˖ ࣪⭑ ˖ ࣪⭑made by me:) ˖ ࣪⭑ ˖ ࣪⭑

i think a guy friend has a crush on me 😐😐

Love Reunited (Love On The Run - Part Two)

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst reader has a bad bitch moment, fluff, threats + mentions of murder, no proofreading

Words: 2,114

Summary: In the heat of the moment, Y/n says something that pissed Klaus off. Elijah does the only thing he can and tells his wife to run for her life. | The only thing standing between Klaus and forgiveness from his older brother is Y/n and her freedom.

Taglist: @matth1w​, @redspaceace-writes​, @fandom-puff​, @darling-i-read-it​, @dpaccione​, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​, @simonsbluee​

Masterlist | The Originals Masterlist

Part One.

Ever since Klaus’ resentment for Y/n, and the sworn death sentence he’d given her, chased her out of New Orleans and into constant relocation just to be safe in hiding from her husband’s brother, Elijah had developed a new feeling. He began to loathe his little brother. Though he’d claimed to have detested his brother many times before, this time was different. Even so, that wasn’t the only thing different about this time. 

This time, Klaus knew he was fucked.

He’d cried for forgiveness over the past few years, yet Elijah ignored him every single time. One of the, scarcely occurring, times he actually spoke to Klaus about his apology, he’d brought up the situation with Y/n, quoting the hybrid word for word.

“You did say, ‘live with Elijah’s hate,’ did you not? So, why can you not just live with the burden of the reality that I in fact do, and will always, abhor you, Niklaus? Or are you just so diabolical, so selfish. that you merely cannot fathom losing the one person whom has vowed to stay by your side, always and forever? The one person who can tolerate you.”

“Elijah- ple-”

“So long as my wife is on the run from you, running quite literally for her life, you will never be reprieved.” Everyone who knew Elijah knew that he always kept his word. “I give you my word on that.” Always.

“Please, brother! I’ll do anything for your forgiveness-” He was genuine. As Klaus begged, practically on his knees with tears stinging his eyes, he was a hundred percent genuine.

Elijah turned his head, finally facing his brother with full attention and interest for the first time in a painful handful of years. “Free Y/n.”

“W-what?”

“Free my lover from this condemnation you have unjustly sentenced her to and allow her to walk away from your grudge without harm and without the risk of you creating blackmail material of her actions that you have unreasonably deemed intolerable.”

“Anything else?” He was only kidding, but Elijah wasn’t.

“You’ll have to collect her from whatever location she’s at currently. And please Niklaus, do so without any violence on your behalf.”

He chuckled for a second. Then his smug, carefree, expression morphed into one of uneasy guilt. “You’re...serious?” Elijah held his stern manner. Klaus took his lack of response as a yes and sighed, “Alright. Consider her free.” then he turned to go hunt for Y/n and earn his brother’s pardon.

“If you lay a hand on her,” Klaus halted in his tracks, eyes darting to the side as though he could see his brother clearly despite Elijah being directly behind him, “be it a hair pulled from her head or even a tiny meaningless spiteful threat, there will be splinters for you to pull out of your skin for years. And though it will not permanently kill you, I shall drive stake upon stake through your chest and never feel remorse for any part of it.”

Klaus almost wanted to scoff, laugh it off and tell Elijah he’d never actually do that but a part of him wondered if he really would. If his own brother would end his life for anything done to Y/n. Deep down, he knew Elijah would have a rage that would overflow and cause terror and destruction in it’s wake.

He knew the wood couldn’t kill him. He’d do it over and over again, for the next centuries to come, and the centuries after those have passed, the cycle never ending. A never ending cycle of a living hell. And a hell that he knew would be well deserved for it would only come to such a punishment if he did anything to hurt the love of his brother’s life. An easy mistake to avoid ...if your name wasn’t Niklaus.

“Understand?”

Klaus wondered what happened to the old him; the merciless, blood thirsty, cruel and sinister hybrid, the one true immortal being, now showing mercy to, and retrieving, someone who’d crossed multiple lines in his eyes. Whilst she did have a point, he chose never to say so. He chose to ignore all attempts to draw the light in him into the world. He chose to ignore all pleas for his goodness in fear of his softness- his weakness getting the people he loved hurt.

But it was time to push past that, for if he didn’t, there wouldn’t be any people for him to love.

He swallowed and redirected his narrowed eyes to the door. His jaw clenched and his breathing became uneven. “Understood, brother.”

Niklaus was a stubborn man, and he knew it. But he would do anything, very close to literally anything, to gain his family back. To atone for his mistakes over hundreds of decades. To plea for redemption from their bad sides. And although Elijah would forgive him with simply letting Y/n return to his arms once more, Niklaus new his pleading wasn’t quite over yet.

Y/n wouldn’t just forgive him so easily. She wouldn’t, and because he knew that, he wasn’t surprised when she narrowed her eyes at him and furrowed her brows before releasing an avalanche of years, years of which felt horribly elongated, of pent up rage upon him instantaneously without any form of hesitation.

He found her with the help of witches, and quite easily seeing as moving from place to place as quickly as possible would require avoiding any type of relationships with everyone. She didn’t have anyone to preform a cloaking spell, but she did have great strength as a back-up strategy.

A note, placed by the barkeep, was subtly dropped in front of her, the words written in blue by the pen he’d snatched from a barmaid’s apron as she walked past. Two little words sparked her curiosity almost immediately. Her head snapped up and turned left and right, looking for who the mysterious messenger, whom she hoped was Elijah. Much to her disappointment, the person who suddenly placed a hand on her shoulder was a different Mikaelson.

Y/n grabbed his hand and flung it off of herself harshly. “You?”

“Don’t sound so disgruntled, love, I am here to collect you after all.”

“No. I won’t be going anywhere with you.”  Venom entwined her words as she referenced him. She clenched her jaw and swiftly turned to face the bar again. The scrunched up napkin was thrown over her shoulder. He opened it, “come home” sprawled messily across the soft material.

Klaus felt the anger wash over him but promptly remembered Elijah’s words. He calmed himself with a few deep breaths before clearing his throat and trying again. “I’m afraid I can’t take no as an answer.”

“And I’m afraid I would rather stake myself than go literally any place on this green fucking earth with you.” Y/n spat through her teeth.

Her blatantly obvious execrating feelings for him amused Klaus, a small grin appearing on his lips as he tilted his head. “Do you even know where I’m taking you?”

“To hell, most likely.”

Klaus, unsurprisingly, had a snarky retort ready on his tongue, but she was already out the door and taking a sneaky head start for her run to the farthest place from Niklaus possible. He was on her tail within seconds and cornered her in the woods. A smug leer, not uncommon to see upon his features, promptly slid onto his face.

“What the hell do you want, besides to kill me?”

“You to come with me.”

Y/n paused, as if she were considering his demand, then rolled her eyes. She tried to step around him, “Like that’ll do me any good-”

“It will.” Klaus stepped in front of her, blocking her way once more. “C’mon. From here on out, your sentence is over, you can return to New Orleans-”

“And how do I know you mean the words you speak? How do I know you shall stay true to whatever comes from your mouth?”

“You know me, I-”

“You’re quite correct, Klaus. I know you. I know that you are not infamous for nothing. You lie, deceive, torture, humiliate and do so many other things to people underserving of your cruelty! How should I forgive you when you have yet to adhere for the hurt you’ve infected innocents with?”

His gaze dropped, guilt creeping over his face. He knew what he did to those people.

“Do you even feel bad for what you’ve done?”

Not really. Not all the time. Hardly ever at all if he were to be honest.

“Do you feel the need to morn those you have wrongfully sentenced to death? Those you have sent to the deepest pits of hell based on erroneous judgement?”

She came for his throat, each fact that was spat from her mouth verbatim.

“You are callous and you are heinous! You wonder why your siblings hate you, and yet you constantly do vile things to people! You have erroneously punished people over and over again. You swear you will change, many times, and they believe you but then the next thing they know, they’re in a box for a couple decades. And you think they need to plead for absolution?”

Hundreds of years spent seething in hostility for her brother in law, all ranted in this one moment hit Klaus like a bus, taking the air from his lungs and sending a feeling deep into his gut like someone had just swung a baseball bat into his stomach a dozen times. But she wasn’t finished yet.

“You want to ask for my exoneration? Well you have years, and I mean fucking years, to make up for.” She laughed sarcastically. “To absolve you from everything you’ve put me through, everything you’ve taken from me, everything I’ve fucking missed because of you- to absolve you from all of that would take many years of penitence and work to fix what you have done. Are you really prepared to do that? Are you, Niklaus fucking Mikaelson, ready to take a lengthy withdrawal from your wicked and corruptive reign of evil to earn my remission?”

He hated the fact that she teased him for it, rubbed it in his face, but he knew he deserved it. Klaus knew he deserved every harsh and bitter word she spat at him. He had a thousand of years of blood on his hands, the true number of all the lives he’d snuffed out still paling in comparison to the amount of power that radiated from Y/n, the amount of guilt and remorse she’d forced onto his shoulders with simple words.

“You are no fucking king,” she sneered, “at least, not compared to me.”

Silence made the air heavy with tension as the minutes passed by. Then, she sighed heavily and spoke, slicing the thick tension with an imaginary blade. “I will go with you,” he looked to her with relief, “but I meant every word I said. You will have to work to ensure your vindication. And it will not be an easy task.”

“I understand.” Klaus bowed his head, submitting to her and trading in his crown to prove his worthiness of her forgiveness.

She happily accepted it.

“Y/n?” He couldn’t believe his eyes. Last he’d checked, he hadn’t been bitten by a werewolf or hybrid, nor had he inhaled or consumed any witchy substances that would make him hallucinate. He didn’t pray much, but in his head, his thoughts muttered over and over, “please be real.”

“Elijah!” Her eyes lit up the second they met his form. She surged forward, lips colliding with Elijah’s for the first time in years. He wrapped his arms around her and twirled her round.

The world faded to an irrelevant blur. It felt amazing to be home, to be in his arms once more, to be free of Klaus’ ridiculous furry, free of the ill intentions previously directed towards her. Minutes had went by and yet, neither of the two noticed a single thing.

Years that had passed by soon drifted away, like they weren’t apart for any of it. Like time had hit pause when she’d left his arms and resumed when she returned to them. It felt as though time froze whilst the two embraced. The moment could’ve lasted an eternity had Klaus not cleared his throat to announce his presence.

“So uh...brother...have I earned your forgiveness?”

“I suppose you have.”

“And Y/n? Have I made progress on clearing my name with you?”

She made eye contact with Elijah, exchanging a small grin before returning her eyes to Klaus and nodding slightly. “You’ve got a ways to go, but you’re off to a great start. Thank you, Klaus.”

Growing Pains - Chapter Four - My Office. NOW.

I arrived at LFG the next day at 8 am, way before everybody else did. I went to the CEO’s office and left an envelope on top of his desk, with my resignation letter inside.

I brewed some coffee, and grabbing a cup for myself, I sat on my laptop and worked on the pending things I had to do for the week. Whoever would take my work, would have no problem picking up the pace if I left things organized.

I was so absorbed in my task I didn’t even notice all the other people coming in. I also didn’t notice Victor’s arrival, so it came as a surprise to see Victor’s message on the company communication channel.

My office. NOW.

I knocked on the glass door and heard a dry “come in”. Victor was sitting at his desk, my resignation letter in his hand.

“You called?” I said, my voice emotionless.

“Explain this.” His tone was severe, angry even, as he threw the letter on the desk with contempt.

“Not much to explain, it’s my resignation letter.” I said, my cold eyes meeting his fiery ones.

“Is it now?” His tone was of scorn. “Here’s what I think about your resignation letter.” He took the letter from the table and slowly ripped it to pieces. I was astonished, not believing my own eyes. That man had some nerve. Suddenly he got up, and although he wasn’t loud or aggressive, I was startled all the same. I could hear my heartbeat in my eardrums.

“Tomorrow morning a car will be picking you up at 6:30 in the morning. You will be ready for it at 6: 29, so you won’t cause any delays. You’ll pack a bag for a two-day trip, including dresses for business dinners. You said you wanted to learn, here is your chance, I will teach you. Tomorrow, you’ll sit with me at the grown-ups table.” His grey eyes were menacing and icy, defying me to retort or refuse. Seeing him like this, I simply couldn’t. I just stood there and took all of his fury, unable to move a muscle. He paused for a moment, watching my reaction, and continued.

“Goldman will send you my schedule for the next two days, which you will memorize like it was your own name. You’ll also come prepared with all the information required about the companies I am going to visit, including reports on your analysis of the present reality for those companies, and what actions should be taken to protect the investments. And you will not fail or disappoint me, or I will personally make sure you will never work in finances again, here or in any other place. Understood?”

He spat the threat like it was coming from the deepest darkest pit inside him, and it fell on me like a double punch on my gut. I remained silent, knowing that I couldn’t possibly say no to him. I wasn’t pleased with the whole situation, but I wasn’t stupid enough to face the angry bear now. I had poked him, after all.

“Yes. Anything else, sir?” I said, my expression emotionless, the word sir coming out sourer than I intended.

His eye twitched, and for a nanosecond, it seemed this was as hard for him as it was for me, a glint of discomfort in his eyes. Clearly wishful thinking. He sat down and picked a file, and spoke to me while reading it. It was clearly his way to show despise.

“Yes. Later today you will have a desk placed in my office. You will be working with me closely, taking all the tasks I give you. You will be here when I arrive, and you will only leave when I tell you to leave. I will be demanding and most likely ill-tempered, but you’ll take it like an adult, since I will be teaching you everything I know. In return, I expect from you nothing less than excellence.”

I couldn’t believe this was happening, but I wouldn’t relent. I asked to be taught, didn’t I? If I played my cards right, I could profit greatly from all the knowledge he had to offer. I didn’t know if the CEO was pushing me to be better or if it was just punishment for being sassy, but I wouldn’t lose the opportunity to get my hands dirty and learn something worth the trouble.

Seeing Victor was already busy with his own work, not even caring to finish the conversation, I excused myself and went to my desk. Ted was waiting by my chair, his expression worried.

“What the hell happened? You’re pale as a ghost.” He asked, worried.

“Victor will be supervising me now. I will move to his office soon.” I said, my body feeling tired as all the tension slowly left it.

“Did he say why?”

“Not really.” I lied. “I think he wasn’t pleased with my reports.”

“Are you keeping any of my accounts? You were working on them, will Victor be supervising them too?” Ted seemed worried, maybe because he felt his efficiency was on trial as well.

“I don’t know, Ted. He’s your buddy, go ask him yourself.”

Ted didn’t lose any time. He went straight to Victor’s office. I just sat at my desk and went back to work, not minding what was happening there.

I opened my email to find I already had an email from Goldman with the schedule for the two-day trip. I printed it and put it beside me, starting to research about the companies we would be visiting.

I was so busy with my own work I didn’t notice the time pass me by, the busy energy of the company acting only as a background noise. I was startled by someone tapping me on the shoulder. It was Diane.

“Oh sweetie, I noticed you just came back from Victor’s office. You don’t look so good. We’re going to grab something to eat. Would you like to join us?” She said, smiling. Diane was a tall blonde with piercing blue eyes, and a voice so calm it could literally put you to sleep. She was one of the best workers in LFG, constantly praised by Victor but especially by Goldman, that seemed to like and respect her deeply. It was no surprise though, her heart being as big as her brains, and her attitude always positive and wise, making it extremely difficult not to like her.

I looked at the clock, it was one pm. But I still had a lot of work to cover. I was about to say no, when a man approached me.

“Hey, you’re Andrea, right? I’m Lenny. I’m here to move your things to the CEO’s office while you have lunch.” Lenny extended his hand for me to shake.

“Actually, I still have work to do…” I said, not wanting to leave my desk at all. Victor would be arriving from his lunch break soon, and I was pretty sure he would dump all kinds of tasks on me. And I still wasn’t done with what I had started in the morning.

“20 minutes, that’s all I ask. You’ll be doing me a solid, if the CEO arrives to see I still haven’t done what he asked me to, I’ll be in trouble.”

“Come with us, Andrea, we won’t take long, I have a lot to do too. You grab some lunch and relax a little, you’ll be more productive when you return.” Diane chimed in.

“20 minutes.” I turned to Lenny. “And make sure everything is working properly, I can’t lose any more time than the much I’m giving you.”

Lenny agreed and I went with Diane and some other people to this salad bar we often went to. We sat with our lunch, the others engaged in conversation, me and Diane eating silently. That is, until Diane broke the silence.

“So… Do you want to talk about what happened? Goldman was in his office when he opened your letter. He said he has never seen him so angry.”

“Well, the report presentation went incredibly sour yesterday. I thought he was going to fire me, so I quit. To save myself the humiliation. He didn’t take it too well.” I blurted out. I didn’t want to, but I needed to tell somebody.

“Went sour how?”

“Well, he called me an idiot… And I called him a bully. And he is a bully, Diane. I never had any complaints until yesterday, but I see how he treats people. Like he is the only smart person in the room. You’re close to Goldman, you know how nervous he gets. Life can’t be easy for him.” I tried to defend myself, although I knew I wasn’t very nice to Victor either.

“Ok… But he didn’t fire you. You’re moving your stuff to his office.” Diane stated, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

“He’s my supervisor now and he wants me to work closely with him. Probably to make me trip and add to my humiliation.” I sighed.

“I’ve known Victor for a while now. Goldman and I have been in the company for at least 7 years working close to him. And he’s not what he seems, Andy. He gives off the cold vibe but he’s actually a very kind and honorable person. It’s hard for him to let people in, I think. Do you know how Goldman started working at LFG?”

I shook my head, giving her my undivided attention.

“He was in a very bad place when he applied. He was practically homeless, he had lost his parents recently, nobody would hire him. He applied to work as a receptionist. Victor interviewed him, for some reason.” Diane paused to sip her drink. “When Victor asked him why someone with an Economics degree was applying as a receptionist, he told him his troubles. Victor not only hired him, but he did it as his assistant. And for a while, LFG paid the rental of a small apartment so Goldman could save some money and get himself back on his feet. And Victor taught him everything he needed to know about the job, making him his right arm. Victor didn’t need to do that.”

I pondered for a moment, thinking about how he helped me with my car trouble. Although it was a very uncomfortable experience, he was nothing but a gentleman. But that man was a very different man from the man threatening me in his office.

“He seems to be two very different people.” I said, concluding the conversation, not wanting to talk about it anymore.

“Well, since you are working with him, here’s a piece of advice. Don’t let his standoffish act fool you. Give him the benefit of the doubt.”

I nodded. Maybe he wasn’t all that bad. I sure hoped so, since I would be in close vicinity for the next few months.

I ran to the office to finish my work. My desk was already set on Victor’s office. Fortunately, he was still on his lunch break, so I sat and put on my earphones, resuming my work, my focus solely on my screen, the music blocking exterior stimuli. I worked fast and furiously for a while, my mind speeding through the process, when my concentration was broken by the sight of a tie next to my screen. I could only imagine the scolding I would get if the CEO had been there for long talking to me and I didn't listen.

“Sorry for the earphones. I needed to focus. Do you need anything?” I asked him.

“Do you have your reports ready? Did you gather all the information regarding the companies?”

“Almost ready. It’ll be finished in half an hour.” I answered.

“Let’s hope the quality of your work surpasses your efficiency, which is seriously lacking. A toddler could do it in half the time.” He said, sitting down at his desk.

I sighed. Who told me to be that straightforward to the guy and call him a bully?

“Did you have lunch?” I heard his voice again.

“Yes, I took a quick break and ate.”

“Rule number one in this office: No matter how busy you are, you take a break to eat and drink.”

“Understood.”

“The last thing I need is the intern to pass out from hunger and make a fool of herself in my office.”

This was going to be hell. I could feel it. Way to go, Andrea, you missed a perfectly good opportunity to be quiet.

Long Story Short - I Suck. [And Here’s Why]

[As a quick, quick synopsis : I did something I told myself I would NEVER ever do and as a result my progress and in essence my entire life kind-of flew away from me. If you don’t really care or are unbothered by the very long-winded and obnoxious post that shall follow, feel free to stop reading here! Just wanted to say hello, hi. I am back, and back with a vengeance.] 

Okay, so here we go with explanations and an awful (and slightly therapeutic) run down of Sabrina’s life these past few months.

[a/n: Cringe warning. Lots of cliches and run-on sentences that make zero sense and may make you scratch your head and say “whaaa?” ... you have been warned.] 

For those of you who don’t know, or need a refresher for because ha, yeah I haven’t been active online in MONTHS: 

My name is Sabrina Lee. I’m a freshly turned 22 year old who’s currently working on her first novel. 

I started blogging (this one specifically) I’d like to say back in... September/November? And let me tell you, the fire that was underneath my a$$ during this time was a flaming-hot inferno stemmed from the deepest pits of hell. 

The amount of energy and time I dedicated to writing, drawing, thinking, and breathing this story at first can border on realm of an unhealthy obsession mixed with a dash of pure excitement. I lived off of pure adrenaline for this bright and new shining world that began opening up for me.

Real talk time: (as if the rest of this won’t be raw and real too), I admittedly have a naturally addictive personality. I also am someone who doesn’t cope well with changes, or sudden shifts in my usual habits or every day life. So? So...

When I first began writing, I was so energized at the thought of being able to create and share. I’d post updates constantly as I wrote more and more (and more and more...)  and I’d receive nothing but support and positive feedback in return. (No joke, thank you to anyone who’s sent me words of encouragement or small snippets of love.) I became addicted to the feeling of writing, and then sharing everything and anything I could on this project.

During the first few weeks and even into months I was busting out thousands of words a day. My greatest day hitting about 3500 words. I’d even done a couple of paintings for concept ideas inbetween. 

It was the greatest thing ever. To feel like this novel was something so possible, so tangible. I pushed myself more and more and more, I wanted to be finished by the end of December with my first rough copy. (Spoiler: I failed.) 

I was stuck on such a high of this new and exciting chapter in my life, I was doing something I so badly wanted to do. Something I’d always dreamed of doing.

Sooner or later though, gravity here on earth conquers and I began feeling myself grow heavier and heavier. The high and weightlessness I felt when I first started writing began to fade as I found the words harder and harder to produce.

I got frustrated, and I gave up after a couple of months. I had failed. 

Granted, let’s put this in retrospect to the environment I was in.

Up until the end of January, I was working full-time at a retail job. (Albeit a bookstore of all things...) And with the holiday (Christmas/New Years) season quickly approaching, I found myself working between forty and fifty hours a week (thank-you last minute holiday shoppers!). 

SO. With working full time and already feeling slightly discouraged about this project, I began forcing myself to write. (Here’s where the addictive traits kick in). I wasn’t having fun anymore, I wasn’t sleeping (thanks retail) but I was still sitting myself down at my computer at 11, 12:00, 1:00am to write words that didn’t carry any meaning. I was totally burned out. The flame and drive in me snuffed. 

I was addicted to creating and escaping reality so much, I let my mental health and physical health diminish..

It got to the point where I was too tired to work, to tired to write, and so I put this project down to be worked on at a later date.

Silly Sabrina didn’t realize she wouldn’t be working on it again until five months later.

Fast forward to February. By this time, financial instability was something that had taken the spotlight in my life, so I picked up a second job. And I hadn’t thought twice about continuing the story - I had no time to think about anything other than wake up, work, work at the second store, go home to sleep, and do it again. 

Two and a half solid months disappeared without me even realizing it. 

I got so caught up in the present moment, I never gave a glance at the future. My future.

Mid-February and early March I had the itch in my bones to write again. To create.

During this time, I slowly stole whatever free moments I had to escape into the world of Detroit: Become Human.  It was the first fandom in a very long time I had been able to escape into, and as such I found myself writing fanfiction for it. Thousands and thousands of words began accumulating for short stories I had been writing for this game. 

I kept telling myself that everything I had written for this fandom, all of the short fiction pieces I wrote, was practice for when I finally found the energy and time to write my book again. 

I believe, that with moderation and time management skills that I clearly lack, this was a great idea.

I think it still could have been a great idea- if executed properly.

I had begun writing close to two thousand words a day for a fanfiction I was creating, and my dumbass, like the first time, found myself burning out.

I love writing. Loved writing so much, that I would do it whenever I could. Even if it meant staying up all night to finish a chapter for Detroit, or using time at work to finish writing down an idea I had.

I’d get these random bursts of energy and inspiration to write, and I’d use 1000% of whatever energy I could to create. Not good, not good.

Fast forward a bit more to now.

It’s the first week in May, and I haven’t written a new sentence in my book since the end of December. 

I would say I failed. But in all honesty, I haven’t quite failed. Not just yet. I refuse to believe it.

This is a second chance.

Last month between both jobs, I was working between 10 and 12 hours a day, seven days a week. There was a solid thirty-one, 31 days I went straight without a full day off. 

Times have changed. (Thank the Gods).

Toward the end of February I met someone special, and that someone just so happens now to be one of my biggest fans, and someone who’s taught me that it’s totally okay to take time for you to love, and take care of your own self.

I’ve finally relaxed into the idea that this, what I’m doing now, and what I will be doing in the future, is all okay.

One of the biggest fears I had, was that all of the work I had put into my book, was a waste of time. That in the end, the time invested wouldn’t have been justifiable.

Now? Now I’m comfortable with allowing myself to look to the future. 

I’ve finally given myself the breathing room and self-love I’d needed to fully envision the future I want and crave. 

And that’s to be an author of Trysten, Callum, and Samson’s narrative.

I finally have time again to dedicate to working a little bit at a time toward finishing this project.

I finally now know my limits, and how to keep myself from burning out so quickly.

I’m just... so excited to feel like I’m back to the old me I used to be. Just wiser and now not as stressed. 

The flame has returned for this story. I know in my heart that writing is something I will do. Being and author and creator is who I am. 

I can’t imagine a future where I didn’t get this freaking story written.

So long story short,

I had failed. I had failed myself, but that’s okay. Learning and growing is what we do as human beings. It just takes some people a little big longer.

Hello again friends, 

It has been a while.

I am back.

I love you all.

-Sabrina Lee

Weary

90 “No shit,” Harry mumbled, still chewing on the banana in his mouth.  “Freddie Mercury, was a fucking king. Is a fucking king. Will always be a king.” “Agreed.” I giggled, still wrapped up tight in his sheets, watching him saunter around the kitchen. I can’t explain the joy of that sight, Harry with his hair messy and long, wearing a tight pair of boxers and nothing else, dancing around to Killer Queen with a banana in his hand. It was such a simple sight, but one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen all at the same time. There was a happiness shifting within the deepest pits of my stomach, heart and mind. He was a vision, a dim-witted smile on his face as he clicked his fingers and sang along, swaying his hips. So beautiful. So perfect.

“Do you know what I would sacrifice, just to see him perform even one song live?” He groaned, sulking a little. “With the little show you’re putting on, I think you could easily start a tribute act.” I told him, watching a gleeful smile spurt onto his lips. “I once saw a Queen tribute act, and they were fucking incredible. Can you imagine the real thing?” “Even the thought makes me want to cry.” He said, and then started approaching me, singing along again. “Drop of a hat, she’s as willing as, playful as a pussycat, then momentarily out of action, temporarily out of gas, she’ll absolutely drive you-” “WILD!” I joined in. “WILD!” “She’s out to get you!” He jumped back onto the bed, making me scream with delight as he knocked me backwards, kissing at my lips as I squirmed and giggled below him, wrapping my fingers through his hair and trying to kiss him back, but my smile was stopping me. “Oh my holy fucking shit, I’m so in love with you.” I told him. “This is like, the weirdest thing I’ve ever felt.” “Good weird?” He said between attempted kisses. “Yes good weird.” I blushed. “Amazing weird.” I’d never felt closer with someone. Never. Being in his arms felt like home, warmth and comfort and something that was just second nature, like I wasn’t even fully aware of it, it was just my norm. Laughing with him sent this weird feeling bubbling through my stomach, like I’d never laughed that way before, like certain giggles belonged to him, released from me for his ears only. Being in love was a weird feeling, one that I was still trying to wrap my head around at the same time as having this feeling in my gut that told me I should have always felt this way, I should have always been with him. After littering me with a few more playful kisses, he jumped back off me, sauntering back over to the kitchen, swaying his hips to the music. I sat upright so I could watch him, Moggy jumping and curling up on my lap as Harry attempted to prepare our breakfast, too distracted by his dancing, and I could see how happy he was. It was almost like he was constantly smiling. It was the 5th of May, only two weeks since we’d first said we loved each other, since we had sex, and although not much had changed, nothing felt the same. “You tired?” I asked him. He’d had a pretty restless night, his nightmare shining through in the way it always did, ruining what should have been his one escape, but some nights were worse than others. “I’m fine.” He said, though I was sure he was lying. “You should get some more sleep.” “Ren, it’s fine. I’m fine.” I think with each progression of our relationship, we’d both been hoping that maybe it would trigger something within him that would stop the dreams, or at least calm them, but nothing had changed. There wasn’t anything I could do to stop them, no matter how desperately I wanted to, it just wasn’t in my power. “Harry.” I called, signalling for him to join me again. Looking a little sceptical, he wandered back over to me, sitting at the foot of the bed and reaching out, locking our fingers together. “You okay?” He asked. “How’s therapy going?” “You don’t need to worry about me.” He tried to dismiss. “Well, tough shit, I do. So… talk to me.” I watched his chest shuddering, using his other hand to run through Moggy’s thick, white fur, to which she purred appreciatively. He looked down to his lap, taking a few moments to compose and ease himself before finally being honest with me rather than trivialising his thoughts. “Ren, I-I can’t even explain, how happy I am for you… that you don’t go to therapy anymore and that you’re doing so well. It… It fucking makes my heart beat harder when I see you happy, and loving yourself. It makes everything better. But… I guess, it’s just kind of… It’s made it more apparent that I’m not there. I’m not even close. I just… I can’t even see an end and… it fucking hurts.” He looked back up to me, the mornings sun beaming through his large window and making the green of his eyes even more captivating than they were usually. We were in the latter stages of Spring, and his eyes mirrored the world, green and growing and vibrant. I had never seen his eyes during Summer, but the thought alone was enough to leave me breathless, just envisioning the kind of life that would burst within them. I tightened our locked digits, biting gently at my bottom lip, my heart hurting. “I’m sorry.” I whispered. “I can’t even begin to understand how hard it must be for you.” “Sometimes at therapy… it’s almost like I can see the hope draining from Dr Jacksons eyes. We’re both trying… so fucking hard. We’ve been trying for a year and a half now… every week… and we have nothing. I feel so… defeated. I’m so tired. We’re… trying all these new techniques with like… meditation and trying to access repressed memories but I don’t think it’s working. She even wants to watch me sleep now. We’re getting desperate and it’s killing me.” I pulled him in closer, latching my hand at the back of his neck and making sure his forehead crashed against mine, looking deep into his eyes, residue filling them, just like the way that raindrops land on petals in thick splashes, beautiful but too heavy for their new home. “How do you have the strength to not drink every night?” I asked him, trying to stay composed for his sake. “You know it stops them, so… I don’t know how you have that strength.” “Because I’m fine with being fucked up when I sleep, but I can’t fuck up everything I’m lucky enough to have when I’m awake. That’s what would happen. I know it’s easier when I drink, but I can’t let it take over my life. I miss just… sleeping. I miss being able to enjoy my sleep. There’s only one good thing that I’ve got out of these fucking dreams. Just one. It just feels so… cruel.” I lowered my brows, still trying to hold back tears because I was the one who was almost forcing Harry to talk. This was his time to be vulnerable, not mine. But seeing him in pain and seeing him hurting was something that just recoiled. His pain was my pain. My pain was his. “What the hell did you get out of this that’s good?” I questioned. He swallowed, nudging his cheek further into my touch when I reached to wipe his tears away, his nostrils gently flaring. “You.” He simply said. There was an ache in my chest, one that I couldn’t distinguish. It was painful, like I was sad but reflective and grateful and this entire mix of things. “Me?” I gasped. “Without these dreams we wouldn’t have met. I wouldn’t have been at that group therapy session, and we wouldn’t have… been in a fucking fake relationship, which I still can’t believe we did.” He managed to laugh through his slow tears. “Without these dreams I wouldn’t have you in my life. But… you’re the only good thing.” “Harry-” “There’s supposed to be good in everything bad, and you were that. You were… are, my good thing. But… They could have stopped when I met you. They should have stopped then. It’s not fair. I’m so fucking tired, Ren. I’m so tired. I think fate might be real… and, if it took those dreams to meet you then… they were worth it. But I have you now. We’re here now and we’re in love so why can’t they stop?” It wasn’t unlike Harry to see the good in something bad, no matter how difficult the search was. He would find a way to see some form of light within the dark, even if that meant sparking a flame himself. I was the only positive he could see in this, and that alone hurt, because that meant that Harry had spent three years looking for light, trying to spark flint, and everything had remained dark. I couldn’t comfort him. It was impossible. Any promise I could make, there was no guarantee I could keep. I wanted to tell him that everything would be fine, that one day he would wake up and realise automatically that he’d slept straight through. He’d wake up realise that his sleep had been nothing but pure, sweet dreams accompanying his tender slumber, and his nightmares would quickly become a thing of the past, something he couldn’t remember clearly, like most nightmares. I wished that I could say that to him, but I couldn’t. I’d broken promises to him before and I didn’t want to do that again. “I love you,” I told him. “And I’m so proud of you, for coping the way you do. You have to keep fighting and you have to keep trying. I’ll be here, all the way.” He gave me a weak nod, eyes fixed with mine as his tears calmed naturally, composing himself, breathing in and out, and resting his forehead against mine. “I feel like… I’m close, y’know? Sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night, and you’re there… I get this gut feeling that I’m gunna have the answer soon. Is that naive of me?” “Trust your gut.” I simply replied. “Maybe you’ve been making more progress than you’re aware of. Remember how abrupt me finishing therapy felt? Maybe it’ll be the same for you! It’ll just happen. You’ll be making progress without even knowing about it. I’m sure you will.” With no warning, he pushed his lips forward to greet mine, the tips of his fingers pulling me closer like he was desperate for me, like kissing me could cure the ache in his stomach and the agony in his heart. So I tried to kiss him back like I really did possess that power, forceful and commanding, trying to prove how much I loved him with every subtle pant and caring touch. I heard Moggy groaning a complaint before she jumped off my lap, meaning I could clamber from my original spot and move to straddle Harry’s waist, dangling my arms over his shoulders and rolling against him, whimpering my sweet tune into his open mouth. He groaned appreciatively back to me, his hands searching up my spine until he reached my bra, his fingers beginning to fiddle with the clasps. I humoured him for a while as he tried to mess with the thing and get it off, just continuing to kiss him until I literally couldn’t, letting out the softest chuckle against his kiss “Ren, don’t laugh at me.” He sulked, pulling away from my lips. “I’m sorry.” I covered my mouth with my hand. “I tried.” “This is all very new to me, you have to be delicate.” “Okay okay, I’m sorry.” I was trying to restrain my smile. “Just… Let me…” The tip of his tongue poked out from between his plump lips, one eye gripped shut as the other looked up to the side, snapping the back of my bra as he tried to undo it, but he was having no luck. I tucked my lips into my mouth, and it reached the point where my cheeks were literally hurting before I finally blurted out another laugh, flopping my head onto his shoulder. “I’m sorry!” I cackled. “I can’t help it, I’m sorry.” “Y’know what, you are the worst.” He huffed. “I see you in the morning, Florence Daisy Valentine! I see you putting your bra on backwards and then swivelling it round because you can’t do bras either! No one can do bras! Fuck bras.” “Don’t turn this on me!” I cried. “I will turn this on you. How long have you been wearing bras? And you can’t even do them properly. You’re a backwards bra person. You can’t say anything!” “You’re so right, I’m sorry.” I kissed him again. “Bras are the worst. It’s okay that you struggle with them.” “Piece of shit.” He said, beginning to meddle with it again. I heard my phone ringing down on the floor by my side of the bed, and Harry let out a huge sigh, flopping back down onto the mattress and dramatically sobbing to himself. “It just wasn’t meant to be.” I laughed, clambering off him. “We’ll try again after breakfast.” “You’re going to have to make breakfast.” He wallowed. “I’m too sad.” I fell with a thud onto the mattress with my head poking over the side so that I could see my phone. When I noticed who was calling, I hesitantly reached out to pick it up from the floor, turning around and sitting with my legs crossed on top of the bed, my phone still in my hand. “What’s up? Who is it?” “It’s my sister.” I swallowed. He flipped round so he could so me properly, his eyebrows creased towards the centre, giving me a somewhat cautious look. “Answer.” He told me. “Don’t miss it.” It must have been seconds away from going to voicemail by the time I eventually picked up, pressing the phone nervously to my ear, Harry’s eyes still on me. “Hi.” I swallowed. “Hi.” She replied, seeming just as anxious. “H-how are you?” “Terrible.” She replied. “I’m… terrible.” Those words stung me, regardless of the fact we weren’t really close, and I hadn’t spoken to her since I’d learnt she told our mother about me quitting my job. I’d said I was cutting them out, but I couldn’t bring myself to ignore my sister. She was the one member of my family that I felt like I’d made some progress with. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Just… Beatrice Valentine. That’s what’s wrong.” She seethed. “What?” I was more than used to Matilda always having our mothers back, and fighting her battles for her, and attempting to overlook her mistakes and her failures. I was definitely not used to hearing she had any bad feelings towards her. At all. “She let me think for a week that you just… didn’t show to my engagement party. She let me think that you decided not to come and didn’t tell me why. She let me think that. She only told me on Sunday that she actually… told you that you couldn’t come.” At that stage, it felt like nothing my mother did could shock me anymore. I had expected nothing less. It was Friday, meaning the following day would be two weeks since the event, and it almost meant that she herself had known for almost a week, and she was only just reaching out to me. It was something I could have bit her head off for, but I chose not to. “I’m not really… speaking to mum anymore.” I mumbled. “I… I don’t know how I feel about speaking to you, either.” “Please don’t cut me out, Florence. I know I probably deserve it. I know there’s a million things I could and should have done differently but… You’re my little sister. I want to try and make this right. Even if that doesn’t include mum. I want to make things right between us because I feel sick. I feel sick all the time, Florence. I keep… I keep remembering all these different things.” “Like what?” “I remember when we were little… Before grandad died and left all that fucking money. They sat us down and told us that they could only afford for one of us to go to private school, and that they’d chosen me. It… It’s like everything they did was just-just to prove that I was their favourite. Do you… Do you remember your thirteenth birthday?” I blubbered abruptly, tears forming and falling and fucking hurting all within a damn second, suddenly remembering something that I’d tried to bury years ago. I covered my eyes, trying not to look at Harry who had just hitched even closer to me, not wanting to look up and see the worry in his eyes, but happily taking his hand and linking our fingers when we reached for me. “Yes.” I blubbered, my chest aching. “They said you hadn’t done well enough in some stupid, pointless mock exams, so they hadn’t gotten you anything. All they spoke about all day was how fucking disappointed they were in you, and all you did was cry. Because… you’d tried so hard. You always tried so fucking hard.” “I’m not as smart as you.” I sobbed. “But you’re not thick either, are you? They always compared you to me. They always have and they always will. But… they’ve always been so harsh. And I’m only just seeing it. I’m literally only just seeing it. How smart can I really be? I’ve allowed myself to ignore these really obvious things and I’m so, so sorry, Florence.” My hands were shaking, but I tightened my grip even more, squeezing Harry’s hand so tightly. It couldn’t possibly have been comfortable for him, and no matter how weak I was, it was bound to be hurting him. He took his other hand, tucking some of my hair behind my hear and edging to get closer to me, wanting to comfort me more than I was allowing him to. I couldn’t even look him in the eye. “I just… I felt like you were never there for me.” I wept. “And… you’re my big sister. You should have been there for me more than anyone and you weren’t. You let them boost you by putting me down, and it’s been so horrible, Matty. I don’t want to cut any of you out… You’re my family and I love you all so, so much, but I’m so tired. I can’t do it anymore.” “Please let me try.” She begged. “I’m not going to force you to talk to mum and… I’m going to try and learn and not speak down to you in the way I have done before. Please let me try and make this better. I really want to try and make this better.” “How?” “I don’t know, but I want to try. I want to try and just… be your sister. Be your friend. Please, Ren. Please.” A part of me felt like being her friend was just giving up, going back against something I’d decided to do only two short weeks beforehand. But another part of me felt like this was the exact progress we needed, and though it was coming a little later than I had been hoping for, it was still happening, and I’d be stupid to turn that kind of progress down. “Okay.” I unlatched my hand from Harry’s to wipe away a tear. “Okay… Yeah.” “Really?” She beamed. “We can try, Matty. All we can do is try.” I sighed, not feeling happy, or sad, just completely numb. “I’m not promising anything, because… I’m drained. But… we can try.” “Thank you so, so much Ren. This means everything. Thank you. Okay so, I’ll drive over and see you soon, alright?” “Okay.” “You won’t regret this, Florence. I promise you won’t.” “Okay.” I mumbled again. She rambled on about how grateful she was for another few minutes before the call, eventually, came to an end, and I still felt numb. Harry sat silently waiting for me to say something, my grip on his poor fingers finally loosening a little. My head was all over the place, wishing I could find the words to say, but nothing came. “Ren?” He prompted. “I feel like I just always fucking let myself down.” I spat abruptly, barely aware of what I was saying. “I’m so fucking weak.” “Ren, no! You-” “Yes, Harry!” I finally looked up to him, tears blurring my vision. “It took me years to have the courage to step away from them, and one call from my sister and suddenly I’m trying to figure it out? I give up so easily. I turn my back on things all the time and I always, always let myself down!” “You’re not letting yourself down, Ren! You always wanted to figure stuff out, and they needed to know how bad things were and how badly they made you feel, and they had to approach you. Because this isn’t your mess to fix, is it? It’s theirs. And they’re doing it now, and the fact that you’re open to letting them only makes you a fucking better person. You’re not letting yourself down, you’re doing yourself proud.” Harry always had the perfect way of wording things that could make me view things differently, and change my mind. Harry could somehow make me see myself through his eyes to a certain extent, and make me feel as though even when I thought I was letting myself down, that I was actually doing the right thing. He just knew exactly what to say to make me feel better. “You really think so?” I sniffled. “Your sister is willing to change, and work at this. You’re… such a big person for giving her the chance. Most people wouldn’t. Not after all the shit they’ve put you through. I really think you could figure something out with Matilda, and I really think you should.” “Okay. You’re right. Okay. I’ll… I’ll try. That’s all I can do, right?” “I’m so fucking proud of you.” He smiled, tears filling his eyes again. “You’ve grown so much. Proper sunflower now, aren’t ya?” “Stop it.” I managed to giggle through tears, as he wiped away the final few with his thumb. “You’re amazing, okay? And I’m not gunna force you to do anything. Whatever you wanna do, it’s your decision. Just giving my opinion, alright?” “Your opinion is always so much better than mine though.” I kissed his hand. “I’d be stupid not to take your advice.” He moved in and kissed me sweetly, and I just had a thought, just for a second. That maybe things would always be that way. Maybe me and Harry would always be there supporting each other. 91 “Does Harry still get jealous about me and you?” Zayn asked as I linked my arm through his. “Hmm… I don’t think so.” I cooed. “I think now we’re a bit more committed, he’s a bit more chilled out about the whole thing.” “Good. Maybe he’ll get off my bloody back now.” Vocatus were hosting another evening for their staff, but this one seemed a little different to the previous. Harry had instructed we both dress up to the nines, and he’d literally invited pretty much everyone we knew. Ahead of me, Niall, Sasha and Molly skipped in the right direction merrily, laughing and joking together, and if I checked back over my shoulder, I could see Harry, Liam and Mo bonding about something or other. We all had on our best dresses and our best suits. It was irregular to see us all looking so presentable. I was blissfully happy. “How’s your fake relationship going?” I asked. “We’re prepped to the max now. I think we’re good to go. Time to show her off to my parents.” “You’re gunna end up shagging her, aren’t you?” “There’s a slight chance… I already have.” “For fuck sake, Zayn!” “What? I couldn’t help myself. I’m weak!” “This is already too complicated for your own good.” “Like you can talk.” He huffed. “You bloody live with Harry now!” “I realise that it all seems very ironic coming from me, but I’m also speaking from experience. You’re in for some trouble to say the least.” “Well tell me this, Ren, are you happy?” I looked back over my shoulder again, Harry already looking at me. Maybe he’d heard his name. Then again, maybe he just liked looking. He shot me a wink accompanied by a gorgeous smile, and by the time I looked ahead of myself again, I was blushing. “Probably the happiest I’ve ever been.” “Well then, maybe I’m getting myself into something good, and you should stop lecturing me.” “Okay. I’m sorry.” I admitted defeat with a smile. “Just… don’t go into it thinking it’ll be easy, alright?” “Whatever. Let’s get fucked.” We walked through the front door, and the place was already heaving. The infamous V after D night there had felt so intimate and quiet, and this was the opposite. The room was full to the brim, everyone looking scarily beautiful. Everyone there looked sophisticated. I’d grown up going to things like that with my parents, but I never thought I’d go to such a nice event with my friends, on my own time, by choice. It was nice. Harry appeared at my side a few moments later, snaking his arm around me, his fingers clasping at my waist. “You good?” He leaned into my ear and asked as Zayn rushed off to the bar. “I’m great.” I replied. “Are you?” “Yeah. I’m really good. You wanna drink?” “I’d love one. Thank you.” “You look beautiful.” “Thank you.” “Immeasurably beautiful.” “Thank you.” I giggled. “Have I buttered you up sufficiently?” “Uh… I guess?” “Okay, well… I told Liam about the fake relationship thing and he’s about to quiz you. BYE!” He literally ran away from me, the crowds fucking parting for him like they were bloody helping him without even meaning to. Fucker. Liam was literally next to me within seconds, giving me this knowing smirk, like he already had planned exactly what he wanted to say to me. I awkwardly smiled back to him. “Hi, Liam.” I cringed. “You two are fucked in the head. Perfect for each other. Who else would do that?” “Zayn!” I pointed the blame. “Zayn’s doing it right now! Be mad at him! Tell him off!” “I’m not gunna tell you off.” He laughed. “Oh. You’re not? Okay…” “I just wanna… try and wrap my head around it. C’mon, let’s take a seat.” Liam was kind of intimidating to me, and I was still trying to wrap my head around why that was. He had this incredibly friendly face, and this warm vibe to him, but he still scared me. I think I’d just gotten the impression when I’d seen him that he was incredibly protective of Harry. I think he was the type of person who would never shy away from warning Harry off people he didn’t trust. I felt like I’d really need to be in his good books or else he’d go back over to Harry and not care about saying he didn’t like me. It was admirable, but terrifying. We sat down together on one the dark grey sofas, and I tried to loosen up a little. “So,” He seemed friendly enough. “Why did you do it? Doesn’t make any sense to me.” “Uh… I think it would if you met my parents.” I swallowed. “They’re uh… They’re hard work.” “Why?” “They don’t agree with anything I do. They think I’m a massive disappointment. I just… I wanted them to think that I had something in my life that was going well. Just one thing. It didn’t even work.” I shrugged. “They just… can’t believe that someone as brilliant as Harry would be with someone like me. Kinda backfired.” “That’s shit. I’m sorry.” “It’s fine. It is what it is.” “Okay, so, I get that.” He nodded, gazing out around the room. “But what about Harry? What were his reasons?” “I think he just… kinda wanted his parents not to worry about him so much.” “Well, that’s ridiculous.” He almost groaned, brows lowering. “That was never gunna work. They’re not gunna stop worrying about him until the dreams stop. None of us are, right?” It made sense to me, why Harry had done that. I think in his head, it worked in the same way it did for me. It just felt like it was one less thing. Just something that had changed that they no longer needed to feel concerned about. I guess I’d just never really thought of it in the sense of his parents knowing he had someone beside him to take care of him when the dreams got bad. It hit me in that moment, that that’s why he wanted them to think he had a girlfriend; so he wasn’t spending his nights alone and scared. That was the main reason he wanted to get into that fake relationship. It made sense to me, but what Liam was saying also made sense. None of us were going to feel okay about what Harry went through until it was over, until we knew that he could sleep through the night peacefully for the first time in years. We were never going to stop worrying about him. I nodded, feeling a little defeated, kind of numb to everything, even when I felt a huge thud beside me. Louis had expertly jumped over the back of the couch and sat himself down on the back of it, his feet and his legs snuggled between the two of us. “Oi oi, look who’s arrived!” He was a lot cheerier than I could allow myself to be. “Nice to see you both again.” We both tried to cover it so well, but the greetings myself and Liam conjured up and shot back to Louis were nothing short of miserable. He tensed alongside of us. “Shit, sorry, have I butt in at a really bad time?” “Louis, you know about Harry’s dreams, yeah?” Liam asked. “Yeah. I… Yeah.” He slumped downwards so that he was sat on the sofa properly, and his face had dropped considerably. It had taken just seconds for us to lower his mood considerably. I suddenly remembered that not only did Louis know about Harry’s dreams, but he’d seen them. “Do you worry about him?” Liam continued. “I do, yeah.” “And it doesn’t make a difference that he’s with Ren, does it?” “I mean… I’m glad you’re there for him, and everything,” Louis turned to me. “But… No. It doesn’t stop me from worrying. Not after…” Liam sat up a little, glaring back at Louis, and the grumpy look on his face proved to me that I had been right to feel a little bit intimidated by him. His love and protection for his best mate clearly brought out this almost aggressive side of him. “Not after what?” He prompted. “Harry asked Louis to… watch him, once.” I sighed. “From what I heard, it didn’t go well.” “He freaked out, I freaked out. It was a mess.” There was a part of me that still kind of hated myself for ever suggesting to Harry that he should let someone else see his dreams, no matter how logical it was. I had used it against him for the wrong reasons, a way for me to mentally distance myself from the boy and convince myself that there was nothing special between us. Hearing about how awful it had been only made me feel worse. “What happened?” Liam asked, and it took all my might not to just run away from the two of them so I didn’t have to hear it. “I mean… I knew it was coming so… Well, it wasn’t nice to see, but I’d been expecting it! It wasn’t too bad at first, but then… When I’d managed to wake him up, he like… He froze for a second, just looking at me… and then he flipped. He… swung for me. Thankfully, I dodged it, but-” “He tried to hit you?” I cried. “The worst part about it was how much he bloody apologised to me about it. Literally, for like, two weeks after. Every time I saw him. Drove me mad.” “I can’t believe that!” I ran my hand through my hair. “I’ve never seen him like that! Not even close! He’s always been scared when he wakes up but never angry! I’ve never felt like I had to worry.” “He said… summat about my eyes. I dunno. It didn’t make much sense to me. He was in a bad way. And then, like… I’m useless at the best of times, so then I start freaking out because he’s freaking out, and… I ended up knocking over and smashing this vase of sunflowers he had and… it was all just shit. He calmed down pretty quickly but, it did not go well. Like, he’d told me about them before but… I didn’t think they’d be like that.” I was holding in tears as I took my eyes and looked to Harry, who was stood charming all my friends, nothing but magnetism and beauty shaping him. There was no way you would ever know the struggle he went through almost every single day of his life. I knew from what he’d told me that afternoon, that he was actually exhausted. He was running out of stamina, slowly but surely. I stood up rapidly, leaving Liam and Louis behind and just heading straight towards Harry. I don’t even know what I wanted to say to him or what my plan was, only that I wanted to be around him, to be in his company and to not be in complete denial that we shared a connection unlike anything else I’d ever known. I did help him, even if I wasn’t entirely sure how, I did. I took his hand in mine as soon I could and dragged him to the corner of the room. When I turned to look up at him, he saw the tears in my eyes. “Hey, what’s happening?” He came closer to me, clasping his large hand against my jaw. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.” I shook my head. “I just love you, okay? I love you so, so much.” “I-I love you too.” He replied, seemingly confused. “Promise me you’re okay?” “I promise. I just… I need you to know that I love you, more than anything. And I’m thankful that you’ve helped me so much, and I’m gunna do my best to return the favour.” “You already help.” “Well then I’ll do more.” He moved his lips and kissed my forehead sweetly, wrapping his arms around and me and holding me close to him, and he whispered that he loved me over and over again.

Talking to myself 2

I Don’t Know Why I’m Always Sad I have this problem where I get sad when I have no reason to be. Someone will say the wrong word and it’s like they pulled the trigger of a loaded gun and I start spiraling out into this deep depression I can’t really explain. It’s like my entire body is imploding in on itself and everyone and everything feels so, so far away. I wonder if it’s just me or if this is just a normal part of being a human being. But the thing is, I never seem that way. Sad, I mean. I seem moody, maybe. Annoyed on a good day, but never sad. The world looks at me as if I live in in an impenetrable bubble of optimism, as if nothing can destroy my eternal happiness. Maybe that’s who I want to be, so I pretend that I am her. But some days I’m so sad I bury myself in blankets and stare at my computer screen for hours. Sometimes I put a movie on. Sometimes the screen is blank. If someone walks in I quickly make sure it looks like I’m doing something. “Go away,” I’ll say. “I’m busy.” I told my friend I thought I was depressed and he said, “What do you have to be sad about? You’re a white girl with so many opportunities.” And I have to admit he had a point. But that just makes me more sad. Why can’t I be happy when I have everything in the equation that should make me feel happy? Then I just keep wondering what went wrong and I can’t think about anything else. Some days I don’t feel much, but sometimes I feel so much that it bubbles in my gut and climbs up my throat and I want to scream and scream and scream. But I don’t know what I’d scream at or who to so I swallow it back until it creates this giant lump in my throat and I worry I’ll suffocate on it. Sometimes I wish I would. “You’re just going through a weird phase,” my friend told me. “You’ll get over it once you’re in a more stable place in life.” But I don’t know what that looks like. I try to pinpoint a time when things will even out again but there’s no date on the calendar that says, “Today you’ll be OK.” No alarm on my phone that says, “It’s time to feel like your entire life is put together.” I don’t know what I’m waiting for anymore. Some days it gets so bad that I can’t even see what’s in front of me and I stumble around blindly all day until I find a place to hide. I cancel all my plans because “I’m tired, I’m sorry, I didn’t get any sleep.” I know that everyone is behind the screens of their phones rolling their eyes and calling me “flaky”, but I don’t care what I am anymore. I can’t make myself care about anything. “Everything works out eventually,” my friend told me. “It gets better.” But I don’t know what that means. I don’t know what there is to work out. I can’t fix a problem I can’t identify, I can’t hope for something I can’t visualize, and I can’t make myself happy when all I know how to be is sad. When You’re Homesick For A Person When you’re homesick for a person, you realize that what you miss is not a place but the comfort of their arms, the familiarity of their touch on your skin. You don’t feel an ache to be where they are, necessarily, but be with them, making even the most foreign of places feel familiar. When you’re homesick for a person, you’re not longing to return to any specific spot on the map or to relive a certain memory or feeling, but you long to remember the taste of their cologne on your lips, the softness of their cheeks, the way you felt so whole and at ease when they leaned over to you and brushed a loose strand of hair from your face. When you’re homesick for a person, you just want to be with them—location irrelevant—because time stops with every kiss. When you’re homesick for a person, it’s not about wishing you could return somewhere, not about boarding a flight or a train to travel to them, but somehow fighting space and distance to be somewhere in the same moment, wherever that may be. When you’re homesick for a person, you’re constantly reminded of them, you’re forever imagining them standing next to you, you’re always picturing what it would be like if they were there, touching the small of your back or making you laugh over something silly. When you’re homesick for a person, it doesn’t matter where you are, you never feel as if you belong without them by your side. When you’re homesick for a person, you could return to the town where you grew up, to the city where you went to college, to the place with four walls and windows that you pay rent for every month, to the house where your parents are, to all the places and spaces you’ve claimed throughout the years, and still feel a nagging to be somewhere else. When you’re homesick for a person, there’s a dull, numbing ache at the pit of your heart reminding you that there’s something missing when they’re not around. When you’re homesick for a person, time passes slowly, each minute dragging into the next until you can finally hear their voice, a little reminder that they, too, are feeling the heaviness of every long day without you. When you’re homesick for a person, you cannot make sense of why your life is so full and yet you sometimes feel so empty, why you are always in one place but wishing to be somewhere else, why you feel so lonely even though you’re not alone. When you’re homesick for a person, you realize that your home wasn’t ever a place, but a connection, but a feeling, but a desire to be intertwined with someone physically and emotionally and spiritually and completely. When you’re homesick for a person, you cannot find where you fit unless it’s with one another, making a dwelling in one another’s hearts, one another’s souls. When you’re homesick for a person, you do whatever you can to bring yourselves together, to erase the space and distance and hours that have nestled between you. You learn how to love through the obstacles. You learn to make homes out of one another. And you fall beautifully, terrifyingly headfirst into the arms where you belong. To the guy I am going to spend my life with I don't know when are you arriving yet, but I hope wherever you are you are also seeking for me. I have to warn you though, loving me would not be easy. It's a conflagration. You will me handed different kinds of weapons and I'll be standing in front of you blindfolded. The thing is, I will be the one handling the weapons to you. Loving me would be a war, a battlefield, and it's either you'll have me as your ally or I will be on the other side of the barricade. There are so many things that are going on on my mind at the same time. From how significant atoms are to how the existence of aliens can be true. I think, I think, I think, my brain never ceases. And when these thoughts just become too heavy for me to take, you will hear me say "I am going crazy", which by the way happens a lot. You must be ready for all the crazy things that will spill out of my mouth, you must be ready to answer outrageous questions and you must be ready to have these unusual conversations. I am emotional and ocassionally you'll find me crying over the smallest things. A beautiful poetry, a heart-wrenching novel, a soul-touching song or even a ravishing art. That's just how I am. Maybe you'll find me sobbing at my room past 3 am because a character from a book died. These things, these are the ones that deeply touched my heart. I want to let you know how vulnerable my heart can be, I want to tell you how I am easily moved and how small things also keep me awake. I like you to be one of these small things, I want you to touch my heart, I also want you to keep me awake at 3 am. Make me feel all sorts of describable feelings because of you. Explore my deepest abyss and find my scattered fragments littered there and tell me if you still want to spend your life with me. Days will come where I will question your love to me. I will tear your heart and crawl inside it to prove if it's true. I will be confused, lost and sure as hell be stubborn. On these days please hold me close and I swear your presence will be enough. Kiss me like your life depends on it. Kiss me as if I'm someone who will fade if you don't. I am like a hurricane, I am destructive and sometimes I leave a chaotic remnant. So please, if you are going to kiss me, be ready for the havoc that lies ahead.

˖ ࣪⭑ ˖ ࣪⭑made by me:) ˖ ࣪⭑ ˖ ࣪⭑

fiona apple in the 90s

courtney love<3

but i’m just a girl

˖ ࣪⭑ ˖ ࣪⭑made by me:) ˖ ࣪⭑ ˖ ࣪⭑

★devine feminine energy★

i have got to get more crazy and off putting

*flirting* would you rather stick a fork or a knife in the toaster?

❝ how can i ask anyone to love me when all i do is beg to be left alone? ❞

fiona apple, left alone 2012