#THERE'S A LOT....TO SAY HERE. i'm..right. read this piece and then remember what i did to these two <3

[vvanessaives]

OOO 22) nap + fenix 👀

22. nap a part of the continuation i did of this piece but can be read on its own. characters: fenix hayes, vesper moxley words: 5.589 (forgive me, hate me) warnings: mentions of blood but nothing serious, also disgusting sweetness and tenderness and fenix, because he deserves to be a warning.

Vesper’s eyes cracked open, body weighting double her normal load, and instinctively extended her arm to the bedside table, tentatively searching for her phone but having no luck in finding it. Instead she grabbed a wristwatch, surely not hers, and brought it as close as possible to her face so that those sleepy eyes of hers could manage to look at the hour. The screen was broken and had a few drops of blood staining it, but thankfully it still worked. Half past four in the morning, the glowing numbers signalled. Perfect, she barely slept for thirty minutes.

Ditching the watch back in its original place she questioned if trying to fall asleep again could be a worthy attempt or a useless feat. She closed her eyes but scoffed at herself immediately after: who was she trying to fool? Of course she wouldn’t be able to sleep for the next eighteen hours, at least.

Admitting defeat to her own ridiculous sleep pattern, she let out a tired groan and moved to get out of bed: a shower and finally eating something, anything at all, were her first aims. As plans never go accordingly to what she wishes for, a pair of arms wrapped around her lower stomach caged her back to the spot, a sound that resembled a whine followed and made her do a double take. Was that the grogginess still clouding her mind or did she really hear that?

Vesper tried to turn and twist in Fenix’s arms to regain freedom but only earned a second whining sound, her low giggle was impossible to hide this time. Witnessing Fenix squealing like a teen for something as trivial as getting out of bed had a touch of – in her own words – je-ne-sais-quoi of silliness.

Their legs intertwined messily as he tried to keep Vesper in bed longer, arms wrapping tighter around her waist and shifting her body impossibly close to his, Fenix’s face now planted against the crook of her neck; his stubble didn’t help the coaxing job he tried to enact, as it kept pinching at the sensitive skin and forced Vesper to twist again, shoulder rising to prevent the closeness and forcing him away. His sleep, or what little remained of it, was disturbed for the last time.

“Fine, fine.” Fenix finally spoke up, words slurred by sleep and muffled by her neck. “I get it, it’s impossible to sleep here.” Tone low and rougher than usual; Vesper never noticed how the raspy sound of his sleepy voice could let a shiver run up her spine like that. Or maybe she just pretended it never happened before.

“You can keep sleeping.” She merely reasoned, an open invitation to let her get up so he could keep on staying in bed for how long he wished for.

“Are you trying to do the walk of shame out of your own house now?” Fenix finally cracked open one his eyes, a soft smile tugging at his lips as the playful remark made Vesper scoff humorously. He moved his face and his so upsetting hispid cheeks away from her neck and sank his nose into her hair instead, the scent was biting and carried the memory of the last few hours endeavours, the fight they went through to escape a weird kidnapping being the perfect example; yet he could still catch the habitual smell of caramel mixed to the smoky notes of her favourite brand of cigarettes. Rich, full. Davidoff gold. Hell of an expensive type too. Of course he remembers about it, how could he forget that time when he bought a pack just to offer her one: she kept saying she would accept a smoke only if it’s her brand so Fenix had to get clever. In the end, Vesper refused him anyway, true, but at least he had it ready for the day she would accept. And eventually, she did. He pretended that was some kind of victory, if he ignored the other twenty or so times he got rejected.

“I just want to take a shower. And eat, I’m starving. Scared I’ll leave?” Her hand went behind her, searching and successfully getting to the nape of Fenix’s neck, fingers sinking into the short hair and soothingly offering a massage, fingers slightly scraping the scalp, just like he liked. Not that she knew, of course.

“Trembling like a leaf at the thought.” He hummed, eyes battling a war already lost to stay open, the pleasurable sensation was spreading quickly through the whole length of his neck and gently lulling him back to sleep. A few minutes went by in total silence, Vesper was sure he fell asleep again until a grumble followed immediately after she stopped the relaxing rub. “Didn’t I tire you out at least a bit?” Fenix annoyingly asked, Vesper only shook her head. “Did the thugs tire you out…?” Another negative response to which he replied with a relived sigh. “Thank god.” He gave another tight squeeze before asking his next request. “No sleep, I get it. At least stay here?”

Fenix tone was sweet, inviting, and it made Vesper’s heart tremble with longing: the answer was yes, of course it was yes, yet something made her self-aware – maybe it was the warm feeling taking control over her mind or the way she wished to stay in that exact same position forever. That wasn’t the right way to feel towards a ‘friend’, acquittance at best, the word kept slipping.

“Fine.” She admitted defeat, both to Fenix and the embarrassment she felt by accepting that invitation. She had to counterbalance the acceptance with something else. “But get off. You are getting too comfy around me.” Vesper pushed herself out of his arms, turning on her back as she slightly shoved him in the same position too. Fenix didn’t fight it but the disapproving groan he let out was unmistakable.

Did she regret her own words? Yes. Did she miss the way Fenix was holding her? Yes. Would she retract her words? No, sadly no. And she cursed herself for acting so foolishly.  

“Scared you’ll like me?” He teased back. “Or it’s too late for that already?”

Vesper scoffed, the indignation at the accusation too marked to make it sound like he didn’t just say something definitively right. “I could never like someone like you.” A frown broke out her impassable features as she heard Fenix laugh – knowingly, amusingly – like someone that knew way too much, that got lied to but knew the truth hiding behind the words.

“So this means nothing, right?” He turned to look at Vesper’s profile; in the darkness of the room only the light coming from the street gave a semblance of a well-lit room.

“Yeah.” Another answer that Fenix expected. He knew that was a lie but he couldn’t hide that hearing it made him…sad? Empty? Maybe he was being just as stupid as her.

“So we will pretend we’ve been, don’t know, taking naps lately? Naked?” Vesper bit her lip, nose scrunched up. Oh, he knew what that meant, that bothered her. Even annoyed slightly.

“Could say so.” She crossed her hands over her stomach, paying attention to not let her arms rest over her wound, and let her head fall to the side to look at him. “I barely know anything about you.” A whisper, melancholy seeping through the words. That wasn’t entirely true, she knew a lot of little useless facts, like the way he would tap the heels of his boots against any kind of furniture – preferably the underside of a table – after he worn them. Godspeed, he would say. He was the superstitious type but he hated to hear it.

Fenix let his right hand fall behind his head, resting over it as he gave the statement some thought. “Ask me whatever you want then. Two chance to go crazy about anything you want.”

Vesper turned to her side completely to look at him, see if he was being serious, attention caught by the proposal. “And you’ll answer? Whatever the question?”

Fenix shrugged, it’s not like he had anything to hide. More or less. “But I will ask you two questions back.”

Vesper didn’t give it much thought before agreeing. “Deal. I’ll start.” What could she ask about, though? Suddenly all the possible questions she could’ve raised escaped her mind. Meanwhile, Fenix gracefully grinned, happy the suggestion pleased her that much, and admired the process of gears turning and twisting in her mind as she tried to come up with the right thing to ask. “What kind of music you like?” Vesper quizzed plainly, gaze turning to the roof.

Fenix snorted loudly. “I say you can ask me anything and that’s the first thing you go with?”

“A question like another.” Her shoulders raising, no one set a rule for serious-only questions. “Just answer.”

Fenix hummed pensively, fingers drumming over his chest and following some kind of tune that only him could hear. “That’s so difficult. I would say the kind that you would listen at like, three in the morning while driving god knows where in the middle of, don’t know, out there. Oh, and whatever the fuck was going on with Alan Sorrenti when he wrote Siamo figli delle stelle. And whatever was going on in the eighties in Japan too.” The words came rushing easily, like he expected Vesper to know everything he just mentioned, or understand what he meant.

“What…What the fuck all of that means, like…” Vesper eyebrows knotted together as annoyed response to whatever he just said, she didn’t catch a single thing – he was either not specific at all or too specific. “Do you like anything that isn’t prehistoric?”

“A bunch of songs there and here?” Fenix shot her a glance and saw the sour expression now adorning her features. “What? You asked that.”

“Yeah and I expected an answer I could understand.”

“What did you expect me to reply with? Fuckin’ Lizzy Wizzy? If I have to listen that Re-start, Re-heart, Repeat shit one more time I’ll smash my radio.” The tune of that song suddenly seized his mind and replaced the other he was playing, he repulsively stopped his finger’s moves. Goddamn Lizzy Wizzy again, he thought.

“Didn’t imagine you would answer with something so obscure no one alive know shit about it.” Vesper wondered if she could play any of the things he vaguely listed on her bass guitar, surely not for him. Just a curiosity.

“Sucks to have bad music taste then.” Vesper shot up from the bed and turned to look at him with exaggerated offence, covers were sliding off her body but she didn’t pay the exposure no mind; Fenix, on the other hand, gave more than just a glance.

“You have no taste at all and if you have, it’s complete shit.” The slander of her music taste never was something she could accept. Vesper pretended to smack him, placing her hand over his cheek and slightly pushing his face to the side, as if that would make him shut up.

Fenix allowed her little payback, but immediately grabbed her hand and pretended to bite the same fingers that just pushed him away. Vesper tried to free herself from his weird biting attempt, but then another hand made its way around her body and dragged her down on bed, effectively caging her again into his embrace. Vesper laughed, the sound harmonious and so spontaneous that Fenix could see her dimples show up. When was the last time she laughed that freely?

“My turn now.” He gently tucked behind her ear one short strand of hair that fell over her face, finally looking straight at her dark green eyes. The question slipped off his mind as Vesper stared back at him, a glint of amusement still present. This time she didn’t fight her way out of his arms, curious. “How did you get this one?” He touched the scar on her chin, thumb following it down to its full extension.

“Ah that’s a stupid one, no cool story to tell.” She smirked, insinuating that he just lost a chance for a good question. “You know those metallic cans? With like, tomato soup and so on.” She suggested, joining her fingers to form a round shape. Of course he knew, he wasn’t dumb – his squinted eyes suggested. “I was fourteen and my dad was dead drunk on the couch and I was starving. I picked one of those cans with tuna – which was stupid since I hate tuna but I was so hungry. I was trying to open it but that fucker was making it so hard to do that, so this is where shit goes does.” She rolls her eyes at the memory, the stupidity of the action washing over her again. “I hold that thing…how is it called…the pulling thing-y.” A dramatic pause followed, making her confession of idiocy even funnier. “With my teeth…” Fenix laughed out loud instantly, he already knew how the story would end; Vesper joined him, the sound infectious.

“Thank god I woke up before you tried to get a second scar just now.” Low-blow. That’s the kind of mistake you only do once. Hopefully.

“Anyway, I pulled and pulled until I learned that the bastards can really cut if you let them, it sliced my chin open. I thought I was gonna lose it. I don’t know how but I sure believed that. It began to burn and it touched it and I was like-” She widened her eyes in surprise and looked down at her hand, perfectly acting has her younger self. “That’s blood. That’s fucking blood. And it wouldn’t stop flowing. I was screaming so hard that my dad jumped up, then screamed as he saw blood pouring from my face and fainted. Had to wake him up again. All of that ended with a run to his ripperdoc friend to stich my chin up and check if he just had a heart attack. Of course I was still starving ‘cause in the end I didn’t manage to eat that.”

“See? That wasn’t a useless question, just got precious info on how gonk you are too.” Fenix mocked and she rolled her eyes, sharing this story became a regret already. “What did your dad say about it then?”

“You mean after he regained consciousness?” For a man so used to see blood in his line of work he did have a funny reaction, but waking up from a drunk sleep and see your own kid bleeding as much as she was – hands covered in it and watery eyes – you suddenly become very not immune to it. “He just laughed when I told him how things went and then bought me a taco.” Somehow the memory was a fond one, recalling her dad being worried sick and then laughing it off and buying her food made her heart clench, some kind of sting near it. He wasn’t perfect, but sometimes she indeed missed him.

Fenix registered her gaze softening, eyes unfocused as if she was looking at him but also through him. Something inside him, nameless and unclear, ordered to him to kiss her: he placed his lips over her chin, just where the scar resides, then he kissed his way up, one after the other, and upon finally reaching her lips, he placed a short, final, tender kiss there. Vesper didn’t fight it, letting it flow naturally.

While she allowed him to show such soft act, the mocking that came immediately after couldn’t be avoided. “Disgustingly sweet of you.” Lips curling upwards in a playful smile.

“Curse to be a man trying to be nice on this planet.” It was Fenix’s turn to roll his eyes now. Dramatically sprawling on his back, he let his right arm lay over his forehead in fake exhaustion.

“Except you are never nice.”

“Makes you wonder why now, ah?” He shot her a side glance, curious to see how she would react, the meaning of that was perfectly clear to both. It’s because of you. Vesper only hummed at the statement, investigating on that further would mean making her talk of things she wasn’t ready to say.

“Right, fine. My turn again.” Her next question was already present on her mind: since he asked about a scar, she would ask of something similar. Kind of. “What’s the story here, with those?” She reached for his hand – arm still resting over his head leisurely – and she clasped his two cyber-fingers in hers. Fenix turned on his side again, allowing his hand to lay between their bodies so she could take a better look at the replacements of what once was there. The sensation was still foreign; Fenix felt like, sometimes, nothing was missing, like he still had skin and bones and blood flowing through them and not cold material and cables and god knows what other mechanic bullshit. He should’ve expected a question about it, a dreaded one simply because he didn’t know how much he should or could share. “Hey.” Vesper called, placing her hands over his cheeks and fixing his wandering gaze on hers. “We said we would answer everything.” She lightly squeezed his face between her palms, making him look somehow funny.

“I know, ‘ight.” Word muffled and a bit slurred. Vesper stifled a giggle and loosened her grip to a simple gentle touch, unfortunately less funny. “Guy…Uh…shot them off.” Fenix said bluntly, like he just spoke of a daily occurrence. Surely not that much of a surprise in a place like Night City, but still quite shocking.

“Shot?” Vesper repeated, coaxing a better explanation out of him.

“Yeah, fuckin’ insane that one. We were on a job…kind of.” Calling the murder of his own parents a ‘job’ was quite funny to Fenix; the memory didn’t affect him in the slightest, not as much as the betrayal that he went through after. “We were supposed to kill some old bastards that totally deserved it, trust me. Like I know this sounds unreliable coming from me, but they did.” He placed his hand over Vesper’s cheek, just like she did moments before, and let his fingers – the ones protagonists of the story – lightly caress her skin. The touch felt new, unexpected, as the coldness of the cybernetic replacement was in stark contrasts with the warmth his body always had, no matter the situation. “And when we flatlined the fuckers and I thought everything was done for, he aimed his damn shotgun at my hand and made my fingers blow to bits. I was still holding my gun too.” He wiggled the missing limbs with disharmony, the memory making them ache. He knew that was impossible but the pain was real, just as intense as the exact same moment when he lost them. Vesper noted how, despite the calmness of his tone, something was hiding behind the words, a deep fury and hatred that never had the chance to be quenched; that felt way more than a job went bad. “He even left me there, blood loss and all. Damn prick, could’ve at least zeroed me directly.” Fenix gazed focused on his own hand and its slow travel as it went down along the woman’s neck.

“And then?” Vesper eagerly asked; aware that he wasn’t disclosing a lot of details, her curiosity was piqued nevertheless.

“And then I shamefully laid in my own blood, screaming in agony and maybe even crying a bit, not my best moment gotta admit. Until I thought, hey maybe a cyber-hand could be cool and I got up.” The pair laughed at the unlikelihood of the tale, it was clear that wasn’t exactly the truth but imagining Fenix suddenly stop his desperate cries and think ‘hey that might be cool’ was indeed hilarious. “Sadly the ripperdoc I rushed to said that two fingers ain’t enough for a full hand swap.”

“Tragedy.” She playfully commented.

“Tragedy indeed.” He repeated, voice nearly a whisper as he was still tracing a path with the back of his phalanges on the human canvas – shoulders, collarbones, all part of the journey. Eyes finally shot up to Vesper’s face as a shiver run through her body the moment he intentionally run his fingers over her chest, brushing lightly over a nipple, a cheeky smile playing over his lips.

“Did you find the guy that shot you after?” Vesper nonchalantly asked, ignoring his stupid grin, an indecipherable look fixed on him.

“That’s a third question already.” Fenix pointed, settling his hand along the curve of her hip.

“No, that’s a question in the question. We are allowed to do that. And you gave a shitty answer too, I’m not dumb, I can see the way you avoid a straight answer so shut up.” Fenix pressed his lips together, unable to reply. When she used that kind of tone, firm and sharp, it meant that no other words should be said to fight her back. “No wait, shut up about this but talk about my question.”

“Damn sorry, officer. Other orders?”

“Yeah, hold me again like you did before.” The request was unexpected, to say the least, and left Fenix quite shocked. It’s not an everyday occurrence to be treated so directly by Vesper, the night kept on gifting him pleasant surprises. And how could he say no to that as she looked at him almost lovingly, a small bashful smile sweetening her features. He complied immediately, letting his arm fully envelope her form and pushing her impossibly close once again, just enough space to look at each other’s eyes but not too far to prevent their noses touching, a giggle escaping both of them. “Oh and don’t call me that, I’m no corpo shit.”

“My bad, miss streetkid.” He teased back, Vesper frowned but said nothing, she just wished to hear the end of his little story. “To answer your question: no, didn’t shoot the motherfucker as a thank you gift. Yet. He kind of…disappeared. Or I haven’t searched that well yet, or he’s dead already. Who knows, but remember: don’t say cat if you don’t have it in the sack.” The phrase was met with a puzzled look and a furrowed brow, enough to make Fenix explain further. “He’ll get what’s coming to him. One day.” He found it nearly funny that he was talking about his own brother, and not some kind of backstabbing associate, but he didn’t dare  add that last information. “Okay enough about this, it’s my turn now.”

Now it was Vesper that had to patiently wait for the next question. Meanwhile she shifted her legs until she could find a comfortable position in the mess of intertwined limbs – one hell of a challenge when both had been blessed, or cursed, with so much height. As she gazed at him a sudden thought formed: has he always been this handsome? The idea made her scowl immediately in embarrassment and she hoped he didn’t notice. She always knew he was pretty: the devilish smirk, the way his bicolored eyes can make a heart stop if he as much casts a look on you, the way the sunlight would get the freckles on his nose so evident and cute, his perfect jaw and that shadow of beard cloaking it, the little scar above his upper lip, his lips– Yeah, that was enough now. She knew he was beautiful, but now he looked positively perfect.

“Ah, got it.” Fenix finally said, making Vesper snap out of her awkward thoughts. “Have you ever been out of Night City? Like doesn’t need to be some fancy, far-away place, just out of the city.”

Vesper sighed, bored by the question. “You’re so bad at this, you didn’t ask anything interesting at all. Nope, I haven’t. Born and raised and living in Night City, my whole life. Sounds quite shitty when I say it out loud.”

“It’s kinda shitty, gotta admit.” She squinted at the reply, ready to bite back at the unnecessary mean comment. Fenix didn’t give her the chance. “What if we went somewhere? The two of us?”

“You–what. Wait. What. Like…what?” Vesper blinked a few times, not sure if that was one of his stupid fooling around episodes or else.

“Yeah like. Somewhere else, a new place, leaving this city behind. For good maybe. You name a place and we go, together. Like, don’t know. Colorado? Wanna see Denver? Pennsylvania? Why you would want to go there would be a mystery to me, but I’d go if you asked. Europe even. Paris? Rome? The fuck? Any place is as good as the other. I’ll take you there.” Words flooded without any stop, it felt like witnessing the unfiltered machination of his thoughts. Vesper just stared at him, taken aback, lips parted in surprise at the sudden burst. Fenix sure was a man with a certain kind of fire, yet that didn’t always reflect into his speech patterns, he could sound extremely laid back, lethargic even, a measured tone for every word. Whatever sparked that flame wasn’t a common occurrence for sure.

“I…I don’t.” She swallowed nervously, something felt tightly tied around her throat. “I don’t know, I have no idea.” Her hand reached for his bristly cheek as she whispered her words, thumb caressing him gently. Then she laughed, a short lived sound born out of uncontrollable bliss.

“Well, I would love to see Japan.” Fenix proposed as he reciprocated the gesture; Vesper rolled her eyes, an unspoken here he goes with Japan again. “I think Tokyo.” He offered, waiting for any kind of feedback.

“We have neon lights and Arasaka in Night City too.” A chance to tease him, just like he always did, was too good to pass, no matter the situation, but she couldn’t hide the way her heart softened as she heard him talk that excitedly.

“Sure, but you know what Tokyo doesn’t have? Night City.” Fenix began, the idea of leaving the city tasted like freedom. “I’d love to see Roppongi or whatever it’s called. There’s music and life and you would love it, I’m sure. Also I love seafood. And when we grow tired of it we’ll look down on Tokyo and go somewhere else, I’ll drive through the night and we would feel the wind blow…” He let his fingers comb through her locks and Vesper closed her eyes for a moment, letting the words sink in, a clear picture of the scenario forming just before her eyes. She could swear she was there in that exact moment. “Your hair would swing and we’ll watch the city lights disappear and maybe–“ Fenix trailed off and silence filled the room as he unexpectedly planted a kiss on Vesper’s lips, making her giggle. “I would risk a car accident just to steal a kiss from you.”

Opening back her eyes, Vesper’s gaze was welcomed by Fenix’s heartstopper grin, the glint in his beautiful piercing stare didn’t help tone down the roaring emotions. For a second there, in the dim light as she imagined a future that she wasn’t sure she deserved to fantasize of, she thought that maybe, just maybe, Fenix indeed meant something to her.

“I…I think…” I like you. “I’d like that.” She whispered instead. Oh god, she hoped that was some kind of brain concussion that made her think that.

“What? Getting into a car accident?” Of course Fenix had to be his usual self.

“No!” Vesper exclaimed with fake and exaggerated annoyance. “All of that…yeah it would be nice.” And impossible. No one ever leaves Night City for good and if that happened, she wasn’t going to be the one to witness that. And since when she felt she could trust so blindly someone? Promises of a different, happy future are always just that, promises. And no one ever keeps their word. “Nice imagination you have.”

The words were bitter now and Fenix noticed how her voice was missing the blissful glee of just a few moments before. Vesper gaze dropped low and the bridge of her nose crinkled, she was thinking of something unpleased, that was sure, and he didn’t like that one bit. “Another question for you.” Fenix spoke up all of sudden.

“What– hey! That’s not fair, we said–” He interrupted the protest, pushing Vesper flat on her back. Fenix was now hovering over her form, so close that his chest was squeezed against hers.

“Wanna go grab breakfast? Like just the two of us. Like a date.” His voice didn’t betray him for once, perfectly hiding the way he was nearly dying on the spot. Sure, he asked her out on a date a million times already, and she refused every single time; it was their thing now, a form of playful exchange, but this time was different.

“Like a date?” Vesper searched for any kind of clue that could suggest he was making fun of her, but found nothing.

“Like a date.” He repeated.

She pondered the offer as she admired Fenix squirm for an answer. She was sure he never saw him so tense yet determined. “A date totally means something, y’know right?”

“Let it mean everything then.”

Vesper bit her lip trying to disguise her smile.

“Fine, let’s go.”

“Oh, thank fuckin’ god.” He breathed as he rolled back to his side of the bed, exhausted. “Giving me a heartache for a second there.” Placing a hand over his chest, just above his heart, he checked if it was still beating there or if it finally decided to jump out of the window instead of suffering through all that anxiety.

“So scared I would say no?” Vesper teased, a part of her knew she was going to say yes – for the first time too, that was an important one – but the troubled look suited Fenix too well to let their game end that early.

“You aren’t the easiest to…woo. As the gentlemen say.” He expressed pretending to tip a hat he wasn’t wearing; she wished to disagree, since part of the problem was his terrible, insufferable personality, but that wasn’t the best attitude to take on a date. Nor that description but dwelling on specifics wasn’t that important. “Hey, by the way, think they’ll let me in for breakfast at…whatever place? I only have bloodstained clothes here and the pair of jeans you teared apart – yeah, I know don’t need to specify. It was already ruined and you were just trying to patch my wound. Whatever.”

Vesper found almost scary how he anticipated her nagging, did she become so predictable or else? “Well, you wouldn’t be that much of a surprise. Guess you could attract a few funny looks.”

“Right. Then I need to drop home and change I guess.” He stated as he sat up on the bed, back hurting all of sudden as he tried to stand. “Oh fuck!” He cursed through gritted teeth as if the pain just helped him remember something he shouldn’t have ignored. Vesper looked at him quizzically. “The body.”

“The body?!” Vesper’s back shot up from the mattress, realization hit her memory too as she remembered the dead guy waiting squeezed in the back of the car they stole a few hours before.

“God, maybe I need to change and drop that.” He acknowledged before turning to look at her, a convincing smile plastered over his face. “Wanna come?”

“As part of the damn date?” She rubbed her eyes tiredly, agreeing to that was already on top of her list of regrets.

“Could be?” He shrugged.

“You are fucking incredible.” Vesper hoped for a scrap of good sense as she asked her question, obviously rhetoric, and promptly got disappointed. She wasn’t sure what she expected, if she had to be completely honest. “Why every date with you has to do with something like that?”

“Ah!” Fenix pointed his index finger at her, he was waiting to win this argument over since months already. “So you admit that was a date.”

“That was absolutely not a date, you dragged me into a fight and we ended sitting next to each other in a piss stained alley.” The memory was still fresh: Fenix stopped her, trying another of his useless flirting techniques with her, not long after they got interrupted by some men that wished to beat him senseless. Vesper being one of them too. Unfortunately that didn’t buy her the way out of the fight.

“But you just called it a date.” That was definitely a date to him. How could she pretend the moment they shared under the light of the stars and of the flickering broken orange neon of the alley as a drunk man was throwing up not so far from them, meant nothing at all?

“It wasn’t.” That were the last words on the case as Vesper hit him straight to the face with a pillow before he could open his mouth again.

“But do you wanna tag along? Yes or no?” Fenix hugged the soft weapon like nothing just happened and leaned over it, still waiting for his answer.

Vesper sighed exasperatedly. Yes, she totally regretted that already. “Fine…I’ll go take a shower.” Finally she got out of bed like she planned to do twenty minutes before, now hungrier too.

“Oh, maybe I need to add a shower to the list too.” Fenix pondered, tapping his fingers into the soft cushion. “Place for two in there maybe? No?”

#ask games #ask #nuclearstorms #oc: fenix #oc: vesper #THERE'S A LOT....TO SAY HERE. i'm..right. read this piece and then remember what i did to these two <3 #also let me give everyone this mental image: vesper muttering 'we should've made that tokyo trip' to fenix during the whole slowly dying bc #of johnny stuff. after you'll read this you will get it. #timeline here is still something something around 2072 the besties never been together here still but soon. also this piece and the previou #one are missing the super important part where they get that drink...yea the drink...right. ANYWAYS THIS WAS THE LAST PROMPT CLAP AND CHEER #thank u bones for sending me this prompt MWAH MWAH <33 #<writing tag finally hehe

[foone]

Look if there's one thing, just one thing, that I wish everyone understood about archiving, it's this:

We can always decide later that we don't need something we archived.

Like, if we archive a website that's full of THE WORST STUFF, like it turns out it's borderline illegal bot-made spam art, we can delete it. Gone.

We can also chose not to curate. You can make a list of the 100 Best Fanfic and just quietly not link to or mention the 20,000 RPFs of bigoted youtubers eating each other. No problem!

We can also make things not publicly available. This happens surprisingly often: like, sometimes there'll be a YouTube channel of alt-right bigotry that gets taken down by YouTube, but someone gives a copy to the internet archive, and they don't make it publicly available. Because it might be useful for researchers, and eventually historians, it's kept. But putting it online for everyone to see? That's just be propaganda for their bigotry. So it's hidden, for now. You can ask to see it, but you need a reason.

And we can say all these things, we can chose to delete it later, we can not curate it, we can hide it from public view... But we only have these options BECAUSE we archived it.

If we didn't archive it, we have no options. It is gone. I'm focusing on the negative here, but think about the positive side:

What if it turns out something we thought was junk turns out to be amazing new art?

What if something we thought of as pointless and not worth curating turns out to be influential?

What if something turns out to be of vital historical importance, the key that is used to solve a great mystery, the Rosetta stone for an era?

All of those things are great... If we archived it when we could.

Because this is an asymmetric problem:

If we archived it and it turns out it's not useful, we can delete.

If we didn't archive it and it turns out it is useful, OOPS!

You can't unlose something that's been lost. It's gone. This is a one way trip, it's already fallen off the cliff. Your only hope is that you're wrong about it being lost, and there is actually still a copy somewhere. If it's truly lost, your only option is to build a time machine.

And this has happened! There are things lost, so many of them that we know of, and many more we don't know of. There are BOOKS OF THE BIBLE referenced in the canon that simply do not exist anymore. Like, Paul says to go read his letter to the Laodiceans, and what did that letter say? We don't know. It's gone.

The most celebrated playwright in the English tradition has plays that are just gone. You want to perform or watch Love's Labours Won? TOO FUCKING BAD.

Want to watch Lon Cheyney's London After Midnight, a mystery-horror silent film from 1927? TOO BAD. The MGM vault burnt down in 1965 and the last known copy went up in smoke.

If something still exists, if it still is kept somewhere, there is always an opportunity to decide if it's worthy of being remembered. It can still be recognized for its merits, for its impact, for its importance, or just what it says about the time and culture and people who made it, and what they believed and thought and did. It can still be a useful part of history, even if we decide it's a horrible thing, a bigoted mess, a terrible piece of art. We have the opportunity to do all that.

If it's lost... We are out of options. All we can do is research it from how it affected other things. There's a lot of great books and plays and films and shows that we only know of because other contemporary sources talked about them so much. We're trying to figure out what it was and what it did, from tracing the shadow it cast on the rest of culture.

This is why archivists get anxious whenever people say "this thing is bad and should not be preserved". Because, yeah, maybe they're right. Maybe we'll look back and decide "yeah, that is worthless and we shouldn't waste the hard drive or warehouse space on it".

But if they're wrong, and we listen to them, and don't archive... We don't get a second chance at this. And archivists have been bitten too many times by talk of "we don't need copies, the original studio has the masters!" (it burnt down), or "this isn't worth preserving, it's just some damn silly fad" (the fad turned out to be the first steps of a cultural revolution), or "this media is degenerate/illegal/immoral" (it turns out those saying that were bigots and history doesn't agree with their assessment).

So we archive what we can. We can always decide later if it doesn't need preserving. And being a responsible archivist often means preserving things but not making them publicly available, or being selective in what you archive (I back up a lot of old computer hard drives. Often they have personal photos and emails and banking information! That doesn't get saved).

But it's not really a good idea to be making quality or moral judgements of what you archive. Because maybe you're right, maybe a decade or two later you'll decide this didn't need to be saved. And you'll have the freedom to make that choice. But if you didn't archive it, and decide a decade later you were wrong... It's just gone now. You failed.

Because at the end of the day I'd rather look at an archive and see it includes 10,000 things I think are worthless trash, than look at an archive of on the "best things" and know that there are some things that simply cannot be included. Maybe they were better, but can't be considered as one of the best... Because they're just gone. No one has read them, no one has been able to read them.

We have a long history of losing things. The least we can do going forward is to try and avoid losing more. And leave it up to history to decide if what we saved was worth it.

My dream is for a future where critics can look at stuff made in the present and go "all of this was shit. Useless, badly made, bigoted, horrible. Don't waste your time on it!"

Because that's infinitely better than the future where all they can do is go "we don't know of this was any good... It was probably important? We just don't know. It's gone. And it's never coming back"

#Archivist ranting

[mlmshipbracket]

ROUND 6: POLL #1 - Semifinals

ROUND 6 POLLS [HERE]

PROPAGANDA BELOW

Siffrin/Isabeau:

I've put mid paragraph spoilers in || brackets || and paragraphs of spoilers make "spoilers ->"

I should mention that them having romantic feelings for each other is a partial spoiler?

What if. A silly little he/they guy. But! He's really messed up emotionally and mentally. Like. Constantly puts others first to his own detriment and calls himself manipulative kind of messed up. Also he's in a time loop. NOT a fun one. But! There's this jock in his party that he can joke with. And they looove making him smile! And! That jock is head over heels for our tiny hero. But! Neither of them can admit their feelings! ||Even if they know the feelings are mutual!!|| AND THE JOCK DOESN'T KNOW HE'S IN A TIME LOOP!!! AND LITTLE GUY WON'T TELL HIM! CAUSE THEY DON'T WANT HIM TO WORRY!!

I love them sooo much! They are my favorite he/they x ||trans masc|| couple <3

Siffrin is soooo insecure and I'm 100% sure Isa could fix him if he wanted to. They love telling each other just the worst puns and jokes imaginable.

[SPOILERS] -> Isa was a big nerd before he decided he wanted to be a huge jock and now he wants to design clothes now that he saved his county (along side his other friends)

Siff is just a little guy (literally)(he is short) who loves the stars abs doesn't remember a lot about his past. He constantly worries if he's being enough for the rest of his companions and always tries his best to make sure they're happy. He has soooo much trouble seeing value in himself and prioritizing his own needs and it makes me soooo sad :( he deserves to have someone like Isa.

[SPOILERS] -> Siff knows that Isa wants to confess after thier battle w the bbeg, but siff can't get Ida to say it no matter what they try :(

Eustass Kid/Killer:

Propaganda by @chronoirrai [HERE]

Friends/lovers since childhood, would kill and die for each other. [SPOILERS for those who have not watched/read the Wano arc yet] Killer ate a defective SMILE fruit to safe Kid, making him unable to swim and show any other emotion than laughing (and gains him nothing), and he also knew exactly where to cut off Hawkins' arm so he wouldn't harm Kid (because he knows his body so well). Kid promises to kill whoever makes fun of his partner, and lets himself be recaptured after escaping prison because Killer had gotten himself captured.

If this ain't love idk what is.

The captain/right-hand man dynamic. They call each other aibou (partner). If your partner doesn't tell you that he will send whoever laughs at you to hell then he is not worth it. Killer hates his own laugh to the point that he stopped laughing out loud and started wearing a mask. But then he was forced to eat a defective devil fruit (because they promised he could see Kidd if he did) so he's been cursed to only laugh no matter what emotion he's trying to express. That's why Kidd said that, it's so full of weight for someone like Killer. And when Kidd was imprisoned and he worked so hard to escape, but as soon as he saw Killer being pulled into the same prison he just broke out from mans did not hesitate for even a second to go right back in.

#isat siffrin #isat isabeau #siffrin/isabeau #isafrin #in stars and time #eustass kid #killer one piece #eustass kid/killer #kidkiller #one piece #tumblr poll #tumblr bracket #mlm ship #mlm ship poll #mlm ship bracket #mlm ship bracket tournament #mlm ship bracket 2024 #mlm ship bracket tournament 2024 #fourthr6

[paper-daisy]

Like many of us I'm doing a TWD rewatch, looking for all those pre-relationship moments, and a great little one in 4x01 is after Michonne arrives back at the prison -- there's a moment where Daryl tells her "Glad to see you're in one piece." HOWEVER, when he says that he turns to look directly at Rick. Who in turn quickly looks away, almost bashful.

You can just imagine what Daryl had to put up with, with Rick in those early days. So I had to fic it.

Rick never said the words aloud. He never outright said, "I'm worried about Michonne. I hope she's okay. I hope she comes back." He was never that obvious. But to someone like Daryl, a man naturally of few words himself, it was clear as day that their fearless leader was never fully relaxed whenever that smartass/badass - who was more than capable of taking care of herself - wasn't safely tucked away behind their walls.

But what Rick would say when she was gone was - "There was a herd moving south, right?" Where Michonne had last gone hung unspoken between them. And when Daryl answered Yeah, Rick would just place his hands on his hips and nod, jaw tight, as he scanned the perimeter of the compound as if waiting for someone to magically appear.

He would say - "There's a lot more bandits out there, roaming in packs. Isn't that what you said?" A grunt and a shrug from Daryl, and Rick would nod like they'd just had a conversation and go back to his farming, digging the shovel into the dirt with a bit more force than necessary, making a point to not look at the fence. They hadn't heard from Michonne in two weeks.

He would say - "Nights are getting cold," while standing outside at the communal kitchen, plate in hand, his gaze always drawn to the barely visable fence line. Daryl had hummed in agreement, fighting the urge to tell him that Michonne should be fine as she had pilfered his poncho, something Rick already knew.

And on one strange occasion he said, "Do you think we should get some more ... art? In here?"

This had stopped Daryl in his tracks. "What?"

Rick shrugged, perhaps a little sheepishly, but continued. "We have a library, potted flowers, even some toys and things for the kids. This is our home now. Thought ... maybe it could use a bit of ... brightening?"

Daryl just starred blankly. "You want me to, what? Bring back pictures?"

For a moment it looked as if Rick was about to finally say what was actually on his mind, before he instead gave a rueful smile and waved his hand in the air as if to dispel the conversation. "Nah, nah, never mind. It was just a thought."

He walked away, leaving an utterly perplexed Daryl behind who simply shrugged and went on his own way. It was only later that day as he passed by Michonne's empty cell did his eyes fall upon that weird colourful cat thing, the one that looked like it was about to start a fight. It was such a stupid, useless thing but Daryl remembered how Michonne had presented it to him with an air of triumph, as if it was the most gorgeous thing in the world. He didn't get it.

Did Rick really think that if he made the place more art-filled, Michonne might want to hang around longer? he wondered, then immediately dismissed the idea. Well, clearly not because he gave up before he started. Like with other things.

Only once had Daryl said the unsaid thing.

Almost everyone was asleep. Well, Carl was hid under his blankets reading comics and there were low conversational sounds coming from some darkened cell, but for the most part things were quiet.

And they were kept quiet by an exhausted Rick, pacing back and forth with a fussy Judith, bouncing her non-stop so her cries wouldn't awaken the entire community. He'd nodded to Daryl, who in turn took a moment to ask if he needed help putting Judith to sleep tonight.

"No, thankyou" said Rick tiredly. "I think she's pretty much worn herself out by now. Should be sound asleep soon."

"You too."

Rick sighed. "Yeah. I just ..." He shifted Judith a little, "Even when I do get to bed, I can't seem to stop thinking. Thinking of plans for the future, for the people we have in here. The people we bring in. How to protect everyone inside these walls. Keep our people safe despite ... well, despite everything." Rick looked at Daryl as if he might have the answers to those questions he hadn't quite asked.

All he could do was shrug. "We just try. Trust that we all know what we're doing. Lookout for everyone here. Not much more we can do, is there? Future don't care about anyone's plans."

Rick didn't look totally reassured, but he still smiled slightly as Daryl's efforts. "Yeah. I just worry, is all."

"I know." And as Daryl passed by he gripped Rick's shoulder and muttered, "Shouldn't worry so much. Michonne'll be back, all in one piece. You'll see."

And the man had the audacity to look confused, stuttering out, "Yeah, I know that, but - but I wasn't talking about Michonne, specifically. I'm not worried about her. She can take care of herself, I know that, and she always comes back, it's just ... with everything ..."

As he trailed off Daryl eyed Rick critically for a moment. He really thinks he's selling it, he thought, before giving a soft grunt that was akin to laughter and wandering off to bed, leaving a somewhat disconcerted Rick behind, gently bouncing a sleeping Judith.

And the very next day who should come riding through the gates but one Michonne, smiling, baring gifts and all in one piece, as Daryl made sure to point out to Rick, who's ears suddenly went bright red as if Michonne might somehow be able to figure out that they'd been taking about her just that night before.

But she didn't notice. She was too caught up in her almost obsessive search for the Governor and already planning her next venture out, unaware of Rick's barely suppressed disappointment or of the sigh that Daryl kept clenched behind his teeth as he tried to subtly talk her out of another long run. It wasn't her who was stuck with Rick and his wordless pining.

Because it was pining, even if he never said nothing. If they were in school Daryl might've suggested he pass her a note.

When she had quickly offered to go back out again with the rest of the scavenging party - even though, as Carl had said wistfully, she'd just got back - and Daryl could do nothing more than give Rick a comforting pat, grimacing slightly as the man's expression said exactly the same thing his son had vocalised.

God, this was going to wear thin soon.

Ah well. Wasn't like they had TV anymore.

#the walking dead #richonne #rick grimes #michonne grimes #daryl dixon #Heehee #just a spurt of fanfic on tumblr - haven't done that for a while. :)

[itsmealaiah]

Hiii I'm a huge fan of ur works ❤️❤️❤️

I was wondering could u make a 2023 to 2024 tom and bill x reader the used to all be best friends but when tom got married hidei klum tells tom to cut reader off because she's jealous of her now so he did making reader go mia and hide from social media now in 2024 they rekindle and if u can could it be smut ♥️♥️♥️♥️

Once again I'm a huge fan

aww ❤️

Missing some action

tags/ warnings: author being a forgetful bitch and not putting bill in here, cheating/ adultery, multiple rounds of smut, getting caught in the act

Not proofread at all!

MDNI ⚠️ don't like don't read or leave hate

Disclaimer: nothing against heidi yall

pairing: tom x fem

may and will not be used in any other capacity besides this blog, do not translate, copy and paste, or claim as your own. we've had many issues with this in the past three months.

It had been four long years since the last time I had seen Tom Kaulitz. He used to be my best friend, the one person who understood me like no other. But then he married Heidi Klum, and everything changed. She grew jealous of our friendship, of the time we spent together, of the closeness we shared. So, she demanded that Tom choose between her and me. Of course, he chose her. I wasn't surprised, but it still hurt. A lot.

She made it clear that she didn't want me in their lives anymore, and Tom seemed to agree. I was heartbroken, but I had no choice but to leave them alone. I went off grid, deleted all my social media accounts, and tried to move on with my life. I focused on my career, my friends, and family. Time passed, and the pain eased a little, but it never truly went away.

Four years later, I received an invitation to Tom and Heidi's anniversary party. I didn't want to go, but my mom insisted. "You need to face your past and move on, sweetheart," she said, handing me the crumpled piece of paper with the address on it. As I got dressed for the event, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of anticipation and dread. What if Tom didn't even want to see me after all this time?

When I arrived at the party, I immediately felt out of place. The atmosphere was so different from the ones we used to share. The guests were all dressed to the nines, sipping expensive champagne, and laughing too loudly. I searched the crowd for Tom, hoping to avoid him for as long as possible. But then, I heard a familiar voice calling my name.

It was him. Tom looked different somehow, more grown up and self-assured. He was still as handsome as ever, with those piercing brown eyes that used to make my heart race. He was standing there with Heidi at his side, her arm looped through his, a smug smile playing on her lips. They both looked so happy together.

I hesitated for a moment, my heart thudding in my chest. Should I go over and say hello? Or should I just turn around and walk away? Before I could make a decision, Tom broke away from Heidi and walked towards me. His steps were slow and deliberate, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia as I remembered the countless times we used to run into each other's arms and hug.

When he finally reached me, he took my hands in his and smiled warmly. "It's good to see you, y/n. I've missed you." His voice was soft and sincere, and it sent a shiver down my spine. "I'm sorry for the way things ended between us. I never meant for it to happen that way." He looked at me with those eyes, and it was like he was seeing right through me.

"It's okay, Tom. I understand." I forced a smile, trying to hide the ache in my heart. "It's good to see you too." I glanced around, feeling the need to break the awkward silence. "Heidi is looking lovely tonight."

He chuckled softly. "She is, isn't she? Well, come on. Let me introduce you to some people." He took my hand and led me through the crowd. As we walked, I couldn't help but notice how his touch sent tingles up my spine, how his presence still made my heart skip a beat.

"So, what have you been up to?" he asked, his voice low and intimate. "How's work? How's your family?" I told him about my latest project, my parents, my sister. He listened attentively, nodding along, occasionally asking questions. It felt so natural, like we were picking up right where we left off.

"I've been meaning to ask you," I said, hesitating for a moment. "How are things with you and Heidi?"

He smiled, but there was a sadness in his eyes. "We're doing well, I suppose. But things aren't always as perfect as they seem." He looked away, lost in thought. "I can't help but wonder sometimes what might have been, you know?"

I nodded, my heart aching for him. I knew exactly what he meant. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Heidi glaring at us from across the room. Her expression was a mixture of anger and jealousy, and it made me feel guilty all over again.

"Well," I said, trying to change the subject. "I should probably find my mom and thank her for bringing me here. It was nice seeing you, Tom." I reached up and kissed his cheek, feeling his skin warm beneath my lips.

He took my hand in his and gave it a squeeze. "Thank you for coming, y/n. I'm glad we could talk. Maybe we could do this again, when Heidi's not around." His voice was barely a whisper, but I could tell he meant it.

As I made my way through the crowd, I couldn't help but think about our conversation. Despite being married to Heidi, there was still a spark between us. A part of me wondered if we could ever find our way back to each other. But then again, Heidi was his wife, and they seemed happy enough together.

A few weeks passed, and I received an unexpected invitation from Tom. He wanted me to come over while Heidi was away on business. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was a good idea. After all, we had both moved on with our lives. But something about his words, the way he'd looked at me that night at the party, made me feel like I couldn't say no.

When the day finally arrived, I found myself nervously pacing in front of my mirror, trying to decide what to wear. I wanted to look nice, but not too nice. After all, I didn't want Tom to get the wrong idea. I eventually settled on a casual blouse and a pair of comfortable jeans. I didn't want to seem desperate or overeager, but I also didn't want to appear indifferent. It was a delicate balancing act.

As I drove to his house, my stomach was in knots. What would we talk about? Would we end up arguing about Heidi? Or would we be able to find some common ground, some semblance of the connection we'd once shared? I didn't know the answers to these questions, but I felt compelled to find out.

When I arrived at Tom's house, I found him sitting on the patio, a glass of wine in hand. He looked up as I approached, and the smile that spread across his face warmed me to my core. He stood, taking my hand in his, and pulled me into a gentle embrace. The touch of his skin against mine sent shivers down my spine, and for a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all.

"You look beautiful," he whispered into my ear. "Just like you did that night at the party." He let go of me, stepping back to take in my appearance.

"Well, thank you," I replied, feeling my cheeks flush. "You don't look so bad yourself." I gestured toward the chair opposite him. "Can I sit?"

He nodded, motioning for me to sit down. "Please, make yourself comfortable." As he sat back down across from me, I couldn't help but notice the slight awkwardness between us. We both seemed to be searching for something to say, something to break the silence.

"So," I began, trying to find my footing. "How have you been? How's the band?"

He smiled, shrugging nonchalantly. "Oh, you know, same old, same old. Heidi's been busy with her show, so I've been taking care of things at home. It's actually been kind of nice, having some time to myself. We've been doing alright, you know?" His eyes met mine, and there was a question in them. A question that I couldn't quite answer.

The silence that fell between us was thick, almost palpable. I could feel my cheeks flush as I wondered what he was thinking. Had I read too much into his words at the party? Was he truly happy with Heidi, or was there still a part of him that longed for something more? I wanted to believe the latter, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was just fooling myself.

As if sensing my discomfort, Tom reached out, taking my hand in his. His skin was warm against mine, sending shivers up my spine. "I'm glad you came over tonight," he said softly. "It's been… difficult, you know? Being so close to you, but not being able to…" His voice trailed off, his gaze searching mine for some sign of understanding.

I wanted to reassure him, to tell him that I felt the same way. That the connection we'd shared wasn't something that could be so easily forgotten. But instead, I found myself leaning in closer, pressing my lips against his. The kiss was slow, gentle at first, but as it deepened, so did the passion between us. His hand moved up my thigh, and I gasped against his mouth.

The sound seemed to fuel his desire, and he pulled me closer, his other hand tangled in my hair. I could feel the heat of his body pressed against mine, and it sent a shiver through me. The air around us seemed to crackle with anticipation, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing. We needed this. We needed each other.

With a growl, he lifted me up onto his arms. I gasped as I felt his lips brush against my neck, and then lower, sucking gently on the skin there. His touch sent shivers down my spine, and my heart raced in my chest. As if it were a reflex, my hands found their way under his shirt, tracing the hard planes of his stomach before moving higher, to cup his firm chest. He moaned into the kiss, pressing me harder against him.

He carried me toward the bedroom, kicking the bedroom door open with his foot. I giggled, feeling giddy with desire as he threw me onto the bed. My heart hammered in my chest as he stripped off his shirt, revealing his toned, muscular chest. He crawled on top of me, his weight pressing me into the mattress. His lips found mine again, and he kissed me hungrily, his tongue thrusting deep into my mouth.

His hands moved lower, tugging at my clothes, desperate to feel my skin against his. In a frenzy of need, he ripped my blouse open, sending buttons flying across the room. I arched my back, offering him easier access, as he pulled my bra free, releasing my breasts from their confines. He groaned, his hot breath fanning across my nipples, and then lowered his head, taking one of them into his mouth. I cried out, my hips bucking off the bed as he sucked and teased.

My own hands wandered over his body, exploring the defined muscles of his back and shoulders. I reached down between us, tugging at his belt, unfastening his pants. His erection sprang free, and I reached out, wrapping my hand around it, feeling the heat and the strength in my palm. He groaned again, arching his back into my touch.

"God, you're so fucking beautiful," he breathed against my skin. "I've missed this." He rolled onto his side, pressing his body against mine. His lips found my earlobe, and he nipped at it gently before moving lower, kissing his way down my neck and across my collarbone. I gasped, feeling his hot breath on my skin, as he pushed two fingers into me, slowly and deliberately. I cried out, my hips arching off the bed in response to the intrusion.

He smiled against my skin, his fingers moving deeper, curling inside me. His other hand found its way up, cupping my breast, his thumb rubbing roughly over my nipple. I mewled, feeling the delicious ache building inside me. I wanted more, and I knew he could give it to me. I reached down between us, wrapping my hand around his erection, stroking him in time with his movements inside me. His breath hitched, his fingers thrusting deeper, faster.

The bed creaked beneath us as he rolled us over, me now on top. His eyes met mine, and for a moment, there was a flicker of uncertainty there. But then it was gone, replaced by a fierce determination that only served to fuel my own desire. His hands moved to my hips, and he urged me down onto him, his erection pressing against my entrance.

I groaned, the sensation sending a wave of pleasure through me. I lowered myself further, feeling the head of his cock nudge against my opening. With a growl, he thrust upward, piercing me with his length. I cried out, my hips rocking in a frenzy off the bed as he filled me completely. His hands moved to my shoulders, holding me in place as he began to move, his body sliding against mine in a rhythm that was both familiar and exhilarating.

He kissed me roughly, his tongue thrusting deep into my mouth, as if he couldn't get close enough. His hips rose and fell, each thrust driving him deeper inside me. I arched my back, meeting his movements with equal fervor, my nails digging into his shoulders. The sound of our breaths and skin slapping together filled the room, drowning out everything else.

His pace quickened, and I felt myself on the edge of orgasm. I tightened my grip on him, urging him on, begging for more. With a growl, he pulled out of me and rolled me onto my stomach. I felt his hot breath on my neck as he spanked my ass, once, twice. The stinging sensation only served to heighten my arousal, and I moaned loudly.

His fingers pressed against me, slipping easily inside. He thrust them deep, curling them in a way that sent waves of pleasure through me. "That's it," he groaned, his voice rough with desire. "Give it all to me." His other hand moved to my breast, tweaking my nipple roughly as he continued to pump his fingers inside me.

I arched my back, moaning in ecstasy as I felt him fill me, felt the strength and heat of his body against mine. I reached down between us, taking his erection in my hand, stroking it in time with his movements inside me. He growled, thrusting harder, deeper, as if he couldn't get close enough.

His fingers moved to my clit, circling it expertly, and I cried out, my hips bucking wildly against his touch. The sensation was overwhelming, exquisite, and I felt myself on the brink of orgasm. He smiled against my neck, his lips moving to my ear. "That's it, baby. Let it go."

With a final thrust, he buried himself inside me, his body trembling as he came, his hot seed spilling into me. I felt my own orgasm crash over me, waves of pleasure washing through my body as I cried out his name. Our sweat-slicked bodies moved together in perfect rhythm, each breath, each moan, echoing in the room.

Finally, he collapsed on top of me, his weight pressing me into the mattress. I could feel his heart racing against my back, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. I wrapped my legs around him, holding him close, savoring the feel of his skin against mine.

"God, y/n," he murmured into my hair. "I didn't think you'd be so… so responsive." His hips rocked slowly against mine, and I felt him grow harder inside me. It was as if he hadn't just filled me to the brim with his seed, as if he were still hungry for more.

His hands moved up my sides, cupping my breasts. He rolled my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, sending a shiver through my entire body. I arched my back, pressing myself deeper into his touch. "Please," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Don't stop."

He smiled against my skin and began to move faster, harder. His breath came in ragged gasps, and I could feel his muscles tense beneath my fingers. I wrapped my legs around his waist, feeling the strength and power of his body as he drove into me. He was relentless, driving me higher and higher with each thrust.

My head tilted back, and I let out a moan of pure pleasure as he found my sweet spot. His name fell from my lips in a plea, a demand. He answered with a growl, his hips slamming against mine in a frenzy. I felt my own orgasm building, growing more intense with each passing second.

With one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside me, his body shuddering as he came. My orgasm crashed over me in a wave of bliss, and I cried out his name, my body arching off the bed as my pleasure consumed me.

He collapsed on top of me, his weight pressing me into the mattress, his breath coming in ragged gasps. For a moment, we lay entwined, his heart racing against my back, our sweat-slicked skin sticking together. It was as if time had stopped, as if the world outside this room didn't exist.

He rolled to his side, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at me. His eyes roamed over my flushed face and heated skin, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. "Well," he said with a grin, "I guess I'm not the only one who needed this."

I reached up, tracing a finger along his jawline. "No, I don't think you are," I replied, my voice still breathless from our passion. "But I don't regret it. Not for a second."

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. "Good," he whispered. "Because I think… I think we might need to do this again." His hand moved down between my legs, and I gasped as his fingers found their way back to my swollen, sensitive flesh.

His fingers moved over me in a familiar rhythm, and I arched my back, pressing myself against his touch. The pleasure coursing through my body was almost overwhelming, and I could feel my orgasm building once more. "Oh, God, yes," I moaned, my hips moving in time with his hand.

Tom watched me intently, his eyes dark with desire. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. He leaned in, capturing my lips with his, his tongue tracing their shape. I could feel the strength of him pressed against me, his heart racing wildly beneath my fingertips. Heat spread through my body like a wildfire, and with each thrust, he drove deeper inside me, claiming me in a way that felt both possessive and tender.

"what the actual fuck" I looked up, my eyes barely opening.

Heidi

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel x you #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz imagines #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz fluff #tom kaulitz angst #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz x y/n #tom kaulitz x you

[animasola86]

Kinktober: It is that time again.

Notes: Listen! I woke up feeling naughty again this morning and yet I somehow produced a fluffy, wholesome family life lovey dovey omg they are so freaking cute piece, at least for three pages, after that we're going straight to the topic of @kinktober2023: breeding kink.

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!reader

Genre: Fluff/Smut // Words: 8k // [Read on AO3]

Warnings: NSFW! MDNI! Marital sex. Oh and also: breeding kink.

Warning: After you die of diabetes or cute aggression by reading the first part of this, there will be severe filth following. (Though to be fair, I think I've written worse before >_> Still, it's smut: so if you want to keep your innocence, please look away!)

It is that time again, darling.

It is Friday afternoon in the Sallow cottage, and you're sitting on the couch by the fireplace, enjoying a good book – completely ignoring the loud and certainly obnoxious argument your twin boys are having. They do it all the time, so it's nothing new.

They come after their father in so many ways, it's almost scary. From the messy brunet hair that you failed to comb so many times, to the deep brown eyes that can turn your anger into adoration in only a few seconds (they know that fact by now, which is never a good thing) – to the insatiable hunger for knowledge and the equally insatiable desire to always get what they want.

Benjamin and Archie Sallow surely are Sebastian's sons. As they bicker over who gets to play with the toy train first, your gaze wanders to the corner of the room to your quiet daughter.

Little Anne is in her own world, surrounded by various sheets of parchment and paper, her colouring pencils strewn about as she scribbles away, equally ignoring her arguing brothers. You smile softly as you take in her features. She comes after you, has your eyes and unlike her brothers and father not a single freckle on her pale little face, probably because unlike the men of the house, she likes to stay indoors, drawing and reading with her equally sun deprived mother.

Just as you return to your book, the door opens, and the noise of your bickering boys subsides immediately and turns into a wail of joy as the twins jump up and into the arms of their father. You look at Sebastian with wide eyes and an equally wide smile, you haven't expected him home this early.

“I'm home!” he calls, laughing with one son on each arm as he enters the small house.

You stand from the couch and walk towards him, unable to stop the need to kiss him. As you do, your sons issue grunts of displeasure, yet you only laugh and kiss your husband more.

“Did you miss me?” he asks softly, his dark eyes on you as he sets his sons to the ground again.

“I always miss you,” you whisper and wrap your arms around him.

“You know, I'm only on the other side of the lake, right?” he teases and grabs your chin to plant another kiss on your lips – followed by another synchronised noise of disgust from the twins.

He is right, of course. You chose this house in Aranshire so you can always look over the lake to the castle, imagining your husband walking the halls of Hogwarts, teaching kids in Magical Theory, being in his element. He still spends a lot of time there, has his own room in the castle if his work load gets too much, but every Friday to late Sunday he will come home to you and spend as much time with you and your three children as he can.

“I still wish I'd see you more...” you whisper and lean against him, your hand gently grazing the stubble on his cheek.

“You could teach too, you know? You were offered a position, remember?” he says as he guides you back to the couch.

“You know I can't,” you sigh and look around the house. Your boys are back fighting over the train toy and Anne is still so fixated on her drawing, she hasn't even noticed Sebastian's return yet.

“Soon you can,” he whispers and makes you sit on the couch. “The boys will be at Hogwarts and our little princess here –” he starts and sneaks towards the little girl sitting with her back to the room. “– can handle her own. Hey princess, Daddy's back!” he then says as he grabs his daughter under the arms and lifts her up swiftly. She squeals and kicks, then quickly relaxes and throws her tiny arms around his neck as a wide smile comes to her lips.

“Hello Daddy,” she squeaks, and he laughs softly as he hugs her back.

“How's my little girl?” he asks and tilts his head to look at what she has been drawing.

“Don't look!” she says in that sweet, high-pitched voice. “It's a surprise!”

Sebastian chuckles and presses his lips to the top of her head. “Fine, fine, I won't look! Keep your secrets!” he sets her back to the ground and gently ruffles her hair before he lets her go back to her drawing and finally returns to you.

You reach your arms out to him, and he follows suit immediately, settling down next to you on the couch, your arms entangled as he pulls you closer to kiss your forehead. For a moment you just sit together, looking into each other's eyes, the bickering of your boys just another background noise.

“I've been thinking, darling,” he then says, and one of those wicked smirks comes to his handsome face.

“Yes?” you ask carefully and arch an eyebrow.

He barks a laugh and quickly leans closer to kiss your raised eyebrow. “Don't give me that look, I know for a fact that you'll love it,” he then says and winks at you.

“Really?” you wonder and watch how he disentangles your limbs and stands from the couch, returning to the bag he has left at the door.

“Oh yes,” he calls back and rummages through his bag before he walks to the twins, holding something behind his broad back. “Boys,” he says with a mock-stern voice to get their attention. The mini versions of himself look up with big eyes, their fight momentarily paused. “Have you been nice to Mummy and your sister?”

The boys nod eagerly, already knowing what's coming. He always brings them back gifts when he returns on Fridays. They know the drill and yet they are always so excited about it. You smile softly as you watch the scene before you.

“Well, how about you give your Mummy and Daddy a little break and take this outside?” he then says and produces two toy trains in his big palms.

The twins stare at him, and Benjamin, the cheekier one of the two, raises an eyebrow. “Dad, we already have toy trains...” he says and holds up the toy that he has finally snatched from his brother's hand.

Sebastian laughs. “Not these ones. If you push this button, they'll get bigger,” he says and shows them what he means. “But you can only use them outside, do you understand?”

The twins rise to their feet and crane their necks to look at their father. You already dread the day when they would become as tall as Sebastian, but luckily both of them have yet to hit any major growth spurt. He holds the toy closer and looks at them intently.

“Do you understand?” he repeats in a rather stern voice.

They both nod. “Yes, sir,” they say in unison and quickly grab the toys from his palms and run outside.

“Be good! No terrorizing the cats, alright?” he calls after them and then closes the door again, turning towards you now with that wicked smirk. Through the closed door you can hear your sons laugh and giggle as the sound of a train horn fills the square.

“Will they be alright?” you whisper as you stand from the couch and walk towards him.

“Of course, don't worry! Edgar will have an eye on them as usual,” he says with a disarming smile as he grabs your hand and eagerly pulls you along, right towards your bedroom.

You hold him back and take a look towards your daughter, who is focused on her drawings once again. “What about Anne?” you whisper, knowing what your husband is up to.

“She'll be fine, too,” he whispers back, leaning over you to brush his lips against your ear. “She won't hear a thing...”

You blush at the implication. When you look up at him, you can't help but smile back as he watches you with those dark eyes that can make you do anything. Biting your lip, you nod and follow him into your shared bedroom.

As the door closes behind you, you are very glad that he put up all those silencing charms and protection spells and anything else that will keep whatever happens in here out of earshot of your precious children. Because when he grabs your waist and pulls you flush against his body, you know you won't be able to keep your noises to yourself.

He doesn't waste any time and starts to undress you with nimble fingers, quickly unbuttoning your shirt as he leans down to shower your face and neck with light, innocent kisses. You inhale sharply.

“Do you know how old our sons are?” he then asks as he pushes your skirt down your legs.

You are a little confused by his question and frankly, a little too distracted to think at the moment. “They are... ten...” you whisper.

“And how old is our baby girl?”

“Five,” you reply and tilt your head, letting him nibble on your neck as he gets rid of the last of your garments.

“And do you see a pattern there?” he then says and leans back to look at you with a wide smile.

You blink slowly. “Sebastian, what –”

“It is that time again, darling,” he says with a smirk and quickly pushes his mouth to yours, silencing any doubts for the moment. Your hands reach up and cup his face, and when you finally manage to push him off your lips, you stare at him.

“Are you sure about this?”

He laughs. “Yes! Absolutely! It's time for another one, don't you think?”

“But we already live so cramped here...” you start finding arguments, when in reality you don't see any real reason not to indulge in his desire for another child.

“You realize you are a witch and I am a wizard? We'll just add another room, no worries! And I thought you loved the cosy feeling of our tight little space...” he whispers, leaning back down to kiss your cheek.

You breathe a little harder. “Yes, I do...” you whimper as he sinks his teeth playfully into your neck.

“Then I see no problem with me indulging in your tight space,” he says, and his words make you shiver, or maybe it's his fingers slipping between your legs, teasing at your folds.

“Another one, hm?” you whisper breathlessly.

“Or two, who knows?” he laughs and quickly picks you up to carry you to the bed. You frown at his words. “Those twin genes are strong...”

You groan playfully as he sets you down, and you scramble back on the bed, watching him. He is out of his clothes in no time, and when he crawls over you, settling right between your open legs, he gives you a serious look.

“Only if you're ready,” he says quietly, his dark eyes wandering over your face.

You watch him, and despite the emotional blackmail of those damn eyes, you find yourself smiling and already imagining having another baby. You also think about the last times the both of you decided on adding to your little family. The many hours you had spent in bed together come to your mind, and you can only imagine how long it will take this time. The thought alone causes your legs to twitch.

“Yes,” you eventually say and reach your arms out to him. “I am ready,” you whisper, and when he follows your beckoning to lie on top of you and bury his face in the crook of your neck, you add: “Put your seed in me, Sebastian.”

He leans back immediately and stares at you, not having expected these kinds of words from his beautiful, innocent wife. A sly smirk breaks from his lips. And you smirk right back. He must know by now that your sweet face is only a facade. He's corrupted you a long time ago. And even though you spend nearly every weekend in bed together, enjoying the other's body, the prospect of doing the deed with a purpose, makes it even more exciting for you.

“Then we won't need these,” he says with a wider smirk as he leans over you to the night-stand, rummaging through the first drawer where you keep your contraceptive potions. “Instead we might need... this,” he whispers and produces a tiny flask. “It's going to be a long night, love,” he adds and looks at you, before he downs the contents of the potion he rarely uses, but when he does, you know you're in for a treat – that will last (him) a very long time indeed.

You blush deeply and bite your lip, the heat already spreading through your body. When he leans back, gently putting his entire body weight on you as he cups your face with both hands, you see something you see very rarely: a tear in the corner of his eye. You quickly lean up and graze your thumbs over his cheeks. “You make me very happy, you know that?” he says softly, smiling at you.

You smile back and lean up to kiss him gently. “I'm trying my best,” you reply.

He chuckles. “Oh you don't even have to try, darling,” he says and kisses you back so gently you almost forget about what will come next. “You just do, no matter what you do, what you say, how you look, just thinking about my beautiful wife and all the things she has already done for me...” He inhales deeply. “I love you,” he says and presses his lips to your cheek, his eyes boring into yours. “And I will always love you.”

The warmth his words (and the way he looks at you) create in you almost overpowers the heat you feel for him. Grabbing the back of his neck, you pull him down onto your lips and kiss him deeply. “I love you too...” you whisper breathlessly between circling your tongue around his. “I love you so much, Sebastian. And now fill me up already!”

You feel him chuckling against your mouth. “So eager,” he teases and pushes his tongue deeper into your mouth. When he leans back slightly, planting tiny kisses on your lips, cheeks and jaw, his low voice vibrates through your very core. “My naughty, naughty girl...”

You watch him with your head spinning from lack of air, a small smirk playing around your lips as he moves his mouth to your neck. While you play with his hair, he sucks and nibbles on your soft skin, marking you as his own, as if the ring on your finger and the three children somewhere beyond your closed bedroom door weren't enough proof that you were his and his alone. That is the last time you'll think about your beautiful offspring for this day (or so you hope), as other things settle in your mind and you really don't want them to mix.

When he is done with his mark, gently lapping at your bruised skin, he kisses your neck and leans back on his arms, taking some of his weight off you, allowing your chest to rise and fall faster as you watch him. He looks at you with those dark hungry eyes, and you inhale deeply as he starts showering your bare body with kisses, all the way from your collarbone over the peaks of your plum breasts (that he gives a gentle squeeze with one of his hands as he moves down) until he presses his mouth to your stomach, his fingers softly massaging your skin.

“I can't wait to fill you up,” he whispers hoarsely, kissing your stomach, his fingers pressing down firmly. “I'll fill your womb...” he says and rests his head on your lower torso as if listening for something that isn't even there yet. “And I'll watch you grow... knowing it was my seed that made you so...” You feel his heavy breaths on your skin as you reach down to gently caress his hair, digging your fingers through his locks, smiling softly to yourself.

He stays like that for at least ten seconds, giving you the illusion of peace and quiet and hopeful dreams of the future, a really tender and romantic moment, and once those seconds are over, he presses his lips to your stomach, pushes himself up and quickly leans back, looking at you with that wicked smirk again.

“Let's prepare my beautiful breeding vessel,” he teases and grabs your hips to position himself right between your legs.

You stare at him. “What did you just call me?” you laugh as he puts your legs on his shoulders.

He just smirks wider, and without any warning, he leans down and presses his mouth to your aching centre, kissing your lower stomach down towards your quivering core. You forget about his wording the moment his lips close around your clit. A soft moan escapes you as you throw your head back into the pillow. You feel his tongue prodding at the throbbing bundle of nerves as his fingers wrap around your thighs, squeezing them hard.

“Ugh, call me whatever you like...” you groan, your hips bucking against his face as he keeps sucking with vigour. He chuckles against you, his voice and the feeling of his stubble on your sensitive skin giving you all the friction you need to produce another long moan.

“Sweetheart,” you hear him say as he releases your clit and plants soft kisses on your heated skin. “Darling,” he continues, and you shiver with every term of endearment and every kiss. “Honey.” He keeps going, whispering more names as he presses his mouth to your lower lips, his tongue gently swiping along them. “Love. Sweetie. Baby...” He pulls your soft skin between his teeth and gently sucks on it, coaxing more moans out of you as your fingers grip his hair tighter. “Kitten. Pet,” he finishes as he releases you again and leans up to look at you.

You watch him out of half-lidded eyes, your breaths shallow. As he holds your gaze, you feel one of his hands moving over your centre, his fingertips tracing the outer edges of your labia. Warmth settles in your cheeks as he keeps rubbing his fingers over your sensitive skin, his dark eyes boring into yours, a concentrated look on his handsome face. When he teases a finger between your folds, he looks down and raises his eyebrows.

“So wet for me, my love,” he whispers and moves his finger up and down your slick, the slight squelching sounds filling the room – and you with enough embarrassment that you turn your head away and put a hand to your mouth to hide behind. “You are so beautiful,” you hear him whisper. “Everything about you... Don't be ashamed.”

When he suddenly leans over you and grabs your face with both hands, making you look at him, you gasp softly. His wet finger grazes your ear, and you bite your lip, swallowing hard.

“No need to hide from me, darling,” Sebastian says sternly, watching you closely. “I know every inch of your body, I've seen it so many times and it still amazes me to this day and all the days to come. What your body has given me in all these years... I cannot express how proud I am of you,” he whispers intently, before kissing you softly. “But I will always try.”

You grab the back of his head and kiss him back with fervour, not letting go of him now. He complies and deepens the kiss as his hand moves back down between your legs, continuing its journey through your warmth. When you feel him prod at your entrance, you whimper softly into his mouth. He shushes you and keeps his tongue in a playful wrestle with yours before he pushes one of his fingers into you.

Yours walls clench around him as he starts to explore your tightness, pushing against and scraping over your soft wet flesh until he pushes as deep as he can from this angle. It is when he begins to pump his finger in and out, slowly at first, then much faster and harder, that you moan into his mouth and hold onto him tighter, feeling the tension building up quicker than you've expected.

Suddenly he leaves your mouth and scrambles back down between your legs, repositioning himself right at your quivering cunt. He adds another finger and continues pushing them into you hard and fast, while his free hand holds down your hips that you can't seem to control any more. More moans escape you, and you have to grip the bedsheets as he leans his head down and sucks on your clit again.

His tongue is eagerly lapping at your nub, rigorously pressing and prodding it, licking and rubbing, while his fingers speed up more and more, the wet sounds echoing through the room. But you're too aroused to be embarrassed now as you thrash your head around in nothing but pure ecstasy. You moan his name louder and louder, and when the tension reaches its highest point – he suddenly withdraws his fingers, and you feel his face pressing against your folds as he slips his tongue past your stretched entrance.

“Come on my tongue, darling,” you feel him mumbling into you, and as he moves his wet fingers to feverishly rub at your clit, you comply without hesitation as the coil burst within you, and you cry out and press your back into the mattress, your release pushing out of you with a force that shakes your entire body as you arch your hips off the bed and right into his face. He moves with you, holding your rear with his free arm while he laps at your juices.

More tremors and shivers rush through you, before you slowly come down again, gently placed back with the help of his hand. Breathing heavily, your heart thundering inside your chest, you watch out of hooded eyes how he eventually emerges from between your legs, his entire face covered in your release.

You sit up then, shaking badly, but you feel the need to do this as your hands find his cheeks, and you wipe at them, watching him with your own cheeks bright red. He chuckles and grabs your wrists, leaning towards you to claim your mouth instead. You taste yourself on his tongue as you deepen the kiss hungrily. When he leans back, you sneak a hand out of his grip and push a strand of his messy hair out of his forehead, smiling softly at him.

He smiles back and gives you another peck, before he gently but firmly pushes you back down on the bed, his hand trailing your chest, teasing at your hard nipples, until he rests it once more on your shivering stomach. Pressing down hard on your skin, you see him lick his lips. You swallow at the sight, knowing what is going through his head right now, and soon enough he moves again.

You watch him scramble off the bed, your eyes inadvertently moving towards his hard arousal twitching slightly (the potion seems to have worked already) as he comes to stand at the foot of the bed. His hungry eyes move to yours, and in the next moment, he has grabbed your waist and pulled you towards him, your legs falling off the bed. You let out a surprised shriek-laugh. He then grabs a pillow and shoves it under your lower back, raising your hips up.

He's always so gentle in his preparations that you sometimes forget what kind of animal he can turn into once he is done with said preparations. Yet he's usually quick to remind you. As he positions himself between your legs, you watch him grabbing his cock with one hand, the other ghosting your stomach downwards until he teases your throbbing clit. When he pushes his tip against your folds, you brace for his intrusion, watching him with your lips parted, yet he takes his time and lathers his girth with your wetness first, slowly rubbing it up and down through your slick.

You moan softly at the sensation, one of your hands moving up to caress your firm and currently unattended breast. While you watch him stroke his cock with confident strength, you roll your nipple between your thumb and index finger, whimpering quietly. His eyes snap to your face, and the dark look he is giving you almost freezes you on the spot. As he stares at you, he aligns his tip with your entrance, and at the same time as he pushes into you with one swift snap of his hips, his hands move forwards and grab both of your breasts at once, firmly squeezing them as he rolls his hips against you.

A loud moan escapes you, and you quickly retrieve your fingers from his grasp before you claw them into the bedsheets. Your walls may have expected his intrusion, but when it happened, it still took them and yourself by surprise. His force is unrelenting, and he only stops pushing into your tight channel when his balls press against your arse. You gasp, barely able to breathe for a moment, as you try to adjust to his size.

He's holding onto your breasts tightly, using them to guide his pelvis flush against yours, and once he's satisfied with how deep he is inside of you, he starts massaging your soft flesh, his palms rolling over your nipples, coaxing more and more whimpers out of you. “I wonder,” you hear him say gravelly, “I wonder how big they'll get this time...”

You chuckle softly, even more so when you catch the slightest bit of pink on his cheeks. Unclenching your hands, you rest them on his, causing him to look at you. His smile is almost shy and reminds you so much of the boy you fell in love with all those years ago. Even back then, he has been able to do the most vile things to you, but when it came to your breasts, he had always cherished them greatly, probably even more so now that they were so much bigger.

He licks his lips and folds his body over yours, moving within you as he does so, causing you to gasp slightly, before he places a soft kiss on your mouth, holding his face there for a moment, as if asking you something he cannot quite put into words. But you know what he wants to do, and with another chuckle, you put your hands down and move your chest up against the firm grasp of his. “Go ahead,” you whisper.

His eyes light up, and as he lowers his face down, moving his hands to hold your waist, his mouth quickly finds the pert bud of your left breast, eagerly sucking on it. As you moan softly, your hand starting to caress his hair once more, you watch him swirl his tongue around your sensitive skin, his teeth grazing it almost a little roughly. After nurturing three very hungry children, feeling the mouth of your husband there doesn't come as a surprise to you.

His words, however, catch you a little off guard. “I can't wait for you to lactate again...” he mumbles against you, and you hide your blush with a soft laugh.

“You might need to put a baby in me first, you know?” you tease him after he keeps caressing your tender tits, sucking on one and massaging the other with his fingers. You even buck your hips against him, reminding him how he's still buried deep within your warmth.

Without leaning back, he looks up at you, the creases in the corners of his eyes deepening as he smirks against your chest. “Who's impatient now?” he teases right back and gives your hard nipple a firm suck and a quick nibble.

You inhale sharply, glowering at him. He laughs as he leans back eventually, his fingers drawing soft lines on your stomach as he does. Once he's towering over you once more, with his hands now firmly on your waist, he tilts his head. Without another word, you feel him pulling out slowly, your walls clenching around him, trying to suck him back in. He almost slips out all the way, but then he thrusts forward harshly, hitting your cervix with a force that makes your breath hitch in your throat.

He repeats the exact same motion several times, each time pushing as deep as possible with as much strength as he trusts himself to exert against you. You quickly turn into a moaning, whimpering mess, your legs twitching badly with every slam of his pelvis against you. In the middle of your haze, you admire his control and wonder when he'll lose it as well. But he stays very deliberate in his movements, guiding his length in and out of you with slow but hard stabs that leave you shuddering and aching for more.

His grip on your waist betrays him though, you can see the veins and muscles popping beneath the skin of his arms as he tries to keep that steady rhythm for as long as possible, even though you know he wants nothing more than to ram into you in rapid, forceful little snaps of his hips as he fucks you open to finally receive his seed.

You watch him out of half-lidded eyes, your lips parted and swollen, your noises bleeding into the slapping of skin against skin that fill the small room. You manage to move your shaking hands down, gently brushing against the vice-like grip he has on your waist. He looks at you then, his eyes darker than ever, his own lips trembling before he presses them together into a straight line. In-between softly moaning, you smile at him – and that is all it takes for him to change his rhythm.

He moves his hands to rest on either side of your hips, clenched to tight fists, as he then starts to plunge into you faster, no longer as deep, but still pushing with as much fervour and vigour as he can muster. His groans fill your ears, and you close your eyes as the sensations build up more and more inside your stomach. Every thrust rocks you up the bed, but before he pushes you further, you raise your twitching legs and wrap them tightly around his waist, the change in angle coaxing even louder moans out of your throat.

Grabbing your thighs, he holds you in place and keeps slamming his pelvis against yours, eventually finding a rhythm that is both fast and deep, and every single inward motion hits that sweet spot right at your cervix. You squirm and writhe, whimpering more and more as you arch your back into the mattress, completely overwhelmed by the pleasure he is giving you. You throw your arms back and grab at the edge of the bed, holding onto it as if your life depended on it. The way your muscles contract it certainly feels like it.

“Come for me, baby,” you hear him grunt quietly, and when your eyes move to his face, you see that he's holding back his own release with how his jaw is clenched.

You start moving your hips with him, and it doesn't take long for you to fulfil his wish. The pleasure explodes inside you, sending you thrashing around on the bed, a long cry escaping you, before your entire body freezes and the coiled up tension dissipates in nothing but pure bliss that gnaws at the edge of your vision. He holds you tightly during your orgasm, keeping his rapid rhythm, forcing you higher and higher, until his hips snap against you for one final deep thrust, and it feels as if he's even deeper now, his tight, quivering balls buried in your folds as he comes right after you with a loud groan.

Your walls flutter around his cock as you feel him twitching within you. His warm seed pumps out of him with every twitch, painting your walls, squeezing into any orifice it can find, and as it does, he moves one of his hands to your stomach and pushes down hard again, feeling the sensation of his release through the deep tissue of your skin. You whimper slightly, and he eases his grip and looks at you, panting just as much as you do, but he still gives you a smile that almost pushes you over the edge again.

You reach your arms out to him, beckoning him closer, and he complies, leaning over you to press his lips to yours as you embrace him tightly. You can still feel him twitching inside you, still filling you up, as his tongue invades your mouth hungrily. Kissing him back, you moan softly against him, your crossed feet caressing his lower back as you do so. The warmth within you is indescribable, be it the actual seed seeping into you or the thought of what it will do to you eventually, it fills you up to the brim with happiness and then some.

You feel the same emotion coursing through him as he holds you firmly, his hands slipping beneath your body as he presses you to his chest and lifts you slowly into a sitting position. Once he releases your mouth again, you rest your forehead against his shoulder, breathing heavily.

Yet as you think he is done with you, happy with filling you up, you must have forgotten who it is that's holding you in his grasp. You should have known better than to think that Sebastian Sallow will leave it at this. He knows what he wants, and you know he won't stop until he gets it. It being the absolute certainty that his seed has found a home in your womb. And as you look at him, your limbs twitching in exhaustion, you know he isn't done with you yet.

That wicked smirk is back on his lips, and as you notice it, he presses his mouth against yours for a quick kiss before he slowly lets go of you, his hands prying your thighs open until your legs fall boneless to his sides. Pressing his hand on your lower stomach, he slowly moves back and pulls out of you. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you bite your lip as you watch him, the sensation causing more tremors to rush through your body.

As soon as his cock leaves your warm embrace, covered in your combined juices, he puts his palm over your entrance, trapping the seed that's bound to spill from you. “Hmm,” he makes in thought and looks from his hand to you and back down.

Raising an eyebrow, you witness the gears turning in his head, amusement settling in your chest. When he then grabs your hand and switches his hand with yours, pressing it gently against your wetness, you frown deeply. “Do you expect me to sit here with my hand down there, waiting for something to grow?” you tease, your voice slightly hoarse.

He chuckles a little nervously. “No, of course not,” he says and looks around the room. “Hold it for me for just a moment, okay?”

You watch him walk around the room until he stops in front of your dresser, shamelessly rummaging through your underwear drawer. He retrieves a pair, but then his eyes fall onto the box you store on top of the furniture piece. He drops the garment and grabs something else instead, and as he returns to you, your mouth falls open. “Sebastian... what –”

But you can't stop him as he takes your hand away and shoves one of the many wand handles you collected over the years right into your quivering cunt, plugging it shut. It feels cold and hard as it pushes against your walls. You gasp and shudder deeply, staring from the intricate black object poking out of your entrance up into his flushed face.

“You can't be serious,” you just say and shake your head. “Is that one of the marble handles?”

“It is, fits perfectly, doesn't it? I'll clean it after, don't worry,” he adds cheekily and leans down to kiss you. “Now turn around for me,” he then commands, waiting for you to obey.

You do, obviously, and stand up on shaking legs. You feel his hands guiding you as you turn around, clenching your thighs together to keep the handle inside. Once you climb back onto the bed on your hands and knees, you feel his fingers pushing the object back in as it threatened to slip out. Shivering, you lean down on your chest and elbows, arching your body to only keep your rear in the air. As you settle in the new position, he steps behind you, grabbing your hips to move you a little closer to the edge again.

You turn your head and rest on your cheek, taking a shuddering breath as you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He has his cock in one hand and gives himself a few tight strokes, breathing heavily. Apparently the potion still works, and he has a lot more to give you. His other hand plays around with the wand handle lodged inside you as he pulls it and turns it, teasing you with every slight movement.

“We should use toys more often, don't you think?” you hear him say, and you let out a tired chuckle that's almost a groan.

“Well, next time you bring gifts to the kids, think of me as well, alright?” you whisper into the pillow.

He laughs and pokes at the object again, pushing it deeper. You whimper quietly, your legs shaking at the sensation. “You can't tell me you never thought of sticking these things into your pussy,” he says quietly through laboured breaths.

“Who says I haven't?” you reply with a smirk. That renders him completely speechless. “You're usually gone all week...” you purr and lick your lips. “And a girl has needs...”

He exhales loudly, and suddenly he grabs the wand handle and basically rips it out of you. You shriek and squirm, and with a heavy thud it lands on the floor next to the bed. Before you can complain, you feel his tip pressing against your entrance. “You would choose one of those,” he says through gritted teeth, “over my cock?” He doesn't wait for your answer (and frankly it's not necessary), he simply rolls his hips forwards and rams his entire length into you.

Coated with his seed and prepared from the handle, your walls welcome him back with ease. You moan as he pushes in deep once more, wrapping his arms around your stomach and pulling you flush against him as he folds his body over yours. You can feel him pressing against your cervix and almost further as he stands balls deep over you, holding your shuddering body that would certainly fall into itself at the sensation if it wasn't for his strong arms.

“Doesn't this feel so much better?” he whispers as he leans down more, his lips brushing over your ear.

“Yes...” you whimper. “Of course... it does...” Breathing seems hard in this position with his body weighing on you and his cock prodding your womb.

He kisses your earlobe and starts grinding his hips against you in small circles, each movement coaxing more noises out of you. This time his noises join yours, and the heavy breaths he issues right against your ear make you close your eyes and moan softly as you dig your fingers into the bedsheets.

“Have you thought about names yet?” he then coos, and you can only groan as a shiver runs down your spine.

“No, Sebastian...” you mutter into the pillow. “Kind of... busy here...”

His laugh and the low timbre of his voice almost send you right over the edge. “I was thinking... Beatrice... if it's a girl... or Bartholomew if it's a boy...”

You squirm beneath him, exhaling loudly through your nose. “Bartholomew?”

“Yes...” he grunts as he starts giving you tiny thrusts that send tiny jolts of pain through your body. “Seems... fitting... you know with... Benjamin... and Archie... and Anne...”

“Sebastian!” you squeal and buck your rear against him. “Can we not talk about our children while you are balls deep in my vagina?”

“Oh sweetheart,” he chuckles into your ear. “That's where those children came from, why shouldn't we?”

You groan and bury your flushed face in the pillow. “I like Beatrice,” you then mumble, earning you another low chuckle that makes you shudder deeply. You feel him kissing your cheek.

“Would be nice to have another baby girl,” he whispers and inhales deeply as he halts the movements of his hips for a moment.

You relax slightly, but it only lasts for so long before he leans back suddenly, grabs your waist and starts ramming his cock deep and fast into your quivering cunt. The moans that fall from your lips are loud and quick and make your head spin. You grip the bedsheets tightly, your knuckles turning white, as you brace your body against his rapid thrusts.

Once again you'd be impressed by his stamina if your head wouldn't be so empty. As he grunts and groans, his movements far from deliberate now and more on the rougher side, you can only lie there, your face pressed into the pillow and your knees shaking so badly you wonder how you can still keep them up like this. Perhaps it's his grip on your waist that holds you up, or it's sheer willpower as you try to do your part of this deal in providing him the best angle for him to push his length into you.

You can feel him going deeper and deeper, and the slight shudder in his movements tells you that he's trying to press himself into regions he shouldn't possible enter, yet he tries nevertheless – and the pressure of his attempts is what kicks you right over the edge. The tension in your stomach coils up once again, and when your body starts spasming violently, you know you can't hold it any longer.

As your knees give way under the intense tremors, you feel your walls tightening around him painfully, all of your muscles contract, and this time, it's a long and loud wail that leaves your lips as you fold under the pleasure of your third orgasm of the day. The tight grip of his hands on your bruised waist holds you in that position, and you feel him leaning closer, one of his knees propped up beneath you in support as he keeps slamming his pelvis into yours forcefully.

All you can hear is the blood rushing through your ears, the almost obscene slapping of skin against skin and his deep, animalistic grunts as he exerts himself to crash over the edge as well. When he finally does, he groans loudly, his final thrust into you so powerful it pushes you right into the bed before his body falls on top of yours, his cock ramming deeper as he shoots his load right into your womb.

You cry out in a mixture of pain and pleasure, buried beneath his weight and overwhelmed by the sensation of his cum shooting into you in thick warm spurts as his cock twitches inside you, filling you up more and more as he lies heavily on you, his shallow breaths right in your ear. You can barely breathe yourself, but somehow it doesn't matter.

You're one step closer to bearing his fourth child.

It takes him a moment to collect himself again, and when he does, it's due to an interruption you both haven't anticipated. There's a faint knock on the door that makes you shudder deeply. He shifts on top of you slightly, inhaling sharply as he stretches his hand out to summon his wand from the pile of clothes next to the bed. You hear him muttering something and you know he's lifting the silencing charm on the door to answer whoever is on the other side.

“What is it?” he calls, trying to sound as composed as possible – despite the rather indecent situation you both find yourselves in.

“Daddy? Archie hit his head!” you can hear the faint voice of your daughter through the door.

You immediately start to stir beneath him as your motherly instincts kick in. But he holds you down with a firm hand to your shoulder as he leans back up slightly.

“Is he bleeding?” he asks through the door.

“No,” comes the hesitant answer.

He exhales loudly. “Is he conscious?”

“Is he what?”

“Can he talk? Cry? Are his eyes open?” he explains, in spite of everything calm and patient.

“He's crying,” Anne answers quietly.

“Then he's fine,” Sebastian mutters under his breath, and you are tempted to hit him if any of your limbs would work. He notices your reaction nonetheless and quickly kisses the back of your head. “I'll be there in five minutes!” he then calls to his daughter. “Go and get Mr Adley!”

“Okay, Daddy,” your little girl squeaks, and you can hear quick footsteps hurrying away.

After he puts the silencing charm back up, he drops his wand next to your head and leans down once more, pushing you deeper into the bed again, his lips brushing over your ear. You can still feel him twitching inside you, he's still not done filling you up. While you feel a little ashamed to have been interrupted by your daughter (though she luckily didn't catch you in the act, you really don't want your kids to ever see you like this), his body just kept going, and you admire his willpower once again.

You admire him, period.

For a moment you just lie there, your bodies moulded together, before you stir slightly. “Sebastian,” you whisper quietly, your voice muffled by the pillow beneath you.

“Hmm?” he hums softly against you.

“You realize that Edgar will come here, right?” you say with a soft chuckle.

“Oh blast!” he then hisses, and suddenly he leans back, unfolding his body from yours, leaving your skin tingling and cold without his warm embrace.

You feel him scrambling back, and when he pulls out, you moan softly as your walls clench tightly, threatening to pump his seed out as well. Yet he is one step ahead of you, and without any warning, you feel the cold, hard wand handle plugging your hole again. Squirming against it, you feel him grabbing your hips and turning you around before he pushes your thighs firmly together. “Hold that for me, will you?” he urges and then proceeds to dress in what must be a new record for him.

As you look at him, you can't help but smile. Inhaling deeply, you lean on your elbows and watch him. There he is, back in his shirt and his trousers, his soaked, throbbing cock hidden away behind the stiff fabric, not even hinting at the erection that he forced into hiding. He must be very uncomfortable right now, yet he doesn't show it one bit. When he notices your smile, he walks around the bed and leans down to kiss your sweaty forehead.

“I'll be right back, alright?” he whispers, watching you closely. “I promised you a long night, remember?”

“Oh I remember,” you whisper back and grab his arm gently. “Take care of our children, okay?”

“Of course, love,” he says and kisses you once more. “I bet Edgar would love a sleepover party, don't you think?”

You laugh softly. He winks at you, grabs his wand from beside your head and unlocks the door, before he leaves you alone in your bedroom, filled with his seed and the promise to give you even more. Lying back with a sigh, you close your eyes and shift against the wand handle between your legs.

Ending notes:

I almost feel the need to continue this and build a whole ass story around it. I mean, imagine a 30-something Professor Sallow, teaching Magical Theory, stepping into Fig's footsteps, teaching and inspiring young minds. And then when he's home, he has his cute little children (who'll attend Hogwarts soon-ish) and his loving wife and oh the potential this has! (But we'll see. Maybe I'll just drop a little more snippets of life with Dad!Seb in the future, who knows.) (Psst! Part two just dropped! Look!)

(By the way: The names of his kids are kindly borrowed from @subastian-swallows who made a Dad!Seb-bot whose prompt alone inspired me to write this!)

Oh and that wand handle... is this one, just for reference, if you need it.

Also, maybe a little disclaimer: I am not a mother and never intend to be one, but this mf of a pixel boy makes me indulge in things I never considered before, so I hope my attempt at portraying a family was somewhat realistic.

Thank you for reading!

Btw:

THERE'S A SECOND PART NOW!!!

[ masterlist ]

Other Kinktober submissions:

Pleasant dreams... and tentacles (somnophilia, tentacles)

A scholar and a pervert (overstimulation, sex toys)

The horny ghost (voyeurism, masturbation, spectrophilia)

It belongs to me (deepthroating, semi-public)

A Filthy Fantasy (1/2) (cnc, bondage, sensory deprivation, orgasm denial)

A Filthy Fantasy (2/2) (threesome, oral/vaginal/anal)

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy smut #kinktober #sebastian sallow x reader #smut #reader insert #sebastian sallow x you

[sunny44]

Marriage (Part 8)

Pairing: Max Verstappen x ex fiancée!reader Mason Mount x Fiancée!reader

Warnings: fights and that’s it

Summary: Max leaves his fiancée y/n at the altar on their wedding day but after years of regretting what he did, by a miracle of fate (or Lando) she appears in his life again.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

I didn't have the courage to take the test.

It had been two days since the event, and I sat on the bed, staring at a pregnancy test kit, trying to gather the courage to use it.

Mason was at training, and despite being invited by Red Bull and wanting to avoid Max, Mason's media team insisted that attending the Monaco GP would be good for his image.

That was the reason for our trip.

I used the opportunity when I needed to pee and took the test. Once done, I put it back in the box and tossed it into my bedside table.

I spent the day working to distract myself. I only realized it was evening when I felt a kiss on my forehead.

"Been here all day?" he asked.

"Yeah, had a lot of work," I replied.

"Have you eaten?"

"I only noticed the time because you arrived," I said. He chuckled and kissed my forehead again.

"Well, then I'll get something for us to eat, and you stay right there."

I continued working until he left, only stopping when he returned and we had dinner.

After we finished, we went to the bedroom. I took a shower while he got ready to sleep.

"Love, can I borrow your charger? Can't find mine." he asked.

"Sure, it's in my bedside table, first drawer." I shouted back.

After drying my hair, doing my skincare and getting dressed, I went to the room. Mason was sitting on the bed with a paper in hand and a displeased expression.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Mind explaining what this is?" He stood up and practically threw the paper at me.

It was the letter.

I took a deep breath, realizing Mason had found the letter. The atmosphere in the room shifted, filled with unspoken tension.

"Mason, I..." I began, but he interrupted.

"Just explain what the hell this is." he insisted, eyes fixed on the letter.

I walked over, took the paper, and glanced at the content. I hadn't read it since he handed it to me. It probably contained words and apologies Max wanted me to know, and my heart raced.

"It's a letter." I stated the obvious, trying to buy time to gather my thoughts.

"I can see that." he replied with a touch of frustration. "But it's a letter apologizing and also a letter saying he still loves you."

Taking another deep breath, I decided to be honest.

"Max wrote this letter to me some time ago."

"How long ago?"

"Do you remember when I told you I became friends with Lando?" He nodded. "We hung out that time because he insisted on introducing me to his best friends that ended up being Max and Daniel."

"What does that have to do with the letter?" He asked, frustrated.

"After the party that he introduced us he talked to Lando about what happened. He made him help him meet me to apologize. So, he said he wrote this letter and handed it to me, but I didn't have the courage to open it."

"And why did you keep it?"

"I don't know. I thought maybe one day I'd have the courage to read it and that’s why I kept it. Perhaps I felt I needed a reminder of how things were before."

His expression changed from frustration to anger.

"You kept a letter from your ex in our house? Are you serious?"

"I was unsure what to do with it and couldn't bring myself to throw it away, so I kept it. It's a piece of the past I kept hidden."

"Why hide it, then? Why keep secrets from me?" Mason's frustration grew. "You lied again about this. Not long ago, you argued with me for defending you and then you do this, keeping his things."

"I thought I could handle it on my own. I didn't want to burden you with my past." I explained.

He sighed, clearly upset.

"Y/n, we promised transparency. Keeping something like this from me... hurts."

"I'm sorry, Mason. I should have told you about this and I know this now." I admitted, feeling a pang of guilt.

"But it's always going to be like this, isn't it? You lie to me about him, and it makes me think you still love him even after he left you at the altar like an idiot," he said angrily. "You were supposed to tell me about him years ago and then when I found out on the internet I’ve try to be cool with it because I saw how much it hurts you, even if I was angry that you e lied to me. And now this, im your fiancé and u was supposed to be the one you trust to tell me this things but apparently lying to me it’s easier for you.

“I’m sorry.”

“I honestly don't know if I can still do this."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know if I can marry you." I felt tears fill my eyes. "I don't know if I can marry someone who lies to me."

"Mason, I..."

"I need some time." He left the room, leaving me there alone.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername Instagram stories

“So much work that I’m starting to get crazy”

Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @dudenhaaa27 @christianpulisic10 @gaslysainz @fanboyluvr @urgirlceci @justdreamersdream @aundercoverosh @newlifeforus @depressedriches @topguncultleader @luvrrish @tyna-19 @esposadomd @formulas-bitch

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 #f1 instagram au #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen icons #max verstappen headcanons #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen wallpaper #max verstappen headers #max verstappen f1 #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen smut #max verstappen #max verstappen podcast #max verstappen instagram au #max verstappen angst #max verstappen au #max verstappen social media au #max verstappen series #max verstappen scenario #max verstappen drabble #max verstappen fanart #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen lockscreens #max verstappen x charles leclerc #max verstappen x daniel ricciardo #max verstappen x you

[atlantis-just-drowned]

Solar Lunacy’s Y/N can be dangerous and powerful when Eclipse is around

Content warning: this is a theory post using all available content about Solar Lunacy’s universe. There will be several spoilers. Also I’m not saying that I’m right but I have a tendency to guess a story’s end before it happens and spoil everything to everyone so please beware and don’t hate me if you decide to read that post, I am not responsible for your hatred, you did that to yourself.

I saw a post about how Sun also deals with the glitch’s “intrusive thoughts” toward the reader (even though I do not agree with everything in this post because I like to think Sun’s fidgets could be from some sort of robotic ADHD), but I haven’t seen anything about Eclipse yet. Probably because we’re lacking a lot of context, but I’m going to use the bonuses + doodles of Solar Lunacy here.

It is explicitly said that Eclipse won’t hesitate to kill for the reader, we have little crumbs that prove they already did (or will, considering the canonical timeline).

If you want more context and explanations for this, I think you could resume it in two points:

Sun and Moon are affected by the glitch at different levels but they still have moral values and boundaries, whereas Eclipse do not. It haven’t been explained yet where Eclipse comes from in the SL universe, but if it’s linked to the glitch or the fact that the Daycare Attendants are sentient, and he haven’t been programmed/isn’t supposed to exist, it could explain some things. What we already know is that Eclipse is a sort of fusion of Sun and Moon, and I think the fact that Sun and Moon’s filters have been affected at different levels and on different points by the glitch could play a role in Eclipse’s lack of moral values. If the filters’ errors got mashed up, it could result in a total lack of boundaries.

Eclipse is completely in love with the reader. Like, take a normal living being’s level of love for their partner, and double it. That’s literally it. Sun and Moon’s love for the reader got (one more time) mashed up, and it give you this kind of unconditional love Eclipse has for you.

So, take a very, very tall sentient animatronic, with inhuman strength, no moral or care for others’ lives, and a probably unhealthy level of love for you. I’m not saying that you will use it badly, but if you were an evil little piece of shit and you wanted to, you could basically get him to threaten or kill anyone you want, just by using the right words.

So yeah, extremely dangerous and powerful. It’s kinda like having poisonous skin and anyone who tries to touch you die. Except they’re not poisoned but rather dismembered by a tall as fuck hijacked celestial jester.

What I still wonder is whether or not @bamsara will make the reader aware of this fact (but I strongly think they won’t because it would mean making the reader aware of the DCA’s love for them and at this point they would rather suffer an eternal agony than making Sun and Moon confess), and in the scenario where they would, how would the Y/N react.

Also, I’m thinking: if Eclipse could do basically anything for the reader, it may means that Eclipse’s weakness… is the reader? And we know that Glitchtrap will erase the DCAs memories,

but I think at some point Vanny will also kidnap the reader or something, and that might be what she's talking about in that doodle:

Or maybe I'm wrong and Vanny's talking about the Daycare Attendants' memories. I'm not quite sure on that part yet.

But anyway, thank you for listening to my ted talk, now that this is out of my system I can finally die in peace. One more time if you hate me for guessing half of the plot remember that I warned you and you chose not to listen so take your responsibilities and leave me alone.

#solar lunacy #fnaf superstar daycare #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #fnaf security breach #fnaf sb #fnaf fanart #solar lunacy spoilers #fnaf eclipse #fnaf dca #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf daycare fandom #bamsara #daycare attendent #daycare attendant sun #daycare attendant moon #security breach daycare attendant #sun and moon fnaf #sun and moon security breach #sun and moon x reader #solar lunacy theory #fnaf theory #daycare attendant #daycare assistant #whispers from atlantis

[yumeka-sxf]

My thoughts on Spy x Family: EYES ONLY Guidebook (English ver) - part 3

Continuing from my previous two posts, this will be my last post discussing the English version of the SxF manga guidebook "EYES ONLY." I'll discuss some of Endo's and Lin's comments on specific chapters, some of the included concept art for the series, all the Twiyor tidbits the book has to offer, and conclude with a couple things the English version of the book omits.

Endo's and Lin's comments on specific chapters

There's at least one comment from Endo and/or Lin on every chapter of the manga from when the book was originally published (up to chapter 61). Unfortunately I can't cover every single comment, but I did want to highlight a few (more will be covered in the Twiyor tidbits later on).

So Bond wouldn't have actually died from Yor's cooking then? Good to know her cooking isn't that bad, lol. Also that's a good question, Lin, maybe you should ask Endo? 😅

Lots of great info about the cruise arc. Makes sense that they had to plan it out many months in advance and keep revising it to patch up plot holes. All that work definitely paid off! Interesting that they almost considered not having Loid on the ship at all. Glad they didn't because otherwise we wouldn't have gotten one of his best outfits! 🤣 (can't wait to see this piece of work in color in the anime!)

Incidentally, the scene Endo mentions where he "managed to make Yor look pretty cute" is this one (she does look pretty cute here).

My favorite comment of Endo's about any chapter has to be this one for chapter 56. Never change, Endo 😂

And lastly, some good comments about chapter 59 (Becky visits the Forgers).

This is one of my favorite stand-alone chapters so I'm glad it was well received. Funny how they kept going with the joke instead of ending it "normally"...but when you have such great characters and setups, good comedy writes itself!

Below is Endo's commentary about Henderson, not a specific chapter, but thought I'd point it out since he mentions Henderson is the only character he's done a shower scene for...not anymore!

Also, while not related to a specific chapter, I do like what Endo says below about Loid and Yor's "dark sides."

He enjoys drawing them this way, which is cool, but he's also cautious about not overdoing it and saving those expressions for important situations.

Concept art

Most of the pre-serialization character designs included in this book were also in the exhibition pamphlet, which I already discussed thoroughly here (wish I had remembered these were in the fanbook so I wouldn't have put so much effort into trying to read Endo's scribble notes). So I'll just mention a few of the most notable things.

As I discussed in my post about the pamphlet, Franky was at some point intended to be the uncle of the family. Though I do think it would have been fitting to make him the uncle, I also like the main focus being on just the "nuclear" family, with the uncle and other characters having supportive roles.

An interesting note about the beta version of Yor is that she seemed to be more like Fiona - she was in love with Loid right from the start, to the point of trying to eliminate Anya! I doubt this is something she would be doing all the time as it would have been difficult to make her a likable main character if she was always trying to kill her daughter...in all likelihood, she would have tried to kill Anya at first before eventually learning to love her as a daughter. While I see how this could work for an intriguing character arc, I'm glad Endo decided to make Yor a loving mother to Anya right away, and not make her feelings for Loid an obsessive "love at first sight" kind of thing.

Twiyor tidbits

Being the shipper that I am, I tried to see if I could pinpoint any Twiyor subtleties throughout the book, as vague as they may be! 😂

Below are excerpts from Loid and Yor's character pages where we're given info on their current stance about each other.

Love the emphasis on their bond of trust ❤️

Below are excerpts from chapters 14 and 35, probably the most Twiyor-heavy chapter pages in the book.

This confirms that Loid did indeed interpret Yor's kick as her not having any romantic feelings for him.

Below are comments by Endo and Lin for chapter 30, where Fiona is introduced.

Endo's line is a little ambiguous here, but I think he's saying how people sympathize with Fiona because she's "doomed to lose," which is...telling 😅 (does Fiona's loss automatically mean a Twiyor win?)

Endo says he likes the "You're strong, Yor" conversation, one of the most Twiyor-ish scenes in the series so far! 😊 Lin also mentioned how they got to use that theme again during the Becky chapter.

Weird that he chose to highlight this line of all things as Loid's "Family Comment" for chapter 10. Could this and chapter 79 be more foreshadowing for an eventual "Twilight vs Thorn Princess" showdown? 👀 Or maybe he just likes teasing fans because he knows it's something they fantasize about.

English version omissions

There's an additional Endo interview that's missing from the English version of the book: an interview with him and Kazumi Takayama, a former idol of the group Nogizaka46.

At first it seemed very odd that they would leave out just this interview, but after discussing it with others on Discord, I realized it's because it has to do with an idol. Apparently getting licensing rights for anything that has to do with a Japanese idol group is very difficult, which is further hindered by the fact that Takayama isn't even part of that idol group anymore, which makes getting the content green lit for official release overseas even more taxing. So probably Viz decided it wasn't worth the trouble and just left out that interview. But thankfully u/Nemshi on Reddit posted a fan translation of it, which you can read here. They talk a bit about SxF, but most of it is just general questions they ask each other.

And the other thing missing from the English version that I really can't understand is the inside cover! Another great 4th-wall breaking joke from Endo (I added a quick translation of the Japanese version below).

Unlike the Takayama interview, I have no idea why they didn't include this. They include the inside cover as an extra page in all the English volumes, so why not here? Very weird.

---

And that's all I'm going to share for the "EYES ONLY" fanbook! Honestly, there's so much great content in the book that I didn't touch on, like info about East/West relations, about Eden Academy, Endo's comments on all the designer chairs for the volume covers...and lots more. So definitely get a copy yourself if you can! It's a must-have for any SxF fan 😁 Books like this aren't officially released in English very often, so the fact that Viz thought it was worthwhile to make this proves how much of a hit SxF is!

<- Return to Part 2

#spy x family #spy family #sxf #spyxfamily #twiyor #loid forger #yor forger #anya forger #bond forger #sxf manga #sxf manga spoilers #sxf spoilers #tatsuya endo

[daughterofcain-67]

🅦hαt 🅞ncє 🅦αs 🅜ínє

(Dean Winchester x Reader)

(Part 2) (Part 3)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You and Dean have been close for the past couple of years but you have hunting with them for the past few. You notice that he has seemed off when he came back from Purgatory and all you wanted to do was help. After an argument breaks out- you leave for about a year with a secret you can’t afford to tell.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: some spoilers - some may be MAJOR spoilers, read at your own risk (seasons 6-8, I believe: MAY NOT BE ACCURATE), a brief mention of a night of intimacy but no graphic detail. This story does not follow along with any specific episode

Your heart raced with adrenaline from the last hunt you were on with the Winchester brothers. It was a tough one too and it didn't help that you had been worried about Dean the entire time. You had been with the Winchesters for the past three years. However, there was a shift between the two of you ever since he came back from Purgatory.

You noticed that he had become lost in a way - especially since Cass was gone. You knew that Purgatory was almost like a Hell for Dean since he seemed to feel a sort of guilt. But he wouldn't talk to you about it and you couldn't read his mind. You felt like you were drifting apart.

You remembered the night that Dean finally came back. You knew that Sam had moved on and tried to make a life for himself. But you couldn't move on so easily. You knew at the time he had just moved on from Lisa, then the job got busier and busier with the Leviathan. Then the next thing you knew he was in Purgatory for so long and you never got to tell him how you truly felt.

At least, not until the night that he finally came back.

You remembered the way he looked all roughed up after he came back. How handsome he was, but maybe it was just because you were just so glad that he was back. One thing lead to another and you ended up spending a passionate night together and it was a night you could never forget.

Even if at this moment you were trying so hard not to, especially considering the current circumstances you were in personally. For the past several weeks you were carrying Dean's child. You didn't know how to tell him and a part of you knew he couldn't handle it with everything going on.

"Dean, what the hell is going on with you? I know you went through a lot of crap in Purgatory, and I know you must be missing Cass a hell of a lot right now. We all do! But if you can't get your head on straight or at least talk to somebody, you might end up getting yourself killed one day because you can't focus!" You tried your best to explain.

"Don't act like you know how the hell I handle what's in my head, Y/N." He stated with a growl. "You don't know half the shit I've been through. You weren't there when I was in Hell. You weren't there when Lucifer took over Sam's mind. I know what I'm doing so why don't you stay the hell out of it!?"

"I can't stay out of it because I care about you! Sam cares about you! You know if Cass were here, he'd-"

"Don't you dare bring him up. You know, I should have just listened to Sam when you first came onto the scene." He said and rolled his eyes before he poured himself another glass of whisky.

"Listened to Sam? What was it that he said? Dean, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying you're nothing but a liability! You do nothing but get in the way! We should have never brought you on that very first hunt!" His words broke you to pieces. How long had he felt this way towards you? And everything you went through, did all of this mean nothing to him? You had done your best to be there for him and he just thought you were in the way the whole time?

You saw the instant regret on Dean's face after he said what he did but it was too late. You looked away from him and your eyes started to burn with tears that were starting to form

"Y/N, wait, I didn't mean-"

"Forget it, Dean. You want me gone, then I'll leave. I won't be in your way. You want to self destruct, fine. You have Sam to worry about you."

Then you packed your bags and left.

*************************************************

All of that happened about a year ago.

For a year you went through a pregnancy and a birth alone. You didn't have all of the answers. You didn't know how the hell you were supposed to take care of your little girl on your own. But you were doing everything you could by taking it one day at a time. That was all you could really do at this point.

Throughout the pregnancy you were working at a Walgreen's and you were living in a small apartment and trying your best to get by. You were doing well for the most part though. Better than living on the road and hopping from one hotel room to another.

Luckily, tonight you were able to have your day off. So you spent your time with your beloved daughter, Y/C/N. She had Dean's forest-green eyes and your hair color. She was only about three months old but you wanted to protect her from everything that was out there, especially since you knew what dangers were out there. If any demon, angel or monster found out there was a little Winchester- who knew what kind of horror would be after the last piece of Dean you had.

Once you had finished giving your baby girl her bath and gotten her dress on, you noticed some lights flickering in the room. That was instantly a red flag in your mind. Of course you knew all the ins and outs of hunting and keeping your home safe because of your experience with the Winchesters. And there were some occasions when it really was just a blown fuse and there was no sulfur left behind. But you were always cautious, and understandably so.

You held the baby close as you went to your room and you watched as the lights started to flicker again. You took the can of salt on your dresser and used your free hand to open it up and you put it on your windowsills, beneath the door, anywhere to prevent demons from coming in. And even if they did, you had a rug in front of your bedroom door that had a devil's trap beneath it so it wouldn't get to you or your daughter.

Suddenly, you hear your apartment door bust open and you start hearing all kinds of commotion like a fight was happening only for a demonic cry to be heard. You covered Y/C/N's ears and held onto her and you wondered what the hell was happening out there. Soon, though, you started hearing voices.

"I think that's all of them. Let's get back so I can be ready for work at the station by Monday." Was that Jodi? What are was she doing all the way out here.

"We have to see if she's here though. Who knows what can be out there looking for her." That sounded like Castiel. When did he come back? How did he come back!? Your mind was swirling with so many questions.

You slowly got out of the bed and walked over to the door. When you opened it you saw Cass and Jodi look towards your direction and you watched Jodi's eyes light up and a smile showed on her face.

"Y/N! You're safe! It's so good to see you." She said as she walked over and that was when she saw your little bundle of joy in your arms, "And who's this precious thing?"

"Jodi, Cass! It's really good to see you guys! This is Y/C/N. She's mu daughter." You introduced.

"Daughter? When did that happen? Do you have a boyfriend here?" Jodi began to ask and you shook your head at the last question.

"No boyfriend, and I found out about a year ago, and Half Pint here is three months. I've just been here trying to lay low so nothing finds us." You explained and you could feel the angel's gaze. When you glanced over, you knew he could tell what happened. And who knew what Dean told him when he came back. If he even went to Dean that is.

"Does Dean know?" It was an inevitable, and reasonable, question that you knew was bound to come up from Castiel. He knew of your feelings for the older brother, and he knew there seemed to be something unspoken between you two for a while before he went to Purgatory. Other than that, you didn't know if Dean filled him in on anything else.

"I didn't get the chance to tell him. I left after a fight we had. Something about how he shouldn't have let me tag along on the first hunt." You felt a soft hand on your shoulder and knew that it was Jodi.

"Why don't you both come and stay with me? It'll be a lot safer that way and at least you won't be on your own. Plus you wouldn't have to worry so much about monsters coming in without backup." The sheriff said and motioned to the salt on the windowsills.

You thought about it for a few moments and looked down at your daughter who was rubbing her eyes like she was tired. You had to think of what was best for her. You knew she didn't need a mom who was stretched thin with work then having to worry about hunting. It would be great to have the help. No one said that being a single mom was easy.

"Yeah, that would be great, Jodi. I appreciate it." You nodded

~

So much had been going on since you've left and it was like Sam and Dean couldn't get a rest. After Kevin took a Word of God from Crowley and have him translate the tablets to Sam having to complete certain trials that Dean knew he shouldn't be doing anyway. And that was the current thing on the Winchesters' agenda.

Too much has been going on and Dean was already getting so tired of all of it. There seemed to be no end to it but he knew he had to stay determined through all of it at least for his brother's sake. He's pretty much left behind the idea of retiring from this gig. He tried that once and of course the Apple Pie life fell through for him.

What sucks about it is that Dean didn't have you in his back corner anymore. You weren't there to be his 'new eyes' on a situation or bring some kind of positive to a situation. You weren't there to have little drinking competitions with him, remark on crappy television with him, you weren't there to take his mind off this job he was raised in.

And pushing you away was another item on his never-ending list of regret.

But of course, with all of the things he had on his plate and having to save the world yet again, he couldn't exactly showed just how much he had been thinking about you even if you've never left Dean's mind. And Sam knew it too.

Dean was sitting at one of the tables in the Bunker since that's where he and Sam have been living. He knew if you were here you'd probably make it a little more home-y. Lately he had been focusing on the trials that Sam had to face. He passed the first one but he knew this was going to take a toll on Sam. If he could trade places than he would, but Sam could be just as stubborn as Dean sometimes.

Dean looked over at the bottle of whisky before he picked it up and poured himself another glass before he opened up his laptop to do some research outside of these books. The first trial that Sam completes was bathe in hell hound blood. The next one was saving a soul from Hell. The final was to cure a demon and that would be a whole other ball game when the time came up. One thing at a time. He wasn't sure how his brother was supposed to do the next trial but he knew that Cass said Sam's health would decrease almost at a subatomic level.

While Dean was deep in his thoughts of this trial business, his phone started to ring unexpectedly.

Dean glanced over at his phone and saw Jodi's name and picture show up on his screen. An odd surprise since it's been a while since he had heard from her but he picked up the phone wondering if something was wrong and she needed some kind of help.

"Jodi? What's up?" He asked and took a sip of his whisky before setting the glass down on the table.

"Dean? It's Y/N... we need to talk."

Thank you all for reading!

This is my 1st mini series for Dean Winchester so thank you for taking am interest in reading this! If you liked this little story please feel free to comment or like it! Especially if you’d like to see a second part to this story to see if the reader will tell Dean about their daughter in the midst of what’s going on. 🖤

Tag List:

@chriszgirl92 @wildernessflora

#dean imagine #dean winchester #jensen ackles #supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader #dean x reader #dean x you #team free will #spn

[howtofightwrite]

this scenario happened on Twenty-Four and they didnt really account for the long term damage -evelynmlewis

"No long term consequences" could have been the tagline for 24. I mean, we are talking about the show where terrorists detonated a nuclear weapon in Los Angeles, and a few hours later people were going about their daily lives like nothing had happened. But, I think I remember what you're talking about, and it was a small symptom of a much larger problem.

Two important caveats: I haven't watched season 3 in roughly 20 years, so I might be slightly misremembering when things happen. Second, IMDB's trivia page doesn't have any mentions of what I'm about to say, so it's entirely possible this was a fiction cooked up by someone on TV Tropes.

The short version was that Chase (James Badge Dale) was captured and was being tortured by a Mexican cartel. (Because no synopsis of 24 is complete without gratuitous torture sequences.) And, at one point, one of the cartel members shoots him through the hand. The problem is that Chase was originally planned to be killed off right at the beginning of the next episode.

However, going into season 3, the show runners had, supposedly, gotten into a bad habit of watching fansites, and started tweaking things on the fly, when fans accurately predicted the outcomes of upcoming plot twists. This included keeping Chase alive, when the original plan was to kill him off, and also killing off Chappelle (Paul Schulze), later in the season.

So, I mentioned that the plans for Chase's execution being changed are a bit dubious, that's not true with Chappelle, and there's a couple major things to pick up on here. First is that we have confirmation from Paul Schulze that the original plan was to fake his character's death. (This came out of an interview Schulze did, though I'm not sure with whom.) The second is a production cue from the way the show was produced. By season 3, the show was being shot in two episode blocks, (so, for example, Day 3: 1:00 p.m. – Day 3: 2:00 p.m., and Day 3: 2:00 p.m. – Day 3: 3:00 p.m. were shot at the same time. Also, yeah, the official episode titles are a bit unwieldy.) In the case of Chappelle's death, it came at right before 7am (which would have been part of the shooting block for 5am to 7am.) However, Chase's death would have been right after 9pm. (Which would have been part of the 9pm to 11pm block.) This would mean that the production would have needed to bring James Badge Dale back in for what would have amounted to a glorified cameo, if they were originally planning to kill off his character. Once you're aware of the way that episodes were shot, the pacing of the series gets a lot more predictable. Significant characters (even short term ones) tend to get introduced in the front half of a block, and killed off in the back half. Not necessarily the same block, but the structure tends to hold up. Especially when the show plays with the idea of someone dying during the episode cliffhanger.)

So, where am I going with this? Don't mess with your story to keep your audience off-balance. Your first concern is keeping your story coherent, if members of your audience manage to accurately predict what you're doing, good. They're invested enough in the story that you're telling to care about what you're going to do next. These are the last people you want to mess with. And if their prediction is correct, when it does play out, that's a reward for them.

Don't follow the example of 24(especially in season 3), where the overarching plot degenerates into an incoherent mess, because it keeps getting revised, on the fly, to keep things surprising. A well written thriller shouldn't be predictable, but it should have internal consistency so when the unexpected happens, it makes sense. A second viewing (or reading) of a thriller, should provide more satisfaction, as you can now see all the pieces getting dropped into place, long before they pay off. But, again, when you're writing in a serial format, if you start flipping things around to keep ahead of what your audience is predicting, that will ruin the cohesion of your story. (And, it's why I haven't watched Season 3 since shortly after it released on DVD. When I did go back and rewatch the first two years of the show.) While it's a bit uneven, it is something the first season of 24handled remarkably well, especially in comparison to what came later.

There's a couple advantages to writing in a serialized format. If you're unfamiliar with the term, serialized fiction refers when a piece of fiction is released in multiple parts over time. This is somewhat distinct from episodic series and metaplots. Episodic series tell multiple self contained stories, while metaplots refer to an overarching storyline that hooks into episodic stories granting them a larger context. Serials are smaller parts of a larger whole. The individual pieces (or, in the case of television, the episodes) are segmented portions of a larger story. Now, I said there are advantages to serialized writing, but almost all of those come with some significant perils, that if you're wanting to

The first advantage is you don't have to have the work completed before you start putting it out there. If you have a completed chapter, you can simply post it out there for the world to see. The peril is that you can't (really) go back and change it. You're committed to the previously released material. Even if you go back and revise the earlier work, you'll have a significant portion of your audience who don't want to go back and reread chapter 3, because you cleaned up the dialog, and also closed a plot hole that would emerge years later.

The second advantage is that serials can easily deliver much larger stories than you could offer in another format. For example, each season of 24 tells a single twenty-four hour story (actually, about 18 hours, once you account for commercial breaks.) Just putting that scope in front of someone is kind of wild. The peril is that serialized stories can easily spiral out of control. For example, nearly every webcomic ever, with an ongoing plot. This can result in some insane bloat. So you can either accept the content in medias res, or you can be looking at an unpleasant amount of homework. Whatever praise 24 deserves, the show asks you for an entire day of your life to watch a single story. When put in those terms, frankly, it's not that good.

The third advantage is that you can adjust your later work to better fit what your audience responds well to. If your fans like something you're doing, you can expand that part of your story. This time, there's multiple perils. First, you can easily lose track of how your original plan fit together. This is less of an issue if you're running with a fairly loose outline, but the better scripted your original plan, the more this can inadvertently screw you over. And, as I mentioned above, with the first peril, you can easily trap yourself. For an example I'm not completely conversant in, this might be what's delayed the final Game of Thrones book, as Martin may have accidentally killed off a character he needed, and now he's spent years working out a Plan B. The second peril is a little simpler, sometimes fans are reacting to what you didn't say, rather than what you did. Peripheral characters or concepts can prove to be fan favorites because the hints you provided along the way were more enticing than the full background you had in mind. This is a very subjective risk, because ultimately, it is more about accurately gauging what your audience reacted to rather than what they said they reacted to. That's a tricky one to split.

The fourth advantage to serialized writing is, almost, more a peril disguised as an advantage: You don't have to know how this will end, when you start. You can go on the same journey as your reader. The real advantage is that it can make the story more approachable. If you look at the idea of writing an entire novel, and the scope of that scares you, then smaller serialized novellas are a lot less threatening. However, this also means you don't have a plan to finish this. Much your characters, you're going to need to figure it out on your feet. If that sounds like a fun challenge, then that's absolutely something to drop into the “Pros” column. The downside is, I've seen professionals screw this up, and worse, get it past their editor. (In this case, I'm thinking specifically of Transmetropolitan. If you know, you know; if you don't, it's a massive spoiler for the end of the series.)

I will say, on this last peril, having good documentation, and a good project bible can save your ass. Don't trust your memory to keep all the (figurative) plates spinning. Take notes on what you're doing in another document, so that in the future you'll have easy reference to try to avoid accidentally creating temporal paradoxes as you try to sketch out your conclusion.

Also, yeah, if you're going to shoot someone in the hand, even if it's with a .22, don't change your mind about killing them 20 minutes later. James Badge Dale was cool, but, dude had nothing to do but chew scenery for fifteen hours.

-Starke

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#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #how to fight write #starke answers #24 #serialized fiction

[quackarl]

YOU BELONG WITH ME; QUACKITY X READER (STRANGERS TO FRIENDS TO LOVERS, SLOW BURN.)

A/N: Hiii! I did not realize how hard it is for me to write about friends to lovers until I was writing this. I think I'm better at established relationship stuff, hahaha. But there was an interesting request in my inbox if I could write a Quackity X Reader piece, where the reader is hired by Quackity to edit his videos and Spanish subtitles and such, and proceeds to fall for him somewhere along the way. So, I did that, with a few twists of my own imagination. Be aware, that this story includes usage of alcohol. And it's painfully slow burn at times, hahaha, but that's the beauty of it sometimes.

I can’t remember a time in my life when I have felt more hopeless. Looking for a job really sucks, actually many things suck and I hate how life seems to pass me by, almost even faster when I feel like running out time, almost as if to tempt me to keep count of all the time I waste. Time flies when your life is falling apart, isn’t that what they say? 

I wish it was few days ago when this started, this desperate job-hunt, but it’s been so long now. I need something, and fast.

I see my phone light up, the only source of light in the dark room. I see it’s already 11 PM, which means I have wasted another night staying up thinking about my future and where do I fit, if anywhere. Great.

Besides that, what captures my attention next is that it’s my friend texting me, and they’re not here to chit-chat about the usual stuff we talk about every night, but telling me they have a perfect plan for me that’s worth a shot. I wonder how that’s possible, at 11 on a Monday night, and how do they know it any better than me what’s right for me? We both know that’s a lie, though, they know things about me before I even know them myself.

I demand to know more about this plan. I’ll try anything, that’s for sure. Anything to get my foot in the door in this world, you know? The next thing they send me is a mysterious link. I click on it and see it taking me to an application form. For what exactly? 

I let out a frustrated puff once I read the first line;

“We are hiring! Apply here for the position of ‘Video Editor’ and ‘Translator’ for Quackity!”

Ridiculous. I already feel defeated, rejected, because how would I have a chance, out of everybody else applying? What makes me special? That’s probably one of the questions on the application and I don’t see myself writing anything worth reading over in it.

I text my friend promptly, my will to fight suddenly vanishing into thin air, telling them exactly what I think of this idea, that it’s far-fetched and I’m not going along with it. Still, curiosity, or whatever, is kind of getting the best of me, I can’t lie, as I eye the open application. 

My friend texts me back, full of persistence;

“And why not? You studied editing and you’re good at it AND you speak Spanish which is what they’re looking for. You’re the whole package?! Tell me I’m wrong, you can’t.” 11:06 PM

Well, I can’t argue on that. It’s my power that I did happen to take editing courses, and Spanish courses too, for reasons I wasn’t sure about back then, but now it could all make sense.

I confess to my friend that I’m actually considering filling out the form, but I feel stuck. I don’t know what I would answer to certain questions such as why should they hire me, or what makes me, well, me. I don’t know.

I mentally hit a dead-end as soon as I got to the question of what makes me unique and stand out from the other candidates. I wrote out my first, honest thoughts, and everything the perfect version of me in the perfect world would think or say, if I only was more brave and less insecure. I wrote, a lot of stuff. If I say so myself, it was a good application in the end, with a little humour.

The scary part was to scroll down the page, hit the blue ‘submit’ button, and watch text appear on the screen;

“Thanks for your application and your interest towards working with us! We will be in contact as soon as possible as the recruitment process will proceed!” 

I think I just jumped out of my skin. I want to cringe at the thought of them reading over my application. Can I just not be me for a second, while I try to get over this?

I text my friend the last thing for the night, before deciding I need to sleep this shame off, and maybe tomorrow it all doesn’t matter, and we move on;

“Guess what? I just sent the application. I hope you’re happy now.” 11:25 PM

I watch their text pop up; 

“I am! You’ll be too when they hire you, trust me!” 11:26 PM

Sure, I think, almost wanting to roll my eyes. I appreciate the enthusiasm my friend has for my future when I don’t have any, but I mean, like I said before, this is an insane attempt. I drift to sleep soon after. A total shocker that I was able to even sleep a wink that night. What have I done and what am I doing to myself? 

.

The more time went by, the more all of this felt like a joke I always knew it was. It’s been a week now since I sent the application, and everything almost feels too normal for anything life-changing to happen anytime soon. 

Well, it wasn’t until I checked my email on a Wednesday morning when things started to feel somewhat real and moving again. I had something there waiting for me. An email regarding my application. I imagined it to be a nicely worded rejection, something along the lines of “We would like to thank you for your interest in us and the position you have applied for. Unfortunately, at this point, you are not being considered for this role, blah blah blah.” 

I suddenly felt like I was in fact not fine at all, when I started reading through it;

“Welcome to our team! We were impressed by your application and would love to proceed further with you! Please reply to this email as soon as possible if you are still available and interested in this position.”

What do I do?! I will reply, tell them I’m still interested, right? That I’m ready for things to proceed. Am I? How, or why, am I the lucky one here? I’m not used to claiming first place, I’m usually just a runner-up. But here begins my winning streak, I guess. 

I type a response with shaky hands, then put my phone down. I don’t think I’m actually ready for things to move any faster than I can take, and it’s already feeling like a lot right now, like I’m biting off more than I can chew. But if they see enough potential in me, it’s all in my head. 

Safe to say that it startled me when not even a few minutes later I received a follow-up email, asking me a few more questions, to which I replied to to the best of my ability. Questions such as am I certain I can commit to such schedule in a long run. It was sinking in for me as I was typing, that this really is a one hell of an opportunity that they are offering me, and I need to be the best. There’s no other option.

The next email they sent, it meant all business;

“We are thrilled to hear you are ready to work with us! Would you be free for a call tomorrow at 8 PM?”

Okay, straight to the point. I tell them I’m free and ready.

Except that I didn’t feel so ready anymore when I received one last email;

“Great! We will have Alex call you tomorrow.”

Yeah, I’m absolutely sweating bullets now. I stayed up much later than I had intended that night, mostly thinking about how fast things are happening now, and if I have started something here I can’t end. I typed his name countless times into the internet to see more of him, but it feels like the more I know, the less capable I am of dreaming of the possibilities of what will happen. So I just went to bed. 

. 

The next day arrived faster than I hoped it would. Can I really do this? Am I ready? So many questions and not enough time to figure out the answers. Quite literally, because I lingered in bed the whole day and hurriedly had to jump into my clothes when I eventually got myself up.

It was 7.50 PM when I sat myself down at my desk, ready to take on whatever was coming. Even if it knocks me down once, I will get up twice. No matter what it takes. It didn’t help my nerves when I kept checking and re-checking the time on my phone. Now I just want to get over with it, so I can finally have some peace of mind and not live in the distress for a minute longer. 

Then it was finally 8 PM, sharp. This is a waiting game, I guess. A matter of minutes. 

When the phone finally rang, it was 10 minutes later. The longest 10 minutes of my life, by the way. I’m surprised I didn’t curl up and die within those 10 minutes, that’s what it felt like. 

I give myself a few second pep-talk, clearing my throat, before picking up as nonchalant as I could, acting like I haven’t been sitting and waiting here shaking like a leaf, thinking about if death was more painless, “hi there!”

I mentally cringe at myself for sounding a little too excited and loud, but Alex didn’t seem to mind as he speaks back to me, “hi! Hello. How are you?”

“I’m good, yeah! Nervous, actually, if you can’t tell yet. You?” I’m already starting to crumble and my voice is wavering as I realise that I’m just… me, and he is he. Even as strangers, he’s way out of my league. He is known, adored, watched by millions of people, I am not. I’m average, boring, some would even say. I don’t blame them. So, remind me how am I, out of everyone, here, in this situation? 

I hear him smile into the phone, “don’t be. I’m good, fuckin’ amazing, to answer your question. And just overall, you know…,” he trails off, before taking a sharp breath, “anyway, I guess I’m just here to sort of do a vibe check. I mean, I can tell you’re cool, so there should be no problems there, but—talk to me, about anything. I would appreciate it, though if it was related to the job, but don’t fret too much, okay?”

I now smile to myself too and at the fact that he, first of all, is here trying his best not to overwhelm me, and that he keeps cussing as if he doesn’t care this is technically a business call. I could loosen up a bit too in my own ways. 

“Well, I—first of all, thanks for doing this. I’m really excited about this opportunity,” I ramble until I realize how I’m getting a bit sidetracked here from the question, thankfully he doesn’t point it out, but instead encourages me to keep going, so I did, this time right on subject. I tell him what I can, about myself and my studies that I worked hard for and that would benefit me in succeeding in this job position. He listens every word, throwing in some comments and pleased sounds, as to approve what he’s hearing.

“Wow, yeah, that’s fuckin’ impressive, you should be proud. Not everyone can do it, you know? Like that’s some tough shit if you want to be any good, so I definitely respect what you got goin’ on.”

Why am I now spiraling? Maybe because I can’t recall the last time someone bothered to compliment me on this so thoroughly, and out of all the people possible, it has to be him. I didn’t expect it to actually rob me of words like this.

“Thanks,” I eventually stutter, “didn’t think I was going to hear that, especially from you. It means a lot.”

“Of course, I’m glad it means a lot. I really mean it.”

This is definitely not the kind of vibe I had prepared myself for. I feel like we are already…. bonding? Just a little bit. I feel it more as we keep talking, and one conversation turns into another and then another. I learn something, that he undeniably has a great sense of humour, very witty and likes to laugh, but can also be serious when needed, talk sense into anybody and be the voice of reason. I think it was at least for a good hour that we just exchanged words and stories, and laughed a lot too, of course. I even come out of my shell and tell him jokes, that makes him laugh in turn. 

Before we could get any more in depth, he mutters through a yawn, “I’m genuinely excited to have you, it’s gonna be so fuckin’ great. So, welcome to the Team Quackity—no one says that, I just made that up, I just lied to you—but, I really think you’re gonna do amazing. I think I’m going to put my little best foot forward and head to bed at a decent time, for once. My feet are not little though, like I’m not a fuckin’ gnome or anything.“

We both laugh. It is getting somewhat late and our brains are getting to the stage of tiredness when everything said is suddenly funny. It’s very reassuring to see this human side of him, that he is so easy to talk to and that maybe I was anxious for nothing, and felt the pressure to appear so interesting for nothing, because he made me feel interesting so effortlessly.

And I guess I’m in now, I got the job, judging by his words, that he is excited to have me around in the future. It’s going to take a while to get used to this. Maybe I ever won’t, so he’ll always keep me on my toes. 

”I’ll see—or talk to you soon, I think,” I tell him. 

He doesn’t bother correcting me or himself, “yeah, I’ll see you soon, very soon probably.”

After that all I heard was rustling from his end and a small noise indicating he was getting tired, so we both know it’s time to wrap things up here. Until next time. It made me want to squirm to know there will be a next time.

I still don’t know how I managed to fall asleep that night with a mind running a thousand miles an hour, but I did, eventually. 

. 

It didn’t take many days at all before I already had something waiting for me in my inbox, some work to do. This is what he must have meant by seeing me very soon.

And so the first day of work and then a whole week of work was over in a blink of an eye, and I found myself busy trying to juggle everything. Doing my best was the best I could do, as I spent my days taking everything in and making this my new normal. Speaking of, it will take a while for any of this to feel normal.

I got to put my rusty Spanish skills to use, I even surprised myself with how easy I suddenly found the language I struggled with at a certain point in my life. I guess all it really takes is finding the right thing.

As to what comes to Alex, I barely hear from him. Mostly because this is strictly business, and when we do talk, it’s about work, and even then he keeps it very short. I understand, he’s busy, I’m not his only priority. The one-on-one talk I got to have with him on the phone that one night, when he was supposed to interview me but we ended up talking about anything else, that was one time and definitely won’t be something that happens frequently. Things have changed since then. There has to be some boundaries set of what is appropriate, because after all, I just work for him and not playing any role of a friend.

So, it’s been very independent, lonely at times, doing this job and I don’t know how or who to talk to about it. New job blues, it must be. Whatever it is, I don’t like it. 

. 

I was startled out of my sleep to my phone obnoxiously ringing. Well, it was obnoxious at first to be woken up like that, until I realised there aren’t many people who would call me this early in the morning. 

I make grabby hands for it, until I find it in the midst of the covers, and to my horror see Alex’s name on the screen. It was still there no matter how many times I tried to blink the sleep out of my eyes, confirming I’m not dreaming. This could be pretty much about anything, which scares me. It’s very unlikely for him to call me anymore just to chit-chat about nothing in particular. There has to be something else.

I hesitantly pick up, “hello?”

“Hi! I just wanted to… you know, check in, ask how’s it going?” he sounds way too happy for there to be to bad news. Whew.

I tell him it’s going good and hear the smile in his voice as he seems to be satisfied with my brief answer, “good, I’m glad. I know it might be a shit show at first, like everything’s new, you feel like you’re alone in it—all of that, but you’re not, okay? Like, I really do appreciate the hell out of you and what you’ve done so far. It’s been really great to see it!”

“Thanks. That’s actually what I needed to hear. It’s been a lot of…. change for me,” I feel like I’m flustered like a fool right now, good thing he can’t see it because I must look crazy. I wish I knew better words to express my gratitude for him right now, because it’s exactly what I wanted to hear, especially after feeling low, but I never thought he’d actually say it. Especially not right now on this specific, beautiful morning when I’m still half asleep and oblivious to the world. 

“I’m sorry if I haven’t really been there to show my appreciation more, but I’m genuinely just so fuckin’ busy, or if I’m not busy I’m sleeping or some shit, because as great as I am, I still do need my little beauty sleeps. But, if there’s anything I can do for you, just—you will let me know, right?”

I don’t know where this is coming from and what is causing him to talk to me in such confidence and care. All I know is that I suddenly don’t feel as alone as I did not too long ago.

“Sure. I’m really glad you told me that. Takes a bit of a weight off my shoulders.”

“Of course,” he emphasizes, “I’m glad we’re on the same page. So, what are you doing right now?”

I’m surprised at his attempt to keep talking to me instead of hurrying to go on with his day, like he usually does. I rack my brain for something sensible, if there’s a right answer to his question, “uh—is this a trick question? Is there something I forgot to do?”

He laughs, “no, no, I swear! So, you’re not up bright and early, not a morning person?” 

“Who is?” I chuckle and fight off a yawn.

He groanes as if stretching himself to prove his point, “fair. So, you’re not doing anything? You’re free to—I don’t know—have a little chat?”

Is there something he hopes to discuss, since he keeps hanging on the line? I don’t know for the life of me what that would or could be, or maybe I’m wrong and mean and paranoid and he is just kind enough to call me and initiate conversation after not hearing from me in a while.

“Yeah, sure. Anything in particular you want to talk about?”

“No. Just anything, like fuckin’… why Spanish? Why did you learnt Spanish in the first place? Why did you chose it?”

Great question. I smile to myself, “sounds like you had something to ask me all along.”

And so we fell into a conversation about it, about me deciding to learn Spanish in the first place, me telling him it was more of decision that I made one night when I was bored and couldn’t sleep and thought it was a such a godsent, brilliant idea. And so I applied for those classes that same night, I think I was half asleep and delirious, and the next morning I had to suck it up and face the consequences of my sleepy actions and attend those damn classes. It was surely tough at first, like everything new is, but eventually, with some hard work, I got the hang of it. 

It was over 30 minutes later, when we finally said goodbyes and hung up and then it was silent again, except for his words now echoing in my head, and how he seemed to be very into learning more about me, like he eats, sleeps and breathes that new information.

Now that I sort of have his permission to rely on him if I need to, I want to make the most of it. I mean, possibly, if I ever need it, but on the flip side, I’m aware I’m not here to make friends or connections. We haven’t really even connected more than as people who work together so far, which I understand. Except for those few longer talks we’ve had on the phone, but I think since he’s so approachable, he probably talks like that with everyone. I don’t feel too special yet.

.

Things slowly made more sense and fell into place as it was that same cycle for the remaining of the week and the weeks after. I spent the days sitting at my desk, working. Time flied, for sure. The only thing that made me feel as if the days were dragging, was that I didn’t hear much from Alex. I actually didn’t hear from him at all, except for when I reached out to him concerning work, but other than that we didn’t really talk. I didn’t want to be the one to reach out to him for a casual chat, because it felt inappropriate, unprofessional even.

I definitely got crashed back to the harsh reality from whatever high I had been on when he used to have the time to talk to me. I understand it, but I did kind of crave some human interaction, some communication. Blame it on me and that I’m a people person and that maybe I find him interesting just a little bit. 

I want to know how he is doing and kind of wanted to have him ask me how was I doing too. Well, I am buried in work, that’s how I’m doing. I sometimes too need something, or someone, to share the burden with. I wonder if I’ll always feel this way.

.

Something blaring disrupts my sleep and wakes me up. Whatever it is, it’s too loud for whatever time it is. It’s not my alarm, I acknowledge, but my ringtone. My phone. I recognize that sound. 

It almost hurt to pry my weary eyes open so fast, but I still experience a deja-vu. This sort of feels all too familiar, doesn’t it? Who’s calling me this early? It’s 9 AM on a... Saturday!? I completely forgot it‘s the weekend. That’s what intense work hours does to a human.

“Hello?” I didn’t even try to conceal the sleep in my voice.

“Well, hello to you too,” my oh-so-dear-friend speaks on the line. Right now I feel like I could tell them off, but to be fair, we haven’t talked in a long while. I just realised how long it’s been since I have heard their voice now that I’m hearing it.

I groan groggily, “hi, hello. Cut the chit-chat and tell me why you woke me up.”

I pull the phone away to check the time again on the screen, if I had read it correctly. Yep, 9.01 AM on a Saturday morning. No one should be awake at this hour, especially not me. 

“I was finally able to sleep in today, you knew this,” I keep whining.

My friend just laughs like this is all a joke, “or you could come and have breakfast with me, just like the old times. I work too, so don’t tired-shame me! I love sleep as much as you do, but it’s not every weekend we can do this anymore. You barely even talk to me these days.”

I sigh again, now out of pity, because as tired as I am, they’re right. We really don’t even talk as much as we used to do when we were not busy with work and well, adulting. Life. Ugh.

“Fine,” I eventually agree to it, “you got me. I’ll see you soon then, I guess.”

My friend squeals, “you really gave in already, this easily? I’ll see you soon!”

I stretch my tired body that feels like it isn’t ready to get up just yet. I need a minute, or two, or ten to wake up and I probably have like 30 minutes to an hour to get ready. Definitely enough, even if I stall in bed for a bit longer. And that’s what I’m planning on doing.

I cry out when my phone rings again not even a few minutes later. There’s no way my friend is on their way already. Or maybe something came up and they are telling me I can go back to sleep. Am I an awful person for wishing that? I had a change of attitude when I saw who was calling me.

“Hello?”

“Hey! Long time no see, or talk,” he speaks. It’s Alex.

Why is he calling me now? I’m suddenly feeling way more awake than I did just seconds ago. Yeah, screw sleep. What does he want?

“Yeah,” I laugh nervously, “what’s up?”

“So, something needs to be up for me to call you? I can’t just call you?” he speaks before breaking into laughter, “I’m just fuckin’ around, I’m kidding! Anyway, speaking of that seeing, how—what would you say if I asked if you want to pop a visit to my place? I’d love to see you in person, you know, and I’m in town, I have like no shit to do for once, I’m a free fuckin’ man. If I was you, I’d take advantage of that, but you do you, I guess.”

This is not what I expected in a million years. Even if his house was the only house in this world, I still wouldn’t expect access there. I mean, I’m flattered as hell, but why? I’m sure he has other friends he would rather see—and we’re not even friends, actually.

I guess kindness comes in many forms. He doesn’t really owe me anything, especially letting me to see such a private part of his life like the place he calls home. Just because I’m now a part of his job, an acquaintance perhaps, doesn’t mean he has an obligation to let me see more of him. But, who am I to say no?

I hesitate, before finally uttering a response, “sure—I mean, if you’re sure, then yes. I’d like to, it’s not like I have anything to do.”

Except that I actually do have something to do. The breakfast.

Of course I don’t have the heart to correct myself, not when Alex sounds this excited, “great! So, I’ll be expecting you… let’s say in a few hours? Nothing too crazy. I want to—you know, I usually have a thing that I want to see as many people as I can who I’m working with to kind of, just to see them, makes sense, right? A vibe check, some would say.”

Finally he tells me he’ll text me the address later and there he goes, as the line goes dead and I’m left with my own thoughts. As terrified as I feel, I also do feel a little curious. What’s going to actually happen once I get there? Is this a build-up to something bigger? What will he think of me when I’m not just an ideal voice on the phone, but a real, existing person standing in front of him? 

I call my friend and they immediately pick up, “there’s no way you’re already ready! I’m leaving in a few—”

“No!” I yap, “listen—this is an actual emergency, like Alex just called me and asked me to come over, like he actually wants to see me and I said yes, because I spoke before I could think, so here I am, thinking what the hell I have just done.”

“What? What are you talking about? Like right now? You have to go right now?”

“Like soon-ish, yeah, I mean—should I not? Am I actually going to go?”

“Of course you’re going! In what world would you not go?!”

“So—you’re okay with it?” I ask. I don’t care what anyone’s telling me right now, I still feel stubborn if this is the right thing to do. I mean, there’s a lot at stake here. I could like, say something stupid to him or get all tongue-tied. 

My friend sighs loudly, “I’m saying this as kindly as I can, but shut up. You’re going! I’ll just see you another day! Just tell me how it goes then.”

We talked for a bit more, or more like, my friend talked and I halfheartedly listened. I feel completely unprepared for what is about to happen. Good luck to me. Luckiness is not my strong suit, but it has to be today. 

.

I was finally walking to the bus stop when a drizzling rain started to fall, and it did when I got on and off the bus too. Before I was caught in a storm, I check the address on my phone, and then I’m on my way to my destination.

It was not more than 15 minutes when I had made it, and there it was. In front of me was a really nice apartment building. The dark, cloudy sky made it look even more majestic, as it stood tall and proud. As I walk along the concrete sidewalk, I maneuvered my way to the entrance and right up the few front steps.

I feel like I’m doing something I shouldn’t as I make my way inside. Thankfully, I don’t see anyone as I step into the well-lit lobby, because I was definitely a sight to see, a bit damp from the rain and looking around like I don’t know where I am.

My heart is still heavy in my chest and my ears in the elevator. I keep tapping my foot whenever I could keep myself still, which was nearly impossible. But I had some time to think; what do I actually do once I’m there? No idea.

I finally make it to the right door and then it’s now or never. Well, it’s not going to get any easier, so I guess I have to go for it. After I gather the courage to ring the doorbell, I hear the lock turn and see the knob twist, and there he is, in front of me.

He has a really nice, contagious smile that I’ve only seen on screen before, but I never saw just how it reaches his eyes, the dark and captivating eyes that reminds me of nice things in life, framed by his long lashes. He looks relaxed, his face a bit sleepy and his hair covered by a black beanie. 

“Hey!” he smiles wide, looking like he can’t stay put in one place much longer either, “it’s so nice to see you! Come here!”

Before I have the time to say or do anything, he pulls me into a warm, welcoming hug. Definitely a good hugger too. His scent fills the air around me, which has a calming effect. The hug was warm like a sweater and a soft, pleased sigh escaped his lips. 

“Hi,” I mumble against him, “it is. I didn’t know you’re a hug person. Noted.”

Alex just laughs, like it was everyday for him, “thanks for thinking I’m an asshole. What, should I just fuckin’… push you like the asshole I am?”

We laugh off any tension, if there ever was any to begin with. See, he’s really funny like that, which makes me think that maybe there won’t be any rough patches today and we will get along fine. When we pull apart, he takes his body heat away with him, and I feel a little chilly again from the rainfall. He steps aside in the doorway and with an excited grin, invites me in, “come on in!”

I give him a tight-lipped smile as I walk past him, “gladly, thanks.” 

God, I need to stop being so formal and boring, and lighten up a little. My head is still hazy, I can’t remember the reason why I am here in the first place. Was there ever such thing? Guess I’ll find out soon. 

He shows me around inside. What I saw in front of me, was a place that was really simple yet modern, very inviting indeed. Lots of tones of grey and white. There wasn’t any clutter in my sight, everything looked squeaky clean and organized. There was a corner that looked like his streaming set-up, that looked more messy than the rest of his place did.

“So, this is my place slash office, where I do work. Hence the name ‘office’,” he tells as he gestures me to take a look around. I laugh, and he seems satisfied at successfully amusing me, as he moves our attention to the living room.

I agape at how spotless it is wherever I look at. There’s no way he does this himself with a schedule like his, or if he does, it’s impressive.

“I’m a clean-fuckin’-person, okay! As you can see. Honestly, my life hack would be just not to do shit. If you don’t do anything, there won’t be a mess. See, it’s fuckin’ easy.”

We both snicker out loud again and he motions at the tiny kitchen, exclaiming, “this is where I cook! I bust my little ass in this little kitchen every day.”

“You do?” I ask, surprised. Shit, I didn’t mean to say that out loud, especially after what he said, so now it sounds kind of awkward, but it’s also kind of funny. I’m just surprised that he seems to be so good at everything. 

He just chuckles, “yeah. I’ll show you someday. Only if you promise to pay attention to the food and not only to my ass, like get your priorities straight first.”

Oh God. Someday? I’m here for the long run? I’m just going to ignore the latter comment. I put my hands up in surrender, “I promise.”

As we laugh again, I wonder how he is truly, effortlessly funny, like a breath of fresh air. I’m sure I haven’t met someone like him before. Now it all clicks why he has such a wide audience from every corner of the world, it’s not hard to find his personality likeable at all. He wears his sense of humor like it’s his lucky charm and it works.

I follow him with my arms tightly tucked on my sides to the living room area, that’s kind of one with the kitchen, like a joint. I must look painfully awkward. 

“And this,” Alex gestures, “is where I kick back and relax. Not too much time for that lately, I’ve been so fuckin’ busy with work.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt it. I’m glad if I can make your life a little easier in that spectrum.”

He has a nice view of the bustling city from the window too, something I find hard to divert my gaze from, just to find myself staring right into his eyes when I did.

“You do!” he smiles widely, “that’s why I wanted to see you, actually, to kind of know even more about what you’re all about. You wanna sit down for a second? Can I interest you in a drink?” he pulls his best British accent for the question. Oh, so here’s the part when it gets real, him questioning me. 

I agree and again follow his trail to the kitchen and watch as he pulls out a chair for me. He made it seem like it’s such a nonchalant thing to do, but it strangely made my face feel warm. He didn’t have to do that, but he did. I thank him and sit down. 

“So, what would you like to have?” he speaks behind me.

I eye the kitchen, “honestly, whatever’s the easiest for you.”

I hear him hum and then he is gone. I watch as he walks around the kitchen, opening the fridge and the cupboards. I feel a bit creepy just following him with my eyes, so I sneakily pull my phone out of my pocket and see there’s a text from my friend. I should’ve known.

“What’s going on there? I’m dying to know!” 1:01 PM

I kind of did promise them that I would text them as soon as things progressed or happened, which they really haven’t so far. I’m just kind of lost in the moment right now, taking it all in. 

I mentally shake my head and fight a smile, texting them back that I promise and vow to tell everything later, except that not much has happened yet. We haven’t exactly gotten to the point here, whatever it is.

There’s one thing I can’t deny so far and could talk about forever, which is that he’s really fun to be around. He’s one of those people who can immediately light up a room with his energy, which is what he probably does every time he’s with people. I suddenly feel small in his world. Sure, I’m here right now, sitting in his house, and I’m lucky enough to call myself someone who gets to work with him, but still. I’m just one of the many people that gets to watch him shine from the sidelines. 

I put my phone away once I hear him coming back, and watch as he places a drink in front of me, “for you,” and one for himself “and for me,” and sits down opposite me. The drink is lime green. It looks delicious. I tell him that and shiver as I wrap my hand around the cold glass.

He smiles at me with his pearly white teeth on full display, “it’s fuckin’ amazing. I think it’s so cool, like the shit that bartenders do, mix a bit of that, throw a little bit of that in, and this is one of my many creations. I do feel like a bartender whenever I make this.”

I smile and take a sip. It was amazing. “You make this for everyone?”

He seems stunned, “no, no! I mean, I rarely get people over, we’re all just so fuckin’ busy to dilly-dally, and if I do, it’s work related—you’re work related too, I know, but—it’s a day off for the both of us, so fuck it, why not, you know?”

“Yeah,” I take another sip, “well, I’m glad you invited me over.”

He broadly grins at me from behind his glass, “you already told me that.”

I feel myself getting flustered. I’m not really too good with human interactions or words today.

“I’m just kidding,” he gently laughs, “I’m glad you came over, too. Uh—you—how have you liked everything so far? I feel like I know a lot about you already, but you just—you’re a very interesting person.” 

So, this is the kind of stuff he wanted to talk about? And did he just call me interesting? I’m going straight back to feeling nervous. Meanwhile he takes a sip of his drink too and keeps his eyes on me the whole time.

“Me?” I gulp, “I don’t know whether to thank you or tell you that you’re delusional.”

He just snickers again, there was no hint of real hurt or judgment there, “no, no! Like now, you could’ve told me more, something I don’t know, but it’s almost like you got some secrets, like you’re avoiding some shit. Are you? Every time I try to talk to you, you don’t.”

He holds a mischievous twinkle in his eyes and I’m thinking if I should hold back my words here. Have I been holding back that much? I haven’t realised it, if I have. Maybe I’m just scared of being too much and I don’t want to, well, be too much. I don’t know how deep is too deep, especially considering our work situation-ship.

Just when I thought I somewhat know him, he shows me a new side of him. There’s been a lot of people in my life who’s had their eyes on me, but never cared enough to look closely enough to see me the way I am. At least not in the way I feel I deserve, like I do with him. He seems fairly interested in me, which is the highest compliment, I think. 

“I thought you invited me here just to talk business,” I stutter. 

”We’re not working right now, I already told you.”

His face was content as ever as he leaned on the palm of his hand and listened to me talk. And what did we talk about? Everything. All about me. I found it rather easy to open up to him, once I got started. The only time it didn’t feel as easy was when I was reminded how intensively he’s listening and looking at me. I gulp down my drink and relish the sweet taste.

“I think it’s kind of a fair trade if you tell me something about you next,” it’s my turn to grin at him. 

It was enough to make him crack up, “what is this, a fuckin’ truth or dare? Spin the bottle? You want another drink? I could go for another one. Fuck it, let’s do 10 more! This is fun, I’m having a good time.”

He convinces me to have one more with him. I mean, I can’t leave him now, I think it’s just getting good here. We are having fun, is it a bit too much fun? I don’t know, but neither of us seem to care enough to stop it.

I agree, “sure, I’ll have another and dare you to tell me something next, like how did you pick me? Or was it even you? You had your fair share, now it’s my turn.”

I can play this game too and I’m really interested in why he chose me. All this time I thought it was luck, but was it? What else does he see in me? 

He grabs our glasses, going to the kitchen to work his magic again, with his back facing me. It didn’t take him long, but it was long enough time for a silence to fall over us, except for a few clinks from the kitchen, and enough time for me to wonder about what has happened to far today.

He is so chill, unlike me on the inside. He didn’t make a big deal of us meeting, which is fine. I mean, I do work for him, this is all business, so I don’t know what else I would expect to happen. But I am taken aback he is willing to share so much with me and that it doesn’t seem to phase him much. He is letting me read him like an open book. 

He was way too soon back with our second batch of drinks, “so, you want to know why you’re here?”

I nod coyly. 

He beams and leans back on his seat, resting his arm behind him and fiddling with his glass with the other hand, “I mean, you know everything I need you to know and you’re good at it. You know a lot, you’re very smart and you work hard. I saw your application. And I know you’re very funny, too. You were funny as fuck on the phone when we first talked.”

Oh no. Yeah, that was my tired brain talking back then.

He interrupts me, “no, I think you’re funny as fuck. You should do that more often. Why are you holding back?”

“I don’t know,” I don’t know what I’m actually going to say to this one, “I’m not used to mixing my humour with work, I guess, but glad it works for you.”

“It does, like you don’t need to hold back around me. Be yourself, you know? Like, fuck it. I say stupid shit too, but you don’t think any less of me, do you?”

“No, I dont,” I confess. I’m happy he told me that. He’s giving me the freedom to be me, which I never realised is the greatest thing someone could give you. 

After both of our glasses were empty and we had gone over the stupidest jokes and stories that matter, I think it was time for me to get out. We really had found ourselves talking about everything, from our tastes in music to plans for the future. 

I tell him, “I should go soon, but this was fun! We should do this again—probably not! But if we ever happen to… I don’t know.“ Damn it. I know very well we shouldn’t and probably won’t ‘hang out’ like this again. Stupid me, not knowing when to stop. I’m such embarrassment-prone.

To my luck, he shakes his head, “no, I’d like that! You have a phone, I have a phone, you know, let’s make shit happen. Easy.”

I dodged a bullet right there. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to think that us meeting up again would be unprofessional or weird and I didn’t make matters worse.

We get up and I let him lead me to the door. I’m about to step out, but not before turning to see him standing there with his arms spread out for me. A little warmth rushes into my cheeks as we mold together and share a hug for the second time today and he gives my back a soothing rub. 

“Have a safe trip home,” he speaks lowly in my ear.

I watch him return the small smile through the little crack, until the door shuts close with a soft click. I walk back to the elevator, and once I’m certain I really am alone, I pull out my phone and text my friend. I didn’t even realise what I was typing as I was typing it. 

There’s one thing in my mind I need to air out, because the longer it stays there, the more it becomes a secret. And I don’t want to keep secrets from my friend right now, secrets that are confusing me as much as it will confuse them;

“Oh my God. Since when has he become so attractive?” 3:05 PM

.

It didn’t take long at all for my friend to reply, like they had been waiting by the phone, but certainly not for a message like that. For the first time ever, I was honestly scared to see what they have to say this time. I don’t blame them though, I myself even feel a little scared of what I’m feeling right now.

“What?! What did you guys even do? You know this sounds very suspicious?” 3:06 PM

Trust me, I know it’s stupid, but it’s the way he actually cared to listen to me, and, I don’t know, appreciate me like no one has before. I’m afraid no one will understand what I mean, they would have to meet him and be in my place to understand. He is somehow irresistible in every way, the way he talks, the way he listens, both just as important qualities. 

I guess there is no use in explaining myself, but I still text my friend back, trying to find the right words;

“Nothing like you’re imagining, we just talked! But he said some nice things to me, like he finds me interesting, like he’s just a very nice person and he has an attractive personality. I don’t know if that’s a thing but if not then I just invented it.” 3:09 PM 

I know if there’s someone who sees right through me, it’s my friend and I will probably be called out any second now. Just to be clear, I would not mess with him nor this job opportunity. I’m not like that, I just appreciate a good personality, I guess. And I mean, I’m not saying his looks are bad either... but, no.

My friend replies,

“I believe you, but this sounds like so much more. And I’m quoting you now, ‘attractive’?!” 3:11 PM

I wish I would’ve kept my mouth shut, because I don’t think I will ever hear the end of this. I end up finding my way back home safe and sound, which was actually a miracle, considering that I didn’t really pay attention to where I was going or which bus I hopped on, because there was just one thing on my mind. I don’t like Alex like that, but I’m also running out of ways to defend my case. It’s too soon to even think about these things. 

I went to bed early, deciding to catch up on some tv-shows, because I didn’t exactly know what else to do with myself. And sure, I was also texting my friend, telling them it’s not like that and if we can now drop it and move on. I feel too stupid and embarrassed to think about it any longer. So I just got ready for bed and started up a tv-show re-run. Of course I couldn’t pay much attention when I had my friend blowing up my phone and my brain screaming the same stuff at me. This secret can never get out. 

.

The next day, as I woke up, the first thing on my mind was whatever it was that had taken over me yesterday, but other than that it was all the same. I so wanted to text Alex, thank him for having me over. I suddenly felt so very bored of my own life, as I realised that wasn’t going be something we do often, if ever again.

I spent the whole day in bed, just killing time and relaxing, not like I had anything else to do. I could call up my friend, but I honestly still feel a bit embarrassed to talk anything over with them yet. I would rather solve it myself. My feelings, my problem, right?

.

A few weeks have passed. I haven’t talked much with Alex. It’s the same as usual, we have fallen back to the normal ritual, where the only interaction we ever have is strictly work-related talk. 

I, myself have also finally fallen back into my calm state of mind and so has my friend. Everything feels the same it’s always been. Obviously, my friend hasn’t completely let me live it down, but I can live with it. We still occasionally talk about it, or more like, they ask me if I’m okay, because apparently, I sounded so passionate about my feelings and it’s not healthy to brush them off. 

It wasn’t until a few more weeks had passed by swiftly, when I heard from Alex again, on another Saturday evening. My phone was going off, with his name on the screen.

“Hey. Sorry if this was sudden, or whatever,” he quietly speaks to me when I pick up.

“It’s fine,” I assure, “I actually have been waiting to hear from you.”

Was that too much? I feel like that’s one thing that would have been better if it only existed in my head. I was relieved to hear him find the humour in it though.

“Yeah?” I heard him chuckle on the phone, “you’ve been waiting for me like I’m fuckin’ Santa or some shit?”

I laugh too and played along with his usual banter, “oh, yeah. Now, do you have something for me?”

He actually sighs and gets serious, “I have like, bad news and then there’s like, amazing news.”

Oh no. How bad are we talking about? Is it about me? Just when I thought things would go back to normal, whatever normal is. I make a noise to urge him to keep going.

He sighs again, “okay. I’m… going to have to move and leave that fuckin’ amazing apartment behind, that you just saw a few weeks ago. Like, what the fuck? I get it, like life comes at you fast, but like, fuck.”

“What?” I ask him, sounding too disappointed for my own liking, “you have to? Like, this is it? You’re getting evicted or something?” 

He finally laughs lowly, “okay, fuck you. I’m just kidding! No, actually—I got this offer, hear me out, this is a big ass spoiler, but I’m getting a huge sponsorship, which means that the amount of content I have to do for them, and with them, of course, is just so much that it would be necessary for me to live there. At least for now.” 

He keeps on rambling about this opportunity and genuinely sounds like he couldn’t be more excited, meanwhile I don’t make a peep.

“And I figured to tell you now, because I know you’ll be cool about it. I’ll still have work for you to do, so technically this doesn’t change anything for you, but, I mean, fuck it, why wouldn’t I do it?! It’s time for me to spread my little wings and go out there in the big world,” he keeps going while I still remain silent.

“Oh, wow, not what I expected to hear, but that’s awesome. So, where’s the bad news?” I finally say to him, when I don’t hear his voice anymore, trying my best to conceal the lack of excitement in mine. 

“I know right! Those aren’t even bad news, ‘cause like, what the fuck? It’s going to be amazing. I figured I should let you know, ‘cause when you see me filming from somewhere else, just so you know I haven’t been kidnapped, I’m not streaming from someone’s basement. No one’s forcing me to make content.”

Well, that got a genuine giggle out of me. I want to show my support more, but I feel a bit sad about this. I don’t know why. Why do I find it so hard to be happy for him right now? 

I understand that this is really something he wants to do, something that’s bringing him lost motivation back, so what else would I tell him other than ‘yes, it’s a good idea’? Even though it means he’ll be far away in another state, God knows exactly how far, but I can’t be selfish and act all hurt when this doesn’t even affect me. But, how long will he be gone for?

“So, when will I see you again? Not anytime soon, I assume?” Now I’m asking the real questions here.

“I know... yeah, probably not. Shit just happens so fast, isn’t that crazy?”

At least he’s honest. I don’t know and neither does he. There’s my answer. I’m not going to lie, I’m a little upset. I guess we have—I don’t even know how much more—time left, and then everything will change, or not, like he assured, but I think it will all change for us. Maybe not in all the worst ways, but how often does change not hurt at first? It always does. 

.

That bitter feeling didn’t die, no matter how many days I tried to drown it for. There’s still a tiny string in me holding onto the hope that he’s not leaving. I know it’s selfish, I hate it too. I hate how I’m doing this to myself. I’m especially having one of those days today, when I feel like doing nothing, but I have to get work done. It’s just hard not to think about him when my work centers around him, like I really can’t get away. 

I just never thought we would run out of time. Isn’t it cruel how we only appreciate time when there’s not much of it left?

I decide to wrap up work early today. I had sat on my desk the whole morning, staring at the screen and realising that words don’t make sense to me, I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing, like this stupid editing program suddenly feels like a stranger. If I’m going to do a crap job, I might as well just not do anything. The deadline isn’t until tomorrow. 

My mind is more occupied with things with a shorter deadline, other things I have to solve before I can immerse myself in anything else that requires complete focus, like the strange feeling I got after hearing him break the news. It shouldn’t matter to me, so why does it feel like it does?

I shut down the computer after saving the little work I got done. I need to look after myself, do the things I used to do and enjoyed doing before all this happened and he came and rocked my world and hopefully I’ll get over it, and myself.

Just out of pure curiosity, I want to know how things are going for him. I’m not trying to get my feelings hurt, but it’s only been a few days, nothing too major hasn’t happened yet, right? The buzzing of my phone jerkes me back to reality. It’s Alex!

“Hi!” I balance my phone on my shoulder, as I finished patting my face dry after a very refreshing shower I just had.

I can hear him clear his throat and speak, “hello. I just woke up, I know it’s like, what, 1PM? Holy shit. Anyway, uh… what are you up to?”

I wonder what is the reason for this call, but I’m not going to ask. I’ll happily take as much of his time as he can give me, before he gets busy with moving and his new life.

“Nothing,” I reply truthfully, “I mean—I’ve had kind of a slow day today. I just—I’ll get back to work later, right now I’m just trying to unwind myself, I guess.”

“Oh,” he replies, “something on your mind?” Oh, you have no idea.

I try to laugh it off, hoping he won’t try to dig any deeper, “honestly, the usual. You know, life.”

To my relief, he just laughs in response, “yeah, me, if anyone, would know about that. Like, fuck—tell me about it! I don’t know at this point if I’m fighting demons, or if I’m the demon.”

We both laugh and it’s so nice even for a few seconds to just laugh with him, and I hate even more what is about to happen to us. 

“Yeah, like I don’t know who prayed for my downfall, but it’s working for them.”

He yawns, “see, you get it! I knew you would.” Except that I don’t…

“Anyway—you’re probably wondering, how am I doing, so considerate of you. Being all worried and shit. I am after all just a baby. But I’m doing great! Uh—I’ll be busy as fuck soon, so...,” he trails off. 

I hum. I know what he means by that, that he won’t have much time for me anymore. “Yeah, I understand,” I tell him, trying not to sound too sad nor too happy. Just neutral, like how I wish I could actually feel about it. 

“Yeah, so, it’s a big fuckin’ step, but I still think it’s a step that needs to be taken, content-wise, because, after all I just want to keep getting better and bigger. I mean, there is no such thing as too big. That’s what I tell myself every time I—okay, I’m gonna stop myself right there.”

He laughs at himself and I stand stunned for a while, until the joke hits me and I laugh too. And… it made me feel flustered. He is just something else. That’s why I like him. As a friend!

“What was I saying? I don’t know, but yeah, it’s happening and I’m excited. So many fuckin’ great things happening. I hope the same goes for you.”

I hum again, since I don’t trust my voice right now, “thanks. I hope so too. I’m really excited for you. Don’t miss me too much while you’re gone.” Just one lie after another. 

“I’ll try not to. I think I should be the one saying that. You don’t miss me too much.”

“Wait, who are you again?”

“Okay, fuck you. Bye.”

We both break into laughter again over the ridiculous banter and hang up. Seems like things are going, and will go, well for him.

I put on a very lazy outfit, since I had no plans to go anywhere today.I had too much time on my hands, so I started overthinking again, and for the rest of the day, it was one thought after another. I wish I could see him one last time, why didn’t he ask to? I mean, I know why. Because we’re not close like that. It was a one time thing, won’t happen again. He probably said that he wants to see me again just to avoid disappointing me and hurting my feelings. They will be hurt either way. 

I wonder what Alex is doing right now, 7PM on a Wednesday night. A text pops up on my phone as I'm scrolling online… from him?!

“Hey! I have some spare time tomorrow, you wanna come over? I kinda owe it to you, but I wouldn’t mind you seeing you either. It’s a fucking mess here but I’m sorry I can’t pack neatly.” 7:01 PM

What on Earth? It seems like for some reason we are in each other’s subconsciousness. I asked for this, but now I feel weird that this is happening. I’m getting what I want and I don’t think I will want it again. I reply;

“Sure! Thought you’d never ask.” 7:03 PM

I slept better that night. Who knows why.

.

The next morning I was up before the sun, bright and early. It wasn’t until the afternoon when I had promised to be at Alex’s place, but I couldn’t sleep and lay still anymore. I’m itching for something to happen, something that involves him and getting to see him, possibly for the last time in a long time.

Then later in the day, it was me going downtown again in the same bus, walking over to the same building. The same elevator ride upstairs. The same long hallway. The same door that already looks like coming home. I shouldn’t get so attached anymore. No more crazy thoughts. 

This time I didn’t even wait around, but rang the doorbell as I pulled my earbuds out. Ironically, there’s nothing but petty, angry love songs on the radio today where someone’s leaving and someone gets hurt. I feel like I have nothing to be scared or nervous about right now. If anything, my feelings should be scared of me, because I’m not going to feel anything. Whatever I felt the last time I was here, I’m over it. 

I heard him turning the lock and there he was, opening the door, all smiles. He looks happy. This time, though, I don’t think I’m alone the reason for it. He doesn’t surprisingly look as disheveled or tired as I imagined, either. In fact, he looks like he has been personally touched by an angel. He is, well, glowing, you could say. Every piece of him.

“Hi!” he ushers me inside, not wasting any time.

I march right inside, “you’re happy to leave.”

He rubs his hands together, “c’mon! I’m having the fuckin’ time of my life! Like—I’ve had good news, c’mon on! Cut me some slack!” He’s so excited to go. Wow. 

If I was him, I would feel more bittersweet, perhaps, but people like him just don’t seem to be having a hard time saying goodbye. Maybe people like him aren’t even supposed to stay too long in one place, like the world needs him as much as I do. Good for him, but sucks for me. He then went off, leaving me by myself, like I’m already one with the house and know my way perfectly around.

I followed him to the kitchen, where it was boxes upon boxes. The living room didn’t look any different. The house looks swept, from what I can see so far. His setup is the only thing that looks somewhat the same, but I can tell there’s things missing, already been put away.

“Wow, you really weren’t kidding, like, this is really happening,” I say, mostly to myself.

This place looks weird and dead now that it’s almost empty, like it’s empty of life too. 

“Yeah! What, are you gonna miss me and shit?” he asks me, amused by the thought, “no sad, happy!”

Then he quite literally places his hand on my shoulder and gives it a comforting rub, before taking off again. I don’t know if it made me feel better or worse.

“I—“

“So,—“

We start at the same time, following by us both saying ’sorry’ in sync. Awkward. But hey, that got us to laugh again. Oh, how I just like laughing with him. I think it’s one of my favourite sounds. God forbid, if he could read my thoughts right now.

“I was just going to ask if I ever get to see you cooking in that kitchen, like you promised?” Way to change the subject. 

Alex gasps with his mouth agape, “no fuckin’ way! How the fuck are you one step ahead of me? I made some of it last night, wondered if you wanna have a bite with me? I mean, of course, you fuckin´ do, right?!”

He starts clapping excitedly, before I could say anything. But the answer is going to be yes, nonetheless. A perfect way to waste some time with him.

In the kitchen, I already knew my seat. It’s the same one I sat on the last time I was here. It felt like personally addressed. I reach for the chair at the same time as he turns to pull it out for me as an act of chivalry. It caused us to knock into each other. Not hard enough to cause an accident, but hard enough to make us both feel embarrassed.

We laugh again, more awkward this time. That was probably the worst fake laugh I’ve ever had to do with him. I sit down and watch as he turns his back to me and takes something out of the fridge.

“This,” he announces, “is my secret recipe, fuckin’ incredible, guacamole.” He brings it to the table and goes back to kitchen to fetch us something to enjoy it with, until sitting down with me. He tells me to dig in, while sitting back and taking off his beanie and running his fingers through his hair. God knows why it made my breath hitch.

When I finally make the move to dig in like he told me to, it’s unlucky he made the same choice at the same time. Our hands touch lightly, before we both quietly apologize and pull them apart like they just had been burned. 

“Relax, it’s all yours,” I tease him.

“Fuck you,” he giggles, a smile creeping in, like he’s glad I broke the tension.

The food was honestly pretty good. I hum in enjoyment, “this is good, you were right.”

He laughs, “I told you. Get used to me being right, if you haven’t yet, it’s about time. I mean, I was right about you, too.”

Is he doing this again, getting all mysterious and sentimental about me? And he does it whenever there’s no escape for me from the conversation, too. I wonder what’s really weighing on his heart. 

I ask him instead, “okay, what does that mean? You always do this.”

“Well, if it wasn’t for my mastermind, you wouldn’t be here, and I wouldn’t have something here that made me thought about staying, but, you know, it’s not like I’m leaving for good.”

I was on his mind as something that’s worth staying for? There’s not much left he can give me anymore, we’re running low on things to say or do when there’s so little time left, but he never wanted to leave without telling me that. It’s the one last high, before we flatline. 

“You really think so? That I’m that special? I’m sure whatever you will find next is going to be worth it, though. I’ll be fine.” I can only keep lying to myself for so long. I’ll be a mess.

Alex straightens himself in his seat, like he’s about to say something crucial, “you’re so fuckin’ special, like I don’t know who hurt you so that you always have to question it. Like this is not the first time we’ve had this conversation.”

He’s right. But what he doesn’t know is that it’s him leaving that hurts me. Maybe I’m just insecure, because I know I’m always replaceable. But maybe he doesn’t think so. 

He slyly continues, “whatever it is, whoever they are… they don’t matter now. Don’t think about them, just think about us—or me, you know I would never judge you for how you feel. And I even told you already that you mean a lot to me, so what are you scared of anymore?”

“I—,“ I really don’t know what to say, “I don’t mean to make this about myself, but… I guess I was just excited to spend more time with you and now you won’t be here. And I know it, that I was a chapter in your life, but you have a whole book to write. So I don’t know how much space there is anymore to write about me.”

I know better than get attached to people like him. They have the whole world to impress, I’m just one person.

“Damn, that was some deep shit. I was not fuckin’ ready for that by any means, but fine. Fuck it, let’s take the deep road,” he babbles in his usual way, “it’s not like the next time I see you will be awkward anyway, because, you know… I won’t fuckin’ see you. I’ll be long gone.”

I pretend to gasp at the joke and play along, even though the truth behind it hurts.

“But I agree, it’s been great, but, you know, I’m just a call away. And I always, always have time for you, like I’ve already fuckin’ saved you a seat in my mind, so I never forget to keep you in my thoughts. See? That was pretty good, I can get deep in shit too,” he grins almost child-likely and nudges me as he gets up and goes on his merry way to the kitchen, cleaning up the table. 

He seems like he’ll be fine enough, so I feel dumb to push it anymore. I just nod, even against my own will and avert my gaze. Maybe I should stop acting so ungrateful, I still get to keep my job and it’ll almost like force him to talk to me once in a while. It’s not the end of my world. Maybe.

We talk more, this time with me trying to act reasonable. He seems to like and laugh at everything I say. I try my best too to keep a smile on my face and tell him, “I’m sure it’ll be fine and we both make it. I’ll be here rooting for you, king.”

“Thank you so much, thank you. It really means a lot coming from you. I’m glad you seem to feel better.”

Yeah. Surely, I’ll be fine… I’ll fake it if I can’t make it. As he’s cleaning up, he tells me I can feel at home and get some water from the fridge if I want to. Well, I eventually figured I should make myself useful and walked up to the fridge in unbreakable strides. 

He seemed to be finished with the dishes and stepped to his right where I was, and our bodies had another collision, I think this being the worst one yet. Like we’re used to it already and know the route out of the awkwardness, we just laugh it off. I don’t understand what the universe is trying to tell me to do right now, because it seems like every move I decide for myself to make is wrong. 

And there comes that weird tension again. I hope he doesn’t think I’m trying to try something here. I would never. But he seems more than fine, and definitely not like he’s internally cursing my name, as he is casually standing there next to me, making these ridiculous expressions and sounds in result of a brain freeze, since the water was pretty much ice cold. It made us both laugh and smile like nothing had happened.

What do we do now? Is this it? I thought as I soon announce that I should leave, before anything else can happen. I make quick work on putting my jacket on and tying my shoelaces, reaching for the door just as he does, and there I find myself bumping right into his side again. 

I suddenly feel the urgent need for the floor to swallow me whole, but since that’s not happening, running out the door seems very tempting. I can’t handle another one of these accidents. I’m so embarrassed. Not the kind of ending I imagined for our story, but I guess it’s better than drowning in tears. Maybe I have a chance in surviving losing him, if this is how I feel.

“Sorry for whatever that was,” I apologize again, God knows for how manyth time today.

He just timidly laughs, not as loudly and lively as he usually does, but it was still a laugh, “it’s okay, you know, it takes two to… fuck up, something like that, right?”

I laugh too now, “that’s true.”

Now we are just standing in the doorway, thinking who’s going to be the first to say goodbye. And I didn’t find it in me to just run out and leave without it. To my luck, he breaks the moment of silence, “so, uh…. I wanna tell you that I’ll see you soon, but I’m actually not sure when I’ll be able to do that. So—I know you understand, right?”

I do. I understand what is happening. It’s almost like it’s finally sinking in that this is it. I don’t know what the future holds. Will I see him again? 

“I don’t want to make any promises, but… I’ll see you at last whenever I’m back, whenever that will be. I’ll talk to you about the new work schedule too, when it’s more topical,” he rants. Yep, at least I get to keep my job. 

I just nod sympathetically, “I understand. Good luck with everything, honestly. I’ll see you someday and in the meantime, we can always talk on the phone.” I feel the need to still remind him that just because he’s not here, doesn’t mean I’m not waiting to hear from him every day. 

“Of course,” he smiles genuinely, so wide that it reaches his eyes, which makes me want to take his word for it.

He then pulls me into a lingering hug, which surprised us both, how there was no hesitation this time to be so close to each other. Sure, my time with him has been short-lived, but it has meant something. Every second mattered and in a matter of seconds time will be irrelevant. Oh, how life goes.

He pats my back, which felt both like a curse and a blessing. It felt too nice to not happen again in a long, long time. Why couldn’t I feel this way when there was still time? 

When he next stares at me from under his long lashes with an unreadable expression on his face, like he’s trying hard to memorize something, I make the move to leave before I fall any deeper into the despair.

It takes a second for him to realise it and to follow me, and now he leans against the doorway, as if he needs something else to cling on to now that I’m out of his reach.

“Go on then, little superstar,” I giggle, “I won’t forget you. Which would be impossible, anyway.”

He starts grinning again, and before he can get too ahead of things and himself, I roll my eyes, “I’m trying to be nice here.”

He gets serious and gives me a more gloomy look before turning it into a smile to almost prevent any emotions spilling, “I know, I know, sorry. Me neither. Trust me.” Trust. That’s what I need, to trust him and let the rest roll off my shoulders.

Soon after we say the final farewells and I watch and hear the door click close for the last time and he is out of my sight for also possibly the last time, at least for a long while. Call me selfish, or a bad person, all of it, but there’s no way he’s actually leaving. I don’t want him to. There’s no way after all that sunshine, it’s now raining this hard. When it rains, it really pours.

Quite literally, indeed, because when I stepped out of the building, it was raining. Ironic. I put my hood on and made my way quickly to the bus stop, staring at the black screen of my phone like any second now he’s going to tell me something, something along the lines of like he has changed his mind. I wiped the raindrops off the screen, they reminded me of teardrops. For some strange reason, I don’t feel like crying at all.

I was already cursing the bus, the bus route, the bus stop. Everything here is going to remind me of him. I can never come back here, unless it’s with him. There’s no way I’m in this deep already, but I am. And there’s no bottom or no one to hold me up this time, I’ll just keep sinking. 

.

The next morning, and the next one, and the next one my immediate thought was Alex, not to anyone’s surprise. The thought of his existence didn’t get me so high as it used to do, since he will now exist so far from me. Just when everything started falling into place. I had already let myself forget the day he’s leaving. Was it yesterday or today, or tomorrow? Or maybe it’s better if I don’t know and will let him leave quietly. So quietly, that the sound of it doesn’t make me flinch. 

I figure I can’t just lay down here in my bed the entirety of my existence or Alex being gone, I have to get back to work and back to, well, what life was like before there was him. But what was my life like without him? I’m not sure I can recall it. 

I realise I could do anything I ever want, but I’m stuck here and there’s a void in me that looks like him. I feel like I’m supposed to just sit on my hands, what else would I do? Later that night I throw myself on the bed again, ready to waste time scrolling through my phone, maybe watch some TV.

I open Twitter and wait as it loads new content for me to see. So, what do I do on Twitter? I do follow Alex, and I see that he hasn’t posted anything new. I also do follow people I find interesting, a few friends, people who have the same music taste and interests as me. I haven’t caught up with the timeline since last night.

The further I scroll, the more I see concerning headlines of news. What the hell is this?

“Another COVID-19 lockdown possible, says experts.”

What’s going on? It says just a few states have been put on high alert, the one I’m in is not included, at least for now. We still get to go about our lives here. I feel my heart sink, thinking about going back to square one. I don’t think we as society can take another one of those. I see it before my very eyes how the news are spreading like wildfire. Everyone is talking about it. It’s all I see and I think it’s all I will see even in my sleep tonight. 

I read until the words didn’t make any sense to me anymore, they were just words of confirming what we all fear. They just made me sick. As the night fell on me, I know I wasn’t the only one in the world who laid wide awake that night. What’s going to happen?

So much for summer plans and so much for possibly visiting Alex or him visiting me. Shit. I just realised what this means for us. It’s the state where he went that’s one of the few mentioned to be prepared to shut down. If only he had never left. 

.

I couldn’t take it anymore. It’s now been more than a few days since I had last seen and heard from Alex, too long when he’s all I think about. I want to know more, ask him how he is. I’m also a little worried, like how he had joked I would be, but now I really am. The world is suddenly not ours to take anymore, so I guess I have a valid reason to be. I text him;

“How is everything?” 1:24 PM

A completely harmless, friendly question. It doesn’t give away too much and he can write me back whenever he finds the time to. 

Instead of doing so, he almost right away was calling me. Even a bigger bargain: I get to hear his voice again!

I picked up the phone expecting him to be in a frantic, excited hassle, but he was calm, it was almost too quiet on his end for someone who’s doing as much as he is. Actually, he didn’t seem to be in a rush at all and definitely didn’t sound as excited as he had the other day. I can only assume he’s tired, that’s the only logic that makes some sense.

“Hey,” wow, he does sound worn-out.

“Hey. I bet you’re tired, so you didn’t have to call me. I just wanted to know that… how are things in wherever you are?”

“No, of course I want to talk,” he assures, “I’m—something happened. I’m sure you’ve seen the news. It’s fuckin’ crazy out there.”

It hits me again. The news that feels like the end of the world all over again. I feel for him. Is he now possibly stuck in another state for longer than he anticipates? 

I sigh, “yeah. I was hoping it won’t mess with you too much?”

“I’m just as fuckin’ caught off guard as you, but… I really can’t go. It’s too bad out there where I was supposed to go to that I can’t go, I can’t risk it. And I don’t want to seem like an ignorant asshole and just take off.”

“What?” I stutter, “I mean, it makes sense, but you mean—where are you right now?”

He lets out a little sad laugh, “I’m still here, in this great apartment of mine, in the middle of all these boxes and all of my shit is packed up, all of it. And now I’m not even going. Think about it.”

He is still here? He never even left? Or more like, he didn’t have the time to leave? He continues before I could get a word in, “I mean, fuck it, I still might as well fuckin’ move to the next block in the spite of having to pack and unpack everything.” 

That made us laugh amidst all of the chaos. I feel bad for him, but it’s a funny thought. But, back to the real topic, he is not leaving after all? What is this universe up to? Did I manifest this unfortunate and unexpected turn of events? I’m starting to feel like I did.

“So, stupid question, I know, but how are you? You never got to leave? I thought for sure you were already gone,” I ask, “sorry, this must be so shitty, I can’t even imagine, and you probably don’t want to answer my stupid questions right now.”

“No, no! I do want to talk, more than ever. I was supposed to leave the day after I last saw you and then all of this kind of happened overnight. I don’t know—I’m just thinking about all the things and shit I don’t get to do now.”

He was so excited just for everything to be called off right before the kick off. I pity him. I’m not exactly sure how to comfort him in times like this, how to say the right things. What even are the right things to say? I know I wanted him to stay, but I never wanted it to happen like this, in a way that drains him of all of his contagious joy.

We talked a long while. Or more like, I let him talk and didn’t wait for my turn to talk. I listened with curiosity and empathy, for as long as he needed. I didn’t fill in the silences, just listened. The last thing he says to me on the phone before we hang up, comes as a total surprise, “hey—you wanna come over?”

. 

And so it went, there I was again taking the same bus downtown to him. I never saw this coming. This looks like a film everyone would love to act in, where the one never gets away, but this is real life. I don’t know how to direct it yet, but I will keep looking for the answers for why this is happening and why he keeps always coming back to me, sometimes even against his own will.

Of course I said yes, when he asked me to come over. 

By the time I rode the elevator, I was fuzzy in the head. This was not supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to come here again, not after we said those goodbyes not even a week ago.

I walked up to his door, and as by some instinct, he opened it before I could even knock. I did a double take, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I mean, it’s him, but... he looks great. Happier, for some reason, even when there’s not much to be happy about, or so I thought. I wonder who made him like that. Whoever it is, consider them lucky. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so serene and beautiful like he does in this light. 

“Hi!” he lets me in, “alright, let’s just forget about the fuckin’ dramatic goodbyes that we had and pretend none of that shit happened.”

He then giggles at his own recollections, so did I. How many times you get this lucky when there is no bye in goodbye? I also still don’t know what is keeping the smile on his face right now. If there is sadness in there, he’s not showing it.

“Yeah, this is pretty fucked. Not to make things about me, but I thought I would like never see you again. Like you’re gonna start a whole new life without me.”

He shakes his head, “not this time. And I mean—I still wanna keep you, I’m not just gonna fuckin’ let you go, no matter what happens. You’re stuck with me, pal.”

“Yeah, literally. You couldn’t get too far even if you tried.” I wonder if he will ever make it out of here. Right now, everything feels impossible. None of us will get out anytime soon.

“Yeah, see?” he grins.

I see some of the boxes in his house are still up, some of them opened and unloaded, as if something necessary has been taken out of them. He follows my gaze and laughs nervously, “yeah, I know, it’s a fuckin’ mess here. And—it’s just that all of these news are fuckin’ with my head, you know? You feel it too?”

I nod. It’s not bad at all where we are, but what if it gets bad here? The only rule is that we can’t exit the state, but that’s already enough to mess up people’s plans. Like his. It’s all ruined for him.

We talk about these arising fears as he guides us to the kitchen and motions me to take a seat. I smile at his thoughtfulness and sit down. He sits across from me, bringing some snacks on the table.

As I secretly watch him there in the brief silence that occurs when we chew on the snacks, I feel the same old familiar excitement to see him and to be here with him. Like I want to fight all the odds that prevents keeping me right here forever. He makes me feel excited about life, especially when we have more promised time now. That’s the closest my words will get to the feeling I can’t explain.

And, he looks... great. Brand new. Attractive, even some would say. Not me, of course… I clear my throat, hoping he’s not catching on to me, “so, you called me here, because… you wanted to talk?”

“Yeah, pretty much. I just needed to know that… I still have you. Like no matter what shit goes wrong, I’ll always have you here. Especially now, when being alone is the last thing I want. I can’t even see my friends from other states or from home, in case shit gets worse, but you’re always here, right?” he rambles.

I’m still too a bit freaked out that I now have him here, right here where I wanted him all along, I suddenly don’t seem to know or remember what I always wanted to tell him. I think he just beat me to it. I think we really need each other, especially at times like this when loneliness is almost bound to happen.

“Yeah, of course. As selfish as this sounds… I’m glad you’re still here. I don’t think I was ready to say goodbye just yet,” I didn’t know what else to say to his emotional outburst other than answering with the same concerns. If honesty is what he wants and needs to hear, then so be it. 

“I knew it. I knew you’re happy I never left”, he tries to suppress his usual grin and raises a brow challengingly at me, “you need me.”

I roll my eyes, “what? That’s all you decided to take from that?”

We both laugh at the banter, like we always used to do. I’m glad we are able to pick up right where we left off. It’s like nothing ever happened. Even though I think we are getting a little sidetracked here. 

He adjusts himself in the chair and leans back, crossing his arms as if to appear more intimidating, “what can I say? I have a selective hearing, you tell me you need me and I’m fuckin’ all ears, just like that.”

“I—okay. I didn’t say I need you, I’m just happy you’re still here. I know, it’s probably weird for me to say this—“

At this point I felt like I was squirming in my seat under his gaze. Why is he doing this, almost obsessed with the idea of me needing him?

“Hey, no. I’m sorry if I went too far joking about it and making you feel like it’s weird. It’s not. I feel very… fuckin’ happy you think so highly of me.”

We talk more, and I learn that the news of the possible COVID-19 outbreak, even if it’s not happening here, has really messed with him and I understand a little better why he is being like this. No one wants to feel isolated and alone and he seems to be holding onto me now more than ever. I understand him, but it will change us. For worse or for better, nobody knows.

“Anything else before I go?”

“Actually, yeah. I have a few friends pop over in a few days. You should come too,” he tells me like it’s nothing and like he has already made up my mind for me.

“Oh?” I ask with genuine surprise, “are you sure? Do you really thinks it’s a good idea for me to meet them?”

“Of course! I think it’d be fuckin’ awesome! They’ve been in the city for a few days now, they’re not coming from another state, so it’s all good, all safe.“

“Okay.”

He grins happily, “great!”

What am I getting myself into here? I need to think things through when I get home. He walks me to the door not soon after that. I thought to open the door and walk myself out, but he had the same thought to open it for me, causing us to collide with each other again. This is such a deja vu, but I didn’t remember how awkward it exactly is.

“Yeah, that’s it. I’ll stop being a gentleman right at this fuckin’ second,” he laughs. I laugh too, because as awkward as it is, he makes it funny.

“Okay, I’m gonna go now, before you jump at me again,” I finally make the move to leave. 

“Uh—excuse me!” he yells after me, “it takes two! It takes two, pal!”

I keep backing away until I’m so far from him, that we pretty much have to yell to make ourselves heard in this hallway, before waving him goodbye. I made some quick strides to the elevator, it was waiting for me on the same floor as if to rescue me. What is he doing to me and why is it working? And why do I kind of like it?

.

So, how do I actually feel about Alex inviting me over with his friends there? The thought of it seemed to excite him greatly, but I, on the other hand, am not sure if I can reciprocate his feelings. I do like hanging out with him doing nothing, but when you throw other people in the mix, will it just blow up in our faces? Am I just ruining things to make myself miserable at this point?

I so want to text my friend at times like this, even though I’m highly aware they would force me to go and socialize, but I figure this is something I just have to decide myself and for myself. Some would say this is out of my comfort zone, but what else would I find comfort in if not being around him? How bad could it be there?

My phone makes a sound. There’s really only one person who would have a reason to text me right now. It’s time to make up my mind, I guess.

I was right, it was Alex, 

“Sooo you coming tonight? I hope?” 4:35 PM

Fortunately for him, I don’t think I have it in me to tell him no. Not when he sounds like this, like he needs me. Like it’s up to me to make or break his night. It’s a lot of pressure to be this important to someone like him.

For now, I reply,

“Yeah, I’ll be there!” 4:39 PM

It’s as if he knows me inside out again and that I’m still questioning my choice, because he doesn’t leave it there, but says,

“Awesome, I was already thinking you’d bail on me.” 4:40 PM

That’s awkward. 

“Never.” 4:40 PM

Guess I’m going. 

.

I popped by a liquor store on my way to his before I hopped on the bus. I’m not usually the one to drink, especially on the first meeting, but I think I need some liquid courage, because I will decay before I can meet those new people if I think about it too hard. Have I already made it obvious that I’m a nervous wreck? It’s already an accident scene in my mind. When I finally arrive at his door, I could already hear the voices of many that I’m not familiar with. It’s still not too late to back out, but I won’t. I didn’t come this far just to come this far.

I knock on the door, and then it opens, revealing Alex behind it, smiling at me radiantly as ever. The smile that I think makes this all worth it. 

He seems to be already having fun with his friends, so it’s still unclear to me why he wanted me here to shuffle the pack. I put on a happy face and my best foot forward, greeting him with the same enthusiasm. Faking it until I make it.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” he was grinning, like he was proud to have lured me here.

“Of course! Always up for a challenge.”

“Hey, everyone’s gonna like you, as much as I do. You don’t ever have to worry about that,” he pouts. 

I wonder what caused him to say that. What is suddenly so likeable about me and how can he sound so sure of everything?

I step in the living room and see three other people that are still strangers to me. So that’s not too bad, I can tackle three. And perhaps Alex was right, if he invited me here it must mean there’s something he sees in me that everyone else will too. It was when I found my seat that they started talking and then it was my job to keep up.

“Hi! I’m Karl!” a brunette opposite me spoke and gave me a little wave. 

“Punz,” the person next to him raised his hand as a greeting and popped snacks into his mouth.

“Oh! I’m Foolish!” the last person speaks and laughs lightly.

I wonder what happens next and how much they already know, or more like, what has Alex told them about me. Well, I was nevertheless about to tell them something that I hoped to be interesting enough, but got cut off by Punz as he waves me off and gestures to bottles on the table, “oh, we know who you are. Here, have one—oh, you brought your own drinks, nice.”

Oh, now I really am curious what have they heard from Alex. If it’s anything like what he told me at the door, I have a lot of expectations to meet. I’m totally cool about it, as cool as the drink I crack open and take a sip of. Bless them for initiating small talk while we wait for something to happen, since we are still the guests here.

Speaking of Alex, where the hell did he go? I haven’t seen him ever since he let me in and told me I don’t have to worry about a thing. Well, now I am worrying a bit, am I the only one who feels bothered by his absence? 

“Yo, where the hell did he go?” Karl asks everyone at the table.

So, it seems I’m not.

We all look around ourselves but he was nowhere to be seen. As if he planned this all along, leaving me alone with his friends so we have no other choice but to gather around and talk to each other. It would have happened even without his shenanigans, so I don’t understand why this was necessary, if that is the case.

We couldn’t help, but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Karl hid his smile with his sleeves and slapped the armrest, “he really said hi and bye. Can you believe him?”

He shakes his head disapprovingly. Punz seems fixated on the snacks he is still eating, good for him. Foolish was laughing too, like this was the main entertainment. I feel anything but entertained, I forgot to expect the unexpected whenever I am with Alex. You never know with him. I just sat there and drank my drink.

“So, what do you guys wanna do? Since it’s just us,” Foolish asks and wiggles his eyebrows, leaning forward to rest his hands on his knees, balancing the neck of a bottle on his fingertips.

I don’t want them to change their plans for me or to stop doing what they were doing before I got here, but obviously, true to my nature, I don’t dare to tell them that. My head is playing tricks on me, making me think there’s still a reason to keep my guard up and shy away.

Karl looks like he’s going to say something, like a brilliant idea washed over him, but then just asks me, “you two seem like you’re pretty close. Are you?” 

My jaw slacks open in surprise. I assume he’s talking about me and Alex. What do I even say to that? 

“Yeah, I think so—“

“Really? What do you like about him?” Karl bombards me with more questions, “ahem, as friends, of course.”

What is this about? What are my answers being used for? 

I’m confused, but answer, “uh—everything?”

I don’t really know what to say and I acknowledge that Alex could come back any second and I don’t exactly want to be caught talking like this. 

Karl tucks his lips into a tight-lipped smile, “well, if that ain’t the cutest thing. I asked him the same thing and he told me pretty much the same about you. Do whatever you want with that information.”

It’s now my turn to ask him, “really?”

He said that?

Karl just smiles again and yells out to Alex, wherever he is, “in case you forgot, you still have guests over and we would like to do something here, with or without you!”

Okay, so that conversation is over and I’m left drawing the conclusions and connecting the dots myself. It looks like a messy map of undecided feelings and missing truths. Did he really mean it, and if, why?

We all dissolve into laughter when Alex finally comes out of hiding and yells, “okay, asshole! Some of us has to look good tonight.”

Not too much had changed about him that would explain why he was gone for so long. Well, he had changed his outfit and from what I can tell, maybe fluffed his hair a bit, but I don’t see why that is necessary. He can do whatever he wants in his house, I guess. Not that I mind what he looks like, I myself am very casual and so are the other guests.

“So,” he claps his hands together and sits down next to me, not taking his eyes off me, “you okay?” 

I nod. He has no reason to worry about me so much, but I appreciate his heartfelt care. It’s a two-way street, I acknowledge I would do the same. It causes a grin to break out on his face, “great! So, should we play something? Jackbox?”

We did that. I was sitting there on the couch, with my legs pulled up to my chest, curling away, watching the game play on, downing my drink. 

Somewhere along the night, he was resting his arm on the back of my seat. I didn’t think much of it, until I felt his fingers toy with my hair. Does he even realise he’s doing it? I let it go and let him do his thing. It’s new for the both of us, a touch that’s so gentle and light as a feather it’s almost make-believe, but it feels nice and real. It’s making me want to stay here longer.

The game went on, we didn’t get through a round without laughter and genuine fun. I don’t know what happened to me about halfway through the night, I drank like never before. It occurred to me that it’s a receipt for disaster, but I’m way past thinking straight anymore. We just had a bit too much fun, or I did. Like I said, I never take things this far, but the rules slipped my mind tonight.

Foolish stretches with a strained cry and we all contagiously yawn as we wrap up the game for the night.

Alex mumbles next to me, “did you guys know there’s a fuckin’ fancy pool downstairs? I think it’s closed now and probably has restrictions and shit anyway—”

“Why tell us about it then?” Punz asks.

Karl was giggling again, “and who asked? We get it, you’re rich and we can’t go there—”

“No!” Alex defended his case, “I just—that would’ve been cool.”

It would’ve. I’d like to see the pool. Maybe someday. 

Karl hums, “hm, did you want to look at the stars with me and kiss me under the moonlight?”

We all laugh again and watch Alex throw a cushion at him.

Everyone soon scattered around the house to take bathroom breaks and such. As I attempt to hoist myself up, I definitely feel more drunk than I had intended to be tonight. I give up and sit back and hug my knees again, hoping this will pass. Alex gets up too to clean up the empty bottles on the table and floor. I’m scared I’m going to make a mess that won’t be so easy to clean up. 

I’m mentally cursing everything and myself, mostly myself for crossing the line, and how awkward it is sitting here alone. I want to get up and make things better, but before I know what is happening, I find myself falling to the ground. There’s no way to really say how I feel other than that I feel like I’m on a merry-go-round that doesn’t stop for anyone. It’s making my stomach churn and head spin. Everything is spinning, until I crash and hit the ground, or whatever I fell onto.

I’m listening but don’t hear anything, thinking it’s the alcohol messing with my head, until I realise there’s no sound. It’s a pin-drop silence. We’re almost frozen in time, right in this moment.

Alex finally fills the silence and speaks to me, holding onto me, “are you okay? Should I—tell me what can I do for you?”

Did he…. catch me? I mean, he must have, because I’m not shattered on the floor right now, but instead it was a very delicate fall. It didn’t even feel like falling, but the proof that I did is right there when I open my eyes that brings me a distorted vision of the floor.

“It’s probably just the alcohol, you know. We should get them water,” I hear someone else speak for me.

I then hear sounds from the kitchen, until it’s silent again, anticipating. 

“Here,” Alex advised me, “drink this.”

I felt a glass tilted against my lips and gulped down some water, and prayed this will all pass. This is such a nightmare, and I don’t even know who’s the villain here. I didn’t even drink that much, or did I?

Alex shakes me a little to get my focus, “do you feel sick? Just nod or shake your head.”

He kneels by my side and lays a warm hand on my shoulder, rocking me a little. That’s one thing I’m painfully aware of right now, how close we are. I hesitate to let him get any closer to me, in case this turns into an awkward memory. I mean, it’s already embarrassing enough as it is, I just don’t need him to touch me in ways he will later regret. 

He seems to notice my upset state and lifts my head to rest on his knees for a little comfort and holds me a little closer. This way, I can feel his every move, almost even every breath he takes. It oddly helps me, trying to synchronise our breathing, reminding myself that I can live through this.

I shake my head weakly, too weak to speak. Thankfully, he understands. I can see it in his terror-stricken eyes. Is he scared for? 

“So, that’s a no. Would it be okay to move you onto the couch?”

I nod, giving him the green light. I’m still here, pathetically lying on the floor like a wounded animal and no one knows what’s the right thing to do.

Alex nods back at me, “okay. Is this a stupid question if I ask if you can stand up? Even just for a few s—”

“Oh my God,” Punz groans, “yeah, no offence at all, but that’s a stupid question. I mean, look at them.”

Yeah, look at me... I know there’s no judgment there behind his words, it sounds almost pitiful, the way he talks about me. He sounds like someone who wants the best for me. 

“Okay,” Alex panics, “sorry. Is it—do you want me to carry you?”

Like he’s asking permission from me before daring to move me or touch me in a new way. I’m not in a good headspace to think, but that was kind of adorable of him. I nod, before I feel overtaken by nausea again. I can feel it in my guts, literally. 

I can make out Alex again hovering somewhere over me as he witnesses the colour draining from my face and my eyes drooping, like there’s something I’m trying to fight against. He seems to get the hint when I gesture him that I don’t feel good and then there’s four voices again frantically talking over each other about what to do with me.

“Are you—okay, okay. Should we go to the bathroom?!” Alex’s freaking out. Poor him.

Meanwhile I think I officially have the worst taste in making decisions. I’m in last place in learning lessons. This should have never happened. It doesn’t matter anymore, but I know better. 

“Yes!” Punz steps in, “take them!”

Those are the last words I can hear before I feel like silently I’m blacking out and spiralling into darkness.

. 

The next time I gain some sort of consciousness is when someone is talking and gently caressing me. I’m on the floor again, and that floor is cold, which feels nice on my hot skin. I don’t know where I am now, or who is with me, but my head is too heavy to ask myself those questions. I want to lay here for a second and just catch my breath, before I catch myself triggering another wave of nausea.

I feel someone leave my side for a minute, before they come back and drape something warm over me, as I lie still, too sick to utter a word. And so there were no further words spoken, until they squeeze me tight and whisper, “are you okay? Please, for the love of fuckin’ everything, tell me you’re okay.”

Assuming they are talking to me, I nod. I’m getting there, I’m going to be fine. I think.

“Oh, thank God,” they whisper back, keeping their voice low, “tell me if you need anything and I’ll deal with it.”

I really need my bed. No more words are needed when they say everything with their touch, rubbing their fingers comfortingly against my skin where they are holding my arm. I take a sharp breath as I feel my stomach twist and turn again very unpleasantly and pray they don’t hear it, but they do.

“It’s okay,” they murmur quietly again, “is it okay that I’m here with you?”

I nod again. 

I lost all track of time and place as I laid there in the silence. The silence seemed to be fulfilling enough for the person with me too, like keeping me company was the main reason they are here. By the way, I have no idea how long me and they have been here, wherever we are, but they never rush me. It never happens, no matter how many minutes of this night we are wasting.

Then it comes to the point of intoxication when I feel very swept up in emotions, like I had burned like a birthday candle that burns for joy, but now I’m burning out. I don’t even flinch when tears prickle my eyes and I start sniffling, as dramatic as it is. I really try to contain it, but my body doesn’t listen and wants to stir the pot and make me more of a mess. So I have no fight in me.

The person next to me doesn’t seem to mind as they lean down to fully capture me, their body radiating warmth against mine and hands urgently pressing wherever they could and stroking my back. Still no words said, but letting the actions speak. I know it’s not the right time or place for this, but when’s the last time someone has held me like this or would love this version of me? They keep me there tightly in place, tucked against their chest, giving my frame a few easing squeezes to tell me to take my time. 

When they pull away, I whine in the loss of comfort they once brought. 

“One more hug?” they ask me. As soon as I nod, we are back to cuddling there on the floor. It must not be so comfortable for them, but they put up with it, for me.

I’m startled to the core when I hear a door opening to the room we’re in, and a voice, “the car’s here. Ready whenever you are.”

That sounds a lot like one of Alex’s friends I met tonight.

The someone who’s still lying by my side tells them, “okay, great. Uh—we’ll be right out, okay?”

That sounds a lot like Alex. 

Wait, so I’m still at Alex’s place, in his bathroom, and everyone is still here? I’m embarrassed. Cheers to the night I wish to forget. The only memory I wish to revisit tomorrow is Alex and his tendency to closely watch over me. He did more than what was enough and showed me something about him I haven’t seen before. I like the new highs he took me to, but I’m not going to like the come-down tomorrow.

I jolt somewhat awake when I’m being helped to stand up and then walked downstairs and put in the awaiting car. This ride is not going to be nice with an upset stomach like mine. I don’t have to worry about that for too long though, when I close my eyes and then I’m out like lights.

.

I wake up to sunlight peaking through the window, shining on my face. I don’t know anything, but I do know that I feel like hell, at least emotionally. My mouth is dry as ever and my body feels icky. It’s uncomfortable to a point, that I wish I could step out of my current skin and put on a clean, nice one that doesn’t hurt. I’m happy to make the observation that I’m in my bed and that I made it home last night, or, well, I must have made the absolute walk of shame home last night.

I don’t know how long I have laid here like the dead, it doesn’t feel that long at all since I was sick at Alex’s. Speaking of him, how will I ever speak to him again without wanting to die of embarrassment? I didn’t have much time to think about it, when my thoughts were diverted to something else; I’m wearing more clothes than I did when I left. I’m talking about the soft hoodie I still have draped over me, Alex’s hoodie that he lent me for comfort. Awkward. It’s so bad I wonder if it will ever get good again.

I’m scared to check my phone, I really don’t want to know or see anything right now that would make me feel worse, but I still check it. The time on the screen tells me that it’s 11:45 AM and that my friend had texted me not so long ago;

“Come to my place today! We’re having a partyyyy. I know you love those ;)” 11:34 AM

Right, it’s Saturday, of course they are having one. When it comes to this party and my invitation, I can’t even look at alcohol right now, not after the night I had. It’s the last thing I need to expose myself to and it’s almost inevitable.

No text from Alex, nothing. A part of me wishes to see him, to apologize and give back his hoodie, but I don’t know what he thinks of me anymore. I know it would be better to make the big step forward and own up to it, but I was so out of line last night that I’m honestly terrified to talk to him right now. He probably resents me. I do too, it’s almost inspiring. I might be weak and unstable, but at least I’m trying. He and what we have, it means too much to let it fall apart.

I went back to bed and texted my friend back, telling them about last night. Not all of it, but enough for them to know I feel vulnerable and psychically I’m not doing much better.

While I lay there in the silence I created, I let the memories from last night creep back, or the ones I can remember. The tender touches from him, the whispers that were all for me. The hold he had of me, like I was the only thing he wanted to touch. I have forgotten to miss his touch already when there’s still a mess I have yet to clean up and this time he won’t help me. He hadn’t signed up for taking care of me, but he still did and followed through like it was a contract. God, how will I ever make it up to him? 

So, tonight’s party. I think I feel fine enough to go as long as I stay away from the drinks, stay there for an hour or two just to say hello to my friend, and then come straight back home and continue rotting in bed. It’s settled then.

I take a long, refreshing shower which soothes some part of me, but I still have this shame that doesn’t come off in the wash. That’s not how life works, unfortunately.

As I’m picking out an outfit, my phone pings to notify me of a text from Alex. Shit. I’m terrified to see what he has to say, but I know I have to take on my biggest enemy right now; the consequences of my actions. I don’t want to leave him hanging right now, so I read it immediately. 

“Are you okay???” 1:34 PM

That’s all his text says.

Well, I have this shame in me that’s eating me alive, but other than that, I feel okay, I guess. This is why I sometimes hate texting, not being able to read people. I can’t tell if he’s mad or worried, or somewhere in between, and I don’t know how I deserve to be perceived right now.

“I’m okay, but so embarrassed I’m not even sure I can talk right now, but I know we need to.” 1:36 PM

He must’ve been waiting to hear from me, because it didn’t take him long to respond;

“No, it’s fine. Seriously don’t worry. I’m just glad you’re okay. It was an honour to take care of you ;)” 1:36 PM

Why would he say that? I can’t remember what I have done and am not sure if I want to know. And when it comes to him reassuring me this is fine, I want to tell him it’s not and that he has every right to be frustrated, but I don’t exactly want to go against what he is saying to me and argue. How will I win if I don’t want to fight?

“Stop, this is so embarrassing. Can’t wait to never be invited again.” 1:37 PM

I fairly wouldn’t be shocked if last night was my last night at his place. His lack of irritation and ability to brush things off has so far been surprising. I wonder if he really is okay and what is he doing today. Is he thinking about me, us, and what to do with me? He is not going to fire me over this, is he?

He replied shortly;

“Can’t wait to invite you again ;) What are you doing today?” 1:39 PM

Just like that, he read my mind. 

“I’m actually going to a friend’s place, there’s a party BUT I am NOT drinking! Just wanna say hi and then bounce. Believe me, alcohol is the last thing I want right now. What are you doing?” 1:41 PM

I feel stupid now that I said it out loud, that I’m attending another party after last night. He must think I’m insane, if he already doesn’t. 

My phone pings again to alert another text from him;

“Oh nice, don’t drink, I’m not there to save you ;) Doing nothing.” 1:44 PM

I’m just going to ignore those winky faces he keeps sending me and how they make me feel. Just when I thought things couldn’t get more weird between us, they do. I type;

“This is as embarrassing for me as it gets, but I still have your hoodie. Tell me when to return it!” 1:46 PM

“Oh, it’s no problem. Think you need it more than me ;)” 1:47 PM

He is acting like he’s the one out of his mind right now. Did we both get up on the wrong side of the world this morning and fell into some alternate universe where nothing feels real or makes sense? 

I don’t know what came over me next when I typed before I could think;

“You wanna come with me to the party? I think we really need to talk.” 1:50 PM

I was terrified to check my phone when it had been a few minutes, and even more when I saw no reply from him. Why did I have to go and do that? Haven’t I been enough trouble for him already? I really need to think more and do less. Or, even better, I could have at least waited until Monday, when he’s going to text me anyway about work and the schedule for the week. It’s really not easy being me right now when I can’t stop screwing up and upsetting people, it seems like.

Next time I checked, he actually had replied;

“Needy smh, but what wouldn’t I do to see you ;) Tell me where and when.” 2:01 PM

He just said yes, as in I will see him very, very soon? This was an unexpected turn of events and I don’t know if we are heading for a dead-end here. I haven’t been this scared in a long time. This is what I wanted, but I think I underestimated myself.

I also made sure to text my friend and keep them in the loop, telling them I will be bringing him with me. I’m only doing this because I will not let him settle for anything less than a proper sorry. But sorry is just a word and not so simple, so what he decides to do with my apology, it’s up to him.

.

I got to the party before Alex did, which was lucky, because it meant I could have some time with my friend before he arrives. I know it’s not all fun and games when he gets here since we still need to talk about… well, last night and I’m not sure what kind of a conversation that will be. It if  doesn’t kill me, it probably will make me wish it had. Will we work or hurt?

I soon spot my friend in the crowded living room that had been turned into a dance floor for the night. The reek of alcohol and the sight of it is enough to make my stomach turn. I’m never drinking again. I push myself through the crowd and tap my friend on the shoulder. They turn around, their eyes lighting up as they see me there.

“Do you want—right, you’re not drinking tonight!” they yell over the music.

I shook my head, “no way. I’ll be just hanging in the kitchen probably, you know, serving you drunks.”

“That’s fine! And hey! What were you last night then?!”

“An idiot.”

They shoot me a sympathetic look and nod again, changing the subject like the good friend they are. We catch up some more, before I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I know it before even checking that it’s Alex texting me, telling me he’s finally here.

“I’m going to find him now!”

My friend just dramatically grins and sends me on my way, “hurry up! Don’t let him get away!”

I make my way back outside, and once I get there I inhale the fresh air that doesn’t stink of alcohol, which washes off all that nausea. My gaze immediately fall on Alex as he stands there cooly, with his hands in his pockets. He really came here for me, or at least that’s what I want to think, but I’m afraid he’s not here to see me just to see me, but for something else.

I forget for a second that I’m supposed to feel ashamed when his face holds a mysterious grin that makes it hard to believe there has even been anything troubling him, “hi! Good to see you standing, literally.”

Okay, so maybe there’s a chance he will try forgiving me and maybe forget.

I gladly accept his hug, letting him pull me to his chest, feelinghisthumb softly rubbing my back as he holds me in place, “shut up, but I am too, but shut up.”

He laughs lightly, music to my ears, “you’re a fuckin champ, though, because—how the fuck are you even standing after that? I thought I was going to have to carry you to the hospital.”

Ashamed isn’t actually even the word for how I feel, it’s deep regret for what I put him through. If there’s any part of him that is mad at me, he is suppressing it very well, so well that I’m not sure he is letting me see it. 

“I don’t know, but even thinking of alcohol makes me sick right now, so I think I’ll be hanging in the kitchen, playing the bartender.”

Alex grins at me widely again, his tongue darts out to lick his lower lip, before he admits, “it’s a shame, truly, that our time together was so limited. We didn’t even get to the good part.”

“Which was?”

“I don’t know, like we could’ve snuck to the pool. That would’ve been fuckin’ sick—sorry, I do apologize for my choice of words right there,” he shrugs, emphasising the word ‘sick’.

“Shut up or I’ll be sick on you the next time, whatever, goodbye,” I turn on my heel and walk inside, pretending to be annoyed and it didn’t take long that I heard him on my tail, following me inside.

“Next time?” he asks behind me, tickling my sides, “there will be a next time?”

I don’t need to look at him to know his eyebrows are quirked and that he’s wearing that stupid smirk again. It’s truly his favourite accessory whenever he’s around me, especially today when he has something new to tease me about. My head is hanging down as I’m trying to hide the smile creeping across my face from everyone passing by. They would never understand, when I can hardly understand how he makes me feel.

I kind of did take on a role of the bartender in the kitchen. You know, serving everyone who swings by whatever drinks they are looking for. Alex grabbed a seat and came to sit right by me, like I’m the only interesting thing here, or in the whole wide world.

“Sorry I forgot to bring your hoodie,” I blurt out. Better to get on with these apologies, there’s a long list to go.

It was his turn to roll his eyes, those eyes that held such care for me last night, “listen, that’s—it’s yours now. If you’re gonna give it back to me, I’m just gonna give it to you, you know that?”

Because friends totally keep each other’s clothes, right?

It’s like he could tell there was a lot on my mind as if he wanted to do something about it, “listen. Stop apologising or thinking you did something wrong last night and shit. I mean, I didn’t think either that you would find yourself in my arms, literally, but shit happens. Just let it go.”

“You know I was only there in your arms, because I quite literally passed out?”

“Yeah, sure,” he just grinned at me, like he wanted to believe that’s the real truth, “you seemed more awake when we… hugged and shit. Cuddled, even. It’s all good, I liked it too.”

I groan and cover my ears. So embarrassing.

I serve a few drinks to people, not exchanging a word or even a look with anyone else other than Alex. He is what matters.

“Wait, you have Snapchat? You should add me,” he leans back in his seat like he’s here for the long haul, already pulling out his phone.

“Ugh, really? You’re one of those guys?” I hate that stuff, I don’t really see the appeal and I don’t know if it would make any difference to what we do now, but for him, sure, I guess?

“Hey!” he straightens up looking up at me, extending his hand for my phone, “it’s a great fuckin’ app, okay? You just boom, boom, pow, and everyone knows what you’re doing.”

I give it to him without further complaints, expect for, “I don’t need everyone to know what I’m doing.”

“No, no. Just me,” he smiles smugly, softly brushing his hand against mine. I don’t know he meant to do it, but if not, then he’s real damn good at pretending and these happy accidents. 

While I was handing out drinks, he is doing God knows what on my phone. There’s not a single word exchanged when he seems to look interested in whatever he’s finding there and I’m not bothered to intervene, just enjoying his company in all its forms, until he talks again, “yo, what the fuck is this? This don’t even look like you.”

He flashes my Bitmoji on the screen, just enough for me to get a glimpse of it. Yeah, I know, I really don’t care about that stuff or if it looks like me. I have never felt bothered to change it or customize it, so sue me.

“Oh, really?” I challenge him.

“Yeah, I could make that amazing, like—you’ll see. You’ve never looked better.”

Before he could get any more heated over this dumb debate, I agree and let him work his magic on my phone again. Meanwhile I try to steal glances at him of sitting with his head low, leaning on his knees. He’s so chill it almost gives me chills. I can’t believe we made it through what happened last night, or did we?

I let him mess with my phone while dealing with more drunk people looking for more drinks. I gave them what they wanted. Ugh, they’re gonna feel like hell tomorrow. After last night, I can’t look at drunk people the same way, sorry.

“There,” he slams the phone back on my hand.

I raise it up to my eyes, “what the hell?”

He had made me look absolutely ridiculous and freaky. This, if anything, does not look like me. Well, as long as he has fun.

“Thanks for making sure no one will ever talk to me again,” I tuck my phone deep in my pocket.

“They shouldn’t, you’re right. I think I should be the only one,” he lays his eyes on me again, raising his eyebrows challengingly and crossing his arms across his chest.

For an hour, he sat there with me, like the time had stopped for us and there was no hurry to be anywhere else. I understood a little bit better why many feel drawn to Alex, and how it’s his commentary on things that is rather entertaining. I just want to hear him talk and joke more. I noticed he had rolled his sleeves up at one point and now his other sleeve had fallen down due to his dramatic hand gestures. It was kind of adorable.

“I’m definitely not drinking ever again. I’m so glad I’m not one of these people here, they will feel like hell tomorrow,” I tell him after watching another drunken person stumble out of the kitchen, leaving the two of us alone again.

He suddenly seems concerned, a total shift in his mood, “are you sure you’re okay? Did you even throw up last night? Like, you know, you need to get that shit out of your system.”

I bury my head in my hands, “I don’t know, I don’t remember anything after I was put in that car. What was up with that though? Who drove me home? Whoever it was, I just want to tell them that I’m sorry for being such an idiot.”

He hurries to my comfort, “it’s okay! You don’t remember? I got my friend to pick us up, he drove you home and then drove me back to the house.”

“You were there, in the car? Why?” I was surprised. He didn’t have anywhere to go, since he was already home, so why would he be there?

“Holy shit, you really don’t remember a thing,” he tries to contain his laughter, “of course I had to be there with you, I mean, not to spark some memories, but you were quite literally all over the place and I feel like it was my duty to get you home, so I came along, which by the way turned out to be the right thing to do, since you kept passing out and leaning on me.”

I did? And he was there for me the whole car ride? Ignorance is bliss, but I wonder what made him do it. Was it his head or heart that made that decision? Is he hiding something to be considerate of me or is there something he is not telling me? I would do the same for him, though, but I’ll never tell him that, since we all have something to hide here.

“Oh God,” I groan in shame, “yeah, I don’t remember how I got home from the car, but I don’t think I want to even know. I know it will be embarrassing as hell.”

He seals his lips with his pointer finger, “okay, okay. I’m not telling you, unless you absolutely demand me to, but let’s just say that you were clinging on to me when I was walking you to the door like—”

“Stop!” I cover my face with my hands. This is so bad for me. I will never, ever hear the end of this. 

Well, that was until our night came to an end when he told me he has to get going, since he had promised to stream later tonight. Safe to say I was disappointed, but duty calls for all of us sometimes and I can’t do anything to stop it. 

I didn’t let him leave until I told him, “I can’t wait for the day when this will all be forgotten and we can go back to normal. I am so, so embarrassed.”

“You’re asking me to forget how it felt to have you all over me? You’re driving a hard bargain, I’m not sure I can do that,” he grins mischievously and reaches for my arms as I walk him to the door. This is hopeless, he is being impossible. Impossibly… flirty?

Hhe closes the distance between us to capture me in a quick embrace, wishing me a safe rest of the night, and then he is gone, vanishing into the night too soon for my liking like a figment of my imagination. For a second I really think if this is all just a really good book that we live in. He’s too good to be true sometimes and that’s what scares me. I think it’s safe to say I am free to move on from last night and that we are in the clear. 

I had to really comb the whole living room in the hope of finding my friend, to tell them I’m out of here for good. Now that Alex’s gone, I feel like this place is dead and I have already overtimed my stay. I made my way through the dancing bodies, bumping into a few.

“Hey, who are you? Where did a beautiful thing like you come from?” says someone behind me. I know they’re talking to me, because I can feel them trying to grab my arm to slow me down. Not to my surprise, when I make them the favour of turning around, I see a guy I have never seen before. He wasn’t too drunk to function or to know what he’s doing, but definitely has more than a few drinks down.

“Uh…” I stutter, “I was just about to leave.”

He groans, “nooo, c’mon, stay! I’ll get you a drink if you stay and—”

“I don’t drink tonight, actually. I still have a killer hangover from last night, so I just came to say hello to a friend here,” I tell him firmly before he can finish that sentence. I don’t need to hear it, because my mind can’t be changed. 

He seems taken aback and puts some space between us like someone will charge at him if he gets one more move wrong, “okay, I hear you, I respect that.”

Thank God. I smile in hopes that he lets me go on my merry way, until he tugs on me again, “hey, you’re not interested at all? Like, can I get your number at least? I swear I’m not a creep, but you’re really, really beautiful, and I’d like to know you. That’s all.”

He raises his hands up in surrender as to prove his innocence to me and I internally want to roll my eyes. I thought he might have been cool and all and and then he raises a red flag. Nothing good ever starts with what he said, ‘I’m not a creep, but…’. He seems harmless, even a little nervous to be talking to me, which almost makes me feel flattered. Almost. He is innocent until proven guilty. Hope it’s not a dead-end case.

Before I can pick him apart any more in my head, I agree to his deal and he seems to notably cheer up, “awesome. Thanks for giving a guy like me a chance, it’s not every day I get this lucky.”

Save those compliments for the date, I’ve already said yes, I thought. That said ‘date’ though, all I’m saying is that I won’t be mad if it never happens. I’m not particularly excited to possibly see him again, but I rather take the risk than the regret of what could’ve been.

I just smile again when we quickly exchange numbers, and then I leave. It’s unlucky I can’t see my friend anywhere, so I just text them on my way out that I’m leaving. They wish me good night. I

.

Ever since that weekend, I felt the universe shift again for me. I know I say that a lot, but something really changed between me and Alex, like someone had wiped our slates clean and tied our souls together into a pretty bow. Or maybe it was because of that damned Snapchat, he definitely has used it to his advantage and sent me stuff all day and night, telling me where he’s going or what’s he doing, like he wants me to know his every move. Whatever it is that we’re doing, I kind of don’t want it to stop. I want to hear more from him, see more of him, and if this helps the case, then so be it. I want to give this my best.

Work has been okay, actually more than okay, now that I finally know him the way I have wanted. Sometimes he calls me while I’m working and we go over some bits together and laugh about them, or he tells me about the game he has been playing lately and I try hard not to get distracted. If I’m having a tough day, he always manages to put me back together. It was not so long ago when I still felt like walking on eggshells around him, like I was desperately just trying hard to make a good impression on him, but now we ask all the deep questions and keep each other up all night talking about anything and everything. It’s weird how fast things have fallen into place with him.

Just like today, when I finished work and was almost expecting him to blow up my phone again for no particular reason. I actually can’t wait to hear from him. My phone did eventually ping to alert a text, but my smile fell when I saw it wasn’t a text from him, but from a number I don’t recognise nor have saved;

“Hey. Still up for that date, I hope? How about tomorrow?” 5:32 PM

A date? With who?

“I’m so sorry, who is this?” 5:34 PM

“It’s me from the party! You didn’t drink back then, but I wondered if you’d like to go out, I mean you did say yes after all. Unless something came up?” 5:35 PM

Oh, it’s him, from my friend’s house party. Tomorrow is Saturday after all, if it happens it will happen tomorrow. I don’t know if I exactly feel like wasting a perfectly good Saturday night on him when there’s endless potential for it, but I guess one date won’t hurt, so I tell him;

“Oh sure, tomorrow is fine. Text me the time and place?” 5:38 PM

“Great, there’s this restaurant I think you’d like, I’ll text you the address. How about at 7PM?” 5:39 PM

How does he think he knows me already? I’m just going to go along and hope for the best, whatever the best here is. 

“Sounds good to me!” 5:40 PM

.

It was 6.15 PM when I left the house the next day for this so-called-date. He had kindly offered to pick me up, but I told him I’d rather meet him there. 

The restaurant looked promising, at least on the outside. I don’t even remember the last time I went out to eat, now that I think of it. I definitely didn’t in a million years think my next time would be with someone I barely know, an actual date. He didn’t seem to care too much about the finer things, so I’m surprised this is the kind of place he decided to choose for us tonight, but I appreciate the effort. I’m lucky if I even remember what he looks like and if we find each other in this parking lot. 

I was there, leaning against the wall and looking around, until I saw a silhouette of someone I think I recognise getting out of a car. I’m pretty sure it’s him and he confirmed my suspicion by smiling at the sight of me and waving, making his way over.

“Hello there,” he greeted me politely, “let’s get inside and see what this place is all about, shall we?”

I nodded and let him lead the way. How bad could this be?

It was a few steps to the door that opened up a bustling, dim space for our eyes. I could barely make out what he was telling me, but I figured it was something about finding our table. I just nodded and went along with him as we walked further inside.

“How did we, or you, manage to get this table tonight?” I asked him when he found an empty booth and we made ourselves comfortable in it. I mean, this place is packed and if I saw correctly, there was a small queue outside that we were able to just waltz past.

“Well,” he blushed a little under the yellow light, coming from the lamp hanging above our table “I booked this for us on the same night when you gave me your number. I’m sorry—I probably went ahead of things a little, but I couldn’t let this opportunity go.”

“Oh, that’s fine.”

At least he’s honest.

“Okay,” he smiled at me as if relieved, “good.”

A waitress came by to get our drink orders first. I decided to settle for one glass, he did too, and then we fell into small talk.

“So, what is it about you? Why are you ‘you’?” he questioned me.

Well, that’s one way to ask for my story.

I cleared my throat and thought about how much do I exactly want to share, before telling him about my studies. That’s always a good place to start, right? He kept nodding while listening to me, occasionally letting out approving sounds. Not that his opinion on what I should do or should’ve done matters too much. I asked him the same question in return, and that’s when he went into great detail about his life. Wow, I would’ve never guessed he’s so... educated and wealthy. A guy like him just doesn’t look like someone that walks around with such riches and glories like it’s nothing. Guess I could have not been more wrong about him.

If Alex was here, he would definitely crack more jokes and never make me feel less than I am—stop! Why am I thinking of him right now?

He kept rambling, not stopping even for a second when our drinks and food got placed down in front of us and we dug in, “I don’t want to brag, but I could change your life too if you gave me a chance. I have everything anyone could ever want and you look like you could use some of that.” 

I wanted to roll my eyes, because that’s exactly what he’s doing this whole time; bragging. It’s not the lifestyle I’m interested in nor do I need it from him. I suddenly feel very content with the simple life I have, I don’t need any of those things that he’s trying to force on me. 

As I was sipping from my glass, I could already imagine if Alex was here, how he would definitely steal some food from my plate and then act offended when I call him out for it and how we would make fun of pretentious people like my date. On the other hand, I need to stop thinking about him so much and stop looking at life through him and manage on my own for once.

We chat more between bites and gulps, mostly about him or the more serious stuff and the future, things that I didn’t really feel the want to discuss on a Saturday night or if ever, especially on a first date. I mean, we’re so young, what’s the rush planning the rest of our lives right this second?

I let out a few forced laughs here and there at his stories about his trips around the world, laughs that I never had to force with Alex. I felt almost ill at one point, like my gut was telling me something and I wasn’t listening. It didn’t get any better when he fell deeper and deeper into the same cycle of boasting himself and convincing me that he’s the greatest I will ever find. I think he should just date himself at this point.

He eventually slows down, “that was something, wasn’t it? Are you impressed, you don’t look impressed? What about you? What do you think you want to do?”

“Um,” I gulp, “I don’t know.”

“Hm,” he thinks out loud, “you could do so much more than you do right now. I’m not saying you could be as good as I am, these kind of things only happens to the few. I’m just the lucky one, but I think it would be good for you to give me a chance. You don’t need to be miserable for the rest of your live, when you could be happy with me.”

Oh God, I just want this to stop. How would he know what’s good for me and that I’m miserable with how life is going for me when in fact I am not? I mean, I am absolutely miserable right now here with him, but as soon as I get out of here I’ll be the happiest I have ever been and will go on living my perfect life that he won’t ever see. It’s perfect because it’s all mine and no-one else’s.

I nod just to get him to shut up, but as soon as I think it’s over, he looks like he’s eager and ready to delve into another story about himself. I sit there finishing up my food, occasionally listening to him, occasionally shamelessly thinking about Alex again. It’s a scary thought, how attached I feel to Alex all of a sudden. Maybe it’s moments like this, when I realise how good he is to me, so if nothing, at least this date gives me some new perspective on him and how he is the only beautiful thing in this ugly world. I can’t believe there ever was a me without him. 

We finish our plates just as he comes to an end on his story. I wonder if he timed that somehow and hope he doesn’t see through my facade and figure it out that I wasn’t paying much attention.

To my luck, he’s just all smiles, “thanks for listening. Now I guess it’s all up to you how you feel.”

Yeah, I’m not feeling much of anything.

He pays for us, at least he is a gentleman, and then we get up. I’m the one leading us outside this time. We stand there in the dark parking lot and he asks me if I need a ride home. I hastily lie again and tell him that I have a friend to pick me up, you know, any excuse just to walk away alone.

He seems to believe it and asks me instead, “so, will I see you again?”

Now’s the time for me to be honest. I shake my head, “sorry, I don’t think so,” and leave swiftly, but not without shooting him a sorry look. I don’t know exactly what I’m sorry for, I’m sorry for myself if anything. Almost everything he said tonight was uncalled for, I deserve something better.

As I make it far enough to not to be in his sight anymore, I fish my phone out of my pocket. It’s only 9:35 PM, I see. 

Before I can exactly control myself, I dial Alex’s number.

“Too drunk again?” he picks up, a taunting smirk evident in his voice.

Oh, how lovely it is to hear his voice, and just like that, he immediately makes me want to laugh the realest I have laughed the entire night. All it takes is really nothing from him to make me feel like this. It’s so easy for him to make me happy.

“Ugh, yeah,” I pretend to slur, “I went on this crappy date and drank for my misery the whole time.”

“You did?” he asks, sounding surprised, “I mean—what’s the truth? Did you really?”

“Yeah, I actually did.”

“No fuckin’ way,” his breath hitches for a second, “with who? You don’t know anyone.”

I laughed again, because he genuinely sounds like it’s news to him that I actually can go out and hang out with someone else other than him, “so you’d think, because I’m pretty sure I was just sitting at a restaurant with this guy, who, by the way, was—”

He rushes to interrupt me before he hears too much, “okay, okay! I get it, fuck. What the fuck—is this why you’ve been so quiet today?”

He’s right, we have not talked much today but I didn’t think it would concern him much, but now he makes it sounds like I should be behind bars for neglecting him for a day.

“Calm down, bucko. I didn’t even get to the good part, which is that I’m not interested in him and hope I never see him again.”

“Huh,” he exhales, “that bad?”

“Yeah… not the worst, but I didn’t have the best time either.”

“What happened? Why was he an asshole?” he inquired, almost defensively.

“Okay, imagine someone rich and successful—”

“Yeah, me,” he interrupts me again.

I shushed him through my giggles, “—and they just make it about themselves the whole time, like you didn’t have to come all this way just to tell me that you think you’re better than me.”

He groans in response, “yeah, definitely an asshole. What the fuck were you even doing there?”

“Well, I thought it’d be fun, you know, as you usually expect from dates, but it’s not every time you get lucky, I guess.”

“Yeah, that’s why there’s only one of me,” he states.

I laughed again, “right. But, I’m definitely over it, so you don’t need to worry your little mind. The only thing you need to worry about is when will I see you again before the next date candidate comes along and steals me away again.”

“As you should, as you fuckin’ should be over it. That shit doesn’t sound like worth anyone’s time, especially not yours. I’ll see you next Friday, it’s settled, alright?”

This made me feel a whole lot better, I can’t lie. He’s so easy to be happy around, he doesn’t try too hard to be funny and that’s what makes him funny. I think he’s one of those people who I could list good things about for days. One of those people who constantly celebrates you like it’s your birthday every day. Someone who knows what you need before you know it yourself.

“I love how you know exactly what I need and want and how I should spend my time,” I tease him. What if he is that someone?

“I do. I have something for you that will surely make you feel better, wait.”

“Okay...” I will wait. I have no idea what he could have up his sleeve now, but I think I will be pleasantly surprised, like I always am with him.

All I hear next is rustling and him murmuring to himself as if setting up something or moving something heavy. It went on for a minute, before I heard him loud and clear again and what sounded like him placing the phone down, “so, I have this piano, I don’t know if you knew but… I haven’t played it in a long fuckin’ time anyway.”

I didn’t know that. I don’t know what it has to do with anything, but I will trust the process.

He starts playing and talking in a voice so obnoxious that it makes me cringe for a second, “if you could see that I'm the one who understands you, been here all along, so why can't you see? You belong with me—I'm in the room—in my room, I don’t know—it's a typical Tuesday night—a Saturday night, actually—I’m listening to the kind of music he doesn't like, and he'll never know your story like I do—something like that.”

I don’t know what is going on here, I mean it’s pretty obvious that he’s trying to lift my spirits that were stomped to the ground, but where is this coming from? All jokes aside, he’s pretty good at playing, but of course I don’t dare to tell him. Even if this is not genuine, I’m not mad about it, at least it’s something to laugh about, but if he’s this good when he’s not even being serious, I wonder how good he could be when he wants to be good. 

When he decides he’s done, it’s silent until I speak. He seems to be amused by how I’m struggling to make sense of this and laughs loudly, still playing random keys in the background, “yeah, that’s a good fuckin’ song, okay? It’s just straight up disrespectful if it doesn’t make you feel better. Like, I’m sorry I can’t write that shit myself, but I’m still here trying to make the most of it for you.”

For the rest of my way home we talk about nonsense and laugh, it’s what we do best. I try my best to keep good company, even though I’m not able to get back my mind that I had lost on him earlier and I hope for the best that it’s not too obvious that my mind is somewhere else, literally. Will I ever know the truth behind what he did, did he really mean it? Whatever the truth is; will it hurt, is it going to be worth knowing?

After we hang up the phone, I stare at the screen like it would tell me all the answers. That was one hell of a night.

.

He seemed to be completely oblivious to everything the following weeks. Work was as usual, except that it almost had became a ritual for us to see each other every Friday night. It felt dangerous, like I could finally live instead of just exist, it was living between existing. I lived in ways I had never before and no one knew, no one but me and him, but I liked it like that. We would hang out at his place most of the time, I would keep him company and he would keep all of my secrets. His place felt like a hideaway from the real world, most of the time I even forgot there was a real world out there, it felt like it was just us two. We spent time talking about anything and killed time doing much of nothing when there was nothing to talk about. Nonetheless, all time spent with him was time well spent.

As I was on my way to his place one Friday night, I had a different feeling about it as I typically do. Last week had been busy, maybe it was the stress catching up to me.  I made it to his door, knocking, waiting until he appeared behind it, looking a bit disheveled. We greeted each other and he let me in.

I was touching up in the front of the bathroom mirror when he barged in, “I was thinking—“

I looked at him through the reflection, silently asking him to keep going. 

“—we could go down to the pool now. I can see it from the window, there’s literally no one in there right now.”

“We can?” I asked in surprise. I mean, I’m really not surprised about it being empty, it is almost 9 PM, but I for sure would think that it’s closed at this hour. Isn’t that what he has told me before, when his friends were here too and we asked to go there but he said no, because it closes for the night? 

“Yeah!” he cheered, “why not? It’s always open for residents. I know I might’ve said last time that it’s closed at nights, but it’s technically not. I just wanted to—I don’t know—be there with you, not them.”

I’m not sure what he means by wanting to exclude the others, or why he suddenly seems hesitant to even look at me, or why he sounds like his guard is down and he struggled to say those words out loud, but I shrug it off. 

“Okay,” I agree, “but I wasn’t exactly prepared for this, I didn’t bring anything.”

If I would’ve known this was on the agenda for tonight, I could have been more prepared, but he is so full of surprises and spontaneousness that I shouldn’t be surprised. One of the many things I have learnt about him so far, I wonder if I will learn more tonight at the pool.

“No, no,” he waved me off, “I got it all.”

He walked over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle, “I have this left from… that night. Is this okay? Just something chill.”

I agree to it, knowing exactly the night he means. He has learned not to poke anymore holes into my remorse than I already have. It’s something we just have moved past.

I watch as he runs around grabbing the keys and the bottle and also two glasses from the cupboard, and then we’re off.

The air at the pool almost stood still, it was so quiet and calm. The moon hit the surface of the water right, making it illuminate before our eyes. I pried my eyes off of it just to see the stunning night sky above us. I suddenly felt small in this world and overwhelmed by how that sky is black, apart from the hundreds of stars, but I’m only seeing colours when I’m here with him. There’s so much beauty in this world that I will never get to see all of it, but this moment makes up for it; the way the universe is kind enough to always stay beautiful to make moments like this more beautiful. Or maybe I just fell for him and got a concussion that’s making me see stars and colours. One or the other. 

We sit down on the side of the pool, making ourselves comfortable. He pops the bottle open and pours us both a full glass.

“This is nice. If I could I’d be here every night,” I broke the comfortable silence. ‘Nice’ is definitely an understatement, but I don’t want to overwhelm him like I’m overwhelming myself.

He grinned and swirled his glass, “well, who says you can’t?”

“You, realistically.” 

He looked surprised as he gulped down some, “the fuck? You can come over here anytime you want, okay? You know that?”

“Yeah, I know.”

There’s never a point in arguing with him when it comes to… well, me. Like how he always wants me around and if I can’t be there with him, he always makes sure I know I’m at least on his mind by blowing up my phone, asking me how am I. Yeah, I told you; we’ve come far from where we started. 

We had a few glasses and talked, a lot. The night got darker as we got lost in endless conversations. I usually forget a lot of things, but I’ll never forget this night, I’m sure of that. It’s the way our minds and words merge together like missing parts, creating an entirety of mutual understanding that only makes sense to us.

As he eventually laid down on the concrete to relax himself and I decided to join him, the view of the luminous sky was undeniably impeccable from this angle. I could still hear the soft sounds of the pool too, the sound of the water gently splashing against the walls, that made me want to close my eyes. There are so many things to be happy about right now, but I’m thinking; what is it that we’re doing here? Are we crossing lines or are we just friendly? Why am I here every Friday night if it’s all innocent? Do I even want to feel like that about someone? Everything is good as it is, so why ruin a good thing like I’m doing right now. But if it’s not him in the end, then who?

I think I’m going through the melancholy you get in this position, when it’s late at night and you think too hard about the world and you get a bit sad and apprehensive about everything. 

“The same person that’s destined for you or cares for you or will become your everything someday could be looking at the same moon right now. Isn’t that insane?” I don’t even know what I said that, I didn’t mean to get so sentimental. I still don’t seem to know how deep is too deep.

He sounded tense, “it is, yeah.”

It didn’t sound like him at all. Where’s the laughs and the jokes that are more like him? I was almost expecting him to laugh at me and call me out for being too philosophical for his liking, but he didn’t. It made me nervous.

I turn to look at him as he seems to turn away. It gives me no answers. I think the silence is the loudest and clearest answer here. I’m not sure what happened in the span of these few minutes and why are we now acting like we don’t know each other at all? 

When he finally turns to me, I see a look on his face that I have never seen before. He looks almost emotionless. I know he knows this is getting weird and I don’t know anymore who’s to blame, I fear it’s me. There has never been a better time for him to quiet my fears than right now. I just wish he would.

Is this the moment for the inevitable hurt when something goes awfully wrong? Whatever it is, whatever will come out of his mouth next, will change something, change us. I’m sure of it.

“Can I ask you something?” he finally stutters. It’s so quiet I can barely hear it. I wonder how loud it must be in his mind.

“Yeah, anything.”

He laughed sadly, “yeah, anything but what I’m about to ask you.”

It can’t be that bad, can it?

“What is it?” I urge him to tell me.

He abruptly sits up, looking afraid of God knows what, his head slumped, looking very stiff and uncomfortable in his own skin. He has never been the one to run when the heat turns up and it scares me how much he looks like he’s just planning his escape from this situation right now. I want to be there for him so bad, to reassure him that everything is okay, but I settle for silence. I’m not sure what to say to him when he’s acting like this, it’s my first time hanging out with this side of him. So we just sit there, I’m literally counting the seconds, because I don’t know what else to do with my thoughts nor how to sort them.

He finally gets it together and sits up straight, “sorry—can I kiss you?”

Is that really what he wants? Does he know this could make us or break us? One move wrong and we fall apart. But, why do I want to say yes? I thank the lucky stars that it’s dark here, so he can’t completely see my face, I know I look as dumbfounded as I feel. I felt a rush of energy, I’m not sure what kind of energy it is yet.

“Yes,” I slyly give him my verbal consent and sit up.

“Holy shit, yes—really?” he slurred, almost as if he was drunk on this. 

When I nodded to confirm his question, it didn’t take him long at all to slot our lips together confidently, like he has thought this over before. I wonder if he has. I’d like to find it in me to ask him some time, but for now now our mouths are busy pressing and massaging against each other over and over again.

It felt like a movie with fireworks, like that whole Hollywood blown-way-out-of-proportion magic. I think moments like this, that are like something out of a movie, only happens to you once in your lifetime and I don’t regret one bit spending mine on him. 

Excuse my language, but shit got very real when he wrapped his other arm around me and deepened the kiss. It felt new and breathtaking. I’m pretty sure that he could make all my dreams come true overnight. Maybe that’s my head and the adrenaline running through my veins talking, but if this is already the dream, then I don’t want to wake up ever.

We slowly pull away, so slowly that it feels like for a moment we are one, and it takes a while for him to come back to reality and take his hand off of me. I want to tell him that it’s okay and that he can keep it there, but I’m not sure if I’m ready to talk just yet. My lips feel like they’ve been claimed for more important things, like they should never be used for any other purpose ever again than kissing him. He remained silent too and I wonder if he feels the same. I felt wildly flustered again as I thought about the possibility of me in his thoughts. I was even more flustered when I realised how much I want to do that again, but I’m not sure how much is too much. We’ve already crossed one line, so what’s another one?

He seemed to know it too and make it known that I was there, in every corner and place of his mind, when he looked into my eyes and whispered the only words that matters, “was that okay—did you like it? I liked it.”

“More than okay,” I reassured him, “I liked it so much that I’d like to do it again.”

Relief washed over his face and his eyes gained their usual whimsical twinkle back as he nods and cups the back of my neck and brings his mouth down to mine. It was even better than the first time, as he made me putty in his hands.

“What if it’s me?” he whispers against my lips. 

I pull away and knit my brows, “what?”

He laughs freely, “sorry. You were just going on about that shit about the moon and I was here next to you thinking how much I care for you and I don’t think you know it. Like, I’m right fuckin’ here.”

I’m not sure if my concept of care is the same as his, if he thinks it like I think of it. But, I can’t complain when he’s here pouring his heart out to me after everything.

“I… don’t know what to say, other than I care about you too, a lot. I just didn’t expect to find it in you tonight.“

He quiets down, “it’s okay. We don’t need to talk about it right now. I just wanted you to know that if you can’t find whatever you’re looking for, it’s because you already have it, it’s me.”

And there he goes again, turning into a cocky little tease. 

“Yeah, I’m done talking,” I pretend to roll my eyes.

Big mistake, because he plays along and doesn’t lose the smirk off his face, “are you, now? I’ll spare you talking, if you let me.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

And then, kind of to my surprise, he pulls me in for endless kisses. I don’t know what I expected, but it caught me off guard how brave he is all of a sudden with his words, his hands, his lips, all of it. But, I like it, the confidence. 

In the end he grabs our glasses and the empty bottle and asked if we should go back up since it was getting chilly. I agreed, because it was and I was dressed fairly lightly, no matter how bad I wanted to stay here with him. Those were one of the few words we exchanged as we made our way back upstairs. We left the pool just like we had come, as friends and nothing more, I guess. On the outside we appear normal, you would never guess there is something wrong, but on the inside we both know we had taken some damage. Repairing that would cost us facing things and questions that we are not ready to see just yet. Only time will tell the answers, I think.

He opened the front door and we were immediately engulfed by the warm air. It was dark in the apartment, until he switched on the lights, creating a dim atmosphere for us. I don’t know what is happening next, am I supposed to just go home now? 

“I have another question for you,” he told me in the kitchen, setting our glasses down, “you remember that piano I have? I wanna show you something.”

Oh God, how much more can I take for one night? 

Nonetheless, I nodded, “yeah, sure, but you don’t have to impress me anymore.”

I think he has done enough tonight to show me how he feels. I do regret saying that when I see him grin at me over his shoulder, like he is back to his usual self again that lives for teasing me, “what, like you’re fuckin’ hopelessly in love with me already? This is it, like—you want my last name now or later?”

I try to act as unfazed by his comment as I possibly can as I follow him into his room and then there he is, anxiously messing with his piano, while I just stand and watch. He didn’t have me waiting for too long when he spoke again, “I can do better than the last time you heard me playing this bad boy.” 

I played the memory of him singing to me on the phone back in my mind and laughed. 

“Okay, if you insist,” I told him, leaning back against the wall, letting him do his thing.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “I don’t know what this will make me sound like, but I learned something that I think you will like and appreciate. You will, right?”

“Sure. It sounds like you’re hopelessly in love.”

I should know he is always one step ahead of me and that I can’t win, because he grins again as his eyes shift back to me, “there is hope. You’re still here.”

What is he doing to me?

Instead of more words, he let the music speak for itself and started playing. It didn’t take me long to recognise the song; You Belong With Me. Now, this makes it feel like he’s playing along to whatever joke this is, but as I stand there and watch him, I notice how much more serious he sounds. Of course I don’t dare to look at his face, I’m scared I might see through him, see his heart and soul and subconscious thoughts, see something that will change my mind about us, that maybe he is wishing non-existing things into existence, like us. Maybe this means more to him that I think it does. When I think I have him figured out, I realise I don’t. But I can’t exactly figure out myself either right now.

One thing I think I know for sure right now is that I feel something for him that I haven’t before. It’s when I see him like this, like he’s in his element, like music is the language he has wanted to speak to me all along. This is a total new side of him I have not had the pleasure of seeing before. I wonder if I’m really this special to him that he would do this, do something that most people would consider even romantic. 

And… it’s kind of even attractive how he plays.

“That was nice...”

“Yeah? Just ‘nice’?”

“You know what I mean,” I try to divert my gaze when I feel my face flush.

“Hm, tell me,” he rolls over to me in his chair and looks up at me. So many times I have seen those eyes, but now he stares at me so intensely I can almost see all the worlds and all the lives he has lived before. Maybe I knew him in another life and that’s why things are unfolding like they are right now, everything all at once.

“Fine! I think it was kind of… cute, and… I don’t know where all of that came from, but I think it made me think that maybe you were right. That you do things to me that no one else can.”

Wow, look at me being confident and speaking my mind. Never happens.

“‘Really now?” he smiles smugly, raising his eyebrows, ”fuckin’ finally. And you… you think I was cute too, huh? Just ‘cute?”

I sigh out loud, “fine. It was hot, okay?”

I think I went too far. I think that was too much. Maybe I have had too much to drink again. But no, I do know how I feel. 

His smirk doesn’t falter, and it’s my time to yelp when he suddenly makes the move to pull me on his lap. This is a whole new sensation. And what happened then? We got greedy again with our mouths and hands and each other. Endless sweet touches and kisses, as I stay seated on his lap. It was innocent as we still got used to the feeling of feeling each other this close.

We soon wrap up the night and I decide it’s time for me to go home and I actually couldn’t wait to be alone with my thoughts. I have a lot to think over, or maybe I’ll just fall into daydreams about him and this night instead. Tonight’s moment are going to be the rest of my life’s memories, and I can revisit those memories whenever I want to. He walks me to the door, we don’t really talk about what happened or what will happen next, instead he just settles for pulling me into a hug. His grip on me, that’s tighter than ever before, tells me everything I need to know, that he doesn’t want this to end here.

All he asks me as I’m about to walk out is “will we do this again?”, holding onto my arm, not willing to let me slip away before I can answer his burning question, whatever he means by ‘this’.

I just grin, “maybe.”

I still want to play a little hard to get after all this time, see what his intensions are and if he will keep fighting for me and my time. Now, I don’t actually mean any harm by that and I definitely want this to happen again, I just still feel like I have to preserve some self-respect and not be an easy target. Then I walk off.

.

The following week brings that painful tension between us and all I can think about is if we made a mistake at the pool and if I’m his brand-new regret. I’m trying to keep that thought out of my head, but it’s hard, because when it comes to work and talking with him, there’s so much tension there that I’m just dreading the moment when the heat turns up and it all sets on fire. I don’t know what will be left of us once that happens.

It wasn’t until a few more weeks had passed until it really settled in my chest, this hollow feeling, when something unexpected happens: he starts giving me the silent treatment. Something I never expected him to do, and unfortunately, I’m think I’m partly to blame. The night at the pool made things weird. If I think hard enough back to that night, it almost feels like a movie how he made the first move and unveiled both of ours wants for each other, but it ends as soon as I open my eyes and face the reality where he flipped the script and fleed. He had made me feel like I was flying that night, now I’m flying and getting motion sick.

I try texting him;

“Is everything okay? I need to talk to you.” 9:35 PM

He doesn’t respond. I wonder if he’s sleeping soundly meanwhile I’m staying up all night. 

Eventually I’m so tired I just fall asleep, my phone next to my head.

.

No text from him in the morning, or the morning after that.

I keep trying with a different approach;

“Pretty bored today, what are you up to? Unless you want me to get a head start and work on that stuff today already? Or unless you are up for some chatting :)?” 11:39 AM

To my surprise, he replies, but it’s not the side of him I was hoping would to come to the phone;

“No” 11:52 AM

If I’m not careful, I will get cut by the sharp edges of his tone even when there’s no reason for it. Maybe he doesn’t mean it like that, maybe he’s stressed and unintentionally took it out on me. I read the text again like a chant and wear it like a warning label. I didn’t know it would get to me like this, but I feel like I need to write it on me to warn people like him to watch their temper around me.

I text him one final thing before getting on with my day, even though I have a peculiar feeling he won’t reply;

“Okay. Let me know when you’re free to talk!” 11:55 AM 

I was right, for the rest of the day and night, he’s silent.

.

If I thought one day of his silence was loud, nothing could have prepared me for Alex disappearing from my life for a whole week and then two. He had brought us back to life just to leave like a ghost halfway through the good part of our story. It doesn’t make sense. Reality hurts too bad right now, I wish I could leave like he did. 

It was a text after another that I kept sending him, not even expecting a reply anymore but I still do it;

“Are you ok?” 7:52 PM

I wish I didn’t care so much, but I do. I thought we were getting along just fine, more than fine. That’s why it hurts.

.

My friend does keep me in check from that day on and blows up my phone with happy texts constantly, like they know somehow that I need a friend right now. Those are the only texts I seem to receive these days, so it was a real shocker when one day my phone buzzed with a text from Alex;

“Can we meet? Maybe by the park?” 1:15 PM

Oddly enough, I know the park he means. It’s the one next to where he lives that you can partly see from the living room window, the one I always walk past whenever I’m on my way to his. I think it’s the real oasis of this city, somewhere where the birds never stop singing and it’s always evergreen. I think that will change today. I’m never going to see that park in the same light again. I hope I’m wrong.

I throw on some clothes and then I’m out the door.

When I arrive at the park, he’s already there. Whatever it is that he wants to tell me, he must want to get it over with fast. When he looks like he doesn’t even want to look at me, I look at the sky and wish there’s an alternate universe somewhere up there where this is not happening, where everything is still okay.

I sit there next to him, nearly not as close as I used to would. The park looks ethereal as always, especially on a summer day like this it’s like a paradise, but you know what they say; even the sun sets in paradise. 

He sits there next to me in heavy silence, before taking a deep breath and telling me with his head in his hands, “listen, this whole thing—I’ve had fun, but…”

I’m just waiting for him to say it, that this was all a mistake.

He finally continues, “I’m just thinking about shit and turning shit over in my head. I like what has happened so far, but there’s just no dating—or being with someone like you. It’s so much more complicated than that.”

He said the d-word. Fuck. He’s braver than me. 

I don’t dare to interrupt when he keeps going, “I mean, you’re amazing, but it’s like—that’s the thing; you deserve someone that’s sure of what they want and don’t leave you hanging. For me, it’s like, I date or I don’t; I don’t do anything in between. And right now, I’m not sure what I want. You with me?”

He checks in with me and I just nod. I think I understand and I think I’m the same. Neither of us are cut out for casual dating, it has to be the real thing or nothing. And making the decision if we are ready for the real thing, I don’t know if we, or I, can make that decision right now after all. He also keeps dropping this d-word like it’s nothing. I guess this is the calm before the storm. 

“And—yeah, there’s not just dating, or committing to someone like you. People like you are so deserving of things I’m not sure I can give you. Maybe that’s just my insecurities talking, but I mean this as wholeheartedly as I can and hope you remember it. You deserve someone who deserves you, as simple as that, and I don’t know if I do right now, or ever.”

Wow, he really dug to the bottom of his feelings and found some gold there, and even shared some of it with me. 

I finally find my voice and some words to make sense of it all, “that’s—I’m very glad you told me that. I agree, there’s no telling who really deserves something the most, but I know you deserve good things too and I feel… very overwhelmed, but happy to know you see me as one of those. No matter what happens next, I think things have already changed between us, and maybe that means that the worst part is over, but I guess all we can do is keep going like before and see where we end up?”

He nods and croaks out, “yeah. That would be great. I need to get my own shit together first, like I don’t wanna be one of those fuckin’ people when I say this, but it’s not you. It’s me. I just want to be the best for you, but for now, I can only be your friend. Just like before.”

I’m glad we had this conversation after all, but still feel a little pang in my chest when we agree on staying like we were before, like there is no promise or guarantee we will ever make it as anything more. It’s better than nothing though. Now we just need time. Time for if nothing else, the sun setting in our paradise. 

.

There’s nothing that time and sleep can’t fix. Just a few days ago when I had the talk with Alex, I felt almost explosive, like if someone would have said the wrong things or made me upset in any way, I would have just exploded and spilled my feelings all over the place. There was more for me to process that I was able to take, but now I feel fine. We had a mature conversation, and I have a clearer vision of his feelings now. No more second guessing or doubting, or getting mad over literally nothing.

Work feels fine again, because at least that awkward tension is mostly gone, but we don’t talk as freely as we used to. That’s what happens when you’re not careful and spill your cup of romance all over your work.

I still nevertheless happily tell my friend about it over coffee. I didn’t mean to talk about it right there, in broad daylight, in a crowded cafe, but I did.

“So,” I tell them, “we did make up—I mean, there was no bad blood to begin with. I was just being dramatic, like you told me.”

“Yeahhh, I told you! I knew it,” they rolled their eyes at me from across the table, “no need to get all fired up if someone just—what did he tell you? Why did he do it? He was just busy, or?”

“Yeah, pretty much. He was just... busy. Yeah,” I have never sounded more shady. 

I know I still can’t blow my cover. This thing will be kept tightly under wraps until it feels right to discuss it with other people. I’m also that good of a person that I want his approval to share anything.

As I feared, my friend doubts me, “really? Is that really all? What are you not telling me?”

Digging a deeper hole for myself, I stutter, “yep! I just—I was really expecting there to be something, so I was just surprised that—you know, it wasn’t something I did. You know me, I’m paranoid like that, I don’t exactly like that about myself either.”

I was hoping this conversation would shift to something else, like my insecurities, literally anything else than this. A part of me feels bad for the lies I keep feeding them, but I know I’m doing this for the right reasons.

They squinted their eyes at me, “that’s weird, you’re being weird. I know you and I know you’re being weird like now. Since when we don’t tell each other everything?”

I don’t like how sad they sound all of a sudden.

“I am telling you everything, as always,” I try to comfort them, “it’s just weird for me to talk about him, because you know—he’s him. I just still feel weird about it that I get to know him like this.”

That seemed to ease their mind, as I witnessed a slight smile creep back into their face, “okay, okay, I believe you.”

.

As summer starts nearing its’ end, I feel like it’s also the end of other things too. Like the thing between me and Alex. We haven’t really hung out or even talked, and on top of that, I heard the news that it’s safe to travel again and that he’s going back home to Mexico for at least the rest of the summer, maybe even for longer. He didn’t tell me how long he will be gone for, but I know how his tone works and that there was something he didn’t tell me. Meanwhile I knew I will miss him terribly, but didn’t dare to tell him that either, considering the circumstances.

And so, he leaves in silence and I let him. I get to keep my job and talk to him about work matters, but anything other than that, nothing.

I miss him bad and fear that by the time he comes back there is going to be nothing left of us. He lives in a whole new world now, or that’s what it feels like. It feels like he is lightyears away.

.

“So, what do you want to do on Saturday?” my friend asks me as we pick out what to eat from the menu.

“Why?”

“Your birthday, dummy! You forgot your own birthday?”

“Of course I didn’t,” I scoff back.

They just sip their drink and devilishly smirk at me from behind the glass, “sure. Anyway, we could go shopping for some props, since we’re here at the mall. Do you know who’s coming yet?”

I scratch my head, “not really.”

Truthfully, there’s only one person I hope to see there, but it will not happen since he’s not here. I wonder what he is doing right now, wherever he is.

.

It’s the weekend, — and more importantly, it’s my birthday today— , but I’m just feeling blue. I’m throwing a party tonight and invited all of my friends that are in town, and in conclusion, they are coming over any minute now and I need to feel better ASAP before I become a buzzkill. I could lie and tell to myself that I don’t know the reason behind my heavy heart, but I know. Me and Alex haven’t really talked lately. I doubt he even knows it’s my birthday, or if he knows I wonder if he cares. It just sucks things have went south between us.

Soon my friends are walking in through the door one by one, holding small gifts or flowers and hugging me, wishing me a happy birthday. They don’t know that the best gift would be if Alex was here, as ungrateful as that sounds. The music is blasting through the speakers, but it’s not as loud as the thoughts in my head. This is going to be a long, miserable night if I don’t get it together.

We take a bunch pictures to post online and show everyone how much fun we are having. For me, it all feels like a facade. That’s how social media usually makes me feel, but now it feels like a whole cliché how I’m acting all happy, but inside I’m in shreds. If things were any different, would Alex be here right now? Possibly. That breaks my heart. 

The night goes on and I keep discreetly checking the door and my phone every now and then. I still don’t seem to understand that he won’t be here. One day he maybe will, if I don’t overthink myself to death by then.

We poured more drinks and even set up a little party game section in the living room, moving the furniture for more space to move and dance around. The more fun we had, the more ungrateful I felt for wanting more from this night, because at least I have my real friends right here with me. How could I ever wish for more? Who else could I count on if not them? I might feel lonely without Alex, but I would be lost if it wasn’t for the people here. There’s a difference and that tells me everything I need to know.

I can definitely have fun tonight. I can stop holding out my hand for someone who has no intention of taking it if I want to.

I poured myself another drink and to make up for my lack of gratitude so far, I went to turn the music up and got cheers from everyone as response. I do miss him, but I know now it will pass.

.

It was fine until it got to the point of the night when I have had enough to drink to start to feel emotional or sentimental or both and cursing myself for it. A moment when I just want to text someone something risky, especially Alex. It’s a stupid idea, a bad idea even, and just not worth it for me to be so forward on the phone now and then later flinch at the silence he will give me in return.

I still do the bad thing. I go to the bathroom and before I step out again, I type a quick text to him,

“I wish you could be for my birthday tonight :( It’s fun, but would be more fun with you here. 10:55 PM

Now I feel stupid as I stand and watch the text being delivered to him, knowing it’s too late to undo the damage. Way to make him feel guilty for not being here and making a fool out of myself in the process too. I know I’m better than this and I don’t like the sides he’s seeing of me right now.

I exit the bathroom and my friends tell me we should move this party to a bar. I agree, I have neighbours after all and it’s now past 11 PM, meaning we have to quiet down. And so the music stops and tables are being cleared and the lights are being switched off as we leave, but the night is not over for us yet. 

It’s a struggle for us to get a ride this late on a weekend, but we eventually manage to get a cab.

As we all finally squeeze in the car, I check my phone. My heart unpleasantly makes a drop to the pit of my stomach like I was on a roller coaster of life when I see a text from Alex;

“Happy Birthday” and a stupid meme attached to it that immediately makes me smile. 

It’s just like the old times happening all over again, like someone rewinded the story of us, when we were able to joke around like this with each other. It feels nice to do it again. Maybe I can finally take my heart down from the shelf I had reserved for him and accept that there is just friendship after everything we’ve been through.

I was looking out the window, watching the city lights and busy streets pass us by, while listening to the song on the radio and my friends conversing about what they will order at the bar. Things might not be as good as they used to be with Alex, but at least he’s still somewhere out there for me.

I lock my phone and put it away in my bag for good. We will be okay again. Or that’s how I’m trying to distract myself from thinking too much, because I know deep down I miss him bad.

.

At the bar, it’s jolly. I’m bubbly like the bubbles in our drinks. There’s no reason to be sad anymore, as long as I remember to forget. We dance the night away, we take more pictures, and buy all the fancy drinks. I know it’s a one-way ticket to temporary happiness, but I’m planning on staying for as long as I can. 

I get up to go and order another drink, and my friend comes along to tug at my clothes. I figure they are just too drunk to support themselves, until I notice their eyes wide as a deer’s in headlights and they shriek in my ear, “oh my God, I think I just saw him!”

“Who?” I cringe at their volume. 

They stammer and wave their hands frustratedly, already having trouble expressing themselves due to being under the influence, “Alex!”

My heart sinks.

“He’s not here, he’s home! We’re literally not even in the same country right now,” I try to get them to calm down, before someone else intervenes. I understand that this isn’t a good look on us here, them all over the place, freaking out.

“You ordering?” the bartender asks, seemingly bored of waiting around. 

I tell him to hold off a minute and instead escort my friend back to our table. What kind of a sick joke was that anyway?

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—it looked just like him!” my friend still slurs their apologies to me. 

“Okay, I believe you. It’s okay,” I coo at them when they look at the verge of tears. What have I started? My brain being occupied with the endless trail of thoughts of Alex all night seems to be contagious. Are we all going crazy? Is this fun anymore? 

I don’t know if I even believe them, though. I’m curious who it was, I could imagine it’s someone that does not look like Alex the slightest. You know, when you have had too much to drink, anything can look like anything. I admit, the thought of it makes me want to laugh. It’s kind of funny in the end. 

“Hey!” someone storms up in front of me.

What now? Oh no, are we in trouble? Was that scene we made too much? 

I look up and squint, just to be met with eyes I know I have looked into before. I almost jump out of my skin when they splay a hand across my back. 

“I found you! I actually found you!” they giggle. 

And that’s definitely the same laugh I have had the pleasure of hearing before. 

Alex?!

I swear I almost fell forward from shock, “what? How… How?”

Alex places his arm on mine now and leans in to talk quietly to me, as if he doesn’t want me to miss a word, “what does it look like? Okay, I know it looks bad, but…”

I waited for him to say something and still look at him like he is a shooting star passing me by, which seems to amuse him. 

“I flew back, to... see you, I guess? Yeah. I have to go back home tomorrow, or so, but then I’ll be back again, okay?”

None of this is actually making sense like it should. He came all the way here, just for a day, to attend my birthday party? He flew all those hours to see me and has to do it all over again tomorrow? 

I’m here standing in place, his hand steadying me. It’s like the world has stopped for us, and it’s just waiting for me to make a choice, make a move, say a word, for things to start moving again.

I know he’s touching me, but I almost don’t feel it. I can see he’s desperately waiting and begging me with his doe eyes to do something, but I can’t quite acknowledge it. Did he make the right choice by showing up here? Just when I felt like I was content leaving things between us unfinished, to never write that chapter, he’s bringing everything back.

I know whatever I feel and whatever my choice will be is real, when tears pool in my eyes, that he seems to notice even in the dim lighting, because he starts to move his hand and rub my back again soothingly.

“W-what changed?” I finally ask him, when I got myself together. Except that I’m now crying, great. 

He looks surprised that I want to have this talk right here, right now, but then tells me “I wanted to see you, and I want to see what life could be with you. You know, if we take the next step.” 

In spite of everything, in this moment, I feel it in my soul  and heart that I need him in my life, in any way it works out, but even better if it’s in a way we haven’t explored before. Or is it? 

“Don’t overthink it,” he reassures me, as he can sense the distress I’m in, “let’s make the most out of these few days and see what happens.”

I nod, “that sounds... perfect.”

He laughs lightly, and pulls me finally in a tighter hug and sways us back and forth. I could spend the rest of my night here. 

My friends are quiet behind us, trying to mind their own business’s, but of course they are curious too, looking at us and then looking away when I try to catch their eyes. I don’t even want to know how dramatic I look, with tears rolling down my chin, pouting my lips. 

I guess I have to introduce Alex to them now, kind of. I’m sure they already know him. 

He stands there right by my side as my friends pipe up their “hi”, making sure to say hello to everyone back. 

I can’t help myself, but only look at him with stars in my eyes. How charming he is towards everyone, not losing that smile on his pretty face even for one second and raising his eyebrows in surprise every time he tries to memorize a new name. It’s kind of an… attractive look. I should stop. 

None of my friends still have no idea that there is something going on between us. To them, we are just friends, good friends. But just between me and Alex, we both know now there is something more brewing. 

I’ll tell them in my own time. Nothing gets out, until I’m ready for them to know. And this bar doesn’t seem like the ideal place to drop such scoop. I’m sure we all want to be sober for that conversation, too. 

“Sorry, I have to go and lock my car doors. I got out in a rush when I was looking for you and feel like I’m getting robbed right fuckin’ now as we speak,” he whispers to me and laughs.

I smile at him, until my smile falls, “your car? I mean, yeah, of course, but how did you even find me? How did you knew I was here? How did you knew to drive here, out of all places?”

He just mysteriously grins from ear to ear, “so many questions, but how could I not know? That’s all you’ve been posting and I can still see your Snapchat location, you know? I knew it would come in handy one day.”

It dawns on me, “oh, right.”

I never even thought of that possibility. He’s a hundred steps ahead of me in thinking. Props to him. 

I let him go and as he disappears for a minute, it’s already enough time for me to start missing him. I lived all this time without him, and now even a second is too long without him. Love is impatient. I want him only to myself. Love is selfish. I’m talking about love like it’s been here the whole time. Love is blind. 

I want to cry again. I’m not sure if they are happy tears this time. I’m happy, because he’s here, but it also fills me with a heavy feeling, because I can’t exactly celebrate and smother him with love here in public like I want to. I need to be careful of every word and action with him in front of my friends. Hearts aren’t meant for cages and chains, and that’s what mine feels like right now, locked up and tortured. Misused. Might as well not have one. 

No one at the table says anything. I guess they are either still drunk and ready to go home, or just flabbergasted. I’m both. Mostly the latter. I feel almost completely sobered up. 

Before I can hold myself back, I tear up again. I’ll just blame this on the drinks, or him, or me, or my friends. All of it is overwhelming. 

My said friends immediately gather around me to comfort me and in chorus ask me what’s wrong. I almost want to say everything is wrong, but that’s not true.

“Are you just going to make yourself cry more and not tell us what’s happening?” they push me to talk and huddle around. It makes me crack. 

I choke out and sniffle, speaking no matter how much my voice breaks, “he’s just so great, you guys, like… you see him now and he’s so kind and amazing, right? But once you actually get to know him like I do, he’s incredible.” 

I can’t pick my head up anymore from where it’s buried in my hands, but I can tell by the loud silence that there’s confusion in the air, until my friend snaps back to reality and is the first to ask me what I’m sure everyone else is thinking, “but… this is a good thing, right? Happy tears?”

Others agree to the question, waiting to hear the confirmation of their conclusions from me. Safe to say, they are surprised at my outburst, but still supportive.

I hiccup, “I guess...”

Now I just feel like leaving it at that, if they can’t figure it out themselves that I’m not happy with the way things are. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I got some of it off my chest and that’s it. No more spoilers. 

“You’ve cried a lot tonight, on your birthday too! Are you sure you’re okay?” another friend asks. 

I settle for silence and silent weeping for a little longer, until I croak out, “I feel like I have never felt like this about anything, or anyone, before like I feel about him. There’s so much emotion, as you can tell. And I—we—there are some feelings involved, has been for a while now. I like him, he likes me. He wants to try to—I don’t know—see if we could be more than friends. That’s why he came here tonight.”

Shit. Before I can stop myself, I have spilled the secret. This is bad. I can still feel my cheeks burning under the stream of tears and I don’t see an end to it. I have to get it together though, before Alex gets back. Which should be any second now, by the way.

I don’t even know if he’s okay with this information being out. I don’t even know if that’s true. What if it doesn’t work out in the end and he leaves the country again as just a friend? 

I try to wipe my eyes before he comes back.

“It’s okay! I mean, wow, I never saw this coming, and judging by your reaction, you didn’t either, but sometimes it just happens like that, when you least expect it,” my friends are immediately there for me.

“I’m sorry I kept this from you, it’s just really scary for me that you guys know now. And it’s a big deal.”

When Alex finally, or at a perfect time, comes back when I look decent again, everyone fortunately acts the same as before. I don’t think he even notices that I’ve been shedding tears again. In any other situation I’d feel hurt, but now it’s for the better. At least I don’t think he notices, when he smiles at me and makes the move to put his arm around me to be cute, but holds himself back and instead asks me if I’m okay. 

We stay for one more round of drinks and I comprehend that he hasn’t wished me a happy birthday yet. Maybe there’s a time and place for that later.

When the night actually comes to an end and everyone has an assigned ride home, Alex gets close to me again and asks me, “so, uh—do you want me to drop you off at home?”

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

He gentlemanly opens the car door for me and waits for me to climb in, until getting in from his side. Before he even considers driving off, he looks at me and daringly caresses my cheek with his soft fingertips, “hey. Happy birthday. I didn’t tell you yet and—”

He checks the time.

“—it’s past midnight, but fuck it. It’s still your birthday, don’t listen to the clock.”

We laugh in the dark car and I give him my most sincere thank you. 

“So, about your present…”

I examine his face, and how it turns smug, and tell him, “a present? I think you coming here was enough. What could be better than that?”

I’m surprised when he still doesn’t start the car, but pulls his hand back a little bit just to use his thumb to swipe it slowly across my lower lip and murmurs, “no, no, nothing like that. There’s really only one more thing that I could give you.” 

“What is it?” 

Alex tilts my chin up, his eyes not leaving my lips, “I think you know. Do you trust me?”

Oh… I think I do know what he means. 

I gulp as he gets closer, “I do.”

This is not the first time we kiss, but it’s the first time we do it when we know the feeling is mutual and this could become a recurring thing. As our lips mash and do their thing together, his warm fingertips slips under my the hem of my shirt just a little, to test the waters. I let him twiddle with the material and claim every inch of my skin. 

“What time will I see you tomorrow?” I mumble drunkenly against his greedy lips. Not on the drinks at the bar, but drunk on love, or whatever it is. It’s more than lust what we feel.

He retreats himself and the moment is gone, “what makes you think we’ll see each other again?”

I look at him confused. 

He fiddles with my hands that he has draped over his lap and continues, “what if we never say goodbye tonight? If… you want to stay the night at mine?”

What’s the worst that could happen, why not? Now that things between us are finally moving, I don’t want them to stop. 

I agree and his delicious, cherry-red lips curl into a smile, while an awed look swims in his pupils. He looks as gone as I feel. 

He finally reaches out to turn the engine key and the car purrs to life. I lean my head against the window and watch the sleeping city pass by. The empty streets void of people while we cruise is like a vision of a dream, like it’s just us two in the world tonight. Speaking of, in what world did today happen? This doesn’t feel like the same world I used to struggle in, living feels and comes as easy as breathing now with him. 

We drive and drive, until the scenario changes to something I recognize. We must be close to his apartment. From here I can see the park bench where we had that talk a while ago, when we agreed on staying as friends and he kind of broke my heart for the first time when he told me he needed time, and there was no certainty of anything. The place sparks up unpleasant memories in me. 

He seems to notice it too and taunts me, “you want to sit there? Reminisce with me a little bit?”

“If you do that I’ll break up with you!” slips out of my mouth. My big, stupid mouth. Can’t take my big, stupid mouth anywhere these days. Never in a million years I should have said that. 

“I mean… I don’t know what I mean,” I finally admit when he’s fallen silent. I really don’t know. We never said the D-word, dating, again since that day at the park, ironically. Not until now. We haven’t even established that, there’s no label on us that says we are exclusive. That’s a talk for another day. 

Alex finally opens his mouth and laughs, “I think you do. I know what that meant. You will break up with me.”

As he recalls those words back to me, I cringe so hard at myself. 

“No, seriously. I didn’t mean it like that,” I try to save face. Just when we agreed to take these few days slow, I go and announce it to him that in my head we are a couple. Leave it to me to mess up this bad. 

“I mean,” he seems to be enjoying putting me on the spot like this, “I don’t know how many ways there are to break up with someone.”

I sink into the seat, trying to be hide in plain sight. I hope he would let it go, but I know he won’t. Especially when he lays his hand on my thigh while driving with the other. Now we must look like a couple. A couple of pining people, if nothing else. 

“Now you want to get shy?” he asks, “would you still feel as shy if I said I kind of don’t want to wait anymore either?”

“With what?” 

He doesn’t even hesitate to speak and also doesn’t let go of me, but still holds my thigh in place, “fuck it, let’s make it official. I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but you want me as much as I want you. I want you in a way that allows us to be together. So, what do you say?“

My face gets hot. It’s what he does to me when he’s this blunt. 

“I would love that,” I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding in. I have a feeling these four words will be the most important ones I will ever say. 

He smirks, “great! Uh—I would love to make this more romantic and shit, but…”

“You did this, technically, on my birthday, so I think it’s pretty romantic and great already. And I think it’s kind of us to just be spontaneous. It was perfect.”

He parks the car, “with the way you’re throwing all this praise my way, are you sure you can wait until we’re out of the car before you jump my bones?”

I try to duck my head down to hide my face, but he leans in and presses a single, seductive peck on the side of my jaw, before winking at me and exiting the car, before hurrying to my side to open the door for me.  I am definitely falling. 

.

“So, that’s how we got here,” I tell his friends in the kitchen, the luminous afternoon glow radiating through the window, illuminating our faces. Ever since the night when we—in his words, made it official—things have gone great. He had to leave the day after, but then eventually came back home from Mexico and told me he’s here to stay. So, life is sweet. It’s all like a dream, but the only difference is that I’m awake. 

What it comes to his friends: Karl, Punz and Foolish especially, the night I blacked out wasn’t thankfully the first and the last time I saw them. I had another chance of redeeming myself. We’ve hung out as a group a few times, like we are currently doing, and they are dying to know how exactly did we end up here. 

And, I am glad to tell them. Over and over again, as many times as they want to listen. 

I get up to walk to the fridge to fetch a drink, and notice Alex standing in the kitchen, preparing me a snack I didn’t ask for, but know I need. He’s sweet like that, making sure I eat and offers to make me something whenever he can tell I don’t have the energy to make it myself. It’s scary, how well he knows me already, but I can say the same about him. I think that’s how you know you have found your person. 

Alex purposely gently nudges and bumps me, just as I walk past him, “oh! Woah! Is this like our love story? Like in the old days?”

It takes me back to when we used to do that. 

He seemed to be finished with the dishes and stepped to his right where I was, and our bodies had another collision, I think this being the worst one yet. Like we’re used to it already and know the route out of the awkwardness, we just laugh it off. I don’t understand what the universe is trying to tell me to do right now, because it seems like every move I decide for myself to make is wrong. 

I understand now that the wait is over why it had to happen. It was painfully awkward to even look at him afterwards, but I would do it all over again if it meant that we would still have our happy ending. 

“Oh, shut up!” I scold him through my smile and in return, push him back with my hand. 

He grabs the hand I’m holding out and pulls my whole body against his instead and tells me he will never stop, pulling me into a kiss to seal the deal. He belongs with me, and there's never a day when he doesn't make me feel the same.

THE END.

#mcyt x reader #quackity x reader #quackity fluff #quackity imagines #reader x quackity #dream smp x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt fanfiction

[kaizoku-gary]

Fighting the darkness

Pairing: Buggy x gender-neutral reader

Genre: hurt-comfort

Word count: 693

Warnings/Tags: sad/depressed reader, emotional pain, lots of crying, cuddling, soft Buggy.

Summary: One morning you wake up and suddenly life is too much to handle. It hurst even trying to get up, but no matter how deep your wounds are, Buggy is always there to help you ease the pain.

A/N: a little hurt-comfort to satisfy your Buggy needs while I finish the second part to "Fair Winds and Following Seas".

Read it on AO3

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Getting out of bed isn't easy when you feel the weight of the world pushing you against the mattress. You want to close your eyes and fall asleep again; maybe a couple more hours will be enough to make you feel better. But you know how it is; sleeping longer never helps when you are exhausted, tired of overthinking, and regretting being born.

The sun shines brightly but the air is cold, matching the way you feel inside. Your is body heavy like lead when you finally try to get up. But you need him, despite the darkness growing inside you, you have to get out of bed and find him. Only he can chase away the monsters.

"Buggy?" you speak softly, entering the pirate's office. He is on his desk, actively sketching what looks like a complex map, the smell of hot coffee filling the room.

"Not now, my treasure. I'm kinda busy here," the pirate replies without taking his eyes away from his work.

"I'm sorry," you say, and for a brief moment, you think of closing the door behind you and going back to bed, but tears are already pooling in your eyes, and the ache in your chest won't let you move.

"Would you please… give me a hug?" you beg with a heavy sigh and a trembling voice, feeling the world crumbling around you, the air crushing you under his invisible hand.

Buggy drops his pen not a second after, and turns around to check on you, the expression on his face changing from mild annoyance to concern when he sees the tears pouring down your cheeks.

"What's wrong, my love?" He asks, hurrying to place his arms around you and pull you to his chest. His heart shatters into smaller pieces with every sob.

No answer comes as you cling to him and weep uncontrollably, trying to drain the darkness growing inside you. Your soul is falling to pieces, and happiness seems like a faraway memory. Even if you could speak, words wouldn't be enough to describe how helpless you are, how tiny and insignificant you feel compared to the thoughts nagging at your mind. And you hate yourself for dragging Buggy into your own hell.

"It's alright, baby. I'm here," the pirate reassures you before kissing the top of your head. Clear tears fall from his eyes, and he holds you tight, trying to snatch you from the bleak grip of sorrow before it drags you deeper.

"Come here," Buggy whispers moments after, taking your hand and guiding you to the couch.

Sitting on his lap, with your arms around his neck and your head on his shoulder you sigh, weakend by the battle inside your mind. Buggy's hands caress your back as he hums a quiet melody and suddenly the ice inside you begins to melt slowly.

"I love you, my treasure. You know that, right?" Buggy says, his voice warm like the spring sun. "I won't let anyone or anything harm you. I promise."

The pirate kisses your shoulder, your neck, your temple. You raise your head to look at him, and he kisses the tears from your eyes. "I love you," He repeats as many times as you need to hear it. Soon, shadows dissipate, and life recovers its bright colors.

"I love you too, Buggy," you finally say before leaving a soft kiss on his cheek. "Sorry to have worried you," you say, wiping off the tears on his face.

"It's ok. I'm here for you… I'll always be," he says, holding you tighter.

"Can we stay like this a little longer?" you ask.

"We can stay like this forever if you need it," he replies before kissing you softly.

*****

When did you fall asleep in his arms? You don't remember, but when you open your eyes, you're still cuddling with Buggy on the sofa, both covered by a warm blanket. He's still asleep, and you smile lovingly. No matter how often you tell him, he will never realize how important he is to you and how big is your love for him.

"Thank you, Buggs," you whisper before falling asleep again.

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#buggy x reader #buggy the clown #one piece buggy #opla buggy #jeff ward #buggy d clown #captain buggy #op buggy #one piece fanfic #buggy x you #buggy x y/n #one piece #opla #one piece x reader #buggy one piece #no beta read

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

01/30/2024 OFMD Crew Recap

TLDR; RenewAsACrew Farewell; Notes on the Farewell; Cast & Crew Sightings; Rhys Darby; Kristian Nairn; Lindsay Cantrell BTS; Samba BTS; Upcoming Events; Watch Parties: #OurFlagMeansDeadloch; LubeAsACrew; StewAsACrew; #WhatWeDoInTheShadows; RelaxImFromTheFuture; Cast Appreciation Events: Damien Gerard; Samba Schutte; Articles; Videos; TV/Radio Times; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika

==RenewAsACrew Farewell==

Tumblr / Twitter / IG

Alright lovelies, we're gonna have a little chat for a moment here. Please take a moment to read this part. I know a lot of you are feeling ansy and uncomfortable right now. It feels like something that we were hanging on to for a long time for support has suddenly fallen out from under us. That's a valid feeling. Feel it. It's good to feel it. We got this far with #RenewAsACrew, and it's scary to think that support isn't there anymore. I want to point out though, the most important part of that sentence, and that is "WE". #RenewAsACrew was a leadership team that steered us in a direction so that WE could hone our creativity, tenacity, love, support, and unhinged-ness towards our common goal, and you know what? We FUCKING DID IT. WE DID. ALL OF US. This campaign is not just #RenewAsACrew it really is ALL OF YOU. Every single one of you has stepped up and done something to support this campaign, stepped out of your comfort zones, supported each other, and you have accomplished SO MUCH in so little time. We can appreciate #RenewAsACrew, and all they did to help steer us, but we can and we WILL keep going. I know a lot of you have already heard and have even joined the #SaveOFMDCrew that is now stepping up as our navigator. I joined their discord last night, and I have to say, their organisation, passion, communication, problem-solving, is all top notch. They listen to us, the crew, they help provide support, and I have every confidence that they're going to keep us headed in the right direction. So please remember, this is not an end. Take some time tonight, vent your frustrations and fears, and feel them, and then come back tomorrow knowing we're all still here. I'll say it again-- we are not losing ground, we are not losing speed, or momentum, we are pivoting. We are changing course so that we can keep doing what we do best, and that is kicking ass, supporting one another, and fighting for our show and for queer and diverse representation in media. We will get our joy back in some form or another, even if that form is just this amazing found family we've all stumbled into. We got this. Now. Onto the fun stuff.

==Cast & Crew Sightings==

So I just have to say.. it could be the whole end of the social media strike thing, or just new week new stuff, but the cast and crew SURE does seem to be a lot more active today. Take that as you will, but I'm using it to fuel the "good stuffs happening" vibe many of us have been feeling. They really are watching what we're doing if Lindsey's comments are any indication

=Rhys Darby with Another Picture Trying to Murder The Internet=

Rhys decided to grace us with a lovely story on his Tiktok with a quote from Dazed & Confused, "You just gotta keep livin man, L I V I N"

=Kristian Nairn updating us on Wee John Wednesdays=

Couple pieces of news, looks like Wee John Wednesdays will now be Mondays! Still staying tuned for more information. You can follow him on his Twitter if you have that platform to keep up to date.

He also has a podcast and new track out on IG, here's a link to his podcast on mixcloud per @yronnia's request as well as Apple Podcasts

=Lindsey Cantrell with more BTS on Instagram!=

This woman is amazing. She SEES us trying and decided to give us a little treat, check out these IG Stories she posted.

= Samba Schutte also graced us with BTS! =

There were lots of videos too so please visit Samba's IG to see more

== Upcoming Events! ==

==Twitter Watch Parties!==

Holy hell there are a lot of watch parties going on. First day of #OurFlagMeansDeadloch went well! Please tune in tomorrow for Episodes 3 and 4!

Watch Party Hashtags:

#OurFlagMeansDeadloch

#SaveOFMD

#AdoptOurCrew

= Reminder! LubeAsACrew =

#LubeAsACrew is back on 1/31/24 at 4PM PT, 1PM ET. Next up are S1 Episodes 5, 6, 7.

== Stew As A Crew! / Rewatch Party==

February 4th is National Soup Day! Share soup pics, jokes, recipes, etc while rewatching Season 1 of OFMD!

Watch Party Hashtags:

#StewAsACrew

#AdoptOurCrew

#SaveOFMD

== What We Do In The Shadows Watch Party! ==

Tuesday February 6th, 9PM GMT, 1 PM PST, 4PM EST

Watch Party Hashtags:

#VamPirates

#SaveOFMD

#AdoptOurCrew

== Relax I'm From the Future Watch Party! ==

Sunday February 11th, 1 PM PT. 4 PM ET, 9PM GMT

Watch Party Hashtags:

#PiratesFromTheFuture

#SaveOFMD

#AdoptOurCrew

== Appreciation Events ==

Day of Damien! A day to shower Damien Gerard (Father Teach) with support and kindness for all he's done for our fandom! He has been hitting #SaveOFMD events pretty hard trying to support us! When to start: Saturday February 3rd, 6 AM CST, 7 AM ET, 4 AM PT, 12 PM GMT Hashtags: #DayOfDamien

== Smiles for Samba ==

Samba's birthday is February 1! Thank you to @shaney4prez for the info!

There's a thank you scrapbook they're putting together along with a gofundme for Los Angelos LGBT Center.

== Status Updates! ==

Petition got over 83K!

=Our Flag Makes A Difference=

The new fundraiser is almost at 20% in less than 24 hrs!

==Articles==

7 TV Shows Are Canceled in 2024 (So Far), Including 4 From HBO!

Not specifically about the show but PR wise interesting and something we can quote: Apple TV+ Is the New HBO

Wells Fargo Downgrades Warner Bros. Discovery Stock on Lower Earnings Outlook, ‘Less Favorable’ M&A

== Radio Times / TV Times! ==

Uk Folks, OFMD is showing up in Radio Times and TV Times!

Thanks @lamentus1 for the deets!: "While the Radio Times might seem negative it’s been pointed out a few times that just having a write up is a big deal. It’s been picked as the one new thing on that day that should have a bit more written about it. Which is a big deal. He’d have been very limited by word count to, so we should cut him some slack for consolidating what he had to say. "

==Videos==

Thank you to @fruityedge05 for their post on this video by MsMojo! "MsMojo posted a video about OFMD, and started the video by saying "Today we're looking at the most chuckle-worthy scenes in this outlandish pirate comedy that was cruelly canceled before it's time." Please check out their post and the video below!

== Side Notes ==

I'm in the process of compiling as many resources as possible into a documentation repository I use. It'll take a couple days to catch up with them so I'll be a bit scarce while that's happening because it's a lot of information! Also, FYI: I am taking Saturday the 4th off -- it'll be my first day off in 5 years and I'm going to the hotsprings nearby with some friends, and that night we're going to drink and watch OFMD and GO! So there won't be a recap for Saturday from me at least (pending if I get sick again), you're all welcome obviously to put one up if you'd like!

== Love Notes ==

It's been a very long day lovelies. You did an amazing job. Just know whatever you did today, we are proud of you, and you could never disappoint us here on the crew. You're exceptional, and we see the ever wonderful you! Bonus: A little love note I found on IG I thought you might like:

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

This video edit courtesy of @vigschainsaw on @Tiktok

#ofmd daily recap #ofmd daily recaps #saveourflag #ofmd #our flag means death #gentlebeard #stede bonnet #renew as a crew #edward teach #save ofmd #rhys darby #blackbonnet #save our flag means death #our flag makes a difference #Youtube

[semthescientist]

so this is a part two to my lil entry and here i merely wanna talk about what actually clicked for me and how everything has changed since then. part one is right here (:

as i said before, it was until september of 2023 when i was on around the fifth or fourth day of my cruise did things begin to dawn on me. if you're familiar with 4d-barbie, (i believe her name is Ada), she has a google drive filled with book resources and some of them are already annotated (which came in clutch). well, actually before the cruise i had began reading the book One Truth, One Law: I Am, I Create by Erin Werley and i resonated with things so heavily. i kept reading bits and pieces of the book but also was determined to be present and just enjoy my cruise. as i read, i became so interested in the way Erin would have full blown conversations with I AM. especially the part where Erin told her husband and then was afraid if he'd judge her but I AM simply told her to relax and let it do the talking--and that's what happened!

so i'm sitting there and i'm like "yo! how cool is this!" and of course, it's explained how to do this yourself--how to really tune in and trust your own wonderful intuition. i wanted to do it because i didn't want to reread Erin's(I AM) answers to questions to form my own answers. i had my own specific questions and no one else could answer them for me besides me. so i put the book down and i asked my own question and trusted that the answer would come to me whenever; even if he didn't come now, it was bound to.

and i had fear...i feared if it would actually happen or not. sometimes i'd be tempted to look things up or keep rereading every answer given by I AM in Erin's book. i would kind of just do self-talk when that happened, i don't know how i got through that to be honest. i can't seem to remember. but what i do remember is the little deposits that would drop into my head randomly. i was lathering up in the shower and was like, "why would i hate my persona?" [persona, ego, Vanessa--all the same, i just like the word persona better!] and i kept going with that line of thinking, asking myself a series of questions like: wait...why do i think there's something wrong with her?

isn't the persona how i'd experience a multitude of things? things that don't necessarily exist to I AM?

and i realized i was onto something because i felt so expanded. like my heart began filling up...my chest began fluttering. i know you've felt that feeling before and that feeling always comes when you're listening to yourSelf. there wasn't much else i did after i realized this because a new way of thinking just took over me. i had so much love for everything...i mean literally everything. i started to question everything i read from others.

again, something a lot of realized masters would say is "you suffer because you think you are this body" and while that's true...it just didn't feel right in my soul. none of it felt right--at least not something to remember all of the time. i didn't feel like it had any sort of longevity and the only reason i felt that way was because it didn't feel loving enough. i really wanted to know what was so bad about taking this persona into consideration...what was so wrong about loving her and holding her hand? why did i have to become aware of what she was thinking/feeling and suddenly say "oh but that isn't Me! let her cry and whine, she isn't Me."

i go into depth about this here. it's just a diary entry so the beginning i had a different outlook on my persona than i do now, hence the different header titles.

the bottom line is i had no reason nor right to hate my persona. after all, she found Me again--she found her True Self so that has to count for something. i simply started to look at the world differently and realized that it was never about fighting anything. we all know there is no "out there" and all there is is consciousness but how many have you actually put that to the test? have you stopped fighting shadows? fighting the seeming opposite circumstances? if you know there's only the will of God (which is you), why do you keep fighting everything else? have you stopped fighting your persona's fear, Vanessa's doubts--belittling her because she can't believe in herself...not yet at least?

i quickly gathered that if i love Myself, then i would have to trust Myself. i know someone probably has the fear of going "out there" and falling asleep again--losing faith or going back to believing in the world. but that could never happen. why? because of trust. You have to trust yourSelf enough to know only your will is imposed. and what builds trust? action.

personally speaking, there was a circumstance that i'd been ignoring for the longest in the name of manifestation. but lately, i've realized that whatever can happen "out there" and not only do i not have to form an opinion on it but i can watch how it crumbles when i stand ten toes down in trusting myself. i can trust Myself so much to stand tall in what i prefer and watch as Self carries me up and over the seemingly opposed...and then i glance back and they were nothing but cardboard cutouts. like that scene in coraline where she walked away and the world started crumbling--'twas only because it never existed too.

i don't fight anymore because i know My will is only ever imposed. i know that when something dares to throw a punch, it won't connect because it has already disintegrated. and most of all, i know that i can care about whatever the hell i want. hey, if you don't care about being a realized master than cool--find something that makes your heart sing and you can't help but burst from the seams when you think of it. for me, it was shifting. (do not come for me about the terminology, human mode rn so i gotta put a label). i found that shit to be so cool and to be honest, it's helped me discover my sexuality too which is a bonus. but none of this could've ever happened if i didn't start operating out of love for my persona.

just think of it, everything you desperately want you'd need a persona to experience anyway. you can take this and make some shit shake, and really define what you want or no labels at all. you can fully be I AM and have zero needs or you can be I AM with a persona, or you can just be a persona! there's people who look to an outside god but their god is rooted in so much love!

like you know a lot more than you're giving yourself credit for and only if you'd be so determined to listen to yourSelf the way you've listened to others, then shit would really start clicking. everything is perfect in its likeness and it is because I AM is all-encompassing that everything is possible--even the things we think are "bad". i promise, every question you'd ever have there's an answer for it and it's within you. you can find what matters most to you--you'll know. it's a feeling of pure confidence that cannot be described, you'll move without thinking and take chances and do whatever else and it'll feel like you're under a trance. That is You. there is no other...fall in love with Yourself and your human form too because it's nothing but a vehicle to bring you back to Self. your persona's fears and doubts are nothing but an opportunity to rely on Yourself...to trust Yourself and i speak of the infinite You.

lol i'm sorry if this seems all over the place, i was just saying what was heavy on my heart. i've been feeling a lot of love for everything lately and i want somebody else to feel that too. i know this will reach the person who's looking for it. so because of that: hi hi! you've done well, my love.

also, one last thing. there were a couple of people who helped me come to this realization and i wanted to say thank you! heavenlythea here on tumblr, iam_love.co on instagram, and Betinho Massaro for his book Super Accelerated Living (dude's mad funny, like i legit would smile reading it) oh and Ada! she came in clutch with the resources and annotating! and really everyone else for simply existing. know that you are perfect because you exist and the only reason you can't shake Self is because You (the real you) knows you'll be just fine.

love you all!

#non dualism #spirituality #nonduality #loassumption #neville goddard #law of consciousness #realization #success story #love you all #quantum jumping #reality shifting #4dbarbie

[gin-juice-tonic]

can i ask how youre able to make so many comics or if you have any tips for aspiring internet funny comic makers? your gag comics are always so creative and funny and well-executed, and your longer form stuff is just a delight to read, i would love to know if u have any advice/insight into yr process

I'm not good at advice so you will have to bear with me here. Also I'm putting it under a readmore cause images make it into a long post. The like first 3/4th of this I talk about specific comics I did, but if you scroll to the end I tried to give some general advice.

My stuff is unfortunately very inspiration-based as opposed to planning-based. So my process might not be helpful if you're looking for something structured... The first thing I should say is I write down basically anything that pops into my head ever. I have a bunch of nonsensical tumblr drafts,

I have stuff in my phones notes app,

I have pages and pages of papers and post-it notes littering my apartment (if you want to know the extent, my sister asked me how I could live with my apartment being so "messy". The only messy thing in it is my papers scattered about). I find the paper stuff the best, because I can draw instead of just writing down concepts.

This is the page I did for the comic about Stan "comforting" Dipper over his unrequited crush on Wendy. (The tumblr version being here)

You will notice aside from the order on the page being strange and some scratched out dialogue, there's not really evidence of a 'plan' here. That's because I was just drawing this as I was thinking it. You will also notice there are two random unrelated Ford drawings in the middle of the page. That's because I was drawing ANYTHING that I was thinking of.

And when I say write down anything, I do mean it. Write down something you did that week, something you remember from when you were 8, something you said out loud and laughed at, things you thought about in the shower, a fact you learned, what your friend had for dinner. See if you can apply it to something. I've mentioned before that this comic only exists because I ran out of toilet paper and went to buy a large bulk pack of it...

When I already have a base idea and just want to expand on it, I usually draw first ask questions later, and things seem to just snowball into being a story. As an example, for the comic I did about Dipper's swimsuit, the base idea was just "Dipper and Stan both wear fully covering swimwear - because they're trans and its what they're comfortable with." But when I went to look up what Dipper wore to the pool, i noticed mabel had a Star one piece suit

Dipper has a star hat in the first episode that he loses, right? SO why don't we give him a matching star one piece that he abandons.

Of course then that single drawing CREATES the story, because we have to explain how he eventually ends up in what he's wearing in the episode. And then I just draw and draw and draw until either the comic ends or I can't continue for whatever reason. The outline for the full thing usually forms while I'm drawing. If I'm worried about forgetting, I'll write down what comes next.

Some of this stuff I didn't stick to, or greatly expanded upon. It's good to be flexible with what you're doing. If something you originally intended only to be a throwaway bit inspires you, roll with it and keep going. (If it ends up being nothing, you can always discard it or turn it into something else later anyway)

I did the swimsuit one basically fully on my computer, but if you want to see another paper based one, a lot of the comic with the kid stans and crampelter I'm doing currently is down on paper.

If you can make out my writing, you can see it says "Crampelter has found out about Stan and Ford's boxing identities" at the top there, which was the general main idea of this part of the comic. This one was a lot more planned than the dipper swimsuit one. There's multiple pages of this sort of stuff, and I knew the idea I wanted was "If Ford and Stan are trans, why would they still be called those names as kids?" (So I guess the takeaway from this one is if you're wanting a structured comic, write down the main idea on the top of a page and brainstorm dialogue and drawings on it?)

There's a lot of sort of floating heads with dialogue, all that matters is I get the emotions or general idea drawn. They're important for me to draw out because being able to "see" the scene (even if I'm seeing it heavily unfinished) is what usually inspires the next bit of the comic.

And I know I talked like a lot already but some general other advice:

Draw, ask questions about what you've drawn, draw more to answer the questions, see if those new drawings ask any new questions, continue this process till you come to a satisfying resolution.

It's fine to not draw something immediately after you've thought of it. I have a lot of things I've just squirreled away for later. And in the same vein its okay to drag something old up that you've never used and try to work with it.

I almost always put on music while I'm trying to think of things. Something I feel fits the mood of what I'm doing tonally. And then I usually just put the same song on repeat, though some people im sure would feel like that is psychological torture. But its helpful to me.

This might sound silly if you're someone who leaves the house a societally normal amount, but I try to go out into the world and do things so I get new ideas and experiences I can build on. Sometimes those things are literally just "go to the park", but sometimes it's venturing out somewhere several hours away or doing an activity i'd never care to do normally... I try to take note of anything that stood out to me and write down thoughts or feelings I had during.

When it comes to trying to be "funny", you should try to make yourself laugh first. Not only because you want your comics to bring yourself joy, but also because its just hard to make stuff you don't care about (And harder to be consistent about it). Though if you think of something and you don't really think its funny, you don't have to throw it away! You might be surprised what other people end up liking. So don't kill yourself to write jokes you yourself don't really get, but if your brain spits out something on its own you dont care much for, it still may be gold to someone else.

It's okay to make comics about simple and relatable things. People love relating. And depending on what you're writing about, that relatability may be really needed!

Everyone has something of value to say. Even if you yourself don't feel like the things you're saying matter, or that they're too silly or un-serious to matter. They matter.

#ask stuff #sorry its so long and probably largely unhelpful