dont worry gang i have secured my preorder of the ben funko

SWEET SEPTEMBER.

a @periminkle​​​ and @dewykth​​​ collaboration.

synopsis. for many, september symbolizes new beginnings. but for namjoon, this month never fails to send him back into the past. though this time, something seems different.

pairing. kim namjoon | female reader contains. fluff, angst, slice of life au, ballet instructor!reader, single dad!nj  word count. 7.5k+  warnings. death mentions, mature audience

dae’s note. surprise !!! this fic is dedicated to my favourite virgo karla @guklvr​​​​ !! happy birthday bae i hope you enjoy this lil thing me n vira whipped up for u!! (i stress wrote a lot of this ha.) also sry for lying & keeping you up but hopefully this makes u forgive me. but i hope ur day goes amazing ILYSM DUDE !!! <333 and a huge thank you to vira for hopping on board for this idea bc i cld not have done this without her !!! pls give her all the love !!!

vira’s note. KARLAAAA!!! i always gotta scream ur name it’s mandatory to start with a good scream ykno? bUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL 🥳  i already told u this too many times today but ILYSM !! like that full day without saying a single word to u felt so weird and i kept going into our chat and rereading our mssgs and wishing I was talking to u??? which is weird to admit?? but that literally how much i missed u idk how but im addicted to u so if you leave me I will literally die :))) aNYWAY have the bestestestest day ever and i hope u love the fic bc I ignored all my uni work to finish this !!! (also i feel reallyreallyreally bad about last night sO IM SORRY AGAIN BUT I HOPE THIS IS WORTH IT) 💖

Despite the papers carelessly stuffed into his leather briefcase, the dark coffee stain on his black slacks, and his unkempt locks resembling that of a bird’s nest, Namjoon’s become accustomed to the hectic nature of his mornings.

The kitchen table is practically buried under stacks of files, yet he brushes them aside to allow one corner of the glass surface to peek through. He plops the toddler in his arms onto a high chair before racing to the counter and sloppily pouring some honey nut cheerios into a small bowl, handing it off to his daughter. 

“Daddy?” her voice squeaks, a patient smile stretching across her lips. Her brown strands are tied up into pigtails at the crown of her head with pink ribbons that flutter with the movement of her tiny head. 

“Yes, angel?” He scurries around to their bedroom, peeling the stained fabric off his body and threading one leg through another pair of slacks fresh from the laundry. 

With Namjoon’s focus pinned on checking off the mental to-do list in his head, he misses the gentle, reassuring smile that stretches across her rosy lips. The adoration for her father is clear in her gaze. “You forgot to pour the milk.”

At the reminder, he squawks and hops back to the kitchen on one foot as he maneuvers his other leg through the pant hole. Swinging the fridge door open, he grabs the carton and sloppily pours the milk into her bowl—white droplets leaping out with their newfound freedom and forming perfect domes on the glass tabletop.

Cleaning the mess falls to the bottom of his priorities at the moment, and so he speeds off to the bathroom to ensure that his appearance is presentable for work while Dasom reaches over to pluck a tissue from the box, swiping the milky beads away before diving into her breakfast. She shoves as many cheerios into her small mouth as she can, rushing because she refuses to finish her meal in the car with their wild driver behind the wheel. 

Despite her mere four years of age, she knows from experience that a bowl of cereal and a shaky vehicle is a recipe for disaster.

Namjoon races over to his briefcase with most of his hair sleeked back, only the locks of his bangs hanging out to frame his forehead. As he slips his dark blazer on to complete his form-fitting suit, Dasom scoops the last few brown rings into her mouth and slurps the remainder of the liquid.

“Did you finish your milk?” he questions while cramming the edges of the loose leaves that peek past the seam of his briefcase, hurriedly zipping it up and turning to face her.

Dasom flips the edge of the bowl up to display its empty contents, gulping the last of her breakfast down her throat. As per routine, she scans her father for any inconsistencies in his attire, landing on his odd fitting bottoms.

“Daddy, your pants are on backwards.”

His eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, glancing down to affirm that the pockets at his sides are no longer at the front of his hips. Hastily, he shimmies out of his slacks once more and twists the fabric around to the proper orientation. 

Dasom hops off her chair, her bowl and wet kleenex in hand as she waddles over to the sink and waits for him to deposit the dirty dish into the sink and the sullied tissue into the trash. Although her short arms couldn’t reach over the countertop just yet, she’ll diligently drink every last drop of her milk in hopes of growing tall enough to take some of the load off of her father’s back.

He hoists Dasom up at the sight of the red car pulling up to the driveway, squeezing into the back seat. Namjoon doesn’t have to tell the driver to book it, as the calm man in front has learned to keep his foot pressed on the pedal. The car weaves through the morning traffic with concerning speed, snaking through the other vehicles littering the road as if they were no more than stationary pylons, simply there for practice.

Dasom remains on her father’s lap with his arms looped protectively around the seatbelt over her torso. She sinks into his embrace, fiddling around with his long, slender fingers as she watches the blurs of colour speeding past the window.

“Did you put your ballet shoes into your backpack, angel?” Namjoon loosens his grip on her, unhooking one hand to rummage through his own briefcase in order to confirm that he had indeed slid his laptop within the chaos inside. To keep her entertained, he playfully extends his digits out of her reach.

“Of course!” she chirps, a wide grin revealing the gaps between her teeth. The pads of her fingertips brush against his palm and tickle the sensitive skin there when she realizes that her arms lack the length required to latch onto his hand. “I can’t wait for class, we’ve got a new teacher coming in today!”

Humming absentmindedly, he sighs in relief at the sight of the silver device and packs the crumpled papers back in. “What happened to Ms. Kim?”

“She’s teaching the older class now.” The pout on her lips can be heard within the muffled lilt of her voice when she continues, “I asked her to stay until my birthday next week b-but she didn’t.”

Namjoon’s breath hitches at the reminder, but attempts to compose himself for his daughter’s sake. “It’s out of her control, angel, plus she’ll probably swing by anyway.”

His mind starts to fog up with the emotions he thought he buried last year–they swarm his every thought and nibble away at his sanity. He knows better than to believe that they would ever disappear. September will always be an insurmountable month for him.

“I might be a bit late to pick you up later, just sit tight and wait for Daddy, okay?”

She eagerly nods in response, noticing the dull red bricks of her school coming into view. “Okay, bye Daddy!”

Namjoon unlocks the seatbelt, wistfully watching his toddler bounce out of his arms and onto the asphalt below. No matter how many times he drops her off, it’s always difficult to be separated from her bright smile, but he reminds himself that it’s all for her; it makes things a little easier to bear.

“Have a good day at school.” He reciprocates her frantic waving through the window, craning his neck to watch her adorable form become smaller and smaller with the increased distance. Her full cheeks and crinkled eyes are engraved into the back of his mind.

Before long, Namjoon finds himself rushing into his office after an earful from his surly boss about everything from the late hour to the long list of meetings scheduled to all the work he’s got piled up. With his lips pursed and his head bowed, he somehow manages to make it past another lively morning.

Namjoon has a habit of overthinking. He figures it’s normal when you have a stressful job and a four year old full of energy to balance all by yourself. Not that overthinking about his daughter does him any good, because that is far from the reality. If anything, it just makes him, what you’d call, a bit... overprotective (over worrisome if you asked Jin). But it’s something he can’t really help. Even when she had just entered his life, so small and so blissfully unaware of the awful and evil things in the world, all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and shield her from it all as long as he could.

Though he’s very aware of the fact that it won’t be much longer, that won’t stop him from going over every single little thing that could go wrong in the meantime.

So, of course, when Namjoon’s asshole of a boss makes him stay two hours over his shift, all Namjoon can think about is Dasom. Is she okay? Has she eaten anything? Did she drink enough water today? She’s always dehydrated after her classes too. He usually calls Ms. Kim to check up on her, but his calls went straight to voicemail, which definitely wasn’t helping his hectic mind. Perhaps something had happened to her?

Oh god, maybe someone broke in and had injured Dasom?

The doors are thrown open, the sound of the doorknob hitting the wall reverberating through the room. The receptionist wearing her usual polka-dot dress jumps in her seat, eyes lifting from the intense scene on her phone to the entrance of the building. An unsure smile stretches across her ruby red lips at the familiar figure, though a bit disheveled and breathless. But before the customary ‘hello’ can even form on her tongue, the figure is rushing past her, leaving only a gust of air in his wake. The papers on her desk fall to the ground, and she sighs.

Namjoon is prepared to fight the (fictional) person who thinks breaking into a toddler ballet class is a good idea, but the scene in front of him once he pushes past the doors of the studio is one he is wholly unprepared for.

He sees Dasom first, and the relief that fills his body is indescribable. It’s far from the usual sight he’s greeted with when he picks her up late. She’s not sitting on one of the chairs in the far corner of the room. His heart doesn’t feel heavy, which comes with seeing his daughter so glum. This time it’s her laughter that greets him, not one provoked by him but by the figure standing in the middle of the room with her.

Dasom doesn’t seem to be aware of the presence of her dad yet, but the figure twirling her around turns, and her eyes land on Namjoon.

The reaction is immediate. The carefree smile that had been on your face slips off, a look of embarrassment and surprise overcoming your features. Namjoon only catches a glimpse, and somehow finds himself wishing that won’t be the last time he sees it. You let go of Dasom’s hand, quickly making your way to the stereo on the other side of the room. And that’s when-

“Daddy!”

Dasom wastes no time running into her father’s open arms, and Namjoon suddenly can’t remember why he was so worried in the first place. “Hi, angel.” he says, just loud enough for her to hear. She pulls back. “I’m so sorry for getting here so late. I promise i won’t do it again.”

But of course, Dasom holds nothing but forgiveness in her heart for her hard-working father. She does love teasing him, though. “Don't say sorry to me, say sorry to her.” she giggles, pointing behind her and Namjoon furrows his brow until he remembers they’re not the only ones in the room.

His eyes immediately move to where you stand awkwardly near the stereo, eyes moving around the room as if you hadn’t been watching the whole exchange. Namjoon sighs, realizing he definitely can’t avoid talking to you now. He stands straight, holding onto Dasom’s hand as he makes his way over to you. You only seem to grow more nervous as he nears, and Namjoon distantly recalls Jin telling him he came off as intimidating to most people. Something about his ‘beefy’ arms, in his own words. (“And that stupid and unfairly attractive face!”) He goes for a smile because it's not like he can control his physique.

“Hi, I’m so sorry about…”

Namjoon stops.

Maybe it was the overwhelming distress before, or the really shitty lighting of the studio, but he hadn’t realized how pretty you were before. But now he’s standing right in front of you and he can’t seem to form a coherent thought. Pretty can’t be the right word. He realizes how creepy he probably looks, running in here like a madman and then downright staring at the (very beautiful) woman who looked after his daughter? Not cool, man.

You clear your throat, before extending a hand to him. “Hi, I’m ____, the new ballet instructor.”

Your voice sounds just like honey.

Namjoon stares at your hand dumbly, before the sound of Dasom snickering (very discreetly) behind him snaps him out of it. But instead of introducing himself, or apologizing, or just taking your fucking hand, he says-

“What happened to Ms. Kim?”

He mentally face-palms.

Not. Cool. Man.

Your face falls, and Namjoon has never wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole more than he does now. “Uh, she’s instructing the teen class now.” you chuckle awkwardly, dropping your hand.

“Oh-”

“Daaaad,” Dasom's voice sounds annoyed, and perhaps it’s a bit silly of Namjoon to feel like he’s being scolded, but that is exactly how he feels right now. “I told you this. In the morning. Remember?”

He doesn’t. “Ah, right of course,” Namjoon scratches the back of his neck. It wasn’t like he meant to forget, he had just been too busy thinking about the other things every September would bring. “Sorry, I’m Kim Namjoon. Dasom’s dad.”

This time he offers his hand, and he thanks the skies above that you don’t seem to hate him because you fit your hand against his. Warm, like honey. How long had it been since he last made a fool of himself in front of a pretty girl?

Too long.

“I’m terribly sorry for arriving so late it’s just that my boss, who’s a huge-” Namjoon glances at Dasom, who is now in her own world, singing some song she learned in school, “jerk, decided to assign these reports last minute and the printer would just not work and then traffic hour-”

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, but Namjoon can see the amusement bubbling in your eyes. He flushes a deep red, eyes falling to the floor, realizing he started ranting.

“It’s okay. Really.”

When he looks back up, there’s a smile on your face. Not like the one before, this one was more reserved, but genuine, reassuring. And just like that, he’s sure you don’t hate him.

Namjoon’s not sure he likes this feeling though.

“Straighten your arms out, girls!” you belt over the classical music that floods the studio’s walls, scanning your army of toddlers in tutus whose arms immediately tense at your command. Making your way through the row, you poke and prod everywhere from their shoulders to their ankles. “Arch your back more, Somin.”

Their muscles violently tremble in response to the strenuous routine you’ve introduced, facial features scrunched in concentration and a resolute will to uphold their positions despite the hyperextension of their limbs. A mix of pity and pride swells in your chest at their effort. “Keep your chins up, the annual recital is only a couple of days away.”

Cheers erupt throughout the small room, disrupting the focus and spoiling their perfect form, yet you refuse to quiet excitement because of the renewed vigour buzzing throughout the room. The next hour depletes all of their built-up energy with demi-piles, pirouettes and sautés.

A glance at the analog clock in the corner informs you of the five minutes remaining before the end of class, so you pause the speakers and instruct the girls to stretch themselves out as they wait for their guardians to trickle in. They collectively sigh in relief before dropping to the floor like flies.

You snort at their dramatics with an amused smile playing at your lips. “I said to stretch, not to lay down and nap.”

“Can’t we nap and stretch at the same time?”

Strolling over to the source of the voice, you cluck your tongue at her limp form sprawled across the wooden floor and cross your arms, struggling to keep your giggles from breaking your angered facade. “And how do you suppose we do that, little Miss Dasom?”

She flashes her toothless grin up at you. “Like this!” With one leg bent over the other and her hands looping around to hold her twisted limbs to her torso, she shuts her eyes and exaggerates her snores.

At this point, it’s nearly impossible to withhold your snickers, and the rest of the class joins in your laughter. You pick up on Dasom’s tinkling giggles between each of her heavy breaths. The lighthearted jokes continue as kids are signed out with bright grins on each of their faces.

You wait for the rest of the toddlers to file out one by one, waving goodbye and checking them off your list until, as usual, Dasom is the only toddler left. Her tiny feet still clad in her faded ballet shoes waddle up to you, tugging on your blouse.

“Your pirouette was a bit wobbly today, do you want to go over—”

“‘M tired,” she interrupts, slouching her shoulders with an adorable frown marring her lips. Her exhaustion is justified, since the routine is rather exhausting, and with their recital right around the corner, you worked them to the bone today.

The odd timing of the switch between you and Ms. Kim left you with a little under a week to tweak and perfect their current choreography. A sloppy routine is not the way you want to present your skills to their parents for the first time, thus you were stricter with the kids than normal.

Your sympathy wins out, and so you gather Dasom’s lithe figure into your arms as you head to the closest wall. With your back supported, you spread out your legs and place her in your lap.

“My birthday is this Thursday.”

“Mhm,” you hum, bobbing your head to signal for her to continue her train of thought.

Her back faces you, but when her head tips down to stare at her hands, you know she’s contemplating her words carefully. Rather than encouraging her to speak freely, you wait for her to feel comfortable enough to reveal her thoughts; and surely enough, her shell cracks open just enough for you to peep through. “Do you wanna come?”

“I would be honoured.” A giddy smile splits across your lips. “Is Daddy picking you up again today?”

She flips around in your hold, wrapping her arms around your waist and snuggling her head to your chest. Her words are muffled into the fabric of your thin shirt, but her tone indicates her affirmation.

Suddenly self-conscious of your heartbeat—that Dasom can definitely hear with her ear pressed up against you—picking up pace at the mention of her father, you suppress your thoughts with a guilty conscience. You internally chide yourself for harbouring feelings for the charming, taken, man, defying arguably one of the most important fundamental rules of becoming an instructor.

Do not develop silly crushes on your student’s parents.

“Ms. ____?” her faint question snaps you out of your reverie, attention brought back to the present moment. While preoccupied, your hand took on a mind of its own, gingerly patting the space between the little girl’s shoulder blades at a slow rhythm.

She gazes up at you when you halt your rhythmic movements, sharp eyes boring into yours. “Are you gonna ask Daddy to come see me dance?”

The edges of your lips flip up in what you hope to be an encouraging smile as you nod your head. Subconsciously, you begin to stress over another encounter with Namjoon, formulating a script to hopefully avoid the stiff, tense atmosphere that lingered throughout all your previous interactions.

“Daddy’s always really busy,” she slurs, drowsiness coating her words and weighing down on her lids. Grumbling under her breath about her numb legs, Dasom crawls onto the floor beside you with her head resting on your thigh. “He’s always working hard for me.”

Your eyes soften at the fetal position she’s taken up on the ground; not only was Dasom lucky to have such a dedicated father, but Namjoon was also blessed with a caring daughter. “You don’t think he can make it?”

“It’s okay,” she whispers and you have to crane your ears to listen. You stroke the strands littering her forehead, gingerly caressing the crown of her head. “It’s okay if Daddy can’t come. I know him, he’s trying to do it all because Mommy’s not with us anymore, but it’s okay. I still love him even if I can’t see him lots.”

A knot forms between your eyebrows, a bittersweet ache forming within the creases of your heart. The painful constriction of your chest ebbs and flows with your shallow breaths that can’t seem to make it past your throat. You bite your lip to subdue the plentiful liquid gathering at your waterline.

No more than a croak escapes your lips before the door to the studio flies open, meeting the adjacent wall with a bang!

“I’m so sorry, my meeting ran late and I couldn’t—” the rest of his speech gets stuck in his windpipe at the sight of you, eyes rimmed red and sniffling, with Dasom, ostensibly dead asleep, on your thigh. “Did she…?”

You blink away your incoming tears, although your dignity has been completely thrown out the window, seeing as he believes that his four-year-old kid made a grown woman, who just so happens to be her ballet teacher, bawl her eyes out.

As you go to gently shake Dasom awake, she sluggishly lifts her head off of your lap and starts to scale your torso like a koala on a tree. Your confusion is vocalized through the high-pitched hum in your throat, but your efforts to pry off her limbs, tightly wound around the small of your waist, are futile.

“Uh, Dasom? It’s time to go home now, angel.” Despite his firm words, Namjoon’s tone is unsure and shaky; he can feel cold sweat build up in the lines of his palms. He knows his daughter, and she can be periodically stubborn and insistent the way children are at her age, thus even as you come to stand, she’s stuck to you like glue. “Would you, uh, did you need a ride?”

You mimic the sheepish smile on his face, hoping the flaming blush you feel on your cheeks isn’t as visible as it seems. “Sure.”

With Dasom latched onto you, both of you make your way to the red car outside after you lock up the studio. Namjoon courteously opens the car door for you, what with your arms supporting his clingy toddler; although, with the brute force he uses, you worry for the state of the hinges. Thankfully, they stay intact and he’s able to slip into the backseat after you.

Before an awkward silence can settle, you clear your throat and prepare to ask him about his day, but you’re interjected by Namjoon’s sudden stammering, “D-driving’s such a hassle for me so Jin drives us everywhere. Jin knows how to drive though, so, don’t worry.” He finishes with a deep chuckle that dies off nearly as quickly as it began. Oh, that’s unexpected.

“You don’t to drive yourself?” Rather than being processed in your brain and logically thought through, the question immediately enters your mouth without any prior scanning for dumbass-content. You instantly regret it, feeling as though it’s much too invasive. “You don’t have to answer that, I—”

The hearty laughter that meets your ears is “No, I do. Sometimes. But its easier raising this one like this.” His tone turns sweet at the mention of Dasom as he reaches over to pat her head, and you’re overcome with an intense desire to prod more into his personal life. Why does he have to work so much? Which shirt in his closet is his favourite? How does he like his eggs in the morning?

“I’m not sure if you already knew about the annual recital on Saturday, but Dasom’s been practicing really hard for weeks and the kids are all really talented, so it would definitely be worth your time...”

As he’s gazing at his daughter, galaxies of devotion and longing swirl within his cocoa irises. The cool light of the moon shines through the windows of the car, illuminating his sharp jawline and strong brows. You’re absolutely mesmerized by the sight in front of you. “You must be really busy, huh?”

“More than I’d like to be.”

You rip your entranced gaze away from Namjoon, willing yourself to steady your frantic breaths.

The remainder of the ride still drips with awkward tension, although with a definite lighter tone than before. Jin pulls up to your apartment with your direction and you dislodge a sleepy Dasom from your torso, which is much easier now that her limbs have gone slack with sleep. Handing her off to Namjoon, who practically engulfs her tiny form with his broad chest, you rush out of the vehicle with a quick, “See you!”

You slam the door closed before he can say anything, racing into the comfort of your home with your heart in your throat.

The last thing you had expected to do on a Thursday evening was to go to a birthday dinner. Thursdays are your days off, your in-days. The ones you spend lounging on your couch with a face mask and some wine. And yet, here you are.

When you received a text this morning, the last person you had expected it to be was Namjoon. Much less Namjoon asking you to come over for Dasom’s birthday. You weren’t going to say yes, hell, you had thought of downright ignoring it. It was weird, wasn’t it? But Dasom had quickly carved a toddler-shaped hole into your heart. Truly, you had said yes before the message was even typed out.

And so now you stare at the tall apartment building in front of you, definitely feeling more nervous than before. You knew that Namjoon had to be well-off to afford a weekday chauffeur, but damn did you not expect him to be this well-off.

It seemed today was the day to expect absolutely anything.

You enter the opulent building, signing in at the front desk before entering the large, mirrored elevator. The beating of your heart picks up the more floors you pass, and you can’t help but fidget with your appearance. Namjoon had said it would only be you three, which you guessed was supposed to calm your nerves but really, it did anything but that. The mere thought of eating dinner with Namjoon was nerve-wracking. But now you were about to eat dinner and enter his home; you had no fucking clue what you were getting yourself into.

The doors slide open, and you step into the hallway. A single door could be seen at the end of the hallway, so you quickly make your way over. You stop right in front, taking a deep breath in before pushing the doorbell. A beat, a crash, another beat, then-

The door swings open, and your breath catches in your throat.

Namjoon looks heavenly as always, but seeing him in clothes other than his usual black slacks makes your heart do a cartwheel. God, this is dangerous.

“Ms. ____!”

Before Namjoon can form a hello, Dasom is running past him and wrapping her small arms around your legs. “You came! See daddy! I told you she’d come.” her tongue pokes out of her mouth, aimed straight at her father and you stifle a laugh.

“Did he think I wouldn’t?” you ask, eyebrow arched as you glance at Namjoon, who seems to have a permanent pink hue on his face.

“He said you wouldn’t!”

“Oh, really? What else did he say?”

“He said I had to help him clean either way!”

“Alright, Dasom. That’s enough.” He says firmly, clearing his throat and trying to act as unaffected as possible. His eyes shift to meet yours. “Why don’t you come inside?”

As much as this day really sucked for Namjoon, today had been… different. Not all too much. Of course, getting up was the hardest part, but he had decided to make Dasom her favourite breakfast meal instead of her usual cereal. He had also made sure to get her all the toys she had been wanting, and planned their day out to do Dasom’s favourite things. Namjoon just wanted this day to be special for her. That was all he cared about.

But when Dasom had asked him to invite you, he had hesitated.

Dasom had never spent her birthdays with anyone else but Namjoon. Not that it was intentional, but Namjoon liked to have this day just for the both of them. Because that’s how it’s always been. He didn’t know what it was about you that made his daughter talk about you all the time. Or why she wanted to spend a birthday with you. But how could he deny her? And so, the text was sent.

And now, as Namjoon puts away the dishes while you sit on his couch, he realizes he hadn’t thought of her today. Not as much as the years before. Dinner had been so... nice. It felt nice to have someone else around. Namjoon loves Dasom, but he hadn’t realized how distant he had gotten from everything that had once seemed to be the centre of his life.

Namjoon closes the dishwasher, exiting the kitchen and making his way to the living room. He places the two glasses on the table before pouring the dark red liquid.

“I hope you like Merlot.”

“Oh, please. Anything’s fine.”

You take the wine glass, sending him a thank you before taking a drink. “So,” you lean back, “remind me how to play this again.”

“Ms.____ I told you. You have to take a block without knocking the tower over,” Dasom shows you by pushing a middle wooden block out, “then you have to place it on top, like this.'' She places the same block on top of the tower.

“Ah, right! I just need to make sure if I want to win.”

“You can’t! I’m the best!”

“Oh really? And what about you?” you turn, brow raised and eyes playful.

“Pshh,” he scoffs, leaning forward. “Who do you think she takes after?”

He doesn’t think he’s ever lost a game so quickly.

Namjoon watches as you close Dasom’s door quietly from the hallway before you make your way back to the family room. “She’s out like a light. I guess all that tower building got to her.”

Namjoon snorts. He feels oddly disappointed as he watches you gather your things to go. Was it weird that he wanted you to stay? “Do you need me to get you a ride? I can call Jin to drive you home.”

“No, it’s fine! Really! I already ordered an Uber anyway.” You grab your coat near the door. Before Namjoon can unlock the door, you touch his shoulder. “Listen, thank you for inviting me today. I know you probably wanted to spend this day together instead, but I... “ you inhale, because you aren’t sure of what you want to actually say “thank you.”

Would it be weird to say how much better you made today? Probably. “You don’t… have to thank me. I think I should be the one doing the thanking. I really wanted this day to be special for Dasom and you… you definitely helped. So, thank you.”

The door opens, and the light of the hallway fills his dim flat. “Guess we’re even then.” you smile before turning, making your way to the elevator. Namjoon shuts the door once the sight of you is gone, but the smile on his face remains

“Guess we are.” he whispers wistfully

Perhaps stopping at a flower vendor when you’re already running late was a bad idea, but Namjoon wasn’t thinking about time. He had seen the bouquet of flowers and imagined the huge smile that would stretch across Dasom’s face, and that was all he needed to swerve into the left lane.

Now, though, as he anxiously watches the cars in front of him move a foot forward after thirty minutes, he’s sure he should have just left the fucking flowers alone.

Namjoon doesn’t know how long he’s been shifting his eyes from the traffic to the watch ticking around his wrist, but by a miracle, the cars start moving. Slowly, then he’s speeding down the highway, praying to the skies above he’ll make it in time. Even if he arrives in the midst of the dance, he can’t miss this recital. He won’t.

He sighs in relief when he sees the familiar glass building, though it’s cut short when he sees the parking lot. No available place in sight. Fuck. Namjoon is sure he looks insane right now, swerving around the parking lot in search for an empty spot, or really just any fucking spot that looks like it could fit his monster of a car.

Then the clouds seem to open up, and right near the entrance is a vacant spot. Namjoon swears his mouth almost waters at the sight. Quickly speeding around the lot, he parks, but not before flipping off the angry parent who tries to beat him to it. Namjoon exits his car, quickly grabbing his coat and the large bouquets of flowers from the backseat. He runs to the entrance, practically throwing the shriveled paper at the ticket clerk.

Namjoon slows as he nears the theatre doors, taking a deep breath before calmly opening it. He had completely forgotten to book seats in advance, so he’s not surprised to see the velvet seats filled to the brim. When he looks to the stage, he’s relieved to see that there’s still time until Dasom comes on.

Now, Namjoon knows he’s not the most… balanced person. It’s common knowledge that he trips over his feet and knocks things over sometimes. (Oh, but definitely more than the average person.) Now, if you were to ask Namjoon if he pays attention to his surroundings, he'd say yes.

But if you were to ask Namjoon what he tripped over, he wouldn’t know. It doesn’t matter, because now there’s a furious mother with a horrendous bob cut glaring at him, and what he thinks to be a broken camcorder on the floor. The only thing he can manage is an awkward smile and an even more awkward apology. Namjoon offers to give her the cost for repairs, hell, even offers to buy her a new one. The woman snatches the bills from his hands but she doesn’t go back to minding her business like he thought she would. No, instead she starts to argue with him, in the middle of her child’s recital, no less!

Namjoon can’t do anything but stare at her as she blabbers on about how horrible he is for throwing her camcorder on the floor. (Not like it had much life left, that thing looked like it was from 2007.) She’s damn near spitting on his face, and causing other parents to turn around and glare at them. As if it was his fault. Who knew she had such an attachment to the damn thing!

A hand lands on his shoulder, and for a second he’s sure it’s security ready to escort him out of the building. But when he turns, he’s surprised to see it’s you. Like an angel had ascended from the clouds to save Namjoon from the wrath of a ballet mom. And just like that, you’re leading him away, taking a seat two rows before the stage. Namjoon’s eyes widen at the sight of the empty seat beside you.

It’s that feeling again, and Namjoon’s palms start to get sweaty as he takes a seat. “Jesus, thank you for that,” he whispers, relishing your quiet laughter that follows.

“Of course. She was probably a blink away from going full-blown Karen on you.” you tease.

“Oh, and that wasn’t?”

“Oh, Joon, you haven’t seen how angry ballet moms can get.” you both laugh, huddled together as if you’re sharing a special secret. It seems so natural. As if this is where he’s supposed to be. So much that Namjoon almost doesn’t catch the nickname, but how could he miss it when you say it just like she used to?

The stage lights darken, and Namjoon is grateful for the excuse to look elsewhere. He’s sure if he would have stared at you for just a bit longer, he would have done something completely and utterly stupid. “This is her.” you whisper, and Namjoon buries the thought away.

A blue hue shines across the stage before the soft melody begins to play, filling the room with the sounds of strings and keys. One by one, tiny swans begin to come into view, prancing around the stage. Namjoon catches sight of Dasom, looking adorable in her white tutu and he can’t help the proud smile that makes its way onto his face. He watches with adoration as she does her pirouettes, and maybe there’s some water overflowing in his eyes as they finish their dance, bowing towards the audience.

You both stand, clapping and cheering the loudest, uncaring of the stares from the snobby rich parents because you’re both too damn proud of Dasom to care. For a moment, Namjoon pretends that it’s different, simpler. That it’s not only his child on stage but yours. Ours. He thinks he likes the sound of that too much.

Once the show ends, you lead Namjoon backstage where the buzz of dozens of girls talking fills the air. You tell him that you need to check in on the other kids and disappear through a hallway. He spots Dasom quickly, or rather, she spots him.

“Daddy! You came!”

Namjoon lifts Dasom with his free arm, twirling her around before placing a big kiss on her forehead. Her giggles fill him with delight, and he doesn’t care that his cheeks hurt from how hard he’s been smiling. “Of course I came, angel. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He places her on the ground before he grabs the bouquet of sunflowers from his other arm. The sight of her favourite flower makes Dasom jump with joy. She takes the flowers, and Namjoon silently coos at how much smaller they make her look. Then she spots the other bouquet of flowers in his arm. She scrunches her brows together, about to ask who those are for before her eyes catch something behind Namjoon.

“Ms. ____!”

“Dasom!”

Dasom jumps into your arms, and you laugh at her enthusiasm. “You did so well! I’m so proud of that pirouette!” You twirl her around once her feet hit the ground, smiling as you watch her stumble slightly. Namjoon can’t help but smile too.

“Look what daddy got me, Ms. ____! Look!” Dasom lifts the flowers up, almost shoving them into your face.

“Wow, these are very beautiful, Dasom!”

“Look! He got you some too!” she giggles, and you look at her confusedly then at Namjoon. He sighs, looking pointedly at Dasom despite the cherry hue making its way across his cheeks. She giggles once again before running to her friends. “Dasom!” but it's futile.

If it weren’t for the consistent chatter, Namjoon’s sure there would be an agonizing silence to fill the space between you. You walk closer to him, looking down at your shoes bashfully. “Ah, these-” he takes the bouquet from his arm, “these are for you.”

You looked surprised to say the least. Eyes wide and glassy, your mouth falling ajar. “Wow, uh, really?” you ask, glancing up from the bouquet. He nods shyly.

Listen, he had only planned to buy Dasom her favourite flowers. But then he caught sight of these beautiful yellow roses, tips painted a light amber orange. Somehow they reminded him of you. And the way you had left him with his heart feeling lighter for the first time in years the other night. Maybe it was a way of saying thank you. He’ll admit, he didn’t think it all the way through, but the way you’re smiling at him right now makes him think it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

There’s a moment where it seems to just be you and him, despite the tons of parents and children running around. He’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes drop to his lips, if only for a millisecond. Namjoon wants to say it. God, he wants to say it so badly. “Listen I… I’ve been meaning to ask you,” his voice fades away as his eyes catch yours. Hopeful. Beautiful. Glimmering.

Just like hers.

“Do you, uh, need a ride home?”

And the bubble bursts.

You step away, looking at anything but him and he hates it. He despises it. He wants you to look at him like that again. He wants nothing more than to pull you back and kiss you senselessly, like his mind is screaming for him to do. But he can’t. He can’t do it for some fucking reason and he almost wants to cry in frustration because why can’t this just be easier? Why is it so hard to move on? You don’t deserve this. You deserve so much better than what he can offer you. And that thought keeps him still.

“Uh, sure.”

Quiet.

Say something, idiot! Tell her what you’ve been dying to say! Just fucking say it!

Namjoon hates himself for the next words that tumble out of his mouth.

“Let’s find Dasom.”

The drive to your house is just like it was before, except this time there’s no chatter to fill the emptiness. Dasom is sound asleep in the backseat. You've never seemed more distant than now, facing the window, body pressed against the door. You had almost begged to go in the back with Dasom, and Namjoon doesn’t know why he didn’t just let you.

How did it come to this? This wasn’t what he wanted. This night wasn’t supposed to go like this. Everything should have gone differently.

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever fix this. If things will go back to normal. If he completely ruined it. But he’s too afraid to ask. Too afraid to know.

Namjoon has never hated the quiet more.

The sight of your apartment complex fills him with dread. All he can think about is all he wants to say, all he should have said, all he wants to take back. God, Namjoon wishes he could take it back. If only there was a way to turn back the time. Why had he been so afraid to make a move? Why did it hurt so much? But he knows going back wouldn’t help. Not when he doesn’t know if he would have done it differently.

His car comes to a stop, and the doors unlock. He faintly catches the small thank you before the passenger door slams shut. Namjoon watches as you make your way up the pathway, feet moving briskly and it feels like he’s watching you walk away from him.

You’re shuffling through your bag, looking for your key. And fuck, is he really just going to this go?  Is he that stubborn that he can’t see past himself? He can’t. He can’t let you go. Not like this.

Well do something, dumbass!

The door of his car is thrown open, and before he can overthink it-

“____!”

You still. You turn.

Namjoon shuts the door. He walks up the steps and stops a few feet away from you, but he feels like he’s miles away. You look up at him, questioning. Your eyes aren’t the same ones. Not like you looked at him before. Yet they’re still warm. Inviting. Namjoon is tongue-tied, and all those words he wanted to say are gone now.

“Are we… good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I just…” he scratches the back of his neck. “That moment back at the recital. I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” you say, simply. When he looks at you, he can’t tell what you’re feeling. You’ve blocked him off. “Namjoon, really. It’s fine.”

But is it really? He wants to ask. But he doesn’t. It’s quiet again, this time the sound of the wind rustling the browning leaves above filling the space. Still.

“I… god, I don’t know why this is so hard. Ever since, you know,” you don’t. “I… I didn’t think I'd ever get an opportunity to…” he inhales, unsure of what he wants to say first.

“I just feel like I ruined it so carelessly.”

You don’t say anything for a few moments. You only stare at him, really stare at him. Like you can see through his mirage, through the walls he’s spent so long building up. You’re taking it all, but there’s nothing he can take back from you.

“You didn’t.” you whisper it so quietly, Namjoon would have thought his mind had taken pity on him. But a smile slips onto your face. Unlike the other ones. It doesn’t fill him with joy. It doesn’t give him butterflies. This one hurts.

And he knows you’re telling the truth.

“This… It might take a while.”

The wind picks up. The leaves rustle. The cold, biting.

“That’s ok. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

Your lips are bittersweet on his tongue.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN TO KARLA !! ILYYYY <3

Wanted, Mr Sniffles

deepestfirefun

You are Richard´s roommate as you have just moved into New York and saw an advertisement where someone was looking for a roommate, weirdly enough, it was Richard who let his agent do the scanning of the people who phoned on the number that was under the advertisement. You seemed to have all the qualities that they were looking for, ( had a steady job, was willing to sign a contract where absolute professional confidentiality about your roommate was demanded ) it sounded very odd to you at first but when it was explained that the person who was looking for a roommate, their profession was acting you understood it and signed. The shock of your life when you first were introduced to your roommate, Richard Crispin Armitage.

But it didn´t take long for you two hit it off and became fast friends, although you had a quite the crush on him you keep it to yourself, or so you thought since you had quite forgotten that body language was Richard´s strong suit as he was a bloody actor. So he noticed that but as the perfect gentleman he is, doesn´t say anything, instead he starts to give you these little endearment pet names, gestures, light caresses that should tell you he was alright with the fact that you were falling in love with him as he was falling for you, slowly but steadily. Until one day after you come back home from work, you were upset wanting to cry and just craved for some cuddles and without even thinking what you are doing, you go straight to Richard´s lap snuggling right under his chin and that makes Richard the happiest man on earth at that moment.

.

 - Some self doubts. Add in some bits to add some drama for the pair.

This is just pt 1. :D

Tags - 

@himoverflowers​​, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator​​, @sweeticedtea​​, @ggbbhehe4455​​, @thegreyberet​​, @patanghill17​​, @jesgisborne​​, @curvestrology​​, @alishlieb​​, @jogregor​, @admirationofarmitage​, @fizzyxcustard​, @here2have-fun​, @c-s-stars​, @abiwim​​, @deepestfirefun​

...

Brutal. In one word Richard’s last trip out to film in New Zealand. The first film was wrapped, in a sense, and he was finally home again. The large house sat empty for months with only his relatives to drop by and run the tap, flush a couple toilets, slam a few doors, he really didn’t care. He loved having his privacy but in the months away he truly regretted owning a home of his own, it merely seemed wasteful. A single offer from his agent had come as a timid resolution to his problem however, one he would no doubt at least give a shot to. A roommate, for the most part there was an attached mother in law cottage, will full kitchen, only sharing the main sitting room and the laundry with the main house allowing both parties their privacy. With another event coming up Richard relaxed all he could before having to leave again allowing his agent to handle this.

…

A sharp gasp left you as the second ring on your phone sounded, with furrowed brows you slid the edge of your fingers between your lips in a failed attempt to ease the pain in your finger from its press against the kettle you were moving to an empty burner as a deep croon sounded out. “Hello?”

Without reason you grinned widely brushing your hair behind your ear saying, “Morning. I um, I got your number about the rental ad?”

Unknown to you a grin sounded through the phone as your familiar voice came through the line, “Yes, might I ask your name?”

“Y/n.”

“My name is Troy, I’m actually handling this matter for my client. You wouldn’t mind meeting up for an interview?”

“Um, sure. When would you want to meet up?”

“Are you free today? I’ll be in London for a few hours, we could meet up for a cup? Around noon good?”

“Yes,” your eyes darted to the clock along the wall as your mind reeled to the set of busses and subway stop you would have to take, “Where are we meeting up?”

.

With numbers traded you finished your tea, showered and filled your purse you shouldered over your loose cardigan swaying around your t shirt and jeans after hopping your way into your worn sneakers instead of forcing your aching feet into even your most comfortable heels. Three busses and a subway stop later you hopped your way up the steps and trotted through the crowds to the café on the corner you entered and claimed a seat in after placing your order at the counter.

Not long after a tall blonde walked through the door with a stern expression on his face looking over the room until he spotted you alone sipping on your tea. One glance over you and your pitifully drooping ponytail you set your mug down to tighten back up to its former high resting spot. As he neared the table your eyes rose to meet his asking cheerfully, “Troy?”

He nodded and lowered into the seat across from you accepting your hand shake, “Thank you for meeting me. I know it was short notice.”

You shrugged through a weak giggle, “I’ve worked with worse timelines.”

A smirk eased across his lips as he leaned forward asking, “You won’t mind answering some questions now?” Your head shook and he drew out a small notebook and a pen to take notes under a set list of questions. “First, I have to ask if you’re employed.”

You nodded, “Yes,” after another weak giggle your hand folded around your mug, “I’ve been told too employed on occasion.” His brow rose as you claimed a sip of your tea, after which you lowered it to add, “I work in set and prop design,” making his brow rise at the common ground you and Richard held already, “Also a few months out of the year I fly out to the States to record some audio books, and I also do a few voices on an animated show out here.”

“Which sets have you worked on?”

“Mostly period pieces. My first one was assisting on North and South.” The arch in his brow inched higher, “It was just a few fetching things, I’d just gotten out of uni, then after it was a few small for tv ones, then a steady bit on Being Human, until I got roped into a few traveling bits on Strike Back. Then started on the Borgias few years back, that just ended, um I actually just signed on for a new one about Mary Queen of Scots and there’s a couple more lined up for the months in between their filming bits that haven’t been guaranteed yet.”

The number of actors he knew of forming Richard’s circle you had possibly already met grew and eased his comfort about you already, “Impressive. And the audio portions, is that for income only, or?”

“Um, I mean, partially, most of it goes in savings really. It started as a favor to my Cousin and they ended up needing a steady worker and it also lets me travel a bit across the pond so, not all bad to add to the purse and schedule at the end of the day.”

He nodded, “Where are you staying now?”

“With my Cousins, two of them are getting married and the lease is up next month.”

“So you’re available to move in quite soon?”

You nodded, “Whenever possible, either soon or I could find a place to crash until, your client, is comfortable with me moving in, if I’m approved that is.”

Your cups were emptied and another was called for to finish the rest of the nearly eight pages of questions that only stirred the smirk on the agent’s face even wider. On his feet again he dropped your hand promising to be in touch after he would do the background check on you and have the answer in a couple days after you had agreed to signing a confidentiality agreement not to share anything about the client in question. Something you didn’t argue with, as it also would cover their not sharing the details you would have on shows before production had closed. Sketches, models and detailed notes weren’t an uncommon thing in your possession and they had been hard to keep hidden from your Cousins in the past adding to your reasons for needing to move.

…

Not three days later you were called out to London again to meet in his office to fill out the paperwork for the confidentiality agreement and the lease before joining you outside to drive you in his car out to the house while your Cousins followed behind in the moving van. Within the hour your things were unpacked in your portion of the house, using the side entrance directly to it before your Cousins left you with the Agent to have a tour of the house after their friend had delivered your car from its repair job in the shop. You weren’t alone for long as another car pulled up in the driveway allowing the tall figure closer to the main entrance with a large suitcase at his side.

The thick wooden door swung open revealing a near heart dropping realization of who you were now living with. Richard Crispen freaking Armitage. Those bright blue eyes of his scanned over you in his entering and motion to close the door behind him, each moment you could see him trying to remember who you were as his Agent had no doubt shared your now confirmed work history. Obviously unsuccessful in that attempt but those eyes of his had locked on a clear reaction you had no success in reigning in. As it stood you were at the moment quite excruciatingly taken from what he had learned from your interview but that did nothing to hinder the clear effect he had on you.

The words of the Agent blurred in his mind as he took in the details of your every motion and unsteady breath while you tried to focus on Troy and not the Brit making a mental inventory of what he stirred from you. A trick he loved taking advantage of, through his long slow career he had learned the art of body language, something that only increased his own decided valuable skills to help in his craft. It certainly didn’t hurt in finding out what his significant others truly felt and refused to share with him. No matter what he settled to respect the boundaries and treat you as a tenant and hopefully a friend should you hit it off, but against his own clear instant attraction to you he would be your friend and only your friend.

Before he could blink a phone call took Troy back on his path to the office for another client allowing you both to have some time alone to learn one another. With brows raised he eyed your quick smile stirring a dry swallow from him, “I know you probably don’t remember me. But honestly you really don’t have any reason to.”

“Oh?”

You nodded, “On North and South I mainly did errands, and on Strike back I got called in to take over just after you got killed off, unfortunately.” A smirk eased onto his face, “Besides, if you had any worries about my sticking to the agreement I’ve had one of your secrets for over a decade now.”

His brow raised challengingly allowing him to catch yet another reaction he had stirred from you only raising his amused state in his secret game. “Oh? And that would be?”

Your smile grew playfully as you replied, “I know for a fact who spilled pop on the cotton bolts in the final mill scenes.” His lips parted as you giggled softly twisting slightly from side to side, “But I’m not going to say who.”

A soft chuckle left him as he shook his head, “Care for some tea, Miss y/n?”

With a grin you replied, “That would be lovely, thank you.”

You followed him into the kitchen as he asked, “Your fella didn’t help you move in?”

A soft giggle left you as you repeated, “My fella?” he turned to glance at you as he filled the kettle, “No, he has to work. No worries, he won’t be hanging around a lot. But he has agreed to sign papers for visiting, Troy’s going to send the papers over later today.”

Richard smirked at you, “Did you need help unpacking?”

Your hand waved in front of you, “No worries, I can manage it.”

He nodded, “If you do need it let me know.”

You nodded and he served the tea that bubbled over into him following you to your suite as your fluid conversation continued. A smile grew on his face that he hadn’t felt in a while, easily you had dropped into a great friendship almost instantaneously as your humor and rhetorical and sarcastic whits seemed to meld nicely into a steady back and forth. Each box he helped you shift as he stole glances at what he could, especially those meant for your sitting room turned office. All but one you allowed him to help with without caring, a large chest you awkwardly scooted into your bedroom stirred his curiosity. But he stole a glance at where you had hidden it away hoping to sneak a peek later only to catch you turning it into a bench under one of your windows under a pile of blankets. Turning back again to help you with the rest of the boxes he smiled at you when you timidly glanced at him again upon entering the main hall again.

…

Days had bled on between his busy days with interviews while you commuted to work, his week end only left him with a glimpse of you and the man in one of your photos he guessed to be your boyfriend. With furrowed brows he watched the pair of you chatting with your eyes locked on your separate notebooks. The pair of you were awkwardly sprawled on two chairs at opposing ends of the shared sitting room in the house. Quietly he passed by resuming his rituals to shower and change before exiting again to catch the man now gone. Against his racing pulse at what he assumed to be your sending him away at hearing Richard he strolled through straight to your side only to pause as he peered down at you when you smiled at him greeting him happily. “Richard! I didn’t hear you come in.”

With parted lips he glanced up as the man entered again furrowing his brows at the fruit juice bottle he passed you while saying, “I thought you switched to the green label.”

Tilting your head back you replied, “They only had the purple, but I got some tomato juice for you.”

He nodded eyeing the red bottle in his other hand before he shook it and opened it, mumbling, “I am so tired of falling for limited editions.” You smirked up at him as Richard met his eye only to get a hand held out to him, “Tim.”

Richard shook his hand, “Pleasure to meet you.”

Tim nodded and claimed his seat again as you added, “We were thinking of takeaways, want some?”

Richard wet his lips, “Oh I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

You both shook your heads and said together with soft chuckles, “No intrusion at all.”

All through the meal, when it finally arrived leaving him to sit between you at the side of the table after his expecting you to sit together, but each moment of your shared aloof states left him absolutely baffled. Your attraction was there, to him and Tim, but nothing from him, not at least past a mild fondness from what Richard could see. So him being in his confirmed set aside position he started to dig deeper into the relationship leaving him, as Tim was heading home for the night, with the casual peck on the cheek you had initiated and he did not return, merely tolerated as if some favor to you, that this was a train wreck waiting to happen. Already as he headed to bed when you had said your good nights he could already perfectly see the stacks of tissue boxes, the tubs of ice cream spilling over from your freezer to his, the countless sappy romances he would no doubt inch his way into joining the marathon with you to aid in your pain relieving rituals as best he could.

Heartbreak was absolute, something he couldn’t help but share with his friends, in hypothetical situations of course, all referring to ‘a friend’ and his roommate and their crumbling relationship Richard failed in maintaining the charade and just erupted, spewing it all out leading to the guys to come visit the next day he was in town. With his own busy work schedule you barely saw each other three days a month. No doubt you had relaxed into at least verbally as one of those joking caring relationships that seemed to irritate everyone when they were equally as loving, or physically affectionate. 

The single bubbly laughing conversation you shared seemed to draw the entire group in only to puzzle them as you would lean in and then lean back with a reigned in reaction as if you’d been emotionally slapped. Only a few seconds in the hour they had spent with you the they could catch the freezes when you would inch back again respecting the seemingly invisible barrier between you until his deliberate taps on your thighs and fore arms to share more details on stories.

Your parting when he had to head back to the airport only left the actors around Richard inches from angrily pummeling Tim, their reaction simply was to drag Richard to his room the minute you left the men to return to your notes to finalize some designs for work the following week. The group all shared hushed angry shouted whispers trying to make sense of why the man would dare limit any interaction with you at all. 

Their final passing glance of Tim was one you had drawn them into, in a jaw droppingly tight dress you entered the room to sit beside Aidan as you smiled at him widely asking, “If I were to sit like this,” you scooted closer to him pressing your leg against his while you propped your chin in one palm, “And I pat your arm and say,” Switching your voice from normal to a giddy giggly one saying with your eyes locked on his in a teasing grin, “I can’t imagine having to wait soo long for someone to sign you. I could listen to your voice all day.”

The giggle after raised his brow as he stammered out, “Are you trying to flirt with me?”

With a pat of your hand on the counter you turned to Tim pointing a finger at him abruptly snapping from your previous near enamored state, “See! I told you!”

Tim rolled his eyes, “How was I supposed to know she was flirting with me?”

“One, leaning in, two, she touched you!”

Tim shrugged, “You touch my arm all the time.”

The men groaned as you replied, “Yes, but women don’t normally go around just touching people!”

Tim shrugged, “Point taken, what else?”

Richard, with his temper as reigned in as he could muster at your attention to, Aidan added, “The look for one.”

Lee nodded, “Pure lust in those eyes.”

Graham, “And the giggle. No woman just laughs like that without trying to flatter the ego of the man she’s speaking to.”

Tim’s eyes locked on you and he huffed, “I’m never going to get this.”

You giggled and walked to his side claiming his hand guiding him to your door saying, “No worries, you’ll have five girlfriends by the end of the first month. Plenty of practice.” After bidding the guys good night they heard you add, “Now, off to the dinner, I’ve studied up and I’m going to make that little Griffen cry when I read back the text books on Geo-dynamics I’ve memorized.” Grins grew on their faces as they chuckled at your challenging tone Tim chuckled to leaving them to return to their sharing of notes on your behavior and lesson before delving into what you meant by him gaining more possible girlfriends.

…

For two months no sight of Tim had been found with only a couple echoes through the halls from skype calls from you during your usual brainstorming hours. Each time being in more and more adorable positions staring at some model for something for the shows you were working on or resting upside down trying to read back the trickier sections on the latest book you were going to fly out to narrate in another week. 

This last pass by your room however brought Richard to call out, announcing his arrival from another bout of filming himself leaving him absent from your life for over two weeks jetting around the world for various small bits here and there. Through his thundering headache his voice rumbled, “Care for some take away?”

Tilting your head awkwardly you caught his eye and turned sideways smiling at him as you straightened up and said, “Sure.”

On your feet you followed the staggering man back to his kitchen to find the notebook for the numbers for your favorite places. Scratchily he nearly growled out, “What did you care for today?”

At his side your eyes lingered on the clammy complexion of the giant beside you, the beginning of trickles of sweat as he swayed on his feet, softly you said, “Rich-,” His eyes shifted to meet yours making him sway again as he watched your hand rise to press the back of your hand to his heated forehead, “Come on, you’re going to bed.”

“N-.” Your hand fixed on his jacket and you guided him through his house toward his bedroom, taking his weight against your shoulders as you did, “You need to eat.”

“And I will, after I get you in bed with some soup.”

“I don’t-.”

“Yes you do.” Firmly you guided towards his bed where in his throbbing numbness he couldn’t fight against your hands jerking his jacket off of him as carefully as you could manage while his eyes struggled to focus on you. A wet heap of clothes grew in the hamper along the wall with his damp shirt after before you guided him to sit down to help him remove his boots. A lace at a time you loosened them then tugged them free to be tossed beside his hamper freeing you to add his socks as well. On your feet again you reached up to unhook his belt only to have him fail to swat your hand away as you said, “I am getting you out of these soaked clothes.”

Sloppily he sighed, “I don’t need to be cared for.”

You nodded holding up three fingers in front of his shifting eyes, “How many fingers?”

He swatted your hand away as he stood and slumped over your shoulder as he said, “Worse than my Mum. Just need to shower.”

Rolling your eyes you steadied him and helped him to his shower where he dropped his pants in his place against the wall while you turned the shower on and stepped out saying, “I’ll get you some fresh clothes.” He grumbled something and dropped his boxer briefs to step inside, closing the milky door behind him to grunt as the hot water spilled over him. Warm air swirled around him as he scrubbed as best as he could then stepped out curling in the towel you had set there to stagger across the room to fumble his way into the new boxer briefs and sweats, leaving his shirt where it was. 

Around him the room swayed as he reached the door, hastily he jerked it open hoping it was just the heat getting to him. On the other side his eyes fell on you as you grabbed his arm to curl over your shoulders to guide him back to bed. “I got you. Back to bed, your soup is waiting for you.”

“You don’t have to care for me.”

You giggled as he laid back under the covers you had brushed back, against the pile of pillows he rested and watched you grab the thermometer and tried to say something only to be silenced, “Oh just stop it. You can barely cross a room alone. And stop complaining about your Mum, you know you would love it if she were here to care for you,” His lips parted as you raised the thermometer to his lips, “And if you keep complaining I will break into your phone and call her out here.”

His lips folded around the thermometer as he gave you a failed attempt at a challenging glare making you smirk at him saying, “Glare all you like.” Shifting sideways you grabbed the bowl on your left while you grabbed the beeping thermometer, “Congratulations, it’s a fever.” He rolled his eyes and then eyed the spoonful you offered him, “Open up, and no swatting or this will be all over you.”

Slowly he finished the soup holding his eyes on you as you shared about your day trying to distract him from his helpless state, then after he eyed the small cup of medicine you offered him before the tall glass of water before tucking him in. Groggily he tossed and turned in the bed on your trip to the door bringing you back to the bed after taking his dishes to the sink. With your new book in hand you returned to his bed to sit beside him catching his eyes landing on you in the middle of his internal struggle.

For all his wishes to just be alone his entire being burned and chilled at the same time, feeling his skin wishing to crawl as another layer of sweat started to form. This ache in him through his silence about your obviously missed failing relationship through his already deep attachment to you. If he hadn’t been able to be under the care of his Mother in this state there wasn’t anyone he wished to be able to be this vulnerable with, but for as much as he enjoyed it, he hated having this happen so soon after meeting you. 

Barely two months in and here he was, coated in sweat and on the edge of hurling everywhere but as you scooted closer to his side he couldn’t help but turn over as his eyes drooped through the first paragraph you read aloud. The same calming voice he listened to when you were apart just to have a piece of you close no matter how heated or depressing the random slew of novels would get.

..

A couple hours later in a shift farther over your lap you closed the book and set it aside to quickly grab the trash can you’d set there earlier. Promptly you grabbed it and slid it up to his face when he jerked awake and rose up to heave everything inside it, firmly your hand smoothed over his back between his broken apologies as he continued to heave. When his stomach had finally settled again you moved the can and settled him back again after helping him drink from one of the water bottles you had left by the bed. Groaning deeply he laid back unable to look your way as you carried the can to dump and rinse it out before bringing it back to the bed with a damp wash cloth you eased across his forehead as you held up the thermometer saying, “Let’s check your temp again.”

Through his grumble he obeyed your order, relaxing as you wiped him down and claimed it again when it beeped through saying, “I have five brothers, and three of them have quadruplets. Guess who gets full custody when they all get sick. You are not the first to hurl from over my lap, you are however-,” you shifted to give him another round of medicine, “The first to get it all in the bucket. So you get points there.”

Weakly he chuckled then accepted the drink of water you had offered him, in a cracked voice he hoarsely rumbled, “Thank you.”

You smirked at him, “I’m going to get you something to eat.” He groaned again making you giggle, “You have to eat.”

On your path back from the kitchen with more soup you heard the back end of Bohemian Rhapsody being hummed by Richard, your smile grew at his sloppy rendition. Beside him you sat helping him eat the soup before sitting next to him letting him curl around your lap again. His eyes shut halfway through his repeat of the song after he slurred, “I think I’m writing a great song.”

You nodded, “It could be epic.” Unable to help but smile you combed your fingers through his hair easing him to sleep just moments after he mumbled in a pleased tone at your humming along, “We’re so in sync. Just meant to be.” In a hushed tone barely above a whisper he sang, “Anyway the wind blows-,” his voice trailed off as his head nuzzled closer on your lap while his arms circled around you. In your trapped spot your eyes closed while your fingers smoothed across his back for a short nap until your alarm went off to towel him down and check his temperature again before another round of meds, soup and water.

Thankfully his fever had broken and he tried to convince you to get back to your routine and he could handle himself, but as his voice had nearly died out completely after his congested night of being coated in vicks to clear it out brought on a painful round of coughing the medicine finally was able to stop. In a compromise you stretched him out in the living room while you changed his sheets and made him more soup then joined him to watch a round of courtroom tv he hoarsely argued along with you through each case. Reaching back his arms circled you in his medicine induced delirium after he insisted you sit there on your return.

His smile couldn’t have been brighter as his dying voice flowed through rambling statements about how perfect you were and any man should give you the world in his decided moment on sharing what he thought about your relationship with Tim. The discussion went on far longer in his mind with only a few scattered words here and there for you to try and piece together before he passed out again. The next couple days you shifted around the apartment struggling not to get too comfortable in his arms while his body settled against yours so easily. Each moment both absolutely perfect but still incredibly painful as it drew out the truth for what your now former relationship had been.

.

A farce. Tim had been your best friend since university and it wasn’t until you both had graduated you found yourselves in the same boat so to speak. The pair of you tired of the attention to your private lives and were in need of a way to silence the endless comments and set ups. For you your dreams of bringing your thoughts to life meant more at the time than any man promising you the world in exchange for a night of drinks and a roll in the sheets. While Tim had a different struggle all together, in his comfort you had been the first female friend he had obtained and the first person he had trusted enough to share his belief he was asexual. Something that made him being handsome all the more difficult for him to live without unwanted attentions, so with a bargain struck you both timidly came up with an approved set of contact and reasons for each.

With this you managed to convince most that you were perfectly happy, even in his wish as a non snuggler and you a person enamored by the desire to have someone to come home to and just melt against whenever you needed that intimate contact. Painfully you dealt with this as you didn’t wish to harm your friend’s dreams, with that however you had come to an agreement that obviously when you were apart you could see whomever you wished as long as they made you happy and respected you fully. 

With a couple dates you decided against it, simply dealing with the ache over the hassle the men had turned into after even just a simple coffee. Into the film world you escaped and now that Tim had finally landed the job of a lifetime in japan you were freed from your duties as he tried to convince you not to settle with just being Richard’s friend if you caught a hint that he was interested.

Here you were, in the grip of an impossibly talented actor that you had joined millions in swooning over and helplessly daydreaming about for years now. Each day you’d learned more about him and his millions of intricate habits than any interview could muster into words. Each one more painful than the last as once again you felt like you were a tiger trapped in a glass zoo exhibit as the men milled past unable to simply feel them around you at all as you posed and flashed your teeth for those looking on. Between your bouts of looming tears at a wish for something real you struggled to hold it all out of sight and just accept that you had a contract with him and would, at best, be as good a friend to him as he would allow you to be.

.

By day four groggily his eyes opened to find you as his pillow once again as you rested with the just nearly finished novel open beside you with your finger still holding your place. Against his urge to rush away from you out of embarrassment for what you’d had to endure this week his hands settled on your hips guiding you flat on the bed he tucked you into after setting the book aside. With just the lingering weakness in his body he rose from the bed to shower and make a full breakfast for the pair of you he had just barely finished as you joined him at the table accepting the juice he passed you. 

Your sleepy smile and loose hair partially over your face you were struggling to brush back nearly froze him in place as your eyes met his in the same bright reaction to his as you stated, “Thank you. I have half a mind to fetch the bucket for you.”

Richard couldn’t help but chuckle as he eased into his seat, “I’m certain I can make the race to the toilet if I need to. Thank you, for everything. I really feel bad about it.”

You giggled softly, “No need to. I’ve put you through a lot of my rambling and awkward rants trying to work through my props.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, “And you’ve read through scripts with me to help make sense of the notes. I’d say we’re even on that front.”

“And you don’t have to thank me for taking care of you. It’s what I do back home.”

“Still-.”

“You’re not going to win this argument. Besides, I got a fair bit out of it.” His eyes flinched up to yours as he raised a brow making you giggle. “I think it was the third night I went to make soup, came back you were humming Bohemian Rhapsody.” He chuckled weakly looking at his plate, “Then when I joined in you said we were so in sync and just meant to be.”

After a groan he replied, “Unfortunately I’ve said the same thing to my Sister in law last time she popped by with soup for me to give Mum a break.” His brows furrowed, “I’m actually surprised I haven’t gotten any messages from her.”

You smirked up at him, “She called the first night. I’ve been keeping her posted. We agreed she’s going to ring you at noon, we figured you’d be out of it by then.”

“How’d you manage to keep her from taking the train out?”

“We face timed her, a lot. She gave me more than a few tips on your tricks.”

Another chuckle left him as he stole another glance at you mid bite of your breakfast. The idea you could have been so close with his Mother already eased a doubt in what he imagined to be a first step to drawing you out of your bad situation. “I don’t have tricks.”

With a giggle you replied, “Perhaps not, but you do try to be quite the charmer when you’re sick.”

“Oh?”

You nodded, “Two days back we were on the couch after another round of soup and you told me you wrote me a song, ‘because every divine creature deserves to be serenaded’.” He couldn’t help but groan, “And then you started to sing for me.”

He rubbed his place, “Please tell me I didn’t…” peaking between his fingers he asked, “More Queen?”

You shook your head with a giggle making him wonder who he could have chosen. “No. An original piece.” His head turned and he froze in place at what he could have said, “You started to sing this song about this pet hamster you had when you were six.”

His brows furrowed as his head tilted curiously through his mumble, “I never had a pet hamster.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, “Then you went into this bit bout the forces and I’m not certain but I got some serious Lucas North vibes.” Making him laugh as he covered his face, “I thought it was adorable. Thinking of making it my ring tone for you.” His brows rose, “You insisted I save it to replay it when I’m away next week.”

He laughed again, “I am sorry.”

You shook your head, “No apologies or I’ll send it to your friends.” Making him send a playful glare your way. “Alright I know that would break the contract, but, fine, your Mum then. There’s no Mum clause in it.” Making him chuckle again as he stole another lingering glance your way.

“I’m sorry, if we kept you from your talks with Tim. Or did we have chats with him as well?”

You giggled softly, “I got a couple emails from him. He’s settled in Japan nicely.”

In a jerk to meet your gaze he parroted back, “Japan?”

You nodded, “Five year contract, huge, amazing job.”

After wetting his lips Richard asked, “How’s that going to work, with you two, I mean? If you don’t mind that is?”

“Oh, we broke up three weeks ago. He said it wouldn’t be fair to me, that was part of the whole demonstration with Aidan and the guys, me trying to give him a few clues to when someone was interested in him.”

Richard’s brows furrowed again and he set his fork down crossing his arms on the table in front of him, tapping his finger as he spoke, “So, you were giving him tips on meeting someone else? Why?”

“He’s, my best friend.”

Richard wet his lips again, “He was also your boyfriend.”

With a steady inhale his questioning clicked in your mind, “Oh, no, I mean yes, but no.” Making his brow tick up higher, “See, we met in uni, and he was finally so relieved to make a female friend that wasn’t just trying to hit on him. Actually I was, he’s just oblivious to all that. Anyways, we settled as friends and after graduation at work we kept getting pestered about dating and all that. So we had an agreement of sorts. I’m sure you guys caught a bit of the distance when we hung out, puts some people off, but he’s not overly fond of sharing personal space, and it’s easier for me to just sit across from him then.”

“And that would be, why?”

“I’m a notorious snuggler, can’t help it.”

“And he doesn’t like to be touched. Interesting pair.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, “We make up for it with the joking in most people’s eyes.”

“Why stick to it for so long?”

You shrugged, “I got tired of the lies. Nothing felt meaningful in dating with the guys I took out, just wanted flings. When, sorry if this gets a bit much, but you don’t really need a guy to get off, and it’s mostly considered weak for men to show any sort of physical intimacy past something possessive seems like, labeling me as clingy or needy when it’s just a hug damnit, they’re still going to have testicles after, I don’t see the problem with it.” His smile had grown as your words had died off.

“No, I agree. If you need someone to back up the snuggling effects on testicles let me know.” Making you giggle and get back to your meal.

…

The next couple days had passed and you had found yourself off on another flight across the ocean to the States to record that large novel leaving Richard home alone without anything to distract him from his racing thoughts about you. Across his couch he once again set his phone down on his chest after listening to one of the recorded clips of you both singing together, including his hamster song you had sent to him before his mind raced back to the chest he still had no clue what it had contained. Without reason he rose and crossed through the house to your open room. Wetting his lips he peeked inside even knowing you were safely across an ocean. Slowly he made for the chest and carefully shifted the folded blankets from on top of it before his eyes slid over the chest assuring there was no lock before he eased it open.

Inside he peered over the stacks of films and random trinkets obviously autographed or special edition for a few random actors. Using his phone to light it up he grinned seeing his films and shows inside on one side above a small pair of plushies, one of John Thornton and the other of Guy of Ghisborne in a pile with characters from the original Lord of the Rings beside a set of plushies for Jurrassic Park and King Kong. Each item making him chuckle as he realized why you had hidden it, you had mentioned you were a fan of his but clearly you were trying not to show him just how big of a fan. With a smile he moved the blankets back exactly how they were and he went to make himself some lunch returning to his planning on what to do with you.

Pt 2

Lapping it All Up

It's Sunday morning and time to part company with Sue and Peter. It was a fun 5 days. We are heading to Helsinki and they will drive the car back to Riga where it all commenced. They are stopping the night at Parnau. Rainy day again as we said our farewells and they dropped us at the ferry terminal. Saw an amusing sign at the terminal which pointed to the very short term car park (15 mins). It said " Kiss and Sail" which was very apt. We had laughed our way through Latvia and Estonia with them and had covered a bit of ground in those 5 days. Despite it bucketing down Liz did a quick sortie after they left to take a photo of the sign. This led to one of those amusing moments. Something you very rarely see Liz do - "run". If I said a sort of Donald Duck style of running I might be close to the mark. Possibly even being flattering. There is a lot of action, arms flapping, feet akimbo, head rolling from side to side and forward momentum is not speedy. The ferry ride from Tallin to Helsinki takes about 2.5 hours. We had basic tickets so it was first in best dressed for seats. A number of bars and cafes on board and as soon as boarding started the regulars made for prime positions. We had to stow our luggage and were given a bit of a bum steer, in terms of where to store them, by one of the staff so a lot of seats had gone by the time we were free to look. Anyway we snagged a couple of uninspiring but fine seats in a a cafe and settled back for an uneventful trip. Despite the rain it was petty calm and we had a snack, read and blogged. Interestingly they had a couple of stages with musos performing. I might expect that on a cruise ship in the Bahamas but not somehow on a couple of hours ferry in the Baltics. One stage was on the upper deck where quite a raucous bar was in full swing. The wind and rain were coming down on the uncovered end though plenty of cover. Singer was flat as a tack and slaughtered Ed Sheerin's " A Girl Like You" (a bit of a holiday anthem as you hear it a lot in beach bars etc over here). The audience didn't care. They were all getting tanked. Another singer was close to us in a neighbouring area and he was playing the guitar and performing solo with some electronic instrumental help. Not too bad, middle of the road - Eric Clapton, Jonny Cash etc but more importantly his voice I was better. I strolled around looking at the duty free shop where the Finns on board were fairly determinedly stocking up on booze which is much cheaper in Estonia than Finland. This included people with several slabs of beer. Liz noticed that many of those slabs were being consumed on board. It was certainly a lively ship. Trip was easy and we worked out we could get a tram into the city and quite close to our hotel from the ferry terminal. A bit of a scramble getting off but we were in no rush so took our time. Slight problem though, it was raining quite steadily. We headed for the tram stop which was close by but in a master stroke of planning the ticket machine was exposed to the elements and quite a queue. This included the guy who had no idea what to do, did not appear to have the right money (possibly any money), whose credit card would not work and who consequently held us all up in the hissing rain for 5/6 minutes - could have been longer. This on top of the 7/8 mins we had already been waiting. In the end the couple behind paid for him. Liz was now huddled under the tram shelter while I stood out there in the pak-a-mac. No point in two of us getting wet(ter). By the time I got to the front of the queue the wind had set in and rain was horizontal so jeans and shoes pretty soaked. Guys behind (equally wet) who seemed local provided some guidance on the payment process but even they stuffed it up a bit so another minute or two of soaking. Anyway at last I had two tickets in my hand but the various delays meant we just missed a tram by about a minute so had a 6/7 minute wait for the next one. Still, under some shelter, though I was drenched. We duly trundled off for the 10 minute ride and I couldn't wait to get out of my jeans and shoes. I made the mistake of sitting down which was even more uncomfortable so quickly sprang up. Anyway the Hotel Helka was only about a 10 minute walk from the tram stop. Liz did a good job of getting us off at the closest stop and guiding us home. At last, out of that gear and into the shower. All was well and Hey! We were in Finland. Time to explore and we headed off into town. Basically heading for the main square and market square. First impressions were that it was more modern than Riga or Tallinn and a little less atmospheric. Plenty of shopping malls, cafes etc. and even the older buildings which were often quite attractive, of the the six storey terrace variety, did not seem that old. Made our way to market square where there were a number of stalls selling local "products". Very soft hats, wood carvings, paintings, the usual fridge magnet memorabilia stuff but also fox, wolf and reindeer pelts and extremely sharp hunting type knives in scabbards - not sure exactly what the purpose of them was. The market was starting to close but quite a few stalls selling food were in full flight. Now around 4.00pm and we had only snacked post breakfast so were hungry. The offerings were often local delicacies and we couldn't resist sharing a plate of fried Vendace (very similar to sardines) with garlic sauce. Just on a paper plate, pretty decent serve (30 or so smallish fish) you eat the lot, heads and all, and we wandered around happily chomping on them. Very delicious and sauce not too garlicky at all but tasty and needed. It was sun over the yard arm time and we looked for a decent pub/ venue to have a drink. Plenty of craft beer here though we had heard horror stories about the price of alcohol. We couldn't quite find what we were looking for in terms of character but settled on a cafe/bar and sat outside. Rain had stopped but not exactly balmy. After that we continued to wander through the back streets though being Sunday a lot of places closed. Did find a good looking Pho joint which was a possibility if all else failed. Liz loves her Pho. We headed back for the hotel. The Helka is a little boutique hotel and quite quirky. They had a little Swiss style bird house (no birds) that you could deposit your keys in when you left. The coffee mugs in the room had an inscription inside the rim which read " Stolen from Hotel Helka" Staff very friendly and a range of nice touches. We determined that dinner would be in their relaxed little bar/cafe area downstairs. Some good craft beer on tap and bottled and rose OK too. I had the salmon on bread with salad. Big chunks of salmon served cold - excellent. Liz had the coconut and sweet potato soup which was also very good. A local porter and IPA for me (both good especially the porter) rose for Liz. All very laid back and sat very happily not feeling we had to traipse about town. Not too late a night headed up around 10.30 for the usual blogging, reading and planning next phase. Greece definitely on. Thessaloniki as a kick off point looking the goods. Also need to ensure we have a flight out of there to London about a week after arriving in Greece as flying home from London. All pretty tortuous evaluating alternatives but in the end have to bite the bullet and its Turkish airlines to Thessaloniki and BA from there to London though the poms charging usuriously. Liz doing sterling work with bookins Next morning at 11.00 we were going on a free tour of Helsinki. After a great breakfast at the Helka (we expected nothing else given its form to date) we headed for the meeting point a 20 minute fast walk away, back at market square. Our guide was a young and vivacious lady who had spent time in Canada hence a slight North American accent. Super smart and despite a crowd of around 35-40 with a microphone headpiece and a resonant voice she was easy to hear. We covered a lot of ground both literally and metaphorically. Some aspects were: Lutheran religion is the main one for Finns. Apparently a not unusual fall away in those following a structured religious approach in Finland though you have to attend a religious camp for a week when in your late teens if you want to be married in church. A lot of the design of the buildings in the older parts of Helsinki was under the auspices of the German architect Engels in the 19th century. He had spent time in St Petersburg and hence there are similarities between the cities (though not the flamboyant stuff). Education is subsidised in fact you are paid to attend for your first 5 years at Uni. Food is also subsidised for uni students and is free at kindergarten. Start school at 7 pre that it's kindergarten where formal lessons are minimal. At junior school the first 5 years are pretty hands on - sewing, woodwork etc. no homework in that period. Health care free for all though dental must be paid for unless impacts health more generally. We were starting to understand why prices were so high with all those taxes. The guide (Maria I think) quipped that they all live a good life but it's hard to get rich. They were ruled for hundreds of years by the Swedes and then from early 19th century by the Russians. They gained independence in 1917 and in that period also had a bloody civil war. Fought against the Soviet Union in 1939 and collaborated with the Germans to fight against the Soviet Union 1941-44. They did not persecute minorities however. Then they also had to fight against the Germans to remove them from Finland as the tide turned at the end of the war. They are proud to have maintained their independence throughout despite some land losses to the Soviet Union. In winter the harbour freezes over so all boats must be lifted out and stored in dry dock including some pretty large fishing boats. Ice breakers were also visible in the harbour. It was a wide ranging, interesting tour with plenty of fun thrown in. Amazing coincidence of a couple from Melbourne, Meredith and David, being on the tour more especially because Meredith taught the preps at Camberwell primary around the time our kids went there. She didn't teach them as it turned out. Liz and Meredith swopped school and other local stories ++. David was an interesting character. He had worked for the CSIRO and was a resin expert. He had for the last umpteen years supported businesses making wood paneling and other resin involved products around the world. This included a 5 year stint for the whole family living in Italy while he worked there. He had most recently been working in China and had come straight to Finland from there. Yet again there's a lot of different stuff makes the world go around. Nice guy to chat to. Pommie origins though born in Australia and we had a good time dissecting Brexit. He has the same problem as us may lose his European passport. We were interested in the big issues! We did that nattering over a coffee and tea that stretched for about an hour and a half post the free tour. After that Liz and I headed for the market square again and needed something to eat. Beside the square was a pretty attractive and ornate indoor market building. Really it was a tasteful food hall with a range of tidbits you could buy to eat immediately or take away including exotics like reindeer jerky. We plumped for a couple of open sandwiches which we consumed at a little eating area outside by the docks. One was cured salmon and the other was prawns in a sweet chilli sauce. We shared the first two but so tasty we went again. Me for the prawns and Liz for the salmon. Just very nice sitting there with this scrumptious food. Back to the market square and as opposed to yesterday evening all stalls were in full swing so we had a good look around at the knick knacks but did not purchase. Time to go our own ways. We both went looking through shops though Liz also found a strange square which looked like a lunar landscape. People were skateboarding and sitting around the square and it all seemed a bit unexpected in what seems like quite a conservative city. I stumbled across the City Museum. This was a very quirky place which essentially probed some alternative aspects of Helsinki and Finland. One of the highlights was an exhibition by 5 Finnish artists. It was titled "Objection". Essentially it was about disagreement and the role that it plays in our society (particularly Finnish society). Each artist illustrated a different story. One was about Hjalmar Linder the wealthiest man in Finland who fled to Sweden during the 1918 civil war. On his return he found that members of the losing side were still being persecuted (killed) so he wrote a letter to the newspaper saying "enough of this bloodbath" which broke ranks with his peer group. He was then hounded out of the county and eventually died penniless, slashing his own wrists. Another was about left wing activism in the 1930s and 40s. It was being suppressed and so a password " Have you seen a running dog" was used to identify sympathisers. Essentially how people find a way to "object" Yet another was about a book "the Price of Our Freedom" still found in many Finnish homes. It contained a photograph and short description of each of 26000+ people who were killed in the Winter War 1939-1940. The artist had taken the photographs of key people in the book and turned them into ghost like portraits using hundreds of layers of pictures - "the Price of Freedom". Separately there were also general narratives about what Helsinki was like in the past. Pretty rough and ready in the 1920s apparently. Also a photograph gallery with some fantastic photos of Helsinki in the past including one which captured the docks area including market square. I couldn't see a date but perhaps 100+ years ago. All these photos were available for purchase. I kept wandering post the museum. Just walking lost really. Took in a few shops and generally soaked up the city. Liz did much the same. No acquisitions. Liz grabbed a bit of shuteye and we met up again around 7.00 in the hotel bar/restaurant. We decided not to move. The restaurant which the guy in "Radio" restaurant in Tallin recommended was closed ,being Monday night, and the informal dinner they served at the Helka had been pretty good the night before. We both had the open sandwich salmon. Thick chunks of salmon. Liz not the greatest salmon fan (she prefers her fish to be white) but enjoyed it, and I certainly did including polishing a few remnants of salmon from her plate. Of course a couple of craft beers also supped. Liz took it easy as a bit tired and slightly heady. It was relaxing and we headed up around 10.00. I took a quick stroll to walk off dinner but boy had it got cold. I think you can probably keep the Finnish summer. Here we were 12th August and it might have been about 16 degrees out but with a healthy wind that felt around 12-14. I was wishing I had a scarf. This reaffirmed our decision to head back to some warmth in Greece.

Hii prokchop, I have been thinking about requesting this for a while (Ur rick is my absolute fav) Rick and his girl have an argument, he is not in the right and he's all angry with everyone and everything. And then he goes to pick up reader at university and shes with her friends or something and they make up nsfw? Idk just want to see Rick as boyfriend material-grandpa trying to understand his younger gf

Why is it whenever I tell myself ‘okay THIS one will be a short one’ I end up writing 6k words?? Sigh. I think I’m incapable of keeping things brief…

Anyway, thank you for this anon! As someone who’s at uni, I could really emerse myself in this request, I hope you like it!

Contains throat fucking and sex with the parents in the house, how exciting!

Enjoy x

-

“… No. No, nononono…” I whispered, frantically searching my laptop, scanning through every folder.

“Hmm?” Rick questioned disinterestedly, sketching away at some blueprints beside me.

“No way. I haven’t just… did I really just do that?” I murmured, clutching the sides of my head, my heart rate rising along with the speed of my breaths. Panic clawed at every part of me, my blood running cold.

“What?” He turned to look at me, spinning in his office chair.

“My poster… the poster I’ve been working on all week.”

“W-what about it, did you finish it?” He asked, leaning over to stare at the blank screen of my laptop.

“Yes.” I said, then looked up at him with tears springing into my eyes. “Then I deleted it.” Rick looked at me gone-out, and I sobbed, covering my face with both hands.

“Wait, what- are you sure? Why would you-”

“I deleted the wrong fucking file!” I shouted, and smacked my palms into my face in anger, wanting to punish myself, to hit myself over and over for being so damn stupid.

“Didn’t you have back ups?” He asked, and I shook my head, wailing out in despair.

“I don’t fucking need this! I don’t fucking need it, oh God, what the fuck am I- I’m such a fucking cunt.” I yelled, smacking myself again, this time Rick grabbed my arms, pulling them away from my face. I cried freely, not caring about the state I was in as I looked at him. “This week’s been so shit as it is! This can’t be happening…”

“Relax, baby, I’m sure it’s- y-y-you can get it back from the recycling bin thing, right? I don't… I don’t use computers like this, all of mine have custom operating systems, l-let me look.” He said, turning my laptop to face him. I knew he wouldn’t find it, I’d searched everywhere.

“Nooo. No. Oh fuck. This project is due tomorrow. It’s the main piece to the whole fucking thing, I don’t have time to make it again!” I cried, wiping the snot and tears from my face, feeling everything crash and burn around me. The past couple of weeks had been littered with tiny little things, little problems that had been building up and up, and this was the straw that broke the camel’s back, it was all I needed to have a full blown melt-down.

“This is precisely why I don’t like the education system; everything is based around deadlines, it has nothing to do with what you can actually-”

“I don’t care why you don’t like the education system!” I yelled. “I’m fucked, Rick! Absolutely fucking fucked!” Rick frowned at me, clearly pissed off by my outburst.

“Fuck you, then.” He said, pushing my laptop away and turning back to his blueprints. Something snapped in me, I dug my fingernails into my palms, feeling the anger bubble inside me, stewing and only getting worse the longer I stayed still. I slammed my laptop screen down and stuffed it inside my bag, kicking my chair out of the way as I stormed towards the garage door. “Go on, run away and sulk like a little girl.” Rick said, not even turning to look at me.

“Excuse me?” I asked, turning on my heel to stare daggers at the back of his head.

“I’m just saying; I could help you get it back, but… l-looks like you’d prefer to throw a tantrum, have a cry and feel sorry for yourself.”

“You could help me?” I squeaked, and Rick shrugged.

“Depends, are you gonna stop acting like your shoe size? Y-you know, some people have real problems. Like paying for a mortgage, putting food on the table.”

“What the fuck, Rick? What is this? Don’t make light of my issues, you have no idea what’s going on in my head.”

“What, nobody liked your profile picture?” He said, and I ignored his patronisation.

“I’ve been thinking of dropping out.” I admitted, looking down at the floor. Rick turned around to look at me at this, a look of surprise on his face.

“Really?” He asked, and I nodded. “Thank God.” He snorted. I frowned at him.

“Is that it? You’re not going to ask me why, or offer some support?”

“Why would I try to stop you? Y-you know I hate University. It’s just a place where rich, stuck up idiots go to pay other rich, stuck up idiots for a piece of paper that says they’re smart. But if they were really smart, they wouldn’t need to be at University.” He explained, waving his hand around as he spoke.

“I’m there for art. To have access to facilities I wouldn’t otherwise have, to learn new techniques and gain knowledge about the industry. Not because I think it’ll automatically make me smart.”

“Oh yeah, art. No offense, but that’s even worse. Have fun working at grocery stores for the rest of your life; maybe you’ll make it to management. Then you might have an office to hang your degree on the wall in.”

“Thank you.” I said, feeling more tears spring to my eyes. “For backing up my biggest fucking fears, Rick. That’s exactly what has been playing on my mind for months. I don't… I don’t know if I’ll even be able to get a job after this. I don’t know if I’m good enough, if anyone will want to employ me. I don’t know if I have the confidence to even put myself out there, I’m such an anxious wreck. And all this time I’m acutely aware of all the debt I’m putting myself in, owing thousands before I’ve even moved out of my parents’ house. So yeah, I’ve been considering jacking it all in. Getting that minimum wage job and skipping the middleman.” I admitted to him, scrubbing the wetness from my face as I did. Rick watched me with an unreadable expression, his lips parted just slightly.

“Th-that was… that was a joke, by the way.” He said, his voice uncharacteristically small. “I don’t really think-”

“Whatever. It’s not a joke to me, it’s very real.” I sniffed, cursing the tears still flowing freely from my eyes. Once I started crying, I couldn’t stop before it was all out. “Art… it means everything to me. It’s all I’ve ever been any good at, and if it doesn’t work out… I don’t know what I’m going to do. I have no other qualifications, really, I have all my eggs in one basket, and I’m fucking terrified, Rick.”

Rick moved to get up, but I held my hand up to him. “Sweetie?” He said.

“I’m going back to my dorm. I need to sleep; I’m so fucking tired. I’m just… I’m done.” I shook my head.

“Wait, you want me to drive you?” He asked, this time getting up despite my disapproval.

“No, thank you. I wanna be alone, the drive will give me time to calm down.”

“Alright… uhhh, you’re still going home to see your parents tomorrow, right?”

“Yes.” I sighed, the thought of it only making me feel worse.

“Okay. I’m still going to drive you back, okay? Wh-whether you wanna see me or not. It’s a long way, it’ll be half the time in my ship.” He insisted. I nodded.

“Hand in is at two, so… any time after that really. I’ll wait in the courtyard outside the photography studios, you know the place?” I mumbled monotonously, and Rick nodded his head. Call me crazy, but he seemed to look guilty. I took a shaky breath as he opened up the large garage door for me; and I was grateful that I didn’t have to walk through the house and risk bumping into the family looking like a mess. “See you tomorrow, then.”

-

I slept through from the moment I got back till midday; I hadn’t bothered setting an alarm. What was the point? I knew I wouldn’t be able to remake the poster, I’d probably fail the module, so why bother getting up early? I crawled out of bed and walked into my room’s ensuite bathroom and washed my face with cold water, rinsing off yesterday’s makeup that had run down my cheeks. I hadn’t washed it off the night before; I hadn’t had the energy. I took a quick shower and brushed my teeth, dressing in something comfy for the long trip home.

I walked over to where my portfolio sat, and took a moment to organise everything before zipping it back up. I figured I’d leave now and hand in my work early, then I could grab something to eat before Rick arrived to pick me up. I glanced over at where my laptop bag sat on my desk; untouched since I’d walked through the door and dumped it down. I knew I should probably email my tutors to explain what had happened, maybe they’d go easy on me… probably not. But I wasn’t one to hand in unfinished work without an explanation, no matter how shitty that explanation might be. I wandered over to it, frowning as I noticed something sitting on top of it. It was a note and a USB stick.

There’s a bunch of dimensions where you didn’t delete your poster. I broke into your dorm room in one of them and got it back for you. I scared the shit out of her and I think she called the cops, but at least you can hand it in now.

Rick.

PS. This sounds like something you’d worry about; but it’s not plagiarism. Technically, you did the work, right? Just hand it in, I know what you’re like.

I lifted the USB and stared it with a slack jaw. I jumped into action, pulling out my laptop and switching it on, plugging in the USB and pulling up the single file inside. There it was, the finished poster; indistinguishable from the one I’d produced. I slumped in relief, slapping a hand over my heart. I sent it to the campus printers, figuring I’d stop by and pick it up on the way over to the studios. With that, I was out the door.

Once everything was handed in, I stopped by the food truck that practically lived at the side of the road outside the student accommodation area, and grabbed a coffee and a cheeseburger. I headed over to the courtyard with my luggage, taking a seat on one of the benches so I could eat my breakfast… well, lunch. A girl from my course spotted me and headed over with a beaming smile on her face.

“Feels good to be free, huh?” She asked once she’d reached me.

“Until next semester.” I smirked.

“You get everything done?” She asked, and I nodded as I swallowed a mouthful of food.

“Just. Though, I would’ve been fucked if it weren’t for my boyfriend. I deleted my final piece by accident, he’s smart and… he got it back for me.” I said, finishing off the last of my burger.

“How do you delete the main part of your project?” She laughed, taking a seat beside me.

“Sleep deprivation and not thinking about what I’m doing.” I explained. She nodded in understanding.

“You haven’t mentioned a boyfriend before, anyone I know?” She asked, and I shook my head.

“He isn’t at University. He's… he’s a little older than me.” I told her.

“You been seeing him long?”

“A few months.” I said, and she nodded. I felt a churning in my stomach when I thought of him, remembered everything he’d said last night, how hopeless he’d made me feel.  

“You okay?” My friend asked, and I shrugged.

“I don’t know. We fought last night. I think helping me get my work back was his way of trying to move on from it. He does that; does something to try and make me forget about it, never actually apologises.”

“Leaves you to stew over it as he pretends like nothing happened?” She assumed, a knowing smile on her face. I nodded. “Yeah, don’t let him get into the habit of that. It’ll only make you feel worse; some things just need addressing so you can get over it, you know?”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I nodded, movement in the parking lot distracting me; Rick was pulling up. “I need to go. Thanks for your advice though, I’ll talk to him.” I smiled.

“You’re going home already? Me and a bunch of the other art kids were gonna go out drinking tonight.” She said disappointedly. I cringed on the inside at the idea, secretly glad that I was going home instead.

“Aww, I wish I could come… but my family are expecting me.” I said, glancing over at where Rick had climbed out of his ship and was glancing around for me. I gave him a wave, capturing his attention. He waved back, but didn’t approach, and if I knew him, it was because he didn’t want to have to speak to the person I was with.

“Who is that, your grandpa?” She asked, squinting at Rick in the distance. I laughed to myself, and shook my head.

“No. That’s Rick. And if he plays his cards right, he might still be my boyfriend.” I told her, and she spun around to gape at me in horror.

“No way. You can’t be serious, (y/n). He’s like, ninety.” She said, looking at me with an expression that could only be described as pitiful, as if she felt sorry for me. I rolled my eyes.

“Seventy, actually. But it’s not like that matters, he acts like a five year old most of the time, anyways.” I shrugged, gathering my things.

“Woah, I know you said he was older but I thought you meant like… thirty.” She snorted.

“I don’t see why it’s a big deal to you. He’s far more interesting than any of the basic fuck boys that this campus seems to be teeming with.” I told her, throwing my bag over my shoulder and standing up.

“Yeah but… Jesus. Does he throw his back out every time he fucks you? Does… Does dust come out when he cums?” She snickered, and I watched her laugh for a good few moments before I decided she wasn’t worth anymore of my time. I was probably having far better sex than she was, anyway.

“Whatever, fuck you.” I sighed, turning and heading towards Rick, I heard her call out an apology through fits of giggles, but I kept walking.

When I was close, Rick opened up the passenger door for me. He moved in, going for a kiss, but I ducked him and climbed straight into his car; thanking him curtly. He stood staring at me blankly, then slammed my door and walked around to the drivers side, getting in and looking over at me.

“Hey.” He said, but it sounded more like a question than a greeting.

“Hi.” I replied, looking straight ahead.

“You, uh… everything cool?” He asked, and I turned to raise a brow at him wordlessly. “Oh. I gue-guess not.” He grumbled, starting up the car and driving away from the University. “Still want me to drop you off at your parents’ house?” He asked me.

“If it’s no bother.” I answered, and he nodded.

“N-no bother.” He agreed. He was taking peeks at me as he drove, as if he wanted to say something but kept deciding against it. When he finally did speak, he sounded exasperated. “Look, I know you’re mad about last night.”

“Oh? Why would that be?” I asked sarcastically, and Rick sighed.

“B-because I belittled you. I came for everything that means something to you, and it was fucked up.” He admitted, and I was surprised by his honesty. I turned to look at him, my expression soft. “I know I’m an asshole, (y/n).”

“Not always.” I said meekly, and Rick chewed on his bottom lip for a while.

“Sometimes I-I forget that there’s such a huge age gap… I forget that you’re only young an-and still have ambition and dreams and all that crap, the world hasn’t sucked all the light out of you just yet. And I realised that me saying shit like I did yesterday, i-it’s only speeding up that process.” He explained, and I frowned.

“What, so you’re saying one day I’ll be joyless and dead inside?” I asked.

“Probably.” He shrugged. “That’s just the way the world works; it’s a grindstone, wearing everybody down until there’s nothing left to feel good about.”

“I don’t believe that.” I said, and Rick nodded.

“Well, that’s good. Keep holding onto that for as long as you can.”

“This is depressing.” I mumbled, looking down at my hands.

“I was intending to motivate you, but uh… but yeah, it seems to just be depressing at this point, you’re right.” He said, glancing over at me with sheepish smile.

“How is this supposed to motivate me?” I scoffed.

“Well, I said some shitty stuff. Stuff that wasn’t true; at least it won’t be, if you completely ignore everything I said.” He told me, and I thought back to last night’s argument, replaying the moment that cut me the deepest; that I was wasting my time and I’d end up working in a grocery store if I kept it up. “You’re an extremely driven young woman. I-I-I can see that, you work your ass off for everything, you want something and you make it happen. So if you wanna make a career for yourself, doing what you enjoy, then you’ll get there.”

“Thank you.” I whispered.

“It pains me to say it, but you shouldn’t drop out. You’ve worked hard to get where you are, it’d be a waste for you to call it quits now.” He said, and I smiled.

“I’m not going to drop out, I don’t think I ever really was.” I admitted.

“I didn’t think so.” He glanced over at me and smiled back. “You aren’t a quitter.”

“I owe you big time, by the way. You totally saved my ass.” I said, reaching over to place my hand on his thigh.

“Don’t mention it, you think I was j-just gonna let you fail after how hard you’d worked? Knowing that I could do something about it?” He asked rhetorically, and I leaned over to kiss his cheek.

“Thank you, Rick.” I said, and he cleared his throat casually. I knew he didn’t deal well with these kinds of things, so I let it drop.

“Am I gonna see you this week?” He asked me, and I groaned, leaning my head back against the seat.

“Not during the daytime.” I said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked.

“Well, my parents tell me they have something planned for every day I’m there. Basically, I can kiss goodbye to a nice relaxing week off.” I explained, then stroked my hand up and down his thigh. “But I can get away with going to bed at ten without arousing suspicion, so if you wanna see me…” I trailed off, biting my lip.

“Are you suggesting that I-I should sneak into your bedroom like a teenager?” He asked, and I shrugged my shoulders noncommittally. “Cause I’m down for that.” He added with a smirk. “You uh, you want me to come over and fuck you with your parents downstairs? You be-better keep quiet, sweetie, unless you wanna get us caught.”

“I can keep quiet,” I nodded. “can you?”

“Sweetie, I live with my daughter and grandkids, I’ve fucked pe-people in the living room without them hearing me.”

“How come you’ve never fucked me in your living room?” I asked in mock offense.

“Cause you howl like a banshee when I hit it just right, you’d give us away easily.” He shrugged, and I dug my fingertips into his thigh and narrowed my eyes. He groaned through a chuckle, licking his lips.

“Be there at ten, and I’ll show you.”

“Ten? You really want me to wait that long?” He laughed, and I glanced down at the growing bulge in his pants.

“Fine. I’ll say I’m going for a nap as soon as I get in, we can do it broad daylight.” I shrugged, and Rick groaned again, glancing over at me.

“Y-yeah, alright. Twice the risk, twice the fun.” He said, and I had to agree.

We made the rest of the journey in mostly silence, and I was simmering in my arousal the whole way at the promise of what was to come. My panties felt damp, and I squeezed my thighs together in a bid to get some relief, though it did little. I slid my hand farther up Rick’s thigh, brushing my fingers against the hardness I felt between his legs. I shuddered, imagining how he was going to feel inside me; wondering whether he was going to fuck me hard, like usual, or be a little more gentle to keep the noise down. I shifted my hand to cup him, giving his cock a squeeze, gaining a soft sigh from him. I let go shortly after, though, not wanting to distract him from driving and risk not getting home at all.

When we arrived at my home, Rick landed his ship on the driveway and climbed out when I did. He walked around to my side, helping me get my luggage out before turning to look at me; his eyes were clearly filled with arousal.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to portal into your room and fuck that sweet, tight pussy of yours. Feel your legs around my waist as I gag you with your own panties to stop you from making a sound. Would you like that?” He purred, backing me up against the side of his ship. My legs felt weak underneath me, and I felt positively desperate. Rick’s eyes flickered up to something behind me, and he chuckled. “We’re being watched. Your m-mother is at the window.” He told me, and I rolled my eyes.

“Ignore her.” I said, and Rick pushed forwards to capture my lips in a hungry, heated kiss. He rolled his hips, grinding his erection into my core, coaxing a whimper from me.

“Shall I say hi to the folks?” He asked, an amused smirk plastered on his face. He knew the answer to that. My parents weren’t exactly thrilled with me dating a seventy year old, and Rick seemed to revel in that fact, almost seeming to get off on it.

“The less you anger them, the more quickly I can escape to my room.” I told him, and he moaned, kissing me once more.

“Alright, baby. I’ll park a couple streets away, then I’m coming for you.” He whispered. I nodded, butterflies filling my stomach at the anticipation. I picked up my bag and headed towards the house, taking one last glance at Rick as he climbed back into his ship.

My parents, of course, showered me in questions when I turned up. Why didn’t I drive myself? Why am I still with that old creep? Is he just using me? Is he rich, and if so is that why I’m with him? I dodged every question, making a show of looking at them with drooping eyelids. Finally, I rubbed at my eyes and apologised profusely, explaining how much this semester had wiped me out and that I was desperate for a lie down. Thankfully, they let me go, and I plodded upstairs, dragging my bag with me. Once I was out of sight, I raced to my room, whipping off my sweater and baggy sweatpants, stripping out of my underwear, leaving it all in a heap on the floor before laying face down on my bed, crossing my ankles in the air behind me and resting my chin on my hand as I waited for Rick to turn up. I wasn’t waiting long, and soon a portal was opening up at the foot of the bed, and Rick stepped out, palming his cock through his pants. He looked over my naked body and smiled.

“Mm, look at you. So ready to take my cock. Good girl.” He said quietly, glancing over at my closed bedroom door. “Where are they, still downstairs?” I nodded my head and rolled over onto my back, parting my legs and rubbing my pussy as I hung my head off the edge of the bed.

“You know what I want you to do to me.” I said meaningfully, licking my lips and staring at his crotch. Rick caught on quickly and chuckled, unbuttoning his pants and dropping them to the floor. He removed his coat and shirt too, and he was just as naked as I was. He stalked towards me, closing the gap between us and reaching over to give my tits a squeeze. I used my free hand to grab is cock, giving it a few tugs before sticking my tongue out and rolling it around the head, gaining a deep, yet quite groan from Rick. When I let go of him and widened my mouth, he got the message and thrust gently into my mouth, only pushing about half of his length in at first.

“Yeah, baby. That’s my perfect angel, open wide for me, that’s it… fuck.” He whispered, rocking his hips slowly. I groaned at the sensation of him filling my mouth, going deeper with every stroke. I relaxed my throat, readying myself for him; I wanted him deeper, to feel him hit the back of my throat. “God, you’re so good for me. Letting me take what I need from you. Such a good girl, I’m gonna make you cum so hard baby, you deserve it.”

I moaned again in response, rubbing my clit faster, pushing a finger inside myself and rocking it back and forth against my g-spot. It wasn’t long before it just wasn’t enough, and a second finger was added. Rick held onto my breasts as he fucked into me faster, and I could feel his cock stretching my throat, and I breathed through my nose between thrusts, letting my eyes fall closed as his balls hit my face with how deep he was going. There was something extremely satisfying about being used in this way.

“Fuck, baby, where’d your gag reflex go? You been practicing, huh? Choking on one of your dildos while you rub that pretty pink pussy of yours?” He asked, and I moaned around his cock, hoping he’d take it as a yes. “God, that’s nice, baby. So fucking hot. Yeah, fuck yourself for me. I want you to make yourself cum with my cock in your mouth.” He growled, his tone sending a shiver through my body. He eased off a little, giving me a moment to pull in a few full breaths, then he was on me again, rougher. He fucked my mouth as if it were my pussy, letting out quiet little grunts as he did. I resisted the urge to gag and choke, relaxing and letting it happen, keeping my jaw slack.

I fucked myself fast, feeling my knuckles become drenched from my arousal as I sunk my fingers deep inside myself. I could feel myself drawing close already; the knowledge of what I was doing with my parents just downstairs becoming too much. Rick seemed to like it too, egging me on with his words, bringing me closer to climax with every word.

“I can see my cock in your throat, baby.” He told me with a satisfied smirk, reaching his hand down to cup my neck, so he could feel the bulge he made with each thrust. The lack of oxygen was making me dizzy, and only adding to the hot tingle between my legs that threatened to send me spiralling into orgasm. “Imagine if mommy and daddy walked in right now. Wonder what they’d say if they saw their precious little girl like this, you think they’d be mad?” He laughed, his hips moving quicker. His words sent shockwaves through me, and I moaned loudly around him, my eyes going unfocused as I felt myself teeter on that edge. Rick grunted rhythmically, and I could taste the head of his cock painting stripes of precum along my tongue, the flavour was the last piece of stimuli I needed, and I was cumming. I cried out around his cock, my vision dimming as my oxygen supply dwindled. Rick pulled out quickly and let go of my throat, my lungs filled with sweet, sweet oxygen and heightened the intensity of my orgasm tenfold. I bit down on my bottom lip hard in a bid to silence myself, but muffled groans still escaped.

Rick stroked his fingers through my hair as I came down, whispering words of praise to me in the softest voice he could muster. I swallowed hard around the ache in my neck, breathing heavily as I pulled my hands from myself, dropping them down against the mattress.

“Look at my pretty girl.” He cooed, running his thumbs along the sides of my face, wiping away the tears that had escaped my eyes. He bent down and gave me a kiss before walking around the bed and climbing on, kneeling between my legs. I lifted my head to watch him as he nudged the deeply flushed head of his cock against my pussy. I whined when he rubbed it against my over-sensitive clit, and he shushed me softly.

“Fuck, Rick… I need you to fuck me.” I whispered bringing my knees up to spread myself open for him, he groaned at the sight.

“I know, beautiful.” He said, stroking his hands over my thighs and shuffling closer to me on his knees. “You gotta keep quiet, remember?” He said, smirking at me before burying his dick in me real slow. I gasped and pressed my lips together, wrapping my legs around Rick’s waist when he leaned over me and kissed me, slipping his tongue into my mouth and dancing the tip against mine. He began moving slowly, easing in and out of me more gently than he had with my mouth.

“Mm, so good.” I sighed, stroking my hands up and down his spine, tightening my legs around him, anchoring him to me. He buried his face in my neck, speeding up. The bed started squeaking, so he eased off and cursed under his breath.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, baby. You feel so good.” He told me, and I hummed in pleasure. “God, I wish I could plow you nice and hard, fuck, I gotta install a sound proofing field in here.” He said.

“If you fuck me on the floor, we don’t have to worry about the bed making too much noise.” I suggested breathlessly, and his hips stalled. He lifted his head to look at me, then down at the floor. I giggled as Rick pulled out and got off the bed, dragging the beanbag in the corner of my room out into the open, then he curled his finger at me in a ‘come hither’ motion. I grinned and moved over to him, plopping down onto the beanbag and parting my legs for him; he wasted no time in settling back between my legs and thrusting into me, not hesitating before moving at a moderate pace. So soon after my first orgasm, my body was sensitive, every nerve ending was alight, sending pulses of pleasure right into my gut every time Rick buried himself to the hilt; I was panting in no time.

“Fuck yeah, this is better.” He breathed, his hips beginning to clap against my thighs with the force of his motions, and I dropped my head back into the soft cushiony beanbag and whimpered. He paused momentarily to grind his hips in circles, stimulating my clit and making me moan. “Hmm, you said you’d be quiet.” He teased, and I bit down on my lip.

“Just feels so fucking good.” I sighed, bucking my hips beneath him, urging him not to stop. Rick chuckled and carried on, fucking me into the beanbag with newfound force. My mouth hung open and I closed my eyes, gripping onto the edges of my beanbag. One notably rough thrust had me sobbing out a groan, and Rick covered my mouth with his hand.

“Shhh shh.” Was his response, licking his lips and staring down at my face as he kept his hand clamped over my mouth, allowing only muffled whimpers to escape me. “Unless you want mommy and daddy bursting through that door, seeing you with this big old man dick buried in your snatch. Do you, huh?” He asked in hushed tones, his own breath becoming strained. I shook my head frantically under his hand, and he smiled. “Okay, I guess w-we’re doing this then. You can breath okay, can’t you baby?” He asked, and I nodded.

Rick was relentless, taking me at a pushing pace; my eyes watered and my breath came fast and short through my nose, the risky nature of the situation was arousing me way more than I thought possible. The sounds in the room had dwindled down to heavy breathing and obscene squishing sounds as I grew embarrassingly wet. Rick grabbed my thigh, squeezing hard as he pushed it out wider so he could look down and see his cock pumping into me. A low growl rumbled in the back of his throat and he paused to grind against my pubic bone again. I sobbed behind his hand, mumbling against it, trying to warn him about my incoming climax, begging him to keep going, to fuck me harder. Despite their inaudibility, Rick seemed to understand my words and continued, slamming his hips with enough force to bruise. I wailed, the sound muffled and quiet, and then I was pulsing around his cock, dizzied by the intensity of my second orgasm and feeling a flood of wetness between my thighs, bringing up more indecent sounds.

“Fuuuck, your pussy’s so good, squeezing my cock like that. Fuck, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-” he grunted, and I mumbled frantically behind his hand, this time he lifted it away so I could speak.

“Pull out.” I told him. I knew he wouldn’t like it, but I also knew he wouldn’t deny me, and I wanted to swallow his load rather than flush it down the toilet once it was all said and done… Rick thrust two, three more times, then with a groan of my name he pulled out. I was quick to lean down, jerking his cock into my open mouth, feeling his hot load hit my tongue and drip down to my breasts, I moaned in satisfaction as I did. Rick rocked his hips as he came, grunting through clenched teeth with each wave of his orgasm.

“Ohh god, baby, that was so fucking hot, l-let me see.” He said, lifting my chin up with his hand and looking into my open mouth full of his cum. He pushed my mouth closed, and I swallowed, much to Rick’s pleasure. “Good girl.” He whispered, petting my hair.

“Mmh, thank you.” I sighed, laying back down against the beanbag.

“You missed some.” He said, pointing to my chest. I ran my finger through the cum on my breasts, and before I could lick it away, Rick grabbed my hand and sucked my fingers clean before leaning into kiss me, sharing it with me. He grinned at me when he pulled away.

“We should get dressed.” I said disappointedly, glancing over to my clothes. Rick nodded and moved first, pulling his clothes on lazily, leaving his shirt untucked. He smirked at me watching him get dressed, and threw my clothes at me. I pulled them on with a sigh, not in the mood to leave the cozy bubble of my afterglow just yet. “You know, the ten o'clock offer’s still there, if you’ve got it in you.” I said, and Rick snorted.

“Of course I’ve got it in me.” He said, kneeling back down in front of me and pulling me closer to him by my legs, my hips bumped into his and I hummed, still sensitive. “I’ll be there.” He added.

“Good.” I grinned, pulling him in for another kiss, rolling my hips against him.

“Jesus, i-is every chick your age this cock hungry?” He asked me when we broke away, and I giggled and shrugged.

Have an embarrassing read at something i tried to write a couple years ago. back when i was happy lol

My First Blog. – 20/11/16

Okay, so here goes. This is my first ever attempt at anything like this really. I have written before in many different formats and styles but I don’t know what’s come over me lately but I feel inspired to write again and I know as well as anyone else this isn’t a typical feeling that comes along every so often so by fuck I am gonna’ grab it and take a chance and see where I end up.  I literally just unlocked and locked my phone again there because I’m trying to have a proper focused dedicated mind to attempting this. I’m not even too sure what I’m supposed to do in a blog, what even is a blog? I don’t know but I know that I’ve wanted to start making a journal of things that are going on in my life but due the fact I am extremely lazy this may be very seldom so the next update could be quite a while so don’t expect anything too frequent.

Like I said I’m not even too sure what I am meant to be doing or how I am even meant to go about it, I am a firm believer in the fact that writing doesn’t have to be performed or practised in any particular way. That there is essentially no wrong or right way in how it is carried out or laid out, but I feel like I just want to do something a bit more productive with my life from now on. A long childhood friend has recently started doing animations and making his own videos and uploading them to YouTube and to be quite honest they are great, its so great to see something like that, the thing about Ryan Is that our friendship took a bit of a standstill when we were kids must have been between the ages of 8 and 10 at least. Ryan and his family were emigrating to New Zealand and as a kid yeah you see this as a big thing but you don’t realise the likelihood of seeing them as often is completely and utterly abolished due to the fact you have no idea how much it would cost to fly out there. Ryan must be around 18 or 19 now and I just turned 20 there this year, and its great to see we still have so much in common, to just spit it out and be clear after seeing that this is what he into it kind of inspired me to get back to what I love doing. I love writing. I’m not so much of a reader which is the weird thing, again all down to my laziness, if a book doesn’t get my attention within the first paragraph or so I find it very hard to stick with it or even go back to it if I do manage to finish a chapter. The same applies for the likes of articles and campaigns and any form of literature really. But I thought hey you know what it’s about time I started doing what I love and even more its about time I start love what im doing.

Just to be clear, this year has probably been one of the biggest milestones of my life. I finally did it, I finally got a girlfriend. Fuck. It’s still weird even saying that, so yeah I will leave the ultimate love story of the century to maybe the next blog or edition whatever the fuck you want to call this. This is mainly just for me to get to grips with the style that im going to write in, if I do choose to carry on with this (Which I feel like I will). If anyone reads this yeah, awesome im happy someone out there is reading my stuff but to be honest this if for me as much as it is for anyone else out there. I want to see what I can do and if this really is the best time to get back into writing, basically one side of me is saying yeah what the hell go for it you need something like this but at the same time as there always is, the polar opposite emotion of just fear I guess? Not wanting to pick something up again only to go off my track record and drop this 5 minutes later like I do with everything else? But hey its 7.15pm on a frosty Sunday night in November, what else am I going to do? Sit, procrastinate and wish I had of done something useful.

Not that im going off track because essentially there isn’t much to this article its just me spamming a lot of stuff down so who ever reads this can kind of of get a grip of where I am right now in life and basically why I’m doing this. So here goes, I dropped out of college for last week. For the second time…

Yeah im officially a two time college dropout, nothing t be proud of I assure you, but im just waiting for the opening credits to roll ad realise im in the first scene of a really shitty coming of age movie where im the older brother your parents don’t want you to turn out like.

But yeah, I left school at 16 and went to a technical college, basically an establishment which offers a-levels to people who didn’t get back into school or else didn’t want to go back to school. I studied a 2 year course in creative media production and honestly it was awesome, it was so fucking cool and the course didn’t have that many uninteresting or boring areas, but yeah you guessed it I was lazy didn’t do any of the work and just took advantage of the whole independent learning aspect of it and never bother showing up for class plus a whole pile of other steamy shit went on that year that we are just not gonna discuss at this moment in time. But coming towards the end of the second year when the course was gonna finish and In a couple months after that I would figure out if I got the grades to get into the uni of my choice I asked my teachers if they would be wiling to let me come back and repeat the second year of the course. They were more than happy to, they gave me exactly what I needed, a fresh slate and a chance to correct myself, and you know what happened? Yeah your right I totally blew it and fucked up again just hated the thought of working or studing in media for any longer. Like I loved making short films and writing screenplays and everything I even liked some of the assignments but basically I had it in my head I didn’t want a career from this anymore due to the fact it was something I loved so much and it was basically kicking my ass all day, all fucking week long. The only thing that got me through that repeated year of college was the girl of my dreams and we weren’t even going out yet. But as said before there is more to come with her, she deserves the whole word so the least I can do is dedicate one sole piece of writing to me and her and our story, truth is there are not enough words in the world to even begin to describe who she is and how she thinks and works and even jus to describe how she came into my life, yes a combination of letters on a page or screen may work for some people but no, not for her. This girl is a queen from another realm, she is a princess from a faraway kingdom, she is an angel from heavens further and beyond the highest clouds. She is the love of my life and that is the only way to explain her and who she is. But getting back to the educational fuck ups In my life, here goes the explanation to how I arrived here, 5 days after dropping out of another course. This time I was studying IT, you know trying to go down that route of career, thinking of my future and what not? Yeah that didn’t go to plan either, I basically rejected a full time promotion on good money and I hadn’t regretted anything as much in my life. Basically college was another fuck up and let’s just say I managed to get out and finished a bit earlier this time rather than waste my own time and anyone else’s. Plus, if I carried on with these next two years that would 5 years of studying A-levels just for me to be a whining little bitch about how I didn’t want to go to university. I am just at the stage of my life now, not where I am considering moving out and settling down but some things don’t appeal to me the same as they used to. Going to uni and living and experiencing that independence in life and finding a career path and devoting the rest of my life to something I may not even be happy at? Na, no thanks not for me. Not at this moment in time anyway. For right now I’m happy enough to keep my eyes and ears open for what all jobs are available for me and what foot to put next in front of me. Get a couple extra pounds in my pay check each fortnight and you know that might do for year or so. Maybe get back on the studying boat in a year or two and carry on with the IT. That is, you know if I don’t become like a stereotypical copy of a character you would expect to see in a ‘Community’ reboot.

I was watching a clip of Jim Carey giving a speech a couple of days ago and basically what I got from it was that he had returned to his old school or college or university or whatever in order to give a commencement speech or he was receiving his award or something anyway not really vitally important. What is important is what he said in his speech, basically his message he was getting across as in most motivational speeches, is the reinforcement of using fear to help you rather than to put you off, accepting fear and accepting that no matter what you will fail, but that’s okay and if it wasn’t for the fact that accepting it you wouldn’t have the drive to reach for greatness like so many greats have done before you, whether they have made it to great fame and fortune or if it was just the regular girl from a small town who made a life and career for herself because it’s what she wanted to do. Anyway, Carey says, “You will only ever have two choices, love or fear. Choose love and don’t ever let fear turn you against your playful heart.” Basically what Carrey is telling us here is to embrace fear, don’t avoid it, stare down the barrel of its gun charge at it and conquer it, but never let it conquer you, never let fear become the objective always make sure it rises no more than an obstacle in your course, a mountain you must climb or a hurdle you must leap over. Defeating fear is never the final piece of the puzzle. Like walking in a straight line, you put your left leg forward and then do exactly the same with your right, repeat until you arrive where you need to be? Well, fear is that first big step. The first big step into a new world and a new environment and mind set and who knows what it’s going to throw at you. But you need to remember that it’s there to make sure you don’t triumph in whatever you set out to do, but you can’t move forward without taking that step. Then comes the next step, failure. And as stated before yeah, your gonna fail, your gonna fail and you’re going to fuck up and mess up and trip up, over and over and over again, this is the repetitive steps the same as walking that we take to go in a straight line, the same works with this. Without taking the same repetitive bullshit same old story steps in life, we will never reach the finish line that is success.

Make You Feel My Love (Ocs, Sickfic)

Hey guys, I’ve got another one for you! This is the first time I’ve written these guys so let me introduce you to Aaron and Henry. 

Aaron is a 22 year old uni drop out trying to make it as a musician. He’s very stubborn and head strong with a lack of concern for himself. He’s the only child of a politician and knows he is a disappointment in them for his choices in life not that he would change of any them. He loves his friends and they are often his only voices of reason in his messy world. 

Henry is a 23 year old medical student. He’s hard working, determined and can get very easily lost in his work. He wants to make the world a better place and look after people though sometimes his strong morals don’t do him many favours. He’s got what he thinks of as a normal family with mum, dad, older brother and their dog. 

This story was inspired by the song Make You Feel My Love, I hope you enjoy!

The black clouds were growing, creeping across the sky until nothing else remained. A storm was incoming, one that threatened to drop week’s worth of rain in a matter of hours. It was only mid morning but the streets were quiet, people choosing to stay in rather than risk getting soaked when the time came but at least it meant the queue in the coffee shop was mercifully short. The only thing keeping Henry through his last class was the thought of a hot cup of coffee at the end of it, his professor had just been coming on and on and he’d nearly drifted off multiple times. He rubbed his tired eyes and tried not to think about all the work he had piling up, between classes and starting work at the clinic he was exhausted.

“Usual is it Henry?”

Henry was pulled out of his thoughts by a familiar voice. He looked up to see non other that Aaron Everson standing behind the counter. In his need for coffee he gone to the place Aaron worked, the one place he’d sworn never to return to. Shit.

“Please,” Henry replied.

“Haven’t seen you awhile, how’ve you been?” Aaron asked.

There was something off with his voice, it wasn’t how Henry remembered it, there was a raspy note to it.

“Busy, I feel like I need to sleep for a mouth,” Henry replied.

Aaron nodded before turning away and coughing harshly into his elbow. So that’s what was wrong, Aaron was sick. Now that Henry looked closely he could see he was paler, his curls messier than normal and his eyes were red and bloodshot.  

“Are you okay? You kinda sound like crap,” Henry asked.

Aaron sniffed, running his wrist under his nose.

“I’m fine, now that’ll be £2.75 please.”

Henry paid for his drink and went to wish Aaron well but he was already serving the next customer. Henry took a seat by the window, the sky was almost completely dark now but still no rain had fallen. He watched as Aaron went through the last few customers in line, stopping every so often to cough or sneeze, he was sounding quite miserable but still he passed it off as nothing. Henry tried to ignore him and got out his laptop with the intention of writing up some notes before his next lecture but the blonde was never quite out of his line of sight. Henry had stopped coming to Aaron’s coffee shop as he’d come to think of it just about a month ago, it had been an attempt to ignore his growing feelings. It didn’t matter how he felt as Aaron had a girlfriend, a great girl called Erica and thus Henry’s feeling didn’t mean anything, couldn’t mean anything.

The morning slowly became afternoon, most people in the small coffee shop had left leaving only Henry working in the corner, surrounded by a few more empty mugs. He’d finally caught up on at least some of his work, he felt a bit less stressed and somewhat more alive than when he’d arrived. Unfortunately the same could not be said of Aaron, looking up from his laptop Henry could see the man had obviously gotten worse. He was pale and shivering, leaning against the counter, coughing harshly in his fist, even from where he was sitting Henry could hear how wet and painful they sounded. When the fit ended Aaron put his head on his arms and moaned. Henry sighed and made his way over to where Aaron was, he knew it was bad idea to be getting involved his heart was already thumping in his chest but he was a Doctor or as good as and he couldn’t just leave him.

“Aaron?”

The young man raised his head, his curls were messy and clinging to his forehead, eyes watering and nose pink and raw.

“Another one already?” Aaron rasped, his voice had gotten worse and he cleared his throat with a wince.

Henry shook his head. “Are you okay? Do you need anything, like a Doctor?”

“Nah, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? You look like a walking health code violation,” Henry replied.    

Aaron raised a small smile before turning away to cough into his sleeve.

“I’m fine, just the sniffles.”

Henry wanted to argue that judging by the flush on his cheeks he was the complete opposite of fine but he didn’t. That was Aaron all over, stubborn till the end of the earth.

“Don’t you think you should go home?”

Aaron sneezed each one sounding more scratchy and painful and the last. Henry pulled a packet of tissues out his pocket and handed him to the ill man, Aaron smiled in thanks and took one to blow his nose.

“I’d rather be here,” Aaron replied.

Henry resisted the temptation to throw the tissues in Aaron’s face, he had what Henry suspected was the flu and was still insisting on being difficult. Henry had known Aaron for a few years, friends through friends and he’d still been the stubborn one always up for a right and argument but for some stupid reason Henry cared for him anyway.

“Why don’t you just call Erica to come get you? I’m sure your bosses won’t mind seeing as you’re ill.”

Something in Aaron changed, he stood up a little straighter and his eyes went cold.

“I said I’m fine Henry, now unless you want another drink I think you should go.”

Henry opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out, he didn’t want to get into a yelling match with Aaron. They’d been there plenty of times before, their opinions always seemed to clash and sometimes their friends have had to stop them from ripping at each other’s throats.

Henry just picked up his stuff in silence and left the coffee shop without saying another word. As he walked back toward campus he saw a few people enter the cafe where Aaron would no doubt work until his shift ended or it killed him. Henry wished he didn’t care but knew in his heart that wasn’t true, he did care and it hurt.   

By late afternoon the storm had arrived in full force, the rain hammered down soaking anything in it’s path in a seconds. It was kind of weather that nobody was venturing out in unless they absolutely had to. Unfortunately for Henry he’d run out of the milk and had to make a quick run to the corner shop. He had an umbrella to keep off the worst but he was still damp and half frozen, the rain had brought with it a sharp, icy wind that burnt against his skin. He’d been studying for hours and was looking forward to getting back to the his flat and finally having a break with a hot mug of tea and a film.  

He didn’t pass anyone else on his way back, milk in hand until he reached a bus stop near his building. A person was huddled under the small roof, the rain barely missing them. At first Henry didn’t recognise him, his curly blonde hair dark and flatten by the rain, he was soaked through and shivering but there was no mistaking Aaron.

“What are you doing here?” Henry asked.

Aaron looked up at the sound of Henry’s voice, he looked worse than when Henry had left him. He was soaked and shaking, his eyes glassy with fever.  

“Going home,” Aaron replied, his voice was shot, raspy and painful.

“In this weather? I doubt they’ll be many buses now,” Henry replied.

Aaron sniffed before coughing weakly into his fist. It sounded like he no longer had the energy to drag up the gunk in his lungs. Henry wasn’t sure how he was still standing.

“Guess I’ll walk then.”

The argument was hot on Henry’s tongue, about how damn stubborn Aaron could be and why didn’t he just leave work hours ago? Now he was trembling, soaked to the bone and even worse than before. But he knew better that to start a fight he couldn’t win, that was Aaron loyal to a fault even to his crappy job and Henry did admire that, he did. He just wished it didn’t mean Aaron’s health suffering as a result.

Aaron sneezed, harsh and wet and miserable. Henry didn’t miss the little moan as Aaron took out an all but ruined tissue to rub at his raw nose. Aaron was a mess and Henry knew he couldn’t leave him like that, it wasn’t exactly the weather to be walking in even if he wasn’t ill. Henry’s heart was thumping again but he ignored it, this wasn’t about that he was just trying to be a good friend, the good friend he’d failed to be for the past month.

“You can come back to my place, you can get warm and call Erica to pick you up,” Henry said.

Aaron opened his mouth to reply but instead coughed weakly into his fist.

“Really?”

Henry nodded and held out his umbrella, the rain felt like a cold shower, the drops splattering his glasses.

“Yes, now come on, before we both get soaked.”

At first Aaron didn’t move then slowly he shuffled under the umbrella.

They left the shelter of the bus stop, Henry’s umbrella barely enough to cover them both of them and it did little from stopping the rain from blowing in their faces. Henry was surprised that Aaron hadn’t called Erica to come and get him, in the days he’d spend at the coffee shop Erica was often there to pick him up or just hang out as Aaron didn’t drive himself. It crossed his mind that maybe something had happened between the two of them but he had more pressing things to think about, like getting them both out of the rain.

Henry’s flat was only a few streets away but the walk was slow, Aaron barely seemed to have the energy to put one foot in front of the other, and by the time they arrived Aaron’s teeth were chattering and Henry felt cold, damp and in need of a strong cup of tea.

“Sorry about the mess…”

The inside of Henry’s flat was very much that of a med student, messy with text books and papers stacked all over the place. There were dirty dishes in the sink, take away boxes next to the bin and landry still in the machine.

Aaron didn’t say anything, he just stood shivering by the door.

“Bathroom is down the hall, why don’t you go have a shower? Warm you up a bit before you call that girl of yours.”

Aaron just nodded and shuffled down the hall. Henry sighed, it wasn’t like Aaron to be so complacent, it worried him a little. He was used to Aaron being the life of the party, loud and outspoken being quiet didn’t suit him.  

Henry went to put the kettle on, he needed something to warm up his own numb fingers. Why he waited for the water to boil Henry went and changed to some dry clothes, leaving a set of warm things outside the bathroom door for Aaron. He was slightly taller than the blonde so the clothes would probably be a little big but at least they’d be dry, Aaron seemed worse enough as it was.

Henry busied himself tidying up a little around the flat as he made the tea, adding a little honey to Aaron’s for his throat. He was just putting the dirty plates in the dishwasher when he was interrupted by the sound of Aaron sneezing again and again until he was left leaning against the wall for support. Henry’s heart ached a little sympathy, he wasn’t usually like this he was a Doctor, a professional but seeing Aaron so obviously unwell was making his heart beat like he was back in the days of high school crushes.

He went over and guided Aaron over to the sofa, sitting him down before fetching the mugs of tea.

“Drink, it’ll help.”

“That a medical fact?” Aaron asked, his voice cracked and raw.

“Of course, tea makes everything better.”

Aaron raised a small smile at sipped at his tea. Even after his shower he looked downright miserable, his blonde hair still damp it was almost brown, his eyes red rimmed and tired, his nose pink and cheeks flushed. He looked like someone with the flu he should be in bed not sat on the sofa of a friend he barely knew.

“Do you err need a charger for your phone or something?” Henry asked, unsure of what he was suppose to do next. There was no rule book for what to do when you’ve got your very sick crush sitting on your sofa.

“No, it’s okay. Thanks,” Aaron said.

“You’re welcome,” Henry replied, hoping the heat he felt on his face wasn’t obvious.

Aaron’s breathing hitched and Henry thought he was going to sneeze again, he reached for the box of tissues on the coffee table only no sneezes came. Instead there were tears, Aaron tried to wipe them away as he sniffed.

“Aaron, what… what’s wrong?” Henry asked.

He’d never seen Aaron cry, not once in all their arguments where they’d both questioned and insulted each others way of life.

“I can’t call Erica,” Aaron said, rubbing at his eyes with his (Henry’s) sleeve.

“Why not?”

“Because she’s gone,” Aaron replied, voice cracking.

“Gone, how can she be gone?” Henry asked. He’d only seen her last week, she’d been standing in line at the bank her blue hair making her stand out a mile off.

“... Back up north to her family.”

“Oh… So you guys are..”

Aaron nodded, putting his head in his hands. Henry felt his heart sink as Aaron properly started crying, his shoulders were shaking and it was doing nothing to help the crap in his lungs. It shook something in Henry seeing his friend like that, he’d never been good with people crying not even as a Doctor. He’s been stood in the room when a person is told their loved one hasn’t made it there’s always so much crying and he could never take it, he’d always ends up leaving the room. But this wasn’t some stranger, it was Aaron and he was hurting in a way Henry had never seen before, he did the only thing he could think to and put his arm around Aaron’s shoulders and hugged him.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

He was surprised when Aaron leant against him, crying on his shoulder. Henry hugged him a little tighter, there was no hiding the fever that was causing through Aaron that was no doubt adding to his emotional outburst as it was far from the Aaron Henry knew. From what Henry had seen Aaron he wasn’t a very emotional person, passionate yes but it seemed something had finally broken through his armour.  

“You’re going to be okay.”

Aaron cried until he had to break away coughing, long and hard with barely enough time to breathe. Henry rubbed his back in an attempt to help clear his lungs.

“I’m sorry, she was a great girl but I’m sure she had her reas…”

“I fucked it up.”

Aaron cut him off, his voice shaking.

“I messed it up, me not her. It’s all my fault.”

“No, don’t do that to yourself. Shit happens it doesn’t mean there’s someone to blame.”

Henry put his arm on Aaron’s shoulder, the heat was radiating off him and yet he shivered. Henry wanted to get some medicine in him before he ended up needing real medical attention but before he could say anything Aaron leant back against him. His head came to rest on Henry’s shoulder, he sniffed and closed his eyes. He was still trembling a little and Henry put his arms around him not daring to move. It was obvious Aaron needed someone to be there and that for some reason Henry had become that person. He didn’t mind because there was nothing he wouldn’t do.

Not that they’d never been that close and Henry did his best, he started to run his fingers through the ends of Aaron’s hair not sure how he would react. Aaron just sighed, tears still damp on his cheek but at least he was calm.

It didn’t take long for Aaron to fall asleep still lying on Henry, not that he minded. He’d never imagined this would be how his day would end, especially not after the argument they’d had that very morning. He’d never seen this side of Aaron the one that showed genuine emotion, it was something new and he liked it. He didn’t like seeing Aaron hurt but it did make him seem more human, Aaron could be all fire and anger this was the first time he’d been vulnerable. And with Erica out of the picture….

No, no, he couldn’t start thinking like that. He didn’t even know if Aaron could think of him like… He’d always suspected but it wasn’t his place to ask.   

Eventually Henry dozed off too, he was exhausted and with a feverish Aaron lying next to him there wasn’t much else he could do. He didn’t dream, his mind blank and empty though the same could not be said of Aaron. The blonde whimpered in his sleep caught up in some fever dream he couldn’t seem to shake.

Henry awoke in the darkness aware that it was now some in the evening and his stomach was protesting about the lack of food. Aaron was still asleep beside him but something was wrong, his face was scrunched up in pain another whimper escaping.

“Shit.”

He pushed Aaron’s sweaty curls away from his forehead and found it burning.

“Shit. Aaron wake up.”

Henry shook his shoulder, he shouldn’t have let him sleep without medicine. Damn it he should know better than this.

“Aaron, wake up!”

Henry’s heart started to thumping against in his chest in panic just as Aaron’s eyes blinked open, they were glassy and bloodshot before he turned away to cough heavily in his fist. He sounded bad but he’d deal with that in a minute.

“Jesus don’t scare me like that.”

“What?”

Aaron’s voice was rough and thick with sleep.

“Your fevers high, I’m going to need to take your temp and get some medicine in you okay?”

Aaron groaned and tried to close his eyes.

“And don’t go back to sleep!”

Aaron mumbled something as he struggled to sit up, propping himself against the sofa cushions.

Henry returned with his medical kit and found Aaron exactly where’d left him, he looked absolutely miserable and Henry’s heart started hammering again for a whole different reason. He hoped Aaron was still too out of it to notice the heat he could feel on his neck. In the light Henry could see how flushed Aaron was there was no doubting his fever had spiked but he still needed to know how high.

“Open up.”

Aaron blinked heavily and for a moment Henry thought he was about to drift off again but he didn’t. Henry couldn’t ignore how adorable he found Aaron as he sat with the thermometer poking out of his mouth as he fought to keep his eyes open not that it made the situation any less awkward. Luckily the beeping of the thermometer broke the silence and Henry took it preparing himself for the worst.

“38, that’s not actually as bad as I thought.”

“Lucky me” muttered Aaron.

“Sorry, let me give you something.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

The question caught Henry so by surprise he dropped the box of medicine he was holding.

“I umm… I...errr…”

“I mean you don’t like me…”

“That’s not true,” Henry argued.

“Isn’t it?” Aaron sniffed, rubbing his temples.

“We shouldn’t be doing this, you’re ill.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Aaron mumbled.

“Here, take these.”

Henry passed him a couple of pills and a glass of water, and watched as Aaron took them wincing as they passed his sore throat.

“I don’t know about you but I’m hungry, I know a chinese place that does great noodle soup if you want any.”

Aaron didn’t say anything and Henry thought he was going to refuse but instead he just sneezed his curls falling in his face, Henry had to resist the need to push them away.

“I know you’re not hungry but you need food,” Henry said, offering Aaron a box of tissues.

“Okay, thanks Doc.”

Henry smiled and took his phone to make the call. The rain had finally stopped but there was alerts of flash flooding though none near him luckily, it would mean a busy night in the hospital and for once Henry was glad he wasn’t a real Doctor yet. He had enough to deal on his plate with Aaron. Did Aaron really believe he didn’t like him? Was that how he came across? He knew they yelled and fought but he didn’t mean to come off like that, he didn’t hate Aaron quite the opposite.

Henry made the call to the chinese and only a few minutes later there was a knock at the door, he’d just finished making them another round of tea. He paid the man, giving him a tip for coming out in such weather before taking the food through to Aaron. He was still sat on the sofa though now with one of Henry’s spare blankets around his shoulders as he flicked through the channels on the small tv.

“Anything good on?” Henry asked as he unpacked the food.

Aaron shrugged. “Depends if you prefer cop shows or cooking ones.”

“Oh cooking shows definitely.”

Aaron put on one as Henry handed the food, he noticed that Aaron didn’t eat much, only taking off spoonfuls of his soup but he didn’t push it, there’d be something in his stomach at least and it would hopefully make him feel a bit better.

“I just want to say I’m sorry about Erica, she was a great girl.”

Aaron nodded and sniffed. “Yeah she was, I know I fucked it up I wasn’t there when I should have been but it doesn’t make it any easier.”

“You’ll get there but in the meantime it’s great songwriting material,” Henry said.

Aaron laughed breaking off into a few light coughs.

“You know you never answered my question,” Aaron said.   

“What question?”

“The one where I asked why you’re being so nice.”

“Oh, that question…”

Henry tried to think, he couldn’t say ‘because I’m in love with you and would do anything’ because he was in love with Aaron, absolutely and completely. Instead he said.

“Because I’m your friend and I do care about if even if I have a shitty way of showing it.”

Aaron smiled and leant his head against Henry’s shoulder.

“Thank you.”

Henry pulled the blanket around the both of them, his arm around Aaron’s waist. He could have stayed there forever with Aaron at his side and maybe one he would but for now he’d take what he could get and if that was Aaron as his friend then so be it.   

Hurting

98 The corridors of that building looked different, somehow. Smaller, more claustrophobic. There had been what felt like millions of times where I’d walked through those hallways feeling utterly abysmal, but I’d never felt lower than I did then. Maybe that’s why it literally felt like the walls were closing in on me, like they’d constrict and crush my bones at any moment. But there was this weird fluctuation of emotions rushing through my blood that was sending me storming to Dr Jacksons office, uninvited and unscheduled and unannounced.

I’d gone a full day since breaking up with Harry feeling utterly lifeless. Mo had made me copious amounts of brews and tried to get me talking, but I just couldn’t. I could barely breathe under the weight of my own heartbreak. But on Tuesday morning, I’d woken up with this new energy and desire to voice the frenzied thoughts of my matted mind. I’d paced Mo’s flat all morning just wishing I had someone to vent to, someone who could help me place things together and make sense of things that had become increasingly hazy over the past few days, and then I suddenly thought of Bryony. I had to speak to her. Once the door to her office was in sight, I picked up the pace, and then before I knew it, I barged in there with fire beneath my feet. Dr Jacksons eyes went wide seeing me, and the woman in the chair across from her turned her head rapidly to see me, confusion creating fresh lines in her face as the two of them stared at me. “I need to speak to you.” “Florence!” She gawped. “What on earth are you doing here?” “I need to speak to you. Now.” “I don’t know how you’re failing to see this, Florence, but I’m with another client at the minute.” “But-” “Florence-” “-I just need to-” “I am busy right now, Florence!” Her voice was raised, and stern. “Now if you’d stop being so rude and take a seat outside, I will speak to you when I’m free to do so.” I was shaking, staring at her in silence before my eyes dropped to the innocent woman in front of me who just trying to make it through another therapy session. I began backing away. “I’m so sorry.” I trembled. “That was… That was awful, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I-” “Florence, go!” She lowered her voice but kept her sternness. I nodded, my bottom lip trembling as I let myself out of there, closing the door slowly behind myself and then taking a seat out in the corridor, caving in on myself and feeling utterly ashamed that I’d even showed my face. I don’t know what kept me glued to that seat rather than just running out of there and going back to Mo’s, throwing my duvet over my head and hiding from the world. I just had this need to talk to her. I managed to calm down a little whilst I waited for her current session to end, allowing my mind to go completely blank for a short while just so I didn’t drive myself insane. There’d been this strange swirling feeling in my stomach since it had happened, and I’d been trying to forget it had ever happened but then his face would just appear in my mind, his bright green eyes and his thick brown locks, his tiny blemishes and his pretty pink lips. The image would conjure itself in my head, crystal clear, almost like I could fucking touch him. He was there every time I closed my eyes. I awoke that morning to see I had three missed calls from him. I didn’t think it would happen, really. When the New Year had hit, and we parted ways on the awful terms we had, he hadn’t tried to get in touch. He didn’t put up a fight, he just accepted that I had my mind made up. I’d had one day of peace away from him, and I predicted that things would stay the same, but it seemed he’d only granted me those 24 hours of silence, and then he started trying to reach out to me, trying to change my mind and fight for us. I ignored him. I didn’t know what else to do. Whilst sat in that chair outside Dr Jacksons office, he tried again, my phone frustratingly loud. I hung up as quickly as I could, putting the bastard thing on silence and hoping he’d give up. “For fuck sake.” It hurt. It hurt like hell but I knew I’d done the right thing. I must have done. The main thing that kept going through my head was that Harry warranted an entire existence of perfection, the type that reflected him, the type he was worthy of. I didn’t want to be there doubting myself and being just like my damn mother. I hated her and everything she represented, and I needed to change who I was, and if that meant having to walk away from Harry too, it had to be the right thing. But all I could feel was agony. All that made sense was the ongoing shots of pain that continued to circulate my body and make me feel as though everything was going wrong again. Dr Jackson felt like the only person I could turn to. The only one who wouldn’t bullshit me or second guess everything. Her opinion was the only one I wanted, and everyone else could just back the fuck off as far as I was concerned. Including Harry. I didn’t want him fighting for me. I didn’t want him trying to win me back or telling me I’d made the wrong decision. That was why I ignored his calls. Minutes dragged on like hours before the door to her office opened again, Dr Jacksons client walking out, shooting me a shy smile as I jumped to my feet. “I’m so sorry!” I approached her, still a little rushed and uneasy. “That was so rude of me. I’m sorry. I’m… I’m trying to work on stuff like that. I’m sorry.” “That’s okay.” She shook her head tenderly. “We all have bad days.” I noticed her scratching furiously at her arm, the area bright red and bubbles of blood forcing its way through her skin. I brought my eyes up as quickly as I could, not wanting to stare. “I know, but… I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t… I dunno. I’m sorry.” “It’s fine, don’t worry.” She let out a little laugh, scratching more furiously. “Good luck in there.” “Thanks.” I nodded. She scurried off, her footsteps so small it was shocking she was covering any ground at all. I watched her briefly, rubbing over my eyes and once again trying to grasp why the hell I was going to see a therapist when my problems were actually so miniscule. I wasn’t worthy of her time at all. I couldn’t even imagine how frustrated Dr Jackson felt, seeing me again when I had no damn right to be there. “You’re losing your fucking mind.” I whispered to myself, rubbing over my eyes again. Shaking my head, I turned and placed a shy knock or two on her door before pushing down the handle and opening, staring at her but not letting myself into the room. She didn’t look happy. “I’m just gunna go.” I mumbled. “This was… stupid. It’s stupid. I’m just-” “Florence, just get in here.” She groaned. Her demanding voice and the fact I still refused to see myself as an actual adult, still ready to comply to every real adult’s requests, meant that I practically ran into that room, barely able to look at her as I went and slumped back into a chair that I was all too familiar with, some of its dints and deterioration literally marked from my body, leaving my print even though I hadn’t shown my face there for so long, and I’d never wanted to show my face there again. She silently moved herself and sat down in the chair across from me, looking me up and down, probably taking in my withered appearance. “You can’t just storm in here and speak to me whenever you please, Florence.” She spoke whilst taking out her trusty notebook, and flipping open to a blank page. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m fucking rude, and I know that, and I’m sorry.” I swallowed, breathing in as she clicked her pen, and placed the tip upon the paper. “You’re not rude, just frantic. You go straight into things without thinking. You act on impulse, and think later.” “I do?” “Dropping out of uni,” She began her list. “Quitting your job, pretending to have a boyfriend over Christmas, to name a few. You act first and then you think about it.” “I guess so. Maybe.” “You take one emotion, amplify it, and make it the biggest thing. You become blind to the other things you feel, like things just need to be black and white.” “Sometimes things are just black and white.” “They never are, Florence. I thought you’d realised that.” I think at some point, she had help me to realise that. Things had more layers and more reasons than I ever allowed them to have. Just because I felt like I had to be, and enjoyed being independent, didn’t mean that I didn’t need a little help sometimes. Just because I didn’t think I needed to be in therapy because I couldn’t place my issues, didn’t mean that I shouldn’t have been there all along. Just because I wasn’t physically hurting myself didn’t mean I wasn’t mentally hurting myself. Just because happiness wasn’t something I was going to feel all the time, didn’t mean I couldn’t be happy. She had made me aware of that, I just didn’t realise being blind to it was just another flaw of mine. “Acting on impulse can be a good thing!” I argued. “Sometimes you have to trust your gut.” “That’s true.” She admitted. “But sometimes things warrant a lot of thought, which you don’t always give. You knew full well you shouldn’t have just barged in here unannounced. Especially when you don’t even come to see me anymore.” “I’m sorry, I know. I need to change. I have to change the way I am. I have to. I’m freaking out.” “Why? What happened?” I nearly burst into tears, for some reason. It nearly got on top of me in that moment. It wasn’t just what had happened with Harry, even though that was what was ruling my mind, it was the person I’d become, and how desperately I wanted to change. I took a deep breath in and looked down to my lap, my fingers tugging at my top before I spoke. “You know me… maybe better than I know myself. If… If there was… one person, in the whole fucking world, who I wouldn’t want to be like… who do you think that would be?” I knew the answer had shot into her brain immediately, but she left a short silence before she answered, shooting me this sympathetic smile that just made me feel worse. “Your mother.” She replied. “Yup. My sister… not yesterday, the day before… kinda pointed out… that I’m actually really like her. It messed with my head.” She lowered her brows, and then finally began making notes, the confusion not leaving her face for a second as she started jotting down her thoughts on me again. It wasn’t too long before she lifted her head again. “Tell me more.” She instructed. “I-I’ve hated her for longer than I can even remember.” The words poured out of my mouth like grimy canal water released from its lock. “I can’t… recall a time where she was just my mother and I loved her unconditionally. I’ve always just… been aware that she wasn’t a nice person. But… I think I was so aware of that, that I didn’t feel like it was something I needed to avoid. I-I-I… I didn’t think I’d need to make a conscious effort not to be like her, because how the fuck would I end up being like someone who I can’t stand? How could that happen? It’s not something I ever thought about or… tried to avoid because… in my head it wasn’t possible for me.” “So-” “But I say she’s rude, and I am too! I say she’s selfish, and I am too! She’s… I know she loves my dad but I know she loves his money just as much. Maybe more but I fucking hope not.” “Florence, you quit your job with no alternative. I don’t think money is in your thoughts.” “No but I knew that Harry would cover me, and that’s fucked up. That’s the kind of thing my mum would do. I didn’t know I was like that, and then Matty-” “Is Harry rich?” “No! But, he has a good job and-” “Florence-” “Please just listen to me!” I finally let my tears fall. “I didn’t even think about it that way, and then Matty pointed it out to me like it was the most obvious thing in the world that it was a contributing factor to me being with Harry and… I don’t want to be with someone if it’s not for all the right reasons, and if there’s even a chance that it’s for shallow reasons. But I grew up with a shallow family, and every single privilege in the damn world. I had all of that, and of course that’s bound to… make me shallow in return, even if I don’t want to be. Harry is the best person I know. The very best. I can’t be with him if it’s not for that and that alone.” “Florence… If things were as simple as that, you would have been with Harry since Christmas, when he first admitted his feelings for you. If you were that shallow, it would have happened much sooner.” “But-” “Now you listen to me, Florence.” She sat forward. “When it comes to Harry, you actually sat back and made sure you knew exactly how you felt. You were not willing to take any steps forward with him until you were fully conscious of where it was you were already standing. I can’t say I know everything about you and Harry, and your relationship, but I got to see that unfold and I was proud of you because to me, it looked like progress I hadn’t been expecting from you. Everything I do know tells me that you were with him for all the right reasons.” Suddenly the image of Harry’s face in my mind was replaced with a sharp sting, tapping at the side of my head with ruthless consistency. “Well, I’m not with him anymore.” I grumbled, and she made even more notes. “It was… It was too much. I couldn’t deal with it. I want the best for him, and that’s not me.” She raised her head again once she was done making notes, closing the book and balancing her elbows on the table between us, her gold nameplate reflecting the sun, the perfect excuse as to why I couldn’t hold her eye contact. “So why are you here?” She asked me pointedly. “It sounds to me like you have your mind made up, so why are you here?” “Because I feel horrible and I need your help again. I know I do. I… I haven’t made the kind of progress that I thought I had, and I’m here… and I’m asking for help. I’m usually fucking useless at that.” “I know.” “I’m willing to… talk to my mum, and ask her to fund this again. Which goes against everything I want to do right now, but I need to-” “I don’t want your money, Florence. I want to help you. I told you that if you ever did feel a dire need to come back here, that you could, and that you should.” She nodded. “That offer still stands. I don’t need your money. What I need, is for you to feel better. We’ve done it before, we can do it again. This is just a step backwards, and I will help you to move forwards again.” I burst into tears, unable to hold it in any longer and so overwhelmingly grateful that she was going to see me free of charge when she used to earn hundreds of pounds an hour just listening to me whine on. I kept sobbing, hiding myself from her, like I was ashamed that I’d had to show my face there again, no money and no answers but just completely weak once more. That was all I had to offer her; this shattered and distorted version of myself who couldn’t even contain her own sorrow. It felt utterly horrifying and at the same time, the gratitude that graced me was unprecedented. “I’m sorry.” I blubbered, probably five minutes after I’d started crying before I managed to speak, rubbing away the final few culprits on the back of my sleeve. “That’s amazing. I can’t believe you’re doing that for me.” “People never believe me when I tell them I’m not in this job for the money,” She smiled. “But it’s the truth.” “I feel like I’m asking too much of you.” “But you didn’t ask me, I offered.” She brushed over it. “Now I have to ask you something.” “Okay…” “What happened with Harry?” “I don’t want to-” “Florence, I’m doing you a favour, can you do me this favour? Just talk to me. That’s why we’re here.” I couldn’t believe that I was back there striking up more bloody bargains with Dr Jackson so she could get me talking again. I had to laugh. She knew me so well and it was infuriatingly brilliant. I sniffled a little before I spoke. “After what Matilda said… I just started thinking… maybe she was right. Maybe I was never with him for the right reasons and… I couldn’t stay. I just couldn’t. I had to leave because… because he’s gunna find someone one day who is there for the right reasons, and I don’t want to stand in the way of that. I want him to find someone who’s… not rude, and someone who can just appreciate him, as he is, for who he is.” “Sounds to me like you do that already.” “I do. Of course I do. He’s the best person I know. But there’s this… doubt there now, and I can’t shake it.” She looked up to the clock on her wall quickly before looking back to me, putting her notebook back into her drawer and shooting me a kind smile. “I have another client to see in five minutes.” “Okay. I’m sorry for just… showing up. I’m sorry.” “I want you to come back on Wednesday, at your usual time. Just like it used to be.” “Okay. Thank you.” I got up to my feet. “But, I need you to let these sessions run how I want them to.” “I… Okay… What does that mean?” I was perplexed. “These sessions won’t be about making you a better person, Florence.” “What? But that’s what I need from you! I need-” “We can all be rude sometimes. We can all be shallow and selfish and we can all be versions of ourselves that we’d rather not be. It’s part of being human. No one is perfect. However, what’s important is that you recognise that, and you want to change the things you don’t like. In those terms, the work is already done. You’ve recognised the problem and you’re going to work on it. You don’t need my help to do that.” “I… I guess, but-” “But I’m going to work with you to make sure that you learn how to handle situations more constructively.” I somehow managed to lower my brows even more, trying to figure her out but I didn’t quite have the knack for it like she did. “Meaning?” “I’m going to help you to stop running away from things you find difficult. My aim now is to help you face up to the things that scare you, rather than running from them.” 99 I was sat with my legs crossed on the sofa, Mo’s laptop balanced perfectly on the cushion between my knees, typing away furiously, my brew having gone cold at my side, when Mo finally got back from work. He walked hesitantly into his own home, and I swear he had to tiptoe right into my line of vision before I even noticed he was there. “Hi!” I greeted, then took my eyes back to the screen. “You’re talking.” He baffled. “I am.” “Oh my god you’re talking and you look like a human again!” “What? What the hell did I look like before?” “Well yesterday, you looked like a zombie.” “Thank you.” “You’re welcome. Are you alright?” “I’m good. I’m fine, I’m just… applying for jobs.” He tilted his head and stared at me, and I think he was waiting for me to burst into tears again, still very cautious around me since I’d been an absolute mess the day before and he’d had no bloody idea how to cope with it. I was holding up well. “Well, that’s good. There aren’t any, by the way.” “I can see that.” I huffed. “I just applied to be a fucking doctor and I’m almost one hundred percent sure I don’t have the qualifications. But, I’m on a roll, so…” My phone began to vibrate loudly down at my side, Harry trying to get in touch again. I didn’t even pay any attention to it. I’d kind of gotten so used to it throughout the day that it didn’t even warrant a glance. Mo noticed immediately. “You gunna answer that?” “No.” “I think you should.” “Mo, don’t.” “I just don’t get it, Ren!” He sighed, wandering over into his kitchen and practically stomping his feet. “I met you on Friday and it was the happiest I’d ever seen you! Literally, ever. And I know full well that Harry played a big part in that.” “I know, but-” “I just don’t get what the hell happened in just a day or two. It doesn’t make any sense.” “I know it doesn’t! I’m not expecting you to understand where my heads at right now, and that’s why I don’t want to talk about it. I just… Let’s just drop it.” “No can do, Florence.” He approached again, jumping over the back of the sofa with a packet of crisps in hand, his impact as he landed next to me causing me to lose my perfect poise, which wasn’t something I possessed often. “I’m scared you could be a zombie again tomorrow. So, I need to get you talking now, before it’s too late.” I turned my head to look at him, just slightly, and then before I could stop him, he was taking the laptop off my knee and practically throwing it down onto the floor. He looked like he regretted that decision almost instantly, leaning off the sofa to check everything was still intact, and then coming straight back when he realised he’d avoided breaking anything. I lolled my head back onto the sofa, ignoring the burn his concerned eyes scorched upon my cheek. “Nothing makes me worry more than when you can’t talk to me about something.” He poked at my arm. “It’s me, Ren. And if there’s one person in the world who isn’t going to bullshit you, I’m your guy.” I don’t know why I was so reluctant to talk to him, maybe just through sheer exhaustion on the topic or maybe because I knew he would have his fair share to say. It wasn’t going to make sense to him in the way it made sense to me. “So, Matilda came round to see me.” “Well, that was always going to end in tears.” “And she… pointed out some similarities I have with my mum, and some of them… kind of relate to Harry? I guess? And I just want what’s best for him, and I’m not sure that it’s me, anymore.” I could tell he was trying to remain complacent, but he let out this huge sigh that proved he wasn’t best pleased with what he’d just heard. “Well, I had the honour… wait… the horror, of meeting your mother once, and I swear it blew my mind that you’d come out of that woman.” “We’re very similar. And I think… I’ve been a lot more shallow than I thought, and I can’t get it out of my head. I just can’t.” “So why did that make you end things with Harry?” “Because of how shallow I am and… some of the things I did when we were together. Like quitting my job and just thinking he would cover me.” “Okay…” He drawled. “I hate that. I hate that it was an aspect of me and… us and… I dunno. I just have this horrible feeling about the whole thing, and I couldn’t stay.” He let out a deep breath, less of a sigh that time and more defeated, maybe even somewhat understanding. He shrugged, probably knowing there wasn’t very much left to say. I was being stubborn on the matter, because I knew what was going on in my head and in my heart and had told me so clearly that Harry shouldn’t have to be with someone who had even the slightest doubt. “But you’re not happy.” He wallowed. “This hasn’t made you happy.” “None of this has made me happy. But I’m seeing Dr Jackson again, so it’s fine. I’ll figure it out.” “You and bloody Dr Jackson.” He got back up to his feet, throwing the packet of crisps in my face. “I’ll never figure out how you feel about those sessions.” I managed to let out an exhausted laugh, glad a bit of his attention had been drawn elsewhere because it meant I could make a quick leap down to the floor, retrieving the laptop with speed and precision. Well, I stumbled a little on the way down, but still managed to get back into my controlled stance, applying for more shit jobs and various jobs where I didn’t even have a look in. “Well how’s Harry?” Mo continued. “Because you’ve made it out like… you’ve really… been manipulative and kinda… used him. So, he must be relieved right? He must be glad to see the back of ya.” Now it was me who was sighing out my frustration, seething in the air around me and wishing I could avoid his clearly condescending words. “No. He’s… He wasn’t happy.” “So… you’re not happy? And Harry’s not happy?” He walked around so he was in front me again, brows low. “That’s not ideal.” “Look, it’s hard now. It’s fresh and it’s shit and… neither of us saw it coming, but I know what I’m doing. I’m saving him… finding out how shit I am down the line. I’m saving him from wasting time on me. He’s going to meet someone amazing at one point and he’s gunna be so thankful I did this.” I continued typing away, convincing myself I wouldn’t cave and look up to him even though he was completely immobile, just staring at me. After a while it was just awkward, so I looked up to him, and his features were dropped, his stare verging on a glare. “Y’know, one day you’re just gunna have to stop predicting what makes other people happy, and just let them decide for themselves.” Without another word he took off, retreating to his bedroom and leaving me reeling, closing the laptop and then closing my eyes, trying to calm myself down with controlled breathing, because I felt like I was going to cry again, and I really didn’t want to. I’d once considered myself the kind of person who was relatively emotionless over most things, excluding Titanic and having to kills slugs that had found their way into my kitchen. I couldn’t stand this version of myself who felt like crying, constantly. I didn’t want to get it out of my system, I just wanted to block it out. I put the laptop at my side, still breathing in the same manner to try abolish the overwhelming feeling of sorrow that was trying to make itself known, and I felt my phone vibrating again. There was no holding the tears back then. I picked it up, staring down to the picture of me and Harry as he tried to get in touch again, wondering who the two people on the image were. They were so happy, so fucking in love and so content with everything they shared, and I didn’t recognise them. Those two people seemed like a distant illusion that I was once conjured up in my mind, not something that I had only days before. Everything hurt. I answered the call before it died, speaking immediately because the thought of hearing his voice made me feel even weaker. “Harry, please listen to me.” I tried to cover the obvious tremor entombed in my voice. “I know this is hard. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but please, I need you to stop calling me. It’s killing me, and it can’t be helping you either! I just… I know I’m not going to change my mind, I’m so sorry, but please stop calling.” There was a second or two of total silence before I heard harsh gales crashing against the speakers of his phone, sending shivers across my entire body as though I could feel the cold of the late evening. Then I heard the sound of a bottle breaking, loud, aggressive, almost painful. Swiftly followed but a distant, but distinctive, sob. I sat forward, feeling this strange panic within me. It wasn’t just the crying I’d heard from him, but it was the mixture of everything I’d heard over the past few seconds. Everything felt wrong, and it knocked me sick. “Harry?” I prompted for a response from him, and got nothing. “Harry? What’s going on? Are you okay? What’s happening? Where are you?” I heard him take a huge inhale, and I’d never panicked quite so much in my life. My mind was all over the place, and I’d gone from not wanting to hear his voice, to being absolute desperate for him to just say something, anything. That was until he did speak, and it felt like my entire fucking world fell apart. “Ren, I know.” He mumbled, followed by his throat hitching hysterically. I scowled slightly, trying to figure out what he was talking about because I could tell even speaking was a complete strain to him. He sounded so broken. “Know what?” I ached, but he didn’t reply. “Harry, you know what?” “I know… I know why I have the dreams. I know!”

So, I thought I’d post another short story I wrote for uni, it’s about 1500 words. Check it out under the cut.

Edit: Reuploading as the links no longer work.

The Cathedral

So, this whole thing started a couple of weeks ago, my girlfriend had just dumped me and I'd lost my job at the shoe store in the city centre. That's when I started hearing the voices telling me to go to the Cathedral. It started out as just an occasional whisper. Something easy to mistake for lack of sleep or a hallucination or something, you know?

Well, that's how it started at least. The longer I ignored the little voice in my head the louder and more insistent it got. Eventually I gave in, it was late at night and the Cathedral was meant to be closed but the door was wide open almost as if the building itself were expecting me.

Inside the cathedral was really weird, decked out in tapestries with weird pictures on them. A group of people, some of them were people I knew. The guy from the chippy, one of my old co-workers from the shoe store, all of them were wearing some weird robes, crowding some sort of altar with something on it.

I snuck up closer, close enough to get a clear view of what was on the altar. The crowd must have heard me gasping as they turned to stare at me. They all had these fucked up glowing eyes I mean like eerie, lovecraftian glow. I fucking bolted, I just ran and ran until I couldn't see anything.

Over the next few days I tried to convince somebody of what I'd seen but nobody would believe me. Not the police, not my friends, not even my fucking family.

My world had just got weirder but there wasn't a thing I could do to prove it, nothing I could do, no one would believe me. The voices were getting harder and harder to ignore, I couldn't hide it, I couldn't sleep. People were starting to notice an I was beginning to suffer for it.

That's about when the nightmares started. Horrible, nightmare visions, as I slept I saw the world burn. Destroyed by some horrifying, formless...thing. All tentacles and eyes, the voice whispered to me, told me that I was responsible, that I had failed, and that I was meant to stop them, the people in the cathedral. I was the man who burned the Earth all because I didn't keep them from summoning that thing.

The voices told me that they needed a sacrifice on the night of the full moon to bring that thing into our world and I'd be damned if I was going to be the man to end the world. I started watching them, I started trying to figure out their patterns. I was getting nowhere and the full moon was only drawing closer.

That's when I decided that I needed to get inside the Cathedral rather than finding out who they were going to be sacrificing. The night of the full moon drew nearer and nearer and I started looking into the cult. Trying to get a sense of their history or their purpose, what they were worshipping, but everything I looked at made no mention that they even existed.

Until I stumbled upon a site that made mention of a conspiracy theory revolving around the idea that the Ely Cathedral had been built as some kind of restraining bolt for some kind of dark god or something. That had to be it, that had to be the case, some kind of secret order right in the heart of Ely and all of a sudden I was living in Silent Hill.

I had to make a meeting with the guy who wrote that page, I needed to stop them. I couldn't rest knowing that if I didn't I would doom the Earth. I mean I literally couldn't rest knowing that, resting meant going back to those dreams. Every time it was worse, the more I had them the less sure I was of what was real. But I couldn't find him, with the stuff that was written on the page pointed to him being in Ely.

So I went looking, and eventually I found them, more specifically, her. Vanessa Grey, she was a blogger working for the Ely standard. I found her blog through the site and sent her a message that I wanted to meet her. After a few messages back and forth we agreed to meet at one of the coffee shops in Ely. The two conversations we had were about the conspiracy, however, the both times I met her she insisted that I was mental. Granted she was probably right by this point. I needed to convince her that what I was saying was true, that I had seen them.

She told me that I was misunderstanding that the symbols she had written about were about the history of the Cathedral, that despite the symbols existence she didn't quite know what they actually meant, just that they were about the history rather than telling the story of how the cathedral had been built atop some kind of abomination, that there was no evidence that it even existed. Told me that the theory was completely bunk.

So I told her to meet me at the cathedral late at night. When I arrived the door was ajar, but Vanessa was nowhere to be seen, I ran inside, terrified that I had delivered them just what they needed. Vanessa was in the chapel completely alone.

This must have cemented what she thought of me as she would no longer return my messages. So there I was alone, with impending doom on my hands and no real way of stopping them.

I resolved to stop them myself, interrupt the sacrifice, and keep them from waking their fucked up deity.

I stood outside the Cathedral, the street lights illuminating the grounds. I swallowed hard as I steadied myself, preparing myself to save the world. I charged through the door, right as the leader of the crazy death cult was raising the knife for the blood sacrifice.

Everyone froze, the leader dropped the knife, the sacrifice sat up...Vanessa sat up. She was wearing the same robes as the rest of the cult. That's when someone grabbed me, two people, the leader stormed towards me shouting about how I didn't know what I had done. I said I knew plenty, I had stopped their plans, that I'd kept them from summoning their master.

That's when everything shook, trembling as though the ground itself were shivering. The voices were gone, no one spoke. There was only the noise of the entire cathedral shaking and crumbling people ran, people screamed as jets of fire and smoke erupted from the underneath us.

I managed to escape, out of the cathedral and stood transfixed as everything collapsed, tentacles erupted from the ground, eyes shone across the night sky. Everything I could see burned, people were flung about as though they were nothing. I heard a voice buzzing in my head, thanking me...telling me that I was his champion...that I was responsible.

That's when everything clicked, the voices had lied, and the cult wasn't trying to destroy the world. They were the only people trying to save it, I was taken advantage of. This...thing knew that I was the perfect patsy to engineer its release.

The one thing I was trying to prevent was my fault; I was responsible for the end of the world. It was all my fault, the world was on fire and I was the man holding the match.

As the world burned, I was the only one spared in some form of twisted gratitude, I watched my friends and loved ones die as the thing underneath the cathedral destroyed everything I knew.

It told me things, revealed to me everything it had hidden from me, that the cult was there to keep it locked away, that it had been sacrificing members since the building of the cathedral all the way back in 970AD, ever since the new Benedictine monastery was built. It revealed that it was the voice that led me to the cathedral, that it was its will that had led me to Vanessa and had crafted each event over the last month to bring about this outcome. That is why I am its champion, less a hero, more a pawn, nothing but a pet of this monstrosity to be kept until I have outlived my usefulness. Soon I would be dead, at least that's what I assumed, though what I had learned was that this abomination had a twisted sense of humour. For all I knew I was going to burn along with the rest of the planet.

Nothing I could do would matter; I couldn't do what the builders of the cathedral had done, whatever that was. So here I stood, upon the husk of a world that supported countless lives, alone knowing that they were dead, all because of me. Here I stood, the man that burned the Earth.

Over one year has passed since I completed high school. While I had never had someone explicitly pressure me about the future, my school and social expectations of my future weighed heavily on me.

It started when I was in year 8 to be completely honest. The first year I was not in extension maths, but an average class. I immediately felt ashamed. I kept pretending everything was fine and I was doing well. Every time I failed my expectations and others expectations, I hid it from everyone. When I did well, I would hold it up for everyone to see, and as a result, that is all they saw.

By the time I entered year 11, I enrolled in the higher level maths class rather than the easier class, as it was expected of me. Within the first week I cracked and had to swap classes. I could not hide this. So I spent the next and final two years of high school creating the image of myself that I did not care. That I had not a care in the world. My appearance? My grades? Everything could be turned into a joke about how I did not care and therefore was not bothered to try. This became my personality at school and to my parents.

Of course, I did care. I was so ashamed of myself, I was riddled with anxiety. There are countless lies that I told and carried in for months, and not a single soul has ever been told. I could not even tell my therapist due to the shame it brought me.

Throughout high school, the question I got asked most of all was of course "what do you want to do after school?" With my school's environment, I was conditioned to think the only ways to be successful were to be a doctor, a lawyer, and most of all an engineer. My year sixth teacher told my parents I would make a marvelous mining engineer. This lead to me, for the next four years, replying to this question by saying I wanted to be a mining engineer. Twelve year old me did not even know what it was to be a mining engineer. I was just so proud that people thought I could be something that sounded so smart.

By year 11, when it was clear I could not be a mining engineer, I had to come up with something to be fast. So I thought, what am I interested in. There was not a whole lot as I defined my interests and hobbies by what I was good at and what I was known for. Which left me with only two interests. Horse riding and literature/history. I knew horse riding would not lead me to anything that would be seen as successful and smart in the eyes of my school environment, so I chose publishing and editing.

This seemed like a good plan, until the ultimate shame was brought on me. I had blatantly ignored and denied the obvious. My grades had slipped. The ruse if not caring and not trying ended up with me not studying at all, not even for my final exams. I just needed the bare minimum to get the lowest score that universities in my city would allow for the course I believed I wanted to get into, publishing and editing. I did not make the cut.

I could not being myself to tell anyone what had happened. Not my parents, not my best friend, not my therapist. I panicked. I found another pathway to uni and applied without thinking. My parents and close friends eventually had to be told, but to everyone else, I was just at uni.

Again, I could not escape the image I had presented myself in for two years and I failed two of four of my units. I once again was unable to get into a proper course at University. I did not know what to do. I re-enrolled for an online course for the second semester to avoid the shame of seeing the same tutors again, and to avoid informing anyone that I had failed yet again, but the same pattern of behaviour followed and I was not studying or completing assignments. So I dropped out. It has been 7 months since then and still my parents and friends do not know that I failed.

I have lied to everyone, including myself. I cannot live with this shame so I make excuses and pretend it never happened.

Starting in year 10, I worked for my mother's business. An art gallery and framing business for two hours on weekends. After high school and a short break, I began to work more hours to have an income during the semester at uni. When I decided I was not going back just yet, my hours increased even more so. I never had a job description, never received formal training, and here I am working between 25 and 35 hours a week. It has been great, but it is stressful and I struggle with stress (clearly). My mum went away for a week last week, and I almost drowned under the stress. I got to through to Friday and thought, 'finally, mum is back home today, and tomorrow will be calm and I will only have to work two hours'. Of course my coworker calls in sick, my mum is still on holiday technically, so I was called in to work longer hours. My only day off was today, sunday, where I was made to do chores.

Since the anxiety started in full in year nine, and worded in year eleven, I cannot remember a time when I have been truly relaxed, or well rested. I have constantly been tired, and while I understand most of the world is....how do you survive when you have been exhausted through to the bone since you were 13 years old.

I am truly tired, and I have to go back to work tomorrow and I don't know how I will be able to do it. It is not as bad as high school where there were days it was just impossible to get up, nights where it was either impossible to sleep or I would be crying myself to sleep. It is still unpleasant, and I can't help but think, I am only nineteen. How in God's hell am I meant to continue on for decades to come.

I am so terrified, stressed and frustrated for my future. It is uncertain, and I cannot even manage to talk about it without becoming upset.

I just came back from my parents room where I was talking with my mother about the my future with University and, more specifically, working for her. I have no idea. I can try to think about what to do but I have no idea what I want to do. She, as a result, has decided I will be trained more in one specific aspect of the business. I do not think I will enjoy, and I am terrified that I will fail and she will get pissed off at me for not doing a good job.

She has been annoyed at me often st work, and I don't know if I am trying my hardest but I am at least trying and it upsets me. My defence against becoming upset is to get angry, and that has just resulted in many fights over the past years between her and me.

I keep telling everyone that I will go back to uni by next year to do publishing and editing. I dont know if I will even enjoy that. My mum knows I am unsure, and has told me not to go to uni to waste money on something I might not even like or want to do. Which I agree with but....what am I meant to do?

Do I keep working even though I am unhappy where I am. I don't hate it, but I do not enjoy it. With all my conditioning for high school that uni is the only option, I can truly only see it as the only option on how to proceed with life without staying in limbo as I have been doing for the last few months.

I don't know what to do and it is so scary

.*.*. October 16, 2017 .*.*.

Facing the Music :(

So I’m going to do a double-post about yesterday and today because I didn’t have time last night.

Yesterday was a very, very bad day because I finally had to face the music and deal with the fact that my disorganization has meant that I haven’t completed one of the capabilities that I need for my degree. I have been in denial about it for a long time and pushing it back. In first year I was very nervous and had strong personalities in my hospital group, so I never felt able to speak out and I did not feel comfortable (especially as I was a first year) doing my SOCAs then. By the end of the year I was in a mild form of panic about it, but rationalized that I had to do 4 and there were 4 courses next year, so all I had to do was do one per course. Additionally, I already had one under my belt sans reflection, and I don’t think the importance of the reflection had made its impression on me.

Despite the fact that upon reflection I sort of knew about that being a key component as expressed during clinical skills, the fact that I was still settling into interstate life, being in college underage and not being able to rely heavily on my friends because they were new led to this negligence. I made a terrible mistake out of laziness in not checking the other requirements, such as what courses I had to do them in and that they were actually due after the 3rd course of second year. I have also always struggled with asking for help as I have never really had to do it and I think maybe it is pride to some extent or just being scared to ask. I was also too scared to ask my new friends about the requirements of SOCAs or how to submit a reflection because it was so late in the year and I was afraid of judgment. In hindsight, it’s sort of fitting that I’m going to fail the Effective Communications capability.

Unfortunately for me, this realization all came crashing down towards the end of the second course and then I didn’t contact anyone about it because I was in a state of homesickness and general misery for most of the end of Semester 2 and couldn’t get my act together. I don’t want to call it depression but it was the most prolonged state of helplessness, stasis and low-key just feeling down that I’ve ever experienced. Veronica had suffered a panic attack, Hadeel had tried to kill herself, Kate’s dad was really sick so her mum had to come up, I was in the process of breaking up with my boyfriend and then I had this to stress about too and I just couldn’t deal. I considered talking to the psych about it, Ute, but I’ve never approached a psych before and I didn’t want it to seem like a cop-out trying to get out of the fact that I dropped the ball sort of thing. Also I just couldn’t seem to motivate myself to do anything during this period. Luckily 2nd course ended so I got to go home and recuperate a bit.

Then when I got back ready to start 3rd course and deal with this I realized a terrible thing – I forgot to submit my hospital SOCA for the 2nd course amidst all that misery. I was very upset because I made super sure to get it done, but there is no fax machine in college and so my inherent lack of motivation kicked in and I brought it with me to Perth to scan it in during the holidays but by then it was too late. Then we had a weeklong break because it was university break even though we had just started so the med office was closed, and the week before that I went to Singapore (I arranged it so I only ended up missing one class and I am glad that I went).

Then last week I spoke to Katie, head of my floor about it because I wanted advice and anatomy help for pracs and she wasn’t very helpful, to be completely honest. Very lovely and encouraging, but I knew then that I had to go to MESO. I went that Friday but the Phase 1 coordinator was not in, so I sent an email. The reply came on yesterday.

My issues with communicating about this issue were sort of exacerbated by email because I had to keep it short and to the point. Also I know all of the above does not negate the fact that I just dropped the ball and was lazy and disorganized and it’s jeopardized by degree but I’m a university student and a teenager, so I wanted to sort of explain myself and realized that I just can’t. There’s no way I can summarize the above and frankly I don’t really think it makes a difference to my case either way. However my lack of being able to tell my account and the fact that my case bounced between different people in charge through a very long email chain meant that I spent the entire day being reprimanded by different people, and ruminating on my mistakes without really having an outlet to vent/let it out/explain myself. This made me very miserable and distracted so I probably didn’t do a very good job at all of tutoring that afternoon.

However, luckily my common sense kicked in enough to realize I still have to prepare for exams and I still have to try my best in anatomy and study really hard for the other components, so I had quite a productive day. Hospital was cancelled because our tutor forgot and my ethics teaching for peer teaching was today so I did a lot of work on that and got through some notes for the general med course. We had a group meeting and I had come up with some really interesting/controversial ethical issues and linked them to the main topic (euthanasia) so it was a really good group meeting. I really like Luke, he’s a top bloke and Kuheli and Hei Wai were good at expressing their opinions which gave me a lot of hope for my lesson.

Then after tutoring I missed the bus (probably because my mind was after other things) and so made it as far as Newmarket and then had to pay $15 to Uber home which was really annoying. In a very, very bad mood I went up to Floor 7 where Kate was starting to pre for El Topo and I figured that there wasn’t really much more I could do about my Effective Communications cap right now, so I might as well go out and have fun. I borrowed a really nice dress from her for pink party (to raise awareness for breast cancer) and we drank a bottle of bubbly. By then I was feeling a little better because I’m (too) good at compartmentalizing my problems. We joined Loz and Jaime and stuff for a floor crawl and Linley was absolutely trashed. Then we headed for the bus. I was feeling good cos I only had 3.5 standards in me so wasn’t drunk at all and it was the last time Baxter went out as a college and the last party bus too.

Linley vomited into a bin the whole bus ride, so Max took her home. Kate, Claudia and Nick were really triggered because she was being dramatic about it and wanting them to leave the club to see her and they didn’t want to. Kate and I had agreed as soon as the music was shit we would go home because I wanted an early night to do work in the morning and she had class but the music was so good. It was a really good night and we still left relatively early and Hamish tagged along. Kate went straight to bed when we got back and so I was left to my own devices. I added tuna to Mi Goreng and it was probably one of the best decisions of my life. A bit too salty but I love tuna and I love noods and I felt proteinated and a bit more healthy and a bit more full. Brilliant.

Hamish sent me the weirdest passive-aggressive texts about me ignoring him all night and never talking to him etc. etc. and it was just so awkward because like I do want us to be friends but I also don’t really care like I’m not really going to touch base a lot or anything. I want it to sort of be like low maintenance cos I ain’t got a lot of time but I feel like he and I are just on completely different pages now.

Finally, full and feeling marginally better, I took the 4h of sleep available to me.

 .*.*. October 17, 2017 .*.*.

Work, work, work, work, work, work :)

That title is fairly representative of my life anyway in the next 2 weeks with 55 lectures to catch up on.

Anyway, I was woken up at 7:00 to take the college picture which I didn’t really give a shit about but didn’t want judgment from Kate for not going. I then tried to go in my Baxter jumper and pyjama shorts but then saw that everyone bothered to put on nice clothes so rushed back to change. How ridiculous. We are wearing our academic gowns so you only see a strip of clothing and there are 210 people in Baxter, so you’re hardly gonna see you pinky fingernail-sized face let along your formal dinner gowns. I felt so dead but a little better after hot brekky.

Then I tried to get back to sleep to no avail and was just drifting off when I was woken by the cleaner. I took my book Peak and my laptop to the common room and had a nice peaceful morning reading and doing lots of med work. I skipped the tutorial we had (I think it was physiology?) because I got a follow-up email from the professor in charge of portfolios for my college and the time he gave me to ring him was during the tute. I gave him a call and it was really quick and basically he said he has no information about what I can do, he has to ask Dr. Taylor (who refused to tell me anything yesterday so good luck) and to get back to him tomorrow. He did say if I fail though it “sets you back to the end of February” which I think is wrong because we don’t start uni till then anyway? Anyway all you do is rewrite your portfolio and they “get you to do things like SOCAs” so I think it should be okay cos I can’t imagine being set back very far and my only concern now is doing the SOCAs when I’m in Perth for the holidays, but I can probably come back early anyway as I have settled accommodation here. So that was some relatively good news.

I ran my ethics tutorial and it wasn’t as good as I expected but it was also more interesting and in some ways better than I expected too. Karim said it was interesting which I thought was high praise. Steph was her usual self-absorbed whiny self and Pam looked like she was gonna kill me when I gave my argument for gay marriage. However, everyone participated and I think they at least appreciated what I was trying to do. No one in my group commented on it so I think it was okay. Then we had a last minute group meeting and I was allocated the Johari windows again RIP but I think I can bullshit it well enough (hopefully). It doesn’t really matter anyway.

Then I went to tutor Ella and mum rang me on the bus. I was running really late (30min!) which was embarrassing but mum and I had a good chat even though I feel kind of bad I’m not telling her about this portfolio fiasco but I also feel like that will just cause her unnecessary anger and stress when I’m handling it (finally). I love Ella she’s a beautiful girl and we are really going to work on her problem solving skills so that she’s a confident maths student by the time I’m done with her. Her dad Scott is really nice too.

Then I bussed back and tried to do anatomy but maybe it was the 4h sleep or maybe it was the sudden alleviation of stress from the day before or maybe because I only ate a salad all day but I fell asleep and had an hour-long nap. Then when I woke up I started reading Gray’s Anatomy because I think textbooks are helpful and the consequence is I have a lot of work left to do but I think the nap was a good idea anyway because my concentration was noticeably better.

Now it’s bedtime and tomorrow will be another chaotic day, full of group meetings and tutoring and lectures and follow-up for portfolio and also Tas has come and is staying the night?! So yeah lots of fun and I don’t really even mean that sarcastically, at least I’m busy and my life is sorting itself out and we will just deal with each day as it comes.