#that one guy that followed me halfway home just yelling slurs like yeah maybe moving out is a blessing in disguise | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cowgurrrl · 1 year

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She’s A Gun

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: *John Mulaney voice* My wife is a bitch and I love her SO much (gif by @salome-c) I also didn’t know how to end this so sorry

Summary: Somebody didn’t give the new guy a heads up about talking about Joel Miller’s family [1.6k]

Warnings: idiots in love, a quick mention of a queer slur, I can’t think of anything else!!

You catch him looking at you across the room as you sip some new whiskey Tommy traded for. He looks young and fresh-faced without many scars or littering the surface of his skin. His eyes are bright when they meet yours, and you give him a polite smile before returning to your drink. Unsurprisingly, he bellies up to the bar a few minutes later. You glance at the door, and the man follows your gaze.

"You meeting someone?" He asks. The bartender, a kind man named Nick, flashes you a look, but you wave him off, turning to the younger man, who is dead set on making his presence known.

"You must be new." You say, and he laughs as he holds out his hand.

"You got me. I'm Luke," He says. You meet him halfway and shake his hand, giving him your name. "Where are you from?"

"I came here from Boston."

"You're a long way from home. What brought you here?"

"Long story."

"Is it longer than the time it would take to get you another drink?"

"I can get my own drink, but thank you."

"'Course," he says but doesn't move from his place next to you. "What do you do here in Jackson?" He asks, and you open your mouth to say something, but he cuts you off. "Let me guess. School teacher. No, a nurse."

"I work patrols, but good guess."

"Oh, I'm going to work patrols, too. I actually just signed up for my first shift tomorrow. Speaking of which, do you know anything about this guy… Miller, I think, is his name. I heard he's a hard ass."

"Joel or Tommy?"

"There's multiple?" He asks, and you smirk as you sip your drink.

"There's a few of 'em hanging around, yeah. What did they say? Maybe I can," you shrug and try to hide the amusement in your voice. "Help you figure it out."

"Well, this guy, Seth, said Miller shouldn't even be in Jackson. Something about him killing people to get by before coming here, but he gets to stay because he's buddies with Maria. Apparently, he's a hell of a shot, though. I heard a rumor that he once shot an Infected from a mile away, but I'll believe it when I see it." He says, and you nod.

You remember that day well. Tommy had been bragging about his marksmanship, mostly telling big fish stories, and you finally got sick of it. Joel told you to leave it, but you had to see. When you went on patrol the next day, you and Tommy had a competition to see how far he could actually shoot. You passed the gun back and forth to see who could hit accurately and how far. You were the one holding the gun when the Infected bound his way up the hill and quickly went down as the bullet buried in his skull. You didn't think that story would've made the rounds, though.

"What else did Seth say?" You ask, and he puffs his cheeks out as he shakes his head.

"He told me to stay away from him. Something about not fucking with people like that because he's ruthless, especially when it comes to his kid. He said Miller yelled at him last week because he said something to her. Just... totally lost his mind like a crazy person." It wasn't just something. He called my daughter a dyke, you think to yourself. Joel may have pushed him and made him leave, but you threatened to ruin his fucking life. If you ever hear him say something like that to Ellie again, you'll make Joel look like the poster child for forgiveness. You bite the inside of your cheek and save that information for later.

Seth wasn't warning Luke about Joel. He was warning him about you.

"And you're sure he was talking about a man?"

"Pretty sure. I mean, I know people do lots of shitty things to stay alive, but I can't imagine a woman instilling that much fear in a man like Seth," He says, and you hum. "No offense."

"None taken." You smile and watch his guard come down just enough for him to feel comfortable reaching for your arm.

"I wish I had known they let women as beautiful as you out on patrol. I would've signed up with you instead of Miller." He says, and you almost gag. Joel's hand skims your lower back almost as if on cue, and you turn to face him. He kisses you a second too long before looking over your shoulder to face the stranger who looks embarrassed. His arm wraps protectively around your middle, and he's close enough that you can smell his shampoo over the bar’s stench of stale beer.

"Great timing. This is Luke. He's starting patrols tomorrow," You say. Joel reaches across the space to shake his hand, and Luke winces at his too-tight grip. "Luke, this is my husband, Joel Miller," you wish you had a camera to take a picture of the stunned look on his face when he hears the last name. "Joel, we were just talking about the last time I was on patrol with Tommy."

"You're Miller?" Luke asks, suddenly looking pale. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Oh, I thought I mentioned it. I'm sorry, I'm probably losing my mind." You echo Seth's words and smack yourself on the forehead dramatically. Luke drains his drink before glancing around the room.

"It was great to meet you, man. Um, I'm gonna run to the bathroom really fast." He says and takes several steps away from the bar.

"Oh, so soon? I was hoping you and Joel could talk about routes."

"Maybe later." He says, and with that, he's gone. You smile and turn in Joel's arms to face him.

"Jesus, I thought he was going to have a heart attack. What did you say to him?"

"Seth was warning him about the mercenary who's buddies with Maria and shot an Infected from a mile away, asked if I knew anything about the guy."

"Seth should learn to keep his fuckin' mouth shut." He grumbles, and you nod.

"It didn't help his case that he tried flirting with me. Even asked if I was a school teacher." You say, and he gives you a look. His warm fingers reach under your shirt collar to pull out the chain with your wedding band on it.

"Maybe if you actually wore this, that wouldn't happen so often."

"C'mon, everybody knows I'm yours. It's not my fault no one gave him the run down," you say, and he tugs on the chain to kiss you, his big hands moving to hold your jaw. He swallows your gasp when he licks into your mouth, sending a zing of electricity down your spine. He's a touch too handsy for a public space, but you're not complaining. "I don't see you wearing yours out on patrol either." You say, pulling away before he can start something he can't finish, at least not in public. Still, his hand slips into your back pocket, squeezing your ass through the denim.

"Don't want to lose a finger. Besides, everybody knows I'm yours," he parrots, and you smile. A familiar, old country song plays over the speakers, and Joel lights up at the first few chords. "Will you dance with me?" He asks, pressing light kisses to your jaw to butter you up. You lock your arms around his shoulders and let yourself forget about everyone else in the bar.

"And to think there was a time when you hated PDA."

"That was before someone tried hittin' on my wife," he says, and you feel like your face will get stuck from smiling so much. It's been three months since the small backyard wedding officiated by Tommy and Maria. Ellie walked you down the aisle— more of a patch of grass than anything else— and acted as your maid of honor. When Tommy asked if she agreed to give you to Joel, she said, "it's not like she's fucking property, but sure." She beamed so brightly when she realized you each included her in your vows, promising to love and protect her as much as you love and protect each other. It wasn't planned, but the unexpected matching further proved that you three are a family. Still, you don't know if you'll ever get used to hearing Joel call you his wife. "Dance with me, please." He pouts into your neck, and you finally give in, grabbing his hand and leading him to the dance floor.

He pulls you close, and you bury your face in his neck as you slowly dance to Tanya Tucker's voice. He sings along for only you to hear, his accent getting stronger as he does. You could stay like this forever, wrapped up in him and listening to him sing the same song you used to sing along to while driving on backroads. You would marry him again if you could. You think you would marry him in every lifetime.

Scary rumors of mercenaries and blood on your hands fade from your mind. To men like Seth and Luke, you are a subversion of their holy mother. You are bloody and broken, a monster beyond saving. You are a warzone with a heartbeat.

But to Joel, you are the most sacred thing he's ever held. It's not enough to erase the rumors and nightmares about you, but it's enough to knock the wind out of you and make you love your husband that much more. That has to count for something.

🍓

Tag list: @evyiione

#joel and ellie #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #the last of us x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fluff #i wrote this for me but you can read it too i guess

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

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Teenage Dream

CW: Pet whump/dehumanization/whump of a minor in 2nd section, some brief noncon references in 2nd and 3rd sections, gratuitous Katy Perry in every section because Chris wouldn’t fucking shut up until I wrote this.

---

“Come on, Aki, please? Please?” Tristan’s pleading is married to his big green eyes and his coppery hair shifting across his forehead. The perfect sincerity of his request would crack any facade of ironic detachment. And Akio is trying to look detached.

“Tris, nobody likes that fucking song.”

“That’s, that’s not true, ev-everyone does, it’s on on on the radio all the, the, the, um, the time,” Tristan counters easily, and Akio can’t exactly argue that. And he can’t say well nobody cool likes it, because of course Tristan wouldn’t know he was joking and not being mean. He can’t always tell what’s a joke and what isn’t, and Akio heaves the most dramatic sigh he can manage and allows the younger boy to pull him onto his feet, making a big show of dramatic reluctance as he goes stumbling forwards onto the practice mat.

“Just because it’s on the radio doesn’t make it good, Tris.”

“But, but, but I like it, and-... and I had some, um… some ideas. Please, Akio?”

There’s the big green eyes again.

Akio sighs, rakes a hand back through his hair only to have it flop back over his forehead, and smiles. “Yeah, fine. Okay, Tris, show me.”

“Yes! Awesome. Thank-... thank, thank you, Aki.” Tris pulls him in for a hug, crushing tight like nearly all of Tristan Higgs’ hugs are, and Akio tries to look aloof and above it all. Someone nearby wolf-whistles and Akio throws a middle finger in no particular direction in response.

“Get a fucking room, Nakamura,” Lisa Huang calls out, stretching her legs off to the side. Akio changes the direction of his middle finger to aim directly at her.

“Yeah, but then you’d miss the show, Huang, and what would you do then?”

“Oh, oh, oh my God,” Tris mutters, his face bright red, but he’s bouncing on his toes and his fingers are tapping on Akio, so he knows it’s okay. “This, this, it’s not-”

“Hey, she’s just being a shit because she’s jealous I get the Tris hugs. Aren’t you, Huang?”

“Literally, I am going to melt into the floor from envy any minute now,” Lisa replies, sitting back on her hands. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to hug the Tristan Higgs and Akio Nakamura, huh? And yet-” She throws her hand over her forehead dramatically. “Neither of you ever notice me.”

“Sorry, Huang, my heart belongs to Tris.”

“What?” Tristan’s eyes are wider than ever, not following the joke, it’s all so sincere to Tristan unless he’s mad, and then he seems to get sarcasm well enough.

Akio just grins. “Kidding, Tris. Come on, show me the idea you had. I want to see, even if it means… listening to… that.”

“No, you’ll like it, Aki, I-I-I promise. Can, can, can you hit, um, um… play, Lisa?” Tris yells over the sound of the others talking, working out, practicing on the bars or the beams, the low-level noise the gym is always filled with. Akio and Tristan are officially not practicing today, but they’d both wanted to come here and Akio’s mom had been okay with driving them on her way to take Akio’s little sister to kiddie soccer, and Tris’s mom is going to pick them up later to take them home.

So here they are.

And here Tris is, convinced Akio should help him build a routine to Katy fucking Perry.

“Okay, Tris,” Akio says, and sits himself down at the edge of the mat next to Lisa Huang, legs crossed, elbows on his knees. “Here we go.”

“You know which song it’s gonna be, right?” Lisa says under her breath, finger hovering over the button on the ancient CD player that their coach lugs around. “You know it’s gonna be-”

“Yeah,” Akio breathes. “I know. Just hit the fucking button.”

Lisa laughs, presses play, and they watch Tris take a breath, shake out his shoulders as guitar starts up first. He flashes a smile at Akio over his shoulder.

You think I’m pretty, without any makeup on…

Akio manages to suppress a groan and watches Tris dance, the dancing is always effortless to him, natural rhythm running through him.

“God, I wish men did music with their routines,” Lisa mutters. “He’d nail every single one.”

“He nails it anyway.”

“Yeah, but with a soundtrack.”

He takes position, runs, hits his mark, and flips three times, spins, and lands right as the voice sings, you make me feel like I’m living a teenage dream, slowly turning, dropping into splits and back up again. Akio feels his own legs tighten in sympathy.

I can’t sleep, let’s run away and don’t ever look back

“I hate this fucking song so much,” Akio says, and watches Tris line up for his next run.

“Yeah, but you like him,” Lisa points out.

Akio rolls his eyes. “Everyone likes Tris. He’s my best friend.”

Don’t ever look back, don’t ever look back-

Tris misses the landing this time and goes down hard, rolling across the mat. Akio’s on his feet before a second has passed, and by the time he makes it to Tris, the other boy is already laughing, shaking it off, ready to start again.

Akio helps him up to his feet, and fuck it, he’ll listen to the song again if he has to. He sits down next to Lisa again, but he can already see how it would work - he’ll move around Tris fluidly, they’ll match movements here and here and here, and then they can run past each other at just the right time…

Lisa looks at him sidelong. “Now, see, you’re getting into it.”

“He is.” Akio shrugs. “I just like seeing him all excited.”

“What would you do without Tristan Higgs, huh?”

Akio watches, carefully, as Tris nails the spin this time, watches him drop into the splits and back up, rock his hips. “I don’t know,” He says, finally. “Probably waste the fuck away, Huang.”

“Damn straight. Five bucks says you guys end up with one of those ‘if we’re not married by 30, we’ll marry each other and get eleven cats’ deals.”

Akio snorts. “I’m allergic to cats.”

There’s a silence. “What, is that your only problem with that plan?”

“I don’t see any downsides to the rest of it. Do you?”

---

Nancy clears off the breakfast table. Mr. Branch is long gone, up to his office for a meeting with a few state senators on a piece of legislation, something about changing a holiday over to another holiday or something. She isn’t all that interested, really, but Mr. Branch likes to talk through things with her or the little pet before he gives interviews or has meetings. Likes a sounding board.

She’s paid well enough to listen, now and then, to something she doesn’t much care about.

Still, it means she’s late getting the table cleared.

She’s got her little radio set up in the corner, playing a soft rock station, just something to fill the silence broken otherwise only by the soft clinking of spoons on bowls. Mr. Branch had had oatmeal this morning, with fresh fruit and a drizzle of syrup on top, a scattering of almonds. Watching his figure, he says, with a smile, and Nancy always smiles back.

The coffee cup is going to have a ring, she’ll have to scrub that out, won’t she? Well, that’s not so bad.

You make me feel like I’m livin’ a teenage dream, the way you turn me on, a woman’s voice blares out from the radio.

Nancy wrinkles her nose.

Teenagers, in her experience, are entirely too much trouble and don’t know a damn thing. A song glorifying that whole lack of self-control doesn’t exactly seem like a good idea to her. Teenagers are a hassle, messy and a struggle to care for, and she can’t figure out why Mr. Branch wanted to bring one into the house so badly.

Well, no.

She knows why.

She tries very hard not to think about it, but she knows.

Honestly, Baldur is probably the most well-behaved teenager she’s ever met. The poor thing doesn’t have enough memory to be ungrateful, and he’s not going to roll his eyes or talk back any time soon, is it? They train all those impulses out of them, in that WRU facility.

He wouldn’t dare.

She hears a soft scrape, the unmistakable shuffling footsteps of Baldur himself, and glances up at the door.

He’s peeking in, Mr. Branch’s skinny pet, hair hanging over his hazy green eyes, slightly narrowed in an attempt to see her in focus through the drugs he is fed each morning like clockwork, keeping him slow, docile, easy to control.

Maybe he doesn’t roll his eyes because he’d fall over if he had to do more than one thing at once, including simply standing up.

“Can I help you?” Nancy asks, adding a sharp edge to the question. Her stomach flips, as always uneasy when she’s alone with the pet.

Baldur licks at his lips, carefully nudging the doorway open just a little more, his eyes shifting away from her and down to the floor. He’s barefoot and wearing a tailored sweater and slacks, like any high-class boy. What gives him away of course is the barefeet, and the collar at his throat, soft green leather that probably doesn’t feel any different than skin to him.

After all, he never takes them off.

Is he even fully aware he has one on?

“I… I like the song,” He says, slurring his words with difficulty. He sways a little, catches himself, sways again. Leaning against the doorframe for support. His eyes are so very wide, so deeply green. His narrow face is pinched with the effort it’s taking him to pull his thoughts together enough to speak. “On th’... the radio, Miss Nancy. Like th’ song.”

Nancy turns to glance at it, as though the radio had just appeared when he spoke about it.

Let’s run away and don’t ever look back, don’t ever look back

He likes the song? He isn’t supposed to like anything.

She steps over to the radio and briskly changes to a different station. A warbling country song is halfway through, something about lights and a woman who left. Every light in the house is on…

Baldur flinches back.

He looks like a sad sort of kitten, and it makes Nancy feel angry and guilty in equal measures. She leans into the anger to avoid the hint of thought inside of her that makes her think perhaps she should push the damn thing out the front door, put him on a school bus with the field trip children, and pretend she has no idea how he got there.

Make him someone else’s problem.

But then she’d have to explain how she knew he was here in the first place for this long, wouldn’t she?

“You know you’re not allowed music,” She chides him, and watches him sink back into himself. She swallows back the guilt. She’s not the one who signed up to spread his legs for Mr. Branch, now is she? No, the boy made a choice, and it’s none of her concern what led to it or that he regrets it now. “What would your Sir say if he caught you skulking around eavesdropping on hardworking employees instead of taking a nap, hm? Or doing your exercises?”

“He would… be upset,” Baldur says, softly. “I’m sorry, Miss Nancy. I didn’t…” He swallows, again and again, as though there’s something in his throat. His head drops against the doorframe and she wonders if Oliver gave him too much this morning, if the poor boy is going to collapse into unconsciousness right here. “Please… please don’t tell him, Miss Nancy.”

Well, he better not collapse, because she sure won’t be picking him up if he does. He can lay right there and wait for Oliver to handle his disobedience. “I won’t, if you’re a good boy now. Go back to bed, Baldur,” She says, a little more gently this time. “Your Sir will want you well-rested this afternoon, his schedule is cleared then.”

He looks up at her, and for a second he looks incredibly young, and terribly frightened.

Her heart twists, before she can stop it.

I didn’t make him this. He chose it.

She hardens her expression against his fear. He’s afraid of Mr. Branch, she knows it well enough. He’s afraid, and he’s bruised at the wrists and ankles most of the time. Last week there were red marks around his neck at breakfast, and Mr. Branch would only mention a game, the poor love couldn’t stand forever, I suppose.

And he’d laughed.

She turns away from the pet’s terror, rattles the plates together to make a point that he is dismissed. She won’t look at those wide green eyes again. He signed a contract, after all. What is it to her if he doesn’t like the fine print?

“Yes, Miss Nancy,” He says softly, and in a second he’s gone. She listens to the fading shuffle of his footsteps along the hallway, the sound of Oliver’s bedroom door opening and closing. He’ll be out before ten minutes has passed, she has no doubt. He’ll sleep away the morning like he sleeps away so much of his life.

She makes a note to herself to be out of the residence before Mr. Branch comes back after lunch, ignoring the needling stab of something in the back of her mind, something very like guilt.

He’s a boy.

No, she reminds herself firmly. He’s a pet. And he chose to be one.

She turns the radio back to the soft rock station and tells herself she won’t think about him again.

---

“You think I’m pretty, without any makeup on,” Chris sings along with the mp3 player in the kitchen, dancing around with a wooden spoon up to his mouth like a microphone. “You think I’m funny when I tell the punchline wrong, I know you get me, so I let my walls come down… do-oh-own…”

His voice cracks on the high note, but Jake holds back any reaction, scrubbing at a stubborn spot on the countertop that he’s beginning to think is just part of the stupid house now. When does a stain stop being a stain and become a fixture?

And here you’ll see the sign of where I spilled pasta sauce and didn’t notice until the next day and what the fuck is the countertop even made of…

Not that Nat will sell this house, she’ll probably stay here until she’s a decrepit old woman surrounded by rescues taking care of her. The house is Nat, in a way that Jake can’t define and doesn’t really try. She’ll be telling people an epic story about it being a bloodstain or something one day, all wrinkled and gray-haired.

“My heart stops when you look at me,” Chris sings, and Jake watches his hair fly around as he spins, the copper catching yellowed morning sun through the kitchen window.

Should he tell Chris that he doesn’t stammer when he sings?

The barcode on the inside of his left wrist is the black blot marring the moment, the numbers etched in ink, an instant giveaway if he stepped one foot out the door around the wrong people. Here, he’s safe to show it. Here, he’s safe.

Mostly.

As safe as Jake can make him.

Jake’s rib still aches, off and on, but his black eye is gone and he’s back at school. It’s all back to normal, now, and Chris is right here where he belongs, where people love him, where Jake would take a bullet for him.

He can’t get the image of the shivering, shaking, terrified boy in the video he was shown out of his head. The way they laughed at his fear, the way he’d already learned to put out his hands to be hit when he was caught tapping to soothe himself.

He can’t stop seeing that boy and his fear layered over Chris’s easy joy now.

“This is real, so take a chance and don’t ever look back, don’t ever look back,” Chris winks at him, or tries to - really he just sort of closes one eye horribly slow - and then goes back to humming along with the music. He dances effortlessly, and Jake wonders if he danced, before he was frightened in a white t-shirt and black shorts, before he had a barcode on his wrist, before they stuck a needle in his arm and took out everything that made him whoever he’d once been.

What did Chris do, before he was Chris, before he was the pet, before whatever went wrong for him? Did he take dancing lessons? Did he get good grades in school? He kind of acts like maybe he did, doesn’t he? He seems like he wants to try so hard for anyone who believes he can do something...

He can do backflips and cartwheels and climb trees, plays basketball with Miss Ruth’s grandson and his friends while Jake watches through a window, worried that he’ll be taken the next time, but not willing to lay that fear on Chris.

He’s scared of so much. Jake doesn’t want to add more terrors to the boy’s nightmares.

“I’m-a get your heart racing in my skin tight jeans, be your teenage dream tonight,” Chris sings, wearing a baggy t-shirt of Jake’s and baggier basketball shorts. Chris, who crawls into Jake’s bed more nights than not, ever since the raid, who sleeps curled up against him for warmth and safety.

Chris, who doesn’t test him anymore, but admitted that he’s scared that it will happen again. Who told Kauri, in whispers in the dark, that he’s never wanted to be with anyone, that it was always fear and pain and holding screams back behind his teeth while forcing himself to make the sounds they trained into him.

Jake’s stomach flips with nausea, guilt for something he couldn’t possibly have prevented. It’s not his fault, but it feels like it is, he feels like he should have psychically known the kid was out there and gone to find him.

He would have.

If anything ever happens to him again, Jake won’t stop until he finds him. He knows that. He understands that, with perfect certainty.

They’ll never take Chris, they could raid the house a hundred times, and Jake would make sure Chris never went back into that hell, no matter what. No, Chris gets to be safe, here, singing and dancing around the kitchen, like any teenager enjoying a moment where he wants to be a dork, and doesn’t care who sees it.

Jake smiles a little, giving up and sitting back in a chair at the table, watching Chris dance while he dries off a dish, goes up on tiptoe to put it in the cabinet, turns back, warbles, “My heart stops when you look at me…”

Did Chris have a girlfriend, or boyfriend? A partner? Just, like, a best friend even? Someone he cared about like this? Does this song tap on some buried memory or impulse towards loving someone? Jake just watches him dance, and sing, and smiles.

He doesn’t even protest when Chris starts the song over as soon as it stops.

I came back for you, he thinks. Just like I promised. Do whatever you want, I’ll be right here. I’m right here. You’re safe.

Jake hears a slight sound and turns to see Nat in the doorway watching as well, in her housecoat but with her braid done carefully up, arms crossed in front of her. Chris doesn’t pause, if he even notices her, just keeps dancing as he empties the dishwasher piece by piece with his back to the door, signing in a soft, slight, cracking voice along with the higher voice coming from the speakers.

Nat looks less shadowed, now, and her bruises have faded away.

Still.

WRU came to round up a pet, and Nat and Jake protected him, and fuck it-

If he wants to listen to music Jake hates, let him. He’s a kid. Let him be a kid.

Chris has lost enough.

Let him have joy.

---

“Do you remember this?” Akio can’t stop himself from asking, even though it’s a total crapshoot as to what Tris’s answer will be.

Not Tris. Chris.

The knowledge hurts, it’s a knife in Akio’s stomach every single time, that Tristan was lost so thoroughly that the man who showed up with his face and his blood and his bones didn’t remember his own name until he saw the video with Akio and had… some kind of breakdown or something.

But Chris is so close, and Akio uses that to remind him that it means Tris is close, that he was never fully gone. He’s still here. He just looks a little different, now, he’s quieter, but it’s all still there, bubbling up and sinking beneath the surface again, leaving imprints of memories that make it easier for Chris to grab onto them and hold tight the next time.

The way he smiles, the way he taps and rocks and sways and stammers, it’s all still there. It’s all still Tristan Higgs, in the end, and Chris Stanton and Tristan Higgs are the same fucking guy. The teenager in Akio’s memories and stored in old photos and videos on his computer and his phone is the same person as the man sitting next to him.

One just… lived through some stuff the other one hadn’t yet, and has the scars - inside and out - to show it.

“I, I, I don’t know,” Chis says, leaning forward, looking at the video Akio’s pulled up on his laptop. They’re at an outdoor café, with the sun shining warm on their backs. Chris’s hair is starting to grow back in, the occasional blue tip fading back to new-penny copper, and the bandages are off of his face and neck. His forehead’s going to have a wicked fucking scar, though.

Chris says he doesn’t care, that it shows that he could change himself, when he needs to. That he isn’t just here to be changed by other people. His shoulder brushes Akio’s as he cocks his head. “Sorry, stuff… um, comes and, and, and goes.”

“That’s okay. Here, I’ll press play. We had this one finished, more or less, but we never recorded the full bit.” Chris nods, holding his coffee up to his mouth to sip at it.

Akio hits play, and the guitar starts up.

Chris laughs, and it’s Tristan’s laugh - bright and unselfconscious, loud enough to get a glance from someone nearby reading a book, before they look back down again. “I love, I, I, I love this this this song!”

“Oh, Christ.” Akio laughs, too, he can’t stop himself. “Of course you’d still like that song. Of all the things you lost, you kept Katy Perry?”

You think I’m pretty, without any makeup on…

The routine starts with Tris and Akio together in the middle of the mat, watching each other, hands linked. As she starts to sing, they shift apart, and Chris watches, enraptured, so close to the screen that Akio almost can’t see it anymore himself, not that he’s watching the screen.

He’s watching Chris, instead.

Chris’s foot taps to the beat and he starts to rock a little, forward and back, biting down on his lower lip with his teeth as the Akio and Tristan on the screen separate enough to hit their separate corners. Tris runs forward - then Akio does, a half-beat later.

You make me feel like I’m livin’ a teenage dream

They match flips and spins. Tristan lands and then Akio does, spinning to look at each other, laughing as Tris drops into a split and then up again and Akio… definitely doesn’t do that. Akio can do a lot of things, but he is not risking that particular move, not the way Tristan does it-

Or… did it.

Let’s go all the way tonight, no regrets, just love…

“I, I, I remember doing this,” Chris whispers. “I, I made my mom pretend to to to, to, to, to-to be you in the backyard when I made, made it up. She was a really, really bad dancer.” He winces, rubbing at the side of his head.

Akio nods, slowly, leaning in, looking at Chris as he watches himself dance on the screen. He’s squinting against the ache, but still watching. “Yeah, but she would do anything you wanted her to. I can see her trying to keep up.” He pauses, lets the tinny music play from his laptop speakers along with the noise of the gym around them as Akio and Tristan do another run. Akio doesn’t quite hit his landing on that one, but they don’t stop, dancing towards and around each other with easy, effortless understanding of each other’s space.

“You, you, you hated Katy Perry,” Chris says, softly. His fingers twitch, holding tightly to his coffee cup. “But, but-”

“But you fucking loved that shit,” Akio says, with a grin.

“I, I, I still do. Laken hates it, too.”

“See, I knew I liked them for a reason. You and my sister used to sing ‘Firework’ at me until I thought I was going to lose my fucking mind.”

“I, I, I still sing it to Laken. They, they throw pillows at me.” Chris hits the space button, pausing the video, and turns to look at Akio. His eyes are still so wide, in his narrow face, and so earnest and uncertain. Akio swallows. It feels like stepping sideways through time, every time Tristan’s eyes look at him in Chris Stanton’s face. “Were you, you, you good… without me? Did you, um, do okay?”

Akio’s smile softens into something sadder. “After a while. I got back on track, but for a year or so… I guess I just wasted away without you. You want to hear something stupid?”

“Al, always.”

Akio huffs out laughter, and digs his phone out of his pocket. He taps a few times and then lays it on the table between them. “Look at this.”

Chris looks down, fingertips just grazing the phone case, and his lips press together into a line as his eyes glimmer, shimmering with tears that don’t quite fall. “Wh-what-”

“It’s all the music you like that I hated,” Akio says, voice hoarse and rough. “I made this playlist a month after your aunt said-... you know.”

“It’s, it’s, it’s called ‘I Miss Tris’,” Chris says, softly. His voice sounds awed. Like he’s looking at something sacred and not Akio’s stupid ‘having a bad night’ playlist. “And the, the, the first song-”

“Fucking Teenage Dream.” Akio watches Chris scroll down the list, pretends he doesn’t see the droplet of saltwater that lands there, that Chris quickly wipes away with his sleeve, rubbing at his eye with the back of his hand. “It’s been, what, six or seven years since, you know, your parents, and… god, I’ve gotten a new phone every couple years and I still have this fucking playlist. Still listen to it, too. Whenever I want to mope around being sad about you.”

“In… in there… they, they, they tell us no one misses us.” Chris’s voice is low. He doesn’t look up. “That, that, that our lives were so so so-so bad that this was better. That no one… no, no, no one missed us being gone, no one wants us, that we-we-we weren’t… worth loving. I believed it. And my-... um.” Chris flushes, just a little. “He told me I, I, I, I wasn’t something you could-could love.” Chris’s eyes go distant, and he seems to sink back into himself a little, hunching his shoulders. “P-pretty, but, but, but not… worth being more than I was.”

Akio’s jaw works, fighting a mix of grief and rage that threatens to knock him to the floor, drown him in the intensity of it. He’s been hearing bits and pieces, whenever Chris feels safe enough to let one more bit of the horror that made up his past few years slip out.

Akio wonders what it’s going to do to his career if he goes public as a lib activist, and if he even gives a fuck about that anymore.

If Vincent Shield can do it, he can too, right?

Then again, Vincent Shield wasn’t about to be publicly not straight for the first time and also a pet lib activist. Akio’s mom and dad are going to be so pissed when he tells them his idea-

He doesn’t care.

His parents aren’t going anywhere. Neither is Ben, whatever he and Ben are, neither is Tristan Higgs.

Not this time.

Nobody else should have to listen to someone they loved come back from the dead and hear them say they told me no one loved me, they told me no one missed me, they told me no one cared.

So... maybe Akio can go up on the fucking pedestal, medal around his neck, and tell WRU to go fuck themselves. Maybe he can tell Chris’s Aunt Jo to go fuck herself specifically.

You told us he was dead, and you gave him to people who made him believe he was nothing, and you thought we’d never find him. And we didn’t.

God, he had to find us.

His career’s going to go down in flames if he does what he’s planning, and Akio Nakamura is rapidly discovering he no longer cares.

“Loved. You were-... loved.” His voice is tight and strained, cracking on the edges of his words. His hand curls into a fist on his thigh where it’s resting, digging his nails into his palms. “And missed. We would have-... we would have wanted you, Chris. My mom and I, my little sister won’t admit it, hell my dad… we missed you. Those assholes just wanted you to lose hope. And I’m glad the fucker who hurt you is dead.”

“They, they, they take everything. Aki,” Chris pushes Akio’s phone back to him, and looks back at the laptop screen, an image of himself, years ago, flashing a brilliant smile, with Akio rolling his eyes in return as they pressed their hands palm-to-palm, frozen mid-move. “But, but, but it’s not really gone. I remember how, how, how much you hate this song. And, and, and I remember that you still danced it with me. So, so, so that’s a start, right?”

“It’s a start.” Akio presses the button to start the video again. “And we’ve got plenty of time.”

---

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker, @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @orchidscript, @itallcomesdowntopain

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milomeepit · 5 years

Text

Diamond In The Rough: Chapter Seventeen

Roman has always wanted better. Has always believed that there’s a better life, a better world, just out of reach. Just beyond the veil of shitty teachers who don’t care, angry classmates that scream insults and slurs at each other all day, and drug-hazed parents who are more concerned with their next hit than looking after their ten year old son.

When he runs away after a particularly bad night at home and finds a quiet little cafe/bookstore tucked away in a back alley of the city, the sweet couple who run the joint (an odd pair; a quiet, gloomy man with a wry sense of humour and a cynical gleam in his eye, and a bouncy man who smiles like sunshine and laughs like a storybook king) help show him that maybe- just maybe- he really can have the life he always dreamed of.

Masterpost (to be added soon!)

Word Count: 1814

Chapter Warnings: homophobia, transphobia, emotional abuse, abusive parents, violence, fake crying, real crying, yelling, cursing, lawyers, CPS, court, paperwork, tree branch used as a blunt weapon

Hours later, Emile and Logan had taken Roman outside to get some fresh air after lunch. He walked along the edge of a garden bed in the courtyard of the large building, his arms held out for balance.

The snow was a brilliant white, blanketing the trees and pathways that filled the courtyard. It felt good, like a fresh start. Roman hopped off the edge of the garden bed and made his way back across to where Emile and Logan sat, carefully stepping in the footprints already tracked through the snow, retracing someone else’s steps.

Logan glanced up as Roman approached them and raised an eyebrow. “What do you have there?” He asked, nodding towards him.

Roman shifted his grip on the prize he had found. “A stick,” He said simply, waving it through the air. It was a good stick, sturdy and smooth, and not too long. It fit nicely in his hand. He liked this stick. “I wanna keep it.”

“I’m not sure you’d be allowed to take that back inside,” Logan frowned.

Emile hummed. “Well, it’s not made of metal or anything, so the detectors wouldn’t pick it up. He could probably put it in his bag.” He winked at Roman, who beamed back at him.

Logan rolled his eyes fondly. “Alright, alright. But it’s on your head if he gets in trouble for it,” He agreed.

Roman giggled, practically bouncing up and down. “Thank you!” He threw his arms around Logan, who caught him and squeezed him gently before releasing him.

Emile laughed as he stood, rolling his neck to stretch it. “We should probably head back inside. Awfully chilly out here, don’t you think?” He suggested, rubbing his arms.

“That’s what you get for not wearing a proper winter coat,” Logan bumped his shoulder against Emile’s lightly and smirked. “Let’s go, then.”

Roman shoved the stick in his bag and followed them back into the building. The warm air hit his face and he let out a contented sigh. It definitely was more cozy in here, he thought. Even if there wasn’t pretty snow or cool sticks to be found.

“Can we go say hi to Patton and Virgil?” He asked as they stepped into the elevator to head back upstairs.

Emile and Logan exchanged a look, and Emile shrugged. Logan looked back down to him and nodded. “Of course. You and Emile wait in one of the interview rooms, and I’ll go find them.”

Roman took his hand and squeezed it. “Thanks, Logan.”

When they reached the hallway again, though, it was clear something was wrong. Patton was clinging to Virgil, his eyes red and puffy, and Virgil looked angrier than Roman had ever seen him. He ignored Emile’s exclamation as he dived out of the elevator, already making a beeline towards them.

“It’s okay, really,” Patton was saying. “It’s nothing to get all worked up about.”

“Like hell it isn’t! She doesn’t even make any sense!” Virgil growled. His arms were wrapped tightly around Patton in a protective embrace. “Seriously, she can’t have it both ways with that crap. Besides, I don’t care who she is, she upset you, and I’m not putting up with that!”

“Are you guys okay?” Roman asked, worried. “What happened?”

“Oh, it’s okay, sweetheart!” Patton reached out for him, and Roman met him halfway, practically throwing himself into the man’s arms. “Just... met somebody who wasn’t very nice, is all.”

Roman frowned. Whoever was upsetting Patton and Logan, he decided immediately that he very much wasn’t a fan of them. Not if they had Virgil looking like he was about to rip out someone’s throat, and Patton shaky and tearful.

“Roman, don’t run off like tha- what’s wrong?” Emile cut himself off, stopping a few feet from them and eyeing over the trio.

“So, we met Vivienne,” Virgil spat, venom dripping from his words.

Emile practically flinched at the name, and Roman stared at him. “Oh. I see. Is she...?” He gestured across the room, and Virgil nodded. “That is... unfortunate.” He clicked his tongue, staring down the hallway, and then sighed. “Heck, she’s coming over, hang on.”

Roman turned to watch Emile as he jogged up to a slim woman with straight dark hair. Her light orange blouse practically seemed to glow compared to the black material of her suit. Her face seemed set in a permanent scowl, and Roman shivered slightly. This was not a nice woman. She brushed Emile off and marched over to them.

Virgil stepped in front Patton, crossing his arms and staring at her evenly. Roman’s heart swelled with love at his protective nature.

“I see Duck still hasn’t come back from lunch,” She began as she adjusted her narrow glasses. “I’m assuming that means neither of you have your ID checks and documentation on you.”

“And I’m assuming you still don’t have an actual reason to see them, anyway.” Virgil snapped.

Vivienne glared at him. “As a lawyer working in these proceedings, I have every right to request information on those involved. Especially with such...” Her gaze flickered to Patton for a moment. “Risky individuals.”

“Risky?” Virgil’s voice jumped an octave. “What does that mean?”

“Well, there are several studies that have shown that many children under the guardianship of... non-standard parents have a higher rate of mental health issues, not to mention the whole... gender thing,” She responded primly.

Oh, wow, Roman hated her.

Emile looked like a deer in the headlights, and Roman couldn’t blame him. She seemed like a lot to have to talk to, let alone work with.

“Listen.” Virgil’s voice was low and heavy, like the air crackling right before a bolt of lightning during a storm, and Roman felt Patton shift away from him a little, his grip on Roman tightening. "You can either call us gay men and respect my husband's identity, or you can call us a cishet couple and stop whining about gays adopting kids. Make up your fucking mind."

Vivienne gaped for a moment, stunned but clearly furious. She started to reply, but Duck appeared seemingly out of thin air next to Virgil, smoothly inserting himself between them. “Please move away from my clients, Vivienne.” He requested.

“Absolutely not! This man just verbally abused me, I should call security-!”

“And they could very well call security for you harassing them over documentation when they have no obligation to even speak with you.” Duck interrupted. “I’ll be over to speak with you shortly.”

Vivienne sputtered, then turned on her heel and stalked away, fuming.

Emile was the first to break the silence between them. “Gosh, I can’t believe you just told her off,” He commented to Duck. “Or that she listened.”

“Yeah,” Duck replied, sounding a little dazed. He turned to Virgil, who was still standing stock-still, glaring after her. “I am... so sorry about her. She’s...” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“Yeah. She is.” Virgil huffed. “Somebody ought to kick her a-”

Patton reached out and put a hand on Virgil’s arm. “Darling,” He said, so softly even Roman could barely hear it.

Virgil paused and took a deep breath. He let it out in a rush, then bit his lip. “Does she have a leg to stand on? With... all that?” He asked Duck and Emile.

Emile practically bristled. “Most certainly not!” He exclaimed. “That sort of thing is... completely unacceptable. I’m shocked that she dared to say anything of that regard while in the building, let alone to your faces!”

Duck nodded. “We’ll make sure that gets followed up, but it’s hardly a point she can use in her favour for this case.”

Virgil sighed. “Okay, then. Okay.” He repeated. “This is... fine.”

Roman’s opinion of Vivienne didn’t raise any over the rest of the afternoon. She was a haughty, mean person, and he loathed the way she made Patton flinch whenever she walked past. This, of course, didn’t help how he felt when Emile told him that they needed to talk to his parents in one of the interview rooms.

“But why?” He whined, dragging his feet as Emile led him down the hallway.

“It’s just... we need to...” Emile just sighed. “I’m sorry, but I promise, this is all you’ll have to do with them today.”

Roman shuffled in and sat as far away from Mom and Dad and Vivienne as he could manage- which unfortunately, wasn’t very far in the small room. This room, at least, had couches instead of a table, so they were across the room rather than nose-to-nose with him. Emile sat next to him and nudged him encouragingly.

It was a boring conversation, mostly Mom crying- fake tears, he was pretty sure- and Dad making empty promises. They apologised and offered half-hearted explanations for their terrible behaviour. Roman sat silently, waiting for the pair of them to finish their song and dance before he responded.

“I don’t want anything to do with you two.” He said simply.

Mom made a sound like a kicked puppy, and Dad glared at him. For once, though, he didn’t feel scared. Not with Emile beside him and a bright future so close.

Vivienne, who stood next to the couch where Mom and Dad sat, rolled her eyes. “So, would you rather live with Mr and Mrs Sande-”

“Mr.”

“Excuse me?”

“Mr and Mr Sanders.” Roman got to his feet and crossed his arms. “Patton’s a man. You can’t change that.”

“I think you’ll find, actually, that she’s a female. That’s what’s on her birth certificate, so that would be her gender.” Vivienne looked down her nose at him.

“That’s not how that works. Patton was born a girl, because sometimes nature messes up and gives people the wrong parts.” Roman reached into his bag, digging around for Arwen. Vivienne sucked, and he really wanted to just cuddle Arwen and leave.

“It really is.” Her voice grated on his nerves, and he tried to stay calm. He pushed his water bottle to the side, digging deeper into the bag. Calm for Emile. He moved his lunchbox, slipping his hand beneath it. Calm for Patton. Oh, hey, there was the stick again. Calm for Logan. Still no Arwen, though. Did he leave her in the car? “And her name is Pip-”

Everything burst into chaos.

Roman lunged forward without thinking about it, swinging the stick at Vivienne’s legs. She shrieked, trying to step back out of his reach. Mom screamed and grabbed on to Dad, who made a swipe to grab at Roman. Roman ducked away from him and suddenly found himself wrapped tightly in Emile’s arms. Emile plucked him off the ground and scurried out of the room, shouting an apology over his shoulder.

Roman stuck his tongue out at Vivienne as Emile carried him away. Stay calm for the others, he thought to himself. But be fierce for Virgil.

#TS-Storytime 2019 Submission #milo writes #ditr #gemstone tales #roman sanders #logan sanders #emile picani #patton sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #cartoon therapy

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pjbehindthesun · 5 years

Text

chapter 25: confrontations and constellations

Tuesday, November 6th, 1990

“Mmmphh? Hello?” Not the most polite way to answer the phone, true, but who the fuck calls at this hour?

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, I woke you up, I figured you’d be up early with Jeff…”

“No… I mean, yeah, he left way early, he had to be at work by 4, I went back to bed… what’s going on, is everything okay?”

“Uhm. I hate to do this before you go to work, but… can you come up?”

Cora’s voice is so small it’s terrifying. That’s all I need to know. It’s go time. I’ve barely yanked a comb through my hair, dragged a toothbrush through my mouth, and thrown on something vaguely resembling a work outfit before I’m off up the stairs. Halfway up, I remember the spare key to her place, which is hanging on a hook next to my door, but whatever, thankfully she’s left the door unlocked.

And she looks like absolute, utter hell. She’s curled up on the couch under a massive blanket, white as a ghost, looking at me with dark-circled eyes.

“I got Stone’s flu, I think,” she explains unnecessarily, obviously straining to talk through a sore throat. “Also, I kicked Alex out last night.”

Typical Cora, burying the lede. Pinching myself would be rude, right? I need to not do that. I opt for biting my tongue hard to make sure I’m awake as I scoot some of her mountainous blanket fort over to make room for myself on the couch. Ow. Yeah. I’m awake.

“What the hell happened?”

She winces as she swallows. “Another girl. Here. They were, uh, in the shower, when I… They, uhm, figured I’d be at work longer, but Colleen sent me home early last night, because of the whole…” she draws a circle around her face, which is giving the facial expression equivalent of a shrug.

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Uh-uh. So I… came home and… found them. Kicked them both out. And then I stupidly told him to come back tomorrow and get his stuff.”

“That’s not stupid, we should get his shit out of here as fast as possible,” I muse, scowling at her. “Do we know her?”

“No. She’s Brian’s girlfriend or something. She didn’t even know about me. It’s been going on for a year.”

A year?? This is so fucking surreal. I know how to do the friend thing, I swear that I do, but the way she’s relaying this insane information so robotically, it’s really throwing me for a loop. I wish she’d scream about it, or cry hysterically, or call him a rat bastard, or something to let me vent my own anger, but clearly, we’re not there yet…

“...and how are you doing?”

“I’m alright. I just, uhm,” she glances around the apartment, “I told him he could come and get his stuff today, you know, move out, but I don’t… I don’t really want him hanging around forever trying to get it all gathered up… I was gonna try to get a head start this morning but I could use a little help…?”

Okay! An action item! I got this. We’ll deal with robotic Cora later. I’m sure it’s just a defense mechanism and she’ll break down later once she’s had more time to process. I jump up off the couch, a to-do list growing ever longer in my brain. Cora starts to get up too, but it doesn’t take a lot of effort to push her back down because she’s not very steady on her feet.

“Park your ass, woman, you need to rest.” She opens her mouth to protest, but I’m already walking toward the bathroom, calling back over my shoulder. “The first thing I can do is bleach the ever-loving fuck out of your shower. And your towels. And your sheets. And who knows what else they touched, but we’re gonna nuke the shit out of it all. Okay? And then… we’ll figure out the packing part later.” A glance at the clock tells me I don’t have a ton of time before I need to go to work. I need reinforcements. But that can wait.

I leave Cora to slump passively on the couch while I gather up a load of sheets (because ew) and towels (because extra ew) and quickly attack her shower with some bleach spray. Out of her sightline, I’m free to gag at the mental image of that dumb, smarmy motherfucker hooking up with another girl IN THE APARTMENT HE SHARED WITH MY FRIEND. WHO DOES THAT??! FOR A YEAR!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I’m obviously not going to fan those flames with her and make her feel even worse, because she’s still letting it all sink in and what she needs right now is some unemotional, businesslike help getting the logistics worked out. But it’s therapeutic for me to be able to lose my shit in here with the door closed for a moment. Okay, whoa, bleach fumes... moment over. I make the bed up with clean sheets and grab the rest to take down to the basement.

“Laundry, be right back! You good?” I call at her over a giant basket of offending laundry. She nods and manages a small “thanks” as I bustle past. Once I’m in the laundry room, I get to take out more anger on the machine, slamming doors and swearing loudly, but I collect myself before I get back to the 4th floor. She hasn’t moved an inch, and she still looks like a zombie.

“Okay, alright, uhm, I have to leave for work in like five minutes…” I tell her, glancing at the clock as my mind races.

“You’re the best. Even that much was a huge help because I was never gonna make it down the stairs,” she tries for a chuckle but ends up coughing. “I’ve got it from here, you go to work.”

“Stop talking nonsense. I just need to figure out who I can call to come help you.”

“No!” she yelps, wide-eyed. “No, please don’t tell everybody, this is so fucking embarrassing, I really don’t need the whole phone tree to be notified that my life is on fire. I can do it myself!”

“I wasn’t thinking of lighting up the phone tree, I’m just wondering if any of the guys are off work this morning. You need manual labor.”

“I can do it, Lucy, honestly.”

“Uh huh. And you’re going to have help. Stop arguing about it or I’ll fight you and you know I have the height advantage. Let’s see, first, we need to figure out when…” it takes a Herculean effort to say his cursed fucking name out loud, but gritting my teeth seems to help “...Alex is going to drop by. I want to have it all done before then so he’s not here for more than a minute. Get in, get your shit, get out.”

Her eyes start to look a little red-rimmed for the first time. “I love you, Luce.”

“You too. Don’t you fucking move. Get a little rest.”

I grab the phone off the end table, tugging at the cord to follow me, and pace down the hallway and into their den, hoping that she won’t eavesdrop quite as aggressively that way. And then I remember I don’t know Alex’s work number. I yell down the hall, she calls out the numbers, and I punch them in, imagining each phone key is one of his teeth being knocked in. To my surprise, the bastard picks up on the first ring.

“Hello?”

He sounds like shit. This pleases me.

“Alex, it’s Lucy. You’re at work early.”

“Yeah, uh,” he yawns, “I slept at my desk last night, Cora kicked me out, and I couldn’t stay at Brian’s, so --”

“-- I’m playing the world’s smallest violin for you,” I growl, trying to keep my voice low enough that Cora won’t hear but assertive enough to terrify the shitstain on the other end of the line. “Listen. You are going to come get your shit on your lunch break. I’ll have it all packed up and in the front room. If you don’t get it out of here by 1:00, we’re having a bonfire tonight at Discovery Park, courtesy of your video game console.”

He stammers for a moment before mumbling something that sounds enough like assent for me.

“Don’t be late.”

It takes a lot of effort not to slam the phone back down. Get me, I’m mature. Okay, now we have a little over four hours to get his shit out of here, but I don’t have any more personal days left this year so I can’t miss work, Jeff’s at the cafe already… Eddie? Eddie’s a pretty diplomatic guy, I bet he’d be willing to help, and of all the options, he probably wouldn’t make Cora feel too uncomfortable. But when I try the guys’ apartment, there’s no answer, so maybe he had an early shift too.

Hmm. Mike? He’s a bit of a mess, but he’s got a good heart. I’ll try him next.

“H’llo? wh’s happenin’ ‘bout me,” a slurred voice says.

“Mike? Mike! Wake up, I need your help.”

“we’re closed! n’more lettuce for today.”

“The fuck? Mike!” but he’s already hung up. Great, the only two morning people in our whole crew are already at work, and Cready’s either talking in his sleep or wasted or both. I can’t remember Chris’s number, and I’m not about to ask Cora for it because I don’t want her to freak out again thinking I’m calling the whole neighborhood. That leaves one option. She’s not going to like this. She’s really, really not going to like this.

“Hello?”

Okay, finally, someone who sounds at least halfway awake.

“Hey, Stone? Sorry to bother you so early. It’s Lucy.”

“Lucy? What the hell’s going on? It’s like… 7…?” I can hear him stretch and probably fumble around for his alarm clock.

“7:15, yeah,” I finish his thought for him. “Listen, I need your help. Cora kicked Alex out last night, she found him cheating with some other chick. As in, he’s been cheating on her with this same girl all year. As in, she found them here when she got off work.”

His sudden avalanche of bellowed obscenity makes me jerk the phone away from my head. “Okay, okay, get it out of your system, I know, I said all the same things when I heard,” I reassure him from a safe, ear-protecting difference. “The thing is, there’s not really time for that, because he’s coming back at like noon to get his shit out of the apartment, and Cora’s got the flu so there’s no way she can pack it up herself. Despite what she may think.” As I speak, I can hear her making a liar out of me in the other room with the unmistakable sounds of a suitcase being packed. So much for the whole resting idea. She’s impossible. Good luck with that, Stone. “She’s already trying to do it herself, you know how stubborn she is. I wish I could help her but I’m out of time off for the year and I have to get to work, but I’ll be right back as soon as I’m done for the day, I just need someone to --”

“Be right over,” he says in a terse voice that’s much higher pitched than usual. I hang up and resign myself to trying to restrain Cora from murdering me for calling him.

When I find her next door in their bedroom, she’s busily filling the battered old suitcase with sweaters and polo shirts from the dresser.

“So, Alex will be here around 12… Jeff and Eddie were both at work....”

She cuts me off in a brisk tone, continuing to pack and not making eye contact, “That’s okay, don’t call anyone else, I swear I’ve got this. He doesn’t even have that much stuff. All the furniture and kitchen stuff’s mine, it’s just his clothes, a few books, records, the computer shit in the den… I won’t drop dead from the exertion of packing all of that, I promise.”

For a split second, I consider telling her that Stone is on his way over, but (a), I value my life, (b), I’m not going to have the argument with her that she needs to stay in bed because I know that will fall on deaf ears, and (c), I’m going to be late for work. That’s Stone’s problem now.

“Okay, well, drink lots of water, don’t overdo it, call me if you need ANYTHING, and call me no matter what after he leaves. Got it?” I tip an entire drawer full of socks into the bag to speed up the process, giving her a pointed stare until she finally pauses and looks at me.

“Yes, ma’am. You’re my favorite human, you know that?”

“You’re mine. Try to rest.” I pull her into a quick hug, and then I’m on my way out the door.

I’d better be your favorite human. I bleached your ex-boyfriend’s sex towels. Vivid fantasies of murder accompany me on the drive to the hospital.

***

Of course, I only remember that I forgot to lock the station wagon when I’m already on the 4th flight of stairs in her building, taking them three at a time, trying to get a grip on my temper so I can actually be useful when I get to her place. Whatever, if someone wants my car that bad, they can have it. I was so busy mentally cursing Cletus that I nearly wrecked it like four times just getting it over here, and the drive’s only like 15 minutes.

I have to take a deep breath to avoid pounding on her door, but no matter what I do, I can’t get my adrenaline levels to chill out. Down, boy. This is not the time, place, or person for the whole John Wayne hero routine. Not that I’ve ever been very good at it, anyway. With one more deep breath, I arrange my face into some semblance of neutrality and manage a normal-volume knock.

Cora opens the door, bundled up in a massive quilt and looking like death, so much so that I’m probably gaping at her like a fool. So much for keeping a neutral expression. We stare at each other in silence for an excruciatingly long time, and I would speak up except that I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say. I’ve been preoccupied with all this stupid male anger for Alex, I didn’t even bother thinking about what I should say to her. Thankfully, she speaks up before I have to.

“What are you doing here?”

Okay, that I can work with. “Lucy called me.”

A skeptical crease between her eyebrows tells me that this information is news to her, so I explain as quickly as I can, “she said… she said you might need some help, uh, packing stuff.”

“Did she tell you why?” Her voice is a thin monotone.

I nod but then figure I should probably qualify so she doesn't think I’ve been prying. “I got the gist, yeah.”

“Fantastic.”

“I’m so sorry, Cora.”

“Sure you are,” she mutters with a sniff, huddling deeper into her blanket cloak.

“What's that supposed to mean?” I frown, kicking myself for not resisting the bait. She doesn't need a fight today, and I know that, but I’m still so fucking keyed up from the drive over here.

“This is the part where you say ‘I told you so,’ right? You called it, you should get to take credit for it.”

“I didn't come here to gloat, Cora.”

“Well, you should, you were right.” She rolls her eyes and refuses to look back at me, staring stubbornly down the hallway.

“This isn't exactly the kind of thing I want to be right about.”

My own voice is getting thicker as I talk because her eyes are reddening and I can't stand to see how much she's hurting, and trying to act like she’s not. When she doesn't answer me, I ask in a gentler voice, “can I come in?”

She nods and blinks back her tears, reaching for me, and I’ve got her wrapped up in my arms as fast as I can close the distance between us. She rests her head on my chest. I bury my nose in her hair, fighting the overwhelming urge to kiss her or do anything else that would make this about me, rather than what she needs. But I’ve really missed this. Every other thought vacates my brain, other than how much I’ve missed this. The way she fits in my arms. The way her hair smells. The warmth of her. Holy shit, warmth…

“Jesus, you’re burning up,” I rearrange so I can press my cheek against her forehead, nuzzling closer despite myself, “have you taken anything?”

She shakes her head, not letting go.

“Why the hell not,” I whisper.

“Didn't think about it,” she shrugs. “Anyway, it’s your fault.”

It’s still so terrifying to see her like this, and I don’t mean the fever. This calm detachment. Just like the other night, at the diner. Trying to pretend it never happened. That can’t be good. I give her one more bracing squeeze before loosening my grip, adjusting her blanket around her shoulders.

“Yeah. Okay. Sorry about that. Uh, I’ll check your medicine cabinet. You go get in bed, I’ll be right there, okay? I mean, not, ahem, not in your bed, just… I’ll be right there with whatever fever reducer I can find… obviously…”

She purses her lips in what could be either a smile or a wince and lets me steer her back toward her bedroom, rubbing her back once before I split off to the bathroom on the other side of the hallway.

Her medicine cabinet’s pretty sparse… some floss, some Alka Seltzer, a bag of cough drops that expired in 1986… the last one actually makes me laugh out loud… and miraculously, an unopened bottle of nighttime cold medicine that has a fever reducer in it. I don’t know how she’ll feel about the nighttime part, but she definitely looks like she could use the sleep, so I’m going with it. I grab the bottle, double back to the kitchen to get a glass of water, remembering which cabinet is which from the night I did her dishes. When I meet her in her bedroom, she’s sitting up, still out of the covers, with a nervous look on her face.

“I can’t take this, it’ll put me to sleep for hours!” she whines when she sees the label.

“That’s the general idea, yes. Unless you want to lie and tell me you slept well last night. Go ahead, try it.”

Through a peeved sigh, she huffs, “no. I stayed on the couch. Barely slept.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“But if this stuff knocks me out, how am I supposed to help you pack?”

“You catch on quick, don’t you?” I sit on the foot of her bed, tugging the covers back to encourage her to climb under, and she obliges with a sour look on her face. “Look, I follow directions well, just tell me what I need to pack. You need to get as much rest as you can.”

“But what about Alex?”

“Let me worry about Alex.”

“Gee, what could possibly go wrong,” she quips, but she finally reaches out for the cup of dark green medicine I’m holding out for her. With a grimace, she downs it in one shot and washes it down with some of the water before letting me tuck her in like a little kid.

“Okay. I got most of his clothes into that suitcase already,” she nods at a huge bag on the floor, “there’s just the coat closet left. He’s got some stuff in the bathroom, that should be obvious enough. Everything in the den’s his -- not the furniture, but the TV, the video games, all that stuff. And then he has some things on the bookshelf, but I’ll have to talk you through that.”

“Or you could sleep and I could figure it out for myself.”

“You think so, do you?” She cocks an eyebrow and for a second, it’s like that detached fog has lifted. Jesus, I’ve missed her so much. I roll up my shirtsleeves to give myself a sensory distraction.

“Mmhmm. I’ve got a pretty good handle on your music taste, Red. What does he listen to, anyway?”

“Well, you can start with all the Elvis Costello --”

“-- oh, it fucking figures --”

“-- and the Springsteen, and the Zappa, and --”

She rattles off several more artists as I disappear around the corner and start pulling records off the shelves. What gets left behind in her collection is both a massive relief and a weird set of bedfellows: obviously, there’s the Doc Watson and the Hank Williams and the Johnny Cash and the Willie Nelson and the Woody Guthrie and the Pete Seeger and the Joni Mitchell and the Joan Baez and all the other hillbilly and/or hippie things I’d fully expect on her shelf. And among other things, she’s got a bunch of old blues and motown, a weird smattering of acid rock and heavy metal, what appears to be the complete discography of Tom Waits, ditto for Neil, and a few others I’m almost too afraid to ask about, just in case they’re Alex’s…

“Uhm… what about the Steely Dan albums?”

“Stay.”

Good girl. “Elton?”

“Go, sadly.”

“Right.” I keep them on the shelf but shove them back just a little. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. “Books?”

Pretty much everything stays except the Asimov, Ayn Rand, Salinger… uhm… Hemingway and Steinbeck. You get the idea.”

That’s for sure. What a fucking prick this guy is. I start pulling titles and dropping them into the box. Every now and again, I’ll call one out to her for clarification, but she sounds increasingly sleepy, and after a while when I check in on her, she’s out cold. It doesn’t even wake her up when I make my way cautiously into her room to finish packing clothes in his suitcase and drag it down the hall. The rest of the apartment is pretty easy to sort out, and I’m taking no small joy in the catharsis of purging all traces of Alex from her place. Even his juvenile man-den takes no time at all to clear out, although I think I’ve pulled a muscle in my back moving his big stupid TV. I’m not going to tell her that, of course. Gotta keep some dignity here.

It’s about 11:00 when I’m pretty sure I’ve got all his bullshit piled up in the front room, and Cora’s still fast asleep. There’s one book title from her collection that stood out to me as being especially weird, even for her, so I snag it and stretch out on the couch to read it and pass the time. Every third or fourth sentence has me laughing, which of course still prompts disgusting coughing fits, so I do what I can to keep the noise down, but Cora doesn’t show any signs of waking. In what feels like no time at all, there’s a knock on the door and the clock is telling me it’s nearly noon.

Setting her book down and checking on her one last time on my way to answer the knock, because who’s in any great hurry to see this motherfucker anyway, I slowly make my way to the front door. His first reaction when I open it is to drop his jaw and turn an extremely unappealing shade of red. He’s looking sufficiently unwashed and exhausted and stressed out and pissed. All very good things.

“The fuck are you doing here?!”

“Keep your voice down, Alex, she’s sleeping.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, asshole, this is my apartment!”

“Mmm, not anymore, I don’t think.” It’s deeply gratifying to keep my voice as calm as possible while he gets more and more irate. I budge past him into the hallway, closing the door behind me so he won’t wake her up.

“So you’re just here playing house with my girlfriend, then??”

I lean against the door frame with my arms folded, maintaining steady eye contact while he incrementally loses his mind, even though he’s encroaching more and more on my personal space. I’ve never been big on the whole males-working-it-out-with-fisticuffs thing, but I’m sure as shit not going to let this dickweed intimidate me.

“I don’t have to explain shit to you. And she’s not your girlfriend.”

“I fucking knew it, I knew there was something going on with you and her, you obnoxious fucking --”

“I just came over to pack up your stuff. She’s too sick to do it. That’s it. Make whatever you want out of it, I don’t care, just don’t wake her up.”

“STOP TELLING ME WHAT TO DO, I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU --”

“Hey, Stone, is there a problem here?”

The voice that cuts through Alex’s screeching is a deep, calm, resonant kind of voice, of the kind that can quiet a noisy room without even raising its own volume. Over Alex’s shoulder, I watch Eddie appear from out of the stairwell, and as Alex whips around to face him, it takes every bit of my composure not to laugh. Eddie’s at least a full head and shoulders shorter than Alex, and by rights he’s like the least threatening guy I’ve ever met -- Jesus, he makes people friendship collages, who does that? -- but right now he’s got this crazy-eyed expression that, with his tightly wound posture, seems to fill the entire hallway with its intensity. It’s a look that immediately calls to mind cobras or other animals that can make themselves larger to unnerve predators. Or, in Eddie’s case, probably a non-venomous snake mimicking a cobra, a thought that is threatening to make me laugh even harder, but there’s no reason for Alex to know any of that.

Anyway, it’s working, to my delight and relief. Alex unballs his fists and takes a big step back.

“No problem, we’re just helping our friend Alex here move out of his former apartment today. Cora’s asked him to live elsewhere,” I explain to Eddie, who maintains a deep crease in his eyebrows and a fireball stare as he keeps his eyes fixed on Alex, nodding steadily.

“Sure, yeah, let’s get you moved out, friend.”

My rabid-faced, calm-voiced bandmate seems to be enough of a wild card to subdue Alex, who mutters something to the tune of, “fine, whatever, let’s get this over with.”

With Eddie’s help, it only takes a couple of trips between the three of us to dump all of Alex’s shit outside on the curb in front of his stupid Jeep, letting him pack it all inside. I wish I could say, for the preservation of my integrity, that I handled his belongings with the utmost care and didn’t accidentally crush a fragile item or six. But hey, I’m weak, I guess.

“SEEYA!” I chirp, waving enthusiastically, a shit-eating grin plastered on my face as Alex climbs into his truck with nothing more than a sad little “fuck you, asshole.”

Eddie maintains his cobra posture until the Jeep’s on its way out of the parking lot, before turning to me to ask, “hey, is Cora okay?”

“Ehhh, she’ll be fine,” I explain, heading back inside and holding the door open for him. “I mean she’s sick as hell, so that doesn’t help, but I think she’s alright.”

“Anything else I can do to help?” he tugs at his soul patch, frowning.

“Nah, I think running him off with our torches and pitchforks is plenty for now, thanks man. I appreciate you having my back there.”

“Hey, whatever the fuck happened, he wasn’t gonna make it any better by starting a fight outside her door.”

“Something tells me he wasn’t thinking that far ahead. Not a big thinker, that one.”

“Some kind of son of a bitch or other, too, for her to throw him out like that.”

“Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy. Hey, thanks again,” I repeat once we’ve come to her door. As he opens his mouth, I cut him off, “I’ll let you know if there’s anything you can do to help, for sure.”

With that, I wave to send him down the hallway to Jeff’s place and head back inside. So much for not waking her up… she’s parked on the couch, looking groggy and wary but impossibly gorgeous. And she’s ditched her blanket coat.

“Hey! You feeling better?”

“Mm,” she equivocates, “sort of. Fever’s gone, I think. For now.”

“Hope we didn’t wake you up with our friendly little gathering.” I sit next to her, moving the book I’d left propped open on the cushion over to the end table.

She toys with a tiny hole in the knee of her sweatpants. “Sounded ugly out there.”

“Well, given the company, that’s kind of a given.” The fact that she chuckles at my joke and doesn’t tell me to be nice about Alex is like a breath of fresh air after working all day in a mine. “But nobody died. And I’m pretty sure we got all his stuff.”

“Thanks, Stone,” she mumbles quietly, a little tremble in the way she says my name that threatens to do me in. “Really, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Did you manage to get some decent sleep?”

“Yeah, not bad,” she looks relieved at the change of subject. “The meds are still kicking my ass, so if I say anything incoherent, please be kind.”

“You got it.”

“Čapek?” she nods at the book, her voice sounding a little more assured.

“Yeah, well, I got done packing early, I had to pass the time somehow. You’ve got some crazy shit on those shelves, Red.”

“I love that one.” A tired smile spreads across her face. She’s prettier mid-flu than most women I know when they’re all dolled up. It’s unfair to womankind, really.

“Yeah? War With the Newts, 1936. Where the hell do you find this stuff?”

“Got it at a weird little used bookstore back in Asheville. You’re telling me you could resist that title? Come on, a sea captain discovers a race of highly intelligent newts, enslaves and exploits them, causing them to rebel until they finally conquer the world?”

“Hey! Spoilers!” I elbow her.

“Sorry, it’s just too good. How far did you get?”

“Definitely not into any overt newt-human conflict yet, I can tell you that much. The sea captain and that other guy were still debating how to use the newts in their pearl-harvesting scheme.”

“Oh, man, so you’re pretty early, you haven’t even gotten to my favorite part!”

“Which is?”

“Hey, spoilers,” she repeats, a wicked glint in her eyes.

“I think I’d rather hear you tell it, anyway.”

After chewing on her lip for a moment, she obliges. “Okay, you know how the newts develop a trusting rapport with the ship captain, kind of a symbiosis? Like, he sends them on diving missions to find pearls, and in return, they ask him for simple tools for their own developing society?”

“Right…”

“Well, they start to ask for more and more complicated tools, showing more and more of their own hidden intelligence, and the sea captain develops more and more affection for what he sees as his own pet newts, even though they hate him for exploiting their civilization. Very good imperialism satire, by the way.”

“Of course.”

“Well, coming up soon, that symbiosis starts to break down. One of them’s going to start menacingly asking a human for one object over and over, and then the newts all start to chant:” she holds her hand out and widens her eyes creepily, “‘knife? knife? knife?”

“Jesus,” I sputter. “So that’s the beginning of the end, then.”

“Yeah, it ends up being a pretty perfect skewer of nationalism, fascism, scientific hubris… really it’s the perfect sci-fi story.”

“Yeah, and it reads like something Douglas Adams would have written if he were alive in the ‘30s, it’s fucking hilarious.”

“I knew you were a quality human, Stone.”

I watch her cautiously, unsure how much to push her on such a fragile day, but unable to help myself. I mean, this is almost back to normal for us, right? Maybe she’s feeling better already. “Careful, I might start thinking we’ve graduated from a temporary ceasefire to a lasting peace.”

“You’re making a decent case for it today,” she fights a little smile. Hope sparks up in my chest, but now is definitely not the time to make a move, for fuck’s sake.

“So, uhm, you need anything else? You got enough food, that kind of thing?”

“I think I’ll survive, yeah.”

“Well, I mean, I did get you sick… Cornell brought me soup, I feel like I should pay it forward somehow… I still owe you dinner, anyway…”

“You don’t owe me dinner, Stone.”

“I mean it though, what’s your comfort food situation when you’re sick? Everyone has one.”

“You’re going to make fun of me.”

“Oh, most definitely, but I’ll still go out and get it for you.”

She crumples up her face, eyes shut tight. “Uhm… well, there was this one thing I always used to eat when I was a kid…”

“Lay it on me.”

“Tater tots…”

“Okay, that’s an unconventional choice for the flu, but it could be weirder…”

“...dipped in strawberry yogurt?”

“Nope. Okay, that’s it, we’re done here, you’re obviously history’s greatest monster.” I start to get up from the couch, wrinkling my nose in disgust, but she catches me by the wrist and tugs me back down, laughing. Predictably, I fold like a card table at her smallest touch.

“You promised!”

“Ughhh, fine, just don’t make me watch.” I stand up again less dramatically, and this time she lets me go, even though I’d prefer it if she didn’t.

“Wimp.”

“A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice.”

“Thanks, Stoner.”

“You bet.”

“I mean it. Thanks… for all of this. I don’t know how to tell you… how…” her eyes suddenly redden again, and she looks away, almost chuckling at herself with annoyance as she blinks furiously.

“Hey…” and I’m back on the couch next to her, my hand on her knee, trying to get her to look at me. “Hey, don’t worry about it, okay? Maybe go get a little more rest, I’ll be right back.”

“K.”

I give her a quick hug, which lingers as a hand on her back as she gets up and heads back to her bedroom. I wait until she’s out of sight before I throw on my coat and head out, renewing my resolve to just be her friend for as long as we can manage it, because that’s obviously what she needs the most.

***

“Hey… I’m back…”

I open my eyes to a swimming image of Stone sitting on the edge of my bed, still dressed for the outside weather, watching me through those huge, concerned owl eyes. I must have fallen asleep pretty quickly after he left.

“Hey.”

“Uhm, the food’s in the fridge. I got your requested grossness, plus a few other things that us normies eat when we’re sick, you know, in case you wanna try and assimilate.”

“K.”

“I think I’m gonna head out, let you get a little more rest. Lucy’ll probably be back in a few hours, she said she was gonna come straight over when she gets off of work.”

“Stone… please don’t go yet, I don’t want you to go…” I hardly know what I’m saying, my head’s still so fuzzy from the combination of cold medicine and interrupted napping, but I know I don’t want him to go anywhere yet. I don’t want to be alone in this place yet. I fumble for his hand to make sure my point gets across even through my inarticulateness.

“Oh...kay…” he nods, looking taken aback. “You want me to hang out on the couch until Lucy gets back? I can do that.”

“No…” I tug a little harder on his hand. “No, can you… can you stay here? Can you…” ugh, loser alert, “can you hold me for a little while?”

Frown lines deepening on his face, he nods and stands up to shake off his coat, his baseball cap, his blue button-down. He nudges off his boots and then climbs in next to me, letting me curl up in the crook of one arm as he pulls the blanket up with the other.

“Better?” he asks quietly, once we’re situated. The answer is no, of course not, not really, but the words don’t want to be said. In an inescapable wave, every awful thought I’ve been pushing down since last night swamps over me. Like the feeling of waking up from a nightmare, discovering with sheer relief that none of it was real, except that the wires got crossed somewhere and only the horrible stuff was true all along. Only the worst things you think about yourself are left. That you’re not lovable, not even to the only person who ever tried, that you’re not good enough, that you’re a way station for other people until their Something Better comes along, a consolation prize, a dead weight. That everyone’s going to leave, eventually, one way or the other, and that you might not even be valuable enough to them to be worth leaving properly. That you can’t even take comfort in a moral high ground because deep down, you know you have the ability to treat people this way, too. The sobs shake out in terrible gasps against Stone’s chest, endless, bottomless. God, I hate that I’m doing this to him. Stone, of all people. I’ve got to get my shit together, this isn’t fair to him.

“I’m s-sorry…” I manage to choke out, once the oxygen decides to stay in my lungs long enough to let me.

“Jesus, what the hell for?” his fingers find their way into my hair and begin to rake slowly through it, repetitively, consistently, in a way that gives me something to think about other than… anything else. I wind my arm further around his middle, clutch the fabric of his t-shirt in my fingers, thread our legs together, hold onto him for dear life, trying to get as close as I can, and he responds with a steady embrace and a quick kiss on my forehead.

“You’re just,” I sniffle, trying to pull my shit together, “it’s just really unfair, it’s almost funny, how you’re like… the worst possible person for this job…”

“What job?”

“Listening to me cry over Alex. Like a fucking idiot.”

“You’re not a fucking idiot.”

“God, this is so stupid, I don’t even know why I’m crying, it’s not like I want him back…” I wipe my cheeks, but there’s nothing I can do about the puddle on his shirt.

“That’s fair enough. There’s no excuse for what he did.”

His words cause an uncomfortable twinge, a familiar one. “Yeah, except I did the same thing to him.”

“Huh?” Stone cranes his neck to look down at me, disbelief etched all over his face.

“With you.”

“Uh-uh. No.” He rests his head back on the pillow and resumes his compulsive stroking of my hair. “Our thing was totally different.”

Was…Our thing was totally different. Granted, last week feels like it happened a year ago, but I’m not sure I’m ready to bury it under the past tense yet. I guess Stone is. Ouch. There’s a thought I don’t want to dwell on today.

“Uh… enlighten me.”

“Well, for one thing, you’re a pretty bad liar.”

“I’m sorry Stoner, is this you trying to make me feel better?!”

“You know what I mean. You wear your feelings --” he interrupts the rhythm of his hand to perch it on my shoulder “-- right here. And your whole Jiminy Cricket conscience muscle is way too overdeveloped. You could never do what he did. The sheer amount of deception involved in that kind of two-timing is fucking staggering.”

“Yeah, even to her.”

“Huh?”

“The girl. Cindy. She didn’t know about me either.”

For a second time, Stone arches his neck to try to get a better look at me. “No way.”

“Way.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“She didn’t know he had a girlfriend??”

“She seemed as shocked to learn about me as I was about her.”

“But, like…” he continues to gape in confusion, so exaggeratedly that it’s almost funny, “she came over to your house? Did she not notice that there are pictures of you guys together here? Like, all over the place?”

I don’t know why, but picking the situation apart like this with him actually helps me get a little distance from it again. Good. I don’t know if I can stand another attack of pathetic sobs in front of a witness. “Yeah, well, our Cindy didn’t strike me as the brightest tool in the drawer.”

He snorts as he relaxes back down again. “God, I love you. That’s another difference, by the way.”

“Well, don’t tell anyone, but likewise. But they were together for a year, Stone, I’m sure similar language was involved.”

“And that’s another thing,” he carries on, undeterred, “the length of time! Jesus! Who does that?? Fucking asshole, that’s who.”

“Well, anyway, I’m sorry. For snotting up your shirt and everything.”

“Who’s the snot otter now?” he smirks. “Anyway, don’t. You’re allowed. You just got your heart broken, you get a free pass for all kinds of obnoxious shit.”

Once again, I don’t know what to say other than thanks, and I feel like I’ve already said that so many times that it’s going to get stuck in my throat if I try again. But another thought occurs.

“Have you ever?”

“What?”

“Had your heart broken?”

“Oh, sure, lots of times. I mean, sometimes I’ve been on the other end of it, but yeah, of course.”

“Tell me about it?”

He’s silent for a moment. “Well, the first one’s always the worst, right? I’d had a couple of girlfriends in high school, but the first one I ever really loved was this girl, Annie. This was like, sophomore and junior year, so real revolting puppy love shit. Writing her name in my notebook, walking her home from school, talking for hours on the phone at night, all that stuff. Anyway, she left a note in my locker at the end of the year telling me that she’d decided to get back together with her ex. And that was it. Didn’t see her all summer, and when we went back to school in the fall, she acted like she didn’t know me.”

“Fuck. That must have been hard.” I wrap myself even tighter around him, wanting to insulate someone so good from ever being treated so cruelly. He responds in kind with a rib-cracking squeeze.

“It was. For a while. You get over it, though.”

“For the sake of argument, I will pretend what you said is not, in fact, a crock of shit and ask you the obvious question: how?”

He shakes with one of those tiny laughs I’ve come to love, the kind that seems to get stuck in his nose. “I don’t know, you kinda… you go through this stage where everything that happens to you, or around you, reminds you of that person, because you’re so used to telling one person everything on your mind, and sharing everything, and all of your stories point to them, they’re you’re reference for everything, like your…” he grimaces at his own word choice, “your North Star, or whatever. So it’s like there’s salt in the wound, constantly…”

“Sounds awful.”

“Yeah, it is. But after enough time goes by, other people start becoming new focal points for you, and you have new stories that are tied to those people, and they kinda start to fill in the sky with other constellations, until that one person doesn't seem so prominent anymore. And then one day you’re squinting at the sky, trying to figure out how that person was ever such a big deal at all.”

Past tense, present tense, whatever we are, however confusing my situation with Stone has gotten, this is exactly what I need right now: to be curled up in his arms, letting him run his fingers through my hair, while he climbs the ladder and hangs the stars back up in the sky one by one. Just like he said he would.

#i tried to do a couple things here and idk if they worked #the usual #anyway hope it's readable #chapter 25 #behind the sun #jeff ament #stone gossard #mike mccready #pearl jam #fanfiction #fanfic

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talkfastromance4 · 5 years

Text

At My Weakest (4)

So so sorry. My inspiration his been sort of dry for this one. Hoping to get back into it. Catch up on the other parts below:

(1) (2) (3)

It’s been five days since the last morning coffee rendezvous and Helena was hurt, confused, and angry. He’s like a yo-yo; when he comes too close for comfort he falls away and stays there.

Helena leaves the diner with Jodie in charge, a faithful employee, and decides to go to Chance’s with for some drinks with Val.

“Okay, chica, what’s got you all down in the dumps?” Val asks while they’re both halfway done with their second drinks.

“Ashton,” Helena grumbles before taking a shot that the bartender placed in front of her.

“Uh oh. He still hasn’t asked you out yet?”

“No,” she snorts, “he hasn’t talked to me in five days. Maybe i was coming on too strong? But I wasn’t even doing anything!” Helena gasps loudly, realization hitting her. “You don’t think Jack said anything, do you?”

“No,” Val shakes her head sipping her drink carefully. “They haven’t interacted that much I don’t think. He’s a tough guy to figure out.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me. You know what, Val? I am going to drink and have fun and forget all about Ashton,” Helena states proudly, she slams her fist on the wood grained bar top.

“That’s my girl!” Val cheers and orders another round of shots.

Ashton shows up with Lincoln, a fellow fireman he’s been chatting with at the station. He knows all about Ashton’s qualms with Helena, a lot of personal stuff comes out when you’re on your third night of being on call. He nudges Ashton when he notices Helena at the bar. Just one look at her made Ashton groan in longing.

It was as if the last five days didn’t even happen because that one look made time stop. Time was nothing, it was neither here nor there, all that mattered was him and her being in the exact same space.

“Let’s go to Liberty’s,” Ashton says trying to back out the door but bumps into Lincoln.

“No. You gotta man up and talk to her. Jack isn’t here and he’s not in control of Helena.”

“She’s with Val I don’t want--”

“Hey! Ramirez!” Lincoln shouts and guides Ashton forcefully forward.

Val and Helena turn in their stools, both of their expressions a mixture of shock and drunkenness.

“What’s up, guys?” Val asks. Her eyes dart between Helena and Ashton, anticipating in bated breath to what her best friend will do.

Ashton keeps glancing at Helena who is keeping her gaze away from his. She was mixing her drink with her straw, paying close attention to the ice swirling around.

“Needed some drinks,” Lincoln shrugs.

“Well, there’s plenty. Enjoy boys,” Helena slurs, her eyes heavy. She spins in her stool but loses her balance nearly toppling over but Ashton catches her.

He could smell the alcohol on her and hoped she didn’t plan on driving home, or walking. A terrible image of her falling and lying on the sidewalk passed out didn’t bode well with Ashton.

“You okay?” he asks steadying her back on the seat.

“I’m fine,” she grumbles trying to shove him away. “Like you care,” she mutters but Ashton hears the comment.

Ashton winces, he deserved that.

“Lenny,” Val says in a warning tone.

“It’s okay Val, I probably won’t see him for a week anyway,” Helena waves her hand dismissively. The motion causes her to almost fall of the stool again.

“Okay, I think it’s time for you to go home,” Ashton says grabbing her purse.

“Are you going to help me like you did when my car snowballed?” she asks in an accusing tone then went into a fit of giggles. “Snowballed, ha ha ha.” she falls into his arms willingly, her anger towards him dissipated already thanks to the concoction of alcohol.

“Irwin, you don’t--” Val tries to protest.

“It’s fine,” he grins. “I deserve to get yelled at.”

“Yeah, you do!” Helena gasps and points her finger drunkenly at his face, “I revoke my free coffee to you, sir.”

“I understand,” he nods then waves a goodbye to Val and Lincoln. Helena leans on him as they exit the bar.

She chatters nonsense the whole ride to her house. It was a toss up of yelling at him and whatever else popped into her head. When he arrived at her house, she tried getting her keys but her purse fumbled out of her hands onto the driveway.

“I’ve got it,” he bends down to retrieve the bag. He fishes out her keys and grabs hold of her waist to help her walk up the steps.

When he opened the door she stumbled through it with her hand covering her mouth and mumbled, ‘bathroom.’ He watches her teeter down the hall falling into the bathroom off to the left. He follows quickly after her and holds her hair while rubbing her back.

When she’s finished relieving the alcohol from her stomach, he hears her sniff. He gets a kleenex then fills a cup of water near the sink.

“Here,” he hands her the cup and tissue.

“There’s mouthwash underneath,” she croaks pointing to the cabinets. When she’s rinsed her mouth and washed her face, Ashton grabs hold of her elbow.

“Want help getting to bed?” he asks and she nods, her teeth chattering together. Her body is weak from being sick.

He holds onto her gently helping her down the hall into her bedroom. He flicks the light on and smiles at the space, the light switch turned on a string of lights that were draped across her ceiling. A tapestry of the moon in all of its phases was on one wall and she had a fish tank on her dresser where a happily swimming goldfish resided. She stumbles to her bed kicking off her shoes and grabs her pajamas.

“Can you turn around?” she asks.

He does as he’s asked, the sound of her grunting fills his ears and he tries not to picture what she looks like as she undresses.

“Okay.”

He spins in his spot to see her opening a bottle of Advil. Her eyes aren’t as heavy, she just looks more tired.

“Goodnight,” he says.

“Why do you disappear?” she asks and he stops cold in his tracks halfway to the door.

He turns around slowly and sees her sitting up with her arms wrapped around her knees. Ashton mentally slaps himself, why does he disappear? He doesn’t want to, but it’s like it’s wired into his brain to run off when things start going well for him.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” a knee jerk reaction to avoid the situation at hand.

“No, tell me now. Getting sick really sobered me up. Am I doing something wrong?”

“No, no, no, no,” he shakes his head and sits at the bottom of her feet. “You’re--it’s me,” he sighs deeply burying his face in his hands. “I’ve felt this pull to you ever since I met you, I feel like my head is clearer when I’m near you but that scares me. I’ve lost a lot of people and I pull myself away. And I’ve heard how Jack feels--”

“My idiot brother?” she scoffs. “Don’t listen to him, he’s all talk and no bite.” she slides closer to him on the bed and asks in a softer voice, “who have you lost?”

“My dad left me when I was little, one of my brothers from New York didn’t make it out of a building . . .”

“Oh no,” she gasps scooting even closer. She rests her hand on his shoulder and feels how tense he is then his muscles relax at her touch. “I’m so sorry. How long ago did you lose him?”

“Almost two years. I should’ve been there with him,” he shakes his head. “I’m trying not to get too close to you, that’s why I disappear.”

He turns his head to look at her, his bright hazel eyes meeting her dark blue. The lights up above twinkle in her eyes like stars and she can see the storm clouds brewing in his, the dark circles beneath them signifying his lack of sleep.

“Do you have bad dreams?” she asks. Testing herself, she touches the darkened skin with her thumb. He nods gently, eyes darting between her eyes and lips and she understands now. “That’s why you don’t sleep.”

“I can’t. I see his face whenever I close my eyes, he was like my younger brother.”

“What’s his name?” she readjusts herself so her right leg is hanging off the bed with her left tucked beneath her. She retracted her thumb from his face placing them instead in her lap, but her attention is all on him.

“Luke,” he whispers squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m sorry, I can’t talk about him--”

“Don’t apologize. We don’t have to talk about him if it hurts,” she shakes her head.

“That’s why I disappear. I don’t want to lose anyone else like I lost him,” he admits and her breath catches in her throat.

“What if you don’t?” she asks, the question lingering in the space between them.

He reaches his fingers to her cheek, caressing it and runs the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. He cups her other cheek, moving closer and closer until their noses are touching. He sees her eyes close and Ashton closes the distance between them, his lips soft and gentle on hers.

It’s a chaste kiss which he stops as soon as it starts not wanting to push his luck. Her right hand grabs him and kisses him again, his top lip caught between hers and soon their mouths are open with his tongue sliding over hers.

After a few minutes of getting used to each other, he pushes her gently back onto her pillows. She tucks her leg out and he rests against her hips comfortably. Helena wraps her arms around his broad shoulders then rakes her fingers through his hair.

Ashton shifts his hands behind her back using his right hand to press her body closer to his, their lips whispering. He squeezes her hip, his thumb tracing the skin below her naked breast beneath her shirt. She moans into his mouth from his touch and rocks her hips against him lightly. He’s inching her night shirt up so he can feel just how soft her stomach is when his radio lets out two loud beeps.

They both pause and Ashton notices she doesn’t flinch at the sound then remembers she’s probably used to hearing it from Val and Jack. They break apart their kiss to listen to the call. Their breathing is erratic, eyes never leaving one another’s.

“Fire alarm sounded at Sunny Meadows senior living, report to the station for further instruction,” the dispatcher says and Ashton pulls himself regrettably off Helena. She follows his movements to sit up with him, tugging her shirt down over her stomach.

“I’ve got to go,” he sighs standing up. “It’s probably nothing.”

“Will you come back?” she asks grasping his forearm.

“If you want me.”

“Come back,” she nods.

He bends down to give her a quick kiss, already it feels so natural, and murmurs on her lips, “As soon as I can.”

#ashton irwin #ashton irwin imagines #ashton irwin smut #ashton irwin au #ashton irwin writing #michael clifford #michael clifford imagines #michael clifford smut #michael clifford writing #michael clifford writings #luke hemmings #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings imagines #calum hood #calum hood 5sos #calum hood imagines

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absolutely-legit · 6 years

Text

BFF

This is so absolutely outdated I know.

But it was in my brain and I needed it out.

~*~

„He did WHAT?“ Bam Bam yells and Jinyoung flinches. Apparently he had not expected such a noisy response. And if Bam Bam were honest, he did not expect it himself really either. He just can’t help it. Normally he is all chill and easygoing. That’s what people like about him.

But this… this just makes him furious. He can’t help the flare of anger rising up in his chest, clogging his throat. He wants to spit, yell, maybe punch something. “That’s not okay” He hisses and crosses his arms defensively.

Instead of flinching again, a sly grin begins spreading over Jinyoung’s lips and Bam Bam thinks it might end up being him that he’s going to punch. “Why would you care?” Jinyoung asks innocently. “You don’t live in the dorms anymore…”

Bam Bam scoffs and turns away. Doesn’t want to look at Jinyoung any longer, who, after losing eye contact instead starts humming a song he’s been humming a lot in Bam Bam’s presence recently.

“AM NOT!” Bam Bam yells under his breath and walks away.

Bam Bam finds Yugyeom in the opposite corner and walks straight up to him. “Are we bringing people back to the dorm now?” he asks grumpy and flops down into a chair near his best friend. Yugyeom turns around and eyes him confused. “What?” he inquires and Bam Bam pouts. “Jinyoung told me.”

Yugyeoms tilts his head. “Yeah well… the Hyungs didn’t care... Why do you?” Bam Bam doesn’t. He does, of course. But he doesn’t have a reason. It’s not about people, anyways. “Well, it’s just… we don’t do that and also… ugh… privacy…” He defends himself weakly.

This has been going on for a while. A long while and it was about time for Yugyeom to finally pick up on Bam Bam’s strange behavior. Where for the longest time Yugyeom would be oblivious, innocent, confused… He now looks back at Bam Bam with an expression on his face that is undoubtedly one thing. Sadness.

Bam Bam’s chest hurts, but before he can say anything else Youngjae comes bouncing up from the other end of the room, singing.

“Why does Jinyoung-Hyung keep singing “Jealousy” to himself all the time?” Youngjae complains. “Now I got it stuck in my head again.”

Bam Bam’s thumbs fly over the keyboard of his phone, typing swiftly. He has a lot to say and he gradually loses all hesitation to send all that he types down.

He knows the others in the group chat are noticing it by now. He does not know, however, that they’ve all been talking about his strange behavior secretly. He does know, though, that the target of his bad mood has long ago picked up on it. Long before Yugyeom did and Bam Bam does feel sorry. It’s nothing personal, really.

He wants to send another snippy remark, but before he can hit the button, a large hand grabs for his phone and snatches it out of his grip. “Hey, give it back!” Bam Bam demands and when he turns he finds Yugyeom holding his phone as far away from him as possible.

Bam Bam unconsciously crosses his arms again.

“We have to talk.” Yugyeom states and tucks Bam Bam’s phone into his pocket. Bam Bam goes into Baby-Mode where he refuses to listen and shakes his head.

“I know you’re upset.” Yugyeom says and he sounds really really sad, to the point where it stings in Bam Bam’s chest and he actually looks up. “I’m sorry that we’ve never talked about this… But… I wouldn’t have thought it’d make you so angry…” He sits uncomfortably on the armrest at the other end of the sofa. As far away from Bam Bam as possible.

“I’m just…. I can’t change it, okay?” Yugyeom plays with his fingers nervously. “Just please…. Don’t vent your anger out on Kookie…. He thinks you hate him.”

Bam Bam crunches his nose over the mentioning. Kookie here, Kookie there. It always has to be about him! “Maybe I do!” he snaps. He doesn’t. Not really. He used to like Jungkook a lot, he just doesn’t like him with Yugyeom. Doesn’t like them spending so much time together.

Yugyeom sniffs. “Fine.” He says and it sounds choked. “But it’s not his fault. You should hate me instead. I will tell him to stop trying. And you… Whatever I don’t care.” Yugyeom whips out his phone and throws it at him. Then he gets up and walks away and Bam Bam is left looking after him, wondering what happened.

He’s conflicted. He wants to feel angry, but he feels more regretful than anything else. Maybe instead of behaving so childish he should have tried harder…

It doesn’t take Bam Bam all that long to decide to reconcile with Yugyeom. He’s chill and easy going after all. He’s Yugyeom’s best friend and he loves him dearly. And he is the older one, too.

Even though he doesn’t live in the dorm anymore, doesn’t mean he never goes there. All of the members that moved out are still welcome in their old home. Bam Bam punches in the Code and pushes the door open when it beeps.

He’s not sure if Yugyeom is even home with all of them having followed their individual schedules that day. Someone is home definitely, as Bam Bam can hear the TV running in the living room and he decides that it would be fine waiting for Yugyeom to come home if he has someone to keep him company.

Except, when he takes off his shoes and attempts to make his way to the living room, he startles and hesitates. He can’t understand what is being said in the TV-program that’s running… if it is one. But just now there was a noise that sounded a little bit too naughty. While he stops and listens, he can hear it again. A deep, grumbling moan and another, higher-pitched squeaky one.

Bam Bam frowns. He can’t believe that manners in the dorm have dropped to such lows in the short time he has not been living there anymore. That members are watching porn in the living room now, at full volume, instead of hiding away in their bedrooms or the bathroom to do so.

He goes back to walking, hearing another moan as he does, blissful enough to spark his curiosity. The closer he gets to the living room, the more sounds he can make out. Not just moaning, but pleasured gasps and sighs and for some reason the low squeaking of their leather sofa.

And as he gets even closer, he can hear the conversation going on in the TV-drama that is running and that is not pornographic in the slightest. And he realizes more and more that the sounds he figured were porn coming from the speakers… must be coming from some very real life people occupying the living room.

It would be the nice choice to turn around and leave, Bam Bam knows that. But he can’t believe manners in the dorm have dropped THAT low that members would openly be having sex in the living room. And he feels like barging in on them, hoping to gain himself some kind of leverage to make fun of a Hyung or scold them. Whatever he feels like.

He grabs the door handle with a mischievous grin and throws it open with sudden force, making it bang into the opposite wall.

The two people on the sofa startle. There’s a screech and some yelling and cursing. Bam Bam hears a lot of naughty words and something along the lines of “You said nobody would come home.”

Yet, while he listens to the mess of slurs and cries and watches the chaos unfold on the sofa, the happy grin on his face fades slowly.

It’s not one of his Hyungs devouring a Hook-up on the sofa. It’s Yugyeom. His one and only cute best friend Yugyeom and his arch enemy. Jungkook.

Jungkook who was comfortably nestled between Yugyeom’s spread legs before Bam Bam interrupted them. Jungkook, whose stupidly muscular arms were flexing and tensing from holding himself up, hovering above Yugyeom’s naked body. Jungkook who jumps away, trying to cover his nakedness, except all of his clothes are scattered around the floor and the only thing in reach is one of the sofa cushions he desperately presses over his lap.

Jungkook who fidgets and shifts and doesn’t dare to look at either of them, whose eyes flicker as he cowers in fear like the scared little rabbit that he is.

Yugyeom sits up and looks back at Bam Bam with a lot less shame and guilt than Jungkook. “What the fuck do you want?” He spits, unfazed by how his bare manhood is a little distracting, even to Bam Bam who’s probably seen him naked more often than his own mum has. Though usually Yugyeom isn’t that hard, nor is his face as flushed or his skin as sweaty.

Bam Bam doesn’t answer right away. He’s too confused. Too slow. He’s processing what he’s seeing. What it means. Trying to figure out where he’s been wrong.

“Uhm…” he makes eventually. “I actually came to… you know… talk?” He tries to look Yugyeom in the face. Tries not to get distracted by Jungkooks cowering figure slumped behind Yugyeom and attempting really hard not to be seen.

“Bad timing.” Yugyeom hisses and Bam Bam nods. Yeah, well. He knows that now, too. “Apologize.” He adds, a little fazed. “For being mean. I wanted to.” Bam Bam thinks he should be forgiven slight grammar errors considering the situation.

Yugyeom’s angry expression falters a little. “Okay…” He mumbles. “But, uhm… later, okay?” As if he just now becomes aware of the situation his cheeks tint a deep pink. The kind that Bam Bam is envious of, because his own skin is too dark to color so prettily.

Bam Bam’s toes rub over the floor nervously. If he’s not absolutely stupid… he’s wondering if he’s always been angry for nothing. Wondering if he still has a chance. If things aren’t as dark as he thought they were. He knows he should leave, but Bam Bam never had the best manners… and manners in the dorm are really at a low apparently.

“Are you guys…” He begins, looking back and forth between the two. “Like… dating?” Yugyeom frowns. “Well, duh!” He makes and his crossed arms finally untangle. “Now leave?”

Bam Bam’s upper body turns halfway away, but he does not really plan to go just yet, still looking at them. “He’s your boyfriend?” He gestures at Jungkook, whose lips are pressed into a thin line and who is completely still and quiet.

“Bam Bam!” Yugyeom scolds. “That’s what we’ve been fighting over!? Are you that happy right now you’re keeping us from… being intimate…?” his voice is suddenly a lot smaller with the last words.

“That’s not what we’ve been fighting over…” Bam Bam gives back aghast. “Then all these times when you said you’re going out with Jungkook and didn’t ask me to come along, it was because you were actually, like… going out?” He asks anxiously. He’d been so enormously hurt every single time Yugyeom preferred to hang out with Jungkook instead and didn’t even bother to ask him.

Yugyeom gives him a bewildered look. “Why the hell should I ask you to come on our dates?”

Bam Bam can’t help it. Tears dwell up in his eyes and he juts out his bottom lip in a pouting manner. Something he has not done in a long time. And never has done to Yugyeom in the first place. But they have never misunderstood one another like this either.

“So you didn’t replace me?” He asks and besides everything walks a step towards him. “I‘m still your best friend?!“

Yugyeom‘s jaw drops. He stares up at him, dazed, mouth hanging open. „O...of course.“ He stutters and blushes a little extra. “He’s your boyfriend, right?” Bam Bam asks again, just to clarify and Yugyeom nods in his dazed state. “And I am still your best friend? Not he?” Bam Bam points at himself, speaking with pressure.

He notices that Jungkook finally looks at him and his face is in disbelief. “Is that…. Why you were angry?” Yugyeom’s voice is strained, almost as if he is about to cry or yell. Bam Bam is a little bit embarrassed. “How could I know you were actually…” He gestures vaguely in their direction. “That.” Jungkook buries his face in his hands and Bam Bam thinks he might need to apologize to him, but then again, nobody bothered to clarify their relationship for him, so it’s not really his fault is it?

“I won’t replace you as my best friend.” Yugyeom whines desperately. “Now can you please get out and leave us alone?! We’ll talk tomorrow!”

Bam Bam shrugs. “’Kay.” He grins and waves. “Bye guys. I love you. And please… You should wait at least like, 15 minutes to get your boners back, please. Or I’ll throw up.”

He turns around and leaves the dorm and he bounces down the stairs thinking that he hasn’t been in such a good mood for weeks.

~*~

#got7 fic #GOT7 #BamBam #Yugyeom #Jungkook #fanfic #bts jungkook #jealousy

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the-caleb-landry-jones-blog · 6 years

Text

For your weekend pleasure, it just came to my mind to reblog this fanfiction story that was submitted to us last year! For those who haven´t read it yet: enjoy!! For those who write: we want more!!

Nightswimming

It was a burning hot August afternoon in L.A., the sun twinkling on the heated tarmac of Sunset Boulevard. I had been in town for almost a week now, and attending business meetings and visiting sites over the last five days had worn me out. Thank god, I could board my plane tomorrow and go home!

I had virtually done no sightseeing during my business trip this time, but I had been to L.A. before and knew the city a little. On my last afternoon, I wanted to finally do some shopping. Some vintage records maybe at Amoeba Music? I had to take a look and strolled through the door, feeling the coolness of the AC on my sweaty skin, my eyes, coming from the bright sunlight outside, only slowly adjusting to the dimmed lights in the shop.

I slowly strolled through the aisles, casually pulling out a record here and there to take a closer look, when a group of guys struck me, one of them catching my eye immediately. Now that couldn´t be, could it? But I was pretty sure it was Caleb standing there with a group of friends, discussing some old Bob Dylan record. His hair was longer now, put into an unkempt men bun, some red strands tucked behind his ear, his grey shirt too big and worn out.

I felt like someone hit me on the head. Hard. What was I supposed to do? Stand there and stare? Approach him? Talk to him? No, I couldn´t do that… Otherwise: people say he´s nice to fans… Now or never I thought, and the likeliness that I would hate myself for the rest of my life if I´d let this change pass suddenly seemed to weight heavier than my fear.

Before I could have second thoughts, I felt my shaky legs walking straight over to him. What was I supposed to say? I wasn´t prepared, not the slightest! So, I was surprised when I heard myself talk with a somewhat unfamiliar, trembling voice:

“Hey! Sorry to interrupt… Ahm… You are Caleb Landry Jones, right? I ahm, I wanted to say something clever, but it´s totally gone now, so…” - I laughed nervously.

“I, I guess that I only wanted to say, ahm, how much I admire your work, your ability to totally dissolve in your characters…It´s soo amazing!” - Oh dear, was this the best I could come up with? I felt my face turn red and hot with embarrassment. How could I just have done that?? What kind of idiot says something like that?? Stupid, stupid… But to my surprise, he looked a little embarrassed himself, his eyes pinned on the floor, a slight smile on his lips.

“Oh thank you, that´s very kind of you.” - He mumbled with an utter sobriety, his voice quiet and gentle. “So you like the Chili Peppers?”

“W - what?” - I stammered. How could he know? He nodded to the record I clenched in my hands, which I had totally forgotten.

“Oh, oh, yeah, love´ em” - I managed to press out.

“The Uplift Mofo Party Plan, hmm? The only studio album to feature all four founding members.” - he said, now his eyes firmly pinned on the colorful cover.

“It´s thirty years old by now, can you imagine?” - I replied. “I thought I use the chance to look for some vintage stuff while I´m in town.”

“Oh yeah, it´s a great place here”, he said, his eyes now moving over the shelves and finally locking mine. “So, where you´re from?”

“XXX.” - I answered. “I´m only here for a few days. Business trip…”

“What´s up Caleb, come on!” - a guy from his group yelled from behind, obviously, they were ready to leave the shop, but he didn´t react to it at all.

“So, wanna take a picture?” - he asked, and it somehow sounded “business”. That´s what all the girls ask him for. Those damn other girls flashed through my mind.

“Ah, nope, thanks! I´m not the selfie taker, really…” - I answered.

He gave me a surprised look, and I instantly regretted my answer. How impolite and gruffly this must have sounded! I must have completely lost my mind by now…

”Well, it´s not like, I mean…!” - I stammered - “I just want this moment for myself, not showing around a picture of it later, bragging…It’s, it’s so very special to me…”

“Man, let´s go!” - some other guy from his group yelled, and this time Caleb raised his arm to signalize them he´s coming.

“Ok, ahm, nice to meet you, so, enjoy the rest of your trip!” - he said and I could not quite read his face. Was he hurt by my response or bugged by his friends?

“Nice to meet you, too!” - I said hastily, cause he was already turned around halfway.

Oh, what a bummer, I was thinking by myself as he was walking away towards the exit. I turned around, too. How did I just manage to make such an utter, complete fool of myself?? I should´ve said nothing. Not approach him. Not stammer around this nonsense. When has this been a good idea? Never! I was caught up in these kinds of thoughts, when felt someone walk up behind me.

“Hey!”

I turned around. It was him again, and now he seemed somewhat sheepish.

“I was thinking… Tomorrow night some friends of mine play at the Whiskey-A-Go-Go and… Maybe you wanna come? They are quite decent…”

What the fuck was happening here? I was completely caught off guard. His eyes were again pinned fiercely on the floor in front of me.

“Sure, yeah!” - was all I could manage to say.

“Ok!” - that was all he replied before he turned around again and joined his friends, but he had a little grin on his face now, the one I love so much.

“What the hell did just happen?”, I thought. I must have stood still for minutes right in the middle of this busy record store, my sweaty finger still clenched around the old record, trying to process what just had happened. Did Caleb just invite me to a concert? Was he fucking around with me? Was I supposed to go to that club? My return flight was scheduled for tomorrow morning, so I couldn´t… I could re-schedule… That´s ridiculous…The thoughts shot through my head like crazy, and I think I never felt this agitated before.

The following night came and went, with zero sleep. I couldn´t take my mind off what happened, not even for a second. I needed to make a decision. “Act like a grown woman, board this fucking plane today”, a voice in my head screamed. “You are only making a fool of yourself! At best he was trying to be polite when inviting you, nothing more!” - What was I expecting? Probably he had already forgotten about the whole encounter. Likely, even.

My plane would leave soon; I had to make a decision. I grabbed my phone and called the travel agency to re-schedule my flight to the afternoon of the following day, and then I wrote my boss a mail with outrageous explanations why I had to stay another day. I regretted it immediately, but it was too late now. So I would go to that damn club. I spent the rest of the day in my hotel room, thinking about this mess, thinking about what to wear, what to do… In the course of the last 24 hours, so it seemed to me, I had become a wretched, insecure teenager again, and I hated to feel this way. Like I was 15 again and my mum drives me to the concert of our school band, with whose drummer I was madly in love back then. The thought of it made me grin bitterly, as I sat in the taxi to the club, dressed as casually as possible with a shirt, jeans and sneakers. Don’t make a big thing of it!, I told myself.

The club on the corner of Sunset Blvd. and North Clark St. was already crowded when I made my way in. A band I didn´t know played Alternative Rock on the stage. It was dark, much too loud and I felt unbelievably cramped, yet so alone. I didn´t belong here, it was evident. Ok, get yourself a beer, stay a few minutes and then leave, if Caleb is even here, you´ll not gonna find him anyway… I thought, let go! You tried!. Somehow this felt consoling and I slowly made my way to the bar.

I must have waited there for some minutes when I felt an arm casually touching mine. My first reaction was to step back to let the person pass, but when I turn around, I saw it was Caleb standing close by my side. Holding a cup in his hand, he wore the same shirt as the day before, and his hair seemed even more tousled. Regardless he looked adorable.

“You came!” - he said with a big, somewhat cocky smile.

He was definitely drunk or high or both. His speech seemed even more slurred than usual, and I realized it would be hella hard to understand him over the noise. But he seemed much more laid-back than the day before.

“Wanna drink something?” he asked.

I nodded and he seemed to ask something pointing at his cup, which I did not quite hear over the music. I nodded anyway, and he went off, only to come back a minute later with a second cup he handed to me.

“Thank you!” I tried to scream over the noise and he indicated at toast.

Jesus, I needed alcohol now! Lots of it! I drank a big swig, to find out it was an incredibly strong Jacky Cola, and I started to cough immediately. Caleb looked on with an amused, cocky smirk. It was senseless to hold a big conversation, except for shouting some vanities at each other, so for a while, we just stood next to each other and watched the show.

It was a strange feeling, but I started to relax a little. Maybe it was the booze I felt burning in my chest, that made me tipsy much too fast, especially since I couldn´t bring myself to eat anything since our encounter the day before. But maybe it was also him occasionally looking at me out of the corners of his eyes, smiling.

Suddenly a brunette girl flung her arms around his neck, greeting him effusively. Is that his girlfriend? My heart almost stopped for a moment. They exchanged some words I could not understand over the music, and seemed so familiar with each other. Again, I asked myself what the heck I was doing here. Shall I excuse myself and leave, before this was getting even more embarrassing? I started to feel uncomfortable again. He might have sensed that, cause after a few more words to her, he gestured I should follow him outside.

We made our way through the crowd, and I thought I´d recognized one or two of his friends from the record store, grinning stupidly at me. Probably they see him picking up girls like that all the time and feel pity for me…Suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my heart. On the sidewalk outside the club, Caleb lit himself a cigarette and offered one to me, too.

“Soo” - he started - “didn´t ask for your name yesterday…”-

“It´s XXX”, I replied.

“Well, XXX, how´s life in XXX?” - he asked, leaning his back on the wall of the building, pulling deeply on his cigarette. So he remembered what it told him the day before, and I couldn´t stop myself from smirking. We stood there talking for a while, when some very drunk guys approached him, bawling:

“Ehhh, yooo, Jonesyyyy!” - clapping on his shoulder and trying to hug him. He looked visibly uncomfortable, stating calmly:

“Hey man, I don´t know you!” and trying to get away from the grip.

“Jonesyyyy…”, they continued brawled incomprehensible words, not indicating that they want to leave anytime soon. The fuss attracted the bystanders in front of the club, and only then they seemed to realize who was standing next to them. Some looked over, some pulled out their mobile phones to take pictures. Caleb rolled his eyes.

“Let´s get out here!” - he said, pulling me around the corner, away from the crowd. “I´m so sorry”- I replied - “some people have no respect!”. He shrugged.

“Where would you like to go now?” - he asked.

“I don´t know, someplace quieter, I guess. I really love the Griffith Observatory, but I guess it´s closed now…” - I answered.

“Doesn´t matter, let´s go there - he replied.

Obviously, he had parked his car only a few steps down the next street, cause after walking for about a minute, he stopped by an old, brownish Chevy and fumbled in his pocket for the car keys.

“He wants to drive? He really shouldn´t!” - flashed through my head, but I held my tongue. The heck with it! I did so many unreasonable things lately, why not get in a car with a drunk, too?

He opened me the door on the passenger’s side and I got in. I could instantly tell he smoked in that car, and not only tobacco. His mug shot crossed my mind, speeding and possession of drugs… Just what the heck was I doing?

He started the engine and off we went to the canyons, our hair blowing in the still hot breeze coming in through the open windows. He did drive fast, but not so much that a felt unsafe. I had been afraid of awkward silence, but we kept talking during the whole ride up the hills. Our families, his dogs, our love for Kubrick and guitar music were just some of the topics we touched. The question that weighed most heavily on my heart, if he had a girlfriend, was the one I couldn´t bring myself to ask. Perhaps I was afraid to ruin the atmosphere, but perhaps I was afraid of the answer, too.

He stopped at the now empty parking lot in front of the Observatory. Do they have guards on patrol here at night? - was another question that crossed my mind briefly, but I didn´t say anything, as I didn´t want him to think I was the sissy that I am.

It was dark and although a few cars came down the road as we drove up, no soul seemed to on the premises now. We strolled past the majestic building to the terrace overlooking the brightly lit city and sat on a wall. It was a breathtaking view, and sitting here next to Caleb was nothing short of mesmerizing.

“It´s so beautiful” - I sighed.

“It is” - he agreed softly, lighting another cigarette.

We sat there for a while not saying anything, and suddenly it didn´t feel awkward at all, rather appropriate, somehow. We sat close, out shoulders casually touching another, but neither of us made a move. Did I pressure him by wanting to go to a so obviously romantic place? Was this too clichéd? I couldn´t get this new thought out of my head now. Oh god, maybe it had been a mistake…

Suddenly, as if he read my mind, he turned to me and asked;

“Wanna go for a swim?”

“Now?” - it was well past midnight. “Where?” - I replied.

“Lake Hollywood, it´s a reservoir in the hills to the West.”

“And everyone is free to go there for a swim at night?”

He chuckled - “Not exactly, we might have to climb a fence or so…”

Once again I couldn´t believe that I said: “Ok, then, let´s do it!”.

About 15 minutes later we arrived at a dusty kind of turning basin.

“Gotta walk from here” - Caleb stated.

He grabbed an old woolen plaid and a flashlight out of the trunk and started walking towards the barbed wire fence. Once again I couldn´t believe what I was doing. He has obviously been here before, with God knows whom, and what he was going to do was clearly against the law.

“Don´t be a sissy tonight” - I reminded myself and followed him. He threw the plaid over the fence and climbed it in no time. Oh, he did that before, I was sure.

“C´mon!” - he shouted after jumping down the fence on the other side onto the dusty ground. Hesitantly I started to climb.

“I´ll catch ya!” - he said, and my already racing heart beat even faster. This can very well end with a sprained ankle or worse, it crossed my mind quickly, but I tried not to dissemble. I crossed the fence and let myself slide down on the other side slowly. About halfway, I suddenly felt his arms around my hips carrying me down the rest of the way and softly putting me on the ground. His arms felt stronger than I had expected. For a short moment, he remained in this position, and I wished I could have read his face, but it was too dark where we stood.

“See, wasn´t that difficult, hm? Now be careful, terrain´s a lil rough!” - he said softly and after lifting his arms from my hips he took my hand. For a moment I was taken aback by the sensation of my hand in his. He gently pulled me forward, lighting the uneven ground with the flashlight. I could see the premise slope down to the narrow sandy shoreline of the lake about 30 yards in front of us when we approached the last stony terrace on our way down.

He jumped down first, then reaching up to me. I grabbed his hand but must have miscalculated the height of the stone, and the shine of the flashlight in his hand was rather pointed upwards, so I couldn´t see the ground. I headed down the terrace, half jumping, half stumbling, and probably I would have fallen if Caleb wouldn´t have caught me. We collided rather hard, as I clenched onto his shoulders while he tried to stop my fall by grabbing my hips.

This was the closest we had gotten so far, and for a moment my face touched the naked skin of his neck. The faint mixture of smoke and sweat, well, of just him, was intoxicating. My heart started racing so fast that I thought my legs would give way. To my surprise, he remained in this position this time, showing no intention to let go. Neither of us said a word. I slowly lifted my head from his neck and he let his forehead sink onto mine, his eyes closed, our noses gently touching each other. He lifted one hand and placed it on my cheek, slowly caressing it. It felt surreal, but at the same time strangely profound. Suddenly I realized that pressed so close together, he must feel my heart racing like crazy, and I felt a rush of blood to my cheeks.

Isn´t that embarrassing? I mused for a second, but as I slowly traced down my hand over his chest, I felt his heart beat just the same. In a flash of boldness, not knowing whether this was pure adrenalin or sheer idiocy clouding my judgment, I let my lips touch his. Tenderly, hesitant at first, not knowing how he would react. His lips were softer than I had imagined, I faintly tasted cigarettes, Jacky and a trace of salty sweat on his upper lip. He did not seem surprised nor did he pull away the slightest. On the contrary, after a few seconds, he pulled me closer and let his tongue slip into my mouth his one hand still on my cheek, the other on my hip.

That was all it took for me. I felt my underpants getting soaking wet embarrassingly fast. I could feel him gripping my hips tighter after a few seconds, and I felt his erection through his pants on my stomach. Once more, my head started to spin, this time worse than before. This couldn´t be happening for real. Suddenly I was afraid of my own boldness and pulled away from him.

“Didn´t you wanna swim?” - I said, trying to sound playful, but was well aware how shaky my voice must have sounded. Again, it was hard to read his expression in the darkness, but his eyes were pinned on me firmly. I needed to cool down. This was going so fast…

I started to take off my shoes, jeans and shirt, and in another move, I thought I wasn´t capable of, also my underwear, and headed into the lake. The water felt ice cold on my heated body. I needed to come to my senses again. I was just taking a plunge, when I heard Caleb jumping into the lake with a big splash, surfacing from the water after a few moment just inches away from me.

This time, he wasn´t hesitant. He pulled me close vigorously and let his tongue slide into my mouth again. I felt that he was completely naked now, too, and the sensation of his wet skin pressed against mine was the most gorgeous feeling I could have ever imagined. Despite the cold of the water, I felt him getting hard again instantly. His kiss became more and more demanding and his hands slipped down and firmly grabbed my butt cheeks, pressing my body even closer to his. The sensation of it left me completely breathless. His breathing was heavy, too, and for a moment, he pulled away, as if to catch his breath. He didn´t say a word, but he looked at me half appetent, half inquiring as if he wanted to make sure I´m fine with what happened next.

He must have read my face again, because he grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the water, towards the lakeshore. He had already spread out the woolen plaid on the ground, and before I even realized it, we were both lying on it, I on my back and he on top of me. All the sensations were overwhelming I wished I could have stopped the time then and there.

The still warm breeze on my wet skin, the scratchy plaid, faintly smelling of weed and his old car, between my body and the soil, some smaller rocks stinging in my back, the chirping of the crickets nearby…Once again our eyes locked and I brushed strands of his wet hair out of his face while my legs entangled his hips. He stabilized his body above me with one arm; his other hand firmly entangled in my hair and let his member slide inside me with one smooth move, effortlessly.

Instantly a soft moan escaped his mouth and he pressed his forehead against mine, his eyes closed, kissing me voraciously. His moves picked up pace before I even could process the sensation of feeling him inside of me. It was dazzling, surreal somehow, but felt so naturally right in the same moment. Also, I tried to suppress it, I couldn´t help moaning at each of his thrusts that steadily got deeper and more relentless. The intensity of the feeling was compelling. He could have torn me apart, I wouldn´t have minded. I never wanted this sensation to stop.

His breathing was even heavier now and he buried his head deep in my neck, his hips moving back and forth even more insatiable. Moments later I could feel his whole body trembled when he came inside me with a muffled groan that came from deep down. He stayed in this position for a while, not pulling out of me, and rested his forehead and nose against mine, eyes still closed.

The feeling of having him, all of him, so close to me was so overwhelming in that moment, that it was almost painful. I let my hands wander through his hair and down his back to his butt. Neither of us said a word, when he finally rolled his body over and was now lying close by my side, his arm tightly wrapped around me. I rested my head on his chest, feeling his soft skin, and his heart still racing.

After a few moments of remaining like that, Caleb started to fumble with his free hand inside the pocket of his jeans that lay next to him and lit a cigarette.

“Want a draw now?” - he asked, still a little out of breath.

“Sure!”

He drew on it deeply, then handed me the cigarette and I lifted my head a little not to burn him with it.

“So you come here often?” - I asked before handing the cigarette back to him. I immediately regretted the question, because it made my jealousy and unsettledness so apparent. I might as well have asked him if he bangs girls here regularly, and I suddenly felt pathetic for asking.

An amused smirk flit across his face for a second, like he knew what I was thinking, and he took another deep draw before answering:

“I´ve been here with my brother a couple of times when he visited me this summer.”

“He still lives back in Texas?”

“Hmm… In Princeton with our parents.”

“You miss home sometimes?”

“I miss our dogs…” - he said musing, and after another draw, he continued - “yeah, I miss my folks, too. People here are different. I just can´t relate sometimes…”

“But you have friends here!”

“There´s a difference between not being alone and not being lonely” - he answered, putting out the cigarette in the grass. I put my head back on his shoulder, wrapping one arm around his hip, and he kissed my forehead, letting his cheek rest on it.

Did he feel like he doesn´t belong? Did he feel lonely? Those thoughts had never occurred to me before. But now they felt like a million needles sticking in my heart. We lay there in silence, watching the night sky for quite a while. I listened to his heartbeat, that was calm now, his breathing peaceful. His eyes were closed, his cheek still resting on my head, and I wondered if he might have dozed off.

The thought that this situation, this night would inevitably end started to feel like a heavy stone on my heart. I wanted this to last forever. I brushed out some strands of his drying hair gently out of his face and started to let my hand wander down from the cheek to his chest and stomach slowly, caressing every inch of his soft, snow white skin. Was he still dozing or just laying still, taking in the sensation? He neither moved nor made a sound. I decided to go for it, my hand tracing his landing strip down to his pubic area. He let out a quiet humming, which I interpreted as approval. I traced the outline of his member softly, before taking it in my hand more firmly, slowly moving up and down. Again, he was hard in no time. I lifted my head a little and my lips met his, but I pulled away quickly, kissing his neck instead and moving slowly further down his chest and stomach, not stopping the movement of my hand around his member. He raised his head a little to watch me, his breathing became faster again, as I traced down his landing strip with my tongue.

Finally, my tongue reached his member and I let it slip gently over its tip before I took it deep in my mouth. I tasted myself on it as I gently started sucking it, never stopping to move up and down with my other hand. Caleb let his head fall back on the plaid with a deep moan, his one hand firmly gripping the woolen fabric, the other entangling in my hair again. I could have done this forever, teasing him with my tongue, listening to the sound of his muffled moans, but I wanted to feel him inside of me again. I straightened up and lowered myself on his member.

Again I was so wet he entered me smoothly. I started to move slowly back and forth when our eyes met. Normally I would have felt ashamed and exposed, but with Caleb it was different. Our eyes locked and he watched every one of my moves, his cheeks flushed, his breathing labored, while he let his hands run over my upper body caressing it gently.

Finally, he sat up and our lips met again. His kiss was passionate, yet softer this time. Slower, more considerate, in the rhythm my hips moved on him, while he wrapped his arms around me. I buried both of my hands in his red curls, again overwhelmed by the feeling of him being so close. A wave of emotions flooded my body as he dug his fingernails into my hips, trying to press them even closer to his, and finally released himself into me while looking me straight in the eyes. We remained a while in this position, our foreheads rested against each other, his hands caressing my cheeks.

“Dawn´s coming”, he said after some time, and only then I realized that it indeed got lucid around us. Was there a hint of sadness in his voice, or was it only me wanting to hear it?

“We should pack up, yeah.” - I said, trying not let him know about the desperation that overcame me.

“I gonna drive you to your hotel, maybe you can even get some hours of sleep before your plane leaves.” - he said, casually, while we both got dressed again.

The pain in my heart only grew stronger. I didn´t want this night to end. I didn´t want to leave his side ever again. How pathetic was that? What was I even thinking? That I would be able to play cool? That I would get anything more than a badly shattered heart? He could have so many girls, why would he choose me for anything more than… this? The thoughts flew through my head as we made our way back to his car.

We didn´t talk much on the ride back, maybe he was in thoughts, maybe he was just tired, it was hard to figure out. I kept thinking all the time how to tell him what I felt without making a complete fool of myself. The time was running out, I knew that, and I started to feel utterly hopeless. I made a mistake. I had the most amazing night in my life but the price for it would be an awful pain. I felt tears boiling up, but I didn´t want Caleb to see me cry, so I swallowed hard. Still, I knew I couldn´t keep them down much longer. I stared out of the passenger seat window to avoid his gaze, but I felt him looking over to me a couple of times. Yet he said nothing.

Finally, he stopped the car in a small alley next to my hotel. That´s it, I thought. Get out of the car before he sees you crying. Get away from here and try to continue your life the best you could. Try to forget… no, that was impossible, and I knew it.

“Hey…” - his voice was soft and sounded somehow worried. He leaned towards me and gently ran his hand through my hair and down my cheek. “You ok?”

I forced myself to smile and nodded: “Sure!” - I love you so much, I wanna be with you forever, I… all those things I wanted to tell him, but couldn´t. Leave now, it will only get worse, the voice in my head screamed, you are wretched, don´t let him see!

“It was beautiful” - he said quietly, bringing his head close to mine, “thank you”.

His voice sounded a bit shaky and he looked me straight in the eyes after placing a last soft kiss on my lips. In his eyes, I saw sincereness and sorrow. He knew it would never work out, he knew it was unfair to make promises he couldn´t keep. He was right after all.

“Goodbye”, I said, trying to get out of his car before the tears blurred my vision. I closed the door hasty and crossed the alley, hurrying to the entrance of the hotel. I didn´t hear him starting the car, he must have sat there for a while. Through my tears, I saw the sun rising, the beginning of another hot August day in LA.

#fan fic #fanfiction #caleb landry jones #submission

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trash-the-tozier · 6 years

Text

The Disappearance of Georgie Denbrough (8/10)

Title: The Disappearance of Georgie Denbrough

Length ~60.8k (~7.1k for this part)

Summary: The summer between junior and senior year of high school, Bill’s little brother Georgie goes missing.

Warnings: It’s relatively canon-typical in terms of content. For this part there’s explicit language and copious amounts of Richie

Pairings: Richie/Eddie and eventual Ben/Beverly

A/N: hey! Formal apology for this chapter, because it kinda breaks away from the format I wanted for this fic: it's all from Richie's point of view. I know, I'm sorry, but I started writing the scene and didn't realize it was over 8k words until I'd finished it. It's got a lot of stuff I wanted to have be from Richie's perspective, and when I tried reworking it to be from different perspectives it just felt clunky. So... yeah. This chapter is a little longer than the others, and it's all Richie, but we'll return to our regularly scheduled programming in the next part! Thank you for reading!! also posted to my ao3 here (much more readable tbh) Previous Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Richie thought he would need to knock on the front door to get Sonia Kaspbrak’s attention, but all it took was for him to set one foot on her lawn before she was out of the house, lumbering down the porch steps towards him. Her beady eyes were angry behind her glasses.

“What are you doing here?” She asked shortly. Richie gave her what he hoped was a winning smile.

“I just wanted to check on Eddie! Make sure he’s alright, you know. He had a nasty fall. A fall that was not any of our fault, by the way.”

She huffed at him.

“He’s in bed. You’ll have to come back later.”

Richie raised an eyebrow.

“You’re inviting me to your house later today?”

“No.”

“Well, now I’m just confused.”

Her nostrils flared, and Richie didn’t need to say anything more. He was informed that he was a loudmouthed smart aleck (which he already knew, thanks) and he found that despite how much she hated him, it was actually hard to get her to stop talking to him.

“Well, I’ve gotta scram.” He finally said after a couple minutes spent inching closer and closer to the road, cutting her off mid-word. “Not that it hasn’t been lovely, but I’ve got someplace to be. A date, if you will. And Mrs. K, I really do miss Eddie. Tell him hi for me, alright?”

He gave a wave, then started up the street. Eddie was just around the corner, waiting for him.

“Geez, that took a while. Did you two solve world hunger or something?”

“It actually wasn’t me doing most of the talking, thank you very much.”

“Okay, for once in your life.”

Richie reached down and took Eddie’s hand, grinning when it made him flustered, and they started together towards town. The more people they saw the more Richie was unsure if Eddie wanted to keep to holding his hand like this, but any time he tried to pull away his boyfriend’s grip was steadfast, and Richie’s heart soared.

“...and because of your nasal turbinates and uvula, you’ll probably snore when you’re older.” Eddie was saying. He was using a bunch of medical terminology for normal body parts, and as a result Richie barely could follow what he was talking about.

“Uh huh. Eds?”

“Yeah?”

“Stop saying uvula. I don’t think I have one.”

“It’s just the dangly thing in the back of your throat, Richie.”

“...oh.”

Eddie laughed at him, sighing a little.

“Thanks for this. You were right; I was going a crazy in there.”

Richie grinned.

“Say that again. I barely ever get to hear anyone say that I’m right.”

“No.”

“Please? Come on Eds!”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Eddie? Richie?”

They turned at the familiar voice, face to face with Mike. He was slowing his bike to a stop, hopping off when he reached them. Richie caught his eyes going to their entwined hands, but he didn’t say anything about it.

“How are you guys? I haven’t heard from either of you.”

“Alright.” Eddie supplied. “Could be better.” He held up his cast, the bulky plaster making his upper arm look even tinier than usual. Mike nodded a little.

“I tried to call your house, but your mom got mad and wouldn’t let me talk to you. Well, that and she didn’t know who I was.”

“...sorry.” Eddie said, but Mike waved him off. “Have you talked to anyone else?”

Mike shook his head.

“I called Stan this morning, but he wasn’t home. I think he…” He trailed off, glancing across the street. “He’s right there, actually.”

They all turned. Bill, Ben, and Stan were walking along the other side of the street, an overnight bag slung over Stan’s back. Mike waved and Ben noticed, stopping the other two to point and wave back. Richie met Bill’s eyes across the road and Bill’s lips fell into a line, Richie feeling his own expression harden.

“Let’s go talk to them.” Eddie said, starting forward to cross the street. Richie didn’t move, and Eddie glanced back when he felt the resisting tug on his hand.

“I don’t want to.” Richie confessed. “I think Bill’s still mad at me.”

“Well, let’s walk over and find out.”

“Eddie--”

“I’ve spent three days stuck in my room and I want to see my friends.” Eddie insisted, letting Richie’s hand go and stepping into the street. He was halfway across when there was the rev of an engine and a wild yell, Henry Bowers’s black convertible roaring down the street at him. It was on a collision course, slurs from the Bowers gang ringing in Richie's ears as he ran out after Eddie, Mike shouting and grabbing at his shoulders.

“Someone's got him! Careful!”

The car blasted past them, Richie realizing that if Mike hadn't been there to hold him back, he'd be roadkill. And true to Mike’s word someone did have Eddie, a man on the other side of the street having picked him up and out of danger, lifting him like a sack of potatoes and running out of the way. The man had the hood up on his jacket and a pair of long pants on, his face angled down. Then he looked up to grin Richie’s way before darting off, a noticeable limp in his gait. His face was streaked with dirty white face paint.

“Fuck!” Richie jumped back into motion, Mike right at his heels. He couldn’t believe he’d let this happen again, that again the clown had Eddie and again Richie was chasing him. But the other three across the street had already caught onto what was happening and also jumped into motion, giving pursuit down an alley. There was a hand over Eddie’s mouth and nose but he was still squirming and struggling, a kick to the clown’s injured leg causing him to stumble. Then Stan stooped and picked up a metal pipe from a pile of scraps to be taken with the garbage, hitting the clown in the back of the knees. The man crashed to the ground, dropping Eddie as he fell. He scrambled up just as fast but Richie didn’t care about him anymore, kneeling next to Eddie on the asphalt.

“Fuck Eds, are you o--”

“I’m fine.” Eddie said quickly. And maybe he was physically, but his eyes were blown wide with fear, his limbs shaking with adrenaline. “Did… Did I just almost get kidnapped?”

“Something like that, yeah.” Mike said after a moment. To Richie’s surprise, none of them had pursued Pennywise, the entire group crowded around Eddie instead. Eddie held up a hand, and Ben helped him to his feet. He was just looking around, his eyes still a little frantic, flinching when Bill touched his arm.

“Eddie?” Bill asked hesitantly, and Eddie properly looked at him, then stepped closer and Bill pulled him in for a hug.

“Do you want to go back home?” Richie asked. Eddie shook his head against Bill's chest.

“No, my mom'll be mad. I don't want to deal with that right now.” He stepped back and looked a bit calmer, glancing around at all of them. “Thanks for not letting him get me.”

“He tried to get me too.” Stan said. “Yesterday.” He let the metal pipe go and it fell to the ground with a heavy clanging sound. “He came into my house last night, when my parents were out. I hid until he left.”

“Holy shit, Stan.” Richie said. Stan glanced at him, shrugging a little.

“So I spent the night at Bill's, and I'm doing it again.”

That explained his bag, and Eddie looked up at Bill.

“Could I do that too?” He asked.

“Yeah, but w-w-will your mom let you?”

“No, but I don't care.”

Richie found himself grinning at that.

“Big sleepover at Big Bill's?” He proposed, looking around at them all. “It'll be fun. It'll be good to have some fun.”

Both Mike and Ben looked over at Bill, because really it wasn't Richie's decision to invite people to someone else's house, but Richie had known Bill long enough to know that he wouldn't have a problem with it. Sure enough, Bill nodded.

“S-sure. You're all invited.”

Ever polite, both Mike and Ben thanked him before going separate ways to get what they would need to spend the night. When Eddie realized he didn't have any of that stuff either, he began to fret.

“I don't have my meds, or my toothbrush, or a change of clothes… I'm gonna be grounded for at least two weeks the second I go back home, though. I wouldn't be allowed out. But I can't not take my medication, I just…”

“I'll get it for you!” Richie offered quickly. “I know where you keep all that stuff. I'll grab whatever you need.”

Eddie smiled at him, but Bill still looked troubled.

“How can you sleep over without telling her? She'll t-tear up t-the neighborhood looking for you if you don't come home.”

That was true. Eddie sighed.

“I'll just call her when we get to your house and see how well begging really works. If it doesn't she'll just pick me up, I guess.”

They split ways at the road leading out of town, Stan, Bill, and Eddie going to Bill's while Richie walked back to Eddie's house. It was simple to get into Eddie's room, finding a canvas bag and stuffing a clean outfit in. Under other circumstances Richie would have had a lot of fun with being in control of Eddie's next outfit but this wasn't the time, instead simply grabbing something that looked comfortable.

He was making his way down the hall to Eddie's bathroom when the downstairs telephone rang. Richie held his breath as Sonia Kaspbrak got up to answer it.

“Eddie?!” It was apparent by her voice that she hadn't yet found out that her son wasn't tucked away in his room like he was supposed to be. “Where are you?”

Richie winced, continuing on to the bathroom. It sounded like Mrs. K was yelling, actually, full-on yelling, which was something she never, ever did.

“Sweetie. If you're unhappy, we can just put you on some antidepressants.”

A long silence followed, Richie listening closely, wishing he could hear Eddie's side of the conversation. The last thing Eddie needed was more pills; Richie wasn't sure he'd be able to get down the trellis stealthily enough with the amount of rattling all of Eddie's medication would doubtlessly be doing. He opened the medicine cabinet in the bathroom to find that Eddie needed refills for nearly everything in his daily pill case, cursing under his breath. His mother refilled the box weekly, and it was time for her to do it again. He'd just have to go to Mrs. Kaspbrak’s bathroom, swipe a bunch of stuff, and hope Eddie knew which was which.

He made it to her bathroom easily enough; she was still extremely preoccupied with her phone conversation. Her voice had simmered down to a quiet, sickly-sweet sort of rage that made Richie's stomach turn.

Sonia's bathroom was surprisingly less than spotless, but Richie tried not to think about it, opening the cabinet on the wall next to the sink. Eddie's medications were all on a shelf of their own, all of the boxes and bottles carrying two stickers. One was standard and white, with Eddie's name and dosage instructions on it. The other was a bright red rectangle, with nothing on it but “PLACEBO” written in large white lettering.

He stared at the word, and the word seemed to stare back. It felt like a bizarre conspiracy, but the evidence was there, right in front of him; placebos. Eddie's medications were all fake. Even a box with an extra asthma inhaler had a placebo sticker on it. Richie searched through all of the bottles, only finding one without the sticker, and it turned out to be the painkillers for his arm. He stuffed those in his canvas bag, feeling conflicted as he looked over the rest of the pills. Eddie didn't need them, so Richie didn't want to take them. But still, Eddie deserved to know the truth. Richie grabbed the fake inhaler and a box with some of those red and white pills that he recognized and put those in the bag too, wrapping everything with a sweatshirt to keep the rattling to a minimum. Then he closed the cabinet, walking back out into the hallway.

Mrs. K was still on phone, but the conversation seemed to be wrapping up.

“Fine. But Mrs. Denbrough needs to be aware that I will be there at six to pick you up tomorrow morning, and that's when you'd better be ready to go.”

Then she hung up, and Richie hurried back to Eddie's room. He was back outside in no time, the overnight bag over his shoulder, dashing off to Bill's. Mike and Ben were already there by the time he arrived, and everyone was smiling.

“Mike brought s-some stuff, we're going t-t-to make dinner.” Bill explained as he let Richie inside, leading him to the kitchen.

“Oh, so we're burning your house down. Fun!” Richie called out a greeting and waved at everyone, Eddie hurrying over and taking the bag from his hands to search through what he'd brought. He noticed the lack of his regular medicine and looked up in silent question, confused. Richie took his arm to pull him aside, speaking quietly as Bill went to rejoin Stan, Mike, and Ben by the sink.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Is it about something bad?” Eddie asked, equally quietly. Richie chewed his lip for a moment, thinking.

“Kind of, yeah.”

“Then can it wait?”

Richie was all too familiar with how Eddie must be feeling, desperate looking for any sort of escapism, and nodded, kissing his forehead.

“Yeah. Of course.”

Stan let out a loud, giggly sort of laugh, the both of them looking over to see him armed with the kitchen soap while Mike had his thumb over the faucet, aiming the water flow and getting Stan's shirt soaking wet. Both Ben and Bill had jumped back, out of the splash zone.

“No!” Eddie exclaimed, hurrying forward, letting his hand trail down Richie's arm as he stalked towards the commotion. “Stop it! I told you guys to wash your hands!”

Richie laughed, going over to throw Eddie's bag on Bill's couch. Bill approached him, a cautious look in his eyes.

“Hey, Richie…” He looked at him for a moment before his gaze went straight to his feet. “I shouldn’t h-have pushed you. Or p-p-punched you. I’m sorry.”

Richie considered him for a moment, and in his silence Bill glanced back up. To his credit, he really did seem very sorry about it, chewing on his bottom lip, his eyebrows drawing together. Richie sighed.

“I’ve gotta say, I'm not really sorry for pushing you, Bill. But that’s only because it didn’t seem to do anything. You’re like a brick wall.” He chuckled, Bill giving him the slightest of smiles back. “But I did say some stuff, some stuff that I really didn’t mean, and… I’m sorry too.”

Bill pressed his lips together into a thin line, swallowing harshly. He looked upset, as though upon getting the forgiveness he’d sought after, he felt he didn’t deserve it. Richie stuck out a hand.

“Are we good?” He asked, making eye contact with Bill and holding his gaze. Bill stared at him for just a moment more before stepping forwards, disregarding the proposed handshake completely and pulling Richie in for a crushing hug. Richie couldn’t help his laugh of surprise, wrapping his arms around Bill too and giving him a squeeze.

“You guys are being really cute over there and everything but we’ve got a situation!” Mike called to them, and they both looked over. “Situation” was one way of putting it; Eddie was chasing both Stan and Ben around the kitchen with a rather aggressive-looking egg beater. Richie went weak-kneed in laughter, Bill disentangling himself in an attempt to do some damage control.

Eventually, after a dry shirt for Stan and a lot of direction from Mike, dinner was underway. There was meat in a pan, pasta in a pot, and a mound of steamed broccoli when they were finished, Richie helping Ben set the table. To Richie’s pleasant surprise, the food they managed to make together was actually really good. But Mike had orchestrated the whole thing, and as he currently held the record for the maker of the best soup Richie had ever had, he figured he shouldn’t have expected any less.

They all inhaled their food, Richie finishing up a third helping as Stan, Mike, Bill, and Ben all carried their dishes back into the kitchen. Eddie stood up to do the same, but Richie stopped him.

“You can stay the night, then? How did the phone call with your mom go? What did you tell her?”

“I…” Eddie shrugged. “The truth, kind of. I told her that keeping me inside was making me unhappy. It almost backfired, but I managed to keep her from getting me on antidepressants, so that’s good. I told her that a sleepover would make me happy, then I asked her if she wanted me to be happy or not. I feel a little bad about guilt-tripping her, but it worked.”

Richie considered that, scratching his chin.

“Do you think that’ll work when she finds out about us?”

“...when?” Eddie echoed after a moment. Richie blinked at him.

“Would you rather it be ‘if’?” He asked back, and Eddie sighed.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry Richie, I just… I did come out to her once, you know. She pretends it never happened. Asks me about girls all the time. Besides,” he gave Richie a little grin. “I think finding out that I picked you out of the entire male population might give her a heart attack.”

Richie nodded a little. They didn’t need to talk about this right now, he supposed, winking at Eddie instead as he got to his feet.

“I tend to have that effect on people.”

To his great surprise, Eddie reached up and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I know. Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”

Richie was powerless against the blush rising up his face.

“That just isn’t fair.” He protested weakly, turning to the door to see a red-faced Ben Hanscom standing in the doorway.

“Hi there, Ben. Benny. Bean Burrito.” Richie was rambling a little, caught off guard, and Eddie looked close to mortified.

“...hi.” Ben finally said, ducking past them to get to the living room. They were silent for a moment.

“Well. I guess he knows now.” Eddie remarked, and Richie laughed.

“Wanna just tell everyone tonight?” He asked. The idea excited him, his spontaneity seeming to surprise Eddie a little. “Bev already knows. And Stan knows I like you.”

“Oh. I guess so, then. Sure.”

Richie beamed, leading the way back into the kitchen. Mike was in the middle of washing their dinner dishes but Richie wrestled the sponge from his hands, insisting that he had done enough already and to let himself and Bill do the washing up instead. That nearly escalated into a water fight as well, and by the time everything was cleaned, dried, and put away it was well past eight o’clock. They all sat around in the living room, waiting for it to hit 9:00.

“Your parents really don’t mind all of us being here?” Ben asked. He looked concerned, but Bill shook his head.

“My dad said it’s okay as long as we clean up after ourselves, and my m-m-mom… She’s just in bed a lot these days. W-we probably won’t even see her.”

The second hand on the wall clock ticked, turning 8:59 to 9:00, and instantly the telephone rang. All six of them jumped up, sliding on sock-clad feet to make it to the phone. Richie picked up the receiver, leaning against the doorframe. He stood on one foot, crossing the other so only his toes touched the floor, adjusting his coke-bottle glasses unnecessarily. He gave Eddie a smile.

“Hello? Zachary Denbrough here. Oh, well good evening Mrs. Kaspbrak.” Of all of the terrible voices Richie made and the horrible impressions he couldn't really do, he had one good one: Bill’s dad, Mr. Denbrough. Or rather, Mr. Denbrough over the phone; they’d never had to try it out in person. Sleepovers had a slim-to-none chance of being approved if Mrs. K knew Richie was going to be there, so when she called at nine p.m. sharp to ask who it was that the Denbroughs were letting sleep in the same house as her son, they lied. Richie told her that he wasn’t there, sympathizing about how terrible of a child he was. He quite enjoyed it, actually. It was fun.

“Hello.” Mrs. Kaspbrak responded haughtily. “Is Eddie there?”

Richie wiggled his eyebrows, looking pointedly at Eddie.

“Yes, Eddie made it here. He’s been here a couple of hours now, with Bill and Stan, and a lovely friend the boys made while at the library named Benjamin.”

“I’m sorry, who?” Her voice got dangerous, and Richie winced. He should have kept it to the usual crowd. All eyes turned to look at Ben, who’d begun to blush.

“Oh, Ben? I’ve heard all sorts of things about him from my boy.” Nervous, Richie was getting little heavy on the nasally tone that was faint, but ever present in Mr. Denbrough’s voice. Stan pointed to his nose, Richie nodding in understanding as he adjusted. “A real stand-up citizen, trust me. He got top marks in the English class they had together.”

Ben’s face was definitely red now, Bill putting a hand on his shoulder with a grin.

“...fine. I’ll have to ask him about that. What about Richard Tozier?”

“Richard? Why would that hooligan be in my house?” Richie’s face took up an expression of pure horror. Mrs. K couldn’t see his face but Eddie sure could, and Richie wanted to make him laugh. It worked; Eddie giggled behind his hands. “No, no. Ever since you told me what color that vomit was on your flowers, I’ve made sure he stayed clear of my front lawn.”

Mike looked both confused and vaguely horrified, Stan offering an expression that was supposed to mean “we’ll tell you later”. It was hard to tell if Mike understood the sentiment.

“Good.” Sonia sounded rather miffed. “I’d rather Eddie keep away from him.”

“Yes, well, we can only control so much of our children’s lives, you know.” Richie’s voice was attempting to imply years of wisdom beyond his age, but with a mental age of seven, he didn’t end up sounding all that astute. “One more year of that rowdy child, then our own will be off to college and won’t have to deal with him anymore.”

Bill began to tap his foot. It was unusual for Mrs. K’s calls to take this long. She seemed in a chatty mood though, continuing to talk.

“College, yes… Where is William going to school?”

“Bill? Where he’s going to school? Oh, uh… The University of…” Richie caught Bill’s eye, desperate, but Bill just shrugged back helplessly. “University of North Edward College. He’s studying…” Another painfully long pause; Richie’s mind was blank. His next words came out in a rushed, uncharacteristic squeak. “Squirrels. Must be off now!”

Richie hung up, and the group collapsed into laughter.

“University of North Edward College?” Stan asked, incredulous. “What does that even mean? And squirrels, really? Literally anything you could have said would have been better than squirrels.”

“I couldn’t help it!” Richie exclaimed. “My default response to ‘what are you majoring in’ is ‘Eddie’s Mom’, but I couldn’t say that to her!” He stepped forward, slinging an arm around Stan’s shoulders. “But I saw your face, and was struck with a squirrely inspiration.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Go fuck yourself, Tozier.”

“Would love to, but I’m not quite flexible enough.”

Stan made a face, shoving Richie off him. The group made to go to Bill's room, but Richie hung back by the phone.

“Coming?” Bill asked. Richie waved a hand.

“There's one more call I want to make. I'll catch up with you.”

He knew it was cryptic but nobody pressed him for an explanation so he didn't give one, dialing Beverly's number. She deserved to be here too.

“Hello?”

“Bev?”

“Yeah, it's me.” She paused. “Which of my wonderful teenage boys am I talking to?”

Richie laughed. “You wound me. It's Richie! We're having a sleepover at Bill's, and I wanted to know if you can make it.”

She was silent for a good while.

“Am I invited?” She asked after a moment.

“You'd have to climb in through Bill's bedroom window, if that's what you mean.” He answered. “But we'd all love to see you.”

She was quiet again.

“I'd have to wait for my dad to go to sleep, and he's not even home from work yet.”

“It's no rush. You don't even have to show up if you don't think you can. I just wanted to let you know.”

“Thanks Richie.” There was a smile in her voice. “I'll see what I can do. But don't wait up for me, okay?”

“Whatever you say, buttercup.”

“Shut up.”

He laughed, saying his farewells and hanging up. He got up the stairs just in time to hear Eddie's watch going off for his evening medications, Eddie excusing himself with his overnight bag over his shoulder and nearly running into Richie outside Bill's bedroom door. He thrust the bag into Richie's hands.

“Tell me what's going on.” He requested. Richie twisted his fingers up in the bag’s straps, suddenly nervous.

“Should we go downstairs for this? Or… You should at least sit down.”

“Just tell me! You're freaking me out.” Eddie exclaimed. Richie reached around him and closed Bill’s bedroom door, just in case. Then he pulled the bottle of painkillers out and handed them over. He had to take a deep breath before he could speak.

“This is the only medication in your mom's cabinet that's actually helping you.”

Eddie frowned at him.

“Richie, what are you talking about? These are temporary; they're my painkillers for this thing.” He lifted his cast arm up. Richie nodded.

“I know. Everything else in your mom's medicine cabinet looks like this.”

He pulled the other bottle out, placing it in Eddie's hands. The placebo sticker was facing up, bright red, and Eddie stared at it.

“Placebo…?”

“It means the drugs are fakes. They don't do anything.”

“I know what placebo means!” Eddie snapped, and while Richie knew the harshness wasn't truly directed towards him, it still made him take a step back. “Just… You said all of them were like this? All of them? Even--?”

Richie pulled the inhaler box out too, and Eddie snatched it from his hands. He opened it and looked at the inhaler inside, identical to the one he always carried with him.

“How?” He asked, and Richie didn't know what to say. “How did--since--when did she… I don’t --”

“Eddie! Eds. Breathe.” Eddie was taking gasping inhales and heavy exhales with every word, his chest heaving. He gripped tightly to the front of Richie's shirt, bringing the inhaler to his mouth. It took a little but Eddie brought his breathing under control again, Richie rubbing circles on his back.

“You okay, Spaghetti Man?”

“It worked.” Eddie said after a moment. He held the inhaler a bit tighter. “If it's a fake, how come it worked?”

“Isn't that the point of a placebo, though?” Richie pointed out. “To make you think it worked? Even if you don't have asthma, right?”

“What are you talking about? Asthma attacks--”

“That's the thing though, Eds.” Richie cut him off, and Eddie looked a little angry. “What just happened to you, and all the other asthma attacks you've had in the past… I get those too. They're called panic attacks.”

“Of course I'm fucking panicking! How could I not be fucking panicking?”

Richie pulled him in for a hug, letting his chin rest on the top of Eddie's head for a moment.

“I can't not take my medication, Richie.” Eddie mumbled softly into his shirt. “I just can't.”

“If you really need me to, I'll go back to your house and get everything else.” Richie said. He wasn't sure how he would slip past Mrs. Kaspbrak, but he would try. “But for now, just take these,” he pressed the painkillers into Eddie's hand, “and these, if that makes you feel better,” he traded out the inhaler for the red and white fakes, “and just try not to think about it. Okay?”

“...okay.” Eddie finally said. He turned the bottle of placebos over in his hand. He let his eyes fall closed for a moment. “Thanks for telling me, Richie. I'm… I'm glad I know, at least.”

Richie returned with a smile that he hoped was comforting, surprised to find that he was relieved that Eddie believed him. He got Eddie a glass of water, noticing with pride that he only swallowed down one pill, putting an arm around his shoulders in front of Bill's closed door.

“Alright, Eds Spagheds. You ready to go back in there?”

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Don't be dumb, Richie.”

Richie could tell that at least some of the brazen attitude was an act so he stepped into Bill's room grandly, throwing open the door and striding in with his hands on his hips, garnering everyone’s attention while Eddie slipped inside quietly.

“William Billiam! I require soft sleeping pants!”

“Okay, but I'm getting you a s-s-shirt, too.” Bill said dryly, but he was smiling. “And you're going to w-wear it.”

Richie made a show of complaining, lamenting that “what is a shirt, if not a cotton prison”, but thanked Bill when the sleepwear was handed over and changed quickly. They arranged themselves comfortably around Bill's room, conversation beginning easily. They talked about family first, mostly because Ben wanted to know if Richie actually had a sister, or if his mother was actually dead. The answer to both of those was no, but it was still pretty funny.

Whenever a natural lull fell around them Richie wanted to spill the beans about himself and Eddie, because Eddie just looked much too cute in an oversized hoodie and tucked under his arm. Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure how. A couple times he considered pulling the “guess who has two thumbs and is dating the cutest person in the world” line, but he didn’t just want to spring the announcement on Eddie as well as everyone else, considering all he’d been through today. He wanted the conversation to naturally just flow that way, but he was having a hard time trying to steer it. Finally, he managed to stick his foot in.

“Hey Ben, do you remember that question I asked you about Beverly the other day?”

Ben blushed red, but before he could say anything a muffled voice came from somewhere outside Bill’s room.

“Are you guys talking about me?”

There was a sharp tap on Bill’s bedroom window and Stan jumped, letting out a yell in surprise.

“Bev!” Richie exclaimed in excitement, Bill getting quickly to his feet to let her in. He opened the window and Beverly tumbled in from the tree outside Bill’s window, laughing a little. She brushed a couple of leaves off her clothes, grinning, everyone except Richie looking stunned to see her.

“Y-y-you, w-w-w-w-w-we… What?” Bill stammered out, and Beverly giggled.

“I called her! I invited her.” Richie said, Beverly sending him a wink. “It wouldn’t be a group sleepover without her.”

“Hi.” Beverly finally said, waving, getting waves back as she sat herself down happily next to Ben. Everyone was still staring at her, and she laughed.

“What Bill, never had a girl in your room before?”

Richie could've sworn all of them blushed. Maybe except Ben, but that was because he hadn't yet stopped blushing from Richie's question earlier.

“I'm glad you managed to escape.” Richie said. Beverly looked a little guilty, nodding.

“My dad said he wanted a drink when he got home, so I crushed up a sleeping pill in his beer.” She confessed. They all gaped at her.

“Isn't mixing alcohol and soporific drugs like… Super fucking dangerous?” Eddie asked hesitantly. “Couldn't that kill him, or something?”

Beverly looked hilariously unconcerned.

“Sleeping pills and stuff have never really had that much of an effect on him.” She said with a shrug, Richie wondering how it was she knew that. “I'm sure he'll be fine. What are you guys up to?”

“We ate dinner, and now we're just hanging out.” Mike said with a shrug. “Are you hungry, Beverly? There's food left.”

Beverly considered it for a moment before nodding.

“Sure, I could eat. Thanks.”

Mike got to his feet with Bill and Ben following behind, Bill looking like he was trying hard to be a good host, Ben looking a bit disappointed that he hadn't thought of offering the food first. Beverly reached over, ruffling Stan's hair.

“You okay?” She asked him. He shrugged.

“Been better.”

“Yeah, I can tell. You look weird.”

He snorted. “Thanks.”

“Eddie looks weird too.” Beverly said, turning her attention to Eddie now. “Did something happen today?”

“A lot has happened today.” Eddie said with a nod. “The clown...”

“You guys saw him?” Beverly asked. “When? What happened?”

“We should talk about it with everyone.” Stan said. “But… I saw him yesterday, and all of us saw him today.”

“I did a little more than see him.” Eddie mumbled, and Richie suddenly felt guilty. He'd been completely useless, powerless to stop any of the terrible things Eddie had gone through in the past week. He wanted to be better. He needed to be better than that.

“I'm sorry.” He said quietly. Eddie looked up at him.

“Sorry? Sorry for what?”

“I haven't been able to do anything.” He explained. “Not in the Neibolt house, not earlier today… Hell, it was even my idea to go outside today, if I hadn't suggested it then--”

“If you hadn't suggested it, then I'd be in bed getting pills shoved down my throat by my psychotic mother.” Eddie interrupted. Richie frowned.

“Yeah, but--”

“No.” Eddie cut him off, taking both of Richie's hands with his own. “I would have been completely miserable, but instead I'm here with all of my friends. I have you to thank for that. You’re the one that’s keeping me from completely losing my fucking mind.”

Richie smiled a little, in spite of himself.

“God damn Eddie, could you please just let me blame myself for this?”

“Not a chance, Tozier.” Eddie had a small smile playing on his lips too and Richie decided fuck it, he didn’t care about an audience, leaning in and kissing him. Bev and Stan already knew anyways, to some extent. He realized though, once Eddie's lips touched his, that it wouldn't have mattered much if they knew already or not, because this was so, incredibly worth it.

There was the heavy thunk of glass hitting carpet behind them and Richie and Eddie both turned to see the rest of the group in the doorway, Bill standing front and center and letting the water from the cup he'd just dropped seep into his socks and the carpet below. He looked stunned.

“W-w-w-w-w-wh…?”

“Okay Bill, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to do a little better than that.” Richie told him, because he was suddenly nervous about what Bill might say, or do. He tried to remember Stan’s words about how worrying was stupid, and the rational part of him knew that Stan was right, but that rational part was very, very small, especially in the face of something as terrifying as possibly losing a best friend.

“I-I-I-I-I…” Bill stammered a bit more. “...what?”

That wasn’t much, but it was something.

“I like Eddie.” Richie explained. Eddie hit him in the arm. “A lot.” He tacked on.

Eddie hit him again.

“What?” Richie asked indignantly.

“I don’t know!” Eddie replied. “Just…” He gestured at Bill.

“He might be broken.” Richie said gravely, just to have Eddie hit him again.

��So Eddie is the one you asked me about?” Mike cut in. He slipped in the room past Bill, holding Beverly’s plate of food. He handed it to her, Ben entering after him and giving her silverware. “I mean, I kind of figured.”

“You asked about me?” Eddie asked, surprised.

“I… Well--”

“He told me he thought he might be in love with someone, and asked me what he should do about it.” Mike interjected, Richie turning on him.

“Hey!” He protested. “That was a private conversation!”

“No it wasn’t.” Stan said. He was inspecting his fingernails rather closely. “I heard the whole thing.”

“Both of you suck.” Richie said, crossing his arms.

“L-l-love?” Bill croaked out.

“We did break him.” Eddie muttered.

“Come on you two, tell us everything!” Beverly requested, and Richie balked. When he’d said he wanted to tell everyone, he was thinking of it in more of an announcement fashion: “Everyone, could I have your attention please. I am super gay for Eddie Kaspbrak. This has been a PSA.” He wasn’t prepared for any storytelling. But, he figured, the “show” part of “show and tell” was his fault, and he took a deep breath.

“Well, I talked to Mike. Then I talked to Ben, because he’s such a romantic.”

“I am?” Ben asked.

“And the day I told Stan was the day I was sure about it.” God, why was he blushing so much? “So I figured I would just wait for the right time, or something. But then we went to Neibolt and got attacked by Giggles McFuckface and I kinda figured that any time that we weren’t dead was the right time. So I told him that I liked him, or whatever.”

“Eddie, please tell me he said more than ‘I like you, or whatever’.” Stan said seriously. “You’re worth more than that.”

“He did.” Eddie said quickly. “It… It was really nice, actually.”

“Yeah, because you kissed me. Damn near knocked the wind out of me, you know.” Richie replaced his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, grinning. “And then I kissed you, and you said it was the best kiss you ever had.”

“Sounds fake, but okay.” Stan muttered dryly.

“No! Tell ‘em, Eds.” Richie nudged him, delighting how red Eddie’s face had become.

“Don’t call me that.” Eddie grumbled back.

“Stop embarrassing him.” Beverly protested, because Eddie was blushing harder the longer Richie talked. “You’re just as bad as he is, if not worse.”

“Hey, I just want everyone to know how great of a kisser I am, now that I have evidence to prove it. We've spent the past few days in Eddie's bedroom doing--”

“You cried when he told you he loved you.” Beverly said, crossing her arms in triumph. Richie’s mouth fell open.

“You said you wouldn’t tell anyone about that!”

“Beverly, you knew?” Ben asked. “When did you guys talk to each other?”

“Midnight ragers.” Richie said quickly. “She’s been eating all of my Cheetos.”

“...is that a euphemism or something?” Mike asked, as Bill finally seemed to get over himself, coming into the room again and sitting on the floor.

“I’m happy for you guys.” He said earnestly, and when Richie glanced over he saw Eddie beaming.

“Thanks.”

“So, now that all of my secrets have been spilled, what do we want to talk about?” Richie asked with a sigh. “Anyone want to hear about the time I ate hot glue in fifth grade? I was going to take that secret to the grave with me, but I’m coming to realize there’s no point in trying.”

“I want to hear about what happened today.” Beverly said. “About Pennywise, and all that.”

Ben nodded in agreement.

“Something happened to you, right Stan?” He asked. Stan nodded a little, launching into the tale. The retelling of the events made him visibly uncomfortable, curling in on himself as he spoke. Mike put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“And then he left me a balloon, which was just incredibly thoughtful.” Stan finished, sarcasm heavy in his voice. “I called Bill, and he came to pick me up.”

“I would hate to think I scared all the little boys away?” Beverly asked, repeating what Stan told them Pennywise had said. “What does that mean?”

Stan shrugged.

“He t-t-tried to take Eddie too.” Bill said. “Eddie was crossing t-the street when B-B-Bowers came at him with his c-car. Pennywise grabbed him out of the w-way, but t-then tried to run off. W-w-we stopped him, but…”

“He tried to do this in broad daylight?”

“Well, who wouldn’t try to steal Eddie?” Richie asked. “I mean, look at him!”

What Richie didn’t expect was for the entire group to actually look over at Eddie, who suddenly seemed very self conscious in his striped athletic socks, grey shorts, and big green hoodie.

“Yeah.” Mike said after a moment. “He’s small.”

“Not what I meant.”

“No, it makes sense. He's small.” Ben agreed. “If you're going to kidnap someone in the middle of the day, with witnesses and stuff, they have to be easy to carry.”

“Well, I'm not easy to carry.” Eddie said. “I kicked him in the leg.”

Beverly held her hand up for a high five, and Eddie took it.

“Okay, but why?” Bill asked. “If he w-wants to make s-s-someone disappear, why not someone easier? Someone y-younger, or something?”

Richie thought back, still distracted by what the clown had said while going through Stan’s house. He couldn’t take Ben, he couldn’t take Mike, and he couldn’t take Bill because Bill was the one he needed.

“He’s setting you a trap, Bill.”

“He w-w-wants to kidnap one of you to… To what? To g-get to me?”

“It would work.” Mike pointed out.

“But he already h-has my brother.”

“But he thinks he scared us away.” Beverly finished, nodding a little. Richie felt slightly sick.

“Why me?” Bill asked. It was quiet for a long moment, then Stan spoke.

“Because you’re the only one looking for him. You’re the only one, maybe ever, and you keep getting closer. Hell, Bill, you’ve been inside his house four times. And he doesn’t like it.”

“S-so… He’s trying to kill me?”

Mike sat back in Bill’s desk chair with a sigh.

“It wouldn’t exactly be out of character.”

#it 2017 #reddie #reddie fic #benverly #benverly fic #bill denbrough #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #stanley uris #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #tdogd #myfic

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noonanoowz-blog · 6 years

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Bloodlines-Chapter 1

It was hot, and Seunghoon was losing his patience.

“How hard is this? How many times do we have to go over it? I’m not sure if you’re tone deaf, talentless, clumsy or just all three at this point, but I’m really getting sick of it.”

All the boys looked at him. He was yelling at Seungyoon for messing up the steps for what felt like the 100th time that night, but unlike previously, he was no longer even attempting to be nice about it.

Taehyun put a hand on Seunghoon’s shoulder. “Why don’t we take a break?” he said. “We’re all tired and it’s definitely hot in here. I think we all deserve a ten-minute break.”

Seunghoon shrugged him off. “I don’t think ten minutes could save him,” he said. “All it’s going to do is make this practice session run even longer.”

“Hoonie, c’mon,” Jinwoo said. “We haven’t eaten since this morning!”

“You’re whining isn’t helping either,” Seunghoon snapped. “But if you wanna go, go. Yoon stays here.”

“How about this—“ Ever the mediator, Mino stepped between them. “How about you, Jinwoo and Nammie go look for food, and I’ll stay here and help Seungyoon catch up. Grab whatever you want, and take some time to cool off, yeah?”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Taehyun said. “Didn’t you say you were craving Twinkies earlier, Jinwoo?”

“Yeah, but…” Jinwoo looked at Mino. The other boy was helping Seungyoon sit down on the floor because Seungyoon was exhausted. Jinwoo swallowed. He went to speak more, but he had no time as Taehyun grabbed his sleeve.

“C’mon Woo,” Taehyun said as he dragged him out the door. “Twinkies, remember?”

“But…”

The door banged shut behind them.

Jinwoo stared at it for a long moment, then covered his face with his hands.

“What have we done,” he whispered as Seunghoon pushed the elevator button for the lobby.

“Saved our asses,” Taehyun said. “Though you could have been a little bit nicer, Hoonie. Did you have to be such a dick to him?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I guess I’m just not as good at hiding behind my indifference like you two are. Maybe you should give me lessons on how to deal with this nightmare. I mean you’re the actors in the group, right? Tell me how I’m not supposed to be freaking out!”

“Nobody said we weren’t freaking out,” Taehyun said quietly. “We’re just not freaking out the same way you are.”

“You mean like a normal person?” Seunghoon glared at each of them in turn.

The other boys did not meet his gaze.

Seunghoon scoffed. “Wow,” he said. “You guys are actually heartless. Got it. Noted. I’ll keep that in mind for when my turn comes up.”

“Hoonie…”

The lights flickered. The elevator stuttered, and came to rest on the ground floor.

Jinwoo looked at his watch. “Isn’t he…early?” he asked.

“Yes,” Taehyun said. “And I don’t want to be down here without Mino. I’m not good with this level of crazy.”

“But you’re good at sending lambs to the slaughter,” Seunghoon muttered.

Before Taehyun could respond, the doors of the elevator slid open, and they were greeted by two nearly-identical men wearing matching expressions of malicious pleasure.

“Good evening….” One of them said.

The other, the one with the pretty eyes, grinned at them and added, “We’ve been waiting for you.”

All three boys stepped back.

The first speaker laughed. “He thought you would be more comfortable with us,” he said. “But obviously, you’re not. Oh well. Come along. The car’s waiting.”

“Not without Mino,” Taehyun said. “We know he likes Mino, but also know he could give two shits about us.”

Pretty Eyes smiled and moved closer to his face. “If he wanted you dead, it would have happened long before now,” he murmured. He made his point by smiling, showing the sharp edges of his teeth. “Now come with us, please. You’re wasting our time.”

Taehyun stumbled out of the elevator. Seunghoon and Jinwoo followed close behind, clinging to the back of his jacket.

The watchful eyes of the twins followed them all the way to the waiting car.

***** Seungyoon sat against the wall, his head hanging low. He’d started to sweat, and he kept trying to tell Mino something, but his words were slurred and incoherent. He wasn’t himself and he didn’t know why.

But Mino did.

“Damn, Tagoon. You didn’t have to get him sloppy.” A figure stepped out of the shadows, just off to Mino’s left. “A little bit of that shit goes a long way, you know. ”

“I didn’t want him to feel any pain,” Mino said. He cast a sideways glance at the man behind him. Could he call him a friend? For the past week, he had more played the part of a dangerous stranger. “And don’t call me by that name. You know I don’t answer to it.”

“You did. Once.” The new arrival walked toward Seungyoon. “And I thought I was clear. I can’t have you walking around knowing my secret. It’s him, or all of you.”

“Trust me, I never wanted to know your secret,” Mino said. “Let alone wind up in a situation like this.”

“You’re my friend, Mino. Hell, you’re my brother. This is saving your life!”

“Saving my life.” Mino let out a sarcastic chuckle, “You have a very interesting take on how to save lives now that you’re dead, Zico.”

The man, Zico, looked back. He made to respond, but was distracted by Seungyoon’s fingernails scraping against the wall. Seungyoon was trying to stand up, but he couldn’t seem to get his feet underneath him.

“Whoa, hey. Yoon, take it easy.” Mino ran over, helping him up and guiding him to a chair. “You’re supposed to be resting, not moving around.”

“I don’t feel so good. I think I need to go home,” Seungyoon mumbled.

“Not yet,” Mino said. “We have to wait here. The guys are getting us some food, remember?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Yeah, you are. You just don’t feel hungry because you’re hot.” Mino straightened. “In fact, I should…I should probably go get you some water. I’ll be right back.”

“No, Mino—!” Seungyoon reached for him, but Mino ducked out of reach. “Don’t leave.”

“I’m sorry ‘Yoon.” Mino backed toward the door. “I’ll…I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Mino!”

“I’m sorry…it’s for your own good.”

Mino ran out of the room. The lights flickered again, and Mino suddenly found himself standing outside. He could see the frightened faces of his bandmates through the window of the car, the twins within striking distance should they attempt any sort of escape.

“It’s done,” Mino said. “I don’t even think he’s on this planet.”

“We know,” Pretty Eyes said. “Now we wait.”

“It shouldn’t take long,” the other agreed.

They gave Mino matching toothy grins.

Mino wanted to throw up.

Back upstairs, Seungyoon was starting to grasp the severity of his situation.

“Where’s Mino?” he demanded.

The man who appeared from nowhere gave a cruel laugh as he tossed back his shocking blond hair. “Where’s Mino?” he repeated. “I’m so glad you asked. Mino’s not here.”

The lights went out. It had been Zico’s idea to nix the A/C earlier, make sure the building was hot and miserable, though he knew Mino’s band would still stay behind, but the lights were all the work of the twins. A nice touch. It added a delightful level of creepy to all that was going on.

Seungyoon seemed to agree. “Mino?” he called. “Mino, I can’t see! Come back!”

“Minoooooooo,” Zico mocked. “Mino, come save me! Dearest Yoonie, did you not hear me the first time? Mino’s not here right now. You’ll have to leave a message.”

Seungyoon stretched his arms out in front of him. “Mino, come on. We need to get out of here. This isn’t funny.”

Taking advantage of his distraction, Zico crept up behind him. Arm around Seungyoon’s neck, he pulled him in close to his chest, breathing a cold breath of air against Seungyoon’s cheek. “No one said it was, Yoonie.”

Zico bit down. His fangs, long and sharp, pierced the side of Seungyoon’s neck making Seungyoon scream.

“Oh, stop. I doesn’t hurt that badly.” Zico licked his bloodied lips.

“You bit me!” Seungyoon exclaimed.

“No shit,” Zico said. “That’s the point.”

Seungyoon’s hand went to his neck. It came away covered in warm, red liquid, and Seungyoon trembled. “Why?” he whispered.

“To prepare for what’s to come,” Zico said. “Now go. Run. I’ll give you a head start.”

Seungyoon cried out in agony as Zico pushed him to the ground. The room around him swam in a blurry mess, but he could see the emergency exit light in the hallway. Exit. Freedom. Seungyoon scrambled to his feet.

“That’s it. That’s a good boy. Run! Break free! You can do it!” Zico laughed. “Freedom is past that door, Yoonie, c’mon.”

Seungyoon stumbled to the door. It took a couple tries, but he managed to get it open, smearing bloody fingerprints on the glass as he tumbled into the hallway.

“That’s it! Keep going! Run for Freedom,” Zico teased.

Seungyoon took off down the hall as fast as he could manage.

Zico rubbed his hands in glee. Racing ahead, he set up road blocks, broke door handles, and essentially forced Seungyoon to head up to the roof. At this point, he was just playing with him, making sure he took the path he needed him to take. The only door he wanted Seungyoon to use lead to the roof of the building, where his boss was waiting. “I don’t think I can catch you. You might be too fast for me,” he teased. He watched Seungyoon stumble up the stairs. He let him get about halfway before he sprinted easily past him to kick open the door, hard enough that it broke off the hinges.

Seungyoon balked. “Why are you doing this? What is wrong with you?” He clung to the railing, reluctant to go any closer to where Zico stood.

“What do you mean? I’m your friend. And as your friend I’m trying to help you move you on to the next phase of your life. Because let’s face it. Your life now sucks.”

Seungyoon stared.

“I mean, you’re doing this idol thing, right? But it sucks. And you suck. You have the arrogance, but that’s about it. There are better singers, better writers, better guitar players, and just overall better people because your company is cockblocking the hell out of you. You’re not going to make it, so the best thing for you to do is move on. I can help you with that.”

“No…no…” Seungyoon stammered. “You’re insane. Get away from me….get away from me!”

Zico laughed, and glided over to where Seungyoon stood. “Not a chance,” he promised.

**** Jinwoo was the first to spot the car that had pulled up behind them.

“Who could be here at this time of night?” Jinwoo asked, trying to get a better view out the window. “Shouldn’t we warn them not to go inside?”

“Do you want to die?” Seunghoon demaned. “That has to be the dumbest thing that has ever come out of your mouth, Woo!”

“Well we can’t just let them…”

“Shut up. Yes, we can. The thugs outside have made it very clear that if we don’t stay here, we’re dead. I don’t want to be dead!”

“Someone’s coming,” Taehyun said. He leaned over Jinwoo trying to make out who it was as a figure got out the other car. “I can’t see very well but it looks like…holy shit.”

“Holy shit indeed,” Jinwoo said as he saw who emerged. “That was…not what I was expecting.”

They watched as the figure greeted the two men outside the door, and Taehyun swore it turned to face them. To look at the three of them through the tinted windows. The smile it flashed seemed so innocent. So childlike.

And yet…

With a grunt, Mino landed in his lap.

“Hyung!” he exclaimed.

“Shhhh!” The dark haired twin pressed his finger to his lips. “It’s starting.”

****

Up on the roof, Seungyoon’s face was almost a mirror of Taehyun’s, only with less relief and more panic.

“Hyung? Who me?” Zico asked as he looked around. “Ohhh, you mean him. Ha. Awkward.”

Seungyoon whimpered.

Realization dawned. “Oh my god,” Zico cackled. “You think he’s here to save you. Oh my. Should I tell you, or do you want him to?” He moved so fast that Seungyoon barely caught his breath before Zico had him by the neck of his shirt. “Either way, the outcome will be the same, Yoonie.”

“Zico.” The sonorous voice made both of them still. “What have I told you about playing with your food, Zico? That is not how we conduct business.”

“Sorry.” Zico relaxed his grip, letting Seungyoon’s shirt go. “I guess I got carried away. Will he do, though? Is this what you were hoping for?”

Even though the newcomer was short in stature, he wasn’t afraid to walk straight up to the both of them, inspect Seungyoon, and then caresses Zico’s cheek. “Perfection. As usual. He will do. Well done. Together?”

“I’d be honored.”

Zico dove in, reopening his previous bite on Seungyoon’s neck. The other took Seungyoon’s wrist, fastening his mouth to the vein. They both drank until Seungyoon stopped whimpering, stopped moving, and passed out.

Zico held onto the body until he was done and then let it drop to the ground like a sack of rice.

“I will have my men clean this up,” Zico said, removing his pocket square from the inside of his jacket to wipe the corners of his mouth. “You’ll be keeping the body?”

“Of course. A promise is a promise.”

“And the other boys?”

“Yours. Except Mino.”

“Right. Except Mino.”

Zico knew the conversation was over when the other turned away, walking to the edge of the roof and jumping off without a backward glance. Knowing he was still being watched, Zico made sure to complete a 90-degree bow.

#Bloodlines #kpop scenarios #kpop au #kpop fanfiction #winner #zico #winner mino #block b zico

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aoibhs · 6 years

Text

Air

Chapter One

Chapter Ten

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from The Riot Club/Posh, and all OCs were beautifully crafted by @club-riot

"Hi," Elizabeth couldn't help but smile when she saw him.

"Hello Elizabeth," He smiled back at her, then glanced at James, "Leighton,"

"Bellingfield," James was calm which made Guy uneasy. Why was he calm?

"I hope you've recovered," Elizabeth said, half joking, half concerned.

"Recovered from what?" He tilted his head.

"Honora... She pushed you down a flight of stairs," She said slowly, laughing a little. James instantly burst out laughing.

"It was just a few steps really, I'm fine," He chuckles, reaching for the wine bottle.

"It's empty," James said, just as Guy realized how hollow it was.

"Well, I suppose we'll have to get more," Guy sighed, looking at the girl in front of him and not at James.

"Let's go get some more then," The edges of her lips twitched into a sort of smirk. They were about to get up when James interrupted, getting up himself.

"Don't worry. I'll get it," He smiled, going to head towards the hotel bar.

"Oh my god," Guy wasn't far off gasping when the realization hit him. Leighton had planned this from the start.

"What?" Then he looked back to Elizabeth and he saw in her eyes that she was completely oblivious. He couldn't help but smile at that look of confusion in her face. It was irrevocably adorable.

"Nothing," He shook his head, "You enjoying yourself?”

"Yeah, I am," She nodded, "I'm not used to this sort of thing at all..," She trailed off slightly. Guy wanted to say something, something in reassurance, but something clever. Elizabeth would open her mouth again before he would think of such a thing to say, "But James has been good to keep me company,"

Guy tried to mask his frown as much as he could, so his face resulted in his signature awkward smile.

"Ah, yes. Well, there's a whole tableful of people for you to converse with now," He moved his hands expressively, trying to disguise his bitterness with light flamboyancy.

"Okay! Who wants more wine?!" Leighton returned to the room, waving two bottles, one red, one white. He didn't return to his seat at the top of the table. He sat between Toby and Dimitri. And just as he sat down, he caught eye contact with Guy. He raised his eyebrows and smirked before looking away. There was a drunken roar from the group in response to James' question, all eager for more alcohol before the mains came out from the kitchen.

"I could actually do with some air," Elizabeth brought her hands to her cheeks and arose from her chair, "I shan't be gone long,"

"I'll go with you," He said before she had even finished her sentence.

"You don't have to-"

"I want to. Let's go," He was already halfway across the room, "You shouldn't be alone,"

"Don't patronize me," She fought a grin, following him to the doors, "Just because you're older,"

"And wiser," He added, pushing the doors open just as Meredith and Victoria had decided to return.

"Ehh.. That's debatable," The grin she tried to suppress turned into a smirk.

"..Right okay, you've clearly been drinking," He shook his head in disbelief as she laughed.

"Halle-fucking-lujah," Dimitri sighed with relief once they had gone.

"You should've brought some champagne, Leighton," Harry laughed, "This calls for a serious celebration,"

"Here here!" Honora yelled, blindly.

"Huzzah!" Louisa decided it was best to join her.

"Maybe they're just talking, you know?" George said, "We can never assume,"

They laughed at his comment but they hadn't even started talking yet. This happened every time Elizabeth saw him. She liked him, she knew that. But no matter what was in her mind that she had planned to say to him, disappeared as soon as he was sighting.

"I still get lost on the way to the library," She said just to break the silence but then instantly regretted it. She sounded like an idiot. Nobody in Oxford was still getting lost in late October. He didn't laugh, he chuckled in amusement.

"You can't survive without us, it seems," He held the door open, the cold air rushing towards them.

"Oh gosh, it's cold," She basically laughed from the stark contrast in temperature.

"It's like that time at the nightclub," Guy looked at the sky, stepping away from the building.

"The night you nearly walked me home," Elizabeth nodded, remembering the night fondly.

"Nearly?"

"Don't give yourself credit where it's not due," Her smirk reappeared again.

"You are just impossible, Elizabeth Shaw," He sighed, turning to face her.

"Funny, I recall saying those exact words regarding you that night," She tapped her lips in recollection.

"Exactly, I was paraphrasing," His voice was getting lower, "That's what clever people do, seeing as I'm older and wiser than you,"

They were getting closer to each other. Elizabeth felt dizzy. Her blushing face grew hotter. There was a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Guy?" She whispered, unable to get her voice to go any louder. Her head was reeling. She felt her ankles wouldn’t hold her body up for much longer, her knees weakening.

"Yes, Elizabeth?" He made the first bold move and raise his hand to touch her cheek, just as a wave of white heat washed over her face, "Jesus, you're burning alive," He wasn't expecting that. He placed a hand on her forehead then, to see if her temperature was the same.

"Guy.. I don't.. I don't feel.. well," She shook her head, although she was so dizzy, it was practically limp, "I'm sorry," She said, running back inside as quick as she could, to the ladies room. Guy was left there, standing in the cold, not really knowing what to do. He stood there a moment to go over it in his head and then opted to go back into their room for some aid.

"Bellend!" Toby cried merrily upon seeing him.

"Where's the missus?" Dimitri asked, smiling wickedly.

"Haha, yeah. Poppy?" He leaned down to talk with her quietly, avoiding their questions as much as humanly possible, "Could you go into the ladies and see if she's okay? She wasn't feeling well,"

"She's getting sick?" Poppy's eyes were wide with concern but also with an undeniable trace of amusement.

"I think so," Guy nodded. She immediately got up and went to the doors.

"She did drink a lot of rosé," James said, nodding as he spoke.

"Hard luck, mate," Harry shrugged, looking as Guy went around to sit next to him.

"Yeah what's it like having a face that makes people vomit?" Ed asked, as if it were a serious question. But he couldn't keep up a serious expression for over two seconds. He had to laugh.

"I'm sure she'll be fine," George smiled, his words slow and slurring slightly.

"I am," Her voice came back and Guy looked up from the table to see her and Poppy returning, "Just the oxygen didn't help with the, um.. dehydration," She laughed awkwardly, sitting at the end of the table, which was James' seat at the beginning of the evening.

"Maybe the air wasn't a good idea then," Guy chuckled.

"At least you didn't get vomit on your nice suit," She joked.Somewhere down the table, Dimitri and Honora were failing at containing their laughter. Dimitri looked over at her after finishing off a glass of red.

"He'd probably frame it,"

Chapter Twelve

#The riot club #guy bellingfield #fanfiction #harry villiers #dimitri mitropoulos #edmontgomery #tobymaitland #alistair ryle #milesrichards #laurensmall #james leighton-masters #hugofraser-tyrwhitt #george balfour #riot club #character x oc #posh

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thats-pucking-amazing · 7 years

Text

Vodka *Requested* (Morgan Rielly)

This was requested by @a-kate3 (it won’t tag!) who wanted some Mo Rielly fluff!

I hope you guys like it! Let me know what you think!!

Requests are Open!!

Warnings: Alcohol

Up Next: Auston Matthews

You were over this week. Your boss had run you ragged, you were entering into the exam period for your online courses for your masters, and your best friend had stood you up to go on a date. So you were doing what any normal person would be after the week you had...getting drunk.

You had claimed a seat at the bar part of one of Toronto’s most popular clubs...not because you had any actual intention of clubbing...you just enjoyed people watching. Friday nights were perfect for that, summer was halfway over and students were getting the most out of everything while they could.

You laughed softly to yourself when you noticed a guy about your age walk into one of the columns supporting the ceiling. His friend quickly grab him and direct him over towards the bar where you were, just two seats down.

“No more Kappi. I’m cutting you off.” The blonde man said. He got his friend a water and handed him some french fries. “You’re already going to hate me in the morning.”

You laughed again as the clearly wasted man attempted to slur out that he was just fine. It barely sounded like English, and based on the accent you detected, there was a chance that it wasn’t.

“Do you think you can manage to stay put while I go find Aus and Willy?” Blondie asked. His friend blinked slowly before nodding...well, drunkenly. “Good.” Then Blondie disappeared into the gyrating mess of bodies. The friend, Kappi, looked around and then turned to the bartender.

“Shots!” He slurred. The bartender raised his eyebrow but filled a glass. You sighed but decided to save the man some regret for later, so you slid into the seat next to him.

“Sorry Hun. You’re cut off.” You looked at the bartender who was extending the shot glass. “I’ll take that, though.” You tossed it back and then looked at the man sitting next to you. He narrowed his eyes in confusion.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Y/N. Trust me, if you remember this tomorrow, you’ll be grateful that I didn’t let you have that. Your liver will thank me for the reprieve now.”

“But...it’s my birthday.” He shot you a puppy dog face as he began the transition into sad drunk. “Willy said I could do whatever I wanted!”

“Based on the fact that I can actually understand what you’re saying now, I’m going to assume this isn’t your first time being inebriated. So here’s what we’ll agree on. I’ll buy you some greasy bar food, my birthday present to you. And after you eat it and give your stomach sometime to absorb the alcohol in it...we can do shots together.”

He smiled. “Deal!” And 25 minutes later, after sharing a platter of nachos and potato skins with you, there were three shots lined up in front of each of you.

“Ok, ready…” Each of you picked up a shot. “Go!” And then the race was on to see who could down them first. The third glasses slammed down simultaneously. “I guess it’s a tie.” You giggled.

You were giggling...so maybe it was time you gave yourself a bit of a break. Four shots in 30 minutes was definitely going to help you reach your goal of being drunk...but you didn’t want to be blacked out. Kappi wasn’t much better and the two of you were leaning on each other for support a bit more than you would have liked. But….you were feeling all warm and cozy inside, so it couldn’t be that bad.

“Alright Kappi,” You heard a voice behind. “Are you ready to g-” The voice cut off as evidently, Blondie from earlier discovered that his friend was no longer alone. “Who’s your friend?”

“I’m Y/N.” You said...or slurred...the jury was still out. You gave him a thorough once over with boldness you never would have had sober. “And you’re cute.”

“Thank you. I always know drunk compliments are true.” He turned his attention back to his friend. “Let’s go. Aus and Willy caught an Uber back to my place. They’re waiting on us.”

“But Mo! I can’t leave my drinking buddy. She’ll be lonely!” He protested.

“Yeah...and I’m not done looking at you. Wanna do a spin for me, so I get the full picture?” You were definitely going to regret saying that in the morning.

“Mo” appeared to be losing his patience. With the both of you. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” He told you and then turned to Kappi. “Let’s go man. Your birthday technically ended 27 minutes ago.”

While he talked to Kappu you got your phone out and after making sure the flash was on, club lighting was so sketchy, took a picture of Blondie.

He looked at you completely flabbergasted. “Did you just take a picture of me?”

“Yup.” You hiccuped and then giggled again.

“Why would you do that?! Give me your phone!” He demanded.

“You told me to take a picture. I did. And no! It’s mine!!” You slipped your phone into your back pocket to guarantee that he wasn’t going to snatch it.

“I didn’t mean for you to literally take a picture….UGH!” He ran his hands through his hair while mumbling about DDs and stupid choices. “Whatever. Let’s go Kappi.”

“No! I’m not leaving Y/N!” He grabbed you around the waist and pulled you in front of him. “She gave me food. She’s my pet.”

“You can’t keep humans as pets, Kappi. But if it’s really that important to you, then she can come, too.”

“Wanna come Y/N?! We’re gonna have a sleepover at Captain Mo’s.” He whispered the last two words.

“I love sleepovers. I’m in.”

“Great.” Mo said. “Now let’s go.” He went to lead the two of you out of the club but before he got there, you reached back and downed another shot, Kappi doing the same. “Guys! That’s enough! We’re going...now!”

The two of you laughed some more but followed him out of the door. This night was going to be great.

What was I thinking?! You thought as the morning light pierced through the windows in the room. You blinked sluggishly trying to process the blinding pain in your head...and why you weren’t in your bedroom...or even in your apartment. You did a mental scan of your body...all clothes and extremities were there. Why were you in a strange place?!

You sat up in the bed you were laying up on and cradled your head while memories from the night before blurrily made their way through your mind. Shots...Kappi….more shots….Blondie...drunk singing...blackness.

Groaning because of your stupidity and because your brain was protesting movement you stood up. After orienting yourself, you noticed a glass of water and two pain pills on the dresser, you swallowed both down before cautiously approaching from the room. Passing another room, you saw Kappi sprawled on a bed, still passed out from the night before. You made it to the living room and had the front door insight before a throat clearing from your right caused you to freeze.

“Did you sleep well?” Came the voice of Blondie from the night before. Glancing over you saw him leaning against a kitchen island with a mug in hand.

Blood rushed to your cheeks. “Yes. I’m so sorry. And embarrassed. I just had a really bad week and then yesterday was the worst, so I made the terrible decision to get drunk. And I probably ruined your night and your plans for Kappi’s birthday….and I’m just so sorry!” You spilled out.

He chuckled a little bit. “It’s ok. We’ve all had those days, and you definitely didn’t ruin anything. Kappi had a great time...whether or not he’ll remember it.” He shrugged. “That’s up for debate.”

“I’m still so, so sorry. I just invaded your apartment….”

“It’s not the end of the world. I’m kinda the dad of my friends, so I’m used to it.”

“....The dad? You don’t even look 25.”

He laughed lightly. “I’m not. I’m 23. Just basically all of my friends are younger than me. I keep them in line.”

“I respect that. And seriously, thank you so much for letting me crash here last night. I’m still super sorry.”

“Seriously, wasn’t that big of a deal. Do you want any coffee?”

“No,” You politely declined. “I have to get home to Vodka.” At his concerned look you quickly explained, “That’s my dog’s name. He stayed with my friend last night. She has the apartment below me. Speaking of...what complex are we in?”

“Oh! I was concerned that you had a serious problem. My downstairs neighbor has a cute puppy with a name like that...Rum or something I think.” You both laughed. “And it’s Toronto Main.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes? I live on the third floor...is that bad?” He looked genuinely confused.

“I live in Toronto Main….on the second floor. I moved in like two months ago. You thought my dog’s name was Rum?!?”

“Is that what you’re choosing to focus on? That I didn’t know your dog’s name? I can’t believe you live just a floor below me.”

You gave a small laugh. “It is pretty crazy. At least I don’t have far to go to get home! One last time….thank you!”

“You don’t need to keep thanking me.” You waved bye and headed for the door before his voice called after you. “Oh! Y/N!” Blondie shouted before coming after you.

“Yeah?”

“Can I have your phone for a second?”

“Why?” You arched an eyebrow.

“You might not remember, but last night you took a picture of me,” He rubbed the back of his neck and gave an awkward chuckle. “I just thought I could delete it for you.”

“Oh, I remember the picture. I also remember you telling me to take it. I think I’ll keep it.” You winked and opened the door, “Never know when my upstairs neighbor might need blackmailed into quieting down.”

“Y/N!” He yelled after you.

You just laughed and continued down the stairs. “Feel free to come visit me anytime, Blondie!”

“My name is Morgan!”

Let me know if you see any blazing errors!!

#hockey #hockey imagines #toronto maple leafs #nhl #nhl imagines #imagines #nhl imagine #hockey oneshot #maple leafs hockey #maple leafs #leafs #leafs hockey #morgan rielly #morgan rielly imagine #player x reader #request #fluff

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the-caleb-landry-jones-blog · 6 years

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More fanfiction!

For a nice start into the new week, here another fanfiction submission we got! Many thanks for it!! This one is quite long, and it´s also the first fanfiction, at least as far as we know, that´s about Caleb himself. It´s nsfw, but no worries, the author proved to our reasonable satisfaction that it´s purely fictional! Hope you enjoy