been sleeping cuddled into my side.

Pedro sighed and tossed the towel he'd been using over his shoulder. It was like he needed to brace himself before acknowledging me with a side glance and a tight pull of his moustache. I threw my blanket off and felt nothing but awful at the sight of the fatigue on his face.

"Good morning," I muttered meekly and got up to go and sit at the table with my hands folded sheepishly in front of me. I didn't even dare to walk up to him and get myself a cup of coffee. Pedro on the other hand, knowing me inside and out, fetched it for me and the creamy liquid sloshed over the rim at the force he used to slam it down in front of me. A plate with a croissant followed next with a harsh clatter of porcelain on wood. Before this 'talk' I dreaded more than anything would ensue, he waited for me to examine my favourite breakfast that I still adored him for. "Thank you." I barely managed to say.

He watched me dunk a piece of buttery deliciousness into my coffee, slip it into my mouth and treat him to a careful smile. I knew he had gone out of his way to get me fresh croissants but I couldn't tell if it was a peace offering or should merely act like a little sugar to make the medicine taste not so bitter. I braced myself for the latter. "D'd you sleep well?" He muttered tiredly and I nodded.

"The couch is pretty comfortable, actually." I attempted to make an insignificant observation before returning the question and receiving a hardly noticeable shake of his head as he brushed it off.

"Pedro, talk to me," I begged him, still hoping I could fix this. "Please."

Yell at me, throw something. Just anything.

I could hardly swallow as he stalked through the room. He took deep breath before his agitation finally unfolded. "Do you have any idea-" he spoke slow and patiently. "-how worried I was all night?"

Finally, his eyes met mine and it was nearly devastating. A heavy gulp forced my food down and I inhaled to start with an apology but he stopped me from making even the tiniest approach. "I was frightened, I didn't know what to do. You just... storm out after we had a fight, I have no idea where you're going-" The heat still radiated from his eyes when his voice turned a mocking tone. "The problem is you don't fucking care about anything! I wait for a fucking sign of life from you but you ignore my texts, you don't answer my calls-" His voice rose in volume with each word. "And then, finally at five in the morning, you come home, reeking of alcohol and weed and I knew-- I knew that would happen. Who else but you would just disappear, then pop up like nothing happened?" He had bent over the table, hands splayed out across when he spoke to me in calm anger. "You know what you did? You mixed painkillers with alcohol and drugs, you're lucky you didn't end up in the ER! And don't get me started on the scandal you could have caused when you walk around fucking wasted like that." He shook his head at me and I decided to keep it to myself that I had been to a gay club on top of that. "Irresponsible, stupid, impulsive girl. Give me one fucking reason why I shouldn't think you're a fucking danger hazard to yourself!"

"I was 'not' wasted," I muttered under my breath, but he looked past my antics and the flaw of design I called self-medication. He was speechless. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"Oh, you're sorry?" he chastised me, louder this time, ready to berate me a little more. "I'm sorry is not fucking good enough this time!" He was breathing irregularly.

"I needed a little bit of freedom, Pedro!" I cried out.

Maybe emotion made him irrational at this point too. He didn't care Edgar was whining at us. "Oh, remind me again how horrible living in LA was and make me feel guilty about it."

"I begged to come with you, to just leave New York, remember? Poen died and I wanted to leave." I yelled back, frantically wiping away the first couple of tears at his fury. "I love you, wherever you go, I go!" I sobbed. Silence hung in the room like thick fog clouding us.

He sighed, holding back the severity of his anger when he realised he had made me cry. Finally he sat next to me at the head of the table and with a terrible sigh, ruffled his hand through his hair.

He sounded so tired. "I was so fucking mad. Still am. You treat my concern like it's nothing. I get you're searching for yourself and what's good for you but call me out on my delusion if I assume it's not in self-medication but right here." He told me with his eyes closed. "Honey, I'm so invested in helping and supporting you and I also know you won't find that sort of thing while going out and risking your wellbeing. I have... a lot of empathy for what you're going through. Be selfish, by all means, but I am 'not-" he fixed my eyes with his and put his index finger onto the table. "deserving of being treated like shit. Trust goes both ways. If I can't convince you to do what's best for you, I trust that you at least won't disrespect my compassion."

Finally it sank in and I was struck by so much shame, my eyes stung violently and I hated myself for ever hurting him. Even if unintentionally, he was the only one who could stop me on my way down because he was in control of my heart. I was the first to break our tense silence. "I need help," I admitted in tears. "I want to get better."

We finally seemed to understand each other's dire struggle, for when he grasped my hand, it meant the world to me. "Maybe you want to try this clinic I found. I heard it's-" He began but I interrupted him and tried to conceal my disgust at even the mention of rehab.

"I already found a new therapist," I announced and he leaned back in a puzzled state. "Good, eh... good. What?" He stuttered.

"Last night." I finished and watched his jaw drop. He gave me a look like he was finally done with my bullshit and the hand he'd previously held so comfortingly let me go again. I aimed to pacify him before he could say anything. "A good psychiatrist, I met her in the club and I got a free session but I'm already a hundred per cent sure, she's the right one for me. She is... incredible."

Pedro was still too baffled to even process this piece of information. "That's... that's-" Pedro didn't know what exactly this was, he tried to think about his words but failed. He put his palm to his forehead to relieve the headache that had to be forming there. "I feel like you forgot everything I just said. You don't get it." Pedro looked at me, puzzled.

"I do." "No, I begged you to make more sensible decisions and then you barge in with this." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "God, you're a piece of work."

I tried not to take that past comment personally. "I mean something good came out of my manic episode. I realised important things. For example, that I'm self-sabotaging."

"Okay... okay. Let's think this through." Pedro had calmed down somewhat and ran his hand over his beard in an attempt to try and start over. "Does this therapist have any credentials? What's her background? References? Do you have any idea who she is?" His questions were all reasonable but I had no answers to them. All I knew was that none mattered because I had a good feeling I about her.

"She's extremely smart and empathetic, she's boisterous, a lesbian and she's a socialist. You'd like her." I explained and he blinked at me. Dumbfounded, he folded his hands and I felt free to tell him the entire story of how Doc and I met.

Even after I was done explaining, he was still not convinced. "You know can't have a personal relationship with your therapist. This meeting while going out... thing and smoking together doesn't sound good at all. Who parties with their therapist?"

"I know, I know we can't be friends. She already said something like that. That and, that I should suck your dick if you're still mad at me." His frown seemed edged in stone, causing my innocent expression to crumble bit by bit. "You don't want that." I assumed, quietly.

"No, I don't." He dismissed, low and pointedly. "This is a bad idea. And this... therapist suggesting a blow job would fix this-" he looked up with a spark of humour I fixed my hope on. "Maybe."

I raised my eyebrows and he pointed a finger at me. "No, I was joking." "Okay, jeez." "I'd appreciate it if you took this seriously."

Maybe it had dawned on me or my manic episode was finally tranquillized by cold sobriety but my eyes stung with tears and my voice cracked when I spoke under my breath. "I am taking it more seriously than ever." I tried and was met with a look of love and pain in his eyes that nearly broke my heart.

"Don't say that if you don't mean it." He begged quietly.

A heavy gulp got stuck in my throat and for several moments, I gathered the right things to say. "I know... I know you have a good reason to be angry with me but I felt... so helpless." I choked up. "So unseen."

For several long, insufferable beats, we stayed mute until the quietness became too much to bear. "I'm sorry if I made you feel that way." His voice had cracked mid-sentence. "Just the thought anything could happen to you... and it would have been my fault. When I didn't hear anything from you, I was so angry."

When his eyes filled with tears, I reached over the table to gently try and loosen the arms he had crossed in front of his chest. Reluctantly, he opened up and let me hold his hand.

"Baby, I know it's been hard. I know-" My voice quivered while he tried to compose himself and meet my eyes. He was right, I hadn't been myself lately and I was so sorry for everything. For last night, for what nearly happened in LA. He was the one person I wanted to keep trying for and I made a promise with the only words that mattered. "I'll do better."

Pedro nodded, the flicker of warmth in his moist eyes. He believed me. "Okay." He decided and merely the thought of ever disappointing him again broke my heart. Never in my entire life had I felt such shame. The tears that had gradually been filling my eyes spilled over and I watched them fall into my lap when I couldn't hold them any longer.

He cupped my cheek when a sob shook my body and raised my chin so he could look me in the eyes and make something clear. "I was scared, for you. And you- you don't understand how much it hurts when you run out the door like that. Please, at least let me know you're okay next time." He admitted quietly.

"I'm so sorry." I cried out.

"You were right, I was too controlling. And I'm sorry for letting you sleep on the couch and being too harsh on you." He sighed, wiped first mine, then his tears away before he regained his composure. "If you need time for yourself, I won't stop you."

"Not... time away from you but-" I sighed. "Maybe I just need to get back to work. Do my own thing again and work on some music."

"That's a very good idea." He smiled for the first time and it was soothing, even though something seemed to still weigh on his mind. "Can you promise me something?" His eyes snapped back up from our entwined hands and I braced myself to receive an expectation I would have trouble meeting. "Promise you'll tell me when you feel like I'm smothering you, so you won't start to resent me?"

Finally, the consequences of my actions had an impact when I realised he was definitely the more mature person about this. The fact that I made him worry about that deeply saddened me. "I could never resent you." I squeaked out, finally broken.

Pedro breathed out a relieved sigh when I threw myself into his arms and I could hold him tight. His shoulders sank low as he hid his face in the crook of my neck and hugged me close. He needed me as much as I needed him, right here and wrapped up in his arms.

"Lost my fucking Duolingo streak." He grumped, spoke muffled into my shoulder and triggered a peal of laughter to bubble up between us.

"I'm so sorry, angel. I really am." I replied nasally but somewhat relieved of all tension. Looking back at him, I wiped away the moisture underneath his eyes.

"It's okay now." He promised. "I promise it'll be okay."

I revelled in his gentle touch. "I'm sorry for being all wrong in the head." My voice thinned out.

He caught my chin between his finger and thumb. "Hey, hey, you're not. Look at me." I did, looking into his still glistening, beautiful brown eyes to see him sniff and brace me for some uplifting words. "You think there's something wrong with you? There's nothing. Absolutely nothing is wrong with you. Anxiety and depression fucking suck but you're gonna stop being so hard on yourself. It gets better, I promise. And when we fight, we fight hard but we love even harder." His eyes were so soulful and he was in every way, kindness and beauty while I was ashamed of the way I looked, felt and behaved. Somehow he made me feel deserving again just by looking at me.

"You don't know how much that means to me." I was hardly able to say through my throat closing up in tears as I held his face in between my palms. "I'm sorry, Pedro. My sweetheart." Gazing into his shimmery, yet determined eyes and finally seeing no sign of irritation in them lifted an enormous weight off my heart. A desperate need for closeness forced its way into our embrace. It was nearly too harsh, the way he pulled me closer when his fingers tangled into the roots of my hair like he'd lose me if he didn't but I needed it to survive.

He held me close for what felt like forever and again, I felt the need to just disappear within him. "Hey, I don't want a mentally stable partner. That's boring." I said in an uplifting tone and I nearly giggled. "Because that's not fun. It doesn't fit me. You fit me. I want you, with all of your issues. To me, you are perfect." He placed many, loving kisses on my head and made his devotion and immortal support finally resonate within me. I was a path without an end and he was happy to keep treading on it.

Part 3 - Coming Soon

Translation notes:

(it): nonna - (eng): grandma

(it): pronto - (eng): now

(dut): kut - (eng): cunt

#pedro pascal x actress #pedro pascal #series #fanfiction series #of a sun and flower #pedro pascal/original female character #fluff #domestic fluff

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fandomdaydreamer · 7 months

Text

Of a Sun and Flower

Pt. 1 Yesteryear

Pairing: Pedro Pascal/OFC, alternating perspectives

Another Disclaimer: I mean no disrespect to Pedro Pascal and I hope I'm not offending anybody. Believe me, I grow very uncomfortable from time to time but this fanfiction is supposed to be a real book someday and giving Pedro "the role" keeps me motivated haha, it's really just that (a fictional character) Yes, I'm very selfish and painfully self-aware.

Summary: It is a normal day back in New York. Pedro just tries to be a good boyfriend to a depressed trash gremlin but a fight in trying times makes them doubt they're not toxic for each other after all.

Warnings: some fluff, periods, grief over a pet (No more pets will die in this story, Edgar lives forever), mentions of over-medication, serotonin syndrome, mentions of plastic surgery, domestic fights (resolved in the next chapter) Well, ain’t that a doozy?

Notes: Also find this fic on Ao3 -here- or the series' Masterlist -here-

Length: 11.6k

Yesteryear

Pedro had always found the rain above the bustle of a metropolis to contain the essence of something irrevocably beautiful and mellow.

After living in LA for a year, he discovered he had missed his rainy, melancholy New York; the beauty of grey streets and the disturbance of the puddles beneath your feet as a reflection of one's own sense of solitude. The sight of these strangers' umbrellas and raincoats outside the window was evidence of the stubborn continuation of their necessary errands. Blessed were those currently in the comfort of their home with their loved ones and plenty of time for leisure and tranquillity.

The chair lightly creaked when Pedro swung it in and out the light of an oriental lampshade that shone softly against the impending darkness. He was sitting at the desk in Nini’s office that hoarded many of his unpacked moving boxes for a lack of time and better storage options. His feet were kicked up on a stool while he focused on figuring out the priority deadlines for his upcoming production. Finally, it had arrived, the fulfilment of his dream, his vision of the film he would direct this year and had spend the last in preparation for. The sheer focus was evident by the frown between his brows as he sighed and busied himself with answering an email and brooded over a level of Spanish business tone he wasn't used to and doubted his language skills over. How did he manage to solve the financing on such short notice?

Pedro's mind began to drift again as the distraction of his eyes centred on the thick droplets racing against the colourfully stained glass. He watched them drip, drip down the leaves of a front yard that had been ready for spring. Holding this view to the undesirable outside, he romanticised the moody grey skies above an equally grey city in a cinematic image he yearned to capture with a lazy camera frame. It was quiet, so peaceful.

If it weren't for this darkened presence he could sense in the living room, he might have said it was all perfect. He tried to reach out but attempting to fix this dreary silence would be too harsh on her, too strict. Slowly, like pulling at a loose thread, he held onto the tiniest opportunity to unravel what should be left in peace. Her mood had changed again. Yesterday seemed a whole year ago.

He had become tuned in to his girlfriend's subtle mood swings these days, detected it in the faint creaks of the floorboards where he listened to her weight shift from one side to the other. It was a telepathic link that thickened the air and made him feel powerless.

But what else was there but to look for your constant source of love when you felt like an anxious wreck and on top of that, like you'll never find a friend again such as the one you've lost? He leaned to the side to peek past the paper slide doors and saw her standing there, looking lost and hugging her slim frame. She flashed him a sad smile before going back to staring at the painting on the wall, seeming to simply listen to the silence and the rain tapping onto the giant window panes. Pedro felt overpowered by his inability to contribute any help, yet he was so hungry for her love. Moving back into Nini's house reawakened memories she had tried to initially escape. Fuelled by a surge of compassion, a deep yearning to hold her overflowed him when he saw her clutch an abandoned cat toy in her hand.

Poor thing. The death of her soulmate cat left a void inside her heart. Now the ashes of the cat that used to like making biscuits in his lap rested on the cupboard. A photograph had captured the pitch-black ragdoll in her prime days with its soulful yellow eyes in the arms of a girl who smiled cheekily into the camera. Nothing compared to the love a girl held in her heart for her first cat. After seventeen years of companionship, no treatment could have cured Poentje. Holding onto her former strength that would never return was then, unkind.

The strings of his heart pulled tight at the memory of this darkest of days; when he had stood by her, listening to Nini sing her cat her favourite song when the vet put the animal out of misery and finally, to eternal sleep.

Eventually, life continued, they had moved into his house in LA and for a while everything had been right again. The couple had been in love and happy, Nini had started improving her mental health and both their creativity had bloomed like never before. While he started directing the pre-production of his very first movie, based on the screenplay he had written, Nini’s magnificent music was praised around the entire world and contributed greatly to her sense of self-worth and artistic fulfilment. Entire stadiums had sung her songs, he had witnessed it himself. Pedro would try to see every future concert as well and cry when she closed her shows with his song, ‘The Lighthouse And The Ocean‘ and sang it only for him.

He wished they could have thrived in a constant state of bliss forever but then Nini had become too overwhelmed between gigs, interviews and recordings and the superficial glam of the city of angels. One wrong prescription and dubious therapy method was all it took to destroy all her progress in learning to live with a past life of trauma. He wasn't sure if uprooting Nini while she was in a bad place had been beneficial to her wellbeing but he never regretted his decision. Going home had certainly been necessary and right on time before something worse could happen than a song titled 'A Lethal Dose of Ketamine'.

For a while, she had hated him for taking her away from her studio and her band. In the hight of her withdrawal symptoms, she had accused him of wanting to undermine her with mismanagement. Once back in New York he had rented a new studio for her, flew in her band and made everything right again when she was reunited with her former agent. Olivia had finally relieved Nini of the burden of managing herself, Pedro could give over the reigns he had taken with so much brashness and sigh in relief that their relationship had survived yet another crisis. After all, they loved each other more than life itself and one would have to put him under ground before he'd ever stop prioritising the love of his life. Maybe he had enough real-life inspiration to write another screenplay after this eventful year.

Perhaps it was the faint clacking of fingers typing away at his laptop that brought her back to the present. Pedro couldn't immediately tear his eyes away from his work to acknowledge her when she came creeping into the room on silent polka dot socks but he was hyper-aware of the wave of sadness bustling over the threshold. Their distance never made a difference to him but her absence when she was just an arm's reach away pained him.

Unfortunately but not unexpected, the feeling of relief at the return to the quietness of her house in Pierrepont Street met a black pit of serotonin drop depression. Less potent medication just didn't do the same for a patient with addictive tendencies. Not one single attempt later in finding a new therapist, the only thing Pedro could do was keep a watchful eye on her while simultaneously making the biggest leap of his career.

Looking up to find her standing lost in the doorway, his frown deepened. "You okay?" He finally inquired, his lips forming a hesitant smile.

"Yeah." Nini lied and he waited patiently until she admitted her true condition with a shrug of her shoulders. Truth was she couldn't get used to her late pet not being around anymore but running away from her home and grief had not been a long-term solution.

"Come here." He opened his arm and let her walk into his sitting frame, leaning into her when her hands roamed into his hair and her cheek dropped onto the crown of his head. Her fingers twirled his unruly hair into neater waves, reminding Pedro he hadn't gotten a haircut in months. A multiplied amount of grey streaks adorned the mess of brown curls and a beard he hadn't trimmed in weeks. With his glasses a bit askew and his too long hair perhaps in critical need of a wash, he looked every part like the writer who had locked himself away for a creative period. "Did you take your meds?" He always tried to take care of her first.

She seemed nearly too tired to answer. "I did." "Magnesium and your vitamins too?" "You worry so much." She smiled as she bumped her temple into his.

"You're my girl. It's my job to worry." He stated as a matter of fact, like it was the only thing that made sense to him. He received a pleased hum in return.

"I 'am' your girl." Nini pouted then, grimacing when she lowered herself into his lap. "Ow." She held her tummy before his hand could join and enveloped hers completely. Pedro had great sympathy with her during this time of the month while she still thought of it second. "And you? How's your head?" She asked.

He chuckled and groaned. At least the lampshade was dim enough to soothe his eyes. "Better,“ he answered. “Lux just parties too hard for her old-old brother and hangovers only get worse with age, let me tell you." She pitied him over his miserable tone but he received a satisfactory amount of attention from her for now. Suffering together made the pain half as bad.

She stole a caramel candy from their desk. "Did you know saliva contains opiorphin, a self-produced painkiller?" Nini mentioned, struggling through the chewy sugar. "It's also linked to having an anti-depressing effect associated with comfort eating."

Pedro couldn't keep his tongue in check, pinching her love handles that were coming in nicely. "If you want me to spit into your mouth, just say so..." She let out a loud scoff but she had served him the joke on a silver platter. "Do you want me to get you something?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine, thank you, angel." "A heat pad, some tea?" He tried further, resting his broad palm against her lower belly and applying soothing, gentle pressure.

She let him pity the nature of a woman's body for a minute. "I feel a little lost. Can you tell me what to do?" She whined, leaning the entire weight of her body and mind on his shoulders.

"Be kind to yourself, you're hurting." He advised her, hoping that once she realised her body was her own abuser, the feeling of being down got better because... hormones. Normally, once she reflected upon the misfortune that she was just menstruating, her whole perspective changed and the view out of the window seemed to change for the better.

"Remember last year when we were so carefree and only love existed? This feels more like it. I'm glad to be back." The loss of her cat was still an open wound in need of healing and life back in New York was still difficult to adjust to but Pedro hoped day after day that Nini‘s condition would eventually improve and time would leave fewer struggles. Baby steps.

Pedro frowned, remembering realising too late what was happening due to his busy schedule. He hated himself for not reacting sooner. "Yeah, thank you for your cooperation."

“What cooperation?“ She let out a snort but then started to worry again. "Do you think I'm toxic? For you? You're one of the most beloved individuals in the country and I still get hate from two years ago."

He clicked his tongue in objection. "You're not toxic." "-Think I've got you on a short leash." She watched him take a sip of his cold and forgotten tea.

"I wish." Pedro injected dryly and for a moment he thought she didn't get the innuendo.

"Maybe they- oh my g-" Nini chortled, just catching up to where his thoughts had plummeted into the gutter. Her shoulders shook while he maintained a pleasantly oblivious expression.

Their moment of lightheartedness was interrupted by a cramp taking hold of her body. While she whimpered in anger, he tried to soothe her, cradle her and massage the pain away. He only sought to replace the tension with warmth. "I know it sucks, poor baby." He muttered with a kiss to her forehead as she leaned onto his shoulder, saddened at nature and content in finding solace in the comfort in his arm winding around her frame.

"Sometimes Poentje would come and sit on my belly when it hurt." She whined and cuddled further into him.

He searched her eyes. "Maybe you'll find a lost kitten someday and give it a loving home, hm? We'll check every shelter, alley or dumpster in the city."

"No-" Nini sighed. "I never want a cat ever again. She was the only one for me and besides, you're highly allergic, remember?" She stroked his greasy hair against the side of his head.

Pedro grumbled, thinking he'd do anything for her, including suppressing his allergies for another fifteen to twenty years. "I'm sure Poentje wouldn't have wanted you to never take in another pet to love like she received it, a gentle human like you who treats her pet with good care, gives them a lap to sleep in, cuddles and warmth. There are plenty of strays who deserve a home like that. Poentje's bowl, her bed." Tears threatened to spill over the waterline of her eyes at his words but Pedro continued speaking, stroking her cheek to catch a drop before it could stain her freckled skin. "Don't close off your love for someone who doesn't need it any longer. Give it to someone else." He suggested gently, looking down at the scruffy little dog that was currently sleeping on a pillow by his side. "Or give it to Edgar."

The pooch's ears moved at the sound of his name and they smiled down at him. "Yes, he's a sweet thing." She sighed. "I get it. You're a writer, my darling, you're optimistic to a fault." She drew her knees together.

He scoffed out a noise of amusement. "Why would you think that?" Pedro asked with a glance at his laptop, perching his glasses further up his nose with reawakened confusion written on his face.

She tipped her chin at his original script with countless changes scribbled onto the margins, proud of seeing him in the final stages of putting it on screen. She read one of the lines back to the writer himself when she had turned the pages to her favourite scene. "Art will always draw inspiration from life and every aspect of it. It's like all the negative shit becomes manageable simply by translating hurt into a magnitude of kindness. Something we should all strive for." A character she claimed reminded her of himself said in a moment of vulnerability. "Such beautiful words, such eloquent writing, my love."

Pedro clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "How do you know I'm not one of these hopelessly drunk writers who resent reality?"

"Because you're you." Nini gave back in a romantic tone as she gently caught his chin and stirred his face in her direction. Nearly recognising her old self again, he felt himself choke up a bit. She gave him an affectionate little eye-roll at the sappy face he must have been making at her. "I love this story about... the art of noticing. I can't wait to see it on screen. It will be vulnerable, poetic and it will speak so much of your soft side." "I am very proud of my soft side." He claimed with raised eyebrows and a firm grip around her ankle.

Nini chirped out a laugh at him. "Soft eyes." She placed a kiss on his eyelid, which he hummed at. "Soft hands." She kissed the palm of his hand above the green sea glass bracelet and Pedro's gaze melted. "Soft lips." They finally kissed, foreheads still touching as they were serenaded by the rain still pouring outside. Her cheek was soft against the touch of his hand and she tasted of caramel.

His eyes were still closed as he basked in her tender whispers against his lips. "I'm proud of you. And you have a great thing here, I know it." She placed another small kiss there.

"You're sweet." He hummed, still feeling insecure about what the world would think of his movie but never doubting he could disappoint her.

"You know I'll gladly help-" She told him again, but he interrupted with soft tutting and a finger pressed to her cupid bow lips.

"Baby, we talked about this." He dismissed it but she aggressively squished his cheeks between her palms and chose not to listen.

"And I keep saying you can shut up and take my money," Nini replied sternly.

He was overwhelmed at her offer, her faith and generosity striking him yet again. Gently, he took her hands back into his. "I couldn't possibly, querida. We have producers-" She gave him a sceptical look because she knew of their indecisiveness. "I'm willing to bet that Paramount is one stamp away from expanding our budget significantly and most of all, that's 'your' hard-earned money we're talking about." She would practically be giving up what was left of her earnings from her tour. Her generosity knew no limits, no wonder some of her previous boyfriends were able to take advantage of her. He could never, Pedro wasn't planning on using her as a resource. He cringed inwardly at the realisation that he wasn't even paying rent here.

At least they had already agreed to split the costs fifty-fifty once they had bought the new house.

"It's an investment in a promising talent." Nini tried again and now it was his turn to roll his eyes, maybe even blush a little. "I believe in you, we're a team, we're building a future together and I support your career too, you know. This isn't a one-way street." They giggled together but he was shaking his head. "Please just think of it as a joker or a last resort." She begged him again and he bit his lip in hesitation.

He stared at her, long and hard, willing his expression to remain stone while she made cute faces at him. God, he couldn't stand to hold her pleading eyes for even five seconds. "Okay." He drew out, able to deal with this unlikely compromise and her face lit up. "But only as a last option. I'd rather give my right arm than not make it worth your investment, you know that?" She nodded quietly at that, the corner of her mouth twitching in an effort to control her triumph.

He sighed. "What if nobody likes the movie and it's a flop?" "So you'll make another one. But I'm sure this will be phenomenal. I trust your vision and I'm gonna be so proud of you no matter what you do." She smiled softly and booped his nose. Pedro could have started crying. She believed so much in him and he was sure they both thought the other was the cutest person in the entire world. He would always be adjusting to this sense of worthiness she gave him.

Pedro grinned widely and pressed a kiss onto her cheek and neck, rubbing her thigh before she relaxed back into his chest. "What did I do to deserve you?" She squirmed when his rough beard tickled her skin at his whisper.

"You exist, that's enough," Nini replied kindly.

Hearing her say and mean it must have provoked the biggest sense of relief and peace felt by any human being. He was enough. "Well then, let me make it up to you by bringing you that heat pad and ice cream now. No argument." He prompted strictly when he was met with a timid look on her face.

She sniffled, a little overwhelmed and priorities in the wrong place when she directed her feet behind the kitchen counter instead. "Aren't you hungry?" She asked, looking around in a whirlwind on the hunt for condiments that would fit together somehow.

He stirred her into the direction of the couch with a gentle pat on the butt. "No, ma'am, get out of here. I'm calling delivery. C'mon, you can get even away with Chicago pie without my complaints today."

She threw an insulted look back at him. "Would it hurt to call it pizza?" While she settled into the couch with a confused grumble and a content Edgar, he was putting the kettle on but when he saw that she was still in pain, he tried to cheer her up by being goofy and it almost worked. She chuckled at the sight of him dancing in the kitchen to no music, banging random pots with wooden spoons in a wholesome replacement to a set of drumsticks. He pretended he had to quickly go 'downstairs' behind the counter, into the imaginary cellar to get some ice cream. Her giggles came muffled into the couch pillow. "Help." He could make out her words. "No more. Have mercy."

The dog barked at his antics. "Edgar, get him!" She ordered and the little white dog shot from the couch to join him in the kitchen and yip up at him. "Tranquilo." He reminded him and allowed Edgar a treat but failed when his age betrayed him and his back made him fail to come up smoothly. God, he would turn forty-nine this April and he didn't nearly take it as graceful as Nini having turned thirty. Which wasn't graceful to begin with.

He glanced under the lid of the pint in his hand. "We're out of ice cream." He didn't have it in him to ask her why she put only the spoon back into the freezer. Before making his way over to the couch with a tray, he replaced the desired dessert with a few biscuits.

Her bottom lip trembled. "Thank you so much anyway." He tutted at her nonsense and quickly returned with a hot water bottle for her belly to tuck her in properly. "Poor thing. Least I can do. Here you go, baby. Anything else?" She shook her head quietly. "You wanna watch The Mummy?" He tried again in a knowing voice and he smirked at his foresight when she gave him a tearful nod. "Part two," Nini admitted as she settled with a blanket. While she sighed at the warmth, he turned on the TV for her. "Are you gonna watch with me?" She pouted at him.

He would do anything for her but he had watched it twice this year already and it was only February. "Eh, it stopped raining, maybe we got a clear sky for a minute. I should take Edgar out for a walk, will you be okay?" The pooch's large ears shot into the air at the sound of the magic word. "You wanna go for a walk, boy?" He repeated more excitedly and Edgar was already up and barking as he ran to the door, back and forth.

"Of course, take your time, angel. Thank you for everything." "Call me if you need me, okay?" Pedro grabbed his jacket.

Edgar's impatient antics made him snap his fingers at his feet. "Sit." He muttered kind words of affirmation while slipping a warm little sweater on his dog.

"Angel?" He heard her shout from the living room, making him peak through the corridor. "Yeah?" "Can you please get me more ice cream?" "With these pretty big eyes, how could I not? Chocolate Fudge, right?" She nodded with a happy smile before it dropped back into a pout. "And can you buy more tampons?" She seemed apprehensive to ask when he reacted with a stunned set of blinks at her. "The organic ones. I'm almost out. Please?"

"Of course." He acted chill and competent despite the thrill this mission provoked in him. He got her.

"I can call an assistant if that's uncomfortable for you." She suggested, cringing but Pedro felt nothing but insulted at that.

His lips parted with a smack. "Are you kidding me? I'm a man. I'll get all the tampons my girlfriend needs." Nini swooned at him and stroked his ego. He flexed his triceps unnecessarily and while she giggled, he did a cocky pimp walk towards the door before he ran back to lean down as his goofy self again and smush a loud kiss into her hair. "Okay, see you in a bit."

With her hands folded between the sofa and her chin, she looked after him and blew him a kiss. He caught it and put it to his lips. "Love you." He called out before closing the door.

~~~

"Are you serious? Noooo. When did you hear that? I can't- with these companies." Pedro gritted his teeth as stood in front of the feminine hygiene section, phone pressed to his ear while he simultaneously tried to guess what flow he should get. He was in a hurry, for Edgar was waiting on a leash for him outside the shop. "They said they won't finance anything because the script is 'too woke'?"

Two girls, who had sneakily taken a picture giggled at him and he granted them a fleeting smile before focusing back on the selection of tampons, as well as the conversation at hand.

"We'll find a way to let you keep the final cut, Pedro. We have an offer from Studio Strigoi. They're willing to give you ten million with no involvement in the creative pro-"

"No. No, no, no." He interrupted. His gaze darkened at the sound of the movie production company being named, like its name alone could summon the evil. "Literally anyone else. Not Studio Strigoi." It did leave a weird taste in his mouth.

"We don't have anyone else. Yes, the CEO is an asshole but which one isn't? I get that you're loyal but-"

"Not them." He said decisively and Sarah sighed in understanding. Both knew he wouldn't accept a dime of the company whose producer had a horrible reputation, was quite literally the devil and his girlfriend's and many other women's past or current tormenter. It was pretty much an open secret.

"Well then, fuck it, we‘ll go independent," Sarah said in absolute sobriety.

Pedro rubbed his forehead, realising his next words were easier said than done. "It's simple. That just means more self-financing. I'll have to tell our partners, everyone, then... I'll have to tell Nini we can't afford something in the South Hamptons and then I can contribute the amount myself.”

There was one of Sarah's typical overwhelmed sighs on the other end of the phone. "P, I know you and Nini were set on that gorgeous house but it was 'so' unlike you anyway." She complained to him in a compassionate tone. "But were you able to imagine living in the South Hamptons? That's like placing a fish in the desert. Or like... a twinky on a Ceasar Salad. Maybe this is a good twist of fate."

He choked on a sound of protest. "What are you saying? Am I a twinky?" "I mean, you belong with the Bohème, where the little cinemas are, where you can get away and have a smoke on a rooftop. I've known you since we were eighteen. Come on."

He couldn't deny she had a point and he saw, now more clearly than ever, that he'd agreed to the house to appease Nini. "Fuck that, you're right. I wasn't feeling it. Screw rich asshole neighbourhoods. One mention of charade and charcuterie board nights and I'd spontaneously combust!" He hissed, secretly pleased he had evaded this version of the future. He pinched the bridge of his nose when he calculated the financial risk of producing this movie himself. "We'll have to see at which end we can cut some of the costs." He mourned this possible loss of quality already but would continue to pour more love, blood, sweat, tears and money into his movie to make up for it. A twenty million dollar budget would have to be enough. Finally, he admitted to himself that he was starting to give in to Nini's offer. Partly because she was the least complicated sponsor and he'd very much like to let her profit from the movie's possible success as well. Plus, this project was his baby and he'd also rather cut his foot off than cut scenes out unless it suited the narrative.

"Do you even need to move? Her house is lovely."

"Nini fell in love with the mansion. I'm not sure how she'll take the news. I mean... I feel at home with her but her fully complete and lived-in house kinda makes me act like more of a permanent guest. I'd keep living there forever but she's a collector, she owns too much stuff. I mean, we can play 'The floor is lava' on easy mode." Sarah chuckled. "Oh, invite me next time."

Pedro made a pause to laugh and store this piece of information away. "She said she would donate a lot and only keep her most precious collections. But dude, let me tell you. Sorting through it is a pain in the ass, I tried once, never again. There was this match box with a single grain of rice in it and she protected it with her life, Sarah. Her life." He made an annoyed face at the tampons.

"You'll find something bigger soon where everything will find its place, maybe after her tour and after you got this film up and running." Nini would go on another tour through the US, twelve shows in twelve cities and he would start overseeing the urban locations for his movie.

"How is she?" Sarah asked in a tone of deep compassion, probably still remembering the condition Nini was in when she had visited them in LA a couple of weeks ago. Everything became too much of a challenge when she nearly funnelled back into old substance-abusing habits. He had been working too much and the day he hadn't paid enough attention he found her high on tranquilizers, entirely overworked and unresponsive. Heavily triggering Pedro's own fears of losing another important person in his life, he cut the breaks and got her away from this toxic environment as soon as possible.

”Doing better, thanks.” Pedro didn't know how else to respond, for his tongue was tied in discretion but Sarah was nothing if not kind and resourceful. "People mismatch with their therapist all the time, it happens. She will find a new one." She said in good faith.

A wave of shame and helplessness clawed at him and he chose his words careful in fear of a lack of decorum in a public space. "I don't know what to do. I try to breach the topic, she doesn't want to talk about it and I can't just make an appointment for her, that's pushing her. I can't make a list of possible contacts and let her do it in her own time, that's patronising... and she won't do it on her own."

Seems his prayers for an epiphany came in the shape of a friend and words as liberating as a slap to the face. "Seems to me the only thing lacking with option number three is your faith in her."

He blinked rapidly, stupified by the simplicity of pointing out his entirely wrong approach. Was it really that he was doubtful while Nini did the opposite with him? "You're... you're right, Sarah." "I know." "I feel like an asshole." It felt like the comfort one might have known and now yearned for the moment after being dunked in ice-cold water. "Of course I have faith in her. If I ever stopped having faith in her, there would be nothing left for me to do." He released a deep breath of air. "Thank you for knocking some sense into me." He gulped and he could hear the kind smile in Sarah's voice when she told him he was welcome. In a moment of tender silence in which he tried desperately not to cry, he changed the topic and tried to sound more cheerful. "Can I ask you a question real quick?" He could focus on less immediate problems later.

"Sure." "The organic tampons with regular flow are out. Should I buy the inorganic ones with the regular flow or the organic ones with either heavy or light?" They laughed away the tension before Pedro rambled on. "Is flow more important than the fact that they're organic? Why even organic? Because it's fair trade or what?" He made a distressed face at nobody.

"Um-" Sarah took a second to gather herself at the tsunami of questions. "I suggest if Nini insists on the organic ones, then definitely go with those, toxins and whatnot. Are diva cups an option?" "They are now but I... I dunno, I guess they're good for the environment and stuff but if I were in the position of a menstruating woman and I'd pull this out, filled to the brim my monkey brain would just tell me... hard to pretend it's not port wine. Cheers, now shot it." Pedro rambled and heard a gargled laugh at the other end, followed by an outcry of disgust.

"What if I just... did a Jackson Pollock with it?" He narrated his fantasy and made Sarah howl with laughter. "Would it even work in a public bathroom? Where do I rinse the cup out? I'd bleed all over the place until I'm back inside the stall."

"Your intrusive thoughts win."

"What can I say, I'm a 'cup half full' kind of guy." He joked drily and had her stuck somewhere between crying and gagging.

He slowly caught up with his words and pulled a face afterwards, apologising to Sarah for his unhingedness and throwing a purple cup into the basket and a smaller pink one for good measure. "I'll buy all of it. Just to be sure."

"What a good boyfriend you are. Look at you. Should I reconsider being a lesbian just to get myself a man who's not afraid to buy tampons for me?"

"Okay, thank you, Ms. Paulson, whose bar is also, embarrassingly low. I'm more embarrassed that I'm leaving with a pack of cigarettes than going home with the ingredients for my girlfriend's monthly blood sacrifice ritual."

"Any time, Mr Pascal. Do give Nini my love."

"I will. I think I should go, these teens are taking pictures of me." "Take care, hun." "You too, alright? See you soon." Pedro hung up, his mouth having gone so dry it was hard to swallow but this was hardly the time to respond to his rising anxiety.

~~~

"Hey, I'm back." He didn't receive a response. Shrugging off his jacket, he let Edgar off the leash and dog sweater before investigating the silence. "I'm sorry, your normal choice of tampons were out but I got every other opt-" He entered the room and found her munching on shredded cheese. "Hey songbird, what happened while I was gone?"

Her words through her crying were fast and nearly incomprehensible. "I think I'm never going to be ready to be in front of the camera ever again, I had such self-confidence but I think I should maybe disappear from the public for good, like what would they even want me for now?"

He had to catch up with the meaning of all of this. "What are you talking about?"

"I think they're done with me anyway, now that I'm thirty. I started acting at fourteen..." She gulped away cheese and tears. "Then real jobs when I was sixteen and as a sixteen-year-old you play kids, you play the daughter, the high school girl, whatever. Then you're in your twenties and they start seeing you as a woman but I was still cast as a teenager until I was like twenty six and then they start giving you a baby, just a little baby. Now, by the standards of this industry, I'm middle-aged and I might be cast as a mother now but what- in like five years? I'll be the mother of four babies who's got a drinking problem. All until I'm forty, then I'm the grandma until sixty, then I'm dead!" She made intense eye contact at that. She gestured at him, admiring his physique in a mix of good humour and envy. "While you'll always look hot. You just keep improving until you're physically incapable, that's what. You're allowed to age like fine wine and everyone will say 'Oh, look he's so scruffy, so seggsy. Look at you, Gladiator two point O. You know how hot you’re gonna be as cyborg pirate captain Silver?"

As much as Pedro was looking forward to these roles, he was apprehensive and still wasn't thinking through what these strong body transformations meant. "You're biased. I'm not going to make him hot." "I'd like to see you try."

Pedro had let her rant peacefully. "We are both seggsy, damn, do you know how gorgeous you are?" He simply commented and scrunched his face at the insulting notion that she thought she was getting old. "You don't need botox, fillers or even makeup to be beautiful. And you're not old, silly thing. What am I supposed to say, nearing my fifties." He scoffed. Outrageous.

"Thank you." She sniffled, at least a tiny bit more relieved. She sighed and stood up, digging into the shopping bag and retrieved a box of tampons he made a mental note of. "These are just fine, thank you for getting them."

Her cheeks were flushed eyes still glassy when she returned from the bathroom, her full cupid bow lips were all pink and puffy and he was so in love with her, no matter which state she was in. "Did I ever tell you how pretty you are when you cry?" He tried to console her and made her laugh and roll her eyes at him before wiping the track of her tears away with the palm of her hand.

"You’re you always so kind to me." Nini blubbered. The strings of his heart pulled tight. "Aw. I can fix you." Pedro spoke his inner thoughts out loud. He couldn't help but baby her, fingers prodding at her skin and trying to smooth out the worried frown between her brows.

She laughed at that. "Thank you for the ice cream, for everything." She sobbed and dug in. She then somehow laughed with a mouth full. "This is delicious."

"No worries, baby girl. You're welcome." Pedro at least tried to hold back but his shoulders were shaking with laughter.

She chuckled messily.

Maybe it was the stressful time she had been dealing with but she was finally letting the traces of it get to her head. "M'sorry. I guess I was just getting inside my head thinking that in this industry, most other women my age have gotten surgery by now."

"You’re not saying you’re thinking about it?" He frowned deeply, not on board with the idea at all.

"Some botox here and there, buccal fat removal-" she pinched her face and hollowed her cheeks grotesquely. Pictures of Burtonesque transformations of female celebrities flooded his memories. In their world, surgery was standard, a mandatory procedure... the next tragic step of many an actress's evolution.

"Leonie." He cut her off, raising his hand and taking a moment to collect his patience.

He stuttered out random noises to interrupt her talking points. "They cut the fat out of your cheeks and sculpt your face to have higher cheekb-"

"Yeah, I know what that horrible thing is. I've seen the before and after pictures." She shut up immediately, eyes going wide as she seemed to hold back a laugh. Pedro took a long and serious look at her. "What are you talking about?" He asked calmly.

"Surgery," Nini repeated obviously, ready to further test him.

For several heartbeats, Pedro's face was frozen in an expression of utter horror and confusion while internally, he tried to remain patient. Finally he sat down next to her and raised his hands like he needed to calm down a wild horse. "Nonono, baby, I know-" he breathed calmly, gathering his thoughts. "I know the industry has too high expectations of women conforming to beauty trends but that's just what it is, a trend. I have no say in what you do with your body but- the tragedy of it… I don't want you to get plastic surgery. Please. Please?” Pedro was truly panicked, devastated even.

"No?" There was the faintest hint of a cheeky smile playing at the corner of her lip. His face fell at her success of having messed with him.

"You little shit." His voice came out as a monotone. “You had me. You really did.”

He cracked up as well when she started giggling at him. "I have bottom lip filler. And had my ears done also." She confessed and schooled her expression like she had just told him the world's worst dad joke.

He made a noise of understanding. "Is that why you're so pouty?" "Oh, shut i-" "No, you shut it. If you cut up that cute face or gorgeous body of yours... any more, I'm gonna leave you." He threatened in a bitchy tone.

She hunched over in a decent impression of a caveman. "Husband said no." She grunted, mocking his voice.

Pedro tried to stay dignified but his voice trembled. "Husband will get a heart attack if you’re gonna be like this." She snorted out a laugh and he tried to interrupt her with a failed strict, then pathetic whine. "I mean it, baby girl. You don't know how perfect you are." Yet she only cooed while he talked over her, serious enough to have the opposite effect.

"You'd really leave me?" She repeated in a high, heartbroken mewl.

He nodded, pinching her cheeks, her round Hobbit cheeks. "I'd nurse you back to health and then leave you." He explained and the sentiment drew a chirping laugh out of her, the kind that made him crack up too. He placed a kiss on her lips that turned into two, then three, making him lose himself in her for minutes to no end.

Her eyes twinkled with mischief. "Don't worry, I wasn't seriously thinking about it. It looks horrid." "It really does." "By the way, don't you dare do anything yourself. Your doctor's name is God and we know he only uses the good stuff when he makes angels." She said up close, tracing her thumb over the deepened lines across his forehead. The crow's feet in the corners of his eyes crinkled into an adoring smile in the wakes of her tracing down the arch of his nose until she had reached his lips and lingered on his chin. Her hand cupped his beard, the bristles having gotten so long they had nearly grown soft to the touch.

Pedro smirked, catching up with her affection. "I was also not gonna leave you, I could never." He admitted.

"I know." She draped her arms over his shoulders, pecking a kiss on his cheek.

"I almost forgot what I wanted to tell you." He finally spoke up. "I still got some news." He rubbed his forehead, getting this over with.

"Sean Astin agreed to play my dad in a zombie film." She threw in her wildest guess.

"Nobody has offered that... yet." He replied compassionately and Nini let out a sad noise.

She hit him with another hopeful guess. "You said yes to the queer story with Mads Mikkelsen."

"Do not remind me of the things I'm missing out on." He told her in a strict tone before catching his bearings. "I'm afraid you will think it bad news, should I tell you later?"

Never a great fan of bad news, she groaned and let herself fall back into the sofa. "Oh no. Tell me now or I'm gonna throw up."

"It seems we can't afford the house in the South Hamptons. We lost a producer due to my film’s well… let’s call it political message but I'm not willing to sacrifice the soul of my movie. So, my ability to contribute a big budget to our housing situation is limited." He confessed.

"Oh..." She stared ahead, lip pouting but at least she didn't start crying over a house. "Well, maybe there could be worse things."

His eyebrows shot up and his jaw dropped. "I thought you loved it." "The beach was nice." "Nice' is not good enough for us to go way over budget. We almost bought a house we both don't want." There was a reason why he didn't value owning a house, let alone a mansion. Not ready to face the consequences of an ill-timed outburst, he counted to ten. "Let's be real, we can't afford and maintain a mansion right now, maybe if my movie pays off. Until then... well..."

"Damn, are we both too much of a people pleaser to communicate what we really want?" She sighed with a lopsided smile playing on her lips. Nini seemed sheepish at his insight. "I'm sorry. Hey, if you want to live here forever or move into a red brick apartment above a pizzeria, I'll still be happy as long as I'm with you." She gestured around. "I know this place has increased in worth. If I sell it, we can afford something else and use the rest for your movie."

"Oh, you sweetheart." He sighed, not annoyed but yes... annoyed that she was genuinely willing to give up so much for him. He caged her in against the cushions of the sofa. Looming over her, he revelled in her smile. "That's out of the question." He kissed her, letting himself disappear in her loving embrace, not even able to fathom how much he adored her. For a moment, he let worry pass from the flickers of his eyes. "Do you even want to move?" He asked his love.

Something between grateful- and playfulness sparkled back at him. "I do. I really do. I want a place that's both you and me. I want a separate kitchen and a library for you." Nini swore, petting the side of his face.

That sounded lovely. God, he wanted it so much but he didn't know where to go from here with his serious lack of time. "We'll find something, I promise." He rubbed his forehead, starting to feel a headache from all this stress. He yearned for a moment of quietness and walked over to the shopping bag to retrieve the pack of cigarettes like a busy, stressful time somehow excused a life-long bad habit he had been so close to quitting. "Gonna head outside for a minute." He said with the cigarette between his teeth.

"Okay." Nini paid no attention to it and went back to watching Brandon Fraser beat up some shrivelled Egyptians when he wordlessly opened the glass door into the garden, lighter cupped behind his hand before he had even passed the threshold.

He stood outside for a while, wondering if the cigarette would keep him warm as he set up a new appointment for house viewings. Phone in one hand, cigarette in the other, he looked up when he saw movement behind the wall. "I'll have to call you back, sorry. Gotta go- yeah, I appreciate it. We can do Tuesday. Riverside Drive, two p.m., got it. Okay, sounds good, bye." He hung up just when their neighbour Samir 'I am your mother now' aka Brooklyn's most beloved drag queen 'Peachy' du Maurier peaked over the wall.

"Hellooooo Habibi!" His wide figure in purple fur and leather cap appeared fully. "Just wanted to join you for a second. Making sure you're doing okay, just checking in." Sammi said sweetly with a worried frown between his brows. Pedro nearly teared up at the sentiment alone but then his friend-shaped character had to reappear with a large plate of food for them.

Pedro's hand flew to his chest. "Sammi, oh my God, you didn't have to." He gasped. He willed his face to light up despite his tiredness while he watched the cherubim trying to figure out a way to climb without nail breakage. He complained loudly while doing so. "Ya- I don't know how you guys always do it. I wasn't made for this. Oh fuck, I'm shakin' like a pole on Friday night, honey."

"Hey, whoa, careful mama." Pedro led him a hand, pulling him across and making sure he wouldn't fall. "I saw you double Dutching and doing the split in ten-inch heels, what happened?" Sammi was out of breath and breaking out in sweat unlike one of his many, way more exuberant drag shows.

"Old age, bitch." He pulled his shirt back over his belly and groaned in agony one last time. Clouds of condensation met clouds of smoke.

Pedro emitted a chuckle. "Don't I know it?" He brushed a leaf off Sammi's shoulder as he balanced the aluminium foil-wrapped dish that seemed way too much and way too generous.

"It's Börek, thought you might-" he squinted. Sammi raised his eyebrows, looking somewhere past him through the house. "Oh dear, is she okay? Is she inhaling her ice cream?" His softness betrayed him when he noticed his chosen ward inside and in distress. Nini placed a kiss into her hand and waved it at Sammi momentarily and glared at Pedro before continuing to mind her own business on her phone.

Sammi looked at Pedro in disappointment. "Did you guys have a fight?"

"No-" he sighed, unsure. "At least I hadn’t thought so." Pedro briefly looked back into the living room, confused about where this new agitation suddenly came from. "She'll be okay, especially with your burek. Thank you so much. I had to find a way to feed the hangry gremlin inside soon."

"Relationships are difficult, sometimes I just take several seats and breathe in and out for a while." Pedro snorted at the self-depreciation. Sammi was a big queen but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be gorgeous. "You look stressed though. Do you wanna talk about it?" Sammi had pointed him up and down, Pedro's fatigue speaking more than a thousand words.

"Yeah..." He met him with an apologetic expression on his face but didn't know what to say. "Is there a twenty-four-hour support hotline for husbands who are trying very hard?" He scream-whispered, fearing Nini might hear him otherwise. Somehow they had found teams. Sammi was a wholesome, teary-eyed genuine pure person while his husband and Pedro's girlfriend brought up the mean girls in each other. Sammi cackled, too familiar with the feeling after being with Hugh since the nineties. "It's called calling your sisters and talking shit." He bummed a cigarette without the need to ask but made a tutting sound at the sight of Pedro's evident fresh supply.

"I'm fine, I swear. I just had to get away for a second... but it's always nice to have a kiki with you." Pedro replied, proud of his correct use of ballroom terminology and despite the utter delight in Sammi's laugh, he suddenly looked like he was struggling to come up with words. "Actually, I also came to ask you and Nini a favour."

Pedro became flustered again. "Oh, we have been closing the blinds when we-" "Oh, no it's not that!" The shorter man pretended to gag. "No, we're in trouble," Sammi admitted.

"Oh?" "Remember when we were dog-sitting Mon Bernadette and you helped us look for her when she escaped?" Sammi couldn't inhale a bigger drag and he stared ahead like he was going through massive trauma.

"Is the dog alright?" Pedro couldn't deal with more bad news.

"Yeah, she's fine, alhamdulillah but she got herself knocked up. She's having puppies soon."

Pedro's initial reaction was a gasp that was made of pure shock and delight. "Wait, really?" They stared at each other for a moment before bursting out in laughter. "Fuuuck."

Edgar waddled his tail. "No buddy, you're not the dad. You don't have balls." The pooch quit the excitement just when Pedro remembered in clear detail finding the fancy designer poodle in her rebel phase who had then currently been mounted by a very ambitious schnauzer-like creature in a Brooklyn side alley. Pedro had suppressed a laugh then and conveniently never mentioned it to a single soul after. Now he was staring at an upset Sammi and the consequence of his silence, pondering whether to come clean or not. "Crazy." Pedro exaggerated after the awkward flashback of two copulating dogs. Coward.

"The owner wants to sue us! Can you back us up and tell her we're no damn animal abusers? It was an accident!"

"Oh, they're not saying that." Pedro countered, scandalised.

"I miss the cat. It was so much easier." Sammi cried. "That beast of a puppy-hating woman wants us to pay alimony for the ‘flea alley’ bastards-" he made quotation marks into the air. "-who are God knows what mixed." Apart from being queer, Sammi was Muslim and knew too much about experiencing mistreatment himself, especially in the early two-thousands. Apparently, the puppies weren't better off in the company of a snob. "She says she won't bother looking for homes for the pups since that's an 'us' problem now." These words caused a surge of anger rise within Pedro and he looked down at Edgar, thinking the ratty white shelter dog wasn't a fancy breed, rather skinny and his thin fur one shade away from being called 'crusty'. Edgar was, therefore, all the more lovable and tilted his little head with giant bat ears at his owner. An idea struck Pedro.

He thought for a moment, looking back at the glass front at a still, very unhappy-looking Nini. "When's Bernadette having them?" He turned back towards Sammi. "I dunno, soon. End of the month?" He guessed.

Thinking out loud, Pedro made a calculation. "One month plus eight weeks minimum before the puppies are old enough for adoption. That's when I'll be busy on location but I'm in the city. She'll be back in New York from tour by then and we'd have longer breaks together after." He muttered under his breath.

Sammi's expression became nearly emotionally devastated. "What are you saying, are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Would it be crazy to ask if we could adopt one of the puppies? We'll work together in finding homes for every pup, of course and help you with anything you need." Pedro said hopefully, ruffling Edgar's head when he allowed him to lean his front paws up onto his leg like he was adding his approval. He pet his bony little head. "Slowly but surely I’m thinking about a playmate keeping Edgar active too, having someone younger around does make you feel younger as well." He spoke from experience. Maybe Pedro's main motivation was born out of an impulsive decision but quite frankly, he was also keen on taking care of a small living being that depended on him. Their busy schedule made it look like Nini and he wouldn't even think about starting a family any time soon or ever so, a puppy was the next best thing and the desire for it was maybe but not entirely a bit selfish. He normally would have preferred adopting a shelter dog but these special circumstances spoke to everything he could have wished for.

Sammi's jaw dropped. "Really?" He asked too loudly, tearing up.

"Yeah!" "We wanted to move but haven't found the right place yet anyway. Plenty of time before we'll open a new chapter in our lives." Pedro said and bit into a crunchy spinach cheese roll.

He was met with a pleased hum from the other man. "Are you going to get married soon, then?" Pedro had anticipated this question sooner rather than later and therefore didn't choke on his food.

Sammi smiled innocently, a romantic through and through. After all, he and Hugh got married the minute it was legal for them to do so.

He knew his explanation of 'Well, we have been for two years, just not legally,' wouldn't suffice so he consoled his friend with the answer he wanted to hear. "Someday soon," Pedro said. "Yeah, real soon. These are delicious, thank you very much. I'll tell her these were made with love." He distracted him by finishing the delicious burek. He hummed in satisfaction and Sammi seemed delighted.

"That's my cue. I'll let you know when the bad girl's having the bastard puppies. No telling Nini." He reminded him and groaned in protest while climbing the wall back to his side. "I know you want this Peach, why you gaggin'?" The glam lady bellowed her famous catchphrase and went over the wall head first, but not before blowing him a kiss. "Love you, Pedro!"

"You too." Pedro waved and smiled to himself before he went back inside.

Pedro could only worry at the sight of finding Nini face down and beside the couch on the floor while Edgar already worried over her. ”Oh no.” He set the food on the dinner table before rushing over.

She turned her face towards him, tear-streaked cheek pressed to the floor with a sob spilling from her lips. Nini broke out in tears again when she saw him kneeling beside her. "Is it because the meds killed my libido?" She cried out.

"Jesus," He tried to pluck some of her terribly askew hair away from her damp face and behind her ear until she shoved his hand away and scurried off. He didn't know if he wanted to send a curse down into hell or a prayer up above. "Please, tell me what happened. Just... calm down." He could feel his patience running thin while Nini grunted in frustration and limped through the living room, holding her tummy.

"What's going on?" She choked out a noise of upset at his question, picking up after herself which was a telltale sign of her annoyance with everything in this world including him.

Her bottom lip trembled. "I don't know. Pedro, are you happy?" Her hands gestured weakly into the air at the question. She finally looked up to witness him slightly paling and he only managed to make a confused sound.

Pedro tried to make sense of anything but failed. "You're angry with me and I don't know why but yeah, I'm happy. What's this about, honey?" He asked, standing up to approach her when she unlocked her phone.

"Well, are you happy? Because if you were, would you go out on a date with someone else and lie about it?" He could only try to form the word 'what' threatening to spill from his lips. "Tell me I'm just being silly- please." She begged.

His gaze softened when she showed him a recent online post and he finally understood. It was showing Pedro having lunch with a woman he had met yesterday. An Instagram post with the footnote 'When Pedro Pascal went on a date with me. You made my day'. Still unfamiliar with Instagram ever since they both deleted Twitter, she had scrolled through the comments, which for most parts still didn't agree to their relationship and praised him for having plenty of other options.

Even more than a year after their temporary breakup and after several of their public appearances and interviews together, she was still the one who couldn't claim her own narrative. They were cute together, yes but the toxic domain of their less-favoured fans didn't know she wasn't half as problematic as she appeared to be.

Now Pedro seemed to be in trouble. In the picture she showed him, he was wearing the same outfit and bad hair day he had gone out with yesterday before meeting Lux and he was suddenly very aware of what this looked like. Her crying fit was not unreasonable anymore. The way the woman and he looked so close and the fact that Nini had never seen him do this before with anyone who wasn't a close friend made her jealous and genuinely heartbroken. "I hate to sound cliché but this is not what it looks like." He almost laughed out.

"Well, whatever it might be, you told me the story of how you've been out all night with your sister!" She said in between a yell and a sob and through his dumbfounded moment in which he cursed his forgetfulness. "Honey-" He had been out all night, just not with her. "And she's pretty too." She said with a whine but while Nini was pouting, he couldn't help but grin at the misunderstanding.

He sighed. "Michelle was just a friendly encounter. Nini, wait-" He had to catch up with her when she repeated her name in a mocking voice and was already leaving him on the couch and stomping up the stairs. "I was too busy this morning to remember telling you the entire story and then you were being difficult-"

She looked back from the top of the stairs. "Oh, sorry I'm causing 'you' to have a bad day!" She huffed at him and shut the bathroom door in front of his nose. He hated it when she did that and chuckled in anger. "Great." "Don't laugh at me!" "I'm not!" "Fuck off!"

He huffed against the barrier between them, tapping his fingers against the unforgiving wood. "I get it, you basically caught me lying... unintentionally. I'm sorry, okay? Please at least let me explain." He sighed. "She was just really nice and of course, she posted this. I just forgot to tell you because I was fucking hungover-"

"And I was difficult!" She quoted back at him, terribly insulted and he could gnaw his arm off in frustration. A mute yell later, he had composed himself again.

Pedro needed her to listen but he'd rather do it to her face. "What are you doing?" His hands slapped onto his thighs.

"Maybe going to a club. If you can go out and have fun, so can I." She explained, stubbornly.

He let out a long exhale, tried and failed to count to ten. "While you're on your period? C'mon, don't do that."

"I've done three-hour concerts for an entire week while I was on my period!" She screamed in an outburst of emotion and Pedro dead panned at the door. Fair point.

He gathered a breath. "Come on! Just because I missed- just because it was a lunch. Yeah, but only by definition of two people sitting down and eating food. There was nothing romantic about it." "Yeah, no. Sure." "I can have a life outside this relationship, you know?" "Wh- nobody said you couldn't! Am I giving you the impression that I'm that kind of girlfriend?"

"Right now you are, asking me who this woman is. I'll tell you." He leaned forward with his hand against the door. "I was waiting for Lux at the restaurant forever and she stood me up eventually and we agreed to meet up later but while I was waiting, I noticed this couple who was clearly on their first date and Michelle was extremely uncomfortable." He told the story in a calmer voice now, leaning his shoulder against the frame but feeling like he was talking to a wall. "The guy was saying things she shouldn't put up with like... making comments on her tight dress and how fantastic her tits looked." Nini made a sound of disgust at that and he relaxed a little, feeling her rage ebbing away. "-and I couldn't watch it anymore and the moment he went to the bathroom I asked her 'Are you okay'? And she was like 'No, he's absolutely disgusting' and I took his seat then and he came back and I explained very calmly he was not supposed to be so inappropriate like 'Oh-" he imitated the man's unpleasant asshole voice. "She's fucking hot, why shouldn't I comment on her nice ass?' and I stirred drama and eventually paid for his taxi to go home and Michelle and I had lunch together instead."

"Oh." Her voice came out almost too quiet for him to have even detected it behind the door. "Well, did she?" Now it had turned heated again.

He squinted his eyes. "Did she what?"

"Have a nice pair of tits and ass?" She clarified and he cleared his throat, speechless.

"I guess? I didn't judge h- why..." Pedro at least tried to hold back but his shoulders were shaking with laughter. "You don't think I'd ever cheat on you?"

"No... not really," she admitted grumpily.

"No, seriously. If it weren't so stupid, it would be cute."

"Stupid? Who's stupid?"

Pedro let out a long exhale at her new rage. He tried not to sound condescending at her overreaction to what he thought had been out of the ordinary noble of him. Maybe Nini was down to listen to reason. "Just... dammit. You can't just... put yourself in danger because you're in the mood for getting back at me." But before he could say anything more the door swung open and she came out wearing heavy makeup that covered her freckles entirely. He was too stunned by her appearance to realise she was sticking to her plan than to even appreciate the sight of her in black lace underwear.

"This is not about getting back at you!" She hissed heatedly over her shoulder while he followed her into their bedroom. "Stop this, please. I'm not letting you go out like this." While she stomped into the walk-in closet, he suddenly realised she was dead serious when she put on the wig with long raven hair she had worn for their Morticia and Gomez Addams partner costume last Halloween. Truly, it served the purpose of making her look like a completely different person.

"Why not?" She seethed, putting on a two-piece black outfit and heeled boots. "Guess what, we've been back in New York for two weeks and I haven't been out without you in months. So, why can't I have fun too?"

"Well, for once, you're in pain, second it's dangerous for you to drink anything on medication." "I forgot to take it anyway."

Pedro wanted to throw something through three layers of walls. "You told me you did!" No wonder why she was behaving this way despite her acting like it wasn't a big deal.

"I don’t like the way it makes me feel. I thought you meant Ibuprofen."

"You are ‘supposed‘ to give yourself time to adjust to less-potend meds." He attempted to reason with her. "Wait," She snuck her way past him, batting his hands away. "Stop i- stop it, Leonie. What if something happens? They'll recognise you, then what?" He tried a different approach.

She scoffed. "People can't even tell the difference between Amber Heard and me these days, I think I'll be just fine in disguise."

He knew he was being the jerk as soon as he heard himself say it. "I don't want you to go clubbing, unstable, looking like this. Alone this late in fuck knows which part of New York and in what's basically lingerie? No. No chance." He caged her in, aggressively. "I don't want any men out there to be a danger to you."

She laughed in his face and left him in the doorway, feeling like a control freak boyfriend.

"I'm not scared!" "That’s not the point. It's dangerous and you're in a vulnerable state. Hey- we're not done talking." He tried to argue while she furiously gathered her things and skipped down the stairs quickly.

"Oh, I think we're done talking." She decided with a flick of her straight fake black hair, somehow managing to glare him down, looking fierce, full of rage and devastatingly hot in her entire dark gear. "You-" She pierced a finger into his shoulder. "-you've had way too much control over my life anyway!"

Another verbal slap to his face at this point, one he thought he'd deserved this time. "I didn't -" He choked, never meaning to hold any power over her head. Everything he'd done had been for her wellbeing, for her protection... right? The apology got stuck in his throat out of pure shame.

Nini's eyes had turned glassy. "Wait, please." Pedro tried to block her way but she ducked underneath his arm on the second try. "Fine, just go then!" His patience snapped, he had given up.

"I will!" She always had to have the last word but so did he.

"Have it your way." He sighed in frustration and went into the living room where he didn't have to see her leave. "Can you at least please send me a text so I know you're okay?" He tried one last time.

"Jaaa haaa." She called back through the echo of the corridor, annoyed and he knew that meant, 'fuck off.'

Edgar's ears were droopy and the dog whined when the door slammed shut and she was gone. Somehow, Pedro hadn't thought she'd really do this.

Slowly, his tired body sank back into the sofa. Pressing the heels of his hands to his throbbing headache, he cursed. All he could do now was go through every stage of grief, wait and hope Nini would get home safe.

Part 2

Translation notes:

(sp): querida - (eng): beloved

(sp): tranquilo - (eng): calm down

(ara): habibi - (eng): my love

(ara): alhamdulillah - (eng def): Arabic phrase meaning "praise be to God", sometimes translated as "thank God"

#pedro pascal x actress #pedro pascal x singer #pedro pascal #series #fanfiction series #of a sun and flower #pedro pascal/original female character #fluff #domestic fluff #pedro buys tampons because he would

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