#prolly fall into a deep sadness for awhile | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cham-chammity · 3 years

Text

Drunk Striker (Fanfic Oneshot)

~~~~~~~

Background info (TW: mention of suic!de):

In my AU or whatever you wanna call it, Striker was raised by his dad (Buck) and his aunt (Cassandra). Striker's mother died at childbirth, so Cassie helped her little brother Buck raise Striker. Buck suffered from Depression and a Panic Attack disorder (Striker inherited the panic attack part). Because of this, it lead to Buck commiting suicide about a year and a half prior to Striker joining I.M.P. Striker's parents were only 16/17 when he was born, so partially due to the shorter age gap he was very close with his dad. My oneshot takes place around the two-year anniversary of his dad's death.

~~~~~~~

The taste of hot, straight whiskey burned Striker's throat as his lips met the one of two newly opened bottles of alcohol he purchased. He let out a relieved breath, as the western imp hadn't drank good whiskey since he last left Wrath. He also needed a distraction from the gut-wrenching memories trying to re-surface themselves in his head, memories he knew he'd be sobbing himself to sleep if he didn't force back down.

Taking another swig, Striker plopped down at the kitchen counter and took off his hat. The one dim light above him illuminated a sickly yellow glow, causing the bottle in the imp's hand to look like an old bottle of piss. Striker smiled at the thought, Blitz definitely would say something like that in the current situation. Speaking of his boyfriend, his small smile turned into a frown. Blitz wouldn't be home for awhile since he insisted he go spend the night out with Barbie. She was barely out of rehab; the twins hadn't seen each other in months. But that wasn't the driving reason why he told Blitz to go out for this particular evening. He didn't want Blitz to see him like... this. Striker needed to stay strong for Blitz, he couldn't let his mate see the weak, sad, drunk side of him. Blitz would probably just tell him to man up and push through it. Striker was strong. He can handle these things on his own. He didn't need comfort. Just a few drinks and sleep and he'll be good. Right?

Striker sat there taking in as much of the burning liquid he could handle, like a parched cactus in the dryest possible desert. Blackout drunk wasn't his go-to--nor his favorite--way out of these things. But it did the job. Sure, he knew how unhealthy it was, but at least he wasn't one of those 24/7 drunk-ass rednecks that did it thrice a week.

Striker was barely finished with the first bottle when the sound of familiar footsteps approached the door to their apartment. The door swung open and Blitz loudly barged in (per the usual), catching Striker comepletely off-gaurd.

"Hey babe, I'm back! You will not believe what-- whoah, why is it so goddamn dark in here?" Striker hissed and squinted as Blitz turned on the brighter kitchen lights, adding to the throbbing headache Striker could feel coming.

shit, Striker thought to himself. He isn't supposed to be home for another hour.

"You're back early, though' you'd be out for another hourer.. ssso." Blitz cocked his head in concern as Striker spoke. His accent was thicker than usual. He also doesn't normally do the hissy s thing unless he meant to or was drunk. And judging by the nearly-empty bottle of whiskey along with Striker's distraught appearance, he was definitely drunk.

"Babe, why have you been drinking? Alone? Basically in the dark?"

"Ssssno big reason, juss... ta pleasure mahselfss' all."

Blitz stood in thought for a moment. Striker never drank 'just because'. He always had good reasoning behind it, so something definitely was up. The crimsom imp walked over and sat down next to his mate.

"I came home earlier because I'm worried about you. You've been acting... off the past few days. You've hardly been eating, you're quiet, withdrawn... and I can tell you're tired as well. Now I'm really glad I came home early seeing you're trying to pass yourself out with a bottle of alcoholic-looking piss."

Striker sighed and lazily rested his head on a propped up arm. "Yeah, you're right ah guess," he muttered softly.

"So tell me, what's wrong?"

Striker sucked in a sharp breath at the question. "Iss nothin' ah can't handle on mah own. I'm alrigh'. I'll prolly juss go on n' hit the hay fer t'night."

As Striker stood from his seat, a blotched hand grabbed his arm yanking him back down on the stool he was sitting on.

"No."

"Wut?"

"I said no, Striker. There is clearly something wrong and I need to know what it is. I'm not going to let you shove it under the rug. And you definitely, by the looks of it, can't handle it on your own."

Striker looked at the floor, feeling nothing but shame for his weakened state. "Ah can't let ya see me like this though. Ah need ta be strong fer ya Blitz..."

A hand gently angled Striker's head up as calm, yellow eyes met tired, blown-out ones. "Hey, who was it that said no matter who you are, everyone has something deep under the tip of the iceberg?"

Striker took a moment to think before responding. "Ah did?"

"Yes. Who was it that said no matter what, there is going to be something dark in everyone's past?"

"Ah did."

"And who was it that said they'd help me heal those deep wounds and be there for me and stay with me every step of the way?"

"Ah did."

"You did, Striker! And you still continue to help me. But here's the thing, babe... our relationship here is a two-way street. I'd be quite an ass of a boyfriend if I wasn't here for you as much as you are for me. You are the strongest, bravest imp I know. You've always been strong for me and I know you always will. And just becuase you're vulnerable, doesn't make you weak."

Striker sat in stunned silence for a few long moments, before finally giving in.

"Mah dad. Two years ago t'day. He uh.. he passed." Blitz listened as Striker slowly slurred out the words, the crack in the taller imp's voice ripping a tear through his heart. He'd never seen or heard Striker close to crying before, let alone actually cry at all. "We were..." A long pause. "We were very close." Blitz wrapped his hands in Striker's and gave them a tight squeeze. "Ah misss him sss...sso goddamn much."

And with that, Striker broke. He finally let out the loud, ugly sobs he'd been gulping down the past hour. Blitz embraced him in a tight hug and wrapped their tails together, gently rocking his mate side to side while softly stroking his hair. Striker's shoulders violently shook as he took in harsh gasps and let out heart-wrenching sobs.

Blitz felt tears brimming in his own eyes at the sound of his lover's painful grief, the sharp claws tightly gripping at his shirt causing him to hug his lover tighter.

Neither imps knew how long Striker cried for, but once his sobs calmed down to quiet cries, Blitz helped walk him back to their room. He was pretty tipsy after all.

Blitz helped Striker strip down to his boxers as he did likewise. They both lied down on their bed and Blitz cradled his lover in his arms, placing a soft, gentle kiss on Striker's forehead.

"I love you so much, Striker," he whispered in his ear. "I'm always here for you, as you are for me. Don't ever forget that."

Striker gave Blitz's hand a tight squeez in response. He was too drunk and tired to muster any words, as well as his soft cries blocked any other noises that dared escape his mouth. But the hand squeez was more than enough for Blitz. He held Striker tightly the rest of the night, the taller imp fading in and out of crying spells before eventually entirely passing out.

Blitz refused to fall asleep until all he could hear was the soft breathing from his mate in his arms. As Blitz was finally able to drift to sleep himself, he was thinking up of some hangover breakfast ideas to make for his partner in the morning. Or afternoon, that'd work too. Striker needed the sleep after all.

~~~~~~

I originally post my fanfiction on my Wattpad (@cam-illeon). Hope y'all enjoy!! I might do a Drunk Striker pt. ll

#helluva boss #helluva blitzo #striker x blitzo #blitzo helluva boss #helluva striker #striker helluva boss #blitzo x striker #blitzo #helluva boss blitzo #blitzker #blitzstrike #hb striker #hb blitzo #hb blitzker #helluva boss fanfiction #fanfiction

76 notes · View notes

vanchlo · 4 years

Text

The Assistant / Chapter Forty-Five, “Evermore”

*Gif’s not mine*

Clickable Links:

- Masterlist feat. all chapters and Character Surveys

- Inspo tag

- Hecky Playlist

- Read on Wattpad

- Warnings: Mentions of hospital care

- Word Count: 7k words

“Her face is stuck in every place.

The front door, the ghost of her winter boots on the door mat, the barstools at the kitchen island where we laughed over glasses of her Rebecca wine, the crusty banana bread forgotten on the counter, the head of the kitchen table where we burned our mouths on pot pie, and that’s not even the worst of it. The blanket from Sunday night remains in a messy pile on the sofa, just how we had left it. My chest shakes harder with another sob at the sight of it, and the wine glasses I had forgotten on the coffee table beside the bottles of nail polish.

Memories flood my insides when I sink onto the cushions, my head in my hands as her laugh from only three days ago fills my ears.”

Music Inspo: Hold My Girl by George Ezra (click to listen)

“Life moves on, whether we act as cowards or heroes. Life has no other discipline to impose, if we would but realize it, than to accept life unquestioningly. Everything we shut our eyes to, everything we run away from, everything we deny, denigrate or despise, serves to defeat us in the end. What seems nasty, painful, evil, can become a source of beauty, joy, and strength, if faced with an open mind. Every moment is a golden one for him who has the vision to recognize it as such.”

― Henry Miller

I’m woken from my dreams due to movements within my arms. Knuckling at my eyes with a groan, I look around, feeling regrettable about the reality that I had come back to. The one that I was previously immersed in was far better, and brings a reminiscent smile to my lips at the remembrance of. Settling my eyes on her, wrapped up safely inside of my arms, my lazy lips curl into a larger smile at the thought.

Her with her own arms holding a blue-eyed, dark-haired little baby with me at her side. Talk about dreamy.

Her forehead is warm underneath my lips, and soft as ever. The creamy vanilla lotion she uses leaves hints of the fragrance across her face, one of the few necessities Skye grabbed from home today. I brush away the loose waves that drape over her skin, but within seconds, I wish that I hadn’t when I find the stitches and colors claiming her.

A noise interrupts my thoughts and when I look up, the nurse is standing at my side clearing her throat. Her arms are crossed over her chest and she’s shaking her head at me.

“Harry,” she sighs, wagging a finger at me dramatically.

“Kristi, I know, ‘m not s’posed t’ be up here. ‘m sorry, but she was hysterical from a nightmare, and I couldn’t get her t’ calm down,” I confess in a dry voice.

Relenting with a sigh, she whispers her reply, “Alright, but you need to be careful of her IV tubing, as well as her injuries. I don’t want anybody else in her family thinking that we allow this kind of thing,” she pauses to wink, and I nod with understanding. “I’m glad you mentioned the nightmare, though, that’s something that I need to record.”

She follows up her lecture with a few quiet questions about the nightmare Becks had, and she types them in the laptop she brought in with her. Her eyebrows greeted her hairline when I mentioned Becks saying that she’s starting to remember, and that being the sole reason for the nightmare.

It could never feel sufficient, the number of whispery kisses I press to her battered skin, asleep or not. Bloody hell, is she so beautiful, I muse while admiring Becks below me, sleeping peacefully. Finally. I never want to stop kissing her, but soon after those thoughts sound in my skull, my heavy eyelids yell for me to close them. Giving in, they win and I fall into the soundest sleep I’ve had in days.

My own name rouses me from my sleep, and it takes a few moments of adjusting to remember where I am. It’s quicker than yesterday, making me realize how used to all of this I’m getting. I’m not entirely sure how to feel about that, but it’s all washed away when I find the baby blue pair of eyes waiting for me.

“Morning,” she rasps, her voice sounding almost entirely hers now. I couldn’t be happier about it as her head remains on my shoulder, eyes poised towards me.

“G’mornin’, my sweet. How’d ya sleep fer tha rest o’ tha night?” I yawn, tapping her nose with my finger.

“Great,” she smiles and I nod happily, soon echoing her words. “Best I’ve slept here so far.”

“‘m so happy t’ hear that, bug,” I grin and she just stares back at me, something ethereal covering her body in front of me. My, is she something else entirely, I wonder silently. Glancing to my watch, my eyebrows shoot towards the ceiling. “Reckon we both needed it, ‘s bloody ten in tha mornin’, love.”

The softest of laughs tickles my ears, yanking my lips towards the sky effortlessly. There it is, at last, my favorite sound in the entire world. Well, next to her sing-song voice, that’s my favorite song of all.

“I missed hearin’ that,” I whisper, brushing the back of my finger against her satiny cheek. She just continues to smile, and my heart couldn’t feel fuller in this moment.

She’s okay, she’s smiling, she’s laughing, she’s so goddamn beautiful even with bruises and stitches, she’s mine, and she’s okay.

“How’re ya feelin’, bug? I hope I didn’t knock into ya in tha middle o’ tha night, or hurt ya or anythin’.”

“I’m okay, kinda hungry,” she answers, combing a hand through her hair and pausing to scratch an itch. “Head feels heavy and hurts though, and my tummy a little too.”

“That’s good yer hungry, yer appetite ‘s comin’ back. Here, lemme slide out and ‘ll press on yer pain pump.”

“No, Harry,” she objects, grabbing hold of my arm the second I make a movement. “Don’t leave, you’re all warm,” she whines, moving closer to me and grabbing a fistful of my button up in her hand.

Now, it’s my turn to giggle, “‘Kay, but only a few mo’ minutes, I don’t wantcha t’ be in pain, babe,” I coo, beginning to drag my fingers through her hair, but when I watch her eyes close, I stop. I know that she’ll fall back asleep if I do and she needs it, but I’m reminded of the day nurse emphasizing yesterday the importance of her needing to eat. “Don’t fall asleep again yet, bug, ya need yer breakfast. Ya gotta eat t’ heal and get betta.”

“Okay,” she sighs sadly, slowly opening her eyes and looking back up at me.

“Yer eye ‘s lookin’ betta. Reckon it doesn’t help much without yer glasses tho’,” I snicker and her smile grows an inch. “Skye was gonna bring some contacts o’ yers from home t’day, and see if you could wear them. I bet that’d help loads.”

“Yeah,” she hums in reply. “Are you gonna go home too?” Becks asks gently, a curious sadness hidden behind her words. She’s never been very good at hiding her feelings, let alone lying, and I’ve come to be rather good at reading her.

“For a li’l bit, if that’s okay with you.”

“But I’ll miss you,” she answers, looking away to hide the wetness growing in her eyes, but I catch it at the last second. My thumb finds a holding on her chin, and I turn her head to look back at me.

“I won’t be gone long, bug, and it’ll prolly be later when sumbody else can be here with you. Jus’ wanna go home and grab a few things, and shower so I don’t stink anymo’,” I tell her, willing her to look me in the eyes. To my surprise, she does almost the second the thought trickles into my mind. The sight of her glassy eyes wrenches at my heart, and brushing them away with my finger hardly helps. “And t’ pack a bag so I have clothes and me things t’ keep me set here fer awhile so I don’t hafta leave again fer a while, besides showers. ‘ll hafta see if they have a family room o’ sorts t’ take showers here or sumthin’.”

“Okay,” she says, closing her eyes once again. Another tear leaks from her eye and I catch it as soon as it escapes. “Come back.”

“Always, Becks, y’know that,” I tell her, eliciting a nod into my chest.

“I felt so much better sleeping next to you. Safer.”

“Me too, baby. I wish we could do it ev’ry night, I like havin’ ya tucked away in me arms all safe and sound,” I echo, smoothing back her hair before I plant a kiss to the crown of her head. My special spot. “I love you,” I mouth against her hair, much too afraid to let the sounds free from my lips with all that’s going on and the perhaps fluke from the other night. “So much.”

“Stop,” she giggles against my cheek, and I swear, there’s never been a better song written in the whole universe. I continue to scatter kisses across her face, until my last one finds her nose. “Go home, you smell.”

“Hey!” I protest, finding her happy smile with my own two eyes. A sight in and of itself. “I don’t smell.”

“Yes, you do,” Becks giggles, the sound slowly falling away as my eyes find hers. Within a blink, her lips find mine and press a deep kiss to my own. It couldn’t last long enough and then I’m looking into those eyes that I hope and dream my children get to have, but it’s forgotten when hers flood with tears. “I’ll miss you.”

“‘ll be back inn’a hour, love, no longa than that. I promise,” I insist, holding her cheek in my hand, and saddening at her question of what I’m doing again. “‘m goin’ home t’ take a shower, pack a bag, and grab me car. I won’t be long.”

“Oh yeah, I remember you saying that now. I’m sorry, I can’t remember for shit,” she frowns, eyes growing wetter by the second.

“‘s okay, ‘m here t’ help ya rememba. Are ya sure you’ll be okay with me gone for a li’l bit? Skye, yer dad, and Robbie are here. Try t’ get some rest while ‘m gone, ya need it,” I say, drawing waves back and forth on her cheek and pressing a quick kiss to her lips that I can’t resist.

“I’m fine, Harry. I wanna watch Harry Potter.”

“No, ya need t’ sleep, honeybug. Ya watched tha whole second one with me, that’s two and a half hours, Becks. Ya haven’t slept since ya woke up, and that was five hours ago,” I argue, widening my eyes at her and wishing she’d surrender her stubbornness already. “Stop bein’ stubborn,” I giggle, and it only comes harder when her features fall into her famous pout, one that’s harder to resist given the circumstances. She’s just too bloody cute.

“Fine,” she sighs, blinking hard and soon yawning.

“Told ya yer tired, ya gotta listen t’ me sumtimes, cuz ‘m right.”

“No, you’re not,” she smirks, and I roll my eyes with a snicker.

“See ya soon, brat,” I chuckle as her eyes fall closed, pulling the blankets up past her shoulders and tucking them underneath her. The sight of her white arm cast will never get easier, I suspect, but who said that any part of this has gotten easier on Day Two? “‘ll be back inna hour, my sweet. Get some rest, and ‘ll see if tha nurse will let us have a cuddle when I get back. Sweet dreams, Becks.”

“Bye, Harry. Drive safe,” she drawls, words floating away from her as sleep nears her. “Come back.”

“I will, baby. Always,” I hum against her forehead, leaving one last kiss there. Straightening my back, my thumb remains glued to her cheek, only leaving to wipe away the tear that escapes from my eye. “I love you,” I whisper under my breath, taking the first step away from her.

I’ve always found it hard to walk away from her, but I couldn’t hate it more than I do in this very moment. It’s never frightened me so much to leave her, as it does now, seeing as I know how quickly things can change when one leaves.

“She’ll be okay, I’ll sit with her.”

Turning my head, I lose sight of Becks and find Skye waiting a few steps away with a book tucked into her hands.

“Thanks, keep me updated if erm, anythin’ happens.”

“It won’t, but I will, Harry. It’s okay,” she agrees aloud, but my eyes have already ran away from her and back to Becky. Over my shoulder, I can just make out the sounds of her soft snores outside the door of her room. I already miss her, and I haven’t even left her yet, I think as another tear races down my cheek. This keeps happening, I’ve found, but it doesn’t become any easier to leave. “The first time you’ve left her for more than ten minutes, huh?”

“Ya,” I croak, meeting her eyes through my blurry ones. Nodding at her, I lift my leaden feet to take another step. “Take care o’ her fo’ me.”

Her face is stuck in every place.

Memories flood my insides when I sink onto the cushions, my head in my hands as her laugh from only three days ago fills my ears. I can still feel the touch of her knitted jumper between my fingers from that night, the delicacy of her fingers swiping nailpolish over mine, and the sensation of her hands in my hair and her socked foot trailing up my leg underneath the kitchen table. These thoughts fill my head as I drag myself up the stairs, and although she didn’t venture up here that night, I can’t leave her down there. I remember the night she hauled my drunk ass home, even if it was years ago, and helped me into bed. That’s not even touching all of the nights I stared up at the ceiling, longing to hear her voice, and then the nights where I smiled up at it, knowing I’d hear it tomorrow and every day after that.

They threaten to never leave as my wrinkled suit falls to the floor of my bathroom, the sight feeling peculiar and welcomed all in one. Staring at it with a hazy sight, I toss it into the hamper, thinking of possibly burning it until I remember the first day we had at work together in it. Swallowing, the knot within my throat joins the pity party as the hot stream of water cascades down my body. I remain there under the scalding water, observing it disappear down the drain as it washes away the sadness pouring onto my cheeks.

The tears don’t disappear when wrapped in a towel, I sadly smile at the picture Skye sent of Becky smiling lying in bed.

Here’s a smile for you from Ree! She already misses you …. had a little nightmare again but she was okay and I was there. She’s asleep again now, and time for dinner soon. Take your time Harry, she’s ok xx

An onslaught of them now coat my cheeks - regret, anger, and sadness all balled into one being born inside of me at the thought of her waking up scared without me there. Sniffles and whimpers are all that leave me and fill my surroundings as I lay folded clothes inside of the biggest duffel bag I could find, as many joggers, jumpers, t-shirts, and beanies that I can fit before the zipper won’t zip. Only then, do I remember I need to pack other things. Unpacking a few pairs of socks and shirts, I stuff my bag of shower things into the side, chargers, my laptop Myles dropped off from work, deodorant, cologne, a random book I’d always meant to read, vitamins, random snacks, a favorite blanket from the linen closet, and my steel water bottle. I thread a pillow through its handles, glancing over to my unmade bed, missing the person who woke up in it on Monday morning, unbeknownst to the despair and misery that would soon kidnap his happiness.

Exhaling loudly, I drape the strap over my shoulder and begin my steps back to her. I’m coming back, Becks, like I always said I would.

Her soft sounds bounce around the room while the third Harry Potter hums in the background. Finding the remote on her bedside table, I click it off and drown the room in silence. With full hands, I take quiet steps over to her, a smile having already claimed my lips the moment I parked my car. Peace paints her face and I couldn’t be happier being back with my Becks, not wanting to leave her again, and hopefully not again until all of this shit is over.

Her slow breaths tickle my skin when I bend down to press a kiss to her forehead, welcomed by her vanilla scent. Her snoring continues to paint the air as I walk away briefly.

A soft tap! interrupts the absence when I set down the clear vase, swiftly rearranging the stems below me. I leave the small black box beside it and cross the room, leaving my heavy duffel bag on the floor beside the sofa and out of the way.

“Harry?” a voice rasps from behind me. Turning around, I find her little head of dark hair stirring.

“Shh, go back t’ sleep, bug,” I coo, sliding off my coat that I drape over the sofa.

“Are you back or am I dreaming?”

“‘m back, Becks, jus’ got here,” I answer her gently, making quick work of walking over to arrive at her side. “Hi,” I hum happily, feeling a warm jolt to my heart when a smile curls into her cheeks.

“Hi, Harry,” she giggles, a pink at last finding her cheeks.

“Hi, my love,” I smile, dipping down to carefully surround her with my arms and in the process, covering her with kisses. “I told ya I wouldn’t be gone mo’ than an hour. ‘m sorry ya hadda nightmare without me, I hope yer okay . . Hope ya still got some rest.”

“I’m okay, and I did. I’m glad you’re back, I missed you,” she whispers against my neck, pressing a lazy kiss there.

“I missed ya mo’.”

“No, I missed you more,” she argues, a giggle finishing her words. “Most . . I missed you most.”

“Fine, ‘ll give it t’ ya.”

“Good,” she smiles, resigned with success that I find when I pull away to look at her. Shock finds its way back to me at the once again sight of her bruises and stitches after an hour of forgetting them. “You smell good.”

“Why thank you, I took a shower.”

“You look comfy,” she adds on, taking hold of a string from my maroon Rolling Stones hoodie, toying with it between her fingers. The IV tubing dangling from it still sends jolts across my heart.

“I feel betta now, I can tell ya that.”

“Good,” she coos, playing with the second string now too. I can’t resist any longer and steal a random kiss from her lips, finding her blushing smile afterwards. “Aw, did you get me flowers? They’re purple!”

“‘Course they are, I had t’ get yer favourite color, babe,” I answer proudly, stepping away to grab the tall vase from her bedside table. “Looks like ya got a few mo’ since ‘ve been gone too. Ya sure are loved by many, Becks.”

“They’re beautiful.”

“Jus’ like sumbody I know, I wonder who that could be,” I comment teasingly, returning to her bedside to show her the vase of violet roses. “Honey, don’t cry, ‘s okay.”

“You’re so sweet, thank you,” she blubbers, tears flying from her eyes that she can’t wipe away fast enough. A long ‘aw’ jumps from my lips as I set the vase back down and return her to my arms.

“Yer welcome, anythin’ fo’ me girl. I saw all tha flowers you were gettin’ and figured it took me long enough t’ get ya some.”

“It’s okay, you didn’t have to,” she hiccups into my neck, finding holdings on the back of my jumper where she clings to me.

“Yes, I did, and I wanted t’ . . Reckon I should wait on yer present so ya don’t cry anymo’.”

“A present?!” she whispers excitedly, and my giggle soon finds a friend in hers.

Moving away, I leave her with yet another forehead kiss, wiping surprise tears from my own eyes. I catch the budding ones that fall from her waterline before grabbing the little box beside her flowers. ‘Ooo’s and ‘awww’s fill my ears when I open the box and slide the simple gemstone bracelet onto her wrist.

“I saw it and thought o’ you right away, jus’ like with tha flowers. I hope ya like it, seein’ how ‘s purple and all,” I say, pulling on the two ends of the string to tighten it.

“I love it, Harry,” she croaks, tears catching on her words as she stares down at the shades of lavender, cream, and violet claiming her skin.

“Perfect.” With a chuckle, I find my way into her arms after she tugged on my hoodie strings.

“I betta tie those things up, seein’ you already know how t’ use ‘em. ‘s a bit scary really,” I titter against the top of her head, smoothing back her hair. Profuse ‘thank you’s scatter the air, and I feel a stitch begin to heal my heart, ever so slowly. Her tears aren’t alone as I sniffle above her, my arms wound around her shoulders ever so gently.

“Alright?” she mumbles, and a bittersweet smile joins the party.

“Ya, ‘m alright if yer alright, Becks . . Are you?”

“Yes, I always am if you’re there.”

“Me too, babe, me too,” I hiccup, the tears coming hot and fast now, falling into her hair. Always.

Yawning, voices trickle over as the door to the bathroom shuts behind me. Carding a hand through my hair, I follow the familiar sounds until I’m back by the family room scattered with chairs. Now, blankets, bags, and fast food wrappers claim the tables next to Skye, Robbie, Chuck, Asher, and a tall, blonde woman I don’t recognize.

I’m spotted and soon waved over by Asher, “Hey, how’s she doing? Did she eat all of her dinner?”

“She’s good, restin’ now, and almost all o’ it. Didn’t care fer tha green peas tho’, but I dunno how she can’t like ‘em,” I grin jokingly, but it doesn’t remain as my eyes follow the unfamiliar woman standing beside Robbie. “D’ya know who that ‘s?” I ask him, turning to meet his eyes, but they fall away, only hinting at the danger that’s brewing.

“Hi, I don’t believe we’ve met. You are . . ?” the strange lady says, stepping forward with her arm stretched out. A long brown sweater covers her body clad in black jeans and a frilly blouse. The slope of her button nose and slightly oval face quickly piece together the puzzle pieces for me, and I know. “I’m Becky’s mum, Kate. Are you her boyfriend, or something?” she laughs jokingly.

“Ya, I am actually,” I answer coolly, hesitantly shaking her hand while struggling to make eye contact with the very person I’ve heard so many awful things about. Yet, I can see Becks in her, perhaps only hints of her, but I see them. “‘Scuse me,” I mumble, stepping away and with pounding steps, I find Skye perusing the magazines on the shelf against the wall.

“I need t’ talk t’ you,” I tell her flatly, stopping at her side.

“What do you want, Cosmo, Bon Appetit, GQ, Rolling Sto-,” she jokes, flipping her faded blue hair over her shoulder, brunette roots bleeding into the off white.

“No, I don’t want a bloody magazine. What tha fook were you thinkin’ tellin’ Becky’s mum t’ come here?” the question explodes off my lips, and I find it a feat to keep the words between the two of us. Her eyebrows near her hairline and she forgets the magazines, turning to face me.

Arms crossed over her chest clad in a 90’s Rugrats jumper, her features fall into a crouch as I wait for words to leave her, “Ree said that she could come, we asked her.”

“What tha fook ‘s wrong with you lot, askin’ her ‘bout that while I was gone?!” I retort, a hand escaping my pocket to help me do the talking.

“She’s not just yours, Harry, you know that?” she spits back, shaking her head in disbelief, it seems.

“No shit, Sherlock, but how in tha hell did ya think that was a good idea? Huh, where were you when her mum exploded on her all o’ those times at work, callin’ me bloody office t’ speak with her ‘cuz she was ignorin’ her phone, or jus’ a few weeks ago, huh?” I ask adamantly, searching for the answer in her cold blue eyes.

“No, I wasn’t there, but I was there for almost every other time, Harry. I was there comforting her after every row all throughout primary, secondary, and then on. She’s my best friend too, Harry, so don’t you even talk to me about being there for her, because you can’t fucking talk,” Skye retaliates, the words hitting me in the gut, but my mission propels me forward.

“That’s not tha fookin’ point, you should bloody know afta bein’ here tha last two days that she’s nowhere near ready t’ see her mum, Skye. She was inna bloody car wreck - she has a concussion, had emergency surgery, and ‘s on a handful o’ drugs that keep her from thinkin’ straight. Befo’ I left, I told her where I was goin’ and not even two minutes later, she couldn’t rememba what ‘d said. She’s not in her right mind, Skye, so how d’ya think it was okay t’ bloody ask her if her abusive mother could come t’ visit? Yer s’posed t’ be on her side, Skye, on Becks’ side,” I snap, and the fire still resides in my chest when I turn away to stomp down the hall.

I wish I knew how to fix this, because I know that I’ll have to be the one who has to. I wish so fucking badly that I knew how to fix Becks, and I don’t, and I’m all the further away now.

Crack.

I feel it inside of my ribs when I stop in her doorway, finding her eyes pointed towards the small flatscreen mounted to the wall. My throat becomes a sister to the Sahara rather quickly, and I can’t blink away the tears fast enough, because she notices me within moments. Under the spell of prescription drugs and painkillers, and she still has that feeling of hers down pat.

“Hi, honeybug,” I rasp, failing to swallow my pain and all of the words that I’m hurting to say.

“Where’d that nickname come from?” she grins, forgetting the Marvel movie on the television.

“I dunno, ‘cuz yer my bug and yer so goddamn sweet,” I explain to her, sitting down on the patch of unclaimed bed beside her.

“Alright?” she questions, dark eyebrows falling into a line. I can’t find the words and my name falls from her mouth next. I’m sure that if I looked at her heart rate monitor, it would have picked up by now due to concern.

“No,” I finally mutter, freeing my bottom lip that had become trapped between my teeth. Kneading my prickly chin with my thumb and forefinger, I have to look away from the worry harming her face. A warm tear begins a waterfall on mine, and to my surprise, she wicks it away with her thumb.

“Tell me,” she says coolly, cradling my cheek in her hands. Yet, it doesn’t make it any easier to say the next few words I know that I need to speak. Bittersweetness coats my tongue as she holds me in her hands and roots me there to the spot with those azul eyes that fill my dreams.

“Yer mum’s here,” I confess softly, forcing the words until they come tumbling out.

The shock and misery that debilitate her features at my words is next to nothing when we both hear the words that enter the room, “Hi, bunny.” I don’t need to turn around, because Becky’s face tells me all that I need to know, that her mum is already here.

“No,” Becks mutters, eyes glassy with an army of tears. Her head shakes quickly from side to side, and her hand falls from my face to clutch mine with dear life. “Harry, please no.”

“‘m so sorry, bug, it wasn’t me. I promise, I promise,” I confess tearfully, leaving her side to stand. If I had wanted to take another step, she wouldn’t let me, because my hand begins to hurt from how hard she’s holding onto it.

“Hi, Becky, it’s mum.”

“No, no, no, no,” Becky exclaims before me, emotions flying from her blues that beg at mine, sobs shaking her chest.

“Please leave, she d-doesn’t want you here,” I plead, lifting my head to find her mother walking around her bed to the other side.

“Excuse me? She’s my daughter, I-,” she begins, but Becky’s onslaught of ‘no’s pierce the air, threatening to never leave. My other hand comes to cover our joined pair, massaging circles into her skin where the IV doesn’t live.

“She doesn’t want you here, can’t you see that?!” I exclaim, stepping forward and closer to Becks, unsure of what more I can do. The only thing I can think of is to grab her by the shoulders and make her leave, but more than one reason refutes that, including the fact that Becks won’t let me leave.

“She’s upset and tired, she doesn’t know what she wants,” she, whatever her name is again, contends with emotion twisting her features into confusion. Swiftly, the hints of Becky are gone in her and the fear she finds in her mother’s face is shared with me and with those darkening eyes. “She is my daughter and I can-.”

“Harry, make her leave, please!” Becks shouts below me, head going from side to side in denial, and sobs stabbing at my ears.

“What’s going on here?” another voice demands, and already two days in, I know that it’s the day nurse, Shannon. Words flee her mother and I, while Becky’s insistent ‘no’s surround us. “Who are you?”

“I’m her mother, I’m here to see my daughter, Becky,” she insists from across me, reaching out a hand to touch Becks that she shrinks away from. Another crack resounds in my chest at the sound of her sobs growing louder.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to leave, you’re upsetting her too much,” Shannon announces emphatically, mentioning something about Becky’s vitals rising, only now drawing my eyes to the neon numbers. I wouldn’t have noticed it, although I try to tell myself that I would have eventually, but she’s right. Becky’s pulse is well over one-hundred, and her blood pressure is reaching dangerous numbers, and my heart picks up speed behind my ribs. I’m rather sure if I was hooked up to one of those, they wouldn’t look too good, either, with what’s going on. “Please leave before I call security.”

Relief doesn’t find me for several minutes, and it takes twice as long to arrive for Becks who still whimpers below me, the tears nowhere near stopping. The ones waiting in my dugout finally answer their call when the nurse mentions giving her something to calm down.

“No, I got it, jus’ gimme a few minutes. I can get her t’ calm down,” I insist tearfully, swallowing against a desert while rainfall covers my cheeks, and hers. “Hey, ‘s okay, baby, ‘s okay. Deep breaths, ‘kay?” I coo to Becky, but I’m well aware of the lack of conviction in my voice.

“Is she gone?” she cries and I nod quickly.

“She’s gone, bug, and ‘ll make sure she won’t come back, I promise. You don’t hafta worry.”

“I don’t wanna see her,” Becks confesses with a hiccup. Lifting my hand from our intertwined pair, I comb back her dark waves that nudge at her eyes.

“I know, Becks, I know. She’s gone,” I hum, catching her tears with the slick pad of my thumb before going back to stroking her hair.

“Why was she . . ?”

“I dunno, bug, there was a misunderstandin’,” I answer her, unsure of my words and every single thing that I do. I’m unsure if it helps, but I know that there’s nothing I’d rather be doing in this moment. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, even in my ignorant dreams.

“It wasn’t you, I know you wouldn’t,” she cries, shaky breaths escaping her lips when I ask her to take deep breaths with me.

“No, ‘d neva invite her, Becks. I dunno her name even.”

“Thank you,” she says with a hard gulp, with no allusion to what for, but I know. The hair stroking isn’t making a difference, because the tears are still coming at a record speed and I’m lost for words, and everything else too.

“Will you cuddle me, p-please? Feels like I c-can’t breathe,” she almost wails, her pained face dissolving with the words that she speaks.

“‘Course, bug, ‘m so sorry . . Keep takin’ deep breaths, I know you can do it, baby. ‘m right here . . in and out, that’s it. Keep goin’,” I tell her, toeing off my Vans that I wore for her whilst picking the oxygen cannula back up to thread into her nose. “Scooch over, Becks, don’t wanna hurt ya.”

A few more tendrils of relief find their way to me when she’s back in my arms, and I couldn’t care less what the nurse has to say, because nothing could feel more right than this. I’m only confirmed of that when she wiggles her way into my arms almost immediately and her head finds my chest, the tears soon wetting the fabric.

“Can you sing it to me?” Becks requests and an instant confirmation fills the air.

“Wise men say only fools rush in,” I begin, my fingers dancing through her hair and my lips leaving kiss after kiss atop her head. With my mouth ghosting over her hair, my eyes wander to the heart rate monitor. As the song paints the air around us, I watch as the numbers slowly start to fall while her crying quiets.

Only moments after finishing the last line of the song and for the second time, do her snores fall against my chest, and can I finally breathe. I lie there, counting the freckles scattered across her creamy white skin and wait for the tears to at last leave my eyes. Carefully, I move my body away from hers and lay her head down on the pillow, lastly draping the blankets over her sleeping body.

“‘ll be right back, I gotta go and keep me promise,” I whisper against her cheek, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear naked of earrings. My footsteps only begin after pressing a kiss to her cheek, assuring myself I’ll be back within moments to give her another.

The nurse shoots me a quick smile on my way out as I make quick work of the tears, and silent words pass between us albeit for the quiet ‘thank you’ and ‘good job’ she rewards me with.

“You might be my favourite, even though you’re not supposed to be getting into that bed with her,” she grins, her ponytail bobbing as she shakes her head at me jokingly. “You lot sure have a connection, so don’t be going anywhere for too long, she might miss you too much.”

“Thanks, I won’t be gone long. I uh, jus’ gotta go make sure o’ sumthin’.”

“That mum of hers, I hope?” she wonders aloud, turning her body towards me ever so slightly in her olive green scrubs.

A nod of mine answers her words and her ‘good luck’ rings in my ears as I walk away, glancing over my shoulder one last time at Becks, searching for a strength that I need. She’s never disappointed me when I look for it in her, whether it was years ago when she pulled me out of my shell, helped me through my granddad’s death, or just the other night when I found my way back to her and never left. This isn’t one of those dire times, but I know that she needs me to do this for her, no matter the absence of her question.

I’m uncertain if I’m surprised to see the strange figure standing in the family room, or the tension already electric in the air when I arrive. It only worsens when a few of them turn around to look at me, and the blame falls away instantly when Chuck and Robbie’s faces plummet at the sight of mine. It all wads into a ball and is thrown at her when the anger builds on hers.

“You need t’ leave,” I announce, a sniffle worming its way into my words. I couldn’t care less about the sight of my red-rimmed eyes or the tears that fall from them now. All I hope is that my many years in law will pay off for this argument that I so desperately need to win. “It wasn’t a good idea t’ come, she doesn’t want you here. I think that’s rather obvious from what jus’ happened.”

Her features crease into that of a bulldog, ready to pounce, but I was ready for this before I even stepped foot in this room. “What do you know, being her new boyfriend and all? You hardly even know her, I reckon . . She’s my daughter and she almost died,” she insists with a spiteful grin sticking to her lips.

“What’s that matta? Ya weren’t there fer her when she was alive, so why’d ya come now?” I spit out, and am instantly rewarded with the image of the words slapping her in the face. “I do know what’s bloody best fo’ her, and what’s best fo’ her right now ‘s fer you t’ leave and not come back. She doesn’t want you here, I dunno how many times I gotta fookin’ say it. She’s been thru’ hell and back, and ‘s tryna figure out what tha bloody hell this new life ‘s and how t’ function again whilst bein’ on several meds and stuck inna hospital bed. Let her bloody rest so she can get betta and heal, if ya even care ‘bout her ya’d leave her be t’ get betta,” I sigh, turning on my heel to place my back to them. Her fiery gaze beats against my neck as I let the tears fall, not bothering to clean them up, because I can only deal with one mess at a time.

“Who the fuck was that, and who does he think he is?” she retorts, seemingly more to herself and those around her than to myself, her voice only a ghost now.

“That’s Harry,” Chuck answers, something shining through in his voice that I can’t quite decipher.

“Harry? You mean her boss, Harry?” Kate responds, taken aback.

“No, right now that’s Harry. Her best friend and boyfriend, Harry,” he tells her, and I think I hear it finally, just rounding the corner. It accompanies the chuckle that floats down the hallway after me.

It’s pride.

The very same feeling glues itself to me as I take long steps back to her, thoroughly aware of how much better it feels to come back to her than it is to leave her. Even in her sleep, she seems to retain that feeling of hers amidst all of the drugs, because when I sit down next to her, I watch those pretty eyes open.

“Harry.”

“Hi, honeybug. Go back t’ sleep, everything’s okay, yer mum’s gone,” I tell her, cradling her cheek in my hand, because I’m sure that if my words somehow hadn’t done it, that Chuck will make sure of her exit.

“Okay,” she sighs softly, her eyelids fluttering closed. I lean over her and press whispers of kisses to her eyelids, leading me to find that dimple like a ghost in her left cheek. “Harry?”

“What ‘s it, bug? Ya need yer rest, ‘s almost bedtime,” I hum, settling back onto the chair. My eyes fall from her when a warmth finds my hand now, and I smile at the appearance of her hand lacing with mine.

“I love you,” she whispers, and everything stills around me, and inside of me. My head snaps up and over to her calm exterior that soon blurs in front of me as a breathy laugh coats my lips.

“I love you too, Becks,” I return quickly, tears adorning my words and leaving them to break in the air.

The dimple remains alive in her cheek when her eyes creak open and meet mine briefly before I steal a kiss from her lips. So, it wasn’t a fluke the other night, afterall. Hmm.

“Get some sleep, ‘ll be here when ya wake up,” I coo against her hair, cradling her head with my hand.

“You too,” she yawns, closing her eyes and wiggling around in the bed, and I swear that I couldn’t have seen something more beautiful in all of my days. She just keeps surprising me though, and making me wonder how she could ever become more gorgeous, or more importantly, how I could ever come to love her more.

I know that tomorrow she’ll change that, and the day after that, and after that, when my heart will grow another size to love her a little bit more.

16 notes · View notes