#but this week seems like a good time to start writing either midsummer night’s dream
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Very Okay
I was consumed with the urge to write some domestic smut so here's some soft dads Widomauk just banging it out at the end of a long week. Huge thanks to my wonderful enablers @spiky-lesbian and @minky-for-short
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“...and then Una said next week she’s swimming for her Level 2 badge and she’s a little nervous, she’s got to go a whole lap. She’ll be fine, of course, but she has that whole thing about putting her head underwater so we need to make sure we keep an eye on her.”
Molly nodded, shifting so his tail wasn’t trapped under his leg, “She’ll do a wonderful job, she goes through the water like a shark. Literally, with the teeth…”
“And Trinket needs a costume put together, it’s World Book Day on Friday and apparently preschool kids have Fairy Tales as their theme? So I was thinking we could just swipe something from when your theatre group did Midsummer Night’s Dream. It’s a little short notice and I thought that would save you having to sew something new.”
“Yeah, he loves messing around back there anyway,” Molly nodded, pushing a lock of hair behind his ear, trying to angle his chest forward, “So, um…”
“Oh!” Caleb’s finger shot into the air, sending a wave of water over the edge of the tub, “Before I forget! I have to take the kittens to get their vaccinations at the vets tomorrow so if you could watch the bookstore for me, that would be such a huge help.”
“Of course baby, I can do that, but don’t you think we should maybe-”
“Thank you! I promise I’ll be super quick, I have this thing at the Academy, apparently professors are supposed to go to parties? That wasn’t on the job description-”
“Caleb,” Molly couldn’t help himself, reaching up and taking hold of his husband’s face, doing his absolute best not to laugh, “Listen, I love catching up with you but this is our date night and you were kind of about to start fucking me and it seems we’ve stalled a little? If we could get back on that, it would be great.”
Caleb took a few long, slow blinks, his eyes then travelling around him like he was only just noticing the fact that he was sharing a bathtub, naked, pressed up against his equally naked husband. Or rather, remembering that he was, it seemed like he’d been pretty into the idea when he’d been tearing Mollymauk’s clothes off and tipping him into the water.
“Oh,” his face flushed so quickly it can’t have had anything to do with the heat of the water, “I’m killing the mood, aren’t I?”
That was all of Molly’s available composure, he snorted as laughter tore it’s way out of his chest, sending his head knocking back against the rim of the tub. After a few moments, Caleb started giggling too, helplessly putting his hands over his face.
“I mean, it started well,” Molly cackled, hugging his arms around himself, as it happened sharing a tub between two people didn’t leave much water to cover you, “Y’know, growling that you were going to touch me until I screamed, that was a real good start to date night? It only went South when you started coordinating our schedules…”
Caleb groaned, tilting forward until he was resting his head on Molly’s shoulder, strands of hair falling out of his bun and drinking the water, “Sorry...There was just one thing I wanted to tell you and then it kept going.”
“It’s alright,” Molly chuckled, still cradling his head, pressing his lips to his head, “I do feel like we’ve hardly talked this week.”
“That’s just it!” Caleb sighed, melting a little in his husband’s arms, gingerly letting him take his weight, “Between the store and now me being an associate professor and you doing tech week, I feel like I only see you when I bump into you in the hallway.”
Molly had to admit he was right. Of course he was endlessly proud of his husband, the fact that he’d had the courage to even step over the threshold of the Soltryce Academy after everything he’d been through there, let alone accept a job and try and make the place better, was incredible. Making this huge step in his recovery all while maintaining the little bookstore he’d been running for the last few years, coming home tired and smiling every day, satisfied and certain of his place in the world. It was everything Molly had wanted for him.
But he couldn’t lie, he was starting to miss him.
Mollymauk smiled softly as he traced his fingers through his hair, “Well, I’m kind of glad it’s not just me who was thinking that...that’s kind of why I asked if we could make tonight a date night.”
Molly felt Caleb deflate a little in his arms, “And I turned it into some kind of press conference. I’m sorry, Mollymauk.”
Starting to purr, the tiefling’s tail found its way around Caleb’s leg, squeezing like some kind of comforting snake, “I’ll hear no apologies from you, Mr Caleb. What I wanted was to spend time with you and that’s what I’ve got. Minus clothes too, which is a nice bonus.”
Caleb made a soft, decisive noise, pulling himself back up, bracing his hands on the rim of the bath either side of Molly’s head.
“But if I went back to that whole ‘touch you until you scream’ thing? Would that be alright?” his smile turned crooked.
Molly unsuccessfully suppressed an undignified squeak of mixed shock and arousal, his smile flaring into a full blown grin.
“Oh that would be pretty okay too, yeah.”
Caleb gave one of those rough, rumbling laughs that Molly loved so much, the ones that only came out when Molly knew he was about to become the sole focus of Caleb’s not inconsiderable attention, when the brain that normally went in ten different directions and most of those on other planes of reality, was about to zero in on him and him alone.
Molly yelped as he felt surprisingly strong arms slide under him and lift him out of the water, sending rain pattering down from their bodies.
“Babe!” Molly locked his arms around his shoulders like a vice, “This is romantic and all but you’ve got skinny noodle arms!”
“Charming,” Caleb snorted, “You don’t weigh all that much, Liebling. I won’t drop you.”
Before Molly could properly address his doubt about that- he’d once watched his husband struggle for twenty minutes to open a jar of peanut butter that wasn’t even new- they were moving, water scattering generously along the hallway. Apparently lifting books all day was better for your upper body strength than Mollymauk had realised because, true to his word, Molly wasn’t dropped until he was tumbled into bed, Caleb following pretty soon after.
Eagerly he dragged him closer, pressing their lips together, barely letting a heartbeat pass before he slid his tongue across Caleb’s. He hiked his legs up around his husband’s waist like he was anchoring him there, like any bare inch between their bodies was just unbearable. Caleb’s hands felt like they were everywhere, so much so that Molly wasn’t convinced there wasn’t magic involved. Just the warm, roughened touch of his broad hands sliding across his shoulders, following the curve of his spine to press their bodies closer, kneading the softness of his thighs. Everywhere he needed him, Caleb was there and still it didn’t feel like enough.
Almost the exact moment he had that thought, he was turning, rolling, until suddenly he was on top and Caleb was grinning wickedly up at him, his normally bright blue eyes dark with want.
“Want to ride my tongue, Liebling?” he purred roughly, knowing the answer full well but still wanting to hear him say it.
Molly obliged him, whimpering, “Oh fuck yes.”
It wasn’t that people would look at Mollymauk and expect him to always prefer the dominant role in bed, he was well aware of the vibes he gave off and cultivated them carefully (though if anyone were to let their gaze linger more closely they’d notice the two fingernails on his right hand kept deliberately short). It was more that they would notice Caleb, hiding behind his hair and hunching his shoulders and never speaking above a low murmur and never imagine him as the kind of person to take control. Of anything really, let alone someone like Molly. He didn’t look like he could command a one person canoe in a swimming pool.
How little they knew.
Molly gripped the headboard so hard that the nails he did keep long and wickedly sharp bit into the wood, levering himself up a little, bracketing Caleb’s head with his knees. He hovered at first, even as his thighs trembled with anticipation, with the intense sensation of those eyes examining him meticulously. Suddenly he was incredibly aware of how wet he was, conscious of every bead of slick, every pulse of heat through him, the stiffness of his cock.
No one would look at Caleb and see a man capable of nearly making his husband come from eyes alone.
“So cruel of me to make you wait,” Caleb’s voice was a rumble in his chest, “And yet you look so beautiful when you’re desperate…”
“Caleb,” Molly whined, teeth gritted, the lightest brush of his husband’s breath enough to make him beg shamelessly, “Please.”
“My apologies,” Caleb’s accent got noticeably thicker when he was turned on, like the part of his brain usually keeping him in Common was slipping. Or perhaps he just knew it drove Molly wild, “Just admiring…”
He took hold of Molly’s thighs and pulled him down, until Molly felt the rough scrape of his beard against his flesh, the contact after so long waiting wrenching a soft cry from him. Then he felt his wizard’s lips part, his tongue, warmer, trace a teasing path between the valley of him and the cry became a throaty moan. He couldn’t help it, almost immediately he was rocking his hips, seeking more, every nerve ending screaming for it.
Caleb tapped his thigh smartly, half in warning that he hadn’t given permission, half in warning that- while drowning in him would be a rather pleasant way to go- he’d prefer not to go at all if the option was there. Molly forced himself to still, even as it made him ache between the legs, tipping his head back and taking deep, desperate gulps of air.
Back in control, Caleb rewarded him with broad, generous strokes of his tongue, keeping it flat so Molly felt every inch of it. He took his cock in his mouth, rolling it around his tongue, scraping lightly with his teeth, kissing and lapping and sucking like he was eating some fruit. Finally, he found his entrance, probing gently and then far less gently, pulling him close so he could plunge deeper.
Molly was as vocal as ever, clinging to the headboard for dear life, tail stiff and straight in the air. He’d learned, he kept his hips still but there was no need, Caleb was in control. He rocked him back and forth, using every ounce of this surprising strength, giving Mollymauk everything he needed, leaving him nothing left to take.
Molly’s frantic, formless moans and screams haphazardly threw themselves into something close to words, “Caleb, I...oh fuck, baby, I’m...gonna…”
Through the haze of it all, he felt two quick taps on his thigh, Caleb’s affirmative answer. His signal that it was okay to fall, that Caleb would catch him.
And so he did. A last scream tearing its way from his raw throat, Molly’s shoulders locked and his chin hit his chest as it all rolled through him, as it lit him up from the inside out. He couldn’t have said how long it lasted, only that when it was done with him he felt as exhausted as he ever had. Enough that when he started to sway too hard and fell, he didn’t have the strength to catch himself.
But Caleb did. Moving quickly, he sat up and wrapped his arms around his husband, snagging him before he could tumble off the bed.
“Easy there…” he panted, grinning.
Molly’s eyelids felt leaden but he couldn’t bear not to look at Caleb right now, smiling wonkily back and leaning into his embrace, “You are fucking magical.”
Caleb giggled, gently laying him down against the pillows, curling on his side beside him. The lower half of his face was shining in the low light, his smile soft and shy and sweet again. Molly reached up and laid a gentle hand on his cheek, like he was worried he would disappear if he didn’t.
Caleb caught his wrist, turning his head and pressing a kiss to his palm, “I’m right here, Liebling. I’m right here.”
Molly exhaled in gentle relief, his eyes slowly gaining focus, “You...lie next to me. Tell me everything you want to tell me, all about your day, all about...everything. I just want to listen to you. And then when my brain puts itself together it's your turn. Okay?”
Caleb nodded, eyes wide and eager and loving, “Very okay.”
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Find the Word tag
Thanks for the tag @charleewritesabook
Throat
Lia couldn’t help but smile back at him. “Is there anything else we should know before we meet your parents?”
Her throat seemed to close on the thought and Tybee looked confused.
Kyle laughed. “I was wondering when you’d put that piece together.”
The look she gave him only made him laugh harder.
“What piece?” Gil asked?
“The meeting the parents of a boyfriend piece.” Kyle snickered.
“So are you.” Lia snapped back, hating that her cheeks were taking on color.
Kyle shrugged. “Mothers love me.”
“Mothers with teenaged daughters love you,” Lia sulked. She didn’t know how mother’s with gay sons felt about him.
Sea
The water lapped over her toes and her breath came in sharply. “Oh, that’s cold.”
Gil laughed, low and dark. The sound went perfectly with the rolling of the waves.
“I forget that sometimes.”
Lia frowned, searching his face. Just now, he almost seemed like someone else. “Forget what?”
He looked out over the ocean, seeing something she couldn’t, never would. The Gil she knew was a million miles away right now. The Gil that remained was intriguing, and a little frightening.
His hand in hers seemed to grow warm, a steady tide of new water coming in, mixing with the cold to make eddies and swirls. None of it affected the real water, the ocean they stood in. But they way she experienced it, the way it felt…
“That the ocean isn’t the same for everyone. That when you step into the sea, you step only into this sea.”
She felt a little dizzy, breathless. Lia leaned into that strong warmth.
“I stand in all oceans and all seas and all tides at all times. When I am near the water, it calls to me, sings to me of who I am, who I could be….”
His voice sounded both far away and so close.
“And who’s that?”
He seemed to shake himself, coming back to her with a soft smile.
“No one I’d want to be. I’d rather stay here with you.”
Lia nodded, squeezing his hand. He felt more solid again, more like the Gil she knew, even if the moonlight still painted him in those strange shades. “I like you here with me too.”
His smile grew and he pulled her close, turning so that they were face to face. This was the point where he’d usually make some comment about how he should get her back, or it was late, or any number of things that left her confused and disappointed. But instead, he lowered his face to hers, lips hesitating only a moment before he kissed her.
Kitchen
Lia poked his bicep, pleased at the firmness there. "You do a lot of gardening?"
"I do."
His voice was thick and rough, no matter his attempts to smooth it. She kept touching him, and the heat in him kept burning hotter and hotter--
"The corn!"
Gil practically lunged for the grill, blinking back tears as a billow of smoke rose up with the lid.
She jumped as he grabbed the grill, then waved the smoke out of her face.
Lia grimaced. Maybe she shouldn't have been distracting Gil while he cooked.
She peeked around him, relishing the heat despite the smoke. "Is it okay?"
He fished an ear out with the tongs, relieved to see that it was mostly unharmed.
"Yeah. I just meant to turn them sooner."
He turned all the cobs, grinning sheepishly as he worked.
"I always seem to lose my head when you're around."
She laughed, wrinkling her nose. "I was just thinking I was going to end up getting banned from the kitchen. Probably shouldn't garden with you either, I'm terrible with plants."
"I like having you in the kitchen."
Oh, there was the soft Gil she loved so much. When his voice went all quiet, like secrets whispered laying in bed late at night, with only the stars and each other to hear you...
Lia blinked, feeling that weird double place thing again. She was getting used to the boys bleeding over, almost. When it happened in moments like this, she didn’t mind so much.
He closed the lid and stepped over to the porch rail, leaning back against it with his hands spread to either side. Smiling, Lia decided to take a little more of matters into her own hands and followed him, pressing herself into his warm chest.
"Snuggle me," she murmured. "Its cold out here with the grill closed."
His arms went around her, slowly, carefully, but oh so right. She burrowed in closer with a happy sigh, arms slipping around his waist.
"You could always go inside," he said, lips brushing the top of her head. He didnt seem inclined to let her go.
"I could," she agreed, fingers playing over the small of his back. "But I'd rather be out here with you."
King (I’m using Lord, since “King” isn’t really the title used in Faery)
“We have to go back to… Explain why we haven’t come back, basically.” Gil offered, not looking happy about the prospect.
“Plead your case?” Kyle offered and Gil nodded with a sigh.
“So what’s the worst that happens?”
Gil didn’t like that question, grimacing and looking away.
Tybee scoffed. “Nothing. My father can’t force me to stay home like some errant child. He’ll bitch and we’ll leave. It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing, Tybee.” Gil ground out.
“He just wants to know why I like it over here so much.” Tybee countered. “It isn’t as if anything’s happened to concern him.”
“Except that Erumond isn’t here and something might happen to you.”
Tybee glared. “I don’t need a protection service. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
Gil sighed. “Hope Lord Oberon thinks so.”
“Lord Oberon?” Kyle asked as Lia blinked.
“Tybee’s father.” Gil said offhand.
“Tybee’s dad is Oberon? Like, Midsummer Night’s Dream?”
Tybee shrugged a shoulder. “My family’s been fans of the Bard for centuries. Custom or some such.”
At Kyle’s continued interest, Tybee began to smile wickedly, a sign that he’d thought of something someone wasn’t going to like, but that he was going to really enjoy.
“Kyle,” he purred as Gil gave him a worried look, “Lia, how would you like to see Otherside?”
“What?” Gil yelped. “No, Tybee.”
“School’s out for the summer, no one’s taking summer classes – you two could travel with us. See our home.” Tybee continued as if Gil wasn’t actively telling him it was a bad idea.
Future
Lia was taken aback by the idea, but as usual, Kyle was all for it. He touched her arm, grinning at the idea of adventure. He’d always been the more outgoing of the two of them. “You were saying earlier that you didn’t know what you were going to do for a Senior’s project. This is the perfect time to start looking for inspiration, Panda Bear.”
Gil looked troubled as he leaned back in his seat.
“Is it really a bad idea?” She asked him.
He looked uncomfortable. He chewed on his lip, trying to think of the right thing to say. Something to balance his promise to always be forthright with her in the future, and not earning Tybee’s ire.
“I don’t know what’s waiting for us,” he finally said. “After Erumond…” He shot a furtive glance to Tybee. “I just don’t know what to expect. That in and of itself is dangerous in Faery.”
“All of Faery is dangerous.” Tybee’s words were light, delivered with an airy wave of the hand. “That’s why I make a point of never traveling it alone.”
Gil stared at him a moment, before understanding dawned. “The caravan...”
Tybee nodded. “One and the same. They’ll be passing back through Mortalside in about a week’s time, somewhere upstate. I can ask through the feyhouse networks about their location, though I have a good guess.” His grin turned even more pleased. “I thought we might wait at one of the beach houses. Take in a little sun.”
Something about that prospect seemed to relax Gil. He didn’t quite smile, but Lia could see the start of one.
“Ooh, the beach.” Kyle cooed. “I’ve always wanted to go to the beach, Lia...”
She held a hand up before he could start making puppy eyes at her. “I never said no, Kyle.” She shrugged a shoulder, but she was smiling. “If it isn’t dangerous, it sounds like fun.”
Tybee clapped his hands together, beaming. “Oh it will be.” Then he launched off on the virtues of this or that place, Kyle eagerly gobbling up the details.
tagging back @homesteadchronicles @urbanteeth@inky-duchess to find: Ride, Run, Dark, and Corner
Foxes and Fate Tag List
@lordkingsmith @mariahwritesstuff @silver-wields-a-pen @jessiwritesbad @writinginslowmotion @alessia-writes @abalonetea @worldbuildingwren @soupopoireau @livvywrites @adie-dee @bookish-actor @wineandpensareallineed @dawnoftheagez
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The Notes
Her, Tear, Answer
*In their chronological order for each member*
*it's going to get updated with photos and anything that Smeraldo Books posts*
Part 1: Jungkook
28 May YEAR 19
“Hyungs. What do you dream about?” The hyungs looked back at me in response to my question. “I have to write a paper about future hopes.” I elaborated. Seokjin hyung opened his mouth and said, “I don’t think I have a dream. If I have something I hope for, it’s just to the extent of… wanting to become a good person?” He cut himself off, seeming embarrassed. Then Yoongi hyung, who was at the piano, spoke in an airy voice. “It’s okay to not have a dream. I don’t have one. I’m just going to become whatever.” Everyone burst out at his words. They fit him well.
“I’m going to become a superhero and save the world from bad guys.” Taehyung said this while standing on his chair to pose. He reached his arms toward the sky. Hoseok hyung scolded him telling him to get down before he got hurt. Hoseok hyung then added, “I want to find my mom and live happily. Being happy is my dream.” Hyung smiled as he spoke. “Does that mean you’re unhappy now?” Jimin asked. Hoseok hyung replied, “When I was in preschool I wanted to be president, but I didn’t have anything I wanted to be after that.”
Only Namjoon hyung was left after that. After feeling everyone’s eyes on him, he shrugged. “I want to say something nice, but I don’t really have a dream either. I just wish my part-time job paid more.” I nodded and stared down at the paper in front of me. The paper was divided into spaces for students and spaces for parents. What did I want to become? I couldn’t think of anything to write.
25 June YEAR 20
I gently touched the piano keys with my fingertip. It left my finger smudged with dust. Even when using the slightest pressure of my finger to press down on the keys, the piano still let out a sound different from the ones hyung would play. Hyung hadn't been to school for ten days. Today I heard that he'd been expelled. Namjoon hyung and Hoseok hyung didn't say anything. I didn't say anything because I was scared to hear the answer. Two weeks ago, before the teacher had revealed our secret location, there was only me and hyung here. There was an open inspection that day. I didn't want to remain in class so I ran to that place. Hyung didn't look back, just played the piano as I laid on two joint desks to take a nap. In theory, hyung and the piano exist as two separate entities, but it was hard to view them apart. I didn't know why, but hearing hyung's playing made me want to cry.
When it felt as if the tears would soon fall I hastily turned onto my back. Just then, the door opened with an explosive bang. The piano music stopped. I was slapped so hard I fell to the ground. I huddled on the floor, listening to the barrage of angry words thrown at me. Eventually the sound stopped. I turned and saw that hyung had pushed the teacher back. He sheltered me with his whole body. Past hyung's shoulders, I could see the angry expression on the teacher's face.
I pressed the piano keys again trying to play a tune hyung used to play. Had hyung really been expelled? Will I ever see him again? Hyung said before that getting a beating was routine for him. If it wasn't for me, hyung wouldn't have hit the teacher. If it wasn't for me, hyung would still be here playing the piano.
30 September YEAR 20
“Jeon Jungkook. You’re not still going there, are you?” I didn’t answer. I just stood there staring at the toes of my shoes. When I didn’t answer he hit me on the head with the attendance file. But even so, I didn’t open my mouth. It was the classroom I used with the hyungs. After the day I had followed the hyungs around and we had discovered that classroom. There wasn’t a single day I hadn’t gone. Maybe the hyungs didn’t know. Sometimes they didn’t come because they had other plans or were busy with part-time jobs. I hadn’t seen either Seokjin hyung or Yoongi hyung in a few days. But not me. I didn’t skip a single day. There were days when nobody came at all. But that's okay. Even if it wasn’t today, then they would come tomorrow, and if not tomorrow then the day after. It was okay.
“You only learned bad things following them around.” He hit me again. I lifted my gaze and looked at him. He hit me again. The image came to me of Yoongi hyung hitting me. I gritted my teeth and endured. I didn’t want to lie and say I hadn’t been going.
Now I was standing again in front of that classroom. It seemed like the hyungs would be there if I opened the door. It seemed like they would look up from the fame they were playing and ask me why I was so late. Seokjin hyung and Namjoon hyung would be reading books, Yoongi hyung would be playing the piano, and Hoseok hyung and Jimin hyung would be dancing.
But when I opened the door, only Hoseok hyung was there. He was cleaning up the things we had left behind in the classroom. I held the door handle and just stood there. Hyung came over and put his arm around my shoulders. Then he led me outside. “Let’s go.” The classroom door closed behind us. I suddenly realized: those days were gone and they would never return.
11 April YEAR 22
I finally fulfilled my wish. When I saw the delinquents on the street I purposely bumped into them and got beaten up. I couldn't help but laugh as they beat me. My laughter lead them to call me crazy and hit me harder. I leaned against the shutters and looked at the dark sky. It was late at night. There was nothing to see in the sky. I saw grass that reminded me of how I felt- easily blown over by the wind. I felt the tears coming and purposefully made myself cry.
When I closed my eyes I saw an image of my stepfather clearing his throat. My stepbrother continuously kicking me while laughing. My stepfather's relatives would look elsewhere or talk about meaningless things. It was as if I didn't exist as if I was nothing. In front of them my mother stood helplessly. I started coughing from the dust. My chest hurt as if someone had taken a knife to it. I climbed up the roof of the construction site. The dark colors of the night seemed to overshadow the city. I walked on top of the railing, holding out both of my hands for balance. In that moment I nearly stumbled and fell. The brief moment reminded me that I could easily die if I just took one more step. Would death bring the end of anything? No one would be sad if I wasn't around.
11 April YEAR 22
I walked down the rooftop railing of an abandoned building. When I lifted my leg, my foot was shadowed by the darkness bubbling below. The night of the city was spread out underneath my feet. Neon signs, honking horns, and dust was scattered around in the dark. For a moment I felt dizzy from vertigo. I stretched my arms out to balance myself. Then I thought about it. It would only take one wrong step. It’d only take one step to end everything. I leaned toward the darkness and it spread from my foot and up my leg. My breathing stopped when I leaned further. My mind was void of any thoughts. Nothing. No one. I didn’t want to leave anything behind, but I couldn’t remember anything. This was the end.
It was then that my phone began to ring. Clarity washed over me as if I’d awoken from a dream. My subdued senses returned, and I pulled out my phone. It was Yoongi hyung.
16 July YEAR 22
I stood by the window with my headphones on humming softly to the song. It had been a week. I didn't have to look at the lyrics to sing along to the song anymore. I took the headphones off one ear to listen to my soft voice. Although I liked the beautiful lyrics they still made me shy. I scratched my head. The huge window let in the bright sunlight of July. The trees swayed gently in the wind. Every time the light shined on my face it felt different. I closed my eyes. Closing my eyes filtered out the light. I started singing again. I didn't know if it was because of the lyrics, or the song, or what, but it felt as if my heart had been painfully broken.
26 July YEAR 22
I sneakily broke a flower off the hospital’s wreath. I kept laughing and having to bow my head to hide it. The midsummer sunlight was blindingly bright. I knocked on the hospital room door, but there was no reply. I knocked again. No one was there. It was only full of a very quiet darkness.
I left the hospital room. I had met her here when I was bored and stifled and pushing my wheelchair like crazy up and down the hallway. She had appeared so suddenly that I barely had time to stop, and there she stood, a girl with her hair tied up in a ponytail. When I left the hospital I saw a bench. I remembered we had listened to music together and drawn, sitting there. I was still holding the wildflower in my hand, there was no one to give it to.
26 July YEAR 22
When I looked back, the hospital was a faraway place. I couldn’t see the bench I left those wildflowers nor the window I looked out with her anymore. She was a space that let me breathe in the stuffy atmosphere of the hospital. We’d sit on that bench and talk about everything until the sun would set. I talked about playing in the hideout and vacations I took to the beach and walking to the train station. She told me about the corners of the hospital and which window you could watch the river from and the which staircase secretly led to the roof. There wasn’t anything she didn’t know about that hospital.
Her room was empty because she was discharged. Or did she move to a different hospital? I asked the nurses, but they said it was confidential. A corner of my soul felt empty. When I turned around and started walking I could see the school. It seemed that everything I ever told her about myself had something to do with the hyungs. Every story I told incorporated them in some way. For the lonelier part of me, the hyungs had become my friends, family, and teachers. My story was intertwined with theirs, and I only existed within them.
At some point it occured to me there may come a time after my time spent with them. One day I may go looking only to discover that they’d be gone. Or maybe something else could happen. I didn’t know.
I thought about that night, when the moon ascended in the sky, the world turned upside down, the headlamps inverted on themselves, the car passed me and then disappeared, the sound of the engine. It was familiar for some reason. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but I still kept thinking about that moment.
*look like a lot is happening for Jungkook at the age 22*
#bts#bts notes#bts theory#love yourself tear#love yourself her#love yourself answer#love yourself tour#army#army theorists don't sleep#jin#yoongi#namjoon#hobi#jimin#tae#jungkook
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Monster Summer Mash: A Midsummer Night’s Dream
hahahaha i am so late wow-
also two entries in one day what is this madness-
On another note, I really love Gaster and I should write more of him, because he’s wonderful. Headcanons galore for this one.
@sinen0mine huehuehuehue
(It’s still technically the Road Trip Trio, right? *Shrugs*)
Your parents may not approve of you going on your little cross-country trip, but in your opinion, this was the best choice you could have made. The sense of freedom you gain from driving along the wide open stretches of country road, elbow resting on the rolled-down window sill of your old RV and wind in your face and radio turned up loud, is more more than you could have ever asked for. Things were so stifling back home, but here, you could do and go wherever you wanted, experience new things, and no one could tell you not to.
Your trip had started three weeks back. You were tired of being stuck inside for such a gorgeous summer, so you had called in your unused vacation days, packed up your bags, and broke out your parents’ untouched RV. You were gone within a night, and so far, you hadn’t regretted a moment of it.
About the only thing you missed were the people, especially when you were on a road like this without much to distract you. You’d kept in contact with any friends via social media, but beyond messaging a few of your closer friends, you tried to stay away from such apps. The last thing you wanted were your parents breathing down your neck, disappointed in you for dropping everything to “live like a hooligan.”
You were plenty civilized still, thank you very much. It could be worse. You could have decided not to take the RV and just walk out with only the clothes on your back and live in alleys for the duration of your trip.
You’re pulled from your thoughts by the honk of a car in front of you. It’s a cute little white van with several children in it, from what you can tell. They’re honking at the cars in front of them, who have slowed down for some reason. You stick your head out the window, curious about what’s causing such a ruckus.
Oh. It’s a person, standing on the edge of the road, thumb out in the universal sign of hitchhiking. From what you can tell, they’re wearing a giant straw sun hat and a dark coat, which you don’t understand, given the fact that it’s so hot out.
For a moment, it looks like the car might let them on, but then they simply start driving again. Their thumb falters minutely, but remains stubbornly in the air. The next several cars drive past as well, leaving you feeling sorry for the poor fellow loitering on the side of the road. However, as you pull forward, you think you understand why the others rolled past them.
It's a monster. A skeleton monster by the looks of it, with a baggy turtleneck that's some shade of light purple. There's a pair of cracks in their face, one running from the back of their head down to their sagging right eye socket, the other trailing down from their left eye to the corner of their bashful smile. Floating amidst the darkness of their eyes are two small dots of white light, soft and fuzzy and warm. It puts you instantly at ease.
(Where is the other one? You find yourself thinking, but then you wonder why you thought it. You've never met this stranger before, and you've certainly never met a skeleton monster.)
They're giving you a look of mixed wariness and hope, like they want you to pick them up but they don't think you will. It breaks your heart and makes you mad all at once. From what you can see, all the poor guy’s got is a tiny bag slouching by his feet and the clothes on his back, but no one else could be bothered to help him out. No one was willing to give him the time of day, and for what? The fact that he's a monster. Sickening.
Nevermind the fact that he could be a serial killer; just because monsters in general were pretty nice didn't mean this one was too- not the time!
With a soft smile, you rolled down the window and leaned out. They were much taller up close, their chin coming up to the window sill. Hmm. Would you be able to fit them in the RV…? Nevermind, worry about that later. “Howdy, stranger. Looks like you could use a lift.” You jerk your thumb at your vehicle, throwing in an enticing wink. “I’ve got a real nice rig here. Full plumbing and everything.”
They-you feel like it might be a “he”-looks very surprised you’re willing to give him a ride. His eyes seem to flicker, and you get a picture of fur and green, and then it’s gone as he speaks. “Are you sure, my friend? Even though I am…” He falters, soft, low voice trailing away as he gives his holed hands an ashamed look.
You don’t know why those holes don’t surprise you. You don’t know what possesses you to lean out the window and grab the hands of a complete stranger, holding them tightly as you stare him dead in the eyes. “You have no need to be ashamed. There is nothing wrong with you. So what if you’re a monster? You could be a puddle of slime and I’d still let you on my RV if you wanted.” You crack a smile, admiring his startled look and the hint of purple you see climbing along his cheeks. “If it bothered me, I wouldn’t have offered, sweetheart.”
Where is all of this coming from? You have no clue. But it seems to work. He gives you that shy smile again and murmurs, “Well, if you insist, then… I suppose I shall take you up on your gracious offer. Thank you, my friend.” His hands squeeze yours, and somehow you don’t mind the touch.
As a matter of fact, when he pulls away to grab his bags, you miss the feeling of cradling his long fingers in yours, or the indent of the holes pressing against your palms. You try to ignore it, hurrying around to the door so you can open it for him. You try to take his bag for him, but he seems to anticipate this, as he holds it above your head-far, far above your head, because holy crap, you were right, he’s very tall. He’s maybe a head shorter than the ceiling, but it’s possible he’s taller.
Either way, he gives you a fond, amused smile, eye sockets crinkling at the edge, and you’re struck both by the familiarity of the expression and how comfortable he already seems around you. “I appreciate your desire to be a good host, my friend, but I assure you that these bones are not so brittle that such a small bag would be a burden.”
Your flush despite yourself, and can’t resist giving him a playful pout. With an exaggerated huff, you step sideways, waving him in. He chuckles (something in you resonates) and sets his things down, glancing around. His shoulders slump just barely, as though the sight of your RV has relaxed him. He catches you staring at him and smiles, holding his hand out and introducing himself. You don’t quite catch it, but you take his hand and return the favor anyways. You think you see a brief flash of something else in his expression, but it’s gone quickly.
You show him around the RV, though he seems to have the interior mapped out pretty quickly already. You don’t question it. He seems surprised and a little flustered when you offer him the bed below yours in your room, and you quickly apologize with your own mortification. You’re entirely too comfortable with this stranger, and while it should disturb you, it’s strangely… comforting? You feel like you’ve already known him for a long time, and it just feels natural to be close to him.
While you don’t say as much, you think he notices it when you assure him it would be no big deal; you’re pretty lonely in here by yourself and having someone close by would be nice. He echoes the sentiment, shyly admitting that he has a bit of a fear of being on his own. Of course, this makes you want to know why he was out there alone on the street- how long he’d been there by himself, and you feel an inexplicable surge of protectiveness.
You make a likely-impossible promise that if you can help it, he’ll never be alone again.
Picking him up was the best choice you could have made.
Your companion (you still felt like there was someone missing here, an empty space where someone should be) was a doctor apparently, though he wouldn’t tell you much about what he used to do. He sat in the passenger’s seat to chat with you and occasionally act as your navigator, as he was very good with directions. The two of you would often playfully bicker over the radio, fighting over which station to listen to. You liked much of the same music, but there were some songs you would never understand the appeal of.
He talked to you about everything and anything. You spent hours simply chatting back and forth, sometimes telling stories or sometimes philosophizing; sometimes you'd set up debates or road trip games to pass the time, and sometimes he'd get to talking about something science-y, and you'd stumble through the conversation with him. He was always kind enough to explain what he talked about in terms you understood should you find yourself lost, and you walked away from the conversations much wiser.
In return, you told him about the surface. He'd been a little late coming up, he'd explained hesitantly, and so many things about the surface still confused him. He was particularly interested in the scientific leaps mankind had made and loved to compare it with tech from the Underground, but he also found humans in general to be fascinating.
You spoiled him a little with science. You went to expos and conventions and fairs and museums, anywhere dedicated to learning. He always got so excited, grabbing your hand and smiling wide at you, sockets twinkling. You'd let him drag you around, standing back as he spoke to fellow scientists and smiling affectionately at his enthusiasm.
He seemed to particularly like the space museums and observatories, and would spend hours studying star maps and peering out the telescopes. (You may or may not have decided after that to purchase several of said star maps and a telescope, both of which you were thanked for profusely.)
Your RV was a mess most days, but it was a kind of mess you didn't want to clean. His scientific papers went on almost every available surface save for the couch, which was were the two of you generally ended up sleeping-you had developed a habit of talking well into the night with him. You'd bought him several outfits, as he didn't have much more than what he had been wearing when you met him, and so several turtlenecks and coats ended up draped over furniture randomly. Your shelves were filled with peculiar concoctions of tea-he made his own, which had… interesting outcomes, to say the least-and little sweets you both enjoyed, along with a mix of your favorite books and his binders for research.
All in all, your RV had become far more comfortable and homely than it had been. You smiled every time you stepped over one of his papers or he complained about you drinking all the tea, and overall, you were simply much more content than you had been in a long time. It felt like the happy days would never end.
And of course, that's just when they did.
You'd pulled into a nice little diner along the beach for breakfast, neither of you wanting to cook. You were in the middle of working your way through a delicious breakfast when he spoke up. “My dear, are you alright? You've been very quiet all morning.”
With a half-hearted smile, you reluctantly met his worried gaze. “It's probably nothing, I know, but I just… I have this awful feeling… like something bad is going to happen soon. Like… like I'm going to…” You swallowed thickly, trying to keep your voice steady. “I feel like I'm going to lose you.”
His hand gently gripped yours. You didn't like the sad way he smiled at you. “My dear, you don't have to worry about that. I'm not going anywhere. As long as you want me here, I'll be with you.”
This was wrong. He wasn't supposed to be saying that to you. Who was? There was someone else. Someone with golden eyes and a confident smirk and determination in their voice.
“You're part of my family now,” he continues, but that's wrong too, his face is wrong, where is the green in his eyelights and the pale turtleneck and the slight accent? “I won't be so easily shaken.”
Your head is spinning. You're missing someone. Two someone's, two people who are important to you, so important, important just like he is. Who is it? Who's missing? “What's going on?” You whisper, giving him a shaky look. His fingers tighten around yours reassuringly, and the touch helps calm you slightly. “I'm confused. There's- we're not- we're missing-”
“Easy, sweetheart,” he murmurs, getting up from his chair and circling around to kneel in front of you. He's still giving you that sad smile. You hate it. “They're not missing. They've been here the whole time. Everything will be alright, my dear, I swear to you.”
“You're leaving, aren't you?” You realize, gripping his hand tighter. “You're going away.”
“No, sweetheart, you're leaving. My time with you is up.” He reaches out, gently rubbing your cheek, and you realize you're crying. He smiles, more sincere, and leans forward, resting his forehead on yours. His hands frame your face gently, and he whispers, “I had a wonderful time getting to know you, darling. Goodbye.”
His name comes to mind, forming on your tongue as easily as breathing, but you don't have a chance to respond. In the next moment, you're starting up into Aster and G’s concerned faces.
G speaks up first, looking relieved. “Hey, sweetheart, about time you woke up. Looked like you were having a nightmare.” He brushes your cheek, and the gesture is so familiar you almost start crying harder. He frowns, rubbing your head. “What happened?”
“I don't… I don't know,” you mumble, reaching up to grasp Aster's hand when he reaches for you. You bring it to your other cheek, turning your head into it. “I think… I was in the RV, and I met a man… a monster? Who was like you two but not, and he traveled with me, and…” You don't remember much else. Why are you crying? Why does it hurt? You can't even remember his name. You think his eyes might have been purple. “I don't know. I think something happened to him, and that's why I'm crying.”
“I'm sorry you had to deal with that, my dear,” Aster soothes, frowning sadly. You think for a moment that's what the monster from your dream looked like. Sadness seems to suit him, even if it shouldn’t. “Would you like some tea to help calm your nerves?”
The thought if tea makes you feel sick, so you shake your head. Instead, you ask shyly, “ Could we just sit on the couch and, I dunno, watch movies and cuddle or something?”
They both chuckle, looking a little more relaxed. G smirks, leaning over to bump your forehead affectionately. “Sure thing, Cricket. Movies and cuddles it is.”
He goes to get it set up while Aster pulls you off your bed carefully. Instead of setting you down, however, he simply carries you over to the couch and settles you on his lap. You curl up against him eagerly, throwing your legs into G's lap as he sits next to you and starts the movie.
Between cuddling and talking with them and watching movies, your bad feelings gradually slip away. However, as you curl up for bed that night, you can't help but try and recall your dream-trying to remember his name and why he was so important.
You fall asleep thinking about stars and feeling lonely.
#road trip trio#monstersummermash#raffle entry#gaster#aster#g#undertale#cricket#help#my feels#too mush feels
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Hey, admin rex! can I get a wonwoo soulmate scenario? i will leave the soulmate au up to you!
Hi, there, anon! Thank you for the request and your previous kind words! I am glad you like our scenarios! I was hit with strong inspiration and got this done, and your words motivated me. Thank you for your support and I hope you enjoy! I apologize for any mistakes.
Admin Rex
Soulmates. They were the norm, and they could either be romantic or platonic. You were curious as to when you’d be able to talk to yours. You knew you could get into contact with them by writing on your arm, but it wasn’t that easy. What would you write? Would it be weird to write to them at such a random time? These thoughts kept the curiosity at bay enough to keep you from writing to them. They either felt the same, or they didn’t want to know their soulmate because they never wrote to you either, so who could blame you.
You were talking with a few friends when your forearm began to itch. You lightly scratched at it through the thin sleeve of your shirt. The itching disappeared, but the tingling did not. You pulled at your sleeve to inspect your arm.
‘Lord, what fools these mortals be!’ Was written in messy lettering, like it was written in a rush. You blinked at it before you felt yourself filling with excitement, a large smile appearing on your face.
“(Y/N), what’s up?” Your friend Vernon looked between your arm and your face. Chan leaned over the arm of his chair to look at your arm. They were hanging out with you on the first day of winter break.
“I think my soulmate is trying to talk to me.” You moved your arm to show your two friends. Their eyes moved back and forth over the message, like they were trying to decipher it.
“That’s an… interesting thing to say.” Chan said as an eyebrow rose. You grinned at him, “Guys! It’s from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream!”
Vernon and Chan looked at each other. They knew you liked literature, you were passionate about it. Normally, they would tease you about it, but ultimately decided not to this time. Clearly, this message had made you happy.
As Vernon and Chan got back to their original conversation on comic books, you pondered what to write. A few questions came into mind, but you felt that might be too creepy, suddenly asking them something. Then, a perfect quote from Twelfth Night came to you.
‘Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun; it shines everywhere.’ is what you’d decided to scribble onto your arm.
After writing back to them, you felt like you couldn’t sit still in your seat. Your attention was mostly on the writing rather than on the argument your friends were having. Eventually, you had to be the tie breaker in the argument(“Yes, Chan, I do think Spider-Man is better than Ant-Man.”) and left the arcade you were in. After wandering around the mall for a bit, you parted ways from your friends and headed home. On your way, you felt pressure and tingling on your arm, but you resisted the urge to check what your soulmate replied with until you got home.
You pulled up your sleeve almost as soon as you closed and locked the door behind you. ‘You like Shakespeare?’ the same writing from before had appeared on your arm. You felt the giddiness welling up within you. You dug out a pen from your desk drawer and uncapped it, ‘I like literature in general, yes. What about you?’
A few seconds pass, ‘Lend every man thine ear, but few thy voice.’ The writing stopped. You get to writing, ‘I think that’s answer enough.’ There’s a short lull in the writing before it starts up again. You see them writing slower, like they’re considering their words, ‘If I’d known we both like literature, I’d have tried talking to you earlier.’
You felt a huge smile appearing and couldn’t stop it. It’s now or never. You reply, ‘I guess we have a lot of time to catch up on. My name is (Y/N).’
You felt your heart hammering in your chest. This moment would decide if it was worth talking to them. Then, the tingling began again, ‘Jeon Wonwoo. I’d like if we got to know each other.’ Unanimously, you both decided it was late and wished each other good night. That night, you were kept awake with thoughts of your soulmate: How did they look? Were they naturally talkative? Are they shy like you?
In the morning, you left the house. Your schedule was rather empty. You didn’t really wanna stay cooped up in your home, even if it was pretty cold outside. Instead, you found yourself heading to a small local book store. Sure, it was cramped, but the elderly couple who ran it were nice and their selection of books was paradise for bookworms.
You were scanning the titles in the sci-fi section when your arm started to tingle; the clue you needed to know Wonwoo was talking to you. The words were written quickly, it seemed far less formal than the previously written messages you received from him.
‘Good morning, (Y/N). How are you this morning?’ It seemed like he had free time, and you practically jumped at the opportunity to talk to Wonwoo again.
‘I’m good, how are you, Wonwoo?’ You unhurriedly scribbled back to him. As you were waiting for him to finish writing, you continued to examine the book titles in front of you. You picked a small book up before looking back down at your arm. ‘I’m tired, mostly.’ Wonwoo responded.
The uneventful small talk went back and forth between you and Wonwoo for about half an hour before he left to do something and you walked out of the bookstore with a small pile of novels.
The best few days passed with very little conversation. Wonwoo seemed to be busy - assignments he needed to finish he’d told you. You passed the time with Vernon and Chan, either hanging out at one of their houses, or at a local arcade. A week had passed, little to no word from Wonwoo. Vernon and Chan exchanged glances over the top of your head, you knew they could tell not hearing from Wonwoo did make you a bit sad. Chan nudged you softly with his elbow.
“Let’s go to Seventeen Ice Cream.” He was smiling at you. Vernon instantly agreed, being the lover of any food he was. You quirked a brow at both of them, “Ice cream. In this weather.”
They both shrugged, and knew you couldn’t resist going out to get a treat from your favorite ice cream parlor. Bundled up tightly in your hoodie, you and your friends made it to the frozen sweets shop. As soon as you walked in, you felt your soulmate writing a message on your arm. Instantly, you pulled at the sleeve of your sweater. You couldn’t wait to hear from him again.
‘Sorry if it’s been a long time.’ Wonwoo wrote. Though you didn’t know him in person, you knew he was genuinely apologetic. You wrote back, ‘It’s okay, I understand that you were busy.’ You felt relief when you finally got a chance to write to him. Almost as soon as you wrote back, you got a response. Before you could look at the answer, Vernon called your name and motioned for you to order.
The employee - his nametag read Joshua - smiled gently as he took your order. You didn’t have to wait 3 minutes before being handed your ice cream, and you followed your two friends outside where the sun was hitting some of the outside tables. The table next to the one you were seated at was loud. One of the boys was cackling wildly in a staccato-like laugh, one had his head buried in his hands and was mumbling his sorrows, and the third was holding his stomach and slumped across the flat surface of the table and groaning.
You finally managed to pull your sleeve up, and revealed writing that was definitely not Wonwoo’s. ‘Hey, Wonwoo’s soulmate! This is Wonwoo’s amazing best friend Kwon Soonyoung!’ the writing became a little smeared and more messy the further you read. ‘I’m so glad you’re talking to him, he needs more friends. Also, he’s been contemplating how to ask you to actually meet up with him, he hasn’t been busy. He’s just nervous.’
You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped past your lips. Vernon and Chan leaned over when you presented your arm to them. “Kwon Soonyoung? Why does that name sound familiar. Wait, oh! Someone who goes to the dance studio I go to has that name!”
“Chan?” The three of you all turned to look at the table next to you. The boy who’d been lying over the table was smiling at you and your friends. The boy who’d been laughing had stopped in favor of eating his ice cream, and the last boy was peeking around his fingers to regard you. Soonyoung’ s eyes landed on the writing on your arm, and he practically began flailing around and shaking the boy hiding his face next to him, “Wonwoo, that’s your soulmate!”
Wonwoo peeked his face further over his hands and examined you, like he was trying to figure out what he was looking at, “(Y/N)?” You’ll admit, his voice was deeper than you’d expected, but it was also very soothing. You smiled, you knew it probably looked a bit goofy, and responded, “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Chan cringing. You know it was a very cheesy way to respond, but seeing the smile Wonwoo rewarded you with made it well worth it. You watched as he seemed to be formulating a sentence in his head. Soonyoung and the laughing boy - now known as Jihoon - were making fun of the way Wonwoo ‘s ears were bright red.
With an air of hesitant confidence, Wonwoo met your eyes. The corners of his mouth were upturned in a small smile. “It’s a bit loud here.” His eyes turned to glare at Soonyoung and Jihoon before looking back at you, “Maybe we can meet somewhere else - maybe just me and you?”
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The Adolescence Alternative
Chapter One: Excuses
Note: You may have already read this. Or at least a version of this. This first chapter was not only posted on WP, but a version of it was also posted here a few months ago. This is a high school AU. I will continue the entire story in the coming days, so I thought I would start at the beginning.
Sheldon didn’t want to go on a date with Sarah. He didn’t want to go on a date Victoria. He didn’t really want to go on a date with Rebecca. Even before his brother, Junior, broke Rebecca’s heart, Sheldon wouldn't have gone out with her. Really, Sheldon didn’t want to go on a date with any of the girls him mama was trying to set him up with.
“I have a girlfriend,” he blurted out when Mama was trying to talk him into the virtues of Sarah. Apparently she could make a great pecan pie. As if that was a completely reasonable foundation on which to base a relationship.
“A girlfriend? Who? Why didn’t you say anything? You should bring her to dinner so we can meet her,” his mother said.
Sheldon didn’t know what to say. He didn’t actually have a girlfriend. He wasn’t his brother. Girls didn’t interest him. Boys didn’t interest him either, even if the football players did call him a mean name that implied that they did. No one interested him.
“Her name is Amy,” Sheldon muttered. She was the only girl he could think of off the top of his head who wasn’t his sister. She was recently assigned to be his lab partner, but he didn’t know much about her. She was mostly quiet and let him work on the experiments. That was fine with him. At least she didn’t get in the way.
“I’m not ready for her to come to dinner,” Sheldon muttered.
“Amy? Amy who? Do I know her mama?”
“Her name is Amy Fowler. I doubt you know her parents. She just moved here,” Sheldon explained. He hoped that his mother didn’t ask any other questions because he had already told her everything he knew about her. Beyond this, he would need to start making things up, and he wasn’t particularly good at that.
He breathed a sigh of relief when Mama dropped the subject. He knew this wasn’t going to be the end of it, but at least it ended for now. If only he knew what he started by uttering those four words.
Sheldon's mother wasn’t sure why she worried so much for her Sheldon. She just wanted him to be happy, and it seemed like he wasn’t doing much to help himself. The other kids had friends and played on teams and joined clubs. They went on dates. Her Sheldon just stayed home all the time: reading, studying, playing video games. She had taken him to someone to see if he was depressed, but the doctor said he was just fine. He just had different interests from the other boys.
Mama still thought she should try to find her boy a nice girl to spend his time with. A girl with hometown roots who would keep him grounded even after he went off to go do whatever it was he dreamed of doing. At least it sounded like he was finally making friends. Still, Mama decided to mention this development to her daughter, Missy, so that she could see if she knew anything about this Amy.
“No, Mama. Amy? Are you sure he said Amy? I don’t think there’s even a girl named Amy in our whole class,” Missy told her mother that night when Mama got Missy alone.
“It isn’t like that boy to lie to me,” Mama said.
“He would if he’s trying to get you to stop setting him up with girls from church,” Missy commented.
“Hmm,” Mama said. She wondered if she was pushing Sheldon too hard if he was inventing girls. She decided to talk to him about it later. Maybe a different course would be needed. Shelly was a special boy after all.
Sheldon didn’t know about his mother’s change of heart, so he decided that he better get to know Amy better if he wanted to keep dropping information about the girl. He walked into the biology lab and took his seat next to Amy. She was reading a book, and he peeked over her shoulder to see what it was.
“Hamlet?” Sheldon asked.
“Yes,” Amy said shortly. It was the first time Sheldon had ever spoken to her for a reason that wasn’t him telling her what to do for whatever lab work they were doing. He thought he was so smart. Well, he clearly was, but she still hated him. He was so smug and she always clenched her fist as to not punch him whenever he spoke. He always cut her off when she tried to explain a biological principle. She stopped trying. It was only a couple more months until the end of the school year, and if she had any luck, her father would be transferred again and she would be off to her fifth high school before the start of her senior year.
“My favorite Shakespeare play is A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I don’t like the tragedies. Too woe is me,” Sheldon commented.
“But A Midsummer Night’s Dream?” Amy asked despite herself.
“It’s whimsical. There are fairies. It’s better than ghosts and suicide,” Sheldon countered.
“It’s all about love.”
“I can like love. I don’t want it myself, but it’s funny to watch others try to traverse it,” Sheldon countered.
“Fair enough,” Amy admitted. That was actually pretty close to how she felt about it. She was only reading Hamlet again because she had a test on it and it had been a few years since she read it. She went back to reading her book. The conversation was clearly over. Or at least she wanted it to be.
“So, what’s your favorite play? Is it Hamlet?” Sheldon asked. He hated having to ask all of these questions, but he still didn’t know much about the girl sitting next to him. Instead he ended up tell her about him. He suddenly wished he had the slightest idea how to do small talk. It had never seemed valuable before this moment.
“I don’t really like Shakespeare all that much,” Amy admitted.
Sheldon was about to ask her to finally give him an answer when the bell rang and class started. He didn’t have a chance to find out any more about the girl.
During their lab, Amy worked hard on their experiment just as he did, but they didn’t speak about anything personal again. Sheldon looked at her write up. It was filled with tiny neat writing that was even more extensive than his own. How could she write so much about a something as boring as biology? He always assumed that she just jotted down whatever he told her to write. That’s what everyone did in all of his classes. He knew that his classmates didn’t like working with him, but they always knew he was right.
Amy left as soon as the bell rang without so much as a goodbye. Sheldon sighed because he didn’t learn anything about Amy. If his mom pushed him for information, he wasn’t going to have anything.
Sheldon planned to try again the next day. He was going to learn one thing about Amy Fowler and then he was going mention it to his mother. Then in a few weeks he was going to tell his mother than he had broken up with the girl and was far too heartbroken to date again for the rest of high school. It was brilliant plan to get him to college.
Though when he got home, his mother was waiting for him with a snack. Sheldon wanted to groan when he saw her there. She was probably waiting to ask him more about Amy. Sheldon tried to remember what he knew about her. She smelled like cherry blossoms. She had long, shiny brown hair. She wore glasses. She was kind. She didn't like Shakespeare. Maybe he could make something out of that.
“Missy told me the truth about Amy,” Mama said as he sat down.
“What truth about Amy?” Sheldon wondered what his sister might know about his lab partner. She couldn't possibly know that she wasn't really Sheldon's girlfriend. Missy never knew anything about his life, and Amy just got to their school. Sheldon could just say that it was new.
“That there is no Amy. I just wanted to help you be happy. You didn't need to make up a girl.”
“She's not strictly my girlfriend, but she is real. We talked about Shakespeare today,” Sheldon offered. He couldn't believe that his sister said Amy wasn't real. Amy was a real head turner even if she was new. How had Missy never noticed her? Even if she wasn't Sheldon's lab partner, he was sure he would have noticed her. That long, brown hair would have gotten his attention from a hundred meters. Not that he thought she was that pretty or anything. At least that's what he told himself.
“You don't need to lie to me. I won't push the girl thing anymore,” Mama promised.
“I appreciate that, but Amy is my friend. She's a real girl,” Sheldon muttered. He didn't need to make the girl his girlfriend anymore, but now he wanted to prove to his mother than he wasn't making anyone up.
That meant that the next day, Sheldon was going to find something out about Amy Fowler to prove to his family that she was real. He might even actually try to do something he had never done before: make a friend.
When Sheldon walked into his biology class, Amy was sitting there reading. He realized that she always read before class started. He never saw her talking to anyone or doodling in her notebook. She only ever read. It wasn't Hamlet today.
“What are you reading?” Sheldon asked.
Amy didn't speak as she lifted the book to show him the cover of Mansfield Park. Then she set it back down and started to read again. She had no idea why Sheldon was talking to her again, and she really wished he would go back to ignoring her.
“Jane Austen?”
“Mm-hmm,” Amy confirmed without actually saying anything. She hated when people tried to speak to her while she was reading. It was one of her few actual pleasures, and she took it where she could.
“So, you're an Austen girl?” Sheldon asked.
“What does that mean?” Amy asked as she finally looked up from her book.
“It's just that you were mocking me yesterday for enjoying A Midsummer Night's Dream, and you read Austen. Austen girls are always romantics,” Sheldon pointed out.
“'Austen girls' as you say don't have to live up to any of your standards, Sheldon Cooper. And also, have you ever even read Mansfield Park? It's so much more than that. Fanny's story is one about class struggle and about finding one's place. It isn't just romance. I bet you haven't read any of Austen's work beyond Pride and Prejudice,” she argued.
“I've never read Pride and Prejudice,” he admitted.
“Then, who are you to judge anyone who enjoys it?” Amy snapped. She then started reading again as if to tell him to shut the hell up. The bell rang and class started.
Sheldon still didn't get any real information from her. He couldn't tell if she even actually liked the book she was reading. Maybe she didn't. She certainly seemed angry enough as to not indicate pleasure in the activity. Still, Sheldon decided to stop by the library on his way home. Maybe he would understand what she was talking about if he read the book.
On Sheldon's way home, he stopped by the library. He checked out both Pride and Prejudice and Mansfield Park. After he finished his homework, he started into Pride and Prejudice. He only finished half of it by midnight, but it was better than he anticipated.
When Sheldon got to biology class the next day, he didn't try to engage Amy in conversation, to which she was relieved. Instead he just pulled out the copy of Pride and Prejudice and started to read next to her.
“Are you making fun of me?” Amy asked. She didn't care if Sheldon thought she was a nerd. The friends in books were the only ones that really stayed with her while she moved from place to place. But who was he to judge her?
“How would I be making fun of you?” Sheldon asked. He never made fun of people, and when he attempted, it was never subtle. His jokes always ended with a “gotcha” or a “just foolin'.” He wasn't sure how sitting next to her reading the book she recommended was even close to making fun.
“You are reading Jane Austen,” Amy pointed out.
“Yes. You told me I should read it because I did not understand. I have to say that it's actually pretty good,” he admitted with a little grin.
“It is,” Amy told him with a smile. It was the first time she smiled at him, and Sheldon noticed that she had nice teeth. She was very pretty, and again, he wondered why she wasn't friends with all of the popular girls.
He was about to ask her about it when he started sneezing. This old library book must be full of dust.
Amy moved her chair over by a couple feet and didn't speak to him again. In all honesty, Sheldon didn't blame her. He would have done the same thing.
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My life story
I was born November 10, 1995 at 2:03 AM in Baltimore, Maryland. From what I can remember from my dad's "birthday story", nothing too significant happened. My parents were in their early 20s and I'm fairly sure they weren't prepared for the financial responsibility, because I've been told they sold my mom's CD collection and we ate PB&J and other filler staple foods. I'm pretty sure that's why I can't stand the idea of a PB&J sandwich - I had too many as a kid. We lived in Ducketts Lane in Elkridge, soon joined by some of my cousins who I grew up with. I remember a nasty, broken toilet in a basement with wood paneling and willow trees off in the corner. There was only 3-story townhouses there.
Ginny was born, and my dad realized that if he wanted to be in the military, he had to join before he had more than 2 kids. So he was at training camp when Katie was born, doing crazy stuff like swimming with 50 lb backpacks and running through chemical fumes without a mask. We moved around during this time, I think to Tennessee and Kentucky? I have no memories beyond a pre-K daycare (where I made a scarecrow with brads for joints) and the neighbors having those electric kid-sized cars.
In Kindergarten I went to Rockburn Elementary at 4, due to Maryland's strange age cutoff at the time. All I remember was that our class was near the entrance, the room was big and empty in the middle, and a caterpillar once pooped on my hand while I was admiring it on the playground. I don't remember anyone from the class. First grade is a blank, but second grade...
The second grade area was a bunch of dynamic classrooms with vibrantly colored sliding walls and a larger central area where we could buy lunch. They offered either a special that day or pizza, but I usually brought a packed lunch. I remember playing mandala with a tomboy of a black girl who scraped her knee once and showed us how it was getting puss. That's where I met Nicholas Eagles, who was my best friend for the year. I'd go over to his house every week or two where we played the pokemon card game and some Nintendo games. He had a pogo stick, but I couldn't figure out how to use it. At one point, we climbed up the big evergreens in his front yard and I fell, getting caught by branches a couple feet below. He once admitted that he thought I was gross when he first met me, though I don't know why.
Then we moved to Pennsylvania for my third year in school. I don't remember our house but I remember the area. It was next to a small pond with cattails and the backyard led to a huge patch of undeveloped land. We found some kids playing there far away, and I became friends with the older brother who enjoyed hacking together weird electronics. There I got into Yugioh. Ginny's hermit crab died and we had a fancy funeral for it, complete with a coffin made of mud bricks molded from legos. Our parents bought a wooden playground, I think?
I don't remember much from school, just some event snippets. Bits of hallways filled with seasonal candles in bags, monthly school events like a Jim Henson style play about how drugs are bad, an uninviting cafeteria... I know I was called "booger boy" for picking my nose, but I've lost the emotional context. According to my parents, I had problems with my teachers because the Pennsylvania 3rd grade curriculum was the same as the Maryland 2nd grade curriculum, and I liked to be the teacher's pet. I'd raise my hand for every question because I always knew the answer and wanted to say it, which annoyed the teachers because they wanted the other kids to have a chance. School was apparently bad enough that we moved at the end of the year to West Virginia.
I had started the gifted program in 2nd grade, but I remember absolutely nothing from then. For 3rd grade, I remember I was called out of class some days of the week to go to a room for a gifted class, but don't remember anything. For 4th grade, all I remember was the room we went to and that I had a very hard time with math and remembering the names of shapes.
It was Shepherdstown Elementary School, and we mostly did stuff in the 4th-5th grade hallway, which I remember very well. The walls were lined with lockers and there were... 6? classes total. In 4th grade I only remember an older teacher I had for English, in which we read Roald Dahl books. I think she was a hardass but I have no especially bad memories of her.
In 5th grade I had M(r)s. Lawrence at least, and Mr. Ebersol for gifted. I remember my friends better for this time than in 4th, even though they're probably the same. They were all in gifted for some reason. There was Levi Spickler, who was more of a rival than a friend. Sam Yates, a girl with bushy brown hair who hated chocolate and loved zucchini bread. Arlo, he was best friends with Levi and a very funny and sociable kid. His hair was perpetually messy, like a big brown afro almost. The only thing I distinctly remember from him was a joke he started saying "je veux une omelette du fromage", which is French for "I want a cheese omelette". No idea why that was funny, if it was. Then there was Merideth, an athletic girl who was a bit of an early bloomer.
Most of my memories were from the gifted class. We once acted out commercials, including one, "Don't be sad, get GLAD for all your kitchen garbage needs!" We would enact plays such as A Midsummer Night's Dream. Or even write our own plays; one Levi wrote included a joke that flew completely over my head about a girl being "rapped on the head", to which everyone started knocking on the table with their knuckles.
In Ms. Lawrence's class we once made our own peanut butter chocolate candies for Halloween... That's all I got.
From 6th to 8th I was in Sheperdstown Middle School, less than a mile away from the Elementary School. I remember the layout of the building fairly well, but there are some fuzzy areas. It was mostly one long hallway going left and right from the entrance with some hallways jutting out from the forward direction. I remember Ms. Carter, a science teacher who adored me. She was a very large red-head who liked to wear excessive make-up and had a Ms. Frizzle vibe to her teaching methods. By this point I loved science, so I relished in raising my hand for every question. She eventually made a running joke out of it, saying she needed to call "1-800 dial a Robert!"
Next to Ms. Carter's room was a ramp down into a secluded area with a few classrooms, one of which was my... history class, and somewhere in that area was my sign language class. Or was it English? Gifted class was in a hallway directly in front of the entrance with Mrs. Wagner across the hall from the touch typing classroom. I mostly remember learning English, particularly the roots of words.
Then there was Mr... Marcin? An older science teacher who had a very dry, even cynical sense of humor but seemed to genuinely care about his job. And Mrs... Tracey? The 8th grade science teacher. I remember the cafeteria very well, as well as the gym - it was burned into my brain by the Pacers, an exercise we did twice a week where we'd run from one side of the gym to the other with increasing frequency.
In the 7th grade, my parents divorced. From what I can gather, my mom had caught my dad cheating multiple times, and then my dad caught her cheating with my stepdad. Of course, these were symptoms and the official explanation. Underlying that were personality incompatibilities, my mom's stress from generalized anxiety disorder without medication and raising 4 kids vs my dad's stress working a billion minimunm wage jobs just to support us. Abandonment issues, personal insecurities, projection, the works.
I know that when they announced it, they sat us all on the couch and told us about it very seriously. I barely remember it, but the memory paints it as feeling like a dream. From there, my mom moved into the basement while she found work (she was laid off) and housing while my dad bought a dog (Zoey) to fill the void. Eventually my mom moved to a rinky-dink apartment and later to a nice townhouse, and we went to each parent's house in shifts over the week.
9th grade... Was at Shepherdstown Highschool. I remember the cafeteria, a taller guy I was friends with, the entrance being near the library. That's all.
At this point my dad was laid off from his job as a professor at some university. In searching for another professor position, he had the option of going to New Mexico or Wyoming; he chose the former. After a few months of convincing, I decided to move out with him over the Summer for the opportunity of going to a good school and good college.
The time I spent from 10-12th grade blurs together. I remember quite a few teachers and classmates, but not when and where I knew them. The teachers I remember are my Spanish teacher (native speaker), Ms. McCoy (art teacher), Mr. B? (Chemistry teacher, very eccentric), Mr. Smith (science and CS teacher), Mr. DeWitt (AP Biology, he had extreme standards), and the dreaded Mr. Evans. Hello, yes? He tried to fail me out of high school by demanding that I not be allowed to take a replacement English class to substitute the grade I got in his.
The people I knew, I knew only some names and the rest were archetypes. Al of course, Ryan Sun (an asian guy who took it upon himself to become my rival, which unintentionally became a kind of bullying as I was too depressed to cope). For some reason I remember Kim Wong, another asian girl who was always near the top of the class. And Stephanie, I think her last name was something like Dijkstra, who I think was even better at programming than I was. Beyond them, the archetypes I remember were
* a crazy-fun drug supplier who had some issues with her parents
* a larger hispanic guy who had a very negative vibe and introduced me to Johnny the Homicidal Maniac
* one girl from art who was like 7 feet tall but had normal proportions, so she looked like a mini-giant
At the same time, I was going to UNM for dual-enrollment, mostly math. My relationship with my dad was deteriorating; teen angst, stress from moving, depression, and lack of mutual understanding. Eventually he relented to getting me a therapist, which ended up being a (late) PhD child psychologist. I stopped seeing her when I turned 18 and went into college. To get away from my dad, I moved into the UNM dorms.
Sometime around here was when I got my first job as a student worker. First a temp job moving boxes, then as an IT admin assistant, and finally data entry and call redirection. Over the Summer I got a job with one of my mom's coworkers helping him research hobby electronics so he could make the most of his free time. All of these were full of shame because I didn't feel like I was working hard enough to justify the pay, and they all ended in ways I took personally. At the time they confirmed to myself all of my personal failings and screamed back that I was a loser who couldn't do anything right.
I think this is around the time my mom married my stepdad, and my dad married Kaya for tax reasons. Eventually they separated and Lindsey came in; they married a couple years later. I liked both stepmoms, and had no problem with remarrying. My stepdad however, I didn't dislike, but I found a very large disconnect with him. He clearly didn't enjoy children, and had a difficult time expressing emotions which made him extremely intimidating. There were even some interactions which unintentionally shattered my confidence, as he was a programmer and I thought I could talk to him about that.
College was a blur. I met up with Al again in a sociology class we shared, and through him and his sister Sarah, I made two more friends: Ariel and Tristan. They were the best friends I remember having, though it was mostly through Al. We shitposted about My Little Pony and Arnold Palmer tea. The first semester I passed, barely. I think I failed the next semester and planned to kill myself at the end because I thought my life was ruined. I exploded and told my dad that I hadn't taken any of my antidepressants. I ended up moving back in with my dad. My sisters had moved in by that time. Our relationship only strained more, and I exploded at him telling him "fuck you", to which he kicked me out. I moved in with Tristan.
There my depression stewed. My eczema got especially bad without my topical steroid, and I isolated more and more. Tristan's dad talked to me often about stoicism, philosophy, and project management. He pursued stoicism as his best virtue, taking on all the burdens of the world. When I talked to him, it always felt like he was a diamond under immense pressure that would shatter if the pressure was relieved. It seemed like he was using my stay as an extra mouth to feed to increase the stress he was under on purpose, so I eventually worked up the courage to go back to college.
I think I did one semester, passing barely again. Then at some point, Al realized I was taking the group's sarcastic jibes personally and was codependent on them. He told me he didn't want to be responsible for giving me pain and that we shouldn't be friends. From there, I avoided everyone from that group, going so far as to make large detours to avoid spotting them. I was too afraid to face them any longer. The next semester, I went to the first few classes, then became a hikikomori for the rest of the semester, only leaving my room for food and the bathroom. I didn't want to live, but I didn't have the will to kill myself either.
That state broke when it was revealed that I had failed all my classes. My dad took me back in, with similar tensions. I visited my mom for the Summer and saw a therapist/psychiatrist named Dr. Goodman. She had my half-sister Marlena.
By sheer luck, I got a job as a administration assistant at a company my cousin Alex worked at, Engage. He presented it in terms of reprogramming their database stack, but I knew I wasn't there for that. Still, I insisted on writing scripts to do the extremely tedious job of pressing buttons in the right sequence to print the mailing labels by the thousands. At some point I accidentally managed to fuck up not once, but twice. The first was caught, but the second made it all the way to the post office where they charged a fee for every incorrectly labeled mail, probably costing thousands of dollars. I was let go soon after for personality conflicts and because I wasn't taking my time, doing things too fast so mistakes were easy to make.
I was offered a replacement job in the data entry department, which I was very reluctant to take because I wanted to run away from the whole thing and forget the wild emotions. I got it, learned the ropes, and did that for a couple months during the 2016 election (which made lots of mail), all the while getting less and less stable as I began to see the job as a symbol of my failure as a person. As I saw it, it was the job I was moved to out of pity because any hobo off the streets could deliver identical work, and yet I was still struggling and felt ashamed because no one else had any problems. I ran out of my medications and that spiral plummeted and I felt the need to quit because what work I did on the clock was terrible and I frequently had to clock out to keep from clawing my eyes out. Every day I went in was sheer agony, which I'd compare to mentally tearing off each fingernail one by one. It was exploding with shame, panic, anxiety, fear, self-hatred, and tedium.
Unfortunately no one in my family saw it that way. Everyone seemed to think I just didn't want to do my job because I "didn't like it". I tried to tell them that I "just couldn't" go in anymore, but all I got back was that I have to. I didn't. More shame. It doubly confirmed the fears I already had, that the job was more important than I was. I suffered this pain every day and yet it was more important that I bear it and lose my mind rather than lose the job. Talk about worthless.
Eventually it came to a point where Goodman seemed to think I wasn't depressed and was manipulating my parents into giving me a free ride. My parents expressed their fear that "if I dropped him off at a shelter, I'd never see him again", which stung. I didn't want to live and everyone around me wanted me to work to live no matter the cost. I would thoughtlessly mention euthanization as a viable option. So, she was right to fear that. More shame from being such a failure as to put such responsibility and pain on my parents. That day I spent an hour seriously thinking about killing myself despite my hesitation, reasoning that I was a parasite on my family and the only way to relieve them of my burden was to relieve them of me. Whatever pain I caused by dying would pale in comparison to the pain I'd cause by living. I wondered if any excuse I had against this plan was a selfish desire to continue living in spite of the pain of others. I never went much farther beyond that, though.
Eventually my parents convinced Goodman to send me to Sierra Tucson. There, I learned about trauma, the distinction between shame and guilt, codependency, and the importance of friendship. I felt awakened, as if from a coma, and first time in my life, I enjoyed living for its own sake. I was transferred to Crownview Co-Occurring Institute for Intensive Out-Patient, where I regressed some due to it being a less supportive environment. Still, I learned how to deal with adversity in reality, particularly overcoming my issues with authority, defensiveness, a need to be right all the time, and how to take criticism without taking it personally.
During recovery, Katie had my niece Aurora. Most of the effect of that was from watching how other people reacted and interpreting the underlying reasons. I believe Katie refused an abortion/adoption because she intended to use Aurora to assert her maturity and capacity to be responsible to my dad and Lindsey, who had a tendency to micromanage her which led to teenage rebellion. What's sad about that is I think she lacks self-care emotionally and mentally, and now she won't ever have an opportunity to work on herself because she'll be working on her kid. In trying to appear more mature, she destroyed any chance of reaching maturity healthily. Now she's still struggling to break free of them, seeing all of their "suggestions" (which, to be fair, are stated more as commands) as personal attacks, saying she isn't capable of taking care of her symbol of adulthood.
And now I'm in R&R. I don't know where I'm going from here.
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Note: A high school AU that may or may not go anywhere.
Sheldon didn’t want to go on a date with Sarah. He didn’t want to go on a date Victoria. He didn’t really want to go on a date with Rebecca. Even before his brother, Junior, broke Rebecca’s heart. Really, Sheldon didn’t want to go on a date with any of the girls him mama was trying to set him up with.
“I have a girlfriend,” he blurted out when Mama was trying to talk him into the virtues of Sarah. Apparently she could make a great pecan pie. As if that was a completely reasonable foundation on which to base a relationship.
“A girlfriend? Who? Why didn’t you say anything? You should bring her to dinner so we can meet her,” his mother said.
Sheldon didn’t know what to say. He didn’t have a girlfriend. He wasn’t his brother. Girls didn’t interest him. Boys didn’t interest him either, even if the football players did call him a mean name that implied that they did. No one interested him.
“Her name is Amy,” Sheldon muttered. She was the only girl he could think of off the top of his head who wasn’t his sister. She was recently assigned to be his lab partner, but he didn’t know much about her. She was mostly quiet and let him work on the experiments. That was fine with him. At least she didn’t get in the way.
“I’m not ready for her to come to dinner,” Sheldon muttered.
“Amy? Amy who? Do I know her mama?”
“Her name is Amy Fowler. I doubt you know her parents. She just moved here,” Sheldon explained. He hoped that his mother didn’t ask any other questions because he had already told her everything he knew about her. Beyond this, he would need to start making things up, and he wasn’t particularly good at that.
He breathed a sigh of relief when Mama dropped the subject. He knew this wasn’t going to be the end of it, but at least it ended for now. If only he knew what he started by uttering those four words.
Mama wasn’t sure why she worried so much for her Sheldon. She just wanted him to be happy, and it seemed like he wasn’t doing much to help himself. The other kids had friends and played on teams and joined clubs. Her Sheldon just stayed home all the time: reading, studying, playing video games. She had taken him to someone to see if he was depressed, but the doctor said he was just fine. He just had different interests from the other boys.
Mama still thought she should try to find her boy a nice girl to spend his time with. A girl with hometown roots who would keep him grounded even after he went off to go do whatever it was he dreamed of doing. At least it sounded like he was finally making friends. Still, Mama decided to mention this development to her daughter, Missy, so that she could see if she knew anything about this Amy.
“No, Mama. Amy? I don’t think there’s even a girl named Amy in our whole class,” Missy told her mother.
“It isn’t like that boy to lie to me,” Mama said.
“He would if he’s trying to get you to stop setting him up with girls from church,” Missy commented.
“Hmm,” Mama said. She wondered if she was pushing Sheldon too hard if he was inventing girls. She decided to talk to him about it later.
Sheldon didn’t know about his mother’s change of heart, so he decided that he better get to know Amy better if he wanted to keep dropping information about the girl. He walked into the biology lab and took his seat next to Amy. She was reading a book, and he peeked over her shoulder to see what it was.
“Hamlet?” Sheldon asked.
“Yes,” Amy said shortly. It was the first time Sheldon had ever spoken to her for a reason that wasn’t him telling her what to do for whatever lab work they were doing. He thought he was so smart. Well, he clearly was, but she still hated him. He was so smug and she always clenched her fist as to not punch him whenever he spoke. He always cut her off when she tried to explain a biological principle. She stopped trying. It was only a couple more months until the end of the school year, and if she had any luck, her father would be transferred again and she would be off to her fifth high school before the start of her senior year.
“My favorite Shakespeare play is A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I don’t like the tragedies. Too woe is me,” Sheldon commented.
“But A Midsummer Night’s Dream?” Amy asked despite herself.
“It’s whimsical. There are fairies. It’s better than ghosts and suicide,” Sheldon countered.
“It’s all about love.”
“I can like love. I don’t want it myself, but it’s funny to watch others try to traverse it,” Sheldon countered.
“Fair enough,” Amy admitted. That was actually pretty close to how she felt about it. She was only reading Hamlet again because she had a test on it and it had been a few years since she read it. She went back to reading her book. The conversation was clearly over. Or at least she wanted it to be.
“So, what’s your favorite play? Is it Hamlet?” Sheldon asked. He hated having to ask all of these questions, but he still didn’t know much about the girl sitting next to him. Instead he ended up tell her about him.
“I don’t really like Shakespeare all that much,” Amy admitted.
Sheldon was about to ask her to finally give him an answer when the bell rang and class started. He didn’t have a chance to find out any more about the girl.
During their lab, Amy worked hard on their experiment just as he did, but they didn’t speak about anything personal again. Sheldon looked at her write up. It was filled with tiny neat writing that was even more extensive than his own. How could she write so much about a something as boring as biology? He always assumed that she just jotted down whatever he told her to write. That’s what everyone did in all of his classes. He knew that his classmates didn’t like working with him, but they always knew he was right.
Amy left as soon as the bell rang without so much as a goodbye. Sheldon sighed because he didn’t learn anything about Amy. If his mom pushed him for information, he wasn’t going to have anything.
Sheldon planned to try again the next day. He was going to learn one thing about Amy Fowler and then he was going mention it to his mother. Then in a few weeks he was going to tell his mother than he had broken up with the girl and was far too heartbroken to date again for the rest of high school. It was brilliant plan to get him to college.
Though when he got home, his mother was waiting for him with a snack. Sheldon wanted to groan when he saw her there. She was probably waiting to ask him more about Amy. Sheldon tried to remember what he knew about her. She smelled like cherry blossoms. She had long, shiny brown hair. She wore glasses. She was kind. She didn't like Shakespeare. Maybe he could make something out of that.
“Missy told me the truth about Amy,” Mama said as he sat down.
“What truth about Amy?” Sheldon wondered what his sister might know about his lab partner. She couldn't possibly know that she wasn't really Sheldon's girlfriend. Not when Amy just got there. Sheldon could just say that it was new.
“That there is no Amy. I just wanted to help you be happy. You didn't need to make up a girl.”
“She's not strictly my girlfriend, but she is real. We talked about Shakespeare today,” Sheldon offered. He couldn't believe that his sister said Amy wasn't real. Amy was a real head turner even if she was new. How had Missy never noticed her? Even if she wasn't Sheldon's lab partner, he was sure he would have noticed her.
“You don't need to lie to me. I won't push the girl thing anymore,” Mama promised.
“I appreciate that, but Amy is my friend. She's a real girl,” Sheldon muttered. He didn't need to make the girl his girlfriend anymore, but now he wanted to prove to his mother than he wasn't making anyone up.
That meant that the next day, Sheldon was going to find something out about Amy Fowler to prove to his family that she was real. He might even actually try to do something he had never done before: make a friend.
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