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kellyscowboy · 2 months

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Hiii!! You’re my favorite ikeshot person! You write their personalities and dynamic so well!!

could you write something based on the song the 30th by Billie Eilish? the story behind the song is someone gets into a really bad car wreck(or accident of some sort) and the aftermath of it

hii!! i meant to answer this sooo long ago but i got caught up w/ school & have also been in a sims 4 grind LMFAO. thank you so much for this request!! i apologize if this is a little off from what you may have expected or what i have written in the past. it's been a hot minute since i've written this dynamic so pls bare w/ me :'). again, thank you so much for this request! i appreciate you & your support <33333

i wasn't sure if you wanted this to be modern!au or in the canon au, but i made it canon. so it doesnt EXACTLY follow the lyrics. but essentially follows the point of the song!! ALSO!! @sparkedblaze this is also for you because you are the reason i write for ikeshot <3

CW: blood mentioned, car accident mentioned, uhhh probably cussing i lowkey don't remember tbh, UHH sad gays idk i forgot how to do this

Hotshot couldn't help but stare. It made him sick to do so, but he couldn't stop. It was like watching a gruesome fight that you couldn't tear your eyes away from. Except it was Ike. His Ike. All bruised, cut, and bloodied; scrawled out pathetically on a hospital bed. He was all but disfigured. All but unrecognizable.

But often times he had this look about him, and Hotshot couldn't help but think he looked the exact same as he did before the accident. He would just look off into the distance, similar to how he used to look at the stars before everything. Occasionally he would squirm under his boyfriend's intense stare. But outside of that, he said and did nothing. He wouldn't move an inch until a nurse came to make him eat, or until Hotshot would force him to use the bathroom.

"We don't need ya kidneys to fail, now. You'se already been through enough."

It made Hotshot nauseous to take care of the boy. They had never been in this position before. Usually, it was Hotshot laid up with a broken bone or some odd illness nobody else got. And Ike was always right at his side. It didn't feel right when the roles were reversed. Not to either of them.

Ike was knocked out for a long time. The doctors and nurses started to doubt he would ever wake up. They had begun to prep Hotshot for the worst, not that he ever listened to them. All he did was sit, stare, and pray to whatever god was listening that his boy would wake up.

When he did finally wake up, the hospital was in a frenzy. There was a hushed, excited buzz about the air. All the nurses would linger by the doorway of his room and gossip about his 'miraculous awakening.'

The second his eyes opened, he was bombarded with numerous questions from the doctors. They were long, confusing questions that contained words that Hotshot could hardly believe were real. Ike was quickly overwhelmed. Tears teetered on the brink of his eyes and his breathing became rapid.

"Would ya stop pesterin' him for a second? He just woke up! What's wrong with the lotta ya? Huh? Ain't you supposed to be professionals? Let the boy breathe!" Hotshot yelled as he jumped to his feet. "He ain't just some medical miracle, alright? He's a person just like you 'n me. Give 'im a second."

One by one, the doctors and nurses began to shuffle out of the room. Each one glancing over their shoulders as they left. Hotshot could hear their gossiping whispers outside the door as he sat down closer to Ike.

"What's happenin'?" Ike asked. His voice was small, hoarse, and confused.

Hotshot furrowed his eyebrows and grabbed his lover's hand. "What'dya mean? Dont'cha remember? You was hit by one of them fancy new electric carriages."

Ike's initial confusion turned into a quick look of horror as he caught a glimpse of his bruised arms. "But... I'm alive right? I'm here? This is real?" The boy had started to freak out. He analyzed his arms, turning them every which way. He leaned forward, wincing as he did, and yanked the cover off his legs. It wasn't a pretty sight, and Hotshot had to stop himself from dry heaving just from seeing his boyfriend in such a state.

Gently, Hotshot pulled the blankets back over the boys legs. "You'se alright, Ike. For a couple of days there, I was worried. You'se was knocked out cold. But ya alive now. That's all that matters. You're alive." He wanted to do something. Squeez the boys hand, give him a pat on the leg... something. But he couldn't in fear of hurting the boy further. So, he just nodded and flashed him a forced, tight smile. "I think ya oughta lay down. You get yourself too worked up sometimes. It'll get worse if ya don't relax a little."

The other boy couldn't help but let out a laugh. He grabbed his chest in pain after he did. "Sounds like somethin' I'd usually tell you."

"Right." Hotshot rolled his eyes fondly. "Well, I reckon them so-called professionals out there are gonna wanna ask ya some questions. I'll make sure they go easy on ya, yeah?"

Ike nodded and closed his eyes as the other boy got up to let the doctors back in. He took a deep breath, once again wincing in pain, and prepared himself for the horror that would be the next few minutes.

Hotshot often felt ashamed when looking back on the day of the accident. None of it was his fault. He was often reminded by the Brooklyn boys that there was no way he could've known. But he felt as though he should've. That he should have seen the conjugation of people and he should've known. He should've listened to his gut telling him it was someone he knew. Someone important. Should've ran up and helped. But he didn't.

"It was a Tuesday, Hotshot." Spot had told him in the hospital. "Ya never could'a known. He ain't never come over to visit on a Tuesday. 'Specially not so early. Quit beatin' yerself up about it."

Even Mike had come and talked to him. Usually, they just sat there together in complete silence. But even Mike knew it wasn't his fault. "Listen, I know we ain't close but I gotta talk to ya about this. Spot told me what happened. That you'd seen the accident but didn't think nothing of it and..." He paused. Hotshot prepared himself to get screamed at. Berated for being an absolute idiot and not helping the others brother. But the ambush never came.

"It ain't ya fault," Hotshot continued. "Honest. Ya know I'd scream and kill ya if it was. Ain't no way you coulda took one look at the scene and knew it was him. Hell, I'm his twin brother and I didn't even get the sense that something was wrong 'till Scram came runnin' to tell the news." He sighed again and took another pause. "Even if ya had known. Even if ya had gone and tried to help, what could you have done? Huh? Ya ain't a professional. Situation woulda been the same any way about it."

Hotshot nodded. He understood them. He understood everyone who had come to talk to him. Deep down, he knew it wasn't his fault. But he couldn't stop beating himself up about it.

He relived the day in his head almost every single night. It was a normal Tuesday. Up as early as the birds, carrying the banner and collecting pity from people wandering the streets. He had seen the commotion early in the day. In fact, it had been right after he had bought his papers for the day.

It's far too early for this, he recalled thinking. There was always something going on in New York. Especially in Brooklyn and especially around the circulation buildings. Typically, it was a rough fist fight between two newsies, and at its worst it was a robbery of some sort. But neither of which would cause such a big commotion nor gathering of police and medical personnel.

Hotshot knew deep down something was wrong. He felt drawn to the accident, but he put it aside as his love for fights. Which is what he assumed it was. A big fight that got out of hand. Maybe one that had contanied multiple newsies instead of just two, or that had somehow gotten an adult of importance involved.

But he ignored the calling to the scene. He had a stack of papers on his bicep and they weren't going to sell themselves. Besides, the quicker he was done with work the quicker he could join Ike at Jacobi's. He hadn't even really thought of stopping to see what had happened. Just that it might be something interest, but not something he could be bothered to stop for.

Just thirty minute later, he heard Scram's pattering feet behind him. He turned quickly on his heel, looking down at the boy. He had a horrified look on his face and his cheeks were stained with tears. The boy began to speak, sputtering and rambling over himself. "It's- Ike- Well, he- It was a car- And-"

Hotshot's blood ran cold at the mention of Ike's name. The papers on his arm hit the ground with a thump and sent dust flying into the air around them. "Ike? What about Ike?" Scram began to cry again, flailing his arms and pointing behind him. Hotshot's heart sank. "Scram, spit it out! I need to know what happened!"

"There was an- an accident! He got hurt, real bad. Barely looks alive. He keeps askin' for ya! Ya gotta go! Quick! They're loadin' him into the ambulance!"

"Where, Scram? Where?"

Scram's face was red and covered in snot. "Right outside the circulation building!"

Hotshot's heart sank even farther, something he hadn't believed to be possible. "Listen to me, Scram. Listen good. You go run and you don't stop running 'till you find Mike, alright? You tell him everything. You tell Manhattan everything. Okay?" He didn't even wait for the boys response.

He abandoned his dropped papes as he sprinted as fast as he could back to the circulation building. As he arrived at the scene, he couldn't help but be angry. He pushed his way through the crowd, screaming obscenities and demanding they let him into the ambulance. Police tried to hold him back when he finally made it to the front.

"He's been asking for me! They told me he's been asking for me! I'm Hotshot! Ya gotta let me in!" Hotshot screamed. "His family's all the way in 'Hattan! Ya can't let him go alone! He'll be scared!" Before he could stop himself, he screamed: "Ya can't let 'im die alone!"

Upon hearing the last bit—and discussing the boys name, which the injured boy had been groggily repeating over and over again—the officers let the boy through. Hotshot climbed into the back of ambulance and gripped onto the other boys hand.

"Ya think I'm gonna die?" Ike sputtered out, blood covering his mouth. "I- Mike's gonna be so mad. He ain't gonna have no-one."

Hotshot realized what he had yelled previously and began to panic. "Nah, nah. Ya ain't gonna die, Ike. You'se too strong to, okay? I just said that so they'd let me through. That's all. You'se gonna be just fine."

"I'm scared, Hotshot. I'm really scared."

"Hey, don't say that. You'se gonna be alright. Don't be scared. I ain't! I know you'se gonna be just fine. Okay." But the truth was, Hotshot was horrified. He hadn't been so scared in his entire life. He dropped his voice to a whisper as he continued to speak. "Ya still look so pretty, ya know that? Gorgeous, Ike. Ya gorgeous."

After hearing Hotshot's whispers, the boy took a deep, choked breath and closed his eyes.

After Ike finally woke up, he often thought aloud about what would've happened among different circumstance. Hotshot hated hearing it. He hated thinking about how, if the situation had only been slightly different, Ike could've died.

"What if it had been on Thursday? Someone else coulda been drivin' it. Goin' faster, not have slowed down or stopped. Coulda taken me straight into the next life."

"Would ya stop that?" Hotshot muttered. His face was deep in his hands.

Ike paused for a couple of minutes before speaking up once again. "I coulda been on ya bridge. They coulda sent me straight over into the water. I don't even know how to swim now. Imagine it with broken bones..."

"Ike."

"I coulda been in that neighborhood where all them families lived. Some little kid coulda found me and not told anyone cause they'd be scared they'd get in trouble or something."

"Ike."

"If it had been winter and it was snowing or rainin'. And the car had skidded, lost control. Hit me full speed."

Hotshot had started to tear up and his composure was breaking. "Ike, please." He begged in a broken voice.

But Ike couldn't help himself. He was spiraling. "Or if I was on one of them backroad nobody goes on. Nobody woulda even seen it happen. If just a small little thing was different, I'd probably be-"

"Ike!" Hotshot finally yelled. "Stop. You need to stop. I can't keep doin' it. Can't keep listenin' to ya kill yaself in your daydreams. You're alive, okay? You're alive. So just shut up! Because there's no life, no reality where I'm letting ya die. Alright? Especially not at the hands of some rich idiot's fancy car. So just... stop."

Ike nodded, his voice small. "Sorry. I just... I'm just freaking out. I dunno if I'm meant to be alive right now."

Hotshot sighed. "Listen. You'se the great person alive." He sat down and gently took ahold of his boyfriends hand. "If anyone in this world's meant to be alive, it's you. Alright?" He kissed Ike's hand and wiped at his eye with his own hand. "You're alive, Ike. Don't think about anything else. We got a buncha years ahead of us. Don't worry 'bout nothin' else."

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horrornvnfan · 6 months

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To Need Another Person

I wrote yet another Restart Heart Fanfic! This is a sequel to The First Night, and takes place on the morning of Day 2 of the game. This is starring my MC, Maria Dust, and Ezra and Steph.

This fic is a re-write two scenes from the game put together, so canon lines/events/actions are used here or have been edited to fit the characterization of Maria Dust, but credit must go to the original. Please check out Restart Heart and support the dev here @restartheartvn, the game and the story are really amazing!

If you're interested in Maria in the context of this game, click here.

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You woke up to Ezra's limbs intertwined with yours. And the sound of vibration.

Reluctantly, you open your eyes. Your body felt so sore you thought you were going to crumble into pieces. You feel like that was an injustice, considering all the nonsense you were already going to have to go through from here on out, with cancelling an entire wedding and dealing with your family.

At least you got to experience some kindness yesterday. Ezra, Sammy, and Blaire's trip to the cafe and beach was more pleasant than you expected, considering your emotional state and your status of just being their acquaintance at the time. And then last night, with Ezra… he was so understanding. He even made you laugh.

You were grateful for it. But now that you were awake, there was no slipping back into a comfortable sleep with Ezra by your side.

You tried to move only to get a groan of displeasure from Ezra. He did not want you to leave and in the moment he reminded you of a cat. He grumbled, "Your phone has been going off for the past like, 10 minutes."

You blushed hard as you heard his voice in your ear, deep and mildly annoyed. His voice was normally pretty deep, but this was just insane. And you don't know why you didn't expect it to sound so close. You were cuddling.

Maybe you should stop cuddling. Act cool, for a change.

"How much has it been going off?" You ask as you carefully attempt to wriggle away.

Before he could respond, your phone started buzzing again. You let out a soft groan and reached over to grab the vibrating device. It was a text from Steph. Unusual. You opened the notification to see what the fuss was about.

Steph: [I'm outside, open the door in 10 seconds or I'm breaking it down.]

"Oh, it's just Steph," You yawned. "They're outside."

The gears in your head, previously turning painfully slow in your tiredness, sped up tenfold. Both you and Ezra jolt up and look at each other awkwardly. You couldn't help but stare at Ezra for a moment before quickly jumping out of bed, only for your legs to falter momentarily. What happened to your plan to act cool?

Before you could fall like a tragic baby deer, Ezra's arms shot out and caught you. An oddly tender moment passed as they looked at you a warm blush dusting their cheeks. However, the banging on your front door took precedence.

Embarrassed, you flung yourself from Ezra's hold, and shouted, "STEPH! Stop it! Give me a minute!"

You fumbled out of the bedroom, Ezra trailing behind, and as you swung the door open, still in pajamas and your hair a mess, you came face to face with Steph, who stared at you in disapproval.

"Why the fuck didn't you answer your phone??" They demanded, more cross than you expected.

"I just woke up!"

"And who is that?" Steph glared past you, somehow offended by Ezra's presence in your apartment.

Before you could turn around to introduce them, you felt Ezra gently place his hand on your shoulder. "I'm Ezra, I kept sugarsnap company last night."

You were about to turn to Ezra to nod in confirmation and continue the introductions, but Steph's reaction right in front of you kept you from looking back. They were shifting uncomfortably. And it was strange. Steph was practically never intimidated or made uncomfortable by someone else.

Feeling awkward, you gently nudged Ezra out of the way and stepped aside. "Come inside! I'm sorry for not waking up earlier, y'know how it is."

Steph nodded absentmindedly as they stepped into your apartment. For a moment you just stared at them, the fogginess of sleep and the sudden adrenaline of running out of bed starting to wear off. Steph was here. In your apartment. After what felt like ages of ignoring you or being too busy to even text. Your heart felt tight. And with Ezra here as well, already having comforted you last night over completely different emotional issues, you felt painfully awkward.

Steph wasn't looking at you when they said, "Yeah… did you mean to leave your window open?"

"Huh?" You followed Steph's gaze to your open living room window. "Oh! No, my roommate, Chris, usually leaves our windows open. No idea why, never got the chance to ask." You quickly moved to the window to slide it closed. "I wish he wouldn't, though. I know most bugs are dead or gone this time of year, but I really don't need to risk an infestation right now."

Steph turned back to you and smiled nervously. "Well, how are you feeling? You didn't text me much so I thought you might have… had a bad reaction to what happened."

You didn't like how they said that. You did text them yesterday. You called them multiple times the night of the party, when you were drunk and crying and Chris had to get you home. And now Steph was being vague?

Ezra spoke then. "No need to beat around the bush, I know what he did."

Oh. Right, Ezra being here was why Steph wasn't being direct. There wasn't another reason, like Steph not caring. You needed to stay calm. Steph was here.

And you could see Steph's growing discomfort. "Can I talk to you alone, Maria?"

"Yes," You said too quickly. Sheepish, you smiled at Ezra. "Ezra, Steph and I will be in my room for a bit. You can make yourself comfortable, or eat anything in the fridge."

Steph grabbed your hand and hurried you into your room as Ezra watched.

You felt tumultuous. Steph was here, and that was so important to you. You'd missed Steph so much for so long, and finally, they were here. You needed them. You had no idea how to say it. How to not burden them or make them want to distance themselves from you again. But this was a good first step, you could ask Steph to grab dinner with you, or watch a movie, just a time where you could talk, and--

Steph was scowling at you. You froze, surprised. You'd gotten into your head a bit for a second there, but why were they upset? Steph stared at you incredulously. "Are you serious, Maria?"

"I-- What? What do you mean?"

"While I get what happened really fucking sucked, what the hell was that?" They were pissed at you. "A fucking stranger? Really?"

Shit. You completely forgot about how this would look to Steph, having Ezra spend the night. Your body felt cold, and you gripped your arm tightly. "Ezra isn't a stranger. We're friends now. And we didn't have sex. They just sleptover."

You glare at the ground for a bit, resentment bubbling in your gut. Why did Steph accuse you of that? It's not like you, and they know it. And it wouldn't be fair of them to be angry if you did sleep with Ezra anyways. Your sex life was not their business. "What does it matter?" You continue. "It's not like you were here. You decided that work was more important than my wedding shower."

"Are you KIDDING me?!" Steph scoffed at you, causing your gaze to meet theirs. It was a bit of a low blow, and you knew it. Steph's schedule had always been a point of contention with them, but you were mad. And you were hurt.

They said, "You know I would've rather been there than at work, but I can't exactly quit my job for a fucking party, Maria!"

"It's not just a fucking party," You said through a clenched jaw. "It was one of the most important events in my life and you couldn't take off a single day."

"Well, I'm here now, aren't I?" Steph countered flippantly.

Your face was getting hot, and your impulse control was dropping. So you asked them something you'd wanted to know for months. "Steph, why did you never RSVP to my wedding?"

A deafening silence fell over the room. They were still displeased with you, but there was a new emotion there now. They hesitating. "Do you really want to know?"

"Yes."

Steph's unwavering gaze made you squirm a bit. "Alright. I didn't RSVP because… I didn't want you to marry Kenneth."

Your mind went blank, astonishment temporarily replacing your anger and pain.

They went on. "In fact, I hate Kenneth. Even before all of this shit came to light."

"What?" Your mind was racing. They hate Kenneth? Since when? College? High school? Not younger, couldn't be before then, not for all this time. How could they be saying such earth-shaterring things so blandly, like it was something casual?

They said, "I know that if I came to your wedding, I would not be able to stop myself. So I decided, for your sake and your happiness, to not go."

You rasped a question. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I did."

"No." You said so harshly that Steph took a step back. "No, you really fucking didn't, Steph. You were always supportive. I can't think of a single time that you didn't support this marriage. You even helped him pay for an engagement ring!"

"Yeah, because he couldn't even remember your favorite fucking color, Maria!" Steph snapped defensively. "He didn't know what kind of jewelry you liked, and just assumed the gaudiest, most expensive thing would work! He thought you wanted all this extravagant, outlandish, and down right stupid stuff for the proposal."

Steph went on, unloading their feelings as if they'd been holding in a secret and were relieved to breathe again. "I helped him so much because I didn't want you to be sad. I didn't want him to fucking fail. Yet even with all that fucking help I gave him he still went and got your little sister pregnant."

Your heart was hammering. You couldn't hear much else besides the blood roaring in your ears. Steph showed up two days late after your life was ruined. Steph had scolded you for finding company in someone else when you were vulnerable. Steph had been avoiding you for months. Steph never even thought you should marry Kenneth to begin with. And now Steph was talking like that fact was their burden all this time.

Your voice came out strangely calm, teetering on the edge of fury, when you asked, "You know I was with someone who couldn't even remember my favorite color, and you just let me stay with them?"

It was like something clicked in Steph's head, and they faltered. "I just… I--"

The steadiness of your voice wavered only slightly, still holding back to bulk of your anger. "No, you knew how little he cared and you just let things stay that way? You let me stay with him?"

"Maria, I--"

Unable to hold back any longer, you shouted, "You didn't think to say, 'hey Maria! In case you were doubting the biggest decision of your life, here's proof that you're not crazy! You really ARE going to be miserable if you marry him because Kenneth doesn't give two shits about you!'"

Steph's eyes were wide, and they almost looked hurt. "You thought you were going to be miserable?"

"Of course I thought that!" You snapped. "I never asked for this marriage! I was doing it for my family!"

Steph definitely looked hurt now. You didn't know if they were guilty or if they pitied you, but it didn't matter. You were so, so angry. And you couldn't stop yourself from crying as you ranted on. "You are my best friend! I listen to you more than anyone! I would've heard you out of you just TALKED to me! Instead, what, you shut me out entirely because you thought I was an idiot for marrying a man like that?!"

"No, Maria--"

"Or maybe it IS all my fault!" You were hysterical. "Maybe I should've tried even harder to talk to you, and to stop the marriage sooner! But you're just pretending like you care when I called you the night it happened, and when I texted you yesterday morning and night, to no response."

A long silence went on after that. You weren't looking at Steph. You couldn't. You furiously rubbed at your face to force yourself to stop crying.

Distantly, almost monotonously, you heard Steph say, "It's my job to care about you. And I do. It's not pretending, Maria."

Bitterly, and uncaring if Steph heard you or not, you muttered, "You've done a poor job of it lately."

You heard a strained intake of air, and knew that you had hurt Steph saying that. Maybe it was deserved. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe you were both huge fuck-ups who needed each other, and maybe you needed to be apart. You couldn't entertain any possibility right now. You could already feel your overwhelming emotions starting to shut you down. With your face still covered by your hands and sleeves, you could vaguely see Steph's shadow on the floor, and that they were reaching out for you, but stopping just before contact.

"I'm sorry." They said quietly, and you saw their shadow move away. The floorboard creaked as they got close to your door. "You have my number if you need me."

You listened as they left your room. You listened as the front door clicked open and shut. And you crumpled onto the floor of your room.

You held yourself tightly as silent cries wracked you, willing the pressure to be enough to calm down already. You always hated crying, feeling so helplessly out of control. You didn't know why you yelled at Steph like that. You shouldn't have. You said way too much. You didn't say nearly enough. But you were so frustrated with everything, and so hurt, you couldn't stop yourself.

Hot tears streamed down your face as soft footsteps drew near. Deliriously, you thought it was Steph, but as warm arms enveloped you into a hug, you recognized instantly that you were wrong.

Fucking hell Maria, you actually forgot that Ezra was here. That's another tally for you being a rotten friend. Still, you let yourself settle into their embrace and let out a soft sob. Here they were, comforting you yet again, when you didn't really deserve it. Their body was warm, their hug gentle yet firm enough to help you feel a semblance of security. You needed to push down your shame for now, and focus on your breathing.

Ezra's voice was muffled against you as they said, "It'll be okay, sugarcube."

They let you cry for a while, before moving their hands to cup your face and look at you. You flinched at the sudden touch, and while they paused, they didn't move away, holding you so lovingly -- if you could even use such a word -- that it was almost cruel. With their thumbs, they wiped your tears, and your body relaxed further, very unused to such contact, but unwilling to reject how soothing it felt.

Once again, you had far too much you needed to say, and far too few words to do it. You let out a sad sigh. "Ezra…?"

"Yes, sweetness?"

"I'm sorry if this--"

"No. Don't apologize. I know what you're going to say. 'I'm sorry if this is a lot to handle since we hardly know each other.'" Ezra's hands moved down to your arms, rubbing softly, and they leaned foward to press a small kiss onto your forehead, making you jolt with surprise. Ezra leaned away again and stared into your eyes with a kind smile. "Please don't fret too much about them. You texted them and they never responded… What kind of friend does that?"

Your face fell and you looked away from their gaze. You didn't want to talk about Steph right now.

Ezra carried on. "I'll be here for you whenever you need me, okay?"

You nodded silently as Ezra helped you into a stand, before pulling you into another hug. Distantly, you wondered if maybe it would be fine to rely on Ezra a little more. They had been nothing but patient and genuine with you, supporting you through chaos despite not knowing you well at all. And their hugs were nice, so unlike physical touch with other people you don't know well. Maybe… Maybe it would be okay.

You suddenly felt a gentle bite on your shoulder, and you let out a surprised yelp, reeling back with a bewildered expression.

Ezra who gave you a playful smile. "Sorry, you're just really cute…"

Baffled, you said, "I'm cute enough to chomp??"

Ezra gave a short laugh and buried their face into your neck, squeezing you tighter. "Yeah. You are." Their face felt warm against your skin. Were they… blushing?

Before you could ponder this interaction further, you heard a phone buzz, and Ezra pulled away from you. You watched as Ezra pulled his phone out of his pocket and began reading the notification, then he re-read it. Their face fell, and he stood up suddenly. "Sugarsnap I am so sorry, but I really have to go. Eliana -- my little sister -- needs me."

Before you could say anything or even stand up, Ezra grabbed his stuff and was already halfway out your front door. However, he quickly gave you a tightlipped smile as he shut your apartment door behind him.

You sat on the floor in stunned silence, bizarrely calm again, with streaks of dried tears on your face, wild hair, and a terribly hoarse throat.

What on Earth were you going to do today?

#this is maria's lowest point in the game-canon sadly :(#the dam breaks. :(( but the only place to go from here is up!#my next fic will be an entirely original scene! it'll be Maria with Steph and Kenneth when they were younger!#because i am obsessed with childhood dynamics and am excited to explore this one!#i hope i did my idea of Steph and Maria's baggage justice here #especially for Steph's character #i love them dearly and would hate to misinterpret them. but the relationship is messy it has to get worse before it gets better!#i also want to do an original scene with Blaire i've been planning for a while but it's not perfect yet!#and Sammy's fic with Maria omg i've rewritten it so many times trying to write Sammy's voice accurately #Sammy when i catch you Sammy-- when i catch your characterization i SWEAR--#restart heart #MC: Maria Fielding #my post #my writing

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