#sorry if this is rambly todays the first day I’ve had to myself since November and I’m hella fanfic brain atm lmaoo | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

timextoxhajima · 3 years

Note

hi dana.. if it’s possible can i request some angsty wangsty based on niki la la lost you with eric🥺 and ughh i really love your writing like crazyyyyy

♥ title: la la lost you in april [also part of @sunlightwoo ‘s 12 Months I Loved You collaboration project]

♥ member: tbz eric

♥ genre: f2l, ex! eric x fem! reader, model! eric [SFW!]

♥ warnings: swearing, some mentions of sex [like, once i think]

♥ wc: 3.4k

♥ a/n: sis when i first heard the song I absolutely loved how you used 'angsty wangsty' so I hope this one does it for you the way you imagined it <3 [fyi i wrote it in like, a camcorder recording audio format which is something i’m trying out so please hmu on whether it’s difficult to read/understand!]

[REC: APRIL 2, 2019 - 6:39PM] SOLO LOG #1

Are you seeing this? This is the most beautiful sunset I’ve seen. I gotta get a shot of this-

Hey! Hey! I could help you take a picture with the sunset if you want to!

Oh! Would- Would you? That’d be great!

Of course!

...

Here. Is it alright?

Yeah, yeah, it’s cool! Thank you so much!

Are you recording something? Is it a- Are you vlogging? Are you a vlogger?

Yeah, no... I’m actually on a solo trip for a bit.

Oh, where are you from?

Just the next state.

Ah! You’re taking a break off... life then? I assume? Sorry if that came out weird.

No! No no! It’s alright! Yeah, I just needed a short break from... y’know, school and everything. My semester ended pretty early on so I took the chance to come out here and... see some new sights, meet some new people.

I get that. Well, for a start, what’s your name?

Oh, I’m y/n. Nice to meet you! And you?

I’m Eric.

[REC: APRIL 4, 2019 - 10:34PM] SOLO LOG #2

It is the 4th of April, 2019. I know, I know, I’m meant to do a daily vlog for all the 50 days I’m here but... it’s been... wow. Um... so I met Eric, the first day I touched down. The beach is just, about a 10 minute walk down and the sunsets are absolutely gorgeous. But uh... call me a fool and say that I’m living in the clouds but- what are the chances?

He’s funny, he’s such a great person to be around with y’know? Never a moment of like, awkwardness or stress and my God, look at me talking about a boy like that, though I met him 2 days ago.

...

Um, he’s a freelance model. For those freelance shoots by UNIQLO or Target or something and he complains about the pay sometimes, but he looks good infront of a camera, so he’s... actually the one who won at life, really.

I’m not seeing him soon because he’s got a shoot out of town and he’ll be back next week. But I did get his number and he’s been texting me since.

...

Wouldn’t it be funny if we end up together and then I have this whackass of a reel to show him? Jesus... I need to stop getting ahead of myself here. Freakin’ living in the clouds, aren’t I?

...

Anyway, I’m gonna go and see if I can get my weird projector shit up and working. See you.

[REC: APRIL 7, 2019 - 5:14AM] SOLO LOG #3

It is... 5am... uh, April 7th- and I was just binging FRIENDS through the night, waiting for the sunrise before I get some shut eye and then... Eric just asked me out. Oh my God! Um, he’s coming back this Thursday and I’ll go see him at the airport before we go get dinner.

It was really funny ‘cause he had to wake up early for a shoot today and so his day has just begun but mine’s coming to an end and I just- I’m rambling so much, it’s kinda- it’s kinda sad, isn’t it?

I think I’m too happy to sleep right now so I’m just gonna text him some more before the sun rises- oh! He replied!

...

Anyway, I’m gonna go and finish up this last episode before sleeping. Hopeful I can sleep. Bye!

[REC: APRIL 11, 2019 - 4:28PM] SOLO LOG #4

I am on my way out right now to go meet Eric at the airport, and I’m... it’d be an understatement to say that I’m excited. I know I’ve only known him for like, 2 days before he left but... I miss him. Is that possible? Missing someone despite knowing them for 2 days?

Anyway, I gotta go. Don’t wanna be late to see him.

[REC: APRIL 13, 2019 - 10:23AM] SOLO LOG #5

Oh! Is that what you had-

Yeah! It’s the same camera!

What are you vlogging for, actually? Like-

Nothing, really. It’s just for my own usage-

Wait, you didn’t like set that up last night while we-

Oh, God, no! Who do you think I am?

I don’t know, I mean, we’ve known each other for... is it two weeks-

Just under two weeks-

Jeez-

I know, I know, oh my God.

...

I don’t regret it though. Yeah, like- I don’t really go down to the beach that often in the first place and it just- it just so happened that you were there that day and I saw you struggling with this old thing-

I was not struggling!

Yeah you were!

I wasn’t-

I’m kidding! Gosh, you’re so cute.

...

Are you gonna have the camera recording while this carries on?

I forgot it was on-

One day we’re gonna accidentally make a sex tape-

Eric!

[REC: APRIL 17, 2019 - 1:15AM] SOLO LOG #6

-ould you pass me the hot water?

Mm? What?

The kettle over on the counter. Careful, it’s hot. Yeah, thanks.

Do you need help with-

It’s just instant noodles, sweet. Doubt I need a diploma for this. You’re recording again?

Yeah, does it bother you?

No, no, ‘course not. Though that means I can’t really do whatever I want to now.

What does that mea-

...

I can... still taste that bit of milk tea you had just now-

Could you tell it’s zero sugar?

I don’t think that matters, it’s still sweet and not great for your health to have that so much.

Aw, and yet you’re the one who suggested noodles at this timing, yeah?

You were hungry too!

...

Here, it’s done. Help me get the bowls?

Did you even wash these?

Yeah, I did. If you don’t trust me, you can run them under the water for a bit.

Mhm. Here.

If it’s not enough, we can call for Macs.

Y’know, I’ve never had Macs past midnight back at home.

What? Really? Well, when you get back in May, would you try?

Yeah, why not? Maybe I’ll do that when I’m back in school.

...

What date is it today?

April... hold on, um, 17. Careful, that’s hot.

...

When are you leaving again?

May 22.

Are you planning on coming back anytime soon after?

I don’t know. I have school to worry about and the only other time I can come back’s probably during winter break in November.

...

I won’t be around in November.

Mm? Why not?

I’m moving.

To where?

I’m not sure yet, but I need to move depending on whether I get it and where the shoot’s at.

Shoot? It’s a big project, huh?

Yeah, it’s- it’s a pretty big deal.

...

I’ll- Let me just go and...

[REC: APRIL 20, 2019 - 7:49PM] SOLO LOG #7

-idn’t have to!

No, c’mon! It’s such a great time to get this on camera! Come on, tell us what just happened!

Well, I just scored a huge model contract with Calvin Klein - in Manhattan.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I’m so fucking proud of you, oh my God! Can you believe it-

No, fuck off, I can’t either!

Oh! Calvin Klein!

...

I swear, you’re an angel sent to me-

Fuck off!

I’m serious! it’s so timely- I just can’t- I’m just so happy to have met you.

...

Well, you heard it first here, ladies and gentlemen. Eric Sohn is a new model for Calvin Klein - Manhattan.

[REC: APRIL 21, 2019 - 12:40PM] SOLO LOG #8

It is 12.40pm... April 21st, 2019. I’m finally back in my apartment after crashing at Eric’s for the last... 10 days? I think it was 10 days. My clothes were running out and I didn’t want to hike up his water bills so I just came back and- y’know did my own laundry.

...

Well, it’s- it’s been an absolute dream. The last thing I expected to... have, or meet? Here, is Eric. Um, but I know I’m probably going to regret this. Especially when May 22 comes. Uh... this is... it’s real bad. I mean, we’re great, y’know? But... it’s bad, because I know it’ll hurt. Like a bitch. When my time here is up, and I gotta go back to my reality, and Eric’s gotta stick to his.

We haven’t really talked about it. May. I don’t think he wants to, and I don’t think I want to either. 50 days is too short. Either that, or I shouldn’t have come here in the first place. I shouldn’t have gone to the beach that day, in that hour.

...

I just wish we had more time. I wish 24 hours were... maybe about 100 seconds more per minute. Does that make sense? 160 seconds per minute. Then again, I don’t think that’d solve my problem. I’ll still be on a ticking... time bomb.

...

I know I shouldn’t say this. I know I can’t. I know I can’t afford to. But... I... I love him. I love Eric. With every... bit of me. It’s so... disgustingly cliché, but I feel so... comfortable with him. There’s really nothing we’d fight about, and even if we disagreed on something, we’d play it off like a debate, then forget about it the next day.

...

I love him. I do. And I’m going to regret this later. Without a doubt.

...

[REC: APRIL 27, 2019 - 2:02AM] SOLO LOG #9

-ou can see the stars?

I don’t know, that’s why I’m trying, sweet.

...

Can you see them?

Yeah, maybe if I just turn this ISO- Oh! I can kinda see the North Star-

Oh! Yeah, you can! It’s really feint though.

Right.

It’s okay, we can just lay it down here-

On the grass? Will your camera be fine?

Yeah, yeah, or else you can just put in on top of my bag- here.

...

Here, can you see me? Am I in frame?

Yeah, you’re in frame.

Okay, great. Now get over here!

...

I can taste the smoothie you had just now.

Too sweet?

A little.

...

Oh my God! Put me down! Oh- not there! It’s ticklish- AHHHHH!

...

y/n, I have something to tell you.

Mm? What is it?

...

Hello? Earth to Eric?

I... I love you. So much... and I can’t bear to see you go in May.

Oh, Eric...

No, I- I don’t want you to stay- or even think about it, ‘cause, you have your priorities and I have mine y’know...

Mhm.

I just... I just wished we had more time.

I do too. I really do.

...

Eric?

Hm?

I love you too.

...

[REC: MAY 1, 2019 - 4:23AM] SOLO LOG #10

1st May. 4...30? Am? I believe. Um, Eric’s sound asleep in his bed and I couldn’t sleep so I decided to do a log.

...

I have... 3 weeks left. 4 weeks have gone past just like that, and I don’t know what to think about it. I came for a 50-day retreat. No stress, just myself and peace and quiet and tranquility and yet-

...

I- I don’t know if I can do this.

...

[REC: MAY 7, 2019 - 3:58PM] SOLO LOG #11

So, Eric’s in shoot right now and I’m on the way into the studio with some donuts and coffee to surprise him. I called his manager and asked if it was okay so- I’m pretty psyched to see his workspace.

...

Hi, I’m y/n, I’m here to visit Eric?

Ah, okay! Hold on, let me just get you signed in with the pass-

Count me in!

You sure? This Saturday at the prep-party?

Yeah- Oh!

Eric!

y/n! What are you doing here?

I wanted to surprise you. Am I... interrupting anything?

Oh, not at all!

You must be y/n! Eric’s told me so much about you!

Did he? And you are...?

I’m Chelsea! I’ve been attached to the same Calvin Klein contract he recently got, so you could say we’re colleagues!

Well, nice to meet you! Oh, right, these donuts and coffee are meant for you guys actually!

Oh! You’re too kind! Eric, you’re such a lucky man.

I know, she’s just... everything.

Anyway, thank you so much for these. I’ll bring them back down to the studio for the crew to share. But Eric’s pretty much done for the day actually, so you guys can leave if you want to!

Are you sure? Don’t you need help downstairs with the equipment?

No, no! It’s fine, there’re more than enough people downstairs. Go have your date, and maybe you can bring her along with you for the prep-party this weekend!

What’s the prep-party... preparing for?

Oh, you’re so adorable! It’s a prep-party for the end-of-May shoot we’re gonna have. it’s a collab with DAZED so it’s a pretty big project.

You never told me you were involved in a collab with DAZED.

I was gonna tell you today.

He has been pretty busy recently, maybe slipped his mind. Anyway, thank you so much for the donuts and I’ll hope to see you at the pier this Saturday, mm?

Yeah, sure. Thanks Chels.

No problem! It was so nice to meet you, y/n, I’ll see you Saturday!

Okay, bye!

Bye, Chelsea! It was nice to meet you!

Bye!

...

Sweet, why didn’t you tell me you were coming?

I wanted it to be a surprise. I thought you said you’d end pretty late?

The filming was cut short because the shots were better than expected so we ended early.

Oh, I wanted to film you while you were at work.

You have that on?

Yeah- why?

No, just wondering.

Are you uncomfortable?

No, no, it’s just... I really didn’t expect you to come to the studio.

...

[REC: MAY 11, 2019 - 11:12PM] SOLO LOG #12

It’s 11:12pm, 11th May, 2019. 11 days to departure.

...

I... saw... Chelsea and Eric... um, out by the garage-

...

Well, I guess... it looked like they were just... having a really good talk. Or something.

...

I left. I couldn’t watch it. So, I left without telling Eric. I did tell his boss that I wasn’t feeling well and I had to leave first.

...

I guess this is the part where I regret it, isn’t it? Um... I don’t know... how... I’m gonna explain this to him when I see him again. Which is supposed to be- um- the rest of the night. I was supposed to go back to his place with him and I’ll stay for the weekend before I come back to pack my things, so-

...

y/n, are you home?

...

shit.

y/n, I know you’re home. I heard you talking. Open the door, I need to talk to you.

...

[REC: MAY 12, 2019 - 2:00AM] SOLO LOG #13

...

I look like shit, don’t I? God, my eyes hurt like a bitch.

...

I don’t think I need to say what just happened for you to guess what just happened, right? This... says it all.

...

Fuck.

...

I shouldn’t have come here. How did- How did my retreat turn out- turn out like this?

...

This is- This is too much. Too much in too short... of a time.

...

I don’t think... I don’t think I can do it. Not anymore.

...

[REC: MAY 19, 2019 - 9:59AM] SOLO LOG #14

It’s May 19th, 2019, almost 10am. I just came back from a morning walk by the beach just to... reminisce a little before I leave on Wednesday.

...

I... haven’t seen Eric since the prep-party. I blocked him and I told him not to come over, though I think he has, like, a few times. I thought I heard someone come up to my door, but he never knocked.

...

So, this is how it ends, huh? A 50-day romance cut short like that. Into about, 40?

...

It’s crazy to think that I had... the experience of a whole relationship in 40 days. I definitely did not sign up for that when I booked this 50-day retreat.

...

It was fun while it lasted, though. It was. I don’t think I’d find anybody else like Eric, and I guess it just sucks that it had to end like that. Things happen, right? That aren’t... in our control.

...

[REC: MAY 21, 2019 - 8:07PM] SOLO LOG #15

May 21st. About 8pm. I leave in about 15 hours.

...

All my stuff’s packed. Definitely more things to bring home than I brought here. Half of these things were bought by Eric and given to me. I’m... actually not sure if I should bring them back.

...

I don’t- I just don’t think I’d have the heart to throw them away.

...

Nor look at them when I’m home.

...

Should I even bring this camera home? Maybe I should wipe your memory before I bring you home, hmm?

...

It feels like a dream, doesn’t it? Everything that’s happened. It feels like a fever dream. Maybe when I’m finally home, I’d wake up and it’d be the day I come here.

...

Maybe.

...

[REC: MAY 22, 2019 - 10:03AM] SOLO LOG #16

-ny more luggage?

Nope.

Alright then, I think you’re all set. You still have about an hour’s time before the gates are open so you can get a cup of coffee or something, yeah?

Okay, thank you!

Have a nice flight ma’am.

Thanks.

...

Good evening ma’am, can I check your boarding pass?

Yeah, sure.

...

Okay, you’re good to go. Have a safe flight.

Thank you!

...

[REC: MAY 22, 2019 - 11:34AM] SOLO LOG #17

It is about 11.30am and I’m on the flight, and here’s the view outside. Sky’s pretty clear and this thing says that the weather’s great so, it should be a smooth flight without turbulence.

...

This is it. This is really it.

...

Um-

Hi, ma’am, I’m gonna need you to keep your camcorder.

Oh! Yeah, sure, sure, sorry!

[REC: APRIL 2, 2020 - 12:48AM] ERIC LOG #1

Wow, this is... weird. How did you do this last year?

...

Um, hi. y/n. If you’re watching this then I’ve somehow managed to get this synced into your camera by some weird... bluetooth, iCloud shit that Felix helped me figure out.

...

It’s been a year. And... I just thought you should... see this, or hear me out, at least. I know we didn’t end on the best terms... and I’m sorry. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have yelled at you for being unreasonable for something that was... suspicious. I should’ve understood.

...

I should’ve been there. To see you off. And I’m sorry I didn’t. I... was scared, that I wouldn’t be able to let you go if I went to send you off. I was a coward. I still am.

...

But I do want you to know that... those 50 days were the best days of my life. Albeit it ended horribly, but nothing could... nothing- nothing will ever replace what happened last April.

...

I said I love you and... I still do. Every day I think about you and your smile and your voice and- and I cry to sleep... worrying that I’d forget how you sound like, or how you laugh and how... how you smell like. My bed smelt like you even after you left.

...

I just- I love you. And I miss you. And I’d do anything to go back to what we had. I’d do anything to get- to get you back.

...

I’m sorry.

...

the clip comes to an automatic stop. the white triangle slapped onto the screen, begging you to play it again. you look up from the screen, watching the famous calvin klein ad that hasn’t stopped playing in the last month.

he hasn’t changed one bit. not his hair, not his smile, not his voice.

it’s a bittersweet pot of memory stashed in the back of your head when the memories flood back. looking back down at the camera, you count back the days - it was synced just last night.

the pile of tissues by your thighs are carelessly huddled into the bin next to your feet, mentally berating yourself for going through the memory instead of formatting it.

you stand, fingers shutting the screen back onto its body with a soft click. the tv blacks out when you press the red button on its remote.

you’re halfway into your kitchen when there’s a knock at your door, and you immediately gasp, blinking rapidly.

“oh, it’s my fucking projector!”

rushing to the door, you don’t hesitate to get the door open.

and yet, like the heavens were providing you with all the light to stop you from doubting yourself, your lungs empty themselves like vacuums.

your heart stops.

your breathing stops.

“eric... what are you doing here?”

222 notes · View notes

cali-holland · 4 years

Text

Heartbreak Weather, Part Four- T.H.

Pairing: Tom Holland X Horan!Reader

Prompt: It’s been a month, and you still don’t know what happened in San Francisco, but you know that you’re still in love with Tom.

Word Count: 2700

Featured Songs (All by Niall Horan): Still - Arms of a Stranger - Cross Your Mind

Previous Parts: Teaser One Two Three

Masterlist Tom Holland Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

A/N: Strongly suggest listening to Still while reading this!

~~~

November 2019

It had been one month. And it was the worst month of your life.

You had tried nearly everything to move on from Tom, to have a new life. But no matter what, heartbreak weather was your forecast for the rest of your life.

You were back in London after spending two weeks with your parents in Mullingar. You had tried to go on dates with a couple different guys that you had recently met; they were great guys, but they weren’t Tom. You couldn’t bring yourself to attempt a second date with either one. It felt too wrong to be in the arms of a stranger.

Maybe it didn’t help that you still had Tom’s things in your apartment. He had a key, and you knew he could get in if he really wanted to, if he really wanted to get his things back. His toothbrush still stood beside yours on your bathroom counter; his razor was still sitting beside the sink; his clothes were still in your drawers; his large wool blanket was still on your couch; his stained apron still rested in your kitchen; his presence was in every room of your apartment. You couldn’t get away from him, and you weren’t exactly sure that you wanted to.

It was just another sad, lonely night for you. The rain poured down outside as you laid on your couch, watching a random Netflix tv show. You weren’t particularly interested in what was playing; your mind was too caught up on Tom. You suspected your problem may have been the fact that you were using his blanket to keep yourself warm, but you didn’t really want to find a new one. It was the first thing of his that he left at your place; it was just too comforting for you, both physically and mentally.

You and Tom had been dating for nearly three months when he first brought that grey, wool blanket over. You had a rough day at school, so when you called your boyfriend to vent about it, he showed up at your doorstep an hour later with the blanket in one hand and a grocery bag of sweets and popcorn in the other.

“I was thinking a movie night might cheer you up?” He smiled as he came inside, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

“Please.” You said.

“You pick the movie, I’ll make the popcorn.” Tom made his way into your apartment, setting the blanket down on the couch. He then went to your kitchen and began to make the popcorn in the microwave.

“Can I pick a chick flick?” You asked, already eyeing ‘A Walk to Remember’.

“Anything you want, darling.” He replied. You set up the movie and Tom came back to the couch with a large bowl of popcorn. He placed the blanket over your laps and wrapped an arm around you.

As you sat there, leaning into his embrace, you began to feel a reassurance of your feelings for him- that was the moment you knew you were in love with him. He didn’t have to buy you candy and popcorn; he didn’t have to come over to see you today; he didn’t have to sit through one of the best, saddest romance movies out there; but he did.

“Tom,” You spoke up softly, drawing his attention away from the movie.

“Yes, darling?” He asked, a small smile on his lips as he looked down at you. Your heart fluttered at the sound of his nickname.

“I love you.” You confessed those three little words that had been resting on your tongue since you two first got together.

“I love you, too.” Tom leaned down to give you a sweet kiss.

“Are you just saying that because I said it first? I didn’t want to rush you-” You started to ramble, concerned about the timing of it all. After all, you two haven’t even celebrated your three month anniversary yet.

“I’ve wanted to tell you that for months now.” He said. He paused as he took a moment to register your worries, “I promise that I love you and you didn’t rush me into saying it. I promise to love you for the rest of my life.”

“I promise to love you for the rest of my life, too.” You replied, placing a hand on his cheek and kissing him again.

Ever since that day, Tom stayed at your place more and more often. He continued to leave different things, here and there. Half the time you assumed it was just an excuse for him to keep coming back. One thing’s for sure, though, you love that blanket and you love him.

Trying to distract yourself from your own memories of Tom, you pulled up your phone and began to mindlessly scroll through Instagram. It had been a couple days since you had checked your social media, and you paused as you saw that Tom had posted a video to his account. It was just a clip of him with Harrison’s guitar, playing a song. You didn’t need to turn on your volume to know which song he was playing, but you did anyway because if there was one thing you needed, it was to hear Tom play ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’.

Actually, there were two things you needed: to listen to Tom’s playing and to actually have Tom.

Before you had time to really think about your actions, you stood from your blanket cocoon and rushed to put on decent clothes for the weather outside. With your coat, rain boots, and purse, you hurried out of your apartment and began to drive over to Tom’s place.

“What am I doing?” You mumbled to yourself as you turned into his neighborhood.

“Just tell him you’re sorry.” You said and immediately shook your head, “No, no, this is stupid. He’ll never take me back.” You pulled onto his street with a heavy sigh.

“Wait, I still have time to leave.” You pondered the thought of turning around, saving yourself from this hopeless venture. You swore your heart stopped as you parked outside of his house. You listened to the rain pouring down outside and decided it had to be done- you were here and you would apologize.

You stepped out of your car and pulled up your hood. You made it halfway to his door before you stopped and began to think of what to say exactly. You were pulled from your thoughts at the sound of Tom’s voice.

“Y/N, what are you doing out here?” Tom asked, stepping outside. Though he kept his distance from you, you could tell that he had quickly thrown on his own coat and shoes because he was still in his pajamas.

“What really happened in San Francisco? I want honesty.” You spoke up, and immediately mentally chastised yourself. You wanted to apologize, not bring up old wounds. It was too late now though; you had asked the burning question. Now, you could only hear the rain hitting the ground as your tears rolled down your cheeks.

“You want honesty?” Tom stepped towards you until he was right in front you, his hands in his pockets in an attempt to keep them warm. You nodded, your eyes never leaving his.

“Nothing happened in San Francisco. Ellie was in the city, and she came to see Harry, not me.” He began, “Ever since I discovered she is the one that Eric cheated on you with, I haven’t spoken to her. I never cheated on you. I thought of you every second I was gone.” You watched as Tom’s eyes started to brim with tears.

“When you wouldn’t answer my calls, I flew out here to see you and yes, while I was in the air, I had Harrison come check on you. I had to make sure you were okay, that you were safe, and I’m sorry I had to send my best friend in my place. I hated not being able to instantly be there with you. But then Harrison told me you left and that you never wanted to see me again.

“I thought maybe, maybe you would change your mind about me, about us, if I went to you. So I did. I followed you out to Mullingar, and do you know how common of a name Horan is out there? I know I’ve been to your parents’ place before, but you always drove because you know I’m awful at directions. I felt like a Niall Horan stalker just trying to find you in Mullingar. I’m so lost without you, and nothing showed me that more than when I was in the Mullingar, completely alone and confused without you there with me.” Tom laughed lightly. His tears were freely falling now.

“I told you then that I love you, and I’ll tell you again now. I promised to love you for the rest of my life, and I fully intend to keep that promise because I do love you. So, if honesty is telling you the truth, then I’m still in love with you, Y/N. You left me in pieces back in Mullingar, don’t do that to me now.” He finished, his lips shaking in nerves.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You said, falling into his arms. You cried into his chest as he wrapped his arms around you; you still fit perfectly into his arms. “I’m still in love with you too, Tom. I just got so scared that Ellie-”

“I would never do that. I would never hurt you.” He replied as you pulled away from the hug. He wiped away your tears and you wiped away his. He held your face tenderly in his hands, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. “I’m sorry for not telling you about Ellie.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I screwed up. Take me back?” You asked, your voice falling just above a whisper. Tom nodded and leaned down to kiss you, ignoring the rain around you.

“I think we should go inside.” You laughed as he pulled away.

“Probably.” Tom grabbed your hand and led you inside. He took your coat and the two of you went to his room, so as to continue your alone time away from the other boys.

“I thought you were supposed to be off filming right now.” You inquired softly as you two cuddled in his bed, trying to regain some lost warmth from being out in the cold.

“I was, but I told my manager I needed some personal time off. I couldn’t bring myself to leave, in case you did come back. That’s why I left all of my stuff at your place.” Tom admitted. There was another comfortable silence before you spoke up again.

“How did you find the house in Mullingar?” You asked.

“Well, when I tried to find it from memory, I just got really confused. So I went to that pub that we went to for Saint Patrick’s Day and one of your school friends was there. I don’t remember which one, but he was with us for Saint Patrick’s Day, and he knew where your parents lived.”

“So you got lucky?”

“I got lucky, very lucky.” Tom replied. You watched as his smile faltered a bit. Searching of his own validation, he asked, “Do you want this, us together again? Tell me you want it.”

“I want it.” You answered, giving him a kiss. “We’ll be alright.” You watched as the sun began to peek out from behind the rain clouds, filtering into Tom’s room. You smiled softly, farewell to heartbreak weather.

~~~

Christmas 2019

“Darling, I’m here.” You heard Tom’s voice echo in your apartment from the front door.

“In the kitchen.” You called back out to him, as you pulled the small roast out of the oven.

As agreed upon last year, Tom wasn’t allowed to make the Christmas roast, but he did make a side dish. It was the Sunday before the holiday and your last night in town before you’d leave to spend the holidays in Ireland with your family.

“Smells wonderful.” Tom smiled, coming in with an opened box. He set it down on the counter and took out a bowl-shaped dish and a long, narrow dish.

“What’d you make?” You asked, greeting him with a kiss.

“Potatoes.” He replied, “They turned out better than the roast did last year, so I think I’ve improved.”

“What else did you make?” Your hands reaching out for the surprise dish. Tom caught your hands in his and smirked.

“That’s a surprise.”

“Alright, if you say so.” You laughed. “Carve up the roast, I’ll get the salad.”

“You got it.” Tom replied as you grabbed the salad from the fridge. He cut up the small roast, serving it onto two plates, as you served the two side dishes onto the plates.

It was a small, make-shift Christmas dinner for the two of you; you both wanted to have an intimate night for the holiday without making so much food that you have leftovers for a week. After you two finished dinner, you went to the guest room to get out his gift, which you had been hiding in the one room that he doesn’t go into.

“Close your eyes.” You called from the hallway, where he couldn’t see you holding his unwrapped present.

“They’re closed.” He announced and you peaked around the corner to see him sitting on the couch, hand over his eyes.

“You better not be looking.” You said, coming into the room.

“I promise I’m not.” Tom laughed.

“Okay, you can open them.” You stated, once you had placed the gift in his lap. He removed his hand and a wide smile grew on his face.

“You got me a guitar?” He asked, eyes wide in wonder as he traced the instrument delicately. You sat down beside him eagerly.

“Look at the bottom.” You smiled, proud of the gift. On the bottom of the guitar sat his initials with a small red heart beside it.

“I love it. I love you.” He leaned over to kiss you, mindful of the guitar in his lap.

“And now for my gift.” Tom announced, setting the guitar down and taking your hand. He brought you into the kitchen to the mystery dish. He unveiled the dish to reveal a yule log; it was slightly cracked, but it was endearing.

“You made a yule log?” You smiled. You turned to give him a kiss, but you let out a small gasp as Tom was kneeling on the floor.

“Now, I was going to put this,” Tom spoke as he pulled out a small ring box and opened it up to you. A beautiful diamond ring sitting right in the center of it, “on the yule log, but I figured you probably wouldn’t want to wear a chocolate covered ring. So that was all a distraction, and I’m sorry if the yule log is actually awful-”

“No, it’s so sweet.” You said, still fond of the gesture that he wanted to make this Christmas special.

“Well, that’s good because I’m really nervous and I actually didn’t fully prepare a speech, but the point is, Y/N Horan, I am so madly in love with you, and I want to be with the rest of my life. I know we’ve only been dating for a year-”

“Yes,” You cut him off again, “The answer will always be yes.”

“You haven’t let me ask yet.” Tom laughed. He took the ring out of the box and slipped on your finger, continuing to talk, “This is my official promise to love you for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”

“Yes, yes.” You answered. He stood to his full height and pulled you in for a kiss.

As you listened to Tom play ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’ on his new guitar while you ate a piece of the yule log, you knew you were finally completely free of heartbreak weather.

#tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland series #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fic #niall horan

146 notes · View notes

mor-beck-more-problems · 3 years

Text

Baby’s First Couple’s Therapy || Morgan & Deirdre

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @deathduty & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Sometimes a wound needs to air out to heal.

CONTAINS: Brief references to parental abuse

Kelly Mackowski, their couples’ therapist, steepled her hands together over her lap as she looked at the pair. “I’ve met with each of you already and I think I’m getting a picture of you as a couple, but I’d like to start today by reviewing why you have chosen to come here.” Morgan, ever the dutiful student, thought she saw Kelly’s eyes settle on her and stiffened on the couch. Was she sitting too close to Deirdre? They were next to each other, and they were holding hands, but they weren’t in any laps or snuggled like they were at home. Was holding hands too clingy? Deirdre didn’t answer at once, though maybe that was because it had only been a few seconds. Morgan glanced sidelong at her and after a silent exchange of, do you want to go first? Do you? She spoke up.

“Well, we’ve had a traumatic couple of months, and in the worst of it, it came to my attention that we had developed an unhealthy dynamic stemming from my accident uh, eight and a half months ago. And we--well, I feel like we have made some good steps toward rectifying the situation and finding a better normal. I have a tiny house in the backyard that I go to for at least a couple of hours each day and one night out of the week, by myself, mostly to engage with my faith, which I’ve recently recommitted to, and work on some hobbies. And I’m back at school, for work, and that’s nice and gets me out of the house. And we’ve been able to talk a little about, you know, how my emotional instability towards the end of November was more of a statement on my own lack of internal support systems than anything else. And we’ve more or less regained our old physical intimacy boundaries. No sex yet, because I really just want to be a little more stabalized since it tends to make me emotional in general, but it’s still---it’s the best place to be, when she holds me.” Morgan paused and realized she was rambling, maybe even veering off track completely. “But there’s still more to unpack, obviously! And it just seemed like a good idea to do that with some uh, professional structure and, um, guidance.” She smiled, and then didn’t, realizing she was looking for approval that they weren’t here to gain.

Kelly nodded, revealing nothing. “Deirdre?” She prompted. “Can you talk about what you want out of this from your side?”

Deirdre had concluded, with great speed and unwavering resolve, that she hated therapy. As it turned out, talking about her feelings with anyone other than Morgan was a nightmare of strange design. And for all her attempts to create chaos and deflect and make Kelly “Macaroni”, or whatever her name was, emote with shock or fear...she remembered that she was here for Morgan, for their relationship. And she wanted it to get better, she wanted them to be better. All attempts deflated and she was left with the truth, which refused to leave her mouth in congruent sentences. Deirdre held Morgan’s hand just a little tighter, her gaze glued somewhere beyond Kelly’s unnervingly rigid stare—did she have to make eye contact all the damn time? The room was silent, save for a ticking clock, if it wasn’t filled with conversation. Deirdre found out the hard way that Kelly didn’t like silence very much, she’d always interject eventually. And as it turned out, Deirdre also hated Kelly.

When the question turned to her, she nearly hissed. She hated questions just as much as she hated Kelly. Or rather, she hated Kelly because the only things that ever left her mouth were questions. “I want us to be better, more secure.” Deirdre shifted. Her answer was far shorter than Morgan’s, and she wondered if she ought to be saying more. But what else was she supposed to say? What else was she supposed to want? Kelly scribbled something down on her notepad. Deirdre came to hate the way she wrote; like a bored cat with a couch, all scratching.

Kelly, ever impassive in a way that might have earned Deirdre’s respect if it was in any other setting, nodded and looked up. Deirdre squirmed. At this point, she would have preferred one of those smiles humans did when they were trying to be polite. “And is there any personal goal you hope to meet from these sessions?”

“Personally,” Deirdre stressed, “I would like us to be better.” Kelly scratched into her notepad again. Deirdre’s grip on Morgan’s hand tightened. She hated it here. And Kelly--question-asking, scratch-scratch-scratch note-taking Kelly, seemed to sense Deirdre’s unease and pivoted to Morgan. Once freed from the spotlight, Deirdre relaxed her grip just enough to stop crushing Morgan’s hand.

“You mentioned that there was more to unpack, Morgan? Is there anything specific that comes to mind?”

Morgan’s eyes went wide at Deirdre’s answer, or rather, lack of one. She wanted to look at her and keep pressing. She wanted to ask what they had gone over in her one-on-one session, if there was something she was hiding and didn’t feel comfortable sharing. But under Kelly’s look, she wondered if that was somehow overbearing. From Deirdre’s tightening grip, she could figure that Deirdre didn’t want her to pull away. A protective affection rushed up her chest and she put her other hand over Deirdre’s, encasing it gently and massaging the tight knuckles. In the brief silence before Kelly shifted attention, Morgan slipped Deirdre a quick look of confusion. What was that? What are you doing?

But then Kelly asked her question and Morgan found herself with too many nerves to juggle. She always did this when she was breaking in a new therapist and it always came to this stress point when she had to surrender her pride or sense of dignity in some way because focusing on trying to get an A+ in togetherness wasn’t very productive in getting to the goal she wanted to accomplish. Sighing, Morgan sagged against the couch and scooted close to Deirdre until they were hip to hip. Yeah, Kelly, this is how I wanna sit. You can give me longform analysis on that on week five when I know you better, she wanted to say. But instead, she thought, and then she tried…

“Personally, for just myself, I want some of that old security back. I want to be someone who doesn’t have to have her partner in the room in order to feel supported. And who doesn’t teeter on a nervous breakdown when I feel like Deirdre isn’t really here. I want to obtain a sense that we’re solid, even if we’re not perfect. Maybe if I could become someone who doesn’t need so much fucking reassurance all the time, that would be good.” She finished with a pained, bitter grin. Deirdre always did, when she was emotionally available, but Morgan felt the ghost of every well meaning, only half-teasing ‘clingy’ and ‘needy’ she’d ever heard. Her need simply was; a fact, just like the state of her body. But just like the level of the seas could change over time, so too could her need, maybe.

Kelly nodded, waiting for her to say more, and it was then that Morgan realized that she hadn’t really answered the question, and didn’t want to. “I just mean...un learning is hard. Talking about where our stuff comes from can feel like it’s impossible sometimes, and some coping mechanisms are hard to adopt and don’t work for everyone. And compromise takes time too. We’re so quick to give each other all or nothing, taking things only halfway might be a little wild too. But I wasn’t, uh, being specific.” There were too many places to start, and Morgan felt like she was doing all the talking for all three of them. She gave Deirdre another look as she gave her hand a careful squeeze. Are you here? Are you going to say something?

“I think those are some good goals to have, Morgan, and some good expectations.” Kelly said. “A relationship is a journey, one that will, inevitably, require changes. But in order for this to work, we all need to be on the same page and actively engaging. Deirdre, I know we’ve had some difficulties connecting, But I’d like to ask you again if you have any goals for yourself, as an individual? Or perhaps what it is you want out of your relationship?”

Deirdre met Morgan’s gaze, softening. Silently, she apologized and with a squeeze, she explained what Morgan already knew: that she didn’t like answering questions about herself. But she was trying. She would try. Yet, before she could confirm that her girlfriend understood their telepathic communications, she was back to answering Kelly and Deirdre begrudgingly looked back at the degrees and certifications framed on the wall. She wanted to say that there was nothing wrong with wanting assurances, or to feel supported and loved and understood--and that she would do all these things, gladly and happily and as many times as Morgan needed. She’d never minded it before, she certainly didn’t mind it now. It wasn’t wrong, it wasn’t bad--not to her--she’d wanted to say, and that she could feel that Morgan was trying to appease Kelly--and she didn’t have to do that. But she said nothing, hearing the echo of Kelly’s scratching in her head as her framed accolades merged into a toothy monster. What did Deirdre know? She wasn’t the one with the degrees and the training.

Kelly spoke to her again, and Deirdre stiffened instantly, reflexively dreading whatever Kelly would want her to answer next. Yes, they had difficulty connecting, because Deirdre didn’t want to connect, unless it was with her fist to Kelly’s unemoting face. She could, in fact, actively engage with a knife into Kelly’s stomach. Was that active enough for her? Her nostrils flared, her free hand curled into a fist. “I just told you my goals, you huma--” Deirdre froze. “Hum--” And faltered. Her anger died quickly. “Homunculus.” She shifted, shot Morgan another look of apology and tried her best to answer the question. “I’m sorry,” she coughed, “it--um--maybe it would be nice to have a hobby? Maybe I shouldn’t just be waiting around for Morgan to come back inside.” This wasn’t something she wanted in actuality, of course. But from what she could gather from the self-help books, this was something she should have. It was also something she had mentioned, in a practiced script, to Kelly in their private session. It was, in fact, the only personal detail she shared. She found one thing she was comfortable admitting and she would wear it out.

But it was Kelly’s second question that caught her unawares. “Excuse me?” Her face pulled together with confusion, then frustration. “I don’t want anything from Morgan. Not like--like a leech. I’m not dating Morgan because I want to take from her. I love her; I’m trying to give.” Deirdre’s leg bounced wildly up and down as unease wrapped around her. The offense she took at the question wasn’t founded, but the idea insulted her nonetheless. Questions of wants and desires often did.

But with the simple experience of one session under her belt, Kelly knew Deirdre’s annoyance well enough to greet it directly. “And is that how you view yourself in this relationship? As a leech?”

Deirdre’s bouncing leg morphed into an earthquake, the beginnings of a sceam burned in the pit of her lungs. Fuck you. Shut up. How dare you? Deirdre seethed, and then she didn’t. Morgan’s presence beside her served a gentle reminder of why she was here, and what she wanted--truly. Her leg ceased, she closed her eyes and breathed (In. Hold. Out), and she answered the question. “Yes.”

Kelly turned to her notepad briefly, scratching away. She looked up, nodded and leaned it; all signs to show an active listener, all things Deirdre did to let people assume she cared. Kelly was trying to encourage her, and she hated it. “Why do you think you feel that way, Deirdre?”

“Because that’s what people who want things are: leeches.” Deirdre was a smug with her answer, as though it was some grand truth. It wasn’t a personal thought! Not some ideology bred from trauma, not at all! Kelly ought to take her diplomas off the wall, she didn’t know anything. And then Deirdre froze. Morgan had just said she wanted reassurances, and Deirdre didn’t think Morgan was selfish, not once, not ever. She turned to her girlfriend, quick to rest a hand on her knee. “Not you. Not--” She turned back to Kelly. “I mean me, just me. It’s--” She swallowed. “It’s something that my family--the cult--” as Morgan and her had agreed on referring to it for Kelly’s sake “--says. And it--it’s true. It makes sense. I can’t, I--” How did she explain the dangers of desire for a banshee to a human? How did she explain that emotion could mean mass destruction? How did she explain her status as a thing? She deflated. “I want to be good to Morgan. I don’t want to hurt her, I don’t want to take from her. I don’t want to be a--” She looked up at Morgan; wet-eyed, ashamed. She dropped her gaze to the grey rug.

Kelly spoke up, gentle. “Morgan, would you like to tell Deirdre what your thoughts are on this?”

“Yes,” Morgan barely gave Kelly the time to finish. She didn’t have it in her to worry about seeming any particular way. She cupped Deirdre’s face and wiped the corners of her eyes. “Hey…” She said softly. “It’s okay, I’m not mad. But you know what I’m gonna say next, right?” She smiled softly, her face all compassion. “You’re a person, Deirdre Dolan. My favorite person. And maybe this isn’t the best time to work on this particular part of yourself. But you can, and you should, and you do want things. You need to. Everyone does. It doesn’t make you bad or wrong. I mean, you want us, right? And that’s worked out pretty good so far. You should get to have a house, my love. A whole world’s worth of wanting. And it’ll be slow going, especially right now, but when--” She winced, hating the coding of her language, especially when Regan was such a fraught subject. “When these final rites and sacrifices you’re making right now with your cousin are over, I think it’ll go faster. And maybe...I don’t know, maybe Kelly knows, but maybe if you have a little more of a house than you do right now, those sacrifices will be easier to carry, until you can finally put them down.” She gave a firm kiss to her lips, then a tender one to her cheek, and looped her arms around Deirdre as she shifted back and angled herself toward Kelly.

“You do not have to be good,” she murmured. “And you can want. The world won’t fall. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Deirdre breathed, melting against Morgan. Whatever annoyance she felt about being interrogated, and whatever anger she felt towards Kelly, she let it free and held Morgan close. She didn’t care, then, who was in a room with them; who was scratching into their notepad or held esteemed education. There was Morgan, and then there was her, and nothing else mattered. “You’ve said this so many times. I’m sorry.” If reassurances were something Morgan felt poorly for wanting, Deirdre felt just as terrible. They had both endured similar punishment for their desires--evidenced enough by the fact that Deirdre had told Morgan a similar thing when she was cursed. “But that could take months. That could take years. Would you be okay with--I can’t do that to you. I need to--I’m trying now. I’m trying.” She couldn’t put her sacrifices down, that wasn’t her privilege, but she understood what Morgan was saying, and for it, she wept, burying her head into Morgan’s shoulder. “I do want you,” she repeated. “I do want our relationship and our life, and I do want to be--” Better? More whole? More secure? “--I don’t know.”

Defeated, embarrassed, Deirdre didn’t want to move from where she’d wriggled herself in. “I’m sorry, my love. I know you wanted to talk. I know you have things you want to say.” And she knew that these sessions were for the both of them, even if she didn’t understand how. “Maybe a hobby would be nice,” she pulled back and smiled, this time, the idea did sound like something she wanted. Deirdre turned to Kelly. “Can I ask Morgan a question?” And as Kelly nodded, Deirdre opened her mouth. “Do you really not feel supported, loved, when I’m not around? Did you feel that way before your--” Deirdre grimaced; she hated referring to Morgan’s death this way, it was so much more than an accident, it was a murder. “--your accident? Those times when we’d--” She grimaced again, this time out of guilt. “--broken up, were they different than these times now, when I was…” Deirdre trailed off.

“You don’t have to be sorry. You’re okay. I’ll say it as many times as you need. Sometimes it just takes time. It’s okay…” Morgan held Deirdre tight as she melted against her body, trying to catch all of her at once. She gave more kisses and combed her fingers carefully through Deirdre’s half pinned up hair and whispered her love and acceptance some more. At some point Kelly passed a box of tissues, which rested uncomfortably close on the end table, and Morgan took one so she could wipe her love’s tears herself. “I know you’re trying. And this is already so good. You don’t even have to know what you want right now, okay? You just have to try and find out. That’s all, my love.” She nuzzled her cheek as they adjusted themselves once again, now wrapped up as close as possible while still maintaining some shred of politeness.

At the suggestion that she had something more important to say, Morgan shook her head and gave more tender kisses and touches along Deirdre’s face. Kelly had sprung the good brand, and there were no flakes of paper or irritated splotches on her cheeks. She looked just as wonderful as she ever did. “No, I’d rather hear you talk about what else you might fill your world with…” she beamed as she spoke and let it go. Deirdre wanted to ask her something, and since opening up was so important, who was she to push in the other direction?

And then Deirdre asked. Morgan’s smile faded, now heavy with guilt of her own. “Deirdre, I… I don’t mean all the time. It’s not like I think you’re going to leave me every time you go to the office. I mean, during the uh, herbal scares we had, when your cult slipped you those drugs, I would worry that uh….they would do something, and I wouldn’t be able to stop it because I wasn’t there. Because you were off...doing things.” And the mushroom spores had in fact found Deirdre that way. ”But that’s...that’s not what you’re asking.” She swallowed thickly and gave Deirdre a pained smile that only lasted a moment. Please don’t be mad. I’m sorry.

“In those times when we were seeing each other but not admitting it to ourselves… I did...think it was the end. The actual end. The first two, at least. I actually thought I made you hate me for a while, until that night at Al’s. And I did feel broken inside. I called Remmy and I cried until my whole body hurt, and some days did pass in this fog of depressed not-quite-existence. But I wasn’t on the floor completely? Just, maybe really close to it. But I would tell myself that it didn’t matter, and I wasn’t supposed to have anyone like that anyway, you know, with that weird family legend my mom raised me on. Which just made me feel guilty on top of sad for wanting to reach out to you so bad even though you’d made it clear you didn’t want to talk.” Her voice flattened with disdain; the curse had been only too real, and she had paid for it with her life. But then again, the way Ruth had brought it into her life probably had hit heavier than the thing itself. She didn’t know what a healthy relationship with the curse would have possibly looked like, just that hers hadn’t been it. “I was sad and scared for you because I wanted you to be loved by at least someone, even if it wasn’t me, and I wasn’t sure if you would let that happen. And I told myself you were better off and safer. And I had been on my own on and off for so long. I could do it again. I would be fine. I was fine before, just the way I was, and I’d get over it eventually.” She shrugged, trying to brush those times aside. But her eyes were filmed with tears at the recollection, and she could not hold Deirdre’s gaze for longer than an instant for fear of letting them spill over.

“I figured you out eventually, though, and I didn’t break during those later absences. I knew you felt something for me. Sometimes I wondered, but deep down I knew. Always. And I knew I wanted to be with you, even if it was just half a relationship. You took such good care of me, and it was the best I’d felt in so long, I was almost scared. The pain of not having you just like I wanted was almost a comfort sometimes. With the...family legend, about the curse. It felt like maybe you were kind of protected, or we were. Kind of like a win-win? And we had that no sex boundary, to protect at least myself from making a big mess. And when we were actually together… even on that really bad night when I thought the curse had destroyed the house, I knew you didn’t blame me. I knew you loved me. I was just so sorry because I was scared, and we had all our memories in those rooms the way they’d been before, and I thought things were going to get worse. But you loved me, even if it really had been that uh, superstitious curse come to life. But after--”

After she died, everything was different.

“Everything died with me in that wreck,” she said. “That minute when I flatlined, I mean,” she hastily added. “We already talked it out in the woods, and I understand now, I know how it really was, but I did think...when I woke up alone, I thought it was only a matter of time before it was over, and you were just being kind. There was a lot going on, so that wasn’t the only reason I was on the floor all the time, just one of them. But after that, when I was hanging onto you with everything I had...That first time you left for a night, I thought that was the end too. And it did...hit differently. My worst fear for us has always been that I’ll do something horrible and unforgivable without meaning to and it’ll be that day in the woods all over again. I’ll just be talking or holding you, and I’ll think everything is fine, and then I’ll do something stupid and it won’t be and I won’t see it coming, it’ll just happen, it’ll be over, and there won’t be anything I can do because if I didn’t even know it was wrong before, how well can I guarantee I won’t do it again, and if you’re too hurt to be able to tell me, how am I going to learn and…” Morgan stopped herself, realizing her voice was growing thin and shrill. She wasn’t breathing. Morgan squeezed Deirdre tight and let her tears spill over as she met her eyes desperately.

The pain in her chest was so much bigger than one bad break up in the woods. The root went so much further than Deirdre. When Morgan looked at her reflection in Deirdre’s eyes, she saw herself at twelve and ten and six, the quiet of her family’s apartment suddenly shattered by her mother screaming and swearing, and impassive look turning to rage and exasperation, a gentle hand of instruction turning into a claw on her shirt. No going back, no time to apologize. She should have known better. Been better. She was just such a hard-headed, willfully stupid child. Morgan shivered, unable to bring words to what she was seeing and unable to stop herself until her fear had been spent. “I felt better after we talked, and you kept me so close all day when you came back, and I felt better by the end of the week, I think. But it did feel like….like that fear. I thought I had ruined everything. But I couldn’t tell myself that I didn’t need you, or I wasn’t allowed this, or that I would be fine, nothing I’d told myself before felt true and I didn’t know what to do. And that’s my fault, it’s mine, it is, but that’s how it felt. And the other nights you did that...I kept myself from destroying our house, but I wondered. I stayed up and I couldn’t focus on anything until you came back because that fear was so strong. And then at the end of this past November... “ Morgan grimaced as she tried to sift through the feelings. She had so many varieties of pain, it was hard to categorize them precisely.

“I didn’t think it was over in November. But I thought maybe it might be. I thought…” She had to close her eyes and will herself back there. She had cut the cord on this time, but the knot, the true source of it, remained buried in her soul. “I know better now, from what you said later. But back then, I couldn’t...It was similar, yes, I thought you had stopped...I thought maybe you...you didn’t want m-me. But I thought I could fix it, too. If I could just...do something right, if I could make you just a little bit happy, a little bit at peace, then maybe you would...you’d just have to. If I could just figure out what I was supposed to do, it would be okay and I’d make--” She stopped and covered her mouth, her face crumpling at the truth that had just risen on her tongue. “I was wrong,” she said, barely audible beneath her fingers. She sniffled and choked, swallowing down sobs. “I was wrong. I thought I was helping. It wasn’t a conscious thought. In my head it was like, I just wanted to make things better for you, I wanted to share your pain and make you feel better and you wouldn’t have to feel so alone, because we’d be together. I’d fix it, I’d fix everything as much as I could. I never consciously set out to...to make you love me again.” She bowed her head, shivering miserably as she just barely held herself together. “It’s just that you were all I had. And if I lost you, there wouldn’t be anything. I was so desperate, I didn’t even let myself really think it. And I...I’m sorry. I’m sorry I tried to do that, and I couldn’t see your hurt, and that I shouldn’t have put that on you, I didn’t see that, I’m sorry. But everything we’re doing now, it’ll make sure that doesn’t happen again. But I am...I am sorry for all of it. And it was my fault, it’s my fault…” Her voice croaked, and Morgan’s grip on her cries fell.

Deirdre’s arms had found their way around Morgan, her body pressed to hers, together just as they’d sit at home. She held her tight, soothing with her touch as Morgan spoke. They’d already talked about the break ups, and Deirdre knew Morgan didn’t blame her—and so she didn’t interrupt with an apology or an explanation. As she listened, she understood Morgan’s pain wasn’t because of her, which should have been a relief but only served to make Deirdre’s chest throb. If it was her fault, then it was something she could control; something she could fix. Likewise, Morgan had thought Deirdre’s pain to be personal, and therefore in her hands. But it wasn’t. Neither of their pain was. But to say what led them here was Morgan’s fault…?

“My love,” Deirdre mumbled, lifting Morgan’s head up to thumb away her tears; as many as there were, even when they kept coming. “My love,” she repeated, “my strong, kind love. It’s not your fault. I don’t think it is, and I wish you didn’t either. The way you were raised...the things your mother did to you, said to you, and your curse...all the things you’ve lost…do you know how strong you are, Morgan? You did so good with what you were dealt, how is that your fault? How could it be your fault?” She released her face, wanting to use her hands to hold her again—tight, firm, steady. “The fact that we’re here, that isn’t your fault. And this isn’t a bad place to be; you said it yourself, we’re going to be okay, and we’ll learn the things we should be doing. And we’ll be better than we were before, and that’s not bad at all. And if it’s not bad then...what exactly is your fault? There’s nothing here to blame yourself for, my love. You wanted to take my pain away—that wasn’t bad either. And you were scared, and none of that is bad. The way you felt, your feelings, they’re not bad, they’re not your fault. I—“ Deirdre cut herself off, hearing Kelly’s scratching. She hated that part of her was worried about what Kelly thought of her attempt to comfort, maybe it was all wrong and there had to be some better way to do it. But despite the feeling, she continued.

“I love you, Morgan. You, and your thoughts and feelings and I love that we’re here—“ Her lips thinned. “Well, maybe not love but I—I think it’ll be good for us. And I’m happy that we’re doing this, and that you’re figuring out your supports, Morgan. I don’t blame you, I’m not mad at you for anything. Maybe, maybe you’ll be able to stop blaming yourself.” She combed her fingers through Morgan’s hair, careful to make sure Kelly couldn’t see how she tugged on it—the human wouldn’t understand what Morgan’s zombie senses needed. “Thank you for always being so honest with me, my love. And what you were saying, about not seeing my hurt I—well, you just wanted to make it better, and I think that’s a noble thing to want. Maybe it was wrong.” Maybe Kelly would say it was. “But I don’t think so; we make mistakes and then we figure it out. And if there was something to forgive you for, you’d already be forgiven. You’ve been so afraid, Morgan, for so long, of so many things. If you’re going to blame yourself, then you have to blame me for being equally as scared. And if you can’t do that then…” She trailed off and smiled, picking tissues out of the box on the table. If Morgan wasn’t going to blame Deirdre, then she shouldn’t be blaming herself—Deirdre didn’t need to say the rest of her thought to let it be clear. She held the tissues out with one hand, using the other to thumb along the bones of her face. “It’s a process,” she said, “well, according to Kelly.” Deirdre smiled up at the therapist, suddenly forgetful of her animosity.

“Are you okay, my love? Do you want to stay like this for a while or…?” Deirdre asked gently, wondering if Kelly would interrupt them now that she’d watched the scene play out. Was there criticism to hand out? Advice? Had they sponged up their time and needed to be ushered out? Deirdre found herself uncaring for the answer, instead she leaned over and pressed her lips to Morgan’s cheek, jaw, temple. She willed love to pass through her body and unto Morgan like a current.

Morgan shut her eyes and huddled into Deirdre, whimpering as she tried to swallow down her sobs. “But I should have been better…” she said feebly. “I’m sorry…” There was nothing else she could think of to say, and so she hid herself deeper into Deirdre’s forgiveness and affection, greedy and aching for it. The parts of her that were lost and trembling didn’t believe she deserved to be comforted, that she should pay, somehow, for the mistakes she had made. But another part, rational and relieved, understood the truth in Deirdre’s words. They really were a pair, holding these double standards for themselves that they would never dream of putting on each other. She laughed, sad and quiet and held Deirdre a little tighter.

“I love you,” she whispered, so soft only her banshee would be able to hear. “I love you always.” She sniffled and lifted her head. “I’m okay,” she said, first to Deirdre, then again to Kelly, clearly and with her best attempt at a smile. She shifted herself to be more visible to their therapist, but made no move to untangle herself from her love.

Kelly beamed at the two of them, her hand deftly concealing the notes in her lap. It was the most feeling she’d expressed to them the whole hour. She remained silent, giving them both time to gather themselves and stay cuddled. “What’s interesting to me, watching you two, is that you seem to possess a certain amount of level-headed wisdom when it comes to each other. And when I say that, I mean you understand that being judgemental isn’t productive toward finding a more positive way of being. You appreciate the importance of a growth mindset, and reflection, but not criticism. But when it comes to yourselves, the temptation to give into fear and take on blame and criticism is much stronger. This may come as a surprise to you, or it may not, but my sense is that the way to enable you to have a stronger footing in your relationship, to be good, or better to each other than you currently are, is to be attentive and forgiving to yourselves. I have some exercises you can practice at home to foster the kind of environment to optimize this kind of work and break down some of these fear responses and thought distortions, but it may be that individual therapy sessions will help you even more, if that is something you are interested in. Does everything I’m saying resonate with you both?”

Morgan nodded from the safety of Deirdre’s chest, where her head still lay. “That makes sense. If you have any suggestions on alone time to couple time ratio, I’d like to hear that too.” She glanced up at Deirdre, hope flickering in her expression. What do you think?

Deirdre smiled, gentle and just for Morgan. “I love you too,” she said; whispered for her love’s ears alone. It’d been a year since they’d met—even if it had felt like so much longer, in all the best ways and only in some terrible ones—and while the woman Morgan knew a year ago had been terrified of having feelings for a human, she’d never shied from affection. She didn’t think to deny Morgan this intimacy. Not when she was afraid, and certainly not under Kelly’s gaze. She held her firm, pressed her lips to the top of her head and shifted just enough to face their therapist. Before the sounds came to her, it was easy to say ‘I love you’ just like this. Where words failed her, touch never did. She wondered if Kelly knew that, if that was somewhere on her notes. It ought to be.

Deirdre nodded, it did occur to her that she was kinder to Morgan than she was to herself. But the reasoning was simple there: she loved Morgan. And self-love—true self-love and not self-importance—was useless to her. Or it had been. “It does, Kelly.” No, individual therapy sounded like the nightmare that it was and she’d only found ease being honest here because of Morgan’s presence, but, their relationship wasn’t the issue. It wasn’t a lack of love, or trust or aversion to affection, it was old wounds, old trauma. Things that needed to be dealt with alone. Things she couldn’t fix for Morgan, and Morgan couldn’t fix for her. Deirdre understood this now, in silent revelation. “Hmm, but I like when we spend time together,” she pouted briefly at Morgan, before she couldn’t help but smile. She didn’t think they spent too much time together, they did live in the same house, after all. Or, they did. Now Morgan lived in the backyard, partly. Which was depressing for a number of reasons, but mostly because Deirdre didn’t think they crowded each other much to begin with. What was so wrong about working separately at opposite ends of the couch? Or when she’d poke her head in after Morgan had spent hours grading papers to ask if she wanted some eyeballs or boiling tea. She struggled to find a single issue with their nights cuddled together, watching movies.

But Morgan wanted space, and independence, and Deirdre understood that better than she was disappointed about being apart. “That would be nice too; interests besides each other. Maybe a way to figure that out. I know we have separate jobs and friends, and maybe that’s a start, but…” Deirdre sighed. She didn’t know how to explain that her interests were exclusively death, math and Morgan. “We do live together, and so time spent with each other is inevitable, but maybe we don’t need to be actively engaging with each other if that’s not—I mean...I just enjoy being in the same room as Morgan, or knowing that I can be, even if we’re not…” Deirdre shook her head and cut herself off. This wasn’t the point, and she was starting to ramble. “Sorry, yeah. What were those exercises you had? And, um, suggestions on the time ratio.”

“I think for the time being, whatever system the two of you have devised for creating time to be yourselves on your own, is fine. Continue to check in with each other and negotiate or maintain that as best as the two of you can until our next meeting.” Kelly’s smile flickered and widened for just a moment, which Morgan seized on as approval and clung to. She whispered another private I love you into the crook of Deirdre’s neck and straightened enough to take out her phone.

“I just want to take notes, to make sure I get everything down,” she explained.

“Deirdre, while Morgan is having her designated private time, I’d like you to challenge yourself to find activities that stimulate your interest. Look into those hobbies, or take some quiet time to see what comes up for you in the stillness. I would also like to suggest a journal practice, one where you focus your attention on yourself and the world around you, and not just your care for Morgan.” She turned her attention to Morgan, brow quirked when she noticed that the woman was writing for the both of them, it seemed. “Morgan, I would like you to take some time asking yourself why it is you feel compelled to take on so much responsibility in this relationship. Your partner has proven herself capable and willing to learn. Even if things should be, let’s say, a little less smooth than normal by allowing Deirdre to rise to the occasion and take some initiative more often, you’re also creating some powerful opportunities for you to learn together as a couple. But first, I think knowing yourself and the source of your anxiety will help you develop effective ways of combating your negative thoughts when they come up. And when we meet next, I’d like to hear the insights you’ve uncovered. My initial homework for both of you is this: try to get more comfortable receiving each other’s love and affection as you are giving it. Ask or state what you want from each other, be it a hug or a kiss or another hour cuddled by the TV or something spicier, as my niece says, and allow yourself to enjoy and receive the attention your partner is giving you for a little longer before you immediately turn to giving something back. Bask a little, appreciate that you are adored and deserving of this.”

After that, Kelly dismissed them and Morgan gave her thanks and left with Deirdre, still huddled into her side. She only parted when they made it to the car and for logistical reasons alone, they had to untangle and walk to their separate doors. Morgan brought the Subaru to quiet, rumbling life and buckled up and pulled out of the parking lot and its pseudo zen landscaping. By the time they were on the freeway, her hand was on Deirdre’s again. “So,” she prompted gently, glancing sidelong with great tenderness. “How are you feeling after all that? What do you feel like doing when we get home?”

Deirdre perked up, smiling and ready to interject. She did have a journal and—oh. Not about Morgan? She deflated. But what else would she write about if not the curve of her love’s bones? The corpse-blue tint of her eyes? The flowers of discolouration that bloomed across her skin when she was due to eat soon? How much she loved her, in what ways, with what words—these were things she needed to commit into existence. This was what her journal was. But she sighed, and remembered to keep her nightly entry Morgan-free. And though she was sure there wouldn’t be a hobby out there more interesting than holding her love, she made note of that too. She turned to Morgan and smiled fondly at the literal notes she was taking, though she couldn’t read them—and didn’t want to pry anyway—from her angle. It was when Kelly mentioned Morgan’s shouldering of responsibility that Deirdre turned to look at Kelly, momentarily confused. Relationships were equal; ‘we help each other’. Deirdre shifted, mulling it over. She never would have called it ‘taking responsibility’ but that was exactly the words for it. She reached over and pressed her palm into Morgan’s knee, a kind of reassurance and apology. Maybe if she’d gotten those diplomas, she’d have known what words to use. She’d have the language. Maybe they wouldn’t have been here. But most certainly, if that was the case, she wouldn’t have felt any guilt about not being a certified therapist like Kelly in the first place.

But ‘basking’, now that was an idea she could get behind. “Tired,” Deirdre laughed, eager to discover how to appropriately ‘bask’. To her mind now, it sounded like cuddling in bed. “So tired. Is it supposed to feel like that?” She turned to look at Morgan, squeezing her hand with a smile. She’d reclined her seat to a point where she might as well have been laying down. Unfortunately, Kelly’s practice wasn’t a far enough drive for her to nap. “What do I feel like doing?” She turned her head to look at the rushing sights. Sleep, her mind responded with enthusiasm. She yawned; her body’s way of agreeing. And then she was silent. And silent again for another minute, and another, and then three. She couldn’t say it. Kelly told her to try, and she couldn’t do it.

Sleep was not a ridiculous thing to ask for, but what if Morgan wanted something else? What if the question had been rhetorical? What if she’d taken too long to reply now and Morgan didn’t care for the answer anymore? Deirdre swallowed. “What do you want?”

Morgan laughed softly and reached over to touch her love. Her hand landed somewhere on her stomach, where her shirt rode up just a little from reclining. She played with the hem as she brushed Deirdre’s side. “I’ve definitely never hurdled headfirst into epiphanies on what is technically a second session, but you and I do spend a lot of time processing together anyways, and we don’t usually do things halfway, so maybe it’s not all that surprising. But the tired...it’s definitely not uncommon. When I first started going after my college mental breakdown, I would end up taking a nap as soon as I got home after.”

She let the silence take them until they hit a red light. Deirdre was supposed to voice her wants, and even though everything in her body made it clear to Morgan, she didn’t want to step on her opportunity to speak for herself. When she finally did, Morgan’s heart sank. “Babe--” she urged gently. “It’s okay. I can pretty much tell already, and the answer is yes, but you should say.” Her fingers spidered over to find Deirdre’s hand and cradled them together. “It’s okay.”

Slowly, Deirdre reached up and pinched Morgan’s hand--when she was alive, this unspoken question was a gentle brush instead--asking to hold it. There were many things she wanted, but only so many she could ask for. Whenever she did, the question was soft, silent. She looked at her love, illuminated by the world and the red-glow of the stop light. When their hands fit together finally, she found strength to speak, “then...can I take you to bed? Can I hold you?” Her voice was gentle against her quivering lips, parted in trepidation. Morgan had said the answer was yes, but she’d believe it once she heard it. And until then, she watched with nervous yearning. “Can I sleep, just for an hour, with you in my arms? And when I wake..can we--can we--” The light turned green. Deirdre swallowed. “Can we spend the day together? For just a while longer?”

Morgan gave Deirdre her hand with ease, going so far as to pull her love’s over the console and up to her lips so there could be no mistaking her enthusiasm. She held Deirdre’s gaze as she searched for the words, so quiet and timid they were almost swallowed up by the low humming of the car. She only turned her eyes away when the light turned and she had to switch lanes to make their turn in the bright glare of the afternoon. She squeezed Deirdre’s hand again, beaming as the trees cleared and the roads grew more familiar. “I would love nothing more than going to bed with you, my love, in every sense of the phrase,” she said. This was breaking a rule, or talking about breaking one, which felt a little less reckless. But Morgan had said that their rules should be up to revision anyway, hadn’t she?

Morgan loosened her grip so she could put both hands on the wheel. She didn’t need to fall into steamy bliss with her love tonight, and certainly not as soon as they got home. But with her greater understanding of herself came a desire to shake off the last of her intimacy trepidations. If her fear had so little to do with Deirdre, then what was the point? Shouldn't they get to enjoy themselves as much as possible in their time together? “That aside, I think laying down in our bed wrapped in each other’s arms for an hour or two sounds like a perfect idea. And then after you wake, we can do absolutely anything you want until--” Morgan stopped herself from giving the precise time. Deirdre hated exacting times for their comings and goings. It was the three minute game all over again, and Morgan didn’t want to add to her trepidation by dangling a fated hour over her. “Until I decide to take a couple of hours for myself in the evening. But after that, I’ll come back to you for the night. I’m also pretty heart-tired, and I don’t think I want anything more than being close to you right now.”

Every sense of the— Deirdre chased the echo away. Morgan didn’t mean it like that, and even if she did, she was just being carried by the energy of their first session. It didn’t mean anything, and certainly not what she wanted it to mean. Don’t be hopeful, don’t be. But Deirdre closed her eyes, and despite her cautioning, she could feel hope swell as Morgan continued. And then relief washed across her and she relaxed into her seat. It was okay. It was going to be okay. She could have this, she could have Morgan. She opened her eyes and stared at the streets she knew. The drive back wasn’t long, and she was happier to be up and into their house as soon as they could be than to pretend like cars were ever comfortable or interesting to sit in. At some point, though she didn’t realize it, the scenery turned dark. “I always want to be close to you,” she confessed quietly. “I want you to take me to the place where everything is easy again. I want to sleep, and I want to wake up feeling okay. And I want you to be there. I want you with me. I want to know what I have to do to get better. I want that to be done already. I want our future, our life. I want to be happy. I want you to be happy. I want a house in the forest with land to farm and more cats, all rescued. I want to teach kids math and about bones. I want to make death easy and okay. I want my family’s farm, freed from its legacy. I want animals that die natural and content. I want a banshee that’s happy, I want a family of banshees that are. I want to take you to Ireland and show you the horses. I want to watch all those old movies you like. I want to talk to you forever. I want to spend all my life with you. I want a dog. I want us to travel the world and see everything our mothers would never let us see. I want you. I want us. I want to go home and sleep.” Of course, she said none of that. She’d fallen asleep on the very seat she thought she’d never.

What she had said was far more simple, and yet, more than any of her imagined words could have been: “I love you, Morgan.”

#wr deirdre #wr chatzy #wr deirdre chatzy #baby's first couple's therapy #wickedswriting

7 notes · View notes

themodernbabymommablog · 3 years

Text

Blog Post #8: 26 November 2020: One degree down, a Baby to go!

Helloo Beautiful,

It’s official! As of last Friday I am all done my degree (assuming I passed my finals) and I officially have a Bachelor of Arts in Political Science and Native Studies from one of the top universities in the country! I’m feeling extremely proud of myself, I’m not going to lie. I didn’t think I’d be able to do it. My university journey has not been easy, and I’ve had many bumps along the way, so I’m proud of myself for finishing strong and getting that degree for my daughter. Now I just need her to make her debut and get this show on the road! I’m ready to be a mom!

I’m 38 weeks pregnant today, and I’m feeling every bit of it. I’m definitely very anxious to get to meet my babe and it’s so hard not to obsess over when she’s going to come. No matter what, I’ll meet her in the next four weeks! I keep feeling like this is a dream somehow, or that someone is going to come and take away my new family; have any of you ever felt like that? Have you ever felt so excited and thankful that you’re worried it’s all going to be taken away from you somehow? I know this is just natural fear, but it’s powerful. I know that times ahead will be tough with navigating a new family, trying to remain a good partner to my boyfriend, and making sure we all have everything we need. It will be stressful! But I want this more than anything, and I seriously cannot imagine life any differently.

I know I’ve mentioned my drug use briefly in a previous post, but I’ve really been reflecting lately on how far I’ve come. I can’t believe that my life used to be centred around partying, festivals, and weekend long binges; I used to hate myself so much, the way that my body looked, the decisions I made. That’s why I used drugs and alcohol. It was the only time I could have some form of confidence, or it at least masked my insecurities by making me someone else, and it really did turn me into someone else. That girl was not and is not me. She was selfish, lost, and sad. I hated myself so much, especially my weight and how I looked, and that completely dictated my life. I would allow people to treat my poorly because I wasn’t confident enough to stick up for myself, or believe I deserved anything better. When I was under the influence I would feel these amazing highs, where I finally felt confident (or at least I was numb enough to not feel self conscious); however, I was so embarrassed and regretful of the decisions I would make, that the comedowns from these weekends of partying were unbearable. I would feel so guilty, stupid, and worthless. I absolutely hated who I was under the influence, but I hated myself sober even more; I felt fat, stupid, and undeserving of all the blessings that I realistically had. I stopped playing piano, something I’ve taken lessons for since I was 3 years old, my grades were so bad in school that I was asked at one point to take a year-long leave of absence (RTW), and I pushed away ANYONE I truly cared about and isolated myself. The only people I would hang around was my party crew, because I could do whatever the fuck I wanted to seeing as they didn’t give a single care about my personal well being (which I liked). Honestly, if I would have kept going on the path I was on, I would have destroyed my relationship with my partner. Eventually my drug use would have won, I know it.

My partner has definitely helped me change my ways, he’s never judged me for my past and he has forgiven my mistakes (as I have his). Since the day that I met him I knew I wanted to be with him, and no joke after the first time we hungout I knew I wanted to marry him. He is really something special. That motivation alone helped me to slowly stop partying as much, reconnect with my body and mind through yoga and meditation, focus on school, and help myself get better; and that’s just what I did. The more I started to really put in the effort to school, the more I realized I needed the weekends to recharge and have time to get my work done and get ready for the week; I also wanted to spend the weekends with Him. Slowly, the better I started doing in school, the more accomplished I started to feel, which inherently started to lead to me having confidence. I started to use meditation and yoga to reconnect with my true self, and look inward enough to understand what I was doing to myself. It helped me to not be so scared of my own mind and body. I attribute much of my recovery to yoga and meditation, I’m no longer scared of myself, and that is the most freeing feeling in the world.

The healthier I got, the more addicting being sober became. I was eating better, feeling accomplished, and most of all I felt in control of myself. I was no longer having these unbearable highs and lows, and slowly I was starting to see my progress pay off. The more that happened, the more I accepted myself and started to feel proud about the decisions I was making; with the tender love of my partner, I started to realize how much I truly care about myself and love my inner goddess. I’m a bad bitch now, and I love it.

Now the road to recovery has been bumpy, I still struggled through all of this, but the pregnancy has really been the biggest blessing and reassurance I needed that I am on the right path. It really is true, when you ask life for something, it will give it to you. You just have to be willing to see it. Only those who pause to notice will understand what’s happening, and make the choices necessary to make those wishes come true. I used to beg the earth, the Creator, God, or whatever force that gives us life a chance to get clean, and the opportunity to love myself and be happy. I was given the chance to notice the signs all along, but I never did. Then one day, I realized that I have been given everything I need in order to live the life I so desperately wanted; my wonderful family, my amazing partner, and most of all myself. I have always had the power to love myself and the world around me, and once I did that everything fell into place; now I am clean, sober, healthy, and about to have a beautiful baby girl with the absolute love of my life. This is what life is all about. Progression, change, and love. I’m so thankful for every stage of my life, because it has lead me to the present moment, and the present moment is the best drug I have ever taken.

I better let you guys go now, that’s enough rambling for one day. I’m sorry to anyone that is turned off by my drug talk, but it’s important that you guys know who I am, the good and the bad.

I love all you guys, I hope that the next time I write to you I’ll be a new mommy.

Stay healthy everyone, and please make the conscious decision to be patient and kind to yourself.

Namaste ♡

1 note · View note

puckyou-forpuckssake · 6 years

Text

North Star (3)—C. Parayko

Message me to request an imagine. Check my blog for master list or search for more in blog with #hockeyimagine. There are more parts to this!

“Were we fighting?” Colton asked one morning a month after the accident. You looked over your shoulder at him. He was staring at his cup of coffee and then up at you. He was wearing his glasses and god you loved that look on him that you wanted to pounce. You focused back on the pancakes in front of you instead of him.

“No,” you answered. “Why do you ask that?”

“You sleep in a different room. I know some couples do, but I can see where stuff used to be and no longer is. That normally signals a couple isn’t on good terms,” he pointed out. “So I was just wondering if you are being nice just because of what happened and then when I turn around you make this choking motions.”

You chuckled as he demonstrated angrily choking the air. You shook your head. “No we weren’t fighting. We’ve been great. We were slowly exiting the honeymoon phase since you were back into the season. I moved to one of the guest rooms because I wasn’t sure how you would deal with me in bed with you when you have no idea who I am.”

Colton frowned. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable in our home.”

Our home. Those words gave you hope. “And I you.”

Silence fell over you two as you finished up and played the pancakes. You could feel Colton’s eyes on you as you made his plate just how he likes it. “I think we should go out today,” he said suddenly.

“What?”

“I’ve been cooped up in this house for almost two weeks now, and you haven’t left much either. Let’s go out someplace. Maybe we can relax and get to know each other,” he paused. “Again.”

Once again, you were taken aback by what he said. You wanted to say that you were getting your Colton back, but the thing was, your Colton was staring straight back at you. The amnesia hadn’t changed him. He was still the man you loved. He just didn’t consciously remember you.

“That would be nice. You pick the place. Nothing is coming to mind to do in November.”

Colton thought for a minute. “Can I drive?” He asked. “Doc said at the last appointment that I could.” You reluctantly agreed, but maybe this would be good for him.

————————————————————

You watched Colton’s nose scrunch up to push his glasses up as he drove. You looked out the window to hide your smile. His little quirks like that one drove you crazy. You refrained from asking where you were heading. It was clear Colton knew where he was going.

“Here we go,” Colton smiled as he turned into a parking lot. “I’ve probably taken you here before.”

You smiled. The Missouri Botanical Garden. “You’ll always be a softie even if you can be a beast on the ice. I know how much you love enjoying the peace and quiet of the garden. It’s the opposite of the ice.”

Colton blushed a little before getting out of the car. There wasn’t much of crowd as it was November and a Tuesday. You were quiet as you walked through the gardens. “First date,” you blurted out.

Colton glanced at you confused.

“You took me here for our first date,” you explained. “I remember how proud you were to take me here, even though this is your secret haven. You told me that you’re wanted to share this part of your life with me more than anyone you knew. I know that was when I realized you are something really special to me.”

Colton nodded. Maybe it was you telling him such an intimate moment between you two that he couldn’t remember was the reason his cheeks were as red as Nolan Patrick’s and wore a goofy grin.

“How did we meet? I remember when I first woke up those words I said to you you mentioned were the ones I told you when we first meet. So is our life a rom-com?”

You snorted. “Our life is certainly not a rom-com; however, it is starting to feel like a cheesy romance. I wish I could tell you we met in some cute way, but we didn’t. I met you at work.”

“My work or your work? Please be my work.”

You chuckled at the fear in his face. You started back to work a week ago after being on leave to take care of Colton until he was more comfortable. It was a perk of never taking off work normally.

“Mine,” His rosey cheeks stayed. “You act like I do such a scary thing.”

“Because you do!” Colton exclaimed. “I must’ve made a fool of myself.”

“Mark thought it was funny.”

“Mark would’ve been like 8 or 9 at the time. Of course he thought it was funny.”

You were an elementary school teacher and at one point taught where Mark went to school before switching to teach at a school in Creve Coeur. You met the Tarasenkos months before Colton as you were Mark’s third grade teacher and new to the area. Mark always told you in class that you would like his dad’s friend Colton. You always just nodded along. Then when you decided to hold a science fair for your class, Mark forced you to meet Colton as he was the one carrying Mark’s solar system project. He tripped and broke it, but no one seemed to really care.

“So how did we get from there to here?” Colton asked after you explained. “You said that we got married like four months ago and got together two years prior.”

“You remember a lot of things I say.”

Colton shrugged. “You’re my guide to normality. Alex and Vlad don’t know what I need to know about us. About me. You do.”

You wanted to kiss him so badly. You wanted to grab his hand and tell him your news that won’t be hidden much longer. But you knew Colton wouldn’t be able to handle that right now.

“A couple weeks after the science fair, I went to a Blues game with some visiting friends who were big hockey nuts. At the game we ran into Yana and Mark. Jayne was with them too. They forced me down to meet the team after the game.”

“Forced you?” Colton chuckled.

You nodded. “My friends went very willingly but Yana dragged me down there saying you would be happy to see me. Jayne was completely on board. I noticed you before I noticed the smell in the locker room. You’re hard to miss. That night a make-a-wish kid was there. She was five. She walked in that night wearing an Allen jersey but left with you as her favorite player. You were completely wrapped around her finger. I just stared at you. It was honestly probably borderline creepy. You didn’t acknowledge me until Jake took her to try on his pads. It was that moment when you looked up and saw me staring that we both knew we were screwed. A week later we were walking around here, talking like we are now. You proposed to me during dinner at home.

“We were just discussing our day as we ate and you just blurted it out. ‘Marry me’. You then profusely apologized saying that wasn’t how you wanted it to go and you had just bought the ring hours before. You rambled on about how perfect you wanted it to be. I kissed you so you could shut up. We got married here four months ago.”

You had noticed that during your tale Colton had grabbed your hand. He was smiling too. “I’d call that a love story. It feels...right. Does that make sense? Like deep down I can feel it.”

You nodded.

Colton squeezed your hand and stopped you under an arch of flowers. He didn’t know, consciously, that this was the spot that you said “I do” at. “You’re guiding me home, Y/N. I promise you that we will be together again.”

“We are together, Colton.”

He surprised you when he gently kissed your forehead. “Till death do us part.”

#colton parayko #colton parayko imagine #st louis blues #st louis blues imagine #north star #hockey #nhl #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #imagine

109 notes · View notes

harrysbaebyhoney · 6 years

Text

THE BLITZ.

A/N: hi, this note will be a little bit longer than i usually try for! first of all, sorry for the long wait for this part, it was just a bit harder to write and try to properly encompass all the right emotions. if you’re new to this fic, you can find part one here! there will be one more part to this series, and then i’m moving onto newer things. (i love trilogies)

i’d like to point out that i do not consider myself a master at history, so while i did do my research to be as accurate as possible, it might not ALL be correct. *now, i tried to capture some of the symptoms of mental illnesses in this fic, and though i don’t know if i’d say it’s triggering at any point, i would rather warn you guys just in case bc everyone has different triggers. i never specify which mental illnesses are being displayed though it can be assumed to be ptsd/depression. again, i’m not an expert at how mental illnesses can affect people, this is based off what i’ve searched up/what i’ve gone through.*

lastly, i worked really hard on this fic, so i’d love to hear your feedback!! feel free to leave me any messages on what you thought, i would really appreciate it. i did go over and read it all again as i went along, so i would say it’s mostly edited, but i may have missed some things. okay, enough rambling! enjoy!!

WARNINGS: 12.1k words+, smut, a lot of angst, cussing, fluff, displays of the effects of mental illnesses

PART 2.

November 1942, Birmingham.

Frantic voices and rushed footsteps flooded the sidewalks of Birmingham. Children held onto their mother’s hands while they were led through the panicked crowds. “Over here, miss!” One man urged a mother and her family to follow him into the underground cavern that would serve as protection for them during the airstrikes. This was routine, not new or sudden for the citizens of the city.

Y/N had just come back home from work, which had been a long and tedious day, when the warnings of an airstrike came. Of course, there had been warnings before, and she often found herself spending nights in bomb shelters with her heart thundering against her chest. So far, she had been lucky, as both her loved ones and her home had been safe. However, luck was not promised to remain for eternity, and she knew better than to be hopeful in times like these.

After grabbing the paper-plane necklace from her dresser, she had rushed out of her own apartment, only to follow the bustling crowds towards the designated bomb shelters. The first time, she had brought a blanket with her, but she now knew there was no chance of sleep when the threat of death loomed over her.

“Did you bring your book to read for us?” She overheard a mother ask Marc, an individual who did his best at comforting those in the shelter alongside him. He read to the children who paused their sniffling and crying to listen to the male entice them with a fairytale world. If she was being honest, his storytelling helped to put everyone at ease by allowing them to escape into an imaginary world, children or not.

“‘Course I did, lovey. I’ve got a bloody good one to read to them,” He assured her to which Y/N grinned at, taking her place by sitting in the corner. She had been here before, considering it was the closest bomb shelter to her home. Most of the people from her community utilized the shelter that the basement of this factory provided for them. Whereas a basement was secured to serve as an air raid shelter, it still did not guarantee ultimate protection.

She knew Harry disproved, considering he wrote to her often about purchasing one of the new shelters invented, such as the Anderson shelter, to share with other apartment dwellers. Though she promised to look into it, she never did. The basement was enough for her, and she had grown comfortable and more at ease with the company of those who came here with her.

It was silent for a while besides the occasional sniffling and prayers sounding throughout the room. Y/N held the necklace close to her chest as it made her feel closer to Harry. She remembered when he gave it to her, the night before he left. He told her when she felt panicked or anxious, to hold onto that necklace and remember he is always with her. In fact, he insisted she always wear it, so that she felt less alone, but she felt it was far too valuable to risk ever losing, thus she kept it in her dresser’s drawer.

Routine followed as it usually does with the dust from the ceiling falling onto the ground as the bombs hit the city, followed by more weeping and praying. Marc did his best to ease the nerves of the crowd by reading stories from his book of fables, though it was harder this time as the noises boomed above them.

Y/N knew it then, that this time routine had fallen short of offering full protection from the air strikes, and this time, she would experience loss. So, she held onto Harry’s necklace tighter, hoping it would at least provide her and the rest of the people shoved into this basement protection from the death those bombs promised.

A few gasped and some shrieked as the noises came closer and boomed more heavily than before. Even Y/N had put her hands over her ears, eyes squeezing shut as she attempted to drown out both the noises and negative thoughts circling through her mind. Tears began to form, but she remembered her promise to Harry, to be strong for him.

So, she collected her breath and opened her eyes to see a small girl trembling beside her. Lips curving into a frown, she slid her hand down to reach the girl’s and clutched it in her own. “It’s gonna be alright,” She promised her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze as the girl whimpered and curled into Y/N’S touch. Her heart ached at that, wondering where her parents or loved ones were, but she didn’t dare ask. She only provided comfort.

Her own hand clutched the necklace tighter before presenting it to the little girl. “See this?” She asked her softly, looking down at her with a small smile. “An angel gave it to me before he left. Y’know what he left for, hm?” The little girl shook her head in response to which Y/N grinned softly at.

“He left to protect us, and he wouldn’t let anything harm us, ever. So, don’t worry a single bit, because we have angels on our side,” Y/N comforted her, her thumb running over the back of the girl’s hand as she felt her relax slightly. “Try getting some rest, yeah? I’ll be right here to make sure the angel does his job, okay?”

The child nodded hesitantly, and Y/N knew it would be hard for her to actually be able to sleep, but it was worth a shot. After all, the poor girl looked exhausted and frightened beyond belief. Allowing the girl to rest her head on her lap, she ran her fingers through her hair soothingly and rested her own head back on the shaking wall behind her.

Eyes falling shut, she attempted to focus on the readings of Marc while the sounds of warfare and tragedy continued on above them. Her thumb ran over the pendant of the necklace as she drowned out the reality around her by singling her thoughts to a particular, green-eyed angel.

April 1943, Birmingham.

Today was a great day. No, that would be an understatement. It was a day that Y/N would never, ever forget. However, it proved to come along with its own obstacles, as well, considering she was running late on her way to the train station.

When she received the letter from Harry that he was coming home on this day, her heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t sure if she was reading the letter properly or if she was merely dreaming. She cried that night, happy tears because after being apart from him for almost four years, they were to reunite. Though they had not seen each other and only communicated through the occasional letters, her love for him had never wavered, and she knew, ever since the night they met, that he would be the one for her.

Waking up in the morning to realize the day she had been dreaming of had finally come was an indescribable feeling. Though, she had to wait till 4 pm, and she currently was rushing out of her office building at 3:45 pm.

Her job had grown more and more important to her over the course of the few years. The boss, who she had worked directly under in 1940, was soon drafted for the war movement, and with a lack of workers to support his family business, he appointed Y/N to oversee how it was ran. Receiving that news was a prideful moment for her, considering all she had ever wanted was to run her own business and have an important role in society.

She was damn good at it, too. Not only did she keep Mr. Porter’s family business running, but she actually managed to increase his profits by gaining more business through several advertising efforts. Of course, she did so through the help of other women who participated actively in promoting the company. It was women who revived his business, and she would not let that ever be forgotten.

That didn’t mean no men worked there, either. In fact, there were quite a few who surely did their effort in helping the business, but they did so with spiteful remarks and dismay that they were working under a woman. Y/N paid no attention to their ignorance, though, knowing that both her work ethic and success was something they could never grasp in their tiny minds. If Harry were there, he would poke fun at their fragile masculinity being insulted by a woman’s success.

So, being the boss of men did come with its downsides, such as a lack of obedience on their part. Raised in a society where women were seen as inferior, it was very difficult for them to recognize that being employed by a woman is no different than being employed by a man. However, this is how she ended up stuck at work for much longer than she expected, considering Johnny had decided going out for drinks was more important than filling out some expense reports.

The family business she was looking over specialized in clothing for both women and men. With many other clothing stores and companies, ones far bigger than Mr. Porter’s, it grew difficult to find a way to really stand out. However, Y/N found a way through making the company’s relationships with clients more personal through custom designs. Moreso, she found a way to lower prices without having to let go of workers or to lose profit. Lower prices was quite a seller in wartimes.

“Cathy, I just finished the reports, please send them out for me!” She had hurriedly exclaimed as she grabbed her coat and threw it around her shoulders, frantically rushing out of the building.

“Our own ‘boss’ leaves early, how’s that fair?” Johnny scoffed, shaking his head.

“Oh, shut up, Johnny,” Cathy rolled her eyes.

The train station, luckily, wasn’t too far away. Y/N couldn’t drive though, considering she lacked a license and a car, so she was forced to sprint there since no cabs were in sight. In fact, the station was only a few minutes away from her apartment, well their apartment.

After the bombing that night, when she had comforted a little girl without being able to ease her own nerves, Y/N unfortunately found out that her apartment building was torn down. It was a devastating time, considering most of her possessions were long gone. She sought help through some donation centers that were generous enough to offer her spare clothing.

Even worse, though, Harry’s flat was destroyed, too. She had frantically written him a letter, apologizing for giving him such troubling news while he was already struggling to survive. For a few weeks Y/N lived in the apartment of Tom, her grandfather. He lived right above his bakery, so waking up to the aroma of bread in the oven wasn’t something she would complain about. However, she received a letter from Harry soon after, stating that she should find a new place for them to live together. Even when Harry wasn’t there, he managed to make her the happiest girl alive, and to know he had plans to live with her after the war was over made her giddy.

So, she had apartment searched, and finally found a flat that was perfect for them. An additional benefit was that it was only across the street from the bar they had met at, the Interlude. However, as she was passing by the bar right now, she noticed how the Interlude sign was barely hanging on, and the letters had started to rust. It looked like the physical representation of war, still surviving but hardly so.

Out of breath and panting, her heels clicked on the floor as she finally made it to the designated train station. Her eyes roamed over the crowds of people reuniting with their loved ones, happy tears and sobs coursing throughout the setting. But, she couldn’t spot her love. “Harry!” She called out, voice shaky as she looked around for him.

Harry was beginning to give up hope. He had arrived at the train station, groggy yet anxious. It had been about ten minutes since he got there, and he was starting to think that perhaps, Y/N had forgotten about him. He was rather paranoid about it throughout the war. Of course, she wrote to him, but whose to say that she didn’t do it out of pity and had actually found a new lover, but was waiting to tell him the news so he wouldn’t get discouraged while in battle?

Pulling the duffel bag over his shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut, trying to fight away the hurt that was building up inside him as he was beginning to confirm his paranoia. That was until he heard the faint call of his name. Now, he knew her voice, he had it memorized in his mind. When he laid in a cot or on the dirt during the war, he would often imagine her speaking to him, consoling him and murmuring sweet nothings into his ear.

Then, he saw her. She looked different, a bit older and exhausted, but still held that same fiery innocence within her. She looked as if she had been through hell but was still fighting through, pushing forward with the strength buried inside her. After imagining how this day would be like for years, this seceded all his expectations. She looked like a bloody angel, here to finally rescue him from the atrocities he had witnessed and been part of.

“(Y/N),” He croaked out, his own voice trembling as she turned around, her eyes catching his in a startled expression. Her nose scrunched up, eyes filling with water as her mouth fell open at the sight of him, her Harry.

She ran to him, arms spread out as she launched herself onto his body, her arms looping around his neck and ankles crossing behind his back. His arms hastily wrapped around her waist, stumbling back slightly but burying his face into her neck. Both of them released the tears that threatened to spill out.

“Oh my god, you’re here, you’re actually here,” She whispered to herself as if it weren’t true, her hands lifting his face to cup in her own palms. Her eyes searched his before she pressed kisses all over his face, not realizing just how much she missed the touch of his skin until she felt it again. “I can’t believe you’re here,” She sobbed, smiling widely.

He looked like her Harry, green-eyed and curly-haired, but he looked like a different version of himself. He was tired, anyone could tell that, and he was in pain. His eyes held untold stories, ones he probably would never have the heart to tell or even revisit. His sad smile spoke volumes of the battles he went through, and she wanted to cure him of all his hurt and suffering.

“‘M here, can’t believe I’m holdin’ yeh’ in my arms again,” He murmured back, looking down at her with his own goofy grin. They both smiled at each other, forgetting about the world surrounding them, before leaning in close and connecting their lips for the first time in almost four years. Every single ounce of emotion was poured into that kiss, their angst, their nostalgia, their love, their shock, their passion, and their joy. Neither of them dared to end the kiss until they were out of breath, so as not to miss a moment of each other ever again.

“I missed yeh’ so bloody much,” He told her, leaving kisses on the corner of her lips as he held her tighter to his body. He had always imagined holding her close to him again as he laid down to sleep, but was unable to. He thought about her body strewn over his, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on his chest. She was what kept him going, kept him pushing through all the death and blood around him.

“I missed you more than anything, H, I can’t even begin to explain to you how much I missed you. I’m so glad you’re here and you’re okay,” She responded softly, hugging him once more as she pushed her face into the crook of his neck and held onto him tightly. “I love you.”

He breathed out, tears threatening to resurface as he was reminded of how much he had missed this, missed all of this for so goddamn long so that he could be a killer. “I love yeh’ more, petal,” He told her firmly, his hand reaching up to tangle itself in her hair, stroking it. She still felt as soft as ever. That, at least, had not changed.

— —— — —

The entire walk back was filled with giggling and wide smiles that seemed unable to be wiped off either of their faces. They appeared just as in love with each other as they had been four years ago, and to bystanders, a certain radiation glowed off of them.

“Oh! I should be carrying your bags for you, give me that,” Y/N insisted as they stopped in front of the new apartment building, Harry’s eyes taking in the scenery.

“None o’that, ‘ve got it,” He waved her off with a roll of his eyes, but she reached out to grab it from him anyways, yanking it out of his grip. His brow rose challengingly, before he mumbled an, “Alright.” Then, he stepped forward, gripping her waist.

“Harry! What are you-“ She began to say as he picked her off her feet and threw her over his shoulder, her head dangling by his back as a surprised shriek passed her lips.

“Guess I’ll have to carry yeh, then,” He cheekily explained to her, chuckling under his breath as he felt her small fists hit his back in response.

“You’re ridiculous, H,” She scolded him, though the smile could be heard from her tone, and her heart was full of only love for him. So, she hung over his shoulder, holding his duffel bag in one enclosed fist.

He managed to open the front doors of the building, much to her surprise, because the Harry she knew had awful coordination skills. Y/N gave a sheepish grin and waved her hands at the other apartment residents that were lounging in the lobby. Luckily, there was an elevator, and Y/N thought he would finally put her down, but he insisted on carrying her all the way to their flat.

It only made matters worse that Melinda, Y/N’s neighbor from across the hall, was opening her front door to enter her apartment, the same exact time that the pair of them arrived at their own loft. Melinda awas a rather judgmental lady who had come from an older generation. It was easy to say that she was rather displeased with Y/N’s choice of attire or her stumbling home, comapletely wasted, after a long night. So, it probably didn’t help that she saw Y/N slung over some stranger’s shoulder with her dress hitching up her thighs and showing far too much skin than Melinda would’ve liked.

“Hi, miss!” Y/N still attempted at greeting her politely, giving her a small wave, to which Melinda merely huffed and scoffed at before rolling her eyes and storming out of her apartment, mumbling something about what the youth was like these days.

“Thanks a lot, H, she already hates me,” Y/N groaned, only met with his chuckles in response.

“How can anyone hate yeh’ with such a cute bum?” He teased, giving her ass a small pat to which she gasped loudly at.

“Harry! We’re in the hallway!”

“We don’t have to be if yeh’ opened this door up.”

“You gonna put me down then?”

“No.”

She sighed, before tugging her cross-body purse closer to her reach and digging out the key. “Here, love,” She told him, blindly reaching her hand back towards him to pass the key over. He took it graciously and with some trouble, he managed to unlock the front door (though after a few curse words were dropped).

“Watch your head, doll,” He warned her as she ducked down lower once he entered the loft, taking it in for the first time ever. He adored the place already, and her aroma lingered throughout the apartment. Harry would easily be able to tell that it was decorated by Y/N from the little plants that accompanied every window, and the blanket strewn over the couch, which Harry knew she always used while watching her favorite shows.

He could smell the freshly baked cookies, and it tugged at his heart because he knew she baked them specifically for him, remembering the time she had brought him chocolate chip cookies when they had gotten into a terrible argument. He was never able to stay mad at her for long, but her chocolate chip cookies were enough to cure anyone’s anger.

Kicking the front door shut with his heel, he finally decided to give her a break and allow her to stand on her own two feet. “I like what yeh’ve done to the place,” He remarked softly, her lips twisting in a grin. “Alright, down yeh’ go.”

His hands gripped her waist tightly as he began to lower her down to the floor. Her own hands slipped to hold onto his shoulders, in order to not lose her balance. He paused, though, once their faces were leveled to each other. Her feet dangled right above the floor, and for a moment, she finally realized what it was like to be at Harry’s height.

Not a word was spoken as they gazed into each other’s eyes, memorizing the exact color spectrum of their hues that were filled with love and compassion. His arms moved to encircle around her waist, clutching her to his body with their chests pressed against each other tightly. Eyes searching one another, they gave into their deepest, animalistic desires and soon their lips were engaged in a passionate kiss.

The electricity of the kiss spread throughout either of them like a wildfire, setting their insides to flames— the damages to be dealt with once the chaos was over. Her arms looped around his neck loosely, moaning softly into the kiss as she felt him press against her, grinding his hips onto hers. He groaned against her lips once he heard that soft moan pass from her flushed assets, forgetting how much he loved to hear the results of pleasuring her.

Their kiss felt like a battle in the war itself, both of them fighting to take control as to where the kiss was leading to. They were fighting to keep this feeling alive and to never lose it again. Their anger for the war, for society, and for the whole bloody situation was poured into the mere touch of their lips against one another. His teeth nibbled on her bottom lip as she parted her lips for him, his tongue poking in before he pulled away, both of them panting. Moving her head up, she captured his nose in an open-mouthed kiss, dragging her bottom lip along the flesh.

“Where’s the bedroom?” He whispered out hoarsely, his tone low and full of lust.

“Straight then take a left,” She rushed out hastily, already longing for the touch of his lips against hers once more. He followed her directions within a few seconds, her ankles locking behind his back once more as she held onto him tightly.

He maneuvered his way through the apartment while she planted kisses along his face— all over his face, actually. His features were covered in her pecks as her hands moved to cup his face in her small palms. “Missed your cute nose,” She murmured, pressing a kiss there.

He chuckled lowly, throwing open the door of their bedroom and taking a quick look around. “Like the curtains,” He admitted to her, glancing there as she left small, gentle bites along his jawline and down his neck.

“Thank you, I thought you’d like the floral pattern, too,” She told him in between kisses, squealing as her body was thrown onto the bed. Looking up at him, she sat back on her elbows.

“Think it’s time to finally break our bed in, hm?” He cheekily asked her, her own nod being enough for him to hastily peel off his shirt. She worked at unbuttoning the top of her dress, letting the polka-dot fabric slide off her shoulders before lifting her hips and throwing the dress to the side.

His hands unbuckled his belt, shoving his trousers down. “Take everything off, I can’t wait, ’s been too long. Just wanna feel inside of yeh’ already,” He demanded, his eyes moving from her face to her figure as he cursed under his breath. It had been so long since he had been touched, since he had felt her, that he could already reach his release right now.

And, she felt the same as she watched him stand in only his boxers. His body was definitely more toned than when she had first met him. Of course, Harry had always kept up a nice figure, considering factory labor did require such physical work. But, his muscles were more defined than ever, and she noticed a few scars lingering on his side. She unclasped her bra, setting it to the side before tugging down her underwear, the same time he took off his boxers.

A silence lapsed over them once more, both of them memorizing each other’s bodies and comparing it to four years ago. They both felt a sense of insecurity, unsure if their dreams and fantasies of this moment would be fulfilling enough in reality. But, when Y/N reached out for his hand, and his palm slid into hers, it was an undeclared statement that this moment was perfect already, just because it was actually happening.

She gave him a gentle tug onto the bed, and he hovered over her with either hand on either side of her face. Staring down at her, he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her lips before lining his cock up to her entrance. She mewled out as he began to push inside her, it being so long since she had felt him, or anyone, inside of her.

Head thrown back, her eyes squeezed shut, an overwhelming sensation of pleasure washing over her. He gave her a few moments to adjust along with for himself, too, in order to compose himself and resist the urge to cum right now. “Fuck, yeh’ alright, baby?” He asked her lowly, his forehead resting against hers as he waited for her response.

“Mm, I forgot what it feels like,” She replied with a soft laugh, her eyes creaking open to peer into his before a soft smile pressed on her lips. “Missed it so much.”

“Bet yeh’ did, dirty minx that yeh’ are,” Harry muttered back, the both of them laughing as he continued to push inside her, pulling his hips back to thrust slowly as she moaned out. His groans met her soft whimpers and whines as he continued his deep, slow thrusting. When her eyes fluttered shut again, his brows furrowed, shaking his head and moving a hand to cup her chin in his palm. “Open your eyes, want yeh’ to look at me when yeh’ cum.”

She nodded slowly, forcing her eyes to remain open, even when his cock hit that one particular spot that had her back arching and her hips bucking. It didn’t take long for either of them to reach their climax, considering it had been forever since they had had sex. Pleasing yourself with your own hand was efficient, but it wasn’t nearly as amazing as this. And when they came, their eye contact never broke, both of them murmuring their soft, “I love you.” He even had to wipe away her tears during it, although she couldn’t help it. It was an overwhelming amount of emotion to have Harry back at all, let alone inside of her.

And, although the first time of the night was gentle, he didn’t hold back on her for too long. The both of them went after each other again and again— with Harry between her thighs, or Y/N with her pretty, little mouth wide open— until they were both far too exhausted to even think about cumming once more.

She left him laying on bed, chest covered in a thin layer of sweat as he shut his eyes to regain his composure. Y/N had babbled something about fetching them both some water before they go to bed, but Harry had already dozed off by the end of her sentence, falling into a rather fast slumber.

Y/N didn’t have the heart in her to wake him up when he looked so peaceful, so she downed her glass of water before going back into bed and snuggling into him, a leg thrown around his waist. It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep, either.

However, both of their sleep was soon interrupted.

Gunshots sounded around him. Airplanes flew over them, bombs dropping from the aircrafts and collapsing onto the very ground that innocent civilians once lived on. Blood soaked through his uniform as he clutched his side with one hand, his other hand clasping the palm of James in his own.

James had been his first friend, considering they met each other at training. They bonded well, both having a quick wit and a rather cheeky sense of humor. It was pure luck that they were sent off to the same station, and Harry had quickly grown a liking for the blonde-haired male.

That was his first mistake— growing attached to anybody he met in the army, and he would now learn to never make that mistake again. James was his last piece of England, the reminder of home, a home that came along with his sweet Y/N.

Now, his reminder lay on the dirt beneath them with blood seeping through the bullet-wounded embedded in his chest. His lips were parted as he wheezed heavily, trying to capture another breath though it was fleeting away from him quicker and quicker.

“Gonna be alright, okay? Just hold on fo’ a mo’, and a medic will be here, alright?” Harry encouraged him, rocking back and forth on his heels as tears slid down his cheeks, covered in dry blood and mud.

James didn’t have the strength within him to respond, to mumble that it was time to let go. Instead, his pale, blue eyes stared up at the sky, and his chest heaved with each last breath he took.

“Please, gotta stay wit’ me. Can’t do this without yeh’, yeh’ know I can’t,” He murmured lowly, his bottom lip trembling as he attempted to stifle the sobs that were rising in his throat.

But, James’s fingers went limp in his grasp, and Harry recognized the way his eyes wouldn’t flutter any longer, instead peering up eternally into the vast openness of the sky above them. The very sky that taunted them with the idea of an escape, but never provided them with the means to get there.

Sobs wracked throughout his body as he realized he had lost his dear friend, had seen him die right before his very eyes. And, he couldn’t feel any anger or desire for revenge. He knew his captain would use James’s death as motivation to avenge him by killing enemy soldiers.

But, all Harry could think about was the fact that perhaps he had taken the life of someone else’s friend, too.

Y/N shook Harry awake, his lips parting in a loud gasp as he sat up hastily, trembling. She had awoken to his repeated mumbles of, “Stay with me, please.” It wasn’t until she felt his body shaking beside her that she had the urge to pull him out of the nightmare he had sunken into.

“Harry, baby, what’s wrong? What’s happened?” She whispered to him, her eyes clouded with worry as she reached out for him, but he flinched away, not fully recuperated from his nightmare.

His breaths came out in short pants, chest moving up and down heavily, as tears continued to slide down his pale cheeks. Then, it pieced together in his mind— the fact that it was a nightmare of what had occurred to him. And when that settled in his mind, he sobbed harder than before, curling forward into his body as he hid his face in his palms.

Though, Y/N was concerned he would refuse her touch once more, she hated to see him like this, all alone and suffering. So, she reached out for him again, this time surprised he let her arms slide around him. Pulling him into her chest, she sat up against the headboard, clutching his body to her own. Pushing his head into the crook of her neck, she allowed his tears to dampen her skin as she ran her fingers through his sweaty curls.

“Shh, it’s alright, H. You’re safe now, you’re home,” She murmured to him reassuringly, pressing small kisses to his temple. She continued to soothingly run her fingers through his hair, or to rub his arm up and down, until his cries finally quieted down and silence loomed over them.

Although, it was true that Harry was safe now— he was far from being home.

— — — — —

Being back at home with Y/N was a product of heaven. On the other hand, though, Harry was questioning whether a heaven existed anymore. After taking part of the cruelties of war and witnessing it, it was hard for him to establish faith in an afterlife.

He was trying, though, to move on from it and to become an active part of Y/N’s life again. It had been four weeks since his return. Those four weeks seemed even longer than his time spent in war with each minute dragging on as he recalled memory after memory of the bloodshed that stained his boots.

He attempted to put on a front that he was alright, offering Y/N the widest of grins whenever she asked if he was truly fine. Of course, she knew he wasn’t, he was rather easy to read. However, she was troubled with figuring out how to help him.

His nightmares had progressively worsened over the weeks, too. It was safe to say that his state of mind was rather unstable, but he was acting as if that just was not the case. It is questionable whether he acted that way for the protection of Y/N or for himself.

Harry was in bed, the blankets pulled around his body to keep him warm as he nuzzled his head further into the pillow that smelled faintly of Y/N. He had lost track of what time it was, but from the ruffled sheets on the right side of him, he knew that his love was no longer home. She had been providing for the both of them, her work covering the costs of what it would take to take care of two. It wasn’t like she minded, whatsoever, as she thought the proposed gender roles of society were unfair.

Sighing, his eyes creaked open to spot the sunlight already pouring through the windows and brightening the room. His lips turned downwards into a frown. He distinctly remembered telling Y/N to keep the curtains closed when she left for work. He disliked waking up to such light in the room and much preferred the darkness that enveloped their surroundings.

Sitting up, he leaned back against the headboard, his head tilting upwards as eyes fluttered shut. He was still exhausted, and he didn’t feel like doing much today. Today would be a relaxing day for him, he decided. Just like yesterday. Maybe, even just like the day before that. He had had a series of relaxing days, recently.

The sudden sound of a loud crash had his eyes opened wide. His muscles tensed, back straightening as the loud clatter sent him through a wave of alarm.

The tray crashed onto the floor as the frantic nurse rushed to his side, eyes blown wide.

“Abigail, pick that up! Regain yourself,” The doctor sternly directed her before returning his gaze to the emerald-hued male that laid on the cot.

He didn’t appear as a man in this very moment, but rather back to his younger roots, reflecting the composure of a mere boy, entirely innocent. Blood seeped out from his lower abdomen, tainting his skin with the color of red.

The nurse, with shaky hands, picked up the tray and hurried over to the bedside. She knew she should be prepared for this, should’ve known what was going to come out of battles and war, in general. But, when she had seen his body being carried in, skin pale as snow and eyes both droopy and exhausted, she had panicked. When she saw the blood pouring from his wound, his hand clutching it as labored breaths escaped his lips, a wave of anxiety rushed over her.

“H-here,” Abigail murmured in a trembling voice, the tray being placed beside the doctor as he removed the pressure he was pressing onto the wound. Her blue hues shot towards Harry’s green orbs, trying to gauge out his emotions through his eyes. His green orbs peered into her own, pain filling them as the doctor began to stitch it up.

He let out a loud groan, head thrown back and banging against the bed as his hands curled into fists. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Commotion surrounded them as more bodies were brought in, dead or alive. Blood stained the floors, and the aroma of the room set the scene with tragedy. As Harry felt another incision press into his body, a loud scream fell from his lips, eyes squeezing shut until his vision blurred out entirely and his body slipped into unconsciousness.

A thin layer of sweat was beginning to form on his body, his hands curled into fists by his side. Green eyes darted around the room, trying to find the source of the sound. He was the only one there, though. So, what could it have been?

Stepping out of his bed hesitantly, his jaw clenched as he reached for a nearby object, settling on the book that Y/N was currently reading. Holding it tightly in his palm, he kept it raised slightly, in case he had to whack an intruder with it.

Feet moving him slowly towards the noise of the commotion, his breaths became more raggedy as reality blurred with his memories of war. For a split second, he felt like he was back in the cot, thrashing and squirming as his wound was tended for. Shaking his head, he shut his eyes before reopening them, the scene filtering back to the apartment he shared with Y/N.

Confusion settled throughout him, trying to decipher which moment was the present and which was the past. Stumbling on his feet, his chest rose and fell with heavier breaths, panic settling throughout him. Was he imagining being with Y/N? Was he still in war? Maybe, he was still lying on the cot. Maybe, he had never woken up, still blacked out on the bed he bled on.

Lump growing in his throat, he sauntered into the kitchen, eyes blown wide and wild like an animal.

“Oh, Harry! You’re up,” Y/N exclaimed cheerfully as she turned over her shoulder from her spot near the stove, shooting him a fond smile.

His panic settled down when he heard her voice, blinking a few times to regain himself.

Once he realized that he was, in fact, in the comfort of his own apartment, he set down the book a bit lower. Y/N noticed the object in his hands, brow arching as she gazed at him curiously. “What do you have that for?”

“You…” Harry trailed off, brows furrowing in confusion. When had she gotten home? Why hadn’t she greeted him before beginning to cook? He felt ridiculous for his entire panicked state a few moments earlier, thinking he was back in war. “What was tha' noise?” He settled on asking, confusion laced in his tone as he ran a hand through his hair, eyes still darting around cautiously.

“You okay, bubba? Look a bit lost…” Y/N frowned before pointing to the pot on the stove. “I was trying to get it out of the cabinet and dropped it.”

“Yeh’ were awfully loud,” He told her, his jaw set as he stared at her with a bit of a harder gaze. His frustration at himself for being so foolish was now unleashing on her. He felt frustrated with her for not being more careful, even though she had always been klutzy like this, since the day they had met. “Can’t go around dropping things all the time.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is that what woke you?”

“Why didn’t you come wake me when yeh’ got home? Yeh’ startled me,” He continued to scold her, leaning back against the counter as he attempted to get himself to relax. The faint noise of gunshots was still ringing through his ears, and he had to try hard to concentrate on her voice to erase the memories.

Y/N furrowed her own brows at his harsh, accusing tone and his composure. Sighing softly, she decided to let him be moody with her. In fact, she had been letting him get away with a lot, lately.

For the past four weeks, Harry had been burrowing himself deeper into the covers of their bed rather than getting out of it. She knew something was wrong with him, and he refused to get help for it, which troubled her. How could he fix himself if he wasn’t willing to accept there was something worth fixing? Instead, he acted as if he was alright, which was absolutely ridiculous to her, because nobody was expecting him to be fine after the atrocities he witnessed.

“Sorry, H. You didn’t do much the other times I would wake you up, so I didn’t see the point,” She responded with a shrug, turning back around to stir the pasta she had began cooking.

He scoffed at that, rolling his eyes. “Oh, m’sorry I’ve been tryin’ to catch up on my rest after hardly having any for the past few years,” He huffed out, tone dropping to a lower, quieter tone. “Some of us haven’t had the luxury of a bed, yeh’ know?”

Y/N shut her eyes, taking in a deep breath before exhaling slowly. She had to be patient. He was just frustrated, for whatever reason, and taking it out on her. Although he had been an awful amount of dismissive and defensive lately, she knew her sweet Harry still lay within. He just had to be reasoned with, not treated like a burden.

“Never said you couldn’t sleep, Harry, just was explaining why I didn’t want to wake you. I’m sorry for being loud, okay?” She breathed out, tone a bit sharper as she attempted to gain control of the situation before it spiraled into something bigger than it had to be.

When he didn’t respond for a few minutes, she sighed and turned to look back at him. “Now that you’re up though, maybe we can talk about your plans, yeah? I know you said you don’t want to work right now, and I’m perfectly capable of providing for the both of us, so don’t take this the wrong way, but… I think you should look into a job. Not for the money, but for you. So, you can have something to do all day while I’m gone. It might keep you distracted from your thoughts and help you move on from everything,” She rambled on, a bit nervous to how he would react as she shifted on her feet and bit down on her bottom lip.

He eyed her, his orbs unreadable as he considered her words before shaking his head slowly. Even the thought of facing the outside world just felt exhausting to him. There was no motivation in his bones pushing him to strive for that, connection with the world surrounding him. Instead, he felt like simply lounging in bed, hidden from society by the sheets that covered his body.

“Dunno’ if m’ready fo’ that quite yet,” He hesitantly replied, giving her a small shrug as he looked down at his feet. “Think I need to be at home fo’ a bit longer.”

She swallowed, nodding slowly along with his words. Sending him a tight-lipped smile, she responded, “It’s your choice, H. I’m not going to force you do anything, just thought it might help your mental state, which reminds me… I was talking to a friend at work, Amanda. She has a brother who was in the war, too. She told me he was also suffering from nightmares and random panic attacks in the middle of the day. But, they got him a psychiatrist to see, and he’s been doing a lot better—“

She was about to continue when he cut her off, “Also? What do you mean also? Have yeh’ talked to her about my problems?”

Her lips parted before closing, attempting to think of a smart response. “Well… I was just worried about you, bubba. There’s only so much I can do to help, and I wanted to see what other options we had.”

He breathed out an annoyed sigh, pinching the bridge of his noise. “S’not your business to tell anyone. S’private fo’ me and yeh’ to know only,” Harry murmured, his tone irritated as he stared at her with disappointment.

Y/N shifted under his gaze, clearing her throat and looking down at her feet. “Okay.. I’m sorry, I won’t do it agian. Just still think you should consider seeing so—“

“I’m fine, (Y/N). I just need some time, alright? I’ll be in bed if yeh’ need me. Try not to be loud, please,” Harry dismissed her, turning on his heels and walking out of the kitchen before she had a chance to reply.

She stared at his retreating figure with a longing gaze, wondering where her Harry had gone and just what she could do to get him back to her.

— — — — —

That same night, after Y/N had eaten her dish of pasta, she had laid in bed with him. He was already asleep, and after how mad he had been before, she didn’t want to wake him up— especially if it was just because she wanted his arm secured around her waist.

So, she slept with no cuddles. However, it was the same routine as most nights. He woke up at about 3 a.m. with sweat layering his skin and gasps heaving passed his lips. Within moments, Y/N had dashed out of bed to grab the glass of chilled water he would enjoy to help relieve his panicked state of mind.

Her hand was rubbing soothing circles on his back, looking at him with worried eyes. “You okay, baby?” She whispered softly, resting her head on his shoulder gently as she peered up at him. His eyes were still squeezed shut as if attempting to force out a bad memory from resurfacing into his mind.

“Mm,” He merely hummed out, head leaning upwards against the headboard.

“You can talk to me about them, you know? Maybe getting it off your chest will make you feel better,” She offered, just like she did every night. But, she held onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, this night would be different.

Maybe, this night he wouldn’t just wave her off. He would dive into the thoughts that tortured his mind and allow her access to his vulnerability, in order for her to understand the pain he was going through properly. However, their communication had been severely lacking, and she was entirely left in the dark.

When he didn’t reply, she continued on, “Opening up about it might make it easier to cope, yeah? I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on in your mi—“

“S’fine, (Y/N). M’just going to go back to sleep,” Harry mumbled tiredly, setting the glass of water on the nightstand beside him. He shifted back onto his side, laying down with his back turned to her. “Goodnight.”

She let out a low sigh, tears beginning to form in her eyes at how easily he dismissed her. The distance was killing her. Even laying beside him in bed, she felt so far away from him. He was out of her reach, in a different land where she couldn’t steal him back from or offer him an escape route from.

“Yeah, goodnight, bubba,” She murmured sadly, a frown forming on her lips as she laid back down, her eyes never shutting.

Perhaps, it would not have even mattered if she had woken him up for cuddles. Even when he was awake, he didn’t bother to wrap his arm around her tightly. Instead, their bodies remained on their sides of the bed, separated and barely grazing one another.

— — — — —

The next week had been the same. Harry would promise her everyday that the next one would be different, and that he would get out of bed. Maybe, he would even go for a nice walk, he insisted. She had only tried once more to mention seeing someone, a professional, and when he had snapped at her in a louder tone than beforehand, she stopped.

Secretly, she hoped he would realize it on his own. It would save her the difficulty of having to have an argument with Harry over what’s best for him. For Y/N, though, her morning routine was rather typical.

She would wake up at around 8 a.m., being careful to step out of bed quietly, so not as to disturb him. In fact, she had to walk with one hand reaching out before her, to feel for her surroundings. Harry hated when she opened the curtains before he awoke. She forgot why, but it was something about how the light was too bright for him when his eyes first crack open.

Though, she didn’t bother to argue about it. He was difficult enough to deal with right now, considering all he did was sleep or dismiss her. So, she just agreed to his terms and instead blindly stumbled about the room, being careful not to bump into anything. In fact, she had gotten rather good at it with all the practice these past few weeks.

As she buttoned up her blouse, she leaned down to press a small kiss to Harry’s check, smiling sadly down at his slumbering figure. “See you soon, H,” She whispered, pulling away slowly, but it wouldn’t have mattered what she said. He didn’t stir a bit, instead resting peacefully after another long night of thrashing in bed, only to wake up in a terror.

Grabbing her bag, she slung it over her shoulder and tiptoed out of the room, shutting the bedroom door behind her. She wasn’t that hungry today, and quite frankly, she had been afraid to cook while Harry was asleep, because he got upset if she was too loud. Instead, she grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, taking a bite out of it before exiting their flat.

The streets were still filled with the aftermath of buildings collapsing. Some parts of the pavement were cracked, and other parts were untouched. Y/N gave a wave to Melinda as she spotted her across the street. Sighing softly, she frowned as Melinda only scoffed before turning her head the other way. She would never understood what problem that woman had with her. Shrugging it off, she continued her way to work, which wasn’t too far of a walk.

Opening the front doors, she stepped inside, the warmth surrounding her as a fond smile pressed on her lips. Unlike others, Y/N truly adored her job, and she wouldn’t miss a day of it. “Hi, Cathy,” She greeted the female with a soft nod of her head.

However, she was met with wide eyes and a scared expression from the girl which made her brows furrow. “(Y/N), thank God, you’re here! M—“ Cathy began to explain her worries, before a voice cut them off.

“Ms. (Y/L/N), it’s good to see you,” The familiar voice interrupted, making Y/N turn around with a confused expression. All of her questions were answered in a split second as the face registered in her mind. Mr. Porter had returned from war.

Eyes widening, she blinked rapidly as if the sight in front of her weren’t true. “Oh my… Mr. Porter! You’re back, I-I had no idea, wow. It’s amazing to see you here.. are you.. how has everything been.. are you fine?” Y/N stumbled over her words, hurriedly rushing over to him with a hand extended, his own sliding into hers to give it a firm shake.

He sent her a warm smile, chuckling lowly at her stuttering before nodding. “Yes, came back a week ago. M’alright. Thought I should spend some time with the family before I returned, but I missed this place. I wanted to come back as soon as I could,” He explained.

“Well, of course.”

“Why don’t you step into my office?” Mr. Porter suggested, gesturing to the same room which Y/N had referred to as her office. Her heart dropped at that, not liking the idea of giving up her dream so hastily. Swallowing, she sent him a forced smile before stepping inside the office.

“Take a seat, miss.”

She complied, sitting across from her usual spot and uncomfortably shifting in her spot. Hands folding into her lap, she waited for him to take his seat. The two stared at each other awkwardly for a moment before he cleared his throat. “Well, it’s fair to say that you’ve done a tremendous job at keeping up the numbers for the company,” He started.

“Thank you, sir,” She beamed, pride filling inside of her.

He nodded slowly, leaning forward in his seat as his hands folded on the wooden desk separating the pair. “Yes, of course. You deserve credit for that, really did a great job at it. But, I’m back now, so it’s time I release you of those duties and start working in my position once more.”

Her lips turned downwards slightly, though she knew this was the inevitable. She had to prepare for this eventually. The only thing was she had no actual time to prepare herself for this today. It had all been sprung upon her. “Right, I understand entirely, Mr. Porter,” Y/N slowly responded before continuing, “But, I was thinking instead of going back to my old assistant’s job, I could work as a sales associate. I have a lot more experience now, so it would be perfect really.”

Mr. Porter grimaced slightly, clearing his throat yet again as he stared at her with dismay. “Here’s the thing, Ms. (Y/L/N), many men have returned from war now. They’re in need of jobs, and I’d rather save those jobs for them. After all, they’re in need. The assistant job is yours as a thanks from the company and myself,” He told her, brow arching as he awaited her reply.

She was stunned at that. She had singlehandedly brought this company to a better place, and now she was being demoted back to a job she could have gotten absolutely anywhere, based solely off the fact she was a woman. Anger stirred inside of her, brows furrowing as she shook her head at him.

“Excuse me, what? You mean to tell me, you put me in charge of this business instead of other men, and now you’re not giving me a job because other men might need it?” She snapped, tone frustrated.

“Well, I gave you the job of running the company purely because you were the only one who knew how my job worked— from watching over as my assistant for so long. You knew how it all ran. Plus, I couldn’t risk putting a man in charge, he had a higher chance of being called in for war when the draft first started,” Mr. Porter tried to reason with her.

Now, she was angered. This whole time she had believed that she was chosen for her skill and effort, but no. It was because she was his assistant. Not only that, but he knew perfectly well what she was capable of, yet he was demoting her regardless.

“Why’re you giving me back my old job? You clearly see what I’m made out of.”

“Other men need those jobs, you can’t be selfish about this.”

“Selfish?” She asked incredulously, scoffing. “Nothing about me was selfish when I took over your business and ran it, so it wouldn’t collapse. Not only that, but I made your numbers better than from when you were running it. Is that why you want me to be an assistant? You saw how much better I did your job, and you couldn’t handle it? So, instead, you need to put me back in my supposed place.”

She knew she wasn’t helping her case by acting out like this, but it was all too much. If he really wanted to thank her, he would be giving her the job she wanted, the job she deserved. Instead, she was being put back in her previous position where she wasn’t seen as worth anything, really. It was a giant step-back in her plan for success.

“Now, don’t get emotional, miss. Being emotional like this wouldn’t work for a good sales associate, anyways. Are you going to snap at your clients like this?”

That was it. He was really pointing out her frustration rather than logically answering her questions. And, why? Because she was a woman. If you showed emotions, it just proved their conception that you weren’t fit to be in the positions you wanted to be in.

“I can’t believe this. I really, really can’t. After everything I did, the long hours, everything…” She breathed out, shaking her head as she scoffed again in disbelief. “You know what? Good luck keeping up your business, because I quit.”

Mr. Porter rose his eyebrows in shock at this, shaking his own head now. “Miss, I don’t think this is very reasonable. I don’t know what to say to this all. I thought you would be happy with what we were offering, but…”

A moment passed, the silence washing over them before she waited for him to continue speaking, to think of something. He owed her words, he owed her gratitude and apologies for the lack of respect he had for her.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Ms. (Y/L/N),” He settled on.

She backed out her chair, standing up from her spot and staring at him with disappointment. Walking over to the door, separating his office from the rest, she reached for the doorknob.

Twisting it, she turned her head over her shoulder, confidently speaking her last words to the man, “You know what, Mr. Porter? You will be damn sorry.”

She swung open the door and strode out, head held high as she ignored the many eyes on her. The front door of the office building was thrown open, shutting behind her as she refused to spare a second to glance back at her lost dream.

— — — — —

Though she had been rather confident in her strides out of the building, the walk back home was filled with her distraught and sadness. It angered her, how easily she had been dismissed by Mr. Porter and Harry. The rage fueled her all the way home, where she opened the apartment door, not bothering to be quiet for once. She wanted to scream, to fill this lonesome apartment with noise.

Letting it slam shut, she listened to see if Harry had bothered to get up today. He hadn’t.

Jaw clenching, she walked into the bedroom, noticing that he was still asleep in bed, and she just couldn’t handle it. She couldn’t handle another day of the distance and silence between them, especially not when she needed him. Because she had needed him when he was gone for war, and while she had done her best at being there for him, he hadn’t bothered for one second to be there for her.

Stomping to his side of the bed, she yanked the sheets off his body and snapped harshly, “Get up, Harry.” He groaned, not opening his eyes as he reached for the blankets and tried to envelop himself once more. “I’m not fucking kidding. Get the up right now.”

Her vulgar language did a better job at waking him up, mostly because he was stunned at the tone she was taking with him. Eyes parting open, he sat up with much dismay, rubbing his eyes slowly with the balls of his fists.

She moved to the curtains, peeling them open hastily and forcing the light to flood inside the room at once.

“Hey—“ He began to groan out, hands shielding his face from the light.

“No. I’m opening up the curtains, because I want the fucking light in our room. You know why, Harry? Because, it’s daytime. Normal people are awake at this time, they’re out in the streets and doing something. They’re not in bed still, whining about whatever the fuck is going on in their mind. They’re doing something with their lives,” She began her angry rant, her hands waving in the air.

“Wha’ the fuck is your issue?”

She scoffed, running a hand through her hair before it slapped down onto her thigh. “What’s my fucking issue? Where do I start, Harry? Maybe, the fact that you are still in bed is my issue. Or, maybe, it’s the fact that you’ve promised to get out of bed and do something every single day. But, here, let me give you a little spoiler. You won’t do shit today, just like you didn’t do shit yesterday. And, want to hear the funniest part of it all? I let you mope around all day without saying a single thing.”

Now, Harry was getting rather frustrated with her words. After all, it was so simple for her to say all this, when she didn’t understand the processes and thoughts that went through his mind. She didn’t understand how badly he wanted to be able to go out and be normal, but the memories stopped him. It led him to be unmotivated to do much of anything, his thoughts running wild as he would rather shield himself away from it all.

“Mope around? Is tha’ what yeh’ think I want to be doing?” He asked her slowly, his tone laced with disbelief as he stood from the bed, anger surging throughout him. “Of course, yeh’ would say that. Yeh’ don’t understand a fuckin’ thing about wha’ I’m going through.”

“I don’t understand? That’s fucking rich, Harry, coming from you.”

“How? S’true, yeh’ don’t get it, never will.”

“Maybe I don’t get it because you don’t tell me anything. You keep it all trapped in that tiny, little brain of yours, instead. And, you know what, Harry? You may have gone through shit, but so have I. You think the war was only out there, on the battlefield? It came here, too. But you wouldn’t know that, would you? Because you never bothered to ask or care. You never noticed when I couldn’t fall asleep at night because I could still feel the buildings shaking from when I was hiding in shelters, so I wouldn’t be bombed.”

“Yeh’ really gonna do this? Yeh’re gonna act like what yeh’ went through was close to what I did, huh?” Harry questioned her, tone low as he stepped closer to her, their bodies only a few feet apart. Both of them were angrily gazing up at each other, Y/N’s chest heaving up and down as she let out frustrated breaths.

“M’not acting like I was out there, on a battlefield, fighting for my life. I’m not acting like I had my experience worse than yours, but it doesn’t make mine any less important! I worked my ass off for a job that I just got fucking fired from, and you didn’t once ask me how it was running a company. You didn’t care to! No, because it’s just about what you went through!”

He paused at that, adjusting to the fact that she was now jobless. It explained the sudden change of mood into one of rage and anger, but he couldn’t properly register that now. No, because, now he was getting the rage filled inside of him out. Most of the anger wasn’t even directed at her, but at himself for how his mental state had been lately. Yet, here he was, taking it out on the girl he loved, instead.

“Yeh’ didn’t see your fuckin’ friends die on the ground that yeh’ were just standing on! Yeh’ didn’t see their eyes shut for the last time, and you sure as hell never had that almost be you! No, yeh’ were safe in your fuckin’ bomb shelters, crying and shaken up, while I was taking somebody’s life, so that I could save my own!” He yelled at her, the vein on his forehead bulging as his eyes danced wildly with anger and his steps had advanced till they backed her up against the wall. His hands slapped down onto the wall behind her, on either side of her face, making her flinch slightly.

She was scared of this man, the man representing a monster that was hidden within him. She didn’t trust this man. Her own hands shoved at his chest, keeping his body a few feet away from her own.

“I took people’s fuckin’ lives, do yeh’ understand that?” He asked her, his voice dropping to a quieter pitch as he stared down at her.

“No. You can’t expect me to understand any of it when you haven’t bothered to talk to me about it,” She breathed out, ducking from beneath his arms and pacing around the room as she ran a hand through her hair nervously. “We don’t talk anymore. In fact, we haven’t talked in a long, long time. Like, a genuine conversation. I worry about you, you dismiss me, and then we sleep. And, we act like it’s all okay, because we want it to be okay. But, you can’t expect me to understand shit when you haven’t bothered to talk to me about any of this!” Her tone had grown harsher by the end of it, her brows furrowed.

“S’not like it’s fuckin’ easy to talk ‘bout,” He scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief as he turned around to stare down at her, making her feel small in her spot. But, she held her head up high, just like she did in Mr. Porter’s office.

“But, you haven’t even tried! You haven’t tried to talk to me! You just wave me off like I don’t even matter, like I’m not even there! And if you can’t talk to me, I told you to see a profe—“

“Don’t go on ‘bout this again,” He cut her off, sighing dramatically as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“No, Harry, I will! See a fucking professional to help you, because I clearly can’t, and you need help. Because, I can’t fucking understand, isn’t that right? Because I couldn’t possibly understand, and you just couldn’t possibly ever, ever talk to me about it, yeah?”

“Isn’t this enough for you!” He suddenly snapped, stalking towards her as he gestured towards himself, “Isn’t me being back here enough for yeh’? Why do you want mo’ from me, huh? I came back from the war for you, I would’ve given up a long, long time ago. But, I didn’t, because I promised to come back for yeh’.”

She had given up at this point, the anger replaced by sadness and devastation from the series of events that had transpired. Her shoulders sagged as she looked up at him with wide, upset eyes, sending him a small, sad smile. In a faint, quiet tone, she whispered, “You may have come back from war, Harry, but you never came back home.”

The words struck him, his own heaving chest slowing down its breaths as he attempted to regain his composure. Blinking down at her, he stood in his place as he allowed the words to register and process in his mind. Her own shaky figure walked towards the bed in a hesitant manner, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Eyes peered out the window ahead of them, arms wrapping around her own body as she attempted to provide herself with some comfort.

A low, trembling breath left her lips, eyes shutting as the tears that had been threatening to spill unleashed, falling down her cheeks slowly. Silence loomed over the pair, both realizing that they were stuck in this very moment.

Neither of them knew what to do, because both of them were so broken in different ways. Do they fight? Do they fight for the love that they had stayed alive for? Or, do they realize that perhaps there was no more time for fighting? That, perhaps, they had lost the determination to fight for it, because they were far too exhausted, themselves.

Harry, in what seemed like a trance, sauntered to her, sitting down on the bed beside her, their shoulders hardly touching as he kept his hands in his own lap. His own gaze rested ahead of them, both of their breaths being the only sounds that filled the tense room.

He had survived for her. Or, maybe a part of it was for him, too. If he went through the difficult efforts of war for her, why wasn’t he willing to fix himself for her, too? Maybe, it was because he just didn’t have it in him, anymore. Maybe, he had lost the version of himself that could love her properly on the battlefield.

He parted his lips, to say something, anything, that could regain her hopes that it would work out, but he couldn’t find the words. So, he said nothing instead.

She hadn’t bled like he did. Her wounds didn’t appear like scars on her skin. Instead, they ran deep inside her, eating at her flesh and organs. She couldn’t show him evidence of her pain and suffering during the war, but that didn’t mean it didn’t exist.

Even then, she had continued going because of how she promised she would be strong for him. So, she had remained strong all those years, pushing forward and fighting through any obstacle that was thrown at her.

Now, though, her strength was diminishing, and she needed him, even for just a second, to lean on. However, he couldn’t provide her with that support, when he could hardly support himself. Her strength had worn thin, from trying to fix him and the company, only to lose them both so suddenly.

But, still, it had to be alright, right? Her mouth opened, searching for something to say to him, anything, that could reassure him that they would be okay again, but no words came to mind. So, instead, she remained quiet, never once inching closer to his body.

And, there, they sat, looking ahead of them into the vast future of their lives that they could not predict. They sat beside one another, not speaking or touching, but instead remaining in absolute silence as their thoughts circled through their minds.

Minutes passed as they rested in their spots, scrambling through their minds to find the ghosts of themselves that had once loved each other with so much strength and compassion, but had now been replaced with new versions of themselves, ones foreign to each other.

And, as those minutes passed, it had dawned upon them both that since Harry had returned from war, they had been sharing their bed with a complete stranger.

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles au #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles request #harry styles series #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #writing #fic #harry styles fanfic #the blitz

195 notes · View notes

pjbehindthesun · 6 years

Text

chapter 24: slow thaws and cold showers

Sunday, November 4th, 1990

“Think you can make it, or do you want me to carry you over the threshold?”

“I got it, thanks,” I mutter to Alex’s stupid smirking face as I drag myself past him and into our apartment, unable to catch my breath to save my own life.

“You sure? You said that at mile two, too, right before you dry-heaved into the Sound…”

“Guess I’m just out of shape.” I ease my shoes off and pour myself into a gross, sweaty puddle on the couch.

“No shit, Sherlock, I guess you need me to leave you in my dust a little more often, give you something to aspire to.” He flexes his arms, where muscles would be if he wasn’t such a string bean, and I’ve officially hit my limit for his smart-ass commentary.

“God, okay, you know what? Just shut the fuck up, you’re not helping.” Alex stops cackling in a hurry at my tone, fixing me with an icy stare.

“What crawled up your ass, Cora? It was just a joke.”

Jokes aren’t funny if you’re the only one laughing, you self-involved asshole. But I know his ego’s not going to accept that for an answer, and I don’t have the energy for a fight right now. “Ugh, I’m sorry, I guess… I don’t know, maybe I’m just coming down with something.”

His expression relaxes a little, although he’s still peering at me. “Yeah, you look pretty pale. Like, more than usual. Want me to get you anything?”

“I’m good, I think I just need to sit here for a second.” You know, until the room stops spinning and my lungs stop burning. What the hell’s wrong with me?

“Okay, you hold down the couch, I’m gonna go shower. Unless you’re up for joining me,” he adds, his voice thick with ironic seduction. He sidles over and strokes my upper arm with his fingertips, and my body shivers with revulsion. Or maybe it was just a chill.

“Thanks but no thanks,” I mumble through gritted teeth.

I close my eyes and sink deeper into the couch, not opening them again until I hear the bathroom door shut and the shower turn on. The first thing they land upon is the phone, sitting innocently on the end table at my feet. I should really call Patch. I miss him, and I want him to tell me what to do about Alex. Well, not really tell me what to do… it’s not his responsibility. But I’ve just had this lingering feeling since he left that I need to make sure he’s really going to be alright with it if I end things with Alex. Somehow it’s like I need to make sure he said his goodbyes when he was here, because I feel so guilty creating a situation where he has to choose a side. I don’t think I can do this unless I know what he thinks.

But Alex is a quick showerer, and that conversation needs a lot more time. What about Lucy? Maybe I can call her and see if I can drop by this afternoon to get away… oh, shit, no, she and Jeff were “painting” today, you couldn’t pay me enough to interrupt that… and anyway, the person I should really call is Stone. I should see if he’s okay by himself or if he needs someone to check in on him.

...Alright, cut the bullshit, you just really want to hear his voice again. His stupid annoying nasal mosquito voice, his stupid cute breathy cackle, that stupid lower register of his voice that always catches me off guard. Fucking asshole, why does everything he does have to be so goddamn endearing… why do I miss him so much… I really just hate how we left things, and I hate how I acted at Cyclops, and I hate that I feel so fucking weird now about just picking up the phone and calling him, I should just do it, call him, just call him, it’s your fucking life, what are you so afraid of…

And like clockwork, Alex switches off the faucet, signaling that I’ve missed my window. God, I hate this, I hate feeling like a prisoner, my life was fucking great when he was gone for a week, what kind of person does that make me? Christ, I don’t even really need to hear it from Patch, this is pathetic, it’s obvious that I need to break up with Alex, I just need better timing…

“Hey, Stinky, your turn!” he booms from the hallway, not even bothering to look around the corner. Christ, what a simple-minded jerk, how did I ever think those kinds of put-downs were cute? Maybe I should just do it now… but ugh, I’m so fucking exhausted, and I have so much work to get done this afternoon… Resigned that it’s going to take a little longer to find the right moment, I haul myself up and toward the shower.

“'K, babe, I’m going over to Brian’s for a while, you need anything before I go?”

I lift my forehead up from where it’s been resting on my palm, aware that I’ve probably got a giant handprint from staring at my textbook for so long in one position, and turn to glare at his back as he roots through the fridge for some beer to take to his free-loading friend. “I mean, it’d be swell if you did the dinner dishes or something, I’m gonna be pulling an all-nighter with this problem set.”

“Ha, dishes. Good one.” He closes the fridge, places a rough kiss on the top of my head, and bounds toward the door. “Nice handprint by the way, you look like a fuckin’ Orc. Good luck studying!”

And with that, he heads out the door, rushing right past the disgusting running shoes he’d borrowed from his friend. Weirdly, having those shoes in my house is the closest I’ve ever come to meeting this Brian guy. For all I know, he’s not even real, he could be some made-up excuse Alex has… for all I know, he could be anywhere when he says he’s at “Brian’s,” I mean, Stone could be totally right about Alex cheating, and how would I even know?

Stone. Oh, right.

Well, now that I’ve let my train of thought run careening off these particular tracks, I’m not going to make much headway on marine biogeochemical cycling. And I’m still so… fucking… tired from that run. I gather up my study materials in a haphazard pile and shuffle into my bedroom, where I drop them at the foot of my bed in an unceremonious heap. I circle back to the living room to grab the phone and unloop the phone cord, allowing it to reach down the hall and into my room. Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I stare at the phone like I expect it to make the first move. Come on, what are you so afraid of? It’s just Stone.

I’m thoroughly relieved when I get his answering machine, though. Disappointed, maybe, but relieved. Okay, so I can leave him a short message, nothing rambly, just letting him know I hope he’s doing okay. Casual, right? Friends do that kind of thing, right? That’s not awkward, it’s just considerate, and… oh, crap, the beep…

“Hey, Stone? Uh…” my voice comes out way quieter than I intended. So much for not making it awkward. But before I can get another word out, I hear the apartment door swing open and Alex call my name. Gasping in surprise like a total fucking idiot, I hang up the phone in a panic.

“In here!”

He pokes his head around the door frame. “Wow, going to bed already, huh? Party animal. Anyway, I forgot Brian’s shoes.” He holds up the evidence by the laces before frowning at the phone on our bed. “What’s the deal with that?”

“Oh, uhm…” I search my brain for a lie he’ll believe, because I don’t want to hear another earful about how much he hates the person I was actually calling, “I was just gonna take a study break to call Patch, see how he’s doing in Portland.”

He groans in annoyance, but at least that means he bought it. “Ugh, leave the kid alone, will you? Don’t smother him.”

“Bye, Alex,” my words are daggers, and he chuckles before disappearing.

This time, I wait for him to be well and truly gone. I hear the door close, I count several Mississippis, I leave my room to check the window and make sure his Jeep’s really driving out of the parking lot, and then I settle back down on my bed, prepared to redial and leave Stone an actual message with actual human speech. Except that when I pick up the phone, I’ve lost my nerve. A different number springs to mind, one that was left on my answering machine a few days ago, and I punch it in immediately.

“Hey hey, who’s this?”

“Dorothy’s Mortuary, you kill ‘em we chill ‘em,” I can barely get the words out even before Patch’s bright laughter ruins any chance I have of keeping a straight face.

“Ceeeeeee!” He drawls my nickname out. “Where the fuck have you been? What year is it? This is how long it takes you to return a call, you filthy ingrate?”

“Sorry, kiddo, it's been a week. How are you?”

“Uhm, I'm FINE, what do you MEAN it's been a week? Is there drama?”

“Who, me?”

“Yes, you…”

“Not for me. I’m a good girl, I am.” I change the subject to drown out his derisive snort. “So how's the new place? Where are you even staying now?”

“Good, good, my buddy Ethan, you remember him?”

“Mmm, no, don't think so…”

“Oh come on, little gap-toothed kid, couple years between us in school, kinda looks like a gopher…”

“Oh right, Gopher Kid! Ugh, you realize we’re both going to hell, right?”

“Eternal damnation’s kind of our brand, C. Anyway, he moved out here after graduation. And he just happened to be in need of a new roommate when I called, because the universe is pretty great like that.”

“Jesus, with all that sunshine coming out of your ass, you sound like Lucy. How are we even related?”

“You mock me? Tell me with a straight face that there’s no cosmic plan that led me to reunite with an old friend the day after his roommate went to rehab and left him with an extra Judas Priest ticket.”

“Oh, right, there it is. Definitely related.”

“Told you so, smartass. And I even found one of those job things. It’s this little salon called Curl up and Dye and not a single person in the place has a hair on their head in a color that occurs in nature. This place is perfect, C.”

I relax and listen to my little brother fill me in on the life he’s quickly establishing for himself in Portland, content to let him dominate the conversation with the people he’s met, the social scene, the personalities at his new job. I don’t know how he does it, but he’s always been able to fall into a situation and endear himself to absolutely everyone right away, and it’s like everywhere he’s ever been, he’s home. It’s another reason I sometimes feel like it’s impossible that we’re actually related, if I didn’t know better. It’s just pure dumb luck that I met Lucy when I did, or Chris, or Stone… what if I’d never met any of them? What if it had just been me and Alex this entire year? God, what a thought...

“Hey chatterbox, shut up for a minute and let me get a word in edgewise, will you?” he quips after a silence, and I realize how poorly I’ve been holding up my end of the call. A glance at the clock on my nightstand tells me it’s been an hour and a half already.

“Sorry, kiddo, you were on a tear, I didn’t want to break your momentum.”

“That, or you’re trying to blend into the wallpaper again. What’s up?”

“A preposition.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you too.”

“Seriously, Cora, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” I sigh, flopping backward on my bed, “things aren’t going so great with Alex. I think… I might end it… that is, if you…”

“GLORY FUCKING BE, MARK THE DAY AND TIME!!!”

His thunderous response makes me jerk the phone away from my ear. “Are… you serious?”

“What the fuck did I tell you, Cora? You deserve to be happy, and you’ve turned into fucking Eeyore since you moved up there. Don’t tell me that’s seasonal affective disorder, either, your solar power hypothesis is total bullshit.”

“Okay, it’s NOT bullshit, but moving on…”

“...which YOU should have done months ago, but that’s just me…”

“Huh?”

“Look, I told you, maybe it’s just easier for someone who hasn’t seen you in a while to pick up on it. It probably all feels normal to you, but trust me, it’s fucking brutal to see you this unhappy. It was clear the whole time I was staying with you, C, you’re miserable. Sometimes it takes a big shake-up to really be able to see how broken shit was beforehand. You’re gonna look back on this last year and wonder what the fuck took you so long, I promise.”

“Oh...kay…” my brain feels like it’s stuck in low gear. I expected my little brother to be supportive, but I wasn’t prepared for this avalanche of candor. I’m at a loss for words.

“And you know what, another thing,” he rants on, “you have this thing about not leaving, but guess what? You fucking left Carolina, and it was the best thing you ever did, and I know that because I finally got to do it too. Thanks to you, I might add.”

“Well, to be fair, Alex bought your ticket, and he sent you that check, and…”

“Fuck that, okay. Don’t think I’m not grateful, but if you can’t see that check stunt as blatant manipulation then you’re not the smart one in the family after all. I lit the check on fire, C, I lit a joint with it.”

“But… you and Alex are friends…”

“Yeah, and it’s a cute party trick to be able to hold opposing ideas in one’s head at the same time without spontaneously combusting. I can like the guy and still think that since the last time he and I really hung out, he’s started to treat my sister like shit.”

“Okay, okay, you made your point, I concede defeat. Now why the fuck are you so far away? I need a hug.”

A chorus of voices starts to crowd into his end of the line. “Promise me you’ll cut him loose, Cora.”

“I… yeah.”

“K. I gotta go, the night is young.”

“That is such eighteen year old bullshit.”

“Love you.”

“Love you more.”

After hanging up the phone, I can’t help but stare at it in disbelief for several seconds. Until it rings.

“Hello?”

***

“Hey, Stone? Uh…”

I’m a stunned, frozen lump after listening to her message. She called me? What the hell for? If there was any takeaway from last night’s run-in at Cyclops, it’s that she wants to pretend the whole thing never happened! I mean, I’m not thrilled with the whole revisionist history thing, but I figured she needed some space, which I was totally willing to give, and anyway it’s not like I’m in any condition to go beating down anyone’s door, even if that was my style. Chris is right, she and I have a good thing, and it’ll still be there when this fight blows over. I just need to trust that and let it do what it naturally does, which is knit itself back together into something even better after we’ve had some time to cool off. So why is she calling me? Is this a fever dream? Am I still running a temperature? No, my forehead feels normal…

Whatever it is, I’m not going to let an opportunity get away. I grab the phone and dial her back, but the line’s busy. Fuck. Okay, okay, patience. Grabbing the mandolin from my bedroom, I park myself on the couch next to the phone to pass a little time until she’s done with whatever call she’s on. Actually, the mandolin and I are slowly becoming friends. The more I mess with this thing, the less punishingly complex it seems. It’s actually not that hard to work out a couple of the Mother Love Bone songs this way, come to think of it…

The music makes for a good distraction. The next time I look at the clock, over an hour has gone by. But it’s still only like 9:00, so it’s not too late to call, right?

To my shock, she picks up before the first ring is even done. “Hello?”

At the sound of her voice, I jump up off the couch and start pacing like a grade schooler calling his crush for the first time.

“H-eughhh-” oh, excellent, open with a coughing fit, that really ups the cool factor, “-hey, uh, it’s me, it’s Stone.”

“Oh.” She sounds startled, or maybe it’s that I’m hacking up a lung right in her ear.

“Yeah. Hi.”

“Hey.”

Well, I don't know what I expected. One word answers sound about right given how we left things. “So, uhm… you called me?”

“Uh, yeah… a while ago… were you trying long?”

“No,” I lie shamelessly. “Is this a bad time?”

“No, not at all, I just got off the phone with Patch.”

“Oh! How’s he doing?”

“He’s good. Uhm, I was just wondering if you were trying to get through the whole time, or…”

“No, honestly, I just tried. Cornell was over here for a while and I missed your call. What's up?”

“Oh, uh, nothing, I just wanted to see if you were doing okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, well, you looked terrible the other day, I just… I don't know, I remembered your parents were out of town and I felt kinda bad thinking about you being sick all by yourself.”

“Aww, really? You were worried about me?”

“Don't get carried away, Stone, I just didn't want it on my conscience if your parents came back from vacation and found your decomposing body. Too much paperwork.”

A smile spreads across my face at her irritated words. “I’ve honestly never felt so loved.”

She groans. “Well, since we’ve established that you’re not dead, I should probably let you go --”

“No! Hey, it’s been kinda lonely here in quarantine, it’s good to talk to someone. That is, if you can stick around… I don’t wanna keep you…”

After a beat, she mutters in a barely audible tone, “you’re not keeping me.”

“Yeah?” My grin takes on a life of its own as I pick up the phone and walk through my apartment, stretching out on the bed. “We’re back on speaking terms, then?”

“Oh, grow up, we were never not on speaking terms, I just said I wanted to move past it and pretend it never happened.”

“Yeah, and on account of my whole bubonic plague situation, I never got to register my dissatisfaction with that strategy. I still very much want to pretend it did happen.”

“Well,” she equivocates, “it sounds like you’re still plague-adjacent, so now’s hardly the time to duke it out over what did or did not take place…”

Ha! victory! I can hear her fighting off her own smile as I settle into the pillows, savoring the normalcy of bantering with Cora.

“No, you’re right, I’m not really in any shape for another one of our battles. Can I interest you in a temporary ceasefire?”

“With no mention of the things that definitely never happened until some later, as-yet-undetermined summit date?”

“Scout's honor.”

She snorts. “Like hell you were a Boy Scout, Stoner.”

“Stonerrr.” That's it, I can't possibly smile any wider or my face is going to crack. I close my eyes and let her word echo.

“...what?”

“Mmm, I just really missed hearing you call me that.”

“You freak, it's been like, two days.”

“Three, I'll have you know.”

“Oh, because that makes such a huge difference.”

“Long three days, Red.”

“Yeah,” she agrees with a heavy sigh.

Neither of us has anything to say for a little while, but that's never bothered us before. I'm sure as hell not going to say this out loud and get my head bitten off again, but one of my favorite things about her is how comfortable it is to shut up and just… be with her. I can't explain it, and I've definitely never felt that way around any of my other girlfriends, or… well, shit, she's not my girlfriend… I don’t know what she is, but, uh, other girls I've… or people I’ve felt so…

“Were you really a Boy Scout?”

“Child, you cut me to the quick! I’m offended that you don’t believe me.”

“I just can't believe I never knew that! How long did you do it for?”

“Oh, Jesus, I washed out after Cub Scouts. When my troop got to the Webelos stage, it all started seeming kinda fascist.”

“Excuse me, weeb-what now's?”

“Webelos? 'We'll be loyal scouts’?”

“Eeeesh. I see why you ditched.”

“Yeah. Plus, I was an artsy fartsy little kid, uniforms weren't really my style. The only bright side is, it does get kids out into nature a lot and teach them about stewardship.”

“Aww, there's my treehugger.”

I have to chew my tongue to avoid saying anything stupid about how I'll be whatever she wants as long as she keeps calling me hers. “What about you? Did you do the whole scouting thing? Sash, knee socks, cookie sales?”

“I may have failed to impress upon you how backwoods my upbringing really was, Stone. Who would I sell cookies to? The crawdads in the creek behind our house?”

“Crawdads? I'm going to assume this is hillbilly speak for crawfish?” My laughter conflicts with the overwhelming need to sniffle, and I end up choking on my own cough.

“Karma’s a bitch, snot otter.”

“...wh…”

She chuckles. “Snot otter. It's what we grew up calling a particular kind of salamander. But I think it pulls double duty, in your case.”

“I don't know whether I'm flattered or revolted.”

“Definitely revolted. Their other name is hellbender, and they can grow to be like two foot long. They're disgusting. In kind of a beautiful way, though. But it’s sorta sad... a lot of people have misconceptions that they’re poisonous or that they eat trout eggs or whatever, so people kill ‘em all the time. But it’s awful for the species because they’re super sensitive to environmental changes, pollution, people fucking up their habitats, shit like that… not where I grew up, though. Our place basically backed up to the park, so they were pretty easy to find.”

She’d never admit it, but her accent thickens ever so slightly when she talks about growing up. And I’d never admit it, but it’s incredibly hot.

“This is a pretty idyllic image you’re painting, here, Red. I’m picturing you and Patch, two dirty-faced feral rugrats hunting for salamanders out in the hollers.”

“Pretty much, yeah. Not a lot of supervision.”

“Which park?”

“Great Smoky Mountains.”

“Whoa, cool. I’ve never been.”

“Yeah, but you’re spoiled, growing up out here with these huge, violent mountains. You’d probably think mine are pretty boring.”

“Fat chance. Let’s go sometime.”

“Oh, sure, yeah, just let me get my coat.”

“I mean it. I don’t know, in the highly likely scenario that the band takes off and we actually get to go around the country, you should take me there.”

She snorts. “Long as we steer clear of Beaverdam, you got a deal.”

“Be… beaver dam?”

“Alright, yes, that’s the name of my hometown, laugh it up, Gossard.”

“Beaverdam! Jesus Christ, your childhood’s a comedic goldmine, how come you never --” my hysterical laughter does battle with the gunk in my chest and loses, and the resulting sound effect makes Cora startle.

“Ugh, loveyou.”

“Huh, what’d you say?” I manage to wheeze out, my laughter stopping abruptly.

“Lovely!” she squeaks. “I said, ‘lovely!’ The fucking sounds you’re making, uh, they’re just lovely…”

“Riiight,” I mumble, dangerously close to invalidating our ceasefire. “What else should I know about your childhood? Any other gems?”

“Nuh-uh, it’s your turn, I’ve already said too much.”

“I’m an open book, what do you want to know?”

“Hmm. Something really embarrassing. Your first kiss?”

“Starting out with the first kiss? You don’t mess around, huh?”

“Hey, you already know about mine, we’re on an uneven battlefield.”

“True, true. Okay, well, I was 12…”

“Early bloomer!”

“By your standards, everyone’s an early bloomer. Anyway,” I breeze on past her muttered “rude” and continue with my voluntary humiliation in the name of love, “your embarrassment radar’s right on target, it was an icebreaker party at the start of 7th grade. And this one girl, Evie, she took the whole icebreaker concept to heart. Dragged me into a closet for an awkward makeout session. I was totally terrified, but definitely along for the ride. She stuck her tongue in my mouth, and I was so shocked I actually tripped and fell backward into a pile of coats. So obviously losing my balance and falling on my ass when a pretty girl kisses me is a recurring theme.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she manages through her laughter.

“Right, right, the ceasefire. Okay, your turn… uh, favorite Halloween candy?”

“You’re a slow learner, Stone. Who was I gonna trick or treat from, the snot otters?”

“You poor, deprived child. You’ve got to have a favorite candy, though, you’re only human.”

“Well, yeah… M&Ms… but only if eaten correctly.”

“How does one eat M&Ms incorrectly?”

“Let me guess, you probably just scoop up handfuls and eat them indiscriminately, right? Uncultured swine. You have to eat them in the right order.”

“They… all taste the same, Cora, it’s just food coloring… Jesus, you actually eat them in an order?”

My curiosity and horror is enough to make me sit up in bed. Also, being vertical helps with the inevitable oncoming coughing fit as she unpacks whatever ridiculousness led her to this compulsion.

“I swear they taste different!”

“You’re insane! Wait, what's the order?”

“Light to dark, obviously. Yellow, orange, green, red, light brown, dark brown.”

“Okay, (a), in no universe is that light to dark, you need to get your eyesight checked. And (b), like, what happens if you get a bag of M&Ms at the movies and you can’t see what color you’re eating??”

“That’s why only amateurs order M&Ms at the movies, Stone. I’m a Whoppers girl.”

“Wrong again! You get popcorn at the movies, idiot. Jesus, I never realized you were so damaged. What is your childhood trauma? Who hurt you, baby?”

We go back and forth like this for what feels like hours, trading blows and sharing silly, insignificant details of our lives, and it’s almost like nothing had ever happened between us. Almost. I’m still in this bed, trying not to think too much about how good it felt to have her wrapped around me under these covers just a few nights ago, trying not to think about every little curve of her body and how obscenely good she looked in my ratty old clothes, how badly I want her to come over so we can finally hash our shit out and admit to one another that we need to give this thing a try for real. And another secret truth of my life surfaces, one that she doesn’t need to hear about tonight when we’re still on such thin ice: that being sick with a cold or the flu always, always brings with it the rather odd side effect of being more easily aroused. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s boredom from being at home too much, or wanting to be taken care of during a time of vulnerability, or whatever, but suddenly every thought of Cora, and her every word, however mundane, is making me feel extra amorous. Luckily, our conversation hit a bit of a lull as we ran out of facts to trade. Now she’s tried to multitask and work on her homework, which gives me the opportunity to shift around in bed and try to force my body out of caveman mode. Until she speaks again.

“You know what’s really hard?”

Shit! How did she…! God, calm yourself, you dirtbag, there’s no way she’s talking about you, get your mind out of the gutter. “...uh, what’s that?”

“The oceanic carbon cycle. I give up. I’m too stupid to science.”

“Oh, yeah, that.” I clear my throat and take a mental cold shower. “Well, I don’t know anything about it, but I know you’re not stupid. It’s just really late, your brain's protesting the working conditions.”

“I should probably let you get some rest, huh?”

“Nah, you’re fine, I basically slept all day, I could keep going with you all night.” What. the fuck. is wrong. with me. “Talking, I mean… obviously… talking all night...”

“And I’m obviously not being productive over here. Ha, maybe I should just come over, we could waste time together --”

“Yes.” I slap my forehead after cutting her off mid-word. Smooth.

“Whoa, hey there, quickdraw,” she chuckles. Okayyy, maybe I’m not the only one with my mind in the gutter…

“I promise, that’s not a recurring theme.”

“Gross, Stone,” but she’s still laughing, “do you really want me to come over?”

Yes. “I mean, no, I know it’s late, it’s a school night, and I don’t want you coming down with whatever disease this is.”

“You’re probably right. Alex will probably be back soon anyway.”

Well good news, I’ve officially found the world’s most effective boner-killer, it’s hearing the girl of your dreams talk about her boyfriend.

“Right. Hey, at the risk of endangering the ceasefire, uhm, how’s… how’s all that going?”

“Alex?” I can hear the scowl. “Uhm. Truthfully?”

“Of course.”

“Been better. A lot better, actually.”

“Really. Care to elaborate?”

“I'm not sure how much elaboration the topic deserves. How much can I really milk out of, 'I'm trying to find the right time to tell my only boyfriend ever that I want to break up’?”

It’s a struggle to keep my voice casual even though it feels an octave higher. “Huh… break up, huh?”

“Yup. I've known it's the right thing to do for a while, I guess, even before our whole… you know…”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Anyway, I'm chickenshit, I have no idea what I'm doing. How does one even initiate a conversation like that?”

“Is that a rhetorical question or are you asking for advice? Just checking before I accidentally step on a landmine…”

“No, I'm really asking. You had to break up with at least a few of that long string of girlfriends, right?”

“That's right.”

“What's it like?”

“Uhm, it really depends on the person, on the relationship. Sometimes it's hard, sometimes it's liberating.”

“But… like… how? Sorry, I know I'm embarrassingly stupid on the topic, I just…”

“Nah, you're not stupid, it's your first break-up. Everybody has it sooner or later. I don't know, though. I've always been able to turn on the Spock side of my brain when I need to have a hard conversation with someone, you know, remove the emotion from the situation and just help them see what's going on, that it's nothing personal and that the person is still important to you, but that it's just not working for either of you anymore. That sometimes it's just better for everyone if you part as friends.”

“Wow… can I hire you to break up with Alex for me?”

“And deprive you of this important developmental milestone? Nah. You got this.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, although I'm pretty sure it's misplaced. There's literally no such thing as the right time to have that conversation.”

“No, of course not. And in your defense, I’ve never dumped someone after being with them for so long. Five years is a really long time.”

“Thanks, Stone, helpful,” she jeers.

“That’s what I’m here for. Just don't… don't put it off forever. Like you said, it's never going to feel 'right,’ but the longer you wait to actually break up with someone, the more you just simmer in your bad feelings, and the more resentful and emotional you get about it.”

That, and the sooner you can move on to someone new who actually cares about your happiness, although I keep that thought-grenade to myself.

“Thanks, Stone.”

“Don't mention it.”

“Well, I've made this conversation sufficiently weird, and I feel about as good as day-old roadkill, so I think it's time to make my exit. Anyway, you do need to get some sleep, no matter what you say.”

Roadkill, huh? Hope she's not getting the same bug I have. “It was good to talk to you, Cora. I miss this.”

“Don't tell anyone, but me too.”

“Our secret. Goodnight.”

“Night, Stoner.”

It takes a long time staring up into space after we’ve hung up for me to process what just happened. Our slow thaw, the precarious ceasefire, her slip of the tongue, breaking up with Cletus… just when I think I have her figured out, she confuses the shit out of me all over again, and I don't think I'm ever going to get tired of it. Feeling both exhausted and hopeful, I settle myself under the covers and hug my spare pillow to my chest, fading fast.

***

Monday, November 5th, 1990

“Cora, table 6 looks ready for the check, are you alive over there or what?”

Colleen shoots me a nasty sideways glance as she edges behind where I'm leaning on my elbows on the bar. Ugh. Easy for her to be a colossal bitch about it, she doesn't know I feel so fucking weak that I almost fainted in lab this afternoon and that I can barely stay upright during my shift. And why's it so cold in this fucking restaurant all of a sudden? Yeah, I'll get those drunk fuckers their check, if you turn up the fucking heat… ordinarily, I’d be pining for my shift to end so I can go home and sleep off whatever this ridiculous exhaustion is, except that I swore to myself that tonight’s the night I’d finally rip off the bandaid and break up with Alex. And I’m in no huge hurry to have that conversation, no matter how simple Stone made it sound.

Just as I've wrapped up the table, the door chime signals a new customer, and I'm about to start a fresh internal tirade of self-pity when I recognize a familiar face under the black hat, sunglasses, and curtains of dark hair. My bad mood evaporates.

“Cready!”

“Hey, Cora, what's up?”

“My temper, so thanks for being the first non-idiot customer I've had all shift long.”

“No promises,” he gives me his usual affable grin. “Can I trouble you for a beer?”

“You got it. Anything for dinner? You look pretty wiped out.”

“Yeah, look who’s talking,” he air-traces what are probably vicious dark circles on my face.

“Okay, okay, so we both look like a hundred bucks,” I grin. “Whatcha having?”

“You guys still doing breakfast? I need pancakes.”

“Mike, it’s like 8:30 at night.”

“The heart wants what it wants,” he pouts, making me shield my eyes from the kitteny cuteness.

“Okay, alright, put the big guns away. I know a guy in the back.”

“You’re a very pale angel.”

“You’re a very hungover idiot.”

The crowd’s thinned out, which gives me a chance to socialize with Mike for a while without incurring more hassling from Colleen. It’s nice, just getting to catch up with him without the entire Mookie herd, even when he looks like he’s about to drop dead.

“So what’s got you so tired, dude?”

“Selene,” he pronounces around a mouthful of illicit pancake.

I try to wolf-whistle, but I’ve always sucked at whistling. “So someone had a good weekend.”

“I’m a shell of my former self. Write something nice on my headstone, this woman’s killing me.”

“Do I detect a complaint?”

“Not in the slightest. She’s nuts, she knocks on my door at the craziest hours, I never know when she’s gonna show up, and it’s always a little like...” he mimes an explosion with his hands, making the accompanying bomb noise, “warfare.”

“Wow, hey, I’m good with the PG-13 version, okay?”

With a sly grin, he asks, “speaking of warfare, how’s shit with you and Stone?”

I shift my weight to my other hip, narrowing my eyes. “We’re pretty much the same. We called a temporary truce while he’s sick as a dog. Didn’t seem fair.”

“Yeah, well, you guys need to hurry up and figure your shit out, the whole world feels wobbly when you fight.”

I reach over the counter to lightly chuck his chin. “Aww, don’t worry, Sport, it’s not your fault, and we both still love you very much and we promise to take you to Disneyworld on Saturdays, okay?”

But Mike’s undeterred. “Seriously, Cora, you guys are ridiculous. I know he pissed you off somehow, he pisses everyone off, but whatever he did, you know his heart was in the right place. Can’t fault a guy for being good-hearted and wrong.”

“Yeah… okay.” In bemused silence, I watch him inhale the last scraps of his pancake and swig the rest of his beer, clap too much money on the table, and unsteadily get to his feet.

“Be good, okay?” he calls over his shoulder, waving on his way out the door. What a deeply weird, troubling, sweet individual.

Colleen sneaks up on me again as I’m wiping the counter after clearing Mike’s dishes, making me jump back from her beady stare and the chubby finger she’s got aimed at my nose.

“You… you look like absolute hell. You getting sick?”

“Uhm, no, I think it’s just been a long day, and…”

“Yeah, okay, and the pope doesn’t shit in his hat.”

“...is that a saying?”

“You’re all clammy and sweaty. Get the hell out of my restaurant before you get us shut down for health code violations.”

“Are you firing me?”

Colleen rolls her eyes just before she turns her back to me on her way to the kitchen. “No, you tiny little fool, you’re my best waitress, just go sleep it off. Somewhere else!”

I stand with my feet glued to the floor and my shoulders in a slump, working hard to summon the energy needed to collect my things and walk home. Maybe she’s right, maybe I am coming down with something… oh, fuck, it better not be whatever Stone had… oh, I’ll kill him if I survive this…

Sure enough, I’m barely able to drag my way up the stairs to the fourth floor, and I’m feeling feverish and nauseous by the time I push the door open. And that’s before I hear the sounds. Coming from the bathroom. Either I’ve progressed to full-on hallucinations, or those are the unmistakable sounds of two people having loud sex in the shower. Blinking, dazed, out-of-body, someone who looks like me but definitely isn’t me marches to the kitchen and turns the dishwasher on. Hot.

The girl who isn’t me stands here in my boots, impassively absorbing the panicked yelps coming from the now-freezing people under the showerhead. I wish this girl who isn’t me would move, would go somewhere else, would cover her eyes, would do anything other than witness what’s happening: Alex, clambering out of the bathroom in a towel, and an unfamiliar blonde woman hastily tugging on her dress over her soaking body. She’s taller than me. And thinner. Bigger boobs. I wish I didn’t know any of this.

“Cora! Wha… you’re early, I thought your shift was done at 11!” Alex glances at the clock, the whites of his eyes showing as he struggles to wrap the towel in place. Suddenly, the girl who isn’t me vacates my body, and I find my own voice. And despite my aching throat, it’s loud.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want me to come back later when you’re finished???”

“No, fuck, no, I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were… I can explain, this is --”

My head starts to pound. I don’t need the explanation. “I don’t care.”

“-- Cindy, uh, she’s --”

“Hey, Cindy,” I wave acidly to the woman who’s yanking on one of her high-heeled boots and straightening her dress, as if there’s any dignity left to be had for any of us.

“-- babe, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for you to find out like this, it’s just…”

“Find out??” I repeat. “How… how long have you…”

“Alex, who the FUCK is this?” Oh. Cindy speaks. How nice. She sounds like a dog’s squeeze toy.

“I was his girlfriend, until about three minutes ago,” I answer her, while keeping my stare fixed on the man I thought I knew, who’s staring back at me in desperation so exaggerated it belongs in a cartoon. “I live here. He doesn’t live here anymore.”

“Babe, no, calm down, we can fix this, we --”

But Cindy does the heavy lifting for me, shrieking like a dental drill. “You have a GIRLFRIEND? Have you been with her the whole time?” Please don’t tell me how long the whole time was. Please don’t tell me how long the whole time was. But she shrieks on, “all fucking year?? You BASTARD!”

Her other boot flies through the air and clocks Alex on the shoulder. He shoots a frenzied glance from Cindy to me and back again, as if he expects quarter from either of us, stammering madly.

“I -- I meant to tell you, I --” Jesus, he doesn’t even know which of us to apologize to first. My fever’s raging and I’ve seen enough. I need this goddamn circus out of my house. I close my eyes and say the only words that remain to be said.

“I need you to go.”

“My fucking pleasure,” Cindy collects her boot and crookedly flounces out of my apartment and slams the door behind her, and even with my eyes shut tight, I know that Alex is still here, staring pleadingly at me. I force myself to look at him.

“You too. Just go. Stay somewhere else. You can get your things tomorrow,” I explain calmly, like he’s a survivor of a flood or a house fire.

“Where the fuck am I supposed to go, exactly??” he shouts, waving his hands in panic and almost losing the towel.

“Go to Brian’s,” I sigh with boredom, “you’ve practically been living there all year anyway, what difference should one more night make.”

“I… I can’t.” He swallows hard.

That’s it, my temper’s finally back. “And why the fuck not?”

“Uhm, Cindy’s his… she’s his fiancée.”

“Perfect. Just perfect. I don’t care where the fuck you go, you’re not staying here.”

Feeling suddenly faint, I ease myself down to the couch and clench my teeth as I wrap the afghan around my shoulders.

“Christ, babe, you look awful, are you coming down with something? Don’t kick me out, let me stay, let me help you…” he inches closer, but my glare and final word stops him.

“Out.”

His face contracts, he nods, he slinks back to what used to be our bedroom to put on some clothing and pack a spare overnight bag. Without another word or another attempt at eye contact, he scuttles out. The breeze from the door closing sends me into an uncontrollable shiver, the only sign of life left in the apartment.

#yeah this is pretty bad sorry #and it's also way too long #and i didn't proofread it very well #but anyway here it is #chapter 24 #behind the sun #fanfiction #fanfic

26 notes · View notes