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unbridgeabledistances · 3 years

Note

omg hey I was wondering if you could write something about gallavich being walked in on by someone but they’re like cuddling or doing something really soft and intimate? Can be set any season <3

anon i LOVE this prompt <3 i decided to merge it with another prompt that i just got:

Ian waking up before Mickey, and watching him sleep, and Mickey teasing him when he realizes what Ian is doing.

also, i’m using this as an excuse to once again write the bath scene that we all want but never received (inspired by the intro to 11x05😔), and this takes place just before season 11- i hope u enjoy!!<3

It was an early, silent Saturday morning—which was incredibly rare for the Gallagher house, but Ian wasn’t going to complain. The sunlight streamed down in ribbons through the broken blinds, casting a slanted glow onto the bed where he and Mickey were laying. Ian had woken up before Mickey, like he pretty much always did, but today he didn’t get up and put the coffee on or pull on a hat to go on his brisk morning jog like he usually would; today, he curled even deeper under the warm cocoon of his blankets that were staving off the winter chill and wriggled closer to Mickey, leaning into the heat that was radiating off of his body.

Someone had definitely paid the heating bill—thank fucking god—but it was still the dead of winter in Chicago, and the rickety walls of the Gallagher house weren’t known the be the most heat retentive, which meant that most mornings everyone sleeping on the second floor woke up to a drafty chill that sunk into the floorboards until someone decided to crank up the heat when they woke in the morning. But this morning, Ian couldn’t hear the familiar crackling of the radiator in the hall, or anyone bustling in the kitchen like usual- Lip and Tami had some doctor’s appointment for Fred, Debbie had a handywoman job and had left early, Carl was staying over some girl’s house and Liam had slept over at a friend’s. He and Mickey had taken advantage of having a mostly-empty house last night; last night was all skin and sweat and scathing touches, the heat of Mickey’s skin pressing against his. And now there was this- the frigid, fragile silence of the next morning, with Mickey laying there asleep next to Ian, with his mouth half open and an innocence in his sleeping face that was so bare and genuine that it almost hurt to look at.

They’d been so caught up in the flurry of shit going on for the both of them- the pandemic, Ian’s new job, just trying to make ends meet and keep the house running- that Ian realized he hadn’t really sat and looked, actually looked, at Mickey’s face for such a long time. He’d seen Mickey’s face plenty considering they were trapped around each other 24/7, sure, but it was the same catch-22 as when they’d shared a prison cell; being around each other all the time kept them from wanting, kept them from missing, kept them from realizing what was right in front of them. He and Mickey were constantly bumping elbows and getting in each other’s space and pressing against each other to blow off steam, but they hadn’t really sat in silence since this whole thing started- it was pretty impossible to, in the Gallagher house. Ian suddenly realized he couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d woken up curled around Mickey- usually these days they spread onto their separate sides of the bed, slept on their own separate islands across the mattress. Ian wasn’t really sure when that had started- he remembered that night on the docks, years ago when Mickey had busted out of prison, and how the entire night as they’d slept in the van he had clung to Mickey like the shirt on his skin, like he wanted to soak him up and absorb him into the soft place in his chest that had always been reserved for Mickey, that everyone else just fit into wrong. But at some point after the wedding, between the lockdown and the bills piling up and Lip moving out, they’d just… drifted.

And now, staring at Mickey in the glow of the morning light, all Ian wanted was that innocent closeness again, that swirl of warmth in the pit of his stomach that made him feel completely and totally safe. He inched even closer to Mickey under the covers, draping a heavy arm over Mickey’s waist. He nuzzled his chilly nose to the base of Mickey’s neck, breathing in the scent of Mickey’s warm skin, all cheap shampoo and earthy cigarette smoke. Ian felt a raw ache unfurling in his chest at Mickey’s solid, comforting presence beside him- Mickey had been here all along, but Ian had missed this.

Suddenly, Mickey shifted and rustled the sheets, and Ian lifted his face from the crook of his neck, keeping his arm resting across Mickey’s torso. Mickey let out the gentlest of exhales as he woke, and Ian’s heart ached. Mickey rubbed the heel of his palm to his eyes, disoriented and probably more than a little confused about how close Ian was leaning to him as he watched Mickey intently with wide eyes.

“The fuck are you looking at?” Mickey asked, his voice gravelly and sleep-soft.

Ian gave him a lopsided smile. “Nothing. Just admiring my husband.”

Mickey’s eyes finally fully opened, wide enough for him to roll them as he pushed Ian away, pressing a solid hand to the center of his chest.

“You’re fucking soft, Gallagher.”

Ian just kept smiling a dopey smile, then reached with double the force in to encircle Mickey with his arms, feeling Mickey stiffen and squirm underneath him at first, and then unconsciously exhale into the bear hug of an embrace. There.

“Yeah, but you love me.”

That was the thing about Mickey; sometimes (hell, most of the time) he rejected intimacy like a cat that didn’t want to be pet, like someone that wasn’t used to soft touches or slow advances and only knew hard and fast and now. It had been an uphill battle to get here, so many years of being apart and together and then apart again, but now they were at the point where whenever Ian made advances to caress Mickey, Mickey would roll his eyes and feign resistance just before preening and melting into Ian’s touch.

Ian listened to Mickey’s steady breaths, and felt the vibration of his heartbeat against his chest. Mickey’s eyes were closed again, his lips pressed in a slight, contented smile as he soaked up Ian’s touch. Ian hummed in satisfaction, then pressed his face against the side of Mickey’s neck, breathing him in. The clouds of sleep hadn’t yet cleared, and for a timeless moment Ian let himself inhale the sweet skin at the crook of Mickey’s collarbone as the morning light pooled on their skin.

After a few minutes Ian softly cleared his throat, which was dry and slightly scratchy from the chill of the room. “What d’you wanna do today?”

Mickey rotated onto his side so he was facing Ian, his eyes still half-closed and his expression soft and dreamlike.

“A whole lot of nothing, Gallagher,” Mickey murmured sleepily.

Mickey’s face was millimeters from Ian’s, and Ian tasted his words more than he heard them. And then Ian couldn’t really do anything except slyly smile and bridge the gap between them, pressing a series of chaste kisses between their chapped lips. Mickey quickly escalated the embrace, pressing his mouth hotly against Ian’s and bringing his blazing palms up to the side of Ian’s neck to pull him closer, pressing his hips against the side of Ian’s torso and making Ian feel a rush of heat that zipped all the way down to his toes. And he would have kept kissing Mickey, if it wasn’t for the blitz of heat that drew such a stark contrast to just how cold the bedroom still was, the sharp chill still numbing Ian’s nose and ears and cheeks. Ian pulled away, leaving inches between his face and the face of an eager Mickey that was still clinging to the back of Ian’s neck.

“It’s fucking freezing. No one turned the heat on this morning.”

“So? Who cares? Bet I can warm you up, hot stuff.”

Ian rolled his eyes in what was supposed to be annoyance, but he knew the gesture ended up looking overly fond. “Mick, the blankets barely cover the bottom half of my legs. It’s not my fault you’re a four-foot-tall blanket hog.”

Mickey shoved Ian away again, then playfully rolled onto his chest. “First of all, fuck you. And second of all, it’s not my fault that I’m married to the fucking Jolly Green Giant. Use your new job money to invest in a bigger blanket and quit your whining, bitch.”

Ian grinned, then gently rolled Mickey off of his chest. “Seriously, Mick, give me two seconds, I just wanna turn up the heater and take a warm shower or some shit.”

Mickey sighed defeatedly but accepted the loss, curling himself up in the blankets as Ian rose from the bed. “Whatever. I’m going back to bed.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Of course you are.”

Ian slowly stretched, then grabbed a discarded towel that was crumpled in the corner beside the dresser. He slid open the flimsy bedroom door and adjusted the thermostat on the wall in the hallway, cranking the heat so at least Mickey could peacefully sleep for another few hours without freezing to death. Then he ambled into the bathroom and turned the shower faucet as high as it could go, the scalding spray immediately raining down.

Ian reached over to the bathroom shelf to grab his shampoo bottle, and his eye landed on the small pink bottle of Franny’s bubble bath. Suddenly, he had the perfect idea. He shut off the shower and immediately turned the tap for the bathtub on, starting to let the base of the tub pool with steaming water.

He turned back down the hallway and peeked his head around the corner into the bedroom. Mickey was probably not asleep again yet, but he was convincingly curled in a cocoon of blankets in the middle of the bed, his face pressed into the pillow and the duvet wrapped half around his head.

“Hey. Mick. You wanna take a bath?” Ian half-whispered.

Mickey groggily poked his head up from under the covers, his hair sticking up in all directions. “A fucking bath?” he asked sleepily, squinting at where Ian stood in the doorframe. “Isn’t that kind of… gay?”

Ian sighed. “We’re gay, Mickey. Calm the fuck down. Do you want to take a bath with me or not? Everyone’s gone, we’ve got the whole day to ourselves.”

Mickey raised his eyebrows, like he was still unconvinced but mulling it over. Then he started to lazily attempt unwrap himself from the layers of blankets around him. “Fuck it. Got too cold when you left the bed anyways.”

Ian smirked. “Water’s running. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

Ian turned back into the bathroom once more, and squirted a few healthy doses of Franny’s bubble bath into the tub that was starting to fill with foamy suds. He undressed and slid into the bath, instantly feeling his tense muscles thaw as they hit the warm water. He leaned his head back onto the rim of the tub, letting himself lay there with his eyes closed until he felt the water inching up his torso, the air thick with the sweet floral smell of the bubble bath.

“Mick, c’mere!” Ian called, praying that Mickey had extracted himself from the blankets and not fallen asleep again. A few moments later a very sleepy and rumpled Mickey was standing in the doorway rubbing his eyes, and then zeroing in on Ian laying in the tub.

“Yeah, this might be the gayest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Ian flipped him off, then scooted so he was sitting upright in the bath. “You coming in?”

Mickey seemed hesitant, but started to fumble with the tie of his flannel pajama pants. “Guess so.”

Ian smiled contentedly. “Come on.”

Mickey dubiously climbed into the tub, one leg after the other, and then slid to settle against Ian’s chest. Ian felt Mickey’s muscles relaxing against him, all of his usual tightness succumbing to the ripples of pleasant water enveloping them. Mickey leaned his head back onto Ian’s chest, exhaling.

“Yeah, okay. This is pretty fucking nice.”

Ian smirked. “Told you. Not too gay?”

Mickey scoffed. “Fuck you.”

Mickey closed his eyes, and Ian couldn’t resist lifting a hand to Mickey’s head and starting to run slow circles through his hair, tracing gentle patterns that he knew always made Mickey doze off. The bathroom was full of steam rolling off of the scalding water, the bubbles foaming and fizzing around them. Ian felt so perfectly content, sitting here with the sturdy weight of his husband pressing him down, breathing in the sugary scent of the bubbles sticking to Mickey’s skin and letting his own eyelids droop…

And then suddenly, Lip came barging through the door.

Immediately Mickey’s eyes flew open, his body tensing up. Lip just stood in the doorframe, his posture casual but frozen on the spot, staring at a very frilly smelling (and a very naked) Mickey and Ian laying in a bubble bath together.

Lip pursed his lips, like he was choking back a laugh.

“Uh. Hey guys. Didn’t think anyone was in here, considering the…silence.”

“Well, clearly we are, so get the fuck outta here!” Mickey was no longer drowsily collapsed onto Ian’s chest, sitting up straight and pointing at the door for emphasis. Ian just put his hand to his forehand and grimaced. So much for having the place to ourselves.

Lip snorted, still undoubtedly trying to hold back an avalanche of laughter, but he turned and started the close the door. As he was shutting it, Ian called after him.

“Lip, I thought you and Tami had some doctor’s appointment with Fred?”

Lip was in the hallway behind the closed bathroom door now, but he cracked it to let his voice in. He cleared his throat, clearly trying to compose himself. “Uh, yeah. Those usually only last an hour, though.”

Jesus. Maybe Ian had just been swept up in all the sappy emotions for the morning, but he could have sworn Lip and Tami were usually gone for hours whenever they had weekend errands to run. Oh well, it wasn’t really a big deal- half of the Gallaghers had seen each other in compromising positions, since privacy was definitely a somewhat foreign concept within these four walls. But underneath Mickey’s bravado when he was kicking Lip out, Ian noticed that Mickey’s cheeks were glowing red. And Ian totally got it; the two of them had been walked in on fucking plenty of times- hell, that was the whole theme of their hookups in the back of the Kash and Grab when they were in high school- but there was something about this, being interrupted in a truly vulnerable moment, that felt more excruciatingly embarrassing somehow.

Ian looked down at Mickey, who was still staring off into space at the closed door. Finally, he spoke.

“We’ve gotta get our own fucking place.”

Ian breathed out a laugh, and kissed the side of Mickey’s temple. “Yeah, we really do.”

#my last prompt response didn’t show up in the gallavich tag bc it was too long i think??#so if u r interested pls also read that lol <3 #gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless fic #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian and mickey #lip gallagher

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hollywillows · 3 years

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can u do an xavier x reader? the reader finds out xaviers dead and she doesn’t want to leave him but he makes her so she finally goes but rigjt before she leaves she gets killed? so really angsty but ends w a happy ending?

thank you for the request! i hope you enjoy this 🤍this is my first time writing for xavier <3 also, i don’t think any pronouns were used for the reader in this imagine, so you can picture anyone you like

forever - xavier plympton x reader

you’d teased xavier when he asked you to be a camp counselor with him. “seriously, x? summer camp? what are you, twelve?”

he chuckled and shook his head. “very funny. it’s easy money, and, you never know, it could be fun.”

“fun?” you raised a brow. “yeah, i’d rather not spend all of my summer teaching sticky kids how to make friendship bracelets for other kids they’ll never meet again.”

xavier handed you your aerobics bag, raising his hands in defense. “i’m just saying, you’ll miss me too much if you stay here.”

“oh, will i?” you countered, a smile playing on your lips. your relationship with xavier had always been complicated. the mutual pining and casual teasing from the two of you drove your friends insane, and they never understood why the two of you didn’t just date.

xavier wrapped an arm over your shoulders, leading you out of the studio. “we’re all putting our lives on hold for this, but it’s gonna be worth it!”

“fine,” you gave in, watching him punch the air in victory, “i’ll go to your stupid camp.”

things had started off alright enough; you giving xavier directions in the car while playfully teasing the over-confident chet. it wasn’t until the car hit someone that you realized things were going downhill.

“we can’t leave him here.” brooke said, kneeling down to help him. you helped her get him into the car, reasoning that you were close enough to the camp to get him help there.

when you pulled up to the camp’s entrance, you had to admit that something felt wrong. camp redwood the sign above you read. you bit your lip, looking over at xavier. you had no idea what you were getting into.

you had to admit that you were spooked by margaret’s story. “this is just great,” you said to xavier, “we’re on the set of friday the 13th!”

for the rest of the night, you were on edge. things really went to shit, though, when the serial killers showed up. mr. jingles, as far as you knew, was at the camp somewhere. the whole night became a blur, and you could remember the fire, xavier’s burned skin, and getting knocked out.

you woke up in a bed in a cabin by yourself, slowly sitting up. your eyes adjusted to the darkness, scanning your surroundings to confirm that you were alone. “xavier?” you groaned, putting a hand to your aching head.

he then came into view, kneeling on the ground next to you. “hey,” he said softly, reaching out for one of your hands, “you’re okay. you passed out, i brought you here.”

you say back up, looking over at him. you brought a hand up to his cheek, your eyes scanning his face. “what.. what happened to your face?”

the burns that had covered his face before were gone, and his skin was, once more, perfect and in tact.

xavier smiled, tilting his head to gently kiss your palm. “the burns went away!” he said happily, looking up at you.

your brows furrowed in confusion as you shook your head. “what? how?”

his smile fell, and he avoided your gaze. “y/n.. i think.. i think i died. and i think i’m a ghost.”

you tilted your head to the side. “how is that even.. how is that possible?”

“all i remember is i saved margaret’s life, and then, next thing i knew, the bitch stabbed me. i woke up in the forest all alone, and i came here to find you.”

you shook your head, trying to comprehend all of that. “but.. how could that even..” he took both of your hands in his.

“i don’t know.” he replied. “but you have to get out of here. margaret is dangerous, and she’s killing all of us in some killing spree. not to mention jingles being out here somewhere.”

“no.” you replied, shaking your head. “no, xavier, i’m not leaving you here.”

he frowned. “and i can’t let you die.”

you bit your lip, sniffing as tears began to cloud your vision. “i can’t just leave you here. not when i’m in love with you.”

xavier’s eyes widened at your confession, and he put a hand on your knee. “i love you, too. that’s why i can’t let you stay here. you’re in danger. you need to go and live your life, not waste it on me.”

“i don’t want to live my life without you in it.”

“y/n, no, you’re just saying that-“

“no, i’m not.” you said firmly, a tear falling down your cheek. “xavier i can’t leave this place knowing that you’re stuck here. i can’t.”

his gaze softened. “yes, you can.” he said with a smile, wiping a tear from your face. “yes, you can.” he repeated as you shook your head. “it’s my fault you’re here to begin with, and i wouldn’t be able to ever forgive myself if you got hurt because of me. please go.”

you looked down at him, feeling your heart ache. “i don’t want to leave you.”

xavier smiled. “it’s okay,” he said, “once you’re out of here you can call the cops, maybe get someone to come save everyone that’s still alive. i’ll be okay.”

reluctantly, you nodded. “okay.”

he walked with you to the entrance, looking out at the road before looking back down at you. “i love you.” he said, a hand cupping your cheek. you leaned up, removing the distance between the two of you. his lips felt cold against yours, as did the rest of his body.

“i love you, too.” you said as you pulled away. if you didn’t, you were worried you wouldn’t ever want to leave him.

as you took a step forward, something rattled in the bushes. an arrow, the same as the ones xavier had used to fight, and temporarily kill jingles, hit you in the chest.

you gasped as your knees gave out, and you fell into xavier’s arms. “no, no no no.” he whispered, eyes scanning your body and the arrow that stuck out of it. “you’re going to be okay.” he said, though it sounded like he was convincing himself more than he was convincing you.

“it’s okay!” you said, smiling up at him despite the pain in your chest. “it’s okay, xavier, i’m okay!”

he shook his head, holding you close. “i’m so sorry, this is all my fault.”

you coughed as you shook your head, resting your head on his lap as you closed your eyes. xavier shook you once you stopped breathing, his eyes wide. “y/n, please wake up, please..”

your ghost appeared infront of him, and he looked up at you. “i’m so sorry.” he said, standing. “this never would’ve happened if i hadn’t asked you to come with me here.”

“x, it’s fine.” you smiled, wiping his tears. “i’m here with you, and that’s all i’ve ever wanted.”

he looked down at you, a small smile creeping onto his face. “i love you.”

“i love you, too.” you said as you pressed your lips to his, feeling your body warm up again. “forever.”

#hollywillows #xavier plympton imagine #xavier plympton #americanhorrorstoryimagine #americanhorrorstory #ahsimagine #ahs imagine #ahs 1984 #cody fern imagine #cody fern

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bangtan-sonyeonddaeng · 4 years

Text

Ghost Jungkook Reaction| You bump into him and can now see him pt. 3

pt.1 pt. 2 final

The next morning you wake up and Jungkook isn’t next to you. You sit up, calling out his name.

“Jungkook? Are you here?” He phases through the wall and laughs at you.

“I mean where else would I be? I can’t leave you know.”

“Oh...sorry I forgot.”

“It’s alright you don’t need to apologize. I’m used to it by now. And having you here helps anyway.” He offers you a small smile and you smile back. “So any big plans for today?”

“Well I was going to go get a coffee and then I was thinking maybe we could try and figure out where your friends are.” His eyes widen slightly.

“You were serious yesterday?”

��Of course I was. I would do anything to make you happy don’t you know that?” His grin only grows wider.

“Ah, you’re too sweet to me. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve someone like you in my life. Or, well my after life? I don’t know this whole thing still confuses me.”

“It’s alright. We’ll figure it out together.” You hold your hand out and Jungkook takes yours, allowing his hand to be solid for a few moments so he can feel your warmth on his skin.

“Alright, go get your coffee. I know how you get when you don’t have some caffeine to wake you up.” You chuckle at that and reluctantly let go of his hand and walk out the door. You’re heading into the cafe when someone bumps right into you, spilling their tea on your shirt.

“Oh my god I am so sorry!”

“It’s okay! Don’t worry about it. This is an old shirt and I’m still kind of in my pajamas so I don’t really care if it’s ruined.”

“But now your going to get cold because your shirt is wet.”

“It's okay. Really, I promise it’s fine. You seem like a really nice person I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Can I at least buy you your drink as an apology?”

“Sure. That’s fine.” You both walk into the cafe together. You order your favorite drink as the man orders himself another tea. You turn to thank him for his kindness.

“Thank you for the drink.”

“No problem it’s the least I could do. I’m Hoseok by the way.” He holds his hand out to shake yours.

“Y/n. Nice to meet you.” You place your hand in his. It doesn’t even register that this is Jungkook’s Hoseok until all the color drains from his face when he eyes your bracelet.

“Where did you get that?” His grip tightens on your hand, it’s almost bruising and the cheerful smile on his face is gone.

“U-um. I-”

“I said where the hell did you get that?!”

“Wait, you're Hoseok.”

“I am. And you have 5 seconds to answer me before I-”

“You’re Jungkook’s friend. Right?” He drops your hand as if it burns him.

“How the hell do you know that? Did you steal that from somewhere? Are you stalking me?”

“Jungkook gave it to me.”

“Bullshit. Stop lying this is really fucked up. Who the hell are you?”

“I’m y/n.. Jungkook’s... roommate I guess?”

“Stop talking about him like he’s still here he’s dead!” He’s shouting at you now and everyone in the cafe is staring at the two of you.

“Maybe we should go somewhere else and talk?”

“Not until you tell me truth.”

“I just did!”

“You’re fucking crazy.” You see tears forming in his eyes as he turns on his heels and runs out of the cafe. You don’t hesitate to chase after him.

“You’re Jung Hoseok! You majored in dance with Jungkook and Jimin! You all have these matching bracelets with you initials on them. Taehyung and Jimin made them for you all.” He stops in his tracks in the middle of the sidewalk. You see his shoulders shaking and can hear quiet sobs escaping from him.

“How do you know all that? Who.. what..” He turns around and faces you and you see the saddened look on his face.

“It’s a long story. Can we talk maybe?” He hesitates for a moment but nods. You spot a bench a ways up the sidewalk and motion for him to follow you. You both sit down, drinks in hand but remaining full.

“I was telling you the truth you know? Jungkook.. Listen I don’t exactly know how all of this happened but one day I came home drunk and bumped into him and suddenly I could see him. I thought the place was haunted and I almost left, but he begged me to stay with him. Apparently after people touch him they can see him and every other tenant left his apartment because they were afraid of it being haunted.”

“He's been alone all this time? Oh god..” His voice cracks as fresh tears spring from his eyes.

“Hey it’s not your fault. If it makes you feel any better I’ve been with him for a few months and I have no intention of leaving. He’s actually really sweet. He makes me breakfast sometimes and always has my pajamas on my bed for me when I get home. And he’s hilarious. And his cute bunny smile is adorable the way is eyes sparkle.. Oh sorry I’m rambling.” Hoseok chuckles.

“That sounds like Jungkook alright.. You seem quite fond of him.”

“He kind of has a way of working his way into your heart you know?”

“Oh trust me. I know. He was the baby of our group we used to spoil him rotten.” You giggle at that. “So you know then? What happened?”

“I do.. he’s really worried about Jimin. How is he?”

“He’s um... managing in his own way I guess.”

“Is he overworking himself? Jungkook wanted me to make sure he was still eating and getting plenty of rest and not throwing himself into his dance like he does when he’s upset about something.”

“Ah, it’s the exact opposite actually. He refuses to dance at all anymore. He says it’s the reason his best friend was taken from him and he can’t do it anymore.”

“That’s so sad.. Do you think getting to see him again would help?”

“I think having Jungkook knock some sense into him would definitely be helpful. He always seemed to be able to get through to him.”

“And what about you?”

“Huh?”

“Do you want to see him?”

“Can I really?”

“I think so. I think you just have to touch where he is standing and then you should be able to. That’s how it worked for me. The first day we met was actually..” You laugh at the memory. “It was funny. I thought he was a hallucination and told him to leave me alone but he kept talking nonstop until I would acknowledge him.” Hoseok bursts out laughing at that.

“That definitely sounds like our bratty maknae... I would love to see him. I think maybe I should just come first. Not that I don’t believe you, but the others are going to be harder to convince than me and I think if the both of us talk to them they’ll be more willing to listen.”

“Okay. You wanna go now?”

“Please.” You stand up and begin walking to the apartment. Along the way Hoseok shares memories and funny stories he has with Jungkook and you find yourself becoming even more fond of him. He was such a sweet person and loved by so many and he truly loved his friends more than anything. As you approach the apartment door Hoseok freezes.

“You okay?”

“Yeah it’s just.. I haven't seen or heard him in so long this just feels like a dream. I keep thinking I am going to wake up.” You squeeze his hand encouragingly.

“It’s okay. I understand. Whenever you’re ready.” Hoseok takes a deep breath and nods. You open the door and Hoseok stands off to the side to collect his thoughts. Immediately you are granted by the sight of a flustered Jungkook pacing around the apartment.

“Y/n! Thank God you were gone for so long! I was so fucking worried I thought something happened to you.”

“I’m sorry Jungkook! I didn’t mean to make you worry but I have a good reason for being late.”

“You sure as hell better. I almost had a heart attack and died again because of you.” You laugh and look out into the hallway.

“Are you ready?” Hoseok nods and steps into view.

“H-Hobi hyung?” Jungkook collapses onto the ground and stares at him in shock.

“Jungkook? Is he here?”

“He is he’s just a little overwhelmed I think.” You bend over to where he is sitting.

“Y/n.. how did you-?”

“He bumped into me at the coffee shop and saw your bracelet.”

“Jungkookie? Is it okay if I..?” Jungkook nods frantically.

“He says it’s okay. Give me your hand.” You grab onto Hoseok and lead him so his fingers brush against Jungkook’s outstretched hand. You can tell the exact moment Hoseok is able to see him as he bursts into tears. They both sit there crying and you badly wish you could comfort them both but you don’t want to intrude.

“Kookie I can’t believe this. I can actually see you. I kind of thought y/n was crazy.”

“Hey!” Jungkook and Hoseok both laugh at your offended expression.

“It’s good to see you again hyung. How are you?”

“I’m managing. How are you?” Jungkook’s voice lowers a few octaves so you don’t hear what he says.

“Much better now that y/n is here and is staying with me. She’s wonderful hyung.” Hoseok smiles at that.

“She seems very sweet.”

“How are the others? How is Jimin?” Both of your expressions fall.

“What? Did something happen to him is he okay? Did he over work himself again? I swear I will bust out of this apartment-”

“No no Jungkook that’s not it. He kind of well.. stopped dancing. He said it reminds him too much of you and what happened and he blames dancing for your death. He said if he wouldn’t have made you stay late at practice with him this never would have happened.”

“So he blames himself? But Hobi it wasn’t his fault.”

“I know that, Kookie. We all do except for him.”

“I have to see him. And all of them. I need them to know that I am okay and I need them all to know what happened to me wasn’t their fault and I don’t blame any of them one bit. Especially not Jimin.”

“Okay. I think it might take me a little bit to convince them. Y/n offered to help with that though too.” Jungkook looks at you and his gaze softens.

“Y/n.. you’ve seriously done so much for me already just by bringing Hoseok here you don’t have to go to bring the others if you don’t want to. I know some of them aren’t going to be as warm to the idea and might say hurtful things to you if they think you’re lying.”

“That’s why I’ll be with her too. Coming from a complete stranger yeah, it does seem kind of crazy but if both of us go I think they’ll believe us.” Jungkook stands up abruptly.

“Y/n can you get me a pen and paper please?” You open the desk drawer and grab the objects. Jungkook begins scribbling something on the paper before he phases back out and the pen and paper fall to the floor. You grab the note and read it.

Hyungs please believe y/n and Hobi. They are telling the truth they aren’t crazy and I really need to see you all. -Kookie. There’s a drawing of a bunny with a thick eyebrow next to his name and you can’t help but think it’s cute.

“Who’s this little guy?”

“Oh.. that’s Kooky. I kind of always drew this pink bunny because everyone always said my smile reminded them of one.”

“That’s adorable! I’d pinch your cheek right now if I could.”

“For once I am glad that you can’t touch me all the time.” You giggle at that as does he. Hoseok loudly clears his throat, as if to remind you both he’s still here.

“Sorry hyung.”

“Don’t apologize to me. I’m just glad to see you're happy.”

“So when do you want to go see the others?”

“Well, I think everyone is busy today. Tomorrow is Saturday so they all have off. No classes or work. I’ll text everyone and ask them to meet me at my apartment tomorrow. I’ll give you the address so you can come too. Say around noon?”

“That works for me.”

“Alright. See you tomorrow y/n. And hopefully you too Jungkook.”

“Yep. I’ll be here.” Hoseok waves and walks to the front door, he looks over his shoulder one more time and smiles at Jungkook before he opens the door and walks out. Jungkook lets out a breath he wasn't aware he’d been holding.

“You okay, Kookie?”

“Yeah I’m fine. Just... wow I wasn’t expecting that at all. I didn’t think you’d find him so quick.”

“I didn’t either. Kind of seems like the universe is working in your favor for once right?”

“I think it always has been. Everything happens for a reason. If I wouldn’t have died I probably never would have met you.”

“I just wish we could have met under different circumstances.”

“Me too, jagi.” The endearing petname just slips out and Jungkook immediately looks away shyly. You smile at him and walk toward the couch, sitting down and patting the space next to you.

“What do you want to watch?”

“Can we watch Your Name? It’s one of my favorites.”

“Really?! Me too I adore that movie so much. I actually have the blu ray. I’d love to watch it with you.” You two spend the rest of the day watching Jungkook’s favorite movies and you find that you both actually have very similar tastes. You’re halfway into the 3rd Studio Ghibli movie of the night when your head lulls over and you fall asleep. Jungkook smiles fondly at you, getting up to your bedroom and grabbing your blanket to throw over top of you. He allows himself the indulgence of running his fingers through your hair to brush it out of your face. He can’t help himself from leaning down and kissing your forehead tenderly. He loves the warm feeling of your skin against his lips. He wonders what it would feel like to actually kiss you but he banishes the thought immediately. After Saturday if everything goes well he might not even be here anymore. He might finally be able to move on and rest in peace. But would he really be at peace? He asks himself this question, if he’s ready to give up seeing you. And he honestly doesn’t know the answer.

#bts reaction #bts scenario #bts imagine #bts #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #Jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook reaction #jungkook x reader #reader x jungkook

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calumcest · 4 years

Text

i took a walk with my fame down memory lane (i never did find my way back) - chapter seven

[ao3]

yes i missed last week but i have a good excuse i was in hospital when i was supposed to be posting we’re back on our scheduled bullshit this week also sidenote can we please appreciate that i have actually stuck to this schedule for nearly TWO MONTHS ?? i’m actually dead gassed w myself i really should do this with soulmate au maybe once britpop is finished i will replace monday evenings with soulmate au. do not hold me to that though i work on whims

of course i must thank my lovely @tirednotflirting who has been suffering in this document with me as i struggled through this chapter i cant lie to you sam your little comments and just knowing that you’re watching me suffer feel like a little pat on the head thats like gwarn you can do it so thank u for that <3 and also this chapter owes the life i have forcibly breathed into it to @kaleidoscopeminds who listened to me scream about it for like half of today and helped me navigate part of it i hope i have done it some slight justice

Michael insists that he knows a great local chippy, but when he turns into yet another residential street with no shops in sight after a good five minutes in the freezing cold, Calum frowns.

“Thought you said it was local?” he says.

“It is,” Michael says. “Never said it was local to me, though.” Calum stops, and stares at him.

“Are you serious?” he demands, edged with a little uncertainty, because he’s not quite sure whether they’re there yet, not after one conversation, and Michael laughs, bright and loud. It makes Calum’s stomach flip, and he’s not quite sure whether it’s pleasant or unpleasant, or maybe just because he’s absolutely fucking starving.

“It’s not far,” Michael promises. “Two minutes, tops.”

“This had better be the best fucking fish and chips I’ve ever had,” Calum grumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets and nosing into the collar of his coat. Jesus, isn’t London supposed to be warmer than the north? He’s not inhaling all this pollution for nothing.

True to Michael’s word, though, another street-and-a-half later they’ve made it to the chippy, and Michael shoves the door open with his shoulder, pushing it far enough that Calum can make it through before it swings shut again.

“Fuck me, it’s warm in here,” Calum mutters, pulling his hands out of his pockets and stretching his fingers experimentally, wincing as that horrible burning sensation of a sudden temperature change shoots through them.

“It’s what, maybe fifteen degrees?” Michael says, amused. “What sort of a fucking Australian are you?” Calum glares at him instinctively, and then falters, because he’s still not sure exactly where he stands, but Michael just laughs, turning to the menu.

“They do a good battered sausage,” he tells Calum, who reaches around into his pocket for his wallet as he blinks up at the prices. Fucking hell, two quid for a bag of chips? And Noel and Liam want to move down here?

“Who the fuck goes to a chippy and gets a battered sausage?” Calum says, scanning the menu, and frowning. “Where are the mushy peas?”

“The what?”

“The mushy peas.”

“What the fuck is that?” Calum tears his eyes away from the menu to stare at Michael.

“What the fuck are you on about?” he says. “Y’know, mushy peas?”

“Is that some kind of northern thing?” Michael asks, and Calum frowns. Surely not; mushy peas are a fucking staple of a fish-and-chip dinner, aren’t they? What the fuck do they eat down south if not mushy peas? Mushy capers, or something?

“Can’t be,” Calum says, still frowning, turning back to the menu. “What the fuck else do you eat with-”

“Hang on a minute,” Michael interrupts, frowning. “Is that- is that Liam? ” Calum cuts himself off abruptly, blood running cold.

What?

“What?” he says, and hopes Michael can’t hear the way his heart is in his throat, spinning wildly on the spot and trying to follow Michael’s gaze.

“Over there,” Michael says, sounding mildly intrigued and moderately confused, and nods in the direction of a table in the corner.

Sure enough, there, frowning down at his chips as he shakes out a sachet of ketchup and says something indecipherable to Noel, who’s sat opposite him - Calum would know the back of that head anywhere, sees the top of it enough with the five inches he has on him - is Liam.

Fuck.

Shit.

“D’you want to go over?” Michael says, and Calum swallows.

What the fuck is he supposed to say? He can’t imagine no, because I’ll get kicked out of my band, and you might get murdered will go down well. It doesn’t really matter, though, because his hesitation is an answer in itself.

“They don’t know you’re here, do they?” Michael’s voice is a little heavy, a little bitter, and a little sad. It makes Calum’s stomach curl in on itself, like it’s trying to make itself too small to feel anything anymore.

“They know I’m here,” Calum says. “Just- not to see you.” What’s the point in lying? That’s been the whole point of him coming down here, hasn’t it? Stop lying to Michael, start lying to Liam and Noel instead. It’s like Calum has a limited amount of honesty to go around, can’t keep himself in one piece, has to hand people little parts of himself so they won’t see the full thing. It’s fucking exhausting, especially when he hasn’t got booze or drugs to numb the pain of the pieces he keeps chopping himself into. Maybe it would have been easier if he’d stayed in Manchester, if he’d said no when Michael offered his phone number.

(But, Calum knows, somewhere in the depths of his ragged soul, that no matter how many worlds there are out there, no matter how many parallel universes, there could never be one in which he could say no to Michael.)

“Why?” Calum can’t help but bark out a short, humourless laugh at that as he turns around, heart beating wildly, praying Liam hasn’t seen them.

“They’d fucking kill me. And you.” Michael glances over at Liam again, frowning slightly, and then looks back at Calum, confusion lacing the green-blue of his eyes, like he’s trying to work out what Calum really means by that. Calum thinks he’s been pretty fucking clear, isn’t really sure what Michael’s searching for in his eyes, until Michael opens his mouth, and says:

“Are you ashamed of me?” Jesus. Does Michael really want to do this here? In a fucking London fish-and-chip shop?

“No,” Calum says. “Can we- can we do this somewhere else? Just-” he cuts himself off, and Michael purses his lips, considering, and then sighs, nods, and heads for the door. Calum nigh on fucking runs after him, speedwalks out and halfway down the street until he thinks they’re a safe enough distance away, and then stops, letting Michael round on him.

“Why haven’t you told them?” Michael asks, and Calum can see all the hurt swimming in his eyes and thinks fuck, not now, not just when I’ve got you again.

“They’re-” Calum stops. He’s not really sure how to phrase it. Fucking cunts is probably the closest he can get, but then he’d have to try and explain why despite that, despite the fact that neither Liam nor Noel have a rational bone in their bodies, Calum loves them, and would do anything for them. “Not exactly reasonable, when it comes to this shit.” Michael raises an eyebrow.

“‘Not exactly reasonable’?” he echoes. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Calum shrugs, a little uncomfortably.

“They take this whole Blur-Oasis thing very seriously,” he says, and Michael frowns.

“They do?” He sounds surprised.

“Don’t you?”

“No,” Michael says. “Damon thinks it’s a fucking laugh.” Calum almost groans. Fucking hell, isn’t that just brilliant? He gets stuck with the mental northern lads who can’t take anything seriously except the one thing they don’t need to, and Michael gets the sensible southern boys who’ll listen to reason and probably hold hands while they do.

(Calum wouldn’t change it for the fucking world, though.)

“Well, Noel and Liam don’t,” Calum says. “I’d get chucked out of a window if they knew I so much as thought about you.” Michael stares at him.

“They’re mental,” he says, incredulously. “They’re absolutely fucking mental. What is this, fucking Montagues and Capulets?”

“That’s what they’d have you believe,” Calum says, shoving his hands back in his coat pockets. Michael blinks.

“Jesus,” he says, after a moment. “So they don’t even know we’re talking?” Calum can’t help but bark out a short, humourless laugh at that.

“No,” he says. “No. Noel would- and Liam- no. No.” His stomach churns as a number of thoughts flash through his mind - Noel and Liam screaming at him, kicking him out of the band, never speaking to him again - and he shakes his head, half to try and clear his head of the thoughts and half to emphasise just how much Calum can’t tell them.

“So, what, I’m your dirty little secret?” Michael sounds a little bitter about it, and Calum can’t really blame him, but that doesn’t stop his heart twisting a little in his chest at the tone of his voice.

“I- look,” Calum says, a little desperately. “This is my life, Michael.” Michael inhales deeply, doesn’t exhale, just looks at Calum, weighing something up in his mind. His eyes are a little sad, a little angry, heavier and older than Calum remembers them ever being. It sends a tiny shiver down his spine, but for the first time the irrefutable evidence of Michael changing doesn’t make him feel a little queasy. Instead, it’s oddly thrilling, seeing the new self-assuredness and confidence with which Michael makes his decisions, no longer based purely on a split-second emotion. It drives home that Michael’s different, now, that things aren’t the same as they were back then, but in a way that makes Calum think maybe different could be better.

“Alright,” Michael says eventually, on a long exhale. “I- okay. I get it. They’re your band, right?” He pauses, and then smiles, a little sheepishly. “And to be honest, I haven’t told anyone you’re here today, either.” Calum blinks at him.

“Hypocrite,” he says, but it’s soft, tentative, no heat to it. Michael grins all the same, and it just about manages to reach his eyes.

“Hey,” he says, protesting a little. “They at least know we’re talking.” Calum hesitates.

“What’ve you told them?” he asks. Michael shrugs.

“Just that we’ve spoken on the phone a few times,” he says. “I mean, it’s not like I could avoid it, after Graham picked up your call on my birthday.” Oh, shit. Yeah.

“Oh,” Calum says. “Yeah. I forgot about that.”

“Yeah,” Michael says, grimacing a little.

“Did he ever tell Damon you locked him in a bathroom?” Michael laughs, bright and a little surprised, like he’s taken aback that Calum remembers that.

“No,” he says. “But for the price I paid, he’d better keep his mouth shut about everything I ever fucking do for the rest of my life.” Calum raises an eyebrow, and Michael grins, properly this time, and shakes his head.

“Wouldn't you like to know,” he says, and takes a step back, walking back into the stream of people that have been passing by.

“Oh, c’mon,” Calum says, falling into step with Michael, who just laughs again. “You can’t say that and not tell me.”

“I’m not telling you,” Michael says. “I take this Blur-Oasis shit seriously, y’know? Can’t be fraternising with the enemy." Calum throws him a sharp glance, but Michael’s still grinning, eyes sparkling with something a little mischievous that reminds Calum so much of the Michael he once knew that he falters, almost trips over his own feet.

“Is that why you’re trying to starve me to death?” Calum says, testing the waters. Michael snorts.

“You were the one that wanted out of the best fish and chip shop in London, my friend,” he says, mock-snootily. “Luckily for you, I’m feeling particularly magnanimous today, so I’ll take you to a good Italian place.” Calum raises an eyebrow.

“Magnanimous?” he echoes. “Since when do you know words that long?”

“Damon’s rules,” Michael says. “Have to learn at least five new words a week, and a spelling test on Sundays.” Calum blinks at him.

“Really?”

“No, you fucking idiot,” Michael says, a little incredulously, a lot amused. “Jesus, don’t they do sarcasm up north?”

“Better than most,” Calum says. “It just sounds like something Damon would do, is all.” Michael laughs, turning to grin at Calum over his shoulder as he pushes the door to a small Italian place open.

“He did make me read Siddhartha before he let me join the band,” he admits, and Calum makes a noise of triumph.

“See?” he crows, and Michael just laughs again, and Calum thinks the warmth stealing over him really has nothing to do with the central heating in the restaurant.

-------

They spend a leisurely hour or two in the restaurant, talking about absolutely nothing of import, skirting around anything that seems like it might get a little too serious, and Calum’s grateful for it. His carbonara tastes all the creamier when Michael starts pointing out passers-by, commenting on their frowns or their fast walks or their hideous coats, making Calum grin and splutter into his drink with every wicked and quick comment he makes. It’s almost like the old days, has the same sharp wit and ease that Michael’s tongue has always been good with, but is a little more refined than then, has something more mellow to it, like Michael’s no longer trying to impress Calum or keep him by his side. It’s oddly heady, actually, the new sheen of confidence that polishes all of Michael’s words before they leave his mouth, makes Calum lose his focus every once in a while as he just stares at the easy self-assuredness held in Michael’s shoulders, until Michael waves a hand in front of his face and says Earth to Calum, a small smile playing at his lips, a slight glimmer in his eyes. Calum can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed, though, still knows Michael well enough to read the smile as a pleased one, the glimmer as charmed, and just grins back, trying to stop his heart from jumping from his chest to his throat to his feet to his stomach and back again.

It’s already getting dark by the time they head out of the restaurant - fucking December, honestly - and they take their time walking back to Michael’s house, wandering down side street after side street as Michael tells Calum about the difficulties he’s been having with his neighbour. Calum just listens, nodding and sighing and calling the neighbour a cunt in all the right places, and by the time they’re back at Michael’s house, it’s fully dark, the two of them bathed in the harsh orange light of the London streetlights.

“When’s your train?” Michael asks, digging in his pocket for his keys and sliding them into the lock.

“I, uh,” Calum says. “Didn’t book a specific one.” Michael raises an eyebrow at him over his shoulder as he unlocks the door, then steps inside and holds the door for Calum to walk in.

“Why not?” he asks, flicking the light switch on, and Calum shrugs, busying himself with pulling his shoes off.

“Wasn’t sure how long I’d be here,” he says. Michael just hums at that as he kicks his own shoes off, like he’s mulling it over.

“When are Liam and Noel heading back?” he asks, and Calum shrugs again, a little more tense this time.

“Don’t know,” he says. “Probably no later than six. Liam’ll want to be on the piss by nine.”

“Not much else to do up there, I s’pose,” Michael says, a little flippantly, heading into the living room, making Calum frown as he follows.

“There’s plenty to do,” he says, a little indignantly, and Michael turns back, throws him a slightly-amused look over his shoulder.

“Proper Manny boy now, aren’t you?” he says, settling down on the overstuffed armchair opposite the sofa again, curling his legs underneath himself. Calum sits down on the sofa, stretches out for a moment to try and crack his back, and then settles back against it with a scowl.

“It’s home,” Calum says, surprising himself with the sincerity with which the words are saturated. Michael cocks his head, and Calum knows what he’s thinking. When did Sydney stop being home to you?

“D’you not ever miss it?” he says, but he only really sounds curious. Calum shrugs.

“Not really,” he says. “I only really- uh. Miss the people.” He averts his gaze, tries to stop his cheeks heating up. He’d almost said I only really miss you.

“Luke and Ashton are flying over in January,” Michael says. “You should come down and see them.” Calum swallows.

“Depends when,” he says. “Think we’re back over in America in January.” Michael frowns.

“You’ll be at the NME awards, though, won’t you?” he says.

“Well, yeah, but so will Noel and Liam,” Calum says, and Michael’s face falls. Only fractionally, so slight that if Calum weren’t instinctively tuned into Michael’s frequency he would have missed it, but he is, so he doesn’t.

“Oh,” Michael says. “Yeah. Right. Well, I know they’d love to see you.”

“Mm,” Calum says, a little uncomfortably. He hates this, doesn’t want to be in a position where he has to pick his old life or his new.

“I told them,” Michael says, and he sounds a little apologetic.

“Told who?”

“Luke and Ashton. About us, y’know. Talking again.” Calum’s stomach flips. Right. So now the entirety of Blur and two of his friends from five years ago know, and his own best friends don’t. Brilliant.

“Oh,” he says, and Michael has the dignity to look a little ashamed.

“They were happy,” he offers, like it’ll assuage any of the guilt that’s bonded itself so tightly to each one of Calum’s blood cells he barely remembers what it’s like to walk around without their heavy burden weighing him down. “They’ve been asking after you.”

“Oh?” Calum says, and hopes Michael doesn’t hear the thickness of his voice.

“Yeah,” Michael says. “Luke’s finished his pilot training, now. He was in Japan the same time as me, so we went for a coffee.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Good,” Michael says, “yeah, good. Misses Ashton when he’s away, but.” He shrugs, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Not sure what else he expected, becoming a pilot.” Calum huffs out a laugh, a little bitter, a little amused.

“And Ashton’s a teacher?” he says, and Michael nods. “What does he teach?”

“RE, I think,” Michael says. Calum snorts, but it’s sort of fond.

“Sounds like Ashton,” he says, and Michael grins.

“At least he put all those fucking books about Buddhism and that to good use,” he says.

“D’you remember when he tried to make us all read the entire Bible?” Calum says, and Michael laughs, short and bright.

“I remember him being beside himself when we just circled all the verses about masturbating,” Michael says, and Calum finds a laugh punched out of him by a sudden memory, surprising him with its intensity.

“D’you remember Luke made it through the entire Old Testament?” he says, and Michael’s smile grows, and he nods.

“The things love makes you do,” he says, grinning, and Calum’s smile falters.

Yeah. Love can make people go to the ends of the Earth for each other, or make someone read the entire Old Testament, or maybe even make someone lie to their best friends and put their entire career on the line. Calum doesn't want to think about that.

(It can't be that, anyway. It just can't.)

Michael seems to sense the change in Calum’s mood, because he shifts a little uncomfortably and clears his throat.

“Are you staying home for Christmas, then?” he says, and Calum blinks, and nods.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Is Mali coming?”

“No,” Calum says. “Can’t stand a cold Christmas, she says.” Michael smiles, a little wistfully.

“Took me a while to get used to,” he says. “Fuck me, the first time it snowed? ”

“Oh, God, I know,” Calum says, a little more fervently than he’d intended to. “I thought it’d be all soft, y’know? Liam fucking saw to that misconception. Turned up at my house with a bunch of pre-made snowballs, the prick. Looked like I’d got battered in a pub brawl, or something.” Michael snorts.

“No one ever mentioned how slippery it is, either,” he says.

“Or how nasty it is when it melts,” Calum agrees.

“Or how wet it is in your hair,” Michael says. Calum raises an eyebrow.

“It’s water,” he says. “You could’ve worked that one out for yourself.” Michael rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“Fuck off,” he says. “Where’s the Aussie solidarity?”

“Gone as soon as you insulted Manchester,” Calum tells him, and Michael laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“S’pose there are a few good things about it,” he concedes, eyes glittering. “One, in particular.” Calum swallows.

“Oasis are pretty good, yeah,” he says, and Michael's eyes flash with amusement.

“Pretty subpar bassist, though,” he says conversationally.

“Is that so?” Calum says. Michael looks at ease, relaxed and sunk back into his armchair, smile on his face and eyes lit up with laughter, but Calum can’t help but feel hesitant, a little afraid to lean too far into the comfortable familiarity of the conversation. What if Michael changes his mind?

"Mm," Michael says. "Personally, I think they just keep him in for his looks." Calum raises an eyebrow, tries not to let the way his heart's just skipped a beat show on his face. It doesn't mean anything, he tells himself. It's just Michael's sense of humour.

"What, with Liam in the band?" Calum says, and Michael scrunches his face up.

"He's too pretty for me," he says, and then unscrunches his face again and raises his eyebrows. "Mind you, though, I wouldn't say no if-"

"You fucking would if you know what's good for you," Calum tells him, and Michael laughs.

"Would I?" he says, eyes gleaming. "Think I'd need a more tempting offer." He's looking at Calum in anticipation, like he's expecting a certain response, and it makes Calum swallow - twice, because his heart doesn't know how to behave.

"I'll see what I can do," he says, and Michael grins at him.

Right answer.

-------

The journey back home is uneventful.

Michael had kindly forgotten to inform Calum of just how much of a rush hour rush hour really is in London, meaning he has to wait for three tubes to pass before he makes it to the edge of the platform, and then has to spend the two stops back to Euston shoved uncomfortably against the glass that divides the seats from the door area. At least it’s only two stops, though, he tells himself, tumbling off the train with a bunch of serious-looking commuters, half of whom seem to be headed back to Manchester. Calum’s train is already packed when he gets on, even though he walks all the way to the end so he won’t have to walk far when he gets to Piccadilly, and he ends up having to sit next to a family of three, an exhausted mother scolding her two young children and trying to get them to sit still. Calum offers her a small smile, wishing he’d brought a book or his Walkman or something, and settles for staring blankly out of the window to the other side of the four-year-old girl on his left, trying to make out shapes in the inky darkness of the night so he doesn’t have to focus on his thoughts.

It turns out not to matter much, though, because even when the train’s whipping through the countryside and the children are still kicking up a fuss about something or other, Calum can’t focus on anything at all, zoning out entirely and feeling a bone-deep tiredness seeping through him, gluing him to his seat. He prefers it that way, though, prefers that he doesn’t have to feel anything but an echo of guilt for a while, lets it steal over him as he closes his eyes and tips his head back against the seat.

He must fall asleep for a while, because it feels like no time at all before a bustle of commotion wakes him up, and he finds everybody on their feet, patting their pockets and reaching for coats and bags. He blinks a few times, rubs his eyes, and then stands up, fumbles around in his pocket for his ticket as he files out of the train with everyone else. It’s surprisingly cold in Piccadilly, and he draws his coat around himself as he swerves around the mother and kids to beat them to the barriers, shoving his ticket in and stepping through. It feels like another threshold, like he's crossing back from a dream world into the real world, and he tries not to think about it too hard as he heads out to the bus stop.

The bus journey back home is cold and expensive, and by the time Calum gets home he thinks he might be in danger of losing a few of his limbs to the frosty air. It’s toasty warm inside the house, though, and there’s a plate of chicken and rice covered in cling film waiting for him on the kitchen counter, and Calum sticks it in the microwave, listens to the muffled sound of the TV floating out from the living room as he waits for his food to finish before taking it out to the table.

The sound of the microwave dinging seems to have alerted his mum to his return, though, because no sooner has he sat down at the table than she's appeared in the doorway.

“Where’ve you been?” she asks, leaning against the doorframe.

“London,” Calum mumbles, through a mouthful of chicken and rice, and scoops another forkful in, just for good measure.

“To see Michael?” Calum falters, and then nods, averting his gaze. His mum sighs, loaded with something heavy that Calum decides he doesn’t want to pick apart. “And?”

“And what?”

“What happened?” Calum swallows, and shovels another loaded forkful of food into his mouth.

“Nothing,” he says, and hopes she’ll attribute the way he winced at the evasiveness of his tone to the fact the food is really fucking hot.

“Calum,” she starts, in that I’m about to give you a lecture voice that only parents (and Noel) can really manage, and Calum swallows again, chokes a little as the un-chewed food almost gets stuck in his oesophagus, and shakes his head.

“Don’t,” he says, a little sharply. “I’m twenty-two, mum.” She sighs again, a little exasperated this time.

“I know, but you’re still my kid,” she says. Calum inhales deeply, and closes his eyes.

He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want to have to explain every single tiny movement he makes, not every time he comes home. He doesn’t want to be monitored whenever he comes or goes, doesn’t want to have to answer to anyone. He’s not used to it anymore, not after so long on tour; he’s used to crashing into hotel rooms with a bagful of white powder and a body full of booze, one or two or maybe even three loud and brash Mancunians in tow, vision hazy around the edges from the weed he’s just taken a few hits of, used to sleeping three hours on a bus and waking up in a different city to the one he’d fallen asleep in. It feels oddly claustrophobic, now, coming home. He loves it, loves seeing his mum and his dad and eating proper meals and getting to potter around the house and go down the pub with Liam, but he’s outgrown it as a lifestyle. He’s too big for that little room upstairs, now, too big for this two-up two-down, maybe even too big for Manchester.

“I’m going to look at houses,” he blurts, before he’s even thought about it. A flash of something crosses his mum’s face, but she schools her features into something encouraging before he has a chance to really interpret it.

“That’s a good idea,” she says. “You’re old enough to be gone, now.” Calum nods, and brings another forkful of food to his mouth.

“In London,” he adds, and his mum blinks at him for a moment.

“Well, I suppose it makes sense,” she says, sounding far too brisk, like she’s forcing it. “That’s where the music industry is, isn’t it?” Calum nods.

“Noel and Liam are moving down, too,” he says, and she raises her eyebrows.

“That’s a recipe for disaster,” she says shrewdly, and Calum shakes his head.

“No, not together,” he says.

“Oh,” she says. “Well. You should probably still look for somewhere further away from them.” Yeah, he probably should.

(He won’t, though.)

“Yeah, maybe.” He’s almost finished his plate of food, wishes she would fucking leave, so he doesn’t have to have the rest of this conversation with her. She seems to get it, though, just sighs again, and pushes herself off the doorframe.

“Let us know if we can help with anything,” she says gently, and Calum throws her a tight smile as she leaves.

He’s not really sure where that came from. Okay, he’s been thinking about moving out for a while, but not in any concrete way; it’s very much been conceptual, something that he thinks he should probably do, but hasn’t been bothered to think about beyond that, something that’s stayed very firmly at the back of his mind. It feels right, though, he realises. He’d sort of thought it would be frightening, something that he was doing because he felt he had to rather than because he wanted to, but he feels oddly settled after saying it to his mum, like he's been making do in the dark and now he's turned on the light. It'll be good for him, he thinks, to live on his own.

Plus, he thinks, as he scrapes his chair back from the table, gathering up his plate and cutlery, Liam could probably do with a set of eyes on him, couldn’t he? And the fact that Kentish Town is close to Camden has absolutely nothing to do with it.

-------

Calum’s woken up at ten the next morning by a knock at the door.

“Mm?” he mumbles, not entirely sure whether he’s actually awake or not yet, and the door opens a crack to reveal his mum.

“Noel’s on the phone for you,” she says, and throws him a significant look that he chooses not to interpret. What the fuck does Noel want at ten in the morning?

“Tell him I’ll call him back,” he says, and she purses her lips.

“Tell him yourself,” she says, and tosses the handset at him. He squawks, flinching to avoid getting a hunk of plastic to the head - she’s never had the greatest aim - and then picks up the receiver that’s landed (painfully) on his forearm.

“What?” he says, rubbing his eyes.

“What were you really doing in London?” Jesus Christ. Straight to the fucking point.

“Running errands.”

“Bullshit.” Calum sighs.

“What the fuck d’you want me to say?” he says tiredly.

“You looked like you’d seen a fucking ghost when we came over,” Noel says.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you, was I?”

“You knew we were going to be in London. Liam says he told you.” Fuck’s sake.

“London’s a big fucking place, though, isn’t it?” Calum says. “Still didn’t expect to see you there.”

“Cut the fucking shit, Calum. I know who lives in Camden.” Calum’s blood runs cold. Shit. He should have known that they would have seen them in the chippy, should have made Michael leave faster, hide his face, turn away, anything. All it would have taken would have been one errant look from Liam, and the cat would have been out of the bag.

“Why the fuck are you so convinced this is some kind of conspiracy?” Calum bites out. Fight fire with fire, he thinks. Works for Liam, doesn’t it?

“I’m going to give you one chance to be honest with me,” Noel says. His voice is dangerously even, too controlled, that sort of wound-up serenity he gets a minute before he explodes, and Calum can’t even swallow, can’t get anything past the lump suddenly in his throat. “Were you or were you not seeing Thom Yorke?” Calum stops.

What?

“What?” he says. “No, I- what? What? I don’t even fucking know the bloke.”

“You spoke to him at Glastonbury, didn’t you?” Noel says, utterly hostile. Calum blinks.

“That was- that was six months ago.”

“So?” Noel sounds like he’s bristling. “First Blur, now Radiohead? Are you just working your way through our competition? Were you fucking him too?” There’s a bitter edge to his voice, and Calum’s mouth drops open as he tries to process what Noel’s accusing him of.

What?

“What the fuck?” Calum says incredulously. “I’m not fucking Thom Yorke. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“You’d better be fucking certain about that, Calum, because-” Noel starts warningly, but Calum cuts him off.

“Jesus Christ, Noel, I’ve spoken to him once. I don’t know where the cunt lives. Why the fuck do you know where he lives?” There’s a pause.

“Alright,” Noel says, still tinged with suspicion, like he can’t quite let go of the idea that Calum had snuck to London to visit Thom fucking Yorke.

“You’re fucking insane,” Calum says, and doesn’t stop the derisiveness from leaking into his voice. Who the fuck rings someone at ten in the morning to accuse them of sleeping with a random bloke they haven’t seen in months? Noel’s acting like a fucking jealous ex, or something.

“I’m insane?” Noel says, a little coldly. “You’ve got previous, mate.” And yeah, that’s fair enough - more than fair enough, because Calum is going behind Noel’s back, is betraying his best friend and his band - and the thought of it makes the guilt chase the anger out of his veins, makes him slump back into his pillow and rub a hand over his eyes.

“Christ, Noel,” he says wearily. “You need to stop taking this shit so seriously. Let the music speak for itself.” Noel barks out a laugh.

“I take it seriously because none of the rest of you do,” he says.

“Just fucking relax,” Calum says.

“I’ll relax when I’ve made my millions,” Noel says. “Until then, you can get your fucking arse in the studio and make me some money.” Calum rolls his eyes.

“You snort all your money away,” he says.

“So?” Noel says. “Just have to make me more, then, won’t you?” Calum can’t help but huff out a laugh at that.

“You fucking idiot,” he says, but the smile playing at his lips makes it come out fond, and when Noel laughs this time, it’s soft and pleased.

“Aye,” he says. “But I’m no Liam.”

Well. He’s got a point.

-------

Christmas comes and goes without much fanfare, which is just how Calum likes it, and what he needed after all the months of touring.

He gets up early, yawning and rubbing at his eyes as he slaps a hand on his alarm clock to shut it up, and spots a tiny little stocking at the foot of his bed, despite the stern look and the you’re almost twenty-three, Calum, you’re too old for stockings his mum had given him the night before . He grins, stifling another yawn as he empties it onto his bed, collects the little chocolate coins that spill out and unwraps the small present to find a little travel-sized bottle of his favourite aftershave. It makes him smile, that even though he’s a fucking rockstar in the making now, his mum still buys him aftershave, and he tucks the little bottle into his still-packed suitcase so he won’t forget it when they leave for Scotland on Boxing Day.

His parents are both already up when he gets downstairs, showered and dressed and ready to help with cooking dinner, and he throws his dad a quick merry Christmas before heading into the kitchen where his mum is humming along to the tune blasting from the radio.

“Morning,” he says, and she whips around, throws him a cheery smile as she puts something in the oven. “Thanks for the aftershave.”

“What d’you mean, thanks?” she says, a twinkle in her eye. “Do I look like Father Christmas?” Calum tuts and rolls his eyes, presses a kiss to her cheek, and reaches for the carrots she’s been peeling.

“What needs doing?” he asks, and she smiles at him, starts telling him that after he’s done with the carrots he should get some sprouts out of the freezer, please, and then fetch some of that wine from outside - the good wine, mind, Calum, and I know you drank the really good wine and thought we wouldn’t notice - and Calum just grins sheepishly, nods along to what she’s saying as he slices up the carrots, hums along as she switches to talking about Janet and how she’s got a baby on the way now.

He’s halfway through chopping potatoes when the all-too-familiar drum beat of Supersonic starts up on the radio, a little fuzzy from the static. He starts, his heart lurching with adrenaline, and turns to his mum.

“That’s us,” he says excitedly, but she’s already reaching for the volume on the radio, turning it up and beaming.

“That’s you, isn’t it!” she says, sounding even more excited than him. “I like this one, actually. It feels very optimistic.” Calum bites the inside of his cheek, looks back down at his potatoes to try and stop himself laughing. Yeah, it was written while Noel was high as a fucking kite on coke; no wonder it sounds optimistic.

“I like it too,” he says, grinning as Liam’s voice starts filling the room, raw and velvet and a little grimy, just how Calum likes it. Only fucking rock ‘n’ roll star there is, now, me, Liam would say, if he were here, and Calum would roll his eyes, and Noel would probably cuff Liam upside the head, and Bonehead would laugh, and Tony would shake his head and look the other way. God, Calum loves his band, loves their dysfunctional dynamic, loves every bit of the coke and the booze and the fighting and the laughing and the tiny moments of peace where Liam’s curled up against him, fast asleep, and Noel’s throwing him an exasperated but fond look from across the room.

( You don’t love it enough to be honest with them, though, a little voice in his mind tells him, but he pushes it into the back of his mind with as much force as he can muster. Not on Christmas. He deserves one day without guilt, however much of a cunt he’s being.)

They ring Mali after dinner before the Queen, because it’s pushing on for time back in Sydney and his dad sagely points out that she’ll be too drunk to hold a proper conversation once it hits midnight. She’s already well on the way there, shouting and laughing merrily down the phone, but it just makes them all laugh, makes Calum’s heart ache a little bit, but not in a way he particularly minds. He misses her, but he knows he’ll see her soon enough.

After an already fairly lengthy catch-up, his mum wants to speak to her about something to do with her rent which neither Calum nor his dad particularly care about, so they head into the living room and start sorting out potential VHSs to watch that evening. They’re in the middle of arguing about whether or not Blackadder is an appropriate Christmas show when Calum’s mum appears in the doorway, holding out the phone in her hand.

“Mali wants to talk to you,” she says, and Calum scrambles to his feet, grabs the handset off her and heads into the kitchen, hoping his mum won’t follow, will let the two of them have a moment of privacy.

“Hello?” Calum says, throwing a glance over his shoulder to check his mum’s not following. Sure enough, she’s tutting at his dad, telling him Blackadder isn’t a Christmas show, David, be serious, please, so Calum turns into the kitchen, doesn’t bother turning the light on, just leans against the counter in the dark.

“How’s my baby brother?” Mali asks cheerfully, and Calum grins, and shakes his head.

“I’m good,” he says. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Heard you on the radio today,” Mali says, and Calum’s stomach flips. They’re playing Oasis in Australia? Fucking hell.

“You did?”

“Yeah. Sounds really fucking good, actually.” Calum grins.

“‘Course it does,” he says. “It’s me, innit?” Mali laughs, bright and tinny in his ear.

“You’re spending too much time with those Gallaghers,” she tells him. “Where’s my shy little brother got to?”

“Gone with all the coke and booze,” Calum says, and Mali snorts.

“Fair enough,” she says. “How’s the rockstar life treating you, then? Number one album, isn’t it?”

“Fastest-selling debut album in British history,” Calum says, and Mali whistles lowly.

“Am I supposed to be impressed?”

“Yeah, think so.”

“Alright, then, I’m impressed,” she says flippantly, and Calum huffs out a laugh. “What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?”

“Y’know, fame, and all that. Sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll. Although I’d rather not hear about the sex, if it’s all the same to you.” Calum snorts.

“Good,” he says, “it’s good. Weird, though, getting asked for autographs, and that. Touring’s strange, too. But it’s good. And I’m glad I’ve got my band with me.”

“Good to know someone’s glad,” Mali says. “I bet the rest of the world aren’t glad to have those two delinquents running wild. Mum and Dad don’t know about the number of hotels you’ve been kicked out of, do they?”

“No,” Calum says warningly, “and they’re not going to find out.”

“No, no, I’ll toe the line, Cal,” Mali says breezily. “For a price.”

“Get fucked,” Calum says, but he’s grinning.

“C’mon, you must be fucking loaded by now,” Mali says, but she’s grinning too, just trying to wind him up. “I mean, you played Glastonbury, right? That was a big fucking lineup. Pretty much anyone who’s relevant was there, if my boss is to be believed. She might just be saying that because she was there, though.” Calum’s face drops.

“Yeah,” he says, and bites his lip. He should tell her about Michael. She knew, back then, knew better than almost anyone, and she should know now, really. “I, uh,” he starts, and then licks his lips, and swallows. Mali just waits, though, knows him well enough to know that it’s going to be something important, and Calum takes a deep breath to steady himself. “I saw Michael.”

“Clifford?”

“Yeah.” There’s a pause.

“I wondered how long it’d take,” Mali says, and she sounds a little mournful. It makes Calum blink, makes him frown as he thinks - more than a little upset - what the fuck? She knew?

“You knew? About him being in Blur?”

“‘Course I knew. I’m in the music business, aren’t I? I’m in Australia, Cal, not on the fucking moon.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Mali sighs.

“I was trying to protect you,” she says. Calum grits his teeth.

“Would’ve protected me more if you’d warned me before I ran into him at a fucking awards show,” he says.

“Shit,” Mali mutters, and Calum makes a yeah, fucking right sort of noise. “What happened?”

“Liam and Noel nearly fucking skinned me alive,” Calum says.

“With Michael, I mean.” Calum hesitates.

“Nothing,” he says. “Until Glastonbury.”

“What happened at Glastonbury?” Calum stares down at the floor, digs his thumbnail into the countertop behind him.

“Bumped into him,” he says. “And then he rang me a few days later. And then we- uh. We started calling. And I went to his house last week.” Mali’s silent for a long, long moment, so long that Calum would think that she might have got disconnected if it weren’t for the sound of her breathing, slow and considered in Calum’s ear.

“Oh, Cal,” she says, and the words come out sad and heavy. “Are you- are you…?” She trails off, clearly not sure how to phrase it, but Calum knows what she’s asking. He closes his eyes, brings a hand up to rub over his face, and shrugs, even though she can’t see him.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t know. Maybe. Not yet, though. But maybe.” Mali sighs again, sounding more sober than she has for the entire call.

“What do the rest of them think?” she asks. Calum swallows.

“They don’t know,” he admits.

There’s a pause. A long, long fucking pause, and Calum sort of wants to just hang up, sort of wants to laugh and say joking, just kidding, can you fucking imagine, wish I could see the look on your face, but he doesn’t. He clenches his fist, waits it out, and eventually Mali exhales heavily.

“That’s a dangerous fucking game,” she says, and Calum can’t help the humourless laugh that escapes him at that. Doesn’t he fucking know it.

“Yeah,” he says. “I just- I can’t tell them. They don’t understand.”

“Even Noel? He was always the reasonable one, wasn’t he?” Calum snorts, and it’s bitter.

“Not when it comes to the music,” he says. “And-” he cuts himself off, biting his lip. He hasn’t told anyone about him and Noel, not even Mali, because it didn’t matter at the time, and as soon as it started to matter, he had no one to tell. But it’s pertinent now, isn’t it, and it’d probably be a weight off his shoulders, so he takes a deep breath, and says: “And, uh, I fucked him.” There’s another pause.

“You- you fucked Noel?” Mali doesn’t quite sound like she believes him.

“I- well-” okay, she doesn’t need to know that technically Noel fucked him “-I mean, yeah. Years ago, though, like, three years ago. But- y’know.” He winces, cringing at his own words.

“Fucking hell, Cal,” Mali says, sounding a little awed. “You’ve made yourself a right fucking mess, haven’t you?”

“I know, I know,” Calum groans, tipping his head back. “It- it didn’t matter, y’know, it was just a one-time thing, but now with Michael back in the picture…” he trails off, and Mali sighs again.

“Does Michael know?”

“No.”

“Jesus, Cal, are you honest with fucking anyone in your life?”

“I- yeah, I just- look, it’d be presumptuous of me to tell him,” Calum says. “We haven’t- we only just made up last week.” Mali hums, a little disapprovingly.

“Well, I suppose,” she says, but she still doesn’t sound too happy about it. “You’ve got to tell your band, though. I’ve seen bigger bands fall apart for less.” Calum’s stomach flips. He knows that, and he knows full well that they could fall apart for less. But he also knows that he’s too far deep with the lie, now, could maybe have got away with the months of sporadic phone calls but hammered the final nail into his coffin in a chic house in Camden, that if he tells them now it all comes crashing down anyway.

“I can’t,” he says, and he hears the desperation in his own voice. “I can’t, Mali. I’d be-” he doesn’t even want to think about it. A life without Oasis, fine, whatever, he can go back to fixing fences and walls. But a life without Noel? A life without Liam? Calum can’t even stomach the thought of that, let alone the prospect of it being a reality. “I can’t. I can’t lose them.”

“What the fuck is the deal with you and those two?” Mali says, a little exasperated, because she knows he doesn’t mean Bonehead or Tony. “They’re nothing but trouble.”

“They’re my best friends,” Calum says, which is a bit of an understatement. Liam’s more of a part of the fabric that makes up Calum’s soul, but it feels a bit dramatic to say that out loud.

Mali’s quiet for a moment, and then she sighs again, long, heavy, resigned.

“Be careful,” she says gently. Her reluctant seal of approval.

“I’m trying.” Mali hums.

“Give my love to Mum and Dad,” she says. “I’m going to get high as fuck and try to forget that someone in my family has fucked Noel Gallagher.” The ghost of a smile crosses Calum’s lips at that.

“Night,” he says. “Love you.”

“Love you most, Cal.” There’s a click, and then she’s gone, nothing but the sound of Calum’s ragged breathing and his racing heart swelling in the silence of the dark kitchen.

Calum sets the phone down on the counter, then inhales deeply, staring up at the ceiling. Mali’s right. He’s made himself a right fucking mess.

Well, he thinks, a little bitterly. Merry fucking Christmas, eh?

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surveys-at-your-service · 4 years

Text

Survey #267

“you can take my heart, you can take my breath - when you pry it from my cold, dead chest.”

When did you last talk to the last person you kissed? Last night. Do you think people have any misconceptions about you? Oh, I'm positively certain. What’s something you wish you could understand better? There are a great many things, but the first that came to mind are certain political/moral beliefs that I REALLY do want to understand, but I just don't. When was the last time you cried really, really hard? About a week back when I woke up shrieking and sobbing from a nightmare about Dad. Have you ever injected a drug? No. How many people have you liked in the past 5 months? I've been COnfuFSSeD!!!!!! Are you currently in a relationship? Nope. Probably for the better. Have you ever touched a dead body? Animals, yes. I may have at an open-casket wake, but idr. I was young. Ever played Grand Theft Auto? Nope, but oh man, good memories of those stupid games with my neighbor back when I was younger... He loved that game just to fuck around, and I liked watching. Then Jacob and Jason played it together at the apartment a lot, and those are warm memories, too. The last male you spoke to … is he attractive? That would be my 3-year-old nephew, so it'd be fucking weird to call him that. He's one handsome little boy, though. We all know he's gonna be a lady killer one day. If your ex called right now, would you answer? Yeah. Is there a dictionary on your bookshelf? I don't even have a bookshelf. Do you have any pet names for the person you love/like? Not anymore. Who was the last person you had a serious conversation with? What is your honest opinion of that person? Mom. I love her to death. Who was the first person you dated? What is your honest opinion of that person? Aaron was my puppy-dog love, and I have not the slightest clue what he's up to now, but I have faith he's kept that good head of his. Ever fallen in the shower? I've passed out while getting *out* of it. I've slipped a number of times too, but not truly fallen. Do you think that things will get better? For me, I genuinely don't know. Ever been to a bonfire party? Yes, by my cousins' friend's pool for a b-day party. It was cool. Their house was fuckin' wild. Movie theater inside and all. Is your dad bald? Just about. His head is just mostly shaved. Have you ever slept at a member of the opposite sex’s house? I mean yeah, all the time when we were together. Have you ever hooked up with someone to hurt someone else? Wow, no. I don't do "hook-ups" anyway. Do any of your relatives actually pinch your cheeks when they see you? No. Have you ever made a member of the opposite sex cry? Ugh, yeah. Do you know the last person you kissed's parents? Yes, I adore them. Do they like you? I think so. Name a couple things you can cook. ... Literally just scrambled eggs, if you mean something pretty much from scratch. Well, I could probably still do pasta if I read the box. Who was there to help you last time you were puking? My mom. I am absolutely terrified of vomiting, so she's kind enough to somehow manage to stand in there with me and talk to me. Are there any boxes of tissues in your room? What’s the design on it? No. Are you in high school? When are you done? No. I graduated in 2014. Are you embarrassed to say if you’re a virgin or not? More like confused and awkward, because I genuinely DON'T know for sure. Have you ever met someone you thought you’d be with forever? It was "certainty" to me. That's partially why the breakup was so traumatizing. I MEAN IT when I say my brain couldn't even fathom the idea. It was "impossible." It simply couldn't happen. Then it did. ^Where are you two now? We haven't spoken in three years. Has your best friend ever been in love? Yes. What was the last magazine you bought? I've never been a magazine person. Will the last person you kissed get you anything for your next birthday? *shrugs* Do you think Family Guy is funny or just stupid? It can be both. Have you ever stayed with someone who treated you like shit just because you liked them so much? NO SIR-EE. You'd never see me stay with someone who treated me badly. Would you date someone all your friends and family hate? If I REALLY liked them, but if everyone hated that person, I would seriously consider why that is. Are you already looking forward to your wedding? Ha ha, not really, in most ways. Like, I hate getting all fancy and such. Have you ever spit on someone? No. Would you rather cuddle or make out? I MEAN, that depends on the mood??? Has your best friend ever been cheated on? No. Do you text with one hand or with both? Both. Are your parents left or right-handed? Right, to my knowledge? What was the last photo you took of? Something on FB I wanted to show to Sara. What topic always interests you and you will never tire of? C R Y P T I D Z Are you more or less tolerant than the average person? If you mean of varying beliefs, stuff like that, definitely more. If someone were to rate your life, what film certificate would it receive? PG-13 or R, idk. Actually, probably R for all they profanity lmaooo. Do you mind eating cold fries or are they disgusting? Ewww. What song makes you cry? What about it makes you cry? I physically cannot listen to "Stairway to Heaven" by Led Zeppelin because of Jason joking at prom that the music sucked and we could dance to something like that, then once he took me home, I played it from my iPod over his car speakers and we danced in the headlights of his truck and it all felt like a fairy-tale. I'm emotional just typing it and it makes my stomach hurt, so moving on. If you could remake a movie, which movie would it be? Silent Hill: Revelation. As a fanatic over the series, I enjoyed it decently, but, objectively, it sucked and was ALL over the place. How about if you could rewrite a book's ending, which one? Why? I don't think I'd change any. Maybe a clearer answer to The Handmaid's Tale, but it's still g. What colour hair does your sibling(s) have? Brown, except Misty and Katie. Theirs is black. What gemstone would you like on your wedding ring? A dragon's breath opal or rose gold would be gorgeous. What are you looking forward to in the near future? We're throwing my little sister a surprise graduation party at our older sis's house. Thanks to the quarantine, her senior graduation isn't *actually* happening, so. How is life going for you, anyway? Be honest. IT KINDA S U CKS!!!!!! What time did you get changed this morning? I haven't changed out of my pj's. I almost never do (besides obviously after a shower) because I have nowhere to go, like ever. Have you met somebody that you want to spend the rest of your life with? Yeah. Have you ever dressed up as a Disney character? Which one? Maybe as a kid? Have you ever played chess? If so, are you good at it? I’ve never played it. If I wanted to buy you a chocolate bar, what kind should I NOT get? Ew, Snickers. Of all your close friends, who have you known the longest? Sara. What was the last song you heard, that made you feel emotional? Hm. Maybe "Disguise" by Motionless In White. I wonder all the time if that's how Jason felt. Plus it's his favorite band, so that's a double whammy. When was the last time you took a selfie? Maybe about a month ago. As a child, did you ever have any scented gel pens or markers? Oh, I remember those! Yes. Name an alcoholic beverage that you dislike. Hell, most that I've tried. I hate strong stuff. Can you recall the last time you were on a dancefloor? When I was shooting someone's wedding last year. Do you own any color-changing mood jewellery? No, I have zero faith in those. What was the last thing you heated up in your microwave? Ummm pizza rolls, I think. What was the last flavor of ice cream you had? Moose tracks. Do you have an online game that you play often? I play World of Warcraft daily, and I enjoy the Dragons of Atlantis app a few times a day. I was into it when it was still a game on an actual website, and I more recently downloaded it on my phone. What’s your favorite cookie? Soft chocolate chip... yum. How long would you have to date someone for before moving in together? I think this depends very much on the relationship, BUT LIKE, definitely not TOO quickly because you need to test the endurance of the relationship. I'd at the very least give it a year and seriously consider how healthy the relationship is. Moving in with each other shouldn't be an impulsive "this is working great omg I love him/her let's do this!!!!". What's your favorite kind of sushi? N/A How much was the last bill that you paid? I've never paid a bill... wow, that's sad. What was the cause of the worst low point you've had in your life? A very abrupt, traumatic breakup. What are some of your favorite types of cheeses? Really just American. When did you last feel like your privacy was invaded? I'm not sure. Do your parents volunteer anywhere? No. Do you own more than 50 books? I have my Warriors books stocked somewhere. Probably in the attic. Do you have a bachelor's degree? Bitch I wish. How old were you when you became financially independent from your parents? I'm 24 and still aren't independent. Does your kitchen have an island? No. Have you ever bought or sold something on Facebook Marketplace? No. Do you know anyone famous enough to have their own Wikipedia page? No. What was the last appointment you had? With my psychiatrist over the phone because yeah quarantine. Why did you last feel like crying? I woke up from yet another nightmare. I'm so, so tired of them. They make me dread sleep. Do you keep your friends secrets/private information to yourself? If it truly is private, yes, and secrets, absolutely. What negative quality do your friends bring up the most? "I... don’t think I’d like to be friends with people who have a habit of bringing up 'negative' things about me." <<<< This. Do you often "jump" to conclusions? ONLY ALWAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What about the world do you wish you never found out? Christ, there's a lot. For some reason, the first thing that came to mind is the dogmeat trade in Korea. A girl in my first semester did a presentation on it, and just... wow. I never had the slightest clue it was a thing. Does the sight of blood make you feel sick? No. Does someone's background affect whether you'll be friends with them or not? Well, yeah. I'm not gonna be friends with a rapist or something. How about their religious background? Depends on if they push that shit on me or not, as well as things they believe. If someone admitted cheating in a past relationship of theirs, would you trust them? NNNNNNNNNOPE. Do you drink tea and/or coffee every day? There are so many tea/coffee questions in surveys... and no. I don't like either. Did you ever want to be a cook as a kid? No. Do you wish that magic was real? Well, it depends on what the magic is. Do you prefer fire or ice? Fire is cooler. Do you rap along with rap songs? No. When happy, do you become more talkative? WAY MORE. Bowling or sailing? Why? Never sailed before, but bowling is fun. Especially with the lights off but all the neon and signs lit up. Do you prefer sitting in the front or back of a car? THE FRONT!!!!!!!!! Sitting shotgun and being able to control the music is everyTHIIIIIIIIIIIING. How about in a train? On the bus? I don't really have a preference here. Do you care about politics? I should... Are you offended easily by non-politically correct language? No, honestly. Do you think the censors/fcc go a bit too far or are just right? Definitel too far. Have you ever taken a martial art? Which one(s)? No. Do you know anyone who is scared of you? No. I am so unintimidating. Do you like watermelon? Not really, no. Can you remember the month of your first kiss? April or May, p sure. What do you think is the most interesting thing about you? Uh. I dunno, man. Do you have a photo album? Mom has tons. What was your biggest fear as a child? Thunderstorms. I was fucking terrified. Can you remember all your past teachers' names? The majority. Do you find people taller than you intimidating? Generally tall men do, but not always. What's your favorite thing about your country? We have a lot of freedom. What's your least favourite thing about your country? We're greedy as fuck. What websites do you have bookmarked? I have a few on my personal laptop, which I don't have access to now so can't recall well. What TV show scared you as a kid? Courage the Cowardly Dog... though I watched it anyway lmao. What is one thing you regret having done or not done in your life? There's a lot. Let's not focus on it. Which parent do you identify with the most? I guess Mom. What embarrasses you the most in front of other people? laskdjflawe admitting I RP is almost ENTIRELY IMPOSSIBLE to others, especially in-person. If you had to choose one thing you were most passionate about, what would it be and why? Politics, 'cuz that's shit that seriously matters and affects the world. Who are you most envious of—real or fictional—and why? Probably an old friend who's an award-winning, quite successful photographer here in the state. She's shot fashion and model stuff professionally. She's absolutely gorgeous, does the coolest stuff... What’s the saddest song you’ve ever heard? Good Lord, I know so many. "UR A WOMAN NOW" by Otep is one, then there's "Terrible Things" by Mayday Parade, "Cancer" by My Chemical Romance... wow, I'm so surprised they're not just rushing to me. How about the sweetest song? Biiiiiih "Here For You" by Ozzy Osbourne laskdjfk;awe Do you know how to play dominoes? No. What food will you absolutely not, under any circumstances, eat? Exotic/endangered animal meat. What is one thing you’re embarrassed to admit you want to try? Uhhh I'm really not sure. Which famous person would you like to be BFFs with? Shane Dawson is MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Is there something you wish you had said sorry for but never did? Many things.

#survey #surveys #random questions

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swearronchanel · 7 years

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As per request, 2.05

You guys have been so freaking sweet and kind to me with your feedback since I started making these ridiculous posts, it’s insane but I love it!❣️ I literally started these as a joke because my one friend who watches call the midwife didn’t pick up the phone (and bc I was under the influence whoops hahaha it happens) but now I have so much fun posting every week! I’m sure I won’t stop these any time soon (what will I do when this series is over until Christmas? Yikes lets not talk about it yet) Anyways @marialujan22 requested I rewatch and post for 2x5 & shit it’s been a while since I’ve watched series 2 but I couldn’t say no! Besides Im in a good mood because I have 10 days till spring break & only like 8 weeks left in the semester so here we go ..

idk if I’m mentally prepared for this

THE BIKE SONG I LOVE IT

“Somewhere far away, scientist we’re working on a magic pill, rumored to make pregnancy a case of choice..” Hell yea birth control, deff a magic pill in my opinion

Crazy that it took 3 series for the pill to become a thing & then there was still lame ass government guidelines

Jenny Lee! lol I often forget about her sorry not sorry, I liked her but she left. ya no importa

I love how “mature jenny” still narrates even though her character is never even mentioned anymore #letmenarrate lol jk I like Vanessa Redgrave’s voice

“Meanwhile other scientists were trying to send humans to the moon” fuck yea Hidden Figures

If CtM went up until 1969 that’d be lit, like the episode on mad men when they watched the moon landing! Just replace them with nuns and nurses and babies & replace the liquor for tea 😂

Shit I’ve said typed so much already

SISTER MJ💕 I wanna smack myself she’s brushing her teeth & I thought of that stupid toothbrush song from last week’s episode kill me

Nora’s pregnant again uh oh

Cynthia! SISTER E! Jane! It’s been so long

My bby Trixie 💕😍 I miss her pin curls! But now she’s serving those 60s looks so I’m here for it all

“Take that off this minute before you go to hell” LMAO TRIX YOU CANT TELL KIDS THAT

lol who am I kidding I would’ve said the same

I love sister Monica Joan, id quote everything she ever says but that’s too much work

Vicar’s wife? But who was the vicar?

LMAO WAIT DOESNT SISTER MJ FAKE A HEART ATTACK??

YES SHE DID IM DEAD I LOVE HER, WELL IT WAS LIKE ANGINA BUT IDC STILL FUNNY CAUSE SHE DIDNT WANNA GO

PRECIOUS SISTER BERNADETTE 😭💕

I STILL CANT BELIEVE MY BBY SHELAGH WAS A NUN, ITS SO STRANGE TO GO BACK AND SEE HER IN THE HABIT, LIKE YOURE PREGNANT NOW, WITH DR TURNERS BABYYY!!

anyone else really wanted to know how she was going to tell Sister Julienne “um i was already done with being a nun and now im love sick, I can’t stop thinking about Dr Turner so I gotta ditch this habit”

damn I feel so bad like she did not want another baby & had no choice but to deal with it

No Jenny, tea is not gonna help right now

And heres the lady that scammed her

How much is 2 guinnis ? Idk how to spell that u already know I’m an ignorant American

Did she really tell a married woman keep her legs closed? It Doesn’t even matter if she was married or not like who are u anyway?? I would’ve bitch slapped her too, good for u Nora

Sister MJ saying her horoscope was right, we are the same😭

Wtf is spotted dick? Also I laughed because I’m immature Lmaoo

Sister J eating the pudding, she knows how to get to sister MJ 😂 I love them

Trixie teasing Jane about the Reverend lol aw

“I can’t knit I had a heart attack this morning” ME TRYING TO GET OUT OF THINGS

8 kids in one bedroom though yikes

Cute and classic bedroom moments 😭💕

“Naughty version of eggnog” like coquito? Lol nah, coquito is the bomb

IM CRYING SISTER BERNADETTE LOOKING IN THE DOORWAY

THIS BREAKS MY HEART EVERYTIME

THEY FUCKING CLOSED THE DOOR ON HER, MY BBY. I WANT TO HUG HER 💔💔💔 she deserves the world

Who is this irrelevant ass vicars wife? “Cherrio”

I’m so sorry Nora

Ew wtf a rat just bit the baby?

“Just tell me what you want sister” SHE WANTS YOU DOCTOR

THE WAY THEYRE LOOKING AT EACH OTHER OMG IM SHOOK

WHAT THE HELL TIM WHY DID YOU RUIN THE MOMENT ?!

sister MJ wants to roll bandages, make it happen! lol I love that Cynthia and Jane unwrap them all for her 😭

Aww i love babies !! but that one with a funny nose uhh

SISTER BERNADETTE BLOWING THE WHISTLE AND CHEERING 💕 MY HEART SHE IS SO ADORABLE

Aw I wish Trixie could have another scene going through old pictures and maybe share old stories with the new nurses💔 unlikely but you know I can hope. SHE DID HAVE THAT PHOTO OF HER AND CYNTHIA ON HER MIRROR LAST SUNDAY💕

“I’m a woman on a mission” beatrix, light in my life

Curly locks lol, when I was younger I was called Shirley temple and when I dyed my hair I was called Goldie locks.. mind u that lasted into high school 😂 I’m staying blonde for good though, I don’t think I can pull off anything else

DONT GO OUT WITH HIM TRIXIE, HE’S TRASH

Laura Main’s angelic voice ✨👼🏼

who am I kidding she’s an angel

you know what would be fun and a dream? to go out with the ctm cast and get drunk and take trashy snapchat videos singing

Gin & a hot bath??

Trixie looked him up lol, good move

BUT HE’S STILL TRASH and an asshole

Pickle knife ?

again, this irrelevant vicar’s wife? vete ya

Everyone thinks Sister MJ is senile but she knows what’s up with Sister Bernadette..

“..but is all blank sadness and continued tears” MY HEART💔 sister Bernadette/Shelagh has spent the majority of this show crying/being sad/distressed ugh!! Laura Main plays is beautifully but I CRY!? Let her be uninterruptedly happy please 😭💕

she (and helen) ruined me tbh, I used to have dignity

Is Jenny really naive or is she just pretending not to understand??

SEE SISTER BERNADETTE IS ON SCREEN AGAIN & IS UPSET

“I almost wish I was physically ill..” okay bRb CRYIN. THIS IS WHY I CANT WATCH THESE OLDER EPISODES I CRY TOO MUCH, I DONT LIKE TO SEE HER UNHAPPY

Remember when I started the show and didn’t know it was gonna ruin my life? Or before I grew attached? Yea me neither lmaoo those were the days when I thought downton killed me. I Didn’t know what was coming 😂 still love downton though rip #downtonmoviepls

Knitting needles?? aye dios mio

HA GREMLIN TIM AND JACK

Again how much is a gunniea and how do I spell it? I could google it but I’m busy here

She was willing to sell her wedding ring and risk her life for an unprofessional abortion. DO YOU SEE THE ISSUE? This isn’t just the a period drama either. Shit is real

“Are babies more valued because they can survive or do they survive beside they are more valued?” good question sis

lol Jane was so sweet and just bounced with no word

AT LEAST I KNOW WHERE SHE WENT THOUGH, THANKS FOR THAT NZ CUT SCENE

Trixie being a babe and getting ready to do her nails 😍💕 I wish I could do mine well but I’m trash and so I pay to get them done

The cross cutting in this scene is crazy but so well done (& yes look at me using real terms lol, I took a Music in film class last semester and had to know editing techniques 😂, I did fairly well too)

I really don’t know how she survived this

My bby trixie looking gorgeous as per usual. I love her so much, Helen u kill me

NO COÑFIO TRIXIE, HE’S NO GOOD

Haha why did I not remember the Gone With The Wind reference? Cynthia was so cute, I miss her carefree and happy

FRECO MOVE YOUR DAMN HAND, YOU ARE TRASH.

HE’S FICTIONAL BUT ID STILL FIGHT HIM

my poor bby😭💔 it is not your fault , he’s trash!! But this moment between the nurses warmed my cold heart

“Matrons in charge, virgins of iron” 😭😭

Aw Earth Angel playing, ✨🎼 I highkey pop to 50s/60s pandora stations

Jenny yes it’s illegal but do you think that matters rn??

TIM AS MAID MARION LMAO

Sister Bernadette looking at Dr Turner ah omg 😭they’ve come so far.

It’s not your fault Jenny but you should’ve told someone

Sister B & Tim won 👏🏼

LMAO ALL I CAN THINK OF IS THAT POST “WOAH CALM DOWN IM JUST TRYNA DATE YOUR DAD”

and she’s down, and the glasses flew

“You’ve hurt your hand” “well I’m sure there’s no need to amputate” ah sister b/shelagh lowkey has some of the funniest lines she just slips them in and people miss them !!

Here it comes ..

THE MOMENT..

“Would you like me to have a look at that?” UHM YEA

No but seriously I can barely remember what I thought when I first watched this but I knew something was gonna happen because a nurse can handle her own damn cut & well you know, she was in love with him

HE KISSED HER HAND. A fucking doctor kissed a nuns hand people, how scandalous & this was THE MOMENT I KNEW I WAS CORRUPT AND WAS GOING TO HELL, I AM SATAN I WANTED THE DOCTOR TO KISS A FREAKING NUN ON THE MOUTH LIKE WTF WHO RAISED ME? MY MOTHER WANTED IT TOO SO IDK BUT THIS KILLED ME, LIKE R.I.P HERE LIES GABBY, I WAS IN THE GROUND DECEASED. I’m actual trash. Someone dispose of me in the proper bin #recyle

for real, this is when I really knew that I was never going to love any other show like this and I allowed it to ruin me

BUT HONESTLY WHAT THE HELL WAS HE THINKING? THATS A BOLD MOVE

BOLD IN GENERAL BECAUSE YOU DONT KNOW IF SHE LIKES YOU BUT BOLD x1000 BC SHE IS A NUN, YOU KNOW MARRIED TO GOD, VOW OF CHASITY AND ALL THAt??

What if she would’ve freaked tf out or told sister Julienne? I don’t even know. I’ll just be grateful for how things turned out

“At this moment I only know I’m not turning my back on you because of you but I’m doing it because of him” AHHHH, DONT WORRY BBY GOD LOVES U AND UNDERSTANDS YOU LOVE HIM AND THE DOCTOR, LOSE THAT HABIT AND GO PROPERLY KISS PATRICK 😭

Sister MJ judging the baby contest is the purest thing & I need it to cleanse my disgusting soul that wants a dr to get with a nun #notsorrythough

“In Nonnatus we were good at tending other’s wounds and there were times I felt we were all each other’s children..” brb I’m crying I love that they’re like a family 😭💕💔

I’m so happy they didn’t kill Nora and she actually was happy in the end. I really wasn’t sure for a moment (obviously when I first watched lol)

“ Free reliable contraception came too late to help her, but in time the scientists triumphed. Her daughters and granddaughters lives remained transfigured, long after man left fleeting footprints on the moon.” Vanessa always knowing what to say in the end.

Lets see how the pill is going to be reintroduced this series, I’m interested in how it’s going to play out.

I’ve said that so many times though so I’ll be done

The End.

#call the midwife #im actual trash #I love this show too much #my thoughts #and rambles #lets get it 1962 #protect my bbys at all costs though #my commentaries™

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