POV you're me reading Seiroku's birthday reply

Shaky Hands

I’ve spent so much time on this and it’s a collaboration with @mustangsbigdickenergy. Please Enjoy and Share with fellow friends.

Whump.Tober Prompt No.1

Day 1: Shaky Hands

    The day had finally come. The day that they had been working towards for nearly a decade. That morning Hawkeye rose from bed, a heavy burden finally lifting off those shoulders as the day they looked forward to surfaced on the calendar. Mustang becoming Führer was a big sigh of relief knowing the end of King Bradley was official, a new reign of justice could begin. They started this journey together, becoming one in Ishval but at last only two made it through. Hughes was most likely smiling down from heaven as this day began, if there was such a thing, to bad he wasn’t here to mock the new Führer. They may have not been lifelong friends like Mustang but she still felt a bit of sadness for his passing and the fact that he couldn’t finish this the way they started it, even Elicia didn’t deserve such sorrow.

    Blue uniform pulled fresh from the dryer as she drank her morning tea before donning such an outfit. It felt like there was so much to do but, for once, she only needed to attend the ceremony. For once, there wasn’t paperwork waiting at the desk, for once, there wouldn’t be arguments about upcoming meetings, for once, everyone could relax, and lastly, for once, there wasn’t a homunculus threat breathing down their back. Everything was perfectly normal. Maybe this time she’d actually go out with her fellow teammates for a drink, just to relish in this perfect day because the stressful burden wouldn’t allow her to enjoy any festivities with the team. Lieutenant Hawkeye arrived earlier than usual to the ceremony, wanting to make everything was set and ready to go, probably because of those natural instincts, but those assigned to the task continued to usher her away eventually leading her to hangout with comrades. They all seemed so happy about today, happy for Roy, happy for this country but Riza felt slightly different in their presence.

Was it really this easy?

    If Mustang were among the group, he was separated for preparation of his own, he would easily detected his Lieutenant’s thoughts telling her to relax and enjoy the day so perhaps she was simply overthinking it; That did tend to happen lately considering the events of the Promise Day. A ceremonial gunshot finally rang signaling the start of Roy Mustang’s ceremony and all of those who served by his side climbed the steps of the stage to take their place alongside the new Führer. Everyone held a salute as he followed behind his teammates approaching the top of the steps before giving them the signal to at ease, allowing hands to be placed behind their backs in tight grips. Roy stood before a large crowd of military personnel and citizens alike, eyes staring straight ahead as he repeated the statements by the newly found members of the board and soon became Führer President Roy Mustang. In unison, the military in the crowd rose and saluted their new commander. A heavy hand came to his forehead as he returned the salute, his chest welling up with the gravity of the moment. When he released his hand, everyone began shouting and cheering, those members on stage who swore in the President came forward to shake the hands of the newly found Führer; who couldn’t contain his own jitters as those hands met others. After thanking the board, Roy turned his head to where his team stood behind, Havoc held Fuery in a headlock who complained and Falman managed to high-five Breda but if he truly looked close enough he could make out the spirit of Hughes standing alongside his favorite Lieutenant. Riza Hawkeye, the best lieutenant he could ask for, was looking directly at him with her hand still saluted along her forehead as if she were transfixed into the moment. When their eyes met, he was reminded of all the years he’d known the blonde, all the memories, the failure, and the heartache. She had gone through it all at his side and that would never change even if they went to hell.

    Hawkeye felt the world slow as they continued to gaze at one another and honestly, something was different. Those eyes that once held determination with guilt, rage, and even fear dissipated into the atmosphere to the point she almost didn’t recognize those chocolate pools, but they were still his. Was this happiness for him? Had Roy finally achieved the stepping point for peace among his country? Surely, that had to be it.

    The warmthness inside the woman’s heart spread to her face as she smiled that angelic smile realizing the new man in this new age for its country. Everything would be alright, because he really could change the country with eyes like that.

    Now, it was time for his speech allowing Roy to remove a folded piece of paper from his pocket. They were up nearly half the night going over the exact words he would speak which, in the end, most of the speech was Riza’s words. She saved the day on his work as usual when heavy boots aimed him toward the podium but when looking upon the crowd something change, meaning the crumpled paper ended up back in his pocket; There was so much more to be said then what was scribbled on the paper so he began.

    “People of Amestris, I am beyond honored to be standing here today, ready to serve you. Our country has been through too much war, and bloodshed in our recent years, but I intend to bring a long lasting peace to our great lands-“ Cheers interrupted him, and he momentarily paused. As the crowd died down, he continued. “The very first act I would like to do as Führer, is to promote those who stood by my side through it all. Without these brave men, I would not be standing here today.” Starting with the lowest ranking officer in his team, Fuery, they were all given new high ranking positions with a handshake and a salute to their new Führer. If Hughes was on this stage, he would be bawling.

    Mustang worked his way up through each rank until settling on Jean Havoc. “Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc, please step forward.” Roy turned his head, a light smile on his face as Havoc stepped up next to his commander. “This man has perhaps been dealt the worst hand in life, not including his bad luck with the ladies-“ Cue a glare from the tall blonde. “-But I wouldn’t be here without him. He is the most resilient, and loyal man I have ever had the pleasure to work alongside. I am proud to announce his new rank as General Jean Havoc.”

    The last ranking official to be called would be Riza Hawkeye. Was a promotion something she honestly wanted? A new rank would end in a new office, her own recruits and possibly somewhere else that wasn’t near the Führer because he would have a special team for protection. They had been together for so long and until Bradley interrupted that, Riza never considered anything else.

    Tension hung through the air as Roy called his First Lieutenant up, “First Lieutenant Hawkeye,” her name rang loud as she stepped forward. He didn’t say anything at first, didn’t announce her new rank yet, just remained silent as he gathered those thoughts. His dark eyes studied her, in awe of their luck of both making it through the war and the Promise Day. They didn’t deserve such mercy for all the terrible things they’ve done, but Roy wouldn’t waste another breath on it. He finally spoke. “I’ve never feared death. In every battle, I welcomed it with open arms. It was only fitting. Riza Hawkeye has saved me from death, over and over again. She’s saved me from myself. She is the only reason I’m here today.” A pause. A deep sincerity running through his dark eyes as he looked over at the woman. “I’ve never feared death. Not for myself, but when I saw the light fading from her eyes, I have never been more truly terrified. If she dies, so do I. It’s the unspoken truth we’ve always shared.”

    The statements lifted into the air as she felt the burning eyes of another’s gaze, making Riza remain in that untouched position of arms tightly clasped behind her back. The soldier’s shoulders remained squared as if she already knew the information being told but still, a small fragment of the Lieutenant’s heart skipped a beat never knowing that that Roy couldn’t live without her. There’s been so many references where Hawkeye refused to live among the world without the Flame Alchemist and for once he chose the same words, actually admitting them aloud for his country to hear.

    The crowd was quiet. The sharp cry of a baby in the distance being the only sound, faded by the wind. “I’ve never feared death, until the day I thought I was dying. I pictured her face, and I was more scared of death then I ever had been. Not because of actually dying, but at the thought of not being at her side. I would never get to see her again. It’s my most haunting thought.”

    Roy wasn’t looking at the crowd, his eyes were locked on Riza’s strict stature as she remained faced toward the people. He took a step forward causing the Lieutenant to finally meet his gaze. “I never feared death...until I realized I might never get to tell the woman I love how I feel.” His heart was pounding in his chest, and he half expected her to slap him for being so incredibly sappy during his first speech as Führer. He didn’t care. He wouldn’t wait another day to tell her how he felt. “So, while others received promotions, Lieutenant. I stand before you today, requesting that you retire from the military, and rule at my side as my Queen.”

    The blonde lieutenant’s heart began to rise like a wild cheetah running to catch its prey, the gasping of the crowd around them began to fade as they were the only ones standing on stage gazing into one another’s dark’s pupils. She tried her best to remain calm, to keep those arms tightly behind her back but eventually they slipped falling gently to her sides. The woman was stunned in place without any words being able to form, all the blood rushed toward her heart as it wanted to burst from her chest and it took all the ounce of strict nature to not slap him on stage from his proclaiming love. After all this time, after all these battles, after risking their lives countless times, Roy Mustang truly felt the same as her. There was so many times he joked about other women making Riza feel as if she never got the time of day but right here and right now was different, he was looking directly at her as were the rest of the country. These incredible, rare feelings were caught in the moment leaving the lieutenant completely lost for words, the very first time she had ever become flabbergasted.

    A small step back was taken as Roy Mustang lowered himself to one knee pursuing a tiny box from the confines of his pocket allowing his Lieutenant to become diagonal with the audience. Hawkeye’s insides felt fuzzy, the world lifted becoming lighter, it was like she was looking into the mirror for the first time gazing upon a more beautiful, attractive, strong, and intelligent man before her. They could achieve anything together, they could rock the universe as the truth finally unfolded, no one could possibly feel what they are feeling right now. That sneaky love bug had already clouded both their memories, making them believe that anything was possible if they stayed side by side, that they couldn’t do anything wrong and could complete one's life together.

    ‘Be my queen’

    Hawkeye lost it. Her heart exploded as if glass inside shattered into a million pieces but in a good way. “I...-“ She took another heavy step back, still peering inside the male’s dark hues before glancing toward her comrades who was as shocked as she. All of them made eye contact as their head moved accordingly into a nod, telling Riza to accept this position because although the pair ‘denied’ their feelings, they knew otherwise.

   Getting the confidence she needed from fellow subordinates, Riza took one deep breath and stood proudly. Arms remained by her side as she regained footing toward Mustang peering downward into his eyes, “Sir, If you think I would just simply resign from the military after everything that I’ve done then you’ve better reconsider your options.” She stated aloud strict and clear, if she was no longer in the military than she couldn’t be beside the Führer at all times, to become a housewife like Bradley’s. That was something Riza was against. The woman swore an oath to remain by her commanders side and that’s exactly what she intended to do.

   “But...“ Her demeanor changed dramatically into something more soft as she gazed longingly into Mustangs eyes about to speak those words he was waiting for. After that small moment everything seemed to move faster, eyes aimed directly toward the Lieutenant as if awaiting an answer but the blonde couldn’t speak. She couldn’t form words or even a syllable, the heavy burden inside that heart radiated throughout only growing more intense. The blonde soldier became clouded within those thoughts that she didn’t recognize the true events unfolding before the Fuhrer’s eyes, a bubbling substance welded up inside the woman’s throat and that body gave way to the unknown watching as a splatter of red landed upon a beautiful canvas. The world moved leaving them no longer inside their tiny safety bubble with the Lieutenant collapsing onto the floor of the stage, the sharp pain from before grew stronger and she attempted to blink away any haziness.

    Those beautiful features of the man she loved transformed into something old, rage entered through the darkness in the Fuhrer’s heart as the sounds around them finally resurfaced inside the downed soldier. All the woman could see was red as it covered nearly every inch of that perfectly cleaned uniform, and defiled the man who proposed reminding Hawkeye of a war from long ago. Were her mistakes finally catching up to them? Was she now feeling ‘karma’ coming back to bite?

    Just like the day the enemy slit the soldier’s throat, blood once more poured out from the open wound in the woman’s chest. Roy was among the first to drop onto the stage to save his subordinate's life, rough hands ruptly found their way upon the open enclosure with dedication of keeping the blood inside the victim. Mustang was lost in a blind rage of power, searching to find the culprit who dared to harm someone he held dearly, a formed team of others slipped out of the veil of confusion to help mandate the search or seek a medical team. The sharp pain from the bullet entering into the body was like a long-term friend Riza had known, pain was never an enemy in this Lieutenant’s life allowing this to feel no more than baseball pegging its target but with each passing minute the warm blood that seeped into the woman’s clothing maintained the worst part of it all.

    Although senses slowly became duller, Hawkeye could easily figure out the words the Fuhrer claimed. Someone had simply shot the Lieutenant right before her captain’s eyes. Hearing was among the first to fade but smell followed shortly behind, the air around them felt damp like indicating a rainfall on such a perfect day. The sky held an array of colors as the sun fell beneath the horizon attempting to fade away to leave everyone in a void of darkness but Riza found calmness in the lit sky that dared to hang on. If one looked closely, it seemed like everything was symbolizing the adult dying right before the countries eyes and with each minute passing the clouds and sky tried their best to hang on before turning into a dark grey. Circulation aimed directly toward vital organs but the wound became the greatest problem as blood tried to find any point other than the open chest wound. Fact is, Hawkeye was beginning to lose too much blood.

    Riza’s dark pupils finally found Roy’s as they stared into his dark tainted hues, through all the pain and suffering she attempted to smile. She wanted to accept his proposal and to place a hand upon his cheek to ensure him everything would be ok but the body refused to move; She could barely feel anything other than the burning pain inside.

    Rebecca appeared on stage, yelling at the Fuhrer to step aside and allow the young soldier to attempt the blood flow to stop but he seemed lost the longer he watched the life drain from his woman’s life. Strong hands shook the shoulders of the president drawing forth enough attention to allow his cooperation but that didn’t stop his slow response. He wasn’t sure what to do in this moment as he was truly losing his queen.

    A discarded box caught the male’s eyes lying in a pool of blood from his lieutenant, digits inched forward sliding through the red substance that dared to soil the ground they stood upon. Tears pricked the edges of brown as the guilt weighed heavily on his heart, if he didn’t propose would she have been saved? The former Colonel could still feel the drops of blood that splattered onto his face, the hardness of them drying in the chilly air and if a tear spilled through the veil than it would mix with the woman he loved as it traveled the surface of his face. When fingers finally flipped over the open box, a small engagement ring was missing, it laid delicately in the blood as if bathing in the solution of it’s captor. The features absorbed the substance into each crook without even a drip slipping back onto the soiled ground as if it enjoyed the sacrifice being made.

    A perfectly made diamond created by the man himself rested in his palm, he couldn’t count the hours it took to make something so special but it was something he would do all over again, the amounts of alchemy and studying he learned for this specific moment felt broken.

    Those palms shook greatly realizing all his dreams wouldn’t be conquered without his queen, brown eyes became so fixated on the ring with a familiar body laying in the outskirts of those pupils hazily. Tears poured outward falling onto the soaked hands covered in blood and a heart laid among the mess that continued to unfold.

                        How could something so special create such darkness…?

@whumptober2019

When the Navy found out I smoked marijuana, I was at a firing range. I had an M-4 and an M-9, one being an automatic rifle, the other a pistol.

They disarmed me immediately, and I remember knowing why they did.

In the twenty seconds it took me to walk over to the disarming barrel, my thoughts were, “Pull the pistol out, put the barrel in your mouth and pull the trigger” for as many times I could mentally repeat before I lost the opportunity. I called my dad while a Chief was on his way to pick me up.

After the phone call, I deleted all of my Facebook messages at the recommendation of my father.

All of my text messages. too. My dad swore the Chief wasn’t my friend, and would screw me over at his first chance and not to tell him anything, at all.

The deleted threads of conversations with people who either didn’t exist anymore, or we had stopped talking.

I must have chain smoked about fifteen cigarettes in the hour and a half it took for this Chief to arrive.

All the while, I had been wishing that I had the courage to just pull that fucking trigger.

That anxiety was unbearable.

I went to a DRB, which is where I stand in front of a bunch of senior enlisted military.

At first, I came in with my shoulders back , military discipline and all. At the end, I was escorted out by a compassionate Master Chief, and I was bawling.

I have wanted to kill myself for as far back as I can remember. I smoked weed because all of my pain in life is unbearable and my mind never shuts the fuck up.

I don’t understand reality the way everyone seems to and it’s isolating, like being in the dimension next door.

"Most everyone who doesn’t know me resents me. Most everyone who knows me tolerates me," I tell myself.

I sat outside and cried, blubbering to these senior enlisted folks.

As a Second Class Petty Officer with all of the skills that I had possessed. I was in the United States Navy for five long years, and nine excruciating months and two awkward days.

I had been to mental health multiple times in my  Naval career. The first psychiatrist that I ever spoke to was at NATTC Pensacola.

It’s not even six months of me getting out of the Navy now...

My present life finds me in this bed at some house in South Carolina, Like a muscle, those words stream across my mind like a teleprompter, “You should have died on that day. You should have fucking killed yourself.”

And for myself, I finally gave myself the courage to tell myself, “No.” "I love you for just who you are. I love the way you think, I love the way you handle thing[s] (most of the time ^.^), I love what you do. You have a very solid and strong mind, you think things through very thoroughly, and you have a very good outward perspective. I don't know if that helps, but that's the best I can come up with while working." Let me tell you what I think happened before I tell you why I think we should reconnect. I'm 26 years old and the one and only thing in my life that I regret, to this day, is what I once said simply to hurt you. I was an awful boyfriend for you. Not all of the time, obviously. But my only regret comes from when I said out of annoyance and irresponsibility, 'I guess you're going to have to celebrate Thanksgiving without your boyfriend or your mom.." You eyes glazed over me. You slumped over. And you sobbed. I walked towards you and hugged you because that sort of rage-to-regret is exactly the kind of Bipolar Disorder that I am used to. It's been my entire life, Nicole. It's all I have ever known. Albeit, the worst of it all is over and I'm just waiting for all of my hopes and dreams to bloom into the flowers I have been cultivating. The night we went to Twin Peaks was the night you said goodbye, even though you never did. You and I both are aware that we would come across each other someday, I think. I don't have any proof for that delusion/hope, but hey, I don't know everything which means I have unfettered access to being totally wrong and totally right, until one of us is deceased. I do remember being in absolute bliss that night we met up and you were drunk with me in the Whataburger drive through and that's about all I have for that. Mike and I moved out of the house because we wouldn't be able to renew the lease before I had to get my new job in the Navy. I moved into an apartment on the second floor and I got a dog named Itachi. I did loads of LSD that I'd gotten and I had a REALLY FUCKING AWFUL TRIP with Hailey Campbell (also tripping) and Rian Nobles (not tripping). I went to my grandmother's funeral in New York with my Dad and Alex. I found out that my photographic memory is real because I reminded my Uncle about the fit my brother went into at the LAST funeral we gathered. Which was Renee's. I lived with Lauren Teston for a long time after that. I started smoking weed because, Nicole, I didn't know what to do.. Everyone has always left me, and I only NOW understand why: me. But I didnt see it like that. It didn't feel like that.. It didn't feel like I had an emotional problem. I didn't know. But in retrospect, Nicole, my emotions felt like a chainsaw to my insides. Our breakup was the healthiest breakup for me, and it was also the worst. (2020 readers, it got way worse) I didn't leave for California until right before October 10, 2016. I was trained to be an Engine Mechanic by the Seabees and I learned a fuck ton about cars. I did more PT than anywhere else in my military career. Every Friday was a 4:30 A.M., seven mile run with the whole school. Really, it was a fourteen mile run, but it makes me sound less of a douche if I say seven, maybe. I came home on leave for Christmas and I smoked even more weed. I came back to California to finish my school. Byy the way, there were two onomatopoeia's in a barracks room together: Petty Officer Quackenbush and Petty officer Miao (this or 'mao' is also the Chinese word for cat") I left Port Hueneme after meeting Johnny Depp in L.A. I drove, for the third time, across the country. I was at Gulfport, Mississippi for a few months, learning combat procedures with the Seabees. I pissed hot in Gulfport. I wrote a poem that I'll attach later about what that was like. I went to some military proceedings, reduced in rank,  lost a lot of money, had to go to two different hospitals for one month. I first went to Garden Park Hospital for a suicide watch that I had been placed under after the military proceedings had broken me down to where I couldn't take it anymore. I bawled my eyes out to men I'd never met because I could no longer believe that people didn't care about me. I was suicidal given the circumstances, but I was suicidal before I ever got caught smoking. The only reason I smoked was because I didn't want to be suicidal. A 51 year old woman tells me at this place that she, "Would be surprised if I never heard of you again. I stayed at Emerald Coast Behavioral Health (This is when I called you in 2017) and I learned an entirely different way of living. I was told that I have Bipolar Disorder I, Major Depressive Disorder, Anxiety, Osteochrondroma in the left knee. I was told a handful of tools to help myself become a better person. I then went to restriction, which is where a person is constantly monitoring me while I do nothing but work and survive. I did that for forty five days which dragged forever. I left. I stayed with my dad and I had a good first month out of the Navy. I was happy. I was excited and nervous and terrified. I smoked SO much more weed. I drank SO much more booze. And cigarettes. I was helping my dad build a deck in the backyard. My car was repossessed about one and one half months after getting out. I had nothing. I started working under the table as a contractor for a few months, but my mom and I got into a fight and I was kicked out of the house for the second and last time of my life. I moved in and slept on a friends floor. He had a bum knee from a recent surgery and so I quasi-morphed into his at-home nurse. Started doing dabs and malt liquor with friends. Eating popcorn for food, drawing outside for five hours, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. I did this for a month until my depression (booze) had become evil. I tried hanging myself on a dog line and I had to leave their house.. I stayed with my dude Sam for a few days and then moved in with my brother for a day. I feel nothing for him anymore, and so I really dont want to elaborate about this because he will always be a peace of shit. I went to a music festival that got shutdown by a hurricane. I got to do LSD/blow/weed for free because I was working security and I have worked with the team before. Hell, the guy in charge personally handed me $275 because of how badass of a watchstander I am. I then migrated to Asheville, North Carolina where my eyes were opened to the world we live in. And how great a thing love is, Nicole Renee Gable. But after this, I really had nowhere to go. That is until I remembered that I knew a guy from when I was in Japan.. We only ever really interacted in the smokepits. After he found out I had been sleeping on the floor of my friends house, he told me that if I was ever in South Carolina that he had a guest bedroom waiting for me. I lived with him and his wife and their son while I got a job as a forklift driver at BMW. I got another car (since been repossessed, not as debilitating for me now). I moved out and lived with a dude that I thought was a friend. He ended up being a real twat of a motherfucker. Before I knew he was a real dullard, I left BMW about two weeks of me living with him. It was too military.A HUGE millitary-industrial complex. He fucked me over so that I had nowhere to go and I didnt have a job. He left. I had the apartment by myself. It was a blur of events past that. Between the weed, the booze and the mental health issues, I am grateful to be writing this. This guy's stripper girlfriend (Her name is Sam and she's nice as well as bananas) came to find me in a fucked up mess of my own doing at the apartment. After I came to, she and I decided that I needed to check myself into a mental health center. With no insurance. I had only a few boxes of stuff (I drove down to Florida at one point to get my shit). After I was in for a week (I know what I'm about and the solutions I need), I got a job working as a cook in a strip club. The BEST job I ever had because I actually made some good money. (30 girls dancing in one night with $5 tips to me is a lot of moolah) However, I didnt make enough money to stay. I only made enough money to leave. I bought two edibles and had a nice relaxing eight hour drive to a friend's house in Pennsacola We had a personal falling out/disagreement. I worked as a line cook at Slimz at the Al Fresco in Pensacola. I saved up money to come out to California. I'm with one of my few best friends, Tymothy. Upon my arrival here, my car was repossessed (I bought in South Carolina, which is fucking crazy that they found me). My life is coming together though, Nicole. I am generally happy in my day to day lifestyle. I'm hoping to be officially retired from working for the rest of my life within this next year. It turns out that there was A HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE scandal in the Navy and I'm going to use my genius mind to collect the disability that I deserve. Monthly, that payment could land anywhere between $800-2900.. For the rest of my life. I have an amazing home loan that I will get to use once the ball has begun rolling. Nicole, I really dont think I love you as much as I should have and that bothers me. Not in a negative way, at all. It makes me feel like I need to write this email to you. Like I owe you more for what you gave me, Nicole Gable. You might not see it, Nicole. The only reason I ever went along with the mental health is so that we could have a healthy relationship together. Whatever that even fucking means as far as the definition goes. Hell, for all I know, you could be seriously dead or worse. You could be dating somebody.. 😝 I havent dated anyone quite seriously. I've been on a couple of dates here and there, but I just didn't/don't care. I hope that all of these women find someone that loves them as much as I know I can love you someday, if you could ever trust me... If you're with someone, I seriously hope they love you as much as space-time can hold matter and energy and light and dark matter. The greatest lesson I have learned since we spoke last is that we will live our lives from the shades of fear and the radiations of love. I love and accept myself now. I love myself exactly how you once loved me. I don't know where on this rock you are, but if you'd like to never have to work again, please reach out to me. I would be honored, if you would ever be willing. It's still going to be a few months, so you can think about this for awhile..? If you ever wanted to live in California with me someday, I mean. Hell, we could be roomates. You could wear chastity belts and Amish outfits all year round . I don't know anything.. I hope that this email finds you well. I hope it has given you smiles. I hope you have a blessed day. [Update]  It is now the year 2020.  I am.  The world is the world. Hell is hell.  We’re all stuck on a rock in the middle of nowhere.  If there’s someone reading this, be aware: you do not exist. This is my spaceship.

Hi :) would you write one where ChopTop met the reader the the radio station along with Strech*idk if i spelled it right* but the reader dressed similar to him and was in a band herself makeing ChopTop love struck and just his stuttering getting worst and forgeting what to say witch the reader finds cute maybe it would get slightly nsfw to to the ebd but you can pick its ok if its just fluff :3 *sorry if its to long*

((Sorry this took so long! Gotta love my boy Chop-Top and this prompt not only gave me an excuse to rewatch his intro scene but it also seems super fun! It is a challenge to figure out dialogue for him tho because he’s so bizarre in all the best ways. This one didn’t end up being too romantic but I’ve been thinking about maybe writing a continuation for this just cause there’s so much more I can do with it. So let me know if any of y’all are interested! Tagging: @i-cant-get-with-it

Chop Top meets hippie s/o @ the radio station:

It’s been a pretty rough week at the station. Your good friend Vanita had gotten a terrible call-in the other day. Initially she thought it was a prank, as the men had been obnoxious all day, but even she couldn’t ignore the terrible screaming and shill grating of metal on metal. Not when she saw that article in the paper that seemed to match the call-in. She had told you about the plan she devised with some old sheriff, about playing the tape over the radio. To you it seemed like a bad idea and a great way to put a giant target on her back, but she was insistent that she had to do it and make a difference. Despite your worries, you couldn’t just leave her alone, so you decided to stay with her after that night’s broadcast.

Tonight had done nothing to ease your concerns, angry callers had been cursing out the station and since Stretch first aired the tape. L.G. seemed to be the most upset by it, talking about how much trouble Vanita was going to get into, though anyone with eyes could tell how soft he was on her. Sadly, it didn’t seem like the feelings were returned quite the same way. At least not yet, you thought, as you watched her turn down his offer to grab some coffee with him. Guess you two were sticking around for this “Lefty” guy.

Shortly after L.G. left, you heard the phone ring. You went to reach for it, but Stretch got there first. “Hello?…Hello?…Lefty?” You could guess from her side of the conversation that she was being met with silence. You raised an eyebrow and she looked at you, equally confused. The mysterious caller hung up. “What the hell was that all about?” you asked.

“No clue,” Stretch shrugged, “We get some weird callers sometimes, but-.” As if on a cue, you two heard a small slam from the other side of the station. Vanita’s eyes flicked to you. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Stretch had been gone for a suspicious amount of time, when you decided you needed to go after her. You stood in the doorway of the hall leading to the lobby. From there, you could hear Stretch and a strange male voice, talking manically. “Hi, I know what you’re thinking. This is weird. Hope I can handle it.“ You peered out into the lobby, there you saw Vanita nervously backed against her desk, across from her was an odd man. He appeared to be in his 30s, dressed in patched and campy hippie clothes, the odd look topped off with a shappy mop of black hair and lavender Lennon specs. Though a somewhat tacky outfit, it reminded you of the way you and your bandmates dressed, especially when hanging out around at festivals. He started getting up and moving towards Stretch, and you walked out from the doorframe. Both sets of eyes looking your direction.

“Uhhh, hey man…what’s up?” you asked, awkwardly trying to redirect him. He turned to you, and looked you up and down, face unreadable.

“Wh-Who  the hell’re you? I thought it was j-just the DJ?”

“Well it isn’t space cadet! Who the hell are you?”

“I-I-I’m just a fan,” he turned back to Stretch, “Me and my little brother, Bubba, we listen to this show e-every night.” He turned back to you with a sick grin, “Music…is my life.”

You smiled at that, “Oh? I dig it. I’m in a band myself.”

His eyes went wide at that, and the barely contained manic energy in him seemed to ramp up, “O-Oh yeah? Wh-What’re you like? Something h-h-heavy? Like-like Iron Butterfly!”

You chuckled. Despite him being kind of a freaky-deaky dork, you had to admit the spaz was kind of endearing and a little cute. “Kinda. We’re more like Vanilla Fudge or Quicksilver Messenger Service than anything.”

“Far-Out! So-”

“I hate to interrupt,” Stretch cut in, “But the station is closed for the night.”

The man turned back to her, a strange glint in his eye and a sick grin that made you shudder. “Well, y’see, I wa-wanted to phone in my request but, but I al-al-always get too nervous, y’know?” He paused for a reaction before continuing, “But, well, since I’m here. In-In flesh-and-blood…I figured I could just give you my request now right!

Stretch looked to you for help and you just lifted your hands in a shrug-like gesture. “Uh, sure, sure. You can tell me your request and then you need to leave.”

The man chuckled, and started heating up the coat hanger he was holding with an old rainbow lighter. “Al-Alright…How about Cold Stone Fever from uh, Humble Pie! Or uh…” he picked at his scalp, ”In Da Vidda da Gadda babey. Heh heh yeah…” he turned to you, “Real, uh, heavy stuff, y’know.” You hid a laugh behind your hand, at his goofy smile and the fact that he got both song titles wrong.

Then that menace was back in his eyes, “Or…how about s-something like that, uh, Lefty r-request record you played today? How’d it go again?” You and Stretch’s eyes went wide as the man screamed and growled in mimicry of the terrible sounds of the attack. You looked at each other in mutual fear at this man standing between you and the exit. “Wh-What was that anyway? R-Rambo III soundtrack?” he chuckled at his own joke. “Could you play it again? Or, uh, m-maybe you co-could get me a copy!” He grinned, “You could both sign it. To-To-To a far out fan!”

He seemed to respond better to you so you spoke up, “We, uh, actually don’t have a copy. Sorry sir. But we could, er,  play your other requests.”

Something dark passed over his face that you couldn’t quite place. He looked to the side in the records vault. “Hey, uh, is this where you keep the golden oldies? And mayb-” The rest of the sentence was cut off when the lights suddenly flipped on, revealing a horrifying giant wielding what looked like a chainsaw. You and Vanita screamed, she ran off towards the back rooms while you ducked out of the way into the far corner of the room behind and hid on the far side of the sofa. You heard the man from earlier hollering in pain and wailing at the giant to “Get the girl!” You saw the giant run after Vanita through the door, and you peered out from your hiding place. You watched the man from before scream and clutch at his head. “He dented my plate! My brain is burning! Nam flashback! Nam flashback! Leatherface, you bitch, I’ll…Oh just look what you did to my Sonny Bono wig. Oh, God damn it!”

You listened to the man’s cries of pain and rage from your hiding place as you resisted the urge to help him. Judging from what you could make out from his rant, he was clearly with the man trying to kill Stretch. Oh god…Vanita…what have you gotten yourself into? He eventually managed to get to his feet and began to go through the records vault, muttering something about dogs hunting. You covered your ears and tried to block out the terrible sounds coming from behind the door leading to the recording area.

You heard a door open from the other side of the room. “Hey! What the shit?” L.G was back! Maybe he could get the police and everything would be okay.

“Lick my plate you dog dick!” the hippie yelled, flipping L.G. the bird. It would have been funny if the whole situation wasn’t so terrifying.

“What the fuck you think you’re doing in here, you crazy-looking little son of a bitch? Get out of here!” You wanted to scream at L.G. to run out of here and get help, that these guys were totally buggin and super dangerous. But you stayed quiet for fear of revealing your position. This turned out to be a lethal decision as the man lunged at L.G. brandishing a hammer. “Time for incoming mail!” he shrieked, slamming into hammer into L.G.’s skull, “Ho Chi Minh!” Over and over you heard the sickening thuds through your covered ears. You squeezed your eyes shut but you couldn’t pretend it just wasn’t happening. Hell, the same thing was probably happening to Stretch right now .

You didn’t even realize you were crying until you felt the warmth of the tears sliding down your face, but someone else did. You open your eyes to see the killer’s leering face less than a foot from your own, “H-H-Hey there, rock’n’roll b-bunny! T-th-th-thought I lost ya t-there.”

“Please, don’t kill me,” you sobbed, “I’m, like, really sorry for whatever’s making you upset.”

This seemed to make the man nervous, and he started picking twitchily at the edge of a metal plate embedded in his skull. “I-I…I ain’t g-gonna, er, kill you. J-Just…” he looked around the room frantically, as if trying to find a solution to his problem. He spied the hammer over by L.G.’s corpse and his face broke into a grin. He scrambled to grab it, whipped back around, and started getting closer to you, arms out ahead of him as if you were a spooked animal. And I guess in a way you were. “N-Now do-don’t move or-or nothing. It It ain’t gonna h-hurt.”

Your soft sobs turned into bawling, “NoNoNo Oh God PleasePleasePleasePlease Don’t do this Please don’t do this!”

You noticed some emotion flash across his face that you couldn’t figure out. “A-one and a-two and a-three!” and the hammer fell down on your skull. You collapsed, yet you kept fading in and out of consciousness. You heard footsteps coming through the door to the studio and what sounded like the two men having a one sided conversation. “Did you get her, Bubba? Did you get that bitch? She was my fave…but-but she knew! And now…nobody knows!…L-look what you did to my plate, you bitch!…Y-You got her? Di-Did you get her good?…Slap me five!

You heard footsteps coming closer but you couldn’t see what was happening as you felt yourself getting dragged over to a damp section of floor. “I got some too. Bonus bodies! Look at that beef,” you vaguely felt a slap against your thigh, but it was as if you were made of cotton. “Help me get it out of here!,” said the hippie as you felt yourself be hoisted onto the larger man’s shoulders.

 You were tossed in what seemed like the back of a truck, though you were so dizzy it was hard to tell. Finally you succumbed to your head injury and passed out. The giant, Bubba, left to sit shotgun and only Chop-top stayed by, standing over you with a dopey look on his face. “Don’t wo-worry baby, we’ll b-be home soon,” he gave you a sloppy peck on the cheek and ran back around to the driver’s side. “Alright Bubba! Let’s blow this pop stand!” he yelled, and sped off back to where the rest of the family was waiting.

               𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐒𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆, @thornrosed​ ! 𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟼, 𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟸.

     𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒔𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈  𝒉𝒂𝒔  𝒔𝒏𝒖𝒄𝒌  𝒖𝒑  𝒐𝒏  𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏  𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔  𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓. it seems as if it was just yesterday that she was begging hope to get out of the pool, bright rays of late august sun beaming down on their smiling faces, coloring their cheeks a peachy shade of pink. the palm trees were swaying in the gentle breeze, her peonies were blooming and the grass in their backyard was so impossibly green, painted by the most gifted of all artists. now, there are no flowers in her little garden, even the rose bushes have lost their delicate petals, their naked branches outstretched toward the gloomy clouds covering the sky, and the air has an unpleasant, chilly bite to it, lacking its usual warmth. where did all this time go ? how can it be thanksgiving already ? the young brunette has been asking herself these two questions all morning and still can’t come up with a logical explanation. this world is spinning way too fast for her liking, making her wish she could press the pause button and appreciate everything that she has a little longer.

     despite erin’s inner hesitancy and reluctance to let the time flow freely, the beautiful house on the hill is more ready to host a bunch of hungry guests than ever before. there’s a large, festive autumn wreath adorning the front door, vibrant red and yellow bouquets ( an eye-catching combination of red hydrangea, roses, oriental lilies and gerberas, accented with green ivy and lemon leaf ) scattered around the rooms, little decorations made of faux leaves and orange berries embellishing the white mantelpiece, pillar candles and mini pumpkins gracing the bookshelves. the heavy aroma of wood burning in the fireplace mingles with the smell of warm cinnamon rolls and steaming coffee. the radio, sitting on the kitchen island, floods the spacious room with lilting melodies and gentle tunes. with axl’s fourth of july apron tied tightly around her petite frame, sleeves of her beige turtleneck rolled up, erin’s been cooking for hours. slicing and chopping and stirring, over and over again. despite all the exhaustion coursing through her veins, she actually enjoys this part the most — cooking has been her greatest passion ever since she was a little girl. besides, she’s beyond thankful for her family, for the people who will eat everything that she’s preparing right now.

     “hope ! come here so i can do your hair, baby ! grandma will be here soon, we have to be ready.” dark brows crease when, even after a few minutes, no response comes. erin knows her daughter better than the little, stubborn redhead knows herself and she can just tell that something’s not right today, something’s been troubling her. unfortunately, she’s just like her father, hardly ever opens up on her own and bottles up all of her concerns. the sole fact that hope isn’t in the kitchen with her mother, helping her prepare all the meals, is worrying enough. she ALWAYS wants to participate in even the tiniest of activities, always eager to lend a helping hand. erin thought that the smell of crisp-cooked turkey, a thin layer of fat covering its breasts, candied yams and various pies was going to be enough to attract her daughter’s attention . . . apparently, she was wrong. that’s when her heart lurches, dark thoughts clouding her mind. she’s so been busy all day, focused on making every corner of every room look perfect, each dish flawless — what if hope is not feeling well and she’s just the most horrible, ignorant mother on the planet ? the obvious reason behind her child’s sadness doesn’t yet dawn upon her as she hastily unties her apron and rushes upstairs.

     the door to hope’s bedroom is closed, no music or noise can be heard. with worry written all over her delicate features, erin knocks on it and murmurs softly, “hey, it’s me. it’s mom. is everything okay ? can i come in ?” still nothing. the lines running across her forehead deepen, her heart sinks into the pit of her stomach. axl would just open the damn door, he wouldn’t stand outside and wait like an idiot, she tells herself, biting her lower lip and chewing on it nervously as her knuckles bump against the hard surface once more. “hope ?” her husband would laugh at her because here she is, scared of invading a seven-year-old’s privacy. how ridiculous. rubbing her throbbing temple, erin takes a deep breath and lays her hand on the knob. lately, their relationship has been turbulent ( to say the least ) and she doesn’t want to start another fight by stepping inside uninvited. it’s been like this ever since axl left on tour, constant yelling and crying, misunderstandings over the smallest things. she has no idea how to raise her own child with her husband nothing but a guest in their house these days, how to pacify her outbursts and little rebellions.

     eventually mustering enough courage and common sense, erin pushes the door open and peeks into the room. the curtains are drawn, the faint rays of the autumn sun stand no chance. the first thing she sees is the outfit that they both chose and agreed on last night, still thrown carelessly over the chair — a rust-colored, bib overall dress in woven corduroy with tank straps and a decorative button placket running down the bodice, black tights and a white turtleneck sweater. a burgundy bow nowhere near hope’s hair, still lying on top of the drawer. “why aren’t you dressed yet ?” is the first thing that comes out of erin’s mouth, her tone laced with annoyance. all she can think of is the smell of yet another fight in the air, all because she expects her daughter to put actual clothes on. it’s happened before, countless times, and that’s what the brunette think is going to happen in a matter of seconds. she doesn’t want her mother and her siblings, their families, to walk in a witness a . . . mess. walking toward the large window, pulling the curtains apart, she lets in a bit of light into the room. “i thought you liked this dress,” a heavy sigh escapes her wine-colored lips. it’s only when she finally turns around and lays her piercing blues on hope that she notices the large tears running silently down her cheeks. anger leaves her body in less than two seconds.

     “what’s going on ? is it because of this silly dress ? oh, baby, you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to. it’s okay. we can choose something different. you should have told me you didn’t like it.” nothing but worry and sadness in her babyish voice, it’s the most painful sight she’s ever had to witness. it makes her want to die, disappear because she’s done something to make her child cry. if she could, she would steal a star from the sky just to put a smile back on this little girl’s face. “you can tell me everything, you know ? no matter what it is, mommy is always here to help you,” she assures as hope’s bright hues meet hers, causing her heart to shatter. without hesitation, she sits down on the edge of her daughter’s bed and quickly scoops her up into her arms, squeezing her to her chest. they haven’t hugged like this for days and the thought alone is enough to make the brunette’s nose sting with a threat of tears. murmuring how everything’s going to be okay, rocking gently back and forth, erin attempts to soothe her daughter. somewhere in the back of her head . . . she just can’t help but make herself sick with worry because of how all these mood swings and violent outbursts remind her of one thing. what if these are the early signs of . . . that disease. and of course, it doesn’t change the way she feels about her, nothing could ever change the way she loves her, nothing could ever scare her away, but no mother wants this kind of life for her child.

     “it’s not the stupid dress !” comes an angry squeak, lengthy fingers clutching her mother’s sweater for comfort, for once not fighting her embrace. head lifting, bloodshot eyes finding erin’s ocean hues, hope just shakes her head. she could care less about the dress. “i just — i don’t like thanksgiving ! i HATE it ! HATE, HATE, HATE it !” features contorting, anger erupting from her small chest. her cheeks are flushed from all the emotions filling her heart. “i don’t want it without daddy !” and erin finally understands. really understands. she’s been doing everything to turn this day into something cheerful and magical, take their minds off the fact that one chair will be empty this year. it’s the very first thanksgiving that they’re spending apart, on different continents. it breaks her heart, she wants to join hope and bawl her eyes out with her, say screw thanksgiving if they can’t celebrate it as a family but . . . she just can’t. using the pads of her fingers to wipe away her daughter’s tears, erin leans in and presses her lips to the top of her head. her arms remain wrapped around the girl’s tiny frame, hand rubbing her back.

     fighting back tears, erin forces herself to put on a smile. she affectionately tucks a loose strand of flaming hair behind hope’s ear and cups her cheek, silently asking her to look up toward her loving eyes. “we called daddy last night before bed, remember ?” she begins softly, carding her fingers through the girl’s messy mane. “he was in venezuela and in three days, he has to be in colombia. it’s far, far away from malibu. all the way in south america. he can’t just catch a plane back home. if it was up to him, he would be here with us today, you know ? he wouldn’t want to miss our famous turkey, he loves it so, so, sooo much.” tickling her side, trying to bring a little bit of humor into their conversation, erin expects to coax a smile from hope but no such thing happens. the corners of her mouth remain turned downward. all she does is gently swat her mother’s fingers away. “hey, don’t worry, we’ll call him today. it would be so awesome if you could play the new song you learned on the piano for him. he’d love to hear it. oh, and you know what else we could do ? when you were little, he taught you how to make a hand turkey. we could all make and color them for him, send them tomorrow to the hotel where he’ll be staying at, huh ? sounds like a plan ?” but hope doesn’t answer this time either. she only shrugs her shoulders and purses her lips together. so, erin tries again. “i know that it’s not the same as having him here in person, but sometimes . . . unfortunately, adults have to do what they have to do. doctors and police officers who are working today would love to be with their families, too. just like your dad. but can you imagine what would happen if they did that, if they just went home ? who would help all the people in need ? who would perform surgeries and protect us ? daddy can’t be with us this year because he has other responsibilities, people count on him just like they count on the doctors and police officers. he’s playing the last show on december 13th, in brazil, and then he’s coming straight to us. he’ll be home all month.” and then he’ll have to go back on tour, to japan and australia, but erin doesn’t say that.

     the sound of the doorbell interrupts her train of thought. “must be grandma. come on, i’ll give you a piggy-back ride to the front door, huh ? we’ll say hello and then you’ll get dressed, and we’ll eat, and then we’ll call daddy, alright ?” it may not be their dream holiday but it is what it is, they have to make the best of it.

Beside You

She sleeps alone, my heart wants to come home. I wish I was, I wish I was Beside you.

[True personal story]

The first time I heard this song was when I decided to watch the best 5sos crowd moments videos on YouTube, and this song appeared A LOT of times so I decided to give it a listen, and I burst into tears the second I heard it. It feels like one of those heartbreaking moments when you have to say goodbye to a loved one, and even though all you want to do is go back to them, there’s like an ocean apart and everything in the world holds you against going back. 

And being the naive person I was, I thought this was a relationship song--which it is--and I won’t be able to relate to it until I find a boyfriend, probably not anytime soon. 

Yet here I am today, bawling my eyes out over one song because it’s the most relatable moment for me right now.

September 2016. It was the first week of school and I found myself sitting right behind the principle first violins in the school orchestra. I was pretty surprised by my audition. I thought it had gone badly and I wouldn’t be able to make it to first violin, and when I did, I was afraid that my teacher would pair me up with one of the top players in my class. My worry wasn’t completely unreasonable. Throughout middle school I got to know a few of the really talented violinists in our orchestra and compared to them I was terrible. Just the thought of that b, being right next to them for a whole year, was unbearable. 

That’s when this one red haired girl, with green eyes and deep dimples, appeared next to me and read the index card on the seat before setting her backpack down. 

“Hi,” she had said sweetly.

I greeted her back, still feeling a little nervous about talking to a stranger. I remember our music teacher talking to her about auditioning for All-State youth orchestra, so she must have been one of those good players as well.

When I think about it later, I regret not remembering the exact day when we first met each other. Since the first moment we started talking about how hard the sight reading pieces were, or the first time I told her she was a good player, we somehow always found more topics to talk about. I found out that she’s also a swimmer, and that she was a part of a triplet, which surprised me. 

To my own admission, there was this one period of time when we both obsessed over One Direction. All my other friends had judged me about it, although it bothered me none of their comments stopped me from fangirling over one YouTube video. So being able to fangirl with someone else without being judged was surely a bonus point of being friends with her.

 Around November, we came up with this idea of doing a chamber string group together. At first we were going to ask this girl in our Girl Scout troop to be the first violin, but when she didn’t respond, I asked my new friend to join. Then the cellist said she had other commitments so she wouldn’t be able to do the group either. We were stuck there for a while before Elisa, my new best friend and stand partner, offered to ask her brother to take the cellist’s place since he also played the cello.

After a lot of convincing and other complicated processes, we were finally a group of five. We easily got straight I’s at regionals and proceeded to get another straight I rating (the highest you can get) at States. 

Somewhere in March, my private violin teacher recommended me to participate in a local string festival, where I got to work with the concertmaster of Baltimore Symphony Orchestra. He offered us the opportunity to tour Italy during the summer with our state youth orchestra. I tried my hardest to convince my parents to let me go, since both Elisa and her brother were in the state youth orchestra and were both going on the trip.

July 13, 2017. 

We had just finished our last concert of the tour in Cremona, Italy and Elisa’s entire family had come to support us since her family is Italian. Everyone else in the orchestra was so glad that our tour was over and we had so much fun together, but neither Elisa nor I seemed to be able to blend in with the happy mood. While everyone celebrated with treats to a local gelato shop and perfect pictures together, Elisa and I set our instrument cases down next to the pillar of the Catholic church right next to the stage and stood there in silence, before we hugged each other and wouldn’t let go. I haven’t cried in public for a good few years but I couldn’t hold my tears back that night. 

For a while, I wondered what made Elisa so special to me. Sure I had other good friends at school and I loved them, but none of them held such a special place in my heart. Until one day I overheard my dad talking to my grandma about how we were like sisters. Now that’s the answer. We were like sisters to each other. It explained everything perfectly, including why it’s so hard to say goodbye in Cremona that night.

This wasn’t just your normal I’ll-see-you-again-when-school-starts-and-I-hope-we-have-classes-together goodbye. The real problem was, we don’t know when we’re going to see each other again. I will be moving to another continent by the end of this summer, and Elisa, on the other hand, is staying with her family in Italy for the rest of the summer holidays and probably won’t be back until mid-August, by which time I’ll be already gone. 

What we shared in one short year was more than what I had with my old friends from elementary school, for six years. I can’t even begin to describe how grateful I am that she came into my life in my freshman year of high school. It wouldn’t have been the same without her, and now that I have to go, I don’t know what I’m going to do without her laughing along with me (I laugh A LOT, everybody says I’ll be immortal) and reminding me of all our awesome inside jokes. 

At first, I thought I was just sad about leaving my friends. Then one day I realized that I’m not only sad. I’m afraid. I’m afraid of losing them now that there’s an ocean in between us. Although there’s all the technology nowadays, nothing compares to being able to see them every day, have lunch together at our usual spot by Government classrooms, or play another Dvorak piece together. In short, no amounts of FaceTiming, texting or calling could ever compare to seeing them face to face. It just doesn’t work. 

I insisted on walking Elisa to their car that night despite it was nearly midnight and curfew was at 12. It was our last day of the tour, who cares if one of the adults caught us wandering the town at 11:49 pm? 

Somehow I got all her siblings and my other friend to cry along with us. Elisa’s brother, whom I apparently had a thing for, just made it harder for me. I didn’t know they were leaving right after the concert until that very morning. I woke up to find her sitting in our shared hotel room staring at her phone, “We’re leaving tonight.”

“What?”

“We’re leaving right after the concert.”

“No you’re not.”

I knew this moment would come eventually, and I thought I was mentally prepared for it. God, I was wrong. I guess I never completely wrapped my mind around the fact that we won’t see each other for God-knows-how-long. Our final goodbye took us about 20 minutes, it being more embarrassing when our maestro came and comforted us in front of nearly the whole town of Cremona. In Europe, the night life was just perfect, where everyone goes out in the middle of the night to hang out with friends. So half of the local people were confused as why there were two crying teenagers at midnight. 

I was with my friend Bradley, and when we gave our final goodbye wave by their car, I turned to him with tears still running down my face, “Just drag me out of here. I’ll run back to her if we don’t get out fast enough.”

That’s why there were two sobbing teenagers scurrying down the streets of Cremona at midnight.

On my plane ride back home--without Elisa--I decided to listen to my (amazing) Spotify playlist to kill the 8 hour journey. And when I clicked “shuffle”, I could feel tears threatening to spill out again.

Within a minute I was all packed up I’ve got a ticket to another world I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go.

My perspective to the whole song completely changed at that moment. I thought the “ticket” meant a ticket to fame, as in 5sos’ case. As in my case, it meant a literal plane ticket that I still have in between the pages of my passport.

Every single lyric, every single word had a whole new meaning to me. I would never look at this song the same way again.

When I go to bed at night, still jetlagged from the flight, I would tell myself that we’ll still wake up underneath the same sun the next morning. I had promised her that I’ll come back as soon as I can, I’ll even pull a surprise on her if I can. 

But the distance is supposed to make hearts grow fonder, right?

She sleeps alone, my heart wants to come home. I wish I was, I wish I was

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