#that image is like a school bully absolutely taking the piss out of you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ice-cream-nekogirl · 4 years

Text

i’m falling again (Bakugo Katsuki X Reader) (sad ending)

Guys... Harry Style’s newest song is... heartwrenching and I fucking love it, it’s such a tearjerker and I love it so much, I NEEDED to write something with it... it’s that good and it made me cry... >.< </b>

Think of this as an extra to my ‘Dump His Ass’ series that I never expected to become oddly popular!! Thanks you guys!! <3</b>

However, while I love me some angst, I think after I’m done with this I’ll hafta write another fic with a happier ending, but for now... here’s the sad ending!! :3

FROM: https://ice-cream-kitsunegirl.tumblr.com/post/188898319229/i-needed-to-lose-you-to-love-me-bakugou-katsuki-x

Summary: Bakugo isn’t known for his soft heart, but when he saw you kissing another man, it physically hurt...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=olGSAVOkkTI

Nothing hurt or scared Katsuki Bakugo.

Nothing.

He’s been strong and brave-hearted since he was a child, fearless by nature he didn’t let anything get to him and never showed any moment of weakness and never cried about anything, no temper tantrums didn’t count.

He wasn’t afraid of the dark as a child, he wasn’t afraid of the bullies who were bigger than him. His fear didn’t waver as he got older and stronger. Because he wasn’t afraid of the villains who attacked him and his classmates at the USJ. He wasn’t even scared of the villains who captured him at the summer camp.

They held him captive and tied him up so he couldn’t escape or try to fight back, he wasn’t scared then. Nothing could get to him. Nothing could make him break down, he didn’t cry when he got his first shot at the doctor, he didn’t cry when those older kids fought with him, he didn’t cry when he wiped out on his bike and hurt his ankle.

He didn’t cry and he wasn’t afraid of anything.

Aside from maybe getting nearly possessed by that Sludge Villain, and then All-Might going into retirement. Those were the only two moments in his life that probably scared and internally harmed him the most to bring him to tears.

However...

There’s only one person who really knew how much that scared and hurt him. And that person was you, his beloved girlfriend. Even when he didn’t want to, because Bakugo didn’t open up to people, it wasn’t in his nature. Still, somehow you knew everything about him, and even enabled him to open up to you on the rare moments where he would let you see even a SMIDGE of vulnerability from him because he trusted you.

You were always more openly emotional than him, so much it was annoying especially when you would just chat and chat about something you loved whether it was a movie, a TV show or something he thought was dumb. Still, he listened to you, and God he wished he did more of that. But he especially listened when you were being vulnerable and opening up about everything. Ever since you and him were kids, he’s had a soft spot for you and actually let you open up.

You knew him, you trusted him, you loved him. And he knew you, he trusted you, and he loved you.

But then you dumped his ass, told him what a shitty boyfriend he had been and said you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him for several months as you avoided him, froze him out and showed how little you needed him because he failed you.

Now that both terrified him and hurt him...

I'm in my bed And you're not here And there's no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands Forget what I said It's not what I meant And I can't take it back I can't unpack the baggage you left

It’s been almost half a year since the two of you have broken up, and only recently you and Bakugo got some closure and you didn’t take him back. And honestly, Bakugo knew that was nobody’s fault but his own. He hated admitting it to himself but he knew there was no one else to blame but himself.

As he lied in his bed, he tried his hardest to ignore the fact that you still weren’t with him. Valentine’s Day wasn’t long ago, but he didn’t buy you anything because you and him weren’t together anymore.

The worst part? He didn’t even get you anything LAST Valentine’s Day because he said it was stupid, commercialized and a game that you shouldn’t have played into even as you gave him those chocolates and even a card that he still secretly kept.

He really was a shitty boyfriend. He realized that the more he lied down with an anguished scowl and growled. Bakugo was aware that he could have been a better boyfriend, but the breaking point was when he called you something he swore he’d NEVER call you.

That’s why you left him. You put up with his bullshit long enough, you could handle him being a jerk, saying ‘no’ to spending time with him, but then he insulted your appearance, your weight, and your interests. The same things all the assholes from school used to insult you for, the assholes HE protected you from.

“Dammit!!” He yelled at no one but himself, “You fucking idiot!!” Even though you said that the two of you could still be friends, Bakugo wished for more than that. He wanted you back...

He wanted you back so fucking much even though he knew he didn’t deserve you. Bakugo refused to shed any tears even as he eventually closed his eyes...

“I dump your ass!”

“WHAT?!”

“You heard me. I. DUMP. YOUR. ASS!” You enunciated the words slowly and deliberately to annoy him and he was extremely indignant and appalled that you were… seriously breaking up with him?! HIM?!

“You’re dumping me?!”

“What the fuck do you think I said it two fucking times!!”

“You’re not seriously breaking up with me over a fucking insult?!” Bakugou’s pride started talking for him though, because he refused to let you bruise his ego by dumping HIM.

“Yes I am Katsuki, and that’s not the only reason… It’s because you’re also selfish and mean! You’re the worst boyfriend ever and I’ve put up with your shit plenty of times but this is just WAY TOO FUCKING MUCH! What you said is just too fucking much for me to even put up with, you’ve completely broken me down I feel like shit and I’ve HAD it and I’m dumping your ass!”

...

“You called me ‘fat’, ‘ugly’ and ‘lazy’ Katsuki. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“I did NOT call you ugly!” Bakugou replied defensively, aware that he called you ‘fat’ when he really shouldn’t have and he didn’t deny it, but he did NOT call ugly at all. He never thought you were ugly, but you didn’t believe him.

“Yeah you did… you implied it.”

“No, I didn’t you idiot! I said shit I shouldn’t have but I never once called you ugly and I didn’t fucking imply it either!”

“You know I’ve been struggling with my self-image and my weight for years Katsuki, and yet you go and say all the things people from school had said to me for years, the people who made me feel ugly, so… you must think I’m ugly if you would say what they’ve been calling me…”

“I don’t think you’re ugly…” His voice came out as a soft growl, but you shook your head, “Then you wouldn’t have said what you did… it’s okay… I’ve known it for years… well you know what? You’re free now, you don’t need some ugly, fat girl like me dragging you down, maybe now you can go out with that chick from Shiketsu High now..”

...

“How fucking long are you going to punish me (Y/N)?! HOW FUCKING LONG?! ARE YOU REALLY STILL PISSED OFF OVER SOMETHING THAT HAPPENED MONTHS AGO?!”

“Of COURSE, I’m still kind of pissed off! And for the record I am NOT punishing you, you narcissistic asshole, I’m TRYING to think about how I should forgive you for the things you swore to NEVER call me! Or if I even should forgive you! W-What? You want me to j-ju-ju-just… make out with you like its old times?!” You exclaimed with the same vexation that you had been keeping at bay ever since the two of you broke up, not seeing Bakugou’s narrowing eyes and shaking figure as he seethed when you once again, reminded him of the big mistake he made with you.

“I… I mean I… I can’t even look at your face Katsuki! Without… thinking about and hearing the words you said to me and the expression of anger and disgust on your face when you said that I was just some fat pig who was wasting your time!” Emotion nearly choked you up as you wiped your eyes when tears started to cloud them and you couldn’t see just how aggravated and distressed Bakugo was as he clutched his hair out of frustration.

“I FUCKED UP!! How many times do I have to say that I fucked up?! How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?!”

Throwing his hands up, he shouted that he had indeed screwed up, louder than before, frustrated with everything, with you, with himself, with the fucking guilt that just started eating away at him again.

“You can say you’re sorry all you want! I just… I can’t ignore the fact that you would stoop so low to say the same things the people YOU protected me from would say to me. Why did you do that?”

“ARGH! Dammit! I don’t fucking know! I was pissed off! I had shit I was dealing with and I took it out on you but I shouldn’t have! I admit it!”

“I just… god… here’s my real question… why are you such a fucking asshole to me?”

“For God’s sake I said I was sorry for what I said all right?! I’ve said it a million goddamn times! I’m SORRY (Y/N)! I didn’t mean what I said to you! I want to take it all back because it was the worst fucking thing I could have ever said to anyone! Especially you!” He shouted his apology, the angry tears threatening to spill but you shook your head at this.

“I’m not talking about what you said, I’m talking about everything! Ever since we got together you’ve still managed to treat me like shit! Even before we got together you still treated me like shit, and yet it got worse when we became a thing! You hardly spent anytime with me, pushed me away when I tried to help you, made fun of what I liked, insulted me and called me other names for what? Cuz I’m a geek like Izuku, cuz I like geeky things and like to watch TV and eat sweets and say dumb puns and hang out with Izuku and Hitoshi, well I’m sick of it Katsuki! I’m fucking sick of it!”

...

“Look… Katsuki… I mean you no ill will. I still care about you, and I still love you but… I really, really don’t think you’re a good boyfriend…” You said a little bluntly but made your voice soften as he gasped quietly.

“You’re not a bad person… but you’re not a good boyfriend either… and I don’t really think that I can really return to a relationship like that… sorry…”

“I know I wasn’t! But… look just… dammit (Y/N) I’m not going to say any of that shit to you ever again! I won’t fuck up like I did last time I swear!” He sounded desperate, as if he was pleading to you as he moved closer and you fought the tears starting to build in your eyes when he grabbed your hands. He would beg if he had to, he just couldn’t lose you.

“I love you.”

He said calmly and yet sincerely, out of pure impulse but that’s what he truly meant. He loved you and he just wanted to hear you say the words back to him. He knew you did…

“See that’s just it… I know you love me… I love you too… but… I thought you loving me was enough, at least… until… you said the things you did… now I know you’re sorry… and I don’t doubt that you do love me but… I started hating myself again when you said those things and it made me realize that… I need to love me too, I need to start loving myself… and I didn’t love myself when I was with you. I let you do that for me, and… I can’t do that anymore. It’s not fair to you, and not good for me.”

...

What am I now? What am I now? What if I'm someone I don't want around? I'm fallin' again I'm fallin' again I'm fallin'...

Bakugo’s eyes snapped open as the memories played in his head like some kind of fucked up movie as he remembered every word you said, every tear you shed because of him.

And now here he was, holding in his own tears that he refused to let fall as he angrily wiped at his eyes. No, he did not and would not cry, and he couldn’t cry over spilt milk no matter much it fucking hurt. No matter how much he wanted to just sob and cry out for you to come back to him so he could tell you how fucking sorry he was.

Dammit he couldn’t fucking take it anymore. He got up out of bed so he can go to your room and knock until you answer. He needed you, he needed you now...

He outright dashed to the floor where your room was and knocked somewhat vigorously. No answer. Growling, he knocked a little bit harder but again, there was no answer.

Were you asleep? Probably, you were a pretty deep sleeper, but dammit, he wished you were awake to answer him. But then he froze as soon as he heard the tell-tale sound of laughter...

YOUR laughter.

Relief overwhelmed him as he didn’t even realize that he was running so he could find you and not look as pathetic as he probably did right now. He could still hear you, you were near. The commons, duh, you were a late sleeper and watched Netflix when you couldn’t sleep...

“That is disgraceful...”

But then the ash-blonde stopped dead in his tracks and froze the second he heard someone else’s voice that wasn’t yours. No fucking way...

Eyebags...

“I know...! Oh my God... how humiliating... I love this show but it so uncomfortably hits close to home...” That was your voice and you were giggling as you happily watched that gross show Bakugo didn’t care about at all. Big Mouth it was called, on Netflix too. You were watching Season 3′s ‘How to Have an Orgasm’ to be specific and of course, it was hilarious...

Unlike Bakugo, Shinsou appreciated the show, and watched it with you as he had with other shows on Netflix such as Stranger Things, Kimmy Schmidt, The Good Place, and Big Mouth.

“Tell me about it... puberty’s a bitch... still is to be honest.” And to make matters worse, Shinsou was laughing with you and it wasn’t the first time. Bakugo was never a fan of Shinsou, he knew you were friends with that bastard, but naturally he was jealous of him because it just seemed like you two were just so damn buddy-buddy and it was annoying.

And yet there was now, just watching TV with you, while he himself was probably the furthest person from your mind...

What if I'm down? What if I'm out? What if I'm someone you won't talk about? I'm fallin' again I'm fallin' again I'm fallin'...

“Hee-hee... okay~. What do you say? The Office? Since...” Sighing sadly and dramatically you raised your fist in the air, “Friends got taken off...? Or The Good Place maybe?” You binge-watched the entire series before the New Year, because Netflix took it off, but at least you still had The Office and The Good Place.

“Yeah... Friends is gone, but The Office is here for us. Thank God... So yeah... let’s watch The Office. I’d watch The Good Place but I need to watch Season 4 since it just came out but I haven’t seen it yet. And I’ve been dodging spoilers ever since...” Shinsou gave you a smile even though he was just as unhappy as you were when they took Friends off of Netflix.

“All riiiight~! Hee-hee good idea... I haven’t seen it yet either, I’m waiting til we get the chance to see it with Fumikage, Yuga, Denki and Mina so we can watch the last one altogether~.”

Bakugo had no idea why he was still standing there, but something in him told him to just fucking move already and say something to get your attention so you could see him. He opened his mouth to speak but...

“Can you believe this show’s been out for like 15 years and it’s just getting popular? Like crazy popular?” You nudged Shinsou playfully as he chuckled a bit, “Guess they finally realized how great a show it is...”

Shinsou thought outloud, having gotten closer to you over the past couple of months and spent a lot of time chilling out with you and also training with you as well. Then there were days when you and he would just spend the hours gabbing away about things you both liked.

“That’s true... some people thought it was uncomfortable... but then they started to like it... which is nice.” You smiled a bit even though you were kind of sad for some reason. The last few months had been... awkward. After all, you had broken up with your boyfriend and went through quite a bit of drama until you cleared it up and made up with Bakugo. You didn’t get together with him, but the two of you reached an understanding and were still friends.

You still talked to him, and you lost your hostility towards him and became more cordial towards him. Although you’d be lying if you said you didn’t still love him. But this was for the best, you couldn’t go back to that, and you were in a better place anyway. You started to feel better and you were able to use your quirk again to fly without your sadness holding you back. You were happier, and not only that...

“Like me.” Shinsou smirked a little bit even though it was a self-deprecating joke which made you roll your eyes. “Hitoshi... okay... you’re a little uncomfortable to be around sometimes, but that was like only in the beginning, you’re great! You’re super great... and awesome. I mean your quirk is so cool, you can fight and punch someone hard enough to knock them out now! AND... you also like Friends, The Office, The Good Place, Stranger Things, smart as hell and you’re nice... well, not nice, but you have a nice side... anyone who can do all those things and like all of that HAS to be great in my book.” You kinda poked at him a bit as he playfully smacked your shoulder with a little grin which made you giggle.

And Bakugo hated it...

“Oh yeah? Well... you’re giving me too much credit (Y/N)... Here’s the truth... I think... you’re great.”

But Bakugo’s eyes widened when he heard Shinsou say those words to you and you blushed and looked at him with wide eyes that practically shined with stars in them. “Really?”

“Yeah...” He sounded kind of flustered but he didn’t really stop because this was something he needed to tell you even though his face was getting increasingly hot just saying all of this as he nervously scratched the back of his neck, “I mean... your quirk is unique. You made yourself fly, you gave yourself wings to fly, no one else did that but you, you used your quirk creatively and it shows even outside of that, when something bad happens, you managed to make yourself fly again. And you’re weird... in a good way, everyone’s so fake and plastic that they don’t even try to be who they are, but you’re not fake, you’re just... you. Even if you know not everyone will like it, you don’t try to hide it or change yourself for anyone whether they like it or not, and that’s just... great.... I try to do that, I make no effort to change myself but... when you do it it’s actually cool. I guess... I mean... yeah I just... I think that’s all great. I think... you’re great (Y/N).”

Shinsou stopped making eye contact with you as he felt somewhat bashful, but only when he finished is when he finally looked at you and saw your (E/C) eyes wide and your cheeks flushed. Neither of you aware that Bakugo was still there, listening...

That stupid brainwasher was right... you were great but dammit... HE wanted to tell you that... HE wanted to tell you how great your were and everything else that you were. Beautiful, amazing, intelligent, powerful...

However...

You were so stunned by everything Shinsou told you that you didn’t even think, you acted on pure impulse as you quickly leaned in and you didn’t even hear the gasp coming from your ex-boyfriend’s mouth once he saw your lips on Shinsou’s.

And I get the feelin' that you'll never need me again...

He was falling. Bakugo felt like he was falling as he watched you kiss that brainwashing bastard who made a startled, surprised sound once he felt your warm kiss. Yet Shinsou didn’t deter as Bakugo clenched his fists when he saw his eyes closing as he kissed you back.

He didn’t exist. You didn’t even see him and he knew it because you were lost in such a deep kiss with this extra and it fucking hurt...

He wanted to scream, he wanted to push Shinsou away and tell him to fuck off and tell you that he wanted you back, but he did nothing...

And he knew he was just a fucking loser because all he did was stand there, until his feet started moving as he turned his back so he could get the hell out of here. No, Bakugo couldn’t bear to see you kissing that bastard, he couldn’t bear to see that you had officially moved on.

He didn’t matter anymore to you, he knew it...

Nothing hurt or scared Katsuki Bakugo. Nothing. Except for seeing the love of his life kissing another man. He was a coward, a fucking weakling because now everything was hurting, his chest ached as he lied back in his bed. And he was letting this hurt him, but dammit... it hurt because he loved you. He still loved you and still wanted you here...

What am I now? What am I now? What if you’re someone I just want around? I'm fallin' again I'm fallin' again I'm fallin'...

You were his biggest fan, his biggest supporter. Not anymore. He knew that... but he didn’t love you just because of that, he loved you because you were you. A dork, a weirdo, unafraid to be your loving and quirky self. You softened his heart and yet he let his own stupidity and asshole self treat you like garbage when you deserved better than that.

He refused to cry, but because he was such a damn weakling the tears just fell and betrayed him by streaming down his face as he swallowed the hard lump in his throat that was threatening to crawl up and make it’s presence known. His breath hitching as he stared up at his ceiling and his mind just showed the image of you kissing Shinsou.

Along with the image of him yelling at you and you ending it with him. It was all he could see through his teary eyes as a soft sob choked him while tears continued to fall and drip down his neck.

Because you didn’t love him anymore, and you weren’t going to need him again and that fucking terrified him more than anything as he cried and fell back into his misery and wished that it was him kissing you, and wishing that you were here with him to catch him as he fell.

What if I’m down? What if I’m out? What if I'm someone you won’t talk about? I'm fallin' again I'm fallin' again I'm fallin'...

352 notes · View notes

calumcest · 4 years

Text

you and i were fireworks that went off too soon - chapter eight

[ao3]

yes...i cant believe it either. i really thought i’d finish britpop before posting another chapter of this but then i also thought britpop would be 8k i am not just a clown i am the entire circus. anyway big thank yous to @kaleidoscopeminds and @clumsyclifford for reading through the original version of this chapter that i wrote 2 months ago and hated and never posted and giving me feedback that i could sit on for ages before gathering the willpower (see: procrastinating writing an essay) to actually edit it

also i know i have been so absent lately i’m so sorry i have been so insanely busy you would not believe but i’m slowly starting to get into a routine so lets pray that perhaps my online presence will return. yeah you all thought you were rid of me not so fast bitches

Luke takes Clifford out for a short walk in the morning, during which time Ashton showers and gets dressed, and as Luke’s trying to get Clifford to eat the food that he’s turning his nose up at for absolutely no discernible reason, Ashton says something about going down for breakfast, does Luke want anything? Luke looks up at him, shakes his head and mumbles something that he hopes sounds vaguely like no, I’m not hungry, and Ashton just nods as he closes the door behind him, leaving Luke in their too-small and yet somehow too-big hotel room. Luke should be able to breathe, now that Ashton’s gone, should be able to sit back and relax and exhale freely, but every new inhale is tinged with that slight scent of pine and oak and spice, bittersweet on Luke’s tongue. It’s too much, makes his stomach flip in a way that’s at least eighty percent unpleasant, makes his head hurt and his heart and fists clench because of that last twenty percent, and because he doesn’t have space, now, even when Ashton’s not there.

They’ve got to be at the research centre at ten, and Ashton doesn’t get back from breakfast until half-nine, so Luke’s in a foul fucking mood by the time they’ve got their things together and hurried out of the hotel. Ashton gets them lost on the way to the tube, too, and they’re really pushed for time by the time they get to Russell Square, where the building they’re supposed to be in by now apparently is. Ashton has the gall to chivvy Luke along when he stops to re-tie his shoelace, and Luke has to grit his teeth to stop himself hissing something vitriolic and spiteful in Ashton’s direction, half-hopping the rest of the way to the building with a sloppily tied shoelace and ducking down to re-tie it again when Ashton strides over to the receptionist and asks where the soulmate study is supposed to be taking place.

The bloke at reception directs them to a room on the third floor, but the lift is broken so they have to take the stairs, and Luke’s thighs are burning by the time they turn into the room the guy had directed them to. It looks like a classroom, all desks and chairs and a projector screen at the front, and there’s a slightly uncomfortable-looking cluster of people standing in awkward silence towards the back of the room. Ashton glances over at Luke, an is this it? Us and them? sort of glance, and Luke just shrugs jerkily, following in Ashton’s wake to hover about two metres away from the nearest couple to them. It’s a middle-aged woman and man who are standing about three feet apart, like there’s some kind of invisible force field between the two of them, angled as far away from each other as it’s possible to get. It would look almost comical, actually, how viscerally uneasy they look in each other’s presence, if Luke weren’t acutely aware of the way he and Ashton are also stood three feet apart, of the way he’s leaning as far to the right and away from Ashton as he can.

“Hi,” he hears Ashton say brightly, and has to stifle a groan, letting his eyes flutter shut as he exhales heavily. Trust Ashton to be the only one to fucking strike up a conversation in an uncomfortably silent room. “I’m Ashton.”

“Uh, Sally,” the woman says, a little hesitantly. “And this is Pete.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ashton says happily, like he’s not aware of the fact that every single person in the room is listening to their conversation. “How long have you known each- uh?” He cuts himself off, seeming to realise that that’s probably not the best question to ask, given the reason for the study, but Sally just nods, like she understands.

“Uh,” Sally says, glancing at Pete. “Twelve years, or so? Um.” She coughs delicately, and then adds: “Pete’s my sister’s husband.”

Oh, Jesus Christ, Luke thinks, as someone across the room makes a choked-sounding noise and hastily (and badly) disguises it as a cough. Maybe his situation with Ashton isn’t so bad, after all.

“Oh,” Ashton says, sounding surprised, and like he’s not really sure how he should respond to that. “I, uh.” He pauses, and then turns to gesture at Luke. “This is Luke. He’s my ex.” Luke grimaces, and raises a hand in an awkward wave as he shoots Ashton a glare that he hopes conveys do not fucking drop me in the deep end like that. Jesus fucking Christ.

“We’re exes too,” a couple across the room pipe up - a short, blonde woman and a taller, green-haired woman - and Ashton beams at them.

“We’re, uh,” a member of a couple standing incredibly stiffly opposite Ashton and Luke pipes up. “Olly here was my school bully.” Luke watches the muscles in this Olly’s jaw flex as it clenches, but he doesn’t say anything, just grits his teeth and stares steadfastly ahead of him, eyes boring into the wall a few feet to Luke’s right.

“Vanessa’s my daughter-in-law,” a man at the back of the room says, nodding at the woman at least twenty years his junior standing to his right, looking incredibly pissed off, and Luke has to try his hardest not to wince. Jesus.

There’s only one person who hasn’t spoken yet, a short, dark-haired woman who’s standing on her own in the far corner, looking like she wants the ground to swallow her up as everyone turns to look at her.

“I, uh,” she says, and clears her throat uncomfortably. “My soulmate is, uh.” She hesitates, and then says: “I’m not actually sure I can-” but she’s interrupted by the sound of the door swinging open and two people striding in, a smiling man and a slightly harassed-looking woman.

“Good morning,” the man says cheerily. “I’m Colin, one of the coordinators of the study, and this is my wonderful partner in crime, Jess.” There’s a smattering of murmured hellos as Jess raises her hand to the group.

“Thank you so much for your time,” Colin says, clapping his hands together. “I know this study is inconvenient for many of you, and some of you have come an incredible distance to participate, but we’re hoping that this study will shed some light into the growth of soulmate tattoos.” He pauses, but nobody says anything, just shifts from foot to foot uncomfortably and looks at everyone but Colin.

“We also have an issue of a certain, uh.” Colin clears his throat. “It’s a little delicate. One person involved in this study is, uh, a household name, and in order to protect their public image, has requested that non-disclosure agreements be signed. It’s nothing major, but of course, if it affects your decision to partake in the study, we completely understand. Nothing is binding until the contracts have been signed, and even then, you always have the option to pull out at any time.” He pauses, and looks around the room, shrewd blue eyes watching to see how each of them have reacted to the information. Luke wonders whether maybe this is a test, something to see whether their palpable curiosity will win out and make them work together with their soulmate to find out what celebrity is allegedly involved in this study, or something. He doesn’t trust psychologists.

“Alright,” Colin says, when nobody speaks, and smiles brilliantly at them. “We have the contracts for you to read through and sign, and if that’s all in order, we’d like to start with a questionnaire and today’s blood samples.” There’s an assortment of murmured assent, and then Colin starts placing papers and pens on desks, and, after a hesitant glance around the room, people start moving towards them, muttering things to their soulmates under their breaths.

“A celebrity?” Ashton says quietly, slipping into a seat at the nearest desk. Luke sits down next to him, because where the fuck else is he going to go - he’s not about to strike up conversation with that bloke and his fucking daughter-in-law, Christ - and shrugs.

“Might be a test,” he says, and Ashton shakes his head.

“Nah,” he says, completely confident. “I wonder who it is.” He pauses, leaning back as Colin comes by and puts a pile of paper in front of them, and then leans in and adds in a conspiratorial whisper: “It’s got to be someone huge, otherwise they’d be here.”

“Huge?” Luke echoes. “Someone huge wouldn’t be partaking in a random university study in London.” Ashton raises his eyebrows.

“We’re here, aren’t we?” he says. Luke knows what he’s trying to say; if we’ll fly all the way from Australia for this, who’s to say a celebrity wouldn’t be involved?

“We’re also not household names,” Luke says, reaching for a pen and one of the contracts Colin’s placed on the table. “If I had the money, I wouldn’t be here.”

“It’s not about money,” Ashton says, pulling the other contract towards himself and handing Luke one of the NDAs. “This is all new. You’ve got to follow the research.”

“The research’ll come to you if you pay enough,” Luke retorts shortly, and then shields the side of his face with one hand under the pretence of focusing on the contract so that Ashton won’t respond. Ashton sighs, long-suffering and a little exasperated, but takes the hint and starts reading his own contract. Luke does actually start reading through his contract then, but keeps one eye on Ashton, because he’s certain Ashton’s going to find something to complain about, certain that no matter how much Ashton thinks he’s changed he’s still a pedant, and he tries not to think about the fact he remembers that about Ashton as he re-reads every sentence at least twice and very carefully. After all, it’d be embarrassing if Luke signed the contract and handed it back in happily and Ashton found a flaw in it that Luke had missed, wouldn’t it?

Despite his best efforts, though, he can’t find anything, so he just signs and dates it and sets it aside, reaching for the NDA. Ashton’s still on the contract, frowning at the third page of it, but he hasn’t been scribbling on the paper like he usually does when he’s making notes of ambiguous phrasing or inconsistent or lacking clarity. Maybe he really does do it all differently, now. Maybe he just signs on the dotted line.

The thought makes Luke’s stomach churn a little, makes him think for the most fleeting of moments - well, if Ashton’s changed, is it still reasonable for me to hate him? Then, though, just as that thought settles like a cold stone in his stomach, Ashton raises his hand, looks around the room for Colin, and says:

“I’m not quite sure about paragraph six, clause three?” Luke almost snorts derisively, spiteful glee and cool relief flooding his veins as he thinks yeah, you’ve not fucking changed a bit.

“Let’s have a look,” Colin says, and Luke turns back to the NDA in front of him, busying himself with reading through the terms as he lets the not quite clear and questionable phrasing floating over from his right wash over him. Christ, they’re making it sound like he’s going to be in possession of state secrets - you shall do everything reasonably within your power to protect the confidentiality of the Confidential Information, what the fuck is that? Who the fuck is taking part in this study?

By the time Colin’s moved away from their desk, Luke’s reached the end of the NDA and decided kicking up a fuss about this melodramatic document that he barely understands would be completely pointless, given the fact that he’s pretty much trapped in the UK for four weeks by virtue of his fixed flights and scarce finances, so he signs and dates it as Ashton pushes the contract to one side and reaches for the NDA. Luke watches out of the corner of his eye as Ashton’s gaze flits rapidly from left to right, as his brow furrows slightly and he nods thoughtfully, flips it over, reads some more, and then nods, satisfied, and signs it. It’s that easy; no fighting Colin over ambiguous phrasing, or whatever, just read and signed.

Almost as though Ashton can sense Luke’s confusion, he catches his eye, and smiles a little sheepishly.

“Signed a lot of these in my time,” he says, re-capping his pen. “This one’s fairly standard.” Luke frowns.

“What d’you mean, you’ve signed a lot of these?” he says. Ashton shrugs.

“Well, I can’t tell you, can I?” he says. “Sort of the point.” Luke’s frown deepens.

“You’re a drummer,” he says, trying to make sense of it. What the fuck do drummers need to sign NDAs for?

“Exactly,” Ashton says, like it explains everything. What the fuck?

“Are you a spy?” Ashton looks at him, surprised, and then huffs out a laugh, bright and amused.

“No,” he says. “But I couldn’t tell you even if I were, could I?” That’s true, but Luke thinks he would know if Ashton were lying.

“Well, no, but I’d know,” he says, without thinking, and Ashton raises an eyebrow.

“How would you know?” he says, and Luke shrugs, a little uncomfortably. He’s not really sure why, but he knows that he would know, knows it like he knows how to blink and how to breathe. He can’t explain it, can’t teach anyone else how to do it, can’t break it down or point to where and when the knowledge was acquired, but he does know it. Ashton couldn’t keep something like that from him.

“Just would,” he says, a little stiff, a little evasive.

“What, soulmate experience number three is being able to know what my job is?” Ashton says, sounding amused, and Luke can’t help the tiny smile that forms on his lips at that. That would be a pretty shitty soulmate experience, wouldn’t it?

“I’d rather that than- y’know,” he says, inclining his head a little, and Ashton’s small smile fades.

“At least that one’s useful,” he says, and Luke huffs out a slightly incredulous laugh.

“Useful?” he echoes. “Didn’t do you much good last night, did it?” Ashton pulls a face.

“That’s my own fault,” he admits. “I- I should’ve listened.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” Luke says, aiming for venomous, just to make up for the fact that something in Ashton’s eyes had softened a little too much when Luke had smiled, but he misses the mark and lands somewhere around exasperated. It sounds a touch too friendly for his liking, but before Ashton has a chance to respond there’s a loud clap from the front of the room that makes them both jump a little.

“Okay,” Colin says, and Luke whips around to face the front of the room, glad for the distraction, hoping Ashton isn’t looking at the slight blush that’s clawing its way up his throat to his cheeks. “I’ll collect the contracts and NDAs, and Jess will tell you about the next part of the study.” Jess steps forward from the wall she’s been leaning against, smiling tightly at the group, and looks down at a clipboard.

“We’re going to be taking blood samples from you every day of the study,” she says. “Colin’s focused on the psychological side of things, I’m more interested in the biological and potentially neurological. We’ll be monitoring various markers in your blood as the weeks go on, seeing whether any experiments change certain levels of proteins in the blood, and measuring whether there’s any difference between the group that are living together and the group that are living apart. Once you’ve completed the questionnaires, I’ll take you to the room where you’ll get your blood drawn. We’ll be doing these every day at ten, but you won’t necessarily have any other appointments with us, so you’ll have to find your own way on other days.” She looks around the room expectantly, like she’s checking everyone’s taken the information in, and Luke nods, feeling like he’s being given instructions by a teacher. “Right, well. I’ll hand back over to Colin to tell you about the questionnaires.”

“Thank you Jess,” Colin says, smiling out at the group from the front of the room. “The questionnaires are fairly self explanatory - just a series of questions, some to be answered on a scale of one to five, one being strongly disagree and five being strongly agree, and some just straight yes or no answers. Not all of the questions may seem relevant, but please bear with us - this is new territory for everyone, and we’re just trying to prepare for every possibility.” Everyone nods at him, and he smiles brightly, claps his hands, and then reaches for another stack of papers and starts distributing them throughout the room. Luke leans back in his chair, trying to steadfastly avoid the way he can feel Ashton looking at him out of the corner of his eye, shaking some of his curls into his face to try and put a barrier between the two of them. What the fuck does he want?

“Thanks,” he mutters, when Colin hands him a questionnaire, and Ashton echoes the same, picking up his pen and flipping the first page over.

The first page seems to be all personality based, and Luke finds himself shifting, trying to cover the questions with his arm so Ashton won’t see he’s circled 4 - agree for ‘I often think about what I should have said in a conversation long after it has taken place’ or 1 - strongly disagree for ‘I am not easily upset’. He tries to get through them as quickly as possible, barely stops to think except on ‘I am still bothered by mistakes I made long ago’, where a little voice in his head says well, you’re still bothered by Ashton, aren’t you?, and chances a glance at Ashton when he flips the page to hide his answers. He’s frowning down at his own questionnaire, not trying to hide it at all, and Luke can see that he’s neatly circled 5 - strongly agree for being bothered by mistakes he made long ago. Well, good, Luke thinks, a little bitterly, as he starts circling answers to questions about his approach to romantic relationships. He fucking hopes Ashton’s bothered.

The room’s strangely silent except for the odd cough, the flipping of pages, the scratching of pens, a scraping sound as someone leans forward or back in their chair, and it’s almost blissful white noise to Luke until Ashton leans in, and whispers: “What did you put for the one about soulmate experiences?” Luke jerks back instinctively, jumping at the sudden intrusion upon his thoughts.

“Jesus, Ashton,” he hisses, and Ashton raises his eyebrows and holds his hands up in a sorry, sorry sort of way. “I haven’t got there yet.”

“Well, it asks if we have a soulmate experience.”

“Well, we do, don’t we? What’s the problem?”

“Yeah, but we have two.” Luke blinks, and looks down at the page.

“Where is it?”

“Number twenty-three.” Luke frowns, scanning the page - seventeen, eighteen- “I think it’s on the next page.” Luke rolls his eyes, but flips the page over, eyes running down the list of numbers until he gets to twenty-three.

Do you and your soulmate share a so-called ‘soulmate experience’?

“Yes,” Luke whispers to Ashton. The question asks whether they have one, and they do. Why the fuck is Ashton confused?

“But we have two.”

“It’s a yes or no question.”

“But-”

“Fuck’s sake, Ashton, ask Colin if you’re that concerned about it,” Luke snaps, and Ashton blinks at him for a moment, and then turns away and raises his hand. He looks cool as he does it, looks composed and collected, but Luke had seen the flash of hurt in his eyes at Luke’s harsh tone. It’s nothing new, and ordinarily Luke would probably feel a little spiteful glee, but now he feels a stab of guilt, a wave that breaks easily and washes over his heart, covering it entirely for a moment before its next beat flicks it away.

“Colin,” Ashton says, blissfully unaware of the churning sensation in Luke’s stomach that’s followed the unexpected guilt, and Colin looks up from where he’s been leaning against the desk at the front of the room, noting something on his clipboard. He smiles at both of them, puts down his clipboard and jogs over, stopping just before he reaches their desk.

“How can I help?” he asks, and Ashton points to the question.

“We, uh,” Ashton says, and Luke can feel the sidelong glance Ashton gives him but stares steadfastly at Colin, “we have two.” There’s a pause, and Colin frowns.

“You- you have two?” Ashton nods. “Are you absolutely certain?”

“Well,” Ashton says, and glances at Luke again, who still refuses to meet his gaze, not knowing which of the mix of emotions currently squabbling over residency of his stomach have made it to his eyes. “We- I mean, I, uh. I’m fairly certain, yeah.”

“I’ve never heard of that before,” Colin says, still frowning. Great. Fucking brilliant. Of course him and his ex-boyfriend are possibly the first set of soulmates in the world to be documented as having two soulmate experiences.

“Well,” Ashton says again, a little uncomfortably. “Should we- should I make a note of that?”

“Yes,” Colin says. “Yes, if you could.” He smiles at them, still looking a little bewildered, and steps back, frown set on his face.

“Did you hear that?” Ashton asks lowly, as Colin walks back over to the desk at the front of the room.

“I’m sat right next to you,” Luke says, but it doesn’t come out as acrid and snappy as he’d hoped. He just sounds a little panicked. Which he is, but he doesn’t want to sound it.

“He’s never heard of it before.” Ashton sounds worried, and it makes Luke’s heart flip and dive into his stomach, because Ashton doesn’t get worried, not about this. Luke’s the one who freaks out, the one who panics over the tattoos and about Ashton and about being soulmates with his ex, and it makes something unpleasant shoot through him to hear the concern in Ashton’s voice.

“Just because he’s never heard of it doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened,” Luke says. He thinks they probably both know that he’s trying to convince himself more than Ashton, knows he’s been caught out for it when Ashton bites his lip, eyes softening a little in something that looks like both comprehension and understanding, then sighs and turns back to his questionnaire, adding a little note in his oddly-neat scrawl. It’s too long to just be we have two and too small for Luke to read without craning his neck and making it obvious that he’s looking, and Ashton flips the page over almost as soon as he’s written it, like he doesn’t want Luke to see. And it probably shouldn’t make Luke feel a little spiritually sick, shouldn’t make him feel that strange queasiness in his throat and that sharp sting in his heart that he can identify so quickly as rejection, but it does. It doesn’t really matter, though, because that’s followed so quickly by a wave of panic and revulsion that he doesn’t even need to think about it, can just focus on letting the cold dread melt itself into familiar hot spikes of anger through the warmth of his veins.

It’s fine, Luke thinks a little bitterly, and turns back to his own questionnaire, circling no for ‘Do you have strong feelings about your soulmate, either positive or negative?’ so hard that he almost tears the paper. Let Ashton write whatever the fuck he wants about Luke. It’s not like Luke cares.

(Is it?)

-------

After the questionnaires have been handed in, Jess leads the group to a small room to the left of a lab on the second floor. There are two nurses waiting in there with trolleys covered in cotton buds and antiseptic wipes, and Luke feels an odd shiver run down his spine at the sight of a needle glinting as it catches the light. It makes his stomach turn, somehow, makes him feel like someone’s in some kind of danger, which makes him frown, because no one’s in danger of a fucking needle.

They’re told to sit on a row of seats at the back of the room and called up one by one in alphabetical order, and Luke sits stiff as a plank while he watches Sally Cartwright and Oliver Evans get called up for their blood draws. Ashton’s sat next to him, fidgeting so much that it distracts Luke from the way his stomach is churning, makes him throw Ashton a glare, gives him something to channel his strangely nervous energy into, something to take his focus off someone needs help someone needs help that’s running through his mind. He doesn’t have much time, though, because then Peter Gallon and Luke Hemmings are being called, and he has to get to his feet, legs feeling heavy and leaden as he drags himself over to the nurse who’d called his name.

“How are you doing today?” the nurse says cheerily, and Luke smiles tightly at her as he sits down in the hard plastic chair opposite her and holds out an arm.

“Great, thanks,” he says through gritted teeth, as she fastens a rubber tourniquet around it. Luke’s never been keen on them - thinks they’re the worst part of having blood taken, actually, that horrible, restricted feeling - but they’ve never made his heartbeat jump like this before, never made his palms slick with cold sweat.

“You’re a long way from home,” the nurse comments, wiping down his inner elbow with a cold antiseptic wipe. Luke stares down at her hands as she works, trying to slow his racing heart. Jesus, he’s not even afraid of needles - what the fuck is wrong with him?

“Yeah,” Luke says, a little distractedly. “Uh. Came here for the study.” The nurse raises her eyebrows as she reaches for a needle.

“Oh?” she says. “Well, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, then, won’t we? You’re all down for daily blood draws.” Luke licks his lips, swallows, and nods. His mouth is dry, now, but he stares at the needle as she fits it together, watches as she screws a vial onto the end, trying to pinpoint what’s making him so stressed, but feels nothing from it. And yet, despite the fact that he’d stared directly at the needle without an increase in panic, his heart is pounding so fast he thinks it might shatter a rib, and his mind is racing like it’s trying to catch up. What the fuck is going on? He’s never had an issue with having blood taken before. What the fuck is he suddenly so panicked about, if it’s not the fucking needle?

“Clench your fist for me, love,” the nurse says, and Luke does, digs his nails into his sweaty palm like it’s going to stop the bile from rising in his throat. “It’ll just be a sharp scratch-” Luke winces as the needle goes in, clenches his other fist too, but watches as the blood fills the vial, as she switches it out for a second vial and as the blood fills that one up too. That doesn’t make his breath come any quicker either, doesn’t make his heart beat any faster, but something’s doing it. Something’s telling him danger, danger, danger while he waits for the nurse to reach for a cotton bud and press it over the puncture wound as she pulls the needle out.

“Hold this for me,” she says, and he reaches over, presses down on the cotton bud while she reaches for some tape. She smiles, sorting a few vials of blood out, as Luke pulls his sleeve back down and stretches his arm experimentally.

“Not a fan of needles?” she says kindly, and Luke shakes his head, frowning.

“No, I- uh, I don’t have a problem with them,” he says, and the nurse just hums like she doesn’t believe him.

“Well, I’ll see you back here tomorrow,” she says, and Luke sends her a tight smile as he gets to his feet a little unsteadily and heads back to the row of chairs.

“Ashton Irwin,” the other nurse calls, and as Luke sits down Ashton gets up, walking stiffly over to where she’s sat and plonking himself down in front of her.

“Clench your fist, please,” the nurse says briskly, and Luke watches Ashton swallow, watches the way his chest is rising and falling a little too fast with short, shallow breaths, and realises what the clammy panic that’s been constricting his own chest is.

Ashton’s never been good with needles. Luke remembers going to the hospital with him when he’d had appendicitis, the way Ashton had, even in his delirious and feverish state, groaned and looked away and somehow gone even more pale every time an IV or a cannula needed inserting or when more blood needed to be drawn, the way Luke had had to hold his hand, whisper to him and distract him from the metal as it punctured his skin.

It hits him like a fucking train as soon as he sees Ashton clench his fists. Protect protect protect, suddenly crisp and clear, cutting through all the sticky fear in his mind, making his vision swim with the intensity with which it tells him get up, get up, pull the needle out, stop it, he hates it, he hates it.

For fuck’s sake.

Ashton’s fists are clenched so tight that Luke can almost feel the fingernails digging into his own palm, and he takes a deep breath, tries to reach past the sharp insistence of the protect protect protect that’s clouding every single rational thought, but it builds a wall in front of him, blocks him every which way he tries to duck around it. Shit, he thinks, watching as Ashton inhales shakily, watching the way the blood drains from his face as he looks over to his left so he won’t have to look at the needle. Help him, help him, help him.

“Ashton,” he blurts, and there’s something in his tone that he’s never heard before, something that he feels rising from somewhere in the depths of his heart and lungs and maybe even his soul, if he knew where that was stored. It’s soft, gentle, soothing, calm, kind, but there’s something more to it, something that penetrates the word so deeply that it almost turns it into something non-verbal entirely. “It’s okay.” Ashton stiffens momentarily, so briefly that had Luke not been completely tuned into his every move he would have missed it, then sags in the chair, like someone’s let all the air out of him. It makes Luke shiver as everything that’s been swelling in him seems to dissipate with his next exhale, because it’s over, that’s it, it’s done. He’s done his job; Ashton’s safe, Ashton’s okay, and he can breathe again, which is the most important thing.

He’s still covered in a sheen of cold sweat, and he wipes his palms on his jeans as Ashton stands up and flexes his arm, wincing at the movement, and heads back over to Luke. He doesn’t look Luke in the eye, which is probably for the best, because Luke knows he wouldn’t be able to meet his gaze and doesn’t want to deal with the consequences of that.

It doesn’t even make sense, he thinks, as his mind clears a little, carving out a space for the embarrassment to boil over into anger. Ashton wasn’t even in any fucking danger. What was going to happen, the big bad nurse would bleed him dry? It doesn’t make any fucking sense; Ashton was perfectly safe. Why the fuck did Luke get- get that?

He can’t think of anything else for the remaining ten minutes it takes for everyone down to Vanessa and Roy Williamson to get their blood drawn, trying to make sense of the situation. Ashton was safe. He was fine. Nothing could possibly have hurt him - so why did Luke feel like something could have?

He’s snapped out of it when Jess comes back into the room and informs them that they should go for lunch, that they’ll move onto the interview stage of the day when they get back at one, and Ashton turns to Luke and sends him a slightly hesitant look that says are we going to get lunch together, then? Luke just blinks at him for a moment and then nods, because what other choice does he have, really? Spend lunch with the school bully and his soulmate?

The tension between the two of them is palpable when they leave the building, and Luke knows it’s only a matter of time before Ashton turns to him with a sigh and big, sad eyes and says we should talk about this. If Calum or Michael were here, he’d place bets, see whether it’d be ten or twenty or maybe even thirty minutes until Ashton brings it up, laugh derisively when he inevitably does, but instead, he’s stuck walking in silence with Ashton, the air between them colder than even the air of the English January surrounding them on all their other sides.

Ashton says they shouldn’t go too far for lunch, which Luke thinks is probably a sensible idea but childishly resents simply because Ashton had proffered it before he had, so he fumes silently while he picks out a far-too-expensive tuna melt in the Pret around the corner from the building they’re due back in in an hour.

“D’you want to get a table?” Ashton says, when they’ve paid. “I’ll bring your food.” Luke nods, turns on his heel and walks towards the free table in the corner that he’s been eyeing up since they walked in. He slides into the booth, sets his coat down on one side, and then takes the opportunity to stretch his legs under the table before Ashton wanders over with a tray in hand.

“You just got the tuna melt, right?” Ashton says, settling down in the seat opposite Luke, and Luke nods again, pulling his plate off the tray and reaching for one of the napkins Ashton’s brought with him. Ashton sets the tray down in front of himself, arranges the items on it so that they’re in the right order, or whatever, and then sighs.

“So,” he says heavily, and Luke almost wants to parrot we should talk about earlier and roll his eyes, just so Ashton knows how he feels about it. He doesn’t, though, chooses to just take a bite of his still-too-hot-to-eat tuna melt instead. See? He can be civil.

“What the fuck was that?” Ashton says plainly, and it takes Luke by surprise as he swallows.

“What?” he says, before he can help himself, and Ashton throws him a significant look.

“Back there,” he says, picking at his baguette. A lobster roll, fucking hell. Maybe Luke should look into becoming a session musician. “I wasn’t- I wasn’t in any danger.” Luke raises his eyebrows, and takes another bite of his tuna melt, more for dramatic effect and to buy himself time than anything else. He hasn’t got a clue.

“You tell me,” he says.

“Did you feel it?” What a stupid fucking question. Of course he felt it. What possible reason would he have had to say Ashton, it’s okay? other than to get the fucking instinct out of his mind?

“Obviously.” Ashton hums at that, like he’s mulling it over, and takes a bite out of his baguette before speaking again.

“D’you think it’s growing?”

“Growing?”

“Like, getting stronger.” Jesus. Luke fucking hopes not.

“I hope not.”

“But d’you think it is?” Ashton presses. Luke shrugs.

“I don’t know,” he says. “It’s only happened- what, three times?”

“Yeah,” Ashton says, frowning. “But two days in a row?”

“I don’t know,” Luke says again, a little irritably this time. “Isn’t that why we’re here? To get answers? Because neither of us know?” Ashton scrunches his nose up for a moment. It’s a move Luke knows well, one that Ashton does when he’s weighing something up, standing at a fork in the roads and deliberating which path he wants to start down, and one that Luke always used to tease Ashton for, dodging the swat Ashton would aim in his direction with a laugh. You look adorable, he’d say, grinning, and Ashton would roll his eyes, but he’d be smiling too, eyes bright and happy because Luke thought it was cute. I look stupid, he’d say, and Luke would roll his eyes, still grinning, and shake his head, wrapping his arms around Ashton. You look fucking adorable, he’d say, and he’d mean it. He still does mean it, he thinks, as he gazes at Ashton. Ashton still looks fucking adorable.

It’s strange to be reminded of those moments now, years later, sat in a coffee shop thousands of miles away from home with their legs carefully angled away from each other, makes Luke feel suddenly disconnected from himself, like his heart had never quite learnt how to be twenty-six and without Ashton and he’s only just realising it. Or maybe not his heart; maybe his mind.

(Or maybe not his mind. Maybe his soul.)

“Yeah,” Ashton says, completely unaware of the crisis Luke’s currently embroiled in. “Yeah, you’re right.” Luke blinks, trying to grasp the bits of himself that are currently floating somewhere in whatever dimension existential panic is and force them back down his throat. Yeah. He is right. He’s forgotten about what, but he is right. What are they talking about? Oh, the strange experience earlier. Yeah. Got it.

“I’m sure they’ll ask us about it, anyway,” Luke says, hoping he’s done a convincing job of acting like he hadn’t been staring at Ashton while reminiscing. Ashton’s hums again, a hum of assent this time, and takes another bite out of his baguette, but Luke catches the way his lips have quirked up in a tiny smile. Fuck, Luke thinks, and his eyes flick to Ashton’s, finding them already following Luke’s gaze, something pleased and happy pooling in his irises. He knows, Luke’s sure of it, but he doesn’t say anything, just smiles a little wider, enough for his eyes to crinkle at the corners, and then looks away.

Whatever, Luke thinks, trying to ignore the way his heart has picked up its pace. It doesn’t mean anything that he was staring, does it? People stare all the time. Luke stares at Michael, for God’s sake. And a stare can mean lots of things, can’t it? It could have been a stare of disbelief. Or a zoned-out stare. There’s no way Ashton can know it was a stare about him specifically, let alone one caused by Luke finding Ashton cute. He can’t know that.

They eat in silence until they’re both finished, and Luke’s just downing the rest of his water when Ashton suddenly says: “I wonder who the celebrity is.” Luke blinks.

“Well, there are only so many household names,” he says, and Ashton cocks his head thoughtfully.

“It might be a British household name, not a universal one,” he says.

“What, like the Queen?”

“How is the Queen not a universal household name?” Ashton says.

“Well, she’s British, isn’t she?”

“What, so a universal household name is someone from the universe?” Ashton says, sounding amused, and Luke stops. Shit. Yeah, okay, that was fucking stupid. “I mean, like, someone that they all know that we’ve never heard of.” Luke purses his lips. He hadn’t even thought of that.

“Maybe,” he says. “I don’t know. You’re the one who’s signed NDAs before.” Ashton frowns.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he says, and Luke shrugs.

“You know more about this than me,” he says, and tries not to let the curiosity leak into the edges of his tone. He doesn’t need Ashton to know that there’s a card he could play.

“I’ve not signed NDAs for stuff like this before, though,” Ashton says. “It’s all- y’know. Musician stuff.” He says almost conspiratorially, like it’s some kind of euphemism, like Luke’s supposed to hear ‘musician stuff’ and think of something in particular, and a little like he’s challenging Luke to ask what ‘musician stuff’ means so Ashton can have the pleasure of explaining it to him.

“Well, you’ve still signed more than I have,” Luke says, a little sharper than he’d intended, irked by the fact that he’s not in on the joke but can’t ask without giving something of his dignity up. Ashton frowns.

“Are you upset that I didn’t tell you?” he asks.

“No,” Luke says. Ashton’s brow stays creased, like he thinks he knows what Luke’s feeling better than Luke does, and it sends a sharp stab of irritation right to Luke’s lungs. “I’m not upset.”

“Okay,” Ashton says, but he says it slowly, like he still doesn’t believe Luke.

“Ashton,” Luke says, and the annoyance is clear in his voice now. “Don’t patronise me.” Ashton blinks, and then he sits back, nodding.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah. Sorry. That’s not fair of me. I’m sorry.” Luke swallows.

“That’s okay,” he says, testing out the words and finding they slip off his tongue a lot easier than he’d hoped, satin on silk, no resistance at all. Ashton looks at him for a moment, something unreadable on his face - or maybe Luke just doesn’t want to read it - and then he smiles, a little hesitantly.

“What about the other soulmates, then?” he says. “Sister’s husband, what’s that all about?” Luke holds his gaze for a moment, his own scrunched-up-nose moment, and then smiles back; not hesitant, but small.

“I think that’s still better than your daughter-in-law,” he says. Ashton grins, relief mingling with the amusement.

“Makes you think we got off easy, doesn’t it?” he says, and Luke huffs out a laugh.

“I’d take my soulmate being my ex over my school bully any day,” he says.

“Wasn’t Michael your school bully?” Luke pulls a face.

“Exactly.” Ashton grins again, and Luke tries not to think about the way it makes something sizzle in his stomach. It’s probably just the tuna melt.

"Good to know I've made it past Michael," Ashton says. "Next step is to make it past, I don't know, Charles Manson." Luke frowns.

"Didn't he die?"

"Did he?"

"I think so."

"Well, hopefully I'm above him, then," Ashton says. Luke raises his eyebrows.

"Jury's out," he says, and Ashton laughs, and it's warm, real, tinged with something that Luke's heart remembers - or never let go of - that makes it jump in his chest. He can feel the panic threatening to rise in his lungs to meet it and quells it just in time, just lets himself bask in Ashton's rays for once.

It's probably just be the coffee shop, or maybe the food he's just eaten, but January's never felt so warm.

taglist: @glitterlukey @hey-its-grey @cashtonasfuck @tirednotflirting @haikucal @cthofficial @tigerteeff @clumsyclifford @callmeboatboy @angel-cal @sadistmichael @queer-5sos @i-am-wierd-always @stupidfuckimgspam @bloodyoathcal @pixiegrl @pxrxmoore @makaylaa1113 @clumthood @pilunb @another-lonely-heart @calumscalm

(if you wanted to be added to my taglist pls fill in this form)

#lashton #5sos fic #5sos fanfic #5sos fanfiction #5sos slash #yeah honestly i cant believ eit either #dont hold your breath waiting for the next chapter #it'll probably be december the rate my work is going #trust me i am also not vibing with it i wish i coul dwrite more #hilarious how as soon as my first deadline comes up here i am back on my bullshit #i also wrote some more britpop au tonight #why cant i just DO MY ESSAYS

19 notes · View notes

hawaiian-has-moved · 4 years

Text

Part one of (???) Of my redesigns + little character facts.

Beetleb*bes DNI

Seriously read my bio for once I saw you lurking on my rambles about this project.

(Stand alone character images are at the bottom.)

So these sizes are not based off hair. You can probably guess where skull shape is. So Lyds is like 5'0". Also they might change. I really hate to probably have to go back and redraw Claire or Vince, but considering they're all like 15 or so, they should be a tad taller than the cartoon canon. Considering they're like 12 then.

So besides all of that, let's get to little facts about everyone.

Lawrence Betelgeuse Shoggoth:

Though this does take place after the musical, making it a more musical based lean, he can shape shift just as freely as you would think. Sometimes you'll catch him crack a witty joke or just simply get bored. He in these times usually has his head spin or disappear down into his collar to soon reappear with a different head. This includes the canon cartoon version or any of the actors from the musical who have portrayed him. Rarely will you ever find him making a joke referring to Keetlejuice. Also though not mentioned often, because that would be rather dull, he is aware of the multiple universes. 4th wall breaking narrator, remember?

Donny and him are siblings. Betelgeuse being the oldest. But sadly, not the closest like they were in childhood. He is the hated child. Juno actively (TW) abused him in his childhood and still does to this day. He often freezes up, clasps his hands together and looks at the ground when his mother is around. He does the same occasionally for Donny because he is often sent by his mother to go chew BJ out for something he did wrong.

He sorta of dropped out of elementary, so in his teens he had to pretend he went to school so Juno or his brother didn't find out. He met Jacques and Ginger in high school. Though Ginger did hold a romantic place in his hard for the beginning of high school. The rest of his time was mostly spent with Jacques. He thought it was just hang out times with the boys or something. What a lot of people had told him. But the two grew extremely attached. They dated until a little bit after high school. They got into a very bad argument and broke up. But of course time has healed it for the most part. They could not afford to part ways and live elsewhere, so the trio still lives together in the Roadhouse.

Current relationship wise for him, he is working on a relationship with the Maitlands. They're taking it slowly. He's really only gotten cuddles so far, but they're working to more personal things while they all heal. BJ felt awful for being so unaware of how relationships worked. Of course considering we already touched on Jacques. It's not the first time he was blind on how love works.

Lydia Deetz:

Lydia is 15 years of age. So this takes place almost immediately after the musical. She now happily has her ghost parents, her father, and her step mother who is now happily married to Charles. And of course let's not for get her cool uncle, the ghost with the most, Beetlejuice!

After some understanding and boundary building, the two explore the Netherworld together. BJ shows Lydia around and she gets to explore and meet new friends.

Back in the living world Lydia goes to an all girls school, and recently made up with a bully if hers. Claire Brewster. The two (read Claire's part for why) are now a happy couple. Of course there are the times where they try to kiss and Charles or Beej will rush in to stop them. Which is ironic considering Charles probably did the same at her age and Beej doesn't really know what he's saying and is just coping Charles.

Donny Rigel Shoggoth:

Ugh, sadly so much about Donny is under lock and key until the comic I plan on making after I do character sheets is to that point.

Donny is BJ's younger brother. He seems to oppose his older brother's aesthetic and has actively tried to say he needs a change in style. In nice and rude ways.

He has an oddly happy demeanor and seems to absolutely ignore the trauma and anger given to Beej from his their mother. He rather just blindly helps her.

He hates blue for some odd reason. He doesn't know why. BJ does though.

Prince Vince:

Prince Vince is mostly the same as in canon to the cartoon. A sad romantic prince who wants love.

But to touch on that he is just simply that, romantic. Pan romantic. He has never had feelings beyond romance. And yes, he is still a child and there is still so much he has to grow from her, but he doesn't really have interest beyond sappy poems and giving roses to the people he cares for.

Claire Brewster:

Lesbian ICON. Seriously her new aesthetic is just the colors of the lesbian community flag.

Lydia and her are a couple. But it's secret outside of the Deetz/Maitland household.

At home she is very neglected. Her parents are too rich to care and are often away. But she was raised to be the perfect model of a heterosexual girl. She wears different clothing from what she used to. Even though she doesn't like being a cardboard cut out child for her parents, she still enjoys girly stuff and somewhat formal clothing. Of course she can't step too far out of that around her parents or they might grow suspicious.

Like her parents suck. In the cartoon they'd run away, drive away, or slam the door in her face if she looked gross or was with something gross. They didn't not care. She was so disposable.

Aaand, that's all I have right now.

@aquatic-juice helped me with a lot of decisions on this. And a lot of the head canons on Claire's parents are things we've discussed and she has wrote about, so I have to credit her on that.

Tell me what you think. And again sorry I can't tell you more about Donny. It's a major plot point for a comic that connects this universe right after the musical.

Love you guys! 💚

Stand alone pictures:

P.s. no one is straight and if this pisses you off you're probably on the wrong side of tumblr.

#art #fanart #digital art #fan art #beetlejuice #digitalart #beetlejuice bway #beetlejuice fanart #beetlejuice musical #beetlejuice cartoon #beetlejuice the animated series #beetlejuice the cartoon #beetlejuice the broadway musical #beetleb*bes dni

38 notes · View notes

britishboystm · 4 years

Text

For You- Matt *Blinded By The Light (SMUT)

Warnings: Smut, Swearing, Ngl there is a bit of cliche cringe in here so beware👀, super fucking long wtf

A/N: Ok, ok. This one is hella long. Thanks to @blueeyedheizer for the inspo, hope you like it love:)

—-

“I’m telling you Y/N, he speaks to our generation. People like us who want to get out of Luton and see the world!”

“That’s great Javed.” The conversation that was happening while you and Javed walked home from college was less than exciting to you. He seemed super invested however, so you tried your best to let him rave about his new found obsession with Bruce Springsteen, some bloke from America that your dad listens to when fixing the car in the garage. You were more of a Cyndi Lauper and Madonna type.

You felt quite bad for Javed. No one really gave the poor lad the time of day. Not his dad, not the people at the college and most definitely not the community you guys lived in so you were his go to person. You had always been his confidant since you were kids.

Then there was Matt. The third of the trio. He took care of Javed. He was Javed’s protector against bullies in school. He himself was an eccentric personality. Very different from you and Javed. He loved girls, parties and synths. Once school was done, he had no desire to continue through to college. He was out of there.

But he finished the friendship puzzle and you relied on him as much as Javed did and vice versa.

It seemed like hours of him rambling and you tuning him out until you finally reached your neighbourhood. You, Javed and Matt all lived in the same cul de sac. It was where the three of you became best friends, then you were all enrolled into the same primary school down the road not long after. You guys became inseparable after that.

Everything was quite pleasant until you caught a glimpse of Matt. There he was, standing in all of his glory, sucking face with his latest fling, one you had not met yet. The image made your stomach churn and Javed noticed right away.

“Y/N, I really think you should tell him.”

“Tell him what?” Your eyes were glued to the car crash happening in front of you. See, you had developed feelings for Matt back in grade school, keeping it a secret to this day. The only person who knew was Javed.

He sighed and patted your back before walking towards the two love birds. The kissing was finally coming to an end and Matt pried himself off of her to notice the two of you.

“Javed, Y/N you muppets! ” His play thing grabbed onto his arm while he met you two half way.

“Hey Matt, how was Ibiza?” Javed asks reluctantly. Matt chuckles slightly, looking over proudly at his new arm candy. A look you had longed to receive from him one day.

“Met Emma over there, she lives nearby actually. It worked out brilliantly.”

You pretend to look happy.

“That sounds amazing Matt. Um, actually I’m going to have to run. My mum needs me home for dinner soon.”

“Leaving so soon?” Matt asked, soundly legitimately disappointed.

“I’ve been gone for weeks and this is all I get from you?” He pries a little further.

“Well some people actually have lives out of shagging girls and playing bar gigs so yeah I’ve got to go.” You didn’t mean to sound so harsh but seeing this Emma girl had your blood boiling. She seemed lovely and deserved no harsh feelings so you felt it best to walk away from the situation which would probably just get out of hand.

“Y/N what’s all this about?” Matt says, hurt evident in his eyes. You sighed deeply trying to contain yourself.

“Nothing, sorry. I’m just super knackered. I’ll catch up with you guys later okay?” You didn’t wait for a response, hoisting yourself on your bike that you had walked home and rolled over to your front door, not as much as a look back and wave.

You were hoping that the day would come when Matt would bring home a girl and it didn’t bother you. But it was just getting worse. After closing the front door, you leaned against it trying to calm yourself before running up to your room to wallow alone.

---

Later that night you laid awake staring at your ceiling. The events from the afternoon had you in a frenzy. He really shouldn’t be affecting you like this, and yet here you were lying awake at the wee hours of the morning. It also didn’t help that there was light streaming into your bedroom window from Matt’s room.

You guys lived right next door to one another and your room windows faced each other, so most nights you would stay up and talk for hours on end from the windows edge.

You stood up, groaning. It was probably the same situation you had faced so many times before. Because Matt was in a band, there were many nights where he would leave his desk lamp on to work on melodies and lyrics. The light would keep you up, which you absolutely hated but you would never say anything.

Music was his life and you weren’t going to be the one to get in the way of that. With all the anger you were feeling though, tonight seemed easier to call him out on his bullshit. You approached your window and stood in front of it. But nothing could prepare you for what you would just witness. Straight ahead, stood Matt and Emma in very little clothing. Him in nothing but boxers and her in a matching set of red lace undies and bra. His hands were roaming her waist and landed on her perfect butt.

You couldn't help but feel self conscious. She had such a bangin body, nothing you thought you could compare too. Without hesitation you shut your blinds, not wanting to subject yourself to that anymore. You shakily laid back in bed and just started sobbing. The image of his lips attached to her neck as he loved every inch of her body made you weep. It had probably been all of the pent up emotions you were feeling. This was your first ever heart break.

---

“Y/N! You need to eat before you head to work.” You tossed the sheets off of your body and huffed. The last thing you needed was a long shift at the mall jewelry store. The required outfit all employees had to wear laid in a heap in the corner of your room which you trudged over to and put on.Once you were ready you headed downstairs where your mom was organizing breakfast and your younger brother devoured his cereal.

“Matt dropped by not that long ago.”

“Oh yeah? What did he want?” You focused on pouring a cup of coffee for yourself while asking.

“Don’t know. Just said he needed to talk to you.” You turned around to look at your mom and sighed.

“I’m actually not really speaking to him at the moment.” Taking a sip of your liquid energy.

“Why? What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m going to be late so I’ll see ya” You grabbed an apple and gave your mom a kiss on the cheek before running out the door

“Bye love!” You were already gone.

Your trusty bike always stayed locked up at the side of the house so you walked over to go grab it before heading to work.

“Y/N!”

Oh god. Whatever was about to happen, you weren’t in the mood. You turned around to see Matt running down his front yard in nothing but an open button up and pants.

She probably stayed the night, you thought.

You gripped onto your bike harder. Hopefully this won’t take long.

“Y/N, wait I have to talk to you.” He tried to catch his breath.

“What Matt?” Your tone was pointed.

“What’s going on with ya? You were acting all strange yesterday. Did I do something?” He stood there defeated. He had no clue what he had done to piss off the most important girl in his life. His best friend.

You groaned and threw your head back.

“Nothing really. I’m sorry I was being a bitch yesterday but I’ve just been under a lot of stress with school.”

Lies. You were at the top of all your classes.

“So are we good?” He asks, eyes hopeful.

“Always Matt.” You gave a smile. But the hurt was still there. His face lights up and he embraces you into a tight hug.

“Ugh Matt, you need to shower mate. You smell like sweat and regret.”

“Aww, you love it. Don’t pretend my manly musk doesn’t turn you on.” He gives you a wink. He of course was playing around. Why wouldn’t he be? You were his best friend. You couldn’t help but have your breath catch in your throat when he winked at you though.

You pretended to be amused.

“Hah hah Matt, very charming. Anyways I’m off to work so…” The laughs being overly sarcastic.

“Oh actually I wanted to ask you one more thing.” You couldn’t help but feel an excitement bubble in your stomach.

“Yeah?” You ask, eyes sparkling

“I need your help with Javed’s birthday.” Tonight Matt was going to throw a surprise party for Javed.

“Oh.” You were slightly disappointed. You didn’t know what you wanted him to say but it definitely wasn’t that.

“You know how I always want him to come to my parties but it’s impossible to get him there?”

“Yeah?”

“Well his parents trust you more than me by a long shot so I need you to pick him up and tell them your taking him to the library or some stupid shit like that.”

“Javed doesn’t know right?” You ask.

“Yeah, and it has to stay that way okay? Alright thanks love. I appreciate it.”

He comes in for one more hug and a kiss on the head.

“No worries Matt. See you tonight.”

He waves and starts walking back towards his house. Emma is waiting in nothing but one of his shirts (your favourite shirt of his nonetheless) in the doorway, watching the exchange go down.

You sigh and mount your bike, heading to work.

—-

That night you dressed up a tad bit. Of course it would raise suspicion if you showed up to Javed’s front door with what you had on so you snuck into your parents room and grabbed one of your dad’s old trench coats.

You let out a nervous puff of air as you sneaked past the living room where your mom was passed out in front of the tv. East Enders playing loudly on the screen. Your 5 year old brother laid on top of her asleep as well. It was pretty cute but there was no time to waste so you quietly snuck out.

The air was slightly nippy from the April weather. But you knew Javed’s house was just across the road so you didn’t mind.

You knocked on the door, hoping Javed would answer so it would be a quick exchange before getting him out of the house but alas, his father answered.

Shit, new plan.

“Hi Mr Khan. Is Javed around?”

“Why?” Uhhhhhh.

“We planned on going to the library to study.”

“Where are your books?” Fuck.

“I just got off work so I still need to drop by my house first.” Nice save Y/N.

He looked at you suspiciously then called out for Javed.

“Javed, your pretty friend is here.” You couldn’t help but giggle but it was cut short when Javed came down the stairs.

“Dad I told you this morning. Y/N and I are going to the library to study.” He had no clue what he was in for.

“Right well you two be good and get your work done.” He wagged a fatherly finger at you both and you nodded. As much as Javed and his dad has their problems, you could tell he wanted what was best for his son. Javed waved goodbye as the door shut behind him. Three heavy textbooks in his arms

“Where are your books Y/N? And what’s with the coat?”

“Oh Javed. You're so smart and yet so naive. Drop the books.” He gives you a confused look and you smirk, putting a sleeping mask over his eyes.

“What are you doing?” He seemed a little panicked as you grabbed the books from him and placed them behind the bush beside the stairs.

“Just relax.” You chuckle leading him away from the house.

He kept his hands out in front of him, trying to get used to the fact that he couldn’t see. It didn’t take long to approach Matt’s. You knew a bunch of people were already inside hiding, trying to stay quiet but failing miserably, probably already pissed drunk. You opened the door and Javed called out towards you. “Y/N? Where are we? Can I take this thing off?” You gently removed it from his eyes, darkness still filling the room. You quickly turned the light switch on and everyone came jumping out from different objects and doorways.

“Surprise!” Everyone yelled.

Javed jumped back a little in your arms. The celebration didn’t last long though because after they did what they were instructed to do, they all went back to playing loud music and talking. Most of the people here didn’t even know Javed, but they did know free booze.

“Happy Birthday mate!” Matt approached, slightly tipsy with a drink in his hand.

“Matt, what is all this?” Javed seemed a little upset.

“It’s your surprise party. I thought you would like it.”

“Is it hot in here?” Javed interrupts.

It seemed as though everything was too overwhelming for him. The smell of weed and beer was heavy and his mind was getting clouded. This was definitely not his scene.

“Shit. Hey, Javed, why don’t we go upstairs for a bit yeah?” You grabbed his arm knowing how to calm him down. Matt looked at you with a sorry look in his eyes.

“It’s okay Matt. Just give us a minute.” You said before pushing Javed upstairs. Matt quickly grabbed your wrist, his eyes looking deep into yours. They were soft and sincere. He felt awful.

“You going to be okay?” You smile and nod. Out of nowhere Emma shows up, super drunk. She wraps herself around Matt.

“Hey babe? Want to go somewhere a bit more private?” She giggled and nibbled at his ear. He gave you one last look.

You nodded telling him to go have fun. She giggles again and grabs his face, going straight in for a make out. Matt now seemed a tad bit preoccupied. You turned around trying to block it out, while also trying to get Javed into a quieter space. You open a couple doors, either people making out in them or drunkenly crying about their ex. You huffed and finally opened the door to Matt’s dad's office. Empty since it was off limits but for you and Javed there was an exception.

Javed let out a big sigh and you rested your head against the wall as you both sat on the carpeted floor.

“You know Matt did all of this for you. He may have missed the mark but it’s his way of showing that he cares.”

Javed looks over and nods.

“No I know, I just get worried about what would happen if I ever got caught up in that type of crowd. What my parents would think.”

“I understand.” You reply. It’s silent for a moment.

“Oh wait. I totally forgot. Happy Birthday mate.” You pull out a couple wrapped gifts from the pocket of the trench coat you had just taken off, handing them off to Javed.

He gives you a wide smile and rips open the wrapping paper to reveal a couple of Bruce Springsteen cassettes.

Writing on the front of one of the cassette said,

To J,

The biggest boss I know

Love, Y/N

He chuckles lightly before awkwardly crawling towards you and giving you a hug.

“I love it Y/N, thank you.” You smile and ruffle his hair.

“No problem at all. I’m always here for you, J you know that.”

“I know. Same here.” He smiles.

Silence filled the room, nothing but Matt’s weird music causing the walls to shake.

“So is tonight the night you are going to tell him?”

You groan and bring your knees into your chest, resting your head between them.

Not this again.

“Javed!” You whine. You really didn’t want to have this conversation right now. It was his party for christ sakes.

You should be celebrating, not venting. And besides, it would be highly inappropriate since he has a girlfriend.

“I know you hate it when I pry but I’m going to be honest with you.” You look up at Javed waiting for him to continue.

“It’s kind of annoying watching you pine over him from afar. I’ve been subjected to it for years. It’s my birthday I think you owe me one.”

You scoff.

“You’re something else you know that?”

He shrugs and smirks.

“You have been head over heels since year 7. Don’t you think you deserve that closure?” You sigh and close your eyes, leaning your head against the wall again.

“I ju-, We are such different people. Yes I may be madly in love with him but… I don’t know. His type is for sure not me. I’ll just have to get used to the fact that he will never feel the same way that I do.”

Tears threaten to spill and Javed is quick to come over and comfort you.

“It’s okay. You never know unless you try.”

“But what if it ruins our friendship. He means too much to me to jeopardize that.”

“I don’t know what to say to you Y/N.”

You sigh and wipe your tears suddenly feeling parched.

“I’ll be right back, just going to go grab a drink. You want anything?”

“I’m good.” His voice laced with sympathy.

You nod and get up, a little wobbly but you find your footing. You turn the nob and open the door only to walk right into someone.

Your eyes meet their chest but you already know who it is. Your eyes slowly look up to meet Matt’s.

He looks as though he has just seen a ghost. You're frozen in place, wondering if it’s worth fleeing or retreating back into the dark office space.

“I was coming to check on you guys. Is it true that you have feelings for me?” He asks suddenly, his face still in shock.

“Are you in love with me?” You bow your head in shame, not wanting to make eye contact with him.

“It’s okay Matt just forget it.” You slip past him and start walking away. You wanted to get the hell out of there but you couldn’t leave Javed alone so instead you keep your word and go find the drinks.

Matt follows you down the stairs and over to the kitchen where you were pretending to be busy finding a drink, your mind actually racing after what had just happened.

“Y/N.” He says beside you. You ignore him. He lightly grabs your face so you have no choice but to look into his blue eyes.

“Talk to me.” You push his hand away.

“There’s nothing to talk about Matt.”

He sighs and grabs your hand, pulling you away from the alcohol and into a quiet corner.

“We can’t just pretend I didn’t hear what you said up there. Y/N, do you have feelings for me? Be honest.”

“I might have some feelings for you.” He sighs and rubs his eyes in aggravation.

“I can’t believe you're making me do this.” You frown in confusion.

“Make you do what?” He doesn’t respond but instead walks away from you. Your heart shatters a bit, knowing deep down he wasn’t going to reciprocate and that you would ruin the friendship.

You can’t help but follow him and try to patch up whatever damage you had just caused. But you are stopped in your tracks. You see Emma and Matt talking. She looks upset and suddenly she slaps him across the face, leaving the party in a state. You flinched at the sound but run over to him.

“Matt what did you just do.”

“Was it not obvious?” He looked a little aggravated.

“What are you talking about.” Now you were getting annoyed. He wasn’t being clear with you. The same way you hadn’t been clear with him since year 7.

Once again he grabs your hand and pulls you upstairs. You thought that you guys would go back to the office but he enters the door beside it. His bedroom.

“Matt you're freaking me ou-“ He pushes you against his bedroom door and presses his lips against yours. Your eyes open wide and before it can go any further you push him off of you.

“Bloody hell Matt. You have a girlfriend!” You yell at him as he breathes heavily.

“What do you think I was doing down there? I was breaking up with her… for you.” You laugh in astonishment.

“You broke up with your girlfriend because I said I had feelings for you? Have you gone mad?”

“You don’t understand Y/N. I’ve been in love with you since we first met. I always thought you were beautiful, smart, funny, fun…. Look I may not have realized it then because I was 6 but still, once I understood what love meant I knew I had always loved you. Every girl I have been with has been a distraction to get over you. Now that I know you feel the same way, I’m all yours.”

You looked at him like he was a crazy person.

“You’re fucking insane.” You scoff.

“Insane about you.” You laugh again.

“Oh wow, you find that one on a bubblegum wrapper?” That line was probably the most cringey thing you have ever heard.

He smiles widely. He had always loved to see you laugh. It brightened his day.

“Y/N I’m serious.” He slowly walks back towards you and lightly pushes you back against his door. His left hand leaning against it beside your head.

Your breathing becomes very prominent as he leans down to leave a kiss on your neck.

“Tell me you love me.” He mumbles into your skin. You can’t help but release a small moan.

“Tell me you love me Y/N.” He sounded a bit desperate and honestly you were just as desperate as he was.

“I love you.” You respond in a breathy tone. He groans in pleasure and the kisses along your neck become deeper and they begin moving to different parts of your face. Soon your lips catch his and he holds your face in his hands while he slips his tongue down your throat.

“I’m so sorry it took this long.”

“Me too.” You gasp as he places his hand over your heat.

“Do you want to do this?” He let’s go and stops everything, looking into your eyes.

“Because I am okay with waiting.” He says, his face all blissed out.

You’ve been pent up for too long for this not to happen so you grab his hand and put it back where it was originally.

“I want you to fuck me Matthew.” His dick twitched in his pants when you said that. You had only ever said his full first name when you were really pissed at him. Now it had a whole new meaning. He liked it.

“Oh baby.” He smirks hoisting you up and swiping all of his lyrics off his desk and placing you down on top of it. You couldn’t help but laugh at the cheesiness as you held onto his neck. It felt like a stupid rom-com. But you didn’t care because you were with him. You kick your white heeled boots off, hating how they squeezed your feet anyways.

He began attacking your neck while between your legs, leaning you back slightly. You shifted your head to give him better access. You couldn’t help but stare out his window, looking into your room.

You were now one of his girls. So many times had there been glances into his bedroom, a new girl wrapped around him.

Jealousy always took over you. But now knowing he only did it because he couldn’t have you turned you on. You smirk slightly as he begins to remove your jean jacket.

“Maybe we should move this over to the bed.” You whisper in his ear. He nods and leaves you, the cold in the room making you shiver. He goes and jumps on his bed, excited like a little kid on Christmas. Trying to spice things up, you walk over to his record player and begin looking through his music library.

“Y/N!” He whines. He’s already taking down his pants and boxers, getting ready for you. You purposely take your time and evilly smirk at him while he begins to pleasure himself, waiting.

“I’m just finding some music.” You simply state trying not to drool over him stroking himself. You finally find a Led Zeppelin record that probably belonged to his dad and place it on the record player.

He groans and throws his head back on the pillow as he speeds up his movements. You crawl over to him, the music playing softly, his other music downstairs overpowering it.

He is quick to grab and pin you down onto his bed. Your arms held in place above your head

“You are so beautiful.” You smile and lift your head slightly to give him a kiss. He shifts a bit down your body and gives you a look, asking for permission. You nod so he starts to gently pull down the straps of your dress, then pulling the top down exposing your bra. It wasn’t as nice as Emma’s but it was uniquely you. A light purple with butterflies. He smiled down at you.

“So beautiful.” He starts to trickle kisses down your neck, then the exposed part of your breasts.

“Just take the bloody thing off Matt.”

“My pleasure.” He smirks. You arch your back slightly so he can work the clasp. It comes off after a couple of attempts and he throws the material to the side. You lay there complety bare from the waist up.

He bites his lip before dipping his head down and taking a nipple into his mouth. You close your eyes in pleasure, tingles moving down your back as you grip his hair.

“Feels so good.” You sputter out as he continues to suck on your chest. Some hickeys included. His tongue swirls around your nipple making you even more sensitive, a build up occurring in your lower stomach.

He lifts his head up and kisses you before pushing himself further down your body, gripping the sides of your dress and pulling it off of you completely, chucking it beside your bra.

His hands graze over your Saturday undies and he’s about to pull them down. You stop him however, bringing him back up so he’s face to face with you.

“Matt. Do you mean everything you are saying? I don’t want to be another number to your body count. This is real to me.” He smiled softly and lays beside you, giving you a peck on the lips.

“I’m serious about this Y/N.” You sigh and look up at the ceiling, in nothing but your underwear. All the times you had laid on his bed while doing homework over the years, you never thought you would end up like this. You weren’t complaining though.

“Let me take over for a bit yeah?” You say looking over at Matt. He smirks and kisses you once more before you jump up and straddle his waist, helping him take off his blue button up, leaving him stark naked other than his bracelets which you always secretly loved.

You lean down and plant kisses on his lips. Then you moved down to his neck, sucking bright purple hickies into his skin. You had a pattern going. Your lips continued down further his body. His chest, stomach that you always have adored when you guys went swimming throughout your school years. You made your way down to his pubic bone ready to take his dick into your mouth.

“Please love, stop teasing and put it in your mouth.” He almost looked like he was in pain. The back of his hand laid on his forehead while he winced, eyes tightly shut and lips pressed into a thin line.

“My pleasure.” You say softly, lightly gripping his throbbing member into your hand.

You slowly began stroking it. A tight enough grip where every once in a while you grazed your thumb over the tip, his thighs clenching every time you did so. You kept a mental note of that.

“Holy fuck! ” He cried out.

You kept going for a bit, pre cum leaking from the head.

Taking this as a signal you wrapped your lips around the tip and licked a couple swirls clockwise.

Matt wasn’t having it though because his hand shot up and gripped your hair, lightly pushing you deeper down his shaft. Surprised you choked a bit, which he caught right away and lifted you up.

“You okay?” He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. You smiled and nodded.

“I’m fine, just surprised is all.” He sighs in relief, and lays back down, an arm going under his head.

“Sorry I shouldn’t have forced you.”

“I don’t feel forced love” you reply, adoring the sound of calling him love.

Instead of going back to sucking him off you decide to just go for it.

“Um Matt. You have a condom on you?” He shoots up and leans over to his bedside table, you still in his lap.

“I can’t believe we are doing this.” He says all giddy. You snort and wait for him to get the piece of rubber on his member.

It takes him a second but once he does it he flips you over so you are under him. He helps your shimmy out of your underwear then he brings you into a kiss while he uses his other hand to line himself up with your centre. Once he finds it he slowly enters, a guttural moan leaves his lips. Once he is fully inside you, he leans his forehead against yours, breathing heavily through his nose. A tear slips out from your eye from how tight you are and he notices, wiping it away.

“I’ll move in a second. There is no rush.” You nod, silently thanking him for waiting. Once your body is accustomed to his length you give him a tap and he slowly starts coming out. He then enters again, a steady speed developing. You whimper and let out heavy breaths as he slowly pounds into you.

“Go faster. For fuck sake Matt, go faster.” He speeds up leaving your eyes to roll in the back of your head. It felt so right having him inside of you. You were in pure bliss.

Sweat starts forming on his forehead and his tongue sticks out slightly as he pounds into you relentlessly. You weren’t totally there yet so you let him circle your clit with his index and middle finger helping you build up faster. Once you got there you cried out,

“I’m gonna fucking cum Matt!”

“Look down love.”

You followed his orders and watched as his length moved in and out from your dripping core. That was enough to finish you so you nodded.

“Yup I’m there, I’m there. Cum with me baby.” You try to coherently say. He starts to twitch inside of you and you both let out loud moans of release.

He cums into the condom and crashes onto your chest, still inside of you.

The record had stopped but music from downstairs and yelling could still be heard from all corners of the house.

Inside the room was all pants and heavy breathing,

“That. Was. Fucking. Amazing.” He breathed out while you rubbed his back and played with his hair.

I love you Y/N.” He mumbled into your breasts. You laugh slightly at his childishness.

“I love you too bub.”

“We should have done that so much sooner.” He lifts his head up from your bare chest to say.

“What does this mean for us?” you ask, a slight worry in your voice.

“I want nothing more than to be with you Y/N. I would do anything for you.”

You smile, pushing his head back into your chest. He starts to lull off, listening to your heartbeat and breathing.

“Oh my god Javed!” You were brought out of your dreamland, remembering your best friend you left in that room about half an hour ago.

Matt’s eyes went wide and you both shot up from the bed and began to get dressed. Hopefully he was okay and wasn’t in a corner crying.

Once you were both somewhat collected, other then Matt’s badly done buttoning job of his shirt and both or your disheveled hair, you ran out.

You open the office door beside Matt’s room. He wasn’t in there.

“Shit.” You mutter, running downstairs. Matt close behind you. The party on the main floor stayed alive and well, even with the host's absence.

You look around and notice a group laughing in the living room. You walk in to see Javed, holding a blunt telling a funny story to a group of very interested people. He was the life of the party.

“Matt come here, you won’t believe this!” You call out to your now boyfriend.

He joins you and looks at Javed all surprised.

“J?” He asks. Javed stops his fascinating story and walks over to the two of you.

“Hey guys. I’m sorry for earlier. I’m having a great time. Really thank you for the party Matt.”

“No problem J.” Matt looked dumbfound.

“I’m sorry I left you in the office J, I got caught up.” You try to explain yourself. Javed smirks at the likes of the two of you.

“No worries and by the way thank you for the birthday present. “ You look at him confused.

“Now I don’t have to listen to you whine about Matt anymore. Same with you mate.” Your eyes went wide.

“Wait what? You knew all along Matt liked me back and never said anything.” He shrugs

“It was never my place. Anyways, next time just remember that the walls are thin in this place.” He winks before walking off, starting to talk to some girl from college.

You and Matt stand there dumbfounded.

#dean charles chapman #dean-charles chapman #dean charles chaoman imagines #matt blinded by the light #blinded by the light #fanfiction #fanfic

42 notes · View notes

phantomphangphucker · 5 years

Text

Phango - Phabulous Phashion

(”It’s not gay if he’s dead + Tucker punches Vlad + Identity Reveal)

Danny’s gonna use the school hallways as his personal fashion runway.

Danny’s walking by a store but jerks to a stop, walking backwards some to stare in through the window; lips twitching up into a lopsided smile.

-Next Morning-

Danny walks up to his locker with a cocky grin, spotting Sam and Tucker. Danny quickly leans against the lockers and puts his hand on Tucker’s shoulder, “hey”.

“Did you just...give me the shoulder touch?”, Tucker snorts, “dude, that’s so gay”.

Danny just wiggles his eyebrows dramatically and waits for Tucker to notice. Sam notices first however and promptly facepalms. But her eyeballing gets Tucker to look down at Danny’s shirt, reading ‘it’s not gay if he’s dead’. Tucker blinks once, twice, three times, before curling up and laughing; clapping Danny on the shoulder multiple times in the process.

“Dude! Where!”, straightening up, “also, that was the single best joke you’ve ever made”.

Danny smirks, the joke really only works because he knew what Tucker would say, “lets just say, there’s a wonderfully spooky new store in town and I am broke”, Danny waits a bit while his two friends shake their heads with mischievous smiles before he picks back up, “I also need a bigger closet”.

Sam and Tucker share a look before Tucker looks at Danny, “so you’re actually going the wear different clothing every day for once?”.

Sam smirks, “do we need to set up a fashion runway? I’m pretty sure there’s actually one in my house”.

Danny smirks almost cruelly, “wonder how long it’ll take before people start questioning my fashion choices”.

Sam and Tucker sigh, speaking in unison, “this is going to end badly”.

--Line Break--

Danny’s pulling books out of his locker and quickly hides his smirk as his two friends approach. Speaking as Tucker opens his own locker, “so the new Pokemon game’s coming out. Who you gonna choose?”.

“The rabbit thingy I think, you?”.

Danny closes the locker door and smirks. Tucker, remembering yesterday's bullshit promptly looks down. Danny’s shirt reading, ‘CHOOSE DEATH’, Tucker can’t help but laugh, “now that’s a little on the nose”, pointing at Danny, “and you didn’t choose shit”.

Danny huffs, “hey now, I went in knowing full well what would happen the second time. And y’all never forced me to go it in, in the first place”.

Tucker rolls his eyes, “debatable. Plus, you’re not technically dead. At least not entirely”.

“Yeah, I guess death isn’t one of those things were a half-off coupon really applies”, Danny smirks slightly, “and if y’all think you’re even slightly truly responsible, then maybe you two should get ‘Reaper Crew’ shirts. Thinking you’re my little personal reapers and shit”.

“Danny dude, we literally reap ghosts. As in we gather them up? You really should study vocabulary once and a while”, Tucker slightly regrets his words as he watches a wicked smile spread across Danny’s face.

--Line Break--

Danny’s still trying to figure out how he’s going to make a joke out of today’s fashion choices when Dash practically hands it to him. Overhearing Dash jeering at some freshman, “what you think hiding around your tall friend’s gonna make you bully-proof?”.

Danny snaps his head around painfully and near inhumanely fast, Sam and Tucker exchanging a glance as Danny strides over and floor slides dramatically to be in front of Dash. Danny grins, “everybody knows I sure as shit ain’t, but guess what I am?!?”, Danny gestures at his shirt because he knows Dash is an idiot.

Dash looks down and reads Danny’s shirt ‘Death Proof’ and mutters, “goddamnit Fentoast”, and restrains a chuckle.

Tucker leans over to Sam, “I like how yesterday’s shirt basically said ‘I’m dead’ and today’s says ‘I’m not dead’. Not to mention subtly hinting at the whole probable immortality thing”.

Danny smirks at them as he dodges out of the way of Dash trying to grab at him. Both of them running after him to hide behind the school.

Danny digs in his pockets and shoves t-shirts at them. Tucker quirks an eyebrow, “seriously? I thought you were broke”.

“I’m broke-er”.

Sam looks over the black ‘Reaper Crew’ shirt and shrugs. Pulling it on while gesturing at Danny’s pans, “why do you guys always get to have such massive pockets”, looking down at the shirt before quirking an eyebrow at Danny, “did you memorise our clothing sizes?”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “I’ve literally worn your bodies, I know how they fit”.

Tucker blinks, “you know, that sounds way creepier when you actually say it like that”. Danny just chuckles.

--Line Break--

Danny’s laying in his desk as Mr. Lancer comes in. Quickly calling attendance and ignoring how Danny smirks when he says, “here!”. But he can’t help but chuckle, amused by Danny’s antics, when he gets fed up with Danny’s inattentive resting and calls on him to sit up straight. Actually having to pause and laugh to himself a bit at Danny leaning back in the chair and throwing an arm over the back of it. Making his shirt, which reads ‘Here Lies’ over the image of a tombstone, very noticeable.

Lancer grumbles to himself, “I wish he’d put as much effort into his classwork as jokes”, then raising an eyebrow ever so slightly over Daniel suddenly looking a little sheepish and rubbing his neck; pretty well sure Daniel has somehow heard Lancer's mutterings.

--Line Break--

Danny planned out his next apparel choice with precision. Waiting till Red was in a pissy enough mood to go after Phantom a bit more aggressively before school. Struggling to keep the smile off his face as he slips out of the bathroom after changing back human and fixing up his wounds.

Sam grumbling at him as he gets to his locker, her looking at her phone -going over today’s morning ghost news- all the while, “she’s going after you pretty aggressively again. What did you do to piss her off now?”.

Danny shrugs, “might be because I kept stealing her captures”.

Tucker elbows him, “one of these days she’s going to genuinely get you good, you know”. The girl was cute and he knew Danny still liked her but she was really a threat.

Danny smiles more earnestly then, sighing almost wistfully, “maybe she’ll really be the death of me”, shrugging, “not that I mind”. Since, apparently, he liked danger even in his love life. Which yes, was absolutely stupid, but he did stupid damn well.

Sam rolls her eyes and sighs, she really wished Danny would cut it out with his soft spot for the huntress, “you should mind”, glaring at his soft-looking smile, “and you better not still be interested in her. She hates ghosts, no matter what that’ll get in the way”. Tucker firmly decides not to comment on that.

Danny just grins wide and you could practically smell the mischief wafting off of him. Sam pinches her nose but Tucker bursts out laughing just before she looks to Danny’s shirt. Danny just grins smugly as she groans at reading, ‘Death Cannot Stop True Love’. Glaring at Danny, “I hate you, you moron”.

Valerie walks by and comments with a smirk, “well I don’t”.

Danny sticks his arms out dramatically at Val’s retreating form, “at least someone loves me”.

Both Sam and Tucker replying, “she just doesn’t know any better”. Danny just rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, though he honestly loves all the shit they give him.

--Line Break--

Danny makes a point of massaging his sore shoulder and thusly covering up the chest of his t-shirt as he walks over to his two friends at the being of school.

The two give him worried looks over what looks like blood having seeped through the side of his white t-shirt. Tucker frowning as it doesn’t really look right, “you really should just stop wearing white”. Sam, being more sensible, asks the more important question, “are you okay?”.

At that Danny smirks, as he’s finally close enough to them that he knows they damn well will pick up really quickly that the ‘blood’ is just part of the shirt's design. Lowering his arm to the side so they can read the ‘I’m fine’ written across the shirt. Both of them promptly start hitting him.

Though they both do have to admit, as the day goes by, that everyone doing double takes over Danny’s shirt is rather hilarious. Even if everyone’s used to Danny’s shit enough to not freak out too much.

--Line Break--

Sam and Tucker chuckle at Danny’s ‘Ghost Gym’ Gengar gym shirt, pretty sure the only reason Tetslaff is letting him get away with it is because the design is workout related. Well that, and, if you knew what to look for, Danny was clearly extremely physically fit.

Tetslaff looks around at everyone and nods curtly, “alright you maggots, it’s gymnastics day. So I want to see some serious acrobatics and running!”.

Dash gapes as Danny does a clean and one of the fastest obstacle runs in the entire gym class. Shaking his head before shouting, “you cheated Fentwerp!”. Dash is honestly only more annoyed as Danny locks eyes with him, grins wickedly and walks into the changing room.

Dash was about to storm after the little freak when Danny exits the changing room, still grinning a bit manically. Dash scowls but can’t help but feel a little less interested in beating the weirdo up. After reading the sweater, ‘CHEAT DEATH’. That is until Danny speaks up, why did the little freak have to have such a damn mouth on him? And why’d he have to use it to diss him? Why didn’t the weirdo know his damn place!

Danny flips Dash off, “there’s only one thing I cheat bitch”, before booking it off. While Dash shouts at him, “why you little-FENTON!”, and runs after him.

Tetslaff is far too pleased over the physical improvements of what was formerly the worst excuse for physical fitness, to really care about reprimanding him for his language.

--Line Break--

Vlad walks into the Fenton household, he’s a little early but that hardly matters. Gives him plenty of time to scope out any new inventions or lord his mental and ghost power prowess over Daniel’s head.

Looking around to quickly spot Daniel and those two friends of his all sitting around the living room. All three promptly getting up, Daniel snapping, “you’re early frootloop. What? Cat brush you off for date night?”.

Vlad rolls his eyes but stops halfway and stares at Daniel’s shirt ‘WANTED DEAD & ALIVE Schrödinger’s cat‘. Shaking his head, coming to stand in front of Daniel and gesturing at his attire, “I know you’re reckless, but isn’t this a little on the nose Daniel?”.

Danny grins almost wickedly at that, “nope, but you know what is?”. That’s the perfect set-up for their little ‘no one expects the geek’ plan.

Vlad quirks an eyebrow as Daniel leans to the side; only for Tucker to punch him in the nose. Daniel chuckles, “that was”, while Vlad steps back, hand over his now bleeding nose, and glares at the teens.

Tucker looks back at Danny with a giddy grin, just as Jack and Maddie come in trough the door.

Maddie smiles slightly over seeing the creepy old Masters bleeding, she’s got no clue what’s happened but she’s sure that whoever had more than good enough reason. While Jack, bless his heart, takes Vlad into the kitchen to help fix up Vlad’s nose.

Vlad glares bloody murder at the teen trio from a stool, while Jack honestly just makes the bleeding a bit worse. Maddie eventually taking pity and actually helping.

--Line Break--

Tucker closes his locker door and immediately looks at Danny’s shirt as he approaches. Tucker raising an eyebrow over the simple grey shirt with a tiny grim reaper poking out of the chest pocket, “what? Ran outta joke shirts already?”.

Danny snickers, “naw, just figured I should stop brushing off other body parts”.

Both turn as Sam slams her locker door closed rather aggressively. Tucker muttering, “well someone’s clearly in a piss poor mood”.

Sam flips him off, “I’m a ray of fucking sunshine, fuck off”.

Danny beams, yet another perfect setup, “is it something I can shoot?”.

Sam sighs, “not really, but...”, Sam throws a flower-girl behavioural Guidebook into Danny’s locker which Danny wastes no time in shooting an ecto-ray at while giving Tucker a shit-eating grin.

Sam slams Danny’s locker door shut on his hand when she sees why he’s smiling like that, reading the words on the backs of his gloves ‘Death Rays’, and then storming off.

Danny rubs the forming bruise on his hand, “worth it”. While Tucker wheezes.

--Line Break--

Mr. Lancer stands at the front of the class, “alright everyone, as you know there is a group assignment portion to your grade. Now I will be assigning the groups...”, glaring at a few jocks in the room, “due to certain actions last year”.

Dash and Kwan glare at Danny as he snickers but don’t say anything as Mr. Lancer lists off the different groups, eventually getting to the jocks, “Dash, Tucker, and Danny. And for the final group, Kwan, Sam, and Valerie”.

Sam, Valerie and Tucker all look horrified; Kwan doesn’t honestly mind all that much.

Dash grins cruelly while Danny looks down at his shirt, reading ‘this is booshit’ and grumbling, “this one was a bad idea”. Deciding not to waste his opportunity, he shouts, “oh that’s booshit!”, and uncrosses his arms to throw them out to the side.

Lancer sighs and shakes his head, slightly confused as to why no one’s told Daniel to change his shirt; it’s definitely against dress code. Pointing at Daniel’s shirt, “please change your shirt, Mr. Fenton”. While Dash sneers at Danny, “you should be thankful, not often shoe scum actually gets to work with Highschool perfection, Fentenisshoe”.

Danny blinks, he firmly can’t believe his luck, before turning and giving Dash a slightly manic open-mouthed grin. Promptly ripping off his top shirt -of course he expected someone to call him on the first shirt- revealing the second shirt underneath. Revealing what he’s sure is just an Amity version of an online ‘pop culture’ shirt, reading ‘ECTOPLASMIC SCUM’.

Tucker slams his face into his desk, wheezing slightly. Both Sam and Valerie burst out laughing, multiple people joining them. Dash glares around at everyone, making most people shut up; but really, Sam, Tucker and Valerie just laugh harder.

--Line Break--

Tucker takes one look at Danny’s shirt the next day, ‘let’s have a wail of a good time’ and promptly claps a hand over Danny’s mouth, “no”.

Danny tilts his head down and makes a show of seeming completely downright defeated. Speaking as Tucker removes his hand, “awwww”.

--Line Break--

Sam and Tucker shake their heads at Danny’s shirt ‘this is my ghost costume, I’m just dead on the inside’. Tucker gesturing at Danny’s shirt, “okay this one is definitely pushing it, dude. It’s literally literal”.

Danny rolls his hand in the air and tilts his head around, “not quite, I’m not literally in my ghost costume. Unless you want to say that my Screaming Fan form is a costume my ghost is wearing”.

“Dude, that's basically correct. Frying Pan is closer to who you really are. This”, Tucker pulls on Danny’s black hair gently, “is pretty well just your disguise at this point”.

Danny shrugs, they weren’t really wrong but smirks as the new ghost drill alarm goes off. Snickering as everyone pulls ghost masks/costumes on quickly, as part of a new plan for dealing with any ghosts. Because someone had the ‘brilliant’ idea of ‘tricking’ ghosts into thinking the students were ghosts. Ghosts were not this stupid. Not even kind of.

Mr. Lancer, who always gets stuck playing the role of the ‘real’ ghost, stops and stares at Danny. Who just gestures at his shirt with a wily smirk. Mr. Lancer shakes his head, “that would never work”, remembering the role he’s supposed to be playing, “boOOoOOoOooOOOo”.

Danny chuckles and grabs Tucker's red ghost mask, pulling it off his face slightly and snapping it, “neither would this”. Tucker just turns his head and glares slightly at Danny, even if that didn’t really hurt.

--Line Break--

Danny saunters into the school with a massive lopsided grin on his face. There was absolutely no way he’d be able to make reference to his shirt today but the recent situation he’s found himself in made it too good to not get this shirt.

Valerie pauses as she was walking past, looking at Danny’s shirt ‘I for one welcome our new ghost overlords’, squinting slightly, “you’ve sure had some interesting clothing choices but what could this one even be referencing?”, glaring slightly, “the ghosts defiantly do not rule us or this town”, glaring a bit more, “and why would you support that?”.

Danny chuckles, in the eyes of the ghost Phantom had always ‘ruled’ Amity Park. Shrugging, “well if you wanna get technical about lairs and shit...”, Danny trails off as Val just glares even harder.

Valerie snaps slightly, “Amity is not a ghosts lair”. Danny can’t help but snort and laugh a bit.

Danny sends her a bit of a sympathetic smile, not really looking to get into it with her. Instead deciding to throw her through a loop and throw her a bone at the same time, putting a hand on his hip, “got nothing to do with that though”, smirking at her raised eyebrow and leaning his elbow on her shoulder, speaking with a slightly sultry look, “don’tcha know? The ghosties got themselves a knew high and mighty king”.

Danny winks as he walks off, Valerie gapping at him before speed walking to catch up with him. Sticking her head around to be in front of him, “who?!?!???”.

Danny tilts his head back and laugh exaggeratedly, “who do you think? Literally only one reckless idiot went and fought the previous one”.

Valerie mutters, “oh my Zone”, before walking off, clearly a little in her own head.

Not even seconds later Sam and Tucker punch him in the shoulders. Tucker smirking, “fucking congrats dude, but you are also an idiot”.

Sam shakes her head, “we all really shoulda seen this coming. Why did you tell her though”.

Danny smirks, “tell me about it and because of timing”, slapping a hand on his chest, “I had a joke to make”.

Tucker looks at the shirt and shakes his head, “we should be the ones wearing that. You’re welcoming yourself”.

Danny just smirks as the sit down in class.

--Line Break--

Sam and Tucker both facepalm as Danny walks towards them like he owned the entire damn school. He was decked out head to toe in ghostly fashion. ‘I AM A GHOST’ t-shirt, ‘I’m dying inside’ beret, ghost emoji leggings, knee-high ‘#LITERALLY DEAD’ socks, ‘the ghost inside’ shorts, blood and ectoplasm spattered shoes, ‘monster mortuary’ jacket, coffin sunglasses, and a ‘BOOOO!’ choker.

Danny poses dramatically in-front of his friends while Tucker groans, “Danny dude, you are practically begging to be shot or found out at this point”. But Tucker gestured to his own t-shirt, Ash vs the Evil Dead ‘Ghost Beaters’ design. Danny smirks and gives an approving nod. Sam takes this as her queue and gestures to her T-shirt with a little ghost nurse carrying bandaids reading ‘Boo Boo Crew’. Danny looks over and laughs.

Danny claps them on the shoulder as they start walking to class, “so y’all found the store huh? Spook Spot is a name I certainly approve of”.

Sam smirks, “damn right we did, this town is the only damn place we’re a ghost focused apparel store would actually be profitable. Fucking capitalism”.

Danny chuckles, personally he was glad, there was so many good jokes to be made and it really would get lots of business. “Think I should collect part of the profits? Seeing as I’m the entire reason why it’s able to be successful”.

Tucker, ever interested in a quick buck, “you damn well should!”. While Sam just grumbles about, “not feeding the man”.

Dash glares at the little Fenton freak as he enters the classroom, “what you think all that’s gonna make you cool enough to be like Phantom? Fentoenail”.

Danny chuckles darkly, “oh I’m certainly spooky enough”.

Sam smirks, “a spooky baby”. While Tucker elbows Sam, “more like spooky babe, riiiiiight Sam”, he wiggles his eyebrows at her earning a glare from the goth.

The two friends stop and gape a little as Valarie walks in and pelts Danny in the face with a t-shirt. Danny just letting it fall off his face and onto the floor. Raising an eyebrow at Valarie while she says, “you absolute fool, I can’t believe you”, before taking her seat.

Danny looks down at the t-shirt, one half has a skull on it the other half reads ‘only half dead’. Danny chuckles, picks it up, stuffs it in his pocket and mutters into his hand, “well damn”.

Sam and Tucker exchange a glance and then facepalm.

—The Previous Night—

Valerie crawls into her bed, puts a sore arm over her eyes and sighs. Snapping her eyes open seconds later before blinking and jerking to sit up, muttering, “oh my Zone, he fucking winked at me. And halfas and she looks just like Phantom but black hair and blue eyes and oh my Zone, Danny.....”. Thinking over the past weeks before shaking her head after a beat, “I dated the most colossal idiot ever”.

Glancing to her computer before scrambling over to it and heading to google to find some joke shirt, muttering at it, “I have to get you back, you damn Spook”.

End.

115 notes · View notes

immortalbutonlybyname · 4 years

Text

Reviewing Dramas I have watched part 3

My rating system goes like this: 1- Did not like, 2- Enjoyed but probably wouldn’t watch again, 3- Enjoyed and would watch some episodes again (or for movies may watch again), 4- Enjoyed and would watch again, 5- Loved

TV Series

Pinocchio: 4/5

Trigger warning: Suicide, Victim blaming, attempted murder, actual murder

Pinocchio is about a kid who, after a massive tragedy blown up and twisted by the media causes his mother to attempt a murder suicide by throwing them both in the ocean, gets washed ashore a small neighboring island and takes on the identity of a old man with dementia’s deceased son. Him along with his “niece” who has Pinocchio syndrome, where one will get uncontrollable hiccups whenever they lie, must work to become reporters for two different goals and find themselves facing a giant conspiracy and a question of fact versus impact in media. I really enjoyed this show, it was especially nice how each episode was named after a children’s story. I began this show because I really loved Lee Jong-Suk’s acting in High School 2015 and I was not disappointed. The episodes had a lot of painful scenes but also plenty of funny scenes to balance it out. It kept my interest really well throughout and I don’t remember an episode where I was bored. It does have darker themes so I would be wary of those if you are sensitive to such themes.

I Can Hear Your Voice: 4/5

Trigger Warning: Attempted murder, Actual murder, Victim blaming

I Can Hear Your Voice follows a woman who witnessed the murder of a father and the attempted murder the victim’s son, despite her fear she decides to testify as a witness. Her statement and evidence as a witness gets the criminal a guilty sentence, effectively making the murder wish to seek revenge. Years later, she is a lazy, cold public defense attorney who does not care for her clients and lacks manners, the young man whom she saved from the murderer and helped is actually a telepath and they meet again. The two of them, along with a former police officer turned lawyer, work together to help those who are truly innocent while also protecting themselves once the murderer has finished his sentence and begins to seek revenge. This show was great, it was funny, sad, annoying, and cute. I watched this one shortly after Pinocchio and it was kind of similar in feel but personally a little more interesting in my opinion. There were a lot of moral dilemmas that not only the characters but I as a viewer struggled with. I even got on my group chat with my friends and asked them about the issues and they struggled as well. I liked a lot of the characters, including the female prosecutor who is the main’s rival. Overall a really great show, definitely worth watching.

Flower Crew: Joseon Marriage Agency: 5/5

Warnings: Forced suicide, OCD/Nervous habit/ possible hint to self-harm warning.

Flower Crew is about a former, escaped slave who becomes a member of the most sought-after marriage agency in Joseon era Korea after her husband disappears before their wedding leaving her with many debts to the aforementioned agency. She soon finds herself in a very sensitive situation of pretending to be noble and going through the queen choosing tests to save her slave brother, all while trying to decide if she loves the cold, stand offish leader of the marriage agency or if her heart is still after her missing fiance. The best thing about this show is that each character gets their backstory and closure they needed. Usually with shows, my favorite characters (as they are usually the secondary ones) never get the closure or even backstory they deserve. In usual my review fashion, I will not lie to you, I found out about this show about a week before the first episode aired and decided to watch it as it aired mainly because Park Ji-hoon was one of the main actors in it, and he didn’t let me down, he was a proper cringey asshole but I loved him so much. I was worried as the show progressed that he wouldn’t have a proper backstory and only the few hints they threw at me that I would have to piece together, but I was more than pleased when his arc finally came. It was definitely worth the wait and while waiting I ended up loving all the other characters and actors/actresses involved in this show. Definitely would recommend however, dark themes are a regular.

Beating Again (aka Falling for Innocence): 4/5

Trigger Warning: Heart conditions

Beating Again or Falling for Innocence depending on where you watch it, is about a stern, cold hearted man with a genetic heart disease and a kind but serious secretary whose father betrayed the main character’s father when they were kids making them enemies. After a set of coincidences, the main character goes through a heart transplant and ends up with the heart of the secretary’s husband. Shortly after the transplant he begins to experience new mannerisms and personality traits that were once the husbands as well as finding himself falling for his secretary. Throughout the show they work to fix his past mistakes, trying to find out what exactly happened to the secretary’s husband, all while figuring out if he is the one in love or if it is his heart who loves her. I really enjoyed this drama; it was more on the serious side most times but had some great humorous moments as well. It also did an amazing job at pissing me off towards the end, most kdrama’s do but this ish was next level anger. I saw it on YouTube and decided to watch it while bored one day and I was not disappointed it was such a great show.

Who Are You School 2015: 2/5

Trigger Warning: Attempted suicide, HEAVY Bullying, Depression, Victim blaming,

Who Are You School 2015 is about two long lost twins, one living the life of a pretty well off school bully and the other still living in an orphanage and being ruthlessly bullied. After the bullied twin attempts suicide by jumping off a bridge, the adopted twin who just happened to be nearby due to a school trip saves her. The bullied twin wakes up with amnesia and gets mistaken as the adopted twin, but as she gains her memory she discovers that while she lived the twin who saved her died in her place leaving her with not only guilt for surviving but also with the blame of the death of a friend from her sisters past. This story deals with finding who she truly is and coming to terms with her past while also trying to find the truth behind her sister’s past. This was a good show, however it took me forever to finish as the content messed with my own mental state if I watching too many episodes at one time (and I am a perfectly healthy person mentally so please be careful when choosing to watch), a few episodes was okay for me but when I first attempted to binge it was not a very good idea. I did honestly watch it for Yook Sungjae as I loved his performance in Goblin and while I knew what I was getting into, I did not expect it to affect me as much, his acting is great as usual and his story line just broke my heart. This show also does have a love triangle and it’s honestly the worst written most dissatisfying love triangle I have probably ever personally seen, so, there’s that. Once again very good show, however, practice caution if you are at all sensitive to these topics.

A Korean Odyssey: 5/5

Trigger Warning: Jump Scares, Anorexia, Self-Harm (sort of)

A Korean Odyssey is loosely based off of the famous Chinese story A Journey to the West. It follows Jin Seon Mi, a young girl who can see ghosts and Son O-gong, a former monkey deity reduced to the status of a common monster after being punished and kicked out of the spirit realm. After Seon Mi frees O-gong from the marble mountains she is cursed with the fate of Samjang, a human who must protect the world from evil spirits. If the Samjang is devoured, the monster who eats her becomes incredibly and uncontrollably powerful. O-gong wants to eat her to gain this power, however a deal made to get Seon-Mi to release him from the mountains, stops him. In fear of O-gong, Seon Mi, with the help of the demon king, gives the monkey deity a Geumganggo, a magical bracelet which makes it impossible to go against the words of or hurt the one who has gifted it, with an unexpected side effect, he is now uncontrollably in love with her. Now Seon Mi has to deal with saving the world from horrible destruction all while dealing with a head over heels and hating every second of it, deity meanwhile questioning both her feelings for him and his true feelings for her. I absolutely love this show. It is my favorite kdrama to date, I am actually watching it a second time with my friend and we are about halfway through, then a few days ago started watching it over again with my older sister so I would say this was deserving of a 5 ranking. I really love all the characters honestly (minus the main bad guys but no spoilers, if you’ve seen it you know who they are) they are all equally assholes and precious children who must be protected. I have to admit though, my favorite story line was the devil king and my favorite character has got to be the shopkeeper’s grandson despite his lack of scenes. I have never seen or heard of One (Jung Jae-won) before this show but I love him so much now. I actually watched this for Hong-ki (notice a pattern, but hey, at least I am honest in my biases.), but I finished this show with more favorite characters than I thought was possible. It does have ghosts and demons which can be creepy to some, but as someone who has yet to be affected by scary movies such as The Ring, and the whole Conjuring series, it really just looks to me like those demon snapchat filters so it’s not actually scary. Overall an amazing show, definitely recommend, 110% worth watching.

Korean Movies

Secretly, Greatly: 5/5

Trigger Warnings: Graphic images of gore, Mass suicide mentioned, Suicide, Death and Loss

Secretly, Greatly is about three North Korean spies who were sent to South Korea and are given disguises as a fool, an aspiring singer, and a high school student. They soon become accustomed to South Korean lifestyle and find happiness in each other, wanting to live their lives happily instead of spying for North Korea. After an information leak of all the identities of the North Korean spies they must stick together to survive while being hunted down by both sides. It’s a movie about finding family and happiness even in the toughest situations, questioning where one’s loyalty lies, and the strength of the bonds between those who have nothing but each other.

Northern Limit Line: 2/5 and 5/5 explained below

Trigger Warning: Graphic images of gore, Death and Loss, Actual funeral footage,

Northern Limit line is a movie based of the true story of the North Korean attack of South Korean naval ships during the 2002 FIFA World Cup. It follows the crew members on one of the navy patrol boats, from when Corporal Park Dong-hyuk joins, to after the attack. This movie is really great, and I still love it. The ONLY reason I am giving this a 2/5 is because it messed me up for three whole days afterward. I was an emotional wreck; I had no previous knowledge of this attack and the extent of my knowledge of the movie going in was that it was based off a true incident of a North Korean attack. While I don’t regret watching it, I would probably never watch it again unless I really really wanted to and had like 3 days of free time to be emotionally damaged simply because of the heavy content of the movie thus the 2/5. It is rather graphic with quite a few shocking scenes and even real clips of the actual funerals of the fallen crew members and their families grieving. I cried, and honestly still feel like crying as I am writing this. I did lots of research on the incident afterward as well to further understand the content of the movie. Every actor did amazing in portraying the highs and lows of serving in the South Korean navy and the eventual close friendship between all of the crew only made it even more tragic. If you are able to handle the heavy material of this movie, I highly recommend it as it truly is an amazing and sad story that everyone should see at least once.

The Con Artists: 4/5

The Con Artists is about Ji-hyuk, a thief that specializes in safe-cracking who teams up with the young genius hacker Jong-bae, and the planner Goo-in for their biggest mission yet, to steal $150 million from Incheon Customs in 40 minutes. This show was pretty good, I liked all the twists and turns as the movie basically took you on a roller coaster ride throughout. At one point I was thoroughly pissed off, but I was played, and it only made the movie better. If you are looking for plot twists galore, you are in the right place with this one. I can’t really say much about it without giving any spoilers (that’s how elaborate it is) so I shall end this review here. Highly recommend!

Taiwanese Movies

Secrets in the Hot Springs: 5/5

Trigger Warning: Death and Loss, Jump Scares, ghosts

Three teens who have begrudgingly, at least to two of them, become friends go to one of the characters families hot spring to help run the place during school break, strange and hilarious things begin happening around them. They now must figure out the secret behind the mysterious hot spring. Personally, I feel this movie is so underrated, so much so I can not even find a gif for it so, have a picture. I decided randomly to watch this movie after boredom scrolling through Netflix one day and I am so glad I did. I thoroughly enjoyed it and did end up watching it again the day after. It’s really cute, if not a little awkward at points, and definitely hilarious. I didn’t find it exactly scary because the humor really distracted me. Some of the humor might not land exactly right with some people, like the constant mention and jokes of two of the boys being in a relationship together when neither were gay. I personally didn’t mind these and see them simply as a culture difference, but some may be a little more sensitive to these materials. Overall, I recommend this movie to anyone who wants a funny, slightly suspenseful, feel good movie to watch.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

Part 5

46 notes · View notes

bazypitchandsimonsnow · 5 years

Text

Back to Haunt Me

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Light Angst

Word count: 12301

Summary: Simon Snow hasn't heard from his former roommate in years. So when he gets a call from him, he's equal parts confused and intrigued. Based on "I called you at 2am because I need you" request from @god-themself

Read on AO3

AN: I'm really sorry for how long these requests are taking, oy. Every time I start writing, the fic ends up getting longer and my stupid body decides to crap out and not work. Anyway, here's the latest fic. Hope you enjoy it :)

———————————————

Simon

I’m sitting upside down on my couch when I get the call.

It’s not something I do too often, just when I’m really, really stuck on something. I say that ideas pool in my feet and this lets them trickle down to my head. Penny thinks it’s absolutely ridiculous. She says it will give me headaches, and it does, but it also helps. I’ve been stuck for an hour on coming up with new lessons. This is my last resort.

So I’m laying upside down on my small couch, legs up in the air, face turning a very bright shade of red. My glasses slipped off a while ago, making me essentially blind to anything more than five feet away. My mind is swimming with new ideas for maths games and art projects, the mental images almost swirling past my blurry vision.

And when I’m deep in contemplation a new history Kahoot, my phone blares out my “Toxic” ringtone. (Britney is amazing and haters can fuck off.) I flip up way too fast, making my vision spin like water in a toilet bowl. I paw at my phone while I wobble back and forth. With the combination of my glasses on the floor and blood rushing from my head, I don’t bother to read the caller ID. Or lack thereof.

“Hello?” I say shakily, still clutching my head.

“Siiiiimon,” a low, slurring, strangely familiar voice says. Is a student prank calling me again? Dammit, I thought I scolded them enough.

“Jeremy, if that’s you, this isn’t funny. This is my personal mobile and you-”

“Aw, did you already forget me, Snow?” the person continues, and my heart suddenly freezes. “It hasn’t been that long has it? Only seven years.”

My jaw drops and I sit ramrod straight. Every vein in my body turns ice cold. Holy. Fucking, Shit. “Baz?!”

“Yes, it is I. Good evening, Snow,” he snorts, but there’s still that weird waver to his voice.

“A-Are you drunk?”

“Ding ding, we have a winner in every category,” he giggles. Fucking giggles. I don’t think I ever heard him let out so much as a chuckle in all the years I lived with him. He must be very drunk.

“Um, how did you get my number?”

“Remember when you got mysterious calls supposedly from the Babadook when we were fifteen? Surprise! That was me! Got your mobile off the school registry.”

My mouth falls open even more. “I knew that was you!”

“Duh!” There’s some shuffling on the other end. “Shush! Yes, I actually have him on the line. I’ll get him to come.” He’s definitely not talking to me. He lets out a long sigh. “I’m sorry about that, Snow. Super sorry, for everything I did back in school. So please don’t hang up.”

Admittedly, I was going to. But he sounds so pathetic and drunk, so I stay on. “Alright,” I sigh. “I’m still here.”

“Hooray!” There’s a short stretch of silence. He doesn’t continue, so I have to pipe up again.

“Baz,” I say, “not to be rude, but, uh, why are you drunk calling me? We haven’t seen each other in awhile and it’s...” I scramble to grab my glasses, then look at my wall clock. “After two in the morning. Plus, you like, hate me.”

“No,” he slurs out. He sounds well pissed. “I don’t hate you, Snow. You’re too much of a kind brave hero to hate.”

“Um, thank you?”

He laughs loudly. I’ve heard him laugh more in the last five minutes than I did our entire childhoods. “You’re very, very welcome.”

Again with the silence. I can’t believe I’m the one talking more between us. “So... why are you calling? You wanna catch up or something?”

Baz lets out a long, low groan. For some reason, I imagine him slumping against a wall or something. “I bloody wish. Stupid barkeep won’t let me leave until I call someone to get me and my stupid friends and stupid aunt won’t pick up.”

“So you decided to call me?!”

“You’re the only other person I know who lives in London.”

“Who told you I lived in London?”

“Aggie. Said you had a cute little flat and a cute little cat.” He giggles, and I can almost picture a dopey smile on his usually frowning face. It looks so weird and wrong. “Hey, that rhymes.”

I sit even more upright. “Wait, Aggie? As in Agatha?! Are you two dating now?!”

He scoffs. Now that really reminds me of our school days. “No, Snow, I’m not dating your ex. She’s not my type.”

“That’s rude. Agatha is very pretty.”

“I mean that she’s not a man, Snow.”

My face immediately turns scarlet, and this time not from being upside down. “O-Oh. You’re gay?”

“Once again, duh!”

“Fuck off, you flirted with her all the time!”

“Nuh-uh.” He sounds like a bloody obnoxious American. “Not really. Just did that to piss you off.”

“I’m hanging up,” I growl.

“Wait!” Baz shouts as I move the phone off my ear. “Please don’t hang up, Simon. Fucking hell, I need you.”

I seriously debate actually hanging up. But there’s something in his voice that tugs at my chest. It’s weird and explainable, but it’s there. I slowly bring the phone back to my ear. “You need me?”

“Yeah,” he groans. “I’m drunk as fuck and uh...yeah, I’m still bleeding.”

My pulse goes wild instantly. “Bleeding?! Are you hurt?!”

“Yeah, but you should see the other bloke,” he laughs proudly. “Bartender says if someone doesn’t pick me up and take me home, she’s calling the police to come get me. Doesn’t trust me with an Uber or something.” Baz makes a weird yet familiar sound. Is...is Baz Pitch sticking his tongue out at someone? What the fuck has happened in the last seven years?

“Alright,” I sigh. “Where are you?”

“Yay! I am...” He takes a long pause, which gives me time to rub my aching temple. “Hey, where am I?”

There’s more rustling and some muffled yelling. “He’s at XOYO,” a stern woman’s voice says. “32-37 Cowper St, second floor. We’re closing in an hour so get here soon.”

Before I can say anything else, the phone clicks off. I stay frozen for a moment. My brain is still playing a bit of catch up. So, Baz bloody Pitch has called me out of the blue after seven years, drunk off his arrogant arse, apparently gay, and needs me to pick him up. And now he’s sorry for being a dick to me through our entire time in school? That’s nice. Few years too late if you ask me, but better late than never I suppose.

I look down at all my notes, the ones I have to finish in a few weeks before the new school year. If I were a worse person, I would forget about Baz, finish my lessons, and just go to bed. He’s my former bully, I shouldn’t care. But when I think about Baz, drunk, bleeding, sitting there alone at a bar waiting for me but I never show up, my stomach plummets to the centre of the Earth.

Godammit.

I march towards the door, grab my keys, and set out to fulfill a bad idea.

Turns out this bar is right in the middle of bloody Shoreditch. Which means at this time of night (or morning), there’s lots of closing nightclubs and stumbling drunk people being sick on the sidewalk. Glad I didn’t take the tube.

XOYO is a mostly nondescript red brick building with some black panelling and a neon red sign. I park as close as I can, which is not that close. The stairs up to the club are steep and leave me panting by the end. Bloody hell, I need to get back to the gym. Chasing ten years old is not enough exercise apparently. The bar is one of those hipster places with wooden tables and old Victorian chairs and candles. There’s a few people passed out on tables, snoring with their beer glasses.

“Simon!” a familiar voice shouts from the bar. “Simon, over here!”

I turn to my left too look at the bar, and...wow. After seven years, Baz looks so different, yet so the same. Same sharp cheekbones, same long-ish raven hair, same deep sea grey eyes. He’s broader though, shoulders filling out his blood stained grey dress shirt. Far less gaunt and gangly and vampiric looking than he was in school. The shirt has the sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons undone. Weird. Baz always had his uniform buttoned to collar in school. Then I have to do a double take, because...Baz Pitch is wearing jeans? They’re dark and expensive looking, hugging his legs, which still have a footballer’s strong muscles. He has a big, dopey, drunk grin, which is offset by the small black eye and blood trickling from his nose. It’s unfortunate this is the first time I’ve ever seen him smile.

I walk towards him, hands in my pockets, shoulders nervously hunched in. Why is my heart beating so fast? Bloody hell, calm down, Simon, it’s just Baz. You know him, probably better than most people. He’s an arsehole, not evil. And we haven’t had a physical fight since we were thirteen. Plus it’s been seven years, we’re adults now. He won’t bite. Hopefully.

“Hi Baz,” I say, trying to hide my nerves. “Uh, nice to see you.”

Baz squints at me, and a pang of panic shoots through me. Is there something wrong with my face? Bloody hell, what a cruel twist of fate it would be, to see my childhood enemy after years and have pizza sauce on my cheek.

“Um, Baz, you there?” I weakly wave a hand in front of him.

“Since when do you wear spectacles?” he asks, still slurring his words.

I instinctively touch my wireframe glasses, immediately self conscious. “Oh. Since first year uni. Turns out one of the reasons school Watford so hard for me was that I couldn’t read the board a lot.”

I chuckle awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck. I expect Baz to laugh or mock me like he used to. But instead he grins again, leaning his cheek on his bruised hand. “They look good.”

Why are my cheeks heating up? Must be bad air conditioning. “Um, thanks, Baz.”

He keeps grinning, showing off his sharp bright white teeth. (There’s a good reason I thought he was a vampire.) “Welcome.”

It goes silent again, with me standing awkwardly and Baz grinning. Christ, this is so weird. I assumed I’d never see Baz ever again, let alone drunk and bloodied in designer jeans. I have less of an idea what to do than usual.

“Ugh, finally!” a woman’s voice says to the side. I whip my head around to see who must obviously be the bartender. She’s got a deep scowl on her face and hands on her hips. “You’re Simon Snow?”

“Um, yeah, that’s me,” I reply.

“Good. Please take this arsehole off my hands.”

Baz blows a raspberry at her like a toddler. Bloody hell, he is a weird drunk. The bartender glares and flips him off.

“I’ll get him out of here,” I say.

“Thank you.” She digs under the bar and takes out a sleek black iPhone. “Here’s his phone. Took it from him after he almost dropped it in a beer glass.”

“Alright.” My brow furrows in confusion. “Do you have Baz’s keys? Or does he still have them?”

“He never had them. Searched all his pockets, nothing there.”

“Worst feel up ever,” Baz grumbles.

I rub my aching temple. “Baz, did you really forget your keys?”

He frowns and scratches his head with a bloodied hand. “Hm, yes, I think I did. I left my flat pretty fast. Maybe the super will let me in if he’s awake.”

“Where do you live?”

His brows pull together, bottom lip sticking out in a pout. Now that is certainly an expression I remember from school. It’s his thinking face. I used to glare at him while he studied all the time. “Somewhere...posh, and silver.”

I groan and drag a hand over my face. “Alright then. Well...I guess I’ll bring you to my flat.”

Baz’s jaw drops open and he shakes his head, making his black hair fan out in a strangely majestic way. “No no, you don’t have to do that. I’ll figure it out-”

“No, Baz, you won’t, you’re too pissed to think right now. I’m taking you to my place, no questions.”

He frowns. I can’t tell if he’s sad or angry. “I don’t wanna im-”

“We lived together for years, arsehole. One more night won’t kill you. Come on, get up.”

I grab his bicep and haul him to his feet. Bloody hell, does he work out a lot or something? He’s made of fucking rock. Baz wobbles back and forth and ends up leaning on me. I struggle to keep him upright.

“Baz,” I grumble, “you’re too heavy, I can’t hold you up.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He sort of heaves himself upwards, still wobbling on his feet, but at least he’s standing. That’s something I guess.

“You good?”

Baz sticks out his arms like he’s on a tightrope. “Yeah, I’m alright. Mostly.”

“Good enough. Let’s go.” I look over at the still very annoyed bartender. “Uh, thanks for taking care of him.”

“If you’re really thankful,” she spits, “make sure he doesn’t come back.”

She marches off into the back. Baz flips her off before I quickly pull down his hand. “Enough,” I grumble. “Let’s get you out of here before she smacks you.”

“Kinky,” he chuckles. God, drunk Baz is fucking weird.

Getting down the stairs takes far longer than it should. Baz has to watch his every step so he doesn’t go tumbling down. He’s like a shaky newborn fawn. It would be cute if it weren't so frustrating. Finally, we get to the bottom and I lead Baz by the sleeve towards my car. He laughs loudly when we reach it. I immediately scowl and whip around to face him.

“What?!” I snap, assuming he’s making fun of my old beat up beetle. But instead he has his head tilted upwards, laughing at the sky. Neon club signs and yellow street lights light up his smiling face. He’s like a rainbow constellation, colour reaching every crevice. Huh. Baz has always been pretty, but has he always been this pretty?

“Lights in the sky,” he laughs. “Pretty.”

I groan and tug him hard. “Come on, you drunk prat, hurry up.”

Baz stumbles along reluctantly. I shove into the passenger seat and buckle him up like he’s a bloody eight year old, then take my place in the driver’s seat. Baz is slumping, the seat belt digging into his cheek. If we crash his pretty face is going to get cut open. I debate telling him, but Baz rarely ever listens to me, and I doubt that has changed much.

I turn the engine over. Baz lets out a whoop so loud I jolt. “Allons-y,” he shouts like some deranged adventurer.

“Silence, s’il vous plait,” I reply as I turn on to the road.

“Oo, you speak French now, Snow?”

“Yes. I lived in France for a year, I learned pretty well.”

“Very nice.” For a moment I think he’s mocking me, but his smile is completely genuine, if not a bit drunken. Is it weird that I like drunk adult Baz better than sober teen Baz?

I drive through Shoreditch slowly, making sure not to hit any wayward club leavers. Baz grumbles about the slowness, but I tell him to shut up or I’ll drive us into a pole. That makes him quiet for a little while, thank god. When we hit the main drag, he decides to pipe up again.

“So what have you been up to, Snow?” he asks.

My eyes briefly flick over to him, catching his grin and glazed eyes. I scoff and look back at the road. “Really? We’re going to chit chat about life after Watford?”

“You just want us to sit in silence the whole time?”

“Maybe.”

“Boring,” he groans. “Come on, Snow, it’s been a while. Let’s catch up.”

I chuckle low in my throat. “Yes, I would love to catch up with my plastered childhood bully.”

Baz lets out a pathetic sort of whining sigh. Suddenly, something brushes my shoulder. I jolt away and briefly look over, realising it’s Baz’s hand. He’s pouting in the way his mouth is perfectly made for.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “About all the shit I did. I was a messed up prick at Watford. I’m really sorry I took that all out on you.”

I raise an extremely suspicious eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really?!”

“It’s been seven years, Snow. Am I not allowed to learn from my mistakes?”

“Well, I mean, yeah, of course. I just didn’t expect it from you...”

“I’m a changed man, Snow,” he declares proudly. “No more picking on other people to avoid dealing with my emotional and family problems.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Wow, you sound like a therapist.”

“That’s because I am a therapist.”

We stop at a red light, giving me a chance to whip my head around in shock. My jaw is firmly on the ground. “You’re a therapist?!”

“Sort of.” Baz grins pointed ear to pointed ear. He offers his hand, though it’s a bit limp. “Dr. Basilton Grimm-Pitch, psychiatrist in training at University College Hospital. Pleasure to meet you.”

I can’t take my hands off the wheel, so I don’t take his, but I smile instead. Baz chuckles as his hand falls, so I think he gets the picture.

“Wow,” I sigh. “You, a psychiatrist. I never would have thought.”

“Me neither, until I took a psychology course in year 10. Then I decided I liked, y’know, mind stuff and shit. It was interesting and challenging. And I could help people with it.”

I scoff, but with a smile. “And you used to call me the overly noble hero.”

“Well, I decided to follow in your golden footsteps, golden boy.” He turns towards me, cheeks squished against the seat. He’s really going to die if we crash. “So really, what have you been up to since Watford, Mr. Hero? Storming castles? Saving damsels in distress? Travelling the world?”

That makes me laugh louder. “You have a way overinflated sense of my heroism.”

He snorts, but it’s not unkind like it used to be. Just sort of amused. “Alright. Then what do you do?”

“I’m, uh, actually a primary teacher. Year six, to be exact.”

“Oh,” Baz breathes out, sounding genuinely amazed. “That’s cool. That makes sense, yeah.”

“Makes sense?”

“You were always helping out the kids in younger years at Watford.”

I chuckle and shrug. “Yeah, guess you’ve got a point.”

“Is it fun? Teaching children?”

“Yeah. I like finding fun ways to teach them stuff. Though it’s not great they get in fights or stuck lego bricks up their noses.”

Baz lets out a barking laugh. It’s a fun, sudden sound. I’ve never heard it before, yet it works well for Baz. “Is that what people mean by ‘the joys of children?’”

“Something like that. Is psychiatry fun?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “But time consuming. Doctors aren’t supposed to have damn lives apparently.”

“Well, good thing you found time to go to a hipster bar”

Everything suddenly gets very, very quiet. It reminds me of when we would study. Backs to each other, no noise, plenty of tension. Did I say something wrong? I used to do that a lot, but I thought I’d gotten better. I’ve learned to chew my words better over the years. But when we stop at a roundabout, I turn to see that Baz is gazing ahead, mouth a thin line and grey eyes lost in the distance.

“Pretty lights,” he whispers in awe, like a child. I guess alcohol does turn adults into children. His nose is still letting out a small trickle of dark red blood. I sigh and shake my head.

“Glove box,” I say.

Baz turns his head to me. “Huh?”

“There’s tissues in the glove box. Your nose is still bleeding a bit.”

“Oh.” He paws at the latch in front of him, floppy drunk fingers struggling to just bloody lift it. I sigh and reach over, lifting it for him. Baz takes out the little packet and flashes me that dopey smile. Why does my chest feel funny? I must be overtired.

“Thanks,” he says, then presses the tissue to his nose. It’s weirdly comforting in its familiarity. I still remember sitting in the headmaster’s office after our fights, covered in bruises and blood, glaring at each other. This is better though. We’re not fighting, in fact we’re being nice. Maybe this is how we could’ve been at Watford. Maybe we could’ve been...friends.

We sit in silence for the rest of the ride. But it’s a comfortable silence, no tension. I like it. A lot. I like all of this better than fighting.

———————————————

I pull into my spot in front of my apartment. Dragging Baz out of the car is a bit of a problem, but luckily my place has a lift, so no more stair problems. He starts leaning on me as we go up to my floor. I use one finger to push him back, and he slumps against the wall. I need to strap him to a dolly.

We go into my apartment, and I instinctively prepare for a snide comment from Baz. Something about it’s size, it’s clutter, the decor. But he says nothing derogatory. In fact, he smiles, brushing his hand against my Van Gogh print and old dining room table.

“You, uh, like it?” I ask. Wait, why does it matter what Baz thinks of my place? I don’t need his approval.

“Yeah,” Baz replies. “It’s very nice.”

There’s a thump from my room, followed by the familiar pitter-patter of tiny paws. Cherry prances into the room, all fluffy tailed and cute. She blinks up at Baz with big green eyes. Baz makes a tiny gasp and gets on his knees, holding his hand out to Cherry.

“Hello, pretty kitty,” he says softly. “Aren’t you an adorable little thing.”

Cherry sniffs his fingers, then immediately nuzzles against his hand. Baz looks absolutely elated, a big childish grin on his face.

“You like cats, huh?”

Baz nods vigorously. “I would have one if my building allowed pets.” He scratches behind Charry’s ear with glee. “What’s this little one’s name?”

“Her name is Cherry.”

“You did love those scones,” he chuckles.

I chuckle as well, fiddling with my shirt sleeve. “Still do. Though none are as good as Cook Pritchard’s.”

“Very true.” He stands up, pulling away from Cherry, and wobbles his way into the sitting room. He stands between my coffee table and ratty old couch. “So may I sleep on that couch?”

I scramble in after him and start piling up my curriculum papers. I don’t want Baz shouting at me for the mess. “Uh, yeah, just lemme fix it up a bit.”

“It’s alright-”

“No, I’ll fix it. And...maybe you should clean up a bit first?”

Baz turns to me with a confused expression. “What?” I sigh and point at is blood spattered shirt. He pulls it in front of himself, like a child who’s spilled food. “Oh, right.”

“There’s stuff on you face too...”

Baz drags a long finger over his cheek, and rubs the dried blood between his fingers. “Good point.

“You wanna take a shower maybe?”

“Is that okay with you?”

“Uh, yeah. But be warned, I don’t have any of your fancy French soaps.”

He lets out a loud short laugh, like a happy little firecracker going off. “Wouldn’t expect you to, Snow. I doubt you’ve changed that much.”

“Heh, yeah.” I rub the back of my neck, which is getting very hot for some reason. I think I need to fix my fan.

Baz wobbles back towards me. He stands a bit too close, and now that things are calm, I notice how he smells. It’s a mix of liquor, irony blood, and the very faint, familiar scent of cedar and bergamot. Seven years later and I can’t forget that smell. I guess it’s burned into my brain forever. I’m not sure that I mind.

“Where’s the bathroom?” he asks, snapping me out of my olfactory induced daze.

“Oh, uh, down the hall and to your left. There’s towels in the cupboard.”

“Alright.” He sticks his hands in his trouser pockets, a very shy gesture I’m not used to seeing from him. “Thank you. Again. I’m saying that a lot tonight, wow.”

I chuckle and shrug. “I guess so. Now go wash off that awful blood please.”

“Aye aye, Mr.Snow.” He does a mocking little American salute with two fingers. I watch as he half skips his way to the bathroom, trying not to giggle at his ridiculous gait.

The bathroom door shuts, and I let out a long breath. My brain is still playing catch up. I need to sit, relax, just process all this shit. Once I organize my papers into semi-neat piles and close my laptop, I grab a cherry granola bar from the counter and collapse on the couch. I hear the shower turn on. I glance over at the clock. Bloody hell, it’s past 3am, and my enemy is taking a shower in my flat. Well, former enemy, I guess. We’re not fighting anymore. In fact, Baz is being really nice. It’s pretty damn great. I hope we can keep this up.

Cherry jumps onto the couch, startling me from my daze. She immediately curls up on my lap, purring happily. I chuckle as I pet her. Penny jokes that Cherry is my emotional support service cat. Honestly, she’s not wrong. I don’t know what I would do without her.

“Wanna watch Dr. Who, darling?” I coo, scratching behind her ear. “Yes, yes you do.”

I grab the remote and turn on Netflix, going to one of my favourite episodes. We sit there in peaceful silence through the show. I try not to listen to the shower down the hall. I can’t help but worry. What if he slips and hits his head? What if he falls asleep and drowns? What if he tries to eat the bloody soap? All are strong possibilities. But he’s still Baz. He’s too smart and stubborn to die.

As I near the end of the episode, I realise it’s been half an hour since Baz went in. My heart beats double time, every fear racing through my head. (As well as concern for my water bill.) But the sound of water shuts off, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I hear Baz’s unsteady feet pad around the tiled floor. But then there’s rattling and muffled swearing, and I’m on my feet immediately. Cherry meows unhappily and scuttles away.

“Sorry, girl,” I say as I speed walk to the bathroom. I knock on the wooden door. “Baz? You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” his muffled voice replies, but that’s followed by a loud bang. “Bloody fucking hell.”

“I’m coming in.”

“Snow, wait-”

I push the door open and immediately freeze. All the blood in my body goes straight to my face, turning it tomato red. Because Baz Pitch is standing in front of my medicine cabinet with nothing but a towel around his waist. His hair is soaked and messy, falling adorably in front his shocked face. His legs look strong enough to crush someone. Thin rivulets of water drip down his broad, bare chest. I watch them for a few long, drawn out seconds, completely frozen. In our time living together, Baz and I made a point to never see each other without clothes on. Did he even look close to this back at school? Did I just never notice?

“Um...” Baz says, breaking me out of my daze. I whip around, hand cupped over my eyes.

“Bloody hell, Baz!” I shout. “Give a guy some warning.”

“I would have if you hadn’t come bursting in!”

“Well, you took awhile in the shower, then I heard swearing. Excuse me for being concerned.”

“I’m grateful for your concern, Mr. Hero, though not for your usual brashness.”

“Just put some clothes on, please.”

“Very well.”

I listen to Baz shuffle and grumble as I assume he gets dressed. I resist the urge to turn around and check if he can get his legs into his trousers. I’m not sure how drunk he still is.

“You can turn around now, Snow.”

I slowly turn, and my face turns scarlet again. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?!”

“Because mine is covered in blood,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Which I guess it is, but still he’s not wearing a shirt. Why are my hands so clammy?

Baz starts sorting through the medicine cabinet. I frown in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for bandages.” He lifts his left hand, showing off his bruised, still slightly bleeding knuckles. “You got any?”

“Uh, yeah. I’ll get it, sit down on the toilet.”

Baz stumbles over and does what he’s told (for once). I grab the first aid kit from under the sink and sit next to him on the edge of the tub.

“Gimme your hand,” I say. Baz holds out his arm, fingers limp. I try not to look freaked out. His skin is black and blue and there are many cuts, still bleeding slowly. “Why are you still bleeding? It’s been like, an hour.”

“My blood alcohol content is high,” Baz replies. “Booze is a blood thinner. Means I’ll bleed more.”

“Oh. That makes sense. Thanks, Mr. Doctor.”

Baz chuckles, a soft smile playing on his mouth. “Dr. Grimm-Pitch will do.”

I laugh as well. I take a towel off the rack and pat his hand dry, then get the antiseptic.

“I just had a shower,” Baz protests.

“Don’t care. We need to make sure you don’t get an infection.”

“I’m fine.”

I pour the clear liquid on a sterile pad. “Still doing it.”

“I’m the doctor here, dammit.”

“The doctor who is still drunk off his arse after a bloody bar fight. So shut up.”

Baz frowns, but doesn’t protest. I lightly pat his cuts. He inhales sharply through his teeth and tries to pull away, but I grab his wrist, holding still.

“Don’t move,” I say.

“It hurts,” he whines like a toddler.

“Yeah, no shit. That’s what you get for getting in a bar fight, idiot.”

He grumbles, but doesn’t move again either. Once I’m satisfied all the cuts are clean, I use another pad to get them dry, then take out the bandages.

“You get injured a lot, Snow?” He’s smirking playfully, not a hint of malice. It’s much nicer than his smug arsehole face.

“No,” I chuckle. “But it never hurts to be prepared.”

“Especially if your former enemy shows up drunk and bleeding.”

Thoughts start racing through my head. Horrible, nervous thoughts. I stop wrapping his hand for a moment, but quickly start again. Unfortunately, Baz notices.

“Something on your mind, Snow?” he asks.

I chew on my bottom lip as I secure the bandage. I gesture for Baz to give me his other hand, and he does. I slowly pat on the antiseptic and he doesn’t move at all. Slowly, I look up, and I meet Baz’s deep sea eyes. He doesn’t look mad or annoyed, just concerned. So am I.

“Baz,” I sigh, “you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. And considering you’re a bloody doctor now, I doubt that’s changed. So I’m absolutely astounded at how you could get so drunk and end up in a bar fight.”

Baz’s thin lips press together, and I watch his throat bob in a gulp. He leans his elbow on the sink, propping his cheek on his fist. “Snow,” he says slowly, “what do you know about my mother?”

My blood turns ice cold. I stop with the bandage completely, just looking at Baz. “Uh, not much. I know she died a long time ago. And...it was at Watford...”

Baz nods slowly. “Yes, that’s what everyone knows. But what most people don’t know is that I was there.”

And now my heart completely stops. My mouth falls open slightly. Baz’s face stays completely neutral. “You...you were there?”

“Yeah.” He leans harder on his fist. “I was sitting with the rest of the kids in the Watford nursery. Suddenly a group of men with knives burst in. They started to come after the nannies and the children. But that’s when my mother showed up with her hunting rifle. My father insisted she have it for protection when he wasn’t there. She got all of the men immediately, including the one holding me. She hit him in the shoulder so he dropped me. Another man charged her while she was distracted, and she shot him in the chest, but not before...” Baz rubs his eyes and the bridge of his nose, like I do when I have a headache. “Not before he stabbed her in the neck. She bled to death in seconds.” He drags his hand down his face. “I fell unconscious after that. When I woke up, my father and aunt were tending to my wounds, and my mother was gone. I was young, it’s all a bit hazy, but I remember enough.”

I’m left in stunned silence. Baz doesn’t say anything either, just rubbing his head. He’s not crying, but he looks on the verge of tears. I don’t blame him. I can’t believe it, can’t believe Baz went through that and no one ever knew. It’s just terrible.

“Wow,” I finally say, “that’s...wow.”

Baz chuckles quietly. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

“I never knew that happened...”

“No one did, Snow. All the gruesome little details were kept under wraps. It would’ve been terrible if anyone found out Natasha Grimm-Pitch died in such an undignified way that traumatized her heir.”

His voice is mockingly scathing, even with his slightly slurred speech. He’s a mix between furious and mournful. I don’t understand how he feels, but I don’t think I ever could. I may never have had parents, but that’s a far cry from watching your’s die.

“I don’t know how much it means, but I’m sorry that happened to you Baz.”

The corner of his lip quirks up into a small half smile. “Thanks, Snow.”

I start wrapping his hand again, and my brow furrows. “So, uh, what does this have to do with you getting drunk and fighting? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Baz takes a deep inhale through his nose, and lets out the air through his mouth. “My mother was killed twenty years ago today.”

“O-oh. That...yeah, that makes sense.”

“Mhm. I’ve lived with it for most of my life, but this anniversary hit me harder than I expected. I had my first day off in months, so after some mindless telly, I went to that bar. Gave the bartender my card and told her to keep the tequila coming. First mistake.”

“Second one was getting in a fight?”

“Yeah, definitely.” He flexes his bandaged hand. “It was just some arsehole looking for trouble. He kept prodding at me and shoving my shoulder until I snapped. I don’t even remember what he said. I was just so angry and sad and drunk. And that arsehole was right there” He groans loudly and rubs his head. “One of the dumbest things I’ve ever done.”

“Probably. But you made one good choice.”

“Oh?”

I finish bandaging his other hand and smile at his mopey face. “You called me.”

His mopeyness melts away as he lets out a breathy laugh. Our eyes meet, and his are glinting in a way I’ve never seen before. “Yeah, I guess that was a good idea.”

We smile at each other. Something tugs in my chest, something I don’t fully understand. I’ve never felt anything like this. Maybe I’m just overtired.

Baz flexes his bandaged hands. I put the first aid kit under the sink again. Baz stands and presses a hand to his bruised eye. hissing between his teeth. “Got any ice packs, Snow?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah,” I reply. “It’s in the kitchen, c’mon.”

We walk towards the kitchen. I open the freezer and pull out my reusable ice pack. Teaching a bunch of children can result in some bad headaches. I wrap it in a napkin and hand it to Baz. He presses it to his eye with clenched teeth. As he leans back against the counter, I remember he’s not wearing a shirt.

“Uh,” I say, “those jeans don’t look comfortable. I’ve got some spare pyjamas. Want me to get them?”

Baz nods. “Yeah, that would be good, thanks.”

“Alright, stay here.”

I go to my bedroom, wading through the laundry I have to do tomorrow to get to the dresser. It takes awhile for me to find something that will probably fit Baz. Damn his extra four inches, always so infuriating. I eventually pick out some trackies and a long Chicago Cubs shirt. It’s all I’ve got. I go back to the kitchen, and come upon a strange scene.

“Baz,” I say slowly, “what are you doing?

Baz looks up from the messy, cutlery covered counter, still pressing the ice pack to his eye. He lifts a plate with two pieces of bread, both half covered in marmite. “Making a marmite and cheese sandwich. You want half?”

His expression is so innocent, not a hint of the old malice I used to know. I let out a sigh. “Sure. Let me get the cheese.”

He grins and goes back to slathering on marmite. I pull my sliced sandwich cheese from the fridge. Hope Baz doesn’t mind cheap Tesco brand swiss. I bring the package to the counter, and Baz takes out a slice without even looking. Guess he’s not as snobbish about food as he used to be. He cuts the sandwich into two slightly lopsided triangles and swans out to my dining room. I follow behind with the pyjamas.

Baz sits in a chair, leaning back with his legs spread out. I sit across from him, placing the clothes on the table. Baz snatches it. It unfolds and his brows pull together.

“You a baseball fan now, Snow?” he asks.

I chuckle and shake my head. “Nah. Micah definitely is though.”

“Who?”

“Remember that American exchange student from fourth year?”

“The short nerd with large glasses?” His voice is muffled as he struggles to put on the shirt. Drunk Baz doesn’t get along with t-shirt holes.

“Yeah, that’s one way to describe him I guess. He and Penny started dating then and have been together ever since. She lives in America with him now.”

Baz’s eyes light up. “Oh, that’s wonderful. How is Bunce? I miss facing off with her in debate club.”

“She’s doing well. She’s got a job as an assistant professor in Chicago and loves American food. I just saw her a few weeks ago on vacation.”

“Marvelous. Tell her I say hello next time you speak to her.”

“Will do.” We both take one half of the marmite-cheese sandwich. Baz takes a huge bite, followed by a happy groan. I can’t tell if he’s drunk hungry or actually hungry. Probably somewhere in between. I take a bite as well. There’s far too much marmite, but it’s four in the morning. Right now anything tastes good.

Thinking of Penny makes me think of Watford. And something else, or more accurately someone else, pops into my head.

“Hey,” I say through the marmite, “you said you talked to Agatha earlier. How are you two still in contact? She cut off almost everyone after Watford. I didn’t start talking to her again until a year ago.”

Baz quickly chews and swallows. “Funny story there. I did a semester abroad in California and ended up in the same biology class as Agatha. It was extremely awkward at first. But once we sat down over coffee and sorted stuff out, we bonded very quickly. Similar upper class British family problems and expectations.”

“Oh. That’s makes sense I guess. It’s nice you guys talk.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty good.” He chuckles, mouth gummed with marmite. “The weirdest part was telling her I’m gay. I apologised for leading her on, and you know what she did?”

I lean over the table, genuinely enraptured. “What?”

“Laughed her fucking arse off for ten minutes straight.”

I snort so hard I nearly shoot sandwich out my nose. Baz throws his head back laughing. He’s so loud he might disturb my neighbours, but I don’t care. His laugh is too incredible.

“Just like that,” he giggles, calming down.

“So she wasn’t mad?” I ask.

“No, not at all. She admitted she wasn’t really into me. She was just rebelling against her parents. We both sympathised on that front.” He sighs and leans back even more. “That’s all I wanted at Watford, really. I was under so much pressure to be the perfect son. I seriously considered yelling ‘fuck it’ and doing whatever I wanted.”

I sigh too, putting my cheek against my palm. “Yeah, I understand that. Mr. Mage put a lot of pressure on me. He wanted to prove to the Watford board that scholarship students were worthwhile, and since I was Watford’s very first scholarship kid, I had to be perfect. Every time I got a low grade he would yell at me for an hour.”

“What a prick,” Baz grumbles.

I chuckle as I nod slowly. “Yeah, total prick. Watford wasn’t an easy place to be.”

Baz slowly lowers his sandwich, looking pointedly at the plate, and therefore not me. My heart speeds up. Did I say something wrong? Did I piss him off by accident? I do that a lot. And I definitely used to do that to Baz.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I don’t mean to pry,” he says carefully. “And maybe this is me still being pretty drunk. But...I saw something in your medicine cabinet.”

I squint, trying to think what could be so concerning. “Saw what?”

He fiddles with his still damp hair. It’s an old nervous habit I recognise from finals studying. “A bottle of citalopram. I’m a future psychiatrist, I know what that medication is usually for...”

My stomach drops out. I freeze with the sandwich still in my hand. “Oh,” I squeak.

“Yeah.” He leans closer, eyes round and sympathetic. “I’m sorry I looked. And...I’m sorry if I had any part in your need for it-”

“No no, Baz.” I shake my head, leaning forward as well. “You don’t have to. It’s not your fault, it’s not anyone’s in particular, really. It’s stupid chemicals misfiring in my brain. You’re a doctor, you know that.”

“Yes, of course I know that, Snow. But I also know my incessant arsehole behaviour for seven years probably didn’t help.”

I shrug, leaning back again. “Probably. And I bet me insulting you and punching you in the face all the time didn’t help your mental health either.”

He smiles and laughs again. He looks better when he laughs. “Okay, good point.”

“Exactly. So let’s agree neither of us need to apologise. We’ll let the past be the past, move on from here.”

“So you mean a truce?”

“Yeah, I guess.” I reach out my hand. “Truce.”

Baz smiles and clasps his hand with mine. His skin is just as rough and cold as I remember it being back at school. But even after we pull apart, my skin still feels warm.

“Just so we’re even,” Baz says with his mouthful, “my favourite antidepressant was cipralex. I went off it a few months ago because it started making me too drowsy, but it worked well for years. Citalopram made me far too ill. When I first tried it, I ended up vomiting in a bloody bedpan.”

I burst out laughing. And Baz’s grin outshines the sun.

We finish our sandwiches together. Baz complains that his mouth tastes like a rubbage heap. Apparently the combination of old tequila, Tesco cheese, and marmite creates a truly awful flavour. I give him an unused toothbrush from the dentist. He goes into the bathroom and soon emerges with clean teeth and wearing my trackies. I’m back on the couch with Cherry in my lap.

“You tired?” I ask.

“Not really,” Baz replies. “Late hospital shifts have turned me into an insomniac.”

“Wanna watch some Dr. Who?”

He throws himself down next to me, long arm stretched out over the back of the couch behind me. “Sure.”

I switch to a new episode. It’s a standalone, so Baz won’t be too confused. But he still asks incessant questions. Who’s this, what’s that, how the everloving fuck can they do that and survive? No wonder he’s a doctor. He’s perfect at looking for answers, no matter how annoying he is. Eventually I have to threaten to duct tape his mouth to get him to shut up. He huffs, crosses his arms, and sinks down further.. His head ends up on my shoulder. Despite my shorter neck length and Baz’s naturally long face, his head fits perfectly in the crook of my neck. Like it was made to be there. Wait, where did that thought come from?

The credits roll, and I notice a quiet whistling noise. I turn my head to the side. Oh. Baz is asleep. His eyes are softly closed and his lips are slightly parted. I’ve seen Baz sleep before of course, but this is different. Baz had nightmares throughout our entire time at Watford. (So did I.) I don’t think he’s having one now though. There’s no thrashing or whimpers. I’ve never seen Baz look so...peaceful.

“Baz,” I whisper. He doesn’t respond at all. “Baz,” I say louder, jerking my shoulder a bit.

“Ugh,” he groans, “let me sleep in, Daphne, it’s summer.”

“I’m not your step-mum, Baz.”

He cracks one eye open. “No, you’re really not, Snow.”

“Yeah. You wanna go to bed?”

“Mm, yeah.”

“Okay.” I slowly get up, easing Baz off my shoulder. I gently lower him onto the couch. The bottom half of his face hangs off the arm. Yeah, he’s going to need a pillow. I go to my bedroom and grab a pillow and blanket. I also make a stop by the bathroom for some aspirin and make another at the kitchen for some water and a bowl, in case he’s sick. I would prefer not to clean vomit out of my carpet.

Baz is still awkwardly pressed against the sofa arm, drooling slightly. Who would’ve thought I’d see the day Baz Pitch drooled in his sleep? I wouldn’t have. Not in a million years. But apparently tonight is a time for new things.

I place the bowl, water, and aspirin on my coffee table. Slowly and carefully, I lift Baz’s head and fit a pillow under it. I drape the blanket over his annoyingly tall body. His arm hangs like a limp noodle off the side. I sigh, kneeling down to tuck it back in.

Out of nowhere, I feel long, rough fingers touching my cheek. My whole body locks up in shock. Slowly, I raise my head, and I meet Baz’s half open grey eyes and soft smile.

“Uh, Baz?” I say, not sure what else I can.

“You’re still so beautiful,” he whispers. My eyes widen and every nerve in my body is filled with...something? Fear, nerves, an absolute sense of what the fuck? I can’t tell.

“W-What?”

Baz’s hand moves lower. His thumb traces just under my bottom lip. Why does my skin feels like it’s fire? “Your face, it’s still really pretty.”

I let out a nervous chuckle. “Uh, I guess you’d know. You punched it enough.”

He laughs softly. His hand falls, pulling back under the blanket, and his eyes slip shut. “Wish I had kissed it instead.”

I don’t even have time to respond to that, because Baz is asleep in an instant, snoring quietly once again. I’m frozen in place. My jaw is slack. Baz would tell me I’m going to catch flies. Baz, who’s sleeping right in front of me, who wished he had kissed me? My brain can’t process this. I’m like a computer with an eternal blue screen. This does not compute, cannot compute, fuck fuck fuck.

There’s only one thing I can think to do.

I grab my phone, rush to my room, and close the door. Cherry is already curled up on her side. The second I’m sitting on the mattress, I click Penny’s contact.

“Hello?” Her voice immediately calms me down.

“Hi, Pen,” I say.

“Simon?! Bloody hell, isn’t it like four in the morning in London?”

I look over at my clock. “Uh, yup, just about.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but why are calling me at four AM?”

I sigh and flop backwards. “Pen, you’re not going to believe who is sleeping in my living room right now.”

“Who? The Doctor? Boris Johnson? The Queen of England>

A laugh bubbles from my mouth. “Nah, even weirder.”

I can almost hear Penny’s face pinching together in confusion. “Who?”

“Baz Pitch.”

She gasps loudly. “What?! As in Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch? That Baz Pitch?!”

“You think there’s another Baz Pitch in existence?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, “good point. So why is your arsehole former roommate sleeping on your couch?”

I rub the bridge of my nose. It doesn’t help. I’m not sure anything can help now. “That’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

I sigh, and start spinning my insane tale. From the call to the bar to my flat, how Baz and I talked and became friendly and made a weird truce over cheese and marmite. I try to say everything quickly yet accurately. Penny barely makes a noise as I talk. I can’t tell if she’s shocked or contemplative. Probably both, honestly. I can’t blame her. The more I talk, the more completely nuts it all sounds. I’m living in a bloody sitcom.

“And then,” I say, “he held my face, said I was beautiful, and that he wished he had kissed me instead of punching me!”

“Wow,” Penny gasps. “That’s...a lot.”

“I know right? I’m so confused and I have no idea what the fuck to do!”

“Okay. What do you want to do though?”

I rub my very aching brow. “I don’t know, Pen. It’s so weird. Like, is this something he’s just realised or has Baz always felt this way?”

“Probably the second one.”

I bolt upright, brows knitted together. “Wait, really? You think so?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“But why?!”

“Well, Baz has always been very obsessed with you. He would go out of his way to be around you.”

“Yeah, to torment me,” I grumble.

Penny lets out a sigh. “Yes, he did. But as you told me, Baz said he picked on you because he couldn’t deal with his emotional issues. One of those issues certainly could have been romantic feelings for you.”

“Then why didn’t he just say something?!”

“Because he was the gay son of a conservative upper class British family, which probably wasn’t easy to deal with. Plus, his father and aunt hated the idea of scholarship students, also known as you.”

My righteous anger fizzles out like a dying campfire, shoulders slumping as I fall back against the headboard. “Oh. Yeah, that’s a good point. Still shouldn’t have been a snob and a bully.

“No he shouldn’t have. It was probably half poor coping and half trying to get your attention.”

“Like a boy pulling a girl’s pigtails?”

“I guess.”

“That’s a stupid and sexist way to handle a crush. I tell my students that all the time.”

Penny sighs. “Yeah, of course it is. But I’m pretty sure Baz knows that, at least now. He’s sorry for what he did. It seems like he’s gotten a lot better.”

“Yeah.” A smile creeps across my face without thinking. It just feels natural. “He’s gotten a lot nicer. He’s not the perfect, pretty, unfeeling arsehole I thought he was. And he’s funny, at least when he’s drunk. We had a pretty great time .”

I laugh quietly, but Penny’s is far louder. She sounds like she’s muffling her giggles. I frown a bit. “What’s so funny, Pen?”

“Oh,” she keeps giggling, “I think I’ve just realised something, and it’s hilarious.”

“Realised what?”

She takes a few deep calming breaths while my anxiety just climbs. “Simon,” she says kindly. This is the way she used to speak while explaining our complicated maths homework. “Hear me out, but I don’t think Baz is the only one who feels something.”

“Huh?”

“I think you have at least a few romantic feelings for Baz.”

“What?!” I shout far too loudly, and I worry I’m going to wake up Baz. I crouch inward, like I’m hiding, but I’m not really sure what. Baz? Penny? Myself?

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I hiss.

“Hear me out,” Penny says. “I’m saying that based on the evidence, you may have latent romantic feelings for Baz Pitch.”

“What evidence?!”

Penny lets out a low chuckle, like a super villain who’s plan has come to fruition. “Let’s see. Number one: back at Watford, you spent 99% of your time thinking about, talking about, or being with Baz. I had to put a limit on how much you were allowed to talk about Baz, remember?”

“Yeah, because he was bugging me,” I mumble.

“Number two: when you talked about Baz, it was always about how annoyingly pretty, smart, and graceful he was. You hated him, yet you had so many nice things to say.”

“Well he was perfect and it was annoying!”

“Number three: During the entire time you dated Agatha, you paid far more attention to Baz than you ever did to her.”

“T-That’s not true!” Though, looking back...fucking hell, it might actually be true.

“Number four: even though you hadn’t seen him in seven years, you dropped everything at two AM to go pick up his drunk arse from a bar.”

“It was the right thing to do!”

“Number five: you just gushed about how much you like Baz now and that he’s fun to be around. And I bet you were smiling.”

“No.” I think my cheeks are turning red.

I hear some rustling, and I think Penny is leaning forward in her chair. I can almost see her kind face in front of me. “Simon, I don’t want to push anything on you, but I also want you to really think about this. I know you hate to analyse things but it’s necessary right now. Maybe it could lead to something good.”

I tug on my hair, trying to distract myself. “I don’t know about that, Pen.”

“I know. Doesn’t even have to be romantic, maybe a good friendship. You could use more friends. And I’m not saying you have to jump his bones tomorrow.”

“Penny!” Now I’m definitely blushing.

She laughs uncontrollably, snorting every once in awhile. I cover my blushing face and groan. “Oh, I’m only joking, Si,” she says. “But I’m serious, don’t shut it down. Think about it. Baz is nice now, maybe it could work.”

“Why are you so desperate to set me up with my former enemy?”

“Because you haven’t been on a date or made new friends since first year uni. And I haven’t heard you this happy about being around someone in years.”

I hate to admit it, but she’s right. I’ve had more fun with Baz in one night than I have in ages. I enjoyed talking to him. I enjoyed laughing with him. I’m glad he’s asleep in the next room, where I can make sure he’s okay.

“You may have a point,” I say.

“Of course I do.”

I roll my eyes, just like she does. “Yeah, yeah, we’ve always known you’re smarter than me.”

“Mhm. And in my smart opinion, you need to go to bed.”

“Will do.” I flop backwards. The pillow feels heavenly on my head. “Thanks, Pen. I’ll talk to you later.”

“You better. Night, Si.”

I smile, and I hope she can hear my love and gratitude over the phone. “Night, Pen.”

The phone clicks off. I let it fall to the side. I am 0.2 seconds from passing out, even with so much still on my mind. I plug in my phone and turn on my side. I pull Cherry close to me. She curls around my hand like usual. When I close my eyes, all I see is raven hair, deep sea grey eyes, and a smile I never knew was there before.

———————————————

“Bloody fucking shit!”

I wake up with a start, clutching my sheet. Late morning sunlight is bleeding through the gap in my curtains. There’s muffled banging on the other side of my door. It’s like a very clumsy little rhino is moving through my flat. But I know exactly who it is.

I grab my glasses and slowly walk down the hall, peeking around the corner. It’s weird to sneak around my own apartment. I see a familiar long, lithe back, bent over as he struggles to get his struggles to get his oxfords on. He keeps wavering side to side like a branch in the wind.

“Good morning,” I say nonchalantly.

Baz whips around so fast he nearly topples over, stumbling to the side. He looks even more disheveled than last night, hair extremely tangled from sleeping on it wet, bruise worsening under his eyes, and bloodstained shirt buttoned wrong. He looks absolutely shocked to see me, which is odd, considering this is my flat.

“Um,” he says, shakiness in my voice, “good morning, Snow.”

“Leaving so soon?”

“Uh, well, yes, I suppose.”

I lean against the wall with my arms crossed. “So you were going to go and what? Leave me a thank you note like some bad teen movie?”

He probably thinks I don’t notice, but I see him crumple up and shove something in his back pocket. “No. I-I would’ve texted you my thanks.”

“Because that’s so much better.”

Baz looks down in shame, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I know. It’s just...I didn’t want to make things awkward after last night. I’m truly sorry for the way I acted and imposing on you.”

“It’s okay.” I walk forward, hands in my trackie pockets. “I know you were pretty drunk, but, what do you remember from last night?”

Baz looks up, but still doesn’t meet my eyes. “I remember, being upset, going to the bar, getting in the fight, and the bartender screaming colourful obscenities at me.” That makes him laugh a little. It still sounds so nice. “Then I called you, you came and you had glasses. We drove to your place. I had a shower. You tended to my wounds like some war nurse.”

I giggle, nodding in complete agreement. “Yeah, I definitely did do that.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Then uh, we ate sandwiches, watched Doctor Who, and I assume I fell asleep.”

“Okay.” I draw out the last syllable on purpose, making my doubt extremely clear. “That’s most of it, but you’re missing a few key parts.”

“Am I?” He’s trying to sound confident, but I know Baz, and I can hear a waver in his voice.

I start walking closer. “Mhm. You’re missing the parts where you apologized for being a prick in school, called my flat was good, liked my cat, said you drank because it was the anniversary of your mother’s horrible death, talked about your experience with antidepressants.” I’m only a few feet away from him now, looking him right in his pretty. “And, the part where you said that you wished you had kissed me back at school instead of punching me.”

With his complexion, it’s hard to tell when Baz is blushing. But I can see it. Scarlet creeps down from his cheeks to his long neck, eyes locked on me in stun.

“Oh,” he squeaks. “I see.”

“You really don’t remember all that?”

He rubs his brow. “Well, maybe, it’s just...fuzzy.”

“But was it true? Did you like me back at Watford?”

He visibly gulps, then looks at the floor again. He looks incredibly embarrassed and ashamed. “Yes,” he says, like he has to force himself to say it. “Yes, it’s true.”

I let out a long breath, half from relief, half to calm myself down. Okay. It’s true. Baz had feelings for me. All through school, all that time, Baz was pining after me from afar. And I never knew. Not a bit. But I think that was the idea.

“Alright,” I say.

Baz lifts his eyes slightly, cocking one eyebrow. “Alright? Is that all you have to say?”

I shrug high then drop my shoulders low. “I don’t know what else to say. That’s all. It changes a lot of things I assumed in school.”

“I bloody well hope so.” His voice is lighter, trying to lift the mood, trying to make this even slightly less than horribly awkward.

“So,” I say drawing out the o, “when, uh, did it start? You feeling like...that.”

If Baz’s blush could get any worse, I think it just did. He plays with his sleeves, his buttons, his hair, obviously looking for a distraction. “I realised it when I was 15. But I think, it started almost since we met.”

That hits me hard. The first year we met, I wore ratty old clothes and was essentially nonverbal. Baz saw me like that, a dirty silent little orphan kid, and he already liked me. He didn’t show it, but only because he couldn’t. He cared about me, even then. Even when so few truly did.

“Huh,” I say stupidly. “That’s a long time.”

He lets out a scoffing chuckle. “No shit, Snow.”

“That makes me feel even more sorry for being a prick to you in school.”

Baz shakes his head very quickly. “No, no, don’t apologize. I was a prick to you first. I just...” he sighs, rubbing his forehead. “In my family, I wasn’t supposed to be gay, let alone have feelings for someone they hated. I lashed out and hurt you because I was hurting. It was wrong.”

He sighs and sits down heavily on the couch. He looks so forlorn and ashamed, head hanging forward, his hair like a curtain. All the guilt seems to be pushing down on his shoulders, making him slump. Penny was right, as usual. But to hear it from Baz, to see him like this, it tugs on my heart. Like that time I caught him drunk in front of his mother’s grave when we were fifteen, or twice last night. He’s grown a lot and gotten happier, but a small part of Baz is still that sad kid, I guess.

Slowly, I walk towards him and sit down. Before I can think too much, I reach out and touch his hand. Baz’s head snaps up, completely terrified and shocked. Yet, he doesn’t pull away. One by one, I slip my fingers between his. Baz’s skin is such a strange contrast. My palm touches the smooth back of his hand, while fingers trace tiny rough ridges. It feels...really good.

“Hey,” I say quietly. “I know it’s been awhile, but what do you think about me now?”

I look him in the eye. I can see the way his lips shift, feel how his hand twitches. I wish I could hear what he’s thinking right now. He stays silent, so I decide to jump in.

“Well, let me start. I know what I think about you. I think,” I move closer, “that you’re kind, funny, smart, and still annoyingly gorgeous.” That makes his eyes widen ever so slightly. “And now I also know that you’re incredibly strong. That you struggled and mourned and came out okay. I mean, you’re a bloody doctor who’s going to help people work through their own problems. That’s amazing.”

Baz looks so shocked, probably both at my words and my coherency. I’ve gotten a lot better at speaking over the years. I’m so glad for that right now. “You really think all that, Snow?”

I smile and nod. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve always found you annoyingly amazing. Now it’s just not so annoying anymore.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Is it so hard to believe?”

Baz presses his lips together for a split second. “Honestly, yes. We hated each other for years, fought like cats and dogs. I assumed I had ruined any chance of that changing.”

“Well,” I move even closer so our thighs press together, “you didn’t. Because I like this.”

“What is this?”

“This!” I gesture wildly between us. “What we’re doing right now. I like this, I like you.”

He looks so shocked, yet there’s a twinkle of happiness too. “Like me how? As...a friend?”

And he calls me oblivious. I squeeze his hand again. “That depends. I know it’s been a long time, so have your...feelings about me gone away?”

Baz stares at me, studying my face. I just watch his eyes roam over me again and again. Then he reaches forward and delicately places his hand on my cheek, just like last night. Except it feels more purposeful. And so much better.

“No,” he says quietly, “they haven’t gone away. I don’t think they ever could.”

My body feels so light and happy and indescribably full. I’ve never felt like this before. Not with anyone. It’s hit me so suddenly, yet it feels so right. I’m grinning, I can’t stop grinning.

“Okay,” I say. “I feel the same.”

Baz’s hand falls, touching my arm. He raises a perplexed eyebrow. “Okay, but since when?”

I shrug, which makes Baz roll his eyes. “I’m not sure. All I know is that I do. That’s what really matters, right?”

He sighs. His hand moves up and down my arm. I can’t tell if he’s studying me or trying to hold on. “I suppose, yes.”

“Exactly. So why don’t we give it a shot?”

“What are you saying, Snow?”

“I’m saying I want to be your boyfriend.” Baz’s lips falls open and hand slips slightly down my arm. I hold onto him tighter. “Like, fair warning, I’m not a great boyfriend. I forget things, I’m super clumsy, and I haven’t dated anyone seriously since Agatha, so my experience is limited. But I like you. And I’m not asking for something serious right now, I just want to give this a try. Do you maybe want to?”

Baz’s face is such strange, confusing mixture. His brows are tense and pulled together. They scream worry and doubt. His thin beautiful lips hang open is absolute disbelief. But his eyes, a mix of dark blue and dark green, are filled to the brim with hope.

“I’m a doctor,” he blurts out.

“Um, yeah, I know,” I reply, trying not to laugh.

He shakes his head violently. “No, you don’t understand. I’m a medical resident. I’m at the hospital almost every day. I have barely any free time, and if I do I use it to sleep. And I don’t have much experience either. I’ve had two semi serious relationships that both ended in flames. I’m terrible at everything relationship related, probably even more than you, Snow.”

Baz looks so frantic and scared, but he’s hanging on to my hand. In spite of harsh realities, he doesn’t want to let go. I think he’s expecting me to admit defeat and walk away. But what he doesn’t seem to get, is that I don’t want to let go either.

I move closer, and cup his face this time. Baz instinctively leans into it. “You called me Simon before.”

He lets out a bursting laugh, sudden and unwanted. He immediately calms down, but there’s a little smile there. “Really? That’s what you care about?”

“Yeah. Because I like hearing you say it, and I like this. So,” I squeeze his hand again, “I want to try, no matter the risks. We’ll just deal with the rest later.”

He gives me a doubtful expression. “That’s your solution? Put off thinking about the problems we may face?”

“Yup. Because I want this, you want this, and that’s all that matters.”

“I guess...”

Stupid bastard still overthinks everything. I don’t want his mind far away, I want it right here with me. I brush my thumb over the soft skin of his cheek. “Plus, I’d rather focus on other things right now.”

“Oh? What things?”

“Well, more a question.” I deliberately move my hand lower, tracing under his bottom lip. “You said you wished you had kissed me when we were in school.”

He gulps. I watch his Adam’s apple bob slowly. “Yes, I did.”

“So, do you still want to kiss me?”

His eyes flick down, just for a moment. I can feel his hot breath on my face. “Yes.”

I smile, leaning close so our noses brush. “Then do it.”

Baz doesn’t ask for anymore assurance. He just leans forward, pressing his mouth to mine. And my mind completely implodes.

His lips are colder than Agatha’s, than anyone’s really. It’s like kissing a soft autumn breeze. Just chilly enough to send shivers over your skin. Yet when he takes my bottom lip between his teeth, I melt completely, leaning closer and wrapping my arms around his neck. He clutches my sides, hanging on with a death grip. Like he never wants to let me go. (I wouldn’t mind that.) It’s an awkward position, but I couldn’t care less anymore. I run my hand through his hair. It’s soft and slips through my fingers, just like I thought it would. I clench my fist and push his face into mine. I more feel him groan than hear it. He bunches my shirt in his own fists. I like him here, under my hands, not off being sad or drunk, where I know he’s okay. I’ve got you know, Baz, I’m not letting go.

From that first press of our lips, I know I want this. Baz feels perfect and wonderful. I want to kiss him forever. It’s strange, to have something you never knew you wanted before, and suddenly need to hang onto it forever.

We both pull apart at relatively the same time, flushed and out of breath. Baz’s eyes flutter open. His pupils are blown incredibly huge, and his lips are swollen and pink. I think mine are too, at least it feels like they are. I’ve never felt so elated from just one kiss. I’m sure I never will again.

“Wow,” I breathe out.

Baz lets out a breathy laugh, so quiet and sweet. “Very eloquent.”

I chuckle too, twisting a strand of his hair. “Yeah, well, that’s all I can manage right now. I think you broke my brain.”

“Don’t stroke my ego too much, Snow. I’ll get a big head.”

“You mean a bigger one?”

Baz glares, but when I flash one grin, his entire face melts. My heart melts too. It’s in a goddamn puddle on the floor forever.

Baz presses one hand to his temple, eyes squinting shut. “Bloody hell, all the drinking and excitement is too much for my head.”

“Did you take the aspirin I left?”

“Yes, but apparently that only does so much. I want coffee.”

“I’ve got some. Probably not very fancy, but it’s good enough. That alright?”

He flashes a lopsided grin. It’s incredibly sweet, making me smile in return. “That would be wonderful, Simon.”

God, I want to hear him say my name like that a thousand times.

We reluctantly untangle ourselves, but our hands stay linked. I lead Baz to my tiny dining room table. He sits on the far side, facing the open space of my kitchenette. My hand drags across his as we reluctantly let go. I walk into the room and flip on my ancient coffee machine.

“How do you take your coffee?” I say over my shoulder. “Black?”

“Actually, I like a lot of cream and sugar.”

I laugh loudly and smile at him. “Still have a sweet tooth, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

“Of course. I still remember how you would steal my mint aeros.”

“You have no proof of that, Snow,” he singsongs.

His voice is light and joking. I look over my shoulder, and see his soft smile. I want to see that smile all the time. I want to find out every little happy expression he has, the ones I never got to see when we were kids.

“I’ll find some,” I reply..

“It’ll take a lot of coaxing.”

I lean against the counter, looking at him. Really looking at him. Baz Pitch, the former arsehole bully, now the mostly well adjusted altruistic doctor, still someone who can occupy most of my thoughts. This is all new yet so familiar.

“Good thing we’ve got time,” I say.

Baz leans his cheek on his palm. From his calm, happy expression, I know he agrees. We’ve got time to not just catch up, but start something strange and beautiful and new.

And I’ve never been so excited in my life.

———————————————

AN: Is this a bit unrealistic? Yes. Is this super adorable? Also yes. Hope you guys thought the same. I def enjoy writing drunk Baz and switching it up so Simon has glasses this time. And I like Simon's total obliviousness to his own feelings. He's a dumb romantic little shit lol. Thanks for reading, see y'all next time :D

PS: XOYO is a real bar. Hopefully they don't have to deal with drunk traumatized psychiatry residents too much lol.

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #normal au #reunion #enemies to friends to lovers #getting together #mysnowbazfic

84 notes · View notes

stickswrites · 4 years

Text

This Is Why I Don’t Socialize (Her Shadows Ch. 2)

Makoto and I walked down the hallway, occasionally exchanging a few words, but mostly just taking everything in. When we decided we'd done enough exploring, we checked the time and saw that we still had 45 minutes until class started.

"What are we supposed to do now?" Makoto whined, putting his arms behind his head.

"We could always go bug the staff in the teachers' lounge," I suggested.

Makoto got this sly smile on his face as he nodded vigorously. So together we made our way to the teachers' lounge, where Dad and a bunch of the other teachers were sure to be. We arrived at the door to the lounge and I pushed it open. As soon as we walked in, we saw a lot of the teachers hanging out and chatting, All Might included. Also, yes, Makoto and I know about All Might, his injury, and how he can't stay in "hero form" for very long. We hang out around UA so often it would have been impossible for them to keep it a secret from us, so Principal Nezu just flat out told us what happened.

"Well, well, well," Midnight said with a smile. "Look at who got into the Hero Course!"

Makoto and I looked at each other and chuckled as we walked in. Midnight immediately stood up and came over to Mako and me.

"You two have gotten to be so much stronger since the last time I saw you," she said, patting our heads.

"Thanks, Midnight," Mako responded. "That means a lot, coming from you."

Midnight gave us a closed eye smile and walked back to her seat on the couch. Mako and I walked over to the counter that the coffee maker was on and began to make ourselves some coffee. Nobody stopped us because it wasn't uncommon for us to be here. When we were both homeschooled and UA was in session, we would spend the majority of our time in the teachers' lounge and socialize with the teachers that didn't have a class. Suffice to say, everyone was used to our presence at this point.

"What are you two doing here?"

Mako and I turned around to see Dad standing right in front of us, his eyes half-closed and his yellow sleeping bag hanging over his shoulder.

"We're making coffee," I responded. "What does it look like?"

Dad sighed dramatically before turning back around and walking to a corner in the room. He climbed into his sleeping bag and fell back asleep. Mako and I turned to each other and laughed as we waited for the coffee to finish brewing. Right as we were pouring our coffee, Present Mic came up to us with an attitude that was way too cheerful for this early in the morning.

"WHAT'S UP, MY DUDES?" He boomed. "YOU PUNKS READY TO DAB THIS DAY?!"

Internally Mako and I cringed. Mic always tried to be "hip" but the way he used slang was nothing short of cringey. I'm absolutely convinced the man gets all of his slang and memes off of Facebook.

"Yeah," Mako said. "I think we are."

"Well good job, both of you, for getting into UA," he said, talking much softer. "We're all very proud of you."

Mako and I looked around the room to see all of the teachers looking at us with varying degrees of pride in their eyes. I almost started crying, but managed to keep the tears from surfacing. Even All Might looked like he was proud of us and he'd only known us since the entrance exam ended. I bowed in thanks to everyone and saw Mako do the same out of the corner of my eye.

The two of us spent the rest of the time we had in the teachers' lounge talking to all of the teachers. We had a really nice conversation with All Might and it was a little surprising to hear how down to earth he was. After checking the time on the clock on the wall, I noticed we only had 10 minutes until class started. I nudged Mako and nodded my head toward the clock. He nodded in response upon seeing the time and we both stood up.

"Thank you for your time," we said in unison to All Might while bowing to him.

"It was my pleasure, you two," he said, waving his hand a little in embarrassment that we were bowing.

We smiled at him and quickly washed our coffee mugs in the sink. Grabbing our bags, we walked out of the teachers' lounge saying a general goodbye to all of the teachers. Just as we got out of the lounge, Dad exited with us and closed the door behind him.

"Which classroom are you going to?" I asked him.

"That's none of your business," he responded with a teasing smile. The smile fell from his face as soon as he started talking again. "Now, I can't have you two punks ruining my image. So get going."

"Got it," I responded with a chuckle.

"See you later, Mr. Aizawa!" Mako said as he and I started walking down the hallway again.

As we were walking away I could hear him muttering.

"Now where is my sleeping bag?" he asked himself. "I need to make... an impression."

Mako and I looked at each other, both having heard what he said and stifled our laughs with our hands as we walked away. As soon as we turned the corner, we started laughing openly, the sound carrying through the halls.

"So," Mako started, calming down from laughing. "We're in Class 1-A."

"Right," I responded. "So we should be just around this corner."

Sure enough, as soon as we turned the corner, our classroom was right there. The door was massive and we could hear yelling come from the other side of the door. Mako and I stood in front of the door, neither of us ready to go in yet.

"I don't know if I'm ready for this," I told Mako, voicing my concerns. "I mean, if I'm anything like my birth parents then I-"

"Stop worrying," Mako interrupted. "You are nothing like your birth parents and you're gonna do great. You won't even have to make friends with anyone if you don't want to."

"Good," I responded. "Because I don't want to make friends. I'm here to become a hero."

"I know," Mako said. "That's why we're all here."

I looked over to him and offered a small smile. He returned a grin of his own and held out his fist to me. I chuckled and gave him a fist bump before dropping the smile from my face and sliding the door to our classroom open.

It was just as chaotic and loud as before and nobody even bothered to turn and look at us besides a few of the boys that had been shouting to each other in a friendly conversation. I scanned the classroom and found my seat right next to Shoto Todoroki, a boy I had met at the recommendations exam. Mako's seat was right in front of mine, which was poor planning on our teacher's part. I was about to walk to my seat when I was stopped by a short boy with purple hair.

"Hey, hot stuff!" He said, drool practically falling out of his mouth as he tried to look up my skirt. "Why don't you come sit by me?"

"Oh come on, Mineta!" a loud blond with a lightning bolt in his hair whined as he came over to us. "Why do you get to talk to all the hotties first?"

I shared a glance with Mako before ignoring both of them and trying to walk to my seat by the window. Both of the boys stepped in front of me in an attempt to stop me.

"Hey, I'm Denki Kaminari," the blond said, a flirty smile on his face. "But you can call me anytime."

"I'm Minoru Mineta," the purple-haired pervert said.

"And I don't care," I responded flatly. "Now, move out of my way before I make you."

I glared at them and they quickly scrambled out of the way. As I made my way to my desk, I heard Mineta grumbling.

"It's not like she's even all that pretty with those scars anyway," he mumbled.

I stopped in my tracks and took a deep breath to try and keep from lashing out at him. The room went so silent that you could hear a pin drop. I heard Mako smack Mineta over the head before coming up behind me and I heard Kaminari rebuking him as well. Good to know Kaminari has some respect for women. I thought to myself.

"You good?" Mako asked softly as he put a hand on my shoulder.

I nodded silently as I began to cross the room yet again. I made it to my desk and set my stuff down next to my chair. I knew there were eyes on me, but I honestly didn't care that much. Soon enough everything went back to how it was before Mako and I entered. There was an ash blond boy at the front of the classroom who had his feet on his desk and a tall blue-haired boy with glasses rebuking him and telling him to have some respect for the school he was attending. I heard the shouting conversation again and the giggling of some girls on one side of the classroom.

"He's wrong," Mako said, turned around at his desk so that he could talk to me. I looked up at him with confusion on my face. "What Mineta said. He's wrong. Your scars don't make you look ugly at all. I think they look cool."

"Thanks, Mako," I said with a small smile.

I pulled out my phone and started playing some games on it as an attempt to pass the time and ignore the stares that lingered. Especially the stare of Shoto Todoroki. I remembered seeing him at the recommendation exam and I remembered his quirk was extremely powerful. He had managed to place second while I placed 3rd and Mako placed 5th. I wasn't sure why he was staring so intently at me, but it was slightly unnerving. I kept my face blank as I waited for class time to start. If there was one thing I was thankful to my bully for, it was my learned ability to both control and conceal my emotions. In fact, Makoto and Dad are the only people I let my guard down around. With everyone else, I act like I don't care about anything, and it's always fun to see who I can piss off by acting that way.

I was pulled out of my thoughts when the door to the classroom opened and a boy with curly green hair and freckles stood in the doorway. As soon as he entered, the rude blond and the uptight blue-haired boy started going at it again.

"Take your feet off of that desk now!" the blue-haired boy said forcefully.

I groaned quietly and buried my head in my arms as I rested them on the desk. I blocked out the conversation that happened as much as I could, but I heard bits and pieces of it. Things like the blue-haired boy was named Tenya Iida, like the pro-hero Ingenium, and how the angry blond really doesn't like the green-haired boy, Izuku Midoriya. The rest I was able to tune out, but I glanced up a few times to see Mako looking over his shoulder at me to make sure I was okay. He tapped his desk with his finger three times and I tapped his chair leg twice in response. This would seem to be meaningless to anyone except Makoto and me.

When we were younger, Makoto didn't like talking about his feelings and I didn't like talking at all. So we devised a system to ask how the other person was without words. If we were holding hands or hugging, we would squeeze three times to ask how the other person was. The person being asked would squeeze back twice if they were fine and once if they weren't okay. This translated to things like now where we would tap on objects to ask if the other person was okay and we just never stopped. So when he tapped his desk three times, he was indiscreetly making sure I was okay and me tapping his chair twice let him know I was fine.

I saw Mako's shoulders relax and I relaxed back into my arms as he tapped my foot one more time with his as a way to make sure I knew he was there when I needed him. I hooked my foot around his as a source of comfort and he did nothing to move it. I think he needed a little comfort too. That was something about Mako that I learned very quickly. He is all about helping others with their emotions and problems but tends to minimize and neglect his own, which was something I tried to not let him do around me.

"If you're just here to make friends you can pack up your stuff now."

Mine and Mako's heads snapped towards the door where we heard my dad right outside the classroom door. Our eyes were wide as we met the other's gaze.

"Welcome to UA's Hero Course," he said in the same monotone voice he used with almost everyone.

"What the hell?" I mouthed to Mako.

He shook his head in response saying he had no clue. The class quieted down as Dad talked some more and unzipped his sleeping bag.

"It took eight seconds before you all shut up," he said, gathering his sleeping bag in his arms and walking into the room. "That's not gonna work. Time is precious. Rational students would understand that."

There was a moment of silence as Dad stood in the doorway of the classroom before he spoke again. The atmosphere was tense as everyone tried to figure out why a tired man with a yellow sleeping bag was in our classroom. They were idiots. Clearly, he was our teacher, which meant so much more antagonizing towards Makoto and me. I sighed heavily and noticed Makoto do the same.

"Hello, I'm Shota Aizawa," he said. "Your teacher." Everyone was shocked for a second, but Dad didn't waste any time in pulling out a PE uniform from his sleeping bag. "Right, let's get to it. Put these on and head outside."

Everyone was confused about what we were doing. Well, everyone besides Makoto and I. We knew what his style of teaching was and we knew he wouldn't go easy on us. If anything, he'd be pushing us harder than anyone else in the class. Realizing he was serious, everyone quickly grabbed a PE uniform and headed to the locker rooms to get changed. I got changed in the corner of the girls' locker room in a successful attempt to remain unseen. I was the first one done, so I walked out of the locker room while adjusting the bracers on my arms and saw Makoto, who walked out around the same time while finishing securing the bracer on his left arm. It was a piece that his mother used when she was a pro. He had one and his sister had the other.

"Did you know?" he asked about Dad being our teacher.

"No," I responded quietly. "You know I would have told you."

We kept the topic of our conversation secret because Dad, Makoto, and I had concluded that it might be a good idea to keep my identity and the fact that I'm our homeroom teacher's daughter a secret. It wouldn't be a secret for long, but it would be helpful while it lasted. That way nobody would think he was helping me in some way.

Makoto and I made our way outside. We were the first ones to be done changing. We met my dad out on the field and shot him half-hearted glares. He just gave us a teasing smile in return but it quickly fell from his face. We looked behind us and saw more students arriving, all now wearing their PE uniforms. I sighed and pulled all of my hair back into a ponytail and pinned my bangs back with some bobby pins I had put in my pocket. I knew what was coming and having my hair in my way wouldn't help me at all.

"Alright," Dad started. "Now that you're all here, I think it's time you know what you'll be doing. Today you'll be performing a quirk assessment test."

"WHAT?!" the rest of the students asked in unison. "A quirk assessment test?"

I could see the annoyance growing on my dad's mostly expressionless face as they all repeated exactly what he had said. He turned around, probably to hide this annoyance as a brown-haired girl, whose name I had heard was Ochako Uraraka, started talking.

"But orientation!" she whined. "We'll miss it!"

"If you really want to make the big leagues you can't waste time on pointless ceremonies," Dad said firmly with his back still turned to us. The students gasped before Dad continued. "Here at UA, we're not tethered to traditions. That means that I get to run my class however I see fit." Dad looked at everyone over his shoulder." Everyone started murmuring, worried about what would happen. Makoto and I shared a glance before turning back to Dad, determined to do well. He turned around to us fully while talking. "You've been taking standardized tests most of your lives." He pulled out a phone and showed it to us. "But you never got to use your quirks in physical exams before. The country's still trying to pretend we're all created equal by not letting those with the most power excel." He glanced at Mako and me for a few seconds before continuing. "It's not rational. One day the Ministry of Education will learn." He stood up straight and turned to the angry blond. "Bakugo, you managed to get the most points on the entrance exam. What was your farthest distance throw with a softball when you were in junior high?"

"67 meters, I think," the angry blond, Bakugo, responded.

"Right," my dad said. "Try doing it with your quirk."

Everyone moved to a different part of the field and Bakugo stood in the center of a circle that was painted on the ground. Dad stood between him and the rest of us. We eagerly waited to see what Bakugo would get on his throw.

"Anything goes," Dad said blandly. "Just stay in the circle." There was a moment of pause where nobody moved. "Go on," Dad urged. "You're wasting our time."

"Alright, man," Bakugo said while stretching his throwing arm. "You asked for it."

He geared up for his throw with a big wind up and when he released it I could have sworn I heard him yell "Die!" But I could be wrong I suppose. A huge explosion left his hand as the ball soared through the air, followed by a trail of orange. Explosions. I thought. That's his quirk. Amazing! It's no wonder he got the highest score on the exam. He has so much power and brute force!

"All of you need to know your maximum capabilities," Dad said, holding the device that would measure distance in his hand. The ball landed in the distance and Dad turned back around to us. "It's the most rational way of figuring out potential as a pro hero."

He showed us the screen and in big, blue numbers we saw that Bakugo threw the ball 705.2 meters. I looked at Makoto and raised my eyebrows slightly, impressed at his throw. Makoto mirrored my expression and nodded. We had our work cut out for us.

"Whoa!" Kaminari said. "705 meters! Are you kidding me?"

"I wanna go!" the pink-skinned girl with horns said excitedly. "That looks like fun!"

I chuckled at her choice of words and I saw Makoto let a small smile through. The rest of the students kept talking about how much fun these tests would be. Idiots. I thought. He's gonna push us to our limits. This isn't supposed to be fun and it won't be.

"So this looks fun, huh?" Dad asked calmly. Everyone paused at his words. "You have three years here to become a hero. You think it's all gonna be games and playtime?" A smirk that can only be described as devious made its way onto Dad's face. "Idiots," he said. "Today you'll compete in eight physical tests to gauge your potential. Whoever comes in last had none and will be expelled immediately."

Everyone immediately made noises of protest. Makoto and I shared a look and I nodded. Dad was serious. Even if it was one of us that came in last, we'd be expelled. He wouldn't play favorites. Dad interrupted everyone's internal monologues about how they would need to do their best with more talking.

"Like I said," he started. "I get to decide how this class runs. Understand? If that's a problem, you can head home right now."

"You can't send one of us home!" Uraraka said, stepping forward to challenge Dad. "I mean, we just got here. Even if it wasn't the first day. That isn't fair!"

I scoffed and felt some eyes turn to me. Immediately Dad started talking again, though.

"Oh, and you think natural disasters are?" he asked. "Or power-hungry villains? Hm? Or catastrophic accidents that wipe out whole cities? No. The world is full of unfairness. It's a hero's job to try and combat that unfairness." An air of understanding seemed to wash over the students as Dad continued to talk. "If you wanna be a pro, you're gonna have to push yourself to the brink. For the next three years, UA will throw one terrible hardship after another at you. So go beyond. Plus ultra style." He smiled again, this time a little more reassuring. "Show me it's no mistake that you're here."

After he finished talking, I could hear everyone chattering to themselves about how they needed to do well. I tried to calm my nerves that were rapidly growing. If there's one thing I've never liked, it's being singled out and made the center of attention. The fact that we would be doing most of these tests one at a time in front of our classmates was enough to get my heart racing. Sensing my nerves, Makoto grabbed my hand tightly. Much tighter than he would have if he was simply doing it for my benefit. I squeezed his hand three times to ask if he was okay. He squeezed twice at first, but a few seconds later squeezed again. He wasn't sure. He was nervous, we all were. These tests could make or break us.

"Now then," Dad started. "We're just wasting time by talking. Let the games begin."

------------------------------------------------------------

A/N

I hope you all enjoyed today's chapter! The picture at the top is Makoto. On the left is his everyday outfit and on the right is his hero suit. Again, Makoto belongs to my friend, but the artwork is mine. I'm super excited for the next chapter. Thanks for reading!

-Sticks

Word count: 3880 words

#mha fanfiction #mha oc #bnha oc #bnha fanfic #kirishima x oc #eijirou kirishima #my hero academia #mha #bnha #fanfiction #fanfic #writer #her shadows fanfiction #her shadows #keiko aizawa

1 note · View note