#they also both have parts where they just get. incredibly depressed and feel utterly hopeless

[anxiouslynumbme]

Carmuel Missing Scenes/Moments

Warning: (Explicit Sexual Situations, Strong Language.)

3x08 - Part 2

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 Romantic love was a peculiar notion, the reality of being in love was more brutal than people liked to acknowledge. Everyone - well, most people - wanted it, sought it, obsessed over it. And then the some that were lucky enough to have obtained it, usually ended up ruing the day they'd found it.

And so that had raised the age-old question, is it better to have loved and lost or to never have loved at at all?

Was there a right answer? Both scenarios sounded incredibly depressing to Samuel.

But Samuel knew that as painful as loving Carla was, it didn't even touch the blissful intoxication she filled him with. Nothing compared to her. Nothing and no one could make him feel this much, this constant rapturous high she had him hooked on. She was addictive.

And Carla saying I love you to him - that was a whole new level of addiction. A dangerous fucking addiction. And Samuel was already a junkie.

I love you, Samuel.

Her words rang and vibrated through the air around them, stifling his ability to breathe, his body was rendered useless, his mouth unable to speak, his mind utterly blank. Samuel was barely aware of the deafening silence that took over. Were there words to describe what he was feeling? Samuel was at a loss. He couldn't find any.

All he could think, hear, feel, was the heart-stopping, mind-bending repetition of her voice in his head. His heart.

I love you, Samuel.

Samuel's heart was going ballistic, thumping and thrashing wildly in its cage, seemingly incapable of comprehending the words.

"Samuel?" Carla's wary voice smashed into his brain, resulting in a sharp inhale to deliver the much needed oxygen into his lungs.

Please, say it again, his greedy heart pounded with an unspoken plea. Say it again. Say it again. Say it again. Just one more time so he could make sure it was real, so it could sink in. So he could believe it and revel in it and never feel hopeless again. Please, Carla, say it again.

But his mouth wasn't cooperating. His still, wide eyes, were probably starting to make Carla uncomfortable.

Speak, you fucking moron, he angrily scolded himself.

"Shit, Samuel, I'm sorry, I - I shouldn't have said that."

The hopeless organ in his chest ceased its incessant, loud beating.

What?

Wait. No. Fuck, no. She was sorry?

And just like that, his world fractured into a humiliated and rigid focus. Carla was sorry.

Why did she say it then? Why the fuck would she do that to him? It didn't make sense. Even if Carla didn't love him, Samuel knew her care for him ran deep and strong. Carla would never say something like that - something she was well aware he unapologetically craved to hear from her - without actually meaning it.

But Samuel's high-strung emotions were in charge and his brain couldn't keep up with them long enough to rationalize Carla's behavior. All Samuel knew in that moment was that he needed to get away, she could explain later. After he recovered from the emotional whiplash she'd just given him.

He was suddenly feeling claustrophobic, her skin on his was scorching and suffocating and as gently as he could, he pried her off, and then he was out of the the bed before either of them could blink, reaching for his boxers and slipping them on quickly.

"Samuel, wait - where are you going? "

"I - I just need to," he stammered pathetically, walking mindlessly toward the door. "To take a shower."

His wobbly legs carried him out of the room hastily as he tried to steady himself.

He did end up in the shower, because no matter how rattled he was, Samuel wasn't just gonna leave his house while Carla was still there. He still couldn't gather himself well enough to breathe properly.

It was in his nature to dive in hard and fast when he loved someone, he tended to go a little crazy, a little intense and obsessed. Samuel had once thought he was in love with Marina, Samuel had wanted her so badly that he had willfully stayed with her when, deep down, he was aware of her lack of interest. But Samuel had now realized that he wasn't in love with Marina, and it was because of Carla, he was sure of that. Nothing he had ever felt for someone came close to how Samuel felt about Carla. Because Once, love, the love seeps into the bones and unfurls and grows around every inch of skin and swirls intimately with blood until they're one. Then discovery would hit and true knowledge is born on the different types of love one could feel.

And Samuel's love for Carla was otherworldly, it was consuming and whole and unlike anything he felt for anyone in his life. He didn't even know when it happened, it crept up on him. 

Samuel sighed shakily, his head thrown back as the comforting hot spray of water rained on him, washing his body and surrounding him safely, as though being under the shower-head was protecting him from what - who - was waiting outside that bathroom door.

Samuel tried to appease his soul and tell himself that it was okay if she didn't mean to say it, that whatever her explanation was going to be, he could take it.

I love you, Samuel.

"Fuck," he muttered in irritation, her voice was stuck in his head. Samuel couldn't take it, he wouldn't be able to. No matter what Carla ended up saying, it was going to cut him open.

A creak of a door opening snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts. Samuel's skin prickled and his body instantly stiffened with attention, the air around him sizzling with her presence. Even under water, her scent wafted to his nostrils enticingly in the small bathroom, it thrilled and alarmed him all the same. His back was to her and he couldn't get his body to whirl around and face her, unsure of what he was going to do.

Devouring her was the most likely outcome, but Samuel's heart was also demanding answers. An explanation he wasn't ready to hear. Because the only thing worse than Carla not loving him back, was her saying she did, and then regretting it.

Her timid, quiet steps were faintly heard, and Samuel knew she must've stopped moving, 'cause it was a narrow bathroom and she should've reached him by now. Samuel didn't know how long he stood there frozen, until he could finally sense her behind him, her soft breaths tickling his skin.

Her lips gently grazed his shoulder and Samuel exhaled sharply. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Please stop saying that."

Another kiss, her lips brushing his skin as she spoke softly. "Samuel, I know that you probably didn't want to - "

"Didn't want what," he cut her off, his voice low. "Didn't want to hear the girl I'm in love with to finally tell me she loves me back, only to regret it and take it back? Not something I'd ask for, no."

Carla's breath caught noticeably, and he felt her blanch. A few seconds and she slowly folded her arms around his torso, lips meeting his shoulder again.

"I don't regret it and I'm not taking it back, you idiot," she said it so quietly, he almost didn't hear her.

Something bloomed in his chest, his heart skipping beats left and right at her affirmation. She loved him. "Why are you sorry, then?"

Carla hesitated, guilt lacing her tone as she answered. "Because I'm leaving."

Samuel's eyes squeezed shut at the reminder. He was so engulfed in her bubble, that for one stupid moment he'd forgotten that one important, gut-wrenching fact. She was right, she probably shouldn't have said it. Knowing Carla loved him and then losing her again was fate's worst way of tormenting him. But fuck it all to hell, if he didn't want to hear her say it again.

Her confession did make things ten times more painful. But Samuel had heard it, he'd watched as her beautiful mouth formed the words that were now deeply ingrained and ingested in his veins. And he wouldn't change the moment for anything.

Samuel gently started turning around, needing to see her face, her arms dropping from his waist once he was facing her, their eyes meeting head on.

"You are. Not really the best time to finally admit your feelings, is it?" he smiled sadly.

Carla shook her head, eyes lowering. "I'm sorry, Samuel."

Fuck, it broke him when she said that.

"If you ever apologize to me for telling me you love me again, Carla, I won't speak to you for at least a month," he said, only half joking. A desolate wave spiked through him, aware that they probably wouldn't communicate much in the future anyway.

Her lips quirked slightly. "You won't be able to go that long."

Hmm, she knew him too well.

"True." he chuckled lightly, fully aware that his stare was transparently worshiping and adoring. Samuel knew it wasn't their time, it might never be their time. But he was in love with her and Samuel wasn't gonna spend the last two days with her, hiding and denying.

"I love you," he told her, earnest and unwavering.

"I love you too." Carla swallowed, her gaze so bare, so vulnerable, it made his chest ache. The kiss that followed was the softest and slowest they'd ever shared, their lips seemed to push and pull at a relishing pace. Everything was entirely too vibrant, he didn't care how corny it made him, but Samuel's senses were heightened, he could feel everything around him in a much clearer light. He could smell the water, hear every single drop as it cascaded down his spine and onto the stall floor, his eyes were digesting the world differently.

Their embrace was rapidly veering into a passionate crescendo, Samuel's lips were burning and hungry, parting her mouth open for him, his tongue rolling deliriously with hers. 

"I missed you so much," he breathed into her, his emotions making him shiver, pouring out of him openly and unashamedly.

"I love you," she gasped, gripping his hair tightly as his arms clutched at her waist.

Samuel didn't see himself ever getting used to hearing that, each time the profound admission left her lips, it struck him harder and bled into him deeper. It was overwhelming.

You won't even have the chance to get used to it, she's not yours, she never will be, a brutal, truthful voice suddenly blared in his head.

No.

Samuel held her with a fierce need, with possessive intention, his kisses turning desperate and his arms seizing her to him forcefully, trying to suppress his fear. Rotating her around, her back hit the wall, the water now gushing over them both, enclosing them in a world of their own, a world where he got to choose their fate, got to choose their ending, and so they didn't leave that stall until Samuel had showed Carla, in every way he could, just how much he loved her.

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Waking up next to Carla's sleeping figure had made its way to Samuel's top three favorite things quite some time ago. But this time was different, it was peaceful, honest and strangely normal. This time, there were no games, no lies, no pretense. No ulterior motive. 

Carla slept like she did everything else in her life, with elegance and grace. Her body was perfectly still, arms aligned with her waist as her hands rested on her stomach, hair placed impeccably on the pillow. If Samuel didn't know her as well as he did, he would've said she was uncomfortable. But her face was free of worry, utterly calm and relaxed, Samuel smiled, his thumb stroking her cheek gently.

His fingertips slowly slid down her neck, tracing the impossibly soft skin, his hand stopped at her upper breast, gently caressing the tantalizing flesh. Samuel felt his dick hardening considerably, and when Carla shifted in her slumber, he decided to get up before it got too creepy.

After taking a quick shower, he started preparing them something to eat, Samuel was getting a plate for the toast he'd made, when he heard her dainty footsteps behind him.

"Good morning," she said.

"You mean afternoon, I was getting worried there - " Samuel's words caught in his throat at the vision that greeted him when he'd turned around.

Carla was wearing his shirt. She was wearing nothing but his shirt. And it was the hottest she'd ever looked, and that was saying fucking something. Despite all the times they'd had sex and spent the night together, she'd never worn his clothes. Her hair was wet, indicating the shower she must've taken, and she was wearing a clean shirt of his. The image of Carla going through his drawers to get a shirt was so domestic and so unlike them, it caused Samuel's heart to hammer loudly.

"What?"

Samuel couldn't pin-point exactly what it was, but as usual, she was invoking a very primal side of him. His eyes took their time scanning her exposed smooth legs, her taut creamy thighs that he wanted to bury his head in between. Then his grey shirt, loose and big on her but he could still see the outline of her full breasts and hard nipples. He wanted to fuck her while she was wearing his shirt, that wasn't weird, was it?

"You know, for someone who's seen me naked many times, you're drooling like you've just found out about boobs."

Well, that was how he felt.

His eyes flew to hers, lust thrumming through him. "Come here."

"Tsk, tsk. Demanding," she said, strutting toward him. Once she was within reach, Samuel snatched her by the waist, her chest colliding with his harshly as he swallowed her soft gasp with his lips.

"Is it the shirt?" she asked knowingly.

"You wore it on purpose."

"No, what else was I supposed to wear?" she said, batting her eyelashes. "Do you like it?"

He smirked, grabbing her thighs and hoisting her up on the small table in the middle of the kitchen, before stepping between her legs. "I love it. In fact, from now on, you should share my wardrobe."

She tilted her head, mouth curling slightly. "Samuel, I love you, but your clothes are just too plain for me."

She said it so matter-of-fact, so naturally that Samuel almost missed it. He was going to have heart failure at this rate, she was trying to kill him. He groaned lowly, his fingers slotting through her hair and bringing her luscious lips to his.

"And I love you," he husked.

"I know."

"Good. So add a few of my t-shirts to your closet."

Carla laughed melodically, her hands resting for a second on his chest before shoving him back roughly, Samuel couldn't stop his body from stumbling as he hit the counter opposite her. Carla's smile was full of promise as she hopped off the table, stalking towards him seductively. Samuel tried to even his breath when she finally stood right in front of him, her fingers teasing the waistband of his sweats.

"I wouldn't rule it out," she whispered, before dropping to her knees and Samuel chocked on his spit.

"Carla, wh- " he was sure his eyes looked comically wide, his brain was scrambled from the sight alone, Carla peering up at him sultrily. "What are you doing?"

All of Samuel's erotic moments were with her, and while Carla had definitely given him a blowjob before, it was never like this. Never in this position. Never in the middle of his kitchen in broad daylight. Never after lighthearted jokes and professions of love. The first time she had ever done this, Samuel remembered thinking that he was going to die. Happily.

This time was no different, seeing Carla like this, on her knees, caused his throat to go completely dry, his blood was pounding in his ears as his palms gripped the counter behind him for dear life.

Grabbing the top of his sweatpants, Carla slid them down painstakingly slow, taking her time to caress his bulge on the way. Once she saw he wasn't wearing underwear underneath, she looked up at him, eyes filled with desire.

"Carla," he hissed through his teeth, feeling as though his skin was burning from the inside out, his whole body twitching with anticipation, their eyes were steadily connected, making the experience even more sensual.

But then Carla's eyes seemed to focus on her mission to ruin him as she very lightly peppered kisses on his thighs, right next to where he needed her, Samuel's hips jerked in reaction.

"Please, Carla, fuck."

Carla was quiet and deliberate. The naughty, smug smirk on her lips was the only indication she was aware of his desperation.

Finally, her tongue dragged up his length before circling the the tip expertly, Samuel's hips bucked again as he whimpered. Carla's palm gripped him tighter, lips fully wrapping around and sucking the head.

"Shit - fuck!" he groaned loudly, eyes fighting to stay open.

When Carla hollowed out her cheeks and started descending on him slowly, Samuel couldn't stop his hand from sliding through her hair and tugging gently, eliciting a hum from Carla and Samuel's cock to weep from the vibration.

Carla went slow, breathing through her nose as she swallowed every inch down until he bumped the back of her throat, and now Samuel's vocabulary was reduced to only her name. He couldn't look away, despite the need to shut his eyes. Samuel needed her eyes.

Her head started moving at steady pace, her mouth taking him in and out with intensity, while her palm jerked off any part that wasn't blessed with her mouth. Samuel's yanks on her hair weren't so gentle anymore, but Carla didn't seem to mind as she let out a soft moan. Samuel's world spun and collapsed around him, his eyes finally closing as a deep growl left the back of his throat.

"Fuck, Carla."

And just after a few bobs of her head, her tongue licking and sucking with vigor, Samuel was done for. His stomach tightened uncontrollably, his thighs shaking with his impending release.

"Carla, shit...I'm coming," he warned her with a low whine.

Carla's motions only got faster, more determined, making his body quiver with fervor. His eyes glanced down catching hers with unadulterated want, his fingers clutching her hair tightly. Samuel's lower abdomen flexed rapidly, as he grunted gruffly, his orgasm railing over him, unforgiving and unrelenting.

Samuel's flushed body lulled, slumping backwards as he let go of Carla's hair. His eyes glazed and half shut in pleasure, hands back to gripping the counter, unsure if his knees would be able to carry him in the next few minutes.

Carla gently tucked him back into his sweats and the act was just as intimate as what had just transpired between them, and Samuel's insides buzzed with warm affection.

He was vaguely aware of Carla moving about the kitchen. "You okay there, handsome?"

"I don't -" his jaw was almost too relaxed to open itself. "I think you broke my brain."

Carla chuckled heartily. "Wasn't it always broken?"

His head whipped in her direction, feeling himself silently singing with her good mood, playful Carla was something to behold. Samuel slowly straightened up and sauntered toward her.

"What was that?"

"What?" her eyes sparkled at him.

"What did you just say?"

"I say a lot of things."

"The most recent thing," he told her, his arms circling her waist, pulling her closer.

"Your clothes are ugly,"

Samuel squinted at her. "My clothes are amazing, stop lying."

"You do pull them off. . .sometimes."

Samuel's fingers pinched her hips and Carla let out a squeal. "Samuel!"

"What did you say, Carla?"

"Um, you have a lovely penis?"

A huge smile took over his red-tinted face. "No, that is not what you said."

"I was thinking it." she winked.

"Stop being cheeky, Carla,"

"I just gave you a compliment."

"And I thank you very much. Now what did you say?"

"Fine," she sighed dramatically. "I implied you were born with a broken brain."

"And is that true?"

She rolled her eyes. "No."

"That's right. You're the culprit, Carla. My brain was perfectly fine and then you came in and turned it into mush." and he was definitely not just talking about the blowjob.

Her lips gave a crooked, proud grin. "I kinda did."

"Hmm," he confirmed, his nose nudging hers softly. "Now I'd like to break yours."

His lips slammed against hers, tongue slipping inside in search of hers. Samuel hitched his shirt up, his fingers touching the enticingly exposed skin of her stomach, he traced ever line, every inch as their lips devoured each other. Samuel's hand finally reached the place he wanted to ravish the most, aching to taste her.

And his phone chose that moment to blast loudly across the kitchen.

"Aren't you going to answer that?"

"Fuck, no."

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Samuel groaned in annoyance, releasing Carla and reaching for his phone. Once he saw it was an unknown number, he recognized who was the caller and his dick softened instantly.

"Hello, Mom," he greeted, Carla leaving his side.

"Samuel, how are you, honey?"

"I'm good, how's everything with you?"

"We're doing fine, just really wanted to hear your voice."

"It's nice to hear your voice, too, Mom. You're okay, right?"

"Yes, just wanted to make sure you remember our video chat, we'll send you the exact time later, okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

"I can't wait till I can see you face to face, my love," she said, and Samuel could hear her holding back tears.

"Me too."

"And we will. We'll be together again, Samu, things just have to calm down first."

"I know, I understand."

"I love you so much, Samu."

"I love you too."

"Take care of yourself."

"You too. Be safe."

And then his mother's voice was gone, and just like after every phone call, Samuel felt a heaviness settle on his chest as he looked down at the picture on his phone of all three of them, smiling and happy.

Carla came back to her spot next to him, her chin resting on his shoulder, staring down with him. "It's a great picture."

"Thank you."

"One way or another, you'll see them again, Samuel. Trust me," she said so confidently that Samuel couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope.

"I know. One day."

"Soon," she insisted.

He smiled, feeling lighter. "Soon."

Just as he was about to turn to kiss her, his phone dinged with a message from Rebe.

Rebeca: I think it's time we meet up and have ourselves a real chat, kid.

Samuel sighed, looking at the message, he'd missed his friend. He still talked to Rebeca, they weren't as mad at each other anymore, but they were definitely not as close as they used to be. Carla had stilled slightly beside him and Samuel knew she'd read it too. He had an inkling it had something to do with the talk she'd had with Rebe at graduation. Of course Samuel had noticed, no matter how drunk or angry he had been, he'd seen them talk and had taken note of Carla's change in demeanor afterwards.

"You're still not talking?" came Carla's cautious question.

"No, we talk, just not as often as before."

"Samuel, you know it wasn't entirely her fault, I think I would've found a way to get a fix from anyone."

His jaw ticked. "But it was her. She sold it to you."

"Samuel."

"Look, I'm not saying she meant to harm you, but she shouldn't have been selling drugs at all. She'd promised me she'd stop. Valerio stopped, he knew what was going on with you, they both did, and he didn't sell it you. Why did she? Why you?"

"Maybe she wasn't thinking clearly that day."

"What do you mean?"

Carla heaved a breath, shaking her head at him. "She was upset, Samuel. Because of you...and me."

Samuel blinked in confusion. "What are you saying? That she did it just because she was jealous?" he asked incredulously.

Carla simply shrugged.

He could understand Rebe's jealousy and anger, he was a terrible boyfriend to her, but it obviously didn't mean she was justified in selling Carla drugs, it sounded petty to him. "That doesn't make it okay."

"I know. But people do dumb shit when they're heartbroken, Samuel. You know that."

He did. Even if Samuel could never understand why Rebe had thought that giving Carla drugs was going to achieve anything, she was sad and had made a very stupid move.

"Is that what you talked about at graduation?"

Carla's eyes flitted to his in surprise. "What?"

"I saw you talk."

"Yeah, she was just apologizing."

"So nothing else?"

"Nothing important."

 "It seemed like something happened - "

"What is this, Samuel? Are you trying to supervise my conversations or something?"

Samuel narrowed his eyes, there was something Carla wasn't telling him. She was being a bit too defensive.

"Calm down. I'm simply asking if by any chance that conversation had something to do with the fact that one second you looked at me as though you wanted me, and then all of a sudden you were pulling back."

Carla let out a mirthless laugh. "Oh, that might've had something to do with my ex-boyfriend dying, sorry, I wasn't up for fucking you after that."

This was all wrong. The previously tranquil mood had now dispersed completely and it was Samuel's fault. He was curious, that was all, but apparently something he'd said had struck some kind of nerve he was unaware of.

"Carla, why are you angry? I wasn't trying to - I just wanted to know if Rebe had said something to you that. . .listen, it's not important, okay? Let's just Forget it."

Samuel wanted things to delve back into their peaceful state. He wanted to go back to kissing her, they'd had enough fights and she was leaving in less than two days, there was no way they were going to spend it like the last few months.

"We did talk about you," Carla admitted quietly, not looking at him. "she seems to think you'd do anything for me."

"She's not wrong," was Samuel's instant reply.

"I don't think it was meant in the positive sense."

He frowned. "What?"

"You were so willing to take that bottle, Samuel."

"Just as much as everyone else."

"Not only then. Before everything, in the bathroom, you wanted to take it from me."

"What else was I supposed to do? Let you cover up another murder? You're lucky, Carla, but not lucky enough to get away with it twice."

She flinched visibly. "It was my decision to go find that bottle, to help Lu. It had nothing to do with you."

An exasperated sigh left Samuel, Carla was still on the same bullshit as before. How could she still not understand that love came with a price. Everything she did affected him, worried him, encompassed and ensnared him. Everything about her was his business, whether either of them liked it or not. He couldn't fucking help it.

"You involve yourself, you involve me."

Carla's eyes widened. "That is not how it works!"

"It's how it works for me," he bit out.

"Fuck, Samuel," she said tiredly, rubbing her temples in distress. "it's a good thing I'm leaving then."

A whoosh of air was knocked out of him, the implication of her words piercing right through him with cruelty. What was she getting at exactly? That he was so smothering and so insufferable that she was happy to get away from him, or was it something else. It didn't matter. The necessity and the reality of Carla leaving didn't need the connotation of enjoyment. He wanted her to be happy and excited, but that wasn't the case, it felt like she'd been thinking about the whole situation with more than one lens. Her decision might've been made with him in mind.

"Samuel - "

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing," she averted her eyes, gnawing at her bottom lip. "I just - I don't like that you're so ready to cross so many lines for me. That's not you, Samuel. I don't want you to risk your future. . .your life. Awful things happen to anyone close to me, Samuel, I'm always there in the middle of it all, and I don't want you there with me."

At those words, the tremble in her voice, Samuel's wounded heart broke even further. His eyes found hers, and he could feel the weight she was carrying in them. Samuel steadied himself enough to step closer to her.

He cupped her cheeks gently. "I'm there because I want to be."

"No, Samuel - "

"Carla," he cut her off gently. "Listen to me, you're not responsible for my decisions. My wanting to take that bottle from you was because I wanted to protect you. Because I'm in love with you and there's not much you can do about that, is there?" he smiled at her tenderly.

Carla's smile was forced and he could see the gears whirring in her head, and he hated it. Samuel wished he could read her mind, know what was running through it that made her so scared and apprehensive, so he could stop it.

"Carla, of all the things to overthink and worry about, this is not one of them. Please don't tell me you think that you going away is somehow good for me or for the best."

Samuel wanted Carla to be happy, he wanted her to study abroad and experience a new life on her own terms. But not like this, not if she thought, on any level, that he wanted her to leave.

"No, that's not why." Carla smiled reassuringly. "But maybe time away is good. . .for both of us."

A knife twisted in his gut, his heart protesting the idea of Carla being away from him was, in any way, good. But Samuel silenced his bruised soul, because she was right. Their relationship was attached to one horrifying event after the other, it was tainted from the start. They needed to let go and grow into something else, something better.

"Yeah, maybe."

_______________________________________________________

The next day, Samuel was anxiously staring at the clock on the wall for more than one reason. Carla had left shortly after their somber conversation yesterday, she wanted to arrange a few things before leaving and needed to change out of his clothes, which Samuel had been childishly against. After thoroughly feasting on her, he'd finally let her go with the promise of seeing her again the following day.

But now Samuel was looking at the time because the video chat he'd had with his family was supposed to take place ten minutes ago. And Samuel was worried, imagining a hundred different scenarios on what could've gone wrong.

Finally the cracked screen of his old laptop lit up with a message that they were calling, Samuel eagerly accepted the call. He beamed at the faces of his mother and brother, his heart rushing with affection for them.

"Hi, honey!"

"Samu! How are you, little brother?"

"I'm good. Are you guys doing all right?"

"Yes, we're still getting used to everything," Nano said.

"Yeah, the people here are really nice and welcoming." his mother grinned.

"Good. I'm glad."

"Have you been eating well?" his mother asked typically. "You look so thin, sweetheart."

Of course she thought that, Samuel huffed, even though his heart warmed at his mother's concern.

"Yes, Mom, I'm eating well."

"Oh, Samu, I miss you so much." his mother's voice was pained and all he wanted to do was hug her.

"Listen, Samu," his brother started. "We've been talking and Mom will be coming back to Madrid soon."

"Really? What about you?"

"I can handle myself, Samu. I'll be fine."

"So will I. Mom, you agree with this?"

She smiled sadly. "All I want is for all of us to be together. But I don't know when that will happen. And Samu, I need to be with you after everything."

Samuel sighed. "Mom, I'm fine. Both of you will come back soon, okay?"

Nano sent their mother a meaningful look that made Samuel nervous as he observed their silent communication.

"Samu," his mother said abruptly. "I got you a few hoodies that you will love, I'm gonna get them right now."

After she'd left, Samuel dubiously looked at his brother. "What's wrong?"

"Samu." Nano puffed out a long breath. "I don't think - I don't know if I'd ever come back."

"Ever? I thought you just needed time to let the dust settle."

"Yes, but I told you I can't trust those cops, Samu. And I don't know if I want to come back, honestly. The memories can be too much sometimes."

Marina.

Samuel's stomach sank. "I know, trust me. But do you really mean never?"

Nano smiled. "Little brother, we'll see each other again, I promise you that. So this is not forever. I just don't think it'll be soon."

Samuel's eyes lowered with disappointment. "Okay, but Mom should stay with you, Nano."

"No, Samu, you need her. You've been through a lot, kid."

"I'm okay, I swear. You need her more, Nano,"

"Samu, don't argue with me."

"Yes, I will, I'll talk to Mom, she'll see it my way."

"I think I already got to her."

Samuel gave him half a grin. "No, she always listens to me and you know it."

"Why are you all dressed up? You going out?" Nano asked suddenly.

Samuel looked down at his attire, it wasn't necessarily nice. It was just his favorite buttoned down blue shirt. Samuel wanted to take Carla out. A first date. But then they both seemed to decide against it, they couldn't afford not being alone. As much as they both wanted to go out for dinner like Carla once had mentioned, Samuel wanted her to himself, he didn't even want to share her with strangers. So Samuel had suggested to give them their dinner date right here.

Samuel's cheeks heated. "Don't change the subject, Nano."

"I'm not, but you are right now. This is the shirt you wear when you want to impress a girl, Samu."

"What? no it's not!"

"Yes, it is. I bought it with you!"

"I really don't know what you're talking about."

Nano beamed widely. "Ooh, you little shit. There's a girl. Who's the lucky chick?"

Everything halted as Samuel was hit with the reminder of how Nano felt about Carla. He hated her. Samuel's fists curled in anger as he remembered how his brother had attacked Carla at Halloween.

"I don't really think it's any of your concern." Samuel's tone was a dead giveaway to who was the girl in question and he didn't give a shit.

Nano's expression immediately morphed into one of hatred and disgust as he caught on. "Samuel, no."

"Don't, Nano. Just don't."

"Don't what? Knock some sense into you! Samu, that girl is poisonous, she infects everything - "

"Do not talk about her like that! You have no idea who she is."

"I do actually. She's the girl who protected a murderer. Someone who killed her friend! She's a manipulative liar. She's the reason we're not together right now."

"And you have no fucking idea why she'd done all those things! She didn't want to, she had to. So stop, because I won't let you say another word about her."

"I don't need to know why! There's always a choice. Isn't that what you believe, Samu? Not when it comes to her, I assume. She's molded you into what she wants."

A ball of ire was churning inside him, his jaw ticking as he tried to rein in his rage. "What you're insinuating is disgusting. You know nothing about our relationship."

"Relationship?" Samuel could see Nano's bewilderment even through the terrible connection. "Are you kidding me? What kind of sick -"

"Shut the fuck up, Nano."

" - twisted shit is this? You can't believe - "

"I love her, all right? I'm in love with her."

Silence fell over them. Nano's face was one of disbelief and shock. "What? Samu, no you don't, she - "

"What now, you're gonna say she manipulated me into loving her? You know, you're lucky you're not here, Nano." Samuel seethed, unable to hold it in.

"Samuel, calm down - "

"But I guess you'll get what you want anyway. She's leaving. She's going away. So no worries, asshole."

Samuel's devastation was evident on his face, and Nano's features suddenly softened.

"Samuel, I'm sorry, but I don't - "

Samuel wasn't listening to this anymore.

"Tell Mom I'll call her later. We're done here."

And then Samuel slammed his laptop shut. He sighed running a frustrated hand though his hair, he tried taking calming breaths. A part of him understood where his brother was coming from, but it didn't excuse the way he talked about Carla, the way he demeaned her and belittled their relationship. He was an outsider, just like anyone who still didn't fully comprehend the nature of Samuel and Carla together. Samuel himself had a hard time figuring it out and he was a part of it. Whether it made sense or not was never the issue, they just were, they happened, and it was too good to ever question it, and Samuel was too grateful to have her, to wonder why.

Blocking out the dread that had surrounded him, Samuel jumped eagerly to add final touches for his dinner plans with Carla. She was going to be here soon and that was all he needed to focus on. Right on cue, his phone lit up with her name.

Carla : On my way. 10 minutes.

Samuel smiled, looking at the display he'd worked all day on and nodded with satisfaction. This was as decent as he could make it. Quickly going back inside the apartment before Carla arrived, he took a hurried survey of his appearance in the mirror, his fingers anxiously fixing his hair.

He was being irrational, Carla was going to enjoy herself, they both were. No reason to be this nervous. No reason to think about the fact that this was their first and last date. No reason to think about the fact that he wouldn't get a do-over if he fucked it up. No reason to think about her departure from his life.

As thou, Carla or the universe knew that he was about to lose it, Samuel heard the soft sound of her knock.

Swallowing back the nerves, he inhaled sharply before twisting the doorknob open. Carla stood, smiling, arms crossed elegantly, looking as stunning as ever. She wore a beautiful blue dress that reached her mid thighs, it was form-fitting and accentuated her breasts.

"We're matching." she chuckled.

"Huh?" he asked absentmindedly, still dazed as his eyes drank their fill of her.

She gestured between them. "You know, blue."

"Right. Yeah."

She fixed him with a look. "Are you gonna move so I could come inside or...?"

Samuel smiled bashfully. "Sorry, but we're actually not eating inside."

"No?"

"Come with me."

Locking his door, Samuel started ascending the stairs that led to the roof of his building, he could sense Carla's confusion as she followed behind him. Staring at the beige door in from of him, Samuel took a final deep breath before swinging it open wide.

Stepping inside first, he nervously whirled around to observe Carla's reaction, her eyes studying the scene closely.

Samuel had festooned the two walls opposite each other and the thick railing with red and orange twinkling lights. Stems and pedal of daisies and tulips garland the floor, including just a few on the table which had their dinner ready on it. The candles he lit were decorated on four stools around the table in the middle of the roof, encasing it in an atmospheric glow that created a romantic vibe, or so he hoped.

But Samuel had to give a lot of credit to mother nature in that moment, because the moon was full and so clearly visible in the night sky, it only enhanced and amplified everything else below it.

Carla hadn't said anything and Samuel was trying hard not to let it get to him. He was having a very difficult time monitoring his mouth, his lips itching to say something, justify his cheesy actions that were now embarrassing him greatly.

"I know it's dumb and very cliche and overdone. But I just thought it'd be nice."

"Samuel."

"We could just go back inside, that'd be cool."

"Samuel."

"And what's worse, I know that you'd probably had, like, a lot of guys doing this for you."

"Yeah. So it's really nice that this time actually means something."

Samuel's eyes flicked to hers and they were trapped under the fondness of her gaze, the honesty, the love. His stomach flipped tirelessly as he tried to contain the urge to envelope her in his arms and never let her leave.

"Really?"

"It's you. It means a lot," she said, approaching him slowly. "This is great, Samuel. Thank you."

The most beautiful green eyes gleamed at him and Samuel could vividly see himself looking into them for the rest of his life and it still wouldn't be enough. Swallowing the lump lodged in his throat, Samuel kissed her, trying and failing to quiet down his unattainable desires.

"What are we eating?" Carla asked, lifting a perfect brow, letting him know that she already had the answer.

He played along. "What do you think?"

"Uh - I don't know, soup and salad?"

"No."

 "Well, I'm all out of guesses."

"Come along, then." he caught her hand, tugging her forward toward the table. "We're eating - drum roll, please - macaroni!"

"Wow, that is shocking."

"Come on, it's not gonna be that bad."

"I'm not complaining, you're the chef."

"I am, and that's why this is not reheated."

Carla eyed him suspiciously. "Really?"

"Yep. Freshly made and very delicious."

"I'll be judge of that."

"Of course," Samuel smiled, gesturing to another pan on the table. "I also cooked us some healthy chicken."

"Healthy Chicken?"

"Only boiled with minimum salt, princess."

Carla rolled her eyes. "You're an idiot."

Samuel watched as Carla's fork found her mouth, her eyes widened a little, a surprised grin pulling at her lips.

"So what's the verdict?"

"Mmm, definitely surpassed my expectations."

"I Told you, next time you'll be amazed. I was right." Samuel couldn't stop smiling.

"Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say amazed," she teased.

"You're blown away and you know it."

"Blown away, am I?

"Yep. Now try the chicken."

She shook her head in amusement, grabbing a piece of chicken and taking a very small bite.

"Oh, Samuel." she grimaced.

"That bad?"

"You should stick to macaroni, which by the way, you still need to work on."

"It can't be that bad," Samuel defended, gulping down a bite of the boiled chicken himself. Oh. Oh, no, that did not taste right.

Samuel still managed to keep the cringe off of his face. "See? Delicious, went right down," he said with a short cough.

Carla cocked her head to the side. "Really? So no need to throw it back up?"

"Nope," he said, clearing his throat. "Best chicken I've ever had."

"Samuel, I'm pretty sure there's still blood in it."

"No, there's not," he said, examining the piece of chicken in front of him closely. "That's just sauce."

Carla laughed. "What sauce? You didn't use any!"

"You know, the natural sauce of chicken!"

Carla laughed harder and Samuel let his own joy out to join hers as they both guffawed over the atrocity before them.

"Okay, sorry, this is just horrible."

"It is. And don't be sorry, macaroni is all we need anyway," she said, eating another fork of said food with a smile.

A tingling sensation erupted all over his skin. "Yeah, should've known that nothing beats macaroni."

Carla regarded him thoughtfully. "You genuinely love it, don't you? It's like, your favorite food. You eat it all the time, you even bring it to school."

"I mean, yeah," he said, scratching his chin. "I think it's always been my favorite."

"Can I ask when did the love affair start?"

Samuel chuckled. "Uh, early childhood. I think it's because of my mom, she's not the best cook, but she always knew how to make a mean macaroni. That was what she'd always made for me and Nano when we were kids, and we used to hate it at the time.

"But then we learned to appreciate it. Mom was doing her best and at one point she worked two jobs to support us and had almost no time to do anything else for us. But she'd always made time to make macaroni and leave it in the fridge for us. Hence, why I actually love it reheated."

Samuel paused, smiling. "It's nostalgia, really. Whenever I eat it I just feel like I'm home, and I'm always transported back to all the times I came home after school and she wasn't there and it sucked, but then I'd find her macaroni in the fridge. She was thinking of me and that was enough, it made me feel loved."

Samuel stopped when he realized he was babbling, glancing at Carla out of the corner of his eyes shyly, to find that hers were glistening with tears.

"I'm sorry, Samuel."

"For what?"

"It's my fault they're not here."

"Carla, don't start that."

"You'd be together right now, if I had just stuck by the truth and testified."

Samuel sighed, hating the direction the conversation was headed, Nano's words still ringing in his ears. "Carla, you were protecting your family."

"And I shouldn't have. They were wrong. I was wrong. None of this would've happened, Samuel. Do you realize that?"

"Carla, they couldn't even find the murder weapon, your testimony probably wouldn't have mattered anyway."

Carla rose from her chair and Samuel instantly followed as she briskly walked to the railing overlooking the street.

"I shouldn't have lied, Samuel. A lot of things would probably be different right now. Your brother would be free and your family would be put back together. Polo would probably be in prison and not dead." she nearly chocked out the words.

Samuel couldn't handle the pain in her voice, his hand squeezing her shoulder and turning her to face him. Her eyes were haunted with guilt and sorrow, and Samuel was willing to do anything to never see that look in her eyes again.

"Carla, please don't. You'll drive yourself crazy thinking like that. It's done. It's over. What ifs could destroy you if you let them. Okay, you did what you had to - "

"God, Samuel," she interjected with agitation. "Don't excuse me. Don't make it seem like your life wasn't wrecked because of me. From the fucking start. I knew who did it while your brother rotted in jail."

"Jesus, Carla. Stop." why was she doing this? Samuel's lungs filled with anxiety as she spat out her burdens.

"No, Samuel, you stop. And just accept the truth of what I'd done. You should hate me."

"I don't." Samuel gritted his teeth. "I could never hate you. How can you say that to me? After everything."

"Samuel -"

"Enough, Carla. Whatever you wanna say, I don't care. That's always been my problem with you, I just don't care."

She gaped at him. "What?"

"I know, Carla. You don't need to tell me, I fucking know. You don't have to recite the details of every bad thing you'd done. I know and I obviously don't care. I've never cared."

Before she could open her mouth to respond, his palms grasped her cheeks, forcing her to look into his eyes. "It won't change the way I feel about you. Nothing can."

"That doesn't mean you excuse it."

"I'm not excusing it. I'm saying that I understand, that I know you were scared and you did what you were forced into thinking was the best for your family, you were protecting them, and yes I hated it. But there's this really delightful concept called empathy."

"No, Samuel -"

"Shut up," he interrupted impatiently, capturing her lips.

"Samuel." she breathed against his lips. "Please just let me say sorry, don't tell me you understand or it's all right. Just let me apologize, okay?"

He smiled softly. "Okay."

She drew in a long breath. "I'm sorry, Samuel. I'm so sorry."

"I know, Carla. I'm sorry too."

The atmosphere shifted. Everything suddenly felt final. An end. This was what it was.

Samuel's chest thudded with sadness, because they were ending a chapter of their story. And the only problem was, there were no new chapters on the horizon, no new beginnings for them. It seemed they'd reached the last chapter of the book. 

_______________________________________________________

Her blond locks flailed around her in waves as he twirled her back into his chest. The soft sound of the smooth, groovy guitar travelling to their ears as they swayed to it in the middle of his bedroom.

Samuel was immensely enjoying dancing with the definition of beauty in front of him, if he could, he'd dance with her until they dug his grave. But his heart knew he was delaying the sex part of their evening, because Samuel knew it was the last time, felt it in his bones. She felt it too.

Samuel couldn't look away from her, he never could, but tonight there was a fearful tick in the way his eyes followed her. And he tried to keep it at bay and focus on the good. The moment, this moment, she was right in front of him and his eyes were hungrily snapping mental images to store in his memories. It was disorienting to think about a future where he was going to look back at this moment and what, smile, feel sad, nostalgic?

"What was your very first impression of me?"

Her question startled him back into focus. "Uh, I didn't really know you enough to form an impression."

She wound her arms around his neck. "I know that. I just meant, from afar, before you got to peek behind the curtain, what did you think of me?"

Hot, rich, spoiled, reckless. But beyond that, Samuel didn't pay much attention to her until after Marina's death.

"Don't do that. Tell me what you're thinking."

"Do you really wanna know?"

"Absolutely. I know it's not good."

"Fine. I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

Carla smiled. "Easy. First time I saw you, I thought you were quite handsome, in a broody sort of way."

"Really?" his arms pulled her closer.

"Yeah, but honestly I forgot about you pretty quickly after that."

"Hey!"

She laughed, shrugging. "It's the truth."

Samuel rolled his eyes. "Well, same here. First time I saw you, the usual things ran through my mind, gorgeous and rich."

"Hmm, and you didn't like Christian being with Polo and I."

He paused, she said it with conviction and Samuel remembered the few times they'd all fought with Christian about the company he'd kept with Polo and Carla.

Samuel's eyes lowered. "That doesn't count as first impression, though." he tried feebly.

She half-grinned. "I get it. We had an unhealthy arrangement, the three of us."

Samuel felt a bile rise in his throat, irrational jealousy inflaming his stomach as he remembered Carla's past affairs.

"I don't want to talk about that," he said sternly, his lips enveloping hers roughly.

"Noted," she said after drawing back. "how about the first time you decided to get close to me. What were your thoughts of me then?"

"Carla, you know what I thought."

"No, no," her hypnotic gaze speared him, her voice turning husky. "The inner bad thoughts, handsome, the ones that made you kiss me."

His attraction to her. His fascination. Samuel gulped.

"I was equally enraged and enthralled by you," he said gravelly.

She hummed airily, sending a tingle down his spine. "Go on."

"As you know, I looked through your Instagram. And I found myself staring at your pictures - a lot."

Her eyes twinkled mischievously, smirking. "A lot? Like, when you pleasure yourself?"

That earned her a nip on the hip. "Maybe." he grinned, his cheeks burning.

"Samuel!" She laughed loudly. "hmm, Interesting."

"Do you want me to continue or not?"

"Sorry, carry on."

He sighed. "And then at the funeral, you were trying to look unaffected. But I could see the guilt and sadness in your eyes."

"Yeah? You didn't even know me."

His lips curled in remembrance. "You said that then, too. But for some reason, I could just see you - feel you."

Carla's nose brushed his cheek, her breath fanning over him, and his skin fluttered. "And then we went for drinks, and you were so straight forward with your questions."

"Well, you're too smart for that shit, we'd never really talked before, so I just cut to the chase."

Her mouth skated over his jaw, purposely avoiding his lips, and Samuel wanted to moan in frustration. "And then the kiss. Why did you kiss me?"

"Don't act like you weren't seducing me, Carla," he told her breathlessly, bunching her dress in his hands, and holding her close, something stuttering in his chest.

"Hmm, maybe I was," she murmured into his ear, taking his earlobe into her mouth and sucking. A shock-wave of desire shot up his insides. "So I distracted you and it worked. Was that it?"

No, that wasn't it. There had been an animalistic urge, something he'd never felt before. It was gravitational, a burning curiosity that had needed to be fed.

The titillating melody in the background throbbed in his system, making everything more lustrous. His breathing was ragged and panting, and fuck, he wanted to fuck her right now.

"I'd never been so forward, I was always a mess when it came to the opposite sex. I'd never done something like that, But something about you... just brought it out of me. And you were so close, I could feel you pressed against me. So beautiful, so sinful."

He paused to exhale, his voice hoarse with arousal, Carla's lips now above his. "I - I had to kiss you. It was this confusing mix of anger and desire, I needed to taste y- "

Samuel was silenced by her trembling lips. The tension swelling and magnifying and they moved slowly within it, absorbing it in sync and harmony. Despite Samuel's fears of the aftermath, he managed to shut it down, so he could drown himself in her.

Their lips hardly edged away from each other, they kept finding the other, kissing hard and long.

Samuel pulled back only slightly, so his eyes could appraise her fully, his breath hitching from the explosive want within him, he could barely breathe from the ache to have her. His fingers pried under the hem of her short dress, wanting nothing but to reach her most intimate part.

But Samuel was going to take his time, his hands sliding back up her body, till they were fondling her breasts and causing Carla to let out a sexy moan, further hardening his already very stiff length. Carla was a sensual lover, but she was also a controlled one, quiet and collected, always leaving you wanting more. Samuel prided himself in making her vocal during sex, he took it as a challenge to elicit such arousing sounds from her, he wore it like a badge of honor. And tonight he was hoping to make her scream.

They helped each other removing their clothes, shoving the unwanted garments off. Samuel softly guided her back on the bed, lying flat over her and crushing their mouths together. Curving his arm around her waist, Samuel brought her closer, his lips leaving hers to descend down her heavenly skin, sponging open mouthed kisses all over her. His mouth finally covering her breast, sucking the sensitive area greedily.

"Samuel."

Her breathy gasp jolted him to the core, his heart was racing dangerously, experiencing all too much. His mouth continued appreciating the magical creature under him, kissing along her skin. Worshipingly, he trailed down the valley of her breasts, licking and biting his way to her navel. Samuel was on fire as he gazed at her, his lips grazing her thighs as he grabbed onto the underside to spread them apart and teasing her with feather kisses.

Reaching her dripping heat, Samuel inhaled deeply, relishing her sweet scent; before burying himself in it, his tongue flattened against her folds and dragged up and down in a sluggish manner, causing Carl's back to arch off the bed with a groan.

Samuel felt a desperate need in the pit of his stomach, a need that would never be sated, his love for the woman before him scorching his skin. His tongue flicked her sensitive clit, swirling around it before devouring it in his mouth, slowly he let a finger find her opening and curl inside, hitting that spot.

"Ah, fuck."

Carla's hand tangled in Samuel's hair, tugging at his head urgently, Samuel's heart rate accelerated as he hummed against her center eagerly. A second finger joined the first, as his mouth worked on her joyfully. He licked and sucked and fingered to his heart's content, possessed by a heady strong need to drive her closer and faster to the edge. Samuel was beyond aroused from her taste, the sounds she was making, that he almost felt like he was about to lose control without even touching himself.

Samuel glanced up as Carla bucked her hips, eyes closed as his tongue and fingers pushed her off the cliff. Starting to squirm on the bed, her pussy tightened around his fingers, surrendering to her pleasure with a sob of release.

Samuel gently moved his way back over her body, pecking her flushed skin lightly. They were both breathless as she tilted her head once he reached her face, seeking his lips, her kiss tasted sweet and loving. Her palm tenderly caressed his cheek, Samuel leaning into her warm touch.

He grasped the back of her knees, and held his breath. The moment felt delicate, precious and almost fragile, her gaze encompassing his heart and mind and soul completely and irrevocably. Their mouths hovered, sharing shaky breaths as he entered her slowly.

His eyes closed at the euphoric sensation, oxygen leaving both of them entirely, as he sank deeper and deeper until she was filled to the brink, and then he stopped, savoring that overwhelming, indescribable satisfaction.

"God, Carla," he groaned, easing himself all the way out, then thrusting back in harshly. Carla moaned loudly, closing her eyes as she met his hips. And with one upward thrust and maneuver of her hips, Carla impelled Samuel on his back.

His eyes hot, raw, and dark with carnality as he stared at her. Her hair wild and untamed around her shoulders, the dim lighting of the room casting a dizzying glow on every curve of her body, and his mouth hung open in awe. Up and down his cock, she fucked him, her breasts bouncing. And Samuel was entranced, captivated, owned, as she rode him into oblivion.

With a guttural, throaty growl, Samuel sat up, clutching her waist, his mouth attacking a pebbled nipple, eliciting a loud moan from Carla, and he felt it all the way down to his toes. One swift move from him and she was on her back again, he grabbed onto her ankles, plunging in deeper, feeling her muscles clench and contract around him.

"Fuck, Carla, you - you're everything," he rasped, his voice almost unrecognizable, rocking in and out of her, and grinding his teeth as a high-pitched cry escaped Carla's lips.

Everything was in overdrive, causing tremors to travel over both of them almost painfully. His eyes were unable to leave her face, frantically tracing and memorizing every single inch of her features.

Samuel ground himself harder into her, kneading her breast harshly before swallowing her gasp into his mouth, his lips sucking hers ravenously. Every memory they'd ever shared was in the forefront of his mind, brutalizing his emotions into a sweeping, vast field that held nothing but him and Carla. Their love, their passion, their bond. They were ineffable and frightening, and Samuel had no idea how the fuck was he going to live Without her.

Carla broke away from his lips with a moan, and Samuel took pleasure in showering her neck with wet, needy kisses. She drove him insane, running her hands up and down his back and onto his ass, urging him deeper.

"Oh, Samuel," she breathed into his neck, before taking the flesh into her mouth. Samuel clasped the back of her head, needing her mouth back on his as his hips quickened, picking up speed feverishly.

"I love you so much," his voice was devoted and raw against her lips, Her nails digging into the nape of his neck deliciously as she returned his faithful confession.

He couldn't hold back any longer, he tried so hard to make this last, to stop time. But Samuel couldn't stop time and they were both falling rapidly. Their mouths gaping and meeting sloppily, messily, as they pummeled toward a blissful abyss. It crashed onto both of them mercilessly, both moaning loudly as waves upon waves of ecstasy whirled and shook their worlds apart.

Their eyes shut, arms clutching each other desperately, their lips restlessly moving and that was when it dawned on Samuel, the silent tears that had dampened their cheeks. But nothing was said, they just held on.

And the night carried on with their bodies attached, whispering declarations of love and promise as they lost themselves in each other, over and over again.

_______________________________________________________

They'd come to a silent agreement that he wouldn't be escorting her to the airport. Carla was going home to take care of a few final details before she was off, and then she would be gone. Samuel wouldn't be able to see her tomorrow. He didn't know when he was going to see her again. If he was ever going to see her again.

One day, maybe. Someday in the far future.

Ah, one days and somedays. Such consoling, yet disquieting abstractions. Someday - it gave Samuel such contradicting thoughts, it was naive, but comforting in a way that made him not as sad. But it didn't change anything. Because that day was not today, it wasn't tomorrow or next month or next year. That day was an unknown, unsolvable variable, and it was going to taunt his every waking and sleeping moment.

Carla was adorning his entryway, her eyes quiet and disconnected, he would've commented on it, if he weren't sure that his eyes held the same distance. Samuel didn't want their last few minutes to be spent like this - uneasy and uncaring. Samuel still felt it pulsing within him, the need to protect himself from this non-stop emotional hell, and he could see it in Carla too. They stood there, both trying to make their goodbye less painful, less Important. Less life-altering.

They'd also come to another unspoken understanding. They weren't gonna say it. They hadn't uttered those three words since they had been intertwined and consumed by each other for the last time.

The thought of not touching her again was enough to make Samuel crumble in front of her. But he didn't, he couldn't. Instead he smiled softly, edging his body slightly nearer to hers, afraid to close anymore inches between them, her proximity always a danger to his self-control.

"I don't know what to say," he said quietly. How do I say goodbye to you? I wish you could stay, please stay, there's so much we could be. 

"What to say?" she sighed, lips pursed in consideration. "see you later. . .no, too casual, right?"

Her weak attempt at lightening the mood fell flat and tense.

"Yeah. maybe we could go with see you soon. Nah, too unrealistic, right?"

There was a slight edge to his voice that Samuel didn't like, that he didn't want Carla to hear. Fuck, he had to be stronger than this. Carla was about to embark on her own path, finding herself without all the toxicity that had been in her life. She was going to university like any other fortunate human being. It was expected, it was normal and Samuel was happy for her.

"Yes, a little." she sent him half a smile, nerves present in her tone. "How about - will you visit?"

Samuel had been first in asking her that. Because he was desperate for a sprinkle of hope. he wanted to be able to pretend that they could have a long-distance thing, that maybe they could fly out every month to each other. But Samuel knew that was hardly an option, he didn't have the money, he didn't even have a passport yet, he couldn't travel over to be with his family. Visiting Carla was a pipe dream.

"Will you?" was his dodgy reply. Because if there were any chance he got to see Carla sooner than he believed, it was her visiting him.

Something in her eyes told him, she could read his train of thoughts. Her lips curled in wistful smile. "Of course. After all, Madrid is my home, I'll miss it too much not to."

Her words suspended in the air, neither of them saying anything for a while, giving Samuel time to breathe. Carla was about to walk out his door forever, for all he knew. And anxiety pooled in his stomach so tight, he could throw up. She was about to leave.

Samuel was so caught up in his thoughts, he didn't notice that Carla had moved much closer to him, until her scent wafted its way around him, blanketing him in its warmth.

Samuel was drowning as his eyes linked with hers, her palm darting up to caress his cheek. For the first time since it had all started with Carla, Samuel didn't want her to kiss him. Because he knew for a fact he'd break down, and he wouldn't be able to bring himself to let her go. Samuel was barely holding himself together, if he got to taste her again now, he wouldn't be able to stop.

As though she knew, Carla very gingerly brushed her lips on his forehead, triggering Samuel's breath to shorten as she rested her mouth there for a minute; before finally moving her forehead to settle against his own.

"How about I say this." she paused, so close to his mouth, he felt his fists clench, trying to curb his need to diminish the distance between their lips. "When we see each other again, I hope we're both in a better place in our lives, I hope you'll be with your family, finally at peace, living your life to the fullest as Madrid's most successful justice-warrior lawyer."

Samuel chuckled softly, his heart constricting painfully at the picture she painted, because she wasn't in it. "doesn't sound too bad."

"No, it doesn't," she replied gently, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

"And I hope," Samuel started, his voice weak and strained and woeful. "If we see each other - whenever we find each other again - I hope I find you happy."

"I hope I find you happy too."

Samuel didn't know if they were just words they were saying to each other to make it somehow easier. Because he only wanted to be happy with her. But his mouth remained shut as he tried to absorb these last minutes with her.

Samuel's fists finally gave up the fight, unclenching and roughly yanking Carla to him, his head buried in her neck trying to inject her scent into his veins. Their arms wrapping around each other so tightly, it felt like they were never letting go.

After a minute or an hour, Samuel didn't know nor did he care. Carla began to pull back and his arms instinctively tightened around her, trying to keep her just a little longer. But thankfully he shook himself out of it and released her slowly. They stared at each other, both of their eyes holding back tears, mouths not saying anything. No more words were needed.

Carla nodded her head slightly, as if to say 'this is it'. And then light as a feather, she floated to his front door, turning the knob, swinging it open. She stopped. Samuel was silently begging her to say it - say something, but his head was screaming at her simultaneously to just go and spare him the additional pain.

And Carla listened to it, without one more word or one more glance, she was gone.

The light click of the door shutting after her, thundered through his body viciously, making Samuel gasp loudly as he finally let the tears stream silently.

"Fuck," he whispered brokenly to the hauntingly empty house. Samuel felt a sudden sharp need for his mother, wanting her to wrap him up in her arms, to reassure him that he was going to be okay, it was all going to pass. He needed his mother so badly and she wasn't here.

No one was here.

Samuel angrily wiped at his tears. Anger. He welcomed the familiar emotion, it was better than this hollowing sadness that was threatening to take over him and never leave.

Plopping down on the couch, he grabbed his phone, only to find it open on one of the pictures they had taken together in the last few days. With his heart in his throat, Samuel sifted through them and before he knew it, he was sitting there browsing through the images again and again.

He was so fucking tired of losing her.

He stopped on one particular picture, where both of them happened to be looking at each other and not the camera, he remembered taking that picture vividly, his arm outstretched, smiling, turning to Carla to find her looking back at him. So lovingly, it took his breath away. And Samuel was lost, he could see it now in this picture, all over his face, how Carla had complete ownership of his heart - of his entire being.

They never had the chance to actually be together. That was what hurt the most, what could've been. They fell hard and fast and unexpected. They loved each other but they never had time to explore it, enjoy it, savor it.

Is it better to have loved and lost or to never have loved at all? 

Well, Samuel knew one thing with unshakable and absolute certainty, he could never, would never, regret what he'd had with Carla. The memories were irreplaceable and untouchable and they were his. She had been his, for however short amount of time, Carla had been his and Samuel had been hers. And losing her might never stop hurting, but Samuel wouldn't trade what they had for the world.

Was there destiny and fate? If Marina hadn't died would they have even found each other? Samuel couldn't think of a world where he didn't love her. Even if the events of their lives had been different, someway and somehow, they would've been brought together.

And they had found each other, so maybe they could again.

An alternate universe. A different reality and future, maybe they'd had made it. Or maybe even this universe, this future, they could one day have each other again.

Silly and stupid thoughts. But in that moment, Samuel needed them to survive. He needed to believe in these notions, even if just to stifle his anguish and despair, and save his currently lost soul. So he let them in to flicker life back into his heart. It was naive and a little pathetic, but maybe, just maybe, there was a time, in this life or another, in which they could reunite.

Because Samuel had always felt it, and even in his heartbroken, cynical state, he could still feel it.

They were inevitable.

_______________________________________________________

A/N:

It’s over! I hope you liked it!

Thank you so much to anyone who's ever given this any kind of support, reading, liking, or reblogging. And thank you so much to the people who replied or sent me an ask to give feedback, and took the time to write something, you kept me going. I hope you know how much it means to me, you're the best!

Once again, thank you all so much and please stay safe!

#samucarla #carmuel #carla x samuel #samuel x carla #carla roson #samuel garcia #elite

[always-and-forever-a-killjoy]

Coming, Coming Home Chapter 3 (Except it’s actually called Building Home now)

Hello fuckers so I impulsively changed the name of my big fic because I have Plans for the title coming home so now it’s called building home, but it’s still the same fic. Also here’s chapter 3 please read the warnings and if you spot any typos lmk because I wrote this late at night.

Also! The last chapter title was from i hope ur ok by noll! The POV for this chapter is White Lily, which makes it officially the first chapter from the POV of an original character, so I hope you enjoy!

Title: Building Home

Chapter Title: The day it was suddenly real

Chapter Wordcount: 3404

Chapter Summary:

Cherri Cola arrives home. Wounds are stitched, impulsive decisions are made, and no one is especially okay.

Warnings: Needles, blood, injury, fairly frank discussion of death and child death. (If you want to know what parts to skip, go to the end notes on AO3- I also put a brief summary of any important info in those parts. Stay safe!)

Taglist: @wishiwasthemoon-tonight @sleevesareforlosers @stressed-depressed-emo-mess @tasteofamnesia @dagger-queen​ @no-braincells-here @piratecherricola (message me, send an ask, or reblog/reply to one of my posts if you want to be added or removed)

AO3 Link

Chapter 1 AO3 Link

Chapter 1 Tumblr Post

Chapter 2 Tumblr Post

(Actual fic under the cut)

Lily looked up as Cherri stumbled into the house, pressing a hand to his side and wincing. She and D had gotten back a few minutes ago, finding their mission for the day discouraging and hopeless. D was off upstairs somewhere, she thought, and she was nursing a cup of ‘tea’, which was something more approximating warm water with a little bit of some sort of dried leaf they had found in the kitchen cabinets boiled in it. They were both pretty sure it was actually parsley, but Lily insisted it was ‘minty enough’. It wasn’t as if they had anything else for tea. She would have gotten something to eat as well, but they were mostly out and they would need enough left for dinner and tomorrow’s breakfast.

So, in short, it had been an incredibly shitty day and it was about to get even worse. Given that Cherri proceeded to pass out on their floor.

Lily swore under her breath and set down her cup, hurrying over to the younger killjoy. “Cherri?”

No reply. She crouched next to the other and gently turned him over, sucking in a sharp breath at how much blood covered his side. “Cherri! D, get down here! Quickly! And bring the med kit!”

D came hurrying in a few seconds later, grabbing the first aid kit off the wall as he did. “What’s going on, Lil- Cherri!”

Lily grabbed the kit from him and dug around for the disinfectant, swearing under her breath all the while. In her opinion, there were times that called for generous usage of the word fuck, and this was one of them.

“Cher, wake up,” Lily whispered as she cleaned the wound, trying futilely to wipe away the blood so she could see.

Cherri jerked under her hands, eyes blinking open. “D- Lil- you have to go.”

“Go where?” D asked gently. It was clear Cherri wasn’t going to let them help until he passed on whatever he was going to say, so Lily let D talk.

“Go- just. Just go somewhere. They know about the radio station- bli, they’re coming to hunt us down soon. They know Lil’s in Zone Four.”

D and Lily exchanged glances.

“Go pack our stuff,” Lily told him. “I’ll take care of Cher.”

D nodded to her and hurried upstairs as she threaded the needle with hands that shook more than she wanted to admit. “Okay, Cherri, I need you to be brave. This is going to hurt like a bitch.”

“Got it.” Cherri’s teeth were clenched. 

Lily started the first stitch, trying not to flinch as Cherri gave a tiny yelp of pain. “It’s going to be okay, only a few more stitches, okay?”

She got a tiny nod and another hiss of pain in response. Every pained noise cut at her heart, but she couldn’t let Cherri lose too much blood. Only the Phoenix Witch knew how much he had lost already. So Lily put in careful stitch after careful stitch, pausing to clean the needle occasionally.

“What happened, Cher?” 

“Went to- went to raid a supply truck.” He sucked in a breath as Lily tied off the next stitch. “Exterminator was altered by the clap. Found me and shot me.”

“How the hell did you get away?” D was returning from the upstairs with almost everything they owned neatly packed away, getting ready to pack up any stuff in the living room that they’d be able to take. 

“They-“ he winced. “They let me go. Threatened me, told me to tell you two that you wouldn’t win.”

Lily glanced at D again and found that the concern in his eyes mirrored her own. “Okay, you’re all sewed up, Cherri. Let’s go out to the van.”

Cherri tried to get up, but D pushed him down firmly. “Absolutely not, you’re barely even stitched up. I’ll carry you out.”

“Fine.” Cherri didn’t resist as D picked him up, following Lily outside. She watched to make sure everything went smoothly as they set him down on the small nest of blankets and other soft things Lily had thrown together, then headed to the front. By the time D had settled next to their youngest crew member, she was already in the drivers’ seat, getting ready to take them away from here. 

Lily thought she heard Cherri mutter something about ‘I’m not a child’, but he was curled up and fast asleep within minutes as she stepped on the gas. 

And meanwhile, Dr. Death Defying made his way back up to the front of the van carefully, sliding into shotgun. 

“Feels real now,” Lily said as her best friend settled next to her. She was still carefully steering them down the road, trying not to bump too much and wake up Cherri.

“We knew the consequences from the start.” D’s voice was businesslike, but Lily could hear the strain of worry behind it.

“We did. We’ve seen enough death to know it could happen to us.” She didn’t take her eyes off the road. “But it feels more real when it’s Cher who got hurt.”

“He’s so young,” D agreed. Their voice had softened and grown quieter.

“He is. God, I know he’s hardly younger than we were when we were shipped off to fight, but he’s still a child, D.”

“I know, Lil.”

“He’s so small. So young. And he’s got that way about him like there’s kindness behind the pain. Who put him in this war? Who let him be one of our little rebel soldiers? He should be….”

“Happy,” D finished for her. “Safe. Not going head-to-head with exterminators and helping run a radio station.”

“Exactly.” Her voice shook more than she would have liked. “Are we doing the right thing, D? Can we justify letting children fight a war we know we might not win?”

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. 

“It’s not like we can stop them from fighting, but sometimes I question if we should encourage them,” Lily went on. “So many of them are going to die, D.”

“That’s how war is. We know that.”

"We learned it well.” She knew her laugh was a little bit bitter. “It’s still not right, though.”

“No, it’s not. But we’re not fighting for nothing. There’s a future without Better Living, and we have to fight for that. Fight for it with everything we’ve got.”

Lily sighed. “I guess you’re right. I don’t like it, but we don’t have a choice now. Got ourselves into this mess, I guess we better get ourselves out of it.”

“That’s the spirit,” D said dryly.

“You think we should send Cher away?” It was an abrupt subject change, but that was what had been hovering in her mind as she and D debated morality. “He’s going to get hurt a lot by being with us.”

“He’s going to get hurt either way. He wasn’t even with us today when he got hurt, and the exterminator didn’t sound like they recognized him. Cherri is reckless, we both know. He’s going to get hurt.”

“And it’s not like he would listen if we tried to send him away anyways.”

“That too. He would stick to us like superglue.”

Lily took her eyes off the road briefly to glance back at Cherri, who was still curled up tightly as they bumped along. Even when he slept, there was a slight bit of guardedness to him, unwilling to fully stretch out. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

“Me too.”

-

They hadn’t known where they were going when they packed up and left the house, only knowing that they needed to get out, but a plan started to form in White Lily’s mind as they headed down the road. D didn’t question her, seemingly absorbed in his thoughts as he stared out the window, and Cherri was passed out from a combination of blood loss and not sleeping well for a while. Ever, really. Lily didn’t think he had slept through the night since he arrived- he rarely actually woke one of them up, but she was up on her own often enough when he would be awake and bumping around. So even without the ray gun wound, he definitely needed sleep.

Lily turned them off the path they had been following, pulling up in a somewhat intact town. They were parked in front of the most intact house, an almost Victorian style home with sturdy walls. This was where Lily knew she could find an old friend, of sorts. 

Autumn Assassin was somewhere between twenty-five and thirty years old, about five foot four, and utterly and completely terrifying. They were the best shot with a ray gun she had ever met, with the possible exception of Cherri, and could use a variety of other weapons with startling ease. They were also terrifyingly competent at cooking and keeping organized, and hadn’t put up with anyone’s shit in living memory. Lily had served with them for a time in the Helium Wars, and that brief service together was enough to give her a healthy respect for them. 

“Where are we?” D asked, finally seeming to come out of their thoughts.

“An old friend’s house." Lily headed into the back, grabbing one of the bags as D lifted Cherri carefully. She led the others up to the door of the old and mostly intact house, knocking once she had finished laughing at the ‘House of Soup’ spray-painted next to the door. 

Said door was opened by an unfamiliar killjoy with messy blond hair. “Hello, what can I do for you?”

“I need to talk to Autumn Assassin, do they still live here?”

“Sure do!” There was a loud crash and some yells from within the house. “I’ll get them in uhhh a second. HEY AUTUMN! WE NEED YOU UP HERE!”

A few more yells followed that, as well as one or two more crashes. “Now put that sword down or so help me!” The familiar tiny killjoy appeared at the door, putting their hands solidly on their hips. “So what is it, Princey?”

“These fine ‘joys showed up on our doorstep and asked to see you.”

“Ah. White Lily!”

“Hey, Autumn Assassin. You don’t happen to have a spare room, do you?”

Autumn Assassin looked them up and down, eyes raking over D’s tired face, the bits of blood splattering all of them, and Cherri passed out in D’s arms. “Of course I do.”

Lily breathed a tiny sigh of relief as the smaller killjoy hurried them inside. The interior of the house proved to be quite cozy, a nice living room outfitted with a verity of mismatching and likely stolen or scavenged furniture. There were also a variety of killjoys lounging around the living room and/or draped over said furniture, laughing and calling back and forth to each other as Autumn Assassin led the three of them further inside and up the stairs.

They turned left on the landing, opening the door to what had once been a bedroom, clearly. “Here you go, this is the best free room in the house, currently. We might even have an extra mattress laying around, you’ll have to give me a second to find it through.” They rummaged around in the closet of the room for a few minutes. “Ah! Here we go!”

It was a larger mattress than one would reasonably expect to fit in a closet, but Autumn Assassin had managed to cram it in there anyways, it appeared. They hauled it out and laid it across the floor of the fairly bare room. “Here you go.” 

“Thank you,” Lily said gratefully as D set Cherri down. 

“Of course. Now come tell me about your friends and how you came to be here, I’ve got to cook dinner but you can come downstairs with me.”

“I’ll wait with Cherri,” D told Lily. “He’ll probably not be very happy about waking up alone in a strange place.”

Lily nodded and so did Autumn as they tromped downstairs, shouldering past another killjoy to reach the kitchen. “And here we go, pass me that can of power pup, would you?”

Lily handed it to them. “So you’ve been living here…”

“Couple of months now, me and the brit boys settled down here first and then we acquired a couple of other friends along the way. It’s a safehouse of sorts, we give a room to anyone who needs one.”

“Gotcha.”

“So how did you come to be here with an injured teenager and that other guy?”

“That other guy is Dr. Death Defying, my friend from my very first squadron. And the teenager is Cherri Cola, a random killjoy who came to live with us after he accidentally stumbled on our house while looking for shelter.”

“Seems legit.” They were stirring a pot of power pup with a few other things thrown in. “So how did you end up here?”

“You know 109 WKIL?”

“The radio station? Of course I do.”

“We run that, you might know, and so Better Living Industries has been trying to track our signal. Cherri went out and got hurt in a clap with an exterminator, and the exterminator told him that they were close to finding WKIL, so we had to leave home in a hurry.”

“And he didn’t die? An exterminator?”

“Didn’t die, just got hurt. He’s a good shot and a much better fighter than you would expect.”

Autumn Assassin nodded, stirring the pot one more time before they put it over the fire already lit in the sink. “So you decided to come here?”

“I knew it would be safe, and I figured you would let us stay for a while.”

“Hon, you can stay as long as you need.” They made a face. “I’ve started talking like a southern grandma.” 

“You practically are a grandparent,” Lily deadpanned. 

“Rude. See if I let you stay here now.” Their voice was joking, and Lily didn’t think for a second they would actually kick her out. “But in all seriousness, you really can stay for as long as you need. You’re staying until your friend is healed at least. He looks like barely more than a kid.”

“He’s sixteen. Seventeen by now, I’m guessing, but he didn’t tell us his birthday.” She ignored the faint twinge of guilt that neither she nor D had thought to ask. Birthdays weren’t such a big deal in the desert, but they still celebrated when they could. 

“See? Child. Baby. Youngster.”

“You’re literally twenty-five.”

“I’m still not a literal child. Plus, I’m a cat grandparent.”

White Lily raised her eyebrows at them.

“Princey- his name is Prince of Wales but we call him Princey- adopted a mangy stray cat. And we’ve decided I’m the collective parent friend.” Autumn gave the pot another fierce stir. 

“Ah.”

“Yeah.” They lifted the pot off the heat. “Dinner!”

This was met by a cascade of killjoys thundering down the stairs and several more hurrying in from the living room, much to Autumn Assassin’s disgruntled “One at a time!” 

Within a few minutes, everyone had snatched one of the chipped bowls or plates (some of which appeared to actually be empty power pup cans) and were lined up neatly. D and Cherri appeared to have been alerted by the noise as well, given that they made their way slowly down the stairs after everyone else.

“Guests first,” Autumn Assassin said firmly, and the killjoys all stepped aside to let D and Cherri by. “Here you go, Lily, here you go…Dr. Death Defying, Lily said?”

He nodded.

“And here you go, young man.” They dumped some in the chipped bowl one of the ‘joys had handed Cherri. 

“Thank you,” Cherri said quietly.

“Of course. Go sit down, you three, I’m going to hand some out to the rest of this lot.” Within a few minutes, the entire household was sprawled back out around the room eating the mixture that Autumn Assassin had spooned onto their plates, and Autumn Assassin came to join the three of them over in the corner Lily had claimed.

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced, I’m Autumn Assassin.”

“Cherri Cola.”

“Dr. Death Defying. It’s nice to meet you; Lily said you were a friend of hers?”

“We knew each other during the Helium Wars,” Lily explained. “I figured they would be happy for us to come stay a bit.”

“And I am, you can stay as long as you need. We don’t turn away ‘joys in need in this household.” They gestured with their spoon a bit as they spoke, adding emphasis to their words. “If I have extra food and rooms, I might as well give them to people.”

“Well, we’re very glad you do,” Dr. Death Defying put in.

“Of course.”

The rest of the dinner was quiet, at least for the four of them. The rest of the room was filled with laughter and chatter and spirit, a bunch of teens and twenty-something killjoys talking between themselves and having a good time. Occasionally, one of them got up to grab more from the pot that Autumn Assassin had prepared, until the entire thing was empty and everyone seemed to have eaten their fill. After the meal was over, they all split off to different places, some off to bed and some to hang out on the roof, it seemed. The three of them went back to the little room, figuring that Cherri could use some rest and all pretty tired themselves.

Cherri was conked out within minutes, and D and Lily settled on the mattress but didn’t go to sleep just yet.

“I hope we don’t bring bli down on Autumn Assassin’s head,” D fretted softly.

“If we do, they’ll flip the corporation off and keep right on cooking,” Lily predicted with a snort.

D gave a small chuckle. “They might just, from what I’ve seen of them so far.”

“They’re terrifyingly put together. And a good fighter, but how organized they are is scarier.”

“They act like they have their life together.”

Lily flopped on her back, staring at the ceiling. “I’m pretty sure they do. Unlike us.”

“Unlike us. We’re trying to run a revolution at twenty-two and twenty-one though, I think it can be forgiven.”

“Probably.”

D groaned softly as he settled down as well. “I’m too young for achy everything.”

“So am I, and everything still fucking hurts sometimes.”

“Guess that’s life.” 

The duo stared up at the ceiling together as Cherri slept well, not exactly peacefully, but not horribly, at least. They had already talked about the morality of all this, but Lily was sure that would have been their topic of conversation if they hadn’t. It was awfully hard to decide if they were doing the right thing, sometimes. They were fighting for the future of their generation and all the ones after, but that fight would take away hundreds or thousands of futures as well. Could the death of so many people, so many teenagers, just barely out of childhood, be justified? Could she ask children to die for her? It had been an exhausting day, but even in the safety of Autumn Assassin’s house, her mind refused to rest. She had a thousand doubts and no one to say them to, not even D. They doubted too, she knew, but D had a somewhat more utilitarian approach to it all. To him, the world they were fighting for was worth all the death and pain. It had to be, or why would they fight? So Lily didn’t say anything further about it, but she didn’t sleep either.

It appeared D wasn’t sleeping as well, as they shifted slightly on the mattress beside her. “It’s real now, isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question.

“It’s real now,” Lily agreed quietly.

In the history books that Better Living Industries would write, the Analog Wars began in 2010, when dangerous anarchists attacked a peaceful Better Living Industries encampment. In the stories passed down by the killjoys, they began a couple of months before that, with the attack on a small town of killjoys and neutrals by Better Living Industries. But to Dr. Death Defying and White Lily, the war began the second their friend staggered in the door with a hand pressed to his bleeding side and a dreadful warning on his lips.

#auri writes #building home tag #white lily #cherri cola #dr. death defying #autumn assassin #coming coming home tag #chapter 3 #angst

[atrocitycl]

Jonghyun - “Lonely” Review

(Music Video)

Jonghyun (SHINee) – Lonely (ft. Taeyeon)

Reviewed on December 19, 2017

For this review, while I will be giving numerical values as per usual, I will not write the analytical section that elaborates and explains the assigned ratings. This is, in my view, to respect one of Jonghyun’s musical works in of itself: I wish to focus less on a critical breakdown of “Lonely” and instead, I desire readers to simply listen to the song and admire his vocals (and Taeyeon’s) and his role in also working on the song’s composition. There are, after all, times where music works—ironically—not in a musical sense, but in an emotional sense. The latter is what I want everyone to focus on for this review.

Edit: This was meant to be posted yesterday, but due to personal issues—which I will share about in the next review (though they are utterly minor in comparison to Jonghyun’s situation)—it was delayed. Nevertheless, today is still a time to give our thoughts to Jonghyun and all those affected as well as to those who also are struggling with depression.

Personal Message: This was not how I intended to return back to reviews after a two month hiatus. There are so many thoughts in my mind, but first and foremost: I ask readers to keep Jonghyun, his family, and his friends in your thoughts and prayers. For those unaware of what occurred, here is a brief summary: Soompi’s article. This is an incredibly tragic situation, and after reading more about his suicide from various sites, I cannot help but cry. Even if I was not personally familiar or invested in him and SHINee, he is still a part of the K-Pop community. Furthermore, I have always respected him as an artist. And with that, what is perhaps the most painful aspect about his suicide is how, according to one (potentially unreliable) source, he felt worthless because of his belief that he lacked musical talent and skills—a thought that is completely false and unjustified. Certainly his feelings of sadness and emptiness stem more from just that notion, but nevertheless, if that thought was true, it is deeply saddening that he did not see the beauty of his skills—and the beauty of his loving, sweet, hardworking personality towards members, family, friends, and fans.

Rest in peace, Jonghyun. And of course, for readers who also feel hopeless, lonely, or worthless, I hope the truth is realized: everyone is worth it; you are worth it. “2018 is the year to take of our mental health” is a phrase my friend has been using, and I feel it is worth emphasizing here as well. No one deserves to feel depressed and suicidal—talk to others and professionals for help. Also, take the time to share as much love as possible to everyone. There is enough negativity in the world, so let us all do our share of bringing in positivity.

For this review, while I will be giving numerical values as per usual, I will not write the analytical section that elaborates and explains the assigned ratings. This is, in my view, to respect one of Jonghyun’s musical works in of itself: I wish to focus less on a critical breakdown of “Lonely” and instead, I desire readers to simply listen to the song and admire his vocals (and Taeyeon’s) and his role in also working on the song’s composition. There are, after all, times where music works—ironically—not in a musical sense, but in an emotional sense. The latter is what I want everyone to focus on for this review. (Furthermore, I also wish to highlight the music video as it is equally thought-provoking and tear-inducing.)

_______________________________________________________

Song Score: 7/10 (6.50/10 raw score) - “Above average”

- Vocals: 7/10

- Sections: 6/10 (5.83/10 raw score)

Introduction, Verse, Pre-Chorus, Chorus, Verse, Chorus, Bridge (Chorus), Conclusion

1.     Introduction: 6/10

2.     Verse: 5/10

3.     Pre-Chorus: 5/10

4.     Chorus: 6/10

5.     Bridge (Chorus): 7/10

6.     Conclusion: 6/10

- Instrumental: 6/10

- Lyrics: 7/10

[Introduction instrumental]

I’m sorry, it’s my fault Thank you, it’s all thanks to you These were words you said out of habit Even though I knew you were struggling too You probably think I’m a fool If I say that things are hard with a crying face Will it truly get better? If I cry and say it hurts, who will have a harder time? Everyone will be fine

Maybe we trapped each other inside our own misunderstandings No, you don’t understand me Whenever I see your worried eyes

Baby I’m so lonely so lonely I feel like I’m alone When I see you so tired, I worry that I’m baggage to you, that I’m too much Baby I’m so lonely so lonely I feel like I’m alone I don’t want to make it obvious to you I’m used to just holding it in Understand me

We’re together but, we’re not walking together Loneliness and misery The difference is only one memory (Ooh) But why do you keep trying to write it as something else?

Baby I’m so lonely so lonely I feel like I’m alone I don’t want to make it obvious to you I’m used to just holding it in Understand me

(Ooh) Leave me alone (Ooh) Baby I’m so lonely so lonely I feel like I’m alone Baby I’m so lonely so lonely I feel like I’m alone Still, I don’t want to hide it from you But I’m used to just holding it in Understand me

[Conclusion instrumental]

_______________________________________________________

Analysis:

_______________________________________________________

Reviews will be returning as I am now on a month break from university. There is a lot of personal news I wish to share—both good and bad. But for sure, I intend to catch up on as many reviews as I can.

For now, however, I wish for our thoughts to be with Jonghyun, his friends, his family, and the K-Pop community at large who are affected by this news.

#Jonghyun #Taeyeon #Lonely #SHINee #KPop Reviews #Song Reviews #Music Video #SM Entertainment #RIP Jonghyun

[cripplinganxietyflix]

I saw It Comes At Night

It Comes At Night has been in theaters, at the time of this writing, for about two days, and already it seems to be the most polarizing film of the year thus far. I’m sure anybody who saw the way it was marketed and then watched the film can understand why. I decidedly only watched the initial teaser trailer for this movie, didn’t read about it on the internet other than that Joel Edgerton would be the lead and Trey Edward Shults would be directing. This is, in part, because I did that recently with The Void, and I’m really thankful for it, and I’m trying to make a bigger effort to continue to go into things blind with few or no expectations. 

If you haven’t seen Joel Edgerton’s other fling with the “horror but not like horror horror” genre, The Gift, I highly recommend you do so now. Another film I saw in theaters without seeing literally any promotional material, The Gift is a sadly overlooked gem from 2015 about a childless couple who move into a new house and run into someone from the husband’s past. The husband conveys to the wife that he doesn’t want this stranger (played by Edgerton) hanging around, and it’s basically up to the wife to find out why. It’s an excellent, very fucked up thriller with a pretty shocking end that I certainly didn’t see coming. Edgerton is great as the creepy, stalking stranger, and he’s also a total surprise as the film’s director. I mean it. I didn’t know he directed it until I Google fu’d it a minute ago. 

Another film I would consider “required viewing” going into this is Trey Edward Shults’ first movie, Krisha, which I included on my list of favorite films I watched in 2016. While it’s categorized as a drama/dark comedy, I put it in my horror list- because for those of us with a little dysfunction in our families, it is mind-numbingly, hand-wringingly horrifying. Krisha stars mostly non-actors, including the director’s aunt (IIRC) in the title role. It details a recovering alcoholic’s return to the family she ghosted on for a Thanksgiving dinner. It doesn’t go well. When I say this is required viewing, I mean it. Krisha is as non-traditional as horror films go, and I feel very similarly about It Comes At Night. 

I suppose, based on the trailer, that I expected some kind of supernatural/walking dead aspect to the film going in. Let me take a second to outright demolish that preconception- this is not a monster movie, it’s not a ghost movie, it’s not got anything fantastical or even out of the realm of possibility in it. In fact, it’s a fairly stripped-down, barebones outbreak film. And, for what it is, it’s great.

The film is about Paul, his wife Sarah, and their teenage son Travis. They live with their dog, and Sarah’s father, in a big boarded-up cabin in the woods. Right away it becomes pretty clear that Grampa’s got a potent superbug, because they have to handle him with gloves and respirators, and quite early on, they’ve got to take him out back and shoot him like Ol’ Yeller. Father Paul is utilitarian, practical, a little controlling, and does what needs to be done to avoid infection and ensure survival. When a looter, Will, breaks in, he’s caught and explains himself to Paul- that he also has a family in need of supplies, that he thought the house was abandoned, that he means no harm, and that he’d be happy to trade food for some water. Paul and Sarah reason that they shouldn’t kill him in case he’s got people waiting out, they shouldn’t send him on his way lest he come back with a posse to kill them, and reason that the best option is for Paul to leave with Will and bring Will’s family back to the cabin so that they can share resources and work together. When Paul and Will come back with Will’s wife and son, Kim and Andrew, the real horror of the film unfolds- not the disease that seems to have decimated society, but the nature of humanity itself. 

It Comes At Night is a horror film, but further down the Antichrist end of the spectrum and not remotely close to the land of The Conjuring or Insidious. It’s a psychological thriller that uses muted, dreamy photography and contemplative scenes (long shots of dead bodies lying in a ditch, mundane conversations between normal people) to build dread and tension. Already there is precariously placed trust between Paul’s family and Will’s, and it seems just a matter of circumstance before these people become desperate and murderous. There are very few jump scares (maybe two or three), and they aren’t ones that I think most horror fans will roll their eyes at. Paul’s son Travis has trouble sleeping and lots of nightmares that make it hard to distinguish how much of the fear and distress is real and how much is imagined. He has dreams of his dead grandfather oozing black blood from his dead face and dreams of becoming infected that seem prophetic. Outside of Travis’s dreams, there is nothing that happens on screen that couldn’t happen in real life during a catastrophic epidemic. All of the horrors are real and fully human- murder, betrayal, mercy killing, etc. The film is exceptionally dark- as in, what an old house looks like at night when the power goes out. If you’re uncomfortable wandering around with no light and a germophobe like me, this movie is going to kick your ass. 

I’m about to get into some critical details of the movie and don’t recommend reading further if you’re planning to watch it. 

One aspect of this movie that people are really up in arms about is the matter of the open door(s). Who the fuck opened the door? Shults leaves this completely and utterly up to the imagination of the viewer. The cabin has a “clean room” that has one exterior door, and one interior door into the house, and Paul claims to have the keys to these doors, and that he always keeps them locked. However, they also have sliding bolt latches. Near the end of the film, Travis wakes from a nightmare, walks through the dark house to find that Andrew, who is probably about four or five, has wandered away from the room Will and Kim are sleeping in, and has fallen asleep in the grandpa’s old bedroom. Travis leads Andrew back to his parents, but as he is returning to bed, he sees that the red door that leads into the makeshift clean room is open. The whole house is alerted, and Paul and Will discover the dog, Stanley, is hemorrhaging blood and dying on the floor within the room. Both doors are now open, and there’s no telling who opened them, how the dog got in, or if Andrew or Travis touched the sick dog. This event is what leads to a bloodlessly violent and dour ending for everyone involved, but the question remains- WHO OPENED THE FUCKING DOOR!?

I think, first of all, that we have to assume Paul (probably unintentionally) left both doors unlocked with just the bolt latches secured, if at all. I think it’s likely that Andrew or Travis opened both doors, although I’m leaning toward Travis. I think that, as established throughout the film, Travis was having a nightmare, heard the dog at the exterior door, and let him in. I think it’s likely this is where he became infected, and he then possibly infected Andrew when he found him misplaced and led him back to his room. The other possibility is that Andrew was just barely tall enough to reach the latches and opened the doors while sleepwalking. I think that it’s also possible that Will opened both doors and let the dog in hoping that Paul’s family would become sickened, and his family would be able to take the house and supplies for themselves. After all, they never show that Will’s son Andrew is sick, and his family is in an incredible rush to leave the house shortly after the dog is found. Perhaps they wanted to leave and hide out in the woods until Paul, Sarah and Travis are dead. Even further, it is possible SOMEONE ELSE ENTIRELY got the dog into the house hoping to sabotage the inhabitants. After all, we never actually see what Stanley the dog went running after in the woods and we never see what Travis thinks that he heard. Any one of these things is a possibility, and I think it was a bold choice on Shults’ part to leave it ambiguous and up to the viewer. I guess that, realistically, it doesn’t really matter WHO actually opened the doors. What matters is what happens after, when no one trusts anyone else, and no one knows who might be infected and who isn’t. We never actually find out if Andrew is infected, however we do find out by the end that Travis was. Therefore, at this point I think Travis is the most likely culprit. I think that Shults tries to lay enough clues to lead to this assumption, and if there is one weakness in the film, it is here- that perhaps a little more could have been done to make any of these inferences a little more likely. After all, why did Paul leave the doors unlocked at all in the first place? If Andrew opened the doors, why didn’t he mention the dog to his parents while Travis is eavesdropping? If Travis opened the doors, how is it that he didn’t react to his dog being in such a tragic state, even if he was sleepwalking? If it was someone else, how might it have happened if the latches were shut? I loved that this was left up in a dizzying, mysterious place, but I would have liked a slightly thicker trail of breadcrumbs for me to get there. 

At any rate, I think the creepiest part of the movie is that Travis essentially predicts his death, by dreaming about all the most impossible of horrors, even though the real threat seems so mundane and unlucky by comparison. It’s not a reanimated corpse that kills him. It’s SOME contact with the plague that we never see, because that’s how plagues work. I like that we never find out if Andrew was truly sick. I love how hopeless and depressing the whole thing is. It seems really fitting for the times we’re living in. 

I can’t recommend this movie enough if you like your horror movies atmospheric, preponderous, suggestive and difficult to digest. If you’re sick of artificial jump scares every eight and a half formulaic minutes, this might be right in line with your needs. If you need exposition and spoon-feeding, I wouldn’t spend a cent to watch it and recommend instead that you spend the evening screening Wonder Woman or Guardians of the Galaxy, which I’m sure are entertaining and likely to give you a good time. It Comes At Night may seem deceptively titled (I don’t think that it is) and deceptively marketed (absolutely). I think the title fits because Travis’s prophetic nightmares are where the horror is. It is still one of the most uncomfortable, effective horror movie experiences I’ve had in a while and would place it a shelf below the likes of The Witch and Get Out. It’s a straightforward movie with an unsettling score, photography that brings to mind the term “brain fog” (I’m a chronic sufferer, if it’s not evident in my scatterbrained reviews) in the best way, and it feels very vividly real. Not a single thing in this movie is outlandish or supernatural. While I appreciated the care taken to let me figure things out on my own, even I would have liked a few more definitives. I also would have liked a longer film; I think it wouldn’t have suffered from an extra 29 minutes, but all things considered it’s a minor complaint. I highly recommend it, if only to those who don’t mind the lion’s share of the detective work placed in their hands and those who are tired of the standard horror narrative. It’s not perfect but it’s pretty close to what this particular asshole likes in a movie. 

★ ★ ★ ★ ☆

#it comes at night #horror #movies #joel edgerton #trey edward shults

[moiraineswife]

so? everyone doesn't like lucien because he tries to force feyre to go back to spring? BUt he doesn't know what the night court is actually like? everything he tells feyre about it is what he believes? so,, in his mind,, this guy this rhys is manipulating her or forcing her or ect. and he wants her safe and tamlin isn't safe but its safer than the sadistic killers he tells feyre about in tar?? and he saw how rhys treated feyre in utm - and it was noT. nice. he's just trying to help her?

Yeah?? I think people kind of...struggle seeing things from Lucien’s perspective? Feyre is their main character, concern and focus so they just...Look at things from her POV and focus on her needs and situation and don’t really...Think of anyone outside it? I don’t think the Inner Circle helps in this instance because they were, all of them, almost as instrumental in Feyre’s recovery and understanding of her abuse as Rhys was. They just consider the character’s surface actions not the context behind them (like the fact the IC are in a position to help Feyre and will face 0 negative consequences for that which...isn’t exactly what Lucien is facing here) 

And then, as you point of, Lucien doesn’t know what Rhys is like really? This is the man who has put on the public face of the High Lord persona he uses in the Court of Nightmares for years before Lucien was even born. As far as Lucien knew/was aware of he was the right hand and whore of the woman who gouged his eye out and cursed his High Lord, himself, and his people. This is also the man who held Lucien’s mind and was ready to crush it and completely strip Lucien of his self and identity. This was something that Rhys was capable of doing while Amarantha was holding a good portion of his power in thrall so it’s not really a surprise that Lucien believes Rhys is fully capable, both in terms of his powers and his morals, of manipulating Feyre, making her love him, turn her back on Tamlin for the purposes of hurting Tamlin. (because...using Feyre to hurt/use Tamlin is something Rhys has done before)  

Rhys was playing a part, yes...but it’s a part that he played extremely well and revealed to few. That has consequences. While I agree that Tamlin wildly overreacted when he went to Hybern for help the fact remains that his reasons for doing that actually comprise...pretty sound logic. Look at it from their point of view. 

 Rhys forced Feyre into a bargain UtM entitling him to take her for a week per month. He turned up to enforce this bargain during their wedding (Lucien had no idea that Feyre was panicking at this point and begging for help - he’s not a mind reader) He basically kidnaps Feyre as far as Lucien is concerned and this time she doesn’t come home...she sends them a letter but, like, what’s the more believable scenario for him? That Rhys forged said letter to taunt Tamlin or that this all powerful, malevolent, sadistic lord of night taught the young, illiterate girl how to read and write so she could send it herself? Yeah. Add to that Tamlin’s...instability and Lucien’s desperation to keep his court and his home together, plus his worry for his friend in the hands of this sadistic court who plants severed heads in their fountains for the hell of it and it’s...not entirely surprising that Lucien is fearful for Feyre’s safety and wants to bring her home (by force if necessary because she can’t see past Rhys’s influence) Rhys made this bed, frankly, in ACOTAR and in the centuries before cultivating a reputation that keeps his people safe but incredibly isolated. Lucien just seems to be the one fandom is forcing to lie in it.  

Also I feel like people focus on what Lucien didn’t do rather than what he did (and what happened to him as a result) 

Like, he’s known Tamlin...pretty much his entire life, let’s say 350 years for easy counting shall we? Tamlin took him in, gave him a place, a position of respect in his court and protects him from his sadistic murderous family. And has done so for three hundred and fifty years. Feyre on the other hand he’s known for, what? less than two years certainly at this point, she showed up after she killed and skinned one of his friends (something Lucien feels guilty about) Plus the fact that Tamlin. Is. Abusing. Him. Tamlin has been emotionally and physically abusing Lucien for centuries that kind of thing isn’t something you can just switch off and overcome for the sake of bettering someone else’s situation? If it was he’d have left that court and that influence years ago (if he even recognises the situation he’s in which is...sadly doubtful) 

And in spite of literally all of that Lucien still helps Feyre??? Repeatedly??? He’s willing to let Rhys wipe him out to protect her name (and he’s only spared because Feyre intervenes). He saves her life and is brutally whipped for it. He nearly dies alongside her in the second task because he’s someone that no-one will mourn and more importantly that no-one will help and he knows that and accepts it. He tells her not to make him pick...Not to make him pick between her, someone he’s known less than a year at this point, who killed his friend but that he’s befriended anyway and his High Lord, the man he considers a friend, the person he’s sworn to obey and the person he completely and utterly relies on for everything. And he still stands up to him. Repeatedly. Even when Feyre won’t, when she’s given up effectively Lucien pushes back again and again and again. He gets dismissed, belittled and physically harmed as a result of this. Yet he still promises to try again in spite of that. 

And guess what? Fandom saying that Lucien should do more? That he isn’t trying hard enough? That he’s sitting back letting this happen in spite of his position, in spite of his abuse, in spite of the consequences of him pushing back even a little. Lucien feels like this too. Lucien feels guilty for not doing more. 

Thoughts slammed into me, images and memories, a pattern ofthinking and feeling that was old, and clever, and sad, so endlessly sad andguilt-ridden, hopeless—Then I was back,blinking, no more than a heartbeat passing as I gaped at Lucien.His head. I hadbeen inside his head, had slid through his mentalwalls—

People, myself included, have focused on this passage as showing that Lucien is likely depressed due to his situation, that he feels ‘endlessly sad’ and hopeless which isn’t really surprising. But in this moment he also feels guilt-ridden, not just feeling a little bad or a little guilty, fully guilt-ridden. This is the moment where Feyre encourages Lucien to push back because they’re right and Tamlin is wrong and she wants him to fight for that and instead he backs down. 

And this is how he responds to the situation. He feels sad, he feels guilty and he feels hopeless. He feels guilty about not pushing back, not standing up for Feyre (not himself) but he also feels hopeless. There is nothing he can do. There is a limit to what he can do, the impact he can have and he knows that. Lucien isn’t stupid, Lucien is actually pretty damn switched on and intuitive when it comes to people and he knows Tamlin well, he knows what’s going to happen if he and Feyre keep pushing and he knows it’s not going to be pretty or pleasant for either of them. 

This isn’t laziness, this isn’t silence, this isn’t complicity (that argument genuinely disgusts me tbh) this is survival instinct. This is a person who has been trapped in this situation for a very long time and has learned when to shut his mouth for his own good. That isn’t selfish; that’s just what he’s been forced to become to survive this situation and I don’t know how anyone can truly blame him for that. 

Feyre needs help in this situation and Lucien can’t give it to her (though he tries, puts himself at risk to try for her) because Lucien needs help too. A little bit of compassion wouldn’t go amiss tbh, Lucien is suffering from PTSD and depression, is being emotionally and physically abused by someone he’s indebted to and completely relies upon....and he still tries to help Feyre. Let’s just...think about that for a minute before we start accusing him of ‘supporting Tamlin’s abuse’ please and thanks. 

#beanfaerie #lucien #feyre #rhysand #feyrhys #acomaf #acotar meta #my meta #lucien meta #OOPS #this happened #i've been feeling Grumpy for days #so you got a salt influx #sorry about that #but for real #when people accuse Lucien of supporting/enabling Tamlin's abuse #i genuinely want to throw up #and then it takes like six years off my life #at the rate this fandom is going I'm going to keel over dead next week #compassion and a little bit of thought doesn't cost a penny people #invest in some #abuse tw #abuse

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‘He wasn’t happy until he had me all to himself’

When two women wrote about how they had been “gaslighted” – made to question their sanity by an abusive partner – many readers, male and female, got in touch to share similar experiences. Here, three of them explain how they were left feeling utterly isolated.

“I actually thought there was something wrong with my memory”

I moved from southern England to a small Scottish village to be with the love of my life, a handsome and charming man who made me feel more alive and special than I ever thought possible.

Just before I moved, a friend said he thought my boyfriend wouldn’t be happy until he had me living in the middle of nowhere, far away from anyone and all to himself. At the time I laughed it off but it turned out it couldn’t have been more true.

At first he was completely attentive. He worked away as a lorry driver but he called every morning, throughout the day and last thing at night. I thought this was really nice of him but I started to notice he was really ratty if I missed a call because I was in the bathroom or in a shop. He became more and more short-tempered when I told him I had begun to make friends, causing us to have arguments on the phone.

If I laughed at something on TV, he would get angry – he thought I was laughing at him

One day, after he had left for work, a woman from the village asked if I would like to go round to her house for some wine. I had a really nice evening. When I got home, my mobile had several missed calls and many text messages. I had left it behind and not thought about it. The text messages started off asking why I wasn’t answering the phone, and descended into calling me all sorts of horrible names, accusing me of being out with other men and so on. I couldn’t believe what I was reading – this had come out of nowhere. I sent him a text explaining where I had been. He immediately called and shouted at me for 10 minutes, not letting me speak.

These arguments would make me feel terrible and he would blame me for not being able to concentrate or sleep because he was worrying about me, and therefore a danger on the road. But then he would send lavish flowers and I would feel grateful he wasn’t angry with me any longer. I lived in a constant state of confusion and worry, never knowing what I had done to make him angry, and worried in case he had an accident.

Another time, when he was home, I was walking up the lane to our house when the farmer who owned the land stopped by. We leaned over the farm gate and had a long chat, looking out at the beautiful view. When I went into the house my boyfriend was sitting in a chair, staring at me. He kept denying there was something wrong, but he wouldn’t speak to me and kept glaring. Eventually he said he knew what had been going on all this time – I was making a fool of him and having an affair with the farmer! I couldn’t believe my ears, but he wouldn’t listen to me.

I soon stopped visiting my friends in the village. I didn’t dare go out in the evenings because he would call the house phone to check where I was. He didn’t like me going out to work either, so I was pretty much stuck at home in the middle of nowhere. In some ways it was a relief because I didn’t have to pretend to people that all was well.

I spent the next nine years walking on eggshells, never knowing if I was doing the right thing or the wrong thing in his eyes. His ultimate punishment was to attempt suicide. He did this more than once after an argument, which completely destroyed my confidence in myself. I was a confident, independent person when we met, and by the time he eventually left me I was a shell.

He would also try to make me think I had gone mad by claiming I had said things that I knew I hadn’t.

Silly things, like I’d make spaghetti Bolognese and he’d accuse me of adding carrots just to upset him, even though I followed the same recipe every time. Or he would say I hadn’t cleaned a room when I had, and would clean it all over again.

Taken individually, those incidents seem stupid and trivial but he would be so convincing that I would start to question myself. I actually thought there was something wrong with my memory.

I couldn’t argue any more. I couldn’t get my brain to think of a good response because his arguments were completely irrational. It was easier to just agree. I became a quiet, dull person – a shadow of my former self.

What is gaslighting?

The term comes from a 1938 stage play Gas Light in which a husband attempts to convince his wife and others that she is insane – when he dims the gas lights, he insists she’s imagining it

It is one tactic of coercive and controlling behaviour that aims to make a victim doubt themselves, their perception of events and even their own sanity, with devastating consequences, says Katie Ghose, chief executive of Women’s Aid

Techniques include calling into question the victim’s memory of an incident, trivialising a victim’s thoughts or feelings, accusing the victim of lying or making things up, denying things like promises that have been made, and mocking the victim for their “misconceptions”

Some of the signs to watch out for include: feeling confused, continually apologising to your partner, having trouble making simple decisions, and withholding information from friends and family so you don’t have to make excuses for your partner

Am I in an abusive relationship?

I didn’t really look like myself either – he didn’t like me going to get a haircut because I had a male hairdresser, so I started cutting my own hair. I stopped wearing make-up or high heels. If I wore nice clothes, I was “dressing up” for somebody. I had to think about everything I did.

Before, I was confident, I was always happy, always laughing. If I laughed at something on TV, he would get angry – he thought I was laughing at him.

If he couldn’t have me, then nobody could – I was afraid he was going to kill us both

I trained myself not to be happy. Friends of mine have said, “How on Earth do you do that?” But it’s the only way to cope. If you don’t let yourself be happy, you can’t get too hurt or upset by what’s happening to you. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, looking back.

I made two failed attempts to leave. But mostly I felt like I’d made my bed with this person, and I had given up too much to be with him. I hoped it would all turn around and it would be OK – but it never was. It’s a bit like a dog that isn’t treated well – it stays loyal to the person that feeds him.

The day he told me we were splitting up I thought I had won the lottery but a few months later, he decided he wanted to get back together. When I refused, he tried to lure me back to the house. That was really quite scary. He was on a mission – if he couldn’t have me, then nobody could. I was afraid he was going to kill us both.

I spent about three years hiding from him, constantly moving house. I completely disappeared.

What I didn’t realise was that it would take years for me to get back to being myself and repair the damage he did to me.

I will never forgive him and I’m telling my story so that hopefully it might help somebody else.

Caroline, UK

“As a man, I feel I have to keep quiet about it”

I’m glad that abuse like this is finally being taken much more seriously. Because although some of the other abuses I had suffered with my wife were long-lasting, the psychological abuse, especially in the form of gaslighting, was maybe the worst. It has taken me a lot of therapy to work through the pain.

I still look back at things that happened, even petty things like how she had hung up a picture in the main hallway of our apartment and when I commented on how nice it looked, she insisted it had been there for two weeks and I was stupid for not noticing it sooner. It was such an obvious place because it was hung right where the living room met the hallway. You could clearly see it from two parts of the apartment. I couldn’t believe I would have missed something so obvious for so long.

This was the kind of thing that began happening more and more.

She would call me at work and say there was something wrong, that I had to come home – then, when I did, she would say I shouldn’t have left work and make me feel like I’d overreacted. I ended up losing a job over this.

I would plan to do things with friends, but in the lead-up she would create problems so I couldn’t go. Then she’d say: “Oh, weren’t you supposed to go out?”

I could no longer make any plans, big or small. I became afraid of the consequences of anything I did, because I didn’t want to be punished. I gained weight and got depressed, but still had this hopeless desire to make things work.

Sometimes things escalated and she became physical, but I had been raised to never hit a woman, so I didn’t fight back. I couldn’t see what good would come of it.

Further help and resources

Freephone 24-hour UK National Domestic Violence Helpline: 0808 2000 247

Refuge

Respect: Help for male victims of domestic violence

Women’s Aid

The situation came to a head when she threatened my life. We were having an argument while we were driving, and she purposely wrecked the car. Luckily our child was not with us at the time.

That was when I knew I had to get out.

Since I left the relationship there have been a few difficult things to deal with because I am a man.

The help for men who come out of abusive situations can be incredibly slim. When I was in the process of leaving my wife, there was no shelter assistance and I was frequently referred to homeless shelters. As I was also trying to take our very young child out of the situation with me, that was not an option. We ended up living with family in the end.

Then there is the social stigma. I feel I have to keep quiet about it because many people, even potential new partners, view the abuse as something that I, as a man, “should have done something about” – as though if I had just put my foot down, it all would have been fine. That sometimes feels like an extension of the abuse.

Dwayne, US

“He stole everything from me”

Things started to go really wrong at the wedding. The vintage bus he had booked to transport our guests didn’t turn up – it had broken down, he said. In fact he had never paid for it. At the reception, I found out later, he asked our guests for cash, saying he still had things to pay for and he didn’t want to spoil my day.

We had met on a dating site a year earlier. He was a widower and told me he missed his child, who was living with his late wife’s family. I felt for him, he seemed like such a good guy. A contractor working in IT, he was generous and looked after me, taking on the boring little tasks of life, like sorting out the car insurance or my medication.

Soon I made a discovery that shocked me. His wife had not died a year before we met, like he’d told me, but just six weeks earlier. He said he was sorry. He had been unhappy and lonely. Somehow, I forgave him. That’s what marriage is about, right?

He felt like he was all alone in the world – and it was all my fault

He managed to alienate me from all my friends and colleagues. He said one of my friends made a pass at him, so we avoided her. Another friend was “taking advantage of me” so I should cut her off. Or maybe he didn’t feel like going out because he was feeling low, or he hadn’t been paid, so we would stay in.

I always ended up doing what he wanted, to try and make him happy. But it got to the point where no matter what I did, nothing would make him happy.

When he was offered an exciting new opportunity in Spain, I left my well-paid job and removal men packed up our belongings. But there were delays – payments kept not coming through, contracts weren’t honoured. Nothing was ever his fault. My redundancy money drained away.

I tried to help him sort his finances out, but every time I was due to meet an accountant or a solicitor, something happened: a mix-up, they were ill or they’d had an accident – a couple of them actually died, he said.

Nothing made any sense, I thought I was losing my mind. I was very depressed and considered killing myself. He did absolutely nothing to dissuade me. I realise now that if I had died, he would have had a payout from my pension. Was that the price he put on my life?

You may also be interested in:

Gaslighting: The ‘perfect’ romance that became a nightmare

Cheating and manipulation: Confessions of a gaslighter

Watch: How Gemma escaped with Dusty, her dog

He was often away for days at a time, taking my car. Summonses for unpaid parking tickets began to arrive in my name. Bailiffs knocked on the door, demanding payments for other unpaid bills – he had taken out credit cards in my name.

The car turned out not to be insured. When I confronted him, he said it was a mix-up, he had definitely paid. I tried to hide the car, but he found it. He said he was hurt by my lies: why had I not told him where it was parked?

He said he couldn’t talk to me any longer because I wasn’t on his side. He felt like he was all alone in the world – and it was all my fault.

One day, when he came back from one of his jaunts, he left his bag in the car. Inside, I found a letter from another woman. She wrote that she loved him, and was sorry that he was homeless.

Homeless? He had several homes – the one we were renting in Spain, and one here with his wife.

I walked back upstairs to find him waiting for me. He demanded his bag back. I said “No.” He twisted my arm and slammed me up against the wall. My dog put her ears back and growled at him, which she had never done before. He let me go.

Distraught, I took my dog and drove to my friend’s office in London. When she came out to meet me, she said: “You do realise you’re wearing your pyjamas, don’t you?”

He disappeared six months ago. He has stolen everything from me. I lost my income, my credit rating, and for a short time, my sanity. I can’t even get my stuff back – I thought it had been shipped to Spain, but actually it’s been in storage and about to be auctioned off.

I can’t go back to my old life, I can’t face having to explain. And who would believe me? If they know him, they’ll say: “But he’s such a nice guy.”

His mother was surprised to hear from me – he told her I was in hospital in Germany

He was so clever at picking up on my weaknesses and my good nature. He destroyed me from the inside out – he made me doubt my own sanity.

When I went to the police they said: “Everybody lies, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

And the lies keep coming.

His mother was surprised to hear from me – he told her I was in hospital in Germany, following a suicide attempt. She had given him thousands of pounds to pay for my care.

When I tracked down one of his other women, she was horrified. He had told her I was his mentally unstable sister, who had a controlling husband. They were planning to move in together.

I don’t know where he is now but I fear he has found his next victim. I wish I could warn her, but nobody will listen.

Esther, UK

All names have been changed

Illustrations by Katie Horwich

Interviews by Vibeke Venema

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Read more: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/stories-42708922

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