#so yeah anyway the hand looks weird (to me) but the tv static effect makes me feel better about it tbh. that part was kinda fun! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chwepen · 3 years

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stacy’s mom ↦ hvc

♢ genre: fluff, bits of angst and crack(?) ♢ word count: 4k ♢ summary: it may sound crazy, but you have good reason to believe your best friend may have a crush on your mom.

read on ao3!

The first inkling of suspicion began with a bouquet of flowers.

Driving home, you had expected your mother to be in her rose garden by the time you arrived. She often spent the afternoons tending to the flowers in the backyard. Whether it was clipping leaves from the stems or simply soaking in the summer sun, she enjoyed her hobby. Likewise, you liked that she had something to take comfort in while your father was at the office until the late afternoon and you and your younger brother were off with friends or in class.

What you didn’t expect was Hansol’s car to be parked in the driveway. You could recognize his beat-up Volkswagen anywhere, never mind by the house where it was stationed countless times before today. He had morning classes before yours, so it was common you’d come home to find his car parked on the grass near the street and him inside with his feet up on the family couch, headphones in and head bopping back and forth. However, this time, that wasn’t the case. You checked the garage and kitchen, but neither his bag, his headphones, nor the man himself were anywhere to be found.

Fed up with the busy day you had, you walked through the living room and towards the glass door leading out to the yard. You stopped dead in your tracks though once you saw your friend and your mother in deep conversation. Your mother was in her usual gardening gear: a blue gingham apron tied to her waist and her old visor sitting atop her head. Hansol was wearing a Metal Gear Solid t-shirt and cargo shorts, not a speck of dirt on him compared to your mother who had soil-stained hands.

With your palm still on the door handle, your eyes darted to the bouquet of flowers in Hansol’s, wondering if you had to blink twice to see the scene in front of you clearer.

“Hansol, I can’t believe it,” your mother spoke, eyes alight. Her words were breathless but loud enough for you to hear through the door.

“I know. It took me long enough right?” Hansol laughed. His smile was usually bright, brighter than it should’ve been allowed to be, but his voice was shaking and the curves of his body fidgeting in a way you had never seen before.

A blush sprang up on both of their cheeks, and you felt bile in the back of your throat. Your whole life, the only man capable of making your mother blush was your father, whether by making an inside joke or kissing her without warning.

She took the flowers from him, inspecting each one with only the knowledge of someone with a green thumb. The entire time, she beamed. “They’re perfect.”

“I know it’s sudden—“

“You don’t have to explain it to me. I understand.” She placed her hand on his forearm, squeezing it with either motherly reassurance or something else entirely. “Don’t worry, honey. Our secret’s safe with me.” Your mom winked.

You backed away, tiptoeing until you made it to the stairs and ran up to your room. More than a dozen questions ran through your head once you sat down on your bed. Why was he giving Mom flowers? Why were they acting so weird about it? Where did he even find flowers? How did he pay for them? He just got fired from Prince��s Pretzels.

The thoughts swam on, circling and burrowing in your mind. Then, a theory broke through and made you freeze in your spot. He has a crush on her?

No fucking way.

Hansol never gave you a reason to suspect such a thing. He didn’t joke with Seungkwan or Doyoung about it, at least not to your knowledge. Of course, he never would tell you if he did, but you were certain he respected you and your family more than enough not to.

Still, you knew he had dated some junior cheerleader his freshman year of high school. Guys were known for finding older women attractive, but could that mean that attraction, particularly Hansol’s, could extend to your mother?

“That’s ridiculous,” you whispered out loud to yourself, pushing the speculation out of your mind to stop yourself from feeling nauseous. There was no way on the planet one of your best friends would be into your mom. And even if he did, he definitely wouldn’t act out on those feelings and expect you to be okay with it, right?

Your door opened out of nowhere. Before whoever was on the other side suspected you were acting abnormal, you grabbed the novel on your nightstand and flipped it open to a random page. You pretended to read as Hansol strolled in with a bag of chips in his hand and no bouquet in sight.

“I didn’t realize you were back. Did Professor Lee let you out that early,” Hansol asked, hopping into bed next to you. He reached his hand into the bag of chips, putting a good amount of them into his mouth. You set your book down in disbelief, the guy outside shaking like a leaf so foreign compared to your best friend stuffing his face next to you. How could he be so nonchalant?

“Y-Yeah,” you stammered, “Lee’s kid had some sort of issue at daycare so he ran out half an hour before we could do lab-work.”

“Sweet. Time for Hulu.“ He turned to you, his face looking at yours with a tinge of confusion. “Are you alright?”

Besides the fact that I think you’re into my mom?

“Yeah, everything’s great.” You stuck your own hand into the bag, feigning a smile as you popped a chip in your mouth. He smiled back at you with joy, believing your guise, and grabbed the TV remote. His shoulder brushed yours as he reached over, and you felt the static of his shirt cling to your sweater. Something akin to a spark lit inside of your chest, but before you could ruminate on it further, you stamped it out.

Hansol flickered through the show and film previews with blissful ignorance of how unsettled you were by what you knew and what feelings it brought to the surface.

You couldn’t help but speculate more after Sunday dinner, three days after the bouquet episode.

Hansol and Joshua in tow, they had spent a good portion of the night discussing FIFA and current music releases with your brother. He was only a few years younger than you and your friends, but he got along with them so well it was like you rarely needed to be there for them to hang out. Your parents had been deep in their own conversations all night, mostly about your father’s new business lead and your mother’s visit to see her sister on Friday.

They had touched hands throughout, happy to be in each other’s presence when they didn’t have time during the week. You could tell on your mom’s face. And Hansol looked like he always did—ridiculously chipper and goofy. There was no way two individuals would ruin such happy lives for some irrational and pointless affair.

Once you had cleared the table, you strolled over to your mother at the kitchen sink, eager to help her. “You don’t need to do this, I got it.” Your mom shooed you off. She loved doing chores on her own for some ungodly reason, but you tried all the time to be included to ease the burden. Your father, brother, and the guys all wandered off, and you wanted to help even if your mother didn’t ask for it.

“Can you let me help you just this once,” you replied, a pout on your lips.

“How about this? Go grab your brother’s hamper from his room. That way after I wash his clothes he’ll actually have something to wear to school on Monday.”

You laughed and kissed your mom on the cheek before walking away. Your brother’s bedroom was right across from yours upstairs, so you took the usual trek to pester him and complete your mother’s request all at once.

A step away from the door, you could make out the rumbling sounds of a video game and your brother’s voice. “Dude, are you sure about this? I mean, I know it’s how you feel, but is it worth fucking things up?”

Your eyes widened.

“He wouldn’t be asking you if it wasn’t, dumbass,” Joshua chimed in. The night’s dinner almost made its way back up your throat, knowing the “he” in question was neither your brother nor Joshua. “But he’s got a point, Han. You’ve had more than enough time to spit it out.”

Finally, you heard Hansol speak up. “I know, okay? It seems like the worst timing, but I really care about her. I may even— Look, I know I should consider all the complicated shit in the middle. But I have to give it a shot.”

“Well, I can’t stop you, man. Just do it before you chicken out,” your brother responded.

You can stop him, you fucking idiot.

You stepped into the room, and the boys were surprised to see you there as though you had entered private territory. “What are you guys chatting about,” you asked outright, fed up with speculating.

“None of your business,” your brother replied, never looking away from the television.

“Don’t forget who helped change your diapers, asshole.”

“It was nothing, honestly,” Hansol interrupted, flinging the controller at Joshua. “Take my place. I was dying out there, anyway.”

Hansol looked at you with his typical warmth and concern, but that fresh, foreign spark rose up inside of you. This week had been an amalgamation of oddities. Why did now have to be the time for your feelings to be so tangled up? Especially when he looked at you the way he did so easily without noticing its effect on you?

Or could it be that you finally noticed it and that newfound clarity scared the shit out of you?

“What’d you need,” he asked.

“I was grabbing the asshole’s hamper. Mom asked for it.” Your brother stuck his tongue out at you in response, and you kindly sent the same expression his way with the addition of your middle finger.

Hansol laughed. “I can help.” He took it from your hands and made his way to the door. When you didn’t move, he turned his head and smiled. “You coming?”

With a nod, you remained silent as you both exited your brother’s bedroom.

You hated that you were questioning the simple act of him helping you do an uncomplicated task for your mother. You hated how Hansol seemed unbothered by what he had been hiding from you, all while you both walked down the stairs and handed over the hamper to your mother, the two none the wiser to the fact that you were questioning them. You hated a lot of things in the moment, the biggest one being the jumble of questions in your brain that got bigger with every suspicious moment you caught Hansol in. And when the night came to a close, you knew all the aching feelings inside of you weren’t going away until you got to the bottom of the situation.

“You can’t be serious!” Rin cackled, almost doubling over and running into a random stranger. The mall was quiet on a Monday at 12 o’clock, a few mall-crawlers and the occasional mom-with-a-stroller passing the both of you. Professor Lee had to run out for another parental emergency, so you appreciated the free impromptu day off from class. It allowed for you to deal with your issues head-on, especially with the advice of a friend. Typically, you would run to Hansol with a problem this big, but seeing as he was part of the problem itself, it hurt even more that you couldn’t confide in him.

Abnormal was the only word to describe how it felt dodging his phone calls and text messages, only replying once or twice in the past few days. You gave him enough so he wouldn’t notice anything weird but without any of the typical humor you both exchanged. How could you tell your best friend that you were thinking such things about him, only made worse by the feelings budding underneath the surface of those thoughts?

“You sound like a goddamn crazy person,” Rin said. Her bags bounced off of her hips as she walked, but she didn’t notice. She just looked at you like a you were the funniest and most insane woman on the planet. To her credit, you didn’t blame her.

“I know, okay,” you whined, “I know it sounds nuts, but you haven’t seen what I’ve seen this past week and a half. He’s been so weird around me, and then when I see him and her together…” You blanched, horrified that you made your mother sound like the other woman in this fucked-up equation. “Anyway, I just needed to ask you what you would do in this kind of situation.”

Rin scoffed. “Well, I would first not expect my best friend to want to bang my mom, that’s for sure.”

“What the fuck, Rin?”

“Okay, too far,” She admitted with a smile. “What I mean is you have to think about how realistic you’re being here. Like come on, don’t you think he would’ve shown some signs a lot earlier if he was really into your mom? I know we’re not teenagers anymore, but Hansol has never been the type to hide his feelings.”

“I get it, okay Rin? But how do you rationalize any guy your age and—“ You stopped yourself when you noticed Rin’s smile fade slowly, eyes alight with surprise and confusion until they widened completely. “What?”

You turned in the direction of her gaze. The sight of your mother and your best friend walking towards a jewelry store was one that stung to the bone. Your mother dragged Hansol to the entrance. His eyes were skeptical but the two of them shared knowing, humorous glances. They vanished into the store hand in hand. You felt the pit you had been making a home for in your stomach for the past week expand like a balloon. The weight of it became so heavy you couldn’t feel anything besides it, its mass too agonizing to bear any more today.

“I gotta go home,” you croaked, turning back in the direction of the main entrance.

“Hey, wait a second! Maybe it’s not what you—“ Rin tried to put a reassuring hand on your shoulder but you brushed her off.

“Rin, I just need to go home.”

The house was still vacant by the time you arrived home. You sank into the living room couch, clutching onto a frilly throw pillow for support. Not only was the predicament getting ridiculous, but so unnecessarily painful. If they could just prove your suspicions either wrong or right, you could move on and forget the whole thing ever happened.

After another twenty minutes of contemplating, the front door opened. Your mother had no shopping bag in her hand or any outward evidence she had been at the mall, only her satchel strapped across her chest and a Lowe’s bag filled with what you assumed was more flower seeds. “Hey kiddo. Didn’t think you’d be home so early! Was class rescheduled again,” Your mother asked.

The carefree tone of her voice spiked a nerve, and before you could contain yourself, you said, “Why do you care? Worried I’ll find out something you don’t want me to?”

Your mother’s face contorted into surprised confusion with a twinge of hurt in her eyes. How could she pretend for this long with this much effort?

“Forget it, I’m going upstairs,” you said before she could respond. Your shoulder almost knocked into hers as you passed her to make it to your room. You were grateful you didn’t get closer, otherwise you would’ve broken down or screamed and it would’ve made it worse. All you wanted to do was lay down and forget for a minute.

The pillow was soft under your head as you tossed and turned, your desire to take a nap outweighed by your stubbornness to know what was going on. After a minute of struggling under the covers, you pressed your back flat against the mattress and splayed out like a starfish, listening to the cars pass on your street and eyes boring into the popcorn ceiling.

I can’t do this anymore.

With a deep sigh, you promised yourself the next time you saw Hansol, you would ask him to tell you the truth. And whatever the truth was, you would be grateful for the burden being lifted off of your shoulders, even if it hurt.

One dull Psychology lesson later, Wednesday was shaping up to be one of the better days of the last two weeks. You had spent all of yesterday hanging out with Rin and your mother, Rin biting her tongue for a majority of the time and your mother showing you the newest garden catalog she got in the mail.

You had been taken aback by the fact your mother so easily forgot your outburst the day prior, but you were grateful to pretend for one day that things weren’t in silent disarray. Maybe you could fake it too for a little longer, just until the next time you saw Hansol and then everything would be out in the open, and that was what you were afraid of most.

Arriving home, you mother and father were in the kitchen, the aroma of pasta and garlic bread wafting into the hallway for you to smell immediately as you closed the door.

“Hey! Good to see you before five, stranger.” Your dad was wearing his “Kiss the Cook” apron that your mother bought for him a Christmas ago, even though she was the best cook of the two of them.

“What are you doing home so early,” you asked, beaming.

“I closed another account with one of the firm’s head honchos, so they gave me the rest of the week off as a thank-you,” he responded.

“And thank you, indeed.” Your mom winked, mixing the sauce and pasta shells together. “Since this is the last time I can think of that your dad has had time away, we’re going to stay in the city for a few days to celebrate.”

“Perfect time too. Your mother’s been raving about that botanical showcase for a month now.”

“You remembered!” Your mother grinned.

“Of course. How could I forget,” your dad asked, coming up behind her and giving her a kiss on the back of the head.

What. The. Fuck?

Did you imagine the past few days in your mind? It couldn’t be that easy for things to go back to normal.

“Honey, I forgot to bring in my gardening gloves. Can you get them for me,” your mother asked you with a smile.

“Sure, no problem,” you replied. Dropping your bag near the kitchen island, you walked towards the glass patio door that led to the backyard. Maybe things were that simple and it could be like the worry and hurt had never existed. It was all in your head, you assured yourself.

Then, surprisingly, you came face to face with Hansol in the backyard, a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

He was wearing his favorite plaid blue button-up with a wife-beater peeking out underneath, a pair of denim jeans to match. The flowers were identical to the ones you had seen Hansol give your mother a week ago. The most you had ever seen Hansol style his hair was by putting a thick comb through it, but it was obvious he primped himself up.

Your chest sank, perplexed as to why he was at your house and if this had to do with what had been going on recently. Despite the realization you couldn’t shrug off those events, you were happy to finally be alone with him after what felt like eons ago.

What were you doing with my mom?

Why is everything so confusing?

Do you know that I’ve missed you?

“Hey loser,” you replied, knowing what came out didn’t convey everything that was on your mind. And while you tried to sound lighthearted, the words were flat as they left your lips. Nevertheless, Hansol replied with his boyish smile.

He stepped closer to you, but you held a hand up to stop him. “Before you say whatever you’re about to say to me, I need to say something first,” you interrupted him, feeling a sudden cord around your throat.

“I know what’s been going on… between you and my mom.” Tears welled in the back of your throat as Hansol looked at you with a gaped mouth and wide eyes, speechless. “And I may not understand it, but I do know my mom is an amazing person and it’s not crazy to imagine she was a catch in her day, weird as that sounds,” you said, holding back a flinch.

“That being said,” you continued, “you’re my best friend, Han. And I—“ No matter how hard you tried to or how many times you had said those three words to him in the past, they struck differently now. The realization had been there for awhile, planted somewhere down the line and in the smallest of ways, but it had grown and sprouted like the flowers in his hands until you couldn’t hide it anymore. But now because of this predicament, you wondered if you would ever be able to say you loved him the way you yearned to.

“—I just want you to be happy,” you whispered, tears falling slowly down your face. “And while this may make you happy, I don’t know if I can accept it, and if that means that we can’t be friends anymore, then—“

As quickly as you had said the words, Hansol dropped the bouquet of flowers and strode forward, pressing his palms to either side of your face and kissing you hard.

You stood there for a moment, stunned it was happening and instantly, extremely shaken by how wrong all of the signs had been. “Idiot” was too easy of a word to describe how you felt and how you had been acting, coming to such a ludicrous conclusion before you had all the facts in front of you. But it didn’t completely explain what Hansol had been doing all those times you caught him in less-than-stellar acts. The answers could wait until later, though.

Shifting your focus back on your best friend, you kissed Hansol back and grabbed onto the front of his white tank peaking out of his plaid blue shirt. You both stood there clung tight to one another until you heard a whistle come from the window that looked into the kitchen. “I know you’re in love and all but quit making out, you two. You’re still my daughter,” Your dad yelled.

You both separated immediately, tiny but meaningful blushes on both of your faces.

“Why now,” you asked.

Hansol shrugged, breathless. “I don’t know, I just— I just remember walking to the cafe one morning and wanting to show these new lyrics I had written the night before. And then when I was waiting in line I wanted to buy you a cold brew because I know without one before your morning World Lit class you go ballistic,” he said, a laugh erupting from both of your throats. Your eyes became watery again as he spoke. “I woke up wanting to do a lot of things with you, and for you, and I guess I knew after I realized that that I wanted nothing more than to just be with you, whether you wanted that too or not.”

You wrapped your arms around him in a hug when he finished his speech, thinking about how ridiculous he was for believing somewhere inside of him you wouldn’t want everything he wanted and more. Even if that meant watching dumb falling compilations with him on Youtube or listening to his mixtapes that he would never finish, you would do it for him.

“Now, what the hell were you saying about me liking your mom?” You could hear your dad’s chuckle and your mother gasp in the kitchen, the two clearly eavesdropping on your conversation.

“It’s a long story,” you replied, “but I had seen you bring my mom flowers—“

“Which I was asking her about because I know she would know what you’d like,” he interrupted. “Oh!” He turned and quickly picked the bouquet back up, dusting off the wrapping paper that held the flowers in place. “For you.”

You laughed and took the flowers with a smile. “And I heard you and my brother talking last time you and Josh came over for dinner.”

“And we were obviously…“ He had a playful look in his eyes, waiting for you to finish the sentence as a way of teasing you.

“About me, jerk, I get it.” You scoffed. “But then why were you at the mall with my mom a few days ago?”

“What, were you spying on me?!”

“It was an honest coincidence!”

Hansol rolled his eyes and placed his hands in his pocket. “Well, I was gonna wait until after our date to give this to you, but fuck it.” A box inside of his palm caught your attention. When he opened it, a pair of golden teardrop earrings glistened in the afternoon sunlight. You gawked, but Hansol stopped you, knowing where your thoughts were going. “They were within my budget, so don’t tell me to take them back. All those tips I saved from Prince’s paid off, even if I could’ve done better.”

“Shut up, they’re beautiful.” They were textured but a simple yellow-gold color.

“You always said necklaces made your neck itchy,” he said.

You beamed ear to ear and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. This was more than you could have imagined. At the beginning of last week, you wouldn’t have predicted a bouquet of flowers you believed were for someone else would lead to such a surprisingly beautiful conclusion. And there was still more to come, but hopefully what was waiting for the both you involved less bizarre antics and misunderstandings.

“I love you, loser.”

author’s note: I’m back!! After a million years!! I am so glad to be back on here and writing again. I missed you guys and i missed this, just writing for the hell of it and not worrying about all the stuff that kept me away for so long. I hope you all love this story as much as I do and I can’t wait for you to read what else I have coming! x

#vernon fic #vernon fics #hansol fic #hansol fics #vernon x reader #seventeen fic #seventeen fics #vernon fluff #hansol fluff

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weirdo-with-a-nametag · 3 years

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Brain is tv static with random frames interspersed

Think I'm like. Really stressed and jumping between topics to try and find something that helps / feels good

Topics:

Anyone know a good health tracking app for adhd people? I want one that like pops up when you open your phone, maybe? But is unobtrusive. Like maybe you just rate your mood or whatever when you open your phone, and it closes, and you go about your business. I just hate every app and paper method I've tried but really want to track some stuff

Pigeon. ? Pigeon as pet?

Service animals re: cats, pigeons, my cat specifically, and then also ESAs and also what to use as treats while training my cat (he's pretty happy to learn behaviors with praise and pets as reinforcement, but treats would make everything move much faster, but I haven't found something I want to give him so we've just been y'know. Chillin)

Service animals re: what tasks can my pet potentially do that would help me? I don't really know a lot about service animals and there is a Huge range. If anyone has suggestions, or places to read about it, I'd appreciate it! Mostly thinking they may help with anxiety, sensory, and mobility/fatigue related stuff. Not much of a need for medical alerts.

Bioactive enclosures for my snakes, need to research their biomes and make progress on designs and equipment specifications

Also. Hit a seriously hard patch and haven't been handling them much at all this month so that's not great

Casting stuff. Saw jewelry today made of metal casts of claws, skulls, etc, and they were really well done and made me want to do that

Some taxidermy / vulture culture stuff I won't get into right now

Puzzles????

How to organize my room

Need a shower

Need to organize bathroom

So Much Schoolwork

Uhhhhh trying, but not making much headway, to figure out how I want to do my music collection. Also really need to clean my records..

Make?

Food??? Ew.

Dental hygiene ://

Plampts. So many. Houseplants need maintenance, many need repotting. Keep taking in people's problem plants and like, they're doing better, largely, after being trimmed and watered and whatnot, but need repotting. Also need to trim some aquarium plants.

Also need to put water in tanks. And spray nepenthes.

Laundry.

Gotta pick up trash in my room. There's so much. Everywhere. Why.

Schoolwork. I'm so behind. So, so stuck. Kind of feel like I'm dying.

Going on a picnic tomorrow. Have to figure out what still needs doing for that, probably need to go to the store.

Leo needs water. I'm so....ugh, I'm trying so hard, but it feels impossible. I do my best to take good care of my pets, and I think they live pretty good lives most of the time, but sometimes I get like This and completely drop off the face of the earth and then like, wake up or whatever and two weeks have passed by and I have not cleaned a water bowl! That's a serious problem!!!! I do not know how to combat that, really, besides more reminders. Having someone around who is willing to like, help, when things are especially hard, would be great, but I don't live with my partner right now and do not feel like I can ask anyone here for that. But I can't put my animals at risk. I check on them every day, and if their bowls are dirty I do take them out and clean them, but sometimes (like now) i cannot get myself to do it without a pressure like a dirty bowl, or a feeding day. And like, it's really important that they have clean water. I'm talking to myself here but like, if anyone has advice. Please. With the tank redesigns and upgrades, the bowls will be more accessible, which will help because one of them is very heavy at the angle I have to pick it up, and another requires moving a lot of branches and is best to take out while the snake is out (this is Leo) which is fine because I love my boy, but adds time to the process, and makes it harder to start, you know? Maybe if I just got more bowls - I could take the bowl out and immediately replace it, fill the new one, and replace the decor and snake, and then clean the bowl as a separate task? That would be easier for my brain. Currently I have a Specific bowl I prefer to use for each tank, and then everything else is Just In Case, but I mean. Acquiring extras is something I want to do anyway, and it may help with several problems, so. Yeah. I'll try that. But also, any other ideas, guys?

Anxiety: can't stop picking at my face, skin, nails, cuticles, scalp, pretty much everywhere with callouses, also scratched a mole off my face, which is something I've been trying Not to do for a while, so that's...not great. Can't find my earmuffs, and also all of my headphones are painful? Ears are really sensitive lately.

Been playing a lot of Moth Game (flutter: starlight if you wanna be friends say hey I don't know how to do it but would enjoy talking about moths if nothing else. The game is just like, an idle ish collecting game with cutesy versions of different species, and very little actual information, but it's still fun, and if anyone else is on there and also Into Moths like I am, hiiiii) and like it's fun and cute but also greatly impacting my productivity, and raises my stress levels during events, which is most days, so the game has. Not been helping. But I can't stop because then I'll miss Exclusive Moths.

Anyway. Had baklava and two mugs of Thai tea today and the sugar has made me nauseous.

Trying to journal. Hurts to write. Also takes too long. Also my handwriting is very bad. But typing is..not as good

Want to draw. Thinking about drawing cats

Plants again! Want to make seed bombs, have seeds, have most of the other ingredients, just need to put em together, basically.

Really sad :(

Or am I?

Weird noise coming from dining room?

Birds. Spent half an hour at least on the deck tonight listening to a hundred different bird calls (literally) to identify one I was hearing, it was a pine siskin, which I checked early on but the recording was bad and I didn't realize which call was identified. Anyway, cool to put a name to a face, so to speak.

Need to practice for ASL

So much.....to do...

Only had like >3 hours of work this week which was not great because money, but also like I'm really feeling those 3 hours....

My cat is basically refusing to come into my room? Which is very strange and I'm worried something is Off but cannot figure out what. Also means less cuddles which means I'm sad.

It feels strange whenever people follow me, the attention is nice but I have no idea what content y'all are here for. So to everyone: hi, enjoy, hope my random personal posts aren't a surprise to anyone who followed for like. News reblogs and informational stuff.

Do I even have it in me to..be successful in school? Should I drop out of college? I'm struggling really hard and do not feel like I'm building on the skills I need to continue, so like. Uh.

My dad is being. Abrasive.

Mom and grandma are very angry lately

Housemate is also angry, about things i thought we were on good terms about, so I am stressed because like,, are we okay?

Can't find my eye mask :(

Yoga? Like...restorative yoga? Need to track down my PT stuff. And. Do it.

Need to put the stickers on my license plates....oops...

Still haven't found my antidepressants! Yay!

Do I want to store my stuff in open bins, or with lids? Which stuff needs spill protection and stacking capability and which stuff needs easy access?

How to earn money without..chaos

Gotta go to the pet store tomorrow. Have to compile my list of pet store items i need. Uhhhhhhhhhh

Also I have an essay due tomorrow that I've barely started. So. Wooooooo

Kt tape for supporting arches / inner ankles? I keep messing up my ankles, and part of it is walking wrong because I don't have the energy to engage the muscles in my feet/legs right to like, avoid injury, and part of it is I just need new shoes inserts. But i wear slippers a lot and they do not have arch support and it hurts. PT to help with this also but Where Is It

Family can't seem to get dish soap I can use, so I've just been having to avoid washing anything by hand, or being in the general kitchen area while anyone uses the stuff, which has led to more of my dishes sitting out, and more conflict over dishes. Lovely.

How hard is it for parents to learn they have to respect boundaries? Very hard, apparently. And you're supposed to just sort of remind people, and explain, over and over and over but like at this point my self worth is actually pretty good and the lifetime of proof that they do not want to listen? That's making me want to stop trying. Like, if you're not going to respect my boundaries I'm just not going to involve you in my life. I'm not talking to my dad right now because of this. Maybe I'll decide to lay things out to him, again and again and again again, maybe not. And I'm comfortable saying that's on him.

How to drink water

Am I dehydrated or are my hands just completely callous now. My fingertips have such hard skin. Why? It's uncomfortable. This is part of why I've been biting them.

Also testosterone. Been having a lot of trouble doing my shots, because anxiety and physical freakouts, but also not feeling super urgent about it. Which I'm realizing may be a sign i need to look at the effects so far and the possible effects of continuing, and see what they make me feel. It's possible I'm where I want to be as far as T, and don't really want to stay on it. A big thing for me is a deeper voice, so it seems time to take a look at whether I like my voice where it is or want to see if it'll drop any more. Etc etc

Miss my lil sisters

Saw a lot of cool rocks today. Huge (like hand sized) ammonite for $28. May go back and buy one because. Wow.

Want to plant food plants

Also my natives. Whole garden plot standing empty with a bunch of stuff waiting in nursery pots, needing to go in the ground. Because I can't get out of bed. Love that. Stuff is dying out there, I'm dying in here, there's a poetry to it and I do not want to romanticize suffering so I will say this: I brought a Bucket full of moss home a month ago and planted it and now go outside sometimes to drench my moss and it is very rewarding because the stuff is just so green. Incredible. When the rest of my plants are finally in the ground, that feeling will only intensify. But, for now, the moss is very nice.

Made a glow in the dark bead lizard from memory during therapy yesterday, and I love him. Also, still struggling with bringing up autism and psychosis topics with my therapist. Still very worried about. Things. Would like to get a new person? But sometimes she is helpful? And we have a routine. It's very hard to break the routine. Maybe I can set some time aside during the summer, to figure out what to do there.

Term ends in a couple weeks. The task of catching up, of passing, seems impossible. I really need to pass my courses. I'm on academic warning, because my GPA is lower than it should be, and if I can pass all of my classes this term I can get off academic warning but otherwise I'm not sure what will happen to my financial aid.

My phone is playing the same 50-100 songs on shuffle and I don't even particularly like most of them and it is very strange

Got my face wipes! Hooray, i can wash my face again

Been eating too much sugar in general. It's making my joints hurt more, and the nausea

Pet a dog the other day. I miss that. It would be really nice to have a dog in the house again. The exuberance, the cuddles, the tail wagging, the walks... I'd really like that. Maybe once I'm out in my room, tanks and catio built and everyone is situated, I'll look into getting a dog instead of a cat next. Was planning on holding off in case I'm not physically able to take them out on walks and such, but I've been pretty successful at doing this job, and I think that my main hurdle for walking really is motivation. Dog walking is a strong motivator for me. Best to start by fostering, or just do Wag, for a while though. I'm feeling overwhelmed with my current responsibilities, and here I am talking about getting a dog. Good job, me

How do you get wax off of somewhat water soluble rocks? My housemate broke my lava lamp on some of my rock collection and I am not sure how to get some of them clean without damage.

I am...pretty sure there are collared doves nesting over my room but it seems they're less common around here than I thought? But they are..pretty distinctive. Like if I'm wrong, what are those birds. Some very distinctly colored feral pigeons? Who are nesting here, in a tree, without their flock, and who happen to have pretty much the exact same pattern?

Probably should go to the dollar store and get some bins for organizing

Been wanting to keep a bin by the door and stock it with stim/fidget stuff people can just .have ..like extras of some of my favorites and other things i can get ahold of, to offer to my friends who haven't really had the chance to explore the world of stim toys

Hands are really just not doing great the last several weeks. Arthritis type pain cropping up more and more in all the little joints, making it hurt more to write, type, or just use them for whatever. Coordination isn't great because of that distraction, and because my hands/arms are slow to respond and kinda weak. Most people would say I'm not using them enough but I've been doing 15ish hours of manual labor per week, so maybe it's the other direction? More water would help. If only it wasn't so heavy.

I haven't taken a single shower since I started my job. Which was March 29th. That's not great.

Practiced parallel parking today. 10/10 still very bad at it.

Having anxiety that my friends think I'm lying about things, faking, and are watching me to see if I'll slip up. So that sucks. Can either talk about that directly or indirectly, or just shut up about those things until I can get my brain under control again. I'm not sure right now if the reassurance would work as a reality check or make me believe it more, right now, so might hold off on the talking bit for a little while.

Saw, smelled, picked a couple pretty roses. Good times

At this point I'm just trying to list all my thoughts so that maybe I'll be able to sleep and not worry I'll forget

My mom has put her spider plant on the deck, and it has maybe five living leaves. I have no idea how she killed such a well established spider plant, the last time I saw it it was so happy. Did she stick it in a corner and forget to water it? Whatever happened, it is now in the Plant ER, so hopefully I'll be able to...help get it on the up and up again

Leo is such a pretty noodle. He's so pretty. He's posing. Hi, baby boy.

Oh, he saw me moving around and decided to come say hi. Sorry little man, i did not mean to disturb you. Please resume lounging. I can't bring you out right now, I'm trying to sleep.

Also, terrariums. Water features. Need to ask. Someone. The one who was making that super cool garter snake enclosure and blogging the progress? With the lazy river and pool? About maintenance on that kind of setup. My milk snake really enjoys water, and I'd love to put a water feature in his tank. But I'm unclear on how to keep it clean, or honestly where to start. Don't want any huge falls or anything, though it actually may not make the humidity too high if I did maybe a small drip wall into the pool? That seems like something he would enjoy, and a good way to support different types of plants. But like, that's the thing, it's bioactive and I haven't done that before and no amount of research is ever enough.

Oh, Shogun has a dirt hat. How cute. I love when they do that

See, this is the thing. My snakes make me so happy. All three of them are actually hanging out where I can see them from my bed right now, and it's really nice. I want their lives to be the best possible, and I think I have the resources to do that. Which is so exciting. Now if only my brain and body would cooperate. It would hurt quite a lot to have to re-home any of them, but the most important thing is their health and quality of life, you know? If I can't get my act together somewhat, it may be that one or all of them would be better off with another keeper. I don't know. It's just, i talk about all these tank ideas and all this husbandry standards stuff but how much of it actually gets applied to my own animals whose lives are in my hands? How well am I caring for them, really?

Oh!!! My red thread! I thought that was gone forever.

Anyway, please do not worry. My snakes are healthy. I pay attention, and watch for signs of illness, and they're okay. There will always be places to improve, and the water is a big one, but most of the time i change their water out frequently, I'm just worried because of bad depression and fatigue times, you know? I'm working on making the most self sustaining systems i can, in part so that I am sure they'll be okay if I mess up sometimes. Just saying this because I hope you guys don't feel like you need to worry about the welfare of my pets. They're okay, i just always want better for them, is all.

Anyway, the sun is coming up and I should probably go to sleep. So uh, thanks for reading, if you read all of this randomness, and if anyone has thoughts or advice on anything in this post, i would welcome it! Good night!

#mine #long post #snakes #pets #food m #uhhhhhhhhhhhh whatever else needs tagging

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pinkandgreenarepurpleandyellow · 4 years

Text

I know there’s still a lot of shit happening, and I’m aware that we need to remember the protests haven't stopped, but today was an especially good serotonin day, so I finally pushed myself to finish this three month-old thing, and now I’m posting bc i have no impulse control.

------

”There’s the signal.”

”Yeah.” Fuck that.

Oh sure it’s a life changing opportunity, a new hope, a second chance, but for some reason Doyle would rather stay here.

Next to him Katsumi turns and pats him on the shoulder, a small half-smile shinning on his face. Ah. That might be a reason.

“Katsumi-” He starts, cutting himself off. It’s not possible. They’ve known each other for less than a week. He’s still a fugitive, he has no contacts, no money, no place to stay, and Unchained is still very much after him. But he wants to stay. He wants to leave the job behind, he wants a new home, he wants- he wants to be around people he can get to know beyond the usual discreet suitcase or credit card, beyond being on one or the other side of a gun.

He can’t though. It’s not something assassins can have.

“Yeah?”

He forces his voice to stay even. “Nothing, just -” I think I like you after just a week, I can't ever repay you for this, you’re pretty cute under this light, I don’t want to leave, “thank you. For everything, I mean. The food, the medicine, and the trip. I owe you.” Forever, his mind adds silently.

Katsumi’s smile fades into a concerned frown, and he brushes Doyle’s shoulder with his own - fuck that’s the first time in years anyone’s touched him without violence being involved - as he speaks. “You don’t owe me anything, Doyle,” his hand is swinging closer and closer to his, “I organized this of my own free will, because I wanted to. You deserve a-” why is his voice hitching like he’s about to say something else before he changed his mind - “You deserve a second chance, just like anyone else would. You’re not as bad as you think, an-and it’d be easier for you to start a new life somewhere they can’t find you.” I should leave, Doyle thinks to himself, it’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me, and it’s the world’s biggest favor, and , and-

He doesn’t want to leave. Doyle may not know every aspect of the local culture, but he speaks the language, gets the economy, and with a skillset like his, he could easily get a job in any field. It’d be a new life, a real change, a- A fugitive on the run with no official documents, no actual job prospects, and a death penalty waiting. Not an option.

Katsumi’s sharp turn to face the ship take him out of the train of thought and he watches as the captain suddenly starts flicking the lights of the cabin on and off. Doyle doesn’t know what that means, (or why the idiot doesn’t just use morse code or better yet, simply come out and shout down), but Katsumi’s face hardens.

“There’s a threat on board,” he’s backing away and pulling Doyle with him as he speaks. “It’s Yanagi! Look!” Doyle can now see the shape Katsumi was pointing at, the short and distinct silhouette clearly visible with the lights on. The deadly aura, and the stench of fresh blood mixed with old metal confirm it.

He’s not sure why they’re running away instead of taking Yanagi on together, but Katsumi practically throws Doyle into the drivers seat and chucks the keys at him before flipping over the car and into the shotgun. Instincts kick in. Years of training and being in intense situations have his reflexes following through without question, and Doyle only realizes that he’s done anything when he makes a sharp turn left away from the pier and the tires screech against the pavement. Katsumi’s looking trough the rearview mirror, but slumps in relief. No visible pursuer then.

“Merde, lousy figlio di puttana, dickhead, shove it up his own-” Doyle keeps the rest of the curses in his head, muttering what he can’t through gritted teeth. Right when he was about to finally leave that freak has to show up and ruin it. The hell was his deal anyways? Doyle did some research after he’d found the other four, and this guy seemed to be revenge motivated and not associated with the Shinshinkai. Katsumi probably hadn’t fought him, and the odds of a death row convict deciding to just hijack a boat for no foreseeable reason were laughable. So Yanagi was most likely after either him or Katsumi.

Like he’d read Doyle’s mind, Katusmi speaks. “Was that guy after you? Did you do something to him to get him pissed at you?”

“Nah.” It comes out sharp. Doyle wants another smoke. No smoking while you’re driving, his mind plays back the drilled-in lesson again, the car will reek, the light will be visible, and you either deal with the smoke clogging up your vision and breathing or open the car and beg to be shot. Later. “Best guess? He thinks I broke some weird ‘honorable rule’,” he makes the quotes with his right hand before returning it to the steering wheel, “because I decided to change and accept that you defeated me. Old people get like that about honor sometimes.” He knows it the wrong thing to say, but it’s true. It’s why he went to Japan in the first place, plenty of badasses with a code of honor and a too-large ego. Piss off the right guy, have him kill you. If he fails, kill him, find new guy, rinse and repeat. If they don’t kill you for reasons that aren't weakness, taunt them until they snap.

Thankfully Katsumi is a better person than him and mutters a “Makes sense,” at him instead of starting up an argument. He drives in pointless dodges and turns and alleyways for a while until he’s sure it’s safe, and then Katsumi gives him directions back to his apartment.

They get there. He gets out and, on some old and long-buried instinct, moves to open the door for Katsumi before the karateka gets out on his own.

“I texted dad while you were driving, and he said he was grabbing Shibukawa and going there as soon as he could. The police report was playing on the tv screens a street back or so, and they showed a picture of Yanagi with a broken neck and missing his right arm, still on the boat.” Katsumi walks up the stairs as he talks and Doyle follows, unsure of what else to do. “So I’m guessing either they got there on time, or someone beat them to it. Either way, Yanagi’s not a threat anymore.” They’ve reached the landing, and Katsumi holds his hand out, presumably to get the key ring back from Doyle. He hands it over and chokes out the goodbye.

“Well, see ya around, I guess.” He’s trying very hard to not pretend that he isn’t just the slightest bit crushed about not being able to stay when something grabs his wrist.

“Wait, Doyle! You still don’t have a-” whatever he wants to say, Doyle doesn't wanna hear it. He turns away and keeps trying to walk down the stairs.

“I’ll find something or someone to get me out of Japan. Probably be gone by morning.” He tries to shake the hand off. It doesn’t budge. Stupid guys who have stupid grip strength and their stupidly effective and nice muscles.

“Just hang on, you idiot!” Suddenly Katusmi pulls him back hard enough that Doyle either risks dislocating his shoulder or stumbling back, so he chooses the latter. “We don’t know where Sikorsky is yet, and for all we know he’s after you too. Look,” his voice finally lowers to a reasonable volume that won’t wake the entire neighborhood, “just come in for half a minute, okay? I just gotta make a phone call to check that it’s safe, and then you can leave on your own if you want to, or stay here until we can reschedule stuff and get you on a boat to the Middle East again. It’s won’t take longer than a minute, Doyle. Please?” How the fuck does he do puppy dog eyes like that? Better question, how does Doyle feel himself falling to the them?

“One minute,” he says as calmly as he can when all he wants to do is either leave or stay forever. “One minute, and then I’m gone.” Katusmi nods, unlocks the door, and walks in. Doyle follows, and despite everything they just said about the one minute thing, copies Katusmi’s actions of taking off his shoes. A drink is thrown at his face and Doyle is shocked enough by the fact that this is happening to just open the drink and start sipping instead of realizing it’s intentions.

Katsumi is speaking to what sounds like first one, then two, then five people as he paces, (and the static from the phone when he’s not the one yelling suggests at least one person is speaking to the other people over their own phone), his speech getting faster and faster until Doyle has a hard time distinguishing most of it. He catches bits and pieces of what sounds like legal jargon though, like they’re negotiating a deal. Something involving jail, prisoner, transportation, papers, parole, psychiatry visits, Hector - Hold the fuck up.

Jail. Prisoner. Parole. Hector. Those are not words that should be involved in a conversation asking where Sikorsky is. Scratch that, there should not be this long of a conversation, or with this many people, for asking where Sikorsky is. Or all of the other legal crap in there. What is Katsumi doing?

Finally, an eternity of thirteen minutes and sixteen-and-a-half seconds later, Katsumi speaks at a normal volume, bids a formal goodbye over the phone (probably didn't even realize he was bowing as he did so), and then he’s turning to Doyle with a weirdly happy expression on his face.

“What’s Sikorsky’s status?” he asks.

“Well,” Katsumi sheepishly looks away for a second, “it’s complicated. See, first i called dad and he said he didn’t know and he asked Shibukawa, and he also didn’t know, but then Tokugawa was in the same hallway or something and heard them and started talking, and he was saying some stuff that he had planned for Sikorsky so apparently he’s out there somewhere, but Jack and Gaia are gonna pay him a visit soon so that’s all good.”

“Great, bye.” Doyle stands up and moves to get his shoes back on, but Katusmi has other plans because he grabs Doyle’s arm and keeps talking.

“Thing is, it turns out that Unchained was stopping by that hospital because he wanted to talk to Kureha about something, I think they were at the hospital cause that’s where Kureha usually is, anyways, and they talked about how he was gonna pick up Sikorsky and then you, and then dad and Tokugawa started talking, and somehow between everything the four of them phoned the director of that prison you broke out of and long story short, they pulled some strings and you’re not on death row anymore. So you don’t need to leave!” Doyle blinks.

What. the. fuck?

His first words to this are the more eloquent, “Not on death row?”

Katsumi takes this as a cue to keep talking.

“Yeah, well there’s conditions and that sort of stuff. You have to stay with one of the approved people from Unchained’s list, to make sure you don’t go all assassin-y on innocent people, you gotta visit a special psychiatrist-slash-therapist once a week to help you settle in, and any new crimes will get you thrown into jail no matter what they are, but yeah. Other than that, it’s just some paperwork and stuff.”

“Just to double check, I,” Doyle motions at himself, “can stay here,” waving a hand vaguely to encompass all of Japan, “because your,” poking a finger at Katsumi’s chest, “dad is friends with Unchained and they “pulled some strings”?” he makes the air quote around the last part as obvious as he can because no. This can’t be real. That’s not how things work. Apparently, no one informed Katusmi of this.

“Yep!” he almost chirps the affirmation out as Doyle’s already confused and fragile worldview crumbles in it’s entirety. His entire record, gone as long as he kept obeying the law. A new life. No more death sentence. No more prison.

Deep breath in, he coaches himself through the internal crisis, deep breath out. Right. Okay. He can work with this.

“So,” Katsumi immediately looks back at him, nodding to show he’s paying attention, “Who’s on the list of people I can stay with, and how many of them are already warned?” It’s close to two am, but he can pick the locks, and all he needs is a name to find their address. Katsumi starts talking, listing the names off on his fingers as he speaks.

“Well there’s dad, but he’s still paranoid after what happened to mom, so that’s out. Jack would be okay but we’re not sure if he even has a home, and nobody called him yet. Shibukawa knows but this isn’t the best way for you to meet him, Baki got ruled off the list because he’s too young, Yujiro’s too crazy and would kill you, Unchained vehemently refused to even consider hosting you temporarily after you broke into the station, and Tokugawa claims you ‘concern him’, so that just leaves Strydum, and me. So either you can stay here or-” he trails off. Doyle almost snorts inwardly because Yeah, like that’s a hard choice.

“If you’re okay with it, could I stay here?” Katsumi’s face lights up the same way it did back at the docks, and Doyle feels his heart skipping a very small beat.

“Of course! Grab something form the fridge, I’ll get a spare futon for you in a sec, and sure. We’re gonna have to think about the rest of the stuff in the morning though, but I know a guy for the psychiatry thing, dad was visiting him in the hospital in the first place, and then there’s paperwork, and Im balls at that kinda stuff, and-” Katsumi’s words blur as he keeps moving and talking, but Doyle nods along, a small smile finding its way onto his face. He’ll get through this. He’s got nobody chasing him, a future therapist to talk to, and Katsumi to help him if anything goes wrong.

This, Doyle thinks as Katsumi moves on to talking about how Doyle will love his friends, might just work out.

#this was supposed to end like 4 sentences after katsumi's 'second chance' thing and then he'd say 'you could always leave tmrw'#but then i got bored and threw yanagi #and then the whole extended scene of katsumi talking to ppl instead of his just saying they should reschedule that for another day #i really just wrote in a whole bunch of bs cause i can't write endings huh?#pink-and-green does it again folks #baki the grappler #grappler baki #hector doyle #katsumi orochi #technically they're not together but it's meant to be doysumi so imma tag it #doysumi #doyle x katsumi #btg #my writing #do not repost i stg i dealt w/that once not happening again #fun fact: everything after 'youre a convict you can't stay thats not an option' thing was written today in 2 hours

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junepop45 · 4 years

Text

Just the Two of Us

Summary: JD receives their first check and wants to go bowling with their other friends. Mia’s the only one who’s busy, so the two decide to go alone.

JD had been working for a while. Day in and day out, they bagged groceries and stacked soup cans to make ends meet. After two weeks of nonstop effort, they received their first paycheck of about $200. As they thought of how to spend the first of their earnings, they had an idea.

“Yo, Atlas, wanna go bowling with me and the gang?” JD asked excitedly. Atlas ruffled their hair before letting out a sigh.

“I’d love to tag along, Pup, but I’ve got my own plans tonight. Front-row seats to the Orion Nebula Cascade, only one night, you know how it is! Don’t worry,” he chuckled, “I’ll be sure to make it up to you!” JD pouted, but they understood. They decided to hit up the rest of the gang. All of them had plans like Atlas. River had a science project, GD had work, and Static wasn’t feeling sociable that night.

They were hesitant to even call Mia. If no one else would go, would she even be comfortable hanging out with them solo? The last time they did that, it was relatively brief.There was a difference between two sleep deprived teens waiting for her 10 hour flight and two fully conscious teens enjoying the beginning of the weekend. Deep in though, they felt a buzz in their pocket.

“Sup JD!”

Speak of the devil, they thought. “Hey Mia! What’s shakin bacon?” They asked, attempting to keep calm.

“Woooow. First ‘princessa de ananas’ now ‘what’s shakin bacon.’ Any more rhymes you got under your ripped sleeves?” she teased.

“Nope! I’ll let you know when I get some new material though.” She laughed at JD’s remark.

“You’re such a dork, lobo. Anyway, I was calling cause GD said you were thinking about bowling.”

“Yea! I was but everyone is busy tonight,” they said, a tad disappointed.

“I’m not.” JD’s ears perked up at such a short sentence.

“You.. You wouldn’t mind? Just the two of us?”

“Of course not, lobo. It’ll be fun”

“Oh-ok!” JD agreed excitedly. “Asistirámos a seis y media, princessa de ananas.”

“Sounds great. Nos vemos,” Mia promised

When JD hung up, their hair stood up on the back of their head. ��Just the two of us,” they repeated to themselves. They rushed to the practice lounge and began getting ready. They hosed themself down outsideand washed their thick coarse hair. They put on their fancy black spiked collar, and a tuxedo T shirt they saved for special occasions. As they looked in the mirror they scowled at themself. Were they overthinking this? How would the night go anyway? They called Atlas, hoping that he wasn’t at the event yet. Fortunately for them, Atlas picked up.

“What can I do ya for, JD?” He asked nonchalantly with a ton of background noise. JD flinched, as it sounded like he was in the middle of an explosion, which was not pleasant to listen to.

“So, I am going out bowling. But only Mia’s going.”

“OOOOooooo! Sounds like a date” The half human flirted.

“It’s not!!!” JD said, flushed. “I just needed your opinion super quickly”

“I can do that!” he shouted as the noise got louder.

“DO YOU THINK WEARING MY SUIT T SHIRT IS TOO MUCH???” The wolf shouted.

“NOT AT ALL, IT LOOKS GREAT!”

“AIGHT COOL!” And with that JD hung up immediately. With a deep breath, they noticed it was six on the dot. Which gave them enough time to head to Mia’s.

Halfway there, they received a text from Atlas that said, “Make sure to impress her! Girls like a little competition ;).” JD racks their brain on how to impress Mia. Course they enjoyed hanging out together, but one on one time was rare. They decide to push out the doubt from their mind and continue heading to Mia and the Twin’s place.

They knocked on Mia’s door and her aunt appeared. “Buenas tardes, JD. Que tal?” She asked

“Yo estoy bien! Y usted?” “Bien tambien.” She gestured towards Mia’s room. “She’ll be ready in a sec. Girls am I right?” JD shrugged, giving Aunt Isabella a smile. After about five minutes of small talk, Mia finally stepped out, revealing that she was wearing a plain black shirt with a Medium length pink skirt. She kept on her iconic pineapple earrings along with the pineapple necklace JD got her their first christmas. They were a deer in headlights. Mia as well, but she could mask it better.

JD was extremely impressed. “Oh, um… wow! ¡Muy elegante!” They gave a nervous thumbs-up and smiled, trying (and failing) to not blush. They were so busy trying to keep their composure, that they didn't even notice how Mia was currently having the same issue. Aunt Isabella smiled sweetly, her heart warmed by the whole interaction.

Mia decided to step up and walk over to JD. “So… you ready, lobo?” “Oh, heck yeah!” JD didn’t know what to do with their hands, so they just decided to give Mia a thumbs-up. “Let’s roll!” The two friends high-fived each other, before strolling out the door, Isabella waving them goodbye. “Be safe out there, you two!” Mia rolled her eyes, still grinning. “We will, Tía Isabella!” Since two had to walk quite a bit to get to the bowling alley, what better to do than to fill the air with some chit-chat? No other reason, just to pass the time. Definitely no other reason. Definitely not to listen to the sound of each other’s voices. It was just to catch up.

“How’ve you been doing?” JD asked, feeling much more confident now. They always felt a bit more outgoing whenever they talked to Mia. A bit weird, but hey, they weren’t complaining. “I’ve been doing great! How about yourself?” “Couldn’t be better!” They probably could be better, but JD wasn’t lying. They were doing pretty well; even better now that they got to do what could be described as the laziest sport in America with a good friend. “Awesome! And what about Atlas? I know he would’ve looooooooved to be a third wheel here.” She somehow sounded earnest and sarcastic at the same time. One of her many real talents for sure. “Well… He’s… somewhere?” JD shrugged confusedly. Mia got flashbacks to the time that he left for a month and a half. “Oh no, did he go radio-silent again? Hell no, I’m about to knock some sense into that pequeño puto right now!” “Nonononono!” JD frantically put their hands out, trying to calm her down. “He’s at some sorta weird intergalactic event. He just called me like. It was super noisy.” They chuckled a bit, remembering how badly the phone ringed in their ear. “But he doesn’t need smacking,” JD takes a dramatic pause. “Just yet.” Mia huffed. “Good. But, what did you mean by ‘intergalactic event’? Is he okay? Do I even want to know what’s going on over there?” Her face scrunched up half concerned, but half intrigued. “Not sure, I think so, and probably not.” Both of them had a good laugh at that. After a bit more walking and talking, they finally arrived at the bowling alley. It didn’t look very flashy from the outside. Colorless walls, a plain, flat red roof, two doors on either side, and one road sign that said “Titans Recreation Center.” “Well, looks like he owns a bowling alley too!” JD chuckled at Mia’s joke, the whole band having made comments like that on Atlas’ name at least once. Suddenly, JD had an idea. “Hey, princessa de ananas.” “Yeah?” “Bet you I could get more strikes than you.” They stuck their tongue out defiantly. “Heh, in your dreams, lobo!” Mia smirked. “You’re not getting that before I do!” “Oh, it’s on!” They both sprinted towards the front door, eager to best the other. When they opened the door, it was a complete 180 from what the outside looked like. Neon wallpaper, banging glam rock music, arcade cabinets, junk food, and of course; the coveted bowling lanes, complete with gaudy 90’s CGI tv screens. In other words: Heaven in a building.

Mia’s jewelry flashed in the building. Her yellow and green hair glowed as her skin remained a tan color. She stared at the venue with a calm smile, taking in the scenery. As she scoped the place she noticed JD staring a bit too intently at her.

“I got something on my back, lobo?” Mia joked. JD tried to stammer out some words, but not much came out. She grabbed their arm and dragged them over to the shoe rental spot. “Are you trying to stall or something?”

JD’s cheeks began burning “Of course not! I don’t need to. I was just…-” they fidgeted with their hands, clacking their own fingers to each other. “I’m giving you time to adjust is all.” JD grabs an 18 pound ball, the heaviest one around. I don’t know about you, but I’m in my element.”

“Is that so?” Mia smirks while staring at them

“Definitely,” they grin back. “Watch and learn, princesa.” They carry the ball over to their lane. They went for the wind-up, rushed toward the pins, rolled the ball towards them, and slipped into the lane.

“Oh my God, JD!” Mia yelled as she rushed over to them.

“Did… Did I get a strike?” they asked in a hoarse voice.

Mia scratched the back of her neck, still holding on to her furry companion. “It’s a bit unorthodox, but it is technically a strike.”

“I told you I could get more strikes than you.”

Mia gave them a playful smirk. “Oh, lobo. The match has barely started.” She helped JD up and proceeded to get a ten pound pink ball.

“It matches your aesthetic!” they complimented.

“Thanks, but you might wanna worry ‘bout yourself, love.”

“Whaaaaa?” JD asked.

“Sorry, I meant lobo! You should worry about your shoes, lobo.” Mia shrugged a little. “Words; They kinda suck. What can I say?”

JD nodded in agreement, though their cheeks began to sting. They held onto Mia’s words a bit more than they should’ve.

With that behind them, Mia got ready to bowl. JD took small peeks at Mia as they put on their bowling shoes. As JD finished the last bunny loop on their right foot, they watched as her pink ball crashed into the first pin, creating a domino effect knocking down the rest.

“God, she’s good,” they muttered under their breath. JD’s second bowl wasn’t as lucky. They were able to knock down nine in total. Mia got them all down, but in two tries, making it a spare. After rounds of back and forths, they were once again tied up. Three strikes to three. Though Mia had a higher score cause she hit more pins. It was down to the final round.

“You ready to call me the best bowler in Garden Street?” JD taunted.

“Only in your dreams.”

“I’m gonna make you eat those words, princessa de ananas.”

JD prepared to pull the most pro gamer move of their life. They were gonna get three strikes in a row. The pins realigned themselves; JD realigned themself with the pins. They swung their bowling arm, getting a feel for the throw. Such concentration was rarely seen by them. Mia rolled her eyes at how goofy they were being, but they were serious. They were going to impress Mia so much she’d have to like them! One swift toss was all it needed, and the bowling ball came hurling through the pins. Some of them fly into the air, not reaching the ground for seconds. Mia’s jaw was agape at the sheer power they used. She knew they could lift her and Atlas at once but she never thought about how much that really was. JD turned around, giving Mia a little nod.

“There’s more where that came from, Torres.”

With their newly found confidence, the other two strikes were a breeze, one after the other. It was a shame they didn’t have any more rounds left.

“I believe that’s what we call in the business, a turkey!” they gloated. They walked over to where Mia was sitting and rested their arm on her shoulder. “Think you can beat that? Or are you too chicken to do so?”

Mia playfully brushed them off their shoulder. “I gotta admit, JD. That was pretty cool. I actually thought the pins were gonna break.” She grabbed her pink bowling ball, doing her best to stay focused. Her first throw was a clean strike. The second strike, a few pins spun in a way where it didn’t look like they’d fall. She was down to her last throw; she could tie everything up. Tonight was the first time in years that JD and Mia were outwardly competing with each other. JD was a bit nervous that Mia wouldn’t be impressed if the game tied, but they couldn’t bring themself to wish Mia to mess up. They cared about Mia and they were having a good time as is! JD felt that whatever happened, happened, and that even if Mia didn’t see them as anything other than friends, if this was friendship, JD didn’t mind this. For once, they were at peace about their feelings for her.

“SON OF A DICK FART!” Mia cried. JD looked up and saw one pin was still spinning. Its movements slowed and calmed down until it stopped. So close yet so far from a strike.

“Heck yea!!! I won! “JD triumphantly declared.

“Hold on, Pup,” Mia argued. “I still won by points.”

“Yea, but I bet I could make more strikes than you. Which I did.” They stuck out their hand. “You did a really good job, Princessa de Ananas. I have trouble picking up spares, but you’re a natural!”

Mia smirked. “Sometimes you can't brute force your way through things. Sometimes you gotta plan out where you wanna roll it. Trajectory and all that stuff.” She accepted JD’s handshake. “I still call bullshit on that last one though.”

“Oh definitely,” JD agreed. Suddenly, a lightbulb went off in their head. “Best 2 out of 3?” they asked.

“How will I ever beat the best bowler in Garden Street?” Mia dramatically asked.

“Fear not, m’lady. For I shall teach you my strategies for getting the perfect strike.” JD bowed down, furthering the bit.

The rest of the night was quite eventful for the two latinos. The alley was full of yelling, banging tables, cheering, and other noises of the like. The two headed out around midnight. There wasn’t a clear winner, as they both gained a new level of appreciation for the other. JD was a bit sad the others missed out, but they liked only hanging out with Mia. It was something that the two needed to do for a long time.

“Hey, Mia.”

“Yea, JD?”

“We should go out more.”

It was Mia’s turn to blush heavily. JD took their words back, fearing that they misspoke.

“We don’t always have to go bowling! But tonight was super fun. Atlas and I hang out one on one alot but it’s… it’s different with you! So wadda ya say? Wanna plan to hang out Next Friday? This time you can pick!”

“I’ll have to double check my schedule… but, sure! I’ll let you know.” She took a moment to grasp her words. “And… I had fun, too. Gracias, JD-” she gave them a bear hug, something they easily reciprocated. While JD walked back to The Rose Thorn Lounge, Atlas called.

“Sup Pupperoni! How was your date~” He asked.

“It wasn’t a date! We’ve been over this, Atlas.” JD clarified.

“Ah, whatever. But how was it?”

JD unintentionally began smiling, conspiring about what happened earlier. “We had a good time. You should’ve seen her; it was like she was a natural. There isn’t anything Mia can’t do.”

“Except confess her feelings for you.” Atlas retorted.

“She would never.”

“Dude, take it from me; it’s gonna happen. So when are you gonna thank me?”

“Why would I thank you?”

“Why do you think everyone else said no?”

“Cause they were busy-” JD began putting the pieces together. “Why would you do that????” they asked, almost demanding an answer.

“Cause I’m the best wingman ever.” They could almost hear his smug little grin. “Now! The Supernova’s wrapping up, a new Solar System has been made, so I’ll be there in a sec. We can talk all about your little rendezvous when I get there.” And with the click of a button, JD was left to their own thoughts. Their flustered, embarrassing own thoughts.

Taglist: @aliensmoothie-gotta-blast @doodledream @irideseas @nerdqueenkat @no-need-to-apply @sunstar121 @pandapop2

#ert writes #Just the Two of Us #OCs #Atlas #JD #Mia

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choupichoups · 5 years

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CHAPTER FOUR :: Previous chapters

Eliott falls helplessly infatuated with his best friend’s little brother— he knows he’s writing up his own death wish going after this boy, but fuck if Lucas isn’t the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

Or: Eliott’s under the impression that his best friend’s new step brother, ‘Lulu’, is a literal baby. Nobody tells him the guy’s actually a fucking babe-y.

His phone lays face down on the nightstand, chiming with accusing vibrations from god knows where. He hasn’t exactly kept up with the outpouring of messages since Friday night.

Eliott doesn’t know what day it is.

With a burst of energy that sends both dread and respite coursing through his chest, Eliott pushes himself towards the bathroom, standing under the warm pressure of the shower until it turns cold, freezing pelts numbing where his back is hunched over the tiled walls.

He doesn’t feel any better. There’s a steely blankness in his mind, a faint ringing echoing its walls that has Eliott wondering how he’s able to move around.

When he gets out, shivering from the cool air breezing in from his open windows, the mere sight of the light emanating from his nightstand grips him with inexplicable anxiety. The familiar drop in his stomach is so unbearable he can’t even bring himself to approach his fucking phone. His eyes search out a pack of smokes out of reflex but a spiteful voice inside his head berates him. Make it worse, why don’t you, it says, go ahead and prove them right, then.

He goes into the kitchen and gulps down two glasses of water instead. He supposes his piece of shit brain has an effective way of keeping him in check sometimes.

His laptop is asleep on the kitchen table when he turns around and Eliott taps on it, stares blankly at the timestamp on top of the screen— it’s Sunday afternoon. So he hasn’t been out of the grid for that long then. Not long enough to miss classes, at least. That’s good. It’s good.

That eliminates the chances of school related emails being included in his growing pile of notifications.

He slides gingerly onto the chair, switching to his Netflix tab to resume whatever movie he’d been watching before he left for that party on Friday. Eliott watches the screen move, colours and sounds around him, none of it sticks but he appreciates the background noise. Appreciates the change in scenery. He’s gotten a little sick and tired of watching the ceiling in between bouts of fitful slumber.

Eyes still dull from exhaustion, he follows the fast paced sequence playing in front of him until the muffled music clears up, until the teeny voices from his speakers start making sense again, until his brain latches onto the idea of the film, until he recognizes the title, remembers the bits he’d seen from Friday.

He’s frowning down at a particular twist in the plot when his lock turns, dragging slow and soft, as if it would help mask the disruptive shriek of metal against metal. He doesn’t react much to it— only stares at the door with vague wonder, but ultimately can’t bring himself to care even when the door creaks fully open. He’s genuinely surprised to see Adrien’s head pop out from behind it, searching eyes wandering about until it lands on Eliott and a brilliant smile immediately lifts the entirety of his best friend’s face.

So Lucas hasn’t told him anything.

Eliott’s heart clenches. It has nothing to do with relief.

“Hey!” Adrien sounds so excited that Eliott wants to smile, but his lips don’t get the memo. “I brought lunch. Or dinner, I guess? Whatever.”

He makes himself at home, banging around in Eliott’s kitchen as the movie plays on, now abandoned. Eliott relocates to the couch, letting Adrien’s off tune singing and his computer’s noisy faux explosions fill his head. It’s comfortable enough that Eliott’s eyes fall shut, head tilted back against the back of the couch.

It’s dark outside the next time he wakes. His laptop’s now connected to his tv screen, playing a different movie. Adrien’s lounging beside him, spoon stuck in his mouth, eyes trained on his phone.

“You gonna share that or what?” Eliott manages to croak out, reaching for the bowl of take out in Adrien’s lap.

Adrien practically jumps at the sound of Eliott’s voice and that finally, finally fills him with enough humour to conjure up a smile. It feels fucking good. He hopes it lasts.

“Fuck off, yours is in the fridge,” Adrien says once he recovers, sliding his bowl far away from Eliott’s reach.

Eliott groans, “That’s too far.”

“Your place isn’t that big, calm down.” But Adrien gets up anyway, dragging his feet as he heads for the kitchen to heat up the leftovers. Eliott isn’t hungry, truth be told, he does want to continue this streak of normalcy, though. He wants to keep smiling and feeling and eating. Maybe it would push him on a fast track to being himself again come the next day. Whatever being himself means.

Hot food is plopped down on his legs with no warning and his resulting yelp has Adrien in stitches. Eliott’s sorely tempted to dump the entire thing over Adrien’s head, see who’s laughing then, but he did bring Eliott some free food so he gets one single pass for being an asshole. Eliott flips him off, lips still curled in a smirk as he nibbles on his first bite.

They watch the movie mostly in silence, only with the occasional commentary from Adrien, who’s prone to being very vocal about how angry the characters make him. There’s something off with his behaviour though, almost like he’s forcing the cheer into his voice. Eliott looks over just in time to catch him tapping away on his phone for the umpteenth time.

So Eliott pauses the movie, confirming his suspicions when it takes Adrien a full minute to realize that there’s now silence where the movie villain’s cheesy droning spiel had just been. He reaches out, one hand curled into a fist, and Adrien stares at it blankly before slapping his palm against it, closing his hand over the fist, holding tight like a child afraid of the dark. He looks like a child too, Eliott’s eyes adjusting to the lack of light to find Adrien’s wide, watery gaze on him.

“I fucked up, Eli.”

Well that’s new. It’s usually Eliott who fucks up between the two of them. “How much?”

“Big time.”

Eliott sits up from where he’s half melted into the couch cushions, kicking at Adrien’s leg until he does the same. “What happened?”

Adrien eyes him, says, “Nothing, don’t worry about it. I’m just being stupid.” But he sounds pitiful enough that Eliott can’t not worry about it.

“Look, Adri, we can’t both feel like shit,” Eliott says, earning a snort from the other end of the couch. “Only one at a time and I called dibs already so just tell me what’s wrong so you can feel less shitty about it.”

Adrien wipes his eyes. Sniffs a little. “Lucas is missing.”

That’s the last thing Eliott wants to hear. “What?” he chokes out, forcing a neutral tone. His heartbeat picks up in protest. “Since when?”

“Friday, god, I should’ve gone to that stupid party—”

This is all your fault. “What do you mean he’s missing?” Neutrality out the window, apparently. Good thing Adrien doesn’t seem to notice, too busy trying to yank the hair out of his head as he is.

“I don’t know, he’s been kinda weird recently to be honest, and now he’s not coming home or answering his goddamn phone.” Adrien nibbles on his fingernails, a nervous tick the both of them share. “I’m freaking out, like— what do I tell our parents? They can’t even leave my brother alone with me for two weeks without him going missing, fuck. I’m so useless. What if we get a baby brother? Or a baby sister? How much would I fuck up then? Jesus, I would probably drop an actual infant and—”

Eliott shakes his head, takes Adrien’s phone away to do something. “Calm down,” he hisses, not sure if he’s addressing Adrien or himself. “Have you checked with all his friends?”

“The ones I know of, yeah.” Adrien grabs a cushion and buries his face under it.

A thought occurs to Eliott then, unwanted but he’d rather that than any other worse scenarios. Maybe it’s not his fault. How bold of him to assume Lucas would care that much about Eliott, just another boy chasing him around. Maybe the answer is much simpler. Maybe it’s got nothing to do with him at all. “Maybe he met someone,” he suggests, and he has no right to feel jealousy catching fire like a candle wick, rapid to burn. “Went home with them?”

“No,” Adrien denies, muffled. “Lucas doesn’t do that.”

Flashes from Friday night’s party make him swallow, throat clicking at the image of Lucas and that guy headed fast towards the bedrooms. “You sure?”

“Uh huh. Hundred percent.”

Adrien’s phone interrupts them with a startling ring. Instinctively, Eliott slides a finger to accept the unknown call, putting it on speaker so Adrien could hear as well. “Hello?” Eliott answers, hesitant, when Adrien looks like he doesn’t plan on emerging from his cushion any time soon.

Confused silence, and then a timid, “Adri?”

Lucas’ voice. Eliott drops the phone on the table like it’s suddenly grown spikes.

It’s a good thing Adrien comes alive at that moment, his cushion flying off the living room and into the kitchen. “Where the fuck have you been?!” he practically screeches in the general direction of the phone.

There’s some static, the sound of sheets ruffling. “I don’t— I don’t kno— no, shit, hold on.”

Adrien’s face is flushed with anger. “The fuck you mean you don’t—” He rubs a hand over his face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Eliott sincerely doesn’t know whether to be thankful of, or lament the fact that Adrien keeps the phone call on speaker.

“Of course? Of course? So why the hell haven’t you been answering my calls, Lulu?”

“I’m sorry, my phone died,” Lucas groans from the other end, sounding miserable. Like he’s—

“Are you hungover?” Adrien voices out the question in Eliott’s head.

“Yes.” The one word packs such heavy attitude it almost makes Eliott laugh— until he remembers it’s Sunday evening so Lucas being hungover means he’s been drinking again on Saturday and well into the morning after. “Would you tone down a little?”

“No, I won’t tone the fuck down. Do you know what time it is? And you sound like that? Tell me where you are, I’ll come get you.”

“I’ll be home tomorrow.”

“Lucas,” Adrien pronounces the name slowly, how he always does when upset. “Where are you?”

Unperturbed, Lucas repeats, “I said I’ll be home tomorrow, father.” And then he hangs up.

Adrien looks two seconds away from flinging his phone out the window. It’s times like this when Eliott truly appreciates being an only child.

“Whose phone number was that?” Adrien asks, visibly holding back from redialing the unknown number.

Eliott shrugs and heads into the bedroom for his phone; there’s no harm in checking his contact list. He figures it’s time to stop avoiding the inevitable anyway. At least Adrien being present would alleviate some of the stress from checking on his unread messages.

Turns out he doesn’t have the phone number Lucas used registered on his phone either but what he does find out is that Lucas has blocked him on Instagram. And it shouldn’t hurt. It really, really shouldn’t. It’s a fucking phone app, the act is borderline juvenile. The laugh he lets out is rusty, unfamiliar to his own ears, bitter in its quietness. He should have seen it coming, it’s what he deserves after all. But knowing so doesn’t make it feel any less horrible.

“You okay?” Right. Adrien’s there beside him, clueless as to what Eliott’s done to his precious little brother. Eliott knows he’s played a dangerous game and now Lucas holds all the cards.

“Yup, just peachy.” Eliott shoves his phone behind the couch. Out of sight out of mind. “You want a drink?”

Adrien sweeps a hand over his eyes. “I need ten.”

“I only have cranberry juice.”

“Ugh, fuck.”

“We can use the fancy glasses and pretend it’s wine.”

“Yeah, okay, close enough. Juice me up.”

Come Tuesday afternoon, Eliott feels less like living as a hermit deep into the woods and more like throwing people deep into the woods.

Irritation simmers at the surface of his skin like gasoline, ready to ignite at the slightest provocation. So he does his best to stay away from the crowds, and forces himself to interact only when he’s cornered, because apparently some people can’t read the atmosphere despite his closed off demeanor.

Mysterious, some would call him and it’s so fucking stupid. Aloof. Intimidating. Cool.

He’d laugh if he weren’t so keyed up, throat scratchy with the urge to snap, shoulders hunched to keep in a festering fury he has neither time nor will to put out.

It doesn’t help that his hands have developed a mind of their own, obsessively checking for a message that will never show up. He’s irritated that there’s only one voice he wants to hear. He’s irritated that people still try their luck in approaching him, he’s irritated that they laugh and speak and move around him like he isn’t some ticking time bomb. He’s irritated that despite all the noise and the clamour, everything is still so goddamn boring, nothing to pull him out of his head, nothing to crack open his barrier, nothing nothing nothing.

His most wakening moments happen during the events leading up to, and the ones following after, himself getting punched in the face.

It’s exactly how it sounds like, but in Eliott’s defence, it's completely and utterly not his fault. Just a giant misunderstanding and too much testosterone involved in the mix.

It happens when Eliott’s just about to leave campus, skipping out on the final half of his last class so he could catch the early bus and continue being miserable at home. Hands busy untangling his headphones, he doesn’t realize he’s got company in the hallway until he hears a very unimpressed, very familiar voice coming from the other end. Eliott throws himself into the next hallway, heart beating erratically while he stands with his back plastered against the wall.

“Listen, Nathan,” Lucas is saying, thankfully unaware of the film worthy stunt Eliott had just pulled. He slumps down on the ground and accepts the fact that he’s officially the king of being at the wrong place at the wrong time nowadays.

Or maybe the king of eavesdropping is more accurate?

His phone vibrates against the floor where it’s shoved inside his pocket and Eliott scrambles to kneel up, cursing under his breath as he fumbles to muffle the sound of the missed call.

Cautiously, he peeks out, but both boys are still occupied with their conversation. Eliott ducks back into his hiding place, rationalizing if the loss of dignity he’d experience should someone catch him crab walking towards the staircase would be worth dodging Lucas’ ire.

Maybe he simply puts the king in panicking, at this point.

“Nigel,” Nathan— or Nigel, really, corrects him. Eliott winces in sympathy. So that’s how Lucas plays it, huh.

“Nigel. I’m sorry about the party,” Lucas continues, and Eliott knows exactly what he’s going to say next. “I was a little drunk.” Fucking hell.

Nigel lets out a breathy laugh. “Come on, Lucas, you can’t say you felt nothing.”

Alright, Eliott’s sympathy is quickly fizzing out.

“Feel what?”

“There’s something between us, Lu.”

“We met four days ago,” Lucas deadpans, ruthless in a way that has Eliott a little taken aback. There’s no hint of the playful tone Lucas had always used around him.

“You kissed me at the party.”

“I said I was drunk.”

“You weren’t, why don’t you just give us a chance? I could be—”

“No,” Lucas interrupts, “it’s nothing to do with you, you’re a great guy so don’t bother wasting your time on me.”

“You’re not ever a waste of time.”

That gets a laugh out of Lucas. “That’s uh, sweet, but I’m serious. Please.”

Eliott squeezes his eyes shut. You’d know if I was rejecting you. He thunks his head on the wall behind him, staring up at the pale ceiling as he wills for time to turn back.

But of course it doesn’t. All that happens is that Eliott misses the rest of the conversation he’s listening in on and only realizes it’s over when shuffling footsteps make their rapid way straight towards where Eliott is squished into a corner.

And oh shit, oh shit, oh shit—

Except Lucas rushes right past him, anticlimactically.

Eliott knows he’s got about two seconds to decide whether he’s going to let him go or if he’s going to gather the balls to at least apologize.

In an act of bravery that probably surprises the deities themselves, Eliott calls out for Lucas, wincing in preparation for a storm as he traces the way Lucas’ entire body tenses up. A voice in his head tells him to leave it, that they’re headed straight for corrosion and nothing he says would change anything. Eliott almost succumbs to it.

But Lucas keeps walking, not once looking back, and Eliott feels a deep-seated panic settle over him, the magnitude of it louder than the jeering from his own mind. He trips all over his own two feet and hurries to match Lucas’ pace. “Lucas, please, I just want to say—”

“Sorry?” Lucas bites out, only stopping when Eliott physically stands in front of him to block his way. “Is that what you wanna say? Or are you above apologizing to your failed conquests?” Eliott recoils, mouth opening a little but Lucas doesn’t let him speak. “Nevermind, I don’t actually care. Don’t worry, I won’t tell Adri.”

Lucas keeps his head lowered, and Eliott’s chest constricts, hands slightly shaking where they’re hidden inside his pockets. God, he’s always been terrible at confrontations; he’s either too angry or too much of a coward to say the right thing. It has never occurred to him to apologize in exchange for Lucas’ silence, though, and he doesn’t want Lucas to think that’s all Eliott cares about. He only wants to— he wants to—

What? What exactly does he want?

Lucas steps to the side, intending to walk off again, and Eliott can’t have that. He doesn’t have the words lined up quite readily in his mind yet but he knows, for sure, that if Lucas just stays for a couple more minutes, the words will come to Eliott. He can feel it, it just—

His hand belatedly grabs for Lucas as his mind chases after the words, almost missing Lucas’ arm entirely. But just as quickly as he’s held, Lucas shakes Eliott off, stepping backwards violently enough to have him careening into the wall. It goes against Eliott’s every instinct to not reach out steadying hands as he watches Lucas stagger. It’s only the intensity of Lucas’ glower that stops him, like he’d have no problem smiting Eliott into smithereens if he dares to lay another finger on him.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?!” Lucas throws his backpack on the ground between them and Eliott watches it skid to the tip of his boots, a dawning dread churning at the pit of his stomach. “You made it very clear where you stand, Eliott. Now why don’t you be a man of your fucking word for once and just fuck off!”

A part of him flares at the harsh words, naturally, but Eliott understands he’s reaping his own harvest. Although Eliott is many, many terrible things, not once has he ever refused to take responsibility for the hurt he’s caused, no matter what state of mind he’d been under at the time. So Eliott shoves down the anger that heats his blood, ignores the temper pounding at his head, and swallows twice before speaking. This will not be a repeat of Friday night.

He picks up the discarded backpack and carefully approaches, making sure to leave enough space between the two of them so as to not smother Lucas. “Please,” he says, voice quieting as he stretches an arm out to hand the bag back to its owner. “Just look at me, please?”

Lucas’ shoulders rise and fall with each breath, the very picture of righteous fury, but when he does look up, Eliott’s met with none of the animosity he expects. Instead, Lucas’ eyes are wide and scared, tears threatening to spill from those lovely blues. Eliott is shot by the sight of it, unprepared to see Lucas — headstrong, spitfire Lucas — looking so devastated.

He can’t comprehend how someone so beautiful could allow someone as unworthy as Eliott close enough to hurt.

“Don’t do that,” Lucas says just as softly, and Eliott flinches as a finger ghosts along below his eye. He brings his own hand up, chasing after the whisper of Lucas’ touch, and Eliott realizes he’s also crying like some pathetic echo to Lucas’ feelings. “Stop it, I’m supposed to be cussing you out right now,” Lucas scolds, snatching the bag from Eliott’s hand. “I can’t do that if—”

Eliott would have loved to hear the rest of that sentence, even if it’s just more insults hurled towards him. He’s sunk low enough to admit that anything is better than a cold shoulder from Lucas.

As it is, he never gets to hear the full of it, because someone is pulling him back by the arm in one second, and then he’s down on the floor in the next. Eliott registers the familiar pain at the bridge of his nose once his head stops ringing.

Fuck, at least that punch literally knocks the sadness part of his rapidly cycling moods— Eliott doesn’t feel much like crying now. No, irritation comes flooding back with a vengeance and if it weren’t for the sight of Lucas’ figure standing in front of him, Eliott would’ve gotten up and returned that blow twice as hard.

“What the fuck?” Lucas yells at the perpetrator, blocking Eliott from view when the guy tries to go in for more. Eliott sits up, one hand feeling around his nose, content to let Lucas handle whatever the hell’s going on for now. “What’s your problem?”

“He’s bothering you!” Ah. Good old Nigel. Where did he even come from?

“We were talking,” Lucas hisses, shoving Nigel back when he hovers too close. “Would you fucking chill? What are you even doing here—”

“Talking?” Nigel sneers, eyes cutting towards Eliott, who waves back with a slightly bloody hand and inwardly snickers when it seems to piss the guy off even more. “I was fucking worried about you, that’s why I came back and this is what I get? Is this why you rejected me? Hung up on Demaury, are you?”

“I’d watch the next words coming out of that mouth, Nick.”

“It’s Nigel! Fuck, whatever, you want to be another notch on his bedpost? Go ahead, but don’t come crawling to me when he—”

Eliott pulls Lucas back and launches himself forward, letting the satisfying crunch of Nigel’s nose under his knuckles power him through the inevitable sting that comes after. Behind him, Lucas mutters a high pitched, Jesus Christ.

“Stop, just stop. Sit down, Eliott.” Lucas rushes to push himself in between the two of them and it would be so, so easy to move him. Just put Lucas to the side and continue letting off some steam, but Lucas doesn’t sound like he’s playing around and Eliott would like to live until he graduates, at least.

To Nigel’s credit, he does look like he’s regretting everything he’s said right about now. Maybe part of it’s the bleeding nose but Eliott would bet it’s mostly due to the pissed off expression Lucas is currently wearing.

“Sit,” Lucas repeats. Eliott sits with only minor grumbling. “You.” He directs his scathing voice towards Nigel who’s halfway to quaking by now. Eliott scoffs, the guy wouldn’t survive a day as Lucas’ boyfriend. “Go to the nurse.”

“You’re making me go alone?” Nigel squeaks out.

“Want him to hold your fucking hand or something?” Eliott can’t help but pitch in, biting back the rest of his words when Lucas levels him with a look.

“Shut up.” Lucas rubs a hand all over his hair, making a bigger mess out of them. “You know what?” he says, chuckling a little maniacally, “I don’t even want to deal with either of you.”

And then he just takes off to the end of the hall. Eliott, for the second time within the hour, falls all over himself to follow. He still hasn’t apologized and he has to do it now.

“Lucas, I am so fucking sorry,” he blurts out once they’re alone at the stairwell. Eliott’s still standing by the door, hesitant to keep going as Lucas eyes him from the bottom of the stairs. “I was a dick on Friday and even before that I— I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

“Okay.” Eliott’s head snaps up, and Lucas laughs, backing up until he hits the wall, the distance between them ever increasing. “Okay, I just. I just don’t get it. Why did you go after me if you were just going to ignore me in campus? And why did you go for someone else while I… while my dumb ass finally thought… I mean, I know you aren’t exactly a date to marry type of guy but come on, me and her? At the same time? Why?”

Eliott shakes his head against the questions, words stuck at the tip of his tongue, refusing to come out. He has so many and too little to say all at once. He wants to say that Lucas scares him so he’d taken the coward’s way out. He wants to say that he only did it to prove something to himself— wants to say that he failed to prove that exact something to himself.

“I freaked out, okay? I just, I didn’t— I don’t know how to handle you,” he forces out, voice small, vaguely aware that none of that likely made a smidgen of sense. Even so, he makes his way down the stairs with no protests coming from Lucas.

“And?” Lucas prompts, sounding slightly less murderous this time.

“And what?” Eliott steps down the last stair, finally on level ground with him.

“That— that’s it?”

“I don’t know…”

A long silence follows, like Lucas is waiting for him to continue. But it quickly becomes apparent that no follow up is coming through. “Nice. Okay. Good talk,” Lucas snorts, “see you around.”

“Wait, wait.” Eliott truly hates himself for losing words when he needs them most. “Lucas, please, I can’t… I can’t stop thinking about you.”

There’s a lump in his throat that threatens to choke him up every time he wants to lay it all out in the open— a well groomed defence mechanism, maybe. And the easy solution is to shift the blame away from himself, remind Lucas that Eliott’s free to do whatever he wants as long as he’s not committed to one particular person, but he knows that’s not the point here. What Lucas wants to hear is something that Eliott is yet to admit even in the safety of his own head.

The fire exit door opens to mild chattering from a group of girls heading up the stairs and Eliott doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t care about how this might look like to them. Lucas, on the other hand, takes it as an opportunity to shove past Eliott.

“Better fix that then,” Lucas whispers, drawing close yet maintaining it so that not a single part of them is touching. “Cause you can think all you want, Eliott, but you’ll never have me.”

Looking into his eyes, Eliott understands the phenomena of even the warmest blue oceans being unable to hide the cold black down under if you only push deep enough. They brush shoulders as Lucas slips inside the door, leaving Eliott to stand alone on the landing, struck speechless.

Eliott’s figured it out, you know. The big elusive formula to avoiding heartbreak.

He’s sitting on Sofiane’s couch, a bag of ice pressed to his smarting nose. He doesn’t think it’s broken but then again, it’s gone too numb for him to really tell.

Going numb. That’s it, that’s the formula.

It’s worked out so, so well for him. People can say shit all they want but Eliott still thinks he’s lived some of his best years ever since he just stopped caring. Except somewhere along the way, he’d made a mistake, had possibly gotten too complacent, too confident with the life he’s gotten used to and now—

He’s tripped up. Because he sure as hell is the furthest thing from numb right now.

And it honestly hurts like a fucking trainwreck.

You’ll never have me.

He squeezes his eyes shut, welcoming the sting that comes with the movement. “Sof,” he calls out, a little nasal from how careful he is to not agitate his injury.

“Yeah?” The cushions dip under Sofiane’s weight and Eliott feels a glass of water and some painkillers being shoved into his hand.

“Why did you wait so long for Imane?”

His question goes unanswered long enough for Eliott to remove the ice bag off his face.

“What?” Sofiane asks, rightly confused.

Eliott sighs, “You’ve had a crush on her since before high school. It’s not like you’re ugly—”

A snort, “Well thanks.”

“—and there were lots of easier options,” Eliott continues as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “Plus we’re friends with Idriss! Isn’t that, I don’t know, intimidating?”

“I’m not looking for an easy relationship, Eli, I want a real one.” Sofiane shrugs. “Why would I be intimidated? Idriss is nice and I haven’t done anything wrong so it’s not like—”

Eliott looks up when Sofiane cuts himself off, watching the morbid realization settle over his features. “What?” He might as well play dumb for as long as he can.

“Who did you get in a fight with?”

“I told you, some punk with a hero complex.”

“Over what?”

He puts his nearly melted bag down and reaches for the glass of water, taking his time in swallowing down the painkillers. “Nothing.”

“Eliott, I can’t help you if you won’t tell the truth.”

“Who says I need help with anything?”

“Uh, the fact that you came here with a bleeding nose for starters?” Sofiane shakes his head, watching Eliott practically drown himself with his glass of water. “Eliott.”

“Hm?”

“Please tell me you listened to what I told you at that party.”

Oh god, he really should’ve gone to Idriss. There’d be less sympathy and more laughing but at least Idriss doesn’t know that Eliott’s maybe slightly a little more than attracted to Lucas.

“What party?”

“Stop acting dumb!”

“I’m not!”

A pillow is thrown at the crown of his head but it thankfully misses his face, and Sofiane sounds like he’s laughing more than anything, so Eliott figures it’s safe to drop the act. “Okay, fine, no, I didn’t listen.”

“Ugh, Eliott.”

“I know. And I fucked up.”

“Already? It’s been less than a month.”

“I know, fuck.”

“So what happened?”

Eliott shrugs, getting up to toss his ice bag in the sink. “Nothing. He told me to leave him alone.”

Sofiane’s got a strange constipated look on his face. Good to know some of his friends have that much faith in him. “Wait, Lucas said to leave him alone?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure?”

He returns to the living room and drops back down on the couch. “Unless ‘why can’t you just leave me alone’ has another secret meaning I’m not aware of then yes, I’m very sure.”

Sofiane whistles lowly.

“It was my fault though,” Eliott admits, poking at the threads peeking from the cushion covers. “He saw me and Eleanor.”

“Oh.” Sofiane actually looks a little apologetic. “Sorry, I didn’t know—”

“It’s fine, nobody forced me to approach her. And I said some shitty stuff too so it’s not like it was all because of that.”

“Adrien doesn’t know?”

“No.”

“Fuck.”

“Mhm.” Eliott pulls at the ends of his hair, only feeling slightly better now that someone else is privy to his little secret. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I mean, nothing happened right? So is it so bad to just move on from this?”

“Yeah. Problem is that I don’t want to move on.”

Hearing that, Sofiane straightens his posture, turning fully on the couch so that his whole body is faced towards Eliott. He sees enough of Sofiane’s giddy smile from his peripheral to feel like he’s just activated the guy’s slumber party mode.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Sofiane goads, grin widening when Eliott responds with a groan.

“Shut up.”

“No, really, is the Eliott Demaury actually crushing on someone right now?”

Gross understatement. “I will eat all the food in your fridge if you don’t stop.”

Sofiane laughs him off, arms swaying about as he wiggles in his spot and damn, are the guys really going to be so happy to see Eliott catching feelings? Well, probably not Adrien considering the context but still.

“Are you gonna do anything about it?” Sofiane stops his bird mating dance and schools his expression into somewhat of a serious one.

“Which part of he told me to leave him alone did you miss?”��

“Fuck, that’s right eh?” Lip caught between his teeth, Sofiane peers up at Eliott like he’s got something to say but is holding back for whatever reason. Eliott narrows his eyes at him until he continues with a hesitant, “How about give it some time? And then shoot him a text message? No harm in asking for one more chance, it’s a yes or no question.”

“He has me blocked on Instagram though, and he never gave me his phone number.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah.” Eliott thunks his head back down on the couch, fingers busy tracing invisible patterns on the covers. “How did Idriss react when he found out about your crush on Imane?”

Sofiane shrugs, slumping down on the space beside Eliott. “He got all winky and said he’d put in a good word.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” A pause, and then socked feet poke against his, annoying enough to have Eliott looking away from the very interesting ceiling Sofiane’s apartment has. “But I also don’t have a, uh, colourful relationship history like you so… no offence.”

Eliott blindly throws a cushion in Sofiane’s direction and relishes in the squawk that follows.

“But hey?” Sofiane continues when Eliott doesn’t say anything in response, “let it rest for a while, Eli. If you still feel the same after that, then at least you’ll know it’s really serious this time.”

He already knows. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Eliott.”

“Hm?”

“You weren’t always like this.” It’s a statement, not a question, so Eliott isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say in return, but it seems like Sofiane isn’t looking for a response anyway. “Adrien’s known you forever and yeah, the past couple of years might be at the forefront of our minds right now but we know you’re a good guy. Adri knows that the most.”

Eliott quirks an eyebrow and Sofiane raises his hands, palms up as he shrugs.

“All I’m saying is that things might not be as bad as you think they are, okay?”

“Okay.” Eliott still thinks it’s pretty bad, but he’s not going to argue against a source for hope.

Eliott wishes he could say he gets productive for the next two weeks that follows but really, all he’s done is drink coffee, pretend to start on his assignments, and miss Lucas’ snarky messages. Not necessarily in that order.

Sofiane’s taken pity on him five days in and sometimes lets Eliott borrow his phone to pine over Lucas’ Instagram posts. Granted, Lucas doesn’t post much but the one photo he put up of himself looking bored at the skate park is enough to last Eliott for a few more days.

He’s very much aware that he’s being wildly pathetic, rejecting parties left and right (he already knows they’d be boring anyway), rejecting dates left and right— also potentially boring, but he’s mostly afraid of further proving to himself that Lucas has already ruined him for everyone else and they haven’t even kissed yet— or hugged, for that matter. Pathetic indeed.

On Friday, though, he gives into Idriss’ well-meaning and most likely accidentally set up date with one of his classmates. If only to ward off any suspicions from how weird he’s acting. Adrien’s been side eyeing him a little too much for comfort these days.

So he’s on this date and the guy’s very cute but he’s also talking about American football like it’s a gift from the gods themselves. Eliott knows nothing about American football. This would usually be the time when Eliott would excuse himself to the bathroom and speed google some facts on the subject so as to impress his date. But right now, he doesn’t care about being unimpressive at all.

The guy, Aron, is an exchange student from California— all tanned skin and pretty smiles and endearing accent. He’s probably what the kids these days would call a snack.

It’s too bad Eliott can’t help but think that Lucas’ smaller silhouette would look beautiful against the red backdrop of the massive booths they’re sitting in. How he keeps wishing to brush his hand against soft brown hair every time he glances up, hands lying limp on his lap when he’s met with the blond of Aron’s neatly styled coif instead. The blue of Aron’s eyes isn’t quite deep enough and Eliott can pinpoint exactly which shade it is on his dried up palette at home. He still can’t figure out the right mix for Lucas’.

Anyway, the point is that he’s losing his mind.

When they reach a short lull in conversation, Eliott rushes to say, “I’m just gonna run to the bathroom real quick.” And proceeds to lock himself in a stall, sit on the toilet lid, and stare at the lights blankly.

The bathroom door slams open not long after and Eliott stands up on instinct, ready to remove himself from the vicinity should there be some kind of beef brewing, but only one set of footsteps pace to where the sinks are.

“Hey, you still there?” The person says, presumably into his phone.

Eliott reaches to unlock the stall, he’s had enough eavesdropped conversations to last him a lifetime thank you very much—

“Lulu? Can you hear me clearly?”

You have got to be kidding me. Fate must think this is funny. He must be some kind of joke to the deities or something.

“I’m at work, Lucas,” the guy says regretfully enough and Eliott does pull the stall door open then, keeping his head down as he tugs on the knobs of the sink, washing his hands for lack of any other excuses to stay. “Where’s Yann? Didn’t you guys go together?” The tap shuts off, Eliott reaches for the paper towels. “Oh— oh, damn, good for him but— no, you should stay there and I’ll call your brother okay— what do you mean no? Lucas, shut up you sound shitfaced.”

If Eliott’s learned anything from his accidental sleuthing adventures, it’s that Lucas is a terribly reckless drunk. Finally raising his head, Eliott meets eyes with Lucas’ blond friend through the mirror. It’s admittedly a little funny how he gapes wordlessly at the sight of Eliott.

Not one to miss an opportunity, Eliott takes advantage of the obvious distraction and snatches the phone from the guy’s hand — Arthur, his name tag says — he’ll apologize profusely later but Eliott really doesn’t want a repeat of Lucas going missing for an entire weekend.

“Where are you?” he says into the phone, noting that there’s no blaring music coming from the other line. If Lucas is where Eliott thinks he is right now then at least he’s outside the house already.

“Whoa.” Lucas’ voice is slightly distorted coming from the other line but Eliott still sighs at the first sound of it after the too-long silence. “You’re not Arthur.”

“No, so where are you?”

“Nooo, where are you?” Lucas giggles into the phone and Eliott has to suppress a smile. Fuck, this is serious but Lucas is being an idiot. “You sound like someone I know.” If he’s being this friendly with Eliott then it only means that he’s past the point of tipsy and well into happy drunk territory.

“Wanna take a guess?” Eliott easily dodges when Arthur tries to grab his phone, the latter flinching back in surprise when Eliott has the gall to put a finger to his lips and shush him.

“Mmmm,” Lucas stalls, but Eliott knows he’s got the right answer. He tries not to dwell on the fact that drunk Lucas remembering his voice sends another one of cupid’s arrows straight into his heart. “Weed guy.”

And Eliott laughs, inexplicably happy about that. “Where are you, Lucas?”

“I don’t know…” His syllables drag as he speaks and Eliott hears some shuffling and then a worrying crash, before Lucas’ laughter can be heard from a distance. “There are two blue houses!”

Yeah, Eliott knows exactly where he is. “Stay there, okay?”

“Why?”

“I’m—” But he’s not sure if Lucas would only run off if given that information. “We’ll get you home.” He doesn’t wait for another response, returning the phone back to a stunned Arthur. “Remind him to stay where he is every few minutes, god knows how many times he’ll forget.”

Eliott dashes out the restaurant like a man on a mission, bullshitting about some urgent emergency as he passes by a confused Aron. He feels bad, really, but if he doesn’t trust sober Lucas to follow any given instructions, then he trusts drunk Lucas even less.

When Eliott gets off the bus and jogs the rest of the way to the house, it’s a relief to find Lucas’ hooded figure sitting on the pavement across from where the party is still obviously going strong.

“Lucas.” No answer, Lucas doesn’t even stir. “Lucas, come on, let’s get you home.” He reaches out gingerly, testing the waters by poking at Lucas’ arm.

“Go ‘way,” Lucas says, sounding a lot less friendly than he’d been on the phone.

Eliott looks around and spots two empty beer bottles beside Lucas. He blinks down at them, having a hard time understanding if Lucas is actually even more drunk than he’d been earlier.

“You can’t stay out here.” Eliott sighs, crouching down in front of him.

“Well why not?” Lucas lifts his head off his curled arms, unfocused eyes glaring at a spot just above Eliott’s right ear.

Without much else to do, Eliott sighs again. “Let’s go.” He tries to tug at Lucas’ sleeves to get him to stand, but only succeeds in making Lucas stumble backwards from how fast he tries to get away.

“Don’t touch me, I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Oh god, he’s dealing with a child. “I’ll tell Adrien.”

“You won’t tell Adri shit!” Lucas stands up, finally, but only to walk up to Eliott and point unsteady fingers to his face. “You’re not even supposed to know where I am! He doesn’t even know I like— he doesn’t know you played me! You. Won’t. Tell. Him. Shit.” He pronounces each word with a hard jab to Eliott’s chest.

And okay, fuck, he’s got a point. “Fine, suit yourself.” Eliott steps back, hesitating, but maybe it’ll be smarter to have someone else take Lucas home instead. He turns around, looking through his contacts to see if Sofiane or Idriss would be available.

“Fine!” Lucas screams from behind him and Eliott looks over his shoulder in time to catch Lucas sitting back down on the ground, hands pressed to his eyes.

No. Eliott can’t walk away from him like this again.

Eliott marches back to where he came from and promptly throws Lucas over his shoulder, barely staggering even when Lucas starts kicking and punching as much as his drunken limbs would allow.

“Let me down!”

“Not until you behave yourself.”

“Now!”

“You won’t get anywhere like this and you know it.”

“I fucking—” Lucas slumps down, body steadily getting heavier as he stops struggling in Eliott’s hold. “I hate you,” he mutters softly and that, moronically enough, is what makes Eliott stumble. He tightens his arms around Lucas, pausing to realign his balance. “I hate you,” Lucas continues, sniffing in between words. “Why are you even here? I told you to stop already.”

Eliott slows his walk, Lucas’ hitching breaths sending freezing pelts straight to his chest. They stop moving once they reach a corner, Eliott lowering Lucas down so he can stand on his own two feet, but Lucas immediately curls up, crouching on the ground like standing is too much of a chore at the moment.

“Hey, I’m sorry okay?” he whispers back, bending at the knees so that they’re level with each other. “I promise I just want to get you home safe, that’s it.” He digs around his pockets for his phone, placing the device inside Lucas’ hands once he finds it. “Here, Adrien is speed dial 3, call him any time you feel you need to. I don’t care if he yells at me, I won’t walk away from you again.”

Lucas fiddles with Eliott’s phone, running his thumb along the screen once before clutching it to his chest. “I can’t go home.” He blinks, a tear escaping from his eye.

Eliott brushes it away before he can stop himself. “Why not?”

“My parents think I’m sleeping over at Yann’s and mom will be so disappointed if I come home like this,” he says miserably, more tears running down his cheeks.

Ah. Shit. “Come on, get on my back.”

Once Lucas is settled on his back, now much calmer than earlier, Eliott continues walking, but turns to a different direction this time.

“Where are we going?” Lucas asks drowsily, lips pressed into Eliott’s shoulder.

Where indeed.

Lucas is a near dead weight behind him when Eliott finally gets his door open. It’s a struggle when Lucas refuses to cooperate and lets his legs slide down every time Eliott lets go of them to search for his keys. But eventually they do make it inside.

Eliott drops Lucas as gently as he can on the bed, huffing once he’s successfully done so without cracking any heads in the process.

He roots around his closet for some clothes Lucas can use for the night when the sound of jackets and pants zipping startles him from the task. He turns around, eyes wild, when Lucas starts throwing his clothes — everything— off himself.

Eliott almost wipes out when he slips on a sock in his rush to get to Lucas before the dumbass has the chance to remove his underwear off with his jeans.

“Stop, stop, hey.” Eliott catches Lucas’ hands, laughing when Lucas opens his eyes just to glare at him.

“It’s so hot.”

“It’s really not.” Eliott huffs another laugh, waiting until Lucas’ hands go slack in his before letting go, but he does help remove Lucas’ jeans when it’s clear that the latter is going to stay irritated until they’re off.

It’s a workout to get him to wear a shirt, what with Lucas being hellbent on removing as many clothes as possible. Eliott knows it’s bound to get cold in the middle of the night, though, and he will not be responsible for Lucas catching a cold in his bed.

“You’re so nice,” Lucas mumbles once he’s settled, looking warm and cozy in Eliott’s loose shirt. He’s so fucking cute, and it doesn’t help when Eliott feels those arms sliding around his neck, tugging him forward. Lucas doesn’t use much force to have Eliott following along helplessly, but it’s not like it would ever take all that much to have Eliott willingly inching into his space.

Dredging up whatever’s left of his common sense, Eliott anchors his hands on either side of Lucas to keep somewhat of a distance between them.

He shakes his head, arms trembling not only from the strain of keeping his weight off of Lucas. “No, you’re just drunk.”

Lucas smiles, eyes half mast, still pretty under the hint of moonlight. His fingers brush maddening strokes over Eliott’s hair. “Eliott?”

“Hm?”

“Why have you never kissed me?”

Eliott’s heart thuds a frantic rhythm in his chest. “You never let me, baby.”

The fingers in his hair stop moving, and Lucas’ eyes flutter close, Eliott watching the shadows of his lashes flirt along smooth cheeks. “I’ll let you now.”

“I know,” he whispers, leaning down inch by minuscule inch. Lucas’ breath is warm and smells of alcohol, but Eliott knows he only has to duck down and bury his face in the space between his neck and shoulder to get his fill of the scent he’s truly been missing.

He doesn’t. Maybe in the future he’d have the privilege to do so. Hopefully.

Eliott lets their noses touch, light and fleeting, before he leans up and drops a gentle kiss over Lucas’ forehead.

“Goodnight, Lucas.”

#skam france #elu fic #fictag #take this away from me before I reread #and change it for the 100th time #I wasn't kidding when I said it's 8k of pining #now clearly labelled to avoid '3 scarlet letters' fiasco HAHA

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hornetdiaries · 6 years

Text

Clinical Trials

Medically speaking I’m pretty smart. I may not know how taxes work, why cars need gas, or how to change the time on a watch I’ve owned for over four years, but if you need someone to spell duodenojejunostomy I’m your gal. That being said, the hardest part of third year nursing is working in the clinical setting. Suddenly the safe baby proof embrace of the classroom is forsaken for the desolate septic wasteland of hemorrhages, urine outputs, and trying to read physician's handwritten notes.

For eight hours we do our best to be of service to the nurses we shadow while hunting down every patient willing to let us start an IV, and somewhere in between chart on three different platforms the entirely same information in a way that is sparkling with SBAR perfection. Because apparently having to document every two hours that the patient’s language is still English is the most important thing to do with my time.

My first unit was the OB portion of clinical, which means that people will hand me the most important thing in their life that’s so only hours brand new, and have the utmost faith that I completely know what I’m doing. I’ve never held a baby before in my life. The last time there was an infant even in my proximity was when I was the infant.

Nevertheless, I soon grew to love the happy halls that always smelled clean and were filled with new parents who just wanted to coo with you all about the last few burps their new bundle of happiness had, all while you keep the pain pills coming right on schedule. It doesn’t take long to get the hang of putting on a bright smile and nodding along to their stories while casually searching for the uterus and making sure they don’t spontaneously hemorrhage and die in their sleep.

My first time on the mother-baby unit was a lovely time of breezing through meds and washing babies. I was with a fairly fresh nurse, we can call Becky, who was not expecting to come in and work a twelve hour shift with a student in tow, but was attempting to be cheerful about it all the same. Nearing the end of my eight hours, Becky and I were walking across the unit to deliver a pain med to one of patients. That’s when the nurse sitting at the nurses station stopped us.

“Becky” she called in her deep southern to the bone accent, “I need your help a minute. I have to run to my car and get something real fast, can you watch the station while I’m gone? You and Rachel are the only nurses on the floor right now and she’s busy doing a dressing change”

“I don’t really know how to work the computer” Becky muttered, already walking to the door and entering the glass paned station anyways. I followed close behind, wondering why we couldn’t do the med pass first and then come back.

“Don’t worry, I’ll only be gone three minutes, ain’t nobody gonna call” and sure enough as soon as Becky sat down in the worn swivel chair, southern nurse was already halfway down the stairwell. I didn’t think much of it, seeing as how there were maybe eight patients on the floor and the entire day had been an easy ride without so much as a spike in blood pressure.

Becky and I get to chatting about the sort of fast paced topical conversation that you get to have with a stranger of eight hours you’ve been forced to share every minute with, all while staring at the vitals chart on the wall. It’s the most nerve racking TV show, the black screen of patient numbers and values of their wellbeing displayed, every rise and fall eating away at the back of your mind. That’s why I almost couldn’t believe it when I saw the SPO2 start falling from the low nineties to the eighties. Oxygen saturation should be mid nineties to a hundred. I’ve seen it drop to sixties as a patient gasped for air through a wad of mucus clogging their throat, but to watch it spiral down the drain into the eighties and then seventies, setting off alarms as it went, was like watching a plane slowly crash into the ground before you.

“Becky, I think we need to check on that patient” she turned around to watch the monitor I was watching wide eyed.

“It’s probably fine…” the expression on her face changed like someone had wiped over it hard with a rough rag, “actually, you hang onto this, I’ll be right back” she hands me the tiny cup containing our med, and before I can even argue the out of place protocol, she’s gone. Now I’m completely alone at the nursing station and the only two nurses on our side of the ward are indisposed. I really honest to god thought that would be the end of it. I one hundred percent believed that it would end there, that life was not so dramatic as to wait for this exact moment to hit the fan.

That’s when a new alarm went off. This one on the computer screen before me, showing one room beeping in red. I couldn’t understand what it was supposed to be reporting, it wasn’t even that close to us. But on and off it beeped, quiet at first but then getting louder and louder. It was such an odd tone too, making me lean close to the monitor to try and hear it. That’s when I realized, it wasn’t from the computer, it was ringing through the hallway. It was getting louder before it quickly took over the alarms on our side, accompanied by a harsh electronic screech that came from all the elevators.

The phone rang and I wanted to vomit. Letting it ring three times before working up the courage to touch it, I answered with the most useless student voice possible,

“Hello?”

“GET…..ELEVATOR CODES… SOUTH…. FIRST FLOOR… CODES” the static cut through the voice of a woman yelling into her phone, huffing and seemingly out of breath.

“Uh, who is this?”

“MELISSA” who the fuck is Melissa? Why did I even ask? “GET ME THE ELEVATOR CODE”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know the code”

“ALARM… CODES” I drew a blank and did the only thing I could think of. I slammed the phone down hard on the receiver. My best plan ever? No, not in the slightest.

Custodians and volunteers gave me weird glances as they walked by, a couple of them asking what was going on and why the elevators were all shut down. I told them that we were working on getting the codes and they’d stop screaming soon. The screaming was getting louder.

Like a fool, I felt a wave of relief hit me as Becky came rushing back into the station.

“Oh thank god, I don’t know what this is doing” pushing myself away from the console I let her lean in and inspect it.

“It looks like a baby alarm was set off” she said squinting and clicking uselessly at the mouse.

“What kind of an alarm?”

“It’s for child abductions. Looks like it’s shut down all the elevators and send out the code for this”

“What do we do?” she pursed her lips, clicking every which way and retreating every time something popped up, asking for a passcode, effectively putting us back at square one every time with the map of the floor showing all the points that were automatically locking themselves down.

“Hey you wanna do me a favor? Can you go to this room and see if the baby’s there?” I looked at this woman like she just peed on my face. She wanted me, someone with the physical prowess of an angry wet kitten, to go fight off a possible child abduction. The last time I was in any kind of altercation was when my black belt cousin beat me up for fun. The last time I was given any kind of combat training was when my paramedic teacher made us practice stabbing each other with fake knives in the parking lot. I wasn’t going to stop anybody from taking anything. Hell I’d probably pack them a bag to get themselves started with their new life as a fugitive family.

“Sure” I smiled, slightly shaking my head ‘no’. Like the compliant idiot I am, I hurried myself down into the maze of the ward and found my room without much ado. Awkwardly I stood outside the door, wondering what to do. What do you even say? “Hey are you guys kidnapping a baby? Okay no, awesome!” I knocked once and then pushed the door open, deciding that if I was abducting a child I wasn’t going to open the door, and I didn’t have time to waste.

Inside the room, hunched over an infant in a little tub, was the most pissed off nurse I’d ever seen, surrounded by two weirded out parents, and one of my classmates who gave me a little wave. I didn’t know what to do as they all stared at me.

“Is that a baby?” of all the things I could have said, that really wasn’t so bad. But it was still pretty bad.

“What do you need?” the nurse snapped, still cradling the dripping newborn who sat next to the alarm bracelet that was causing all my trouble.

“Uh, alarms are going off”

“Just give me an adjust”

“Okay great!” and I slammed that door shut and got the hell out.

Feeling rather accomplished, even in the face of raw embarrassment, I marched myself up to the nurses station where Becky sat.

“Did you find it?” she asked, having made no progress in turning off any of the alarms.

“Yeah, the nurse said to ‘give her an adjust’” Becky blinked at me as we shared a weighted moment of silence.

“...What does that mean?”

“I THOUGHT YOU KNEW!” before I can inappropriately yell at my nurse once more, the emergency exit stairwell bursts open and in stomps the most out of breath and out of patience nurse I’d ever seen in my life. I took a fast guess and figured this was Melissa.

“Out” she snapped at Becky who was already up and away from the console like it had caught fire. I came around the other side of the station to see my clinical instructor come around and B line for me, a group of nurses all looking extremely pissed off following close behind and hovering around Melissa who furiously started typing all the passcodes into the computer, turning off each individual elevator alarm one by one.

Deep southern nurse came over to Becky and I, not looking as guilty as I felt like she should have been.

“Where were you all?” Becky’s voice full of stress.

“The code shut off all the elevators for the floor! We were all on the ground floor and had to come up the stairs to get to the fourth floor. It paged all the nurses that there was an abduction so we all came running. Melissa tried to call but said it failed in the stairwell” I took this as my cue to begin explaining everything to my professor who mostly shrugged and laughed it off, because my school is cool like that.

Later we would go on to eventually passing that med, and I’d regroup with my classmates that would fill me in on all their versions of the events to transpire. But ultimately I’d come to realize there’s probably some deeper lesson about being competent in one aspect of life doesn’t mean shit if you can’t be a well rounded person. Also after two summers of office work apparently I still can’t answer a phone.

#hornet diaries #junior year

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