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gottlem · 4 years

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you’re my jewel (crygi)

a/n : here it is! the fluffy crygi songfic based off of jewel by adam melchor, (specifically this version). i fell in love with this song and i hope all of you do to, but without further ado, here’s the fic!

summary: crystal and gigi are very much in love with each other, they just can’t seem to find it in themselves to admit it. (5.2k)

I’m no good at swimming

I’ve got no use for diving

Even in a scuba suit

I’d still feel like i’m dying

The beach is hot; the sun beats heavily down onto the sand, burning the soles of the feet that walk upon it. That’s why Crystal and Gig take shelter in the cool water. It’s the perfect temperature - cold enough to cool them down, but just warm enough to stop them from freezing. Their belongings had been long forgotten, hidden underneath the shade of an umbrella and waiting for them to come back out the water. But they’re having too much fun to return to them anytime soon.

Coming to the beach, they had planned to take a dip in the sea, bringing extra towels and wearing their bathing suits underneath their beachwear. They held each other's hands as they ran into the cold water, giggling as it splashed onto them and rose further up their bodies until they were treading water. Luckily for them, the water is calm, small waves only coming across once in a while, but every single time one does, they grab onto each other for safety. They didn’t really have much of a reason to. They just like the contact.

Crystal takes the time to admire Gigi. She isn’t wearing much makeup - not wanting it to be ruined by the water but also not wanting to wear none at all (despite the fact that Crystal insisted she was beautiful either way, Gigi agreed). Her teal blue bikini is bright against her pale skin, and her blonde hair sticks to her back. Crystal thinks it’s stunning - she’s stunning. Breath-taking, actually.

It’s not a secret to either of them that they are both gay, but they had been friends before coming out to each other, and had been friends when Gigi had her first girlfriend, and her first breakup. Crystal still hasn’t gotten to that part in her life yet, she knows exactly why. She feels like her pining for the girl was useless, but she tries not to let it get in the way of anything they have. Even if they never became more than friends, they both know they are soulmates. They are just meant to be together. Crystal just hopes it could be in the way she wants.

She doesn’t realise how deep in thought she is until Gigi swims up to her and asks her what is wrong. She’s holding onto one of her arms under the water, and her face is so, so close. But not close enough. She shakes her head, smiles, and moves her free arm to splash some water at Gigi. Soon enough, the question is completely forgotten about, Gigi too busy trying to get Crystal back to keep poking at it. They’re back to having fun.

When their legs eventually become too tired, and they realise they’d probably consumed much more saltwater than what is safe, they run back to their umbrella and dry themselves off. It’s too hot to stay wrapped up in towels, so they sunbathe in bikinis, the salt from the water drying their skin, causing it to burn in the heat.

When Crystal turns her head to admire her friend once more, she notices how her nose has turned red with sunburn, and her freckles are becoming more and more pronounced. She wants to reach out and touch them, kiss them. Instead, she smiles, turns her head back and closes her eyes, unbeknownst to Gigi turning round a second later, and doing the exact same to her.

I don’t need to look for buried treasure on an island,

I have you.

Cause you’re my jewel.

As the sun becomes only slightly cooler, and the girls retreat back underneath the shade of the umbrella, Crystal stands up and starts to walk around the edges of the beach. Gigi lazily watches from afar, admiring her child-like curiosity at the rock pools, and the little animals she finds. She finds it cute. She always finds Crystal cute.

It’s still boiling hot out, and if Gigi wasn’t in a bikini on the beach, she would have found the heat uncomfortable, but with sand in between her toes and a thick layer of sunscreen (that had been applied by Crystal far too late to save her from burns), she is happily content. Blissful and calm as she watches Crystal pet dogs passing by and constantly stepping into the sea to cool off.

Gigi joins her every now and again, but secretly she prefers to admire from a distance. That way, she doesn’t have to worry about being at a loss for words, having to bite her tongue to stop herself from flirting - not like that had ever worked before. They have always been close friends, so much so people have automatically assumed they were together. Even strangers could see it, how infatuated they are with each other. They’re never found too far from one another, often coming as a package deal. If you invite Gigi somewhere, Crystal would undoubtedly tag along, and vice versa. They like it that way.

It wasn’t often that they would flirt, at first at least. When they first came out to each other, it was as if they were scared of any physical contact, but years later they would find it difficult to keep off the other. They both individually convince themselves they are too far into the ‘friend-zone’ to ever get out. Cuddles at sleepovers quickly turn into hand holding, which turns into almost constant contact. The flirty banter started as a joke, but each girl means every word they say. The other is just oblivious.

Gigi’s gaze shifts back onto the curly-haired girl, who is jogging towards her, bright smile on her face. She lands on the sand with a soft ‘oof’ and places a small rock in front of Gigi. Or maybe it was a big pebble? She doesn't quite know. “You ran here to show me a rock?” Crystal just smiles even bigger. “Isn’t it pretty? It matches your eyes! Keep it! Use it as decor or something”

Gigi chuckles softly at the girl, and agrees to keep it safe in her room, a blush rising in both their cheeks. Gigi thinks Crystal is prettier than any rock anyone could find. They leave the beach shortly after, deciding they’d visit again sometime soon. Gigi places the rock pebble on a desk in her room, it reminds her of saltwater and bright smiles every time she looks at it.

So call the search off,

Didn’t think I’d find ya.

Look for every message in a bottle

in caught lightning.

Movie nights are a common occurrence for the pair. They lie in Crystal’s bed, eyes fixated on the screen and bodies tangled up under a million blankets. It’s dark outside and the moon watches them bundled up next to each other. He wonders how many more times he would watch this same scene before they actually get together. It wouldn’t be much longer by now, surely.

Fairy lights emit a soft yellow glow onto the girls, Crystal is in love with the way they light up Gigi’s features, making her seem ethereal. Her lips curl up at the sides, a permanent smile taking residence on her face as Crystal pretends to be interested in the movie unfolding in front of them. She drinks her hot chocolate and offers a sip to Gigi, who takes the comically large mug with a smile. Crystal watches as she takes a drink and closes her eyes. She likes to look at Gigi, she likes to study her features and find new details to fall in love with. It’s too easy to fall in love with her.

For hours, they stay mostly still, wrapped up in eachother and only moving to share the hot chocolate they had made before starting the film - they both like it to be made the same way, so they had started to make one huge mug of it and share. It was nice. Crystal feels like it might be the closest thing she could get to kissing her, and she would take anything at this point.

Despite her unavoidable feelings for Gigi, Crystal reminds herself every day how lucky she is to have her friend in her life. Their time together is the perfect example of ‘right person, right time’. While becoming more than friends sounds more than ideal to Crystal, she’s happy to bite her tongue and reside in the friendzone, especially if it means she has Gigi around to cuddle, and look at, and talk to. She cuddles in closer, closing her eyes and abandoning the movie all together. Gigi leans into it.

I never have to go to far

Without feeling the light

that comes from you.

Cause you’re my jewel.

Gigi loves the movie nights she shares with Crystal. To her they’re just an excuse to get close to the girl, wrapped in blankets with a mug of steaming hot chocolate between them. She stares at the screen, playing whatever movie they found on netflix, pretending it doesn't take everything she had not to look at Crystal. She knew that if she does, if she gave in, she wouldn’t be able to take her eyes off of her.

It’s no secret that Gigi thinks Crystal is breathtaking. Her unconventional fashion sense makes her so much more endearing to Gigi. She is fascinated by the way she makes things look so beautiful, even if on a hanger they seem to look awful. But it isn't just her fashion that she’s attracted to. It’s the way her eyes light up when she’s with her. The curve of her jawline and her soft face. The way her hip juts out when she shifts the weight on her feet. Her smile. Her laugh.

Gigi feels like the luckiest girl in the world when she’s with Crystal. Sure, they aren't together, but she is content to just be with her, laugh with her, watch movies with her. She can trust her, which isn't something she would say about many. There are walls she has built up so high, and Crystal is the only one to have come through and broken them down.

Everyone knows that Crystal is the emotional one. She’s always the first to cry, the first to laugh, the first to storm out in anger. Gigi is good at hiding all that, often waiting until she’s in the confines, the safety, of her own room to let it out. She doesn’t need anyone to see her like that. Until, one day, Crystal had come over completely unannounced. Her room was dark - blinds drawn and lights off. Gigi sat, hugging her knees, in bed, earphones blasting out music and making her unaware that Crystal was even there. Somehow, Crystal had just known that something was wrong, to this day Gigi didn’t know what gave it away. Crystal wordlessly walked up to her friend and sat with her, putting a strong arm around her shoulders and pulling her in. Gigi had rested her head on the girl's shoulder and the pair sat there in silence until Gigi was okay again.

She smiles at the memory, despite it being quite a difficult one. Ever since then, Crystal has been the only one that Gigi lets see her cry, or in any sort of distress. It’s nice to have someone see that side of her - the side that isn't invincible. The side with insecurities and anxieties. Crystal never judges her, and always seems to be able to tell when she wants to talk about it and when she just wants a hug. It’s normally the latter.

At this thought, she feels Crystal tighten her grip around her waist and Gigi does the same. She watches her close her eyes and she smiles to herself as she watches the girl drift slowly into sleep. It doesn’t take her long to catch up.

Diamonds are forever,

But I’ve got something better.

Yes I do....

Gigi has never asked for anything for her birthday. She has always been more than happy to spend the day with a friend or two and just enjoy herself - to her, that's a present in itself. However, she doesn't complain when Crystal shows up at her door with a small box, a birthday card and a massive grin. She feels herself smile at her friend's presence. She holds out the box, no bigger than her palm, and tells Gigi to “Open it! Quick!” so she does.

It’s a ring. Small, and beautiful. She picks it up, slowly, delicately, to admire it. “Happy birthday babe!” Crystal beams, and Gigi wraps her in a bone-crushing hug. When they step back, Gigi takes another look at the ring, when she notices… a diamond.

“Crys, please tell me this is fake and you did not spend that much money on me oh my god” Crystal laughs, full.

“I love you but that is NOT real. I don’t have that kind of money to spend even if I wanted to. Though I wouldn’t mind if it was for you. It’s still pretty though, right? Do you like it?” It’s definitely not something Crystal would wear. She prefers jewelry that’s really in-your-face. But she knows what Gigi likes - a small ring would make her happy. One that was petite and pretty. Dainty, if you will.

“I love it” And Gigi does love it. She loves it so much that she never takes it off.

And all the precious metals

Are just roses without petals

Next to you…

Valentines day. Every single person's nightmare - unless you are Crystal or Gigi. For a few years now, they have vowed to be each other's valentine if they both happen to be single (and also that one year Gigi had a girlfriend, but kept Crystal as her ‘secret valentine’ anyway). Each year, it gives them both a little bit of hope. Hope that maybe they aren’t imagining the touches that last a little too long to be friendly, or the sometimes oddly serious tone of their ‘joke’ flirting.

Gigi shows up at Crystal’s door with a bouquet of flowers, and a promise to stay over for the night. It isn’t every year that one of them would buy a gift, so when they did, it’s always gratefully accepted. And Crystal loves the flowers. As soon as she lays eyes on them, Gigi watches her face light up as she takes them from her to place them on a coffee table and thanks her with a tight hug.

Crystal pots the flowers and takes them to her room, placing them on her windowsill and deciding in that moment that she will keep them alive for as long as possible. The girls celebrate valentine's day in each other’s arms, watching movies and eating snacks until they drift into sleep as Crystal’s new flowers watch over them.

Cause you’re my jewel

You’re my jewel.

There’s a certain aching that both girls feel when they wake the morning after and the spell of valentine’s day is lifted. They remind themselves that friends are all they’ll ever be. It’s starting to hurt.

As someone who feels every emotion with so much power, Crystal sometimes doesn’t know what to do about Gigi. Part of her wants to walk up to her and kiss her. Just to see if she feels the same. Another part of her wants to push her away, to try and stop the feeling altogether. However, not one part of her wants to continue the way things were. She doesn’t know how much longer she can keep up the facade of having strictly platonic feelings.

Sometimes she convinces herself that Gigi feels the same. This is what really does it for her, allowing herself to live in a fantasy world where they are together. Blissfully and mutually in love - this has been true for a while, it’s just neither girl is aware. Everyone around them can see it. Crystal finds herself reaching out to Jan often, to send streams of consciousness about herself and Gigi. Jan usually just tells her that if it’s meant to be, then it will be. It’s easy for her to say.

Gigi is usually such a pro at hiding her deepest, strongest feelings. But Crystal brings something out of her that she just doesn’t know what to do with. She always has. She wants so badly to push her feelings for the girl far, far away. They are just friends. Nothing more. Never more.

She daydreams about what could be if Crystal did feel the same. Sometimes she thinks about telling her, about how much better she would feel if she could just stop hiding. But telling Crystal about her feelings for her is a scarier thought than when she was thinking about coming out to her. It’s just so personal. Not that Gigi has ever had a problem with being personal with her, she is pretty much the only person she feels that comfortable around, which somehow makes the whole situation that much worse.

Her rants fall, seemingly, onto ears that just aren’t listening. She figures Jan has had enough of her constant complaining, but she just doesn’t know who else to talk to. She wonders if Crystal ever talks about her to her other friends. She wonders what she would be saying.

There’s a rooster

In the yard behind us,

Crowing at all hours of the day.

He must be blind but

One morning, they set an alarm so early they beat the sun. In the dark morning, the pair untangle themselves from each other and slowly leave their shared bed to make some coffee and set out on a mission they had planned before falling asleep the night before. The front door closes quietly behind them as they make their way to the hill that sits a five minute walk from Gigi’s home.

Clutching their still-hot coffees, they sit atop the hill (that was surprisingly easy to walk up, even in the morning) and cuddle close. For warmth. Obviously. The only sounds that surround them is the soft music from Gigi’s phone speaker and the birds around them. They sit in silence as they watch the sun rise, hands intertwined.

As the world gets covered in golden light, more and more wildlife wakes up and fills their eardrums with chirps and calls.

“God the birds are so loud” Gigi whispers, scared to break the tranquility of the moment. Crystal sighs, content.

“Yeah, but they sound pretty”

“Not as pretty as you though”

Crystal is too tired to formulate some witty response, so she lightly chuckles and rests her head deeper into the crook of Gigi’s neck so she doesn't see her smile.

He only has to get it right

Just once,

Like i got it right with you

Cause you’re my jewel.

The sun rises just enough to start warming them from the chill of the morning when Gigi straightens herself up and looks directly at Crystal. She can’t quite read her face, something that would always worry her. She was used to being able to read her like a book. So instead, Crystal watches as her friend stares her down, jaw clenching and unclenching, as if she’s willing it to just open.

“What is it?” Crystal asks, breathy and quiet, as she tucks some hair behind Gigi’s ear and follows the long strands past her shoulders. They lock eyes for a moment, Gigi smiles.

“I’m just happy to have you. Here. I don’t know why I’m getting all sentimental but shit, Crystal, I’m so lucky to have you in my life. It’s not often you find someone who you just click with, and can trust and just have a good time with. A lot of people don’t have that. I feel like we just… fit” She has to bite her tongue before she rambles more and admits more than she should. Crystal has glassy eyes.

“You can’t say things like that Geege, you’re gonna make me cry” She laughs at the way a tear rolls down her cheeks, and Gigi wipes it with her thumb. She thinks it’s just so utterly Crystal, and then a pair of arms are wrapped around her neck, pulling her in closer.

Crystal lets go, but keeps her head resting on her friends shoulders, as she idly plays with the blonde’s long hair. She combs it with her fingers; it’s soft and it smells like vanilla. Gigi feels the soft tugs at her scalp, and closes her eyes, allowing herself to enjoy the feeling. It’s calm, comforting. Her hand fiddles with her ring and she wants to open her mouth again to speak, to say more, but she doesn’t. She wonders if she ever will.

Diamonds are forever,

But i’ve got something better

Yes I do…

Crystal wakes up on her birthday filled with excitement. It takes her no longer than twenty minutes to get ready for the day (normally it would take that long just to get out of bed) and she waits impatiently for Gigi to arrive at her door. It doesn’t take very long for her to hear three knocks on her door. She runs to open it and is quickly enveloped in Gigi’s arms.

She lets her inside, and they sit close, facing each other, on the couch. Gigi beams as she pulls out a box from behind her, “Happy birthday Crys, I hope you like it” she has a tone to her voice that Crystal can’t quite read, but she doesn’t pay that much mind. Instead, she opens the box to reveal a necklace. It's big and bulky - when Gigi first walked past it she hated it, until she thought that it was something Crystal would wear and absolutely be able to pull off.

“After you got me that ring, I thought this could like, match? Plus’ I thought of you as soon as I saw it.” The necklace has a large fake diamond on, not too different than the smaller one currently being worn on Gigi’s finger.

Crystal just stares at it, a toothy grin on her face. She wraps Gigi in their second crushing hug of the day. It wouldn’t be their last either. She puts it on as soon as they let go, and tells her friend that she loves it.

All the precious metals

Are just roses without petals

Next to you…

Cause you’re my jewel

Autumn is Gigi Goode’s favourite season. The sun stays out, but the breeze begins to cool and the leaves begin to change colour into yellow, oranges, and browns. It’s a great time for fashion - cool enough to layer, but warm enough to avoid those big, bulky coats. Gigi decides it’s also a perfect season to have a picnic, so on a random weekend, she shoots the girl a text;

geege: hey !! if ur free today come over! i have a surprise :))

Crystal doesn’t reply, instead she shows up at Gigi’s doors not even twenty minutes later. She wears the necklace Gigi had given her and a bright smile. Gigi wishes she could just kiss her, just a peck to say hello. But she knows that would never happen, not really.

They drive to the park - it doesn’t take them long, but the journey is filled with songs and laughter. Crystal finds herself wishing it would never end, that she could just stay like this with Gigi forever, heads thrown back in laughter, cheeks tight from laughing, feeling light.

When Gigi pulls a picnic basket and a blanket out the back of the car, Crystal squeals in excitement.

“Geege! You didn’t say we were having a picnic! That’s so cute I love it!”

Gigi sets down the blanket on the soft grass and lays down on it with a soft huff, patting next to her for Crystal to join. She does, lies right next to her and intertwines their fingers. They lie like that for a while, in a comfortable silence. It wasn’t uncommon for them to just exist with each other, they didn’t have to say anything or do anything. Just being near each other had always been enough to make them happy.

Soon enough they sit themselves up, cross-legged on the soft blanket, and start picking at the snacks Gigi had brought with her. It wasn’t much, but she didn’t bring Crystal out here to eat, she did it so they could just have some time together, somewhere they haven’t been in a while.

At some point, Crystal wonders off, just like she had at the beach months ago, to pick at flowers. And just like she had at the beach, Gigi watches her, admires her as she inspects each plant, picking the ones she likes the looks of most. She runs back after a few minutes, one hand filled with roses. She sets them down as she sits next to Gigi, and tells them they’re for her. Gigi just smiles.

“I’ll keep them forever,” She has a wave of deja vu, thinking back to that day at the beach, “I still have that pebble you gave me in Summer you know”

Crystal takes Gigi’s hand in response and squeezes.

“Good.”

Emeralds and rubies,

They all mean nothing to me.

The only pearls that drew me

Were your eyes.

Exams are coming up soon, and so Crystal and Gigi somehow find themselves spending even more time with each other than usual. They sit in Crystal’s room, heads deep in textbooks, random stationary littered around the room. They don’t speak, other than asking for a hand with the work every now and again.

When they finally decide, a few hours later, that they can stop studying for the day, the sun has already set and Gigi decides its best to just stay over for the night. Crystal agrees, handing over some spare pyjamas and then going downstairs to make them a mug of hot chocolate while Gigi changes.

The sweats hang loosely on the smaller girls frame, and Crystal finds the sight both funny, endearing and disgustingly adorable. She feels her stomach flutter as she goes to change in the bathroom. When she returns, Gigi has already settled in bed and turned a movie on - something they’ve seen many times before. That means she wants to chat. Crystal joins her with a sigh.

“I feel like my brain is jelly after all that studying”

Gigi laughs softly, and they fall into an easy conversation about the usual nothing, but also everything. Crystal likes how they always seem to find something to talk about, the conversation never lulls unless they absolutely want it to, and when they do it’s a comfortable silence, filled with cuddles and sips of hot chocolate. They talk until after the movie finishes, not that they were paying attention.

It’s late at night when Gigi notices a familiar set of flowers on Crystal’s windowsill, and she feels a blush rise to her cheeks.

“Hey! You kept the bouquet I gave you for Valentine’s day!”

“Of course I did, I even added some of the roses from the picnic, I kept some for myself so we could both have some” And there’s just something about how sweet Crystal is talking that makes Gigi’s mind go blank. Her voice is laced with honey and all Gigi wants to do is taste it.

“I kept mine too. And that pebble. Everytime I see them it always makes my day a little bit better you know, it’s like you’re right there, smiling at me” Gigi is whispering, she doesn’t quite know why but she feels like being too loud would break the intimacy of the moment. Their bodies are intertwined just like they always are, and yet, for some reason, it still feels so new. It makes Gigi’s breath get caught in her throat. Crystal’s face is merely inches away.

“That’s cute” Crystal sounds so sincere, so serious, that Gigi feels the weight of the words on her whole body. They lock eyes. Neither of them look away. Suddenly, Gigi can’t quite take it anymore.

“I really want to kiss you right now” Her voice is so quiet, that if Crystal’s nose wasn’t already almost touching hers, she wouldn’t be able to hear.

Then, barely audible over hearts beating so loudly, coupled with anxious staggered breaths, comes a reply.

“Then kiss me.”

And when they looked right through me

It shook me and it moved me

Something in my heart then crystalized...

Kissing Gigi felt like coming home. It felt like something Crystal had done a million times before, and it felt new. It felt right. It felt so right to have Gigi’s hand on her neck, and her nose pressed lightly into her face.

Kissing Crystal was like heaven to Gigi. The kiss itself was certain. And suddenly, Gigi regretted not doing this sooner. She could have been kissing Crystal like this the whole time, and all she wants to do is go back in time so she can make a damn move sooner. But she can’t. She can’t, so she does what she can, which is put as much passion, as much love in this one kiss to try and make up for lost time.

They relax into it, lips moving against each other slowly, steadily. Crystal’s hands find their way through Gigi’s hair as Gigi’s tongue finds its way into Crystal’s mouth. They stay like that for a while. Half because they’re too scared to face the conversation that will follow, and half because they’ve waited so long and it just feels too good to stop.

Crystalized...

Crystal wakes up first that morning, with Gigi’s arm around her waist, and her head on Gigi’s chest. She smiles at the memories of the night before. She smiles at the first kiss, and smiles at the confession that followed. She smiles at the tears that she shed, and smiles at the fact that Gigi had laughed when she started to cry, but ended up crying herself anyway. She smiles at the second kiss. And the third. And she’s already lost count at what kiss they’re on. But she doesn’t care, because when Gigi wakes up, she can have more. From her girlfriend. Girlfriend… It didn’t even feel like much had changed. Maybe it hadn’t, because maybe it didn’t need to.

Diamonds are forever,

But I’ve got something better,

Yes I do…

Years later, and the girls are still just as blissfully in love with each other as they were the night they started dating. And today, they celebrate another milestone.

The wedding isn’t very grand, with only close friends and family in attendance, but they have a fun little party afterwards, everyone dances and gets happy drunk. The couple are just happy to be there, really. Happy to still be with each other. But they are even happier that Gigi’s ring, which she had worn right up to their wedding day, is finally replaced with another ring, only with a real diamond in.

All the precious metals

Are just roses without petals

Next to you…

Not long after the marriage, Crystal and Gigi finally open up their own business together. It isn’t huge, nor is it that extravagant, but they are proud of it nonetheless, proud of each other.

The small bell rings out through the shop to signify the door opening. Crystal and Gigi watch as the first customer walks into the shop. It’s Jan. And she’s looking for some flowers to get her new girlfriend.

You’re my jewel

You’re my jewel.

#gigi goode #crystal methyd #please tell me what u think !!!!#this is some tooth rotting fluff i am so sorry #literally no angst whatsoever #im so desperate for a relationship i write about other people being in love #lol i hope theres no typos its LATE but i wanted to post so #gigi x crystal #crygi #rpdr #rpdr12 #rpdr fanfiction

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direnightshade · 3 years

Text

Love & Happiness

There are two things that I notice upon opening up Zillow to peruse the abundance of homes that are for sale in the Los Angeles area. The first is this: the homes for sale all across the Western city are comparable in price to what one may find within the confines of the suburbs that surround the city in which I currently find myself in. The second thing I notice is that there is so much room compared to the apartments that I have found myself in since my arrival in New York City years ago on my eighteenth birthday.

Though the apartment that Charlie and I now find ourselves in is undoubtedly much more comfortable in size than a lot of others, it pales in comparison to what I am witnessing on my screen now.

The majority of these homes boast an abundance of light and spacious backyards; some of which even have equally roomy front lawns as well, not to mention rooms that are large enough for both Henry and Little b. Many of the homes also feature rooms which can be turned into a home office space, not to mention a play room for the kids.

As I continue to browse home after home, I finally stumble across one that catches my eye immediately. It looks as if it belongs in the Pacific Northwest rather than sunny California, as it lacks the typical Mission Revival and Spanish Colonial Revival that seems to be so heavily favored in Los Angeles. Both the front and back lawns are fenced in, and there is plenty of space for parking. The interior appears to be roomy enough, and the best part of it all is that the home is new. There is not a single inch of space that needs updating. There is even a wooden porch swing that hangs from the front porch’s ceiling, perfect for spending time in the rare cooler mornings and evenings in early Spring or late Autumn.

I bookmark the home so that I may show it to Charlie later, and just as I click on the heart icon to do so, I am hit with a memory from a time long since passed.

“Where are you moving to,” my childhood best friend asks whilst we float listlessly atop two inflatable loungers in the above ground pool that sits at the center of her backyard in the suburbs surrounding Detroit.

It is late summer, and we are due to begin our senior year of high school within the next week. Sadly, she will be attending without me. Last night I discovered—thanks in large part to the screaming match that took place between my father and mother—that we would be relocating at the end of this week.

I exhale a heavy sigh as I shift slightly, the movement eliciting a squeak of skin against the polyvinyl. “DC.”

“Ooo,” she replies, cautiously rolling over onto her side, taking great care not to fall off of her lounger and into the pool. “So your dad gets to go rub shoulders with the bigwigs?”

Laughter flows out easily from the depths of my chest as I reach a hand out to dip my fingers into the cool water. “Elbows.”

“What?” She laughs too, simply because I am. We’ve always had this bad habit of laughing along with one another; when one starts, the other is sure to follow.

“It’s rub elbows, not shoulders.”

“Whatever,” she says with a roll of her eyes, her wrist flicking simultaneously in the water to send a stream of droplets my way. I am lucky enough to be spared, their trajectory too short, and still we laugh.

I turn my head to look over at my friend who has now tipped her head back to expose her face to the sun which continues to beam down at us from above. “There’s a spot that’s opened up at headquarters so he wants to move us down there to be closer to his family.”

“What did your mom say? Did she freak out? I bet she freaked out.” There’s a light-heartedness to her tone, and I know what she’s doing. She’s seen the volatile relationship between my parents firsthand, she’s one of the only people in my life, short of family members, that know what they’re like. And still she does what she can to keep the mood as light as possible, all things considered.

“Big time,” I reply, mirroring her actions as I tilt my face towards the sun. “She hates it down there. She doesn’t want to go.” I close my eyes and bask in its warmth, my all too brief moment of peace shattered when she speaks up again.

“And what about you?”

“Huh?”

My friend sighs and I can hear her sit up on her lounger, the water sloshing around it from the effort as she turns as best she can to face me. “What about you? What do you want?”

“I—”

I frown up at the sky when my words fail me. No one has ever asked me that before.

What do I want?

“I don’t know… I— I guess I just want to make him happy.”

The sudden intrusion of a video call’s ring crashes through my memory and sends me hurtling back into reality. I jump at the sound, hot tea sloshing from the mug that I hold in my hands.

“Shit!” Hurriedly, I set the mug on the nearby stone coaster and take a moment to wipe the liquid from my hand onto the sleeping shirt that I still wear. And it is then that a most pressing thought occurs to me: I am not dressed appropriately for this incoming call.

Thankfully and much to Charlie’s former annoyance I always manage to keep one of Charlie’s cardigans nearby for occasions such as this. As I slip it on and button it up, I take my seat once more and accept the call before it can end, putting on a broad, happy smile for the caller on the other end of the line.

“Stephen,” I say cheerily as I am met with an equally pleasant smile from the greying man who views me from his own computer further North. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Stephen pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and inhales a soft sniffle just before steepling his hands in front of himself. “Did you get a chance to read my manuscript?”

My head nods in automatic response just as I reach over for the still warm mug to my left, bringing it to my mouth to take a sip of the milky tea before setting it back down again. “I did. Finished late last night, to be exact. So late in fact that you nearly had my fiancé pitching a fit over the possibility of me not getting enough sleep.”

I smile good naturedly to show that I am joking even though I am not, and Stephen takes his turn to laugh. If Charlie were here in this room with me right now, I know without a shadow of a doubt that I would hear him harrumph at his own desk. The thought makes my smile widen, though I am certain that the man I am on the call with thinks it is at his own laughter.

“I’m sure he can forgive me just this once. After all, I’m told that you’ll be leavin’ us. Is that right?” His thick New England accent wafts out from the speakers of my laptop whilst he waits expectantly for a prompt response.

“Not the company. I just won’t be handling your works any longer, along with everyone else I’ve been handling.” Stephen hums out his displeasure at the news, but nods his head in understanding nonetheless. “Sadly for you, Mr. King, I am headed to the West Coast offices where I will be picking up new clientele.”

“Ah,” he says, allowing a small stretch of silence to follow before he once again speaks up. “Well, what did you think when you read it? Have I yet to get you to sink your critiquing claws into me?”

At this I cannot help but laugh. Ever since I had been, perhaps, overly critical of one of his most famous works, Stephen has seen it as a sort of challenge to get me to critique at least one of his manuscripts in the same way in which I’d so passionately done with the long since published book. My head shakes, the motion met with an immediate scoff of disappointment. “I’m afraid not. Like the rest, this one is far too good. Perhaps if you were still able to get—”

“Don’t you dare say it.”

“—Kubrick to make a movie about it first… Maybe then I’ll have some criticism for you.” A heavy sigh on Stephen’s part follows my statement, and yet again I find myself failing at stopping the smile that spreads across my face. “Anyway,” I say, reaching out to drum my fingers against the stack of papers that sit beside my laptop, “I’ll be handing your manuscript over to James tomorrow and he’ll take it from there. I think that means that this may be our last correspondence.”

“Provided your replacement isn’t half as capable as you,” he shoots back.

“Feel free to call me any time. How’s that?”

He smiles, and I happily mirror the expression. “You’ll be regrettin’ that offer.” A chuckle sounds, and just as he’d done before, he pushes his glasses back up his nose. “I’ll talk to you soon enough, kid. Good luck on the move.”

“Thank you. Goodbye, Stephen.”

With the chat now concluded, I reach for my cooling mug once again and pull it towards me just as I re-open the web page I’d been scouring prior to the call. This time, however, I find myself unable to focus on the rows of homes that make their appearance whilst I scroll. The question that had been posed to me years and years ago makes its way to the forefront of my mind again.

What do I want?

In the end, I suppose, that my answer remains the same even after all these years.

I just want to make him happy.

#B+C #B+C+b #personal au #iamakiller #heyooo #we finally find out what Kitten does for a living

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shamelessly4shameless-blog · 7 years

Text

The Sand In Your Shoe (pt. 20 - Final)

Thank you to everyone who has read this fic and stayed with it since the beginning. This is the final chapter and I would really love to hear your thoughts so please do stop by and say hi. It’s been such a great journey to take with you all xxxx

Mickey is rocking up onto the balls of his feet, trying to peer over the crowd.

“Can you see them yet?”

“No, but they’ll be here.”

“Where the fuck are they?”

“Relax.”

Ian squeezes his fingers, their wedding bands clinking together. Mickey is anxiously worrying at the corner of his mouth with his incisors and Ian ducks down to press a kiss against the corner of his mouth. Mickey jerks his head irritably but stops fidgeting, a little more at ease.

“There! I see them!”

Ian waves and grins as Mickey freezes to the spot.

“Mick, they’re by the Starbucks, just over …”

“Yeah. I see. Do I look OK?”

Mickey is tugging at his collar and looking very much like he is about to be sick. Ian rests his hands lightly on Mickey’s upper arms, smoothing the fabric of his shirt and giving him an earnest smile that calms Mickey’s nerves instantly.

“You look great and this is going to be fine. If he didn’t want to meet you, he wouldn’t be here.”

“What the fuck am I gonna say, man?”

“Start off with ‘Hello’ and take it from there.”

Ian grins, giving Mickey’s arms and encouraging squeeze before letting go and stepping back out of the way. Mickey’s breath catches and stammers out of him as his eyes light on the young man walking towards them, Svetlana at his side. He is taller than Mickey, and a slimmer build.

*More like Ian.*

Mickey thinks automatically before berating himself for being stupid. He has his teeth set firmly in his lower lip and his bright blue eyes are looking Mickey up and down with obvious eager curiosity. There is a slight swagger in his step but it is tempered by the way he hovers at Svetlana’s elbow, not quite bold enough to break away and walk alone.

“He looks just like you, Mick.”

Ian murmurs behind him and Mickey nods, not quite trusting his voice. He realises he is scowling a bit and thumbs his upper lip, making a conscious effort to neutralise his expression.

Ian waits for Mickey to say something, to call out a greeting or wave. When it doesn’t happen he nudges him pointedly and Mickey clears his throat as if waking from a trance.

“Hello!”

The word sounds weird and kind of final and Mickey winces slightly

“Fuck.”

Yevgeny grins, his mother has told him that his father swears almost compulsively and it is nice to have a fact confirmed.

“Hey. So which of you is my dad?”

Mickey looks momentarily at a loss and then Svetlana slaps her son’s shoulder and rolls her eyes

“Ignore him, he is as stupid as his father.”

“Hey!”

Father and son glare at her as one, twin sets of blue eyes narrowing and then widening when they notice the similarity and hastily looking away. Svetlana gives Ian a small knowing smile and they share a look of mutual understanding. Apparently, Yevgeny has inherited his father’s love of new social situations.

Ian decides a small rescue is needed and steps forward, embracing Svetlana and then holding out his hand to Yevgeny.

“It is so good to see you both! Welcome to Mexico!”

“Thanks, it’s Ian, right?”

Yevgeny shakes his hand firmly and Ian gets a tiny thrill of pride

*Mickey made this kid. This sharp, beautiful boy. He’s Mickeys!*

“Yeah, can I take your bag? We parked right out front.”

Ian takes the rucksack from Yev’s hands and the kid immediately stuffs them into his pockets and switches his gaze back to Mickey, although both are doing their best not to appear too interested.

“Shall we go?”

Svetlana hoists her own bag onto her shoulder impatiently.

“I need a cigarette and fresh air.”

“Yeah let’s fuckin’ go.”

Mickey nods and turns on his heel, grabbing Yev’s backpack from Ian and holding it protectively as he leads the way.

“I must sit in the front, my travel sickness is very bad.”

Svetlana announces as they are loading the bags into the trunk of Ian’s old Ford. Yev shrugs and gets into the back of the car, closing the door behind him.

“I’ll drive.”

“What? No! Talk to your kid!”

“I can’t talk to him for that long! Jesus! I can’t even talk to you for that long!”

Mickey whispers furiously, looking up at Ian with wild, pleading eyes and Ian sighs in exasperation but quietly hands the car keys over.

Ian chats away happily as they make their way home. He fills Yevgeny and Svetlana in on local sites and local facts and makes Mickey stop to show them an old fountain outside a church that was apparently blessed by a saint.

Mickey leans against the car door and lights up a cigarette as Ian drags Svetlana closer to look at the inscription but Yev manages to dodge around a pale palm tree and loop back to the car before Ian can snag him.

“Can I bum a cigarette?”

He asks Mickey, looking up from under lowered brows, his voice unnaturally deep as he tries to be what he thinks his father will want a son to be.

“You smoke?”

“Psshh. Yeah! All the time. I fuckin’ love it.”

Yev licks his lip and stands up a little straighter. Mickey smirks slightly and nods to Svetlana

“Your Mom gonna tear me a new one if she sees you doin’ it?”

“Nah, man. She just has to deal.”

Yev puffs his chest out and mirrors Mickey’s posture, holding out his hand for the packet. Mickey snorts and hands it over, watching as Yev fumbles the lighter but finally manages to get it lit and inhales enthusiastically before doubling over coughing. Mickey grins to himself and claps a hand on Yevgeny’s shoulder, as the boy looks up utterly humiliated. Mickey hasn’t forgotten how fragile the ego is at sixteen, nor has he forgotten just how desperate he was to please Terry at every turn.

“Don’t worry about it, Mexican cigarettes are stronger. I should’ve warned you.”

“Oh. Yeah. No it’s cool. Thanks.”

Yev is blushing furiously and Mickey tries to think of a point of reference that they might share. He nods his head toward Ian and Svetlana

“You into history at all? Ian likes it.”

“Nah. What are you into?”

Mickey thinks for a moment. He can’t really say cigarettes, guns, pot, beer and sex. Well … maybe he could but he doesn’t want to. He tries to think of something Yev might approve of.

“I got a canoe a couple years ago, I like to take that out on the ocean.”

“Cool!”

Yev nods enthusiastically and Mickey grins, then clicks his head left and right, noticing with a faint touch of pride that Yev does the same. He begins to wonder if having a kid is really just like having a big puppy that follows you around adoringly and occasionally shits on the rug.

“I went on a boat once, it wasn’t a canoe but it was cool.”

“Cooler than a fuckin’ fountain?”

Mickey arches his eyebrows and nods toward Ian who is in full flow and Svetlana who looks bored to tears. Yev grins shyly and shrugs, scratching the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, like, no offence to your husband though.”

“Ah, none taken, man. He’s not normally this much of a dork, just really excited to see you I think.”

“Yeah?”

Yev looks suddenly hopeful and Mickey isn’t sure why so he hedges his bets and changes the subject

“Doin’ good in school?”

“I guess. Mom writes you though, right? Tells you about school and stuff? She said she did that…”

“Oh yeah, I mean she does, I was just … I dunno. Just askin’ I guess.”

Mickey draws deeply on his cigarette and looks away and Yev mistakes his discomfort for annoyance

“You can ask! I mean, you paid for, like, more than half of it right? Mom says you always send money…”

Put like that Mickey realises just how flimsy his involvement has been and clears his throat self-consciously.

“Yeah.”

“Thank you by the way. You didn’t have to.”

Mickey has no idea what to do with being thanked for that and awkwardly pats Yevgeny’s shoulder, giving him a small smile.

“You’re welcome.”

The two stand in silence then until Ian finally releases Svetlana and they all resume their journey.

Evidently Yevgeny is feeling a little emboldened by having his first proper (sort of) conversation with his father because he is more chatty on the second leg of the journey. Ian can’t get enough of hearing the kid talk. He sounds just like Mickey! They both grew up in South Side so the inflections are the same but it’s more than that. Listening to Yev speak is like hearing Mickey as a teenager but with less threats and swearing. If Mickey had been into football and playing piano (fucking piano! Ian squeals internally) he would have sounded just like this.

“I prefer to compose my own stuff now, ya know? I mean, playing other people’s stuff is great but it is awesome to hear something you’ve imagined coming to life. Do you guys play any instruments?”

Mickey peers at Yev in the mirror and shakes his head

“A little guitar maybe but I suck. Never had the patience to learn.”

“None at all.”

Ian smiles guiltily at Yev, who shrugs and smiles.

“Mom wasn’t sure who I got my music talent from.”

“Not true, all your fine qualities come from me.”

Svetlana laughs, nudging Mickey with her elbow. Mickey tongues his lip and grins at her

“Hey, I changed a few diapers, that probably had positive impact, right?”

“Me too actually!”

Ian pipes up.

“So everyone in this car has seen my ass?”

“Pretty much. Yeah.”

Ian nods cheerfully and Yev sighs, a very familiar long-suffering sigh, blue eyes rolling wearily.

“Great.”

Yevgeny nods off about thirty minutes away from Galagers. Mickey checks in the mirror a couple of times, checking the gentle rise and fall of his sons chest.

“Anything I should keep my mouth shut about?”

He asks, looking pointedly at Svetlana. She shrugs and shakes her head

“He knows all there is to know.”

“Could you be a bit more fuckin’ specific?”

Mickey snaps irritably and Svetlana blinks languidly at him.

“He knows he is the product of unwanted sex between his homosexual father and hooker mother, forced by his paternal grandfather who has spent most of his life in prison. He knows his father is a fugitive who married the man who kidnapped him as a baby and lives in Mexico. He knows to keep his mouth shut about these things as well.”

Svetlana ducks her head, lighting a cigarette and then narrows her eyes at the dawning look of incredulous horror Mickey is giving her

“What?”

“ ‘What’? Are you fuckin’ kidding me? Those are fuckin horrible things for the kid to know!”

Mickey turns to look at Ian for reassurance and Ian nods grimly

“Yeah, that’s pretty fucked up, Svet.”

“What part of it is untrue?”

She snaps back at both men and Mickey frowns, shifting in his seat uncomfortably.

“None of it but, you know, I don’t want him thinkin’ he’s a rape baby. That’s a heavy thing for a kid his age to find out.”

“He has known since he was eight.”

“EIGHT?”

Mickey and Ian cry in unison and Svetlana shrugs a little defensively

“He asked why his father never calls or visits. What would you have rather I told him?”

“That I’m a fuckin’ asshole not worth his time! Jesus, Svetlana. Hey, did you let him believe in Santa or did you just slice that one right off the bat too?”

Mickey shakes his head angrily and Svetlana sighs heavily.

“Of course we had Santa, Idiot! But truth is important for children. Yevgeny is a sensitive boy, it is important for him to understand his existence.”

“It’s fucked up, that’s what it is.”

Mickey huffs and turns his attention completely to the road. Ian takes in the tense set of his husband’s shoulders and clears his throat tentatively.

“Perhaps it is good that he knows the truth. Means he gets it, Mick.”

Mickey grunts in response and the three of them lapse into silence.

“I’m sorry if it makes you angry. I thought it for the best.”

Svetlana ventures finally and Mickey flicks his eyes towards her, scanning for sarcasm and finding none.

“It’s fine. It sucks but yeah … it is the truth and … he seems happy enough.”

It is a question but he won’t allow himself to phrase it like one, just in case the answer is not what he desperately hopes to hear.

“He has always been a very happy boy. He wanted for nothing and grew up loved.”

Mickey rolls his shoulders and then sighs

“Well then… thank you, I guess.”

“Life is funny, yes?”

“Yeah. Fuckin’ hilarious.”

Mickey says dryly and Ian smiles slightly as Svetlana gives Mickey’s arm a very light squeeze.

For the first week, Yevgeny follows Mickey around constantly. He helps stock the bar, he goes to the store, he is into everything Mickey does and in turn Mickey swallows his natural inclination toward running errands in solitude and does his best to embrace Yev’s interest.

He takes Yev out in the canoe and after basically wrestling the kid into a life preserver, allows him to take it out by himself a few times, though he paces the shore anxiously each time until Yev is safely back.

Yev shadows him so faithfully that Mickey get’s kind of used to it so when Yev doesn’t appear one morning to drive into town, Mickey is a little disappointed. Not surprised, because getting booze and groceries with your dad can only be interesting for so long, right? But still, he has come to value the quiet thirty minute round trip and the easy flow of conversation.

He figures Yev must have gone down to the beach early because he isn’t on the sofa bed and Mickey runs the errand on his own. When he gets back, Svet has gone shopping in town and Ian is in the kitchen making coffee.

“You seen Yev?”

“No, we thought he was with you?”

“Nah. He never showed up.”

Mickey frowns and drums his fingers against his leg, instantly worried. Ian shrugs and smiles, handing Mickey a steaming mug.

“Probably just gone for a wander.”

“Yeah. Hey, the canoe ain’t on the porch, did you store it?”

“No. But that probably answers where Yev is.”

Ian’s cheery lack of concern grates on Mickey’s nerves and he scowls at his husband.

“Well he ain’t supposed to go out without telling me. What if a fuckin’ freak wave catches him?”

“Oh, you mean like all those ‘freak waves’ that we get warned about around here? Relax. He’s fine.”

Ian smirks and Mickey shoots him a withering look

“A freak wave would be a fuckin’ random occurrence, smart ass.”

“Maybe Yev put it away for you? Have you checked the lock-up?”

Mickey admits he hasn’t and Ian ruffles his hair affectionately, ignoring the impatient flapping as Mickey shoos him away

“I like seeing you in protective dad mode, it’s kinda hot.”

“I’m not in … shut the fuck up!”

Mickey allows a small grin to curl the corner of his mouth and takes his coffee and dignity outside, Ian trailing in his wake as he strides around the back of Galagers.

“So if the canoe is in there, are we going to calm down or shall we call the coast guard?”

Ian teases and Mickey is about to retort but a sound catches his attention and he holds up a stilling hand, setting his coffee cup on the ground. There is a muffled thumping coming from the lock-up and what sounds like crying.

Ian clearly hears it to because his eyes narrow and he grabs a plank of drift wood at his feet, nodding to Mickey. Mickey nods back and makes a ‘wait here’ gesture as he takes a firm grip on the door. One … two … three …

Mickey wrenches the door open ready to start swinging fists at the same moment as Ian lunges forward, plank of wood held high. There is a flash of dark skinned calve wrapped around a pale ass and then two high, guilty gasps of shock as the couple roll apart and hastily adjust their dishevelled clothing, scrabbling to their feet as the adults stare at them in horrified amusement.

“Hey Dad! Uh...”

Yevgeny gives his father a wonky smile as colour floods his face and he glances sideways at Christina, who is grimacing back at him.

Mickey glances down between the young couple and his eyebrows, which had shot up to his hairline, lower as he throws out his hands in a ‘what the fuck’ gesture

“Oh come on, man! On my fuckin’ canoe?”

“Sorry.”

Yev hunches his shoulders defensively. For a moment there is silence and then a strangled snort to Mickey’s right cuts through the air. Ian’s whole body is vibrating with suppressed laughter, his chin quivering helplessly.

“Really? You can’t hold your shit together for two fuckin’ minutes and be a grown up?”

Mickey looks up at him, shaking his head in exasperation but his own lip is trembling precariously. Christina grabs Yev’s hand and tugs him forward

“We’ll go ...”

“Oh really, Tina? You don’t wanna finish?”

Mickey quips but there is no heat to his words at all and he is rapidly losing the battle against his laughter.

“Um… No. It’s okay. We can go somewhere else.”

Yev mumbles and as Christina slaps her boyfriends arm, Ian loses his shit completely, doubling over and clutching his middle as he laughs.

“Oh Yev! Oh my God! No paternity test is ever going to be needed, kid. Oh my God!”

Mickey rolls his eyes at his husband before pointing a finger at his son

“I want it spotless in here, and learn to lock the fuckin’ door.”

He catches Ian by the collar and tugs him out

“Hey! Be safe! Condoms are in the bathr...”

“Not now!”

Mickey snaps at his husband, kicking the door shut behind them. Yev and Christina grin guiltily at each other and then have to smother laughs of their own as Ian happily asks when could possibly be a better time.

Mickey is scrolling through his phone on the porch a little while later and he glances up at the sound of footsteps.

“Hey.”

Yev approaches Mickey sheepishly, not sure whether he is actually in trouble or not.

“Hey. You walk Tina home?”

“Yeah. I mean, like, it’s the middle of the day but yeah, I did.”

“Good. She’s a nice girl. You treat her right, you hear me?”

Mickey fixes Yev with a stern blue eyed stare but his expression clears as soon as the boy nods.

“Alright.”

Yev scratches the back of his neck awkwardly and takes a deep breath

“You can yell if you want? I fucked up.”

“Nah, you’re fine. My dad caught me fuckin’ someone once, it happens.”

Mickey shrugs and Yev grins at him

“Yeah look how that ended up.”

He gestures at himself and Mickey snorts, amused. It’s a lame joke and kind of distasteful but that’s Mickey’s sense of humour too so how can he blame Yevgeny for having it?

“True.”

They are quiet for a minute and then Mickey coughs and ducks his head, looking up at his son from beneath gently swept brows. He has been thinking about when he would say something since Svetlana told him about Yevgeny’s knowledge of his conception and now seems as good a time as any.

“Hey listen, I … ah … I know you know how all that shit when down, how me and your Mom … anywya you know your Mom loves you?”

Yevgeny nods, his eyes huge and round, waiting for his father to continue.

“Well I want you to know that I love you too. If things had been different, I would have stuck around, Yevgeny. I would have been there. I never held any of that shit against you. You’re the one good thing to come out of it and I’m really glad you’re here. Me and Ian both are. I shouldn’t have left it so long.”

Mickey finishes and straightens to his full height waiting patiently for whatever Yevgeny might want to get off his chest. He owes him that much.

“Thank you but it’s fine. I’m here now and you and Ian are both being really cool to me. And I am sorry I had sex on the canoe.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Mickey laughs as both of them grin, the tension draining from the atmosphere to be replaced with an easy companionship that is more than Mickey had ever dared hope for.

Yevgeny visits most school breaks and after high school he arrives in a battered old pick up to collect Christina for a tour of the USA, with a ring in his top pocket and a smile that melts Ian’s heart. He is young, beautiful and full of determined courage. Mickey hugs his son tightly and then steps back to let Ian in.

“I’m doing it, guys! I’m gonna ask her.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah Dad. I’m gonna wait until we get to New York and then I’m doing it.”

“Alright.”

Mickey nods and nudges Ian who slips Yev an envelope. Yev frowns and peers inside

“Guys, this is too much!”

“It’s a border crossing tradition in this family. When you start a new life, you get a wad of cash.”

Mickey grins and Ian shakes his head with a long suffering sigh, though a small smile is tugging at the corner of his own mouth.

Time winds onwards and soon Svetlana is stood in a beautiful Mexican church, cradling baby Miguel in her arms, utterly besotted with her first grandson.

“Ah! We have another set of those blue eyes in the world.”

She coos happily, glancing at her own blue eyed boy who is deep conversation with his aunt and uncle who have come to the church for the celebration.

“Yeah, he’s beautiful isn’t he?”

Ian smiles indulgently down at his grandson and carefully traces one chubby pink cheek with his finger. Yev makes his way over to them, looking at his watch.

“Do you think we should start? The priest is getting antsy”

“No, we must wait for your father.”

“Or what? It didn’t happen?”

Yev quips irritably, oblivious to the startle his words give his mother. Svetlana smothers her smile in the sweet smelling lace of Miguel’s gown.

The church doors open and all present turn to watch Mickey dash up the flagstones, waving his apologies

“Sorry! I had to pick something up.”

He takes the steps up to the font two at a time and produces a sleek box from his pants pocket, handing it to Yevgeny with another grimaced apology and then taking his place beside Ian and Svetlana who jabs him and whispers.

“Do you enjoy being late to christenings or is it just habit?”

“You always ask the weirdest fuckin’ questions.”

Mickey frowns as she happily passes his name sake into his arms. Mickey jiggles his grandson, looking down at him with a mixture of awe and pride.

“He’s perfect, isn’t he? I mean, I know I’m supposed to think that, but look at him!”

Ian kisses the greying hair at Mickey’s temple and nods

“He is. Milkovich’s make very pretty babies.”

Mickey smirks and hands Miguel over to Christina.

“Thanks Dad, and thank you both for the gift.”

She kisses his cheek gratefully and Mickey nods, blushing a little.

“You’re welcome.”

The ceremony is held in the same church as Mandy and Juan married in all those years before and Mickey and Ian take the same seats, their hands linked just as tightly.

The future which has always stretched so far before them zooms into focus and then expands beyond them, the legacy of their love carried on the lips and in the memories of their family.

They walk home from the ceremony, pausing to kick off their shoes when they reach the beach and strolling across the warm sand barefoot, hand in hand. They have walked home this way for nearly twenty years and despite being careful, there is still sand in their shoes at the end of every trip. Neither of them mind and neither could be happier.

#shameless #shameless us #shameless fanfiction #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #ian x mickey #Mickey and Mandy #yevgeny milkovich #Svetlana Milkovich #mickey in mexico #fanfic #Gallavich Love #Gallavich

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tardispowered · 4 years

Text

Doctor Who Book Review: Only Human

Summary

Non-Spoilery Review: Absolute garbage.

Spoilers Below the cut.

To put it simply, this book was a mess. The writing was good in that it flowed well. In that the dialogue was clever and there were times when I laughed. There were moments when it almost reached something profound. Where I thought it would examine something interesting. It never did, but the potential was there. It could have been a lot better. But it’s not the wasted potential that annoys me the most. Not even the skewed characterization of everyone besides Rose. And even she had moments where I had to squint. No. It’s the hateful bits that really got me, written under the name of comedy.

But let’s break this down one thing at a time.

Plot: An absolute mess, especially as it went on. It was easy enough to follow from point A to point B, but there was both too much and too little going on. You had caveman Das who was transported to te modern day and has to stay because …reasons. You had Jack who had to stay with him.

You had Noble Savages Neanderthals where were just as Smart as the Humans but didn’t Lie so you knew they were Good. (Not that you see any more of them beyond the Noble Savage part save for Das who became ‘civilized’ so it’s all right then) You had the primitive Humans who will eventually be Evil and Wipe Out all the Neanderthals because that’s humanity for you. Also Rose marries into them…for reasons.

You have the time traveling humans living in this time period with them. Oh and also they have restricted emotions because emotions bad… Oh and one of them is evil and creating the perfect Humans called Hy-Bractor…who just do whatever she says and also eat people. (no comment on how the perfect human is perfectly subservient). You have Quillien who is a time traveler who refuses to express his emotions and is ostensibly the hero of the story…and does fuck all to earn it…

All of this in a little over 200 pages.

You also got a book that tried really hard to be a light and frothy adventure that dipped a bit into the Tim Burton well for no reason whatever near the end. Other than to be…well it’s a cool visual I guess. Chantal opens 9 up and does some surgical stuff. Cool imagery I guess. Nothing really comes of it. Rose is decapitated for a while? Cool imagery I guess. She’s not too too bothered.

And I mean, hey, there’s nothing wrong with a light and frothy adventure.

But it would be even better if it wasn’t A] Mean spirited as hell and B| kept characters in freaking character.

Let’s tackle B first… because whoo boy.

The Doctor

The weirdest thing is that 9 doesn’t sound too different than he should. His voice is in place. His mannerisms are in place. And then he drops words like ‘copping’ (which is UK slang for getting together yeah yeah yeah. Though at least somewhat innocent in that context) and says at one point: ‘tough titty.’

I just

I am still not over that one, frankly.

Tough titty.

Really?

Also his underlying sadness and grief that is very much a part of his character with the beginning is only touched on briefly (and cheaply). Now, I’m not saying that every 9 book has to be a slog in the Marsh of Sad, but the only mention of it is when he gets the Mood Lifter pills and is like: “Yeah my planet blew up and I used to be sad about but I’m not for some reason”

OH GEE. Glad the Time War wasn’t a BIG FREAKING DEAL that severely impacted your personality or anything. Whew!

(also apparently these mood lifters also act as mind control? Which isn’t very well explained and seems to suggest that if you feel good and blasé you’ll automatically listen to what the controller says which…what?)

Also he gooses someone to get a reaction out of them—which is just no. I can’t imagine any Doctor doing that, let alone 9. Especially not in that context.

When Rose gets married to the caveman Tillun…for reasons… and the Doctor takes her away, Tillun tries to attack and 9 basically trips him to the ground and the Doctor says something broadly like: It sucks to be used. Doesn’t it? You’ll get over it. And later Rose says the Doctor enjoyed doing that and it’s implied that he did.

And yeah 9 can be a little bit show-offy when faced with a rival to Rose’s affection. Like with Jack (who was kind of too full of himself) and Adam (who was definitely too full of himself) But aside from attacking 9, Tillun was a pretty ok guy. Rose seemed to like him.

I mean, 9 or hell, even Rose. Why not go out on a limb? Could just talk to him and convince him that they were asking the right thing. Tillun could have gotten more characterization and so could they. It could have been a negotiation and an understanding rather than just violence. But I mean the Doctor is cooler tripping someone to the ground and showing his badassitude.

Also he somehow makes the humans temporarily able to breathe fire to fight back against the newly created Hy-Bractor and nearly wipes out the entire species but isn’t too worried about it. Like obvs 9 has no problem with genocide. Even of a violent species out to kill him. It’s not like Rose convinced him to save a dalek or anything. Also good thing they Hy-Bractors have nothing more complex beyond basic emotions or personalities so we don’t have to feel bad for them dying.

Lucky us. 8|

Rose

I thought Rose was pretty alright. She was actually the most solidly characterized even if there were parts where I was like ….wut? For instance she found Tillun hot because he was fit (which is understandable) and thought he had kissable floppy hair. I mean… this is a time before basic hygiene. I am not sure that his hair would be all that kissable. Just saying. Oh and for some reason she keeps thinking Quillien is a lech even though he doesn’t do a damn thing to her. But then when she decides to get married to convince the idiots to save themselves, she ends up in the equivalent of a fur bikini (because of course she does) and Quillien gives her a lusty stare (because of course he does) and it’s just kind of brushed aside.

Yeahh…that’s great.

Wonderful.

Just what a 9th Doctor book needs honestly 8|

Jack

Basically, the story had no idea what to do with Jack and it shows. He’s just packaged off to look after Das, a caveman shunted forward into the present day. And he doesn’t do much but report on what Das is doing. And I mean it isn’t great, but it isn’t horrible—

Well it wasn’t horrible. Until Anna Marie.

Das likes Anna Marie. She’s attractive to him. She’s short and fat and has facial hair and a big nose, and doesn’t laugh much. Oh and her friends call her, and I quote: “Big Fat Anna Marie No Mates.”

Because it’s FUNNY. Because she’s UNATTRACTIVE. Ha ha. The Neanderthal likes the seriously ugly girl. Let’s all laugh at this side-splitting situation.

And that would be bad enough—but Jack is so damn judge-y about it too.

Jack.

He would sleep with a yeti if it took him out for coffee and yet oh no god forbid a girl is short and fat and hairy. She’s obviously a Neanderthal. And he keeps shaking his head like how could Das like her. Ew.

But it’s a JOKE. HUMOR. HA HA

Thanks, I hate it 8|

And since we’re segueing into it, when Das said he wanted to marry Anna Marie, her father cried because he thought she’d never find someone not like her stick thin conventionally attractive sister.

It doesn’t matter if Anna Marie finds Das attractive or not. We never find out. But she doesn’t matter as a person. All she matters is as the butt of a joke. But look she’s happy so it’s okay. Only she’s happy because it’s implied no one else will give her the time of day because she’s so ugly. And it’s apparently okay to call her out on it because God Forbid she not be fuckable. It doesn’t matter what her personality is. Doesn’t matter what her hopes and fears are. Her talents and her flaws. Just that she has facial hair and so is basically worthless so she should thank god this Neanderthal came along and wanted her otherwise she’d really be useless.

Also, it was pointed out that her family is Irish. Which, granted I am not from the UK but this feels particularly racist to me.

Because yes, this is the kind of story we want from the 9th Doctor. The Doctor who struggled to cover up depression. Who did the hard thing because he thought it was the right thing. Who cared about people.

More than that, the Doctor that was played by Christopher Eccleston who fought to keep his Manchester Accent. To make the initial run of DW like it was. Rose was a chav. It didn’t matter. The Doctor was rough around the edges and didn’t speak in Received Pronunciation. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was they were who they were. They were worthy of love and respect. Rose didn’t have to be super intelligent to fly with the Doctor. The Doctor didn’t have to sound like he fell from London to be the Doctor. And, more than anything, that is who the 9th Doctor is and should be.

So no. No. There is so much more wrong with this book (like a particularly egregious cult of the Doctor moment) but I am not giving it any more of my time. It’s not in my headcanon. I don’t want it anywhere near me.

I give it half a star for decent writing but beyond that it can die in a fire.

#doctor who #9th doctor #only human #doctor who book review #point five out of five #this was frankly disgusting #it started off well but god #did it devolve #also the author is apparently a piece of work #gross

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cuthian · 7 years

Text

Wrestle & Win - Part I

“Half the time when brothers wrestle, it is an excuse to hug each other.” --James Patterson

PART I - DURO

January 1998 BEPS International School, Brussels, Belgium

Duro Müller is a little short, he knows, for his age, but he knows no one would tease him at the new school, because he is Agron Müller’s little brother, and his big brother always takes care of him. Duro is five-and-a-half and his big brother is almost nine and they just moved to a new city in a new country that isn’t very far from their old country for their papa’s job, and Duro is super excited, because learning a new language and moving to a new country is way cooler than getting a swimming pool party for your birthday, no matter what cousin Saxa tried to tell him.

He holds his mama’s hand as they walk to the class and looks around with wide eyes. The school is a lot bigger than his old school and the kids are bigger and all look different and he is a little nervous.

He had practiced the new language a lot at home with mama and Agron, but he hasn’t really tried to talk to other people yet and it is a little scary. He is really brave though, like Agron taught him, and he wants to make his brother smile, because Agron doesn’t smile enough, like mama says they should.

“Mama, what happens when the other kids don’t like me?” he asks nervously in German, tugging on his mama’s hand as they slow to a stop at a brightly decorated door. There’s butterflies and drawings, and even a rainbow painted near the door handle, and Duro can hear laughing inside but he’s still a little too scared to go in without mama or Agron.

“They’ll love you,” mama replies steadily, kneeling down before Duro with a smile, ruffling her hands through his curly hair. “They’d be silly not to. You’re going to love it here, Duro.”

Duro tries not to pout, but he doesn’t quite succeed and mutters, “But Agron isn’t here.” It is true—their papa took Agron to school, since it was closer to his office than to Duro’s new school—and Duro doesn’t like that he won’t be able to talk to Agron during lunch break like he did in his old school.

“It’s only for a little while, bärchen,” his mama says sweetly. “You’re going to Agron’s school in September, when you’re six. That’s seven more months, baby.”

Duro nods and looks back to the door. He remembers. Agron had made him promise to make a lot of friends so he could bring loads of them with him when he came to the big school with Agron. “Okay,” he says seriously. “Can we go in now?”

Mama laughs and nods, getting to her feet again before she knocks at the door and pushes it open, where a man with dark hair and a wide smile and a guitar stands. “Hello there!” he says cheerily, in the new language that Duro isn’t really great at yet. “I take it you are Duro?”

Duro nods nervously and clutches at his mama’s hand before he remembers that he promised Agron he’d be really brave today. “Ja,” he says. “Mijn naam is Duro Müller.”

Luckily the new language is a lot like German, so it’s not too hard for Duro to understand.

The teacher smiles and shakes Duro’s hand when he sticks it out, like he’s seen papa do when he meets people. “Well, hello, Duro Müller. I’m Rik, and I’m your new teacher for the rest of the school year. Do you want to come in and meet the rest of the class?”

Duro only hesitates a little before following the teacher inside, and then he forgets all about mama and Agron because there’s a television in the classroom and the teacher has a guitar and there’s even a castle with pillows and a lot of toys and a slide. He eagerly bounces to the big orange pillow next to a boy with really dark hair and eyes and pretty skin that is more brown than his own and waves goodbye at his mama before turning to the boy next to him.

“I am Duro,” he says again, speaking slowly so he’s sure to say the words right.

The boy looks at him with wide eyes before he smiles shyly, and Duro has never really thought of someone else as pretty before, except for Ariel from the Little Mermaid and Princess Jasmin from Aladdin, but they’re not real. This boy is though, and he even looks a little like Princess Jasmin—only he is a boy, obviously. “I am Nasir,” the boy finally says, the words coming out just as slowly and carefully as they did with Duro. “Are we going to be friends?”

Duro looks at him carefully and then nods, deciding that the boy seems like a lot of fun. “Best friends.”

July 1998 Müller household, Brussels, Belgium

“Duro, Nasir is here!”

Duro shoves against Agron impatiently and pushes past his brother to stumble down the stairs. He is excited to see his friend, because it is the first time Nasir has been allowed to come over to play since school had ended, and Agron hasn’t met Nasir yet and it is Very Important that his best friend and his big brother like each other.

He and Nasir have gone to the playground with mama a few times, and Nasir’s nanny had taken them to see the new Disney movie—about a girl who pretended to be a boy and then saved the country and still got to marry the prince in the end—when it played in the movie theater, but this is the first time that they are actually going to play in Duro’s house with his toys and his comic books.

Duro is very excited about it.

Nasir is standing next to his own big brother in their hallway, looking incredibly tiny in the large space, smaller than Duro, but with a big smile that automatically makes Duro smile too.

“Hey,” he cheers excitedly as he slides to a stop—socks on their smooth floor is the best thing ever—in front of Nasir and his brother. “We’re going to have so much fun! Papa had someone install a swing and a slide and all kinds of cool things in the backyard and we’ve even got a swimming pool now!”

“That’s so cool!” Nasir cheers excitedly, before turning to his brother with wide eyes and uttering something in a language that is even more different than the one Duro and Agron are still learning.

Nasir’s brother says something back and then pats his little brother’s back before waving at the other two. “I’ll pick him up around eight tonight,” he tells Duro and Agron’s mama, who nods and sees him outside before turning back to the boys.

“Nasir, how about you and Duro go up to his room for a bit? He can show you his games and his comic books, before you go play outside. It’s still a little chilly.” Duro nods and grasps Nasir’s arm, barely waiting for him to get his shoes off before he drags the other boy up the stairs, excited to show him the comic books, and maybe to get Agron to read one of them to him.

Duro isn’t very good with letters yet, so Agron helps him with the comic books.

He tells Nasir all of this as they hurry up the stairs and through the hall, their socks slipping on the smooth hardwood floors as they laugh and giggle. “Do you have Captain America comic books?” Nasir asks curiously as they tumble into Duro’s room in their haste. “My baba got some for me when he went to America for busy-ness.”

Nasir’s nose wrinkles as he pronounces the word in Dutch carefully, shaking his head a little.

“No,” Duro frowns, “I don’t have those. But mama got me a lot of Belgian ones, so I could learn the language a bit. It’s not very different from German though.” Nasir nods solemnly and plops down on the floor at the foot of Duro’s bed as Duro drags the box with comic books from the cupboard.

“Agron!” He yells, “Nasir is here! Come say hello and help us read!”

He hears his brother putter around in his own room, grumbling in German, before turning back to Nasir, who is flipping through one of the orange Belgian comic books with a little wrinkle between his eyebrows. “How old is your brother?” Duro asks curiously, peeking over Nasir’s shoulder to see which comic he’s reading.

“He is… older,” Nasir grumbles in frustration. “I don’t know the word in Dutch yet. He is allowed to drive since last year. He doesn’t go to school anymore.”

“Oh,” Duro says. “That’s old. Agron is old too, but not that old.”

Nasir nods and turns a page. “That’s good. Adam is too old to play with me most of the time.” That sounds horrible, Duro decides, and it’s sad that Nasir has to play alone the whole time.

“I’ll share Agron with you,” he offers. “He’s annoying but he’s fun too, and he does the voices when he reads to me and he pushes the swing really high!” Thinking about it causes excitement to curl in the pit of his belly and he can’t wait to go play again, even though mama said they should wait until it’s a little warmer outside.

Nasir doesn’t say anything, and it’s not until Duro turns to see his friend staring up at the door with flushed cheeks and wide eyes that he sees his big brother in the doorway with a funny face. “Why’re you looking all weird?” he demands, poking Nasir’s shoulder petulantly when they don’t answer.

“You’re really tall,” Nasir blurts, and Duro frowns a little, because yes, his brother is pretty tall, but he’s not that tall, and honestly, everyone is tall compared to Nasir.

“You’re really not,” Agron says back, nose wrinkling weirdly as he says it.

Nasir, however, shrieks and jumps up, shoving the comic book into Duro’s lap as he yells, “You said my words!” And Duro doesn’t know a lot yet, but he knows that the words are important and that the person who says your words is your soulmate. He’s not too sure what a soulmate is, really, other than that they’re really important, and he doesn’t know what to think about his brother and his best friends saying each other’s words.

“You said mine,” Agron shrugs, walking towards Nasir and pushing him down onto the floor again before plopping himself down in front of them, and pulling the comic from Duro’s slack hand. “We can tell mama and your brother later. So, should I read this?” He yelps when Nasir suddenly leans forward though, punching at Agron’s knee.

“I can read,” Nasir says indignantly, pulling the comic back onto his own lap. “You can help.”

Duro watches his big brother and his best friend squabble over the comic book and decides that they are really weird, but he likes them and they’re his, so he guesses he’ll have to keep them.

February 2007 Müller household, Brussels, Belgium

Duro grinds his teeth and glares at his brother, who is currently smiling—wide and dimpled—at Duro’s best friend, gesturing wildly as he explains something or other. Duro has little idea of what they’re speaking of because it has been quite some time since he has been allowed into their conversations.

It is hardly the first time it has happened, and Duro doesn’t doubt it will happen again.

They don’t try to exclude him, but it happens nonetheless. Mama has told him it is a side-effect of the soulbond, and that neither his brother nor his best friend can really help themselves.

Nasir has barely left their home since the day he and Agron had met and had spoken their words to each other. Nasir’s parents had outright refused to accept that their son’s soulmate was a boy, and had demanded either permanent separation or adequate compensation—which had led to mama and papa agreeing to take Nasir in, to spare him and Agron the agony of separation.

Duro loves Nasir, much like he loves his brother, but sometimes he hates him.

He took Agron away from him, even though Duro knows, logically, that Agron is still there for him with whatever he needs—he needs only ask. He just wishes he wouldn’t have to. Agron is often preoccupied with Nasir and whatever it is that the younger man needs, but Duro knows his big brother is still his, too.

As it is, he’s spent much more time alone with Nasir, going to movies and amusement parks and trying to skate while laughing hysterically at Nasir’s clumsy attempts to stay vertical with roller-skates on.

It’s been a while though, since they’ve had time to go out to the movies or other fun activities—Nasir had basically locked himself in his room to study for his exams in January and Duro had, much more reluctantly, done the same, while Agron finished all of his exams in two weeks and spent the rest of the time hanging out with Spartacus and his other friends.

Duro kind of just misses hanging out with his brother and his best friend.

He glances back towards where Nasir is sitting on the kitchen counter, dressed in one of Agron’s much-too-large sweaters and jeans, swinging his bare feet back and forth idly, watching as Agron makes lunch for the three of them.

There is a breathless kind of smile upon Nasir’s lips as he looks at Agron, and he almost looks like the lovestruck girls they see in films sometimes, when they catch sight of the hero. It is a little sickening, and Duro knows that there are people who don’t like that his brother is destined to love another man, but he doesn’t quite understand that part.

Honestly, the only reason Duro thinks they’re disgusting is because Agron looks at Nasir as though he’s hung the moon and the stars and it’s sickeningly sweet.

“You almost done?” he finally asks, leaning forward across the counter to tug on the edge of Nasir’s sweater playfully. “Or are you two going to keep making heart eyes at each other?” Nasir splutters, blush rising high upon his cheeks, and Agron chuckles nervously. Duro feels almost bad for the implication, because the fact remains that Agron stands four years older than Nasir and Duro, and it complicates their relationship greatly.

Agron is eighteen already, set to graduate high school in but a few months—Nasir and Duro both still have another three and a half years in high school to go. Agron is prepared for a kind of relationship that Nasir has likely not even thought of—as far as Duro knows, they have never even kissed beyond affectionate kisses upon cheek and forehead.

Much as he likes to complain about his best friend and his brother easily forgetting about him when they are in a room together, Duro wouldn’t want to be in their place, with so much speaking against their evolving relationship.

Even their own father is less than pleased that Agron will likely grow up to marry a boy—even if that boy is Nasir, who they have known for years. At least their mama loves Nasir and has no compunction about his and Agron’s future relationship—Duro is almost certain that she’s been planning their wedding since the moment they’d met.

“It’ll be done in a minute,” Agron finally grumbles, turning back to the stove to poke at the grilled cheese sandwiches that he is preparing. “Get the plates, you lazy git.”

Duro grumbles good-naturedly and shoves at Nasir as he pushes past him to get to the cupboard, listening as Nasir chatters about school and his assignment for Latin, jokingly comparing his teachers to old biddies who had actually been alive when Latin had still been spoken across Europe.

Duro knows that Nasir only talks about his classes with mama and Agron because Duro has a tendency to simply tune him out—not because he is trying to be rude, but because he simply cannot follow Nasir’s train of thought. Nasir had, quite early on, proven to be an eager student with a taste for history and languages, and had been sent to a different school than Duro and Agron at twelve.

Mama likes to listen to Nasir speak of his studies because the subjects always interested her as well—Duro is still half convinced that the only reason Agron listens is because he is whipped as fuck.

He sets the plates on the counter next to Agron and hops onto one of the barstools that they really only use when it is the three of them, too lazy to set the table and eating at the counter instead. “Wanna do math together later?” he asks Nasir absently, pulling his new mobile phone from his pocket to play Snake while they wait for their food to be done.

Nasir wrinkles his nose in disgust, but nods and sighs. “That’s for the best. I’ll probably fail the test again if you don’t help me.” Duro snorts, but doesn’t comment, because it is entirely true. As brilliant as Nasir may be in other fields and subjects, he is absolutely horrendous at math.

“Hush,” Agron scolds them, handing Nasir a plate with two grilled cheese sandwiches before curling his hand around the back of Nasir’s neck and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You’re going to do fine.”

Duro scoffs, both at his brother’s words and actions, but accepts and digs into his own plate after tossing his cellphone aside. Agron makes a mean grilled cheese sandwich, and he hasn’t been able to make it for them in a while. He has been working on his final school work, with several assignments for each subject and a large overlapping project that takes up ridiculous amounts of Agron’s time.

At least he’ll have a business degree as well as a high school degree when he graduates now. In Agron’s own words: it’ll look great on his CV, and it’ll be worth the hard work. Duro will take his word for it and only be grateful that he did not choose the same classes as his brother had in high school.

They eat in silence for a time, until Agron glances at the clock and swears violently in German, shoving his plate in the general direction of the sink. “I have to go pick up mama,” he mentions as he rushes around the kitchen to collect his things. “We’ll be back in an hour at most. Clean up the kitchen before you do homework, okay?”

He hardly waits for an answer, stopping only to press yet another kiss to Nasir’s cheek and to ruffle Duro’s curls before he rushes out the door, car keys jingling in his hands as he slams the door shut.

Duro grins, mouth full of food, and winks at Nasir. “I guess it’s just us now.”

Nasir rolls his eyes and takes another bite of his food. “Oh joy,” he replies drily.

Duro elects to ignore him and instead continues to eat his grilled cheese.

Duro feels as though he’s stuck in a haze, hands trembling and heart pounding. The police officer still stands in their living room, talking to the social worker lady, who is eyeing Nasir with undisguised interest and worry. The other boy is sitting curled up on the large loveseat, legs pressed to his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around them. His hands are covered by the too-long sleeves of Agron’s sweatshirt, eyes red-rimmed and cheeks wet with shed tears.

They had known something had happened—that something was wrong—almost as soon as it had happened. Nasir had begun crying, begging Duro to call Agron, to call anyone, because something was wrong, Agron was hurt and it terrified the both of them.

The police hadn’t shown up at their door until an hour and a half later, and at that point, Nasir had become largely uncommunicative, leaving Duro to freak out all by himself.

The social worker had insisted on calling Duro’s father, even though Duro knew he’d be in meetings all day and likely wouldn’t answer his phone until it was time for their daily phone call around seven. He still feels weak in the knees when he recalls the social worker lady—“please, call me Karen”—sitting down with him and Nasir and telling them there had been an accident involving his mama and brother.

He looks at the police officer again and swallows thickly before timidly asking, “Can we go see them?”

He gestures back to where Nasir’s curled up on the seat. “We’re going crazy with worry, and Nasir and Agron don’t do well with separation—they haven’t really been apart much since they bonded.” It is not exactly the truth, but he is not above exploiting the whole soulbond thing a little if it gets them to see his mama and his big brother sooner.

He doesn’t miss the raised eyebrows and the skeptical look that the two adults share before the social worker shakes her head. “They’re not listed as soulmates,” the woman finally says, though she genuinely looks concerned when she glances towards Nasir, who has yet to respond to anything.

“Does that matter?” Duro demands impatiently, hands curling into fists in frustration and fear. “The only reason they’re not listed is because Nasir’s not sixteen yet! They’re my family, Nasir’s family. We just want to go to the hospital.” He could make a scene out of this, and he definitely feels like it, but he knows mama and Agron expect him and Nasir to take care of each other, and causing a scene would not do anyone any good.

Instead, he swallows his fear as best as he can and carefully sits down beside Nasir as the adults talk.

Nasir barely stirs at all, eyes fastened onto the far wall, decorated with pictures of him and Duro and Agron, fingers twitching against the seam of his jeans. Duro feels a little guilty then, for forgetting how badly separation affects Nasir and Agron sometimes, for being jealous of the soulbond and for whining about Nasir and Agron forgetting the rest of the world—and him—sometimes.

His hand briefly slips down to scratch at his upper thigh, where his own words curve around the muscle, as of yet unspoken. It’s not unusual, he knows—he’s only fourteen. Most people don’t meet their soulmate until much later in life—and his brother and his best friend are exceptions to the rule.

He shoots another glance at Nasir, who has his fingers curled tightly around his own wrist, where Duro knows his soulmark is, rocking back and forth gently. Nasir’s words are looped around his right wrist, much like a bracelet, in Agron’s scratchy handwriting, while Nasir’s loopy script flows across his brother’s collarbones.

They annoy the shit out of him sometimes, but Agron is his brother and Nasir is his best friend and Duro has no idea how he’s supposed to deal with anything if something bad were to happen to either of them. “You’d know, right?” he croaks suddenly, surprised by the wavering of his own voice, swallowing thickly when Nasir looks up at him in question. “If he—if—you would know, right?”

“Yeah,” Nasir nods shakily, voice scratchy with disuse. “I think so anyway.”

Duro nods, but his heart squeezes painfully in his chest, and the only thing he can do to keep himself from falling apart is to curl his own fingers around Nasir’s wrist too, without actually looking at him, eyes locking on the wall too, waiting until the policeman and the social worker decide what to do.

They sit like that, curled together, entwined fingers wrapped around Nasir’s wrist, for a few more hours, Nasir finally, restlessly dozing off against Duro’s shoulder. He takes it as a good sign, because if something was seriously wrong with Agron, Duro is sure Nasir wouldn’t be able to relax at all, but it does less to reassure him than he’d like.

He just wants his mama and his brother.

He startles when the social worker suddenly puts her hand on his shoulder, offering him a kind smile. “Your father just called us back,” she tells him quietly. “We’re going to take you to the hospital to see your brother now, and your father will be home in a few hours.”

Duro nods stiffly, not missing that she said nothing about seeing his mother, causing fear to coil in the pit of his stomach, and gently shakes Nasir to wake him, reading the question in the other boy’s eyes before he’s even asked. “They’re taking us to the hospital,” he says softly. “Put on some shoes.”

Nasir stares at him for a moment before nodding shakily and stumbling to his feet, rushing towards the hallway where they’d left their shoes after carelessly kicking them off earlier. Duro follows at a more sedate pace, unsure of what to think or do other than follow the adults, because at least they’ll take him to his mother and brother.

The car ride passes in a blur, and all Duro finds himself truly aware of is that at least he knows Agron is not dead, and neither is his mother—surely they would have told him if she were.

Nasir has fallen silent again, eyes unfocused and unseeing, fingers rubbing over the writing on his wrist continuously, and fear and uncertainty thrum beneath Duro’s skin, and he wants to snap, to yell and to scream until he is safely seen to his family’s arms again.

The hospital, when they arrive, is quiet, nurses moving through the long hallways with practiced ease and deliberate silence, and it sets Duro’s nerves on edge even more.

He keeps his fingers curled around Nasir’s arm, tugging him along steadily, because he is almost certain that, should he release him, Nasir would not move at all, as affected as he is by separation sickness. It is, after all, the longest Agron and Nasir have been separated since they had bonded.

Even on school days, they would call each other during lunch breaks to stave off the effects of the bond—it is the main reason Nasir and Duro have cell phones of their own, too.

“Duro, Nasir,” the social worker says with a kind smile as a tall woman with dark, gleaming skin and a grim frown wrinkling her forehead, dressed in baby blue scrubs follows her. “This is Dr. Dubois. She treated your brother, and she’s going to talk to her colleagues to find out where your mother is right now.” He is sure she meant it to be comforting, but the idea that they have no idea where his mom is in the hospital only makes Duro feel sick to his stomach.

Before he can say anything though, the doctor shoves forward and reaches for Nasir, who’s pale and shaky, more so than Duro had even noticed, and he feels a pang of guilt for being so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed how poorly Nasir was feeling.

“Nasir?” he asks worriedly, reaching for his friend, only to be pushed back by the doctor.

“He just needs to see Agron,” he exclaims, angrily trying to pull his arm from the social worker’s tight grasp as the doctor examines Naseer. “He’ll be fine once he sees him. Agron can’t be much better—it’s been hours since they saw each other!”

“They are bonded?” the doctor demands harshly, her accent—French, he’s guessing—lilting the words, glaring at Duro as though this is his fault. “And you did not come to the hospital sooner?”

“She didn’t believe me!” Duro yells angrily, pointing at the social worker, who has the gall to look affronted when the doctor rounds on her. “I told her they were soulmates as soon as she told us Agron and mama were in the hospital!”

“They’re not listed,” the social worker stutters, blush staining her cheeks. “I was just—”

Dr. Dubois aims a withering glare towards the social worker, cutting off her stuttered explanation, before shaking her head and curling her fingers around Nasir’s wrist and leading him towards one of the rooms. Duro tugs his arm out of the social worker’s grasp and follows them, heart pounding high in his throat, because finally someone is letting him see his brother.

Fine, letting Nasir see his brother, but Duro’s not about to let the opportunity slip from him.

He follows them into a private hospital room, much smaller than the one he himself had occupied and shared with three others after getting his wisdom teeth removed.

His breath catches in his throat when he catches a glimpse of his brother on the hospital bed, looking much smaller and less imposing than he had in years, pale, with both hands resting on pillows at his sides, splinted and bandaged with fingertips that are so badly bruised and swollen he can barely even tell they are his hands at all.

Most of his attention is diverted when a choked sob falls from Nasir’s lips, a deep, guttural sound that makes him shiver even as Nasir rushes towards Agron, who is lightly stirring, eyes blinking open lazily to take in Nasir’s undoubtedly teary eyes as the younger man leans over him, obviously dying to touch Agron, but unsure of where to put his hands to avoid hurting him.

“I’m okay, little man,” Agron whispers weakly, and it terrifies Duro, because he’s never heard his brother sound so faint and so weak, and he’s not even looking at Duro or even acknowledging his little brother’s presence—like he hadn’t been just as worried as Nasir had been.

“Don’t call me that, you big lug,” Nasir scolds tearfully. “You scared the hell out of us!”

Duro steps forward hesitantly when Agron rolls his head slightly to the side, blinking sluggishly as he looks at Duro, before his lips turn up into the dopey kind of grin Duro has only ever seen him direct at Nasir. “Hey little brother,” he grins. “You were worried?”

“Yeah,” Duro says thickly, joining Nasir at his brother’s bedside, trying to ignore the way Nasir’s fingers trail across Agron’s collarbone, where Nasir’s words curl across Agron’s skin.

“Silly,” Agron hums, head lolling back onto his pillow as his eyes flutter shut again. “I’m okay.”

Duro almost believes him.

Three weeks later Müller household, Brussels, Belgium

“I don’t want to go.”

Duro’s voice is thick with unshed tears, and he feels stiff and uncomfortable in the suit his father and grandparents insisted he wear. Saxa snorts and tosses a packet of gum at his head from where she is lounging on his bed, long blond curls splayed out across his dark blue comforter, her black dress just on the right side of indecent.

“All you have to do is stand there and look pretty, kleiner Neffe. That’s all your dad wants from you.”

Duro sighs and pops the gum in his mouth so he won’t have to actually say anything. He has less than half an hour before he is expected to put in an appearance downstairs for the masses that have turned up for his mother's funeral; to pretend they’re devastated about the car accident that took her life.

Most of them never even met her.

They’re business associates of his father’s, here to schmooze and talk business after the burial, using his mother’s death as a fucking business opportunity.

Agron, barely out of the hospital and still barely capable of standing upright without Nasir or Duro holding him steady, had sent him upstairs with their cousin Saxa to cool off after he nearly bit off someone’s head when they tried to engage him in small talk.

“They didn’t even know her,” he finally grumbles, swallowing thickly when tears burn in his eyes. “I don’t even know why they’re here.”

Saxa grins and shrugs one shoulder. “They’re grown-ups. And humans. They suck. Ignore them.”

“You’re a grown-up,” he replies petulantly, barely resisting the urge to pout at her. He hadn’t seen Saxa in four years before she and the rest of their family from Germany made the trip to Brussels after Agron and mama’s accident in order to help papa out.

They’d stayed longer after mama had… After his dad had decided to…

He aches at the mere thought because it still doesn’t feel real, and he still expects to wake up and walk down to the kitchen to find Nasir and Agron being gross and cute and his mom making them breakfast while laughing at them—

Not this…

This half-life where his mama is gone and his brother may never be able to use his hands again and Nasir can’t bring himself to stray from Agron’s side for longer than ten minutes at a time and everyone is so damned sad all the time.

“Come, kleiner Neffe,” Saxa drawls eventually. “Let’s go make fun of old rich people trying to suck up to your dad.” She stands gracefully and brushes off her dress, extending her hand towards Duro to drag him up from his desk chair. He grudgingly allows her to do so and to drag him down the stairs, where they’re immediately swamped by said old rich people.

He feels like he spends hours talking to people, but he’s never felt more… alone.

He catches a glimpse of Agron and Nasir, who are standing by the fireplace together, Agron leaning heavily on Nasir’s shoulder, both hands still bandaged and bruises on his arms and face in the later stages of healing, turning yellow and green. Duro has yet to see them separately since the accident, and though he knows—he knows, okay—that they’re just trying to recover and deal with everything too, it feels like they’ve just decided to leave him out of it altogether.

Agron hadn’t even tried to hug him when mama had died. He’d been too busy holding Nasir, crying quiet tears of his own that dripped into the younger man’s hair as they stood and waited for mama to take her last breath after all machines had been turned off.

Duro swallows thickly and turns away from his big brother and his best friend.

His mama just died.

He’s too tired and too hurt and too sad to deal with them right now.

He doesn’t really care all that much anymore to begin with.

Nothing really seems to matter anymore.

He just wants mama back.

December 2008 Almasi household, Brussels, Belgium

“Truth or dare!”

Both Duro and Nasir groan dramatically when Naevia Almasi’s shout is heard above all other suggestions for games to play before they go to the Christmas party held at Agron, Duro and Nasir’s house, but they are quickly outnumbered by their classmates, who seem all too eager to make fools of themselves.

“Fine,” Duro whines, kicking at Nasir’s leg petulantly when the other boy elbows him in the ribs. “Fine.”

“It’ll be fun,” Naevia insists, long curled hair bouncing around her shoulders as she leans forward to smile at him. Diona, sitting by her side with a more demure, shy smile, eyes Naevia somewhat distrustfully, but doesn’t say anything to deter her friend from her plans. He looks away quickly, before the girl can catch him staring—again—because he doesn’t want to be creepy, and he’s still not quite over the disappointment he’d felt when they had first spoken to each other and he had realized she wasn’t the one to utter his words, no matter how much he’d hoped she would be.

He’d had a crush on Diona since she joined his school and Naevia came to Nasir’s school in September, having moved to Brussels with their adoptive parents for their father’s job.

Nasir had befriended Naevia almost immediately, and brought her and Diona over to the house a few times to do homework and hang out together, and Duro had hoped he could meet Diona more easily like that too, but it had still taken him a month and a half to gather up enough courage to actually say anything to her, and he had been crushed when the words she first said to him were not his words—not even close.

Chadara, one of Nasir’s other close friends, had been the only one to notice he’d acted a little different towards Diona afterwards, and Duro can’t even begin to express how much it hurt that his supposed best friend couldn’t even see these things anymore.

Had he and Nasir really grown apart that much in so little time?

“I’ll start!” Naevia exclaims, dragging him from his depressing thoughts, bouncing up and down in her seat as she aims a devilish grin towards Nasir and—oh. Oh.

He sees where this is going now.

They probably should have known that a game of truth or dare would turn into an opportunity to wheedle more information about the soulbond and Nasir’s relationship with Agron.

Their friends are unduly fascinated with Duro’s big brother and it’s a little disgusting to think about, because he knows they’re all a little too interested in knowing whether or not Nasir and Agron are sleeping together yet, and Duro really does not want to know about his best friend’s sex life—or lack thereof—with his older brother.

Besides.

They’re all way too young to actually have a sex life, aren’t they?

Nasir is four months shy of sixteen, sure, but Duro is barely fifteen, and most of their friends are younger than he is too, and Duro has never even had a girlfriend for any length of time, and he knows none of the others have either. Nasir is the only one of them that has anything resembling a relationship, and he’s pretty sure Nasir and Agron have been purposefully not doing anything sexual yet, because Agron is almost twenty and Nasir barely sixteen and it’s a little scary—and…

Well, the whole soulmate thing complicates things rather than simplifies them.

Nasir had told him once that when he and Agron would take the next step in their relationship, their soulbond would solidify and ensure a more intimate relationship than they would be capable of having right now, with Agron studying in Ghent and Nasir finishing high school in Brussels.

“Truth or dare, Nasir?”

The words drag Duro from his thoughts and he chuckles a little at the weary sigh that falls from Nasir’s lips before he replies. “Truth, then. Let’s get it over with.” The girls in the group squeal, and Duro aims a desperate look towards Pietros, who looks back with an expression that tells him he, too, is all too resigned to their fate.

Naevia grins wickedly and leans forward, biting her lower lip in contemplation before she asks, blunt as ever, “So have you and Agron done it yet?”

The entire group whistles, catcalling and winking when Nasir blushes deeply, shaking his head as he tries to avoid the question, begging Naevia for a different one. Honestly, Duro wouldn’t mind a game of truth or dare where things weren’t about Agron and Nasir for fucking once.

Neavia, however, is relentless, refusing to take back the question, ribbing Nasir until he finally snaps. “Fuck the Gods,” Nasir exclaims exasperatedly, rubbing a hand through his hair. “No, we haven’t. Can we just not bring it up again? What I do or don’t do with Agron is really no one’s business but ours.”

Duro exhales in relief, because often, Nasir would indulge people, blushing and shy as he did so. Not because he liked the attention—Duro had known him long enough to know better—but because Nasir didn’t know how to say ‘no’ to people’s genuine curiosity.

Agron, on the other hand, was more likely to bite someone’s face off if they asked questions of slightly too intimate nature. It’s a miracle he and Spartacus had remained friends for as long as they had.

The group surrounding them boos in disappointment, but Nasir remains firm and turns to Duro instead, demanding, “Truth or dare?” before anyone can protest or try to wheedle more out of him.

Duro only sighs.

It’s going to be a long night.

Müller household, Brussels, Belgium

There is cheery Christmas music playing and their house is filled with his father’s coworkers, all dressed in appropriately fancy clothes while waiters wind their way between the guests, carrying trays of hors d’oeuvres and flutes of champagne and orange juice, and Duro swears he hates everything about it.

He is not feeling particularly festive, and if his father hadn’t threatened to ground him until next year, he would have locked himself in his room and played video games all night instead.

Their lives had turned into an endless parade of dinner dates and handshaking, their father insisting on showing a united front as a family, even after such devastating loss, and Duro almost felt like he’d lost his entire family the day his mother died.

It’s not like he hadn’t still spent time with his brother and with Nasir in the nearly two years that followed, but mostly that Nasir and Agron have barely spent any time apart at all since the accident. Agron had graduated on schedule, but postponed starting university until the bond between him and Nasir had settled down a little again, which took the better part of six months.

Agron had only taken classes during the second semester of that year, and postponed actually moving to Ghent until Nasir finished high school and could join him. Their father had been making noises about possibly asking a woman he worked with out on a date, and everyone is moving forward, planning for the future, except for him.

They’re all leaving him behind, and it doesn’t feel like anyone’s even going to miss him.

“What are you doing here in a corner all by yourself?” He looks up to find Diona standing before him, black locks braided back to keep them from falling into her eyes, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she looks up at him.

His breath catches in his throat, but he manages to smile—he thinks so anyway—at her as she hands him a flute of orange juice and bumps their shoulders together playfully.

“Just trying to avoid the old ladies that want to pinch my cheeks and tell me how grown up I’m looking,” he replies grumpily, rolling his eyes when an elderly lady with grey hair piled on top of her head and an entirely unflattering pink dress reaches out to pinch and pat Agron’s cheek, disregarding that she can barely reach his cheek at all, and ignoring Nasir’s baffled expression from where he stands with Naevia, a little behind Agron.

“I’m sorry about Naevia,” Diona says quietly, reaching out to touch his arm, and Duro tries desperately to pretend that his skin isn’t tingling where hers brushed over it. “Earlier. She just wanted to tease Nasir. He’s been so close-lipped about Agron… We were just curious.”

“Yeah,” he snorts, looking away from Diona to where his brother and Nasir are standing, Agron’s arm casually tossed around Nasir’s shoulders as Nasir leans into him. “People always are.”

Diona is silent by his side, and he feels bad immediately, because at least she is trying to talk to him. Most people try to ignore him because he is the younger, insignificant brother—the one that did not meet his soulmate at ten and that did not beat the odds and who managed to graduate with honors without losing the soulmate connection or falling into bed with someone else while waiting for his soulmate to reach the moment they’d be ready to enter into an actual relationship.

“Sorry,” he sighs, turning back to Diona and offering her a soft smile. “People have always been really weird about the whole soulmate thing. I just get a little tired of it.”

“I can imagine,” Diona offers empathetically. “I promise I won’t bring it up tonight.”

And she doesn’t.

They spend hours talking in the corner, filching snacks and drinks from the passing waiters and mocking the other guest’s fashion choices, and Duro feels lighter and happier than he has in a very long time. Diona is funnier and livelier than he had ever thought she was, and she likes comic books and skating too, and Duro is just a little bit in love with her by the time that most guests are filtering out of the house.

There’s still music playing and there’s some people dancing, swaying lazily to old tunes that all of them know by heart, and Duro’s stomach clenches when he catches sight of Agron and Nasir wrapped in each other’s arms, trading soft kisses as they sway to the music.

“They are cute though,” Diona pipes up from beside him, bumping their shoulders together playfully so he’ll look at her again. He must admit he much prefers looking at her. “I think we could do better, don’t you?” she adds, winking at him when he gapes at her, unsure of what to do or say to that.

She just laughs at him and tugs on his hand until they’re stood in the middle of the makeshift dancefloor, slinging her arms around his neck while he gingerly puts his around her waist, feeling slightly nauseated, because he has no idea what he’s doing or what this means. Does this mean that she likes him, too? That it doesn’t matter that they’re not soulmates?

How can it not matter though?

He knows his parents weren’t soulmates, and he knows a lot of people never meet their soulmate and that they have happy relationships anyway, but seeing the way Agron and Nasir are together, Duro has always kind of expected to eventually find his own soulmate and have the same kind of relationship—he has no idea what to do with having feelings for someone who isn’t his soulmate.

It’s scary.

“Hey,” Diona says quietly, drawing his attention back to her. “You know we don’t actually have to make this into something more, right?” Her voice is kind but he can tell she’s disappointed, despite keeping a sweet smile on her lips as she looks up at him.

“I kind of want to though,” he admits gingerly, his heart beating a mile a minute as he watches her smile transform from shy and small to wide and bright as the sun.

“Yeah?”

He nods shakily. “Yeah.”

They’ve stopped swaying at that point, and Duro’s breath catches in his throat when she leans up onto the tips of her toes and draws him in, sharing a breath before their lips brush—

He would swear his heart stops beating for a split second before it starts racing. It’s his first kiss and he has no idea what it’s supposed to feel like, but he hadn’t expected it to be so simple. Their lips press together chastely and her lips are really soft and taste like blueberry chapstick, and he kind of wants to press harder, hold her tighter, but he doesn’t dare to because he doesn’t know how or even if that’s something she wants from him.

He really should have listened more when Nasir told him about kissing Agron the first time.

Finally Diona leans back, breaking the kiss and smiling softly at him.

“I’d never done that before,” he blurts, cheeks burning with heat when Diona chuckles. “I don’t have any idea what to do now.”

“It’s okay,” Diona grins, pulling him in again. “We can figure that out together.”

That sounds like a pretty good compromise to him.

June 2011 Hoofdstedelijk Atheneum Karel Buls, Brussels, Belgium

“These students graduate with high honor in Greek-Latin Sciences: Claire Cocquyt, Chadara Cornelissen, Nasir Labaton—”

Duro cheers loudly along with Agron and Spartacus, disregarding the disapproving looks other parents cast upon them, laughing at Nasir’s furious blush as he moves to the front of the auditorium to receive his diploma from his class teacher. Duro’s high school graduation had taken place the previous day, and his brother, Nasir, and their friends had caused just as much embarrassment for him when his name was called.

He looks forward to spending their evening celebrating their respective graduations, away from his and Agron’s father, who has not even bothered to show up to Nasir’s graduation, as though Nasir had not been living with them for the past thirteen years.

As if Nasir is not going to be a part of their family for the rest of their lives.

“Are you sure you will not join us, brother?” Agron asks quietly as they retake their seats, never once tearing his eyes from Nasir, who is waiting for the rest of his classmates to receive their diplomas before retaking his own seat. “We would not have you left behind.”

Nasir and Agron are set to leave for a holiday the day after next, their first together as a couple. They had invited him along, but Duro has very little interest in tagging along on their love-fest. Now that Nasir has graduated and he and Agron are set to move in together in August, so Nasir can begin his studies at the University of Ghent while Agron finishes his Master’s degree, Duro is pretty sure it’ll take them only hours of being alone together to take the last steps to complete their soulbond.

“I have no interest in being a third wheel, Agron,” he sighs, nudging his brother with a grin.

Agron makes a face, and Duro knows he probably feels guilty, for being so caught up in his plans for the future with Nasir, but he can’t find the words to relieve said guilt.

The three of them had taken care, in the past years, to repair their relationship as much as they could, but Duro is reluctant to admit that resentment still burns deep within, to see his brother and his best friend so happily planning for their future without much regard for Duro’s plans.

He’s even more reluctant to admit that he really just wants what they have.

“We’ve told you,” Agron whispers as Nasir’s principal steps up to speak again. “You’re more than welcome to bring someone along. I know you and Pietros—”

“Don’t,” Duro hisses sharply, drawing his eyes away from the front of the room to glare at his brother. “Don’t you dare. You know Pietros and I haven’t—there’s nothing…” He breaks off and shakes his head, rubbing his hands through his curled hair. “Just drop it, okay?”

Agron taps his fingers on the back of Duro’s hand in apology, but drops the subject of Duro’s love life, or lack thereof, as requested. It does not, however, stop Duro’s mind from continuing on, thoughts drifting to Pietros and their reasons for not starting anything even closely resembling a relationship right now.

It’s only common sense, honestly.

Duro is set to spend a year in Germany, taking his first year at university in the city where he was born, while Pietros is staying in Belgium, having taken and passed the entrance exam for medical school. It would be weird for them to start dating so soon after Duro and Diona had broken up, even though the main reason they had broken up was that Duro had feelings for Pietros and knew those feelings were reciprocated.

He and Diona had been together off and on for the past three years, and they’d only properly broken things off two months ago, when Duro had kissed Pietros on a dare and hadn’t thought to stop, despite all of their friends and his girlfriend watching them.

So honestly, while he and Pietros both wanted, they both agreed now was not the time.

Duro swallows thickly and looks down, shaking his head a little. Besides, by the time he’ll be back next year, Pietros might very well have met his own soulmate, or moved on in general.

Duro might meet someone in München.

There’re endless possibilities, and he would not lose a really good friend because they chose to give into their hormones at the wrong time.

He is only drawn from his thoughts when applause sounds yet again and all graduating classes get to their feet again before they scatter towards their families in the audience. Duro shakes his melancholy thoughts and stands up, first to catch a jubilant Nasir in his arms as the other man cheers, nearly dropping the folder containing his diploma and other documents as he thumps Duro on the back enthusiastically. “We’re done!” Nasir exclaims, leaning back from the hug with a smile so wide, it has to be hurting his cheeks. “We’re finished, Duro!”

Nasir’s enthusiasm and excitement is contagious, and soon Duro’s forgotten his troubled thoughts, laughing along with his best friend, sharing teasing remarks as they flip through the folder with Nasir’s report card and diploma for only a moment before Agron swoops in with boisterous laughter and sweeps Nasir off his feet into a bear hug while Duro and Spartacus watch in amusement.

“I am so proud of you,” Agron tells Nasir in a tender whisper that Duro is sure isn’t meant for his ears. “Du bist ein Wunder, mein Schatz.” Duro diligently pretends not to have heard his brother’s sappy declaration even as Nasir coos and tiptoes to press his lips to Agron’s for a far-from-appropriate kiss.

“Come,” Spartacus finally interrupts, breaking Nasir and Agron apart with practiced ease. “There’s free drinks at the reception, and then we have a party to get to.”

Duro grins, because they have been going to parties non-stop this week—tonight is the last they’ll all be able to attend together for a while though, and he would make the most of it. “Come on then,” he exclaims happily, squeezing himself between Agron and Nasir before tossing an arm around each of their shoulders. “Let’s get to the free booze part!”

They’re going to have fun.

Cocquyt household, Brussels, Belgium

The night really doesn’t go as he’d planned.

“Pietros,” he whines, a breathless gasp falling from his lips as the other boy scrapes his teeth over Duro’s earlobe. “Pietros, shit, I thought we weren’t—we’re not supposed to—”

“Shut up, Duro,” Pietros chuckles against his skin, pressing up against Duro until all he can feel is the weight of Pietros’ body against his. “I know you want this, too… Let’s just have this. Let’s just enjoy ourselves and stop thinking all the damned time.”

Duro gasps as Pietros kisses down his throat, nipping at the skin there almost aggressively.

“But what about—”

“I don’t care about him,” Pietros cuts him off almost viciously, sounding so wholly unlike himself for a moment that Duro pushes him back, startled by the sudden change in mood.

To be perfectly honest, the entire night had baffled him, from witnessing his brother trying to swallow Nasir’s lips to seeing Pietros meet a tall, dark-haired man that spoke the words curved around Pietros’ neck. His heart had broken, because he’d seen his chance with Pietros slip away before they’d even gotten the chance to try to be something more—

And then the other man had shoved Pietros away, and though Duro had been too far away to hear the words that were exchanged, he’d seen the way Pietros’ shoulders had drooped, even before he had stormed back over to Duro and demanded drinks and dancing. It hadn’t taken too much longer for them to end up in an empty bedroom with Pietros’ tongue in Duro’s mouth after that.

“I don’t care about some guy I just met,” Pietros repeats, softer this time, smoothing his hands down Duro’s chest. “And even if I had, he didn’t want me anyway. I don’t care about a man that I don’t know, Duro, soulmate or not. I care about you, okay?”

Pietros’ eyes are wide and sincere, and Duro’s heart squeezes a little in his chest before he nods shakily, barely managing to smile before Pietros’ lips are on his again, his hands soft but insistent on Duro’s cheeks. Duro kisses him back, slipping his fingers in the other man’s curled hair for purchase, gasping against Pietros’ lips when he deepens the kiss, tugging Duro’s shirt up until they have to break the kiss to tug it over his head.

Duro grins a little at the breathless look of desire Pietros gives him and pulls him back in, the kiss messier this time, with clacking teeth and too much tongue and Duro loves every second of it.

Pietros’ hold on his hair is just on the right edge of painful as he drags Duro’s head back, mouthing his way down Duro’s throat with hot, open-mouthed kisses. “Fuck,” Duro moans, heart pounding as he allows himself to get lost in Pietros.

The world tilts alarmingly for a moment when Pietros manoeuvres them onto the bed, his lips once again occupying Duro’s in a downright filthy kiss, and Duro vaguely thinks that he wants to kill whoever taught Pietros to kiss like this out of sheer jealousy. They grapple for control for a while, feverishly attempting to unbutton trousers without breaking the kiss.

Duro groans, eyes rolling back in his head and blunt fingernails digging into Pietros’ shoulders when Pietros bites down on the skin just above his collarbone before soothing over the mark with his tongue.

“Pietros,” he whines, slipping his hands down Pietros’ back to his bottom, pulling his hips down to grind on his own and holy fucking shit—

Pietros shudders in his arms, his eyes slipping shut for a short moment before he moves to straddle Duro’s legs, slipping his fingers between Duro’s and drawing their hands up until they’re resting above Duro’s head. “Keep them there,” Pietros tells him, his eyes dark and pupils blown wide before he leans in for a slower, deeper kiss than before. Duro’s eyes flutter shut as Pietros slides his tongue along his own in an erotic kiss that Duro has never experienced before.

Holy shit.

The kiss grows more frantic and desperate, and Duro almost thinks… No, he knows Pietros is trying to claim his territory. He finds that, as Pietros rakes his fingernails over Duro’s nipples and grinds their cocks against one another, he does not mind being marked as Pietros’ one bit.

He cannot quite contain the whimper that falls from his lips, and he can feel Pietros smile.

Pietros’ hands skim down Duro’s chest, slipping his fingers underneath the waistband of Duro’s trousers and tugging them down impatiently. He can’t suppress a gasp when his erection is freed and arches into Pietros’ touch when the younger man wraps his fingers around his length.

Pietros hums amusedly against his lips before breaking the kiss. “Someone’s excited,” he mutters, and Duro wants to smack—or kiss—that mischievous grin from Pietros’ lips.

“Jesus fuck, Pietros,” Duro groans, reaching up to tangle his fingers in Pietros’ hair. “Get on with it, you fucking tease.”

“Watch who you’re calling a tease, pretty boy,” Pietros murmurs as he kisses his way down Duro’s chest, gazing up at Duro from beneath his lashes, lips pressing a kiss to the tip of Duro’s cock as he wraps his fingers around the base. Duro’s head falls back onto the pillow, relishing in the delicious feel of Pietros’ hands and lips on him, moaning loudly as he tugs on Pietros’ hair.

It feels so much better than he’d ever even imagined.

He’s not got much experience with boys, but holy hell, Pietros is ruining him for everyone that will come after him. He’s so close, teetering on the edge, his fingers tangled in Pietros’ curls, when the door to the bedroom they’re in slams open.

“What the fuck!” Duro exclaims, watching as the man who had spoken Pietros’ words—Pietros’ soulmate, a treacherous little voice in the back of his mind whispers—rights himself, fingers clenched in another man’s shirt, their lips swollen and pupils blown wide. “Knock next time,” Duro hisses, watching as the blond shoots Pietros a venomous look before dragging the tall dark-headed man outside again, slamming the door behind them.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath before he turns back to Pietros, who is still kneeling on the bed, eyes wide and swollen lips parted as he stares at the door. His fingers are rubbing at the soulmark, and Duro has seen both his brother and Nasir repeat the motion often enough to know what it means.

“Do you feel the draw?” he asks slowly, unsure of whether he actually wants to know.

“It itches,” Pietros croaks, drawing his gaze back to Duro and Duro’s heart nearly shatters at the sound of agony in Pietros’ voice. It hurts more than anything else ever would—knowing that much as Pietros might like—even love—him now, he will always ache for the other man in some capacity, even if they did not complete the initial stages of bonding, and there’s nothing they can do to change that.

He falls silent, unsure of what to do or say when Pietros shudders and leans into him, curling his fingers back in Duro’s hair. “Kiss me again,” he demands, climbing into Duro’s lap.

“Whatever you want,” Duro breathes, tangling his fingers in Pietros’ hair as he presses kisses to his jaw. “I’m all yours, Pietros. Whatever you want.”

Pietros is quiet only for a second before he grinds himself down on Duro’s still painful hard-on.

“I only want you.”

Duro has to admit he is only too happy to oblige.

August 2011 Zaventem International Airport, Brussels, Belgium

Duro paces impatiently, tapping his foot against the tiled floors as he glances up to the large sign that shows his flight number and gate. He’s got an hour to get through security and board the damned plane and still there’s no sign of his brother or his best friend.

“They’ll be here.”

He turns back to where Pietros, Diona, and Naevia are standing beside his carry-on bag, having already checked in the rest of his luggage.

“They were supposed to be here an hour ago,” Duro spits, grinding his teeth in frustration as he checks his watch again. Agron was supposed to drive Duro to the airport and see him off, with Nasir joining them, of course, because it’d be the last time they’d see each other for months, and Duro liked to think that they at least cared enough to tear themselves from their bed for a couple of hours.

“I’m sure they just got held up in traffic,” Naevia offers, though she sounds less certain than she would like, Duro’s sure. It’s not the first time Nasir and Agron have stood them up since they’d completed their soulbond in July and it’s getting a little old.

“I’ll just try calling Nasir again,” Diona suggests sheepishly, moving a little away from him and Pietros, with Naevia trailing behind her as she mutters about getting them all some coffee while they wait.

“Duro,” Pietros says quietly as he steps closer, their fingers tangling together. “They’ll be here. You know they love you, that they want to be here to say goodbye to you.” Duro sighs heavily but doesn’t reply, all too familiar with Agron and Nasir’s tendency to forget the world by now to really try to say anything on the subject anymore.

He’s just… so done with them sidelining him in his own damn life.

“Can we… Let’s just not talk about them, please?” he requests quietly, leaning his forehead against his… whatever he and Pietros are at this point.

Pietros chuckles, and they are close enough that Duro can feel the other man’s breath on his lips, and he knows he needs but tilt his head forward to be kissing him again—as they’ve been doing practically without coming up for air for the past month. “What do you want to talk about then?”

“Who says I want to talk at all?” he breathes, leaning in to brush his lips across Pietros’ before a mechanical voice interrupts them, calling out Duro’s flight number and gate, reminding all passengers that boarding will begin soon.

“Fuck,” he breathes, pulling away from Pietros in disappointment, something deep inside his chest squeezing when he realizes that he has to go, and he’ll have to do it without saying goodbye to his big brother or his best friend. He shoots one more furtive glance around the boarding hall before he shakes his head and turns back to Pietros, pressing a quick, deep kiss to his lips before pulling back.

“I am going to miss you,” Pietros sighs sadly, pressing his fingers to Duro’s cheek in an attempt to keep him close . “Don’t fall in love with someone else while you’re over there.”

The words are said as a joke, Duro knows, but the possibility still exists, and it hurts both of them.

“I won’t,” he promises, smiling half-heartedly as he kisses Pietros one more time before turning to Diona and Naevia, who throw their arms around him to hug him tightly, whispering soft goodbyes and pleas not to forget them while in Germany.

“Guys,” he chuckles, carefully extracting himself from their embrace. “It’s only like a seven-hour drive. The flight is a little over an hour. Come visit me. I’ll come see you guys for Christmas or something.”

Naevia nods, and though her eyes shimmer with tears, she offers him a bright grin and shoves him towards the security desks. “Go already, Müller. We’ll see you in December.”

Duro smirks but does as she says, grabbing his backpack from the floor and shooting one more furtive glance towards the doors, wishing for his big brother to run through them, to sweep him up in one of those great bear hugs and apologize—

The fantasy bursts when a gaggle of tourists step through the doors instead, and Duro swallows thickly, disappointment and hurt aching deep within his chest.

He doesn’t know why he thought this time might be different.

Agron and Nasir have always gotten too caught up in each other to stop and think about Duro and what he needs and wants. It’s only gotten worse since they completed the last steps to seal the soulbond—really, he should have known better than to expect anything.

Pietros catches his eye again, offering a soft, tender smile that lifts Duro’s heart to better spirits without even trying, and he shudders out a deep sigh, returning the smile before turning to the security desks.

Screw them.

He’s got his own path to walk now, and if he has to do it without Nasir and Agron…

Well…

So be it.

#nagron #ss ducky #(eventually)#duro x pietros #barca x pietros #auctus x barca #soulmate AU #duro #nasir #agron #barca of carthage #auctus #spartacus #mira #naevia #crixus #fanfiction #duro x auctus x barca x pietros

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