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#and you know put away winter clothes since it's already the middle of June and all my summer clothes were still closed in a box
thetriangletattoo · 3 years
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you know when you feel full of energy so you start doing the thing and half an hour later hour entire room is completely upside down and you're full of regret
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intomymindspace · 3 years
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Like or Like Like ✰ Azumane Asahi
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Like or Like Like by Miniature Tigers
azumane asahi x gn reader
Through the Summer and the Fall // Haikyuu!! Songfic Series
a/n: oya oya all 😌 welcome to my very first haikyuu fic! I started watching it after finishing season 3 of attack on titan and I um 🥺 love it 🥺 so this is what happens. I make a whole damn playlist about these boys. Anywayyyyys, here y'all are. The haikus used are ones I found on Pinterest by JS Parker - I did not write them and I do not own them so please don’t kill me, I can’t write good haikus for the life of me. Thank you once again for reading and taking the time to support me and my work. The next fic in the series will be Daddyichi!
Warnings: none other than asahi and his crippling shyness
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It was the perfect summer weather for a beach day - and it was a perfect way to end a week’s worth of summer training. The beach was just a two hour drive from the school, and by the time the buses had arrived, it was only ten in the morning. As the Karasuno boys excitedly clambered out of the bus, they greeted players from the other schools and began pulling supplies to set up at the beach.
Asahi was too distracted by watching you through the bus window from below that Suga managed to hit him in the stomach, causing the tall brunette to double over, sputtering in surprise. “S-suga-san!” He was met with laughter from the silver-haired boy and their captain.
I watched you through your window
I was wearing that dumb sweatshirt
“Whatchya lookin’ at, Asahi-san?” His face immediately turned beet red, his eyes going wide as he realized how easily he was caught. “I - nothing! It’s just hot!” As Suga playfully hummed in response, Daichi slapped Asahi’s back hard.
“No wonder you look like a tomato! I can’t believe you’re wearing that right now.” He looked down at the ivory-colored sweater you had knit him as a gift from the previous Christmas. Even while Daichi had a knowing smile on his lips, Asahi wore a slight frown. “Hey, I happen to like it.” Their response was a cohesive snicker.
“Just don’t forget to take it off later.” Suga said, winking. “Now hurry up, let’s get all the stuff set up.”
I looked like a goon, I was dressed for winter
Even though it was the middle of June
Once everything had been set up on the beach, everyone got down to business making sure that they wouldn’t get sunburnt. Asahi’s eyes were wide as he caught you pulling your shirt off and shimmying your shorts off to reveal your swimsuit. You were happily chatting with Kiyoko and Yachi as they had just done the same - and he couldn't help but stare. You looked really cute in your swimsuit. As your head popped up, your eyes came into contact with his, and you gave him a wide smile without any hesitation.
He had been caught staring at you again! By no one other than yourself - yet he managed to send a nervous smile back to you before whipping his head away so that you hopefully wouldn’t notice how red his face looked.
“Oya, Azumane-san, you’re looking a bit red. Are you sick?” It was Kuroo who asked him - Nekoma’s tent being right next to Karasuno’s made it easy for the captain to see what was going on. At this point, it was fairly obvious to many players that Asahi had a thing for you. Asahi responded with a quick “I’m fine!” but it was clear to see that he was flushed because of you. They were all talking in a small group with Daichi, Suga, and Bokuto - and the boys smiled at each other deviously.
I watched you get undressed
I must have turned bright red
“Maybe you should go offer to help them put on some sunscreen, Azumane-san~” they didn't think Asahi could get even more red, but he did.
“What! Why?” Asahi immediately spun again to find you lathering up the front of your body - it seemed Kiyoko was too busy helping Yachi while being hounded by Nishinoya and Tanaka.
“Well, if you won’t, I certainly will! I gotta beat the crowd!” Asahi was going to get whiplash if he kept moving his neck that fast - it had been Bokuto who proclaimed that, an owlish grin on the boy’s face. Crowd? Asahi questioned himself - only to have it answered when he noticed a few other boys from Nekoma and Fukurodani begin to walk over in your direction. As Kuroo and Bokuto followed, his eyes turned into slits - Daichi and Suga could practically see the dark aura that was radiating off the ace’s skin.
'Cause I couldn't stand to face you
'Cause I liked what I saw
Asahi felt another jab into his side, waking him from his jealousy. He looked up to find mom and dad staring at him, an expecting look in their eyes. 
“Fine! Just because I don’t want them to do it…” he practically sprinted towards you.
You were already being bombarded by boys asking if they could help you - but with a friendly smile, you turned all of them down again and again. Out of all the voices, you turned your head to find Asahi had called your name as he stepped beside you and Bokuto behind him with a pout on his face. Asahi tried his best to keep his blush to a minimum, but he wished you didn’t look as cute as you did - mainly for his own sake.
“Wou-would you like me to help you? Get your behind?” his eyes widened. “I mean - your back. Your back. I put sunscreen on your back.” He cursed himself internally - why did he have to be a stuttering mess all the time? Especially in front of you.
And maybe we should just stay friends
Asahi only blushed harder as you smiled widely at him, handing him the bottle of sunscreen you were using.
“Thank you Sahi-kun!” Could the poor ace get any more red? He simply nodded as you turned your back towards him. Moving the sleeves of his sweater as high as possible, he squirted sunscreen into one of his hands. He smirked as he heard the sad groans and sighs as the group of boys walked away in defeat.
“Oh, wait!” You immediately turned around just as he was rubbing his hands together. Worried, his eyes widened. Did you not want him to do it anymore? He immediately heard a few footsteps from behind him change direction.
“You should take off your sweater before you get - oh!” You laughed as you found the tall boy staring at you with both his hands covered in sunscreen. 
“Here, Sahi-kun - I’ll help you take it off.” He heard another round of defeated sighs.
Tell me how you feel about me
Do you like or like, like me?
“Nononono! It’s okay! I’ll be fine, you don’t need to do that!” He was surprised by your forwardness, but passed it off as you being helpful.
“Don’t be silly! It’ll be awful to wash off - especially since I made it for you~” Asahi gulped as you said that, simply nodding his head at the speed of light. He felt like his ears were turning red as he felt the tips of your fingers brush against his abdomen as you grabbed the bottom of his sweater - you took it off him with ease, avoiding getting the sleeves covered in sunscreen. He couldn’t believe that you were undressing him. Folding it quickly and putting it in your bag for safekeeping, you turned your back towards him again, trying not to ogle his well-defined body.
Tell me what you really feel
Do you like me? Just say you do
Your skin felt so soft - even under his rough, calloused fingers. He had never touched you this intimately - despite you being very close friends with him. Perhaps it was because he had only given you shoulder massages when you had more clothes on - he immediately tried to block out any thoughts relating to your body. But it was hard! He was crushing on you so badly, and all he wanted was to appreciate and love all of you.
Love. It was a word he was quite familiar with when it came to you - and immediately he was once again struck with more anxiety. The love letter he had in his pocket last night had gone missing.
I climbed up your front porch
And I doorbell ditched ya
Asahi breathed in and out very deeply as he paced in front of the managers’ room. Psyching himself up, he stopped and knocked at the door. He felt the letter sticking out of his jacket pocket - it may have been as light as a crow’s feather, but it felt like a forty pound dumbbell. He perked up, and his eyes widened as he heard your voice from the other side of the door.
“Coming! One second!” His panic immediately began to set in - and he had no other choice but to flee. He couldn’t confess without the fear of blacking out - it didn't matter how many times he had practiced giving the letter to Suga. Little did he know that the letter had fallen as he ran.
And I felt so bad, couldn't cope to what I did
So I laughed myself sick all the way to my car
When you opened the door, you found no one there - you had thought it was probably one of the boys pranking you, but that was until you saw a small envelope a few feet away. Walking towards it, you saw that it had your name written on it as you picked it up. You let out a small hum as you walked back into the room.
“Is that what I think it is?” Kiyoko asked you, seeing the envelope in your hand as the other closed the door.
“I’m not sure - but let's find out!”
Tell me how you feel about me
Do you like or like, like me?
It was two simple haikus - and to make the guessing game even harder, there wasn’t a name.
I think of you, and
dream about you, in colors
that do not exist.
I’m choking on words
too scared to say: I love you.
I’ll tell you this way.
The eloquently written words made a blush rise to your cheeks as you wondered who could’ve possibly written it.
Tell me what you really feel
Do you like me? Just say you do
You were watching the boys play mixed matches of beach volleyball. Trying to keep your eyes off of Karasuno’s ace, you thought about who could’ve left you the love letter.
“Do you know who it is?” It was Yachi that had asked you, but you shook your head and she let out a small huff. “Do you have any hunches?” It was Kiyoko who asked the next question.
“Not at all! I don’t even know who it could’ve been! There are so many boys here, and so many have talked to me this week.”
“Maybe it’s Bokuto-san! Or maybe - ”
“Do you think it’s someone from Karasuno?” Your cheeks immediately tinted at the question.
“I don’t know,” you answered quietly. “But I hope so.” Your eyes immediately trailed back to Asahi, who was serving. The concentrated look in his eyes and the way his tanning skin glistened in the summer sun made a heavy blush rise to your cheeks. Little did you know that Suga had been listening in on your conversation from the sidelines - and he caught the way you looked at the ace.
Tell me how you feel about me
Do you like or like, like me?
“Oi, Dai-san! We need a plan.” When Asahi went to the bathroom during the late lunch, the captain immediately called for a team huddle. Daichi laid out a simple plan - one that required the team to make sure that no one was near the two of you.
“Will it work!?”
“Tch, it seems simple enough.”
“I can’t believe he still hasn’t done anything. It’s been at least two years.”
“We execute at sunset.”
Tell me what you really feel
Do you like me?
It was nearing sunset, and Yachi and Kiyoko had left you in the waist-high water to grab some water - and you could hear the voices of boys playing soccer on the shore. Just as the sun was beginning to set, the warmth began to dissipate as well - the ocean breeze not helping. While you wanted to get out of the water, you wanted to watch the sky change colors for just a little while longer. Kiyoko had taken your towel and Asahi’s sweater, which was still tucked away in your bag next to hers. Going up to Asahi, she quickly nudged the items into his hands, his face riddled in confusion.
“This is your time to go confess, Asahi-san. You can do it.” Asahi felt a blush creep up to his cheeks as his eyes glossed over. In the background, he could hear his teammates shoot tears from their eyes - not expecting her encouraging words to be a part of the plan. Maybe he had the strength to do it with his team cheering him on! With determination in his eyes, and a warm smile on his lips, Asahi slipped on the sweater and began walking towards you.
Tell me how you feel about me
Do you like or like, like me?
You heard your name being called out from behind you, and you turned to find Asahi standing at the edge of the water, your towel draped over his shoulder. Wading out of the water, you walked up to him as he gave you your towel to dry off.
“Thank you, Sahi-kun.” He still blushed at the endearment every time it fell from your lips - ever since you started calling him that as first years.
“Would… would you like to watch the sunset together?” He almost sighed in relief when you nodded - and you two walked a bit further away from the water. Setting down the towel, you both sat on top of it, your arms encircling your knees as your toes dug into the sand, Asahi leaning back, resting his weight on his arms.
You both sat in a comfortable silence as the sun slowly lowered, colors spreading across the sky and mixing beautifully. While you stared at the view in front of you, the only thing worth looking at in Asahi’s eyes was you. He was enraptured by the way the fading light was striking your features in every possible perfect angle, the way your hair moved slightly with the breeze, and the way you shivered slightly at the ocean’s chill.
Tell me what you really feel
Do you like me? Just say you do
His eyes widened - you were cold! His primal man instincts told him to warm you up, but his shy and gentle nature told him to abort mission - so Asahi compromised, and he immediately sat up and removed his sweater before drawing your attention away from the view.
“You must be chilly - please take my sweater.” There was a look in his eyes that you couldn't quite read properly, but nonetheless, you took the sweater from his hands and slipped it on, immediately being warmed by his radiating body heat. Trying not to ogle at his bare chest again, you decided to scoot closer towards him - so close to the point that your legs and arms rubbed against each other. You both kept your eyes on the sunset, pink dusting both your cheeks.
Asahi stayed sitting up, his hand pressing against the surface behind you so that he could stay close to your body. He couldn't resist the temptation to keep looking at you - and he strangely felt confident enough to have no shame in doing so. The way his oversized sweater somehow fit on your smaller figure so perfectly - draping over your shoulders and ending perfectly above the middle of your thighs. The sight of you in his sweater made his face flush, as it was a sight that left him wanting more of you in every single way.
“I think of you, and dream about you, in colors that do not exist.” His voice was low and soft as he recited the words from the love letter he had meant to give you. Your eyes widened in realization - it was no one other than Asahi himself who had written the letter. Looking at him, you continued the haiku, much to his surprise.
“I - I’m choking on words too scared to say,” you recited, your heart beating out of your chest. Those words had been scorched into your mind since the night before. Asahi let out a small gasp before realizing that he must have dropped the letter - this whole time he had been worried that someone had stolen it. He said your name, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I love you.” Both of you were blushing messes, but he knew it was his opportunity to shine. As he began to close the space between both your faces, he recited the last line, his lips so dangerously close to yours. “I’ll tell you this way.”
As his lips touched yours for just a mere second, he pulled away to look into your eyes. You knew from the look in his eyes that he was asking if you wanted more - if you wanted him to be yours. You met him halfway to the kiss - and your lips felt like they were lighting on fire as they moved with his. Asahi moved his idle hand to cup just below your jaw - his fingertips dancing at the nape of your neck as his thumb traced your jaw. He felt the way you melted into his hand and lips like you were chocolate. Before going deeper into the kiss, Asahi pulled away, his forehead gently nudging yours as his breathing deepened.
“Will you… be mine? If you’ll have me?” You looked into his mocha eyes to find that the unreadable look he had been giving you all this time was one of pure love. Asahi waited for your response - his heart hammering away in his chest. You smiled brightly, unable to control your happiness as you lunged to hug him, your arms wrapping around his warm torso.
“Of course I will.”
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Thank you for reading!
~ Crystal :3
through the summer and the fall series masterlist
blog masterlist
buy me a ko-fi (but only if you can and want to)!
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BONUS
The bus ride back to Karasuno was quiet - the boys were exhausted, most of them sleeping or keeping to themselves with soft conversations. You had fallen asleep rather quickly - your head resting comfortably in Asahi’s warm chest as his arms were wrapped around you - the ace using his jacket as a makeshift pillow for his head between the seat and the window. 
Suga giggled sweetly as he took out his camera to snap a few photos of Karasuno’s new power couple cuddling on the bus, wrapped in each other’s embrace. He made sure to keep them to show his future godchildren.
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tirednotflirting · 4 years
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sleepyhead - c.h.
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right now i’m a few glasses of wine in and i’ve finally got the guts to post fic for the first time ever so here is a lil blurb thing i wrote in between studying for different finals last week when thinking of soft morning cal was distracting me from primate anatomy.
word count: ~1.9k
she woke up to the smell of cigarette smoke tickling at her nose. after a second breath, she caught a whiff of fresh coffee and rain on the brick walls of her building. knowing he must be out on the covered balcony, she listened closely for the sound of rain, wondering if it had stopped yet, and also picked up his quiet humming of a song she couldn’t quite figure out. a slight breeze blew into the room, causing her to pull the thick comforter up from where it rested at her waist and let her eyes finally flutter open as thoughts of sleeping later drifted off.
the room was dark for 9am, she observed after rolling over to grab her phone and seeing the time. her weather app told her that the storm was to continue well into the evening so if his plans for the day had included anything outside, they would likely need to be put on hold. she lifted her body from the mattress and finally caught sight of him out on the patio, the half-opened door giving her a view of him sipping from his favorite mug with the same hand that held his cigarette as he wrote something in a journal resting against the small glass table she had bought during the summer.
“your balcony has a nice view,” he had said one afternoon in june, soon after they had become friends who actively sought out each other’s company rather than waiting for the next time the world brought them together through mutual friends. “you should get a table out here when you’re more settled, would be a great morning coffee with a book spot.” she bought the table after he mentioned it a second time.
she thought of their initial meeting one another earlier in the year as she glanced up to check on him every couple of minutes as she went through her school inbox on her phone.
it was a grad party back in may for lianna, a friend a couple years her senior. it was out on some trendy rooftop place downtown her parents had rented out. lianna was the kind of girl who knew every kind of person, including the girlfriend of a drummer called ashton irwin. the couple had come along and brought with them ashton’s bandmate, calum. they blended in well with the ucla media studies crowd in their dress and overall low key attitude to the lights and sparkles and fruity drinks that came with downtown la in late spring.
she was a photography major and had met lianna when she got approval to take a senior level course that spring, despite only being a sophomore. she got on well with everyone at the party, all of them being her (now former) classmates and her face was growing achy with how much she was smiling as everyone told her their postgrad plans. she had been taking a social break and was standing at the bar, trying to flag down the bartender, her short stature failing her at that moment. she felt a presence to her left as she huffed in frustration, along with a deep “need some help?”. she turned and saw a man that she remembered recognizing when she had seen him walk in with a gorgeous couple earlier in the night. he was in a band, plays bass, lianna had told her over the tops of their wine glasses. he’s australian, and has a very cute dog, had also been added by the tall red-haired girl.
“yeah, thanks. guess he can’t hear me,” she replied, a tired smile returning to her face. a similar one spread across the curly-haired boy’s lips. “what are you drinking?” he asked, looking down to her as his hand lifted to grab the attention of the bartender, who immediately noticed the man. she took a moment before answering to admire the tattoos that she could see dancing across his forearm as his rolled sleeve pushed up to his elbow.
“the rosé.”
he lifted his chin in a short nod and recited the order as well as his own to the bartender. she pulled herself up into one of the stools at the bar to give her heeled feet a rest and to reduce at least a little bit of the difference in height between herself and the man.
“i’m calum,” he introduced himself, reaching a tattooed hand out into the somewhat limited space between the two of them.
“bennie,” she smiled lazily, her smaller hand accepting his as a glass of pink wine is placed beside her.
she set her phone back to charge and finally pushes back the covers. she reaches to the floor at the end of her bed to pick up a cardigan to throw on over the t-shirt she stole from him to wear when he got in the night before. he would always tease her for taking one of his ratty band t-shirts every time he ended up at her place after the airport rather than his own but never enough for her to toss it back in his duffle.
california in winter could just barely be called that, but the storm was bringing through something they would all call a cold front. he looks up from his writing as he hears her bare feet padding closer to the open door and gently shuts the leather journal, his pen marking his place.
he takes another drag of the cigarette, turning towards the street to blow away the smoke. “lovely weather we’re having today, huh?”
she scoffs at his sarcasm as she pulls out the seat across from him. “la is so happy to have you home that the whole city is crying tears of joy.” 
“hush, ben.” he rolls his eyes but smirks nonetheless at her words.
he takes a moment to admire the girl that’s come to be one his best friends as she reaches forward to pour coffee from the French press he had made into a second mug. sleep had pulled most of her hair from the braid she had done up when they were eating pasta in the kitchen the night before. her eyes were dark around the edges due to the college-student style of exhaustion she always seemed to be and the eyeliner she had claimed she didn’t really need to wash away before bed. seeing her in his clothes made him feel warm in a way he didn’t really understand but always pushed away the thought of.
“ah, you’re right.” she says after a sighing as she takes her first sip from her mug. “she’s actually crying because you’re leaving again in a few days.”
the smile on his face drops as he reaches a foot out to tap against her leg. “hey now, yes i’ll be leaving but then you’re down for that party in the city for new years, right?”
she’s already down to the bottom of her mug (the French press was doing a shit job at retaining any heat and she was going to need to just go back into the kitchen and make more). “if you’ll still have me, yeah. which i hope you will because i’ve definitely already bought the flight.”
“bennie, you were supposed to let me get that.” he says to her with furrowed brows, a small pout forming.
she stands and holds a hand out for his mug so she can go in and make a second cup for the both of them. “okay, well you already got me a room and since your label are the ones hosting the party, you’re basically paying for all my drinks too. so i-“
“it was gonna be your Christmas present, love.” he sighs, handing his mug over.
“the room can be the prese-“
“bennie,” he cuts her off and places a hand at her hip to stop her as she tries to scoot around him to get back inside for coffee and to get away from the conversation. she looks down at where his chipped black polished fingers are placed. “just wanna be able to do something nice for you. i know you worked your ass off this semester and that you’re avoiding the fam for the holiday so i just wanted to treat you.”
she studies the mugs in her hands to avoid his gaze. calum turns his chair to face her so he can wrap both arms around her waist. she huffs and sets the mugs down on the table, letting her hands fall to his shoulders as she looks down to his patient brown eyes.
she takes a deep breath as she moves one hand to the back of his neck, her fingers twirling around the curls there. “and i appreciate it. and i’ve been feeling all warm and fuzzy ever since you asked me to join for this. i think i just convinced myself that letting you do too much for me would make it seem like i was taking advantage. don’t ever want you to feel that way about me.”
his bottom lip juts out further after hearing her think that he could ever even for a moment have some kind of ill opinion of her. “wouldn’t dream of thinking that, darling. i invited you to a party clear across the country, just wanted to make sure you were taken care of.”
she feels something flutter inside her when he calls her by pet names and talks about taking care of her but she pushes the thought away. “we should talk more when planning, huh?”
he laughs and shakes his head at her as he opens his legs so she can stand between them as he pulls her closer, his arms moving to wrap more fully around her waist. he lets his head fall against her stomach. “i’m still exhausted.”
she runs a hand through his hair. “it’s called jet lag, ace. go get back in bed. let’s finish the season of peaky blinders we fell asleep in the middle of last night and then we can go pick up duke.” 
he hummed his agreement with the plan for the rest of the morning before turning his head to place a kiss to the inside of bennie’s wrist. as she wanders past him, mugs and french press gathered into her arms, he puts out the last of his cigarette in the ashtray he brought over after she yelled at him for using one of her favorite mugs for the purpose. she’s already back in the kitchen, filling the kettle before setting it back on the stove and digging through her cabinets for the dark roast she’s decided she wants to make for her second cup of the day.
she comes back to her room several minutes later with two steamy mugs to find calum asleep again, her pillow tucked against his chest. she could almost coo at him cuddled under the blanket, chapped lips pouted out as he softly snores. she chuckles quietly to herself as she sets the mugs on her desk before gently climbing back into bed and pulling the pillow away from his arms. it’s only now that she notices the door is still open, the rain still falling at a steady pace and the breeze sneaking its way across the room. as she lays her head against the pillow that now smells of whatever new cologne he picked up on the road, an arm reaches over her body, pulling her against his warm chest. 
“thanks, love,” are the last words she hears before letting her tired eyes drift shut.
~~~~~
thnx for reading if you did and come say hello (i like new pals) and lemme know if i should ever give this kinda thing a shot again. happy saturday !
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thebluemartini · 4 years
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Far From the Shallow - Chapter 13 [Nessian Fic]
TITLE: Far From the Shallow SYNOPSIS: Post-ACOFAS. As part of a deal with Feyre, Nesta has agreed to live with Cassian in the Illyrian Mountains. However, shortly after her arrival, she receives the startling news that she’s pregnant from one of her one-night stands. While she tries to quickly get a grip on her life, Cassian’s determined to make her see that she’s not facing this alone.
FIC LENGTH: Multi-chapter (Total Chapter Estimate: 14)
PREVIOUS CHAPTERS: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12
TAGGING: @bohemiandreams27 @queenofillea1 @trash-for-nessian @nestaarcheronwillkillme @my-fan-side @strangeenemy @maastrash @cageddovepoetry @bybooksanddreams @lilbat90 @ritamordio19 @mastercommandercaptain @feysand-dot-acotar @archeron-queen @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @empress-ofbloodshed @there-is-warmth-in-winter @mybbyfeyre @saltydreamcollector @justlikethecheshirecat @mis-lil-red @supebowlere @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @sezkins79 @everything-that-i-love @hashtolanashoba @lord-douglas-the-third @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @hikari274 @acotar-and-tog-for-life @ellenoftroy @ink-nibs @highlordofthenightcourttrash @sesquipedalian-aficionado @tintinnabulary
*This chapter is also posted on AO3 and FF.
A/N: My deepest apologies - it took 3 weeks to post a new chapter instead of the usual 2! Sighhh. Unfortunately, that's what happens when you lose a weekend of writing time when you go out of town! So thank goodness you weren't left on a cliffhanger?
This chapter is either the longest or the second longest one, so I hope that makes up for the wait! Also, just want to say this fic is keeping its T rating :)
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CHAPTER 13: June/July
June
For the remaining weeks of May, Cassian managed to return to Velaris every night with the help of Rhys and Feyre. It was in June, however, that Cassian was unable to keep to that routine, with Rhys’ and Feyre’s lack of availability some nights, and Cassian’s schedule to meet and train with all the Illyrian camps growing more rigorous.
It was early one morning at the beginning of June when Nesta was bidding him goodbye that she told him it wasn’t necessary for him to come back each night, saying that the training with the camps had clearly been taking its toll on him and he’d needed to get sufficient rest each night instead of being awoken by Dahlia’s cries throughout. She also expressed that while she enjoyed sleeping beside him, her and Dahlia didn’t even get to really see him or spend time with him.
Reluctantly, Cassian listened to her but not being able to sleep beside Nesta plus constantly fearing he would miss significant milestones in Dahlia’s life didn’t exactly improve his sleeping habits.
But he never let a week pass without him visiting them for one full day. And on those days, he’d relish in being with Nesta as they cuddled with Dahlia, bathed her, fed her, burped her, read to her, and played with her. He of course would also flap his own wings around to amuse her.
And as he did so, Nesta would give him a look that told him there was no way he could take her flying with him.
(At least not yet.)
It was the anticipation of those special days each week that got him through his time in the mountains. On those days, he’d feel like he needed to pinch himself to ensure it wasn’t just a dream. 
But it was all real. He finally had a family to come home to and a place where he belonged.
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Nesta missed the feeling of Cassian’s hands wrapped around her each night. She’d grown so used to it when he slept beside her each night of May.
But she had noticed the weariness in his eyes. Toward the end of the month, he had started arriving at Rhys and Feyre’s estate later and later, mostly after she had put Dahlia in her crib and she herself had gone to bed. It would be an hour or so later that she would sense the mattress sink in beside her and feel the press of his lips against her temple and an arm snake around her waist.
And then before dawn, he’d be awake, ready for Rhys to winnow him away. But it was a rule between them, that no matter how “peaceful” she may have looked, he would always wake her up to say goodbye.
Before he left Velaris to return to Illyria for the first time after the birth, Cassian was always the first to get up during the night whenever Dahlia cried. But during his visits after his return to Illyria, he would often be so exhausted that sometimes he didn’t even stir at the sound of her cries.
Nesta certainly wasn’t upset about it. She knew how badly he wanted to be there for both of them. One night, when he discovered Nesta was awake to soothe Dahlia, he apologized profusely for not hearing Dahlia awake and insisted he take over in cuddling with her so Nesta could go back to sleep, but Nesta wouldn’t have it.
She felt worried about him. His talk of what was going on at the camps was very limited, but she knew he was likely overworking himself in an effort to make Illyria a safe place for them to live as a family.
So, as gently as she could, she told him it wasn’t necessary for him to visit each night, especially since they didn’t really get to spend time with each other. Plus, she didn’t mind waking in the middle of the night to calm Dahlia since her sisters helped so much with Dahlia during the day, giving Nesta plenty of time to nap and remain fairly well-rested.
It took Cassian a little while before he very reluctantly agreed to follow her wishes. But a day never went by without them sending at least one message to each other. And every week, he would come to the estate and spend a full day with them… Those days were the ones she treasured the most.
But right now, she really wished Cassian was with them for the night.
Because Dahlia, for some reason, refused to stop crying.
Her wails were especially loud, and holding and rocking her did nothing to soothe her at all. Nesta tried sitting in the rocking chair with her, reading to her, bouncing her up and down, feeding her, and walking around the room as she held her, but absolutely nothing was working.
This had never happened before. Sure, there were some nights where Dahlia cried quite a bit, but eventually she would calm down. This was the longest she’d ever cried.
And Nesta couldn’t help but feel that Cassian would know what to do. He could probably flap his wings and that would be enough for Dahlia. She always seemed to become quiet sooner whenever it was Cassian who tended to her.
But she couldn’t bother him with this. He was probably deep in sleep anyway.
Suddenly, there was a knock on her bedroom door before it swung open to reveal the sleepy faces of Elain and Feyre.
“Is everything all right?” Elain asked before yawning.
“I can’t get her to stop,” Nesta expressed helplessly as she rocked Dahlia in her arms.
“Here, let me try holding her,” Feyre said with outstretched hands.
Nesta stepped away from Feyre, as if to hold the baby away from her. It was instinctual for her to not want to lose control of a situation.
But she quickly realized what she’d done and moved back near her sister, carefully handing Dahlia to her.
Feyre cradled Dahlia in her arms and attempted to gently hush her as she glided around the room. Her and Elain watched them, and upon noticing no change in Dahlia’s cries, Elain turned to face Nesta.
“Maybe we should get Cassian?” she suggested. “She always seems to cry less when he’s around.”
It was true. When Cassian was around, not only did Nesta feel happier, but even Dahlia seemed to be more content as well.
“It’s the middle of the night,” Nesta protested. “He doesn’t need to be bothered by this.”
“But Nesta, I think he would want to be bothered by this,” Elain replied.
But he already had so much on his plate… What more could be done anyway that hadn’t already been tried?
“I don’t think - ”
“I’ll get him,” Feyre cut in as she stopped in front of Elain and handed Dahlia to her.
Before Nesta could even object, Feyre vanished, having winnowed away.
Nesta sighed. What could possibly be causing Dahlia to cry this much?
Within a matter of minutes, Feyre appeared with Cassian in tow. His eyes found Nesta’s immediately, as they always did whenever he was winnowed to the estate whenever she wasn’t sleeping. He strode toward her and grasped her hand to squeeze it in greeting. He knew she wasn’t fond of public displays of affection. To her, their relationship was something special between only them. While her sisters, Rhys, Azriel, and Amren were well-aware of their relationship, she relished in the privacy of their love.
So his kisses for her were saved for when they were alone or in front of only Dahlia.
“What’s wrong, my baby girl?” Cassian asked as he turned toward Elain and took Dahlia from her arms. First, he lifted her up with his hands beneath her underarms. Bouncing her a bit, Cassian flapped his wings as he did so. But the wing flapping did not have their usual effect. Dahlia’s cries did not stop.
Cassian stared at her in concern before bringing her to his chest, letting her head rest against his shoulder. He looked over at Nesta. 
“How long has she been crying?”
“For over an hour,” Nesta answered, and Cassian’s eyes widened.
He swayed his body back and forth as he started rubbing Dahlia’s back. But as he did so, his hand suddenly paused its motion and he looked curiously down at Dahlia. He moved over to the crib to lay her down and started pulling off her clothing.
“What are you doing?” Nesta calmly inquired out of curiosity.
Once Dahlia’s clothing was removed, he picked her up again and laid her head against his shoulder. As he looked down at her back, Nesta looked as well and gasped along with her sisters.
On her back were two long black strips of raised skin.
“I think she’s growing wings,” Cassian explained.
Nesta felt frozen in shock. “But I thought you said she wouldn’t have wings?”
“All Illyrians I know have had wings since the day they were born,” he said. “I’ve never seen this before.”
Nesta’s mind was racing. She didn’t plan for this. How was she supposed to handle this?
“So the wings are hurting her? That’s why she’s crying?”
Cassian nodded. “I think so. We need to send for Madja. She’ll have the proper oil to rub along her back to soothe her.”
“I’m on it,” Feyre piped in before vanishing.
“Poor thing,” Elain remarked.
Nesta just stared at Dahlia, feeling awful for her, knowing her baby was in pain. She wished she could take it away from her. She stepped closer to Cassian and grabbed Dahlia’s hand. “I’m sorry, my angel,” she whispered in the midst of the wailing.
It was at least ten minutes before Feyre and a very sleepy Madja appeared. The healer took Dahlia from Cassian’s arms and inspected the marks before holding her against her body and pulling out a vial from her pouch.
She started rubbing the oil from the vial on Dahlia’s back. “She is growing wings,” she confirmed, speaking loudly over Dahlia’s wailing.
“But the marks of the wings should have appeared right when she was born. Not when she’s one month old,” Cassian stated.
“I suspect they were delayed because of your fall,” Madja said with a pointed look to Nesta. “Her body must’ve been injured, and now her wings will be slower to develop.”
Worry flooded through Nesta. So there had been negative effects of her fall after all…who knew what other ways Dahlia could be affected?
Madja must’ve noticed the alarmed look on her face. “When I checked her last week, everything was fine. She is still perfectly healthy. No need to be concerned.”
Gradually, Dahlia’s cries softened. Once Madja had stopped rubbing oil onto her back, Nesta gathered her in her arms, and Cassian wrapped his arms around Nesta.
“Rub this on her back every twelve hours and she’ll be fine,” Madja instructed as she put her vial down on the nearby nightstand. “She’s just in pain from her wings growing.”
“Thank you,” Nesta whispered, trying not to hug Dahlia to tightly to her body for fear of hurting her back even more. Luckily, it seemed like she was falling asleep.
“I’ll come back in a few days to check on her,” Madja added before looking over at Feyre.
“I’ll take you back,” she said before grabbing Madja’s hand and winnowing out of the room.
Elain came up to Nesta and placed a soft kiss on Dahlia’s head, then looked up at Cassian. “Thank goodness you came,” she said before giving Nesta a pointed glance. “Goodnight,” she said before walking out of the room.
With Dahlia now sleeping soundly in her arms, Cassian removed his arms from Nesta’s body so he could easily lean down and plant a kiss on Dahlia’s head.
Nesta walked over to the crib, then lifted Dahlia up and gave her a kiss before gently laying her down to continue sleeping. “Goodnight, my angel,” she said quietly.
As soon as she turned away from the crib, Cassian captured her lips in a brief kiss. Whenever he came to visit, he always took the first opportunity when no one was around to kiss her...and it never failed to leave her breathless.
“Hello, sweetheart,” he whispered as he leaned his forehead down against hers.
“Hello,” she breathed. “Do you need to go back to Illyria tonight?” She wondered how long she would have with him.
“No, I’m cancelling everything scheduled for tomorrow to stay here with you and Dahlia,” he replied as he pulled away and grabbed her hand to lead her over to her bed.
“You didn’t need to do that,” she remarked as she followed him.
“Yes, I did. I’m in severe need of time with my favorite girls,” he said as she laid down on the bed. Cassian followed suit, laying with his chest up against her back and his arm around her waist.
“We just saw you three days ago,” Nesta pointed out.
“It’s never enough,” Cassian stated.
Nesta grabbed his hand that was wrapped around her and brought it up to her chest, hugging it and placing a kiss upon it. “I agree,” she whispered. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Feyre said you didn��t want to admit you needed me here. That it was Elain’s idea I should come.”
Nesta fought back the urge to sigh. Why did her sisters have to get involved with this?
“I figured you were sleeping. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“But being here for you and Dahlia is more important than that,” he noted seriously.
“You’ve already done so much for me,” she said. “I don’t expect you to do anything more for me.”
“But...I always want to be there for you. I would do everything for you if I could.”
“I know…but you have important duties to attend to. I don’t want to be a distraction.”
“Sweetheart, you are a welcome distraction,” he emphasized, and the whisper tickled her ear. “And if you ever need me for the slightest thing, I want you to tell me.”
Nesta released his hand and turned her body to face him. “But you need to focus on -”
“I need to focus on taking care of you and Dahlia,” he interrupted fervently.
She gazed into his hazel eyes as she placed a hand on his cheek. “You love me too much.”
“And you deserve every bit of it.”
She stroked his cheek with her thumb. The intense look he was giving her was always too much for her, making her come undone. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you,” she mumbled with a tinge of amusement.
“I know what you should do,” Cassian said. “You should contact me whenever you need help.”
Nesta sighed again. “Well, thank the gods you did come tonight, or else I may have never known what was bothering Dahlia,” she remarked, and then her voice took on a very serious tone as she thought about what it would mean now that they knew Dahlia was growing wings. “Are you jealous?”
“Jealous?”
“That...she’s Illyrian and not...of your Illyrian blood,” she explained awkwardly as she brought her hand down to his chest. “I...used to sleep with Illyrians whenever you made me mad, just to spite you,” she admitted quietly.
He pushed the stray strands of hair out of her face and behind her ears. “Well, you successfully made me jealous back then when I found out about it. But that’s all in the past now. As for Dahlia’s wings, while I’ll always wish she were truly mine, I’m excited that I’ll get to teach her how to fly.”
Nesta smiled at the visual of him teaching their little girl how to fly one day. “I’m glad she’ll at least...kinda look like you by having Illyrian wings.”
Cassian stared off dreamily to her bedroom window as he caressed her side. “It will be nice to share that with her and teach her to fly. I’ve...been afraid because I’m away so much that she won’t really need me when she has you and your sisters.”
Nesta narrowed her eyes and placed her hand on his cheek again to force him to look directly at her. “What? That is ridiculous. Of course we need you. We both need you! You’ll teach her how to defend herself, how to be a leader, to be loyal and courageous, how to love others a completely ridiculous amount!”
“Well, I just wish you’d let me know whenever you need help with her, so I can truly feel like I’m a part of her life.”
“I will!” Nesta said in a panic, not realizing that Cassian had been feeling this way. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to feel that way at all.”
“I know,” he said gently. “I just...don’t want to be like my father.”
Nesta shook her head as she began stroking his cheek. “You are nothing like your father. You know this.”
Cassian sighed. “It just hurts to be away from both of you.”
“Which is proof that you aren’t like your father,” she stated. “You haven’t discarded us. You make it a priority to see us.”
Cassian shifted his gaze back to the window, seemingly deep in thought. Nesta used her forefinger to start tracing along his jawline, causing him to close his eyes. She figured he was just relishing in her touch, but she took it as her opportunity to lighten the mood.
“Are you going to sleep without giving me my goodnight kiss?” she whispered, unamused.
At this comment, Cassian’s eyes instantly opened to look at her. They held a glint of amusement - a sign she had accomplished her goal.
“My apologies, my love. Please forgive me,” he said quietly before bringing his head down to plant a slow kiss on her lips.
“I’m sorry I didn’t contact you the minute I needed you,” she said when they pulled away from each other. “Because I knew I needed you tonight. I always feel like I need you.”
“Likewise,” he said quietly as he ran his fingers through her hair and slid the ribbon out of it that had been holding it all together. “I just wish there was a better solution for this.”
Nesta probably wondered about this everyday, but Cassian needed to be in Illyria...and Dahlia couldn’t be in Illyria. Not yet at least. “We’ll make it work,” she replied. “In time, it will be better. But for now...just hold me.”
“Gladly,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him before they drifted off to sleep. 
________________________________________________________________
July
From her place among the grass in the garden of Rhys and Feyre’s estate, Nesta stared at Dahlia, who sat just out of arm’s reach of her. Behind Dahlia was a row of bright red dahlias, and there was one single dahlia in her hand. 
“You’re sitting right in front of the flowers I planted for you! They haven’t bloomed yet, but they’ll be a fiery red...bold like you.” Elain had told her, back in March on the day Nesta found out Cassian was her mate.
Nesta had no idea at the time that the flowers were dahlias. Even though Elain claimed she never saw the vision of the baby until that day in April, Nesta was convinced she must have seen something else that led her to plant the dahlias.
Nesta smiled at the craziness of it all. The fact that Elain felt the flower was bold like her, that Dahlia was the name of Cassian’s mother, and now her daughter shared the name. She chuckled at the sight of Dahlia currently tugging at the petals of the flower in her hands, attempting to pull them off.
Nesta looked to the side and saw Feyre behind an easel, swiping her paintbrush across the canvas and glancing every few seconds up at Dahlia as she painted. Her sister may have been an excellent painter, but Nesta wasn’t sure she’d be able to adequately capture the pure curiosity on Dahlia’s face.
She wished Cassian was here to see it.
At that moment, a piece of parchment appeared in the grass beside Nesta. Eagerly, she picked it up and read it.
My love, tell me your day isn’t as miserable as mine. (But then again, if I am not there with you, is it even possible for your day to be anything but miserable?)
Nesta rolled her eyes at Cassian’s cocky message but smiled as she wrote back her reply.
You’re ridiculous.
It only took a minute for his response to appear.
Ridiculously in love with you? You bet.
Nesta couldn’t help but roll her eyes again at his words. But, even though he tells her he loves her nearly everyday, part of her still felt her heart race upon reading his message. It still bewildered her that he could love her so greatly. 
 Why is your day so miserable?
 You and Dahlia aren’t here and the Illyrians are frustrating the hell out of me. I needed to write you to help me calm down and not think about it. So, if you’re not busy feeling like you can’t live without me, then what are you up to? 
 Watching Dahlia play with a flower outside as Feyre paints her portrait. 
 Feyre is painting her? 
 Yes, as she plays with a red dahlia.
 Is Feyre going to paint you as well? 
 No.
 Well she should paint a picture of you and Dahlia together so I can hang it here in the cabin. Maybe it could help me not miss you both so much…
Nesta looked glumly at the message. It certainly was difficult being apart most of the time. She was about to write back when Elain strolled across the garden toward her and sat beside her.
“Are you talking to Cassian?” she asked.
Nesta nodded in response.
“You two have never had time together - just the two of you - have you?” Elain inquired curiously.
Ever since she admitted she’d loved him, all their time together was spent with Dahlia. But she wondered what exactly Elain was getting at.
Nesta shook her head.
“You two deserve time alone together,” she remarked. “I’d be happy to watch Dahlia if you two ever want to spend time alone together.”
“Me too,” Feyre piped in without lifting her eyes from her work.
Every waking hour, Nesta was with Dahlia. She had a hard time envisioning even leaving her for a few hours. Would she be able to survive such separation?
Plus, leaving her in her sisters’ care...while things between them were certainly better, she still had her worries that they would take control of her and her daughter’s life.
She knew it would take a while for that fear to go away... if it ever completely would.
But the thought of spending some time alone with Cassian did sound pleasant. They never truly had gone out together.
“Thank you,” Nesta stated to her sisters. “I’ll let him know.” 
 Well, I think she should do a painting of our family -  all three of us - instead. And you’d have the pleasure of holding us for hours as Feyre paints us. 
 A brilliant idea, my love. 
 Another idea was just brought up by Feyre and Elain - they have offered to watch Dahlia if you and I want to spend time alone together. 
Another brilliant idea. 
 I’m only worried about leaving Dahlia. 
 That’s understandable, but she’ll be safe with your sisters. 
 But I’ve never been apart from her. 
 Which is why you are due for a short break. We can miss her together. 
 I do want to spend time with you...since we’re usually playing with Dahlia when you do visit, we hardly get to talk.
 Among other things…
 She blushed at what she knew was a playful innuendo. 
 Indeed. 
 Then how about we spend Saturday together? I’ll come to Illyria so I can see Dahlia and then we can go do something together. 
 Nesta pressed the tip of her pen to her chin as she thought about where she would like to go. 
 Could we go to your mother’s memorial?
 Well, I had more romantic ideas in mind, but of course we can, sweetheart. 
 Nesta smiled to herself.
 We could visit the memorial first, then do whatever you had in mind. 
 Hearing this idea has completely turned around my miserable day, my love. 
________________________________________________________________
When Nesta woke up on her own Saturday morning, she was shocked.
Since Dahlia was born, she never woke up on her own. Dahlia would always wake her up, crying to either be fed or wanting to be held. She woke her up a few times throughout the night, but this morning...there was nothing.
Alarmed, she sat up and got out of the bed and headed to the crib, where she found no sign of Dahlia, but a note lying in the bed prevented her from being sent into a panic.
We’re downstairs. -C&D
The message was in Cassian’s handwriting, which surprised her since it meant he was already here. She hadn’t expected him to arrive until later, but she immediately left her room and made her way down the staircase.
It was in the living room area where she found Dahlia, lying soundly in Elain’s arms as they sat on the couch. However, Cassian wasn’t around. 
When Elain saw her, she quickly stood up and handed Dahlia over to her. “I think she’s hungry,” Elain said with a smile. “Cassian is talking with Azriel and Rhys in the study.”
Nesta nodded as she wrapped her arms tightly around Dahlia and let her lay her head on her shoulder. “I didn’t even hear Cassian come in,” she remarked softly.
“I think he wanted to let you sleep for a bit,” Elain replied. “He said Dahlia was awake when he walked in, so he brought her down to sit with her for a little while.”
“You’re sure you don’t mind watching her today?” Nesta asked.
Elain shook her head. “I don’t mind at all. I’m excited to! I love her,” she stated as rubbed Dahlia’s back in between the spots where wings had started to grow. Wings hadn’t fully formed yet, but the dark raised skin had protruded even more in the last month.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Elain said. “Here, come sit down. I’ll get you some pillows.”
Since the birth, Elain had been a huge help to her and always doted on her. She had started to learn what Nesta needed before she even asked for it, such as now, with pillows set behind her as she sat on the couch and prepared for breastfeeding.
Once she fed Dahlia, Cassian still hadn’t appeared so Nesta left Dahlia in Elain’s care as she went back upstairs to change her clothes, style her hair, and freshen up.
When she was finished, she went back down the stairs. The closer she got to the living room, she could hear multiple voices speaking and recognized Cassian’s boisterous laughter.
When she walked in the room, she found Cassian sitting on the couch with Dahlia cradled in his arms.
Every time she saw Cassian with Dahlia, it made her swoon with joy.
Cassian’s eyes found hers instantly and he smiled more brightly. She wasn’t sure if it was simply because she hadn’t seen him in a week, but his gaze felt more intense than ever. Nesta grinned back at him as she went over to him and sat beside him.
It was then that she realized that Azriel, Rhys, Feyre, and Elain were all in the room, chatting away.
Cassian was big enough that he easily was able to cradle Dahlia in one arm. His free hand found Nesta’s and squeezed it tightly in greeting. “Good morning, my love.”
“Good morning,” she whispered back as she returned the squeeze. “You didn’t wake me up when you came in,” she gently reprimanded him.
“Good. That was the intention.”
Nesta stared at him, waiting for his explanation.
“I had just gone into your room to check on you two since I knew Rhys wanted to talk this morning,” he continued. “I wanted to let you both sleep...but then I saw Dahlia was awake and there was a bad smell coming from her. So I cleaned her up and just sat with her for a little bit. I wanted you to have time to rest.”
Nesta had wished he’d awoken her when he arrived, but ultimately, he was just looking out for her as always. She gave him a soft smile.
“What did Rhys have to say?” she inquired.
“It was just an update on the Night Court, Mor’s mission, Illyria, the Court of Nightmares...nothing crazy,” Cassian answered.
Mor…
With Mor being gone for a while, Nesta had nearly forgotten about her. She hadn’t been mentioned by anyone lately, yet she was someone who was close to Cassian and disliked her.
Did Cassian even let her know that they were together? Months ago, he had told Mor he of course wasn’t the father of her child, claiming Mor was sensitive to anything possibly coming in the way of their friendship. Would Mor always be trying to convince him to leave her? Or if he hadn’t told her yet, what would that mean?
Cassian’s thumb started rubbing hers, pulling her from her thoughts. “Are you ready to go now?” he eagerly wondered. “Although...it’s going to be hard to let go of her,” he added as he looked over at Dahlia.
“I know,” Nesta said sadly, looking over at Dahlia as well.
“Well, I think it’s time for you two to get going,” Feyre piped in as she approached them and reached for Dahlia.
After a short sigh, Cassian bent down to kiss Dahlia’s head and Nesta leaned over to kiss her too. Then Cassian finally relinquished her and handed her over to Feyre.
Feyre cradled Dahlia in her arms.
“You’re sure you’re fine with taking care of her today?” Nesta asked.
“Of course,” Feyre said and started to walk away from them.
Nesta must’ve had a concerned expression on her face as she thought about leaving Dahlia in her sisters’ care from the way Cassian was now looking at her. “You don’t need to worry,” he advised quietly while rubbing the back of her hand.
She took comfort in his reassuring gesture. She really shouldn’t be worrying...she wouldn’t be right at Dahlia’s side forever...
“Oh, do you need me to winnow you to wherever you’re going?” Feyre asked as she turned her head back at them from across the room.
Cassian kept his eyes on Nesta. “Should we winnow or fly?” he whispered.
She would much rather be carried and flown by him. The last time he had done so, she was going into labor and couldn’t enjoy it. Before then, they weren’t even together when she had flown with him. But she had to toy with him as always. “That depends...are you going to pretend to fall through the sky again?”
“As long as you keep your arms around me, sweetheart, we’ll be fine,” he answered quietly with a cheeky grin. “No, we’re going to fly, Feyre,” he called out to his High Lady.
Feyre nodded, then proceeded to bobble Dahlia up and down in her arms.
“Let’s go before we change our minds about leaving Dahlia,” Cassian said as he stood up and tugged Nesta’s arm to follow him. “Goodbye, everyone,” he called out without even looking at them. They shouted it back to them as Nesta allowed Cassian to lead her out of the estate.
As soon as they walked outside and Nesta shut the door behind her, Cassian’s lips crashed against hers. The force of his kiss was so strong that Nesta’s back was pushed against the door. Cassian brought his hands to the sides of her face as he kissed her deeper.
When he pulled away from her, Nesta had a hard time finding her balance again. Probably noticing her struggle, Cassian reached out to pick her up, with one arm behind her back and one behind her knees.
“I think that was one of the longest times I’ve ever had to wait to be alone with you to kiss you,” he remarked. “It was nearly unbearable.”
Despite relishing in his kiss and despite being the one who preferred the privacy of their relationship, her mind couldn’t help but drift back to Mor, wondering if she was even aware of this. Did Cassian keep it private from her? He’d never mentioned if he’d ever told her.
“Well, maybe if you woke me up when you arrived this morning, you could’ve kissed me immediately,” she pointed out with an irritable bite to her tone.
Cassian frowned. “Sweetheart, listen, I’m sorry about this morning. I didn’t know it would be such a big deal to you,” he stated apologetically.  “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
She hated herself for getting so worked up about this. “Have you told Mor about us?” she asked quietly.
“Yes,” he answered without any hesitation. “I wrote to her and told her.”
“And how did she react?” Nesta asked, staring him in the eyes to see if they would tell her anything.
“Well, I first sent her a message about it when you weren’t speaking to me, telling her I was in love with you and that there was absolutely nothing she could say or do to change that. Then my other message said we were together, that I was the proud father of a beautiful daughter,  that I had finally found the home I was always looking for with my new family, and that I’m the happiest I’ve ever been,” he explained.
Nesta felt stupid, so incredibly stupid for letting her doubts nearly get to her. She finally brought her hands around his neck, tears surfacing in her eyes. “Do you mean that?”
“Yes, my love,” he replied with a smile. “I even told Rhys and Az the same thing this morning. So, while I don’t know if Mor’s happy about it, I do know she’s accepted it. You have nothing to worry about. I love you.”
“I know.”
“Well, I’m going to keep telling you until I know you believe it without a doubt,” he stated, squeezing her more tightly. “And even after that too so you’ll keep on believing it.”
“I love you, too,” she said. “I’m sorry for getting mad at you.”
“Well you could make it up to me…” he trailed off as he shifted his gaze to her lips.
Nesta gladly answered his request with a deep kiss.
When she pulled away, Cassian beamed and took them to the skies.  ________________________________________________________________
When they arrived on the mountain where Cassian was born hours later, the sky was cloudy.
It seemed to accurately reflect the mood in the air, however, since they remained silent after their landing. 
Once Cassian had gently put Nesta down, she strolled away from him to stand alone in front of the giant rock that served as a memorial to his mother and to her father.
Cassian hung back but still faced the stone, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes as he thought about his mother.
So much had occurred since the last time he and Nesta had visited this spot. The snap of the mating bond. Nesta kissing him for the first time. Going through the Blood Rite again. Almost losing Nesta and the baby. Proving to Nesta he loved her. The birth of the baby. Having a family…
Mother, when I was taken away from you, I thought I’d be alone my entire life. When Rhys’ mother took me in, I at least had someone to help take care of me. While I did consider them family, I still felt like I was missing something. I can’t describe it. But I assumed I would never find it because I was taken from you. We didn’t have enough time together.
When I got to know Nesta, I could see how resilient and fearless she was, and it couldn’t help but remind me of you. Her bold actions against the king of Hybern reminded me of the way you’d spat upon the boots of the Illyrian leaders. Then Nesta nearly died with me in the war and she was the only other person I had ever felt like I didn’t have enough time with.
But we were given another chance...and I almost wasted it. But you brought me back to her, mother. When she seemed so lost and alone in her pregnancy, all I saw was you in her and how you must’ve felt.
I love her, and I love her daughter just as much - your granddaughter who has been named after you.
I finally have the family that I had always been searching for, and I’ve never felt this happy.
I love you, mother. Thank you for leading me to her.
________________________________________________________________
Nesta took a deep breath as she faced the stone that had come to memorialize her father.
She could’ve asked Cassian to take her to her father’s actual memorial. The one that Feyre and Elain had established in Velaris. But that spot didn’t hold any significance for her.
This one did.
Since it was a spot made by the one who showed her it was safe to love fiercely and powerfully again.
Nesta closed her eyes.
Dahlia...thank you for your son. He may have been young when he was taken away from you, but I know you were the one who showed him how to love as he does. I hope you don’t mind that I named our daughter after you since she’s not of your bloodline, but Cassian considers her his daughter, and I feel like that would be enough for you.
Thank you.
She took another deep breath and crossed her arms across her chest.
Father…
Because of you, I never thought I’d be able to love again. Loving you had left me so hurt, so dejected, and so closed off from others. I felt I couldn’t trust anyone ever again. I felt like I was unworthy of love.
And when I saw you die, I completely fell apart. And do you know why? Because you had come to help us. After years of wishing you would do something, you finally did. In that brief moment, you gave me hope. I finally felt like I was truly seeing my father again for the first time in years.
But then you died, and I shattered. I wished you had never given me that hope. Because I was left with wondering why you decided to help then. If you loved me again. If you finally were yourself again. If we could have truly made amends.
If only we had more time.
Time with you became yet another thing this fae life robbed me of.
But I kept hating you. For all the pain you put me through. For how you must’ve treated Vassa to be a better father figure than her own father. For allowing me to have hope at the end of your life. For the fact that I was so hopeful upon seeing you after all the years you hurt me.
And for the fact that I turned out to be like you.
I shut Feyre out when you shut me out. Then after you died, I shut everyone out and lost myself...just like you did.
And then I was pregnant.
And all I could think was that I could not let myself be like you anymore. My child needed someone who would care for her always. No matter what. I did not want my child to experience what you put me through.
So in a way, I suppose I have you to thank for spurring me to pull out of my darkness…
Thank the gods Cassian was there to help.
It was because of you though that it took so long for me to accept his care and his love and to reciprocate it.
But now...now all finally feels right and the way it should be. I finally love freely again, the way I loved you when I was a little girl. And Cassian, who has seen me at my lowest point and suffered from my poor treatment of him then, is able to love me.
If he can still love me after seeing me lose myself, then...I can do it too.
Father, I will always wonder what could’ve been if you had survived the war. Since you showed up to save your daughters, I choose to hope we would have made amends.
I have been where you have been. I managed to survive in part because of you, and I feel I can finally forgive you now. I may never forget what you did, but I forgive you for it.
I love you, father.
She brushed a few stray tears off of her face. She was determined to no longer cry over him. The past was in the past. She needed to move on.
With a heavy breath, she turned around and found Cassian standing a few feet behind her, facing her. His expression seemed cautious. He tilted his head up to look at her, as if he was trying to gauge how she was feeling.
Nesta strode forward and enveloped her arms around him. As she buried her head into his chest, he tightly wound his arms around her. After placing a gentle kiss upon her temple, he rested his head on top of hers.
For the next few moments, they stood just like that, resting in the serenity of the silence and the comfort of each other’s arms.
Upon feeling drops of water fall onto their skin, Cassian looked up at the gloomy sky that was now covering them. “It looks like my plans for the day have been ruined,” he remarked.
Nesta pulled her head away from his chest. “What were you planning?”
“We were first going to head back to the cabin so I could make our dinner, then go to one of the other mountains for a romantic picnic and a romantic walk.”
The rain started falling faster now. “Don’t worry about it. Your cabin will be fine,” she said gently.
“It’s our cabin,” he corrected.
“Our cabin,” she agreed with a small smile.
Picking her up in his arms, he grinned at her. “Let’s go.”
________________________________________________________________
During the journey back to the cabin, the weather grew worse, with rolling thunder and lightning cracking across the sky as rain pelted down.
By the time Cassian landed on the platform outside their cabin, the two of them were completely drenched.
Still holding Nesta in his arms, Cassian fumbled for the door knob and turned it open. “I’m glad I don’t have to let go of you now,” he commented as the door creaked open and he stomped inside.
“Who gave you permission to act so brutish?” Nesta questioned him incredulously all while tightening her grip around his neck as he kicked the door shut behind him.
“Well I don’t hear you demanding me to put you down, sweetheart.”
Nesta couldn’t help but smile back at him as he stood in the entryway, holding her and staring at her as the water dripped off their skin and onto the floor.
There was that infamous look again. The one that left her breathless and mesmerized and pierced right through her, leaving her wondering how she could ever be on the receiving end of such a look. Yet this gaze seem to be more intense than ever before, as she could feel his overpowering love and his admiration. It was almost too much to take.
“Why do you look at me like that?” she wondered softly.
“Because I’m completely enamored and amazed by you. You thought you didn’t deserve me...but I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you,” he whispered.
She could feel the blush creep over her face, while her heart did somersaults. “I still don’t think I deserve you,” she stated honestly.
“Well, I think that is something we’ll have to forever agree to disagree on,” he remarked before leaning in to give her one more kiss. “Do you want to get changed while I make dinner?”
Nesta was quiet, deep in thought over how to make her next move.
Reaching her hands up the back of his head to tangle her fingers in his wet hair, she brought her face up to his to plant a passionate, lingering kiss upon his lips. Eagerly, he returned the kiss, which evolved into multiple kisses.
She tugged on his bottom lip with her teeth when she pulled away and moved her mouth to be up against his ear. “I’d rather you undress me,” she stated huskily.
Cassian’s breath stilled, and his mouth dropped open to speak, but Nesta quickly continued. “Cassian, if we…,” she trailed off, but she sensed he knew what she was referring to. “Does that mean I’ll have accepted the bond?”
His grip on her tightened even more. “No. You have to offer me food in order for the bond to be established,” he explained gently.
Nesta swallowed before speaking again. “I’m not...I’m not ready to accept it, but it has nothing to do with you. I - ”
“Nesta, I don’t want you to feel pressured to accept it,” he insisted. “After all you’ve been forced to go through, I don’t care if you never accept it. I only want to be loved by you.”
She reached up to caress his cheek. “And I want to be loved by you...in all ways,” she expressed as she stretched out her hand to run it ever so slowly across the edge of his wing.
“Nesta,” he moaned as he closed his eyes. Once she pulled her hand away, he opened his eyes again to find her deviously smiling. “Are you well enough to…”
“Madja told me it was fine,” she interrupted before she pressed a hungry kiss on his jaw and returned to tracing his wing with her finger.
Cassian hissed but was quick to respond to her actions. While locking his lips with hers, he managed to carry her down the hall into the bedroom that had been hers when she lived there, leaving behind a trail of water in their path.
Her crown braid is what he chose to remove first. When he planted her feet on the ground, he stood before her and shower her with open-mouthed kisses, swiping his tongue across hers as he tangled his fingers in her wet hair to leisurely untwist the braid.
Once that was finished, Nesta moved in the way she was familiar with - aggressive, fast, and forceful - as she yanked his tunic off of him and moved her hands to the waistband of his pants. This was how it went with all the other males she had slept with. She always held the control and was always desperate for the escape. So focused on the task at hand, she had subconsciously stopped returning Cassian’s kisses.
Before she could pull down his pants, Cassian abruptly halted his kisses and placed his hands on her upper arms. “Wait, sweetheart…” he murmured with his eyes closed as he leaned his forehead against hers. Nesta paused, lifting her eyes to look up at him and feeling confused as to why he was stopping her.
“Do you not want to…?” she began to hesitantly ask.
“No, no,” Cassian insisted as he opened his eyes and took heavy, deep breaths. “No, sweetheart, of course I want to. But...will you let me love you?”
“I thought that’s what we were doing,” she whispered.
He let out a slight chuckle before gazing at her tenderly. “I mean...will you let me take control?” he inquired as he rubbed his hands up and down her arms and gave her a quick peck on the lips. “And let me love you the way you deserve?”
Maybe it was because of the way his breath tickled her or maybe it was the words he just uttered, but Nesta felt her body tremble. “Yes,” she breathed.
Cassian kissed her slowly and deeply for a long moment, and then in a swift motion, twirled her body around so he was facing her back. Sweeping her hair over her shoulder, he pressed his lips to the nape of her neck as he unhurriedly set himself to the task of undoing the buttons of her dress. With every button he unbound, he bent down to put a kiss to her back, forming a trail of kisses along her spine that gave her chills.
Once all the buttons were loosed, he peeled off her dress that had been sticking to her skin due to the rain and let it fall to the ground. Now only in her undergarments, Nesta slipped off her shoes as she waited to see how much longer Cassian would prolong this.
Turning her to face him again, his lips captured hers as he picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist while she placed her palms against the sides of his face.
He laid her down on her back on the bed and appeared to briefly lose his tremendous patience as he tore off her undergarments so she now lay naked before him. 
Standing at the end of the bed, he kept his eyes locked on hers as he kicked off his boots and took off his pants. Then he kneeled down on the bed in between her legs and hovered over her, with his palms flat against the mattress at her sides.
As he looked into her eyes -  which she was sure reflected the burning passion she saw in his - she couldn’t help but shiver again from her anxiousness over what was about to happen...what was already happening. From his movements, from the way he kissed her and touched her, she knew this would be distinctly different from all the sex she’d had before.
He peppered her with kisses, starting at her navel, going up her chest and between her breasts until he reached her face. “I love you,” he whispered against her lips.
From then on, every touch from his rough, calloused hands struck her deeply and sent her heart thundering, matching the storm raging outside. Every whisper of sweet nothings was a delicate caress against her skin. Every kiss against her body burned her with its fervor, serving as an imprint of his adoration for her.
He made love to her slowly, wanting her to feel every ounce of his love so she could absolutely have no doubt about it. She couldn’t help but lose herself in him.
When they joined together, she could feel something within her desperately begging to be united with him completely. She was certain it was the surging power of the mating bond that resided inside her.
One day, she thought in response to the power’s pleas.
She would worry about that later. But for now, she just wanted to relish in this - this feeling that someone could love her passionately, completely, and irrevocably. 
________________________________________________________________
Afterwards, Nesta laid in bed beneath the sheets, cuddled up next to Cassian. His hulking and muscular figure surrounded her, and his arm rested across her waist. His eyes were closed but she knew he was still awake based on the fact that one of his fingers on his other hand was busy twirling a ringlet of her hair.
She took the opportunity to stare at him in an attempt to memorize him - every scar and every scratch etched by battle, every swirl of his Illyrian tattoos, every indent of his chest, and even every mark she gave him that night.
Her eyes wandered back up to his face. He seemed so peaceful and so content, which reflected her own feelings.
That evening he had loved her like no other. Just as she predicted, it was unlike anything she had experienced before. He cherished her, doing absolutely everything he could to please her.
She still had trouble believing it - the fact that this bold and loyal male who had been living for centuries could tremendously love a mere human-turned-fae who had tried so hard to shut people out and not feel a thing.
But now she felt everything.
She couldn’t stop the tears of bliss from forming in her eyes, and she couldn’t resist laying her palm flat against Cassian’s bare chest where his heart was beating for the assurance that this was all real.
His eyes blinked open at her touch. At the sight of her tears, he looked alarmed. “Nesta, did I hurt you?” he asked.
She vigorously shook her head back and forth. “No. Not at all.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she replied with a slight laugh. “It’s just that...you love me.”
Cassian beamed. He moved his hand that had been at her waist up to her face to wipe away her tears. “You’ve said you already knew this.”
He then covered her hand on his chest with his own, rubbing it with his thumb.
“I thought I did, but I didn’t completely believe it until now.”
“I’m just that good in bed, huh?” he asked in jest.
Annoyed, Nesta reached for the pillow behind her and whacked Cassian with it. It wasn’t the fact that he was a good lover. It was more than that. “However, my love for you is now in question!”
Cassian couldn’t help but laugh, but when Nesta proceeded to wrap herself in the bedsheet and get up out of the bed, he groaned. “Nesta, my love, I’m sorry. It was just a joke. Come back here,” he requested.
Picking up her clothes and undergarments that had been abandoned on the floor earlier, she wandered over to the closet. Her dress was still wet from the rain, so it wouldn’t be ideal to put back on. But she recalled that when she’d left Illyria months ago after the attack, the clothes she had here had been left behind and she doubted Cassian threw them away.
“I’m hungry. You need to make us dinner,” she demanded as she opened the closet door.
“Well, I may be feeling too exhausted after tonight’s activity,” Cassian replied. She wasn’t looking at him but she knew he was smirking.
Peering into the closet, Nesta found the dresses she expected to find...but was shocked to discover that multiple tunics hung there too, as well as armor and even a few pairs of boots on the floor.
Stepping back out of the closet to look over at him lounging on the bed, she gave him a curious look. “Have you been using this room instead of your own?”
“Yes,” he answered. “It got to be too hard going up and down the stairs where that Illyrian hurt you,” he said through clenched teeth, reigning in his rage. But his tone quickly transitioned into a softer one. “Plus, here I can always be reminded of you. And now after tonight, it’ll give me even more memories of you,” he added slyly.
Nesta sighed at his comment but still, the way he desired to be reminded of her gave her butterflies. Stepping back into the closet, she slid on her undergarment and grabbed one of his tunics and put it over herself, dropping the bedsheet. The shirt was quite large and went down to her knees, but it smelled like him and brought her comfort.
Exiting the closet, she made to leave the bedroom and Cassian groaned out of irritation again.
“Come on, I told you I was hungry,” she instructed, pausing at the doorway to turn back to him.
Cassian reluctantly got up out of the bed, not even bothering to bring a bed sheet to cover himself. “Don’t you know what the sight of you in my shirt does to me?” he growled when he reached her.
Now it was her turn to look smug. “If only you didn’t tick me off a minute ago, then perhaps I would’ve indulged you.”
“My love,” he declared, gently gripping her chin to tilt her head up toward him. “I’m sorry. My joke was stupid. I am overjoyed that you finally know how much I love you.”
“Make it up to me by cooking me dinner,” she requested.
“Anything for you, sweetheart,” he replied, then gave her a quick peck. Releasing her chin, he turned to leave the room.
“Cassian,” she hissed, stopping him in his tracks. “Put on some pants!” she demanded.
A wicked grin spread across his face. “Why? Am I too distracting for you because you find me too hard to resist like this?”
Nesta narrowed her eyes, deliberately keeping her eyes focused on his. “Am I not a proper lady who deserves a gentleman with proper manners?”
“And here I thought based on all those romance novels you read, you were more fond of brutish scoundrels,” he replied as he stood before her again and ran his finger down the side of her face to push back a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Cassian!” she said in annoyance.
With a chuckle, Cassian finally went over to the dresser where he opened a drawer to grab a pair of pants. Nesta strode out of the room and down the hall to the kitchen.
Within a few minutes, Cassian joined her and started moving about the kitchen, collecting multiple ingredients, a bowl and a pan from various cupboards and chests and setting them out on the counter.
Nesta took a seat at the table and watched him. “What are you making?” she asked. 
“Pancakes.”
“That’s your idea of a romantic dinner?” she wondered aloud with a hint of incredulity. As she leaned back in her seat, she thought back to when she was pregnant and Cassian made her pancakes whenever she craved them. But was he simply making them because it was something easy?
“Well, to me, it is. The first time I made you pancakes when you were pregnant was when I first felt things were starting to shift between us,” he explained as he mixed the ingredients in a bowl. “You seemed to finally think I was at least tolerable.” 
Nesta tried to think back to that day. “Hmm. I suppose that’s true since I started to eat with you then.”
They were silent for a moment. From her spot at the table, Nesta stared outside the kitchen window into the darkness, while listening to the sizzle of Cassian pouring the batter onto a pan over the stove and the pelting of the rain against the roof of the cabin.
Then, more thunder rumbled.
“I’m guessing we won’t be able to fly back to Velaris tonight?” she asked.
“Probably not. If you want to write a note to Feyre to winnow you back, there’s parchment in Dahlia’s...well, what would have been Dahlia’s room,” he offered.
His comment saddened her. It was another reminder of what could’ve been...what should’ve been...if things didn’t all go to hell when she was last here.
She had assumed he would’ve turned the room back into his study, but if he was calling it Dahlia’s room...Curiosity sparked her to get up from the table and leave the kitchen to go to the room.
When she reached the room, she was startled to find the room was devoid of furniture and instead, there were various parchment, pens, books, and other miscellaneous items scattered about on the floor in a corner of the room. Walking further into the room and looking at the mess on the ground, she found there were maps of the Illyrians camps and notes about each camp scrawled on parchment. Beside all this sat a stuffed animal of a horse.
The entire room was a peculiar sight that Nesta knew she would have to ask Cassian about.
Finally locating a piece of magical parchment she could use to write to Feyre, she sat on the ground and grabbed a pen.
She missed Dahlia and felt bad for being away from her for so long, but...she probably was already sleeping anyway. Did she really need to rush home, or could she wait until morning, after the storm passed, to fly home with Cassian?
She then proceeded to write notes back and forth with Feyre to find out how Dahlia was doing. Once Feyre confirmed that all was well and Dahlia was asleep, Feyre was the one who first stated that if Nesta wanted to spend the night in Illryia, she wouldn’t mind.
Nesta decided to take her up on her offer, having a feeling that Cassian may have needed more than Dahlia at that moment.
Once that was settled, she went back to the kitchen where she found Cassian sitting at the table, pouring syrup on the stack of pancakes sitting before him. She could sense his mood seemed...off to her. 
“Cassian, why isn’t your desk in your study?” she inquired.
He put down the cup of syrup. “Because it’s Dahlia’s room,” he replied. “I just like to work in there so I can remind myself of why I’m dealing with the ridiculous Illyrians. That one day I can make the dream of you and her living here with me come to pass and make this area a safer place for not just both my girls, but for all females and children.”
Nesta gave him a sad smile as she approached him from behind. He drooped his wings back as she rested her hands on his shoulders.
“That day we went to the fair and went on the sleigh ride,” he continued. “I told you about making that Dahlia’s room, and I also told you I would take care of the Illyrian issues in their treatment of females and children.”
The sleigh ride...
“Hence the stuffed horse?”
Cassian nodded. “It’s my present for Dahlia when she’s finally able to live in Illyria.”
Nesta looped her arms around his neck while standing behind him. Resting her head on his shoulder, she turned her head to plant a kiss on his cheek. “I know it’s hard, my darling. But your devotion to us and these causes is one of the reasons I love you.”
A slight smile came across his face. “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you call me something other than ‘you fool’ before,” he commented. “‘My darling’ has a nice ring to it.”
She released him before walking around his chair to take a seat on his lap and wrap her arms around his neck again.
“My darling,” she whispered before placing a slow kiss on his lips.
Cassian groaned with pleasure as he wrapped his arms around her. “When is Feyre coming to winnow you back?”
“She’s not,” she replied. “Dahlia’s already been put to bed and Feyre offered to watch her for the night. I’d much rather spend the night here, and then you can fly me back in the morning if you are willing?”
His demeanor shifted. Suddenly he seemed much happier than he had a little while ago. “Of course, my love.”
“And then tomorrow, you can stay a little while in Velaris to play with Dahlia?”
“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” he insisted. “Are you ready to eat dinner?”
“Mmm, I think that can wait a little while longer. I have the appetite for something else,” she stated as she kissed him again, her tongue breaking past the seam of his lips. Cassian eagerly took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, causing her to moan.
“Cassian, my darling...father of my child…” she managed to say as soon as her lips pulled away.
“Mmm, I love that new nickname even more,” he said as he nudged his nose with hers.
“Will you let me love you now?” she requested. “It’s my turn to love you the way you deserve.”
There was a look of devilish amusement in his eyes.
“Anything for you, sweetheart.”
________________________________________________________________
A/N: Well, this chapter was a doozy to write! There were some aspects that I felt deserved a bit of a bookend, like Mor, their parents, etc. I felt it was also important for a Nessian sex scene to happen since Nesta previously used sex only as a means to escape. (Also, I realized that out of all my Nessian fics, I've never given them a sex scene. Only intense makeouts...sooo I had to give them one this time!)
Hope you enjoyed this one! Thanks for your support! Next chapter will be the last - an epilogue set in the future! I don't expect it to take 2 weeks to write and post, but sometimes Nesta and Cassian have minds of their own and cause me to write more than I intend to. ;)
---> EPILOGUE
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prxblemcyld · 5 years
Text
Happy birthday Dazai♡
How do love stories usually start? With an “hello”, with an error, with a gesture or a smile. Could we ever call it a story? Could I ever use the term “love”? I could, yes, and you know I do it already. I abuse of this word, it runs through my veins now. And it doesn’t always bring me happiness. But I wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world. For me “love” rhymes with your name, it forces me to grit my teeth in agony when my hands search for yours and grope in the void. Well, precisely for this reason it is not correct to use the term “we”. Then let me try again. My story with you begins with a thought as trivial as lethal: “I won’t fall in love with you”. A little cliché, yes. Don’t tell me. Since then you have sneaked into my soul, you have become my medicine and at the same time my poison. I can’t explain it to you. One cannot explain something that is not understood. Because I don’t understand what did you make to make me lose my head like this. I tried, however, tried again and, despite everything, it is since then that I keep trying. Through letters that you will never read, through songs that inexorably lead me back to you, through sunny days, but also rainy ones. I tried to ask the moon for help, but it also couldn’t do much, if not keep quiet. I tried to ask for help from the robin in spring and the blackbird in winter; they continued to sing as if nothing had happened, not knowing what to say. I asked my head, the reason for this madness. “It will pass” it replied. I started shaking. Pass me? How could this ever happen to me? I do not want to. I don’t want to forget the things you make me feel, you make my heart so good. I don’t want this to end and continuing to love the idea of ​​you. Here, I found. I will make this ardor immortal. I will ensure that, even if one day you had to abandon my dreams on tiptoe, the footprints remain, the signs of your passage. Not even the waves can erase them. I’m sorry, now maybe you will hate me, but I decided that I will do so. I’m selfish, I’m in love. I’m crazy crazy about you. But now tell me: what is your favorite flower? Don’t laugh, it’s a serious question. Do you like Roses? They express eternal love. But they are a little banal and, then, once you said that they bloom in all four seasons, so, perhaps, even the people who love them have to die four times to see them reborn. I don’t want you to be unhappy today, let’s throw away the Roses. How about Alstroermeria? “Devotion”. I could give you a flower for every feeling, you would adorn a Garden. Let me help you carry the pots and the sprouts, plant the seeds and water them. Don’t worry, even the most delicate flowers will withstand the heat, it’s not a question of seasons. The Holly is in full bloom. Don’t you think a Cherry tree is good there? A Japanese legend tells that people who swear love under its blossoming branches are destihned to be together forever, but you know this better than me. The Columbine is already blossoming. It has such a lively color. Too bad it’s hidden by that bush… now that I think about it, it reflects a bit its meaning, don’t you think? And look here: the Dahlia and the Gerbera. My favorite, however, is the Carnation. The white one expresses admiration, the red one passionate love and the pink one loyalty. The scent of Jasmine takes me back in time, I want to dedicate this to you too. The Daisy is that kind of flower that I would like you to put in my hair. Come, let’s sit down, don’t worry about the grass, it won’t spoil. It is made of all the things I would like to tell you, but which remain in me until they hurt too much and I have to put them on paper. And when I can’t because they are too deep-rooted, flowers are born. But can you believe it? Not me, after all this time -you haave been living in my heart for three years- it still seems absurd to me that you, really you made me fall in love. I write about you all the time without even mentioning you and when people read my feelings they are upset. “Who is?” They ask me. They don’t know it and never will they know it’s you. I say it’s just the inspiration. Sometimes they believe me, others look at me stealthily. It doesn’t matter, I don’t want them to know the cause of my madness. I keep it for myself, for those who can really understand it, for those who are crazy in the same way. Now lie down and don’t think about anything. It is your birthday after all, you deserve to pass it in the best possible way. In truth you would deserve to spend every day like this and if only I could, God, if only I could I’d be the one to take the weight of who you are from your shoulders and bury it in this Garden; I would hide it from everyone’s eyes by letting Ivys grow from it. And it’s so painful, so unfair that I can’t even hold your hand today. Not even today. not even the hand. If only I could, I’d holdt it every day. I would tighten it between mine, weave my fingers between yours during a walk, without noticing, while we watch the sunset, the sea, a painting in some museum in Rome or Naples on a Sunday morning. Could I make you feel less alone? This world does not give anyone any discounts, but perhaps existence would be a little sweeter to bear with someone at your side. It is a common thought and for once I want to believe it. And what about you? Do you believe in good now? I don’t care, I’d just like to see you happy, always. When you are happy, your eyes light up with stars, the same ones that I would steal from the sky to be able to build a crown to rest on your head on June nights like these, when my sleep is troubled by the heat, by the paranoia of which it is filled my head, I see your features in the dark and embrace the pillow imagining that it is your chest, with your heartbeat that tells me fairy tales in which you and I are the protagonists. Stories never told, that’s what we are. How nice it would be, I tell myself, to see you smile like that. I would watch your lips completely lost, in love before uttering the forbidden words and approaching them to kiss you. How nice it would be to receive your caress on your face, feel the roughness of the bandages while I touch your skin, meet your gaze, be a witness to your every gesture and recognize the custom, be guardian of your dreams, count your sighs, folds of your clothes, of your thoughts, listen to your worries, your hopes and illusions… How beautiful you are my love. How beautiful you are. You’re the summer’s hit in the middle of winter, you’re the colorful umbrella on a rainy day. You are the love of my life, my most beautiful poetry and I have not yet written it. You don’t believe it? But what did they do to you? What hell did you have to go through driven by the wretched human resilience? Yet you have grasped your own life without even believing it and now you are here, now you are alive, you are more alive than ever, that’s why it hurts so much. That’s why sometimes you feel like you can’t breathe. I know it would be easier to die, that your passive nihilism led you to the brink of the abyss. Mine led me to you. Scratched and wound. Ididn’t want to believe in anyone anymore, no one anymore. Yet you have shown me that people change, albeit partially, but they change. I, who didn’t want to, have changed in my turn. It was a metamorphosis. From larvae we became butterflies. It is a pity that some of them live only one day. It scares me, it scares me to death how much you have become essential for me, how much it can affect my mood to see a picture of you and imagine you next, imagine how nice it would be to be able to join my friends’ conversations when they talk about their boyfriends and tell them about one of many comic episodes to which we give life together. Take yourself back when you say something embarrassing, laugh rudely at your funny face, blush like a fool at your compliments, feel the butterflies in my stomach as I’m getting ready to go out with you like it’s the first time and actually it’s been years. But there is no more time now. It’s getting late, you should go. Don’t worry about the Garden, I’ll take care of it like I’ve always done. It will not disappear, I will not allow it. After all, we are still here, once again, me, you and these words that escape to my control. By dint of writing about you and for you I thought I would run out of words, but in reality I feel like giving myself a fool if I think about it. The feeling, my love, is the feeling that does not die. It does not die, it does not give up this absurd alchemy that was created without you lifting a finger, without you meeting me. It just happened, like so many things I can’t explain. And I promise you that as long as it is, as long as you are with me, Snowdrop will bloom even in autumn and those who love Roses will not have to die to see them reborn because they will always be alive. I’m about to write the long-awaited ending of a chapter of my life to start another and you’re here, you’ve been here since the beginning. You have been and are the shoulder on which to cry, my determination. To thank you I can only offer you futile words, but I will, I will write. I will continue to do so until dew loses from my fingers, until the sunset will not drive away the remnants of my youth. No, ours is not a love story. There is only me who dreams of “infinitesimal moments of us”, moments that are soon lost in the sea of ​​my thoughts. I imagine what it would be like if I weren’t afraid of living and letting myself be discovered. There is me holding this little house of cards that I built with my imagination. And you are there. Irreparably, tragically, lovingly, always. In me, it’s you. And even when you leave it will remain a slice of you that I will continue to call “home”. A small amount of magic. A tiny corner of eternity. With my words, Dazai, I will make you immortal. In comparison even the ocean will look like just a tear.
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sunsetinmyvein · 6 years
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Just Off the Key of Reason - Chapter Thirteen - A Reception Less Than Warm
A/N - It’s Chicagoan, for the record.
Saturday, 16th of June, 2007 - Portland, Oregon
‘Tense’ would’ve been the appropriate word to explain how the atmosphere had changed between their first and second leg. Patrick didn’t want to abandon his girlfriend when she didn’t know anyone else, but nobody wanted to hang out with him when he was busy fawning over her. The awkward love triangle that now existed also wasn’t fun for anyone and they all felt like they had to walk on eggshells to make sure they didn’t say something out of line. As a result, Patrick and his girlfriend just spent all of their time together. He found himself feeling isolated and like a socialite all at the same time. At the Washington show he spent more of his time showing her around than actually doing sound check and making sure he was ready to play, leaving most of the band rolling their eyes every time he stopped in the middle of his checks to explain something to her (though, Pete could hardly complain when he dropped his bass in an attempt to reply to a text from his own girlfriend). Everyone had the nagging feeling that six was a crowd, particularly considering that there were only six beds on the bus that were all already taken between the five of them and the driver. Even Patrick had to admit that sharing his bunk wasn’t enjoyable and it was not something he had entirely thought through. He didn’t like cramming himself into one at the best of times and having to share that space was fairly uncomfortable, even despite the company. They made the three hour drive to Oregon through the night after their first second leg show and then had the day to either explore what they could before the show in Portland or sit around on the tour bus. After a restless night’s sleep, nobody felt much like walking around before they had to play a set.
 The summer air was finally starting to have that dense, humid heat to it and they were fast realising that six was also a crowd when you’re all crammed into a tiny lounge room with sticky leather seats. Patrick had been sent on a coffee run with his girlfriend so that everyone else could get some space from ‘Oh, no way, that’s my favourite too!’ before they did something they’d regret. Despite removing a third of their numbers, the bus did not cool down any and in fact only seemed to grow warmer as the minutes passed. “Is it just me, or is the tour bus stuffy?” Pete thought aloud as his eyes scanned the wall for an air conditioning panel or at least a fan. Andy nodded in agreement from behind his book. Joe jutted his foot in the direction of the kitchen, where he could vaguely see the controls for a central cooling system. “Wow, they really went all out.” He muttered as he forcibly removed himself from the couch that was stuck to the underside of his thighs and walked over to it.
“Yeah, they fucking better have after making us sort our own shit out for the first leg.” Joe grumbled as he sprawled across the couch into Pete’s now empty space.
“I’ve heard around the office that if Pete didn’t cost you guys so much money on those paintings he so desperately needed, the tour would’ve been like this the whole way through.”
“Look, I know you work for our boss and all, but can we not talk work when we’re dying of heatstroke?” Pete glared down at the girl lying on the linoleum floor of the kitchen. “Why are you even down there?”
“It’s cooler.” She shrugged lazily.
“Nothing is as cool as me, babe.” He winked. She rolled her eyes as a chorus of groans sounded from the lounge room.
  He fiddled with the dials on the wall, trying to work out how to turn the bus into an ice arena as soon as physically possible. He would much rather be freezing to death than slowly melting. As he pulled the dial as hard as it would go to the cold side, he felt it snap off in his fingers.
“Oh… I… Uh…” He stammered quietly to himself, trying to fit the dial back onto the switch before anyone noticed. At the sounds of Pete’s panic she sat up off the floor, trying to see what he was hiding.
“What did you do?” She asked in suspicion.
“Nothing.” He lied as she got to her feet and grabbed his hand. Upon seeing the now totally out of shape and half broken dial that would definitely not fit back on the wall panel, she glared at him.
“Oh… my God…” She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.
“Actually, just Pete is fine.” He shot back with a shit eating grin.
“How do you always do this shit?” She muttered in exasperation as she tried to fit the deformed piece of plastic back to the wall. “I don’t even know why I asked to come back.” She added under her breath.
“You… You asked to come back..?” Patrick interrupted.
  She turned around in surprise to see that Patrick was now standing in the doorway behind them, take-away coffees in hand. He looked like he’d just been slapped in the face.
“Uh… yeah, I did.” Her face burning up from the admission. There was a moment of silence as he stared at her in confusion, the tension building between them.
“But you… why?” He frowned down at the coffees in his hand.
“She couldn’t get enough of the Wentz magic.” Pete declared loudly as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I know she was hired to babysit me, but-” he moved his hand to next to his mouth in an attempt to seem secretive, “-I’m pretty sure she’s in love with me and bribed the label.” He whispered loudly. She elbowed him harshly in the ribs.
“I did not, Pete.” She growled through gritted teeth as she shrugged his arm off.
“No, you’re right. It’s because I stole some shit while we were on break. She found out and told them her role was still necessary.” He lied. She opened her mouth to correct him before realising that he was trying to cover for her. Her mouth slowly closed as she tried to work out why Pete was doing this for her. It wasn’t exactly like him to put himself on the line for others. In her deliberation, it seemed that Patrick was happy enough to accept that as an answer, or just happy enough to leave the conversation, pushing his way past them still half hidden behind his hat. His girlfriend followed closely behind, seemingly oblivious to how awkward that interaction had just been, as they made their way into the lounge. Pete went to walk off as well but she caught his hoodie sleeve and pulled him back towards the front of the bus.
“Why did you lie for me?” She asked lowly.
“Don’t friends do shit like that for each other?” He said with a shrug, slipping his sleeve out of her grasp and going to get his cup of caffeinated sugary goodness.
  They still had a few hours before they needed to go into the venue for sound check, and drinking their coffees could only fill that void so much. Eventually people either decided to watch a b-grade action movie playing on a local TV station in the lounge, or opted to sit in the tiny dining area and play cards. As time passed, the damage that Pete had done became apparent. Slowly but surely their tour bus began freezing from the inside out. The warm, humid air from outside the bus was almost causing condensation on the inside of the windows because they were so cold. Their breaths were ever so slightly foggy and bones starting to feel an unusual level of chill. Blankets were pulled from bunks to go across couches and shoulders, layers were piled on. Pete was overjoyed that his plan had worked; he wouldn’t have to face the summer heat. However the full time worrier and part time loss prevention representative wasn’t willing to survive a month in a cooler. She had tried at least a million times to fit that dial back on the wall, but it was no use.
  “We need to call someone to fix this as soon as they can.” She huffed, a slight shiver finding its way into her voice as she fished her phone out of her pocket. Maybe she could find a nearby mechanic that might be able to help.
“It’s really not that bad.” Joe shrugged from underneath his three jumpers.
“Just rug up.” Andy added, throwing a beanie towards her from where he was laying in his bunk, under a blanket.
“Why do you guys have all this? It’s June. I didn’t pack for cold weather.”
“We Chicagonians are always prepared for winter at any given time.” Joe stated matter-of-factly, throwing an ace onto the table.
“I don’t think that’s a word. Or true.” She said as she rifled through her bag in the hopes of finding more than the one jacket she knew she packed.
“Chicag-ish..?” He muttered to himself, stroking the stubble that was forming on his chin.
“Chicagonese.” Pete corrected. He took the cards back and began shuffling the deck.
“You’re both idiots.” She grumbled as she pulled on an extra pair of socks.
  “Just borrow my hoodie.” Patrick called from the back lounge. Looking up at the source of his voice, she saw him sitting across the couch at the back of the bus with his girlfriend’s legs resting across his lap. She tried not to wince at the sight but the uncomfortable feeling of jealousy still settled itself at the bottom of her chest. As she glanced down at the bus floor in an attempt to not have to look at the scene in the lounge, she saw the offending blue and white hoodie that he was referring to.  She didn’t overly want to be borrowing Patrick’s clothes at this particular point in time, but she also didn’t want to freeze to death.
“Are you sure?” She asked hesitantly, almost certain she could feel Pete’s eyes boring into the back of her head.
“Yeah, I mean it hasn’t been washed since we left for tour, but it should still be pretty clean.” He shrugged. After one last moment of deliberation, she picked it up off the floor and pulled it over her head.
  It was definitely a few sizes too big, but that just made it a perfect defence from the onslaught of cold from the central cooling vents. The sleeves went down past the tips of her fingers and the hood would most certainly cover her nose if she had it up. He had been right that it was still mostly clean; the smell of washing powder still lingered on it and she couldn’t see the tell-tale stains that normally adorned their tour clothes. However, the undeniable smell of Patrick also lingered the threads, much to her annoyance. She walked over to where Joe and Pete were playing cards and sat next to Joe, while Pete just stared at her expectantly from across the table.
“What?” She asked with a frown.
“Nothing,” He shrugged. “I’m just surprised you don’t want a moment alone with the hoodie, is all.” He added quietly. She kicked him under the table as hard as she could muster, earning a loud yelp from him.
“Shut the fuck up.” She growled at him, picking a card up from the table and flicking it into his forehead. Joe quietly sniggered next to her.
  They finally got called into the venue for sound check and were freed from their wintery prison of mild boredom. As much as she hated to admit it, the hoodie was oddly comforting. The sudden change in temperature to summer heat wasn’t enough of a motivator for her to part with it, instead rolling up the sleeves and continuing to work with it on. She hated how quickly she had already grown attached to it and how quickly it had dredged up things she was trying to ignore for the greater good. Patrick hated how good she looked in it.
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theoutdoorpursuit · 6 years
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A Virgin Tip To Alaska
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The Last Frontier, a vast wilderness tucked between Mother Russia and our friendly Canadian neighbors up North. It certainly didn’t feel like America, yet they spoke the language and happily accepted all of my American Dollars. To say the 49th state was unique would be a vast understatement, nearly as vast as its endless vistas. I grew up in the Appalachians, hiked the Rockies, yet these were but foothills compared to the monstrous Alaskan peaks. I put my boots on the ground, ate and caught my fair share of halibut, searched for Grizzlies, and soaked in the never ending sunlight. Here are my takeaways from a first-timing Alaskan Tourist:
Float Planes Are A Way of Life
Researching Alaska months prior to my visit, I had every intention of riding a Float Plane through the mountains and landing in one of the endless remote glaciers in Alaska’s wilderness. After an 8 hour flight across country from Atlanta to Anchorage, my desire to leave the earth had left me and it wasn’t because of the lack of access. The hotel we stayed at in Anchorage backed up to the busiest Float Plane lake in Alaska. Non-stop, throughout the day, planes cruised back in and took back off out into Alaska’s unknown. I can only imagine the views and the bumpy ride that entailed on one of these $100 dollar four hour excursions. 
Alaska is a sportsman’s paradise and almost all hunters and brave anglers reach their remote destinations by Float Plane. We learned that on a typical five day hunt, a plane drops off a group and are informed to draw an “X” in the sand if they need an early emergency pickup. A plane would fly by once a day. No phone service. No one else around. It doesn’t get much more primal in today’s world than a backcountry Alaskan hunt by plane.  
The Sun Never Sets
We arrived into Alaska during the first week of June which means one thing, The sun “set” at 11:15 PM and rose at 4:00 AM. But here is the kicker, the sun never truly set. It merely dipped down behind the mountains. It’s always light out in Alaska in June. Our first night in Anchorage we ate dinner at 7:30 PM… 11:30 PM at home. I struggled to keep my eyes open as I nibbled at a halibut burger, while the sun, high in the middle of the sky, taunted me as if to say “We’re just getting started buddy.” One morning, we left for a fishing trip at 3:15 AM and it looked as if the sun had been up for an hour. I’d advise looking into a hotel or cabin that has black out blinds or at least purchase an eye mask because the constant light was quite detrimental to the sleep cycle. I couldn’t help but wonder what the winters were like as they would be the opposite, dark nearly all day long. Talk about intense seasonal depression. I guess the light is better than the dark, but I had never been so excited to see the sun set as the day I returned home and climbed into bed. 
Grizzlies are Tough to Find… Moose are Not
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The animal I wanted to see the most… from a distance, the ever elusive Grizzly bear, was not sighted. I saw plenty of black bear, but the majestic beast on every Alaskan postcard was nowhere to be found. I took the bear spray everywhere I went, even on the two mile hike in the backyard of the ski resort, looking like quite the tourist with a camera around my neck and a bear spray canister holstered to my hip. Thankfully, no bear spray was discharged in the making of this trip. 
Now what was surprisingly everywhere was the Alaskan state animal, the Moose. These things are the equivalent to white tail deer on the East Coast. They’re on your hiking trail, in suburban backyards, and terrifyingly close to the roads. The major Alaskan highways are lined with ten foot high fences to deter Moose from coming in contact with a car, which would not be a pretty sight as these beasts can be well over a thousand pounds. We certainly drove with caution as every few hundred yards a Moose crossing sign warned of potential danger. Go for the Grizzly, see a hundred Moose, as they say.
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Everything is Far, Hence the Planes
Anchorage, where we stayed the first part of the week, was fairly convenient. It’s a normal, small sized city which has about 300,000 inhabitants, half the population of Alaska. While in Anchorage everything from restaurants to grocery stores was an easy 20 minute drive. Everywhere else in Alaska is a haul. We drove 8 hours total one day from Anchorage to Denali, 2 and a half hours to Kenai, and then a combined 3 hours of driving to our fishing trip in Seward. We put many of miles on the rental car and while normally traveling long distances after you’ve already traveled long distances is devastating, the scenery and roadside wildlife made the road time worth it. It’s no wonder planes are abundant. I saw but a small sliver of the massive state and felt like I drove the distance of my home state of Virginia. If you want to see it all, you’ll have to see it by air.
Pictured Below: While Alaska is vast, one doesn’t have to go far for an adventure. In the heart of downtown Anchorage, anglers can hook on to world class Salmon passing through the states largest city.
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It’s Never “Warm” In Alaska
I left the balmy, Southern, 90 degree temps of Virginia, excited for some cooler weather in Alaska, but of course I underpacked on warm clothes. I wore my only sweatshirt every morning. The highs in Alaska during June are in the low 60’s, however the mornings were a chilly 40 something degrees. On our morning drive to our fishing adventure the car’s thermostat read 35 degrees. Nothing says summer vacation like long johns, a winter beanie, long sleeved Under Armour, and a rain jacket over top of a sweatshirt as a desperate attempt to keep in warmth. Again if this is what it was like in the summer, I cringe to even comprehend a cold, dark Alaskan winter. At first thought, conversing with our firstmate who had made the move from Virginia to Alaska, I was jealous, until I remembered this poor sap had to endure the cold for likely 9 months of the year.
Everyone Leaves With A Box of Fish
Enter into the Anchorage Airport and people all around you are hauling their catch in foam coolers. It is a sportsman’s paradise after all. We learned that freezing your catch and checking your cooler as a carry-on for $25 dollars is the most cost efficient method to get your harvest back home. Shipping frozen meat can add up quickly at over $6 a pound. We ended up with close to 40 lbs of halibut and after two days in our cabin freezer it easily made the 10 plus hour journey home in a foam cooler, still mostly frozen when we arrived at our house.
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Don’t Drive To Denali Without A Camper And Couple Days to Spare
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Mount Denali. “The High One” 20,000 feet of mountain, the tallest in North America. You can’t go to Alaska without seeing Denali right? That was our thought. Four hours there, four hours back. The drive itself may be worth the road time. Following adjacent to the mountains with Denali in the background was a scenic view unlike any other. However when we got there we soon found out that you could only get so far in your own vehicle. Only about 15 miles are available to personal vehicles, the rest of the vast national park has to be seen from a registered camper or tour bus. 
Fun fact: At least a few backcountry backpackers get lost every year in Denali and have to be rescued, searching for the “Magical School Bus” from the popular book and movie Into the Wild. 
“The Magical School Bus” was not in the sights of our day trip so we settled for one of three possible hikes. Albeit limited, the trail we hiked, “The Savage Alpine Trail” was possibly the coolest hike I’ve been on. 1,500 feet of elevation in a four mile hike was a workout, but the views were truly unbelievable. Near the summit we spotted a lone Dall Sheep which paid no attention to us as we climbed within a hundred yards of the rare beast. The hike, accompanied with Caribou and Sheep sighting, made the long day trek worth it, but a return trip to Alaska’s most infamous park will entail a multiple day trip into it’s never ending backcountry.
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Everywhere You Look, is A Desktop Background
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Since returning home, I’ve had many people ask me to explain what Alaska was like. It’s difficult to put into words how truly breathtaking the country is; you simply have to lay eyes on it. No words, picture, or 4k video would do it justice. From the plane ride into Alaska to driving around Anchorage, the surrounding setting is something unimaginable. The mountains touch the sky, the air tastes pure, its as if your walking around in a National Geographic documentary, constantly. 
I bought a DSLR camera before our vacation, I needed something more than an Iphone to capture this trip. While I got my fair share of solid pics, it became increasingly frustrating throughout the week as every turn on the road provided an image worthy of a Desktop background. You know the picture I’m talking about, pre-loaded on your computer, annoying beautiful to the point you wonder if such a place actually exists. I snapped away and each night I’d fume over which photos to keep. They were all, “Instagrammable.” Bring a camera and several memory cards.
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pineque · 6 years
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Ford’s (D46′\) Timeline
*cracks my motherfucking knuckles* alright my dudes @fordanoia asked me to share my Ford Timeline (which also includes some Stan and Fiddleford events). Now, this sucker took hours to put together so I’m putting it under a read more. The timeline is mostly about 1982 and before, but I put a few extra things in. 
Alright first I’m going to go through Ford’s diary journal for everyone that hasn’t read it and then get on with the timeline and explain how I chose the rest of the dates. I might make an ‘events only’ timeline graphic just in case anyone wants a simple, straightforward reference. If you’re interested in something like that, let me know and I’ll whip it up.
So the first date Journal 3 (J3) gives us is June 18th. The next sentence says that as of this date, it’s been six years since Ford arrived in GF. According to Ford’s own timeline, he arrived in 1975. This means that the current year is 1981. (There is one problem with Ford’s timeline. He pins 1981 as “Discovery of Muse,” but only like 7 pages earlier he wrote that Bill had been visiting him for two years so… I’m not including it). Sometime during this month, while writing about a category one ghost, Ford notes that he is a man in his 30’s.
The next important date J3 gives us is July 18th. This is the day Ford decides he needs help on the portal. The previous four pages detail Ford’s dream in which Bill tells him to build the portal and the plans for it, so I’m assuming he’d only been working on it for a week or two before he decided to call Fiddleford. That brings us to our next date, July 29th. Fiddleford arrives in GF.
Our two boys get to work and eventually hike to Crash Site Omega (CSO)(which Ford discovered two years ago aka 1979) for portal parts. Fiddleford gets fucked by the Gremloblin and spends some time being traumatized. During this week or two he makes the memory gun. Ford tells him to destroy it and Fidds uses it against him. He keeps the gun and Ford believes it has been destroyed. After this, Ford takes Fidds to the carnival. Ford gets the coolest fortune-telling experience ever, but he’s an ass and doesn’t believe any of it. Fidds has a chat with Ivan and then they go home. Fidds suggests they make an underground lab (fallout shelter) and they spend A LOT of time on it. After an accident that results in locking up the shapeshifter, they seal off the bunker and decide to work on it after the portal is done.
And now we’re back in the important stuff. A few nights before the completion of the portal, Bill offers to take over Ford’s body so he could do more work while Ford slept ((I feel like it is really important to note that Bill was only able to possess Ford for a few days before Fidds left. The possession thing was Not something that went on for years and there wasn’t any Bord and Fidds interaction/intimidation. Y'all can write or draw or make anything you want obviously and it is something that is a little contradicted by ‘possessed while meditating’ shot the show)). When he wakes up the work is competed, but his right eye is already starting to hurt.
Our first dated entry since Fidds’ arrival is January 17th, (1982), the night before Testing Day. Fidds tries to talk Ford out of testing the portal but he refuses. So January 18th, Fiddleford leaves. Ford is pissed and plans to talk to Bill when he goes to sleep, but throughout the day he becomes suspicious of Bill. That night Ford confronts Bill, as seen in the show, and he shuts the portal down. He begins his “sleep as little as possible” plan. Ford writes that “F is nowhere to be found,” so he begins to research Bill alone in the hopes of finding a way to destroy him.
Several weeks later, Ford’s paranoia is beginning to really set in. He catches his first glimpse of the Society of the Blind Eye. He wonders about them but generally leaves them alone in favor of his own problems. He begins to use invisible ink to add more information to his previous entries.
The next entry we get is something I call the Truck Stop Disaster. Ford had been getting coffee from this truck stop for weeks bc it was the only thing helping him stay awake, but while a guy was giving him advice to stay awake he hears him speak in Bill’s voice. He looks up and sees that everyone in the diner has glowing, yellow eyes. He flees the diner and runs until he collapses in a Twin Bed Motel parking lot. Plan Call Stanley begins to form in his mind.
Ford hides J2 but continues to write in J3 while he waits for Stan to come for J1. He mentions that “the first snow has already fallen,” and that he cannot leave his house until Stan arrives. However, over the next few days(?) Ford’s mind really starts slipping. Bill begins to take full advantage of his instability in order to write unsettling things in J3 and Ford is pushed to his limit. He decides to bury J3 before Stan gets there and that’s the last we get from 1982 Ford.
So now it’s time to piece together the rest. Let’s start off with one of the most interesting dates: When did Ford fall into the portal? 
My friend @killhitleragain ((I hadn’t even considered this so seriously thanks for pointing it out)) brought up that there is a bit of a problem when it comes to deciding when Ford leaves GF. There is evidence presented in the show that is contradicted by Ford’s writing in J3, so there are two possible dates depending on whether you prefer the show or J3. I’ll go into J3 first (I’ll openly admit I have a heavy J3 bias) and then I’ll go over the show. 
Our requirements for this date are that it has to be snowing, it has to be 1982, and it has to be after Fiddleford creates the Society of the Blind Eye (which happens in February). According to The Internet, Oregon’s winter lasts from November-March. J3 points to Ford entering the portal in November and not in February or March. The most telling piece of evidence is Ford’s mention of “the first snow.” By the time we get to that entry, a minimum of 5-6 weeks has already past since Jan 18th. It just doesn’t make sense for the first snow of the winter to fall in March, the last month of the season (and at the very end of the month too). Oregon winter would be over by this point and the wicked snowstorm we see Stan arrive in just shouldn’t be possible during that time of the year. Also, during No Sleep Time, Ford spent a few weeks walking back and forth between his house in the middle of the woods and a truck stop “out on route 14.” I don’t know how far away that might be from his house, but it’s probably far enough that he wouldn’t be able to get there that consistently every day in the winter on foot.
So according to J3, our first new date is November, 1982. Ford enters the portal. But now it’s time for the show route. 
Our requirements are the same, but the show, specifically the backgrounds, points to March being the month Ford left, not November. When Stan first enters Ford’s room in aToTS Ford’s calendar has a woodpecker on it. In Carpet Diem Ford’s calendar has an owl on it for July. This means that Stan had to be the one to flip the calendar. Since he left it on July, my interpretation is that he used Ford’s room from March till July, which is when he sealed the room off. Also, when Stan is walking through town after spending a few weeks holed up in Ford’s house, the snow from the storm looks like it is starting to melt. This could be because it’s March, the end of winter. 
So I’ll leave this up to you to decide which date you want to go with. I’m assuming that either month is also the month Stan gets Ford’s note and leaves his flat in New Mexico.
The dates of anything else that happens in 1982 are a little easier to nail down. Our only two sources are both incredibly unreliable and have huge holes in their memories, but Fidds’ dated memory clips help a lot. 
January 18th. Day 1 of Fiddleford’s lost memories. February 9th. Day 22 of Fiddleford’s lost memories. The creation of the Society of the Blind Eye. Sometime in Feb/Mar. Ford leaves his house and discovers the Society. July 26th. Day 189 of Fiddleford’s lost memories. “Hit another car in town today.” This is the last time we see him in his original house/apartment. October 18th. Day 273 of Fiddleford’s lost memories. He’s now filming from a motel. I believe that sometime between day 189 and day 273 is when Fiddleford’s “first memory” (the newspaper article) takes place. The headline of the paper is “Disoriented Man Found At Museum,” but what I think is more important is the actual article title, “Sent Packing.” I took this to mean that he was kicked out of where he was previously staying and had to move to the motel.
So now that we have that mess of a year out of the way, it’s time to start moving backwards.
July 29th, 1981. Fiddleford arrives in GF. June 18th, 1981. Ford begins J3. 1979. Ford discovers CSO. June, 1975. Ford arrives in GF. We know based on aToTS that around this time Stan was living out of his car. May, 1975. Ford gets his first Ph.D and is given a grant to study whatever he wants. Sometime between 1970 and 1975 is when Stan dates Carla McCorkle. The two of them spent their time at a “50's themed, 1970's diner.” I want to say that their relationship took place in the early seventies bc Stan still had the same clothes and hair style as he did in high school.
Here’s where it starts to get a little trickier, but once you have one date the rest fall into place. The youngest Ford can be in 1981 is 30, which means he can’t be born any later than 1951. For the sake of trial and error, let’s assume this is the year he was born.
June 15th, 1951. Stanford and Stanley Pines are born.
In aToTS, Stan starts his story with “It all started... a lifetime ago... nineteen sixty something.” This could be referring to one of two things. 1.) Stanford’s science project, or (what I personally like to think) 2.) The discovery of the Stan O’ War. If the latter is true, then that would put the discovery at 1961-1963 when they are 10-12 years old.
Because the boys are born in June, they’ll be 17 (about to turn 18) when they graduate. This puts Ford’s graduation at June, 1968. Stanley was most likely kicked out early fall of 1967, based on his attire and the weather. Also, most college applications and scoutings and such happen in the fall. (I’m not sure if this was the same in the sixties, but oh well.) ((WC Tech could have been doing some spring of junior year scouting, but I refuse to believe that that wasn’t their senior year science fair bc Stan getting kicked out when he was 16 is Not Allowed.)) 
Ford starts college at BackUpsMore in the fall of 1968 and will earn his undergraduate degree in 1972. In aToTS, Ford says that he went from undergrad to Ph.D three years early. The Internet says that the average doctorate takes 6 years to earn. If he started his Ph.D program in the fall and spent three years completing it, then he would end up in 1975 with a degree and a large grant, ready to arrive in GF that June. Boom. 
A few more additions that I like:
August 31st, 1999. Mystery Twins 2.0 are born.
July, 2002. Soos is adapted by starts to work for Stan at the Mystery Shack. 
Early August, 2012. Ford returns to Dimension 46′\. I really want to say that it was August 8th, but it could have also been August 1st. 
August 31st, 2012. Mabel and Dipper’s 13th birthday. The Original Mystery Twins officially make up. 
2043. Ford dies of a heart attack at 92???
Timeline complete. Message me if you have any questions or want to poke holes in my logic. It’s 3:32am so I might have missed a few things.
PS I didn’t include any Shermie dates bc I just don’t think there’s enough Hard Evidence for me to confidently make any statements about him.
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I really can’t release this to the world without paying homage to a few people who are absolutely crucial to the reason I’m able to share The Longest Sky today. 
To Marisa/@marisa-writes for being my writer-friend for 8 full years, for talking me through the trials and tribulations of writing and sharing, and for always believing in me; 
To Nadia/@justnadia for reading an earlier draft and lifting my spirits about this piece, for talking me through my reservations, and for sending me photos and quotes that reminded her of the story;
To Rachel/@ramblingrachell for becoming my instant friend and volunteering so heartily to look over this huge chunk of work, for being so enthusiastic and for warming my heart every time we speak;
To Kari/@justcloseyoureyesandseee who offered me, by far, the most comprehensive constructive criticism I’ve ever received and who continues to blow me away with her thoughtfulness and intelligence;
And to Steph/@ilivemydaydreamsinmusik, in small part for teaching me weed vocabulary and fixing all my little mistakes, and in much larger part for her unending support: the encouraging cartoons reminding me to write, the music that helped to inspire the story, offering to read it again, and her general aura of coolness and kickass-ness that I aspire to embody in my own writing someday--
Thank you all so much. I hope you know how much you’ve done for me and how grateful I am to have had you be a part of this. I dedicate this to all five of you.
There are so many more of you who spoke words of encouragement to me and/or who expressed interest in what I was working on, and I am forever grateful to you for that. I hope you enjoy the product of your kindness to me! 
Part I: The List
I’ve dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they’ve gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the colour of my mind.
Emily Brontë, from ‘Wuthering Heights’
1.1 
No amount of fidgeting with the lever or pushing at the ledge with her hands will open the window. It’s only a little opening; a dated semicircular pane no bigger than the surface of her nightstand, but it’s the only way to let in fresh air. And it won’t budge.
“Just use the ceiling fan for air circulation,” Rosen suggests from the doorway. She’s armed with a box of childhood personal items curated by Mom. Ari carried the box in her second suitcase – it put her over the weight limit for the flight as it housed a stack of books from Rosen’s bookshelf, two high school yearbooks, and Polaroid pictures that once hung on a laundry line across Rosen’s bedroom wall arranged into an album. Rosen balances the heavy box on one raised knee as she wipes her sweaty brow and pushes a damp strand of chestnut hair from her face. “That’s what Jacks and I do.”
“I want to open the window,” says Ari, leaning her body weight against the pane without success. “I won’t be able to sleep without it.”
Rosen raises a brow. “Air outside’s no cooler than the air in here.”
August in West Virginia is muggy and damp, but the air conditioning in the house is on the fritz – has been since June, according to Jackson – and Ari doesn’t think she can sleep without fresh air, no matter the humidity. It would be like sleeping in a coffin. Suffocating in a stale box.
It took her an hour in the morning to fix the broken blinds in order to let the light in. She has to let the air in, too.
Rosen sighs. “We can look at it tomorrow. Jackson’s dad repainted the trim outdoors when we moved in; window’s probably painted shut now.”
Ari tries one more time to shift the pane. Without success, she slumps against the wall.
Rosen pauses, still bracing the box on her knee as she peers into the room. “When are you gonna unpack?”
Perhaps she’s confused by the suitcase on the floor that doesn’t fit in the closet or under the tiny twin bed. But the luggage is empty, all the clothes stored snugly into a small chest of drawers and personal products tucked into the drawers of the nightstand.
Ari looks up. “I already did.”
“Oh.” Rosen raises her brows. “I just thought…”
“What?”
She shrugs. “I thought you’d bring your photos, like mine. Or your textbooks – Mom says you’re trying to get into U of R for your master’s. Hell, I even thought you’d bring that ratty old lamb you used to sleep with.”
Ari blinks. For some reason, it surprises her that Mom didn’t tell Rosen about the time Ari threw Lamby away like a candy bar wrapper. It was last winter, right after Louis left and Ari moved back home to Massapequa. Mom cried when she went to take out the garbage and saw Lamby sitting amongst the refuse, his buttoned eyes staring up at her beneath a banana peel and coffee grinds.
“No,” Ari says. Her voice takes on a high and unnatural pitch in her attempt to sound sympathetic, but she has to try. Dr. Sodhi made her see how it frightened her loved ones when she acted too blasé. “I have everything I need.”
Rosen nods, though her lips purse together in a tight smile. “Okay. Just looks a little bland, that’s all.”
It does look bland, Ari notes. The room is cozy, only big enough to house a bed, a dresser, and a nightstand. The wall above the bed features a framed landscape photo of Sutton Lake, West Virginia, snapped in 1987 according to the print. All in all, it’s not unlike a motel room. And a motel room is not unlike Ari: impersonal and vacant, nightstand varnish peeling and wallpaper fading.  
Rosen takes her box down the hallway and wishes Ari goodnight – Ari’s first of many in Tillson City, West Virginia. She’s called her parents to let them know she arrived safely. She’s made her bed with linens Rosen brought in, fresh from the laundry. She’s unpacked her scant few belongings.
This is it. The start of something new in a different state. No parents, no friends, no former flames, no therapists. Just Ari. It’s been Just Ari for a while, but now there are no pretences. Nobody to burden or inconvenience. Nobody to cast her sad smiles or give her pity hugs.
Except for Rosen.
With a gulp of stale air, Ari smoothes her palm over her shorts, feeling the list crinkle in her pocket.
Come one in the morning, Ari’s still not asleep. She tosses and turns on the unfamiliar mattress, a little bit too soft for her liking, with a sheen of sweat dusted across her upper lip. The sweltering temperature of the room isn’t lessened at all by the ceiling fan, which rocks back and forth as it spins and squeaks like it’s on its last legs.
She needs air. She needs it to breathe.
Ari cringes when the hardwood creaks on her way down the stairs, freezing in place in fear of waking Rosen and Jackson. After several seconds, when no sign of movement or change in breath comes from their bedroom down the hall, Ari steels herself and continues down the stairs in a flurry, with stealthy, cat-like steps.
She hasn’t had a chance yet to peer in the garage, though Jackson proudly told her that’s where he intends to store his Harley once he gets his license. She uses the light of her phone to guide her out the front door and across the driveway to the garage. The garage door is new and slides up easily with a quick twist of the latch, though the rest of the structure is so old it seems tilted to its side.
Her light comes in handy again while searching the garage. Rosen and Jackson use it for storage rather than parking space, as is apparent by the couch and dining room table covered in a tarp, all its chairs hanging upside down from the table’s surface. They dragged a U-Haul behind their little Honda from New York full of furniture from their apartment, but the Hawleys had even more to give when they arrived and the garage is where most of it ended up.
Ari climbs over a microwave stand and nearly knocks a floor lamp to the ground, but she makes it to the ladder leaning up against the wall. With a great deal of struggle but very little noise, Ari drags the full ladder out of the garage and onto the driveway. Then she stands it on its feet, rung by rung, and leans it against the side of the house.
She shines the light of her cell phone toward the second storey window. It’s a long way up to the sky, and probably not advised to ascend to the second floor in total darkness. But Ari has to feel the fresh air sweep past her in order to sleep. And what’s more, she can do this.
After steadying the ladder against the house and testing its sturdiness, Ari begins to climb. On the third rung, her foot slips – just for a moment – but it’s enough to encourage her to tuck her phone back into the drawstring of her pajama shorts, using only the light of the moon to guide her.
It’s so dark here. Even on Long Island, city lights brighten the streets at night, casting the sky grey instead of black. In the middle of West Virginia, Ari can look up to the sky and see stars.
Stars, motherfucker, she thinks triumphantly to herself, which nearly causes another ladder accident. With regained footing, she blinks to adjust her eyes to the darkness and continues to climb.
Mom and Dad registered Ari and Rosen for ballet classes when they were young. The instructor staged five-year-old Rosen front row, centre for the final performance, and Rosen pirouetted to perfection even with a wicker basket prop in her hands. Meanwhile, seven-year-old Ari was nestled somewhere on the outskirts of the back row, fumbling with the basket caught on her tutu and ultimately spinning herself into a heap on the floor. There was no ballet class for Ari the next year.
Needless to say, Ari’s lack of balance was never quite rectified, and standing on the tenth rung of a ladder in the darkest part of the night while using her cell phone as a flashlight with one hand and her other hand digging in her pajama pocket for an Exact-o knife puts her well outside the boundaries of her comfort zone.
Then again, Dr. Sodhi suggested more than once that venturing outside her comfort zone could offer opportunity and renewal. That’s what the temporary move to Tillson City is about, after all – separation from the comfort zone. At least, that’s what it means to Ari – to Rosen, it means a helping hand to assist with wedding preparations.
Using the Exact-o knife, Ari applies pressure to the trim, cutting around the ledge where it’s been painted over. The navy-coloured trim doesn’t help with visibility, and she may accidentally cause a few scratches and scrapes during the process, but she figures neither Rosen nor Jackson is likely to haul themselves up here anytime soon to get a close look at the damage.
Her knees shake only once, and she retracts the knife before slowly bending down to grab hold of the ladder to steady her balance. Whoever needed ballet?
With the window trim carved to her liking, Ari slides the blade of the knife underneath the bottom of the window and tries to pry it open using leverage. She’s able to wiggle it around, and with a small crack, she feels it budge. Once she slowly maneuvers the window toward her, she can slide a finger underneath and pull it open the rest of the way, though not without nearly knocking herself in the face first.
And that’s it. She did it.
She climbs down the ladder with more enthusiasm than she had when climbing up. She skips the last rung and hops to the ground, blowing upward to get the hair out of her eyes as she fixes her hands on her hips and stares up at progress. An open window: a doorway to the summer breeze and the song of the birds.
She did that.
Back in her new bedroom, Ari picks up her denim shorts, folded carefully across the top of the dresser, and digs into the front pocket. She removes a crumped piece of paper and unfolds it slowly, wary of tearing the edges. The paper flattens when it’s pressed against the wall, though its creases have been fixtures for weeks now. She uses Scotch tape to adhere it above the light switch. A central location, one she’ll be forced to look at every day.
Mom and Dad knew about the list. They thought it was advice from Dr. Sodhi that Ari was taking to heart.
But it’s not. It’s Ari’s idea. All the ideas on the list are hers. And she is the one who abides by it diligently, her own code to living, because if she doesn’t – if she strays from that self-imposed path – she could go back to Before.
Tillson City is not the place for Before. Tillson City is not the place for After, either. No, Tillson City is very specifically a place for Now.
In the morning, Ari wakes to the sun shining through the small window. The room is still hot, but at least it’s not a stale, muggy heat. She could bask in it for hours if she wanted to. But after a few blinks when her vision comes into focus, she eyes the list taped to the wall.
And she gets up.
She joins Rosen in the kitchen while throwing her uncombed hair into a ponytail, the laces of her gym shoes untied. As Rosen whirls around with a smile, Ari takes a seat at the kitchen table and leans over to take care of her shoes.
“How many eggs? Two or three?” Rosen asks. “Jacks always asks for bacon and eggs on Sundays. Pancakes are on Saturdays – sorry, you missed that one yesterday.”
“Oh.” Ari straightens. “I was just going to eat something small. Maybe a banana. I’m thinking of exploring the area a bit.”
“A banana? What are you, a monkey? That’s not enough,” Rosen counters.
Ari tries to hide her smile. “You sound like Grandma.”
“Well, she’s right. At least have one pancake.”
Ari sighs.
“And I was gonna take you around today. I’ll show you all the local digs – well, the ones that matter, anyway – and we can check out a couple of vendors for the wedding. If we have time, maybe we can go to Charleston so I can stock up the freezer.”  
“Charleston? Isn’t that an hour away?”
Rosen shrugs. “Forty minutes or so. Drive’s not too bad.”
“You drive forty minutes to do your grocery shopping? There’s nowhere close by?”
“There’s the Piggly Wiggly in town, but it’s small. Kroger’s in Charleston’s much better, I think. Don’t tell Jacks, though; he’s sensitive about that kind of stuff. Wants to inject into the Tillson City economy as much as we can. But I feel like I’ve been pretty generous to the local economy in planning the wedding so far, so I don’t mind taking my business elsewhere once in a while.” Rosen finishes whisking the eggs and turns back to the stove, where a pan sizzles with meat and grease. Over her shoulder, she asks, “How many strips of bacon did you say you wanted?”
“None,” Ari replies. More hesitantly, she adds, “I don’t eat meat anymore.”
If there was a record player in the room, now would be when the music came to a grinding halt. Rosen stops stirring and freezes, only her pupils moving as they dart toward Ari. “You don’t eat meat anymore? Like, all meat?”
“All meat.”
From Rosen’s throat bursts a laugh Ari’s never heard from her before: it’s short, harsh, guttural. “Since when?”
“Since three months ago.”
“What?”
A beat passes, and Ari calmly repeats, “Since three months ago.”
“So, like… not for that long.”
Ari shrugs. “I guess not.”
“So…” Rosen struggles to reason, “it’s not like it’s a long term thing.”
“I plan for it to be,” Ari says slowly, “if it goes well. So far, I like how I feel. I’d prefer not to eat meat.”
Once chatting eagerly about her plans for the day, Rosen now regards Ari across the kitchen with an arched brow of skepticism. Then she returns her gaze to the stove, using tongs to flip strips of bacon in the pan, as she mutters, “You didn’t tell us you didn’t eat meat.”
Jackson enters the kitchen in a pair of pajama pants and a rumpled white t-shirt, stopping mid-yawn to observe the exchange between the sisters. His dark hair sticks up in almost every direction, curling well past his ears and down the back of his neck, and Ari half expects Rosen to go after him again about cutting his hair to a reasonable length for the wedding. 
But she doesn’t – her stare is fixed on Ari.
“Sorry.” Ari avoids Jackson’s gaze as she finishes tying the knot on her shoe and lets it fall from the chair to the floor. “I didn’t think it would come up too often. I thought I’d mostly be making my own food.”
“You thought I’d make meals for me and Jacks, but not think about you?” Rosen’s face scrunches in disbelief.
“No, I just… you don’t cook,” Ari admits. Rosen exhales sharply, blinking as if she misheard, and Ari quickly adds, “At least as far as I remember. I thought I’d be doing my own thing most of the time.”
“Uh… okay.” Clearly upset, Rosen gestures to the bacon and eggs heating on the stove. “You’re right, I guess I don’t cook.”
“I didn’t know,” Ari says with a shrug. Her last memory of Rosen attempting to cook in their family home in Long Island, she burned the rice, confused hoisin with soy sauce, and severely undercooked the chicken. It was a miserable stir-fry to swallow and resulted in the Pate family fighting each other for access to the house’s two bathrooms to be sick with food poisoning throughout the night. After that, Rosen declared she was no good at cooking and would rather spend her time outside of the kitchen. “If you’re cooking more now, that’s great.”
“Well, if you won’t eat what I cook, then I guess I don’t cook so much anymore.” Rosen waves a hand through the air.
“I don’t mean for you to have to change anything,” Ari stresses with a huff. “Eat what you want. I’ll fend for myself.”
“We have a tiny enough kitchen as it is without three of us trying to make two separate meals.”
“I’ll wait until you’re done, obviously,” Ari fires back. “I’m not doing this to inconvenience you, Rosen, I—”
“It’s fine.” Jackson inserts himself into the discussion with a nod to Ari. He has a hand on Rosen’s forearm before she can raise it to point a finger. “Rosie. Hey. It’ll be fine, all right? We can all eat together; Ari just won’t eat the meat. We can cook everything separate. Not a big deal.”
Rosen fixes her stare on Ari for another couple of seconds before Jackson’s touch reminds her he’s there. She glances at him and dons a soft smile of gratitude. “Fine. Not a big deal.” Before she returns to the eggs and bacon, she mumbles under her breath with arched brows, “Just wish you’d told us, that’s all.”
.
Dear Ms. Ariana Pate, We regret to inform you that we are not able to offer you admission to the Master’s program in Biology at the University of Rochester. Each year, we receive a large number of applications for this program from highly qualified candidates. Based on a composite of information including your academic performance record, comments from referees, relevant professional activities, and proposed research statements, your application, considered as a whole, was not as strong as others we received. Though we regret delivering you an unfavorable response, we wish you—
“I said, do you want me to take you around the Hawley house? Ari!”
“What? Whoa!” Ari looks up from her phone to a churning flip in her stomach as Rosen takes a quick turn around the winding West Virginia road. She grabs onto the handle, abandoning the phone in her lap.
“It’s beautiful there – they’ve got a wraparound porch with white pillars, wooden boxes of impatiens on window ledges and everything. True Southern charm. We’re actually thinking of having the rehearsal dinner there. Well, we’re about ninety percent certain, it just seems a bit much to have the wedding reception next door in the barn, too.”
Ari gulps, her head rushing as the car whips around another curve. “What?”
“Jackson,” Rosen declares, ripping her eyes from the road to spare Ari a harsh look. “His family home here in Tillson City. I said: do you want to go?”
Ari shuts her eyes. The world keeps spinning. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Do you want to see it or not?”
“Uh… if you want me to, I guess.”
At her sister’s sigh of annoyance, Ari knows Rosen’s lost her patience with her. Ari’s been distant all day, ever since that final email came in from U of R. It was her last hope – and a long shot, at that – but the deflation she feels is proof that somewhere within her, perhaps just beneath her skin and ready to escape, there still existed some form of hope. Now that it’s gone, the numbness remains.
Everyone promised Ari the lush, rolling hills of West Virginia were the most breathtaking sight her eyes would ever behold. Breathe in the clean air, they said. Open your eyes to nature, they said. You’ll feel your mind and body heal instantly. Old gaping wounds will stitch back together. Aches and pains will dissolve like morning dew in the sun. You’ll stand taller. Raise your chin higher. Feel like a real, human person again. That’s what they said.
Well, they were fucking wrong. As Ari hunches over in her seat and bile rises in her throat, she bitterly thinks that no one bothered to mention the sharp, winding roads and the constant uphill-downhill travel. Rosen’s pointed out the quaint details of Tillson City as they’ve passed by during the day: a charming red farmhouse over here, hunter green woodlands over there, yellow deer crossing signs because they graze everywhere in the winter – but Ari couldn’t follow her gestures, and now she’s on the precipice of very real vomit spilling from her throat all over Rosen’s beige, ancient Honda she lovingly calls Old Man Earl.
“You don’t have an opinion?” says Rosen, unimpressed. “If you want to stop hanging out with me so badly, might as well just say it.”
After a full day of tagging along on Rosen’s errands, passively accompanying her to pick up Jackson’s blazers from the dry cleaner’s and meet a woman from Craigslist one county over to purchase secondhand lanterns to create do-it-yourself centerpieces for the wedding, Ari feels the kind of heaviness that only follows unproductivity; an exhaustion born from listlessness. The kind that sinks into her bones and drags her to the ground.
Staring straight ahead and not sparing her sister a glance, Ari calmly replies, “I’m just tired. But if you want to go to Jackson’s parents’ place, that’s fine.”
“I don’t need to,” Rosen stresses, “I just wanted to show it to you. But if you don’t want to—”
“That’s not what I’m saying.” Ari sighs, long and deep. “Let’s go. I want to see it.”
Her enthusiasm is lackluster at best, but Ari thinks she’s being conciliatory until she catches Rosen’s expression out of the corner of her eye: solemn, pained.
“Sorry,” Ari offers. The word comes out in monotone even though she drummed up all the sympathy she had.
“You know, it wasn’t Mom or Dad who suggested you come out here to stay with me and Jacks until the wedding,” Rosen says.
“I know.”
“It was me.”
Eyes fixed on the flat stretch of road ahead, Ari nods.
“When Mom called me after your accident, I was so scared. She said you were fine, probably wouldn’t even need to stay in the hospital overnight, but I couldn’t stop sobbing. Jacks had to come in and take over the call for me; I couldn’t even talk. I knew things had been bad for a while, Ari, but that night it finally hit me… I realized I could lose you.”
The road whips by, fields of yellow and green. “Rosen…”
“I know we haven’t been close lately. Not since I met Jackson and you moved in with Lou and everything just got… busy. And I didn’t realize that I missed you until that night – until the night I learned I could have lost you forever. So I called Mom first thing the next morning and I told her, when Ari’s ready, I want her to come here. I want her to get away from all that shit in the city and all the people who fucked her over and just… start over. Reset. Tillson City’s not much, but it’s a good place for that.”
Running her tongue along her front teeth, Ari nods.
“It wasn’t just about you,” Rosen’s quick to add. “I wish I could say it was. I wish I could be that selfless, but I’m not. It was about me, too. I wanted you here with me. I wanted to get to know you again. I wanted to be close with you again, like when we were kids. When we had each other’s backs and we told each other everything.” As the car slows in front of a long driveway lined with a canopy of trees, Rosen turns on her blinker and pulls off to the side of the road. She glances at Ari. “I know you’ve been lonely. And, I mean, I’m getting used to a new town, to a new way of life… it’s nice to have someone familiar with me who knows where I’m from. That’s why I’m glad you’re here.” She shrugs, offering a soft smile as she pushes her side bangs behind her ear. “I think we’re supposed to be together right now. I think we need to help each other.”
Mustering a small grin, Ari reaches across the console to pat Rosen’s hand. “Okay,” she agrees. “We can try.”
Rosen’s eyes brighten, but she’s careful not to display too much emotion. She pokes her thumb in the direction of the driveway and says, “This is the Hawley place.”
Ari leans forward to examine the surroundings, though the house is covered by such thick forest it’s impossible to see beyond a bit of evergreen trim.
Sitting back in her seat, she says, “Looks pretty impressive. Let’s check it out.”
.
The Tillson City economy isn’t exactly booming. Originally a coal mining town, the population spiked following the first World War and then slowly trickled down beginning in the eighties as the country relied increasingly on alternate fuel sources. These days, a good portion of its residents – Jackson included – work outside of town.
“New businesses are pretty rare,” Rosen tells Ari as they wander downtown on a Wednesday morning, “and if one opens, it usually closes shop within six months.”
That’s why, she explains, she wants to scope out the newly established Kalene’s Garden, across the street from a business called Sherman’s that Rosen claims is Jackson’s friends’ ‘favourite piss-stained hole-in-the-wall dive bar.’
There are plenty of florists in Charleston, forty-five minutes down the road in Kanawha County, but Jackson wants the wedding arrangements to be local, both to benefit the rural economy and to eliminate stress and unpredictability. Kalene’s Garden, according to Rosen, opened only last year after the owner’s husband was dishonourably discharged from the U.S. army and fled the state, leaving her with two young kids and a mortgage.
“I figure she’ll need our money,” Rosen tells Ari with a smile, “so she’ll give me whatever I want for the wedding.”
A little bell jingles overhead as they enter the shop. If possible, it’s even more humid inside than out, but Rosen is the only one who complains. Ari’s immediately taken by the hanging plants in every corner, long vines spilling out from pots and tangling underneath, bright bouquets of lilies and bluebells crowding the counters, and the line of small potted trees leading to what Ari believes to be a greenhouse. In the air is a scent so fresh and sweet that Ari could bottle it. In fact, she finds the whole place charming and serene, even more so because they’re the shop’s only customers.
They’re directed to a small, cluttered office off to the side, where a petite woman in rounded glasses named Sherry presents them with a binder of wedding fodder. Rosen prattles off the details that Ari’s heard over group text or phone or in person a thousand times – the wedding is December sixteenth, to be held in Jackson’s family church, and the bridesmaids are wearing taupe – and she’s looking for the perfect wintry centerpieces to compliment her DIY lanterns and the perfect bridal bouquet, frosty yet soft.
When they get stuck on whether white roses are too bridal or not bridal enough is when they lose Ari completely. She removes herself from the room without either woman batting an eyelash in her direction. Then she roams the shop by herself and finds a small table of succulents that captures her attention longer than any bridal discussion ever could.
Tiny little succulents, unassuming shadows in the background, will outlive all of their floral counterparts. In the right soil, their roots flourish, widening and stretching to absorb the most amount of water in a flood. In a drought, the water storage in their roots is what helps them survive. Ari likes that about them, these smart little plants. They’re planners who take care of themselves, always stockpiled in the event of a waterless apocalypse. Dr. Sodhi kept one in her office, and Ari often stared at it when she went in there and was expected to speak. No matter how she fluctuated up and down, Dr. Sodhi’s succulent was always the same.
“Lookin’ for a friend?”
Ari gasps at the sudden voice, spinning around to face its owner. A woman in a sleeveless white blouse waters a ficus near the cash register. Her lips curl into a small smile, her tight black curls framing high cheekbones.
“Um… my sister’s in the office talking to Sherry about wedding bouquets,” Ari explains.
“What about you?”
“Just browsing.”
“Lookin’ for a friend?” the woman repeats.
Ari blinks. Does she really look that lost and lonely? Her eyes dart around the room before returning to the woman’s sharp face, and she replies tentatively, “Are you… offering?”
The woman laughs heartily, without mocking or scorn. She sets down her watering can and joins Ari at the circular table. “They are friends to us, you know,” she says, grazing her index finger across the top of thick succulent leaves. “Plants of all kinds, really, but succulents especially – they’re so versatile, so adaptable. People can rely on them. They fill a room with company even if a person lives alone.”
“Yeah,” Ari murmurs. Her eyes follow the woman’s long, nimble fingers as she spreads tiny pebbles in the soil surrounding the succulents. “So, um… how many friends do you have?”
The woman chuckles again, deep and warm in her throat. “Well, this is my shop,” she answers, “so I s’pose you could say I’m never without.”
While Rosen leaves the shop that day armed with several printouts and magazines to flip through, Ari pays $3.99 in change for a mini foxtail agave, leaves a brilliant green and opening like a flower. When she gets home, she finds it a nice, heated spot on her window ledge where it can bask in the humidity right under the sun. She spends a long time watching it there. It doesn’t grow, it doesn’t change, it doesn’t move. Maybe it feels that it’s stuck with her for good.
Either way, Ari gives it a couple of tablespoons of water to drink, gently touches its leaves, and mentally ticks off a box on the list above her light switch: Take care of a plant. 
.
A few days later, Rosen is abuzz with excitement because her wedding dress, shipped from Manhattan, is ready for its first fitting with a seamstress in Charleston. When Ari agrees to accompany her as Maid of Honour, Rosen decides they should make a day of it. She packs water bottles in the cup holders of Old Man Earl and loads snacks in her purse as if they’re on a true cross-country voyage instead of spending less time in the car than Ari has spent travelling six blocks in Midtown during rush hour.
But it’s nice that Rosen’s excited about it, and truthfully, Ari doesn’t have anything else to do. They cross a wide bridge to enter the city, and as Ari looks out the window and stares down to the water below, she feels it’s almost like re-entering New York. Almost.
She hasn’t lived in Tillson City for much more than a week, but already she feels overwhelmed by the amount of people outdoors and the number of cars on the road in Charleston. It’s a glamorous riverfront metropolis in comparison to the arid and mountainous Tillson City. It has a movie theatre and a mall and food trucks and an actual skyline – albeit a pathetic one. Adorable, not pathetic, Ari corrects herself.
The sisters wander through the Historic District, where Rosen points out the white-pillared colonial homes that seem to be the inspiration for the Hawley family home back in Tillson City. According to Rosen, she and Jackson aspire to build the same kind of home –“not until after we’ve had two kids, though, or at least not until I’m pregnant with our second”– and they ogle at the beauty of a downtown core embedded in an awning of leafy trees. Ari extends their walk several blocks, despite Rosen’s complaints, in order to log a full ten thousand steps for the day.
They drive to the only mall in town – in fact, the only mall Rosen knows of – and Ari picks out a new pair of yoga pants that are stretchy and cheap, but good enough to get the job done. Rosen finds two cushion covers in JC Penney that perfectly complement the living room set, so they both leave the mall in good spirits.
It’s as they sit on a patio along the waterfront, Ari with an ice water and Rosen with a white wine spritzer, that their pleasant outing turns sour. Ari is content to people-watch along the boardwalk, amused by the amount of people clothed in apparel from West Virginia University – “Take Me Home” and “Forever a Mountaineer” splashed across their chests and the WVU logo embroidered on their ball caps – but Rosen’s got wedding fever and has a hankering to discuss the design for the invitations.
“I don’t really get why wedding invitations are such a huge thing when I could just send out a mass email to all my guests and have their replies instantly,” Rosen muses, scrolling through samples on her phone. “But whatever, they’re pretty.”
“So if the designer gives you his final copy by Thursday and the invitations are printed by Labour Day weekend, when will you send them out?”
“Two months before the wedding,” Rosen answers robotically, having planned these details down to the minutiae. “The deadline to RSVP is two weeks from the wedding date to get the final numbers to the caterers. They’re upset that we’re pushing it that close, actually, since the kitchen at Jacks’ parents’ place is limited and they need to know in advance if they need to rent extra prep space.”
“Why not ask everyone to email you their reply rather than send it back through snail mail?”
“Well, Grandma doesn’t use email,” Rosen points out.
Ari rolls her eyes. “Pretty sure Mom and Dad would send along her RSVP.”
“This is the way wedding invitations are done.”
“Yeah, but people set up wedding websites these days to cut printing costs on RSVP cards and postage. Receiving replies by email would make it so much more efficient and environmentally friendly—”
“The invites are already pretty set in stone,” Rosen cuts her off, adding matter-of-factly, “so.”
Ari shrugs, leaning back in her seat. “All right.”
Rosen takes Ari’s recoil as invitation to lean forward, ensuring the space between them isn’t compromised by an inch. “What about my bachelorette?” she asks with a sly grin.
Eyes on a middle-aged woman lovingly feeding her partner a corn dog with all the high cholesterol fixings, Ari takes a large swig of water and then deigns Rosen a glance. “What about it?”
“What have you planned?”
“I thought it was a secret for the bride.”
“Yeah, but you eventually have to let me know the date, and what I should wear, and if I need to bring pajamas and a toothbrush…”
“Oh.” Ari takes another sip of water, knowing full well that her prolonged silence drives Rosen up the wall. “I’ll let you know, then. So far I’ve only seen that one bar in Tillson City – Sherman’s, I think? – so I don’t think it’ll be much of a surprise.”
Rosen’s spine stiffens as she straightens in her chair, brows turning downward. “Tillson City? My bachelorette is in Manhattan.”
“What?”
“I told you in April that when you plan my bachelorette, plan it in Manhattan.”
“But I thought the bachelorette party took place a week before the wedding.”
“It does.”
“And I thought, with you living here and all the guests travelling here, it might be less stressful to just… have it here.” Ari finishes slowly, the last few words quiet as the creases in Rosen’s forehead plateau into valleys.
“But all my friends are in New York…” Rosen trails.
“You said you had friends here.”
“Those are Jackson’s friends.”
“You said they were your friends, too.”
“Ari!” cries Rosen, her knee jerking into the table and causing two elderly women nearby to look over in shock. “Obviously I want the rest of my bridal party to be at my bachelorette, and the rest of my bridesmaids live in the city. And I want to go to a strip club, like I told you, and I want to do that bachelorette bingo game I sent you that just can’t do in a small town where everybody knows everybody.”
“What game?”
She huffs. “I sent it to you. It’s from Pinterest.”
“Oh.” Ari sips on her water even though her thirst is thoroughly quenched. “I haven’t had the time to look at it yet.”
“You haven’t had time.” Rosen repeats this in monotone, her voice dangerously low.
“No.”
Rosen smacks her lips together. “But you don’t do anything. How can you run out of time when literally nothing is on your schedule?”
Ari pales, but quickly gulps down the sting. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Nobody would understand! That makes no sense. Honestly, Ari, I gave you this responsibility, like, three months ago, and so far you haven’t done a single thing, which is like…”
Rosen trails off, too frustrated to continue. Ari shouldn’t prompt her, but she can’t help it. “What? It’s like what?”
When Rosen’s eyes lock with hers, they’re hardened and sad. “Do you even want to be a part of my wedding?”
The stare of the elderly ladies one table over fix on her again. Under the spotlight, all Ari can do is nibble on her lower lip.
“Everybody cares about you,” Rosen says, softer now. “I can’t have a conversation with Mom or Grandma without you coming up, even when it’s about my wedding. It’s all Ari’s acting like this or Ari’s off Zoloft again and we all brainstorm ways to help you. God, I even asked you to move out here with me! But you have to do something sometime, Ari. Sitting around waiting for something to happen to you – that’s stupid. Get a job, go on a date, plan my bachelorette! Whether it’s for yourself or for someone else, just do something.”
Ari doesn’t reply.
Dr. Sodhi once told her that in situations where she feels so misunderstood she doesn’t know where to begin, it’s sometimes best to let the yeller do the yelling and not say anything at all.
.
Ari’s alarm sounds at precisely 7:30 a.m. She spends five minutes listening to the gentle rustling in the house: footsteps up and down the stairs, the coffee grinder buzzing in the kitchen.
Must go on a hike. Hiking today. Today is about hiking.
Focused repeats of the day’s purpose help her throw off the covers and sit up. It’s easier to get out of bed this way. It’s easier than it used to be, anyway. Ari squeezes her eyes shut to forget the days she’d get out of bed at four in the afternoon, showering in just enough time before Louis got home to spare herself his groaning about how she’d done nothing since he’d left for work in the morning.
She uses a small spray bottle to spritz her succulent, just enough until its leaves are dewy and hydrated. It basks in the sun, and Ari imagines that if it had a face, that face would be smiling.
When she descends the stairs, Jackson is hopping into the car on his way to work with Rosen sending him off at the door. It’s enough time for Ari to slip around the corner unnoticed to pour a quart of water into her bottle from a pitcher in the fridge. She refills the pitcher with water from the faucet and is halfway through her water bottle when Rosen enters in her fluffy bathrobe, wisps of hair sticking out of her messy ponytail.
“How do you not get sick chugging that much water on an empty stomach?” she asks, upper lip curling in revulsion.
“It kickstarts my system,” Ari replies after a loud gulp. She stands with a hand on her hip. “Flushes out toxins. Improves blood flow to my brain, keeps me in a good mood.”
Standing stock still, Rosen uncurls her lip but says with a shrug, “Whatever.”
“You should try it.”
“Not interested.” She pointedly moves across the kitchen to the hot pot of coffee left for her by Jackson. “Two cups of Joe is what mama needs.”
Ari doesn’t bother arguing. She finishes the rest of her water bottle while Rosen pours herself a steaming mug of coffee, and then she turns her attention to the weather. It’s a beautiful summer day, eighty degrees and clear. Ari’s wandered the neighbourhood and figured out the roads close to home, but she hasn’t tried any of the woodland trails yet. She aches to be sheltered by a rooftop of trees, golden rays poking through the leaves.
Plenty of sunlight. That’s an item on her list, and she should start paying more attention to it while the August sun is still here.
“Do you want to hike with me?” she asks Rosen. “I think I’m gonna go through the forest at the end of the road. Jackson said it’s a nice walk.”
“Um…” Rosen trails, focused on pouring the milk, “what time?”
“Ten minutes? Fifteen?” Ari suggests.
“Oh. Then no.”
Ari’s shoulders slump. “We could go later this morning if you want.”
“I have those paint samples from Benjamin Moore to try on the bedroom walls,” Rosen replies with a cavalier shrug.
“This afternoon, then?”
“Well, hopefully I’ll be able to find a swatch that I like and then go back to the store to get them to mix it.” She looks to Ari with a gasp, stumbling upon a great idea. “You should come!”
“To Madison?”
“If they have the paint colour I want. Wanna come?”
Ari definitely didn’t coax herself out of bed this morning to sample paint chips. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“What do you mean? What else are you doing?”
“Hiking.”
“You said you were gonna do that now.”
“I was trying to find a time we could go together!” Ari speaks through a laugh, though her lips don’t curve into a smile. “Sorry – backing up – are you interested in a hike or not?”
“Not,” Rosen says simply.
“Fine. That’s all you had to say.” Ari refills her water bottle from the pitcher in the fridge, adding on her way out, “See you later, then.”
.
Ari packs a couple of snacks for her hike and stays outdoors until early afternoon, when her quads ache in the most accomplished way from the uneven terrain on the hills. After she showers, Rosen has only just begun to swatch paint samples on the walls of the bedroom she shares with Jackson, so Ari lets herself out onto the back patio, barefoot, and finds herself dialling home. Nobody picks up.
It’s a couple of minutes before her cell rings, Home alight on the screen.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Ari, hi,” gushes Ana Pate. “I heard the phone ring but I was outside watering the plants. I forgot how long it takes!”
“That’s because I always do it for you.”
“I know. You do my weeding, too. I’m missing that.”
“That’s what you miss, huh?” Ari says dryly.
Ana chuckles. “Of course not. Miss everything about you. How are things going? Rosen says you’re developing a routine.”
“Yeah.” Ari stretches her legs in the sun and tries to ignore the icky feeling that Rosen’s been speaking to their mother about Ari’s schedule. “I’ve been doing okay. Keeping consistent, I guess. Which is good – for me, at least.”
“For anybody,” Ana insists. Ari’s not quite so sure.
“How are you and Dad?”
“Oh, fine. He’s out right now picking up a few things for dinner. I’m sure that man will come back with a steak even though I told him no red meat until the wedding. Do you know how much it costs?”
“Red meat or the wedding?”
“Both. We’re on a diet, both of us. At least until the cheque’s cleared.”
“Hmm, yeah. It’s all about Rosen’s wedding.” Ari cringes, instantly aware that her attempt to sound lighthearted has miserably failed.
“Well, it is exciting. And just remember: she’ll be excited for you, too, when the time comes.”
Ari clears her throat. She has to hear enough about the fucking wedding now that she’s living with Rosen full time.
“So, um… has any mail come for me?”
“Mail? You mean like a letter?”
“Yeah. Maybe yesterday or late last week?”
“I don’t think so. Maybe a credit card bill. Why?”
“Nothing,” Ari says quickly. To Ana’s expectant silence, she caves. “I was hoping to hear back from Fordham about that continuing education course.”
“Oh, honey. This late in the summer?”
“Yeah.” Ari casts her eyes down. “It was a long shot, I guess.”
“Well…” Ana sighs – a sigh Ari knows far too well. A sigh of sympathy, of sadness, of surrender. And Mom only uses it with her. “It’s probably for the best, don’t you think? You don’t want to be doing too much too soon. You should rest.”
“I can’t rest, Mom,” Ari says. “I can’t just do nothing anymore. I need to be busy; I need to keep my mind active.”
“You need to heal,” Ana says firmly. “You’ve been through a lot. Your mind needs a break.”
“I need to have purpose,” Ari insists. “Otherwise, I—I’ll sink into that dark place again.”
Another sigh. Then Ana says, “Well, I’m sure Rosen will keep you busy the next couple of months with the wedding. That should help.”
Ari rolls her eyes. “You might be shocked to learn that devoting my life to her wedding doesn’t exactly give me a lot of purpose.”
“Oh, Ari!” Ana snaps. “You have purpose, and you know that. That’s what you and Dr. Sodhi spent so long talking about. I’m sorry you didn’t get into a school this term, but I have to be honest, I really don’t think that’s what you should be focusing on right now. I don’t want you to get bogged down in an intensive program that you’re not as interested in as you thought you might be. If you go back to school, it should be because you have something in particular you want to study, not because you want to keep yourself busy. That’s running from your problems, honey. You know better than that.”
After a long pause, Ari gulps. “That’s not what you said to Rosen when she got into NYU Law.”
“Well, those were different circumstances. Rosen had a clear path for her future.”
“Was dropping out before the end of first term part of her clear path?”
“Don’t do that, Ari. Don’t be unfair. She followed her heart. Now she and Jackson are about to get married, so I think she’s happy with her decision.”
Ari says nothing.
“You know, you are doing something meaningful,” Ana adds softly. “You’re there for your little sister when she really needs you. She’s juggling planning a wedding and becoming a homeowner in a strange new town – she’s just as overwhelmed as you are.”
At this, Ari shuts down. The ‘just as [insert adjective here] as you are’ measure of relatability is, in fact, the opposite of relatable.
But it does remind her why she’s here, six hundred miles from home and cut off from everyone she’s ever known other than immediate family. It’s not just to get a grip on herself. It’s not just to help Rosen prepare for the wedding. It’s to give her parents a break. To let them pretend, for a few months, that their daughters are both happy, healthy, functioning adults who are making progress and being independent in the world.
The truth is that they only have one of those daughters, and she’s not Ari.
.
In the afternoon, Ari declines Rosen’s second invitation to join her in Madison to pick up a gallon of Palm Desert paint, which is “richer than Sepia but not as dark as Café Royal”, in favour of returning to the Tillson City downtown core. She takes Jackson’s bicycle, which is a little rickety and not adjusted to her height, but it carries her safely to town. She parks outside of Kalene’s Garden, where there is not a bike rack in sight. Ari  hopes against all New York City hope the bike has little chance of being stolen.
Inside, she runs across the same woman who helped Rosen with her wedding flowers.
“I remember you,” says the woman whose eyes peer over thick bifocals. “You were here for the Hawley wedding.”
“I remember you, too,” Ari says. “You’re Sherry.”
“That’s right.” The woman holds out her hand to shake over the cash register. “And what’s your name again, dear?”
“I’m Ari.”
Sherry pauses with a slight frown. “Ari? I remember Jackson Hawley’s fiancée having a floral sort of name…”
When the ladies in the Massapequa hair salon used to mix them up, Ari used to joke that she hoped they didn’t give her Rosen’s ridiculously-shaped bangs. Lightheartedness doesn’t come easily anymore, so she replies evenly, “That’s my sister, Rosen.”
“Oh, of course. Rosen! What a pretty name.”
Ari blinks. “Yeah.”
“Well, what can I do for you, dear?”
Ari slips her backpack off of her shoulders and begins to unzip it. “Actually, I was wondering if Kalene is here? I wanted to speak with her if possible. It won’t take long.”
“I’m sure she can spare a bit of time,” Sherry says with a smile. She leans over the register again to point down the aisle. “She’s just in the office. She won’t mind if you give a knock on the door.”
Ari thanks her, but still she approaches the office on light feet, wary of disturbing the peace. She doesn’t want to be a bother. She doesn’t want Kalene to think she’s entitled or overbearing. She should just go home. She should just save everyone the grief.
She knocks on the door.
“Come in.”
Knuckles white, Ari pushes open the door and sticks her head inside. When she spies Kalene at the desk, her hair tamed in a low bun and her ruffled military green blouse complimenting her skintone, she pastes a smile on her face. Even when she spots a toddler seated on the floor with building blocks surrounding him, Ari can’t hide her smile.
Kalene holds up her head, her impossibly long neck elegant and straight. “You’re back,” she says warmly.
“Yeah—yes,” Ari stammers. She clutches the papers in her hand, certainly creasing them but too nervous to care. “I can come back, though, if this is a bad time—”
“Come on in. Take a seat.”
Ari obeys, lightly closing the door behind her. The office is humid, a little box of a room stuffed with binders and papers, a computer, and potted plants on every surface: the desk, the bookshelf, the window ledge. There’s just enough room on the floor for the toddler – a little boy, no more than a year old – and his small lunchbox full of toys.
“This is Mekhi,” she says, gesturing to the boy, “my youngest.” She reaches out to pet the back of his head. “Sometimes he comes with me to work when his auntie falls through on babysitting – don’t you, Mekhi? Hmm?”
He stares up at his mother adoringly, wooden block in his mouth and molten brown eyes blown wide.
“He’s adorable,” Ari says with a laugh, “and very good at building blocks.”
“The civil engineer of the family,” Kalene jokes. “So,” she continues, closing the binder in front of her, “what brings you back?”
Ari sucks in a breath, and just as promptly exhales. “I just—um,” she starts, glancing down at the resume in her hands, “I have a—I wanted to ask if you…”
She shakes her head, inwardly cringing. With another short breath, she looks up.
“I was looking for a friend,” she blurts out, “the other day, when you asked. I’m looking for a lot of things, I think.”
She pauses, wincing at Kalene’s possible reaction, but the woman is straight-faced, listening intently, and scrutinizing Ari with a thoughtful expression.
So she goes on, “I make myself these roadmaps—lists, really—to help me get through each day, but they don’t mark with an X what I’m searching for, so I’m really going on nothing. I realize this is really not a convincing preamble, but I just wanted to tell you that… I really like it here. In your shop. It makes me feel, um… warm? Not physically, but, like, inside of me. I feel warm when I’m here, and I feel in good company, and… that means something to me.” She hesitates. Then, swallowing her fears, she finishes, “I know what it’s like to not feel anything at all, so when I do feel something – anything – I latch onto it. I don’t want to forget it. And, um… I want to work here. Volunteer, even. If you’ll let me, even for just a few hours every week. I just want to spend time, if that’s okay.”
When Ari takes a breath, Kalene is smiling again. Maybe it’s not the shop, but Kalene herself who emanates warmth.
That’s a new thought. Ari hasn’t felt warmth from another human since Louis, and that was long, long ago. It was the sort of warmth that dulled over time until one day, she convinced herself she’d imagined it was ever there in the first place.
“What’s your name?” Kalene asks.
“Oh. Sorry.” Ari thrusts her resume into Kalene’s hands. “I’m Ari Pate. Rosen’s sister. She’s marrying Jackson Hawley, if that means anything to you.”
“It doesn’t,” Kalene confirms. With a quick look at the very top of Ari’s resume, Kalene promptly hands it back to her. Ari’s heart sinks. “Ariana,” she reads.
“That’s my full name, yes. Um, I—I have a degree in Molecular Biology with a minor in Environmental Science, and I know that seems heavy, but I think if you look at my experience, you’ll agree that I—”
Kalene holds up her hand, effectively sealing Ari’s lips together. “Would you like to come back tomorrow, Ariana?”
“For an interview?” Once again, Ari offers her resume.
Kalene declines. “For a training session. An orientation, let’s call it.”
Ari’s breath comes out in a gust. The blood drains from her head in a moment of surrealism. “Really?”
“Of course.”
“You don’t want to see my resume?”
“If you want me to look at it, then I will. But we’re a small shop, as you can see, and this is our passion. So it bodes well, to me, that it gives you a good feeling to be here. Those are the people I want to work with – not the ones with the most impressive resumes. At the end of the day, all those words on paper mean nothing. It’s what you put forth in action that carries weight.”
Ari nods slowly, more in awe of this beautiful woman than ever. Is she going fucking crazy, or was that the smartest thing anyone’s ever said to her?
“I’ll be back tomorrow. Count on it,” says Ari, rising to her feet. She nudges a few stray blocks at Mekhi with the tip of her sole. He reaches for one particular block and looks up at Ari with a sloppy, saliva-coated grin.
“Ten o’clock,” says Kalene, opening her binder as Ari takes her leave. “We’ll put you to work.”
.
Ari volunteers at Kalene’s on Wednesday and Thursday, five hours each day. Her shoulder-length hair curls and frizzes in the humid shop, and for the first time, that’s the biggest of her concerns. Kalene shows her how to water the irises in the plant basket, and in return, Ari tells Kalene what she knows about the structural biology of roses.
By Thursday night, though her thighs hurt from crouching to tend to the plants, Ari feels satisfied to near delirium. She’s come home with two new succulents: a beautiful kiwi aeonium with deep pink, outlined leaves, and one called a jelly bean, whose leaves look like just that. She arranges them next to the foxtail on her window and admires them with pride. Pride – a swell in her chest she’s not felt since that A in organic chemistry in junior year, all those years ago.
When she finally leaves her room to steep a mug of sleepytime tea – for a better, more peaceful sleep, it promises – voices filter up the stairs. She descends slowly, wary of disturbing Rosen and Jackson in the living room but unable to boil water in the kitchen without passing them.
“He’s single right now; he’s probably looking for someone,” Rosen says.
“I think you’re confused. Luke doesn’t look for someone, he finds someone,” Jackson chuckles.
“So maybe he could find her.”
“It’s not a good match, Rosie.”
“Why not?”
“You know why.”
“I don’t see what the problem is. He’s a nice guy, he’s a longtime friend of yours, and I don’t see why it would be crazy to introduce him to Ari.”
Ari’s ears burn at the sound of her name. On high alert, she speeds her pace to the bottom of the stairs. Cuddled on the couch, Jackson and Rosen meet her eyes.
“Hey!” Rosen exclaims, using a hand on Jackson’s thigh to stabilize herself as she moves to the edge of the couch. “Great news: I ran into Jacks’ friend, Luke, in town and told him my sister was staying with me for a while. We chatted about you a bit. He seemed really interested.”
Blankly, Ari says, “Interested in what?”
“In you, of course. We thought it would be fun if you two met.”
Ari blinks. “What?”
“Tomorrow night. At Sherman’s – you know, that little dive bar downtown.”
“It’s not a dive bar,” Jackson interjects in offense.
“Then what is it?”
“It’s a local establishment.”
“It’s a dive bar.”
“No, it’s a neighbourhood pub,” he argues. “The owners keep it clean, and yeah, sometimes it can get rowdy in there, but in general folks go there for a drink after the game, to listen to some live music, to socialize.”
“I still think it’s a dive bar,” Rosen says with a shrug.
Jackson rubs a palm over his forehead. “People ‘round here don’t think of it that way, so you best watch how you speak of it in front of them.” Redirecting his attention to Ari, he adds, “It’s charming, don’t worry. It’s a lot of fun there.”
“I didn’t say it’s not fun, Jackson,” Rosen snaps. “I know it’s fun; I always have fun there.”
“You mean the one time you came with me?” he deadpans.
Rosen huffs in annoyance and promptly looks away from him, maintaining eye contact with Ari. “Luke’s really great,” she gushes. “He’s been working full-time at the DMV since high school and word has it he’s got a lot saved up. He wants to buy a plot of land and fix up a house right here in town to be close to family and friends. Oh, and he was on the football team in high school with Jacks. He’s really built.”
Jackson stares expressionlessly at the back of Rosen’s head.
Ari looks from Rosen to Jackson and back to Rosen again. Rosen might very well be holding her breath until Ari gives a definitive answer, so after prolonging the torture another few seconds, Ari slowly says, “He sounds… great.”
With a triumphant exhale, Rosen shoulders slump with a satisfied smile. She softens, tipping her head to the side in that telltale display of sympathy Ari knows far too well. “It might be good for you. You and Louis broke up, like, a year ago—”
“Six months ago.”
“—and I’m sure you’ve been lonely. I mean, I know you have, and that’s why you’re here. And you’re trying all this new stuff lately, like yoga and vegetarianism and whatever, so why not try a blind date? Honest, I think you’ll have fun.”
Ari groans internally. It’s times like these when having no one who cared for her would be easier to manage – there would be no one to disappoint, no one to have to humour. Even though Rosen’s arrangement sounds like absolute misery, Ari knows she’ll still end up doing it. For Rosen. And that’s a fucking kicker.
“Can’t he come here instead?” Ari asks. “That way there’s less pressure, especially if you guys are here to help if the conversation gets slow.”
Rosen scrunches her nose, repulsed. “You don’t invite someone to your house for a blind date,” she says, as if common blind date etiquette is written in stone. “How is that less pressure? You meet in a social setting so if they turn out to be a murderer, everyone hears your screams.”
“That is comforting,” Ari says dryly.
“Okay. Rosie, stop,” Jackson says, nudging Rosen in the back. He leans forward to take control of the conversation. “Luke’s a good guy. He’s not a murderer, for Christ’s sake. He’s the one who suggested meeting at Sherman’s, so it’s probably best to follow through with that. Besides, Rosie and I are out tomorrow night – it’s Sawyer’s birthday in Charleston.”
Rosen sags with the event reminder, seemingly not too thrilled to attend the birthday celebration of Jackson’s older brother, who lives and works as a corporate lawyer in Charleston.
“Oh!” Rosen cries. “But we can drop you off on our way there!”
It’s not quite the consolation prize Ari hoped for. Her eyes shake as she fights not to let them roll. “Great.”
“So you’ll go?”
Rosen’s lips form a pleading pout. Jackson sighs in defeat. As for Ari, well, she was doomed from the moment she walked down the stairs.
“Fine. I’ll go.”
Photo Credits: Anton Darius, Jesse Summers
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thefinalcinderella · 7 years
Text
DIVE!! Book 1 Chapter 8-THE DAYS OF GRAY
Whoop we’re three chapters until the end
Full list of translations here.
Previously on DIVE!!: A preview for Youichi’s problems in Book 3.
The wind that still dragged on the coolness of spring gently blew past the water surface that flickered with the hazy sunlight. Speckled clouds floated across the light blue sky, which would soon be peeled off like veil and become a blue fit for summer.
The youthful smell of trees, growing fresh green leaves.
The sprinkled sweet fragrance of flowers.
It was a shining, fragrant early summer, in June, where the wings of insects flutter about eagerly, carrying one grain of pollen on their limbs.
In mid-June, Sakuragi High welcomed the opening of the pool for the summer.
The opening of the Sakuragi High pool wasn’t only an important event for their diving team, but also for the MDC members. It was the day where the seasons changed with a click so that you could exchange your school uniform for summer clothes. Tomoki and the others, who went all the way to Tatsumi during the winter months, will borrow the Sakuragi High pool from today. For Tomoki, this brought both advantages and disadvantages to him.
The advantage was simply that the distance between his house and the pool would shrink. Sakuragi High was around the same station as Mizuki Sports Club, and if he rode his bike quickly, it didn’t take that long to get there. If you think about the two hours it took to go to and return from Tatsumi, then this was extremely close, and because of that, he had some leeway physically and mentally.
The disadvantage was that he had to start battling the cold. Diving was a sport that was colder than it looks. You were only in the water for a moment, and most of the time you were on the poolside, and during that time your wet skin was exposed to the air, which would quickly steal away your body heat. Even in the indoor pool of Tatsumi, which was well-equipped with air conditioning, it wasn’t unusual to see divers rubbing their goosebumps on the steps of the diving platform. To say nothing of the exposed outdoor pool, where the wind blows against you without mercy, its coldness could not be compared to the indoor pool.
There was also rain. There were also gusts of wind. The summer sunshine would dazzle a diver’s eyes, but is too fickle to warm their cold body. Nonetheless, since competitions weren’t always done indoors where the conditions are better, divers must also be familiar with these unfavorable conditions.
After greeting the Sakuragi High Diving Club’s advisor and members, while turning to the outdoor pool for the first time this summer, Tomoki was mentally preparing for the wind, rain, and sunshine he’ll have to deal with from today on.
Of course, it wasn’t just the environment that was an enemy. This year, Tomoki had to face off against an even bigger enemy.
The forward 3½ somersaults in tuck position. Tomoki still hadn’t even once been able to perform that technique successfully, even with the qualifying trials for the training camp coming next month.
“Do the first one.”
Kayoko emphasized this to the depressed Tomoki many times.
“Once you’ve done this technique successfully even once, you’ll instantly get the hang of it. Memorize the scenery of the 3½ somersaults with your eyes. If it’s you, it can be done. So, if you can just do the first one, everything after will be easy if you just tear down that barrier.”
The first one. Tomoki also understood the meaning of Kayoko’s words. Truthfully, once Tomoki succeeded in any event even once, it was all smooth-sailing afterwards. But, he couldn’t do the “first one” of this one no matter what.
From 2½ to 3½. The difference of one turn was a lot bigger than Tomoki thought it would be. Even Reiji and Ryou, who volunteered for it, gave up on the 3½ after just under two weeks of practice, and returned to the steady road of honing their existing skills for the qualifying trials. The barrier of the 3½ must have been very thick, since Ryou, who usually chose to show off over winning or losing, withdrew pretty quickly.
How can I do another somersault?
Youichi, who Tomoki consulted, responded, “if there is a secret to increasing somersaults, then I’d like to know as well. Thinking about it with your head is no good. Practice and fail to the point of death, and when you had enough and was about to give up, you’ll suddenly be able to do it. Techniques are like that.”
Tomoki was going to practice until the point of death. He completed spotting thoroughly and was able to grasp the sense of rotation to an extent, and even in the pool he had to attempt it many times while fighting his fear of failure.
However, he still couldn’t do it.
This was a slump.
If he was only demonstrating fifty percent of his power, he would be able to reflect on the result of his lack of effort. If it was eighty percent of his power, he could encourage himself to hold out a little longer. But, even though he was putting in more than one hundred percent of his hardest effort, he felt incredibly upset that he wasn’t able to do anything. If he had no talent, then he had no self-confidence, and his heart wavered as he wondered whether he should just quit diving now. He wanted to gather his luggage, get on a train, and escape to a town where no one knew him.
However, at the end of June, a month before the qualifying trials, it wasn’t actually Tomoki who got on a train with his luggage, but his parents.
Megumi, who had star-gazing as a hobby, and Hisashi, who stuck his neck into everything, left on a tour with the “Star-gazing Society”, who they were on good terms with. On the same weekend, Hiroya was going camping with his friends from class.
As a result, Tomoki, who was the only one not going anywhere, was left alone in the house along with Chikuwa.
On the weekend, he was alone at home.
If it were a middle schooler who was a little bit interested in the other sex, they might somehow feel a sweet thrill in this situation. And if there was a girlfriend, they would thank God for this once-in-a-lifetime chance. However, Tomoki couldn’t afford to have such pleasant thoughts because he was exhausted from practice every day. That evening, after he returned from practice he fed Chikuwa, heated up the shrimp gratin that his mom had prepared, he didn’t remember Miu until he suddenly felt lonely at the suddenly silent dining table.
The shrimp in the gratin might be the one to blame. The curved backs of the shrimp unwillingly reminded him of the somersaults he tried hard to forget at mealtime.
Tomoki glared at the shrimp and stabbed his fork through it forcefully. In that moment, he felt an unbearable loneliness. Across Japan, even among the many middle school students, the only middle schooler worried about the “3½” was him.
A worry that he could not share with anyone.
He had no choice but to figure it out by himself.
Tomoki had experienced this kind of feeling many times in doing the personal contest that was diving. The loneliness from the time of his failure stung his skin more than the loneliness from being exposed to the wind while standing on the platform all alone.
After finishing his dinner silently alone, Tomoki suddenly wanted to hear someone’s voice in the silence. Rather than talking to someone, he just wanted to listen. He wanted someone to call his name, and know that he is here.
Tomoki, who was lacking a social life in diving and at school, unusually for him thought about calling Miu himself, but he was worried about a few things.
The first thing was their last phone call. Why did she call him Sakai-kun that day?
Second, since that phone call, contact from Miu had suddenly stopped.
Third, recently, Miu seemed somewhat distant even when they were face-to-face at school.
Although everything was entangled in his mind like untied shoelaces, Tomoki had been too busy to think about it seriously. Did something happen? And while thinking that, what happened? And it wasn’t until Tomoki, who never thought about it seriously before, finally got seriously impatient enough tonight to call her. However, her mom told him that Miu wasn’t there.
“I’m sorry. Miu is camping with her friends from class right now.”
Camping.
Tomoki looked back at the seat where Hiroya always sat at the dining table.
Hiroya went camping with his friends from class.
Miu went camping with her friends from class.
Hiroya and Miu were in the same class.
That means, right now, the two of them were camping together.
Rather than the fact that the two of them were camping together, Tomoki was more shocked that he didn’t know about it.
Somehow, his heart was pounding. It was painful to breathe. His chest, which had never throbbed because of Miu, felt like it was about to explode.
Tomoki stepped away from the phone and walked aimlessly around the room. Uselessly, he walked up the stairs, and then came down again, still without purpose. He was assailed with unease for reasons unknown, and it would probably get even worse if he stayed still, so rather than that…he took Chikuwa with him and headed out.
It was during his second run that Tomoki came across an unexpected person.
Gushed-out sweat. Quickened heartbeat. Hot breath—
The more he kicked at the ground and advanced forward, the clearer his head became. The pain of his body helped numb the pain of his heart.
About four months since he started self-training, Tomoki’s runs with Chikuwa had seen a lot of progress. At first, he could only run for an hour at best and was often frustrated along the way, but recently he was even able to include slopes and stairs as parts of his run and enjoyed the scenery of the neighbourhood.
For Tomoki, who usually jogged in the neighborhood at dawn, running at night was a fresh experience. It was already past seven p.m., but the sky was still faintly colorful with the remnants of the red of sunset. Grilled fish. Curry. Simmered foods. Miso soup. Stew. While inhaling “tonight’s scents” from the windows of the houses lit with warm lights, he slipped through the waves of office workers going home, and turned transparent as though he was also one of Earth’s scents. He became soft, feeling like he was going to dissolve into the air.
That night, in the park that Tomoki continuously stopped at to let Chikuwa drink water, there was a strange figure tightly pulling on a rope.
When he first saw it, he thought it was a ghost or something.
It was in a sandpit at an unpopular park. A black shadow was swaying as it rose to the top of a metal pole in that corner—
As soon as he understood that it was actually a person, Tomoki let loose a weird “Hii!” sound. The figure wasn’t just on the metal bar, it was also grasping the rusted metal bar with both of its hands, and doing a handstand on it. It gathered its two feet and pointed them up high at the sky, and kept still without moving the hands that supported its whole body an inch.
Ten seconds. Twenty seconds. Thirty seconds…Tomoki timidly approached the sandpit, finally saw its face at the forty second mark, and was surprised.
“Okitsu-kun!”
The man who was doing a handstand on the iron bar was Shibuki.
“Oh.”
Maybe because Tomoki’s voice interrupted his concentration, Shibuki jumped down from the metal bar with agility, and when he turned around to face Tomoki and Chikuwa, he said, “Oh”, again.
Ten seconds, twenty seconds, thirty seconds…a long silence visited again. This was the first time the two of them met outside of practice, and neither of them were sure what to say to each other.
“Um…were you practicing for the sixth group?” (1)
Tomoki finally opened his mouth.
“No, something else.” Shibuki looked away, embarrassed, and rubbed his rust-covered palms on his jeans.
“But you were upside-down. It’s really cool to be able to do that in a place like this.”
“It’s just a way to kill time. Your house is close by, huh,”
“Ah. Yeah, I live around here.”
At the feet of the two having an awkward conversation, despite Chikuwa dribbling his thirsty tongue, he was waggling his tail with all his might to get Shibuki’s attention. He was not a particularly thoughtful dog, so he believed that everyone he met was a lovable human being, and that if he just waved his tail, then they would return his love.
Looking at that pitiful figure, Shibuki suddenly muttered, “Throat”.
“Throat, it’s thirsty, this dog.”
“Oh, I came to give him water.”
“Hmph.”
Shibuki returned his gaze to Tomoki from Chikuwa, and then smile broadly, like a tense string had been cut.
“You too.”
“Eh?”
“Your throat, aren’t you thirsty? You ran enough.”
Tomoki’s cheeks suddenly flared red. He wasn’t panting. He already stopped sweating, too. Nonetheless, Shibuki was able to perceive that Tomoki was doing self-training rather than just taking his dog for a walk.
“Come to think of it, I’m thirsty too.”
Shibuki took out a 500-yen coin from the pocket of his jeans, while looking at the shaken-up Tomoki with a seemingly pleasant face.
“Wait. Let me buy us something first.”
After letting Chikuwa drink water, the two of them leaned on the bars on the jungle gym side by side, and Tomoki pulled open the tab of the sports drink Shibuki bought for him. The scent of lemon, his favorite flavor, rushed in from his nose to his throat. Tomoki raised it to his lips and drained it down, gulping repeatedly, as it became a more reliable liquid to quench his thirst.
A sports drink given to him by the grandson of a genius diver from Tsugaru, and he was drinking it with him shoulder-to-shoulder. Tomoki felt weird, but the night wind was cool. Chikuwa was at his feet sleeping soundly, and the sky was unusually clear, so somehow, he felt comfortable and forgot about it, and just when he felt that way,
“It’s my housemate.” Shibuki suddenly spoke up. “My housemate can’t stop talking, or rather, it’s hard to calm down when we’re together, or it’s more like, I feel an itch to do something…well, sometimes I escape here.”
So that’s what it was. While nodding, Tomoki suddenly turned his head.
“Housemate?”
“It’s Ooshima, the guy who teaches the elementary schoolers.”
“Oh…you live with Coach Ooshima?”
It was the first time he heard of this. Shibuki was still a second-year in high school, so even though he came to Tokyo from Tsugaru, he wasn’t at an age where he could live alone.
“My mom couldn’t come with me since my little sisters are at home, Fujitani-san’s busy, and I couldn’t possibly stay with that female coach. On that point, Ooshima is single and has no responsibilities. And if I lived there I’d get a special allowance, so I decided to stay with him, but I’d never thought he was a guy who talked so much. When I’m ignoring him, he talks to the TV and the fridge. He even talks in his sleep. That’s just not normal.”
Tomoki stared at Shibuki’s weary profile.
“Something wrong?”
“No, um, I was just thinking that you weren’t going to talk so much either. Since you don’t talk a lot at practice.”
“Oh, that’s just a habit. I practiced with Gramps ever since I was little. When he died, I dived by myself, and I never had the habit of being noisy with my friends. Besides, it’s more like…I’m not good with pools. It’s weirdly hard to breathe when I’m over there.”
Shibuki’s expression suddenly stiffened. To Tomoki, it looked a little pitiful.
“Do you hate the pool that much?” He asked in a low voice. Shibuki instantly nodded.
“It’s too narrow and shallow. Too cramped, stuffy and noisy. You guys do so well in such a small space. Is it fun to think about how many points you can get from those old judges, or how much points will be taken off, while you’re diving? I’m different. For me, diving isn’t a tool to butter up a judge, or anything like that.”
“Well then, what is it?” Tomoki asked immediately. “What’s diving for you, Shibuki-kun?”
“What’s diving for me?”
“Is it something like a grudge, or revenge? Do you hate diving, or not?”
Shibuki bitterly smiled, “No way.”
“There’s no way I can hate diving. For me diving is, to put it strongly, the Okitsu blood.”
“Okitsu…blood?”
“Diving is a sacred ceremony passed down through the Okitsu family. For generations, someone from my family had been the head of the fisherman’s union of the fishing villages, but a long time ago in our village, every time there was a poor catch, there was a ceremony where the head fisherman had to jump down from a cliff in order to appease the wrath of the sea god. They had to sacrifice their bodies to sea to request a big catch. That’s why, the men of the Okitsu family have the skill of diving from a rocky surface hammered into them ever since they were little. In my old man’s generation, it was already abolished since it became a problem that was deemed an anachronism and a danger, but Gramps thought it would be good as a hobby, and continued to teach diving to me, his grandson. He told me while doing so, that I would be the last man to succeed the Okitsu blood.”
As if to check that, Shibuki stared intently at the blue veins criss-crossing the back of his hands.
“I don’t believe in the sea god or anything like that. But I do believe in this blood. It’s the blood that I received from those reckless people who threw themselves into the wild sea in the distant past. For me, diving is a challenge to the sea that had spurred on this blood. But then, suddenly…I was at the pool.”
Before they knew it, the traces of color had disappeared from the sky, and the darkness spread, like purple pearls being sprayed against a deep, dark blue. While looking up to search for stars above the trees, Tomoki felt that he now knew, deep in his skin, why Shibuki kept on rejecting the pool. It was the sky without a ceiling, the outdoors without walls, the soil without pavement. In that situation, this might have been the first time that Shibuki could be himself. However…
“Okitsu-kun, you diving into the sea, and us diving into the pool, might be two completely different things, but…” Tomoki said while still looking up at the night sky. “But, Okitsu-kun, I think your grandfather challenged even the pool seriously. I think that even with you, he was trying to raise you into a diver who could also be accepted in the pool.”
“No way. Gramps hated the pool. His years as an athlete were like a complete nightmare for him. That’s why he came back to the sea of Tsugaru. That’s why he never thought of me trying to dive into a pool.”
“Well then, how did you do the forward 1½ somersaults in pike position?”
“Ah?”
“What about the inward 2½ somersaults in tuck position? The armstand forward 1 somersault in pike position? From who did you learn the forward 1½ somersaults and 1 twist? You had never been in a competition, so you probably don’t know, but all of your techniques are basic dives that divers frequently use in competitions. You had firmly mastered them before you came to Tokyo. You have learned all the necessary things.”
Shibuki’s sharp eyebrows trembled.
“Are you saying that Gramps wanted to put me in a competition?”
“I feel like that when I watch you. You even have the body alignment that Coach Asaki is so obsessed about. You were perfect from the beginning.”
“What the…well, are you saying that Gramps wanted my diving to be scored? To give a performance that the judges would like, or doing a quiet entry? He wants my diving to be like that?”
Tomoki took in a deep breath besides Shibuki, who raised his voice as he got worked up. He didn’t know how Shibuki was feeling. But, as Shibuki who grew up near the sea would think of the sea, those who grew up in a pool would think in the way of someone raised in a pool.
“Of course, our diving might be a lot more inconvenient in many ways compared to your diving, Okitsu-kun. Anyways, since it’s a scored competition, if there are no judges nothing could begin, and nothing could be ended. We always cared about our scores, and get scared of deductions.”
Tomoki looked up at Shibuki with great effort.
“But, that’s not just for diving, everything’s like that. You may have lived freely in a wide environment, but our lives are always constantly scored or deducted. There are judges in all kinds of places, and if you spent your life well, it would be held up as the model for everyone else to live by. I can’t really say it well, but I want to dive to overcome that…not for things like winning a competition, or getting full points. Someday, my own best moment when I will break through will come. I believe in that, which is why I dive.”
“The best moment?”
“Yep.”
“That doesn’t have anything to do with judges…”
“Yep, but if that moment ever comes, it’d be nice for it to be on a big stage, if possible. In order to get to the big stage, I’d have to win from a small stage first. I think that the qualifying trials are one of those.”
“The best moment on a big stage, huh.” Shibuki narrowed his eyes as he bent his back while leaning on the metal bar of the jungle gym. “I guess you guys will have your best. But for me, my best is only at the sea.”
Then why did you leave the sea?
What is your contract with Asaki Kayoko?
At the moment Tomoki got up the courage to ask him, Shibuki raised his right hand and hurled his empty can into the air.
Thunk. A sound like empty plating being hit. The empty can landed in the trash cans next to the swings. The sound caused Chikuwa to flutter his eyes open, looked around uneasily, and gave a big yawn.
“I should be going home soon. My housemate is even more of a worrier than a talker.”
Shibuki didn’t really sound like he was complaining, as he stood up first and stepped forward. He then walked a few steps before turning back to Tomoki with a “You” like he was giving him something that he had forgot.
“You can definitely do 3½ somersaults.”
“What?”
“I also have a little pride. I had complained to Asaki Kayoko about why a second-year middle school kid gets to be taught the 3½, but I can only count the number of splashes. She said, ‘Because that kid has the diamond eyes.’”
Diamond eyes.
“What does that mean?”
“If I knew, I’d tell you.” He murmured as he turned his back and flicked his hand while leaving. Chikuwa waved his tail three times affectionately, then yawned again. Tomoki had no way of knowing what Kayoko’s words meant, but they left a strange sense of weight in his chest.  
--because that kid has the diamond eyes.
Was it his own trump card? Was it the strongest weapon that Youichi mentioned?
Whiling repeating Kayoko’s words in his head, Tomoki felt some sort of unfathomable power well up inside of him as he got up, and started to jog back home with Chikuwa.
The 3½ somersaults of the forward dive that he had struggled with.
The first time Tomoki succeeded with this technique was a few days later.
Translation Notes:
1. A reminder that the sixth group of diving is the armstand dives
Next time on DIVE!!: nopenopenope
14 notes · View notes
paperlanguages · 7 years
Text
Rules:  complete the survey and say who tagged you in the beginning.  when you finish tag 5 people to do this survey.
I got tagged by @wickedwitzh, thanks c:
1. are you named after someone? Nope.
2. when was the last time you cried? When my mom told me that my dad said he wouldn’t help me move my stuff to a city 445km away because he has some sports event like riding bikes or something at work and that I would have to take everything with me on a train. I don’t remember when was the last time I was so angry in my whole life. So yeah, at some point I started crying.
3. do you like your handwriting? No, lol, it’s so ugly even I sometimes have to guess what’s there.
4.  what is your favorite lunch meat? Meat or meal? Because, you know, I don’t really like meat. But I accept meat in tortilla and my fav meal is of course pizza (for breakfast, for lunch, for dinner, for supper).
5.  do you have kids? No. I’m too young (and also too single) for such stuff.
6.  if you were another person, would you be friends with you? Lol idk. I can be so mean when I don’t like someone and am sleep-deprived. On the other hand, I love being alone, so there is some possibility, you know.
7.  do you use sarcasm? No. Never. Definitely not when I create memes.
8.  do you still have your tonsils? Yup.
9.  would you bungee jump? Nope. I don’t like heights.
10.  what is your favourite kind of cereal? Chocolate. Like, anything with chocolate.
11.  do you untie your shoes when you take them off? Nah.
12.  do you think you’re a strong person? Not sure, but I make such impression.
13.  what is your favourite ice cream flavor? Chooocolate. 
14.  what is the first thing you notice about people? Yyy... Definitely not clothes, I never really look at them.
15.  red or pink? Red
16.  what is your favourite physical thing you like about yourself? My hair is funny.
17.  what color pants and shoes are you wearing right now? No shoes, black pants.
18.  what was the last thing you ate? A cookie. With chocolate. My friend brought it yesterday when I had a goodbye party.
19.  what are you listening to right now? Andrew Bird - Pulaski at Night
20.  if you were a crayon, what color would you be? Navy blue
21.  favorite smell? Chocolate. What an original answer.
22.  who was the last person you spoke to on the phone? My aunt called me to ask whether I wanted some cake. I realised that the priest is at my house (you know, usual stuff), so I said no.
23.  favorite sport to watch?  I don’t really like sports, so I also think watching sports is boring. But if I had to choose - football. I used to be a Real Madrid fan. 
24.  hair color? Brown
25.  eye color? Brown. Some call it beer brown.
26.  do you wear contacts? Sometimes. Like, on PE.
27.  favorite food to eat?  Pizza. Or any dessert with chocolate. Or, like, any dessert.
28.  scary movies or comedy? Comedies.
29.  last movie you watched? I don’t remember, I usually watch TV series. But I am planning to watch the whole Titanic since I have never seen the whole thing (it was on my “After matura” to-do list).
30.  what colour shirt are you wearing?  Blue. This T-shirt is sooo soft.
31.  summer or winter? Winter. I can put on more clothes when it’s cold, but what to do when it’s too hot?
32.  hugs or kisses? Hugs. I think kisses from friends are weird xd 
33.  what book are you currently reading? Oh. “All the light we cannot see”. It’s SO GOOD. I’m also reading “The Secret Diary of Lizzie Bennet” and I really enjoy it, too.
34.  who do you miss right now? The 3 months of vacation that have already passed.
35.  what is on your mouse pad?  I don’t have one.
36.  what is the last tv program you watched? “Victoria”. I somehow forgot to watch the stream on Sunday. (or “Saving Hope”, I don’t really know in which order I watched them)
37.  what is the best sound? A good question. Idk. I like violins in songs, don’t really know why.
38.  rolling stones or the beatles? The Beatles, but I don’t really know Rolling Stones songs?
39.  what is the furthest you have ever traveled? Considering the distance - Barcelona (this May/June, actually, with my friends). Considering the time - Croatia (2 days straight in the car in the heat are THE WORST).
40.  do you have a special talent? Ugh, I sing. And I come up with really weird stories (being sober I create things some people would only come up with while being drunk). I also take photos on different occasions and create memes out of the ones with my friends.
41.  where were you born? Like, in the middle of nowhere. Because I was born in a different town and I have never lived there. So let’s just say Poland.
42.  people you expect to participate in this? Like, anyone who sees the post and feels like doing this thing :)
#me
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miggy-figgy · 6 years
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Certain Magic (From Chaos to Tradition - Randall Bachner Finds Life in Marrakesh)  By Miguel Figueroa Photographed by Daniel Riera
In 2013, Randall Bachner quit his first life. The then 42-year-old fashion photographer followed his instinct, said good-bye to New York’s rat race and settled into Marrakesh to start a new chapter - if not, a whole new book - as a self-taught fashion designer. Five years later, the risk has pulled off. His successful brand, Marrakshi Life celebrates and safeguards the tradition of Moroccan hand weaving - which dates back in the Middle East and Africa to 7000 BC - from becoming a thing of the past. Giving it a fresh, modernized spin to unisex handwoven apparel that you can’t help but want.
Hi Randall, Marrakshi Life is wonderful! Please, tell me more about it. Oh, why thank you! We started as a little shop in the Medina working with one weaver, doing one off pieces and then added a tailor. We made one piece, hung it in the shop to see what would happen. When people found us in the Medina it was a sort of discovery and inspired them to do things. We do our own brand, Marrakshi Life [ML] and service production. A lot of fashion people come to Marrakesh and they end up wanting to use our resources of hand weaving and garments, therefore, a big part of our business is working with other brands.
Weaving was losing its popularity in Morocco because they want to modernize everything. They have an appreciation of the tradition but it’s hard to get young people engaged in it and the weavers are getting old, but it’s really nice to be able to sustain weaving and make it cool again. Ariane Goldman’s company Hatch became our first client from New York. She took the risk and gave us a huge production. From there we built a little atelier in the center of Marrakesh outside the Medina and then within six months we had more clients. Last June we moved into a new space that took a few months to build and then we were able to balance production for our brand and our clients.
When you enter into the space you can see the whole process - the spinners, tailors, weavers and from there we have our shop and office. It’s all in one whole warehouse space and we’ve already maxed it out! [laughs] We’re growing at a really cool rate and it’s about how we continue. When you can see the process is really nice for people and they appreciate it. We just shot our first campaign in Uruguay and it was great to go with the brand outside Morocco. I have to think about how I’m going to get the brand outside of Morocco because I’m not really into the whole seasons thing, ML is more resort wear.
You can wear it throughout the year. Morocco has mild winters. It gets cold sometimes and in that deeper part of winter is when I can least wear the clothes there. I’m now in New York [in February] and I can’t really wear it right now but we are going to start bulking up, working with wools and other warmer fabrics. There are so many possibilities of what you can do with weaving, but in Morocco sometimes it’s very hard to resource materials.
As the brand grows, has there been any interest from younger Moroccan artisans to learn weaving?   The team is growing and it’s really cool. We have our team of weavers and it’s expanding and we are finding younger people engaged in it. The average age was 55 and now the average age is in the 40s. We have a couple of people in their 30s and even in their 20s. We want to start an education program to get engage younger people who don’t have jobs and train them.
Who is the Marrakshi Life client? Something that’s very important for the brand is that it’s unisex. I like making pieces that are not gender specific at all. If it’s a piece that I couldn't really wear, then we wouldn’t make it. I won’t make very feminine pieces, but I do make very masculine pieces because I like it for men and women. When people do ethnic wear, it has this feminine flow that it’s ok, but not for our brand.
Why Marrakesh? I had been here before a couple of times and I was amazed at how much you can do there. You see all the artisans and the possibilities but you don’t see an aesthetic that appeals to you, but there are definitely the resources here to do something. I didn’t know about all the problems…
Like? I had no idea what would it mean to have a business in Morocco. They have their own mentality, pace and work ethic. I had never lived abroad, so for me, coming from New York to Marrakesh was freaking crazy, honestly.
It’s wildly good that you did such a thing - you definitely stepped out of a comfort zone. I needed to. Working in fashion photography is a really tough business. It can leave you very unfulfilled creatively, spiritually, everything. I was at a point that I felt stuck and the only way to get out of it is put yourself into war and give yourself that challenge. It’s hard when there's something going on in your family and you’re really far away. [Our interview occurred on a Saturday morning while Randall took care of his mother who had just gotten out of the hospital.]
I’m grateful that it’s working and I can’t complain about that. I'm a very spontaneous person, I don’t really like to overthink about it.
Fashion photography’s competitiveness can really get to you. Oh, I would never recommend anyone to get into it unless you’re very well connected. Anything really is about who do you know and how can they help you. What inspired me to do fashion photography was magazines in the 80s and 90s but that kind of business is not happening anymore.
Were you interested in fashion design before fashion photography? No! And that’s the thing… I’m not a trained designer. Everything has been through my instinct. That’s why I thought about keeping it very simple, but sometimes I have a wild moment thinking about fur coats or fringe. For me, it’s more about the technique. Through the years and working with designers you understand the process. You definitely learn by doing.
That's the best way to learn. Life brings you places and this is where it brought me. I love the fact that I don’t have to buy any clothes and I just get to wear the clothes that we make. I’m not a materialistic person nor a fashion victim. Something that I like about what we are doing is that we’re self-sufficient. From two threads we can make a finished piece. I make things, I put them out there, the world responds to it and it’s flowing. I don’t really want to be part of that system of trade shows and wholesale. I don’t want to just do something to go into that category because I know how hard it is. I see all these brands that are trying to make it… but in the long run, I think we may have to do it a little bit because it does circulate your product. It all depends on what your goals are.
It’s really all about the team and ours is amazing. Sometimes I have troubles with them because there is a cultural difference and they don’t really have reference points for everything - this is all they’ve done and don’t really have any previous experience. They learn from what I need, what our clients ask for and it’s been amazing how do these projects. If we can do it, we move on to the next step and they always have it figured it out. That's been pretty amazing and has allowed us to grow. I’m very fond of them and they’ve helped me from day one.
It’s fundamental to surround yourself with a good team in order to be successful and they need to believe in your product. Do you think that’s maybe why some brands never take off? Is it because they are driven more by their egos than the desire to deliver a good product? Exactly. It’s not all about me and I always tell them that too. When we do runway pieces for clients and they see that and think “that is so cool”. You can imagine their excitement when they realize that these products that come from the artisanal communities end up in shops like Barneys.
It is so fulfilling! Maybe they don’t see it that way in its entirety but it is rewarding for them to see something so traditional become so modern.
How has it been communicating with them? That’s been amazing too. I’m not a big language guy. I can speak Spanish a little bit, but other than that…. I had a Spanish boyfriend for 14 years and when that relationship ended I was like “I need to get out of New York” and went to Marrakesh. It was a personal and career moment… that moment when nothing is working and I knew that the environment would be key. I didn’t know what it meant to live in another culture and here they speak French and I don’t as well, but they two main guys I work with speak English very well. Also, English is very exciting here because it’s seen as something modern. But there is a lot of sign language involved. [laughs]
One last question and this one has been in my head since I got the assignment. Americans don’t have the best reputation in the Africa nor the Middle East. Has this affected you or caused any friction? Not in Morocco. Moroccans are very open minded and Marrakesh is dependent on tourism, so Americans are seen as great tourists because they spend money and they are really not used to that many Americans here. I’ve never felt any negative or political situations. Everyone who sees me goes “Oh, that’s Randall the American guy.” There aren’t many of us around here, so we’re kind of a novelty. Featured in the Spring 2018 issue of Hercules Universal, First Love. 
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honeyxelent · 7 years
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A Kaleidoscope of Reverie (A Whole Different Era)
Half a Heart – One Direction 19th of June, 2015 (9:10PM) Carl’s POV “Behati?” I whispered under my breath, not wanting to wake her up but also desperate to hear her melodic voice, even though we see each other every single day. She hums, half asleep and half awake, “What is it?” She mumbles. I smile a bit, nuzzling my head onto the crook of her neck, “Wake up sleeping beauty, it’s already afternoon.” Behati shot up and muttered a profanity. I laughed—amused by her. I stare at the unbelievable attraction I have here, her brown hair cascading down her shoulder and almost covering her wonderful face, so, I tuck some of her soft hair behind her ear. She suddenly looked up, a smirk painted on her face, “What’s up hot stuff?” I playfully grimaced, “What the heck Behati?” Her face burned up in crimson red, “I— I mean… I was j-just—” I laughed, “Don’t worry love, I was just kidding.” And I earned a punch on my shoulder. “That wasn’t funny…” Behati grumbled. “Awe, want me to make it up for you?” She nods with a lopsided grin. I smile at her happiness. Sometimes, I wonder how I got her, like how she accepted me. Because, women these days, they are so easy to read. Some of them only like me because I’m in a famous band and then I thought, what if, just what if, I wasn’t in the band? Would they still like or love me so as plain old Carl Peterson? But when I met Behati, I had this different feeling, like so brand new. She was just so simple, at first you would think that she’s like the others out there, but not all. Behati’s got this amazing mix that is so indescribable, every day she has a surprise and she doesn’t even seem to know. “What are we going to do today?” She asks, tying her bed hair up in a ponytail, one of my favorite little things about her. I smirked, “You’ll see.” ~ “Carl Erin Peterson; you better remove this cloth off of my eyes before you could never produce children in the future.” Behati threatened me. My eyes widen but shrugged it off, “Behati, what’s a surprise if you’re going to find it out early?” “Well, I am going to find out about it eventually, so what’s the point?” She retorted. “But where’s the fun in it?” I retaliated. She stomped her feet on the ground like a five year old, pouting her plump lips. I guided her with baby steps, afraid that she would tumble off and roll over then have a bruise—or worse, break her arms and legs or neck. Yes, I’m that paranoid of her. “Alright, remove your blindfold.” “Finally, I’m getting so cold and not letting me see won’t—” she cuts herself off once she got a sight of the scene. Behati gasped and covered her mouth with her delicate hand then walked towards the small picnic that I prepared earlier today. By now, it is night time, and we’re here at the now frozen lake, looking like a long slick ice rink. The small blanket in the middle of the ice, between some of the trees with various colors of Christmas lights hanging. She quickly went up to the picnic and squealed in amazement—it was obvious in her captivating eyes. Suddenly, when I was near to her, she jumped onto me, my hands immediately holding her by her thighs as she kisses me on the lips. It so loved, like nobody could come between us. When we pulled away, Behati grins at me, her eyes glistening in pure happiness, as well as I. “I love you.” It was also a thank you from her—we decided that a year ago, saying ‘I love you’ is also a thank you for the both of us. “I love you.” I planted a chaste kiss on her lips once more and put her down. ~ “I miss her so damn much.” I sighed. Michael rolled his eyes, “Dude, it’s just been a week.” I scoffed, “Yeah, and before Christmas!” Louie had put a hand on my shoulder, “Don’t worry, we’re coming home early. This is just a small Christmas concert.” He assured and I rolled my eyes next. “Yeah, we’re coming home on Christmas Eve. Guys, I don’t have time to visit Behati, let’s just go home now so I could spend some time with her.” I stood up but Alex pulled me back down on the couch. “What the heck?” I yelled but Alex didn’t flinch an inch. He sighs, “Carl, you’ve got to calm down. You’re not going to lose her if you don’t visit her on Christmas Day, I mean, you could after.” He reassured but that didn’t stop me from getting infuriated. “You guys don’t get it, okay? We’ve been together for two years now and our anniversary is after Christmas Eve in three days’ time. I need to see her before Christmas—” “It’s either Behati or us, your pick.” Michael snapped from across me and Louie. “Mikey, don’t be like that—” Alex was cut off when Michael pointed a finger at me. “Let me remind you first Alex, that he broke the bro code. We weren’t supposed to have girlfriends when we’re just new with our career! Heck, look at him now, panicking over her. “I don’t hate Behati, I swear Carl, but you’ve got to wake up that in reality, you’re not going to see her on Christmas Day. This is affecting you, your career and us. I’m sorry, but it’s the truth.” He stood up and walked off, said that he felt thirsty after an awkward silence. That can’t be the truth, there’s got to be some way here. Although, deep down inside me, I know that Michael is right but I can’t just give up on Behati, she hates being alone on Christmas, ever since her parents died on a boat trip, she never wanted to be alone again—the only reason why she have her best friend living in with her. Speaking of, I decided to call her, to ask about Behati because she hasn’t been responding to me, which is weird. But I trust her, I trust her that she would never cheat on me but a little assurance from Younis will decrease some of my worries. “Hello?” “Hey, Younis um… I just called to check on Behati if she’s alright? She hasn’t been answering my calls or texts lately.” I scratched the back of my neck in nervousness. “Oh! She’s just literally busy with school exams and knowing that winter formal is just around the corner, and since she’s the president of the student council, she’s been participating with the whole preparation.” I nodded and muttered under my breath in realization. “Yeah, she warned me to not disturb her and it is scaring me that, every night she’s awake with big eye bags under her eyes and then sleeps around two o’clock in the morning. Also, she sleeps in your sweater different in each night.” Yikes, this worries me even more. “Is that the actuality? Well, could you sneak her out some time so she can rest a bit more?” I pleaded. “No can do, tried that and it resulted me getting thrown at with some bag of peas and bananas from her.” I laughed, of course she would. But where did she get the peas? “So, where is she now?” “Driving out to get some milk, she said she had… cravings or something.” With cookies, I’m guessing. “Well, call you—” the line went dead before I bid Younis a farewell. Okay, why are people cutting me off these days, huh? Never mind. A day passed and even Younis wouldn’t answer my calls or texts, until this evening. My phone vibrated in my pocket and brought it out then answered the call, not checking who the person is. “Carl…” It was Younis, finally. “Yes?” “It’s about Behati, she’s in the hospital.” And that was it. ~ “Where’s Behati? Let me—” I was pushed back by two nurses, preventing me from coming inside of her room. “What the heck? Get away from me, I need to see her!” “Sir, what is your relationship to the patient?” “I’m her boyfriend!” “I’m sorry, but family members are only allowed or if we have the permission from the family to allow you.” “What? This is outrageous—” “Please calm down before we call the security.” I pushed them away from me and sat down in front of the big two-door, the wide windows making me see Behati in a tragic state. How could this happen to her so quickly? She doesn’t deserve this, she still has a future, and it could be with me or not. Well, if it means breaking up with her just to let her live, then I will. I will do anything just to keep her away from danger… to keep her away from dying. I sighed and ruffled my hair in a mess, then felt someone sit with me, a hand on my back for comfort. “The doctor’s said she’s in a severe state, saying that it was so hard to believe she survived the accident.” Younis sniffles. “Tell me.” I demanded. And it made her cry even harder, we hugged each other for comfort. She shook her head, “The road was slippery, and there was a deer in the middle, Behati saw it in the last second so she turned the car immediately but she was on the edge, and she tumbled down the cliff.” She looked up to me, “She was trying to call you Carl, but she dropped her phone and when she picked it up, that was it.” No, this can’t be happening. I just can’t accept this, it’s too early and I will never want this in the future too. Then, the nurses inside were getting frantic as well as me and Younis. They were shouting for more doctors, for more supplies and for more help. I’m just standing here, and it hurts me to see—to watch everything while I’ve done none. ~ “Are you going to see her now, Carl?” My older sister, Carmen, asked and I nodded. She grinned, “You guys have been together for two years now, and I’m guessing going three?” I nodded. “Yeah, and I’m hoping she would love my gifts to her. It’s Christmas and I don’t want to upset her.” Carmen shook her head, “You will never upset her, and actually you could never upset her. She’s always so happy, especially when you two are together. Please say hi for me.” I waved a good bye to her and drove to Behati’s. Once I have arrived, I showed her the balloons, the teddy bear and her favorite Oreo Nutella Cheesecake. “Hello Behati, Merry Christmas my love.” I placed my gifts right beside her. “Can you believe it? We’re reaching for three years in three days!” I just stare with tears brimming in my eyes. “You know, I tried to get you out of my head, but the truth is that I couldn’t. I just can’t. I miss doing things with you, I miss our long nights together, playing Mario Kart—mostly everything and we haven’t even completed our bucket list.” I stare at her tomb stone. I sniffled, “This is going to sound cheesy but who cares? Without you here, is like missing half the blue sky, kind of there but not quite—half a man at best, and half an arrow in my chest. I really miss everything we do. And I really love you Behati Mae Richards, so much.” I traced my fingers on her engraved name on the stone. “I’m half a heart without you.”
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