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wandaromanova · 3 years

Text

Breathtaking

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

A/N: hello! here’s the second part to my story; Masterpiece. hope you like it. happy reading! <3

Summary: Natasha has to make a choice; fight for her relationship or move on.

Word Count: 2K | navigation

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

One Month Later

It had been a whole month since you walked out on Natasha. The redhead was devastated, having taken time away from work; something she has never done in the entirety of her career.

She allowed herself to mourn her relationship with you, her harsh words and your broken expression replaying in her mind.

She had tried to reach out to you several times, but as expected; she received radio silence. Every call she made went straight to voicemail, which meant one of two things.

You either turned your phone off or blocked her number… or both. Honestly, she wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.

Natasha spent the entire month moping around. She spent the entire day sprawled across the couch, eating ice cream from a carton and watching sappy love stories.

“They lived happily ever after? What a load of bullshit.” Natasha would mumble out in distaste when a movie ended on a positive note.

She never slept in the bedroom. The satin sheets, comfortable mattress, and soft comforter were heaven, but it was hell without you. The room reminded her too much of the countless memories she had made with you in that very bed.

The cuddle sessions, late-night conversations, and nights of love-making were like a scab that she constantly picked at, never allowing the wound to heal properly.

Natasha wallowed in her own self-pity, constantly wondering where you were, what you were doing, and if you were okay. She hated not having you by her side to ensure your safety.

The redhead knew the risks of having a personal connection with anyone outside of her line of work. She just hoped that nothing bad would happen to you because of her ties to you.

Her teammates were worried about her. The once confident, blooming woman had withered away into a fragile shell of a person.

Clint, Natasha’s best friend, was the most concerned though. He had known the Russian the longest, having been the one to pull her out of the horrid lifestyle she led previously.

In all the years he had known Natasha, he’d never seen her so down. He knew that something had to be done. He hated seeing his best friend in this state.

So, the archer decided to pay the former assassin a visit for a much-needed conversation, in hopes of talking some sense into the stubborn woman.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

Clint knocked on the apartment door steadily and waited. He couldn’t hear any noise on the other side, but he knew Natasha was in there.

Suddenly, the door swung open quickly. The archer was met with a hopeful-looking Natasha who quickly deflated when she saw him.

“What do you want?” The Russian muttered out with a glare. “Well, it’s nice to see you too.” Clint spoke sarcastically, pushing past the redhead and into the apartment.

Natasha let out a huff as she shut the door. She turned around as Clint took a seat on the couch, quickly following suit.

“We need to have a talk. I’m worried about you. Hell, the whole team is worried about you.” Clint clasped his hands together as he leaned forward slightly, his head tilted to the side as he eyed the redhead beside him.

“Why? I’m perfectly fine.” Natasha spoke as she mimicked Clint’s position. Although, it sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than she was Clint.

“You’re fine? You took time off from work for the first time ever and you smell like a dumpster. Seriously, when was the last time you had a shower?” Clint grimaced, pinching his nose to emphasize his point.

Natasha quickly punched the archer on the shoulder, a glare on her face. “I don’t smell bad. You’re being dramatic.” The redhead quickly defended herself, even if she knew he was right.

She hadn’t been as adamant about keeping up with her personal hygiene, as of late. She didn’t really leave the apartment, anyway.

“But seriously, you need to get it together. If not for yourself, then for Y/N.” At the mention of your name, Natasha froze. Clint noticed the tenseness that befell the redhead and continued.

“You need to make a choice, Nat. You either fight to get Y/N back or move on with your life. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

The archer took a pause, observing the woman that sat next to him. Her eyebrows were furrowed, her lips were pursed, and her eyes were trained on her own hands.

“You screwed up badly, yes? But does that mean you can’t save your relationship? Hell no. In the time I’ve been married to Laura, do you think it was all rainbows and butterflies?” Natasha’s eyes returned to Clint at the mention of his wife.

“I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve gotten into an argument with Laura and felt as though it was the point of no return. But you wanna know what I did?” Clint asked Natasha and she nodded her head eagerly.

“I asked myself what I wanted my life to look like five years from now. And it turned out that in every scenario I came up with, Laura was the highlight of every single one.” The archer smiled lightly at Natasha, who was in deep thought.

“I’ve thought of my future a lot, and I can’t imagine it without Y/N. I’ve never loved anyone so deeply before and I want to have the life you have, with Y/N. I want kids of our own to run around our little farmhouse while Y/N and I watch them from the porch, sipping on some tea.”

Clint’s smile widened, he was expecting this answer. He observed how Natasha was with his children, it was obvious how much she admired them. He also knew how much the redhead loved you, she just needed a little push in the right direction.

“Well, what are you going to do, now?” Clint questioned Natasha and a wide smile came to her face. For the first time in a month, the redhead was motivated and determined. The light had returned to her eyes.

“I’m getting my girl back.”

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

3 Days Later

You rushed over to the Avengers Compound, fear coursing through your veins. You had received a call from Clint. He said that something happened to Natasha and you didn’t hesitate when he asked you to get to the Compound quickly.

Just because you had broken up with the redhead, didn’t mean your love for her had vanished. You’d always love her, that much was certain.

You were shocked that you hadn’t gotten pulled over, having gone thirty miles over the speed limit, getting to the Compound in record time.

The security guard didn’t think twice about letting you in, having been to the building a countless number of times. You practically sprinted out of the elevator when it reached the medical wing.

Clint was stood in the hallway, his head turning to the side at the sound of hurried footsteps. Your eyes were wide with concern, face flushed from the rush.

“Where is she? What the hell happened? Will she be okay?” You rapidly fired off questions to the archer. He placed his hands on your shoulders and shook you slightly.

“Relax. She’s fine. I’ll bring you to her right now.” You relaxed at his reassurance, but grew confused when he guided you back to the elevator.

You didn’t question him though, assuming that Natasha was out of the medical wing and put on bed rest; something that has happened more than you liked it to.

However, you grew suspicious when the elevator number passed the communal floor and stopped at the roof. You were about to speak, but all of your words were out of the window when the elevator door opened.

The entire team was sat in chairs, their heads turning around to smile at you. There were fairy lights strung about the rooftop and a small makeshift stage, where Natasha stood.

She was in an elegant black dress, her hair curled to perfection, and makeup done flawlessly. She looked stunning while you looked like a bat out of hell.

Clint placed his hand on the small of your back, urging you to move forward and you did just that.

You slowly stepped out of the elevator and down the aisle that had been created between the chairs. You took a step onto the stage, Natasha extending her hand out for you to take which you accepted.

When you finally got your bearings together, you looked at the team in front of you before turning to the woman beside you. “What is all of this? I’m so confused right now. I thought something had happened to you.” Natasha smiled at you softly and you felt like your knees were going to give out.

“Something did happen to me, Y/N. I was an idiot and hurt you. You don’t understand how sorry I am for not being there for you when you needed me most. I’m sorry for not being the supportive girlfriend I was supposed to be.”

Natasha grabbed both of your hands, holding them in her own as she stared into your eyes deeply and apologetically.

“I hope that it isn’t too late to make it up to you. Just because I missed the ceremony, doesn’t mean you and your amazing talent can’t be appreciated. So, tonight, this is a celebration in your honor because I, along with the rest of the team, respect your work as much as you do ours. We believe what you do is just as important and we commend you for it.”

There were tears in your eyes and the redhead quickly reached a hand up to wipe them away. You pulled Natasha into a tight hug, your head buried into her neck as hers dug into your shoulder.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.” The Russian pulled back slightly, her face so close to your own that you could feel her warm breath against your face.

“Yes, I did. I’ll be damned if I lost you without putting up a fight. Losing you isn’t an option to me. I want you forever and I will do everything in my power to be the best partner I can possibly be for you.”

Natasha was staring at you with nothing but adoration. You pressed your lips to hers, catching the redhead off-guard. However, she quickly reciprocated the kiss before you broke it.

Your eyes returned to the team who had been watching the entire interaction. Tony was rolling his eyes, making gagging noises. Steve hit him on the shoulder and ranted about how amazing and important love can be.

Wanda and Clint were smiling encouragingly at you two. Sam and Bucky just smirked, giving you and Natasha a thumbs up while mouthing a ‘get some’ to you while wiggling their eyebrows.

You let out a laugh as you took in the scene before you. It was then you noticed everyone’s attire. The team was dressed impressively and formally while you stood in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, having run out of your friend’s apartment, where you had been staying, when Clint called.

“I think I’m a tad bit underdressed, Natty.” You turned your head back to the woman, who had been fixated on you the entire time. “Don’t worry, I have a dress downstairs for you.”

You smiled at Natasha’s thoughtfulness, giving her one last peck on the lips before making your way toward the elevator, hopping down from the stage and walking down the aisle, receiving a fist bump from Sam as you passed him by.

The redhead watched as you walked off, feeling extremely relieved that her plan had worked. She had no idea what she would’ve done if you didn’t accept her apology.

But what she did know is that she wouldn’t have stopped trying to get you back because you were her person.

Natasha learned a valuable lesson; masterpieces were a constant work in progress that required a lot of patience, but the end product was breathtaking.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

───────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

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icanfixhimclub · 3 years

Text

"You're insufferable." "I'm glad."

This is part 2 to this, so go read that first!

Blue strided pridefully to the stage, standing beside who she now knows is David, as Jack waves to everyone. "Carrying the banner!" Jack yelled and everyone in the stands cheered. "We've come a long way, but we ain't done yet. And maybe it's only gonna get tougher from now on. But that's fine, we'll just get tougher with it!"

Everyone cheered while Jack started speaking again, "But also...also we gotta get smart and listen to my pal david," some cheered, mostly like Manhattan newsies, "Who says, 'stop soaking the scabs.'" Blue scoffed stepping to look at Jack. "Hey look Kelly, when me and my boys see scabs, we soak 'em. Period."

Every cheered as Jack looked very displeased. "No, no, no!" David cut of the cheering, "That's what they want us to do! If we get violent, it's just playing into their hands." "Hey look, they're gonna be playin' with my hands alright?" Spot said sternly. "It ain't what they say anymore, it's what we say." Blue cut in, scowling at David.

"And nobody ain't gonna listen to us unless we make 'em." Spot adds on. Everyone started cheering again as Spot and Blue glanced at each other. "You got no brains!" Kelly shouts, "We're starting to fight each other, it's just what the big shots wanna see! That we're street trash! Street rats with no brains, no respect for nothing including ourselves!"

Everyone started sitting and quieting down. "So here's how it is," Jack begins again, "If we don't act together, we're nothing! If we don't stick together, we're nothing!" "Tell 'em Jack!" A kid yells. "So what's it gonna be?" Murmurs of agreement could be heard from the crowd as Spot and Blue paced. "So whadda you say Spot?" Jack asked.

Spot looks out into the crowd, "I say what you say...is what I say." Some of the crowd cheered but not all of it as Jack turned to Blue, looking hopeful. "I say you're an idiot Jack Kelly...but that ain't always a bad thing." Blue spit on her hand with a grin as Jack repeated the actions and the crowd cheered. Suddenly the lights went out and a spotlight got turned to the curtains, a red haired woman stepping out at the crowd cheers and wolf whistles.

"Oh boy." Blue mutters, slipping past people to leave the theater, having no mind to deal with the boys obnoxious behavior. Just a minute after she sat down, Spot Conlon did too. They sat in silence for a while until Spot spoke up, "Why do you hate me?" Blue chuckled in response, "Why shouldn't I?"

She turned to look at the dirty blonde, gaze questioning. "I can be a good guy!" Spot argues as Blue busts out laughing. "You? As if! The only thing 'good' about you is how you and Brooklyn use slingshot's, but even then my boys and me are better." Spot huffed, crossing his arms, "You're insufferable." "I'm glad."

Blue smiled a smile that made Spots face heat up, but he hoped the darkness would hide it. Then, an old man who don't look too friendly starts heading into the theatre. "Hey mista, you ain't s'posed to be in there right now." Blue reminded, standing up and blocking the door, Spot standing up shortly after.

"Move it little girl." The unknown man pushes Blue away, her head hitting the wall as Spot stops her from hitting the ground and the man enters the building. "Hey, Blue, you ok?" Conlon asks, sitting Blue against the wall. "Ya," She winces as she brings her hand up to rub the forming bump, "Just hurts a bit, nothing I'se can't handle."

When they hear the clopping of horses, they both turn their heads and see the bulls heading their way. With a knowing look, they both run inside. "Jack!" Blue yells, searching frantically, but she instead finds Bolt. "Bolt! Get the younger boys out, the bulls are here!" She's frantic and the loud noise doesn't help her head but Bolt nods as Blue flees to search for Jack.

Just as she sees Jack run, she all hears the deafening whistle of the bulls, ringing in her head. Everyone started trying to leave, some staying and fighting. As Blue saw a bull trying to take one of her younger boys, she ran to them, pulling the man back and punching him right in the gut, then kneeing him in the face when he doubled over.

She didn't even see it coming, another man landed a punch right where she had hit her head just a few minutes before. She heard the faint call of her name, but she was unconscious before she even hit the ground. Spot saw red, charging at the man, swing his fist with all his might be picking up Blue and running.

He saw an open area and ran backstage, right out the back doors. "Please be okay." He whispered, gently setting her down on the ground before running back inside, praying she was okay

"All rise, all rise. Court is now in session. Judge E. A. Monahan presiding." Blue groaned quietly, holding the ice pack against her head. "Are any of you represented by a counsel?" The judge asked. Spot, Racetrack and Blue all shared confused looks. "No. Good, good. That'll move this along considerably."

"Hey, ya honor, I object." Spot spoke up. "On what grounds?" "On the grounds of Brooklyn, your honor." Everyone laughed, even Blue let out a giggle that had Spot glancing down at her. The judge banged his gavel, unamused by Spots behavior, "I fine each of you 5 dollars, or 2 weeks confinement at the House of Refuge."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey we ain't got 5 bucks." "Hell, we ain't even got 5 cents!" Blue added on to Race's statement. "Hey your honor, how bout I roll ya for it? Double or nothing." Everybody laughed once again at Racetracks remark while the judge banged his gavel again. "All right, move along, move along."

"Your honor, I'll pay the fines," Everyone turned to see Denton enter the court room, "all of them." David entered as well, the 2 walking over to the others. The dull throb in Blue's head made her zone out, Denton words sounding miles away. She only zoned back in when she heard Race yell over to Jack.

The only thing Blue could focus on was the warmth that shot through her body when Spot grabbed her hand and lead her outside with the others, all heading to the restaurant. "Blue, get that ice pack back on ya head." Spot ordered when he saw Blue drop it on the table. "I'se fine, besides, my arm is hurtin'." She complained.

Everyone greeted Denton as he walked into the restaurant. "Why didn't the sun print the story?" David questions immediately. "Because it never happened." Everyone talked over each other in forms of confusion. "If it's not in the papers it never happened. The owners decreed that it not be in the papers, therefore..."

Blue could hear Spots heavy breathing, most likely of anger. "Anyways, I came to tell you fellas goodbye." Silence fell over the restaurant, nobody dared to speak. "What happened, did ya get fired?" David steps forward but Denton was quick to shoot down the idea. "No, I got reassigned back to my old job as the sun's ace war correspondent. They want me to leave right away. The owner thinks they should only cover really important stories so..."

David walked away in what seemed like disappointment. "They don't always fire you, David. I would be blackballed from every paper in the country," Denton tugged David's arm to get him to face him, "Hey, I'm a newspaper man. I have to have a paper to write for." David still stayed silent as Denton sighed, "This is the story I wrote about the rally. And, I want you to read it at least."

Denton took out a price of paper from inside his pocket, but David still remained quiet so Denton kinda forced the paper into his hand as he started leaving. "Bill," the waiter turned around, trying to tell Denton to keep it, "No, no, this should cover it." Denton handed the man some cash and left. David pushed off of the wall and crumpled the paper.

"God David, stop being an ass." Everyone turned to look at Blue, unready for her comment. "Excuse me?" David asked as Blue stood up. "You heard me. Denton had no control over being reassigned and he has to make money too. Boo hoo, we're not in the paper, suck it up and stop acting like a upset toddler."

Blue fiercely gazed at David, her annoyance evident. David shifted his gaze to the table infront of him. "We get Jack out of the refuge tonight. And from now on, we trust no one but the newsies." Everyone agreed, standing up and leaving. After leaving, Blue grabs David's wrist. "Hey, I'm coming with, rather you like it or not." She said, letting ho and walking away.

That night, her and the boys snuck past the Refuge gates following a carriage. David points to a lighted window, "That's where we saw Crutchy." A whistle blows and they all hide. Everyone could see it was Jack. "Where they takin' him Dave?" Mush asked as the loaded Jack into a carriage. "Only one way to find out," David took off his hat and waited for the carriage to leave." I'll meet you guys by the square."

As everyone watched David leave, Blue walked out, staring up at the window. "Aye, whaddya doin' Blue?" Race asked watching her intently. "Mush," The girl whipped around, staring at the tallest of the boys, "You're tallest, get me on your shoulders, Blink, I need the rope." Both boys nodded and walked over to her, Blink handing her the rope.

Mush bent down and helped Blue onto his shoulders, standing up and getting close to the wall. She tried throwing the rope up into the window bars, trying to get it to fall back down over something. When it did, she motion for Mush to set her down and he did. "Alright, which one of you'se is the strongest?" Mush, Blink and another raised their hands.

"Alright, your going to hold the rope still on this end while I climb up the other." The 3 nodded and walked over, grabbing the end of the rope. Blue grabbed the other end and used to Rope to help her scale the wall. When she reached the window, she nodded on it, a unknown kid opened the window. "Is anyone in here go by Radio?" She asked timidly.

The small girl looked sad, looking down. "Radio got real sick and died a few days ago." Blue's breath caught in her throat. She almost let go of the rope, everything slowing down. "T-thank you." Blue nodded and slid down the rope. Everyone's voices were fuzzed and Blue could feel the tears in her eyes. So she ran. She ran faster than she ever had before, faster than she thought she could go.

She ran until her legs gave out under her, right on the Brooklyn Bridge. Uncontrollable sobs ripped from her throat, everything seemed to disappear as she cried. She sobbed so loud she didn't even hear Spots footsteps, not even aware of his presence until he sat by her and puller her into his side. She started to hyperventilate, barely any air in her lungs.

"H-h-He was j-just a b-b-boy!" She subconsciously leaned into Spots comfort. "Hey, Blue, hey, calm down, easy does it." Her loud cries had slowly turned in small sniffles and tear stained cheeks. Spot slowly moved to sit in front of her, cupping her face in his hands. "Now," He brushed his thumb across her cheek, wiping away a tear, "Tell me what happened."

"He's gone." She choked out, her hands grabbing at her shirt, "He was to young to d-die. He was 8 Spot, 8! He shouldn't of died at 8! He was gonna become a writer! He was," She choked back another sob, her voice cracking as she spoke, "He was gonna write a book 'bout all of us." The last part came out as a broken whisper, so heartbroken it made his clench.

A small, broken sob left Blue's lips, leaning into Spots touch as he wiped her tears. "Come to my lodge with me. It too late for you to be walkin' back to Queens alone." Too tired to respond, she just simply nodded, eyes already drooping. She didn't say a word when Spot effortlessly pick her up, heading back to the Lodging House.

About half way there, Spot looked down at her to find her peacefully asleep, head resting against Spots chest, the smallest snores escaping her mouth. Spot let out a small chuckle, continuing the long walk back to his Lodging house.

A/n: whew, that was long. Anyways, there's definitely gonna be a part 3 and possibly a part 4, so stick around for that!

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river-bottom-nightmare · 3 years

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i’m having a bunch of jason robin feels and now i’m imagining him, dick and babs vibing before the joker ruins everything. i’m devastated thinking about it because it would be so cute. also those three during that era are basically team rocket and now i’m imagining them dressing up as team rocket for, like, halloween or something and babs and dick force jason to be meowth. in the future they force 6’2 jason who towers over them back into the meowth onesie and thrive once again as team rocket. they are unstoppable no matter what a very grumpy jason says. alfred brings out the old photos to show the rest of the fan baby jason dressed as meowth and jason is dying inside but he cant leave because he’ll make alfred sad (and he doesn’t wanna leave but shhhh).

oh my godddddddddddddddddddd. yes yes yes yes yes yes YES.

i love this idea so goddamn much.

because yea, in the beginning it’s a little awkward, because dick can’t look at jason without seeing anything other than the last vestiges of the graysons being forgotten, and jason can’t look at dick as anything other than an idol who left shoes jason’s trying so hard to fill but isn’t sure he’ll ever make it, and babs and dick have this on-again, off-again thing that makes babs want to scream because she knows jason doesn’t see her as anything other than “dick’s sorta girlfriend” and she hates it.

but eventually, dick looks past robin and starts seeing jason, starts seeing scabbed knees and papercuts from books and an angry little scowl that dick swears up and down is adorable. and jason works with dick and babs, learns that he doesn’t have to be dick’s replacement, because he’s his own person and he can make his own robin. and babs comes into herself, makes sure everyone knows that she’s a part of the family because of herself, not because of dick, and the jason starts looking up to her too and it’s one of the best things she’s ever felt.

it takes a while, and there are some things said between them that they can’t ever take back. with every hand dick extends towards jason, he can’t help but remember a face that’s so young, so old, so lost screaming “you’re not my brother!” and how hearing those words sent a shard of ice straight through his heart. every time babs gives dick a grin, ruffles his hair, or tugs him into a hug, she can’t help but think of his heartbroken look as her fury overtook her, cursing the name catalina flores, only finding out months later that everything she did had been something dick didn’t want, and babs wasn’t there to help him pick himself back up. and dick will flinch a little, every time jason aims his guns too wildly; babs keeps a wary eye on him when they’re together, even as she offers him a smile, and jason would tell himself over and over again that it was sick satisfaction he felt, not horror at the fact that his family was scared of him.

but in a fight, him and dick move together fluidly, back to back and watching each others weaknesses like they’re really brothers, and jason’s starting to think that they are. and mending things with babs takes time, but they’re sitting on the couch together eating takeout, her legs in his lap and her eyes sparkling, and dick thinks they might have fixed what was broken between them a while back and just never noticed. babs and jason will have teasing arguments over comms in only 18th century moral philosophy quotes that only the two of them and maybe bruce have the patience to understand. and maybe, just maybe, they’ve been family again for a long while. all it takes now is for one of them to admit it.

,,,,,,,,,i am really sorry you just wanted to talk about baby jason dressed as meowth and i came here with the feels and that was not at all what this was supposed to be about. but you gave me such a good IDEA and i just AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

anyway thanks for this babe, this was really fun to think about!

this,,,,,did sorta turn into a writing thing, so i’ll tag my peeps anyway: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @dangerduckjpeg @bikoncon

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vintagedolan · 3 years

Text

mixtape | track twelve

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

Indy wondered why people in her life seemed to fixate on sunshine, as if it somehow fixed things. When she and Charlie were small and the sun was out, her parents were ushering them outside to get some fresh air, telling them it was good for them. Her first day of high school, when she was nauseous in the passenger seat at the thought of a new place with a new class schedule, her dad had said ‘at least it’s warm today’. The day of Nicole’s funeral, between the sympathetic smiles and awkward glances, Indy had lost count of the amount of people who commented on the beautiful sunshine outside that her mother wasn’t there to see. It grated on Indiana’s nerves, and she found herself enjoying the rainy days more in the years after her mother’s death, when the clouds were heavy and wet, booming with thunder she could feel shaking her floor. She sat at her windows and watched it fall, watched the world have to shift to accommodate a change in the sky, change in a way that it never did for her when she needed it to.

The week before Bekah died, it rained every day.

Monday marked seven days without treatment, and the effects were starting to show. Bekah had lost more weight, which Indy wasn’t even sure was possible. She kept her blankets on her at all times, the Christmas and Halloween ones layers on top of each other.

She still shivered.

The rain fell outside the window, and Indy sat on the sill, thankful for the cold glass against her arm. It kept her in the moment, kept her mind in the room instead of in Los Angeles, wondering what was going through Grayson’s head that made him continue to ignore her calls. She didn’t have the energy to be pissed at him for leaving her abandoned - instead she was just worried, worried about the guilt she knew would overtake him when she finally was able to get ahold of him.

Indiana’s schedule was PRN - meaning they only called her into the hospital when she was needed. She couldn’t tell if they actually did need her and were too nice to say, or if they were fully staffed, but they didn’t call her. Patrick had put his foot down with her hours at Jet’s too, and said he’d keep her on payroll as long as he could so she kept her benefits, but that he wasn’t putting her on the schedule either.

So she put her skills to use for Bekah, and Bekah alone. Anything she needed, Indy knew where to get it on the floor. She funneled every ounce of energy into the girl in front of her, trying to take any of the burden off the Newcombs that she could. If Bekah needed ice chips, she was at the nurses station. In the supply closet to get fresh linens, the laundry to get clean hospital gowns. She helped her get changed, get showered as best she could - it was less mortifying for Bekah to have Indiana help her than her parents, who were nervous enough they would hurt her as it was.

When Bekah was awake, she was trying. Putting on her brightest smile, doing her best to perk up for her parents and Indiana. But when her parents would leave, which wasn’t often - only to go get fresh clothes, or grab dinner in the cafe - Bekah would deflate. She’d sigh and lean back against her pillows and try to catch her breath. They went home that night to eat a real dinner with promises to bring some back for Bekah, and as soon as they kissed her goodbye, she relaxed back and closed her eyes. Indiana watched her for a moment, and reached out to hold her hand.

“It’s okay Beks. They know you’re tired, you’re allowed to show it.”

“Says you,” she muttered. “Haven’t seen you sleep since I went off meds.”

Indy swallowed. “I sleep when you sleep.”

“Liar.”

“How do you feel?” She changed the subject.

“Like I’m dying.”

Indy choked, and Bekah laughed dryly. “C’mon, that was a good one. And don’t say it isn’t, cause you know I’m right.”

It took all of Indy’s strength not to try to coat it all in some toxic positivity, tell her it wasn’t that bad, that she would feel better, that she would get better - the things she’d been telling her all the years she’d known her.

They weren’t true, and she had to be okay with that.

“I really do think it’ll be this week,” Bekah said, picking at balls of lint on her blanket.

“Why do you think that?” Indy kept her tone as neutral as she could.

“I feel it. Feels… different. I want to go in my sleep, if I can. Think it’ll be easier for everyone that way. Is there a way to make that happen?”

Indy put on her hospital smile. “That’s usually how it goes babe, when you let someone go naturally. Your body gets tired, and you sleep, and then you go.”

She pondered on that for a moment, sat with it, and then she nodded, firm and confident.

“Okay. Good. That’ll be good.”

Indy hoped that one day she could have half the bravery of the girl sitting in front of her, with her thin arms and her purple head scarf, her small smile and stern gaze.

“Can we have milkshakes? And watch some of Grayson’s videos before my parents get back?”

Indy swallowed. “Of course. I’ll go get them, you rest.”

She was glad she could pull strings - the kitchen was usually closed to requests after dinner, but Daniel downstairs was always nice when she called. Sure enough, by the time she’d swiped through all the doors and made it to the kitchen, he had two vanilla milkshakes with extra whipped cream, and sprinkles on Bekah’s.

“Thanks D!”

“You’re welcome other D,” Daniel smiled. The hole in Indy’s chest rubbed raw, and she turned quickly before he could think he did something wrong. She breathed, timed her inhales with her steps as she traversed the halls.

It didn’t help, because when she walked into Bekah’s room she heard him.

Only this time, we’re getting sinus surgery

“Ooo, sprinkles!” Beks smiled and reached out a hand, waiting for Indy to pass her the milkshake.

She did, and she settled next to her on the bed with her own, leaning just far enough back so that Bekah couldn’t see her face.

The videos were always harder. He was still all over her social media, pictures and screenshots and people tagging the two of them on tea pages. He was still in her phone too - the outgoing calls, the photos in her camera roll. But the videos were the worst, because it was him. His mannerisms, his eyebrows that curved when he talked, his tongue that peeked through his smile when he laughed just hard enough.

She watched anyways, let the ache fester and make her feel something. She stared at his sunburnt nose, and listened to him talk about his once deviated septum that they didn’t actually fix - he still snored loud enough to wake her up some nights. She missed it.

Bekah laughed at every funny comment the boys made under their anesthesia in the video, and it was music to Indy’s ears, heartwarming enough for her to be able to stomach watching. By 15 minutes in, Bekah had abandoned her milkshake, the whipped cream dissolving down into the ice cream as her head lulled onto Indy’s shoulder and she fell asleep.

With a shaky hand, Indy checked her pulse.

Slow, but steady.

She turned off the TV.

In California, the fight didn’t start until Tuesday night. The house had been full of tension for almost a week, and the usual LA sunshine didn’t help to lighten the mood.

Grayson had become a recluse. He’d fallen back on the earlier method of locking his phone in a box in an attempt to save his sanity, which was even more fragile from the doom scrolling he’d found himself doing as people speculated every single detail of his life online. The black metal cube sat on a table in the living room, and he only saw it on the few occasions that he ventured out to the kitchen for food.

Even in his limited excursions, he felt the awkward energy radiating from his twin and Eden. They’d had their spats in the past, just like any couple, but there was something different about this one that had Grayson glad he was out of the room when Eden finally cleared her throat and looked at her boyfriend.

“Are we gonna talk about this?”

Ethan picked at a scab on his forearm - he’d been longboarding again as an excuse to get out of the house.

“Talk about what?”

“Talk about why we aren’t talking,” she huffed. “You’re mad at me.”

“Correct,” Ethan said.

“Tell me why then.”

He looked at her incredulously. “You have to ask?”

Eden swallowed down her anger, knowing it wouldn’t help anything. She waited. They sat in stalemate for a moment and she watched it boil up in Ethan before he sighed and turned in his chair towards her.

“Being hateful to me when you’re upset is one thing, because I signed up for that. But to my brother? When he’s doing pretty much as bad as I’ve ever seen him? Not okay. At all.”

“Ethan-”

“And I’m all for the tough love approach or whatever, but that was fucked up. He was just starting to do a little bit better and now look at him.”

“Better? You thought that was better?”

“He was eating at least, and still trying to work a little bit. Now, he’s barely able to do the podcast, much less anything else.”

“You all were already going to cut the main channel, that’s not because of this,” she argued.

“I’m talking everything else Eden. The businesses. Figuring out what the fuck we’re gonna do. He said the other day we could split time between here and Jersey, which really means here and New York if we only do the podcast.”

“And he didn’t think of that as an option before he broke up with Indiana? Makes sense.”

Ethan ignored her and kept going.

“At least he’s thinking about the future, which is better than before. I need him. But I need him, and you yelling at him set him back to square one.”

“If you thought he was even close to out of square one you’re blind.”

“Don’t act like you know my fucking twin better than I do,” Ethan snapped, and if it wasn’t for the protective nature in his tone, Eden would have lost it.

“Ethan.” She waited until he looked up at her, and she saw some of the anger leave his eyes when they met her. “He wasn’t getting better, because he was holding on. Fuck, he still is!”

“Telling him to let go isn’t going to make him let go! Have you met him? He’s the most stubborn fucking person on the face of this fucking earth! He already wants to go back, he’s not gonna let go!”

She could think of one person that could rival him for the title, but she kept it to herself.

“He’ll do it if he thinks he’s doing it for her,” Eden explained. “Don’t you see that? That’s why he did all of this. In his head, somehow, he thinks he’s doing what’s best for Indy. But he fucked her over, royally.”

“He knows that,” Ethan said.

“Okay, great! But he has to let go of her, because she won’t. Indy is an optimist if I’ve ever fucking met one, and she will always hope that he’s gonna come back, so he can’t do anything to feed into it. That’s torture, for both of them. And they both deserve better than that.”

Ethan couldn’t find a grip hold for an argument - one of the many reasons he hated arguing with Eden. So he sat in silence for a moment and accepted his defeat.

“You didn’t have to call him a moron,” he added.

“Anyone who let’s Indiana Cross slip through their fingers is a moron,” she muttered, shoulders relaxing as she realized the fight was over. “But yeah, that was probably a little harsh. I’ll apologize for that one.” She sighed, glad that everything was out on the table for the time being, smiling when Ethan patted his thigh once for her to sit on. She climbed up and nuzzled into his neck - she’d missed being so close to him the last few days. She soaked in the moment, running her fingers over the neck of his henley.

“Is it weird that I miss her? I mean, I know I haven’t known her very long, but she really felt like part of the family.”

“I miss her too,” Ethan sighed, pressing a kiss to Eden’s temple.

She pondered her apology to Grayson as she relaxed into his arms, but it was futile.

Grayson had been listening, standing in the hallway outside his door.

There were no tears; just an overwhelming numbness that had settled over him in the last few days. Eden’s words were the final nail in the coffin - he couldn’t reach out to Indy, though it got more and more tempting each day. He’d promised not to hurt her more than he already had, and he was going to stick to his word. Someone important had taught him that.

He retreated to his room and sat on the edge of the bed before he spoke.

“Hey dad.”

He always waited, just for a moment. Just in case. The silence was always loud, but it was deafening as he curled in on himself, staring down at the grains of wood in the floor.

“Dad I think I really fucked up this time,” he whispered. He willed the tears, but they didn’t come, though his eyes still burned. “I wish you were here. I wish you could have met her.”

As he sat, he remembered what his dad had said in those last few days, in the few hours that he was awake, when he fought off the pain and the fatigue to be there for his kids and his wife. I’ll always be there, you can always talk to me. Just say whatever you would if I was right there beside you, cause I will be.

So he did. He spoke as if he could feel the weight of his dad on the bed beside him, feel his arm around his shoulder.

Grayson sat on the edge of his bed and told Sean everything about the girl that he still loved. Her intelligence, her laugh, her smile, the way he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to love someone else. He lost track of how long he talked, run on sentences and gestures that only made it more obvious that his dad wasn’t there to tell him to slow down and take a breath before he talked himself into a pump from his inhaler. When he ran out of words, he did the only thing he knew to do when all else went wrong; turned his shower on as hot as he could stand it, sat down on the bench so the water ran over him, and thought of Indy.

The storm rolled into the city on Wednesday - unprecedented and angry, snarling the clouds in swirls of dark, heavy gray and dumping down over the skyscrapers of New York.

Indiana was watching the monitors. Her eyes jumped with each pulse of Bekah’s heart, which was beating faster than her usual. Her blood pressure was low, her breathing more irregular. Indy could see the textbook page in her head - actively dying. She’d learned the vital signs to look for, and how to fix them, what medicines to push.

But she wasn’t supposed to be making Bekah better, and that was the hardest part.

Thunder shook the room, and Bekah shivered. Mrs. Newcomb wrung her hands, and her husband ran a hand along her shoulders.

“She hasn’t woken up all day,” she murmured.

“She’s resting baby, it’s okay.”

Bekah’s monitors began to beep a bit faster. Her heart rate slowly rose - 82, then 85, then 90. Indy watched, her nerves prickling, eyes darting to the clipboard at the end of her bed, with DNR in bright red block letters - do not resuscitate. Bekah whimpered, her head turning into her pillow as her breathing got quicker, her heart working in overtime to try to keep her body afloat.

Mrs. Newcomb rushed to her daughter’s side, running a hand over her cheek as she began to cry.

“Bekah, sweetheart breathe, just breathe baby, don’t go yet, don’t go,” she pleaded, and Indy bit back her cries. Two nurses showed up in the doorway, waiting. There was nothing they could do but watch, and answer questions if they were asked.

Bekah’s father turned to the corner.

“Indiana, Indiana what’s happening to my baby?” He cried. It was enough to break Indy out of her trance, and she moved over to the bedside, resting a hand on Bekah’s leg.

“Her body is trying to decide what to do. It’s tired, and with her blood pressure going down, her heart is work harder to move her blood around. That’s why it’s faster,” she explained. “She’s not in pain right now, her medicine should still be working. It probably just feels a bit scary.”

Mr. Newcomb took her hand, and squeezed. Indy looked back to the monitors, unable to bear looking down at Bekah. She watched the blips on the monitor start to regulate again, sinus rhythm reappearing, allowing both of them to breathe easier. Bekah groaned a bit and settled into her covers, and a broken sob made its way out of Mrs. Newcomb’s throat.

“I need a minute,” she said, and then she was headed for the door with a hand over her mouth. It was the second time she was sick that day. Mr. Newcomb took her to the cafeteria to get a Sprite, and Indy took her usual spot, perched on the edge of Bekah’s bed. She took her hand, tensing a bit with how cold it was. She rubbed it, bringing it up to her lips to blow warmth into her palm as best she could.

Bekah stirred, and her eyes opened for the first time in many hours.

“Hey,” Indy said quietly, not wanting to startle her.

“What was all that noise?” Bekah’s voice was croaky, but she shook her head when Indy offered her a drink of water.

“Your monitors. They’re loud aren’t they?”

“Yeah. Annoying as hell,” she mumbled, then opened her eyes a bit wider, scanning the room for her mother.

“Language,” Indy teased.

“Why were they going off?”

It took all of Indy’s strength not to lie.

“Your heart rate picked up because your blood pressure went down. That’s something that happens…”

“Oh. It means it’s getting close isn’t it.”

Indy nodded and squeezed her hand. Bekah took a moment to process, and then she turned her head back to her friend.

“Is Grayson here yet?”

“No. Not yet.”

“Well, he better come soon if he wants to see me. Tell him to hurry, since I’m dying and shit.”

“Language,” Indy whispered it so her voice didn’t crack. Bekah played with the edge of her blanket.

“Am I supposed to be scared?”

“There’s no right or wrong way to be right now Beks. You just do what you need and feel how you feel, and we’ll be here the whole time, okay? We’re right here.”

“You need to not be here,” Bekah said, and Indy’s breath caught in her throat.

“Oh.”

“You need sleep, and a shower. I won’t die while you’re gone if I can help it. Promise.” She wrapped her pinky around Indy’s as best she could.

Before she could refuse, the Newcombs appeared back through the door, delighted to see their daughter awake. She sat up a bit straighter in bed and put on her best smile, Indy’s heart tightening at the sight.

“Go,” Bekah whispered through her smile. She squeezed her hand one more time, and then let go, walking up to Mrs. Newcomb.

“I’m gonna go get freshened up and grab some clean clothes, but will you text me if anything changes? I live right down the street, so I can be back here really quick,” she explained, trying to ignore the growing look of pity in her eyes.

“Of course dear. But you go home for the night, we’ll be alright. I’ll call you if anything changes, you need your rest. You’ve been here so long, have a night of normalcy at home and come back fresh tomorrow, okay?”

Indy nodded - it was all she could do. She blew Bekah a kiss and walked out the door, pausing when she noticed something had changed.

A small blue heart had been placed by her room number - a signal that made Indy’s heart sink. Bekah was officially dying, and it was there for every nurse and visitor on the unit to see, to signify they needed to respect privacy and be quiet when they were close by.

It made no sense, for that to be her breaking point. She’d known. She’d seen it, in her vitals and her demeanor and the fact that just their conversation was enough to have her ready to sleep for another 8 hours.

But that little blue heart was her undoing, and she clutched her chest for the entire walk out of the hospital, down the stairs and out into the pouring rain. The thought of her empty apartment, with no Grayson and no Charlie and no Devin was too much - instead, she found herself running down the sidewalk past the lobby to the parking garage, shoes sloshing with water by the time she made it under the concrete.

The valet didn’t ask questions when she passed over her key, shivering as she waited for him to bring her car out. As soon as she climbed in she hit the gas, ready to drive somewhere, anywhere, that wasn’t her home. The road was blurry despite the rapid back and forth of her windshield wipers, but she trudged on, just coherent enough to keep her tires between the white lines as she fled the city. The river was swollen when she drove over the bridge into Jersey, and she let herself zone out, let her mind take her wherever it wanted to go.

She knew where she would end up.

The crunch of gravel was familiar under her tires when she turned off the winding road. It was a comforting sound, though it was muffled by the rain, and it wasn’t until she was close enough to the white house to see that the kitchen light was on that she realized what she was doing.

She put the car in park, ready to shift it to reverse until a small figure appeared on the front porch, waving her inside.

Her earlier words rang in her ears. My door is always open.

She hoped it was true as she flung her car door open and bolted for the protection of the porch.

Lisa was waiting for her, standing in her pajamas with worry written all over her face.

“Indiana? Sweetheart, are you okay?”

All Indy could do was sob. She hated it, and the voice in her head berated her over and over, reminded her she had no place there anymore, that she was putting Lisa in a terrible position. But the feeling of a mother’s arms around her wasn’t something she could fight against, and she crumpled into her and let herself be held.

“Shhh. Shhh, you’re okay,” she hummed, running a hand over Indy’s blonde hair that was soaking wet. “Let’s get you inside and get warmed up.”

Indy let herself be led in, shoulders relaxing a bit at the familiarity of where she was until she spotted Grayson’s work boots in the corner and recoiled back. Lisa sat her down in a chair in the kitchen and squatted down until they were eye level.

“Are you hurt?”

Indy shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Is everything okay?” Her tone gave away that she already knew the answer, but Indy shook her head again anyways. Lisa patted her leg and sighed quietly, reaching up to brush some of her hair back.

“Does Grayson know you’re here?”

The squeak that escaped Indy’s lips was the only warning before she let out a sob so loud that Gizmo yelled in shock.

“I’m s-s-s-orry,” she choked, crumpling with her face in her hands.

“No, no no shhh, it’s okay sweetheart. It’s alright, you’re okay.” Lisa pulled her to her as best she could, rocking just barely as she held her.

“No, I shouldn’t have come, I don’t want to make things difficult for you with - him.” Indy couldn’t get herself to say his name and Lisa just shook her head.

“Babe I told you that I would be here for you no matter what, and I meant it, okay? I won’t tell him you’re here unless I need to. You can stay as long as you need, you hear me?” She used her thumbs to wipe at Indy’s tears, frowning at the dark circles she found.

“Sweetheart, when was the last time you got a good night’s sleep?”

Indy’s silence was enough.

“Well, it’s late, and I think sleep is the first thing you need. We can talk tomorrow, but right now, you go up and climb into bed okay? They’re all made up, you can sleep wherever you’d like. Do you need anything, or do you remember where everything is.”

“I remember,” Indy whispered, taking in a shaky breath. “Thank you Li.”

“Of course. You’re a part of this family, always. Now, get some rest. You know where I am if you need me.”

She kissed her forehead and disappeared up the stairs. Indy wasn’t sure how long it took to get herself together and muster the energy to climb those same stairs, take a left into the room she’d been in so many times before.

It still smelled a bit like him, and she couldn’t help but to take a few deep breaths, closing her eyes and pretending he was right there, sprawled out in bed with the blanket held up for her like the first time she’d slept over. It was the same blanket when she opened her eyes again, and the thought of climbing into it without him waiting for her made her sick to her stomach. She couldn’t look at the bed any longer, so she turned to the closet, sighing when she saw all the warm clothes that were far too much fabric for LA, even in the winter. It was almost unconscious, the way she found herself in front of his shirts, running her fingers over the various fabric until she landed on a familiar flannel. Checkered, with blue, white and black squares. Thick and warm, he’d worn it once when they went out to check on the progress of the tiny homes, and she’d woven her arms underneath it when she reached around him to hold on as he drove them through the trees.

Before she could stop herself, she snatched it off the hanger and pushed her arms through the sleeves, eyes prickling at the realization that she felt close to him for the first time in weeks, yet he was still so far away. She retreated back to the bedroom, grabbing one of the pillows and carrying it downstairs, all the way to the couch in the living room. The blankets were still in the basket in the corner, and she grabbed her favorite one before she curled up under it on the cold leather, pulling the flannel fabric up around her chin and closing her eyes.

In the kitchen, Gizmo turned on her perch and cocked her head.

“Dee,” she said, but Indiana was already asleep.

It was the best sleep she had in weeks - the peace of knowing that she wasn’t truly alone enough for her body to force her to catch up. Lisa was surprised to see her still curled up on the couch at 9:30 the next morning when she got ready for work as the rain continued outside. She watched her sleep for a few moments, heart tight at the way her eyebrows were still furrowed and her face buried in the collar of a shirt she was sure was her son’s.

She didn’t know the details, but she knew Grayson well enough to put together the pieces. But she also knew he wouldn’t let Indiana suffer this much if he truly knew how she was doing. It had to be bad if Indiana even considered coming out to the house, and it gave Lisa a level of mom anxiety she hadn’t had since the boys had picked up longboarding again. She wondered how he’d let it go on so long in the first place, and after a moment of debating, she scribbled down a note for Indy, went out to her car as quietly as she could, and called her son.

His phone sent her straight to voicemail. She tried again. Voicemail. With the third dial tone she couldn’t help the pit that grew in her stomach, an automatic mom reflex when your child is unreachable.

Instead, she called Ethan. It rang four times and then she heard a muffled groan and rustling before his voice came through the line.

“Ma, it’s 6:30 in the morning,” he grumbled, voice raspy and dry. “You okay?”

“Why isn’t your brother answering his phone? Are you two okay?”

Ethan sighed, annoyed. “He’s fine Mom, he’s just doing a detox from his phone. People were being shitty. He’s asleep down the hall, not dead in a ditch somewhere,” Ethan chuckled. Lisa wasn’t amused.

“Well, wake him up and un-detox him. He needs to call Indiana. Now.”

Ethan sat up in bed.

“Indy? Why, what’s wrong?”

“That’s for him to figure out. All I know is, she’s not doing well and he needs to call her. Now.”

“What happened?”

“Just make sure he calls her, alright? I’ve gotta get to work, I love you.”

“Alright, love you too.”

As soon as he hung up, he was on his feet, rushing down the hallway and throwing Grayson’s door open. He ran to the edge of his bed, shaking his shoulder until he groaned and opened his eyes.

“The fuck do you want,” he grumbled.

“You need to call Indiana, I just got off the phone with Ma. Something’s wrong.”

Grayson felt sick.

“What happened? Is she safe, is she okay?”

“I don’t know, you just need to call her.”

“You don’t know? You don’t know? The fuck do you mean you don’t know Ethan?” Grayson was yelling, but he was on his feet as he spoke, headed down the hallway in search of the lock box. He rummaged through the kitchen drawer until he found the key, hands so shaky it took three tries to unlock the metal contraption.

His phone was dead when he pulled it out, and it took all his willpower to keep from chucking it at the glass doors.

“Yours, give me yours.”

Ethan was a step ahead of him, already having Indiana’s contact pulled up. Grayson snatched it and hit the call button, heart pounding in his ears as he waited for her to answer.

Indy woke up to the buzzing of her phone against her arm where she’d tucked it the night before. Her eyes flew open - it must be Mrs. Newcomb, calling to tell her that Bekah had gotten worse. She sat up, rubbing at her eyes until she could read the name on her screen.

Ethan.

Her heart sank. She’d thought to call him more times than she wanted to admit, but she figured calling your ex's twin when said ex didn’t want to talk to you was crossing some moral line. Though as she sat on his mother’s couch, she figured it was time to get over the morals and do what she needed to do.

She swiped to answer.

“Dee? Are you okay? Are you safe?”

She couldn’t breathe. Her mouth opened and closed again as she tried to find something to say to the only person she’d wanted to talk to in almost three weeks. She hadn’t had time to prep herself, to give her heart a warning.

“Baby talk to me, tell me you’re okay,” he pleaded, and the pain in his voice was enough to snap her out of it.

“Grayson?” was all she could say.

“Yeah, it’s me. What’s wrong, are you hurt?”

“No, no I’m okay, I’m fine.”

Grayson took a breath for the first time since she picked up the phone. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure what to say, the panic dissipating and leaving his brain blank. Luckily, she spoke.

“I’ve been trying to call you,” she said.

“I know. Indiana I’m sor-”

“It’s Beks.”

His heart skipped a beat, and the silence rang in his ears as he clutched onto the back of the couch. Ethan, who had been eavesdropping from the kitchen, moved closer. Grayson waited for her to speak, to say it so he didn’t have to ask.

“Is she-”

“No.” Indy’s voice broke. “But…”

“Oh god. Fuck. Fuck Indy.” His knees wobbled beneath him.

“She isn’t in any pain, we’ve been keeping her comfortable. But it’s probably gonna be in the next few days,” she whispered between sniffles, her voice squeaky and small as she fought to get the words out.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to have to tell you over the phone but... “ she trailed off. “She asked when you were coming to see her, and I didn’t know what to say.”

The tears were burning as they slid down his cheeks. He squeezed his eyes closed, fighting the imagery of Bekah in her hospital bed, calling out for him.

“Indy-”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to say so I just said you’d be there soon. If you can’t come she probably won’t remember, but I just wanted you to know, in case you wanted to be here. To see her, before…”

“I’m coming. I’ll be right there okay? I’m going to the airport now, I’ll be right there.”

Indy was silent for a moment, her eyes flickering to the rain outside.

“Fly safe. It’s storming here.”

“I will. I’ll see you soon okay? Just hold on, I’ll be there.”

“Okay.”

That sat in silence for a moment until Indiana finally hung up.

“I’m going with you,” Ethan said. He didn’t need context - all he knew is his brother needed him. Grayson nodded once, passed him his phone and headed straight for his room. He packed blindly, throwing things into his suitcase without bothering to fold them, just desperate to get on the road to the airport and get back to New York. Ethan was two steps behind him when he finally made it to the door, his phone pressed to his ear as he tried to explain the situation as best he could to a very worried Eden. Grayson loaded the bags as Ethan climbed into the driver’s seat, leaving the charger open for Grayson’s still dead phone. Ethan practically peeled out of the driveway towards LAX, the cab filled with silence apart from the hum of the engine and the quiet sniffles from Gray when his phone turned back on and he saw all the missed texts and calls from Indiana who had been trying so desperately to reach him. The guilt made him queasy, and Ethan’s driving didn’t help as he hopped lanes and sped on, praying no cops were on the road.

Grayson’s knee bounced impatiently as they waited in the line for parking, paying an astronomical amount seeing that they didn’t know when they would be back. Then they were running, dragging their bags behind them on the asphalt and beelining for the front desk. The attendants eyes went wide when they requested the next flight to New York at the exact same time. It wasn’t taking off for three more hours, much to their dismay, but they accepted it and headed towards security with their heads low and phones in hand.

The next flight doesn’t leave until around 10 but we’ll be on it. I’m sorry.

He watched the bubbles appear and disappear three times over, and then her response came.

nothing to be sorry for. I’m back at the hospital with her, she’s resting. I’ll keep you updated. the storm is still really bad here, please be careful

He wished he could reach out and hold her hand, ease her anxiety about his flight. He couldn’t imagine the emotion of that on top of everything else, so he said all he could think to.

I’ll be safe, and I’ll be there soon.

He typed I love you and deleted it before he sent it.

And then, it was a waiting game. The boys kept their hoods up and their heads down in hopes they wouldn’t be recognized. It seemed the universe was in their favor for the time being, no one bothering them while they waited, but it took a turn when their flight was delayed for weather not once, but twice, pushing their departure time to 2pm instead. He apologized again, agonizing over the thought of Indy sitting in the hospital by herself, but her response was the same.

she’s still resting, it’s okay. just be safe.

“We’re doing everything we can,” Ethan tried to reassure him, but he knew it was futile.

“I should have been there. I should have never left her in the first place Ethan, I’m an idiot.”

“You couldn’t have known this was going to happen. You told me she was getting better.”

He thought his brother was still talking about Bekah, and the queasiness returned.

“She was.”

They sat in silence as the hours crawled by. Ethan bought them lunch from a vegan salad shop down the terminal, even got his brother one of the protein coffee drinks he liked. Grayson picked at the lettuce and left it abandoned for his twin to finish. His only solace was his headphones that he kept pressed far into his ears with a constant stream of Cudi to keep him sane. After what felt like an eternity, they called for boarding. He texted her again to let her know he was on his way, and in a cruel play of the universe or whatever it was, Teleport 2 Me Jamie began to play.

His eyes were blurry as he followed Ethan to their seats, climbing in by the window and readjusting his hood so it folded around his face as much as it could, hiding. Ethan leaned forward and acted like he was reading the SkyMagazine he found in the back of his seat, shielding his brother from view as best he could.

They’d been on a flight like this before. January of 2019 - it had been raining that day too, but they had both been crying that day. So he stayed strong for his brother as best he could, got him a gingerale when the flight attendant passed by, and left Grayson alone.

Indy wished someone would talk to her. She wished Bekah would wake up again - it had been hours of silence apart from the beeps of her monitor and the footsteps of the nurses outside the door. It was never truly silent in a hospital after all. But she was glad that she slept despite the loneliness. She hoped it would mean that she had energy for when Grayson made it to the hospital.

Grayson.

Her brain didn’t have the space to process that he would be there in the next six hours. His text that said he had boarded barely even registered in her mind, but her body was aware. Her anxiety picked up ten fold, her leg bouncing until it cramped, her lungs tight and fingernails bit down to the nail beds. The rain was relentless, as if the city were drowning already and it decided to add more for the fun of it, to watch the humans run around like ants in their multicolored raincoats. The universe was sick that way.

Mr. Newcomb returned from the nurses station where he’d insisted on dropping off some cookies he’d bought at the store. He was quiet as he came into the room, eyes on his daughter until he finally peeled them away to look at Indy.

“Do you think she’ll be asleep a little while longer? We were hoping to take some of her clothes home and wash them, so she has her choice from all her favorites for the next few days.”

“I think so. My… friend is coming later. Her other buddy, from the program. We’ll keep her company if you guys need to eat and get some sleep for a few hours. I can text you if anything changes.”

“I’ll see if I can convince Martina to get some shut eye I will,” he laughed, giving Indy a grateful smile and taking one more glance at his girl before he gathered her laundry and left. It only hit Indiana when he stepped out that she had never known Martina’s name until then. Bekah’s father was named Tarin, she knew that much. But she’d never even gotten to a first name basis with Martina. In all the years they’d known each other, and all the hours in hospital rooms and tears shared, she’d never been anything but Bekah’s mom to Indy. It wasn’t uncommon for Indiana to keep mom’s at an arm’s length from her. A protective mechanism she’d never consciously implemented, but it prevailed nonetheless.

She wondered if Bekah would have wanted to be a mom someday. When she was 13 she’d insisted that men were trash and that she’d never get married even if she made it through all her cancer, but as she’d gotten a bit older she loved to talk about all her celebrity crushes. Indy looked in her side drawer and smiled when she found the little picture of Harry Styles she’d given her during her last round of treatment - she’d taken it with her to every room since.

Indy paced the room, her anxiety to high to allow her to sit. She thought of Grayson on a plane somewhere, the metal tube rocking in the sky, cutting through the clouds. When she would get to the window she’d look up, hoping to see the lights from the wing of a plane somewhere, hoping it was his and that it was coming down safely.

She paced for two more hours before her phone buzzed.

Landed. I should be there in about 40. She still asleep?

Indy took in her first deep breath in hours.

yeah, she’s still out. I’ll meet you in the ocean hallway so you don’t have to buzz in, just text me when you’re close.

Will do.

Ma is picking us up so as soon as we get out we’ll head straight there

Ethan is with me but he’s just gonna go home with her for now

sounds good

She didn’t have much to say, her stomach fluttering against her will. Her emotions were too unbalanced for her to even know what was happening. Excitement, and fear and grief and anxiety and anger and confusion, all at once somehow. She wrapped her arms around herself to try to hold it together and went back to pacing.

Grayson was soaked by the time he made it into Lisa’s car, scurrying into the backseat and barking out directions harsher than he meant to.

“I already have it in the GPS. Calm down,” Lisa said, giving Ethan a side eye in the passenger seat.

“Sorry,” Grayson muttered, ringing his hands.

“S’alright babe,” Lisa sighed, reaching an arm back to pat his leg where she could reach. They drove in silence, listening to the rain smack against the roof and the windshield until Ethan spoke up.

“Did Indy call you? Is that how you knew something was wrong?” He asked Lisa. He hadn’t said anything, but he was worried too.

Lisa debated it for a moment, and then she sighed.

“She was upset, and she needed to get in touch with Grayson,” was all she said. “The rest of it, she can tell you.”

Gray didn’t have the energy to be annoyed. Every ounce he had was involved in the visuals flipping through his mind like a viewfinder; Indy in the ocean hallway, Bekah and her halloween blanket, the tiny homes, Indy’s tears in the airport. He hadn’t imagined that the next time he saw her would be like this. He wanted it to be different. Better. He wanted everything to be better.

When they finally made it to the hospital, Lisa pulled to the curb and turned to her youngest son with a serious look.

“You take care of her, but you take care of you too, okay? I love you.”

Grayson’s nose burned and he nodded once before he ducked out into the rain.

Indy stopped walking, and breathing, when her phone buzzed again.

Here. Omw up

She liked the message, fixed Bekah’s blankets and headed out into the hallway and through the doors. The smiles of the marine life were haunting as she waited for any sign that he was close.

Her head whipped up when she heard the familiar clammer of the far doors being pushed open.

He was wearing his yellow Cudi hoodie, but it was the wrong color. The fabric was darker than she remembered, darker than the picture she had of him in it, the one she’d taken in Jet’s once. It didn’t process that it was because it was wet until he was halfway down the hall. His hair was a bit longer than it had been, without Lisa there to trim it up. And his beard was full and scruffy and dark, hiding away his jaw line. She could still tell that his teeth were clenched though, his nerves palpable as he got closer and closer to her.

His shoe squeaked when he stopped in front of her. Neither of them breathed for a moment. They just stared at each other. He shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets to keep himself from hugging her, from crossing a boundary that he wished he’d never set.

“Hi,” he said.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“Hey. How was your flight?”

“Long, but not too bumpy.”

Another painful beat of silence.

“How is she?”

“She’s still asleep, but we can wake her up. Meds are coming soon, just stuff to keep her comfortable. Her vitals are still okay, she’s just a bit groggy. But she’s excited to see you.” Indy offered him a small smile, and it had his knees ready to give out beneath him.

“And you? Are you okay?” He asked.

Indy’s smile faded, and she looked at the jellyfish.

“That doesn’t matter right now. C’mon, let’s go see her.”

Indy used her badge to swipe into the door, but Grayson’s throat was too tight to ask her about it. Instead he just followed her down the familiar hallway, trying to avoid the looks of pity from the nurses who recognized him.

Indy caught his wrist before he walked into the room.

“I didn’t… she doesn’t know about… us. I didn’t want to upset her, and it never really came up. I’m sorry,” she whispered. She sounded ashamed, but all Grayson could focus on was the feeling of her hand on his skin again, even if it was just a few fingers.

“Okay. That’s okay.”

“Okay.”

Indy walked into the room, the most hesitant that Grayson had ever seen her.

Beks looked cold. Even cuddled under her blankets she looked like she was freezing, and Grayson had trouble breathing. Indy went to the side of her bed, ran her thumb across her cheek and over to her shoulder where she squeezed gently.

“Beks, hey. Bekah,” she used her most gentle voice until the youngster stirred. “Someone’s here to see you.”

Grayson pulled it together in the last moment before Bekah opened her eyes.

“Earrings,” she sighed, a small smile on her lips. It was the most expression Indy had seen all day. “You made it.”

“Of course I did sweet girl,” he chuckled to hide his pain, moving beside Indy and crouching down so Bekah could see him easier. “Sorry it took me so long.”

“S’okay. We all know you’re slow,” she teased. “Hey, no tears. No crying in Bekah’s room.”

He hadn’t even realized he was until she said it, and he used his hoodie to wipe his eyes.

“Sorry Beks. Just missed you is all.”

“Yeah, well we missed you too. Did you convince my parents to go home?”

“Yeah,” Indy answered. “They’re getting some rest and bringing you some clean clothes.”

“Mmm, good. I think that black hoodie is a good one to die in,” she said, body shaking just barely with a laugh that turned into a cough.

“Pardon the death jokes, you’ll get used to them,” Bekah smiled at Grayson and the shock on his face once her throat cleared enough.

He thought of Sean, how he had pretended everything was fine until the very end, and he smiled.

“Don’t you think a black death hoodie is a little on the nose?” He said, and Bekah laughed. It sounded the most like her real one since she’d been off her treatment, and it warmed Indy’s soul.

“Fair point. Maybe I should go with blue. You think someone will let me into heaven if I’m in blue or will I just blend in with the sky?”

“I don’t think anyone has to let you in,” Indy said with a laugh, crouching down next to Grayson. Their knees bumped together. “Pretty sure you just end up there.”

“I hope so. There’s no one there to find me anyways.” The playful edge was gone from her voice, and Grayson frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m the first one. I mean, I guess my grandma is up there but I never knew her. Everybody always talks about how their family will be there, when they go.” She paused, taking a few deep breaths to get her energy back. She hadn’t talked so much in days, and her heart rate was rising from the exertion of it. The pair waited patiently, giving her the time she needed to finish her thought.

“I don’t have anyone to die for, anybody waiting on me. I gotta find my way in there alone.”

The innocence of it was enough to rip Indy’s heart in half, and she couldn’t find the comforting words that she wanted to give. But Grayson cleared his throat.

“You won’t be alone. I know of at least two people who will be right there waiting for you.”

She perked up a bit, eyes opening wider from where they’d started to close. “Really?”

“Yeah. My dad. He looks kinda like me, but shorter, with a better beard. His name is Sean.”

Bekah smiled. “Whose the other one?”

“A tall blonde lady named Nicole. Indy’s mom. Looks just like her, you won’t be able to miss her. They’ll help you, and keep you safe.” The sincerity in his voice was enough for Indy to realize he desperately wanted it to be true. She turned her head to hide her tears, clinging onto the bed rail to keep herself steady.

“That sounds nice,” Bekah breathed, her eyes slowly closing. “You all want me to tell them anything, when I get there?”

It was Grayson’s turn to lose his voice.

“No babe. We can tell them when we get up there.” Indy answered after a moment too long.

“That better not be for a long time. I gotta have some entertainment. Watch you all grow up and get married and have kids. You better name one after me too,” she sighed, her voice getting quieter as her heart sped up.

“You bet,” Grayson said, leaning forward to kiss her forehead as her breathing slowed and evened out again. It was slower than it should be, and Grayson realized his own breathing was fast… too fast. He brought a hand to his chest, then his other to cover his mouth and keep himself quiet.

“Shh, shhh hey, you’re okay, here, c’mon, you’re okay.” Indy’s voice was in his ear, her arms under his to try and guide him up to his feet, then out to the hallway. She held his arm and pulled him over into a supply closet that she swiped into, letting the door shut behind them.

“Breathe Grayson. It’s okay, just breathe.”

He fell to pieces in her arms, his back curled painfully so he could bury his face in the crook of her neck and sob. They were ugly sounds, wet and snotty and raw and she didn’t care. She just held him together as best she could with her small hands, let him relax into her and get it out of his system. His shoulders stilled eventually, but his arms stayed locked around her like a vice.

Neither of them moved until the motion sensor light clicked off, covering them in darkness.

They didn’t speak. They untangled themselves and let the light turn back on before they headed back into the hallway as if nothing had happened, back into Bekahs room. Her heart rate was perpetually high now, fighting to keep the blood pumping.

Another sign that the end was coming soon.

Indiana and Grayson sat down on the couch beside each other, just close enough for their shoulders to graze occasionally when they shifted. Indy watched the monitors and Grayson watched her, reading her expressions as best he could over what felt like an eternity. He looked at all the things he’d missed - the freckle by her ear, and the baby hairs that sat by her temple and never seemed to grow.

It could have been minutes, or hours. No one was sure. But eventually Indy’s posture slumped slightly, and with a final sigh she leaned over to the left, her head resting on Grayson’s shoulder.

He stopped breathing, only allowing himself shallow inhales that left his torso perfectly still so she could rest. He didn’t know how to feel, and against his will his eyes prickled at the realization that despite the fucked up situation they were in, she was there, leaned against him. Beside him. Something he wasn’t sure he was ever going to get ever again. The way she shifted and mumbled in her sleep let him know she wasn’t comfortable, but he let himself be selfish for a few minutes and soothed her back down so she stayed, relished in the weight of her on him and resisting the urge to wrap his arm around her shoulders.

He moved as carefully as he ever had to press a tiny kiss to her hair.

She sighed and settled down further in her seat, moving her head onto the back of the couch and freeing him.

The angle of her neck looked painful, and he scanned the room, noticing that they’d brought in two recliners, presumably for her parents. He stood up carefully and dragged the chairs away from the wall, lining them up like he had in his dad’s room. He hunted down a few extra pillows from the nurses, blankets too, and brought them in, making little makeshift beds for the two of them.

He felt guilt waking Indy up, but he didn’t want to pick her up without permission. Instead, he shook her shoulder gently until she stirred, panicking for a moment until she realized everything was okay. Her heart fluttered at the realization that Grayson was still there.

“Sleep over here, it’ll save your neck.” He nodded towards the chair and she stood up slowly, groggily moving over into one of them. She sighed as she settled in, exhaustion taking over. Grayson liked to think that she felt peaceful enough, safe enough to sleep because he was there, but he didn’t let himself believe it. So he simply moved her blanket up over her torso before he climbed into his own chair that faced the other way so they could see each other.

He watched her sleep for a moment, and then her hand moved just far enough down the arm rest. She wiggled her fingers until he got the message, slipping his hand into hers before he too fell asleep.

When they awoke the next morning, their hands were still intertwined, and Bekah’s parents were coming in the doorway. Indy woke up first, sitting up straight and squeezing Grayson’s hand.

“Grayson. Gray, hey, wake up.”

He grumbled until he was able to open his eyes, wiping his mouth with his hoodie sleeve as he came to and realized where he was. He was quick to stand, to introduce himself to Bekah’s parents with firm handshakes. His hair was a mess, and Indy bit her fingernails to keep from reaching out to smooth it out.

The day went by, measured by the heart rate monitor beeps that got quicker and quicker, and the rattling of Bekah’s breath as the fluid settled in her lungs. Martina and Indy changed her into her blue hoodie, and fixed her favorite scarf - one with tiny blue lightning bolts - over her head.

Indy and Gray didn’t have the energy or stamina to try to figure out where they stood, so they chose together, for the time being. She kept her arm wrapped around his, the way she used to when he walked her down the street. He traced over her fingers where she held onto him, chewing her lip while she watched her vitals grow worse and worse, all the red flags she would be trying to fix if that was the goal. Around 3pm, the nurse came into the room. The way Indy tensed was enough for Grayson to know something was happening.

“We’re gonna give her a bit more sedation to keep her comfortable. With the current levels of her vitals, it might slow her down enough to let her pass peacefully. There are no guarantees, but it is possible.”

Martina began to cry into her husband’s shoulder.

“So we should say our goodbyes then?” Tarin asked through a tight throat. The nurse nodded.

“We’ll administer it and then give you guys some privacy.”

“She won’t be in any pain, right?”

“No sir. It’ll just be like falling asleep.”

Indy watched as she set up her IV and stepped out of the room.

Grayson and Indy followed her out quietly, giving Bekah and her parents the moment that they needed. Indy’s breath was shaky, and she held tighter to Grayson as they waited in the hallway. He looked up towards the light in an attempt to stop the tears, and a few moments later, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

It was Martina, her eyes red and cheeks blotchy.

“You all are family. She would want you here with her.”

Grayson’s feet wouldn’t move until Indy guided him back into the room.

Bekah’s parents stayed on either side of her bed and held her hands while Indy and Grayson stood at the foot of her bed and watched her take her last breath.

Indy didn’t cry. She stood watch, only moving when the nurses came in to confirm time of death. She went and turned the monitors off, cutting the monotonous tone out abruptly as they removed Bekah’s IV. Grayson’s quiet sniffled and muffled sobs were almost enough to tip her over the edge, but she held it together. She hugged Martina, then Tarin, and then retreated into Grayson’s side yet again.

There wasn’t a signal, or anyone that told them it was time to go. But they found themselves outside in the hallway eventually, and they walked arm and arm. They signed out at the desk for the last time and walked out the doors of the pediatric oncology ward, through the ocean hallway and down the stairs.

The rain had stopped.

They walked the streets in silence, holding onto each other tightly as people passed them on the sidewalk, completely unaware of what had just happened to them. The world continued to turn, the city continued to bustle, and they continued to walk, one foot in front of the other until they made it to the elevator of her building.

Indy watched the numbers go by as it climbed. She didn’t say a word when they got to her floor, or through her door or over to her couch. Grayson sat down beside her and took his shoes off. She stared over his shoulder out the windows, an overwhelming numbness settling over her entirety.

“Indy, why don’t you take your shoes off,” Grayson whispered.

She didn’t look at him.

“Indy?”

He waited. The blues in her eyes were dark, and his heart sank. He knelt down and untied her shoes, sliding them off her feet gently. He took her socks off too - she hated sleeping in socks.

“I’ve got you. You’re safe, it’s okay,” he said, brushing some of her hair behind her ear. She swallowed hard, and that was enough for Grayson to justify picking her up and carrying her into her room. He sat her down and pulled her covers back before he got her into bed.

Once she was settled he stood up, waiting for just a moment before he spoke.

“I’ll be on the couch if you need me okay? I’ll be right here.”

Indy blinked hard, and then she shook her head.

Grayson went to his knees beside her in an instant, ready to do whatever she needed.

“Stay.”

That was all he needed. He circled around the bed and climbed in behind her, coiling his arm around her torso and crushing her back against him, pressing her into him everywhere he could. He willed himself to shield her, from the pain and the reality of what had just happened. He pressed a kiss to her hair and closed his eyes and he held his girl until morning.

#some of yall bout to be real mad at me #oop #PLS LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK :D #mixtape #grayson dolan #grayson dolan fanfiction #dolan twins #dolan twins fanfiction

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tree-wizard · 3 years

Text

I tried writing a fan fic for the first time! I didn’t really know what I was doing but here it is. It’s inspired by @an-aspiring-jester ‘s post about Scroldie tending to wounds in the Klondike(I tried to make the wound description not too graphic). Also have no idea if Scrooge and Goldie are in character, I might have made them too mushy cause I MUST HAVE FLUFF.

Thanks to @promiseddifferent for encouraging me.

And oh the title is a line from the song “Ghost Love Score” by Nightwish.

Redeem Me Into Childhood

Goldie briskly walked into the cabin and carelessly tossed her pickaxe and shovel aside.

“Be careful! If ye break my supplies, you’ll have tae pay me!”

She turned her head over her shoulder to look at the miserly grungy miner, walking into the cabin behind her and rolled her eyes. He growled and went to carefully lay down his tools, and check on the ones Goldie had thrown.

Goldie slumped down on the bed and started picking the semi dried scab on her hand. An hour ago when they had been mining, Scrooge had yelled at her for being too slow and lazy and in her frustration and determination to show him that she was just as capable as him she accidentally gashed her left hand. That certainly didn’t make her seem any more capable, so she had assured Scrooge that she was fine and when he turned away from her and focused on his own mining, she wrapped her hand in the under skirt from her dress and tried to continue working.

It was pretty bad but she didn’t want to further show him how out of her element she was. She could have used the injury and feigned being super hurt so that she could get out of doing the terrible work and maybe even had time to look for the lockbox. But she knew Scrooge would never let her in the cabin alone. In fact, once he noticed that she was using her pickaxe with one hand and that really wasn’t doing anything he grudgingly, and with a lot of muttered curses, sent her to the cabin and decided to end early for the day himself so that he could go and make sure she didn’t steal anything. Showing weakness wouldn’t do her any good while she was stuck out here with him.

She felt her cheeks slightly burn from the embarrassment and frustration with herself that was starting to swirl in her empty stomach. Ughhh, she had been so foolish. She couldn’t let his angry words affect her this much. She always had to be under control, not a klutzy damsel in distress. But why did she care what he thought of her anyways? She was the Ice Queen of the North. That’s why. She had a reputation to keep. She couldn’t let him see her as less of a formidable threat. But strangely that explanation seemed hollow and almost like an excuse and the implications of that made her feel nauseous.

Suddenly she felt a sharp spark of pain that pulled her out of her thoughts and made her hiss under her breath. Absorbed in her reflections on the events of the day, she had lost attention of her hands and now noticed that she had scraped open a part of the gash that had already been starting to heal. Her hiss spread through the cramped air of the small cabin and startled Scrooge. He was crouched by the stove, putting in wood to build up a fire, and now he looked up and across the room at Goldie.

“There’s some gauze on the table. Ye should go wrap up yer hand.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you cared about me?” Goldie scoffed.

Scrooge lowered his head and Goldie couldn’t see the pink rising on the surface of his cheeks. It's just the fire, he told himself.

“I don’t care about you. Just your ability to dig up gold.”

“Ha! I almost forgot that you’re an inconsiderate and selfish jerk.”

“As if you aren’t,” Scrooge retorted and she gasped, pretending to be offended. She continued to sit pouting on the bed. She was so frustrating. If she didn’t want to deal with her hand, so be it.

She wanted to snap back at him in some way to restore her pride and not let him win but her hand was aching and the part she had just scraped open was starting to bleed. As much as she hated following his advice, she got up and walked over to the table. She took the roll of gauze and tried to rip a portion, but she felt a sharp prickling sensation shoot through her hand and she tried to stifle a shriek.

Scrooge had stood up and walked over to the table by this time and she felt his eyes fixed on her. “Hmm, ye seem to be managing this well” he taunted her and she furrowed her eyebrows in exasperation. She lifted up the gauze to her beak and sunk her teeth into it, hoping to tear a part off. It was way pretty tough though and she struggled to even make a slight rip.

She didn’t seem so vile when she was focusing her neverending fury on something other than him. It reminded him of his younger sister Hortense and that filled him with a sense of warm comfort and tenderness that diffused his annoyance and bitterness. Scrooge chuckled and extended a hand.

“Let me help,” he said, much softer than Goldie expected. He seemed genuine and benign which caught her off guard and made her wonder if she should be cautious. She grunted and reluctantly dropped the roll of gauze into his open palm. He closed his fingers over it and then gestured at one of the chairs by the table. Goldie sat down and watched Scrooge grab a bucket of water, a cloth and a second chair from the other side of the table and bring them over to her.

“Give me your hand,” he said as he sat down beside her. She obeyed and felt his rough fingers grip her hand. He dipped the cloth into the bucket, squeezed out the excess water and started to wipe the blood and dirt off the small matted feathers of her palm. She flinched and jerked her hand when she felt the damp wetness trickle over the ravenous edge of her exposed gash. Scrooge tightened his grip on her hand and continued going over her wound. As much as she annoyed and infuriated him, he didn’t particularly want to inflict her any pain. But this was for her own good.

He finished cleaning her wound and started to wrap the gauze around her hand. He was slow and thorough and the repetition made her feel a bit more relaxed. It was almost hypnotic. Normally it irked her to have her personal autonomy restrained but his strong grip on her hand was actually oddly comforting. She settled into the calmness of the moment and let herself lower her defenses as she raised up her eyes to watch him.

She prided herself for her self sufficiency, her ability to take care of herself after her family kicked her out many many years ago, to survive in this lawless wilderness and build a business and a name for herself. But here was this rough mean miner, holding her hand in his and actually caring for her wellbeing like no one had done ever since she was a very young child and her mother sang to her a special lullaby when she was sick. She had so many painful memories from her childhood that she tried to hide behind tall icy walls and never think about, so even the few happy ones were veiled by a forgetful haze. She was surprised she was even remembering this now. She had no idea when she had last thought about her mother’s song. She couldn’t remember the words anymore but a faint melody floated to the forefront of her mind from her subconscious. Her cold exterior was melting and an innocent peacefulness slowly spread through her.

The cold Yukon winds pushing against the walls of the cabin, all his past failures that always hung over him, his dwindling hope in finding his fortune all faded away as he focused on bandaging Goldie’s hand and her soft humming that curiously almost sounded like a lullaby.

He’d spent all these years mainly on his own and while that generally didn’t bother him, there were increasingly many nights this past year in the Klondike when he’d lay in bed in his small cabin and feel almost crushed by the emptiness, the vastness of the valley around him, the distance and time away from his family. But now he didn’t feel as lonely. She was here with him.

He stopped to take a quick glance at her. Her eyelids had closed over her emerald eyes and she was resting her head sideways on the back of the chair. The light from fire had reached out and hugged around her golden locks of hair, surrounding them in a warm glow that made them even more beautiful than they already were.

Goldie felt Scrooge’s fingers slip from her hand, taking their warmth with them. She opened her eyes and saw that he had finished wrapping her hand up and had neatly tied the ends of the bandages. She reached out with her hands to his, yearning for their comfort again. Scrooge looked up at her as she wrapped her hands around his. He knew she’d never thank him but the soft gratitude in her eyes was enough for him. Scrooge slightly smiled at her and she couldn’t help smiling back. They sat a while longer, holding each other’s hands, in a small warm cabin, safe from the boundless shimmering white snow and deep northern darkness of the desolate Klondike. Two silent souls not alone for once.

#ducktales #scrooge mcduck #Goldie o gilt #scroldie #fanfic #I spent way too long searching up wound treatment history #Klondike Scroldie #my writing

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modern-inheritance · 3 years

Text

Modern Inheritance Cycle: The origins of Farthen Dur’s current veterans bar owner (semi-scrapped ficlet)

(*hacks up half completed MIC snippet hairball and wanders off* Timeline is a few years before Saphira’s egg is stolen, probably about three or four years at most.)

CONTENT WARNING: WARZONE COMBAT, COMBAT INJURIES, TRAUMATIC AMPUTATION, COMBAT AMPUTEE CHARACTER, REHABILITATION

Cracks and shots stabbed needles into unprotected ears. Bullets cut swirled, roiling lines through the smoke and dust saturated air while the clash of blades rumbled at a constant crackle. Heavy booms of dwarvish artilary and Broddring cannonbombs shook the blood soaked earth.

He couldn’t say he was at the center of it all. In fact, he was a good distance from the thick of the hand to hand combat, in a half completed, baked earth sprinkled trench. The crumbling walls had sloped in on him, partially burying what was left of his lower right leg and his shrapnel studded left. A cannonbomb impacted ten meters away, pouring more of the dirt onto his body as various warriors of both sides scrambled and yelled, running to and fro in the pitched battle.

No, he wasn’t at the center of it. Combat engineer Samuel “Coop” Cooper, 32nd Division of the Surdan ground forces, couldn’t have cared less. Because he was bleeding and screaming and writhing in that little trench, staring at the white shanks of bone that heralded the new end of his leg.

Coop cried out in renewed pain, the shudder of the ground bumping into his mangled limb. He was crying, cutting streaks through the grime on his young face down to his close cropped beard. He had been so proud of that damn beard, finally out of the awkward patchiness of his teen years, proud to finally be a true C.E. like the rest of his division. Now it didn’t even matter. He’d seen men on the battlefield in his situation. He knew that in the chaos of a full on fight that the wounded were rarely, if ever, treated early enough to grant survival.

He’d go out like his Pap. Screaming bloody murder at the Broddring dogs across the battlefield, knowing that his own battlemates couldn’t spare the time or distraction to pick him up and haul him back to the tents.

No one would ever say it was a noble death. But by the bright gods above, Coop would show the courage to face it head on.

New shots cracked overhead, a rifle not three yards from where the young man was concealed. Instead of footsteps pounding by in a dead run towards –or away, as many young recruits had gone– the thick of the battle, the steps came directly towards him. A cold hand clutched at Coop’s heart when black boots entered his field of vision, and he screamed incoherently at the owner, trying to brandish the remnants of his shattered rifle.

No bullet came for him. The figure crouched down, ignoring the whiz of projectiles whipping past.

“Looks like you’re in rough shape, kid.” Then they leapt into the trench and hunched over Coop’s prone form.

He stared.

He honestly couldn’t tell if it was a trick of his mind. He was in enough pain and had lost enough blood for that to make sense. It had to be that.

Crouched over him, thick braid dangling over her shoulder, was a woman. Her gore streaked face was strikingly pretty, even for Coop’s befuddled brain. A rifle he couldn’t identify was slung over her right shoulder, a fine sword clenched in her left hand, and pieces of an outlandish silvery blue kevlar material was strapped all over her chest.

“Hey. Hey!” He tried to focus his bleary vision on her face. Her dark eyes caught and held his gaze. “You got any wards? I need to know.”

Coop shook his head with great effort. Combat Engineers rarely got things as precious as wards.

Everything was getting very heavy….

And then the world shot back into achingly sharp clarity when the woman grabbed his mangled leg at the knee, fingers impossibly strong. He shrieked in agony, red and black spots flaring in his vision. The shrill sound drowned out the spell that the woman used, but he didn’t care because moments afterwards the pain drained away. There was a crawling, itching sensation as the blood that had been flowing from his legs coagulated and dried, forming hard, shiny scabs that were quickly covered with fine dust from the parched soil.

“H’up you go!” Suddenly the world tilted and rolled, spinning in and out of focus like a sickening rollercoaster. The next thing Coop saw, so close up so that he nearly crossed his eyes to read it, was the patch on the woman’s shoulder.

E.S.O. Elvin Spec. Ops. Edoc’sil Varden du Wyrani.

And then the world was again a blur. Not long after he felt himself being lowered onto a stretcher, the woman’s voice garbled and indistinct. As more voices layered in, Coop let himself close his eyes.

He didn’t really know what to think about the last ten minutes. He didn’t know if he was with the Surdan and Varden forces or with the Broddring Empire’s, but he didn’t hurt as much. His mind was foggy but that was okay. He just needed…needed a nap.

Sam Cooper fell asleep on the stretcher, and didn’t wake up until he was in the closest hospital, the lower half of his right shin now neatly amputated and wrapped in clean white gauze.

Cooper closed his eyes, the bright white lights of the hospital room glaring through his lids. He didn’t want to get up and turn them off, but he couldn’t sleep with them on either.

It was six long, painful months after his medical discharge. Six months after he transferred from Surda’s VA hospital to the underground facility at Farthen Dur. Six months of getting used to his new prosthetic foot, six months of learning how to stand and walk again, six months of grueling physical therapy that put boot camp to shame. His whole body ached from the PT session he just completed, the stump of his leg the sorest of all. He was still building up thicker skin that would make putting his weight on it easier.

Coop groaned and dragged his hands over his eyes. He hated calling the nurses to ask for simple things like water and light switches. It felt humiliating. A twenty-two year old army man with three years of active, bloody duty on the Surdan border and the nurses still had the gall to look at him with open pity.

Maybe he could just sleep with his arm over his face….

Three sharp raps on the sign outside his hospital room startled Cooper from his thoughts. He pulled the crook of his elbow away from his eyes– and gaped at his visitor.

It was her!

The woman was leaned casually in his doorframe, stray tendrils of pitch black hair whisping over her forehead and braid again over her shoulder. Her jacket, pinned at the shoulders by the straps of a black backpack, was free from a majority of the kevlar, and hung open on her lean frame. Beneath it, a simple black shirt and a pair of mottled green cargo pants.

“Hi.” She waved slightly.

Coop opened and closed his mouth a few times. “…H-hi.”

“I figured you would have been sent here.” She raised an eyebrow. “Mind if I come in? I brought you a treat.”

“…Sure?” Slowly getting over his shock but still confused as ever, Coop pointed at the uncomfortable plastic chair against the wall. “Feel free, I guess.”

“Thanks, kid.” She dragged the chair over and sat down next to him, pulling the backpack into her lap as she did so. “Didn’t get to introduce myself before. I’m Arya.” They shook hands.

“Coop. Sam Cooper.”

“I stole some cans of fruit salad, Coop.” Arya grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You want one?”

He glanced over at the tray of unappetizing hospital rations sitting on the dresser. “…Yeah. Thanks.” He accepted the can as she passed it to him, and in turn passed her one of the plastic multi utensils from his tray.

“Cheers, Coop.”

====================

Coop is/was going to be the eventual owner of Farthen Dur’s veterans bar. He’s good friends with Arya, Faolin and Glenwing, even occasionally using them as unofficial bouncers when things got rough or getting them to play music on slow nights to draw in customers.

MIC’s Glenwing is also an amputee, having lost his arm in the ambush that starts off the series, but his recovery was during the time that Eragon and Co are doing their thing and isn’t seen. I wanted to display the strength that many veterans who return from combat with missing limbs have to go through the stress and struggles that PT puts them through. A local man I am friends with lost his leg and he’s incredibly open about his experience, and it really struck a chord in me.

Alas, I never could pick this one up again. It felt too song fic like when I thought about later parts. Sam Cooper is a staple to much of my mental map of MIC though, and will always be ‘canon’ in my little corner of the IC world.

Cheers mates.

Oh right. Arya’s patch is what she, Faolin and Glen ‘homebrewed’ for their rank and division to better fit in with the Varden’s military structure. The motto translates very roughly (with some tinkering) to ‘Unconquerable Guardians of Fate’ because edgy.

#Modern Inheritance #inheritance cycle #eragon #modern inheritance stories #the cyclists #Ket's Modern Inheritance Cycle #MIC OC #Sam Cooper #Arya #elf squad #modern inheritance lore #amputee character #effects of war

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vindicatedvirgil · 4 years

Text

only fools rush in / part six: a twin and twelve tattoos

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

TW: mentions of past abusive relationship, mention of physical violence, brief & subtle mention of sex, mentions of scars, mentions of picking at scabs, food mention, mention of hospitalization, mention of police & jail.

...i’m so sorry.

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Remus watched as his brother ran around playing with the others. He was smiling, laughing, in a way that was more lighthearted than when they played in their bedroom at home. Remus dug his finger farther into the hole of dirt he’d made, the muck getting under his fingernails but he didn’t care. With his other hand he pulled frustratingly at the grass around him, but his eyes were focused on Roman, pretending to be a prince, defeating the kids who were the villains in the scenario.

When they got home from school that afternoon, Roman immediately turned on the television to watch a Disney cartoon, and Remus felt the anger bubbling up inside of him. He was jealous. He loved his brother more than anyone ever could, and how could Roman stand to be around everyone else? They were mean to Remus, making fun of the way his hands twitched. He hated them. He wanted to hurt them. He wanted to protect Roman from getting hurt.

“You alright?” Patton’s voice was calling to him. They were at a restaurant, Remus’ long arms stretched along the table so that Patton could play with his long fingers. Remus met his eyes, smiling, and just nodded, watching as Patton’s eyes drifted back down to the menu in front of him.

“I was just thinking about Roman,” Remus finally said, and Patton’s eyes snapped back up. They hadn’t talked much about his twin lately, Patton only returning to the apartment to get fresh clothes or to talk to Logan. Remus had never pegged him to be the type to hold a grudge, but even after the bruise around his eye faded back into his normal skin tone, Patton only regarded Roman with ice-cold glares and frowns, despite Remus’ pleas to move on. “I would get really jealous of all of the friends that he made during elementary school, so much so that I wanted to destroy every single one of them so that Roman would only pay attention to me,” he mused, trying to lighten the mood, share a fond memory maybe. Patton didn’t respond, though, instead opting to glance back down at the menu.

“I think it’s a pasta kind of night,” he said softly, one of his hands leaving Remus’ to flip to the next page of the menu. Remus sighed.

“Come now, little flower. How long is this going to go on? He’s one of your best friends,” he watched as Patton’s shoulders slumped a little bit at the words. “The performances start in a few weeks, and we really should go to support him and Virgil.”

“We will go, I just…” Patton’s voice sounded resigned, and he looked up at Remus, sadness in his eyes. “The first time I find someone who I like and actually likes me back, and… it feels like we’re teetering on the edge of destruction.” Remus frowned at this, taking Patton’s hands in his again.

“Pat, I promise, you mean too much to me for me to let anything bad happen to us… but Roman is one of your best friends, and he’s my brother, and we just… have to move on from this,” his eyes were pleading, and Patton’s face fell, but he nodded.

“I know. You’re right, I just… I hated seeing you hurt,” he explained, and Remus smiled lovingly at him. Then the waiter came over to take their meal orders, and the pair fell into a gentle conversation.

“Ewww, Remus is picking at his scab!” One of the girls in the class was shrieking at him, pointing and covering her face in horror. But Remus couldn’t help it; when he fell off of his skateboard last week and scratched up his arm, it left a scab that he knew would be pleasing to peel off. And this class was so boring, he didn’t understand why they were reading books from mid-century when there were way more interesting contemporaries.

“Remus, stop disturbing your classmates or you’ll be sent to the office. Again.” The teacher’s voice was tired; Remus had been sent to the office twice already that month, and it started causing a rift in their home. Roman, perfect, sweet, Roman, was doing so well, got the lead in the school play during his freshman year! But Remus, oh what would they do with him?

The night before, he went down to get water from the kitchen but overheard his parents talking about him. The words “boarding school” and “military school” were thrown around, sending Remus into a fit of rage. He stormed out into the backyard, taking refuge in the treehouse that he used to spend every summer afternoon in with Roman.

Why didn’t anyone understand him? His brain was weird, but no one listened to him. Even Roman had started to tune him out with headphones blasting musical numbers and Disney songs; Remus had lost the one person who he thought he could trust. He wished that his parents would listen to his pleas about going to see a therapist, but their response was always the same: it cost too much money.

But he had done his research. It would cost significantly less to send Remus to therapy than it would to send him to boarding school or military school. And he knew that if he was sent away, he would only get worse. He tried explaining this to them, to Roman, but they all avoided him when he had his outbursts. Eventually, he gave up, instead opting to sneak out of the house every night to wander the dark streets of their small town.

That was when he met them. A small group of boys a bit older than him, who would plague the park every night until a police cruiser came by to tell them all to go home. Remus felt like he belonged with them as he spoke of his bad thoughts, of bashing his brother’s head in with the oar that hung above the fireplace, a memento of their father’s days of rowing in college. They took Remus under their collective wing, showing him the best places to lurk at night, teaching him the best ways to sneak off of their school campus.

How was he supposed to know what would happen?

Patton was putting some of his clothes into a duffel bag, and Remus was sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Hmm, the more clothes I pack, the less I’ll have to come back here,” he mused, pawing through his closet. Remus sighed, stretching his arms up so his shirt lifted a bit, revealing some skin. Patton glanced over at him, eyes travelling to the tattoos that were covering some of Remus’ stomach scars.

He stepped closer, sinking down to kneel in front of Remus, and his fingers tugged at the hem of the shirt, pulling it over Remus’ head. He pressed against the tattoos of throwing stars, feeling the scar tissue underneath. Patton had seen the scars before, when he took care of Remus after that night at the library, and in their moments of deep intimacy. But he was always so hesitant to ask where they had come from.

“Re… what are these scars?” Patton’s voice was low, and Remus just leaned forward, pressing his lips to Patton’s, who pulled back despite wanting to continue. Remus sighed, deciding to explain in as little detail as possible.

“The day Roman was hurt, I tried to stop them. So, they hurt me too,” Remus’ voice was shaky, and Patton pulled him into his arms. “He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know that they hurt me, too. I had to protect him, Patton. I tried my best. I didn’t know that they’d hurt him, I swear.”

“Shh, it’s okay. He’s okay, you’re okay, and you’re here now with me,” Patton ran his fingers through Remus’ hair in a soothing way, and he felt tears stain his shirt. He said nothing about this, though, murmuring soft things to his boyfriend. “Remus, you’re safe, and Roman is safe. Okay? Everything’s okay.” The two sat in silence for a while, until Remus scrambled to get more comfortable in Patton’s arms, their lips meeting haphazardly and needily, hands trailing lower and lower.

Patton smiled lazily over at Remus afterwards, his fingers grazing along the crossbow tattoo on the back of his shoulders. His eyes trailed down, onto the letters tattooed brutally on Remus’ lower back, and leaned down to press a kiss to the word. “I don’t think you’re naughty, hmm... well… maybe sometimes,” he teased, and Remus laughed lowly, stretching his arms out to rest his head on.

“I can be more or less naughty, babe. Whatever you want,” he replied softly as Patton’s fingers trailed along the rest of Remus’ tattoos. Patton had come to love them all for their uniqueness, the knife that was on his right middle finger, the quiver with bows on the back of his upper right arm, the pollaxe on his right outer ankle, the three throwing knives on the bottom of his left foot, even the flail on his left thigh. Sometimes in the pale light of the night, Patton would press kisses to all twelve of Remus’ tattoos, murmuring sweet words that made Remus want to scoop his boyfriend up and snuggle forever.

“Have you ever thought of getting more tattoos?” Patton finally spoke over the comfortable silence that had fallen over the couple. Remus glanced over his shoulder at him, pursing his lips in thought.

“Maybe some science beakers,” he said. “What about you, little flower?” Patton had just the floral tattoos on his arms and upper shoulders, and Remus loved massaging his long fingers over them.

“More flowers would always be good,” Patton murmured, and Remus sat up, pulling the smaller man into his arms. “I always told Roman that he should get musical notes along his spine,” Patton said without thinking, and Remus smiled fondly at him.

“Oh, Pat. You really need to talk to him, I can tell that you miss him,” he said, and Patton’s eyes fell, nodding. “I would miss Janus or Virgil if I didn’t see them anymore.”

“How did you even meet them?” Patton asked, trying to change the subject. Remus closed his eyes, deep in thought.

“I jumped in their cart at the grocery store and told them to push me around like a baby. Virgil was Virgil about it, of course, but Jan? He ran with it. Literally.” Remus said nonchalantly, and Patton giggled a little at what he clearly knew was a lie. “Okay, fine. I was in a general education science class with them. There was a project that required three people so they asked me to join their duo. I didn’t leave them alone after that.” He pressed his face into Patton’s side, making the other giggle again. “I love the sound of your giggles.”

“I love you,” Patton breathed out, and Remus’ breath caught in his throat, memories flooding back through his mind, and he gripped at Patton to try to ground himself, to remind him that he was there, on Patton’s bed, not in that place or with that person.

Remus looked up at him from his spot on the floor, his eyes focused on the bare skin that showed when he lifted the shirt over his head, and Remus was filled with adoration and awe, and the words fell out of his mouth like bricks, and he couldn’t stop them: “I think I’m in love with you.” He had hoped for a smile or a soft glance back, but all he got was a glare and a frown.

“No you don’t. Get that fucking thought of your head, whore,” His voice was raspy as always, but now it was laced with poison. Remus thought that he would implode from the impact of those words. But they refused to leave his soul.

“Re? Hey, what’s wrong? Did I… did I mess up?” Patton’s voice was back, calling Remus into the present, into the soft touches and worried glances of the floral boy. “I’m so sorry, if I upset you…” Remus shook his head quickly, looking up at Patton’s concerned face.

“You didn’t. I just…” Remus hadn’t said those words to anybody since that day, since that spot on the floor. “I need to tell you more about my past. Before I say anything else.” Patton nodded, worry still evident in his eyes, and Remus sat up, taking Patton’s hands into his own. “In high school… I joined this group. They were the only ones who I thought could understand me, because my parents and Roman had long given up on me.”

“Re-”

“Please, Pat… let me say this,” Remus’ eyes were pleading, and Patton nodded again, allowing the silence to fill the space between them before Remus started talking again. “My parents were considering sending me to military school or boarding school. They wouldn’t let me go to therapy. I knew that I needed it. But… instead I met this group of guys who caused… all kinds of chaos. Except, for the first time in my life, I felt like I fit in with someone who didn’t look exactly like me. They listened to me,” Remus sighed. “And then… they took what I was saying, what I hate that I was thinking, way too literally. They hurt Roman, and then me when I tried to protect him.”

This was the part of the story that Patton knew. Police showed up. Roman was taken to the hospital, as was Remus, but the only difference was that Remus was in handcuffs. After he was declared okay, he had to sit in a jail cell with his “friends”. Remus didn’t know if Roman was okay or not, and his parents didn’t free him, even as all of his friends were bailed out.

When he was finally let out, he requested a psychological evaluation. His parents couldn’t put their foot down on this; and when he was evaluated, they found out just what was wrong with Remus, why he was the way that he was. So he finally got to go to therapy and get treatment, but his relationship with Roman was never the same.

“After everything went down… I went back to the park. One of them was there, like he was waiting for me,” remembrance shone in Remus’ eyes, and he couldn’t look at Patton’s face anymore. “He was a senior, I was a sophomore. And… at some point… he kissed me. I was young and stupid, and we fell into… well, for the lack of a better word, a relationship. But it was toxic. I got my ‘naughty’ tattoo at that time. Got the tattoo area infected, too,” he sighed. Patton hadn’t said anything or made any movements, so Remus kept going. Kept reminiscing. “I didn’t know what love was. It... wasn’t that. But I didn’t know any better. So… being the dumb kid I was… I told him. I blurted it out.

“He hit me so hard that day, that when I got home, Roman flipped his shit, told me that if he ever saw me with one of those guys again, he’d call the police and tell them that I was being abused and hurt and that I needed to be sent away for my protection,” Remus felt a finger graze his cheek. He was crying and Patton was wiping his tears away with the pad of his thumb. “I couldn’t bear to hurt Roman again, even though we had grown so distant. So… I never contacted any of them again. But… that day was the last time I ever told someone that I loved them. I’m almost afraid to say it. All of the others I’ve dated? Whenever they said it, I bolted. Because what if… what if they were lying and when I said it back they hurt me?”

Silence fell over the room, and then Patton’s hand was there on his cheek, and he wanted to flinch, he wanted to cry and run and scream. But he didn’t. And then Patton’s lips were on his, and it was like CPR, he was getting filled with love and hope and air. And sunshine. Patton was all of those things and Remus knew that he wouldn’t get hurt by him.

“Remus, I know that you’ve been hurt, I feel it, and my heart aches for you,” Patton’s voice was soothing and Remus wanted to wrap himself up in it like a blanket. “But I swear to you, I am here. I’m in this. I love you, Remus, and I don’t care if you don’t say it for months or years or if you never say it out loud. I’m not changing my mind on this, I’m not going to run or leave. Here I am. I’m yours.”

And then Remus was clinging to Patton’s shoulders, sobbing, his breathing more like gasping, but he was bolstered by Patton’s surprisingly strong grip. The words were so close to coming out of his mouth, but it was like there was a phantom hand over his mouth, pushing them back in, making him gag, and he couldn’t say it. But, oh, he wanted to.

Roman’s hand was frozen over the door handle to Patton’s room. He listened, accidentally. The admissions by Remus of everything that had happened. He didn’t know that Remus had gotten hurt, too. Not like he did. Regret filled his every cell, and he wanted to run in, sobbing, and hug his brother like they’d hug when they were kids, for no reason and for every reason.

Instead, he pulled his hand back, sticking it into his jacket pocket. He glanced over his shoulder to see Logan, adjusting his glasses. Roman nodded, looking down, then went into his room. Maybe a letter. Maybe a note. Something to tell Remus that he understood, that he felt his pain, and that they were going to be okay someday very soon.

He needed to apologize to Patton, too.

Patton and Remus were heading out of the apartment, Patton’s duffel bag gripped tightly in hand. He wasn’t leaving because of Roman this time, he was leaving because he needed to be with Remus after the emotional devastation of the day. Except when they went out into the living room, Roman was there, sitting on the couch, two envelopes in his hands. He stood up as soon as he saw the couple and walked over to them.

“I-” He paused, not sure of what he wanted to say. “I’m so sorry. For everything.” The words were jumbled in his head, but that was why he wrote letters. So he handed the letters over before running away. Patton blinked, and Remus itched to run after his twin, but he didn’t. Instead, they both sat down on the couch, Patton’s duffel bag forgotten and dropped on the floor.

Dear Patton,

I’m sorry. I wanted so hard to believe that I was protecting you so that what happened to me didn’t happen to you, but I ended up being the one who hurt you in the end. Remus has grown so much and now I see that everything that happened to us in high school had less to do with him and everything to do with the horrible people around us, including our parents.

My mind has been so focused on Virgil and the musical that I didn’t even realize how quickly you and Remus have fit together and fallen in love, and I’m so happy for you, Patton. I truly am.

I know that I’ve messed up. I don’t think that I can ever forgive myself so I don’t expect forgiveness from you.

But I promise that if you ever want me around you, I will do my best to be the best gosh darn friend you’ve ever had (excluding Logan, I know that you two are the pinnacle of friendship and I don’t want to erase that).

You’re one of my best friends, Patton. And I love you.

~Roman

Dear Remus,

I didn’t intend to overhear part of your conversation with Patton, but I did. And so now I know. I know that you were hurt trying to protect me from them, that you went to therapy like I did, that you have been hurt so much more than I ever could have imagined.

And I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there for you when you needed your brother. A friend. Anyone. I should have defended you to all of my friends and the people in our school who said such horrid things about you. I should have defended you to Mom and Dad. I should have listened to you. And I’m so sorry that I didn’t. I wish I could go back in time and listen to you when you begged for us to hear you.

I’m also sorry that I punched you. I’ve been on edge lately. I told Virgil that I love him and he hasn’t said it back. The musical dates are coming up and I’m so scared for Virgil, he’s so nervous. My whole mind is filled with him and I panicked when I thought that Patton was getting hurt because that means that I dropped the ball. I was supposed to protect him, protect my friends so they wouldn’t get hurt the way I did.

Except I’m the one that hurt him, and I hurt you too. And this whole time, maybe I should have been more concerned with protecting you, Remus. I’m trying to look at things with an optimistic lens, but I know that I’ve fucked up and I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself, so I don’t expect forgiveness from you or from Patton.

But I’m going to say this because you need to hear it: you’re not broken, Remus. The things that happened to you did not happen to you because you deserved them. You didn’t deserve any of it. You are an incredible person, a great brother, and I see how much you care for Patton. He is what you truly have earned: someone to make you happy and hopeful and to give you all of the love that you were wrongfully not given.

I’m not sure how to be a better brother to you, but I’m going to do my best.

I love you, Remus. I’m sorry.

~Roman

---

teaser for part seven: performance anxiety

What did that one song say? Only fools rush in.

Virgil didn’t want to be a fool. He didn’t want to rush. He wanted to take his time, but it was so hard when Roman was so… perfect. Perfect Roman bringing over flowers from Patton’s mom’s floral shop, taking him to sit under the stars or in the sunshine, bringing a smile to his face and kissing his cheeks–

part seven will be posted on sunday, august 23 at 12PM PDT

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part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten

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[masterlist]

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taglist (send an ask or leave a comment if you would like to be added)

@winterrose42

@are-you-even--real

@shaded14space

@lallyphant

@deceits-left-glove

@aricana8

@pixelated-pineapple

@starstruck-xavier

@thiel

@sophiexteresa

@cemmy

@toadink2005

@eeveeeclair246

@i-cant-find-a-good-username

@pansexualpuppet

@morgan-leaf

#amanda writes sanders sides fic #amanda's sanders sides college au #only fools rush in #ts fanfiction #ts sanders sides

32 notes · View notes

thekadster · 4 years

Text

december (newsies canon-divergence angst)

Fandom: Newsies (All Media Types)

Word Count: 1,953

Trigger Warnings: None!

Author’s Notes: Special thanks to @newsies-hit-da-streets for beta reading this!

❝ It was an early December morning, but Crutchie's mind was still stuck in that fateful summer day. The day before the strike, the rally, and before everything changed. ❞

also read it on ao3!

Tonight, it was cold.

No, it was freezing.

It was an early December morning, but Crutchie's mind was still stuck in that fateful summer day. The day before the strike, the rally, and before everything changed.

He leaned forward on the railing of the fire escape. He didn’t pay any mind to the goosebumps all over his arms or the chattering of his teeth. He silently stared into the distant city, which gained a serene, heavenly glow in the winter haze. He had seen this view thousands of times before and all its same towering buildings when he still lived up here.

“Crutch!” a voice called from below, followed by the sound of rapid footsteps.

Crutchie snapped back to reality. He managed to tug his lips into a faint smile. “Oh, hiya, Specs.”

“What the hell are ya doin’ up here?” Specs climbed the last few steps. “It’s freezin’!”

For a moment, Crutchie didn’t respond. What was he doing up here, especially in this kind of weather? The morning bell probably wouldn’t ring for another hour or so. Why was he even awake this early?

“I dunno,” he mumbled.

Specs looked at him. “Whaddya mean you don’t know?”

Crutchie exhaled, his breath a cloud of mist. He shivered and shrugged. “Well, I-I thought the view’d be nice tonight, so-”

Specs put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Why dontcha tell me inside?”

His hand gently moved down to his wrist, but Crutchie quickly recoiled. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Specs, whose eyes widened in surprise.

“I can’t,” he blurted out, shoving his hands into his coat.

Specs could only stare, beginning to grow worried. He had never seen his friend this desperate.

“Look, I-” Crutchie scrambled for words. “I appreciate ya bein’ up here an’ all, but…”

“Was it somethin’ I said?”

“No, no, you’s is fine! I just- I can’t go down.”

“Why not?”

They were quiet for a moment as the howling wind whipped past. Crutchie hesitated; he thought his reason for being up here was rather stupid.

“Crutch.”

He turned to look at Specs' outstretched hand. “I don’t wantcha turnin’ into ice up here.”

Specs didn’t care what reason he had, or how stupid it was. He wasn’t going to let his friend freeze to death.

He led Crutchie down the metal rails, slowing down his pace and being careful not to slip in the dark. They both climbed in through a window and sat on a bed. Around them, the room was filled with countless kids on bunk beds trying to sleep through the cold.

“Ya wanna talk about it?” softly began Specs, wiping his glasses. “I mean, it’s okay if ya don’t or you wanna save it for the mornin’ or-”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Crutchie shook his head. He shrugged the remaining snow off of his coat and leaned against the frame of the bunk bed. “I was just...lookin’ out into the city.”

The other boy looked up at him, noticing his long silence. “And?”

Crutchie’s brows furrowed, before he gave up and sighed. “I can’t stop thinkin’ about July,” he mumbled.

Specs was quiet. He knew the July that he was talking about; the July.

The summer of 1899 was the summer that changed the newsies forever. After Pulitzer and Hearst raised the price of newspapers, they all decided to go on strike. It was dangerous, something that none of them had ever done before. But through their efforts, they won the battle, and shed light on the importance of the rights of New York’s working kids. It was amazing that they, as an army kids without so much as a nickel to their name, changed the course of history. But that wasn’t the reason why it was still on Crutchie’s mind.

“‘S about Jack, huh?” he asked, finding his voice. Crutchie weakly nodded.

Every newsie in New York knew about Jack Kelly, Manhattan’s charismatic leader. He was a good fighter, a great newsie, and protected his own more than anything. Lots of kids, the two of them included, would look to him for help and guidance. He was also the face of the strike, making a statement that they weren’t gonna be pushed around anymore. For the longest time, he was known as this brave, selfless seventeen-year-old that the newsies could rely on.

Well, until he wasn’t.

Crutchie wasn’t there when it happened, but all of his friends told the same story. Jack showed up to a rally and made a speech about disbanding the union after speaking to Pulitzer. Of course, this didn’t sit well with the newsies, and especially Spot Conlon. Confused and frustrated shouts filled the air, but it wasn’t nearly as bad when everyone saw him take money from a man in a fancy suit.

After that, no one could convince him to stay, not even Katherine. She was the last person to give up on him - and bless her heart - but he was already bound for Santa Fe.

“He scabbed,” were the words that replayed and replayed in Crutchie’s mind.

He scabbed.

“I just wanna know why he did it,” he whispered, rubbing his eyes.

Specs’ heart dropped, seeing the pain in his eyes. “I know ya do.”

Crutchie’s gaze was distant, vacant. “I don’t get it. He...he said he’d take me with him.”

“Yeah,” said Specs. “Always talked about it, too.”

“We used’ta talk about it all the time, up on the fire escape,” added Crutchie. The beginnings of a smile tugged at his lips. “He’d blabber about Santa Fe every night; said it was clean an’ green an’ pretty. They’s got palominos there, too. And, he even said that the air could fix my leg, give or take a few months.”

Specs softly chuckled, remembering the dime-novel cowboy that Jack so badly wanted to be. “Cowboy really wanted to head out west, huh?”

Crutchie exhaled, almost bitterly laughing. “Guess he finally got his dream.”

Specs shifted slightly in his place. His eyes caught the soft glow of the city through one of the frost-covered windows. He gulped, the correct words forming together in his mind. “Do ya hate ‘im?”

“Huh?”

“Do ya hate ‘im? For leavin’?”

Truth be told, Crutchie was just one of the many kids who wanted to scream in Jack’s face. He wanted to know why he did what he did, if it was all worth it, if it was worth knowing that they had to win the fight without him. He wanted him to know how hurt they all were, and how things had never been the same after he up and left. He wanted to pour out every single stab and sting that he’d been carrying inside his chest for the past year.

He absentmindedly picked at the sleeve of his coat. After learning the truth about Jack, he felt so many things at once; confusion, rage, denial, misery, betrayal. The boy that he had known for so many years was suddenly gone, and never even bothered to write back. The kid who abandoned the strike wasn’t the same kid who dreamed with him every night, the kid who said that they were a family.

“No,” whispered Crutchie.

Specs looked at him. “Ya don’t?”

He repeated that one, small word. Specs raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“I- I dunno,” Crutchie said, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, I can’t really blame ‘im for leavin’ when he got the chance.”

“But he ditched us! Ain’tcha mad?”

“‘Course I’m mad! I’m furious!” he explained, his voice a bit louder than he intended it to be. “It’s just...I can’t hate ‘im. Part a’ me still wants to believe he’s a good kid. As much as I wanna, I just- can’t.”

His vision began to blur and his voice grew softer. “Everythin’ we been through, I wanna think it was worth somethin’. When he said that we’s family, I think he meant it.”

Specs paused and stared at him. Crutchie was undoubtedly one of the happiest kids in the Lodging House, probably even in all New York. Even with his gimp leg, his positivity remained relentlessly infectious. The glimmer in his eyes could light up the whole city. His sunshine smile would beam whenever he would laugh or charm strangers to buy a pape. And when he was with Jack, it couldn’t be brighter - whether they were excitedly chattering, giggling, or simply enjoying each other’s presence.

Specs moved closer. “He did,” the boy spoke. “And it was worth somethin’. Jack meant a lot to all of us, ‘specially you. And it’s hard, ‘cause it’s like he ain’t the guy we knew he was no more. But I guess, the Jack that we knew was real, even now.”

They were quiet for a while, listening to the snow beat against the window. Crutchie let himself lean on Specs’ side and he pulled his coat closer to his body. Specs wrapped an arm around him, and he stayed very still when he felt damp patches on his shirt. He realized he was very quietly crying.

Crutchie pulled away, removing his friend’s arm. “Sorry.”

“No, Crutch, it’s okay,” Specs quickly interjected. “Cryin’s okay sometimes.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He gave him a soft smile. “My Ma used ta tell me; when you’s feelin’ bad, sometimes you gotta cry to let out the things makin’ ya feel that way.”

“So, I gotta cry all the time?”

“Nah, cryin’ ain’t so good when ya do it everyday,” Specs laughed. “It’s better for when you’re feelin’ really bad.”

Crutchie paused. “Like now?”

“Yeah.”

At those words, a few more silent tears slipped from his eyes. Specs pulled him into an embrace. In reality, they knew that they should’ve been asleep by now. In a few hours, they would be out on the streets once again, trying their best to make a living. As soon as the winter rolled around, their job only got harder. But at that moment, the freezing cold and the copper coins didn’t seem to matter. They didn’t care who would chance upon them or how strange the sight of them would seem; right now, they needed each other, and that mattered more than anything.

A bittersweet smile crept up on Crutchie’s face. “I hope he got the life he wanted,” he whispered.

“Me too,” mumbled Specs. It was true, he thought. The Manhattan newsies didn’t take kindly to scabs, but Jack wasn’t just another scab. He was a leader, a friend, a brother. He spent so much of his life giving that he rarely got the chance to take for himself, and then the day came that he finally did. Admittedly, it didn’t have the best timing, but even with the gigantic mess it left behind, the two of them understood.

When he was ready, Crutchie pulled away and dried his eyes with his sleeve. “Sorry I kept ya, it’s late.”

“It’s fine, really, I don’t mind,” replied Specs. “‘S a good thing I saw you was gone, or else you woulda froze.”

Crutchie chuckled. “Gotta admit, though; the view’s killer.”

“Yeah,” Specs grinned. “But try ta wait ‘til spring, will ya?”

The two softly laughed. They hoped they hadn’t woken anyone up with their conversation. Specs climbed up to the top bunk and Crutchie got under his blanket. As he leaned on his side, the noise in his head seemed to die down a little. Of course, he’d rather have it that Jack stayed behind for a little while longer, but he knew that nothing could bring him back now. Instead, he could only wonder how things were like out west, and hope that Santa Fe was everything Jack dreamed it would be.

#newsies #newsies forever #newsies fanfiction #fanfiction #angst #angst-comfort #drabble #crutchie #crutchie morris #crutchie newsies #specs #specs newsies #jack kelly newsies #jack kelly #writers on ao3 #writers on tumblr #plootosart

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bangbangchanie · 4 years

Text

Little Broken~ Bang Chan {Non Idol Au}

Summary: We're all a little broken, but we don't like people we love knowing.

Pairings: Chan X Reader

Warning: mentions of depression, anxiety, self harm, self hate, angst, but it's a very fluffy and a sweet ending. Please don't read if any of this could possibly trigger you.

Word count: 2.7k

An: Admin Whinnie here, this little scenario is something that's just kinda been sitting there, I wrote it during our hiatus where unknowing to majority of people in my life was actually a really, really hard time. I went threw two really bad lows this year, but the last one was absolutely horrible. I broke, littarly broke and I didn't know how to tell people, and I still don't. So I wrote this. I wrote a story about the lows of depression ruining your self love, I wrote about it taking over your mind and relapsing on one thing you were so fucking proud of. I wrote about new self harm scars next to the old and just feeling down right ashamed of yourself. Cause after all these years, all the struggles you are now back at square one. Day one. After years and years you just feel so empty cause the one thing your pride yourself on was that you did it all on your own and you were good, but when its taken from you, you just break a little big more. So please. Please don't press the continue reading if this story could trigger you...I needed to post this to get this out there.. to kinda start a new on this blog....we'll see you soon yeah? Admin Peachy and I will see you guys real soon...we love you and know you're not alone.~💕🐻

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Ex-

"Fuck." You whispered looking down, blood bubbling out from your thigh, eyes wide as you stand from the closed toilet seat. "No, no no." You whisper your hands dropping the slightly bloody tipped blade onto your bathroom counter. Your hands covering your mouth as you repeatedly shake your head over, and over again, that slight sting you felt while making the slightly bleeding nine lines now has turned into a radiating heat."What the actual fuck Y/n." You whisper to yourself while stepping back and looking at your reflection in the mirror. "Why'd you go and do that huh?" Your eyes build with tears as you shake your head, slamming your hands down onto the cold countertop and look at yourself. "Guess making it to five years clean isn't gonna happen now ...is it?" The conversation to yourself, questions, stayed unanswered as you stood up straight, took a deep breath and grabbed your basketball shorts from the ground and pulled them up. Unbothered as the fabric runs against the scabbing lines.

Your hand moves, seeing the now empty alcohol wipe wrapper on the floor in front of the toilet making you sigh as you picked it up and threw it away, somehow feeling smarter than your past self who'd only clean a blade of the aftermath. Grabbing the blade from the counter gently, you placed it in your pocket, hoping, praying to keep what you just did, while short of breath and a hazy mind, would stay between you and your reflection in the mirror. Opening the door you're greeted with light laughter from your roommate and her friends. Sighing, you quickly walked the other way into your bedroom and shut the door. Your back pressing against it as you finally let a sob-like laugh slip past your lips as you slid down your door.

"You dumb fuck." You laughed in the booth, your eyes shining bright as Jeongin slammed his head against his arms, making the whole table break out in laughter. Your hand was laced with Chans, who sat across from you with a large smile on his face. His thumb absentmindedly tracing shapes against the top of your hand as he watches his newest pledge get teased and tormented by the others.

"Noona help me." He whined as Jisung flicked his ear, making the boy launch up as quickly as the flick happened and glare at the older man. His brown eyes casting over to you, and a pout fell on to his lips, his eyes going wide to try and mimic those of a puppy. "Noona, please." He drew out with a small whimper at the end only to make the whole table erupt in laughter once again as Seungmin patted his back and smiled at him.

"Noona can't do anything bro." His words made the younger huff as his arms crossed over his chest.

"But she's Chan Hyung's girlfriend and she's like a frat mom." His words had Chan's hand squeezed yours tighter, his smile growing as his eyes looked away from the scene and too you. The others follow, making blush rise up your neck and wrap around your ears.

"Why are you all looking at me?" You huffed as the boy sitting next to you, Minho, playfully hit your thigh. Pain shoots across the muscle, and you fight a winced palm hitting the fresh cuts perfectly. But you keep a straight face.

"Cause you are the frats mom, even if you don't know it." Minho says his hand quickly rubbing your thigh, and lifting it away, the past movements leading to the burning you now feel. They've reopened, the scabs breaking off from Minho's playful slap to it, ignoring the pain was always your strong suit but you thought after all these years there would be no way you could deal with it. But here you are, Minho's ear now pressing between your pointer finger and thumb after he had so gracefully hit you then stole Jeongins lunch. He winces in pain as he leans towards the pull of your finger tips. "Ow ow ow Noona stooop!" He winked, making you roll your eyes as you let him go with a flick to the forehead.

"If you want to call me a frat mom you're gonna be a dead man with me punishing you for teasing and mistreating your brothers. Jisung don't laugh, you're lucky your too far away for me or you'd be getting the same fucking treatment as Minho is here. " You paused and removed your hands from Chans and crossed your arms as you looked at the seven boys, "I swear if I hear one of you is going too far with my baby I will not hesitate to dump ice cold water on you in the morning." You words had them shivering as Chan let out a soft chuckle as he looked at you, turning your head to him you glared making his mouth quickly shut as he looked at you with wide eyes. "And you, if I hear you not stopping l it you won't get it for a month. If I'm their goddamn mother you're their father so deal with it...now where is the check?"

You stripped yourself from your clothing, your eyes catching the dark read lines on your skin making you sigh. Your fingertips delicately run across and down them, the rough feeling of the scabs making you shake your head as you turn away and turn on the shower. Right as you were about to jump in your roommate crashed into the bathroom making your yelp as you grabbed the current to cover yourself.

"Jihyo!" You scratched, you cheek warming up as she walked passed you to the toilet.

"I've seen you naked before, Y/n." She laughed as she looked at you and smiled as she pulled down her pants. "I just really need to piss." Her eyes scanned down to the ground, only to catch the angry red lines that weren't fully covered by the shower current. "You...you would let me know if you're bad again right?" Her question made you tense up as you turn and slowly get into the tub

"Of course, why wouldn't I, you're my best friend." Your words made her huff as the warm water slowly steamed up the room, her need to question you fighting her throat. But she remembered your words, 'don't question just..be there.'

"Okay Just wanted to double check, I worry sometimes." You nod as the water flattens down your hair as you sigh, not wanting to tell her, anyone of the night before, the blade catches your eye.

"I know you do, but I'm good. Never better actually." You say shaking the thought out of your head, why'd you bring it here.

"Okay good...I'm going to Minas tonight. I'll see you tomorrow. " She says with a flush, making you jump as the water heats up. "You and Chris better not have too much fun, I don't need to deal with little versions of the two of you just yet."

"Yah!" You say shooting the current party open so your head could peek out, your shampoo covers your hands making bubbles stick to it. "I'm the baby, and babies can't have babies so fuck off." Your words make her belly laugh as she leaves the room, your body loving back under water as you finish up showering.

Once you were done, and dried you texted Chan, a smile on your face when you opened your phone. A picture of his smiling face as you nuzzled into his neck met your eyes. But a ping of guilt strung you along, why didn't you call him? Why didn't you try? It's like you wanted to hurt, maybe you did.Shaking the thoughts away, you go into your messages and press on his smiling face.

Y/n: bubs want to come over?

Bubs: Jihyo gone for the night?

Y/n: yeah she is, and I want cuddles🥰

Bubs: omw babe, bringing some pizza see you in ten

Thirty minutes later, Chan was still not there,but you were done setting up the pullout couch in the living room, the t.v already on Hulu. Your heart pounding as air was hard to catch in your lungs as you sat crisscrossed with your phone in your lap,a text from Jihyo staring back at you.

Unnie💎: I saw them, and I know you don't like questions. Don't like being pressured, but I saw them and I'm worried so worried so I might have called Chris and told him. You can be mad at me as much as you want to Y/n, but your life and your safety is so important to me. You are so important to me. So be mad, yell at me, ignore me but I will not apologize for worrying about your well being. I love you.

As tears fell down your face, your apartment door swung open, the sound of it shutting, a plastic bag dropping and shoes hitting the wall made you gasp for air. The sound of his footsteps made your mind race as all of a sudden his hand was on your cheek, and others resting on your crossed legs as his forehead pushed to yours.

"Breath baby." He said, his voice was raspy, dry sounding as his fingers that rested on your cafe tightened around the flesh. Almost as if to see if you were still there, still alive, still human. "Listen to me okay, I'm here I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere. I swear to you, come on baby, that's it deep breath in." His voice brought air back into your lungs as your shaking hand reached up and while the tears ran away from your cheeks, the other wrapping around the wrist that connected to the hand slid down to your shoulder.

"I-I-" You stopped yourself as you moved your head, pressing it to the back of the couch as you rejected his touch. His eyes shimmered with tears, it was almost beautiful in a way, the way they shone against the artificial light of your living room and the way the honey-like colors spread across them as the sun peeked through the currents. It was beautiful, but the beauty of it held pain. So much pain.

"Take...take your pants off, let me see them." He whispered, making you shake your head, his eyes showing nothing but hurt as he looked at you. His hands resting on the couch, suddenly gripped it tighter than before, almost as if he wanted to rip it apart in range. "Please, Jihyo said they looked infected, irritated...just..please." he whispered, standing up and walking away, his leather jacket falling onto the rocking chair as you heard the shuffling of a plastic bag. His eyes watch as you take a deep breath in, your thumbs hooked under the waistband if your baggy sweatpants as your fingers gripped them. Pulling them down to mid thigh he saw what he never thought he saw in you again.

Cuts.

Self inflicted cuts.

And a piece of him broke, not in guilt or pity, just in pain. In pain that you felt so horrible, so horrible about the world , about yourself and your environment that you took it out on yourself. He felt the pain of you probably looking in the mirror and seeing nothing but a failure, failure at staying clean, staying true and failure of not speaking out on it. He knew you knew you when you were at your lowest in high school, and at your highest freshman year of college, and everything in between.

Bow you at one of your lowest points again, and he wasn't there to hold you. And it made him feel like shit. But this isn't about him, it's about you.

"Did you clean them at all?" He mumbled looking at them, you shrug as you stare at the wall ahead of you, your muscle flinching involentarly as his fingers touch the still sore wounds. "You went pretty deep, you're lucky you dont need stitches..I'm gonna put some neosporin on them and a little cotton lad for now just so that I know they're clean."

"I took a shower today." You numbly mumbled out, as he spread the cold cream against the wound making you roll your lip between your teeth.

"Yeah well I need some reassurances, okay?" He whispered, his eyes closing for a millisecond and then they snapped open. The cotton pad was pressed on as he wrapped it. "Just for an hour." He mumbled, making you nod as you pull your sweat pants back up, falling on the couch and turning away from the world. He let out a shaky breath as he sat down, then moved to kay behind you, one arm moving behind your head as the other wraps around your waist, his leg shoving between yours as his head nuzzled into your neck.

"Sorry." You whisper, eyes closed fighting the tears threatening to push through the closed lids. The one word, the one single word made the floodgates break for one of you though, Chan's lips pressed against the back of your neck as sobs fought passed them, his body jerking with each single one against yours. His hand gripped your shirt as they wrapped around your head and played with your hair. He was holding onto you as if to hold you together, but in reality he was holding onto you so he wouldn't fall apart.

"Don't you apologize..do-don't." He spoke after calming down, shuttering for air as you turned around in his arms. His forehead bending down to press against yours, as his nose nudged you could help but slightly smile.

"I just..I hate feeling so fucking broken." You whispered, making his eyes snap open as he stared at you, his bloodshot eyes were slightly cold as he did as his hand moved from your waist to cup your cheek.

"Y/n, we're all a little broken, some of us hide it, some of us wear it on our sleeves and some are in between. So don't ever feel bad for feeling that way, okay?" He whispered his thumb rubbing under your cheek as you nodded, he gave you a half broken smile as his lips suddenly pressed to yours. The feeling made your eyes snap shut, your fingers grip his black shirt he was wearing. "I love you, and I'll always be here for you." He whispered, making you nod as you pressed your head to his neck.

"I'm sorry for not coming to you." You whisper later that night, a movie playing as he now laid behind you his hand moving up and down on your thigh as his chin pressed against the youth shoulder. They made his hand stop moving as he reached out and paused the movie as rolled you onto your back as he hovered over you.

"I know you don't always want to come to me right away, I get that. I mean am I upset that you didn't yes, but I know you. I know you probably thought you failed or somethi-"

"I did fail, I did and I'm back at square fucking one and it sucks." You whisper your hands moving to cover your face as he sighs and puts his full weight on you, his face shoving itself into your beck as one hand moves to play in his now brown hair. The other is moving to slide your arm across your eyes.

"Then we start here, on day one. You did fail, you took a step back and that's okay. You'll get through this, you're so strong and I know you'll make it. Remember last time how you realized it's been a year since you last hurt yourself and you threw a movie marathon." His words made you huff a chuckle as you ran your fingertips and nails over your scalp.

"Yes, yes I do."

"We'll do that again, but with sweets and junk food. We'll half Jeongin and Chenle being complete idiots and you're disciplining Minho. We can even see if Bambam can come down from Japan and celebrate with us." His words made you smile as you removed your arm, and looked down at him with a large smile.

"I love you." You whispered, making him giggle as he pecked the lips and nuzzled back into your neck.

"I love you too."

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years

Text

What Might Have Been - 8

My ongoing fic for @goodomenscelebration. Crowley has arrived in the post-Apocalypse wasteland, searching for Aziraphale. Angst and destruction ahead.

Parts 1-6 here.

Part 7 here (despite what the lying title might say)

Family

Crowley couldn’t sense Aziraphale.

Or rather, he could sense Aziraphale, knew he was somewhere in the world, but that was as far as he knew. Not the direction, nor the distance, nor anything else.

He circled over the V-cut valley of Devil’s Dyke, looking for anything familiar. Looking for anything alive.

Those cliffs to the left looked like the ones they had chosen for their home, but there was no cottage, no garden, no little copse of trees sheltering it from view. The landscape had been scraped clean to the bright-white stone underneath.

He circled again, over a lake of fire, another frozen but sublimating, like dry ice. A river of sludge that seemed to run uphill. White bones of animals that never lived in this part of the world, looking far too large to be allowed.

Another circle, further out. Over there – the village of Ditchling. Aziraphale dragged him down there for tea at that little café twice a week. He liked to walk down the main street and wave to the humans as if he’d lived among them for decades.

No one lived there now.

With a flutter of black wings, Crowley came to rest at the traffic circle in the center of the village. To one side, that bakery where Aziraphale liked to browse cakes and bottles of wine, windows smashed, shelves bare; to the other, the old Post Office building, which looked as if it had been torn apart from the inside out. What little remained of the brick walls were black with soot.

One whole side of the village was just gone, foundations still smoldering: the little shop where they bought vegetables whenever Aziraphale got it in his mind to try cooking dinner, the jewelers where they would look at rings, had been looking for months, still hadn’t made a decision because Aziraphale needed Crowley’s to be perfect.

Just past the bakery was a little plant shop, which had fared no better. Little pots and planters – once brightly colored, now chipped and faded – held the brown, withered remains of plants. He touched one, and it fell to dust between his fingers. Nothing could survive here.

Except, in the back, he thought he saw a bit of green. Stepping carefully through the shattered window, Crowley moved through the shop to a corner that got little light, but also shielded its plants from whatever happened on the street. And there it was: a tall succulent, most of its green waxy leaves already turned yellow and fallen off, but a few still clinging to life. He tugged at one, and it was still springy, still a little soft.

“Well. I don’t know how you survived this long, but a little water and you might make it.” He picked up the pot. “Doubt we’ll find any. But let’s see what we can do.”

He was easing back through the window and happened to glance back towards the traffic circle –

Something – someone – darted across the street.

Crowley hunched, pulling his wings out again, clutching his plant close, ready to flee. Aziraphale? Probably not; if the angel were that close, no chance his sense would be so confused. Someone else.

He could run, of course, fly away. He was here to find Aziraphale, and nothing else. He would find his angel, take him home, rescue their lovely home from the Archangels, and never think of this place again.

Except…

Except he was here now, and he didn’t know what was going on.

Crowley hated not knowing what was going on.

And the best way to find out was to ask someone.

With one last brimstone-scented breath, Crowley started towards the figure.

By the time he’d rounded to corner, it was empty again – just a long stretch of road, past the little café with the garden in the back, the inn, the church. It was too silent. Wind whistled over broken glass, but that was all. No rustle of paper, no skitter of feet, no birds, no insects. With the sky dark and scabbed over, he couldn’t even tell what time of day or night it was. The world seemed paused, frozen, holding its breath.

A foot scuffed.

Crowley pressed himself to the side of the inn, wings hidden. Something was just around the corner, perhaps in the parking lot. He set the plant down in the window box, among the decaying remains of its kin, and pressed himself to the wall, trying to look without being seen. It didn’t work, though, not only because his glasses got in the way.

“Right,” he whispered to himself. Could be a demon. Or an angel. Or…anything. Be ready to look and run. He had enough energy for one more form shift today, and a rat could very easily get lost in the ruins.

Snapping around the corner, Crowley found the other being was also pressed tight to the wall, trying to peer without being seen. Almost as tall as Crowley, dressed all in black, with short blond hair, just a hint of curl. The boy looked at him with wide – and very familiar – eyes.

“Adam?” Crowley took a step forward.

Mistake. Crowley was, immediately and without passing through any intermediate space, on the roof of the church across the street. He skittered for a second, trying to keep his balance on the impossibly steep pitch, but the building was in ruins, the consecration weakened to the point that he could barely feel it at all.

“Go away! Leave me alone!” The boy shouted, already backing up the street. “I won’t do it any longer, you hear me? I mean it this time! I want – I want to be left alone!”

“Adam, wait!” He shook out his wings again, jumping after the boy. There was no mistaking him, of course – the powers were a giveaway, but he looked almost exactly like the young boy he and Aziraphale had visited in Tadfield only a month ago. Except that Adam had been full of smirks and slouches and bad jokes, trying to convince Crowley to let him drive the Bentley just once around town, no one’ll know but me and Dog. Explaining his idea for a new ice cream flavor even the Americans hadn’t thought of yet. Laughing when Aziraphale asked him if it was possible to get a rotary smartphone.

This Adam stood ramrod straight, body shifting back to attention every time he stopped moving. Older, he seemed, stronger for certain, with a calculating look that took in everything. His eyes darted now, as he frowned, hiding a fear Crowley had never seen in him, not even at the Airbase three years ago.

But it was still him. Still his godson.

“Adam,” he tried again, softening his voice, holding his hands to the sides. “Do you know who I am?”

“Yeah,” he bunched his fists. “A demon. Think I don’t know? You might not be dressed for battle, but it’s obvious. Well, back off, or I’ll put you inside the church next time. I can, you know.” His lip trembled. “And I’m – I’m not going to fight again. I don’t – don’t care what you lot do to me, I’m not –”

“No.” Crowley took another step forward. “I’m not going to hurt you, Adam. You should be able to see that. In my mind.”

“Not looking in a demon’s mind,” Adam snapped. “Not after last time. You keep your nasty – everything to yourself.” He glanced over his shoulder, as if planning to run. But it was a long way to the next town, with bugger-all in between. “Why d’you keep calling me that, anyway?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Crowley adjusted his glasses, almost pulling them off. Would it make the kid more comfortable, or less? “Isn’t that your name?”

The sullen shrug was almost something the real Adam would have done, except without the little smile that always followed it. “I guess. No one’s called me that since…” he waved a hand, taking in everything.

“What happened, Adam?” A Tudor house had stood nearby, white plaster and ornate stickwork, with a brick section said to date back a thousand years. All gone now, except a set of brick steps, rising ten feet to open out onto empty air. Crowley sprawled against the side of it. “To England? To you?”

“Armageddon,” he snapped. Well. That was fairly obvious.

“You didn’t stop it?”

“Stop it? I started it!” He clenched his jaw, face twisting in pain. Both hands pressed to his forehead. “I didn’t mean to. The voices…they get so loud. Until I can’t think. Until I don’t want to think.” He looked up again, tears in his eyes. “I know – we both know they’ll make me go back. Just. Let me have until then. Just a few days.” Genuine pleading, the kind that only comes from real fear.

“Go back where? Tell me what’s going on.”

“Go back to your – your stupid war! I don’t want to fight, I don’t want to destroy angels, I don’t want to kill two billion humans, and I don’t want to declare myself God! I just…I want…” He bit his lip, stepping back, as if expecting to be hit.

“What?” Crowley slid down the wall to crouch just above the ground. That all sounded familiar, something from the books of prophecy Aziraphale had never stopped reading. But all that could wait. “What is it you want, Adam?”

The boy leaned against the brick stairs, and arm length away, and slid slowly down until he was in a crouch of his own. “I want…I want to go home. I miss my mum and dad. Your lot made me send them away, at the first battle.” He shrugged. “Not that they cared about me.”

“Ugh,” Crowley cracked his head against the wall. He did not come out here planning to deal with teenaged self-esteem issues. “Adam. Look. We both know the only reason your parents went away is because you compelled them. For Someone’s sake, I’ve met them. There’s no way they don’t care about you.”

Adam frowned in confusion. “How do you know my parents?”

“Ehhhhh…long story.” Crowley smirked. “You could save us both a lot of time, just read it from my head? No?” He shrugged. “Then you’re just going to have to trust me. I’ve met your parents. And I can tell you, it’s absolutely disgusting how attached to you they are.”

Adam snorted. “I think you’ve got the wrong parents, mate. Mine didn’t need to be brainwashed to take off back to America without me.”

Crowley stared ahead.

Then he turned to Adam, ripping his glasses off. “Did you say America? Did you – back to America?”

“Yeah.” Adam shrugged. “Thought you said you knew.”

Crowley wrestled with a sudden feeling of unease. Somehow, in an Apocalypse-torn wasteland version of the home he’d built, he’d found something that could make it worse. “What’s…tell me your full name. Full human name. What your parents called you.”

“Well, my mum called me Adam,” he said slowly, “but my full name was Warlock Adam Thaddeus Dowling.”

(Note for clarity: This is Adam. In this universe, the switch didn’t go wrong, he was raised by the Dowlings, and I compromised a bit on the name to what I hoped would be least confusing. I also tried to make his personality partway between Adam and Warlock, thanks to those Dowling influences. He’s 14 here.)

#good omens fanfiction #good omens celebration #goc2020 #crowley #adam young #good omens prime #alternate universe #good omens #fanfic #family #post apocalyptic #angst #good omens angst #My writing #What Might Have Been

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searuin · 3 years

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○ ﹕ 𝙳𝚁𝙰𝙲𝙾 , @drcomalfy for pancake day.

❛ hm , happy pancake day draco ❜ he mumbles, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he makes his way over to start the day off by being an irritant. ❛ c'mon, i'll cook for you, we don't want a fire ❜ theo's already assuming whatever he can whip up will be better than any attempt from draco. ( he doesn't mean it, really — he knows draco's potion skills should transfer — but the dumb blonde joke is just so easy ) his hand is held out as though to drag him to the kitchen, but instead left as a choice. ❛ it'll be fun, promise. ❜

#drcomalfy #* ○ ﹕ i hate picking at the scabs of my past » ic.#; pancake content here u go i hope its okaay !!#; u get sleepy theo because . idk but you do #; he woke up and chose violence

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erosjock · 3 years

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27 Ways to Get Over a Breakup, Like, Right Now

Going through a breakup is low-key the best time to rebrand yourself. You can be whoever you want to be, do whatever you want to do, and try anything you want to try without having to consider anyone but yourself.

But considering breakups = losing someone who was consistently in your life, it can be easy to dwell on the past instead of looking at what your future self can bring to the table. Completely understandable.

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So to help you cope with all things breakup (since, hi, your future best self is waiting), we’ve sourced a bunch of tangible, practical ways you can actually get over someone according to experts who want to help. Because yes, sometimes buying yourself flowers at the grocery store is a lil start.

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How You Get Over a Breakup, by Zodiac Sign

1. Shower daily. I know this seems small, but trust, it makes all the difference. “Prioritizing your hygiene and taking pride in how you look can often make you feel better inside,” says licensed clinical psychologist Kristie Norwood. So get yourself a morning and nighttime routine that requires a rinse in the shower. After all, shower thoughts are the best kind of thoughts, and it might be super therapeutic. Small wins are the best wins.

2. Create a vision board. Yup, it’s time to paint a badass picture of what your future is about to look like. (Time to get on that manifesting kick). “After breakups, it’s important to figure out what your life will look like without the relationship as it was,” says Norwood. So pick up some magazines—yes, full permission to grab some Cosmos— and cut out images that you put into art your life goals and desires.

3. Treat yourself to a new sex toy. Luckily for you, vibrators come completely drama-free (and in some cases, are better than the real deal). “Cleanse yourself of any negative energy through an orgasm,” says sex educator Yael Rosenstock Gonzalez. An orgasm a day keeps the doctor away (...that’s the saying, right?).

4. Go to therapy It’s time to make an appointment for therapy, suggests licensed clinical social worker Amalia Miralrío. Especially considering an unbiased perspective could offer you insight that you weren’t able to process yourself. Get started with some free options here.

Benefits of the No Contact Rule Post-Breakup

5. Buy yourself a big bouquet of pink roses. Put them in a vase, water them, and wait for them to wilt. When it’s time to throw them out, check in with your feelings. Guess what? By the time those roses die, you’ll already feel better. Then, keep buying yourself roses, recommends Veronica Yip, a San Diego resident who swears by this hack.

6. Visit a rage room. It’s…a legit thing. “Get out all your anger and smash objects to your heart’s content,” recommends Lauren Cook, who holds a master’s in marriage and family therapy.

7. Go on that vacation you’ve been dying to—even if it’s by yourself. “Getting away to an exotic location or somewhere peaceful is a potent source of distraction,” says therapist Rev. Sheri Heller. What’s better than lounging beachside with a good book, frozen drank, and the ocean waves? Talk about self-care.

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8. Rearrange your home. Get rid of all those bad memories. “A new look creates space for new memories. Out with the old, inviting the new,” recommends Krysta Monet creator and founder of The Feminine Truth.

9. Purge your relationship junk drawer. Yes, this includes that ticket stub you’ve kept from your first date. “You don’t need the reminders of a relationship that is no longer,” says Robyn Koenig, professional dating coach and CEO at Rare Find.

How Long It Actually Takes to Get Over a Breakup

10. Write hate mail to your ex. But don’t actually send it (and tell your sister not to either, à la Lara Jean). “The caveat is not to mail the letter but to do a ceremonial burning to get rid of the toxic energy,” recommends Samantha Gregory, author of No More Crumbs: How to Stop Dating for Crumbs and Get the Cake You Finally Deserve.

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11. Say yes to everything. “This is especially useful if you’ve been in a long-term relationship where you’ve compromised and negotiated what you ate, where you went, what you watched, and who you socialized with,” says Trish McDermott, CEO of Meetopolis Dating. “Who are you and what makes just *you* happy? Now is the time to find out.”

12. Eat alone. Whether you take yourself out to your favorite Thai place or make a home-cooked dinner, sit at the table and eat in silence. “Becoming comfortable with newly found silence is part of the recovery process,” says Megan Cannon, owner of Back to Balance Counseling.

13. Sign up for a boxing class—or any other type of fighting class. “Sometimes you need to find an outlet to divert the negative energies you get after a breakup,” says Celia Schweyer, dating and relationship expert at DatingScout. Trust, punching the eff out of something will *def* help with this added stress.

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14. Block them from your Instagram/Snapchat. If the temptation to see if they’ve been paying attention to your Stories is too much, just block them. This way, when you do start to get out there and share your day-to-day activities again, you’ll know there’s zero part of you that’s performatively “acting over it” in the hopes your ex will see it.

15. Don’t shit-talk your ex too much. Sure, it feels good to trash-talk your ex with your besties, and hearing that you were better than them from the start feels like a drug, but don’t rely on it. Hearing your friends bring down someone who made you feel shitty feels like it should be justified in the grand karmic scheme of things, but your health and happiness need not be contingent on someone else’s pain and suffering.

16. Don’t immediately suggest to “stay friends”—and if they do, tell them you need to think about it. This is an impulse because you don’t want to seem like you care too much about the breakup. Because you’re so chill. You’re so chill that your heart isn’t beating. Aaand, you’re dead. But truthfully, during this stilted, awkward breaking-up period, it’s hard to tell whether you’ll be able to be friends. Generally, one person wants to be friends and the other wants to be more. Gotta work that shit out before it can be a healthy friendship…if it ever can be. You’re not admitting defeat by not staying friends with them.

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