#remember the time that one (1) medication did absolutely anything for my focus and mood | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lucas-koh · 4 years

Text

Stitches - Bryce Lahela x MC XI

Parts 1-10 linked in bio!

Only somewhat canon compliant.

Song: sex (catching feelings) - EDEN

Rating: M; sexual content, swearing, mentions of death, drinking

Word Count: 4261

Taglist: @lahellacute @lahamseiroshoe @anotherbeingsworld @fuseboxmusebox @choicesficwriterscreations @bubblelaureno @bratzlahela @eleanorbloom @bryceslahela @thegreentwin @kelseaaa || please let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from this list

Chapter Eleven: Tequila Flavoured Sutures

And ring in the New Year they did, for hours and hours and hours. There was little concern about the noise they were making due to the fact that everyone was passed out from alcohol by that point.

—-

It took almost the entire month of January until Suki had a day off, in fact, two days off. She skipped over her birthday on the 18th, opting for takeout and a movie (and not telling anyone it was her birthday so they wouldn’t make a fuss). Yay to twenty-eight. Her plans for her days off initially involved those chips and candy she didn’t get to indulge in before; but then she thought about Bryce’s words the last time ‘…and you didn’t even think to invite me?’ And immediately caved. She did want to see him after such a long time. Especially after how he was in bed at New Years…

Santa Fe: 👃yours?

Scalpel Jockey: i finish in a couple hours?

Santa Fe: cool, i’ll be there

Scalpel Jockey: 😈

So after a couple of hours Suki arrived at Bryce’s place. Pretty much as soon as she stepped through the door she was rushing Bryce’s shirt off.

“Woah, someone’s eager.”

“It’s been a little while.”

—-

A chunk of time and a few rounds later, Bryce and Suki caught their breath on his bed. Suki wasn’t ready for the night to end, she was pretty horny still, and she had the day off tomorrow, too.

“Hey,” she grinned with mischief and sudden inspiration in her eyes, she had missed out on birthday fun after all, “wanna get drunk and do body shots?”

“Absolutely,” Bryce bit his lip and his eyelids sunk with desire. Suki already knew this would be an interesting night.

They partially dressed and headed into the kitchen to grab Bryce’s alcohol. He crouched down to a little cupboard in the corner of his kitchen.

“Oh.” He pulled a bottle of rum from the cupboard. There was barely anything left in it.

“Shit,” Suki laughed.

“I can grab something from the convenience store?”

“Eh, why not, I’ll come along.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Some fresh air might be nice after all that… exertion.”

So Bryce and Suki put on the rest of their clothes and headed out to walk to the store. The late January cold was biting but neither of them noticed much.

On the walk they talked about everything and nothing, like they were old friends catching up after too long away. Suki tried to ignore the fact that their hands brushed when they walked too close together. That the cold metal of his rings sent a jolt through the nerves in her fingers. She also tried to ignore the fact that made her think about holding that hand. Back on the first day, when they’d danced to The Stone Roses, when he’d asked if she wanted to be adored and made her scramble under his gaze. And then the many times she’d gripped his hand while he was fucking her into oblivion, letting it press her own into the mattress with pressure, his fingers fitting between her own desperately and needing like puzzle pieces. Her nails digging into the back of his hand and vice versa. She remembered how that first time and all the times since their hands had felt right, like an old key and lock with a very specific shape.

Once they reached the store, they picked up two bottles of tequila, and some fresh limes.

“I’ll pay,” Bryce rushed in front of her, “I’ll keep whatever’s left over.”

“Not if we drink it all,” she teased.

“That’s 70cl each, I think not,” Bryce chuckled as the cashier put the bottles in their over-used old plastic bag for them. Suki pulled the full bag from the counter once Bryce had paid.

“Can’t handle it?”

“Thanks man,” Bryce said to the cashier and they began to make their way outside. “As doctors I think we both know 70cl is like, death limits.”

“Long term, maybe,” she shrugged. When she saw the look Bryce was giving her, she added, “I’m joking, you dumbass! I’m not sure why you even bought two bottles.”

“Eh, saves coming down here again.”

“Lazy-ass.”

They pushed open the door to step into the cold outside. Bryce shook his head affectionately and laughed at Suki, despite the conversation being barely funny.

As he laughed, Bryce stumbled backwards off the step up to the shop and into a man drinking just outside the store.

“Oops, sorry man,” he grinned an apology. It was lighthearted and accidental and that should’ve been the end of it. But this dude did not look happy.

“Hey Buddy, are you looking for a fight?”

“No, not at all – just an accident, dude.”

“Are you fuckin’ sure?” The man signalled down to the ground where a vodka bottle was smashed into large pieces.

“I’m sorry, I’ll buy you another.”

Suki was beginning to feel very stressed. Confrontation was her least favourite thing ever. She pulled one of the tequila bottles from her bag.

“Here, sir. Have this. He really didn’t mean to break it.”

“Tell your boyfriend to be more careful,” he spat.

Suki didn’t want to provoke him any more by correcting him, but she also didn’t want him to keep talking smack. Hearing this guy get so worked up over Bryce’s mere mistake was enough to give Suki a major adrenaline and confidence boost.

“He tripped, and then apologised immediately. We offered to buy you another bottle, and even offered up our own. Maybe you need to calm down.” Her voice was slightly raised and she was starting to see red from anger.

“Suki-“ Bryce started, holding a hand out as though to shield her.

But this man was very intoxicated and clearly in the mood to be a dick, because he walked over to Suki and shoved her to the floor. It was like everything was moving in fast forward because it happened in just seconds. And then all of a sudden Suki was on the other side of the coin and in slow motion, stumbling down to the concrete. In the process the tequila in the dishevelled bag in her hand also smashed through the worn plastic and to the floor and Suki, in trying to break her fall, stumbled back on her hands. She winced as her hand dug right into one particularly sharp shard of glass.

“Shit.”

The man’s eyes widened as he noticed what he’d done and the absolute rage and contempt on Bryce’s face. Bryce was furious. Suki had never seen him so mad. Not even that day he’d lost the surgery. And it wasn’t cartoon smoke-out-the-ears fury either, it was scary. Pure. The drunkard was clearly terrified by Bryce’s expression and his tightly clenching fists and he scarpered.

“HEY! ASSHOLE!” Bryce shouted after him, running down the road after him a bit. Suki was surprised at how fast he was running. He got a little ways down the sidewalk when the other man crossed a traffic-filled road. Bryce looked back and saw Suki on the floor - he knew his priority was her.

He returned to where she was now sat on the floor, examining the glass shoved into her hand and crumbs of concrete around the area, too. The aroma of tequila mixed with blood was overwhelming. Suki was honestly feeling a mixture of shell-shock and dizzy headiness.

“Fuck,” Bryce said, crouching beside her and taking her hand in his like the very limb was made of glass. “I’ll fucking kill him. Does anywhere else hurt? Are you okay emotionally?”

His deep brown eyes searched hers, desperate concern clouding them. All traces of the absolute anger of before were gone, only solicitude and tunnelled focus on the woman before him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Maybe a bruise on my butt but I’ve had worse. What a dick.”

Bryce held the underside of her hand in both of his, securing her wrist steady, and scrunched his face up as he inspected it. “We need to get the glass out of this.”

“Easy, it’s only the one piece.” Suki tried not to yelp as she pulled the shard from her palm.

“Suki!” Bryce chastised.

“It’s all good, see?”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just do that after nine years of medical training.”

“It’s fine,” she assured him, hoping her eyes were telling him so too. Sure, it hurt, but it wasn’t enough to make a big deal out of.

“You should let me take you to the emergency room.”

“Bryce. It’s fine. It’s not a big deal.”

He winced as he looked at the blood still pouring from the gash in her hand. “I swear I’ll deck that guy if I ever see him again. It’ll heal much better if you go to the ER and get stitches. The last thing a doctor needs is nerve damage.”

“Bryce.”

“Fine, then you’re coming back to mine and letting me stitch it.”

“Bryce!” Suki was feeling like a broken record, but honestly at that moment, a combination of shock and the odd feeling Bryce’s eyes gave her was making it a little difficult to access her full word library.

“Don’t wear my name out,” he winked, keeping one hand on hers and placing the other round her waist as he helped pull her up from the ground. She was sure to grab the unaffected tequila bottle and limes with her functioning hand.

“I could’ve stood up by myself you know, my legs are fine.”

“I’m keeping this hand so you don’t do anything else to it,” he said, taking Suki’s wrist to hold her bleeding hand above her heart, and began to pull her along with him. She sighed but let him pull her along, anything to get him not to go after that guy. She didn’t need the further mortification.

The walk back had lost the vibe of the walk there; solemn and sober. Mostly filled with Bryce muttering things about the man and retained asking of Suki’s well-being.

Bryce held her wrist the entire way, catching most of the leftover dripping blood on his own hand.

They reached Bryce’s apartment and he unlocked the door for them, closed it behind him, and then led Suki over to the sofa.

“Stay there,” he instructed before disappearing into the kitchen. Seconds later he re-emerged with a sizeable first aid kit.

“That’s big,” Suki laughed, a little more colour in her cheeks now that they were inside, “I would say you’re compensating for something but...”

“But you know I’m not,” he grinned smugly as he perched beside her.

Bryce was ever so delicate as he held Suki’s hand and cleaned away the blood with an antiseptic wipe. She winced the first time the cool chemical wipe made contact with the gash which caused Bryce to immediately stop and look at her. She gave him a little nod to continue. He did his best to be careful as he moved the skin around a bit under his phone flashlight to see if any glass was lingering.

“I swear Suki if this heals and there’s still glass in there because you wouldn’t let me take you to the ER, you’ll never hear the end of this.”

“Fine, but I trust your 20/20 vision and steady scalpel hand.”

“As you should.”

Once the wound was clean and Bryce had checked multiple times for fragments of glass, he pulled his suture kit from the box.

Watching Bryce steady the curved needle end in some tweezers was artful. He was so practised, so sure. The way his pretty features furrowed together slightly in focus was magnetising. She was amazed at how steady his hands were, how such large appendages could look so fine and delicate. Each stitch pulled through was neat and even, Suki’s eyes flicking between the stitches and Bryce’s facial expression. It was piercing her skin but it was like she couldn’t feel it. His other hand remained beneath hers, holding it up and keeping it from shaking. Then Bryce secured the stitches and started to wrap some bandage around for extra protection.

Bryce finished off his bandaging by tucking it in at the back of her hand. He held her hand, still.

“It’s going to scar,” he sighed.

“What’s a doctor without a few scars?”

“Touché.”

“Thank you for doing this.”

“It was no question.”

Suki couldn’t help but notice the way Bryce’s thumb soothed the back of the hand it was holding. She looked up to the clock. It had only been an hour since they’d left for drinks. Eventful hour.

Eventually Bryce seemed to notice his hand and removed it from hers.

“What about those body shots then?” She smirked.

“You’re hurt.”

“It’s a cut on my hand, I was planning on doing these shots with my mouth…”

Bryce raised his eyebrows and licked his lips. “Well, we did manage to salvage one bottle.”

“Not to mention it has been secured by ‘the best surgical intern at Edenbrook’.”

“Oh you’re damn fucking right. Fine, you know how to convince a guy. We’re gonna take it careful though, okay?”

“Deal. On which I will not shake my hand.”

He laughed and got up to fetch the shot glasses from the kitchen, beckoning her over.

“The counter will be best.”

Suki laid down first, letting Bryce slip her top over her head (with which he was incredibly careful with her hand), and slide her pants down her legs until she was laying on his kitchen island in only her underwear.

“Now, this is a sight that could encourage me to be in the kitchen more,” Bryce laughed, trailing a finger up and down her arm and causing her to tremble.

“Still haven’t learned any recipes, huh?”

“No. But there’s no way in hell we’re talking about cooking right now.”

Bryce licked a finger and trailed it slowly between Suki’s breasts, then sprinkled some salt over that area. He rested the lime wedge on her stomach. Finally he filled a shot glass with the spirit and placed it in her mouth. She was trying not to laugh too hard so that she didn’t spill the tequila all over her face.

“Ready?” He smirked. She lifted her good hand in an ‘ok’ sign.

As Bryce leaned down towards Suki’s chest, his face was hungry, craving. That look was making Suki’s stomach flip all kinds of directions. He sensuously licked his tongue up between her breasts, catching each grain of salt. He laughed a little as he moved to collect the shot glass in his own mouth. Their lips touched briefly as he secured it in his mouth, then he threw his head back and downed the shot immediately. Then rather swiftly Bryce moved down to Suki’s stomach to suck all the juice from the lime and counter the sharp tequila flavour.

“Okay, that was a really good idea,” he exhaled in the way one does after a strong shot of alcohol. Bryce took another three shots from various parts of Suki’s body; for the last two she lay on her stomach and he used spots such as the nape of her neck, small of her back, and asscheek. The two of them were a messy mix of laughing the whole time, and really enjoying the whole thing.

“Right? My turn now.”

Bryce and Suki switched places, and he threw all his clothing bar underpants off towards the lounge.

Suki used her tongue to dampen the line in the middle of Bryce’s abs for the salt, balanced the shot glass precariously on the flat part of his chest, and placed the lime in his mouth.

She was slow and tantalising as she lapped up the salt, swift as she took the shot, and then there was the lime. She leant down to suck out the sour juice, but kept the lime in his mouth the entire time she drained it. It was an odd but exciting semi-kiss.

After a couple more shots Suki had a new idea.

“Wait, wait,” she laughed, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“What?”

“What if… I poured a bit on your stomach and licked it up…” she was laughing a lot, but it was obvious the idea appealed a lot to her.

“Do it.”

She placed a hand on his stomach to steady him before she planned to carefully pour the liquid over him.

“Hey, careful with that hand,” Bryce nudged, noticing it pressed flat on his body.

“Yes, yes, Dr. Lahela,” she teased.

Time seemed to fly by as the pair took shot after shot, broken up by messy intoxicated kisses, neither realising that Suki’s tolerance was far lower than Bryce’s. After losing count, they wordlessly abandoned the game, relocating to dance around stupidly in their underwear in the living room. Suki may or may not have been swigging tequila directly from the bottle at that point.

A number of songs played and then:

“I’m… pretty drunk,” Suki laughed, closing her eyes and letting herself sway a bit.

“Same!” Bryce enthused, before Suki began to topple over towards the sofa, “woah! Okay, you’re more drunk than me.” He giggled as he caught her fall. Now he was sitting on the floor with Suki’s jelly-like body in his arms. He kept a weary eye on her bandaged hand.

Yes, Bryce was drunk, but the moment he needed to be sensible or protective it was like a switch went off in his brain.

Her eyes were still shut and a blissful smile spread over her face. “Kiss me.”

Bryce leaned in and gave her a chaste peck to the lips.

“I know you can kiss better than that,” she echoed his words from their epic kiss.

“Not when you’re drunker than me I can’t.”

“Boohoo.”

“We should get you home. I’ll come with, I’m not sure I’m comfortable putting you in an Uber alone.”

“I don’t think I can walk very far, Bryyyceee.”

“Okay, you can have my bed then. I’ll take the sofa.”

“Nooooo,” she brought up her limp hands to grab either side of his face, visibly wincing a bit when the bandaged one made contact with his face. “Sleep with me.”

“Clothed? Sure.” Bryce took her damaged hand in his own and held it away from any pain risks.

“Nopeeee,” Suki’s remaining clumsy hand began to slide down Bryce’s chest and fiddle with the band of his boxers. He laughed and grabbed them both with his free hand to stop her.

“I’m not having sex with you again tonight.”

“Meanie.”

“Okay.” He chuckled again.

“But will you sleep with me? Like, to make sure I don’t throw up in the night or something.”

“Sure, miss tequila.”

Bryce stood and pulled Suki up with him, her eyes fluttering open at the movement, and supported her in the walk to his bedroom.

“Are you cold? I have some pyjamas if you’d like,” he offered when they got there, still holding her tightly to his side.

She shook her head, but didn’t seem sure. She looked up to Bryce with wide eyes and a startled expression like she was only just really seeing him.

“Bathroom,” she choked out, and Bryce rushed her towards his en-suite. He supported her all the way to her eventually emptying the contents of her stomach into his toilet bowl.

He held her hair back from her face as she very inelegantly upchucked into Bryce’s toilet a few times.

“I’m sorry,” she looked up at him, eyes wide and apologetic, “I didn’t mean to drink so much I’m just…” nervous around you. Stupidly feeling ways I shouldn’t for my fuck Buddy. Wanted you to see me as fun and free-spirited. Now I’m just embarrassing myself.

“You don’t need to explain yourself. It’s okay.”

Once it was clear nothing else was coming out, Bryce helped Suki drink from a glass of water, and briefly left the room for her to pee.

Bryce was gentle as he ran a spare (unused) toothbrush around her mouth and directed her head to the sink each time to spit.

Suki wasn’t coherent enough to ramble all her apologies and thanks’, but she was so grateful. Could this man stop being so amazing, please? I’m trying to stop being weird, here.

Eventually Bryce was able to help Suki into some of his pyjamas, somehow without looking at all. Seeing a very drunk naked girl is not the same, even if he had seen said girl naked many times prior. Then he helped her into bed and she collapsed against his pillow like a rag doll. He climbed into bed beside her, careful to keep his distance.

“Bryce…” she slurred, the sleep clear in her voice. “You’re a really great guy. I’m glad we’re…” Suki was going to say friends, but it felt wrong coming out of her mouth at that moment. “I’m glad I know you.”

“Yeah, I’m glad I know you too.” Bryce reached up a hand to stroke her cheek. She sighed into his hand, moving a bit cat-like.

“Since you wouldn’t fuck me, will you at least cuddle me?”

Bryce laughed. “Of course.”

“You are so great. So great. Great guy.” As she mumbled these words drunkenly it was clear the unconsciousness was taking over.

Bryce rolled towards her and cradled her into his chest, holding her tightly as though it had been a long time coming.

Bryce’s breaths came gently over Suki’s forehead. And after a few minutes, when he was sure she’d fallen asleep, he spoke ever so quietly.

“If only you knew what a screw up I was,” he muttered. Suki may have been drunk and spewing shit she wouldn’t sober, but her ears were working fine. And she would remember this in the morning. Despite the intoxication she knew such out of pocket words would be something she’d recall. She knew then to keep as still as she could, not alerting to him that she was awake or coherent.

—-

When Suki woke up, her pillow was hard. Her duvet was gripping her waist kind of tightly, too. As she nuzzled into the pillow her senses were invigorated with a sudden and familiar scent: suddenly most of the nights events clocked in her brain.

Sex with Bryce. Walk to convenience store. Accidental beef with drunk man. Damaged hand. Bryce stitching up said hand. Body shots. Lots of body shots. Random blank moment. Oh god - throwing up in Bryce’s toilet. Being dressed by a closed-eye Bryce. Finally falling into bed. Those words.

What the hell could he have meant by that last night? If only I knew what a screw up he was? As far as I’m concerned right now he’s an angel sent from above to deal with a problematically drunk Suki.

He was breathing gently beneath her, quiet noises at each exhale. She noticed as she listened to the rhythm of his heart, that her heart was beating in time with his.

Maybe she should’ve left. After all, she’d ended up causing a lot of trouble for Bryce. And, she’d stayed the night. Maybe if she left before he woke up it wouldn’t count that she’d broken the rule.

But before she could truly agonise over her decision, Bryce stirred, blinking awake and looking down at her.

“Hey,” he smiled. To Suki’s surprise his arm remained around her waist. Okay, I’m surprised he doesn’t hate me. Then again, he wouldn’t be the type to be open about hating someone.

“Hey,” she replied quietly, looking up at him from his chest. “So… I was pretty drunk last night.”

“Yeah. I thought I was too and then you fell over. The decline was pretty quick after that.”

“I’m so sorry. That you had to see me like that, look after me, and then I hijacked your bed too… it wasn’t appropriate of me and it was unfair on you.”

“It’s okay, Suki. You’d do the same for me. We’re friends and making sure you’re okay and looked after is important to me,” he nodded sincerely before grinning and adding, “plus, now I have plenty of blackmail material.”

“God I was awful wasn’t I?”

He chuckled.

Oh shit. “Did I say anything really bad? If I did please ignore it because I talk out of my ass when I’m drunk I’m sure it was utter nonsense.”

“If you did, I think I’ll keep it to myself.”

Ughhhhh. She groaned loudly and buried her face into his chest so that she didn’t have to see that stupid smirk. Now my mind will race about what I could’ve said for the rest of time.

Suki actually felt like hitting Bryce as his large hand slowly soothed her back.

He had to stop doing so much for her, being so exemplary, because it was adding to a problem that had been brewing in Suki for a while. He’d comforted her in the supply closet twice, he’d looked after Tommy, he’d held her hair back while she was sick and let her stay the night, and he’d stitched up her wound so carefully and precisely. He’d even nearly beat up that guy for her.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit.

She’d broken her promise, because it wasn’t just about sex anymore. Truthfully, maybe it never was.

There was absolutely no way she could swing it any longer. Suki Moore liked Bryce Lahela. As more than a friend, more than a body. She was enamoured by him, and had no clue what to do about it.

43 notes · View notes

heathermorningstar0510 · 3 years

Text

Unable to Stay, Unwilling to Leave

Emmett from A Quiet Place Part 2 and OC

Emmett and Katherine dated as teenagers before the relationship ended. Now during the end of the world, what happens when they are reunited?

*This will have 7 chapters total. Each chapter is named after a song title I found fitting to the scene, the artist is listed and the titles do appear in the chapters. Katie’s medical background isn’t touched upon much after the first chapter, nor is it discussed how she was trained but it was learned in the military. This is my first fanfic so hopefully it’s good!*

Warning- mention of blood

Chapter 1- Angel’s Fall (Breaking Benjamin)

Katherine had only been on the island for a few months. Before that, she had just been trying to survive the dark hell that the rest of the world had become. When her broken and weary group had made it to safety, she finally let herself think about what might have happened to all those she had loved once. Most importantly she wondered what had become of her best friend’s Evelyn and Lee, their family and of course Emmett. God how she missed him. She hadn’t seen Emmett since that stormy spring night when she shattered his heart and left him to go and join the Navy. Katie knew he would never leave their tiny hometown and if he had by some miracle gone with her, he would have been absolutely miserable. She never wanted that, she just wanted him to be happy so she left him. She had never once stopped loving him though, even after he married Nora and started a family. There had never been another for her and now with the state of the world, there most likely never would be.

As the days passed though, she began to think that Emmett and the Abbott’s hadn’t survived. She had thought of going to look for them, but going back would have been a suicide mission. No one else had made it to the island and no one ever went back. So it was quite the shock when Emmett and Regan arrived on the island soaking wet and startled by all the noise around them. She had only seen Regan in pictures Evelyn and Lee had sent and it was the first time she had seen Emmett since they were 19. He looked haggard, his thick beard a mix of gray and brown and his hair longer and shaggier then she had ever seen it. He seemed just as surprised to see her and pulled her into a tight embrace, as if he was afraid she would disappear should he let go.

“Are you warm enough? I can go get you an extra blanket.” Katie questioned, gently placing her hand on his shoulder. He shook his head and let his hand rest delicately on top of hers before locking their fingers. She perched on the log beside him and let him take her hand. Neither spoke as they stared into the roaring fire in front of them. Just before daylight fully broke he and Regan wandered off towards the beach, and it wasn’t long after that she came back up alone. Katie had just begun helping some of the other villagers start breakfast when she heard Emmett yelling “Get inside!” She spun around in time to watch one of those damn creatures attacking. In the pandemonium she lost sight of them for a brief moment before spotting Emmett, Regan and Djimon take off in the car with the creature following close behind.

“Help, please help.” She heard the screams all around, saw the chaos and destruction and knew that she needed to help the wounded. But all she could think about was Emmett. She couldn’t lose him, not again and not after she had just gotten him back. With one last glance over her shoulder at the carnage behind her, Katherine took off sprinting towards the radio station and Emmett. By the time she got there, Djimon was laying on the ground, long past being saved. The sound of the feedback from Regan’s hearing aid was emitting from within the station at a deafening volume. Quietly Katie crept into the building but once she rounded the corner, she almost stumbled on the creatures lifeless body. She had never seen one dead before, didn’t even think it was truly possible.

Glancing around, she spotted Regan knelt down next to Emmett trying to sign something to him, panic evident across her face. Katie hurried over to them. From the pool of blood forming under him, it was evident the creature didn’t go down without a fight and Emmett’s leg had taken the worst of the damage. With her training, she knew she didn’t have long to slow the bleeding before he would die right in front of them.

“Help him, please don’t let him die.” Terrified, Regan spun back around and grabbed Emmett’s shoulders, tears welling up in her eyes. His gaze finally focused on Regan who turned and looked right at Katherine. His eyes found Katie and she felt her heart stop for a moment.

“Katie, how did you get here?” He quietly groaned.

“I walked, well more like ran.” Seeing the surprise cross his face she rushed on, “I did set the fastest 1.5 mile run for my unit I’ll have you know.”

“You always were quite the runner.” He whispered, “Remember that time Lee and I fought and you and Evelyn ran halfway across the farm to stop us? You were so mad, but so pretty I couldn’t focus on you yelling at me. And that just made you even more pissed.” Emmett chuckled at the memory before grimacing in pain.

“I remember Emmett. You kissed me right as I was telling you that you needed to apologize for sucker punching Lee! I thought you guys were really going to hurt each other.” Katie smiled pulling his ripped jeans away from the wounds and Emmett flinched. Katie felt the panic squeeze her chest when she saw just how deep the cuts were but she had to force that fear away. They needed her, there was no way she could fall apart.

“You were always my angel, always saving me. I loved you more than anything, but you left me, why?”

“Well even angels fall sometimes. But I thought you could use some help and I didn’t want to let you down again. I’ve already let you down enough for one life time haven’t I?” she mumbled before quickly taking off her belt.

“Katie, there’s a child here. You can’t strip.” He said sarcastically trying to lighten the mood.

“Ha, I forgot how funny you are Em. It’s a tourniquet, to keep you from dying on us.” she replied pulling the belt tightly around his leg and trying not to show the fear she felt when he screamed in pain.

“Just let me go Kate. Take care of Regan for me, I know you’ll keep her safe. Please.” Emmett sighed weakly, letting his eyes droop closed.

“No!” both women yelled at the same time startling him.

Katie grabbed either side of his face gently forcing it towards her though he refused to make eye contact. “Emmett look at me, please.” When his ocean blue eyes finally met her emerald green ones, she hastily continued. “I don’t know what you’ve been through since this all started ok, and I can see that whatever it is has made you ready to give up. But Regan needs you damn it. You’re all she has on this island and you obviously mean a lot to her. And… and you mean a lot to me too, always have and always will. So we need you ok, we need you to fight and we need you to stay with us. I need you.” Without realizing it, Katie had started crying as she silently begged, “Please.”

He nodded almost imperceptibly before reaching up to wipe the tears from their faces, “Please don’t cry. If you’ll help me up, I’ll keep going. But I need a little help/” His hand shook slightly as he laid it gently on the side of her face.

Katie sighed and leaned into his touch. “Don’t worry, we’ve got you.”

It took both of them to help him out to the car, or what was left of it and she was miraculously able to drive them back to the village though Emmett finally passed out halfway back. Katie wasn’t the only one with medical training on the island and luckily the others who did had stayed behind and helped the survivors. But she still got several dirty looks like she was some sort of traitor as she opened the car door and Regan ran around to help her. She couldn’t be bothered to care though.

“Kurt!” She cried out spotting a friendly face and he trotted over immediately. “Help us get him into my cabin please.”

“What the hell happened? I thought those things couldn’t swim.” Kurt questioned while helping her.

“It took another boat apparently. I don’t know how though.”

It took some time, but with Regan’s help she was able to clean and sew up the gashes in Emmett’s leg and dress the wounds. It took her even longer to convince Regan to get some sleep and she refused to leave the room Emmett was in, choosing instead to make a bed on the floor in the corner where she could see him. With both of them finally resting, Katie took a deep breath and headed out to see if she could be of any help to anyone else.

#cillian murphy #emmett #a quiet place #a quiet place part two

7 notes · View notes

rosettahart · 3 years

Text

Glass-says: Chapter 17

Chapter 1, Chapter 16

Ao3 link

Summary: The weekend has passed and Virgil hasn't heard anything back from Princey since the masquerade and someone's willing to make a deal.

Warnings: Implied Physical Abuse, Bullying.

Chapter 17

"Has he texted you back yet, Kiddo?" Patton asked, following Virgil and Logan into the sound booth and waving at Roman when he saw he was already there.

Virgil shook his head, collapsing back into a bean bag chair and running a hand through his hair. "He would have texted me back already if he was going to."

"And we haven't seen anyone with dyed red hair all day…" Patton pulled a container of cookies out, opening it and setting it down in the middle of everyone.

"Perhaps it was only a temporary dye, there are other ways you should be able to narrow this down to one person." Logan mentioned, hissing as Roman elbowed him in the side, holding it as he sent a glare Romans way. "Was that absolutely necessary, Roman?"

Roman rolled his eyes. "Oh relax, I didn't hit you that hard."

"Lo, you okay?" Patton rested a hand worriedly on Logan's leg.

Logan schooled his face into a neutral expression but kept his hand where it was, his lip twitching slightly. Out of all the possible places Roman could have nudged him, it had to be in the worst one. "I am alright Patton, Roman merely happened to hit a sore area of my abdomen. I have been physically exerting myself more recently and it seems I happened to push myself further than I should have."

"Are you sure? Roman and I could go get you something for the soreness."

"Me? Why should I have to come?" Roman protested.

"You know why." Patton returned through his teeth so it'd be harder to understand, nodding his head at Logan.

"Fine." Roman muttered, grabbing a couple of cookies before standing up. He did feel the slightest bit guilty but at the same time how was he supposed to have known Logan was sore? "But I actually want to have time to eat my lunch afterwards."

"It'll only take a few minutes, Kiddo."

"Seeing as how this is an issue of my own I should go." Logan spoke up as he stood, gritting his teeth.

"Then we'll all go." Patton smiled.

Virgil pulled out his laptop and headphones. "You guys go ahead. I'll just stay here. I've got things to do."

"You sure, Kiddo?" Patton checked, his smile fading.

Virgil popped his headphones on, pulling up the cue for his webcast, not looking up. "Yeah, I'm sure."

Roman watched Virgil over Patton's shoulder until his ghostly friend started moving. He hesitated. Should he tell Virgil? Should he risk it on the chance it'd make him happy? That it could make him smile? That maybe… He opened his mouth.

"Roman?"

And risk losing his friends and the roof over his head? "I'm coming." Roman waited a moment before following Patton out. Maybe not...

Virgil sighed as soon as the door was closed behind his friends, not really in the mood to ready the cue for the next day. He leaned back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling when the door opened, he quickly pulled off his headphones when it wasn't who he expected it to be. "I-I tried to ignore him but-" He cleared his throat, trying to keep the nerves from his voice as he stood. "Things came up."

Charlotte motioned for the girls following her to wait outside, letting them close the door for her. "Relax, Virgil." She chuckled, patting his cheek. "I'm not here to hurt you, I promise."

Virgil tensed up uncomfortably regardless of her words.

"Me and the girls have been hard on you, we haven't been fair." Charlotte slowly began to pace the booth. "Paris is gone, out of the way, she doesn't even go to this school anymore."

Virgil couldn't help but shiver at the almost eerily gentle tone of her voice, uneasy about what Charlotte could have done to make Paris leave.

"You obviously have been trying your best to avoid Roman after our warnings, but maybe…" Charlotte turned to Virgil. "You would do that much better if we could offer something you really wanted in return for staying as far away from Roman as you possibly can."

"An offer?" Virgil lifted his head so he could meet Charlotte's gaze.

"It's hard not to notice how your eyes have gone from person to person, almost as if in search of someone and a friend told me she saw you with someone at the masquerade, someone who may have run off."

"You know who he is?" Virgil's eyes lit up before he remembered who he was talking to, looking away.

"No, but I know people who can find out." Charlotte tipped his head up with her finger. "But…"

"...I have to stop hanging out with Roman." Virgil's posture sank at the idea. Roman or Princey? Why was he hesitating over it? Why was there a part of him that didn't want to give up spending time with the dumb theatre geek? Why was there a part of him pausing at choosing his crush of a few years and greatest internet friend over someone he still hardly knew anything about?

"And you have to make sure to keep Logan away from him too."

"Logan, but-"

"He's his own person, I know." Charlotte nodded, pulling her hand away. "It's more of a suggestion than part of the deal because if he doesn't stay away from him we'd have to warn him separately and it would be a pain."

Virgil bit his thumb, still unsure about it.

Charlotte sighed. "You want the guy don't you? It's a friend over a boyfriend Virgil. You could have this dreamy guy you danced with, you laughed with, you had fun with, don't you like him, Virgil? Don't you want to find out who he is under that mask? Don't you want to go on dates with him, hold him close and make out him? That's what I want with Roman, Virgil." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "But that's hard to do when his attention is on you and your friend instead of me." She turned her back to him, watching the empty theatre below. "We could both have what we want. We could both be happy. Or you can choose to keep spending time with him while me and some friends continue to make the rest of your high school experience miserable. Some light nudges and poking was nothing Virgil, I have the power to make it much worse."

Virgil bit down harder on his thumb, wincing when he drew blood. He could be happy and he could have Princey. It wasn't worth it to hold onto Roman was it? To put up with the bullying for over another year and a half? "...Okay."

Charlotte spun around with a grin, holding out her hand. "We'll find him by the end of tomorrow."

Virgil gave her hand a weak shake, nodding.

Charlotte moved over to the door, stopping with her hand on the handle, voice dropping. "But if you break the deal there will be consequences."

Virgil stayed as he was for some time after Charlotte left, eyes staying on the door. He was going to see Princey again… He was going to know who he was, what he looked like, why he had- Why he had run off that night... Did he want to know?

"I just want one look so I know how bad it is, Lo."

"I appreciate your concern, Patton, but as I have said previously you would not see anything as my muscles are in pain due to the overexertion, there would be no bruising." Logan returned. "The pain medication will begin taking its effect soon so there is no reason to worry."

Patton gave a little nod in understanding, wishing there was more that he could do. Noticing Virgil was standing the ghost smiled, but his smile faltered when he realized his friend was just staring unfocused somewhere behind him. "Kiddo?"

Virgil snapped out of it. "Sorry I just remembered I have an assignment I need to check out a book for." He gathered up his things, zipping up his bag.

"We could come with you." Roman offered, moving to grab his backpack.

"No, you and Patton stay." Virgil glanced at Roman for a brief second before turning to Logan. "Could you come help me pick out a book?"

"Of course." Logan slung his bag over his shoulder carefully. "What is it your assignment is on?"

Roman turned to Patton, eyebrows furrowed. "Was that off to you?"

"He probably just needs to focus." Patton offered with uncertainty. "He just needs some quiet time."

Roman took a seat, fidgeting with the straps on his bag. "Do you think he's mad at Princey?"

"Mad? Why would Virge be mad?" Patton sat beside him, leaning against him as he watched his kiddo's hands.

"He ran away. They had an amazing night together and then Princey ruined it all and disappeared. He won't even text Virgil back."

"V's not mad. He knows Princey was hesitant to meet him, he's just upset he might have scared him away by taking things too fast."

"He shouldn't be upset with himself, it's Princey's fault!" Roman exclaimed, swiftly getting back up onto his feet, pointing at the door. "Princey should have stayed, should have taken off his own mask and should have faced Virgil instead of leaving him like this to feel miserable. He's an idiotic coward, he's-"

"Don't talk about him like that!" Patton pushed Roman's hand down. "Princeys been there for Virgil through the times I couldn't be, he spent hours and hours up into the night with him until he was okay. He cheered on my Kiddo from practically the very beginning of the webcast, boosting his confidence. He's Virgil's best friend and people get scared. They get nervous, Ro, everyone does. Princey just wasn't ready."

Roman's lip quivered and Patton wordlessly pulled him into a hug, rubbing his back as the thespian struggled not to full on cry.

He needed to tell Virgil he was Princey.

Chapter 18

Authors Notes: Thought I'd actually update this here too so here it is and hope you enjoy. -Danielle

Taglist:

@kittiebrick

@absolutesandersidestrash

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #patton sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #thomas sanders #ghost au #romance #ts patton #ts virgil #ts logan #ts roman #glass says #rosettahart writes

1 note · View note

apriorisea · 4 years

Text

BTS Imagine: Studying for Med School - Yoongi

The words on the notecard are starting to blur together when the front door to your apartment unlocks and swings open. Looking up blearily, it takes you a second to recognize the person coming in.

Catching your confused expression, Yoongi smiles softly. “Hey sweetheart,” he says, slipping his shoes off and closing the door behind him. “You doing ok?” You exhale heavily and sit back in your chair, rubbing at your eyes. “I’m not sure,” you joke tiredly. “What day is it?” His gummy smile grows wider as he comes to where you sit at the kitchen table. “Still Saturday. But...” He sets a few paper bags down on the table. “I think it’s time for a little food break.” The smell of your favorite food washes over you, and you feel your stomach growl on its own. “Is that...?” “You need to eat,” he says mildly as he unpacks the food. “Don’t they teach you that in medical school?” You roll your eyes, but aren’t able to stay irritated with him for very long. Giving in easily, you take your first bite and smile. You look at him happily. “Thanks, baby. This is perfect.” He leans in to kiss your cheek. “I love you,” he says. “You’re working so hard, but you have to take care of yourself still.” You smile around a mouthful of food. “Using my own words against me, huh?” “Maybe.” He looks down at your scattered study materials. “How’s it going?” You follow his gaze; now that he’s with you, offering a fresh perspective, things don’t seem as gloomy as they had 15 minutes ago. “I don’t know,” you admit. “There are some things I know for sure---but there are a lot of others that I can’t quite master.” A familiar pang of fear ripples through you. “What if I fail?” Another gentle kiss on the cheek. “You’re not going to fail, sweetheart. You know this stuff. You can do it!” Settling into the chair next to yours, he scoots closer, reaching out to gently massage the back of your neck while you eat. “You probably just need a little brain food first.” Gesturing at the food in front of you, you laugh. “Think this is smart brain food??” He grins with you. “Definitely.” Reaching up, he pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear, the tips of his fingers lingering against your ear for a moment. “I know it’s hard, but I know you’ve got this. My girl’s a genius, remember?” With a smile, you finish your food. “I forgot that for a second, actually.” “That’s why I’m here,” he says, getting to his feet and starting to clear the table again. “To remind you.” You catch hold of his jacket as he moves past you. “I’m so lucky,” you say sincerely, looking up to meet his eyes. The smile on his face softens and he leans down to kiss you. “Nope. You’re just perfect.” He moves out of your grip as you groan at the line. “So corny,” you say, your smile brightening as you hear his little chuckle. “But...it did put me in a better mood. I’m ready to tackle this section now!” You gesture to a towering stack of notecards. He raises his eyebrows a little at the sight, but simply nods. “That’s good. Do you need anything?” In reply, you raise a hand and gesture him towards you. The corner of his mouth tilts up in a little grin, but he does as you wish, coming to you and gently cradling your face in his hands as he leans down to kiss you. “Yep,” you say, your eyes still closed as he pulls away. “That’s exactly what I needed.” “Who’s being corny now?” he says, fondly tucking another piece of hair behind your ear. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me, ok?” You smile, already feeling more settled and focused than you had felt for the last few hours. “Thanks, Yoongi. I love you.” The next 80 minutes fly by, your brain moving ahead at full steam thanks to your boyfriend’s careful attention. At minute 87 you realize that your feet are uncomfortably chilly, but you’re too invested in studying to do much about it. Curling them underneath you on the chair, you push forward. Out of the corner of your eye, you see your boyfriend stir. Moving slowly, so he doesn’t distract you, he gets up from the couch and disappears down the hallway. A few minutes later, he returns. “Here, sweetheart,” he says, extending a pair of socks towards you. You look up in surprise. “I thought your feet might be getting cold,” he explains. When you take the folded pair from him, he turns to the fridge, rummaging around until he finds a bottle of your favorite juice. He makes sure to open it before setting it down next to you. “Keep it up, love.” You catch his hand and press it to your lips briefly. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Letting go, you turn your attention to the socks, amazed by how much more comfortable you feel as soon as you slip them on. He moves behind you, rubbing your shoulders. “You’re not planning on studying too late tonight, right?” “Hopefully not. I just have that much more to do.” You gesture at the remaining stacks of notecards. Leaning down, you hear his soft laugh in your ear before he kisses your cheek. “Oh, so not much then...” he teases. “It’ll go faster than it seems,” you reassure him. “You doing okay?” “Yup,” he answers quickly. “Don’t worry. Are you hungry at all?” You shake your head, your attention already drifting back to your materials. “Okay.” He plants a kiss on the top of your head and then moves back to his spot on the couch, reaching for his computer again. As the afternoon drags on into the evening, the kitchen starts to grow darker. Before you can muster up the energy to fix the situation, he’s back, adjusting the overhead lights to a suitably bright setting. Drifting past your seat, he rubs the back of your neck with his fingers. “Anything sound extra good for dinner tonight, sweetheart?” “Thanks for turning on the lights,” you say absently, moving a notecard from the “to study” pile to the “studied” pile. “Maybe....pizza? Could we get some pizza tonight?” “Pizza sounds amazing,” he says immediately. “Should I.....?” He kisses the top of your head again. “Nope. I’ve got it.” Smiling against your hair, he adds, “Look how fast you’re moving through those cards. I told you: my girl’s an absolute genius!” You roll your eyes, but allow yourself just a second to lean into his touch. “Thank you,” you say quietly. He just kisses you again, retreating to the living room again so you can focus. When the pizza arrives, he meets the delivery man at the door, keeping the interaction short and relatively quiet. Before handing you a plate of pizza, he subtly insists that you drink water---”Because it’s important to stay hydrated.” He sits close next to you again, his eyes wandering over your notecards while you both eat. Catching his gaze, you smile. “Taking it all in?” you ask. “Maybe I should just have you take the test for me.” “Yeah right,” he laughs. “I’m just...I’m amazed by you. As usual.” You feel your cheeks grow hot. “Oh come on...” He puts an arm around the back of your chair, rubbing your arm slightly. “I’m serious. You’re so brilliant, sweetheart. And I know you’re worried about this test, but you’re working so hard...I’m just so proud of you.” “Stop,” you say softly, closing the small gap between you to kiss his cheek. “You’re gonna make me cry.” Growing very serious, he sits back a little. “Well we can’t have that. Should I tell you a joke instead?” It works instantly, your face breaking into a smile. “Nooooo, definitely not!” “Why not?” he asks, a smile playing around his lips, too. You hit him playfully. “You know exactly why.” Pushing your plate away, you nod your head at your notecards. “Besides, I’ve got to get back to studying! I only have one more section left.” He grins, but climbs to his feet to clear the pizza mess out of your way. “So you think you’ll be done soon?” “Before 9:30!” you claim. When he gives you a skeptical look, you feign hurt. “You don’t think I can do it??” “Of course you can do it,” he says, rolling his eyes a little at being manipulated so easily. Coming to your side, he plays absently with the ends of your hair. “So, I’ll expect you on that couch,” he points, “next to me, at 9:30? Promise?” You grin. “Absolutely.” He leans down and kisses your cheek. “It’s a date.” Before leaving the kitchen, he retrieves another bottle of juice from the fridge. “Keep it up, sweetheart.” With a date set in the form of a challenge, you blaze through the next sections easily and race to the couch at 9:29pm. Crash-landing next to him, you laugh as he pulls you into his arms. “1 minute early!” you announce triumphantly. “Like I said,” he agrees, leaning in to kiss you: “A genius.”

#bts imagines #bts scenarios #REQUESTS #bts clean imagines #bts #non-smut #bts fluffy imagines #ASKS #apriori sea requests #bts imagine yoongi #yoongi #suga

59 notes · View notes

donnerpartyofone · 4 years

Note

idk if you've talked about it, probably have. but if you don't mind to again, ketamine injections for depression? did it work? was it expensive? how long did it work for? ty.

dang, i never got a notification for this message. sorry! ketamine absolutely worked for the management of my depression, it was very expensive, and i think i would have needed more for it to become a longer term solution. i may still go back in the future if my lifestyle changes, but for right now, i can’t justify the cost--which is an insane thing to say when what i’m paying for is freedom from hurting myself, but, ya know, CAPITALISM.

the whole story is, i’ve been severely depressed my whole entire life; i don’t have any memories that don’t involve feeling morbidly upset, and i can remember things pretty sharply from the time i was slightly younger than 2.* i took ketamine recreationally some years ago when i was around 30 (i wasn’t adventurous about substances until i reached about that age), and i was totally astounded by how it affected my depression both during, and for weeks after the experience. it seemed to distance me from the oppressively immediacy of my bad feelings, giving me space to actually THINK about what was really bothering me, what kind of control i could have over how i assign importance and authority to things that don’t serve me, and what i might like my life to be like in the future. so, when i found out that there were ketamine clinics in new york, i kind of freaked out. actually, i found out about it from a guy who i met on an ayahuasca retreat upstate (which is its own hilariously mortifying story that i’ve been trying to write down for years and it keeps turning into a big unwieldy novel), who had been through the entire gamut of treatments for major depressive disorder. he liked his ketamine experience, but admitted that it was prohibitively expensive to keep up.

this is the place i went, and i recommend it to anyone who can afford it:

nyketamine.com

they say that they accept patients selectively, if you have treatment-resistant depression. i don’t know how strict they are about that, because by the time i came to them, i was looking pretty treatment-resistant. i’d been in and out of a few shrinks’ offices, and i’m basically incapable of taking any of the usual antidepressants because of how they affect other conditions i have. the process was, i filled out a request form on their website, and in a day or two, a clinician called to interview me over the phone about the character of my depression, and to gather some other anecdotal information about my history and health. the person i spoke to was very kind, attentive, and reassuring. the following day, someone called to set my first appointment. the whole reason i was able to do this is because of some inheritance that i received at the time; it’s $450 a session, and they suggest (or insist? i’m not sure) that you begin with a minimum of 6 sessions, each of them 2 days apart. after that, you just kind of monitor yourself to see when you think you need pickup sessions; the effect is cumulative and long term. i have no idea if they have any type of sliding scale accommodation, it could be worth asking.

when i went in for my first session, i had a brief interview with the head doctor, a navy veteran and anesthesiologist who had been working with ketamine in various capacities for 50 years. he explained a lot of things that i had no idea about, that were great to learn. periods of prolonged stress, especially while your brain is still developing, can result in a deficit of the neural pathways that you need to experience a full range of emotion; essentially, being chronically depressed and anxious can kind of give you brain damage. if you have that type of problem, it doesn’t matter what you do to try to boost your serotonin or dopamine or whatever; it’s like if you’re trying to get somewhere in your car and you can’t, not because you’re out of gas, but because the bridge is out. for some reason, ketamine switches back on the function that builds those pathways, so with regular therapeutic applications, you can actually heal the structural problem around your mood centers that’s reducing your emotional range to anxiety and depression. if you’re over 60 or so and your brain is less plastic, your chances of success aren’t as good as when you’re younger, but there’s always a chance; also, for some reason, ketamine plays especially well with estrogen, so women have a bit of a leg up. anyway, the doctor was great, and i really liked everyone there; it felt like they all knew they were doing something meaningful.

the sessions themselves are pleasant. they put you in a private room in a big cushy medical chair with a blanket and a pillow, and you let them know if you want the lights on or off. they give you an IV drip that lasts roughly an hour, and they communicate with you to figure out the dosage. you basically just tell them what feels comfortable, if the dosage they start you on is too low to notice. you won’t get something that puts you in a K hole, but you should enter a gentle dissociative state where you feel a little numb and floaty, and you might have a lot of interesting abstract thoughts. the worst part of it is just how bad you have to pee by the time the drip is done, when you’re still feeling a little anesthetized; sometimes i wound up looking at the bag with my flashlight to check if i had finished, and then i’d just press the call button to get them to come unplug me before i pissed my pants.

you’re not supposed to necessarily notice a difference right away, but you should detect a change in mood after a few weeks. i did. the way my disorder works is, most days i just have a low level background radiation of sadness and exhaustion, even on a “good day” when things are working out or i’m distracted by things i enjoy. when i wake up in the morning and realize i’m conscious and the time for sleep is over, my first feeling is disappointment, 100% of the time. then, i’d say roughly once a month or once every couple of months, i have a complete nervous collapse where i’m in so much pain i can’t really do anything but like drool and cry and let my eyes go out of focus, for anywhere from 1-7 days. there will usually be an apparent trigger; i’m a fairly dysfunctional person, and i frequently lose things, break things, and fuck things up even though i like STUDIED to do them, took it slow, asked for help, gave myself extra time, etc. but the thing is, i think the “trigger” is arbitrary, this is just a cyclic psychic event that builds up and waits to happen. but after my first battery of ketamine treatments, i had a particular day when i could tell that normally, i would quickly wind up curled up at the bottom of my bathtub scream-crying until i couldn’t move--and this time, i managed to just push through. not only did i not break down, but i actually got a number of difficult chores done, that i had put off because they seemed too intimidating, or like i wouldn’t be able to mentally handle my inevitable failure. i noticed more and more of that, while i was in proximity to the treatments, an ability to just buckle down and keep going. so it’s not like i felt HAPPIER or something, but i felt much more capable of coping, which was like a miracle honestly.

it’s been about 3.5 months since i last went in, and i think i could use a booster appointment, but as i said i just can’t fit it in with my financial reality right now. so, that sucks. but, i definitely feel that it was worth doing, and i would recommend it to anyone who can shoulder the cost. hopefully in the future, ketamine will become a much more common psychiatric treatment, and it will become available to more and more patients.

*A friend of mine just told me he read somewhere that you don’t actually recall memories from like 20 years ago, you just remember the last time you recalled them--so like, i THINK i remember my parents struggling to give me drops for pink eye in our first apartment when i was about 1.5 years old, but in reality, i just remember the last time i remembered it, or the earliest time i’m able to remember remembering it. pretty interesting! and kind of disturbing, like the idea that star trek-type teleporters don’t actually transport a person, they just DESTROY the original person and rebuild a new one on the other end, a thought that REALLY BOTHERS ME.

12 notes · View notes

theherblifeblog · 4 years

Text

33 Stimulating & Satisfying Activities to Do During Social Distancing

By Leighana Martindale

It’s an absolute bonkers time right now! Many of us are feeling anxious, fearful, depressed, and so many other intense feelings from the Coronavirus and hysteria surrounding it. Most of the world is currently partaking in social distancing, a lockdown, or quarantine. Either way, that’s a lot of free time at home!

Instead of falling into a negative pattern we can choose to do things differently, instead of scrolling on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook or binge watching Netflix we’ve brainstormed 33 stimulatory and satisfying activates you can do at your house. Don’t drag yourself down by consuming so much social media, news, and junk content. Fear lowers your immune system and now is the time to be building it up.

We all have the chance to use this as a learning opportunity, to focus on the projects we never have time for, to nurture our creative sides, and allow our inner child to come play! We have the ability to use this time to connect and grow.

33 Stimulating & Satisfying Activities to do During Social Distancing

*Safety Tip: Please keep in mind that some of these items only apply if you are not sick or experiencing symptoms. Not spreading germs is key right now so please don’t partake in activities that could jeopardize your health or other people’s health.

1. Breathing Exercises Breathing exercises are so good for calming and centering us. This can help combat the stress and anxiety you may experience. Corvid-19 has been nothing but stressful and if you haven’t been stressed once then you’re insanely amazing and I need to know what kind of goddess witch you are!

2. Yoga & Stretching This is another amazing way to connect with the body and ground yourself. When you are stretching or doing your poses, try to go slow and take your time. Mix these with your breathing exercises and really let gravity help relax and stretch your muscles. Especially your hips if you sit a lot.

3. Dancing This is such a great mood booster and something that may sound silly but will make you feel great! Make a playlist of your favorite jamz and get jiggy with it!

4. Exercise Helping combat stress again, breaking a sweat will you give you the happy endorphins which we all could use a little more right now. Plus we should be getting healthy and taking care of our bodies regardless!

5. Meditate Meditation is a great technique but one hard to master, give it a try and if you find you need help, Youtube has a lot of amazing guided meditations all varying to what you are looking for/need!

6. Collage Find some old magazines, newspapers, photos, or anything with pictures and make a collage! This can be time-consuming depending on how deep you get into but something really fun and satisfying when you finish.

7. Learn more about using CBD in your workout routines.

Give it try when/if you do any of the physical activities above.

8. Do a puzzle

Puzzles are so fun, especially ones that take you a while to figure out. Create a little corner in your home and start puzzling away. This is a great activity for keeping the brain sharp.

9. Deep clean your house Oh yeah, this one isn’t the most fun but damn is it satisfying! What better way to come out of a lockdown than with a squeaky clean house that you can get the fuck out of!

10. Organize your house Go through that junk drawer, fold all that laundry, match those socks, all the annoying organizational stuff we tend to put off is the perfect thing to cross of the list.

11. Create a donate bin

Definitely DO NOT do this one if you are sick, but if you are not - start a donate pile to take to Goodwill once we’re allowed to socialize again.

12. Upload items to Depop and/or Poshmark If there were items in your donate that you want to sell now is the perfect time to upload them to resale apps. Why not try and make some extra cash if you can?

13. Learn more about the birthplace of medical cannabis

Taking this time to expand your knowledge is a great way to spend your time so why not learn about the place that changed it all for legalizing cannabis.

14. Read some books Books are always are favorite and there are so many great ones! Check out our recommended reads here.

15. Watch Abstract on Netflix Definitely not the mind-numbing type of TV you might normally be attracted to, Abstract is a really amazing documentary on various artists who do a lot of nature like and perception based abstract art.

16. Watch Our Planet on Netflix Another great one, Our Planet is perfect to watch while stoned yet you still learn a lot about nature therefore making it okay.

17. Watch The Universe on Netflix Like Our Planet is The Universe which is a similar concept expect about space and one we would recommend.

18. Watch Unacknowledged on Netflix Finally, learn more about extraterrestrials and how they are peaceful from my hero Dr. Steven Greer. This is honestly the #1, absolute best and most credible documentary on aliens I have ever seen. Definite must watch!

19. Learn more about growing your own weed indoors Nothing like a time like this to make you think about growing your own, and I’m not talking about just vegetables but weed too. Self-sustainability is the true goal.

20. Learn more about Cannabis and the ancient science of Ayurveda

The word Ayurveda can be translated to ‘the science of life’ or the ‘the are of longevity’,

21. Practice learning another language There are tons of free courses on Spotify and Youtube. Give it a try!

22. Journal Check-in with yourself. Read previous journal entries and just connect with your deeper self. Sometimes it’s crazy what can surface when we just start writing.

23. Learn a new skill by watching Youtube channels There are SO MANY YouTube videos out there and on pretty much everything there is. So pick something that you’ve always been interested in and start learning!

24. Clean your computer files and desktop Oh yeah, not fun but SO necessary.

25. Delete photos from your phone Again, you’ve got a lot of time and when are you ever going to actually do it if you don’t do it now?

26. Delete old conversations from your phone

Yup, keep going. You’re going to be clutter-free!

27. Clear your email storage

Go through your inbox and delete any spam/promotions/ trash Definitely the most intimidating task but one that many of us need to do. Did you know all your emails take us physical storage on the server? So that means there are islands of servers out there taking up space and energy that hold your spam.

28. Call and catch up/check in with your family, friends, and any elders in your life.

Especially now, just do it. Even if you don’t get along that well, a little kindness can go a very long way.

29. Read up on local politics and prep for the election *Trigger warning: This may add wayyy more stress and anxiety but also it’s really important and the elections coming no matter way, so are the primaries. Be prepared.

30. Contact your mayor to ask for their plan on handling meals for children when the schools shut down

Many schools are shutting down, some school districts have made it a priority to provide meals for the children still because for many that is their only meal. So please ensure your community is feeding people who don’t have food.

31. Find out what efforts to feed people are going on in your community and see how you can contribute

Again, this is so important, if you think this is scary for you, just imagine someone who can’t eat now, has no home, is looking at getting evicted, etc.

32. Spread love not germs and practice your daily positive affirmations Positive affirmations, love, positive affirmations, love. Spread it, spread it, spread it! [not germs though].

33. Digital Detox Connect and share love. But also this can be overwhelming so do a digital detox one day. The amount of negativity in the air is inescapable if we are constantly feeding it to ourselves.

No matter what you do, just remember to stay safe, boost your immune system, and wash your hands!

#coronavirus #leighannalynn #covid 19 #diy #self isolation #craft #mental health

6 notes · View notes

hookedontaronfics · 5 years

Text

First Contact series - Part 10

Title: First Contact - Part 10 Read the previous installments here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 Rating: M Pairing: Taron x OC Warnings: Mild smut and mentions of violence [trigger warning] A/N: The aftermath of Kevin’s attack takes Jess to some dark places. Will Taron’s eternal devotion to her be able see her through? This was a tough chapter to write and read; it’s not happy but I tried to keep it realistic. So stick with me through the angst, better times are ahead, I promise! x

A white tile ceiling. Stark white walls.

That was the first thing I saw when my eyes fluttered open. I had no concept of time; how long I had been out, or even where I was at the moment. I waited for the pain to hit my consciousness, but it never came. In its place was just an absence, a hollowness of feeling.

I could hear the steady sound of an IV machine in the background, and also a gentle rhythmic snoring. I spied Taron crashed out on the couch by the window, and even if I couldn’t see the sky, I could tell it was dark outside, the lights in my room dim.

Taron must have only been lightly dozing, because he stirred awake as soon as I tried to readjust myself on the bed, and moved over to the chair at my bedside. He took my hand in his and asked softly how I was feeling, the relief to see me awake evident across his features.

“Not much of anything at the moment, to be honest,” I said, trying to read the labels on my IV bags but my vision started swimming again and I had to look away. “I probably have a lot of painkillers right now,” I shrugged. Taron gave me a sympathetic look. “How long have I been out? Did they tell you what happened to me?” I asked, needing information more than anything. I felt like if I had answers, than maybe I could begin to accept what had happened.

“I think maybe the doctor should explain all that, he could do it far better than me,” he said quietly, squeezing my hand.

“T, I need to know what happened to me, please,” I pleaded with him, hating the pained expression that crossed his face and furrowed his brow.

“They had to take you into surgery when you got here,” he said heavily. “They had to rebuild your face, your eye socket and cheekbone were shattered…” he said, choking up and struggling to get the words out as I reached up to touch the heavy gauze taped over the left side of my face. I winced, though I couldn’t really feel any pain from it.

“Adding more scars to the collection, I guess,” I whispered softly.

Taron continued talking in a low, shaking voice, stroking the back of my hand with his thumb, his eyes trained on the bed. “The doctors told me you’ll probably be in here for a while to recover. They want to keep an eye on how everything is healing. You also sustained a couple of fractured ribs, and probably have a moderate concussion, and they don’t want to send you home too soon in case that worsens before it gets better. But you will get better, you have to,” he said, his eyes swimming a bit with tears.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay, Taron. I will get better, you’ll see. I’m determined,” I said, squeezing his hand before a wave of dizziness washed through me, even though I hadn’t even moved. My vision was still going in and out of focus and I closed my eyes for a moment to try and keep from needing to get sick.

“What about Kevin? Did you talk to the police? Were they here? Do they know? Does anyone know?” I asked, peppering Taron with questions he couldn’t possibly answer. “Will he be able to hurt me again?”

“Babe, I don’t know anything right now. But you’re safe here, and I’m not going anywhere. And the woman who helped you, who called me, she took pictures at the scene. They’re on your phone,” he said, his voice cracking again and he had to pause to keep his composure. “She thought they would be important as evidence to whatever charges get pressed. Because we don’t fuck around here in the UK when it comes to assault. But I also don’t know what’s going to happen because he’s a U.S. citizen. He may be extradited and face charges there instead. I just don’t know yet, but he’s in custody and will remain that way until he’s booked or sent away.”

“I used to think that moving here to London would protect me. It didn’t,” I said painfully.

“He can’t hurt you any more, I promise.” Something about the way he said that made me absolutely lose it.

“I’m not sure anyone can promise me that, Taron,” I fairly sobbed. Whether he could understand my words, I’m not sure because I was crying so hard they weren’t coherent. Watching me cry uncontrollably must have torn him apart though, because at one point he clambered into my bed, careful of the IV and all the other tubes and lines trailing from me, and pulled me into his arms, not even caring that I was probably leaving trails of tears and snot and slobber all over his shirt. I know I was shaking, afraid and traumatized by everything. Taron stroked my hair sweetly, careful with me even as he held me tightly to him, wanting his presence to be calming and comforting.

I don’t remember calming down, and I don’t remember slipping off to sleep, but I must have because I woke up later when a nurse was trying to quietly take my vitals, my face still pressed into Taron’s chest. He was out cold, lashes resting against his cheeks, his arms still sweetly around me. I knew I should have felt something, protected, safe, in love, but all I could feel was afraid. Not of Taron, necessarily, but that somehow the happiness I had found in him couldn’t last. Maybe, somehow, I wasn’t meant to deserve what he had tried to offer me.

I hated how dark these thoughts were but couldn’t keep them from pressing me flat. What if Taron had been with me when Kevin confronted me? What if he’d been hurt, because of me? That would have made things far worse. I wouldn’t have been able to handle that kind of guilt. I saw my phone sitting on the table beside me, so I carefully reached over and managed to grab it. I shouldn’t have looked, but my curiosity got the better of me as I scrolled through the pictures of myself laying on the ground, cringing at my broken face. Suddenly I was worried the doctors wouldn’t have been able to put it all back together again; would Taron still love me if I never looked the same again, if these scars made me ugly? That thought made me cry all over again, though I tried desperately hard to choke back the sobs and stay silent, not wanting to wake Taron.

The next couple of weeks in the hospital passed much the same way, and Taron really didn’t leave my side except to go home to shower and grab clean clothes. He kept Jules and Mary and even my family back in America updated, and my roommates visited me as often as they could, managing to make me laugh despite my dark moods. Taron also helped me navigate the paperwork for medical leave with work, which felt endless and confusing partly because my concussion didn’t allow me to make sense of it all, but even my boss visited and made sure I knew I had nothing to worry about, to take the time I needed to recover and that my position would be secure.

Talking to the police and trying to recall details of that day was a difficult process. I remembered most of what had happened just before the assault, but I had very little recollection of the after. And I couldn’t get over why I had trusted Kevin enough to step into that alley with him. Maybe I’d been stupidly hopeful he really had changed, though I still couldn’t figure out how he had found me, and he wasn’t talking to police about that fact either. The couple who had helped me, Darren and Lucy, visited me too, and they were the kindest people, and were incredibly helpful to police as well. Kevin was going to be sent back to the U.S. and his passport revoked, and he’d be banned from ever leaving the country again, so as long as I never went back to America there’d be no way he could get to me again. But I still didn’t feel safe and had no idea how to ever get back to that place where I would.

The bandages came off and I was surprised that it really didn’t look so bad. There were only two incisions and the plastic surgeon had used glue and tape, not actual stitches, to minimize scarring as much as possible. My skin was still red and angry but otherwise I couldn’t see much difference in how my face looked at all. They’d done a good job rebuilding the structure although now my eye socket was more metal than bone.

They kept me on strong pain meds and I had random blindingly awful headaches that made me cry because it was all I could do. My vision stayed slightly fuzzy and I half-worried this would be permanent, but the doctor emphasized that I just needed more time to heal, that the effects of my concussion could take months to fade. The depression that set in, though, that was probably the hardest thing to deal with. I went through a couple of brain scans and a psychological evaluation and was told I had post-traumatic stress disorder but somehow that still didn’t set in my mind that my hopeless feelings weren’t all my fault.

Taron truly was a saint through all of this, remaining strong and stable and supportive, and doing his best to keep me entertained when I wasn’t sleeping, which I admittedly did a lot of. And when it was finally time to be released from the hospital, Taron was adamant that he wanted me to come home with him, and I didn’t have enough strength of mind to argue.

So three weeks later, I was snuggled in amongst the sheets of Taron’s bed, spending most of my time there because I just didn’t have the energy to do anything else. I was sad and worried and afraid most of the time, hovering just above completely bottomed out. I think Taron probably kept me afloat in the worst of it, making sure I ate and showered and took my medicine. Not every day was bad, to be fair. Some days I helped him cook in the kitchen, and the depression couldn’t take away how much I loved to hear him laugh, or we took a walk around his neighborhood, hand-in-hand, and I could pretend I wasn’t this way, or we just stayed in and watched Netflix all day on the couch, being lazy together. But other days the darkness crept in around the edges, and I questioned in my mind why he stayed with me.

I was unfortunately wallowing in the middle of one of these pits when Taron breezed into the room. “I figured it out, babe,” he said, settling on the bed and placing his hand on my knee.

“Figured out what?” I asked, trying to wake up from the stupor I had been in, staring at the ceiling and not even sure what I was thinking.

“I got to thinking how you said you deleted all of your old social media accounts after what happened with Kevin. And all of your new accounts are totally private. But that got me thinking and I realized that I’m to blame for him finding you.”

“What? You’re not making any bloody sense, T,” I said, rubbing my temple and trying to make an oncoming headache go away.

“My Instagram. It’s completely public and the photos we posted while on vacation together… You know, everyone shares those photos on Twitter and Tumblr and Facebook and wherever else and he must have somehow come across it at some point and recognized you and put 2 and 2 together. You dating a London bloke, he must have figured it out and come here just hoping to run into you. It’s really my fault, I should have thought that through.” His green eyes had darkened as he looked troubled over having somehow endangered me.

“Hey. It’s not your fault I have a crazy ass ex. I don’t regret you posting those photos,” I said softly. “It’s also not your fault that the American law system doesn’t better protect its victims of domestic violence. You’re not in control of that. Don’t carry that burden for me, okay?” I said, smiling slightly at him.

“I’d carry anything for you, love,” he said, leaning over and kissing me gently on the forehead.

“I know you would, T. I know,” I said, trailing off and pulling the blankets up around myself again, worn out by our conversation already. I just don’t know why, I thought.

“I love you, and I’ll see you through all of this, yeah?” he added softly, earnestly.

I nodded, because I wasn’t sure what else to do. Trying to cross over this chasm of darkness, fear and pain had gotten even more difficult to do. I was on one side, and Taron and all of his patience and kindness and love were on the other, and try as he might to reach across it to me, I didn’t have the courage to jump.

“I’ll get us dinner started, you just rest now,” he spoke, leaving me to my apparent misery. He doesn’t deserve this, whatever it is I am now, I thought angrily as I watched him leave the room, seeming a bit deflated at my lack of an actual answer.

I wish I could say the following weeks got better, but somehow they got worse. The first panic attack I had was when Taron and I were downtown, having braved being out in public. We had passed by an alley and somehow that set me off. It took me by surprise and I only was aware it had happened once I had come back out of it. I was on my hands and knees on the concrete, breathless and crying, and Taron was crouched down next to me trying to talk me down. Other people surrounded us, so it must have been embarrassingly obvious that I was losing my shit, and someone had even called an ambulance but the medics weren’t needed by the time they arrived.

More brain scans ensued and I was given more medicines to try and signed up for more counseling to help, but the panic attacks continued because my ptsd was becoming more entrenched in my brain. I was starting to see the image of Kevin everywhere I went, lurking about and waiting to catch me by surprise. Things became so concerning that Taron canceled a weekend event he was supposed to fly out to. He was extremely vague about what it was, just saying that me and my health were more important and he didn’t feel he could leave me by myself for that long. He hadn’t said that to make me feel guilty, of course, but I wished he had consulted me about it first. Especially after I logged into Twitter and saw angry tweet after sad tweet after shitty tweet about Taron canceling his comic con appearance and disappointing a boatload of fans. Because of me. This was not what I had wanted at all.

“Taron,” I said, walking out to the living room to find him crashed out on the couch with a beer and some movie or show on the telly, I couldn’t tell what.

“Mmm, yeah?” he asked, muting the telly before sitting up and looking at me over the edge of the couch.

“You shouldn’t have canceled your con appearance,” I said, as it dawned on him that I knew what he’d done. “All those fans are going to be pissed off and disappointed because of me.”

“I did my best to apologize profusely to the fans for that but you’re my priority right now. It wouldn’t be any different if it was my family having a medical issue.”

“I could have gone back to my flat. Jules and Mary would have looked after me, and frankly I could have handled a few days, I think,” I said in a huff, mostly upset that I’d become dependent on him.

“But you need me to help you. There’s no shame in that.”

“I don’t need you,” I bit back. I wished I could have taken those words back the instant they came out of my mouth. The look of hurt that crossed his face, after all he’d done for me already, was awful to witness. But I hadn’t meant it like that; I was frustrated at having to be doted on, and wanted to go back to the sort of independence and freedom I had had before Kevin had walked back into my life and erased years of work I’d done to overcome him.

“Do you really feel that way?” he asked softly, standing up and walking over to me, brushing my hair away from my face.

“I don’t understand anything right now. I’m confused, and depressed, and I’m struggling to understand why this happened to me again, T,” I admitted. “But I also don’t love the idea that your life has been affected by me.”

“My life is affected because I choose to be here for you, in whatever capacity you need me to be. That’s not a burden, Jess. You enrich my life by being in it, and who would I be if I fucked off when you went through something difficult and needed the support? This isn’t about you not being able to do things for yourself. I know you’re fully capable. But I also don’t think you should be alone right now either. And that’s my right to think that, and to ensure that you’re not. Because the last thing on earth I could handle right now is you feeling alone or abandoned. And as to why this happened, I can’t answer that. I wish I could, but it was so wrong, and bad things happen to people who don’t deserve them. And it breaks my heart that you had to go through this, but I also know how strong you are, and every day you prove that more and more. To even be in the orbit around you, it changes things for me.”

The intensity of Taron’s gaze as he spoke his raw, real feelings to me, about me, for me, I felt like I might combust under it. Just burn up on the spot.

“I don’t understand your devotion to me, Taron. I don’t deserve your goodness. I don’t know that I ever have.”

“Just please, don’t do that. I love you and I’m so tired of you trying to find every reason why I shouldn’t. Stop shutting me out, Jess. I can’t profess to know truly what you’re going through right now, but I can’t understand it at all if you don’t talk to me. I want your honesty, and your vulnerability, and your pain, all of it. I just want every beautiful inch of you.”

His words sent shivers over my skin, something I hadn’t been able to feel since the assault. I looked up at him, tried to really see him for more than just the handsome, patient and kind man he was. I tried to see the way he saw me, but it was so hard to do. Kevin had made me feel broken and discarded all over again.

“But what’s so beautiful about me, Taron?” I asked doubtfully.

“Come here,” he said, pulling me over to the couch and down into the seat cushions with him. “And let me show you,” he added, running his fingers gently over my arms.

“Taron,” I whined softly at that, as he gave me one of his small smiles. “Let’s start here,” he said, placing sweet kisses over my eyelids and making me giggle slightly.

“You have the most soulful eyes of anyone I’ve ever met. I can see the world in them because you care so deeply about everything around you.” Next he kissed the tip of my nose, telling me how adorable he thought it was. His kisses traveled to my cheeks, my forehead, my jaw, even my ears, as Taron described how much he loved each one.

Finally he captured my lips in a sweet kiss, something we had barely done since the assault. “And I love kissing your lips. I could do this all day,” he grinned, and even if mentally I was still messed up, my body remembered what it was like to be with him, and craved more of him, and I tried to give myself over to that feeling, leaning in and kissing him back as he leaned me back on the couch, tugging my shirt up and off in the process.

“I love your neck, when I kiss you in that spot that makes you moan,” he smirked, his kisses traveling along my smooth skin and yes, making me moan softly in response. He added my collar bones, my chest and my stomach to the list as he traveled lower and my breath caught in my throat at the feel of his gentle lips sliding over my skin. “Feeling beautiful yet?” he whispered, his hot breath raising goosebumps along my skin. “Or shall I keep going, love?” he smirked, unbuttoning my jeans and slowly sliding them down my legs.

“K-keep going,” I said with a shaky breath, unable to tear my gaze away from him, the way he hovered over me.

“Hmmm, my pleasure,” he hummed, dropping kisses on my thighs. “I love how strong they are, for carrying you through everything. And I especially love being between them,” he whispered with a wicked grin, my head dropping back as he wasted no time in peeling my underwear off and settling himself between my legs.

It’d been a long time since someone had dared to go down on me; Kevin certainly never had. I couldn’t tell you whether Taron was great at it or not, as I didn’t have enough experience to compare either way. But I was 100 percent lost to what he was doing to me there, his tongue and fingers exploring every inch of my folds and drawing out every bit of pleasure I could feel. My fingers gripped his hair, my moans guiding him to what felt good.

When I was close, oh so close, Taron stopped and smiled up at me through his lashes; I groaned at him in frustration for being left hanging, but he only crawled back up my body and kissed me, the taste of my own juices still on his mouth. He wrapped my legs around himself, and I got the hint as he picked me up and carried me back to the bedroom, setting me down on the bed gently before practically tearing his own clothes off, grabbing a condom, crawling over me and joining our bodies all in the same motion.

We both groaned our mutual feelings out loud, the delicious feeling as he thrust in and out of me driving me crazy. I was quite lost to how full and whole I felt in the moment as he peppered my face with kisses. Soon enough we were crashing hard together, Taron collapsing next to me, his face tucked in against my neck and arm thrown over my chest as we attempted to come back down to earth.

“I love you so much, babe,” he whispered. “You’re the absolute world to me,” he said, brushing my hair out of my face tenderly.

“I love you too,” I said back, feeling compelled to get the words out in that moment.

“Yeah?” Taron grinned happily, his dimples popping out as his eyes sparkled at me. I couldn’t deny him this happiness, I couldn’t.

So I repeated the words, even as they felt hollow in my chest. I should have felt something, shouldn’t I?

“You make me so ridiculously happy,” he said sweetly, even as he snuggled into me further, hugging my sweaty, spent body to his for a few moments. I knew what he felt was completely genuine and real. I just didn’t know what was wrong with me that I couldn’t return the same.

Eventually he got up to dispose of the condom and secure the house for the night, while I stayed crashed out in the bed. Once he’d returned and we bedded down to sleep, I laid awake for far too long vacillating between how I should feel and why I wasn’t feeling anything at all. The numbness had settled deep in my soul and I hated myself for it, as I watched Taron sleep soundly, the cutest smile on his face. His love didn’t belong to me, and I knew it.

I don’t remember exactly how long it took to slip off to sleep, but Taron was not in bed when I woke up the next morning. I rolled over and squinted at my phone, and realized it was well after 11 a.m. and Taron would be at an early-morning meeting he’d told me about. I sat up and rubbed at my eyes, looking around me for a long moment and sighing. I got up and showered quickly, grazed on some leftovers I heated up, and then set about packing my clothes. I had spent much of the past month of recovery slumming around in Taron’s pajama pants and sweatshirts, though Mary and Jules had brought some things over for me, clean unders and bras and the like.

I was lost in thought when I heard the front door open. “Darling?! You awake?” Taron called, and I couldn’t move while his footsteps moved about the house. He found me in the bedroom, of course, finally in my own jeans and a blouse, the bed neatly made and my bag resting at the edge of it.

“What’s this?” he asked, his expression immediately clouding over.

“I’m going back to the flat, T. This wasn’t supposed to be a permanent move, anyway. And I don’t want you as my nursemaid, I need you as my boyfriend,” I said quietly, trying to explain and hoping he just understood. “I’m really grateful for what you’ve done for me, but I just need to get back to my routine. I’m trying to process what happened with Kevin still, and I know that I still have this depression hanging over me, and the panic attacks are still happening, but I feel like I can deal with that if I just go back to work and get a sense of normalcy back.”

“I… guess that makes sense, of course,” he replied hesitantly, blinking a few times and trying to process what I was saying. “I think you could be happy here, though, too, with me,” he said sweetly, making my chest ache slightly.

“I just can’t do this right now, with you,” I said softly. “When I said I loved you last night, I couldn’t feel it at first. But it wasn’t because I lied. I do love you, far too much to hold you back with the person I am right now. I need to go back to my normal life and deal with all of this so that I can be worthy of being the person you love.”

“I… Jess,” he said, his voice cracking at that. “You already are the person I love, as you are now,” he replied a bit desperately.

“And you may think that, but I don’t feel it, and that’s never going to go away if I don’t address it now,” I said, watching his face just crumble. It wasn’t easy to fend off my own tears then.

“I wish I could change your mind. I’ve gotten rather used to having you here all the time,” he said, biting his thumb in thought.

“I have to go, T. If we want this to work in the future, I need to be okay with myself first.” I gave him a quick hug, that he oddly didn’t return, before grabbing my bag and walking toward the door. I almost thought he wasn’t going to try and say good-bye but he came running after me, skidding on the tile in his sock feet slightly.

“Wait! Wait, Jess,” he said, taking my free hand in his. “I’ve been waiting to give this to you but I think now’s the right time,” he said, proffering a small black box and making my heart flutter several times. Nestled inside the box was a simple rose-gold band, with a tiny diamond in the middle; it was simple, elegant and clean. “It’s a promise and a hope… My promise to you that I’ll wait for you no matter how long it takes, and my hope that no matter how far you wander, you’ll always find your way back to me. You don’t even have to wear it, I just wanted you to know where I stood,” he said, shoving the box in my hands. The fractured look in his eyes tore at the edges of my soul, but I also knew I was doing the right thing, for him and for me.

“Thank you, Taron,” I said, because there wasn’t anything else to say. “We’ll keep in touch. We’ll go on dates. I’m not giving up on us,” I promised back.

“No, but you’re pushing me away, and I don’t understand why,” he said in a bit of a pained voice.

“I have work to do on me, for me. No one has to understand that.” Taron could only nod at that point, kissing me on the forehead gently before letting me go. I carefully placed the ring in my bag and made sure it was secure before hoisting the bag onto my shoulder and grabbing my purse.

“I can drive you back over to the flat, if you want,” he offered idly.

“I’ve got this, Taron. I know how to take the tube,” I couldn’t help but giggle slightly. His worry over me was sweet, but I needed to be able to rely on myself too. I felt this wild, desperate need to prove to myself that I could.

“I’ll see you later, I suppose,” I said, giving Taron a small smile that he couldn’t bring himself to return. Things could be different, would be better for the both of us, and I could only hope his faith in me wouldn’t be fleeting. I felt both crushed and liberated as I left, confused by both emotions as I peered over my shoulder to see Taron standing in his doorway, watching sadly after me.

Will Jess be able to repair the damage to her soul, and her relationship? Find out in Part 11 HERE!

#taron imagine #taron egerton #taron x reader #taron smut #taron egerton fanfiction

53 notes · View notes

reid-fiction · 5 years

Text

Birth Plans and Baby Kicks

In which you and Spencer go to a birthing class.

A/N: You all have @reid-effect to thank for this. No, seriously, go and thank her. She basically thought this plot up and I just took it and ran with it and now I’m emotional because there’s never enough dad!Spencer in the world. (Also, thanks to the 5-hour long birthing class I watched on Youtube last night and skimmed for random facts to include.)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Now, does anyone know the three stages of childbirth?”

The rest of the room was silent, but Spencer’s hand went up immediately. You could feel your cheeks burning a bit, not because you weren’t proud of him for knowing the answer, but because he had known the answer to every single question the instructor had asked for the last two hours. It was a small class - only four couples in total - but you could almost see the other dads rolling their eyes every time Spencer spoke up.

“Stage 1 would be labor, which is divided into three stages in and of itself: early labor, active labor and transitional labor. Early labor is when the cervix dilates from 1-4 cm, active labor is between 5-7 cm and then transitional labor is the final 8-10 cm. Early labor is the slowest and transitional is the fastest. Stage 2 is pushing the baby out through the birth canal, and Stage 3 is the delivery of the placenta after birth.”

He had said all this in what sounded like only one breath and, even though you were very aware that your husband was already a wealth of knowledge on pretty much every subject, even you couldn’t help but drop your mouth open a bit in impressive shock. A quick glance up to the instructor and you could tell she was experiencing the same thing.

She swallowed, nodding slowly, and then shot Spencer a quick smile.

“Yes, that’s all absolutely correct and actually beyond even what I was asking. Very well explained, Spencer. I should have had you teach this class, and I could have stayed home!”

The instructor laughed at her own joke, but the rest of the room didn’t seem as impressed.

“Alright, the next question would be: When is a good time to head to the hospital once you’re in labor?”

Spencer’s hand went up again, and all you could do was throw a small, apologetic smile to the other couples in the room. It wasn’t your fault that Spencer knew all the answers and the others didn’t, but you wanted everyone to have a fair chance.

“The 5-1-1 rule,” Spencer explained. “Contractions are five minutes apart, 1 minute in length, and have been consistently like that for an hour.”

“Right again!” The instructor smiled, shaking her head in disbelief. “Okay, we’re going to move on to practicing some breathing techniques, so I’m going to turn the lights down and get some music going. Dads, grab one of the exercise balls and a blanket from the corner, and moms are going to get themselves in whatever comfortable position they want.”

You waited patiently for Spencer to bring back the items, and then carefully draped the top half of your body over the ball. Your belly was so big now that no position was particularly ‘comfortable’, but you did your best.

“Now dads, get behind your partners and I want you to place your hands on either side of her hips. Moms, focus on breathing in and out with my voice, and dads do a gentle massage to relive the pressure on her pelvis.”

You felt Spencer kneel down behind you and both hands go on your hips. Even though you weren’t actually in labor, the gentle pressing of his fingers into your skin felt heavenly. The baby had been resting on your bladder for what felt like the last month, and any relief was welcome relief.

“Is this okay?” Spencer whispered, leaning up so you could hear him.

“Mmm, feels really good. My back has been killing me the last few days.”

“You know, if the baby happens to be in a posterior position - meaning the back of their head is against your back - that’s where you’ll feel all the contractions. Typically, the baby is laying anterior, so you would feel the contractions more to the front.”

You nodded, hearing what he was saying, but far too focused on how good his massage was feeling to really take it in. What you did hear, however, was the dad next to you talking to his wife.

“If he’s a doctor, why is he even taking this class? He clearly already knows everything.”

The dad had meant to say it low enough so only his wife would hear, but both you and Spencer were within range. You suddenly felt a strong sense of protectiveness over your husband; you didn’t like how the others seemed annoyed with how much he knew. Spencer, however, shrugged it off and glanced over at them, politely.

“Oh, I’m actually not a medical doctor,” he said. “I just read a lot. I have delivered a baby in the field before, when I was still working my old job. But, it’s mostly just head knowledge, not hands-on experience.”

Just like most other people who met Spencer for the first time, the dad didn’t seem to know how to respond. Instead, he gave a muffled, “Mmm”, and went back to massaging his wife.

Over the years, you had tried to learn how to not let moments like that bother you - they certainly didn’t bother Spencer - but the pregnancy hormones were currently wreaking havoc on your emotions and, today, you were bothered.

It occupied your thoughts the entire time you were supposed to be practicing your breathing, and it was apparent to Spencer that your mind was elsewhere.

“Remember your cleansing breath, (Y/N),” he reminded you, gently. “After you finish breathing through the contraction, you need to take a deep one.”

You nodded, doing what he said very halfheartedly. The class continued on like this with the instructor going over the different types of birth plans, the process of an epidural, when a c-section was necessary, and the side effects of medication. By the time she dismissed the group, you were a ball of nerves. It was all you could do not to burst out crying until you and Spencer got back to the car.

“I’m starving,” Spencer announced as he fastened his seat belt. “Do you want to go someplace or order takeout?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you mumbled. “Whichever you want.”

Spencer glanced over at you, frowning a bit at how solemn you sounded. But, he had been fully aware for the last 8 months that your moods would be up and down. If you wanted to talk about it, you would, but he wasn’t going to push you. You were probably just hungry and tired and needed to rest for a bit once you got home.

Ultimately, Spencer decided on takeout from your favorite burger place. He had thought about Chinese, but you had been having issues with heartburn the last few times you had gone there and the last thing he wanted was to make you more miserable.

As soon as you got home, Spencer went to work getting the food set out on the table while you went to change into more comfortable clothes. After about 10 minutes, when you hadn’t emerged from the bedroom, Spencer started to wonder what was going on. He walked over to the door and knocked softly.

“(Y/N), I’ve got everything ready. Do you want to eat now?”

When he didn’t receive any response, he knocked again - a little bit louder - and pushed door open a crack.

“(Y/N)?”

When he had looked into the room just enough to spot you sitting on the edge of the bed, still fully clothed in what you had been wearing before, he opened the door wider and stepped inside. It took him less than a second to realize that you were silently sobbing and he immediately dropped to his knees in front of you.

“Sweetheart, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this!” you blubbered.

“Can’t do what?”

“I can’t have a baby!”

Spencer, equally confused and concerned, reached up to push your hair out of your face and swipe away the tears on your cheeks.

“What do you mean, you can’t have a baby? Of course you can! You’re even more capable now than you were this morning after that class. You know everything you need to know short of actually doing it for yourself, why would you think you can’t do it?”

“You heard all of what she said,” you wailed, waving your hand aimlessly as if that would help your explanation be clearer. “The birth plans and the epidurals and the side-effects. What if I plan something and it all goes wrong? What if the epidural wears off? What if the baby is prot-posturen-...”

“Posterior?” Spencer prompted.

“Yeah, that thing,” you sniffed. “What if the baby is backwards and I can’t push them out! I can’t remember all those breathing techniques and how to lay and count! And I HATE needles, but I don’t want to go natural either because I hate pain! Spencer, I can’t have a baby! I’m not strong enough to do it, and I’m just going to do it all WRONG!”

Spencer could feel his heart breaking right along with yours the longer he listened to you pour your fears out to him. He had known from the beginning that you were nervous, but it was always something you had worked through together. He had no idea that you had been holding all of this in - even just since the class - and all he wanted to do was help you.

“And then, what about after the baby is born?” you continued. “I don’t know how to take care of a baby! How am I supposed to know if they’re crying because they’re hungry, or wet, or just unhappy? I’ve read about PPD; what if I end up with that and can’t be a good mom to my baby because I’m too depressed! What if you leave me because you don’t want to put up with me anymore?”

That was where Spencer drew the line. He was more than happy to let you tell him everything you were worried about, but there was no way he was going to let you think - even for a split second - that he would ever leave you.

“Hey, look at me,” he said, softly but sternly. “I don’t want you to ever, ever worry about that. I love you, and I love our baby more than anything. My job is to be here to help you through everything, from the moment that baby started growing in your stomach until the moment we send them off to college. I’m not going to run off on you just because you’re having a hard time. You’re going to be tired and you’re going to be cranky sometimes, but that comes with being a parent.”

He moved his hands down so they rested on your swollen belly and smiled.

“Do you have any idea how amazing your body is? It knows, instinctively, how to push the baby out. It’s going to expand and contract and work in ways that even amaze me, as someone who has read dozens of books on this.”

It seemed as though the baby could sense that their dad was close by, because you started to feel a tiny little foot pressing out against his hand. Spencer smiled, rubbing his thumb over the area he could feel the baby moving.

“You are going to be an incredible mom,” he continued, leaning down to press a soft kiss on your belly. “And I’m going to be there with you at the hospital throughout the entire thing. Whatever you need, I’ll do. I’m there to help you remember when to breathe and how to count, and to distract you from the needles and the pain, and to massage your back when it starts to ache, and to encourage you and tell you how unbelievably proud I am of what you’re doing.”

He placed a few more kisses on your belly as the baby continued to flutter inside of you, and then slowly pushed himself up so he was looking at you face-to-face.

“And, I’m going to be there the moment our baby comes into the world - whether it’s forwards, backwards, upside down or they have to get them out another way - and it’s going to be the greatest moment of my entire life because that baby is ours. Every time I look at them, I’m going to be reminded of you and how much I love you.”

You were still crying, but now it was less out of frustration and fear and more out of an unreal sense of awe that you had managed to end up with, arguably, the greatest guy in existence. Spencer wasn’t perfect of course but, in this moment, he was everything you never knew you needed.

You weren’t sure what to say, nor that you would even be able to form words, so you did the next best thing by leaning in closer and pressing your lips to his. He kissed you back, eagerly, keeping one hand on your belly and the other up around the back of your head as the baby continued to kick in your womb.

“Someone’s very active tonight,” Spencer chuckled, pulling back and glancing down at your belly. “Maybe we’re not giving them enough love?”

“I remember when feeling a baby kick used to freak you out,” you smirked. “Back when JJ was pregnant. How do you feel about it now?”

Spencer paused, pursing his lips and smiling.

“I think it’s the greatest thing in the world.”

You felt fresh tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you laced your fingers through his hair, watching him place kiss after kiss on your belly.

“Yeah,” you mused, “you’re not the only one.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tag List:

@cynbx@gabriellewritermua @wheresthewater @toomanyfandomsshreya@thatisthemagic @helayes @marvelouspotterhead @randomfangirl1415 @criminally-me @the-unfortunate-fangirl @everyday-imfangirling @skrrrrrrrrrrt @jhillio @elenarogersbarnes13 @reid-187 @spencerreid-iq187 @princesswagger15 @spence-imagines @flashfanfics

#spencer reid #criminal minds #fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #dad!spencer #dad!spencer fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader

655 notes · View notes

samsterham · 4 years

Text

The Fuckening, Entry # 1

Despite the novel covid-19 being around for a pretty hot minute now, I have only been self-quarantined about 6 days. There have been several confirmed cases in my county, and today the county had it’s first death.

If it’s not apparent by the title, I’ve decided to officially from here on out refer to this entire debacle as The Fuckening. I will swear. A lot.

I figure it might be somehow lucrative to record my experiences throughout the pandemic, at least as it is pertinent to my country & area. Aside from broader, more public events, it might be interesting to someday look back on my day to day & how we dealt & felt & what we did. I should have been keeping a diary of my life anyway & had intended to despite never making it a priority. Now is as good a time as any.

Anyhow, I anticipate this being a rather disjointed project, variable in moods, topics, formats, etc. & rife with grammatical errors. I haven’t decided how revealing of my identity & location I would like to be, I suppose that’s something I’ll decide as I go. All I’ll reveal for the moment is I live in the U.S. in Pennsylvania.

Recapping what I can right now:

I’m in about day 6 of self-quarantine. All schools have cancelled regular classes and have gone exclusively online, as has happened pretty much everywhere else. My community college also followed suit along with probably every college & university at this point. I’ve had a little over a week off for faculty & staff to prepare for the shift. Class resumes this upcoming wednesday online for the rest of the semester. Curious to how they’re going to structure & grade our biology lab credits.

Bars & restaurants have been state-mandated to shut down except for take-out. Now the liquor stores have shut down as well. Somehow the beer distributor down the street is still open however...

Me & K (boyfriend) haven’t gone nuts with preparations, but we did have 1 significant shopping trip before the state officially began recommending social distancing. We got enough non-perishables for several weeks. We’ve made a couple mini trips for things like milk & fresh veggies.

I also have a few immunocompromised friends who I’ve gone shopping for. I expect to continue doing so as needed. One such friend has a bitch of a rare disease which is frankly on the verge of killing her if she sneezes or coughs too hard. There is so, so much more to it than that, than I dare go into here for privacy reasons but I have spent the last month as one of her actual medical advocates. She is partly the reason I would like to focus my education and eventual clinical research on rare diseases such as hers. Anyhow, despite it being flat out unsafe, she was discharged from the hospital yesterday as my city prepares to get slammed with covid-19 cases.

Both my cats got a stomach bug just 2 days into self-quarantine. It began with Crowley puking, then what looked like bloody emesis & trip to the emergency vet. Sent home with stomach meds & instructions for supportive care before jumping into more than basic testing. He was fine within 36 hours, just in time for Aziraphale to become a little vom-bomb. This lasted for 3 days, with many debates as to when we should finally get her poor little fuzz butt medical attention. She thankfully healed on her own, just as I was about to break down & take her to the vet.

Not to make light of the fact that they were sick, but Zira’s throw-up noise is THE FUNNIEST sound I’ve ever heard in my life. It begins with that usual choppy but also deep guttural *hork hork hork* followed by a very abrupt & very loud scream “rrRAAHH!” as things made their way up & out. I couldn’t help but kinda lose my shit as I pet her & cleaned up the mess. I’m probably going to hell for this.

Me & K have enjoyed spending more time together during quarantine. We have only had 3 friends over since, all being of our regular weekly crew of Sarah, Greg, & Amanda, & all of who are otherwise self-quarantined. Sarah & Amanda came over last Saturday, Sarah made “Quarantinis,” a goddamn delicious cocktail of vodka, lemon, honey, & crystalized ginger. Us girls & K got quaran-trashed, ate dinner together, played Cards Against Humanity, & watched Waking Ned Devine.

We have been making the FUCK outta some food. This is easily the healthiest we’ve eaten in a long time. Thank God we both can cook.

The weather has been fairly forgiving & the two of us have made efforts to get outside as much as possible while it’s nice. K works from home with some good flexibility & I was fired about a month before corona shit hit the fan. We’re enjoying the local parklette & the humongous cemetery in walking distance from us.

Yesterday was mostly blustery & rainy, save for a 2 hour break in the weather where it was sunny and around 70 degrees. We trekked through said cemetery. As we were on our way out, we rounded the bend of one of the long paths, along the side of a large grassy hill. From that initial perspective of the hill, there was a large pile of indiscernible objects about halfway up the hill. As we came around, we noticed the pile was next to a grave very freshly covered in dirt. Upon closer inspection it became apparent that the “pile” was actually a man wrapped in blankets, with one arm stretched over the dirt of the grave. On the road at the bottom of the hill was what I assumed to be his car. I don’t know who he was, I don’t know who he lost, but they’re burned into my memory forever. It was one of those sights that breaks your entire heart. I cried a little & held K’s hand a little tighter as we made our way toward the gate. K kissed the top of my head & gave me a loving squeeze.

I didn’t get fired over anything serious; my chronic migraines plus a personal failure to obtain intermittent FMLA in a timely manner resulted in termination. My bosses didn’t want to let me go, but you can only fight HR of a corporate health system so much. Oh well. I wasn’t happy there anymore anyway. After 3 years I was bored, having trained up as much as possible without my degree. Some toxic personalities made their way onto our floor staff in the last year which made some shifts absolute hell despite my efforts to avoid them & remain utterly professional. Aside from running out of money, I’ve been incredibly relaxed since being let go. I’ve even lost 4 pounds in the last month. My hair is currently a weird ginger-pink, the result of a failed self bleach job, but it’s not entirely embarrassing so I’m going to let it recover before I try it again & go teal.

I never got around to watching Breaking Bad when it was popular, but last night I finally saw the first episode. K has seen it before, it’s one of his favorite tv shows & he’s ecstatic to watch it together. One episode legit got me hooked already. I know the premise of the show & I can’t wait to see how it pans out.

The political fuckery around this has been.... ugh. I wanted to say “staggeringly defunct” but what else is there to be expected from this current administration? I have designed most of my tumblr to be apolitical but that will change with these specific entries. I’m politically outspoken on Facebook & Twitter & I wanted one or two platforms that could just be fun and neutral. My current politics are very leftist, a head-spinning 180 degree turn from my upbringing & early voting habits. The last four years have sent me purposefully, intentionally & determinedly headlong into the progressive movement, feminism, and hunger for democratic socialism. The only conservative thing left about me is my stubborn remaining infatuation with firearms & gratitude for the 2A. Counterintuitively I’m very pro-sensible gun control, but having the discussion with either side of the issue mostly leaves me wanting to knock heads together.

I digress, the administration’s response to the pandemic has been unsurprisingly subpar, yet somehow not as awful as I expected. Trump went from “not a big deal” & “liberal media hoax” to “oh shit, I actually better get my shit together for this” real quick. I don’t know if it’s because it’s an election year or if there’s actually a shred of competency that’s been hiding under the comb-over but I’ll take what we can get from him, including that $1000 check. Getting unemployment has been a bitch. None of this however, changes the fact that Republicans have known about the crisis since December & instead of preparing the public, decided insider trading was a better idea. This doesn’t change the fact that the DOJ is trying to invoke indefinite detention as a “crisis response” and the only thing standing in the way are House Democrats. And it doesn’t change the fact that our hospital system is overloaded & underfunded, and the Republican controlled government would still rather bail out large corporations as we plunge into an inevitable recession.

I’ve spent too much energy fighting ignorant shit sticks on the internet over all this, including people I know in real life. I gotta keep remembering that all I can do is my best, that you can’t change the world but you can make a dent. On that note, I finally introduced K to Danny DeVito’s cinematic masterpiece Death To Smoochy.

Today I finished reading Darker Than Amber by John D. MacDonald. Quick, fun read, definitely a product of it's time.

That’s all I have in me for today. My neck hurts. Sleep sweet and WASH YOUR FILTHY PAWS.

#covid19 #covid_19 #corona virus #coronavirus #quarantine #social distancing #wash your damn hands #diary #journal #the fuckening #the fuckening diary #death to smoochy #pandemic

2 notes · View notes

c0nques7 · 4 years

Text

Unfuck your life, a retrospective

Chapter One: Un-f Your Head

A special kind of person has special kind of problems. My flavor that had to be dealt with was narcissism. I would start drinking and then talk for hours, just to hear the sound of own voice. People would listen because I was a gifted orator, not because the words connected to provide any substance.

Hopefully after reading the intro and doing some reflecting you’ve come to find yourself ready to begin the hard work towards making your life better, but before we get started, you have to make one promise that you’ll carry through the entirety of this book -

If your doctor says to do something that is contrary to any of my recommendations, you listen to your doctor instead of me.

I am not a doctor by any stretch of the imagination, and as you'll see later on, I have also had to reach out to medical professionals when the nature of my problem went outside the realm of what I could attain myself. You promise you’ll go to them when things get really tough, right? Right? Okay cool, lets begin.

First things first. You’re going to need to spend some time with yourself, thinking, exploring, crying, etc. Some of it you’ll do by yourself, some of it you’ll do with dear friends or spouses, and some of it will come off a drunken 2 day weekend bender and you’re so sorry for it please god stay friends with me. Trust me, I’ve been to all of these places. The purpose of all of this is to take some time, get a feel for who you are, what you like, don’t like, your good, bad and otherwise. Grab something you can take notes on, and start here. Write down 5 things you like about yourself. It can be as simple as “I’m great about remembering to lay down the toilet seat” or as complex as “My confidence going into the Calc 3 final.” The reason we’re going with the good first is that you need to CONSTANTLY remind yourself of the things that you like about yourself. Can’t think of anything? Ask a friend. Don’t have any friends? Ask your mom or dad. Don’t have any parents? Jesus, I’m sorry, tweet me and I’ll help you with this part.

Once you have those down, put them somewhere you’ll see them every day. I used to have mine as my cell phone background. I used to also be studying for a computer certification, and every time I’d score over a 70%, I’d write on the piece of paper, “Good job Joe!” in a cool color, and it was forever in my study journal, so that every time I’d review, I’d remember how good I was at this stuff.

The reason behind all of this is that with how deep we’re going to go into making positive change, you need to have the foundation of confidence knowing that we’re working with a good person, not a shit person who is hopeless. If you are reading this right now, you are not a shit person, because you are at least trying.

The next thing we’re going to do is write out 3 things you don’t like about yourself. Now, when you get into this, make sure you’re writing something down that you have a measure of control over. If you were born with a birth defect, or have a mental illness, don’t write down the symptoms of those things as the focus of your change. These need to be more along the lines of, “I wish I was more outgoing”, or “I wish I didn’t talk badly about people behind their backs.” or even, “I wish I was better at coding/reading/being empathetic.”

Full disclosure, when I went through weekly therapy after my divorce, there were so many problems that we had to unpack and dig through that tackling only 3 problems seemed like a waste of time, but what I’ve found out is that depending on where you are emotionally in this process, 3 might be all you can handle. If you wanna do more, and address more, then by all means, go for it.

Every week, remind yourself of the things you want to change, remind yourself of the things that you like about yourself, and then finally write down how you can correlate the things you like about yourself with the things you want to change. For example, I’m really good at being able to gather lots of information, and one of the things I’m working on is trying to stick to a budget, so I’ve been trying to gather as much financial information about myself as possible to better understand when I spend, why I spend, and try different ways of budgeting so that I’m not overextending myself. This part is going to take some time, and I recommend only attempting one per week at first until you get the hang of it.

Now, because it’s the elephant in the room, we’re going to go ahead and jump into the subject of drugs, what I would be a healthy guideline to follow regarding their use (as long as your doctor gives the okay), and I’ll provide what I use/don’t use, so hopefully you’ll be more informed than just your 1hr DARE class you attended 10 years ago. I wish that people had been real with me about drugs. We’re going to be roping alcohol in with drugs, because saying drugs and alcohol is like saying fruit and watermelon. It’s all drugs, with varying pros, cons and usages.

The drugs I’ve used/tried are as follows:

Adderall (I have a prescription for it, I’ll go into that later.)

Very low dose antidepressant (Prescription too. Haven’t noticed any mood changes with it, but my doctor recommended it for sleep, and it seems to be working. Gives me dry mouth.

Weed. Didn’t start smoking until I was 26, only smoked when I was really stressed out, had a period of a month where I was a daily smoker, now I try and stay away from it. It’s illegal where I’m from, so it’s best to stay away from things that could get me in trouble with the law.

Alcohol. Used to use it for stress release, now I only have a beer every once in a while, or an expensive tequila. Don’t like the way it makes me feel after more than 2 or 3 drinks. Brings out the worst in everyone, I’ve found.

Kratom. Only used in very small doses. Dried me out, but I did notice a very relaxing effect, and improved sexual performance on certain strains. The DEA is trying to make it illegal, so be careful with this one.

Kava. Root based tea that chilled me out. I highly recommend. Tastes like dirt. Get the powder, take your time making it, don’t mess with the concentrates or anything other than Noble powder.

We’ll touch on these again in the next chapter, but for now here’s what I want you to get real about.

Does my usage of drugs push me closer towards the things I like about myself, or towards the things I don’t like about myself? It’ll take some time to answer that, and it’ll take even longer to kick the habits and/or addictions associated if you decide the answer to be no.

In my case, I always knew I had issues with focus, we made jokes about it, I laughed along, but I always felt like a failure who was letting everyone around me down because I couldn’t finish anything I started. After getting into another serious relationship after my divorce I decided that the stakes were much higher this time around, and I wanted my promises to be not only remembered, but kept and followed through with. At this point I decided it was time to talk to my doctor, who then referred me to a psychiatrist who recommended I try a low dose of adderall. For me, it was a game changer. The problem with acquiring anything illegally is yes, you can go to jail, be fined, etc, but more importantly, you’re not doing something that can be monitored. Part of your doctors job is and should be supplying you with objectivity. Yes, yes, big pharma and “The Man” have gotten to your doctor and are causing him/her to prescribe things that fuck with your brain. If you’ll take off your tin-foil hat for a second, and finish your blunt, I’m going to level with you. Weed can make you paranoid, and if you’re smoking a lot, stop for a week, re-read this chapter and then reach out to me if you still wanna argue about the pros and cons of having a good, open, honest dialogue with your healthcare provider.

All of the drugs I’ve tried produced a result in my self-talk that made me decide, was this thing I’m putting in my body worth it? For some, no, for others, sometimes, and for yet still others, absolutely yes.

Except for heroin. Not even once.

The last thing I want to leave you with in this chapter is a plan for how to handle when you fall off the bandwagon, or miss the mark on your goals. Remember this from the intro?

The most important part of the process is accepting that you can change, you want to change, and you make the daily steps to change.

I know it wasn’t that long ago that you read it, but it’s worth repeating. I remember when I first began to tackle my relationship with alcohol, it was absolutely the hardest thing I’d ever done. I spent more time off the wagon than I spent going anywhere. Countless nights where, “oh I’ve had a rough day, I’ll just have one drink” turned into “ah so this is what the bottom of a bottle of Jose Quervo looks like. I’d forgotten for a moment.”. Shit happens, but you’re tougher than the shit you’re going through. We’re going to focus on a 5-10% change in your life every month. Absolutely keep reading, but remember, the 5-10% changes are going to be the easiest to make, with the longest lasting impact. Now get to it!

Action Items from This Chapter:

Write Down 5 Things You Like About Yourself:

Write Down 3 Things You Don’t Like About Yourself:

Write Down 1 Thing You’re Going To Change About Yourself, Using The Things You Like About Yourself.

2 notes · View notes

tinkeringwithcannabis · 4 years

Text

Tinkering with Cannabis: The First 90 Minutes Episode 51

Strain: Wedding Cake

Company: Sira Naturals

Locations: Somerville, Ma

Cannabis Connoisseur: Molly

Website: www.siranaturals.org

Hello again to all my cannabis loving and canna-curious friends, and welcome back for another episode of The First 90 Minutes! Today we will be toking and talking about a strain that I consider to be one of the white whales of cannabis, Wedding Cake. This strain is very hard to find, and I have been in search of it for quite a while. Finally, while surfing Leafly one day, Sira Naturals in Sommerville, Ma had this pretty lady in stock, limiting patients to 1/8th per day, so I headed on over to see my friend Molly and pick up my product. So what makes this strain so special? Well, I have been in search of it because I am a huge fan of GSC (Girl Scout Cookie), which is a parent of Wedding Cake (the other parent being Cherry Pie), and I have tried the Wedding Cake CBD and it was amazing, so I have been in search of the THC strain ever since. The top three terpenes that make up this strain are limonene, caryophyllene, and myrcene. Limonene helps with anxiety and stress, caryophyllene has amazing anti-inflammatory benefits, and myrcene is a pain reliever, anti-inflammatory, and a sedative. When combining Wedding Cake’s terpene profile with the THC measurements of up to 21.o%, it is no surprise that consumers report feeling relaxed, happy, euphoric, uplifted, and hungry on this strain. It has been recommended for those battling stress, depression, pain, anxiety, and insomnia, with potential negatives of dry mouth, dry eyes, dizziness, anxiety, and paranoia.

Today I will be medicating with Wedding Cake to combat anxiety, depression, stress, and fatigue. Starting the session off at 8:09 p.m. with two hits from a glass pipe, with the flavor is peppery and sweet with undertones of vanilla dancing on my pallet. The aroma is sweet and peppery. At 8:11 p.m. I am starting to feel a little mood uplift and a slight cerebral shift in my level of focus. My head feels like it is feeling up with helium and is entering a dreamy state. There is a sense of paranoia creeping in early on that has the “everyone knows I am high” mindset, which is not great for the anxiety, but I have been able to talk myself down so far. At 8:19 p.m., I can feel the paranoia starting to mellow out and the mood uplift continues as I roll into a happy, mellow, and floaty cerebral buzz. My body is starting to feel really calm and my legs are feeling a little tingly. I am not feeling any changes to my level of fatigue and I am not finding that my focus has improved, but my anxiety has decreased noticeably.

At 8:54 p.m., I realize I zoned out and I missed the 8:39 p.m. check-in. I am watching T.V and relaxing while just letting my mind wander. My body feels relaxed, I feel tired, and my mind feels stress-free. I am currently not experiencing any additional mood changes, and I continue to feel mellow and calm. My thoughts are wandering from things I need to do to assessing things that have been bugging me, to trying to determine how I will achieve certain goals. I am still experiencing the anxiety and paranoia flare-ups when I am in social situations, but when I am alone, I feel very relaxed and calm. At 9:09 p.m., I feel sleepy and my mind continues to wander as my head remains in a cloudy, dreamy state. I am still experiencing absolutely no sense of focus with this strain. My appetite is beginning to peak, and my mood is very calm and happy. At this point, depression, and stress I was feeling have all dissipated, but the fatigue has not been touched. The anxiety continues to intermittently flare-up depending on whether I am alone or around other. In a way, the dreamy cerebral state is almost intensifying this as it has made me so calm and relaxed that I could easily find myself drifting off to sleep.

Rounding the corner to our 90-minute mark at 9:29 p.m., I am still feeling very foggy-brained, yet calm and relaxed. My mind is continuing to wander, and if I focus on activities that are quiet and I remain in a place where I can relax and just be alone, I am fine. However, anything that includes others, or is done in the presence of others continues to invoke twinges of anxiety. My level of focus continues to be very low, and I feel like my response times are very slow, which I am finding contributes greatly to the social anxiety I am experiencing. I am unsure as to whether I am overthinking things, or whether I am responding appropriately, and it continues to be difficult for me to follow the conversation, especially if there is more than one person involved. Continuing to track these effects until the end at 10:00 p.m., I am finding that now the level of clarity is much improved, and I feel extremely calm and mellow. Now that the effects have worn off, I am finding that social interaction is back to normal, my focus has improved, and I am left feeling very relaxed and happy. The depression has not returned, and it won’t be long before I head off to bed.

This test was the second test I conducted for this strain. The initial test was done with 3 hits from a glass bowl, and the experience was similar, all the way down to the intensity of the anxiety and paranoia. It was the level of intensity of these negatives related to the effects that made me decide to retest this product using with two hits instead of three to see if the experience was any different. Unfortunately, other than the difference in the intensity, the experience remained the same. I found this strain helpful in lifting my mood, however the twinges of paranoia and anxiety really caused some fluctuations in the mood enhancement and stress relief. I found that I had to be alone in order to fully enjoy this strain and reap the benefits of its effects. I was disappointed that both tests caused me such anxiety and paranoia because I was excited about this strain, and GSC is one of my favorite strains and I have never experienced these effects previously. I have also tried strains with Cherry Pie, and I have never experienced anxiety or paranoia with those products either. I cannot say for sure what it was that caused these negatives in the two tests that I conducted, but I can say that the results were enough for me to definitively say that this strain is not a great fit for me. This is not to say that this would not be a great product for others out there, and I can say that if the paranoia and anxiety did not arise, the mood enhancing properties of this strain are fantastic. For me, I would have to rate this product at 4.0 stars. Again, it is not that this is not a fantastic product, it is well packaged, well grown, excellent quality, and as always, I commend Sira Naturals on another job well done, but the genetic makeup of the strain was just not the right fit for my personal needs. Sira, I still mark this as another great product for the books. Keep up the great work.

If you are a patient, or adult above the age of 21 in Massachusetts, check out the following link for where you can purchase this product:

https://www.siranaturals.org/where-to-buy-cannabis-massachusetts

Well my friends, we have reached the end of this review. Thank you for joining me and stay tuned for more product reviews!

Disclaimer:

****Please remember, this blog is an account of my personal experience with this product. Not everyone has the same experience with every product and that is okay. I always recommend starting out with one or two hits to see if that is enough, and you can always increase your dose from there.*****

#cannabis #weed #cannabislife #medical cannabis #medical marijuana #weed smokers #marijuana photography #pot smokers #smoke a joint #smokeweeedeveryday #weddingcake #wedding cake #wedding cake strain #medicalcannabispatient #medical marijuana patients #marijuana content #medical marijuana strains #marijuana strains #medical marijuana dispensary

1 note · View note

heather1815 · 5 years

Text

My little test subject: Chapter 14

Chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9, chapter 10, chapter 11, chapter 12 and chapter 13

Angsty Tomtord fic with slight Paultryk on the side.

Warning! This fic contains: Foul language, scenes of torture, use of medical tools, drug use, self-harm, suicidal tendencies, violence, self-neglect, blood, and a little bit of stockholm syndrome and force feeding. Viewer discretion is advised.

Sobbing, muffled cries echoed throughout the, otherwise quiet, fuchsia living room.

Despite being alone in the apartment, Matt insisted on crying as quietly as he could. He hugged his knees to his chest, concealing his face as he cried softly. He kept trying to wipe away the tears that continuously brimmed in his eyes and threatened to spill over.

Ever since things have gone oh so horribly wrong for their little group, Matt had always tried to toughen up; be more supportive of his friends and be less of a whiny crybaby.

In a lot of ways, he'd looked up to Tom for that. His eyeless friend had always been so stoic and reserved, rarely displaying any emotion; and despite his reckless drinking habits, Tom had been the voice of reason of the group and always had an idea to get out of any tough situation. Matt wished he could be like him.

But that's just it. He isn't.

Matt was never leader material of the group. He'd usually let Edd or Tom take charge of the situation and he would step back and follow. Though he always wanted to help out, he knew it was easier to let the others handle things because he always messes things up more somehow. Matt had never been good with words, and he was clearly not the brightest out of them. Frankly, he wasn't sure what he's good for anymore. And now that Tom is gone and there's only Edd and him left, he has to step up to the plate and be there for Edd in whatever way he could. Even to the point of putting his own grief aside for Edd's sake.

However, he doesn't seem to be doing a very good job of helping Edd. His best attempts only seem to push the brunet further away.

He had woken up this morning with hope that things could go back to normal, away from the sorrow and regret they both felt these past months. But his heart had sunk when Edd insisted on being alone after Matt had suggested they do something together. Matt hadn't argued then, just wanting his friend to be happy again. But he was saddened that he'd been left all alone, again.

Matt doesn't like to be left on his own with only his thoughts, because it's hard to be strong like Tom when there's nothing to distract him from the overwhelming sadness he felt for everything that's happened. Thoughts of grief always creeped up on him in these moments, and Matt would inevitably break down.

Even the multiple portraits of himself, which used to cheer him up on any occasion, could do nothing for him now but make him feel even more utterly alone.

He misses Tom so much.

Though Tom hadn't always been the most affectionate one in the group, or even that compassionate at times, he did attempt to lend them comfort whenever they needed. Matt wished his friend could come back, even if it's for a brief period, just so he can talk to him properly and maybe ask him for advice on what he should do next; and hug him tightly of course.

He wondered if Tom would have been such a disappointment to Edd if their places had been reversed. Maybe Tom would have known how to make things better.

Matt shoved the thought away. He shouldn't think like that. Edd needs him! If he starts doubting himself, then what hope does he have to help his friend?

Matt wiped his eyes once he realized he was all out of tears to shed. Still sniffling, he headed for the bathroom and washed his face, making brief eye contact with his reflection in the mirror. His puffy red eyes contrasted drastically against his fair complexion, but Matt couldn't bring himself to care about it too much at this point. Though maybe if he did, it would give him a bigger incentive to choke down the urge to cry every time he was left alone.

A sudden and very distinct smell of something burning reached his nose, and Matt instantly panicked as recognition dawned on him. "Oh cr#p!"

His sadness forgotten, he burst out of his bathroom and hurried to the kitchen where the scent is strongest. Matt peered through the glass door of the oven, and saw the batch of cookies he had been preparing this morning were burning. Grabbing his pink mitts, Matt quickly turned the oven off and pulled the crisp, coal-black cookies out.

Matt sighed in relief. "It doesn't look that bad." He analyzed the damage optimistically. "I must've caught it just in time."

Much like leadership, Matt was never one to take charge of the cooking either. It was usually Edd who prepared the meals, and sometimes even Tom would volunteer to make dinner when he was in a good mood. Matt tried to learn and once attempted to make a high-quality, deluxe dinner to treat his friends; but it didn't go over well. Tom and Edd had spent the next few hours throwing up and brushing their teeth constantly. They claimed Matt was a kitchen hazard and prohibited him from doing anything with food ever again, so Matt happily obliged and let others make the meals instead.

Grief threatened to overwhelm him at the memory, and Matt had to turn his head away – fearing if he didn't he would taint the cookies with his tears. Wow Matt, I'm impressed you didn't burn the whole place down. He could practically imagine what Tom would say if he were still here. You're getting better. Who knows? Maybe by next year you could finally make something edible!

Though Tom's words sounded harsh, they really weren't. They were playful despite the deadpanned tone, and Matt would probably laugh in response before offering some to Tom.

The urge to cry at the thought of his dear, grumpy friend he will never get to see again gripped him strongly. Matt felt his heart crack. So much pain. He won't hear Tom's sarcastic voice make remarks toward him, or give Tom surprise hugs when he least expects, or show off his latest trinkets to Tom in hopes of impressing him ever again. Even when Tom acted cold and uncaring, Matt always knew deep down inside Tom was really just a softie who didn't like to display it very often. Matt still remembers the time he got sick over eating too many sweets after going trick-or-treating the day before, and Tom made him stay in bed while Edd prepared a soup for him.

There won't be any of that anymore.

Keeping his breathing under control, Matt managed to push his anguish aside and focus on the present day. He has a very important meeting in a couple of minutes and it is of outmost importance that he makes a good impression on his hosts.

Matt still can't believe he's actually doing this, but hopefully all the awkwardness he'd been feeling for the past couple of days will finally be over after today.

Putting the batch of cookies down on a plate, Matt made one last glance-over in the mirror to make sure his appearance was presentable enough, then grabbed the tray and went out the door.

With slow, hesitant steps he neared the door diagonal from his; heart racing in his chest out of sheer nervousness. He stopped halfway and glanced back to his apartment wistfully, nearly changing his mind but decided to follow through with the idea.

Don't be such a scaredy-cat, Matt! He firmly told himself. Be fearless; be more like Tom!

His gaze flickered over to the apartment door on the right side of his own. Matt had contemplated whether he should inform Edd about this and invite him to come along, but the brunet had made it abundantly clear he wanted to be left alone today. Besides, Matt figured he wouldn't be keen in joining.

Matt took a deep breath as he reached his destination and shifted his feet uncertainly. Here goes nothing. He pressed the doorbell and waited, the building anticipation making his heartbeat drown out all noise from his ears and making him anxious.

Matt nearly jumps out of his skin when the door opened and Mark stepped out to greet him. "Ah it's you. You're here earlier than I expected."

Matt frowned. "You did say I could come whenever I want." He mumbled with a hint of impatience.

Yesterday evening Matt got the surprise of a lifetime when his blond rival knocked on his door and invited him over to have tea the following day. Understandably so, Matt was hostile and suspicious of Mark's intentions at first. But after Mark elaborated, explaining that this was a peace offering between their groups, Matt had relented.

The four of them have been living in the same building for two weeks or so, but Matt was already sick and tired of the uncomfortable feeling that pricked his skin whenever they accidentally stumbled upon each other. He would go out to collect the mail from his mailbox or head out to do some shopping only to bump into one of them, and Matt would immediately retreat back to his apartment out of sheer awkwardness. He had waited for either of them to begin with the harsh taunts, but they never came. Matt would've preferred if they did; at least then he would've finally learned what their current stance is and things didn't have to be so tense around them.

He often wished he could discuss these odd sensations with Edd, but after finding out they were moving in, Edd didn't seem content with talking about any of this. In fact, it seems Edd was distancing from Matt further away with each passing day. And Matt is absolutely clueless as to why.

Matt shoved his thoughts aside and focused on the blond man standing at the door. He held the tray out toward him. "I, uh, made some vanilla cookies." He muttered awkwardly, still expecting this turning out to be just an elaborated prank. "Wasn't sure what type you liked."

Mark eyed the charcoal-crisp cookies critically but did not dare make a comment as he courteously accepted the tray. "Thanks." He stepped aside and opened the door wider. "Well, in any case you're welcome to come on in."

Matt hesitated a heartbeat longer before he fully stepped inside, and he looked around wearily.

He'd never been to their rival's residence before – there was never any need to, given their animosity toward each other in the past. But Matt was kind of shocked to find the high-quality luxury the place held. Rosy punch-pink walls, neatly organized rows of books in an ivory bookcase, pretty paintings decorating the place, a huge vintage triple mirror on one corner, a fancy red, blue, and purple carpet stretched across the living room, and various ornaments and figurines were neatly laid out in various spots.

Matt looked on wide-eyed in amazement. Everything seems so shiny and fancy and – is that a chandelier?! Matt was absolutely speechless.

Mark chuckled at his reaction. "Please, make yourself at home." He quietly shut the door and walked past the stunned ginger toward his kitchen. "Will Edd be joining us?"

His words snapped Matt out of his daze, and the ginger haired man looked away timidly. "No. He… he rather be left alone." He murmured quietly. "So it's only just me, if that's okay."

"Understandable." Mark acknowledged. He grabbed a ceramic jar and proceeded to slide Matt's cookies inside of it before placing the lid back on top. "Eduardo is also taking a bit of a time off, but he'll arrive soon. So for now it's just us."

Matt stepped farther into the strange and yet surprisingly welcoming environment, looking around the place with awe. He always saw Mark as this egotistical and snotty version of himself, and although Matt wasn't outright jealous of his blond counterpart they did have their fair share of clashes to prove whose looks were superior. But now, looking around his rival's flat he realized they were really much alike.

Though, from what he can gather thus far, Mark seems a lot more organized with his belongings than he is.

"Do you have any tea preference?" Mark's question cut though Matt's thoughts.

"N-no. I, uh, I'll drink whatever you have, I don't mind."

"Nonsense!" Mark blew him off, waving a hand casually as if to dismiss his nervous reply. "You are my guest, and I insist you take something that you enjoy the most. Now; what will it be? Green, chamomile, or earl grey?"

Matt blinked in bewilderment. Today is definitely going to be a weird day. "Uh, chamomile sounds nice."

He looked away out of nervousness and his gaze found a tray of cupcakes settled on a coffee table in the middle of the living room. Matt's eyes lit up at the sight and began to near the tray, subconsciously licking his lips as he eyed the frosted treat. The pastel colors and the beautiful swirls taunted him, but Matt held back from taking one.

These could be off-limits for all he knows.

"You can take one if you want, you know."

The gruff sounding voice right behind him made Matt whip around in alarm, only to come face to face with none other than Eduardo. The tall brunet towered over him with an unreadable expression on his face, and Matt shrank back. Mark may have been his rival, but Eduardo is far scarier than the blond – he remembers the intense rivalry between him and Edd vividly, and Matt always held a bit of a fear of him.

After all, he was known to punch things that annoy him in the face. Matt touched his cheek consciously. Though Eduardo hadn't been the offender that time, he wouldn't put it past him.

"Ah Eduardo, so glad you could make it." Mark reappeared from the kitchen, carrying a tea set on a silver tray before carefully setting it down on the table.

In response to his comment, Eduardo scoffed with a roll of his eyes. "Well yeah, of course I would. We planned this whole thing together, after all."

Mark raised one eyebrow. "Then how come I'm the only one getting everything ready?"

"Because that's your specialty and I burn everything I touch."

As they began to bicker, Matt watched them interact with intrigue. They're still kind of scary, but strangely enough they do not behave that much differently from how he and Edd so often did. It was weird to see them now as anything more than bullies.

His fear diminished a little at the comparison, but his anxiousness persevered.

Matt sat down on the cream-colored sofa behind him, trying to calm his nerves when his eyes landed on a pile of magazines stacked next to the cupcakes. He leaned forward to take a closer look, his eyes widening once he spotted the cover of "Beautiful and unaffordable" – by far the best and most expensive brand of beauty tips magazine out there.

With a quiet gasp, Matt quickly reached for it and opened to look at the wondrous contents inside. It's been so long since he last indulged his looks, or even so much as did anything remotely to do with his vanity. He always felt strangely uncomfortable and somewhat selfish to do so with everything that's been happening, and thus Matt started taking less care of himself as a result. But there's no way Matt can deny the opportunity to take a peek at this rare gem.

Whilst the orange-haired man was distracted, Eduardo stepped closer to Mark and grabbed a tea cup for himself."What kind of tea is this?"

"Chamomile."

"Nice." Eduardo nodded in approval. Then his mood changed, and he cleared his throat with a frown. "I, uh, I'm not sure I'll be able to stay here for very long. Some things came up and I really need to check'em out."

Mark paused and looked up at him with a disapproving glare. "You promised you were going to be in your best behavior."

"I know I know; and I'm gonna. But I have to see what that's about." Eduardo insisted.

The blond man narrowed his eyes and sighed. "Fine, I can see there's no use in arguing – you already made your mind up about this." He relented. "Just let me do most of the talking, alright?"

Coming to a mutual agreement, Eduardo helped Mark set the rest of the things down and poured each of them a cup of tea. Matt hastily puts the magazine away as his hosts settled down around him, and graciously accepted the cup of tea from Mark.

"So now that we're all sorted out, I would just like to start off by thanking you for accepting our invitation." Mark began politely. "It really means a whole lot to us that you decided to come."

Matt was taken back. This is all so weird! "Oh! Uh, well… you're welcome?" He stammered and smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head nervously. His eyes accidentally strayed away from his blond lookalike toward Eduardo, who's simply sitting across from him; his facial expression giving nothing away. Matt found his presence thoroughly off-putting, but he did not dare say anything. He sipped his tea to calm down instead. "But uh, if you don't mind me asking… why did you invite us over? After everything we put each other through…"

The two neighbors swapped a meaningful glance with each other. Eduardo steadily stared back at Mark and gave a curt nod. The look made Matt curious. What just flashed between them?

With a small sigh, Mark started to speak again. "You are right to question our motives, given our history of animosity in the past. But a lot has happened since those days of petty rivalry – for both our groups." Matt didn't need to be smart to know what he was referring to. A pang of sadness clenched his heart at the reminder and his grip on the teacup tightened.

"We simply wish to put our past rivalry behind us, make amends, and start anew." Mark went on coolly. "We've… matured a lot since Jon's passing and we don't want to cause trouble anymore. We just want to get on with our lives in peace."

"Yeah, and we're just as uncomfortable about this whole "living together again" deal as you guys are." Eduardo added assertively, though Matt could've sworn he saw him grimace briefly at the mention of Jon. "We don't like this arrangement any more than you do. We don't enjoy the awkward standoffs whenever we bump into each other on the hallway, but it's not like we can afford to move someplace else now. So here we are."

"Cool your temper, Eduardo." Mark advised smoothly and shot his life-long friend a warning glance, jumping in quickly to take over the situation before his companion could get ahead of himself and ruin their attempt at peace. Eduardo looked away and sipped his tea with a simple grunt, but settled down nonetheless. "While it's true we never meant to cross paths with you lot again, it can't be helped now. The only thing that we can do though is settle our differences once and for all and forget about that whole nonsense of being rivals. Otherwise none of us are going to live in this building in peace."

Once he finished speaking, a steady silence filled the room. Matt reflected on their words carefully, his expression still divided somewhere between awe and confusion as he tried to decipher the meaning behind their odd actions. His blue eyes lit up suddenly. "Oh! You mean… you want to be friends?"

The duo sitting before him both choked on their drinks, albeit in different manners.

Mark outright spat out his drink and started coughing convulsively while beating on his own chest. Eduardo, on the other hand, tried hard to keep down his own drink as he shook his head profusely, wide eyed, as he repeatedly muttered: "No. No. No. Nope! Uh-uh. No."

Having caught the duo off-guard, Matt couldn't help but snicker at their flustered expressions. His blue eyes glinted with a mischief he hadn't felt for what seemed like years. Not so scary now, huh?

Recovering from their stupor, Mark quickly recomposed himself and took over the situation once more. "Uh… no. Not necessarily anyway." He coughed. "I think we're good with just peace, thanks."

"Yeah, agreed. Peace. Totally enough."

"So what do you say?" Mark prompted, shifting the topic back to its original focus.

Matt's gaze was intensely thoughtful as he reflected on their words. "I think I speak for both Edd and I when I say… peace between us would surely be a welcomed change." He says at last, looking a little bashful. "But then neither of you will pick on nor harass us ever again?"

He watched Eduardo and Mark swap another meaningful glance, and they nodded to each other curtly.

"Of course! It would be very counter-productive if we went back on our word after arranging all of this." Mark grinned as he sipped his tea. He then gave his companion a long side-glance, as if inviting him to speak next.

Eduardo scowled at him briefly before turning to Matt with a small sigh. "We won't do any of that anymore, we promise." He speaks earnestly and then continued firmly. "But we will not hesitate to respond if either of you provoke us either."

Matt narrowed his eyes in return. Like we ever started anything with you guys! He thinks with indignation. He opens his mouth to retort, but Eduardo abruptly rose to his feet right at that moment and looked at his watch.

"Oh, look how time flies fast! Sorry, I must get going now - gotta head back to work."

Mark rolls his eyes but says nothing as he continues to stir his tea. Matt watched the broad-shouldered man begin to turn away and leave when his eyes caught sight of the cupcake tray again. His eyes glinted with interest much to Matt's amusement. But rather than taking one or two from the tray, Eduardo grabbed the whole platter instead. Matt grinned but resisted the temptation of laughing by biting on his lips.

The task was even harder when Mark suddenly slapped Eduardo's hand away, and the brunet glared at him indignantly.

"Hey!"

"Don't be so greedy, Eduardo! I made those for our guest." Mark admonished, gesturing to the ginger sitting across from him.

"It's not like he's gonna eat all of them!"

"He can have them; I don't mind." Matt tried to speak up between fits of suppressed giggles. They're acting as if they are an old, married couple!

Despite his protest, Mark appeared to not have heard him. "I understand your work is very important, and I have given you a pass for leaving us early; but I don't appreciate your gross and unhealthy habit of eating nothing but sugar for the reminder of the day." Then he paused, and appeared to reconsider his words when a mischievous idea struck him. "But of course… if you really insist you should at least be reasonable and take something else." He smirked. "You'll find a jar in the kitchen with a fresh batch of vanilla cookies. You may take them instead."

Matt shot Mark a questioning look. Mark returned his gaze with a silent message for him to hold his tongue.

Blinking in surprise, Eduardo glanced back toward the kitchen and, sure enough, spotted the cookie jar on the counter. He took a moment to consider for a bit and then shrugged. "Alright, fine by me." He relented, stalking away from them and take the whole jar with him on the way out. Eduardo's glance swept across Matt and Mark, and he gave them a tiny nod of farewell before he left.

"Sorry about that. Eduardo tends to have little to no sense at times." Mark broke the silence. "I know he might appear a bit intimidating, but don't let his size and attitude fool ya. He's just a big ol' softie underneath that tough exterior."

Matt said nothing – simply bent forward to take one of the colorful cupcakes. Should he take his leave now? They have concluded what they had set out to do, but Mark hasn't dismissed him yet. And truth be told; Matt wasn't keen to return to his lonely, sad apartment any time soon. If he does, Matt knows he'll do nothing but wallow in his grief and break down again.

"Anyway," the blond went on, trying to lighten the mood. "Guess it's just us again, huh?"

"Yeah…" Matt took a bite out of the swirly treat and his eyes brightened with delight. It's delicious! It could even rival Edd's cooking. He licked the frosting around his lips and thought carefully. "If you don't mind me asking… where have you guys been this whole time?"

He half expected Mark not to answer. The blond held him motionless for several heartbeats with his penetrating blue gaze. Then Mark relaxed, and his expression was replaced by a distant look of memory and loss.

"After our house was destroyed that fateful day, Eduardo and I didn't have many options. Thankfully, Eduardo's grandmother was kind enough to take us in; even with such short-notice. She could never turn away her beloved grandson, especially after such tragedy." Mark murmured, bending forward to refill his cup with more tea. "The living conditions weren't exactly ideal per say. Small and cramped place, no room for whatever belongings we could salvage from the wreckage, and there were her dogs too."

He shivered with repulsion at the memory of the two large brutes he had to coexist with. Mark had nothing against dogs, but he had a clear preference to cats. They're quiet and drool less. "But it was the best we could do until we found a new place for ourselves."

Listening to the story, Matt realized just how lucky he and Edd were that Tom found a new place to live before everything went down. If it weren't for Tom, they probably would've had to stay with Matt's grandparents; similar to Eduardo and Mark's case. Oh Tom… we owe you so much! He thought with anguish.

"Does it ever get any better?" He asked eventually.

Mark tilted his head in confusion. "What does?"

Matt hesitated before replying, and Mark thought he was looking slightly awkward. His feet shifted uncomfortably, and when he spoke, his voice was a low murmur. "The… the grief, I mean."

For a few heartbeats there was silence. Mark was staring at Matt with an unreadable expression on his face. Matt swallowed nervously and placed the cupcake he had been eating down on the table, his appetite gone. Maybe he overstepped his boundaries too far this time. I'm so stupid! Matt inwardly winced, wanting to smack himself upside his head for his foolishness. If Tom were here, he wouldn't have hesitated to do so for him. Just when we start making peace, I go ahead and ruin it in less than ten minutes!

But the blond man didn't appear to be upset. Instead Mark held him with that serious gaze for a moment more and took a deep breath. "I wish I could say that it does. But truth is… it's a lot more complicated than that." He responded solemnly.

Matt blinked at him with surprise. He had not been expecting a genuine answer out of his former rival. Matt gave a little nod, as if the answer satisfied him. In truth he wanted to ask for more advice on how to handle this messed up situation, but refrained from doing so. They only just stopped being rivals; it would be incredibly awkward if he were to keep on probing on such a delicate subject.

Across from him, Mark could right away tell that the ginger had a lot on his mind. He frowned. Both went through the same experiences and are suffering for it. From having their house blown up to losing a close one. Their rivalry may have ended, but it seems to have left a greasy stain on their relationship that will be hard to wash out.

And Mark would be lying if he said that he couldn't see said stain either. After all… why should he care? Even if they aren't enemies anymore, they're just neighbors, right?

(Meanwhile…)

"So Tom, how are you fairing today?"

"Pretty awful." Tom replied quite bluntly, taking a sip of his special juice through the orange straw as he leaned back against the reclining chair.

"You had your first training session with Red Leader this morning, how did it go?" Pat asked, opening a new file on his tablet for today's topic.

Tom uttered a dry scoff. "Why bother asking me that? You were there – you know what happened." Resentment and frustration burned through him.

His soldier training with Tord earlier that day had been a disaster, just like he had predicted. It wasn't physical exercise heavy, and at first Tom thought that was a good thing, until Tord made what was supposed to be a simple lesson on gun handling a f#cking nightmare. Tom had never felt so stupid quite like today; with the way Tord scolded and kept correcting him for the smallest of mistakes made him feel like he couldn't do anything right. Tom was certain the Norwegian man was just being picky for the sake of getting under his skin.

Heck, even after he shot most of the targets square on the bullseye Tord still found a way to nitpick – claiming Tom wasn't trying hard enough otherwise he would've gotten all of them and he was just being a lazy slop like he always is.

Needless to say, Tom had a real hard time controlling his powerful urge to turn the gun on the Commie and shoot him. But alas; it was a paintball gun and wouldn't have done any damage, other than maybe pissing Tord off and getting a few hundred pushups as punishment.

The voice certainly had a great deal of fun picking his confidence apart throughout the training, practically ganging up with Tord against him – which would sap away his energy, making him lousier with his training and resulting in Tord berating him again and the whole process goes full circle.

Tom wished Paul were still in charge of supervising his training. He had never treated him like an idiot. But the two trusty soldiers had a lot of things to deal with around the rest of the base right now, and now Tom is stuck with Tord. Paul and Patrick kept telling him that it was an honor to be trained by the Red Leader himself, but Tom wasn't convinced he was such a great mentor; much less that this situation was in any way a good thing.

Though very busy, Patrick had insisted on attending this first training session – to make sure Tord and Tom could be in the same room without a hitch, and advise his leader with his mentoring skills whenever needed. Tord was admittedly brutal in his teachings. But Pat had to keep in mind that this was an army and that Red Leader was training a soldier. The army is harsh and it's best Tom learns that now; which is why he so rarely intervened when Tord would criticize the eyeless man, even though it was clearly grating on Tom's nerves.

Pat guessed the Brit might hold some resentment toward him after that. "Nonetheless, what are your thoughts?" He pressed, adjusting the reading glasses on his face.

Tom breathed out an irritated sigh. "I'll tell you my thoughts; Tord is an annoying, f#cking, piece of sh-" He followed with a long line of colorful vocabulary, getting increasingly more intense as he went on. A few sessions ago, Patrick had given him permission to cuss out the Red Leader however much his heart desires and Tom has since always abused that privilege when given the opportunity to. "Stupid ass Commie always thinks he is better than everyone else, and he is always so smug and cocky and I just wanna punch his face in every time I see him."

"I see…" Pat typed down a bullet point. "You truly hate him huh?"

"Like there was ever any doubt about that!" Tom crossed his arms and took another sip of his drink with a scowl. "Commie is an awful person and there is nothing else to it."

Patrick nodded in understanding. "Alright Tom, there is a reason why I wanted to have this session with you right after your training." He admitted, watching the eyeless man sitting across from him fume silently while gnawing at the straw of his drink in anger. "Because today we get to dive in to the main source of all your problems."

At that, Tom tensed and stared at the Polish soldier wit a mixture of confusion and horror. Source of my problems? He echoed, nervously sipping at his juice. Surely he couldn't have found out my secret? There's just no way! And yet, apprehension made Tom listen with abated breath for Pat's next words; praying with every non-believing fiber of his being that this wasn't the case.

"Let's talk about your relationship with Tord."

Tom heaved a huge sigh of relief. "Oh thank god." Then he realized Pat was looking at him oddly and Tom needed to elaborate so as to not cause suspicion. "I mean, I get to cuss the sh#tty Commie out some more. That's… good."

"Actually, if you don't mind, I would like to talk in depth about your relationship with Red Leader." Patrick went on. "Your history together, how it developed over the years, the source of this rivalry you have toward each other, and hopefully understand why the two of you behave the way that you do now."

Tom emitted a scornful sniff and rolled his empty eyes. "Didn't he fill you in already? Being one of his most trusted soldiers I thought he would've shared his past with you."

"He did." Pat confirmed. "But I would like to hear it from your perspective of things and get a better understanding of where all this hatred originated from."

Even as he was saying this, Pat's mind instantly thought of the recent rise of his leader's conflicting feelings. Paul came to him the other day with a big secret to tell him, but Patrick was somewhat disappointed to hear it was merely about Tord's obvious attraction toward Tom; as if this was supposedly anything new to hear about.

A long time ago, when Pat was only an Officer in the Red army, Tord had opened up to Paul and him about his past. He was a little drunk at the time, which perhaps would explain why he went into such great detail about it. Tord talked about his family, his friends, his hopes and dreams with the army, and specially his major infatuation for Tom.

At the time, Tord had claimed he was over it and would only dedicate himself exclusively to the army and his goals. However, it was clear as day that, despite the attraction growing stale over the years, Tord continues to carry feelings for the eyeless man.

Maybe this was another reason why the Red Leader was so particularly strict with Tom today in training. He wanted to prove his emotions wouldn't get in the way of his duties. Evidently the Norsk has no idea how to deal with these feelings.

Patrick will confront him about it eventually, when his leader's mood is a bit more agreeable for this discussion. "You've known each other for so long; surely you got some good memories with him?"

"I doubt it." Tom muttered, and then emitted a long and loud exasperated groan. "Ugh, where to even start?"

"How about when you first met?" Pat prompted. "From what I gathered, your friends seemed to already know him when you met them for the first time."

Tom frowned. "Yes, they did." He recalled with a hint of wistfulness in his voice. His face furrowed as he wracked his brain for details. "I don't remember much about the way we met – it wasn't as impactful as meeting Edd and Matt."

"Odd, considering the great rivalry between you two today." Patrick noted with narrowed eyes.

"Yeah, well, believe it or not we didn't start out throwing punches at each other." Tom scoffed, his voice edged with annoyance. Even though he was thankful they weren't going to talk about his condition like he'd feared, Tord was still a touchy subject to discuss. All Tom can remember from their past together was how much Tord liked to pick on him and grate on his nerves; how they often clashed in heated arguments and physical fights, and how Tord absolutely hates his guts.

Tom reciprocates the notion.

Thinking hard about his past, he tried to remember the time he met the Norsk. After the finger-painting in the bathroom incident and meeting Edd and Matt, Tom recalled it was weekend after that. His parents had scolded him for getting into trouble in school, but after he gleefully chatted about the new friends he made and just how much fun he had, his parents were merely glad he was unharmed. He had spent the whole weekend anticipating school day to arrive just so he could see his friends again and play more with them.

"Really, it wasn't a big deal when we met." Tom continued, a little quieter this time. "Once the weekend was over I was excited to see Edd and Matt again…"

(Flashback!)

Tom waved his parents goodbye as he rushed toward his school. He greeted his teacher in a hurry and practically tossed his schoolbag into the shelf where his name was tagged. The eyeless boy looked around wildly for his friends through the crowd of playful kids, until he finally spotted them sitting on a small, round plastic table over one corner of the room.

Edd made eye contact with him from across the room, smiled, and waved him over.

Tom weaved his way through the large group of kids surrounding him with an excited skip in his step. However, his glee gave way to nervousness when he realized there was someone else sitting among his friends.

He slowed down as he approached, and looked over the new kid with curiosity.

Sitting between Edd and Matt is a boy with weird, messy caramel-brown hair that almost resembled horns. He is wearing a red hoodie with what appeared to be the face of a robot etched on the front, dark pants and red sneakers. The strange boy was too busy showing a drawing he made to Matt to acknowledge Tom's presence among them, until the ginger nudged him and the boy finally looked up.

Tom froze, feeling shy under the other boy's silver-gray gaze.

"Hey Tom!" Edd piped up enthusiastically.

Matt waved. "Hello!"

The boy in red looked at both his friends in confusion, but remained quiet as he turned his attention back to Tom.

"Oh right!" Edd jumped to his feet when recognition flashed in his head. "Tom, this is Tord – the friend we mentioned, remember? Tord, this is Tom – I told you all about him during the weekend."

Tom waved timidly. "H-hi."

The boy clad in red, Tord as he is called, stared at him for a couple of heartbeats before responding. "Hey." He grunted. And just like that, he resumed work on his drawing; seemingly losing interest on the newcomer.

Tom frowned in dismay. It appears Tord isn't quite as receptive to him as Matt and Edd were.

A hand on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts. "Don't worry." Edd reassured him with a comforting pat. "Tord is very quiet and shy, but he'll warm up to you."

Edd let Tom take his seat, right next to Tord, while he went to grab another chair for himself. Tom fiddled the straps of his overalls nervously as he sat beside the stern-looking boy, occasionally shooting glances in his direction to see what he was doing. Tord barely acknowledged he was even there.

Tom frowned. He hoped this wasn't going to put a damper on his new-found friendships.

"So you didn't like each other then?" Patrick questioned, interrupting the story.

Tom shifted in his seat, arms crossed over his chest. "I wouldn't go quite to that extent." He muttered reluctantly. "We just sort of looked at each other… and didn't think much of it? It's kind like receiving a birthday gift you're not very enthusiastic about – we just didn't know what to make of each other. That's the best way I can put it."

Pat thinned his lips as he thought this over. "So you weren't exactly on bad terms, but not on friendly grounds either."

"Yup."

"And how did that made you feel then?"

The eyeless man did not answer right away. His gaze fell to the floor, his face held an unreadable expression on his face as he continuously tapped one foot. He really doesn't like today's topic.

Tom shrugged stubbornly. "Didn't care much."

"Tom." Pat admonished, seeing through his blatant lie.

Tom winced and cast him a smoldering glare, shifting in his seat; a clear sign of discomfort. "Alright - Fine! I may have been… slightly upset about it." He reluctantly confesses out of frustration. "But only because- I- well- being the shy and naïve kid that I was back then, who rarely interacted with other people and was so nervous about it only to get these amazing friends, I was afraid that- maybe- if I couldn't get Tord to, urgh, like me I couldn't be their friend anymore."

With every word he spoke, Tom felt a bit of his dignity die. This is much too personal and he hated having to talk about this now, to a person he hardly knows is trustworthy enough. However, Tom is well aware that it's futile to even try to lie or give short answers because Patrick seems to tell right away and immediately coax him to tell the truth.

But when you really think about it; what's the harm?

If in fact, Patrick is just gathering Intel to use it against him later on in the experiments, as a tool to manipulate him or something and this whole therapy-play is all a ruse, then Tom should be safe.

A sense of dull calmness instilled on him, and Tom let down his guard. Jokes on them, I'll be dead long before they get the chance to experiment on me. Internally, he laughed bitterly. I won't let them bring it back out. I mustn't!

Although not active right now, Tom was vaguely aware of the voice's presence swimming around his mind; cackling along with him at the idea.

Patrick can learn all he wants about him and his past, he could even tell Commie about it for all he cares, because none of it will matter in the end. Heck, maybe Pat will even see how messed up Tord truly is if Tom opens up about it. Whatever they decide to do with the information he's giving them, it will inevitably amount to nothing once he puts an end to his misery.

So yeah, Tom will play along for now until the time is right. But he won't let them take advantage of him – not if he can help it.

"So what did you do then?" Patrick questioned, jerking Tom out of his dark musings.

"I was friends with Edd and Matt like normal, and we would go on our "little" crazy adventures, even if Tord didn't seem that ecstatic about having me around." Tom explained, a tiny smirk tugging the corners of his mouth, barely visible. "And, well, I was trying to… impress Tord I guess? In hopes of us-"

He paused and took a deep breath, bracing himself for the next words he's about to say.

"Becoming friends."

(Flashback!)

Following the days after his first encounter with Tord, the group of friends stuck together ever since. Doing all sorts of crazy stuff and getting into trouble whenever they could. The teachers even dubbed their little group as: "a storm in the making."

Amidst their everyday activities, however, Tom was struggling in his efforts to properly befriend Tord.

Much like Edd and Matt had said, Tord didn't speak very often and when he did he sounded kind of weird. Turns out he wasn't from around the area, and came from a place up north. When Tom found out, he enthusiastically tried asking Tord a bunch of questions about where he came from, hoping he would open up and be friendlier but to no avail. Tord would only respond with short, direct answers and nothing more than that.

Tom was crestfallen. Nothing he did seem to appeal Tord enough to finally warm up a bit.

In fact, the only one Tord seems to be most talkative with was Edd. They are pretty close, and they always stuck close together. Wherever one of them is, the other is never far behind. Though Edd is the one who comes up with ideas for their adventures, Tord appears to have a hand on their schemes too. Often times, Tord would lean in and mutter something to the boy clad in green, causing him to chortle.

Thankfully, their closeness and Tom and Tord's lack of it did not put a damper on the groups' games of mischief. Though Tom often wished they all had the same tight bond as those two. Matt didn't seem to mind and was just happy tagging along in whatever they got planned, and assured Tom that he was one of them no matter what. Easy for him to say – Tord doesn't mind when he gives one of his infamous crushing hugs, or when Matt asks him for help during arts and crafts.

Regardless, things continued the same way.

Until…

Tom arrived in school like normal, but dropped his bag on the shelf with less excitement this time around. He looked around for a place to sit and found Tord sitting by himself on an empty table, messing with a toy robot in his hands. Their other friends nowhere in sight. Tom sighed nervously and walked over to join him.

It's been two days with no sign of the other two boys. According to Tord, Edd went traveling with his family somewhere, and Matt is stuck at home with a cold. So this week, until both of them return Tom and Tord are stuck with each other.

Tom sat down with a quiet greeting. Tord merely grunted in reply, not taking his focus away from his toy to properly acknowledge his presence. Feeling the familiar pang of hurt in his heart, Tom turned away and begun to fiddle with whatever toy was closest to him.

Neither of them spoke a word to each other as they waited for class to start.

It started to rain at some point, and they were forced to have recess inside instead of going out to the playground like they usually did. Tom decided he absolutely hated not having Edd or Matt around. After Tord continuously ignored him, Tom tried to play with some of the other kids but they weren't any better than the Norwegian boy. Some kept staring at him with curious and weary looks, others backed away in apprehension, and there were some who liked to pick on him.

The last straw for the eyeless boy was when a girl tried to stick a crayon into his sockets to see how deep it would go. He struggled away from her and retreated to the far off corner, away from everyone where he could play with a stack of building-blocks in peace.

Tom felt like crying. This isn't fun at all! He wanted his friends here with him, but most of all, he wanted to leave this awful place. He hugged his knees and started to sob quietly, curled into a ball and wishing he were somewhere else.

A sudden and loud clank had him look up in surprise. Through teary eyes he saw Tord a few feet away from where he sat, rummaging with an air vent. Curious, Tom wiped the tears away with the back of his sleeve and approached. Like usual, Tord did not seem to notice his presence until he spoke up.

"What are you doing?"

The question got Tord by surprise, and he jumped in alarm only to bang his head on the edge of the table above them. With a quiet hiss, the Norwegian boy rubbed his injured head and turned to look at Tom; who shied away from his gaze.

"Leaving." Tord replied curtly through his thick accent, turning his attention back to the vent. Upon closer inspection Tom could see some type of tool in his hand that he was using to lose the screws with.

"Where did you get that?" Tom asked. Without glancing up from his work, Tord motioned toward the janitor's tool box a couple feet away from where they are; left out in the open without adult supervision for any kid to grab. "You shouldn't steal." He fiddled with the straps of his overalls. "And we're not allowed to leav-"

A hand clamped over his mouth. "Shh!" Tord glared at him with a finger over his lips, signaling for silence. After a few seconds he let go and returned to fiddle with the air vent. "Don't care. I'm leaving." He repeated firmly.

With a quiet hiss of cheer, Tord pocketed the tool away and opened the vent. Tom stared at the Norwegian boy as he prepared to crawl in with a mixed set of emotions, until they overflowed and he couldn't take it.

"Can I come with you?" He blurted out.

Tord whirled around in surprise but did not say anything. Tom sighed and rubbed his arms together. "I don't like it here without our friends… I want to go home!"

For a few heartbeats Tom thought he wouldn't let him come along; and indeed, Tord just blinked a couple of times and crawled into the vent without another word. Tom sighed in dejection and turned away to head back to his secluded corner when Tord called out to him.

"Coming or not?"

Tom didn't need more incentive than that. He quickly gathered his stuff and crawled into the tight space of the vent, just big enough for him to fit, and followed Tord's lead through the dim ventilation system. He followed Tord through the darkness until the Norwegian boy pulled out a flashlight to illuminate the way. They were walking along a tunnel that sloped up and down, winding first one way and then the other.

On and on they went. How far have we come? Tom began to wonder.

"How do you know where to go?" He piped up suddenly. He'd been so enthusiastic about leaving it only hit him now that Tord might not even know the way out. "Did you do this before?"

"Duh! Of course!" Tord snapped from up ahead. Tom heard the shuffling of paper in front of him, and Tord twisted around as far as he could to face him. "I have map." He showed Tom a drawing scribbled in crayon.

They eventually made it out of the vents and exited out the very back of the school. Rain was still pouring down and Tom felt a cold shiver ripple down his spine as they jumped down and got instantly soaking wet. It's too bad they didn't bring an umbrella with them.

"Now what?"

Tord nodded the tall fence surrounding the school grounds. "We need to get over that. Just need something big…" He peered around for a solution. He had his hoodie on to protect his horn-like hair as best he could from the pouring rain. Tom envied him for the little shelter that he had from the bad weather. "Aha!" Tord's eyes lit up when his gaze landed on a trash can. "Perfect! We push this closer to fence and we jump over."

Tom shuffled on his feet in discomfort and glanced back at the school longingly. He kinda regrets coming along now that he is all drenched wet, but it's too late to turn back now. Not that he plans to anyway. School stinks without Edd and Matt around, and he can't leave Tord to go on his own now that they've come this far.

"Are you just going to stand there?"

Not wanting to get on Tord's bad side any further, Tom quickly jumped into action and helped him move the garbage can over to where they need it. Side by side they left the school behind and climbed over the fence. But as Tom and Tord dropped down onto the grass on the other side, they were met with nothing but swaths of tall trees as far as the children's perspective can see. Tom looked at the looming trees towering over them in awe, but felt a foreboding feeling creeping at the back of his neck the longer he stared.

"So like… where are we?" He prompted, hoping his companion would have some idea of where they're going.

Tord glanced at him with a grin. "The woods." And then took off into the dense woodland. Tom stared after him in dismay.

"Wait for me!" He cried out, desperate to keep up and not be left behind.

The two boys ran into the woods. Tord led the way with glee; swerving past branches, stones, and fallen trees with ease. Tom followed him, purely out of despair since he did not want to be left behind in the middle of the woods and never find his way out again. The overarching trees surrounding them provided a little shelter from the rain, to which Tom was thankful for.

"Through the woods is home!" Tord shouted encouragingly as he led the way deeper into the dense terrain.

Tom could only hope that the boy clad in red truly knows the way and wasn't just leading him a stray. His worries diminished considerably however, when the undergrowth began to thin out, and the sound of roaring cars drifted through the trees. Before long, Tord and he stood together at the edge of the tree line, staring out into a road.

The eyeless child breathed out a sigh of relief. Thank heavens! They are still within reach of civilization, and they won't have to spend the night out in the woods and scavenge for food. But now there's a new problem…

"Do we have to cross it?" Tom asked anxiously. His parents always told him to stay clear off any roads unless he was with his parents or teachers. But he isn't.

Tord simply nodded as he neared the sidewalk's edge. Worried he was going to take off and leave him behind again; Tom quickly reached forward and grabbed Tord's hand. The other boy turned to him in surprise.

"My mom said it's important to hold hands when we cross a street!" Tom smiled innocently. "And to look both ways too."

Tord rolled his eyes with a huff, but did not raise any complaints.

They waited for the cars to go on by until it was safe enough to cross. Even after they made it to the other side though, neither of them let go of the other's hand as they kept on walking. They strolled right through people's gardens. Tord said it was quicker this way, but Tom found it awfully disrespectful to invade people's property like this. But hey, anything to get him out of the rain sooner!

He nearly bumped into Tord when the latter abruptly stopped moving. Tom shot him a curious look and saw him point at a green house across the street from them. "Edd!" He exclaims, further confusing Tom as he looked around wildly. Edd? Where? Wasn't he supposed to be traveling?

Tord shook him and motioned toward the house again. "Edd!" He repeated more firmly.

That's when it hit him. "Oh! You mean that's where Edd lives?"

Tord nodded fervently and continued walking, pulling Tom along with him. The eyeless child wanted to ask how he knew where Edd lived, but was distracted when he realized that they were heading straight for a white house on their left. "Where are we?"

"Home." Tord replied, walking up the small steps to the front door.

"Ah, so you and Edd are neighbors then!" Tom's cheerfulness suddenly dwindled as worry began to creep up on him with a startling realization. "Wait! How am I going to get home?"

Tord turned to him with an inquisitive tilt of his head. "Know where your home is?"

Despite trying his best to think of an answer, he knew it was futile. His parents always dropped him off in school by car, and though he looked out the window on his way there every time he never memorized any of it. He looked around the foreign neighborhood he was currently in; hoping to find some clue of his whereabouts but to no avail.

Tom ducked away shyly and began to fiddle with the straps of his overalls. "No." He admitted.

He almost expected Tord to make some sort of rude comment about his stupid decision of following him all the way here, but the other boy was quiet. Tord bent down to pull out a key from underneath the 'welcome' mat, and unlocked the door to his home. Tom stared at him in dismay, fully expecting to be locked out in the rain and be left to find his way home by himself.

Just as he turned away to leave, Tord unexpectedly grabbed his arm and pulled him inside the house.

Tom blinked in surprise as the door closed behind them, and then stared at his surroundings in awe. Everything is so shiny, clean and pretty! Not to say that his own house isn't clean or nice. But Tord's home is so stark white it seemed to carry a lustrous glow everywhere he looked.

Tord nudged him and motioned for him to remove his shoes by the door, and Tom complied. "Where's your mom?" He couldn't help but question, noting the massive size of the house but seemingly no one occupying it at the moment.

"Working." Tord hummed, heading straight for the kitchen and opening the fridge. "She'll be home later."

"And your dad?" Tom shuffled closer. He was uncomfortably aware of the fact that he is soaking wet from the rain, and he was dripping water all over the polished wooden floor. His mom would not approve of any of his actions today.

"Not here." Tord took out a bunch of different kinds of food and placed them all on the table in front of them.

After asking for the bathroom, Tom managed to get himself semi-dried; his clothes still soggy and cold, but it was the best he could do with no spare clothes to put on. He returned to the kitchen and was met with the sight of Tord preparing snacks. He glanced at the eyeless child then; their gazes locked, and he patted the empty seat next to him.

They had lunch together. Tord made himself a sandwich while Tom pulled out the lunch his mom had packed him for the day – a chocolate milk carton and some crackers. It wasn't much, but neither Tom nor his mom could've ever foretold the series of events that transpired today. He was really thankful when Tord was kind enough to make a sandwich for him too.

As they finished eating, Tord began to put everything away again while Tom looked out the window, watching the sky darken and the rain continuing to pour down. It won't be long for school to end, and his parents will come to pick him up only to realize he's not there anymore. Tom sighed. How will he ever get home?

Tord must've taken his worried sigh as a sign of boredom, because as soon he was done clearing everything away he grabbed Tom's hand and started leading him up the stairs.

Upon opening the first door to the right, Tom was met with a semi big and yet simple looking bedroom. It consisted of a bed, a dresser, and a bright colorful toy box that contrasted with the stark white of the rest of the room.

Tord drew away from Tom to approach his bed, and revealed a walkie-talkie from under his pillow. "Edd!" He exclaimed, holding the blue device up and pointing at the window where their friend's house was in view.

Reaching to take the walkie-talkie from him, Tom could only hear static coming from the other end. "It probably doesn't reach wherever Edd went to." He observed, taking the hint that Edd has the other device. "Hey Tord, I really should be getting home. Do you think you can help me get there, please?" He asked shyly.

Despite Tord's usual cold demeanor towards him, Tom hoped he would at least be willing to help him now. Tom won't be able to return home on his own otherwise.

The other boy stared at him for a few heartbeats with a tilt of his head and then turned away from him, and began to rummage through the large toy box. Tom watched him curiously until Tord returned to him with a couple of figurines in hand.

Tom's concerns faded away almost instantly as he got distracted by the toys Tord was handing him.

They played together for quite a long while until Tom caught a glimpse of the alarm clock by the bedside table. He tried asking Tord for help again, but he merely kept showing him more toys and even took him to his living room to play video games whenever he brought up the subject of leaving. Admittedly, Tom was having lots of fun playing with Tord, but he felt guilty for the amount of worry he was placing on his parents the longer he stayed.

Tom glanced at the clock and realized school had ended about an hour ago. He then gazed out the window and jumped to his feet when he noticed it was no longer raining. Now was his chance!

"Tom?"

The eyeless boy turned to Tord, who looked at him with an inquisitive expression.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go home now." Tom glanced over his shoulder toward the front door. "It's getting late. My parents will be wondering where I am."

Tord hopped off the couch and moved past him to where a collection of board games were stacked up against the television. He grabbed one and returned to Tom with an excited skip in his step.

Tom stepped back. "No, Tord. I have to go." He repeated more firmly, but still apologetic. "It's been fun playing with you, but my mom and dad are waiting for me."

"But you don't know how to get there." Tord pointed out.

Tom sighed. "I'll back-track our trail all the way to school. From there… I'll just have to go by memory I guess."

Hearing his insistence, Tord looked visibly upset and shifted his feet in awkwardly. Tom took his silence as a victory and started getting ready to head out again. He grabbed his backpack and put on his shoes while Tord watched him from the bottom of the stairs.

"Hey, it's okay. We'll see each other tomorrow in school!" Tom exclaimed, trying to cheer up the other boy. Tord dropped his gaze and fidgeted with his hands. "Besides, your parents are probably on their way home right now."

"No. Mom doesn't arrive until after bedtime."

"What about your dad?" Tom asked.

Tord looked away. "Not here." He repeated the same words from earlier, this time with some strain in his voice.

Taken back, Tom swept his gaze around the house again. It's certainly a very big place, clean and organized. But it's also kinda depressing upon closer look. The home was devoid of any color or personality. On his frame of vision, Tord is the only speck of either of those things among this whole bland household; and he looked so utterly small in comparison to everything else.

Tom felt a stab of pity for him. Tord must feel really lonely being cooped up in here with no one to play with. No wonder he'd been so insistent in trying to keep him here.

"Do you… want to come with me?" Tom offered. An idea just slid into his mind. Tord turned to him in surprise and he elaborated. "We'll play together some more, and you can sleepover at my place! My parents won't mind you staying over – I bet they'll even like you! Besides, I would feel a lot safer if you were accompanying me on the way there."

Tord didn't waste a heartbeat. "Okay!" He brightened up and immediately tore away up the stairs to pack his things.

Tom waited by the door for him, but it wasn't long before Tord descended the steps again; backpack hanging over his shoulders. He went to the kitchen and wrote a quick note to his mom regarding his whereabouts, left it on the balcony, and neared Tom.

"Ready!"

"Alright, let's go!"

Tord locked the door as they stepped out, and together they proceeded to retreat back the way they came. They passed through people's gardens again, crossed the street, and raced through the darkening woods once again until they reached the school grounds.

The two boys checked their surroundings wearily as they stepped out from the undergrowth for any signs of the teachers. No doubt their absence was noted at some point during their escape, and it would be really bad if they get caught back here now.

"Where to now?" Tord turned to Tom expectantly.

Biting his lip deep in thought, Tom's face scrunched up as he tried hard to remember the brief memories of the car rides from home to school and back again.

"This way I think." Tom nodded the street to the right.

Their pace slowed down considerably now that they were threading in fairly unknown territory. Tom had to pause a lot throughout their journey to recall the right way to go. He would look around for anything remotely familiar, follow his gut, and choose a direction. Tom hopes they're heading in the right path, and that they'll get home before the sun goes down.

They held hands whenever they had to cross a street, and Tord tried to cut path through people's gardens again but Tom stopped him; insisting they had to stick close to the road for him to get his bearings clear, and because it's rude to invade people's properties. Tord had grumbled a complaint but sulked after him obediently.

"Look!" Tom pointed towards a familiar blue house just a block away from them. Relief flooded through him at the sight of his home. "We're nearly there!"

They crossed one last road and started to the house together. "Mom! Dad!" Tom cried out in joy, seeing his parents waiting for him by the front door. He drifted to a halt and swept his parents into a hug. Remembering he was not alone, Tom quickly introduced them to Tord. "This is my friend from school, Tord!" He gesture to the other boy, who stared at them in complete bewilderment. "He helped me get home. Can he spend the night over with us, please?"

Tom glanced back and forth between his parents in silence.

"He left a note for his mom."

Silence.

Tom smiled gleefully. "Yay! Thank you mom!" He placed them down and turned to face Tord. "They said yes." He grabbed Tord's hand and dragged him inside the house.

Tom showed Tord around his home, then he showed him his toys – it's not nearly as big of a collection as Tord's, but he still has plenty of them. "This is Tomee bear!" Tom held out his plushie teddy bear with the unibrow for Tord. "My dad gave it to me for my birthday!"

They played together for a quite a while, then Tom's parents made them pasta for dinner. They played around some more after that, until Tom's mom announced it was bedtime. Since they didn't have an extra bed, Tom had to share his bed with Tord; which is fine – if anything it makes the sleepover experience all the more fun!

Even though they have to wake up early for school the next morning, they talked for quite a while into the night, way past the time they were meant to be asleep. Didn't help that Tord had brought a whole load of candy from his home for them to share.

"Hey Tord?"

"Hm?"

"You awake?"

"Yeah."

"Do you like me now?" Tom asked bluntly.

Tord raised his head from the other side of the bed and peered back at him with a questioning glance. "What you mean?"

Tom fidgeted with his hands. "It just seemed like you wanted nothing to do with me before today, and now we're having a sleepover and stuff." He mumbled. "Does this mean we're friends now?" He looked at Tord expectantly.

The other boy steadily stared back at him for a couple heartbeats before he broke away his gaze and stared at the ceiling instead. "I never hated you." He admitted. "I just… didn't know how to act around you. Edd and Matt told me so much about you I got nervous."

"I think you're pretty cool." Tom commented casually.

"Thanks. I think you are great too." Tord yawned, stretching his arms lazily. "Yeah, so I guess this does make us friends."

Tom smiled and hugged Tomee bear tighter. "Yay!" He whispers excitedly under his breath.

It sure took them quite a while to finally drift off to sleep.

Needless to say, Edd and Matt were overjoyed to see them getting along so nicely when they eventually returned to school.

Tom sank his head onto his chest. His eyes shut as if he were in pain by the memory he recalled from his past. He was silent for so long that Patrick wondered if he was about to end the session now, but the eyeless man said nothing yet. Then Tom's features finally smoothed, and he took a deep breath.

"We were… inseparable, for a while." He murmured quietly. ""Best friends forever" – we would tell each other back then." A hint of bitterness could be detected in his voice, and then his face twitched with the bare hint of a faint smile. "Tord loved inventing and making plans. Every year he would sign up to robotic courses, and every year he would attempt to create something new. He won several awards for his projects throughout our academic period." He chuckled. "I remember when Edd gave him a chemistry kit for his birthday when we were very young. Tord loved it. He was such a dork."

Conflicting emotions stirred inside of Tom like a deadly storm. What the h#ll was he feeling? It was warm, but with a hint of bitter frost beneath all that. He felt empty, but steadily brimming up at the same time. The voice could be sensed at the very back of his head. It seems agitated for some reason; though it remained silent.

"Tord and I would go over to each other's houses all the time, and sleepover too in most cases. Tord would tinker away in his garage and I would watch him work; sometimes play the bass too to pass the time. We would talk about video games and stuff, but we stayed mostly quiet and just did our own thing." Tom continued, unsure of his feelings but sensing a strong urge to keep on talking for some reason. "Tord, being great at picking things apart and rebuilding them anew, would offer his services to fix broken things to earn money. I would often tag along and we would ride on a bike together to our destination." He snorted softly. "One time, Tord was called in to fix this old lady's furnace on the outskirts of the town. I went along with him and I remember that after Tord had it fixed, the lady made us lemonade and we sat on her porch where there were a bunch of fireflies out and about. I think Tord was feeling a bit down that day, I can't remember exactly why… So I tried to cheer him up by gathering a bunch of fireflies and bringing them closer to him. It was pretty cool up until one of them flew inside my eyes and we both started to panic, trying to get it out. But at least he stopped being sad, so I guess it worked in a way."

Patrick observed his facial expressions carefully as he listened with intrigue. Was that a glint of fondness he could hear in the Brit's voice? Pat grew hopeful at the idea that there could still be some semblance of endearment in Tom for their leader despite their broken friendship. There's a slim chance their prideful rivalry could end if they were open with each other. Unfortunately, knowing Red Leader's superiority complex and Tom's habit of holding grudges, chances are, they will never overcome their differences.

If only. Pat thought with regret.

"When… my father died… It was one of the worst moments of my life." Tom said with a somber tone. He recalled that specific memory with a pang in his heart as he thought of, not only of his dad, but how he changed so drastically by one tragic incident. Tom went from being a cheerful kid with a lot of love in his heart to a pessimistic and grumpy child. Who knew he would end up being a barely-functioning and utterly broken man by the end of his days? Tom mourned the loss of that child. "I would shut myself off from the others and cry constantly. Edd would come and console me as best he could during those hard times. Matt tried to comfort me in his usual not-so-subtle way of hugging." Tom looked down at his hands. "But Tord… he would just sit close by, not saying anything, and just… be there. It was strangely comforting to be completely honest." A small, shy grin appeared on his face.

Patrick swallowed. It was now or never. "What happened between you two?"

The Brit's grin faded, to be replaced by a sorrowful expression. "When we were about 14 years old we started to get reckless. We began to drink and smoke at an early age without anyone else knowing… well, Matt might have known, but he never did anything aside from giving us distasteful glances." Tom murmured. "Tord and I started to crave for bigger thrills as we got older. The adventures the four of us would go on were great and goofy, but didn't exactly fulfill our needs. So he and I initiated a series of minor heists or as we liked to call it then, crimes."

Patrick leaned forward in his seat. "Go on." He urged quietly.

Tom blinked several times, as though trying to get his thoughts in order. "They were inoffensive at first… just shoplifting here and there, or making elaborate pranks in school." He went on. "But eventually we moved on to breaking into places, stealing whatever we wanted – usually things Tord needed for some new wacko invention of his – and doing some dangerous sh#t. But we never seriously harmed anyone! That's not what we were about. Tord and I were partners in crime for a while; and for what's worth, it was admittedly fun while it lasted. " His expression turned pained. "As you can probably expect from a duo of stupid kids doing even stupider nonsense, we were eventually found out."

His voice fell silent then, his face a mask of anguish, before licking his lips and continuing. "We went too far one day and people got truly hurt that time around. We got questioned. I was scared but not too worried about the consequences because, well, Tord was with me. We caused this mess together, we were partners in crime, and we would face the consequences together." His voice wavered as he went on. Tom paused and took a deep breath. "But that's not what happened."

Patrick's chest tightened with sympathy, but he nodded for the Brit to continue.

"Tord…" Tom choked, and then tried again. "He didn't want this incident to foil his good reputation as a top grade student, or his chances of being a successful inventor in the future. Tord had big aspirations, even back then, and he knew that if anyone found out of his involvement he would be branded; possibly for life." He shut his eyes and turned his head away. "So of course he did the only logical thing he could do in this situation. He threw me under the bus. He told the cops, the principle, our parents – everyone who ever questioned us that I did all those things by myself and he only knew about them but never participated in anyway. " Tom took a long, shuddering breath.

"I got all the blame. Even when I tried to tell people what really happened, no one believed me. How could they? It's the word of an honor student against that of a dumb child with an attitude problem. Tord also told them about my illegal drinking habits and my father's death – thinking that in some way would cushion the blow and lessen my punishment somehow. But I know he only said those things so they wouldn't suspect him anymore. They started referring to me as a "problem child" – I was forced to go to counseling and got suspended from school for a while."

Tom fell silent for a few seconds, staring off into space. He felt his throat constricting as grief and anger threatened to choke him. Whatever warmth he was feeling before has been completely dissipated and now he only felt cold. He dug his nails into the arms of the chair.

"I know that doesn't change the fact that people really did get hurt because of me. I understand that I wasn't completely innocent either. But to have everyone turn against you like that… I'm just thankful that Edd and Matt never gave up on me." He trailed off and winced. I definitely couldn't have told them what the matter with me is. Tom thought, thinking of his current predicament. They would've been so afraid of me if I did. They wouldn't want anything to do with me anymore; not after everything stacking up against me. Maybe it's for the best. "I confronted Tord on the matter eventually. I wanted to know why he would betray his best friend like that… Ha! Oh the irony. Do you want to know what he said? What his line of reasoning was?"

Now his voice was a low, bitter chuckle, with a strange note of mirth in it. Patrick's stomach churned with apprehension, but he had no other choice but to press on at this point.

Tom set his jaw. "Like I said; he did it to protect his reputation. But also because it was more likely that I would do something like this, sooner or later, given my lack of talent and failing grades in comparison to him." Resentment flared up inside of him, and for a split-second he swore he saw his hands turn into claws. "Basically – I was a failure. He wasn't. No one with a bright future would do those things, so obviously the problematic one had to be culprit behind everything. I was the perfect cover up. Can you believe he had the gall to not only tell me not to take it personally, but act as if nothing ever happened when I finally returned to school? I wanted to punch him so badly then. But of course, given my history of violence I couldn't do anything unless I wanted to be expelled. When I finally got him alone though… I did not hold anything back. We were rivals ever since."

Pat remained silent; all he could think about was the feeling of utter betrayal Tom must've felt back then. To have someone you grew up with and think of as a friend, only to suddenly turn on you. A chill ran though him at the thought of what that must have been like. No wonder Tom carried so much hatred for his leader.

At first Pat wanted to console the eyeless man of his situation, but instantly decided against it. This incent was years ago, and Tom was not the type of person to accept pity from others. Patrick has to thread carefully now.

"Did… you friends ever learn the truth?"

"No." Tom choked out. "As far as I know, they think we only hate each other because of some petty arguments and misunderstandings as we grew older. When we finally started living together, it was only for their sake that Tord and I merely tolerated each other's presence and tried to be, you know, civil."

He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. If only his friends had seen Tord as he had before the robot incident; putting his ambition and pride above all else, searching for dangerous thrills no matter what cost, and provoking any reason he could to use his guns with wild-eyed hunger for bloodshed. The memories gave Tom strength. Whatever it had cost him, he was the only one who could stand in Tord's way now. Only he knew what the Norsk was capable of.

"The day he left was the happiest I've ever been by far."

"So that incident is your main source of conflict then?" Patrick prompted.

"It's the key reason as to why we're enemies, yes. But as the years went by our fights and arguments escalated, the incident just became the kick-starter. Like, of course I haven't forgotten much less forgiven the commie for what had happened, but we simply can't stand each other. The bastard loves Christmas – practically relishes it. I absolutely hate it. He smokes. I drink. He's a Commie, and I'm a Jehovah's Witness. See what I mean?"

Pat nodded in understanding. "Have you ever wanted to get revenge on him?" He ventured cautiously. His answer would be critical.

Tom took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and then slowly let it out. He thought hard about the question. Did he ever want revenge against the commie for what he did? Maybe at some point in the past, but now Tom is too far-removed to really care about it at this point. Revenge is the least of his worries, and probably at the bottom of his bucket list if he had to double check.

"I foiled his world domination plans and made him lose a limb. I say that's revenge enough." Tom played cool while inwardly snickering; thinking on how he will take his own life right before Tord's eyes, foiling his plans yet again when the experiments finally begin. His last chance at the monster serum… gone for good. Tom will have the last laugh in the end. Too bad he won't get to see the look on the Commie's face when it happens, but it's the thought that counts. Tom just wishes he could die somewhere a bit more pleasant than an evil laboratory.

His friends instantly came to mind and the dark amusement he felt dissipated, replaced by an overwhelming wave of grief. Tom will never get to tell them how much they meant to him now.

"Thing is…" He began quietly. "Tord and I may have gotten along in the past, and if the incident hadn't happened nothing would've changed. But that's the point, isn't it? I never meant anything to him. None of us did. We were simply pawns for him, just waiting for the perfect chance to be played. It just so happens I got used first. So in short… Tord and I were never friends." He finished; his voice cold.

The Polish soldier nodded solemnly and typed on his tablet. Possible use of denial as a defense mechanism?

"I'm done talking about this now." Tom sighed, feeling his emotions disappear and leave him hollow.

Patrick put away his glasses and placed the tablet down. "That's alright. Thank you for your cooperation, Tom." He led Tom toward the door, placing a gentle hand on his back. "I'll deliver dinner a little later than usual today. My schedule is a bit tight."

"That's fine." Tom answered absently. How come he always felt like sh#t after every damn mental evaluation?

He stepped out into the hallway and walked away with a small wave of goodbye to Pat. The Polish soldier watched him go with a worried gaze until he was out of sight, and then left to return to his duties.

Tom's whole body felt numb as he walked, and his head spun with images of Tord – the old Tord. The one he grew up alongside of and went to school with. The one he nearly considered a friend – flashing in his mind. Tom wanted to have the familiar sensation of anger burn brightly through him at the thought of the Commie bastard and all he put him through. It was in there somewhere, but its spot was currently taken by a hollow melancholy that made him sway on his feet.

The hallway itself seemed different, even stranger to Tom than the day he had arrived in the facility. Nothing was real; he felt as if the walls and floor could dissolve like mist within a moment. A vast, unnatural silence covered everything.

Forget it. Don't think about it. It's in the past. Tom kept telling himself. This is all part of their manipulative schemes. They want me to see the Commie as more than just a rival to win my loyalty. Well, it's not going happen. Out of sheer stubbornness, he begins to recall the memories of Tord at his worst. The giant robot. Their many fights. Getting his face shoved into the cake on his thirteenth birthday by him. Using Tom as an escape goat –

That particular scene of his youth replayed over and over in his head. He saw again the scrutinizing figures standing before him as he was being thoroughly interrogated, and felt the hostile and terrified stares burn him wherever he went. He remembered how his mom and friends would try to console him despite everything, and even support him. He flinched again at the harsh voices talking down to him for his misdeeds and for a split-second he felt like cowering away.

But most of all, Tom recalled his dismay and disbelief as he confronted Tord, and realized that he had betrayed him to the authorities to save himself and his precious reputation from suffering the same fate.

Tom had stared at the guy whom he considered a friend; someone he thought he could confide in with everything. He thought he had known him well, but he couldn't recognize him at all then.

Instead of feeling anger like he wanted to, Tom only felt an intense pang of hurt. On the one hand he's feeling something now at least, but it's not nearly as prominent or long-lasting as rage.

"You know, instead of trying so desperately to feel emotions again why don't you spend your time doing something more productive? ~" The voice chimed in his head suddenly. Its arrival pressurized his skull with great intensity and the world turned a shade darker.

Ah! There you are. Tom thought with a flicker of sarcasm. I was wondering when you were going to show up. Let me guess; by productive you mean-?

"Killing yourself – yes! ~" It interrupted, circling a pair of specter arms around Tom's neck and shoulders casually. "Haven't you noticed you're running out of time? It won't be long now before they begin the experiments. ~"

Tom realized what the voice was saying is true. He is back to full health, and is even training as a soldier. Surely the actual experiments won't be far behind if that's the case then? A shiver of dread ran down his spine at the realization.

If everything goes my way, I won't have to do anything until then. Tom thought decisively. The idea is that Tord kills me in the process of perfecting his serum. That's why I told him not to use any drugs on me; to heighten my chances of dying.

"But they are being too careful with you. Even without the drugs they won't let go of you so easily if they can prevent it. ~" The voice reasoned, tightening its grip on him as another set of limbs circled his waist. "What then? If you don't die the way you're expecting to, what will you do? ~"

It won't come to that. Tom snapped assertively. There were 1825 other test subjects before me and they all died the same way. Why would I be any different?

Without warning, Tom felt a shriek being ripped out of his throat as a cleaver suddenly cut deep into his left shoulder. He nearly staggered forward in pain, but in reality he merely whimpered under his breath to keep the facade out in the open. "Because the serum works with you! You know that! ~" The voice snarls at him.

Commie doesn't know that. Tom pointed out through rasped breaths. This pain was unbearable.

"What if he finds out? What then, you low-life maggot? ~" A clawed hand moved up to grab him by the neck, earning a strangling cry from Tom. "You think he doesn't have ways to figure out? He is smart, unlike you. He is better than you. Who knows? The proof could show up in your blood sample and you wouldn't even know! But they do, and they are playing you for the damn fool that you are. You have to die now! ~"

The voice prepared to stab him – Tom could feel another blade forcefully poking his abdomen, ready to pierce his flesh right through – when a sudden explosion seemed to startle the voice away, and jolt Tom back to reality.

"Faen!"

Tom looked around wildly; the dark haze gone from his vision, confused as to what just happened when his gaze landed on a door a few steps up.

The test room.

His heartbeat slowed and he calmed down. His concerns momentarily forgotten and replaced by curiosity, Tom decided to investigate the commotion. It's not like he had anything better to do and he was no stranger to the test room. He'd entered before on one of his many strolls around the laboratory – aimlessly looking for something to take his mind off things.

It had been open only once, and then never again after that first visit.

Tom assumed Patrick had it locked after tracing his location via chip, though the Polish soldier never said anything to him about it afterwards. Guess they don't want him snooping around where he shouldn't, but how was Tom supposed to know? Tord never mentioned that in the rules. Besides, it's not like Tom could make any sense of that room. It's all just a bunch of heavy machinery and weird junk.

Cautiously, Tom pushed the door to the test room open and slipped inside. The room is semi-dark, with only the distant flare and the roar of a blowtorch to guide the way. Strange machinery of all sorts loomed around the room like a maze, their purpose unknown, and the place untouched since his last visit. Tom weaved his way through the labyrinth of junk as he followed the only source of light in the room.

When he made it to the center, Tom found a figure hunched over a table just ahead of him; and judging by the devilish-styled hair it was definitely none other than Tord. No surprise there, Tom had already guessed it was him the moment he heard him curse.

Naturally, with his curiosity mostly satisfied, this would usually be the time Tom would turn away and leave to avoid any form of interaction with the Norsk. But Tom stayed where he was.

He watched Tord work with a strange fascination. The Norsk is completely focused in his project and whatever it was he was doing. Probably creating his next big world domination device, if Tom had to guess. The sparks of fire from the blowtorch created an eerie glow around him that made him look… almost ethereal in a way. The sight was strangely alluring.

The peace of the scene was shattered when Tom sneezed suddenly.

The blowtorch turned off instantly, and Tom's gasp hitched in his throat.

"Å for faen!"

Tord whipped around, his face concealed by a welding mask. Tom winced and tried to back away and make himself unseen among the many machines around him, but to no use. Tord spotted him at once and marched up to him; ranting in his native tongue. "Flott! Akkurat det jeg trengte nå – forstyrrelser!" As the Norwegian man drew nearer he lifted the mask off his face to reveal his features, evidently annoyed by the interruption as he glared at the Brit.

"Kan aldri få gjort noen ting i dette dritt hølet!"

An awkward silence stretched out between them once Tord finished his mad foreign raving, as if he were waiting for the eyeless man to respond. Tom stared at him perplexed for a while. How was he supposed to answer when he had no clue to what had been just said?

"Uh… what?"

"What are you doing here?" Tord narrowed his eyes accusingly.

"I, uh, was just passing by on the way to my quarters when I heard you." Tom told him lamely.

"Awn, and you decided to check up on me? I'm flattered!" Tord chuckled mockingly. He turned away and returned to his work. "Didn't think you would want to see me so soon after our disastrous training session this morning."

Neither did I. The though escaped Tom before he could even process it. His anger toward the Norsk for this morning's events has faded away after his mental evaluation with Patrick. The melancholic feeling returned as he looked at Tord now. "What… what are you doing?"

"Tinkering. What's it look like?" Tord retorted without looking up from his work. He gathered the tools spread out across the table and brought them closer to inspect them for damages.

"Shouldn't you be like, I don't know, leading an army or something?" Tom prompted quietly, acting completely opposite to his usual behavior around Tord.

"I just got out from a particularly annoying meeting with my generals, and I would like to cool off a bit before I decide to shoot the next person that pisses me off." Was the Norsk's dry reply.

At the very back of his mind, Tom could feel the presence of the voice shift in excitement and silently urged Tom to do so. Had he been in a foul mood, Tom would have no problem in complying. But since he wasn't feeling particularly angry or cocky at this moment in time, Tom did nothing but stare at Tord.

"If you want to stay here then I suggest you keep quiet and don't interrupt me." Tord warned as he began to fiddle with a couple of wires, igniting a small spark.

Tom didn't bother replying. His gaze scanned around the room, pausing briefly over all the weird machinery around them with curious awe. Did he make these all by himself? He wondered. What kind of evil intent are they capable of?

He began to investigate the contents of the room, for once mindful of Tord's warning. Tom had no idea what the matter with him is. Minutes ago he was talking about how much he hated Tord, and now he can't even bring himself to feel so much as a flicker of distaste for the Norwegian man. Any other day Tom wouldn't have hesitated to mock Tord despite his anger, or just storm out of the room seeing as there was no one else to interact other than him.

So how come he is still here when he got every reason not to?

Truth be told, the recent episode with the voice left him a bit spooked. The sudden and repetitive warning ringing in his head that he had to die now shook him to his core. And Tom could still feel a bit of the old nostalgic sensation deep within from when he was talking to Pat. So this seems like a good distraction.

While Tom worked to distract himself, Tord's focus started to slip away from his work.

As he tightened one of the bolts to his newest invention, Tord's gaze seems to flicker back to Tom every now and then; making sure the Brit doesn't mess with something he shouldn't. In reality he was starting to regret his hasty decision of letting Tom stay in close proximity when all he wanted was some peace and quiet while he worked.

Tsk… what a nuisance. Tord thought irritably and went back to tinkering. And yet, no matter how hard he tried to ignore him, he would inevitably halt progress and return to watch Tom inspect his inventions with curious intent. Despite all his efforts over the past two weeks, Tord couldn't entirely suppress the recently awakened emotions he still feels towards Thomas. Tord would be lying if he said he didn't feel a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest when he finally saw the Brit again – much to his annoyance.

Now Tord observed his test subject stroll about the room, watching his every move as his single-eyed gaze raked over the eyeless man's form.

The Norsk still blames his Commander for the return of his unrequited emotions. Tord understands that Tom could never feel the same way towards him, so why bother with these feelings all over again? And despite priding himself in acting more like Red Leader than Tord nowadays, he could never follow through the persona's attitude of "take what you want" in this subject matter – even he has principles!

At least Tord can have the small satisfaction at the fact that; with Tom working with him so closely in his army he can't belong to anyone else.

"So… what is all this?"

Tom's voice suddenly cut through Tord's thoughts, effectively snapping the Norsk back to reality. He'd been so busy admiring Tom and contemplating his situation he barely acknowledged the fact that he wasn't feeling angry or stressed anymore.

"This, if you haven't realized, is the test room. It's where I dedicate my time into creating new inventions without being interrupted." Tord swoop his arm to gesture their surroundings and shot Tom a pointed glare.

Tom turned to him with furrowed eyebrows. "I figured that. But like, don't you have a board of scientists to create things for you instead?"

"And miss out on the opportunity to make a breakthrough in science and change the way of life as we know it? What's the fun in that?" Tord grinned. "Besides; I like tinkering! It helps me with my temper." Tord explained coolly, though a hint of excitement could be detected in his voice.

Initial frustration aside, he was behaving like the bold and enthusiastic kid Tom had once cared for and was even friends with, giving Tom an even more agonizing sense of what they had lost.

Pushing his silly thoughts aside, Tom directed his attention to the ceiling. "Don't you need better lighting to see what you're doing?" He pointed out casually. "Why is the room so damn dark?"

"I think you've been spending a little too much time around Patrick." Tord observed dryly.

Tom shrugged. "It was your orders, if you remember." He then smirked. "If I didn't know any better, I would think you're trying to imitate the phantom of the opera."

"Excuse me?" Tord sputtered in surprise.

"I mean, you can already play the part." Tom elaborated casually as he continued to look at the machines. "Creepy guy living underground, half his face damaged, considers himself a great genius, and is obsessed with his work. All you need is some poor fool for you to pine after and you're practically the same."

Tord did his best to laugh without tainting it with his nervousness at Tom's comment. He observed the eyeless man wander about the room intently. There was something particularly… off about Tom. He seems at ease in his presence now, and he wasn't making any aggressive remarks just good-natured comments. Recalling his schedule, Tord knew Tom must've ended his evaluation with Pat not too long ago. What did they talk about for Tom to be so… tame?

"So these are your inventions." Tom murmured. "Are they all weapons?"

"Oh no! Not at all! These are all… mostly harmless." Tord chuckled as he removed the welding mask off his head and moved closer to Tom. "I merely design the weapons and let my scientists take care of those. But these inventions are merely the result of my passion for tinkering; and though most of them may never see the light of day, I have hope that I'll get to implement some them into society once the world is finally mine."

Tom's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What kind of inventions you have?"

When Tord's head snapped in his direction with a big wide grin on his face, and his one visible eye sparkling with interest and enthusiasm, Tom instantly knew he had accidentally wind up the right key to get him into motion.

"I have plenty more! Would you… like me to show you?" Tord offered with barely suppressed giddiness, and proceeded to extend his robotic hand out for Tom.

In any other moment, Tom wouldn't think twice about scoffing and slapping the hand away from him. But he simply blinked in surprise instead, and found himself genuinely considering the offer. Was this a sign he was developing Stockholm syndrome? Being incapable of rightfully resent the man that ruined so much of his life seems to fit in with the criteria well enough.

"Uh, sure? I guess I coul-"

Tord grabbed a hold of his arm suddenly, effectively cutting Tom off before he could even finish his sentence.

"Wonderful!" The Norsk beamed brightly and began to drag him along as he led the way through the lab. His stride was so energetic and fast Tom had to practically run just to keep up with him and not stumble to the floor.

"Now, let's see… Aha!"

A box on one of the tables, with the label "creation #258" etched on the side in black marker, caught Tord's eye and they approached. Tom leaned closer and peered inside to look at the contents of said box, and Tom raised an eyebrow at the dozens of tiny white discs he found inside.

"These are voice modulators." Tord elaborated, picking one of the discs carefully between his fingers and raised it to their eye level. "Their primary function is to change the user's voice."

Tom looked at the tiny invention in awe. It was barely the size of a bottle cap!

"They were supposed to be powerful enough to record and store many voice files for the user to change around at will. However, the technology I used to create them is not exactly ideal to store such huge amount of data – hence why there are so many of them."

"So what you're saying is that each one of them has only one voice?"

"Precisely; though I do plan to change that in the foreseeable future." Tord confirmed as he analyzed his own invention. "You just attach it to your neck like this, and it will externally connect to your vocal cords." He explained as he placed the tiny disc on his own neck, receiving a brief zap of shock when it connected.

"Shouldn't be long to take effect; I just need to keep talking until it finally kicks in. Have no idea what kind of voice I'm going to get though. I really need to start labeling these discs for future reference."

Tom and Tord stared at each other wide eyed as the latter's voice changed mid-sentence to a feminine tone. Tord grinned in amusement and started to laugh; his voice reverberated around them, smooth and silky. Tom took a few steps back in bewilderment. "Oh sh#t!"

"Surprised, Thomas?" Tord asked teasingly, trying out his new voice. "I created these modulators to aid in undercover missions – you know? Make it harder to expose the wearer's identity. And hey, we also live in an age where people are forging themselves a brand new identity; so this can also be quite profitable if I ever release it to the public."

"Okay, I get the idea now – can you please take that off?" Tom demanded, hiding half his face behind his hands as he stared at Tord incredulously. "Urgh, that voice with your face just doesn't fit. It's disturbing to hear it come out of your mouth!"

Tord giggled. "Well… I was thinking of keeping this on throughout the rest of the day and maybe prank Paul with it, but if you insist." With one final exasperated sigh, which he totally made with the intent of teasing Tom, he removed the modulator from his neck and places it back in the box. Tord cleared his throat. "Now, shall we continue?"

"Can I pick the invention this time?" Tom prompted.

"Be my guest!"

Tom glanced around, looking for something to catch his gaze, while Tord watched him with anticipation. His eyeless vision landed on a strange looking gun-like device on a shelf. It's dark blue in color, darker than his hoodie, with weird white spikes surrounding the barrel and spine.

Following his gaze, Tord grabbed a hold of the device. "This is creation #319, the Goofynator."

"The what now?" Tom sputtered.

"The Goofynator." Tord repeated like there was nothing unusual about his statement, and it was in such a casual way Tom simply stared at him with a strange look, not sure whether he should be confused or laugh it off. Sensing his mixed bag of emotions, Tord sighed proceeded to elaborate. "It decreases the target's intelligence by 99%, leaving them only a margin of 1% clever for the next 48 hours. Weird invention, I know; but I like inventing stuff no matter how stupid it may be, and our supplier tends to ask for some pretty strange things whenever we make deals. So it can come in handy."

Tom eyed the device wearily. "Does it work?"

"Meh, never tried it out. Can't seem to find a good time or candidate to test it on." Tord shrugged. He then grinned and aimed the device at the test subject. "Would you like to do the honors?"

"No thanks." Tom veered the odd gun away from him with one finger. "Think I'm good."

As Tord turned away to put the device back in its place, Tom caught a glimpse of a big cylindrical device across from them. It has pipes attached to itself in several areas, and a screen plastered on the front with a control panel of some kind.

"I would prefer if you stayed away from that one." Tord intercepted and pulled Tom away from the machine before he could properly inspect it. The eyeless man looked at him in wonder.

"Why? What does it do?"

"That is creation #151, and it's very unstable so far." Tord nodded toward the large contraption. "It's supposed to be a type of DNA splicer – artificially combining the genetic material of two people together to create a whole new being."

"What for?"

"Well… It can prevent deformities and genetic disorders from passing down, ensuring perfect health. You can manipulate how the final product will look like and which genes to pass on. Can help both infertile and same-sex couples. And it's safe…" Tord glared at the machine. "Or at least it's supposed to be! But every time I tinker with this damn machine it blows up in my face!" He kicked it for good measure. When an ominous growl was produced deep within the contraption, Tord and Tom wearily backed away.

Tom stepped back and regarded the machines for a few seconds, a mild expression of awe forming in his features. "Incredible." He breathed, oblivious to the Norsk puffing with pride at his side; basking in the praise. "How do you come up with so many inventions?"

"Oh! It's quite simple really." Tord smiled. "Thinking of new projects to create is the only way to get me through boring meetings and huge stacks of paperwork." Then he paused, a mischievous smirk making its way on his face. "Well… hentai also helps-"

Tom put his hands up, palms out, a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "Okay, okay. I should have known better than to ask where a mad scientist gets his ideas from."

Tord tilted his head slightly. "You… consider me a mad scientist?"

His voice was nowhere near menacing, even his facial expression showed more curiosity than anything else, but Tom still froze at the inquiry. Was he offended by his comment?

"Well, yeah?" He replied with a shrug. "I mean, what else would you call a crazy guy living underground working on weapons and hell-bent on world domination?"

The Norsk stepped closer to him. When Tom went to take a step back, his hand was instantly grabbed by the Norwegian man's own robotic one. He stopped and watched in total bewilderment as Tord enfolded his hand on both of his own. Tom flushed in embarrassment at the situation, feeling completely flustered. What's happening?

"It's all right." Tord soothed. "It's as accurate a term as any, really." He glanced at their hands with an unreadable expression on his face, save for the barest hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth. "I suppose that by most standards, I am quite insane. Mad as a bag of cats, one would say. I would have to be, after all, to want to take over the world – and honestly I believe that frees me from a lot of the constraints of other more simple-minded folk. I can… envision the world I want, and the means to accomplish what must seem like a ludicrously lofty goal for most people."

Tom's gaze flickered from their hands to his face; his expression was a mask of tightly controlled unease, and he was vaguely aware of the heat creeping up on his cheeks the longer his hand was held by gentle, metallic fingers.

"Tord." He began quietly, and swallowed the lump in his throat. "Why do you want to take over the world so badly?"

Despite his better judgment, Tom felt like he needed to know the answer to that question before he dies. He needed to know the real reason behind Tord's actions – what drives him forward, and why he does the things that he does at such a personal high cost.

It won't change anything, but Tom wants to know anyway and hear it from Tord himself.

Tord appeared to grin at the question and tugged Tom closer. "I want what I think most people want – a better world."

Tom scoffed dryly and rolled his non-existent eyes. Figures. Why did I think I would get a logical answer from him? "Yeah, right! You're greedy, Commie. Pure and simple. You only want power over everyone else." He mocked, feeling much like his usual self and tried to rip his hand out of the Commie's grip but to no avail.

The Norsk chuckled. "You know; if you're simply going to disregard whatever answer I give, why ask at all?" He observed with a sly grin, not at all offended by Tom's comment. "But I speak the truth, whether you believe me or not." Dipping his head, he went on. "Yes, I confess that my goals were selfish and greedy at the start – power and glory over the masses is a very seductive idea, after all. However, as I matured over the years through hard training and sheer discipline, I began to look at the bigger picture and all the possibilities that are open to me once I do take over. I can mold the world in whatever way I want! I can, and will, fix everything that's wrong with our current society."

"Wow, it sure must be windy in that high horse you got yourself onto!" Tom cut in with a snarky comment. How the hell did he get up there anyway? He wondered with disbelief. "Are we going to drink the Kool-Aid later, oh great and powerful Red Leader?" He did a tiny mock bow at the end of his remark.

Tord laughed, greatly amused by the Brit's jabs. It's not often that he hears someone poking fun at him good-natured like this. His soldiers either highly respect or fear him, and there are others that tend to be bootlickers. If anyone dared to make a wrong comment, one glare in their direction is all it took to reduce them to a stammering mess; always desperate to please him. There's none of that with Thomas. He will always speak his mind, no matter who he is addressing, and he is brutally honest when he does so.

"Well, at least I'm bold enough to try such a daring plan." Tord smirked, lifting his chin with an air of superiority as he let go of Tom's hand. "People complain all they want about the current state of things, but no one wants to get their hands dirty when it comes down to it. That's what sets me apart from the rest! I am going to be remembered for making history!"

A little unnerved by the intensity of Tord's ambition, Tom stepped back and looked around the room again. His gaze fell on a red horned helmet on a table on top of some blueprints, grabbing his attention. "I wouldn't be so cocky about it if I were you." Tom cautioned as he neared the table. He picked up the helmet in his hands for a closer look. It felt heavy in his grip. "Few people have tried before you, and things didn't turn out so well for those guys."

"They didn't have a monster with them."

Tom froze and continued inspecting the helmet, trying not to show how much those words affected him and act naturally. He risked a quick glance in Tord's direction, and had to will himself not to gulp in apprehension at the sight of the huge grin on the Norsk's face.

"You should be proud, Thomas. You're going to play a very pivotal role in all of this. You'll help me achieve my goal, and you will become a meaningful part of history. Have you thought about that?"

A shudder of pure dread washed over Tom so strongly he's sure he was visibly shaking. Help him? Never! His stomach dropped and he felt nauseous all of the sudden; but by some miracle, Tom managed to disguise his hidden panic well enough to look composed on the outside. He took a deep breath and glanced at Tord again. The Norwegian man is wearing a smug wicked grin on his face with his arms folded behind him as he waited for Tom's response.

What happened? Just a moment ago Tord was positively ecstatic about showing him his wacky inventions, and now he was talking like a dictator again. It was like someone flipped a switch on the Norsk. Perhaps Tom made a mistake in trying to understand him.

"There's the person you used to be somewhere in there. At least, there's got to be pieces." Tom ventured wearily, still weighting the helmet in his hands as a disguise for his skyrocketing nerves. "You've grown with that filthy ambition inside your head for so damn long, and I understand there's no going back for you at this point. But you don't need to be this either."

He raised one eyebrow quizzically when the Norwegian man threw his head back and laughed in response. Tom stared at him, face devoid of emotion as Tord flicked a stray tear from his eye and sighed.

"Ah, I find really funny that you think I need your approval to do anything I want." He smirked wickedly, a wild and crazed gleam was growing in his visible eye again, and Tom realized that whatever fragments of the old Tord were there had gone.

No longer could he see the good humored glimmer or the last remnants of the enthusiastic inventor he grew up with. Tord was back to sadistic prick mode again, and Tom could feel a numbness spreading throughout his body; and he knew that this conversation was over – lest they want to escalate into a heated argument.

Not in the mood for this, Tom heaved a heavy sigh and nodded stiffly. "Yeah. Whatever." He put down the helmet and shrugged, casting a last smoldering glance at the Norwegian man. "Bye Tord."

Squaring his shoulders, Tom braced himself to walk past Tord to reach the room's exit. Will he try to stop me? But Tord did nothing other than follow his movements with a one-eyed gaze as he left, though Tom could've sworn he saw disappointment flash across the Norsk's face briefly.

He ignored the look, thinking Tord had just been itching for an argument with him, and left the test room.

Watching the test subject walk past him, so tantalizingly close, Tord was beginning to realize that outside threats could very well rise up and destroy his army, but it was emotion that would destroy a single soldier from within. I want things to be simpler. He thought. All this messy emotion only weakens a person. I'd rather live my life without it.

With a low grunt, Tord turned back to his work and placed the welding mask back over his face.

Stepping out into the hallway, Tom found himself alone once more. "Damn." He sighed tiredly and soon resumed the long journey to his quarters.

Why did he waste his time bothering with Tord? Tom should know better than to try by now. Did he even learn anything new about Tord from this experience? Walking, his thoughts jumbled together in a incoherent mess as he tried making sense of things. Tom glanced down at his hand in wonder; still feeling the tingling sensation of Tord's distinct set of hands on his own. His expression softened slightly.

Tord still just as passionate about inventing as he was when kids. Tom mused wistfully. I guess he also has some good intentions, though I'm not sure if that's entirely true.

Tom will never confess out loud, but if there's one thing he both secretly admires and is fully envious of in Tord, is his confidence. Even as kids, Tord always knew who he was and what he wanted out of his life. He is an inventor; there's no doubt about that. He plans to conquer the world and Tom is convinced he can actually do it – monster or not.

But him? Tom could never figure out what wanted out of his life. Definitely not what he got in the end, that's for sure; but a little too late to change that now. Growing up, Tom always thought about doing something to do with music, but that never went anywhere. Tom wished he could get his life sorted out, but it doesn't matter anymore.

In a couple of days at most, he is going to die; and as far as Tom is concerned, Tord can do whatever he likes.

Never again. His heart was crying, reminding Tom yet again of the high price he will have to pay for his misdeeds. It seems the closer the fateful date gets, the more anxious his thoughts become. No more adventures, no more silliness, or crazy happenings with my friends. No more laughter shared or dangers faced together. It's over.

(Meanwhile…)

Moonlight filtered through the blinds of the dimly lit apartment, dappling onto the many sheets of paper scattered all over the place. A lamp in the near center of the room provided the only source of light for the resident of said apartment; as he peered at the pegboard in contemplation.

"Damn." Eduardo growled in frustration, tapping his foot on the floor repeatedly as he reached for another cookie in the jar before stuffing it in his mouth and munched angrily.

The cookies Mark had insisted for him to take were terrible, but not too unbearable to eat when he needed to occupy his mouth with something – lest he wanted the god awful taste of ink on his tongue and a pile of broken markers to trash. The cookies tasted of nothing but ash, and to anyone else they would be considered inedible; but due to Eduardo's insistence and strong stomach, he kept on eating them.

With every bite he took, Eduardo would catch the barest hint of vanilla underneath the powerful flavor of coal, which made it for a more bearable and interesting mixture. Kind of reminded him of Jon's cooking back when he was first starting out. They were only teens then, and every week he would bake something new for Eduardo and Mark to try out and give him constructive criticism. Jon wasn't good at first, but overtime he had become an undeniably great cook.

Eduardo sighed. He might as well throw in the towel for the day if all he's going to so is stare at the board and wait for an answer to magically come to him. What time is it anyway?

He glanced at the clock. It's nearly seven! Eduardo blinked in surprise. He hadn't realized it was this late already. It's common for him to get absorbed into his work, but Mark usually snaps him out before it can get out of hand. Speaking of which; didn't they plan to head out for pizza? Mark should've knocked on his door by now.

Dusting cookie crumbs out of his shirt, Eduardo hastily fixed himself and stepped out of his apartment to go over Mark's place.

"Mark?" He knocked on the door.

"Come in!"

Hearing the muffled reply through the door, Eduardo walked in only to immediately halt at the scene presented before him.

Mark and Matt are sitting on the couch together, surrounded by a load ton of cosmetics spread out all over the coffee table and floor. Their hair had been recently done judging by the glossy, shiny look to them, and they were just finishing clearing away the last remnants of, what Eduardo can only guess, a facial mask.

"What the-?"

"Hi Eduardo!" Matt cheerfully waved at him, his nails filed.

"What-" Eduardo restarted his sentence and tried again. "What's going on here? What happened while I was out? How did this-" He blurted in complete bewilderment, gesturing to the mess of beauty products surrounding them until his gaze paused on the two men sitting close together. "Happen?"

Mark snorted in amusement. It's not often he gets to see Eduardo being flustered, so this was absolutely gold. "Nothing much, honestly." He smirked. "After you left, Matt and I simply talked for a little while and we eventually came upon the subject of our vanity."

"And so we decided to try out some of these tips!" Matt finished ecstatically.

"I must say, Matt, you have a really good eye for nails." Mark analyzed his fingertips contently.

"Oh and I loved what you did to my hair! I feel as if I could run my hand through it for hours!" The ginger gestured to his gleaming hair with glee. It had been so long since he last took actual time and proper care of his hair. To dedicate his whole day on taking care of himself and his looks felt great! "And your recipe for the facial mask works wonders! My face feels so smooth and soft now!"

"But anyway, what about you?" Mark turned his attention back to Eduardo, his gaze curious.

Recovering from his earlier shock, Eduardo regained his composure and tried to look nonchalant. Mark doesn't need to know he wasted his time on a dead lead. "I just got off work, and I thought we decided on pizza tonight."

The blond man glanced at the clock. "Oh my, time sure flies fast when we are having fun. Just give me a few minutes to get ready, will you?"

"Awn, but Mark you said we could do makeup next!" Matt whined in disappointment.

Mark smiled. "Maybe some other time. We live right next to each other, so we'll get plenty of opportunities to do so."

Satisfied with his answer Matt looked a little brighter and jumped to his feet. "Well, I guess I gotta get going too." He rubbed the back of his head and glanced back and forth between the two men. "Thank you for having me over, it was… surprisingly nice." He confessed sheepishly.

How weird is it that just this morning Matt had been apprehensive of being anywhere near his counterpart, and now he is getting along with him? If someone had told him in the past that he and Mark were going to get along, Matt would've probably laughed it off as a joke. But here they are.

His thoughts broke off as he backed into Eduardo by accident on his way out. Matt jumped a little in alarm and whipped around. Eduardo fully expected him to scurry around him to get to the door, but the ginger took him by surprise by grabbing one of his hands instead.

"Hey maybe next time you should join us – lord knows your nails really need some work done." Matt took a closer look at his fingernails with an analytical eye, further astonishing the burly brunet.

One quick glimpse of Mark snickering on the couch was enough to snap him out, and Eduardo quickly ripped his hand back with an indignant scoff. "No way! That type of stuff is not my thing." He crossed his arms stubbornly.

Unoffended by the response he got, Matt simply smiled and shrugged it off. "Well… have a nice time out!" He sidestepped Eduardo and reached for the door, glancing back at them to wave farewell.

"Buh-bye!" The two neighbors casually waved back at him.

When the door closed, Matt couldn't help but hug himself and twirl; feeling intensely happy. Not only did he survive an encounter with the neighbors completely unscathed, but he also had fun spending time with Mark and taking care of his appearance after neglecting it for so long. He brought his hands up to his face and massaged his smooth cheeks. Matt feels positively great! This might've been the first time in a really long while since he had any legitimate fun.

"Matt?"

Jerking out of his gleeful thoughts, Matt turned around to face his life-long friend with a bright smile. "Edd!"

"What are you doing out here? And-" The brunet broke off as he took in Matt's sleek appearance and his eye widened. "Whoa! You… got a makeover?"

With his mood still elevated, Matt bounced up to Edd excitedly; his blue eyes glowing. "Edd! I had the most amazing time today – you won't believe it!" He proceeded to elaborate on today's events in great detail. All the while he was speaking, Edd stared at him with an array of emotions flickering behind his eyes; constantly switching back and forth and it was hard to get a good read on his overall reaction.

"Huh, so they really don't want to bother us anymore?" Edd echoed, his voice laced with a hint of skepticism as he raised an eyebrow.

Matt nodded fervently. "They aren't as bad as we made them out to be. I think they really mean it when they say they've changed!"

He expected Edd to be relieved at the prospect of no longer having to deal with their once rival neighbors, but the brunet's face was expressionless as he nodded distantly instead. "Oh… I see."

Matt searched his friend's eyes worriedly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong." Edd shook his head, but the tightness in his voice was unmistakable. "It's just weird that they want to make peace after all this time."

An awkward silence followed his words and hung heavily in the air between them. Matt swallowed; his earlier glee dissipating. How strange is it that he had been so happy with his former rival not even ten minutes ago, and now he feels miserable again in the presence of his best friend? Everything is topsy-turvy now days!

"They invited both us to come over and talk with them." Matt added after a few heartbeats of silence and shifted his feet with discomfort. "I knew how much you wanted to spend the day to yourself, and you don't like to be in their presence; so I went alone."

Finally Matt felt as if he'd done the right thing with Edd for once, because the brunet glanced up back at him with an appreciative smile. "Thank you for understanding, Matt." His brown eyes softened with gratitude, and the weird tension between them seemed to diffuse.

After a bit of hesitation Matt pressed on, hope surging in his heart. "I was wondering, maybe, since we haven't spent so much time together lately… we could go to an ice cream parlor one of these days? – or if you prefer something else, I heard there's a carnival fair in town! We could go together if you want-"

"Eddie!"

Matt was abruptly cut off and jumped back in alarm when a strange blond man came running up the stairs and wrapped his arms around Edd in a sudden hug. He watched wide-eyed in bewilderment as Edd was spun around the hall in the other man's hold.

"Reagan? What are you doing here?" Edd exclaimed, looking just as startled as Matt but there was a glimpse of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I thought I told you to wait for me outside!"

"What? And freeze to death out there?" The blond man inquired and placed Edd back on the ground. "After all the trouble of getting us dinner this is the thanks I get?" He exhaled dramatically, holding out a fast-food bag.

Edd laughed jovially and punched the man lightly on the shoulder in response. Matt watched them interact in confusion; his heart weighting heavier inside his chest the longer he observed them. How come I can't make him laugh like that? He thought with a twinge of sadness and envy.

"Edd, who is this?" Matt nervously asked, interrupting their laughter as his gaze flickered between the two of them.

The blond man's vibrant green eyes flashed at him, seeming to take notice of Matt's presence at long last. "Oh my, how rude of me! The name is Reagan Fitzroy, ginger." He stepped closer, shooting him a wink as he extended his hand out for Matt to shake.

"I'm Matt." The orange-haired Brit eyed him wearily and attempted to smile as he introduced himself. He could feel his gut churn apprehensively as he came into contact with the Irishman, and Matt had to force himself not to wince at the tight grip his hand was held in.

"Ah Edd's friend! He told me an awful lot about you." Reagan grinned, shaking hands in an eagerly fashion. "It's certainly a pleasure to finally meet you."

Though Reagan's words sound friendly enough, Matt couldn't help but feel threatened for some reason. He pushed the weird sensation aside and pulled his hand back with a confused expression. "You heard of me?" He chuckled nervously. "Funny I… don't think I've heard Edd mention you before."

Unoffended, Reagan merely stepped away from him in favor of draping a lose arm around Edd's shoulders and leaned on him. "Ha! I wouldn't think so. We've been hanging out together for – what? – nearly two months now?" He glanced at Edd as if to confirm his train of thought, but Reagan carried on before the brunet could reply. "But anyways, night is still young and we best get going now."

Matt glanced at Edd crestfallen. "You're leaving?"

"Yeah, sorry Matt." Edd ducked his head apologetically. "I kinda have this ongoing thing with Reagan. We practically hang out every Wednesday… and every other Saturday sometimes."

Matt opened his mouth to object, only to halt at the last second. This might be the first time he'd seen Edd genuinely happy in a really long while; how can he bear to take it away from him now? He can't deny the intense feeling in his gut telling him that Reagan is a shady guy, but he will put it aside for now. For the sake of Edd's happiness.

"No, no it's fine." Matt quickly lied, his voice wavering half-way through. "You go on ahead and have fun. I'll just… watch a movie or something. Just take care out there, Edd." He said the last part with a meaningful gaze directed at his dearest friend.

"Will do!" Edd waved him goodbye and smiled as he walked away.

"It's been nice meeting you, ginger. Love the hair by the way! See yah! ~" Reagan followed suit, but before he stepped out Matt was sure he saw the Irishman glance back at him with a smug grin and a predatory glint in his eyes as he left.

A shiver of dread raced down Matt's spine, but he did not speak up; convinced his mind might be taking his first impression of Reagan a little too far. Perhaps he can discuss his concerns with Edd regarding his new friend next time they see each other. Edd will surely put everything to light and reassure him it's all in his imagination.

But for now, much to his dismay, Matt realized he's been left alone again.

And there you have it! Man what a huge monster I created with this project… ;P

Before I forget, here's the translation to what Tord said in Norwegian: "For fucks sake! Great! Just what I need now of all times – interruptions! Can't ever get anything done in this hell hole!"

And if you are wondering what Tord's voice changed to when he put on the voice modulator, he sounded like Shania Twain. Why? I don't know, it's the first voice that came to my mind when I wrote the scene and I couldn't get it out, so it stuck. But you're free to come up with your own versions of what Tord's voice changed into.

Also, there is a very obscure reference in this chapter and I'll give a fucking round of applause for anyone who can identify it.

So tell me guys, what do you prefer for my update schedule? Should I take a long break to write many chapters, say 5 or 6, and upload them weekly? Or would you rather i keep up with what I’ve been doing so far and immediately update the story as soon as I finish writing the chapter?

#Tomtord #MLTS #eddsworld #ew tom #ew tord

21 notes · View notes

lifeinahole27 · 6 years

Text

CS ff: “On the Two” (Chapter 5/9) (au)

Summary: He’s one bad trip from ending up in AA, and she’s one performance away from a solid job and moving closer to home. Their paths were unlikely to cross until Camp Hope brought them together. How and why they meet and intertwine is against the odds, and definitely against the rules, but will that really stand in their way? A Dirty Dancing inspired modern au.

Rating: E

Content Warnings: Borderline alcoholism, very brief mentions of past relationships, mentions of the loss of a limb - this fic is primarily tame but I’ll do my best to tag anything that might need tags.

Chapter Specific Warnings: None! Sadly, back to business this chapter. Well... there’s the loss of something very specific. But I cannot spoil the surprise. Be warned, and don’t hate me!!

A/N: I’m supposed to be grading. And honestly, I’m not even sorry for editing and posting instead. This is another chapter I am extremely excited to share, since it’s getting closer to the actual dance. Also, it has one of my absolute favorite scenes that y’all are gonna throw shit at me because of. Onward!

Catch it on FFN & Ao3! Or find the previous chapters here on Tumblr!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

Emma doesn’t waste time when she gets back to her cabin, stripping and going directly to her shower, turning the knobs to cold, and stepping underneath as soon as she can. It’s a mistake, even though it feels like heaven, because the sound she makes when her breath hitches, the way the air backs up right into her lungs again, makes her think of the way Killian had looked at her while she was cleaning the mirror. His eyes had darkened in a way she can only think was arousal, and he had sighed something like want and regret at the same time and she imagines she pictured the same possibilities he did at that exact moment.

After only a brief second, she adjusts the temperature until it’s tepid. She diligently showers off the sweat and exertion, only staying in long enough to wash herself so her mind doesn’t stray to things less innocent and definitely not clean.

Slicking back her hair, she wrings out the extra water before wrapping it in a towel, drying herself with another one before slipping on her robe. Thankfully, her cabin’s AC is just fine and she’s surprised she hasn’t done something dumb like suggesting they practice in her cabin, in her bed… horizontally.

With another noise of irritation at herself, she storms out of the bathroom, and is immediately proud of herself for not screaming when Ruby greets her from the same bed she was just imagining defiling.

“What are you doing here?”

“Came to see my dance buddy. I was finally cleared for moving as long as I don’t overdo it,” Ruby responds brightly, pointing at the air cast around her ankle. “Now, what the hell are you up to?” It’s not just an inquiry; there’s accusation in the words, like she knows what Emma was thinking before she walked back into the room.

“What do you mean?” Emma’s voice is all nonchalant innocence, and she ducks into her closet to change into shorts and a tank top since her idea of lounging around in her robe is now out of the question. “I’m teaching – twice as many lessons and classes, I’d like to add – and trying to get ready for this performance.” She pokes her head out to give her friend a pointed look at this.

Ruby hums in response, shifting to lean back on Emma’s bed. “And how’s that going? You came to see me once right after I hurt my ankle to ask which dance was better and you’ve been shut up in the studio ever since.”

“I’m not a shut in,” she says, disappearing back into her closet.

“You haven’t gone to staff dances for the last two weekends.”

“So? I haven’t been in the mood.”

“Which is totally like you, and I would buy it, if it weren’t for Mulan saying the studio was lit up like the Fourth of July last Friday night with music. What are you hiding, Emma Swan?”

She takes her time coming back out, waffling between telling the truth and trying to lie through her teeth. This way, Ruby doesn’t see the war going across Emma’s face while she wrings her hands. Taking one last deep breath, she walks out and tries her best to not fidget as she starts to explain.

“Okay, so I did find a partner for the Mills Regency trial run thing.”

“Really? But that’s great news! Why wouldn’t that be…” She trails off, her head cocking to one side as she considers Emma again. “Who is it?”

“It’s a man named Killian.”

“And where did you meet Killian? Because I know for sure he’s not in any of our shared social circles.” When Emma still refuses to spit out the fact that he’s a guest at the camp, Ruby finally must surmise it on her own. “Emma Middle Name Swan!” Emma snorts, because she doesn’t have a middle name so this is how Ruby has always taken to yelling at her, but then she remembers that Ruby is yelling at her and she cringes as her friend continues. “Tell me he’s not a guest. Please, I am begging you, tell me this partner is not paying to be here.”

Emma groans by way of answer, dropping onto the bed dramatically, face down, continuing to groan as she does. “That’s not the worst of it,” she says, though it’s muffled by the mattress and blankets beneath her. She’s already gone this far; she might as well tell Ruby everything at this point. With a deep breath in as soon as she lifts her head, she continues. “I kissed him.”

Ruby’s screeching answer is totally deserved, and Emma listens to approximately thirty seconds of her friend berating her before she shifts again to sit up on the bed. “Okay, okay. I deserve all of that. But Red, wait ‘til you see him. You’ll understand everything after that, I’m pretty sure.”

“Oh, now I’m gonna see him? After you’ve made bad decisions?”

“You have to. I’ve just decided that you need to sit in on our practices and help me coach him. It’s not like you’re doing anything else.”

“I’ve taken up pottery, thank you very much. But I’ll agree that you need a chaperone to be alone with this man if you’re going to jeopardize everything with dumb actions like kissing him.” Ruby emphasizes the last two words by smacking Emma’s arm with each syllable. “So you’re going with Mambo?”

“We’re going with Mambo,” Emma responds. With a noise, she pulls out her phone and opens her pictures. Internet and cell connections out at camp are spotty at best, but she made sure to save a bunch of pictures of her ideas for what Killian should wear for the performance. “You need to help me get some costumes for him.”

Ruby makes grabby hands at Emma’s phone, flicking through the choices with glee. “Do you have shoes for him yet?”

“I had Graham overnight a pair after we first started. He’s been breaking them in for about two days now.”

“When is the next time you’re practicing?”

“Tonight. He’s coming back after dinner and we’re gonna run through what he’s learned. You up for a visit later?”

The smile Ruby gives is one Emma knows well, full of power and teeth, and that special Ruby glint in her eyes. “I can’t wait.”

If Killian is bothered by Ruby being in the studio with them, he doesn’t show it. In fact, Emma might even say he looks a little calmer. Maybe the fact that they’re not alone is a good thing for his mind, too. Whatever the case, the two of them start working on getting Killian into better shape. With her friend’s directions, Killian is improving faster, which is also beneficial since they don’t have to run the same steps over and over again.

Ruby’s not always able to come to the practices, but she tries to be there as much as possible. When she starts some light physical therapy on her ankle to strengthen it, she mostly schedules her appointments for right before or after Emma’s lessons with Killian so she can stop on her way to and from the small medical building.

Killian adjusts quickly to the two of them instructing him. Ruby calls out tips and reminders as they move through the different sections of the routine, which builds his muscle memory stronger than it was developing before.

She stops them at one point, readjusting in her chair next to the stereo to fix them both with her gaze. “Okay, it’s good. But it needs to be better. Regina will expect this to set the room on fire. I want the audience to look at either one of you and be jealous of the other. So, while I know Emma is fine with turning up the heat, let’s focus on you, Killian.”

His eyebrows climb up his forehead at Ruby’s words and Emma has to stop herself from chuckling. She remembers this method, and Ruby is probably enjoying herself way too much. But she also wants to see how Killian handles this.

“What do you mean, lass?”

“To really sell a dance, I need to want to be up there dancing with you. So make me want you. Make me jealous that it’s Emma there in your arms instead of me. Sell it.” She emphasizes the last two words, turning them from a simple direction to a challenge, and Killian is the kind of guy that enjoys a challenge, if Emma were to guess.

His whole visage is blank, but he seems to be considering the words and how to go about following directions. When the music starts again, Killian’s hold feels different. It feels… incredible, and somewhere between tender and possessive. It’s somewhere in the second section of steps that Emma sees that uptick of his lips, the flirty little smile that sends a pang into her stomach and beyond that makes her want to stop the dance altogether and kiss him until she’s breathless.

She’s unable to stop the soft noise escaping her lips when they finish, their foreheads pressed tightly together and his lips so close it would take barely a movement to touch. Killian’s eyes widen a bit, his own breath sucking into his lungs as his hand tightens on her waist.

They’re both pulled from the moment by Ruby clapping her hands and a sound of glee calling to them. “Excellent! Yes! That is the kind of spirit you want to take with you.”

When her eyes meet Ruby’s again, there’s a knowing glint in them – the look says everything she’s feeling isn’t as hidden as she hoped it would be. She’s going to kill her roommate, of that she is certain. With an indulgent sigh, she walks over to Ruby and snatches the remote out of her hand. Instead of the comment Emma is expecting, though, Ruby tugs her close.

“You were right about all this. He’s damn good.”

Emma smiles then, a quiet “I know” her only response before she reaches for her towel and blots along her neck. “One more time,” she says to the room at large, catching the barest hint of a smug expression on Killian’s face that lets her know he heard the compliment. Good. Maybe he’s finally letting go of the insecurity they’ve been working to eradicate this whole time, then.

As far as the practices where they’re alone, the time is much better utilized and it’s all business. Because of that, she’s spending less time with him, even if the way he holds her is starting to feel more intimate than a lover’s tocuh, more so than the way they kissed each other, and so it’s definitely a case of one step forward, two steps back… pun not intended.

Whatever the case, Killian is the very image of professional when they’re together. He does his best to keep eye contact (which he’s passed with flying colors since their first trust exercise) and not look at his feet. It’s all vast improvement, but they’re still not quite to the level of quality that Emma wants to present at the Mills Regency.

The date of the performance is starting to loom in the near-distant future, and Emma realizes, quite startlingly, that she’s more nervous about this performance than she thought she would be.

A week before their performance date, she gets a text from Granny that a large parcel is waiting for her at the diner, and Emma immediately leaves to go pick it up. She knows the studio is empty the rest of the afternoon due to Tink moving her yoga class to the main lawn thanks to a break in the weather, so Emma takes time to hang all the costumes that Graham sent to her. Killian can run the whole number with minimal problems now, so she doesn’t mind taking an afternoon to play dress-up instead. It’ll certainly be an interesting change from their normal schedule.

-x-

When Killian shows up, Emma is all alone. This isn’t uncommon, as her friend Ruby isn’t always in attendance (and wasn’t that a surprise the first time she was there, sitting in a chair with her ankle propped up on the stereo casing with a slow, nearly-feral grin spreading across her lips as she beckoned him over to introduce herself), but then, Emma also seems to be nervously fussing with the partition screen that’s usually in the corner hiding all the yoga gear.

Today, it’s dragged to the opposite corner that doesn’t have any windows behind it, and Emma is just finishing hooking a hanger onto the top of it on the side facing the corner.

“So, Ruby has physical therapy and can’t be here, but since we’ve just about gotten the dance down, next comes making you look like a dancer in appearance. I’m very lucky to have a friend in the city willing to overnight male costumes to Granny’s, so we just need to find which one works best for you.” She turns as she finishes speaking, a smile on her face that looks half-predatory – much like a smile he’d expect on Ruby’s face instead of Emma’s.

“Excellent,” is all he can really respond, because Emma’s still giving him that look and he doesn’t know what else to say.

He doesn’t notice anything out of the ordinary with the costumes, except that they look a little tighter than what he’d normally choose to wear. That is, however, until he slides on a pair of the trousers. He’s admiring the elastic waist and the satin band at the top of it when he turns to grab the shirt and stops in his tracks.

“Emma?”

“Yes?” She draws out the word, like she’s been waiting for his question since he walked behind the partition. He grabs the hanger with his prosthetic and moves around the screen.

“You seem to have forgotten to explain the order in which my clothing should go on.”

“Yeah, about that.” She reaches out and grabs the sides of the fabric, bringing the bottom portion of the costume into better view. “All of the shirts have these attached so your shirt doesn’t come untucked as you’re dancing. It’s really stretchy. You won’t even notice it!”

Skepticism is an understatement for how he feels. He still tries them on over his boxer-briefs, unsure of etiquette procedures when trying on things that will be intimately touching him if he’s not even going to be wearing some of them. And it’s just as well, since it takes until the third one for Emma to nod approvingly at the option. The first two, as she claimed, just didn’t match her vision.

While she likes the third one, she still urges him back to try on the last one so they’re sure. Before he’s even finished putting it on, he likes it better than the others. There’s a zipper down the front of it that ends at his sternum, and he has to be exceedingly careful while pulling it into place so as not to catch any of his chest hair in it.

He doesn’t feel exposed until Emma is walking around him in a circle, looking at the fit and humming in thought. The arms are made of solid material, but the fabric along his sides and down his back is blocked in a way that thin strips of his bare skin are visible from every angle through the nearly-mesh material. The big positive he can pull from this choice is the fact that the sleeves come down far enough on his wrists that it covers the hardware for his prosthetic. It definitely makes him feel slightly more confident than he was the day Emma kissed him.

“We have a problem,” Emma says suddenly, and Killian looks at her in alarm.

“Don’t tell me I have to lose the trousers or something because I’ve got to draw the line somewhere.”

“No, no. Nothing like that. It’s just that,” she starts, pausing to move forward and touch the very hair he was afraid of getting caught in the zipper. “We’ve got a bit of a hairy situation going on here.”

He looks down at his chest, and back to Emma, and back down to where her index finger is still resting on his breastbone. “You don’t mean…”

The grim line her lips make answers the question for him.

“I have to…shave it?”

“It might be easier to go to the spa and have them wax it.”

“Pardon?” If his face was the picture of alarm before, he’s not sure what level his expression and his voice pitch would indicate now.

“There’s a great salon in Storybrooke. We can pop out around lunch time in a couple days when no one will notice and have them do it. For now, we practice!” She pushes the screen against the wall again, leaving everything else as is and handing him his shoes. “It’ll help to know how you feel wearing this, so we’ll just do one quick run-through with the costume.”

Emma is wearing the same leggings she normally does, but there’s a sheer skirt swishing around over top of them, and the shoes she’s wearing are in much better condition than the ones she’s been wearing as they’ve been training. He wonders if her nicer shoes are because he’s getting better.

“New shoes?” he asks as he ties his own.

“Nah, performance shoes. I figured now that you’re not stepping on my toes that we can put these ones into rotation.”

“And the skirt?”

“So you can get used to the way my dress will move the day we perform. Ready?”

She doesn’t really wait for his answer, instead grabbing the remote and moving into position as soon as she’s done talking. He’s not the only one that came to the studio extra caffeinated today, it seems.

He wanders around the campgrounds while Emma teaches classes during the late morning a few days later, waving to Liam without even hiding his bemusement as his brother follows a group, all of them carrying kayaks by the ones and twos as they go. They disappear down the beach while Killian wonders if there are any activities that Liam hasn’t tried since they got here, but it certainly seems like the summer away is more beneficial than Killian initially gave it credit for. That goes for both of them.

Checking his watch, he starts to make his way up towards the dance studio so he can meet up with Emma. She’s just coming around the side of the building, her keys in one hand as she slips on a pair of sunglasses.

The yellow car he leads her to gives him pause, however.

“Couldn’t drive anything less obvious?”

“It’s so common to see me around town during the summer that it would be more suspicious if I was driving anything else.”

“And this thing will get us there?”

“Are you insulting my car?” she asked, a raise of her eyebrow and a smile on her lips.

“I wouldn’t dare. This is quite the vessel you captain, Swan.”

“That’s what I thought,” she responded, her tone matter-of-fact as she released the emergency brake and shifted the car into reverse.

And it is quite the car, filled with quirks he’d expect from an old model Volkswagen, but it’s more the way Emma drives it, like she was born to drive nothing else. With the route in her capable hands, Killian leans back and enjoys the scenery, content to watch it pass by like he did on his initial drive in.

After so long of being at the camp, Killian had sort of forgotten that there was a world outside the wooded grounds. Sure, he’d found a new second home in the studio and discovered that there was life outside his rum and cabin, and he’d had the ultimate experience of going with Emma to the staff’s lodge after hours, but things like streetlights, on streets, and storefronts are damn near alien to him at this point. It’s been almost two months since they drove through Storybrooke on their way in, and already his life feels totally different than when they ate lunch at Granny’s.

Since he lost his hand, this is the biggest shift he’s had in his life, and he’s loathe to find any problems with it. As an apprentice in building boats, he dedicated his whole being to crafting the perfect vessel for the customer.

Similarly, learning to dance is just learning a new form of art. He’s aware of every bead of sweat that gathers along his forehead. He’s in tune with every guiding gesture Emma gives him, and the way her breathing always seems to stay even while they’re dancing. He reflects on all of this, trying to acclimate this idea of “new” to his mind and body before they actually arrive.

Currently, he notices the way his heartbeat races just a little bit faster when Emma parks her car along the main stretch of the small town that felt so comfortable and homey to him. She beams at him, instructing him out of the car as she swings open her door.

“I grew up here after David’s mom adopted me,” Emma offers up as she looks up and down the street. “If anyone asks, you’re new staff at the camp.”

He doesn’t mention that he’s already been here, but it hardly seems relevant as she’s leading him down a walkway in the opposite direction of the diner. Her arm loops easily through his, and Killian feels his heart turn over painfully in his chest with the realization of what he’s feeling. It’s attraction. He’s attracted to her. And it’s beyond the idea of physical gratification. The kiss was eye-opening, but this easy affection and compatibility is the real thing.

The kiss can be explained away as a heat-of-the-moment event where the humidity overwhelmed them, the long hours tricked them into an impulsive moment of passion. But as they’ve spent time together and he’s become so harmonious with her movements, he’s also noticed the itch to hold her in his arms. There was no thought behind the kiss, but he’s done plenty of thinking about doing it again.

Even with all the agitation his early foibles caused during her lessons, she would regroup and find patience, and in no time at all he had her laughing at his jokes and smiling at his own special blend of self-deprecation. She’d shake her head and roll her eyes and get them back on track. He also understands that it’s not because she agrees with whatever he claims about himself, but because she can see past whatever he sees in the mirror when he looks at himself. Plus, there’s no pity, even though she now knows much more of his sad backstory than he meant to let on.

She’s never treated him with kid-gloves.

The jingling of a bell over the door Emma opens brings him back to the present, and he relaxes when he discovers they’re just in an ice cream parlor.

“Hi Ingrid,” Emma greets, a wide smile crinkling her eyes as she greets the woman behind the counter. “One rocky road and one rum raisin, please.”

As the older woman scoops the requested flavors, they catch up in a series of quick back-and-forth statements, clearly a ritual honed with time and experience, with Killian’s introduction thrown in there somewhere. Ingrid spends plenty of time shifting her focus between the two of them, but if she has anything to comment about the way Emma is standing close to him, she doesn’t say so.

With cones in hand, Emma motions him back outside and calls out a farewell on her way.

“Let’s call this a preemptive apology for what’s about to happen. But no dancer, no professional one – which is what we’re trying to pass you off as – would have this much chest hair.”

“So this is bribery ice cream,” he clarifies as they stand outside of an innocent looking spa.

“Sure.”

“How’d you know I’d like rum raisin?”

“I had a hunch and hoped for the best,” she admits, smiling between bites of her cone.

With a warm breeze ruffling her hair and her sunglasses perched on her nose, Killian takes a moment to pretend that this isn’t what it is, that it’s something closer to a first date, where they’d take a walk to the docks he can just see in the distance and their fingers would link together. The swooping of his stomach lets him know exactly how he’d feel about such an event, so he releases it from his thoughts to dance away on the summer air. It’s just as well, as he takes the last few bites of his cone and accepts the napkin she hands him. Once they determine there’s no ice cream on either of their faces, she pulls open the door and gestures for him to enter.

“Emma! It’s been too long!” the blonde behind the counter greets Emma much like Ingrid did – with familiarity and years of encounters such as these. The girl, only introduced as Goldie, shakes his hand when they walk up to the counter. “Hot date?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows at both of them in turn.

Emma laughs, accepting the form and pen that Goldie gives her and starts filling it out. “Yeah, because all good first dates include an appointment at a salon to have chest hair waxed off.”

“Sounds better than some dates I’ve been on,” he comments, raising his eyebrows and looking away again as he looks over the spa options. “Admit it Swan, it’s just further reason to have me shirtless in front of you.”

She squints hard at him, trying to suss out something from what he’s said. “You flirt harder when you’re nervous. You know that?”

He has no response to that, especially when Goldie comes back to the counter and directs them back to a room with a padded table. There’s a chair set up next to it, and a counter displaying a wide variety of products he has no knowledge of.

“Emma, why don’t we wait out in the hallway while Killian undresses?” Emma smirks and nods, heading back out the door while Goldie explains that he needs to get fully naked. “There’s a sheet over there. Just drape that over your waist and I’ll be back in a moment.”

Following directions, he folds his clothes and places them on the chair, hopping up onto the table and spreading the sheet over his waist and legs. He’s comfortable in the knowledge that at least there will be no wax below the belt. Lifting the sheet briefly, he purses his lips. No, no wax. But it could stand to see a set of trimmers. Just as he settles it back down, there’s a soft knock before Goldie edges the door open.

“All set in here?”

“Aye, as I’ll ever be.”

She starts to laugh, but when she enters and gets a look at him it abruptly cuts off. “You were not joking,” she says to Emma as the other woman enters.

“Told you so.” Emma moves his clothes to her lap as she takes a seat, scooting as close to the side of the table as she can. “I’m here for emotional support as long as you need me to be. I’m going to prop my elbow right here, so if you need to hold my hand, it’s there for you. Remember to relax as much as you can, and keep breathing.”

“You’re not helping, love.”

“Yeah,” she says, flashing him a wide grin. “I know. But it’s fun to watch you squirm.”

Goldie surprises him by taking a stick and swiping on a long stripe of what she explains is a hard wax. “We have to let this set up so I’m going to do a couple spaced out swatches and we’ll go from there. How are you at handling pain?”

Lifting his left arm, he raises an eyebrow at her. “I’ve lost a hand, lass. I think I’ll be fine.”

For the record, he’s not fine. It hurts. And even after the wax is ripped from his skin, the pain has him reaching out without realizing it and grabbing Emma’s hand. She’s trying so hard not to laugh that she’s almost turning as blue as the wax Goldie is applying to his skin again.

“So glad one of us is enjoying this,” he whimpers out, gritting his teeth as another section of wax is deemed dry enough and Goldie unsticks an edge to get a grip on it.

“You’re doing great,” Emma says, ruffling her free hand through his hair.

He doesn’t notice the next three strips come off because he and Emma have both realized exactly how close they are, how little distance there is between their faces. Her hand pauses in his hair and her other hand relaxes at the same time his does, moving from a gesture of support to one of… is this affection?

The moment is broken when Goldie announces she needs to grab a bottle of lotion from the front room and leaves them alone. He’s so tempted to pull her closer, to taste her lips once more. But he can tell by the rigidity her stance takes on that she’s not on the same page right now. And even if she is, she’s too scared or holding back or hiding from it.

“This alone should be repayment for throwing up on you the day we met,” he says to break the tension. When Emma laughs, he sort of melts on the table. He grins in response, turning to look down at his chest and he makes a noise of disbelief. It’s all gone. “Bloody hell.”

“Wow. Shit you’re pale. Oh god we’re gonna have to tan your chest. Why didn’t I think of that?” She stands, placing his clothes back on the chair to take her place. “I need to make another stop in town. You okay to finish up here? They’ll do clean-up services on your facial hair, too, if you’d like. Just tell Goldie what you want and she’ll take care of it.”

With barely another glance back at him, Emma nearly sprints from the room. He can hear her say something to Goldie and then her voice disappears from range and the door is pushed back open as Goldie enters. “Emma said she’d be back in about a half hour. Want anything else taken care of while you’re here?”

Thinking for a minute, Killian scrunches his nose. It’s not ideal. He’d rather be at home in the privacy of his own bathroom for such things, but he still nods. “I can think of a few things.” Reaching for his shorts, he grabs his wallet and hands over his credit card. “Put the total on there,” he says, grabbing the services sheet from Goldie when she hands it over and tallying up what he’d like.

It’s a while before he slides into his own clothes again, but even when he does he ends up in another chair to get his hair trimmed and his beard clipped. He didn’t realize quite how much all his hair had grown since they got to camp. By the time he’s all done, everything feels clean and crisp, and he’s just starting to get used to the way his shirt feels without the barrier of hair that usually comes between his skin and the fabric.

“Now, apply this lotion again later on. No sweating or swimming for the next twenty-four hours, and come back again in three to six weeks. Okay?”

As far as the “three to six weeks” portion goes, Killian scoffs. His skin is burning in so many places he can’t keep track anymore, but he feels neat and well-kempt and about a stone lighter than when he walked in. He keeps all of the swear words that want to escape to himself though, and just signs the charge slip that Goldie prints and hands to him.

He knocks his sunglasses back onto his nose as he exits the spa, calling out a farewell as he goes, only to nearly collide with Emma.

“Oh! All done?”

“Yep, all taken care of,” he tells her. If his voice is a little tighter than it was when they got to the spa, he’s sure she won’t take it personally. He did just rip off all his chest hair for her.

“I grabbed some food at Granny’s for the ride home. Goldie said you wouldn’t be able to run through the number again today, and I figured you deserve something more than camp food for once.”

“We had food from her on our way in. Best lunch I’ve had in ages.”

“I’m not surprised. Granny’s is basically a rite of passage on the way to camp, even if you’ve never heard of it. Probably has something to do with the fact that she’s the only casual dining place for miles.”

He takes the food from her, setting it on the floor by his feet for the drive back. When he goes to take the small shopping bag from her, however, she quickly throws it into the back seat.

“I’ll give you what you need from that when we get back,” is all she tells him.

They amble their way back through the grounds once they return, with Emma finishing the last of her onion rings and Killian still working through his French fries. She has two plastic bags looped over her wrist, and he waits patiently while she separates the items and hands him one after she’s finished her food.

“Will you need help with the self-tanner?”

“No, I should be able to manage all right,” he says, instilling himself with false-confidence over this matter. It’s not like he’s ever used tanning lotion before. But he’s just as stubborn as she is in many ways, so he decides he’ll figure it out on his own.

“Well, you can take the rest of the day off,” Emma says once they get to a point where she’ll go left for the studio and he’ll go right. She hesitates for a moment, shuffling her feet for just a second before she speaks up again. “My… my cabin is right behind the studio. It’s a little hidden by the trees but if you walk to the back and follow the stone path, you’ll find it. If you need anything and I’m not at the studio, that’s where I’ll usually be. Okay?”

“Aye. Thanks, love.” They stand there in silence for a minute more, not moving closer, not moving away, until voices on the path send them both turning and scurrying away.

The next day, there’s an undercurrent of stress running through both of them. He spends much less time trying to look at the mirror than he thought he would at this point, and looking at his feet is the furthest thought in his mind. He knows from muscle memory when he’s not doing something correctly, but now he doesn’t derail the whole number just because he did one small thing wrong. Instead, he makes a mental note to fix it on the next run-through.

“Stop looking like someone is going to beat you up if you don’t dance the right way,” Emma murmurs as they work through the steps.

“You mean you won’t?”

She snorts, fighting to keep moving with him after that comment if her suddenly jerky turn is anything to go by, but she saves it and they move into the next turn smoothly. “But seriously, just play off my facial expressions so you look like you’re enjoying yourself. Think of what Ruby said.”

The next time they run through, he does his best to smile when she does. He listens when she tells him to relax and have fun, to pretend they aren’t getting ready for a possibly life-altering dance, and he flirts with her through the number, through their movements. It earns him more than one delighted smile and laughter.

When the choreography ends this time, they’re both breathless and smiling.

“Good. You’re good. You got it. I’m not pushing any more today. But I need to ask, how’s the tanning going?”

Killian grimaces. He’s supposed to be putting the lotion on his chest, hand, wrist, neck, and face. Mostly everything is already tanned, so it doesn’t need much. His chest, on the other hand, where all the hair came off is so close to his horrifying winter white.

“It’s… It’s going poorly,” he admits. He purposely left his shirt on for the whole practice for this very reason.

“What? Why?”

He mumbles his response, turning away and probably making it harder for her to hear, but that’s kind of the problem. He doesn’t want her to hear how much he’s struggled with the self-tanning lotion.

“Killian?”

“I can’t apply it alone,” he finally spits out, staring hard at his prosthetic as his fingers pick at the flesh-colored attachment.

“Oh,” she responds, clearly putting the pieces together and then, “oh. Okay. Well, um. Bring it with you. Ruby will be here later on and she and I can help. Nothing we haven’t done before, you know.”

And it’s fine when it’s Ruby, even if she’s leering the whole time she’s buffing the lotion across his chest. He rolls his eyes, avoiding eye contact with her the whole time while Emma calls out commentary reminding her to get some of the other parts to even out the color.

When he’d shown up with the bottle of lotion, they had a whole area prepped for the tanning experience, including buffers and gloves, sponges and a sheet to spread on the ground just in case. It was more than he was expecting, and he’s not quite sure how Emma trusted when he said he would do it on his own if it took all of this for them to do it for him.

The next day, when it’s Emma applying the lotion, neither of them speak the whole time, nor make eye contact. She fixates on the work she’s doing while Killian stares at the ceiling, pretending that it’s Liam doing the work to stop his body from reacting.

He’s never been as relieved as when Emma declares on the third day that he’s as even as he’s going to get, and that if he wants to add a little more to his chest on his own, it should be much easier.

“Just apply it before you go to bed tonight, and you should be good,” she tells him, handing over a bag with the mitt and lotion inside. “Remember to blend it upwards into your neck, like we’ve been doing.”

“Aye, I think I’ve got it.” He raises an eyebrow and tries to reassure her the best he can with just that look because as the week has gone on, she’s gotten more and more outwardly nervous. He can relate. It’s a big deal, and it’s unlike anything he’s ever done before, but all he wants is to put her mind at ease that they’ve covered everything they possibly can.

“I can always even it out with makeup tomorrow when we get there,” she tells him, apparently still running through worst case scenarios.

“Emma, love, it’ll be fine. The least of our worries is my sad tan,” he says, smiling and flipping her ponytail back over her shoulder to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. Okay. I’ll see you in the morning for another run-through.”

Before he can understand that time has moved so quickly, it’s the day of the performance. Emma meets him after lunch to check that everything with his costume fits well and to do a final run through. She’s still in her practice skirt, and she tells him she’s waiting until they get to the Mills Regency to change into her dress so it doesn’t wrinkle on the drive over.

“You can wear this when we leave or you can change when we get there. Your choice.”

“I’ll leave the outfit in your capable hands and change there.”

He rolls his shoulders, marveling at how different the costume feels without his chest hair. The fabric is silky smooth, as everything has been recently, and he zips and unzips the shirt a few times without fear of injury, grinning as he does so.

“Oh, for the love of… You’re acting like you’ve never used a zipper until today.”

“Swan, I’ve not seen this much of my chest since puberty. Let a man have his fun.”

She mutters something, wandering over to the stereo to grab her remote before coming back to stand in front of him. “Okay, your fun has been had. Let’s run it once.”

It’s odd to run the dance in the costume as he’s meant to be wearing for it. Last time he still had on his boxers. Now, the fabric sticks close to his body, not moving like his t-shirts or button-downs do, not moving like his shorts do. There’s something sleek about it, making him feel like this is a real thing. When he looks in the mirror, he doesn’t see Killian Jones: lost and broken man with baggage dragging behind him as he moves. He sees a version of himself he thought he had lost. This is Killian Jones: determined and ready to pass as a professional dancer.

He’s almost loathe to take it off, but there’s still time until they even perform and he can’t exactly wear it around camp. He changes back into his clothes and helps Emma hang the dance outfit, slipping the garment bag over the whole thing with his shoes in the bottom so it’s all ready to go.

“I’ll see you back here right after dinner?” she asks.

“Aye. I’m sure Liam is so caught up in whatever he’s doing that he won’t even notice I’m gone.”

She nods, cleaning the space in what he now recognizes as a nervous gesture. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Ruby’s going to oversee a couple that’s been learning together. She’s not allowed to dance, but she can coach them from the sidelines just this once. They’ve taken enough classes by now.”

“Good, then I’ll see you later,” he says, giving her a reassuring smile and moving towards the door before he can do something affectionate again, like hug her to expel all her nerves and fears. He has no idea how he’ll handle his emotions when it’s all over, but he’s already dreading the end of this adventure.

Chapter 6

#cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan ff #cs multichap #sarah writes ff #dirty dancing au

39 notes · View notes