#aren’t you guys tired of spending so much time and energy raging against one of the best children’s authors of all time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

night-fallz · 3 years

Text

It's getting better . . . right?

A (very) brief look into how Damian’s life with the League was.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ao3 // Wattpad

previous II next

I'm confused (Part 3)

Damian wanted to spend the whole afternoon in the shower. He wanted to forget everything.

He needed a break.

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of emotions for him. Everything was so confusing.

It was too much.

Although his brothers were becoming more tolerant towards him. It still felt forced.

And to make it worse, things were only getting worse at school.

Today was a good example of that.

His peers usually ridiculed him in private. Somewhere they couldn’t get caught.

They’ve never mocked him in such a public space before. Especially not a public space where adults could return at any time.

It was different.

Damian hates how he allows his mind to wonder how the outcome might’ve been different. If the librarian walked in on what they were doing to Damian, would she have tried to stop it?

Or would she just turn a blind eye?

He hoped that it wasn’t the latter. The librarian was one of the only adults in the facility that Damian could somewhat tolerate.

Out of nowhere, he felt the water become hotter and cursed.

It felt like he was back in the League and they were throwing lava at him again. He was supposed to learn two lessons during that exercise.

One: Learn how to withstand the heat.

If Damian could survive being pelted with lava, he could survive or at least tolerate any high temperature.

And if he got gravely injured or didn’t survive during the lesson? Well, there’s a reason that they had the Lazarus pit.

Any burns or scars that Damian had would dissolve. As if they never existed. It was the one thing he liked about the pit.

Without it, Damian’s whole body would be littered with scars. From the intense training sessions, he’s gone through to the punishments that he has suffered from. Scars were something that he was accustomed to.

Two: Learn how to dodge

If he didn’t want his skin to burnt because of the lava, then he better evade the numerous attacks. It didn’t matter if Damian got hit: there was a sequence on how they launched it. And they wouldn’t stop until all the gallons of lava were empty.

All the injuries that Damian received during that training session might’ve brought him a lot of pain, but it worked.

In the end, Damian believes that the torment that he had gone through was worth it because he had acquired something from it.

He could only hope that it would be the same here.

—————————————————————

Getting out of the shower was harder than Damian thought it would be. He had quickly gotten used to the boiling drops that crashed onto his skin and instantly accepted the pain.

He deserved it after all.

After a few minutes of staring at his sunken reflection, he forced himself to go back to his room.

He didn’t expect to see his siblings lounging around like they owned the place.

Damian hesitated, not knowing what to do.

“Do you guys require my assistance?”

All three heads immediately turned towards him and Grayson’s smile brightened.

“Hey baby-bat.” he greeted, “Any plans today?”

Why do they keep asking that? What do they want from me?

Damian slowly nodded, “Actually,” he lied. “I do.”

The dark-headed trio glanced at each other and Todd raised an eyebrow, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He wants to stay home.

“So you aren’t lying?”

He is.

Damian forced a scowl on his face, “No, I’m not.”

The older bat kept pushing, “Are you positive?”

Damian kept a straight face, trying not to let his annoyance show. “Definitely,” he walked forward avoiding the spots where his brothers resided, and crossed his arms. “You guys can leave now.”

Drake walked towards him and Damian had to force himself not to flinch.

Please don’t punish me. I didn’t do anything wrong.

“So you wouldn’t mind telling us what your plans are?”

Damian raised an eyebrow, “I don’t need to tell you anything. It’s none of your business.”

Why can’t they just leave me alone?

“We just want to get to know you better, baby-bat.” Grayson gently assured. “You’ve been here for around a year and we barely know you.”

Damian tutted, “And who’s fault is that exactly?”

His. It was his fault.

Damian knew that it was his fault that no one wanted to get to know him. He was the unwanted one. The one no one expected.

He was an Al Ghul.

A murderer.

He has so much blood in between his fingers and he hasn’t even reached the age of eighteen.

Drake scoffed, “You didn’t exactly make it easy for us to get to know you.”

Of course, he’s right. Drake is always right.

“And am I supposed to care about that?” Damian retorted, “I don’t need plebeians like you to understand me. People like you aren’t-”

“Damian.” Grayson’s stern voice cut through the room like a whip. “Enough.”

“But he was- I didn’t-“ Damian’s voice sounded pitiful in his ears. “Drake was the one who started it.”

The teen scowled at him, narrowing his eyes at Damian. “Why am I not surprised that you’re shifting the blame to me?”

“I’m not shifting the blame towards anyone!” Damian screamed in frustration, trying to get his brothers to understand. “I'm telling the truth!”

The emotions that trashed inside of him for weeks have finally begun to still. As if even they’ve grown tired of trying to figure everything out.

Nothing made sense anymore.

One moment, his brother would act like how his mother would describe a family. Caring, loyal, and loving.

Then the next, they would remind Damian of how the League treated him. Cold, worthless, and unworthy.

Weren’t they supposed to be the good guys?

“What’s going on here?”

Damian turned and saw his father’s muscular frame towering over the door. The tone of his voice was calm, but Damian could see how his blue eyes seemed to rage, demanding for answers.

Damian forced his face to become neutral as he tried to explain the situation. “Father, I was ju-”

“You know, the usual.” Drake interrupted him, “The demon child acting like a brat, throwing his weight around like he owns the place.”

“I was not-”

“Damian.” his father’s voice was coated in the familiar intonation that Damian could never recognize. Was it disgust? Annoyance? Anger? A mix of all? “We’ve talked about this.”

No, they haven’t.

His father barely acknowledged Damian unless he was reporting a mission, or if he did something wrong. Sadly, it was mostly the latter.

If it wasn’t for all the training that Damian’s received, he would’ve flinched from the way his father looked at him. His gaze was filled with disgust. As if Damian was nothing but a piece of gum stuck in his shoe that he couldn’t remove.

As if he was a burden.

But isn’t that what he was?

His father gave him a final glance, “I’m benching you from being Robin until we get this attitude of yours under control.”

He heard someone mutter an “If that’s even possible.”

When Damian heard his father’s footsteps become inaudible, he forced his head up.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Grayson dragging Drake out of Damian’s room. When their eyes met, the oldest Wayne only sighed before shaking his head at Damian.

He knew Grayson well enough to know what his I-am-very-disappointed-in-you looked like.

“You should apologize.”

“What?”

“Apologize,” Todd slowly repeated, as if he was talking to a child. “You should apologize to Tim.”

“Why would I need to apologize for something that wasn’t my fault.”

Todd shut his eyes and clenched his fists before walking past Damian, muttering to himself.

“I knew we shouldn’t-”

“-bothered to try.”

“-deserved everything that happened-”

That was the last thing Damian heard before he heard his door slam shut.

Suddenly, the events of the night have finally plummeted itself towards Damian’s head.

No more Robin.

Damian felt his chest tighten and his heart seemed to race at speeds that could rival the Flash. Everything around began to spin and he couldn’t help but let out a small, frightened breath.

What was wrong with him?

His feet seemed to tremble and he fell on the floor. The room began to heat up.

The sun was against him. It was like all it wanted to do was burn Damian’s skin until there was nothing left.

Was he sweating?

Damian was definitely sweating. Why was he sweating? It’s the middle of Winter.

He couldn’t breathe.

Is he going to die?

He didn’t even get a chance to prove himself to his father.

Though, his mind couldn’t help but contemplate the possible scenarios of when they find him in the middle of his room, dead.

Would his father cry? Or would he just be relieved? Relieved at the fact that he didn’t have to watch over Damian anymore. Would they be happy that the Wayne family was finally back to being normal? Now that the smudge of brown was gone from their picture-perfect portrait.

“Calm down.” He heard a calming voice mutter, “Deep breaths.”

“Ummi?” Damian’s voice sounded muffled as his vision began to fade into the darkness, “Are you taking me home?”

A silhouette bent down to give Damian an embrace.

He didn’t feel anything but he still heard his ummi’s voice. “Deep breaths,” she repeated.

Damian forced himself to focus on the light as he followed the instructions. He couldn’t fail his ummi. She was the only one who ever loved him for him.

Out

His head began to ease up. The pain was slowly going away.

Out

He could feel his legs, it no longer felt like a mountain was on top of them.

Out

His vision slowly cleared up. He could see shapes begin to form as the light steadily took over the darkness.

He was going to be okay.

“Ummi?” his voice cracked.

There wasn’t anyone there.

He felt tears form on the corner of his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

If he cried, it meant that Damian was weak. That he was useless. And he wasn’t.

Right?

His brothers probably hate him again because of his stupid little outburst. He was so stupid.

His father banned him from being Robin, so he probably won’t be able to see his teammates for the time being.

Why couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut?

He was all alone again.

He didn’t have enough energy to move to his bed, so he hugged his knees closer to his chest as he tried his hardest to keep his tears at bay.

Everything was back to normal.

Note:

(Damian’s emotions have been building up for quite a while now. He’s confused and frustrated. A dangerous combination for someone who wasn’t allowed to express how he felt throughout the beginning of his life.

And from my experience, it’s the smallest things that just make a person break. So when Damian was blamed for something that wasn’t his fault, he just lashed out.

Sorry for the lack of updates from the past two weeks. School sucks. It’s like my teachers barely give me any work throughout the school year just so they could dump everything in May.

Hopefully, this chapter didn’t disappoint you guys too badly. And if it did, give me some nice constructive criticism in the comments. I love reading them, no matter how harsh.)

125 notes · View notes

superworldunkown · 3 years

Text

It’s a date! (x3) Part 1 - The Agreement

AN: I’ve wanted to draft this one out for awhile but I don’t have the time to crank it all out in one go so breaking it up into 4 parts! Can’t wait for you all to read.

Summary: You’ve done it again. Thrown yourself in harms way and now you’ve left Midoriya, Todoroki, and Bakugou to take care of you. When you half assed admitted you wanted all of them to take you out on a date for your heroic deed, you were surprised that when you had awoken, they agreed and set the plans in motion.

(Sorry Kiri with the beautiful bouquet - you aren’t in this story but that is because you’d literally blow all these emotionally constipated beans out of the water. The world isn’t ready for your level of manliness and quite frankly we don’t deserve it!)

“Y/N! Y/N Please, please keep your eyes on me okay!” Midorya’s voice was frantic, on the verge of several different emotions that all seemed to be vying for attention.

“Yellin’ ain’t going to fill the hole in her fucking chest ya damn nerd!!” Bakugou’s brash voice cut through the panic and the surrounding chaos around them, “Icy Hot where’s the damn first aid...and don’t you dare die on me, ya hear. I still haveta kick your ass for that stupid stunt you pulled back there.”

Todoroki, ever so calm and lacking emotions, though inside he was screaming, "Both of you need to calm down. Y/N try to stay awake for a little longer. Medics are on the way.”

Despite your lungs collapsing and your blood escaping at an alarming rate, you found the situation quite hilarious. “Please,” you managed to gurgle out, “Don’t tell me you boys...are fighting over me again.”

“This isn’t the time for jokes,” Todoroki hushed while placing torn piece of his uniform against your chest, “You need to heal.”

The green haired student was on the verge of tears, “Please don’t die-”

“Shut it Deku!” Bakugou snapped.

You rolled your eyes, gasping slightly, “I’ll live, on one condition,” Your eyes became a bit glazy, “You all gotta take me on date when I wake up, okay?”

“Deal.” Izuku was the first to speak up, his hand clutching around yours.

“Sure,” Todoroki agreed while putting pressure on your wound, “Just stay with us, help is almost here.”

Bakugou was last to confirm. He muttered a quick fine before his calloused hands drew themselves to your neck, checking your pulse to ensure you had enough fight in you before he darted off to blast the bastards that got them all in this mess in the first place.

You had kept your promise, holding on until the medic team arrived and you promptly passed out once you were airlifted to the hospital.

The week after the attack was hell. You had an enormous amount of healing to do. Your body had to practically learn to breathe on its own again. But, each day you slowly gained more of your strength, and eventually the levels of oxygen you needed lowered to a point where you could see the light, and your discharge at the end of the tunnel. You still needed a small oxygen tube in your nostrils - after all, you could barely make it around the hospital floor without collapsing.

But, it felt good to almost, almost be up to speed again. After a day of rehab your body stretched in the armchair in your hospital room, your eyes studying a text book as you attempted to regain a weeks worth of school before you were allowed back to class. However, the familiar arguing of your three favorite heroes-to-be distracted you once again.

The door slammed open and Bakugou, Midoriya and Todoroki stumbled into the room as if they were racing to see who would get in first. Your mind flashed back to the Sports Festival from your first year at UA. Things were so much simpler back then. And the relationship between the three of you was much less complicated. You were rivals and nothing more. Now you found yourself in an an emotional web. You were close with all of them in your own way, but the emotions between them varied.

You held such a deep emotional bond with Midoriya. His heroic energy drew you in and his soul was pure in ways yours could never be. He help you be a better person and you were forever grateful and in his debt for that.

Todoroki you cared for on a personal level. You knew his struggles of acceptance, defiance and trauma first hand. The two of you would often get lost in conversation that only spanned 20 words or would spend hours walking along the campus grounds saying nothing or talking absentmindedly. Plus, his deadpan sense of humor was an absolute joy to be around.

Then, there was Bakugou. Oh, Bakugou. All of them had their own flaws but of course you had to be enamored with the one with a raging ego muddled with imposter syndrome mixed with perfectionism. He was terrible, but wonderful. A loner, and Loyal. Like you he had a very backwards way of showing his kindness and care towards others, but you’ve grown to love the way he challenges you, motivates you, and stands by you (even if its far away from the corner of his eye). You couldn’t help it. He was your person. But, both of you were too shy and stubborn to admit it.

“Y/N...are you alright?” Your green haired little bean asked, putting your mind back to the present moment. The three of them were standing next to you. One with a look of innocence, the second a look of emotionless concern, and the third...anger and spite.

Ah, those were the faces of your boys.

“I’m fine,” You reassured them, “Tired, but fine. What are you all doing here?”

“We’re here about our promise.” Todoroki spoke first. Bakugou grunted while crossing his arms and Midoriya clasped his hands together, “And we talked it over on how it will work out.”

Your confused face further irritated the blonde, “See, I told ya she’d forget. Way to put it back in her brain IcyHot.”

“...is this about the date?” It finally clicked, “Guys, I wasn’t serious. I mean, not all the way.”

“Well we promised.” Midoriya reiterated. “So this week we’re taking turns! I’ll be taking you out this Monday. Then Todoroki will on Wednesday, and then its Kacchan’s turn on Friday!”

“You’re serious? I’m still in the hospital, I can’t even breathe on my own!” You protested.

“Well we figured that into the equation so we’re doing it all here in the hospital. You don’t even have to worry about leaving. So, what do you say Y/N?”

All three of them eyed you while awaiting your answer, some with hopeful orbs, others with a ‘just out with it!’ expression. You let out a sigh with a smile while nodding your head, “Okay, I agree. This should be very...very interesting.”

Oh, and it was.

AN: First part complete! I’ll be breaking this up into 3 parts with each new part as a date. First up, Midoriya! Click below!

#bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #todoroki shouto #mha #my hero academia #its a date #mha fanfiction #bakugou x black reader

58 notes · View notes

lonestarbabe · 3 years

Text

Eye of the Storm: Chapter 3: The Road You Take Alone

*Can be read as a stand alone (AO3)

Carlos tries not to let his mental health spiral out of control.

Carlos isn’t used to waking up to an empty bed, and he misses hitting a limb when he stretches his body too far onto the other side. Even though T.K. still technically lives with his dad, he’s been spending a good deal of time at Carlos’. Carlos has gotten used to having him around, so when he’s gone, it’s too quiet, and Carlos can hear his thoughts rage in the stiff air of his mind, forming hard peaks like beaten egg whites. His thoughts are becoming unruly. They’re angry and anxious. You’ll never be happy, they tell him. Something will always make you feel dissatisfied. Things always go wrong, and you never know when the awfulness will strike, so you have to be prepared for all the badness that will come. If you aren’t prepared, bad things will happen.

His head pounds as the thoughts crescendo. His bed is lumpy under his body and his sheets are oddly scratchy. Usually, his bed is a safe little oasis, and the worrying doesn’t start until his feet reach the floor, but his thoughts are bolder today; they have no regard for those blessed moments of aimless contemplation that he loves so much. There’s no time for you to be tranquil. The world is unhinged, and you’ve got to find a way to fix it, or at least your little part of it. I just want to relax. No time for that. You’ve got to start your day. Five more minutes. Start your day. Two more minutes. Start your day. One more minute. I won’t say it again: start your day.

There’s so much he has to do, he knows that, but his mental to-do list is disjointed like building blocks after a child has torn them and scattered them across the room during a tantrum. He needs to piece them back together, but it takes so much energy just to do that let alone tackle the items on the list. The world is an overwhelming place when you can’t even process your own thoughts. I need to get going or I’m going to waste the entire day. Listen to yourself. You’ve got to hurry up and get something done before you give up on trying. I can do this. Getting my shit together can’t be that hard, can it?

Order is not something that Carlos likes to do; it is something he has to do. It keeps me from losing my head. Nothing feels right when left to chance, so each morning, he shakes the question marks as well as he can. He plans and he prepares for the day ahead. He lists the things that are likely to go wrong, and he thinks of ways he’ll address them when they happen. He reminds himself that he can handle the obstacles because, at one time or another, he has prepared for them all. But there are too many variables, and you cannot alphabetize a list if you don’t know the first letters of the items on that list. You can make deductions and guesses, but you can’t know. It is fruitless to try to control the inevitable mystery that comes with being alive, but Carlos tries. If he thinks about a thought long enough, he can work it to death. Once it’s dead, he can feel okay. For a while.

He’s got his thoughts under control most of the time. He’s learned to work through them efficiently, shoving them out of the way each morning and each night before they can drag him too far down into the abyss of rumination. While he’s taught himself to work through them quickly, some days, thoughts are sticky. They are gum glued to the ground with superglue, waiting for an unsuspecting shoe. The thoughts cling to his mind, oozing over the information he actually needs, and he has to work just a little bit harder to scrape them off of the walls of his brain.

Thank god people couldn’t see thoughts because if they could, they’d see that Carlos’ thoughts are twisted remnants of what thoughts should be. They’re the warped pieces of metal left after a plane crash— they don’t have much function, but their sharp edges can cut you. He doesn’t want today to be one of those days that brings those destructive thoughts to the forefront of his brain, but Carlos feels darkness sneaking into his brain with about as much stealth as a cat with a giant bell weighing down her steps. Somedays, it slips in without a trace, but it doesn’t matter because no matter how it comes, it always gets in.

He wishes he didn’t have the day off work. The space in his schedule leaves too much room for intrusion. Distraction has always been the thing that keeps Carlos sane. Work, working out, going out with friends are some of the things that keep him on his toes and feeling level. Distraction can’t take away all the darkness, but it can hold it away until it finally crawls back into bed with Carlos one quiet morning.

He should have known that the darkness would come on like this. The darkness – that’s what he’s always called it, but he isn’t sure whether the name makes it sound worse or better than the clinical name. You wouldn’t expect it from him, the depression, but it’s a familiar foe. He’s usually the one that people use as a strong pillar, and he hates how weak the darkness makes him feel. His depression comes in waves, and it comes unexpectedly. Some things may trigger the depression, sure, but it can come when he’s feeling good, just as it can come when he’s already feeling bad. It usually doesn’t last long, but it waxes and wanes and hangs over him even when he can’t see it.

It’s time to get up, his brain persists, urging him to suck up the lowness in his core and get on with what he has to do. Stop lazing around and do something. You could get so much done today if you just did it. Why are you like this? What’s stopping you other than yourself? Do something. Anything.

He drags his feet over the side of the bed, and the ground comes against his heels too fast, and he has to balance himself to not tumble back into bed. Oh, but I’m tempted. I could give in to the urge, wrap myself in blankets, and close myself off to the world. As the urge to do nothing calls to Carlos, his need for order also beckons. He has a routine for a reason because that routine keeps him from spiraling. One missed part of his routine can turn into pacing his apartment for two hours replaying his whole morning in his head to catch any discrepancies.

Somehow, I’ve got to get through this day. Carlos has learned that when a day seems impossible, you have to take it one step at a time, but he’s never been a one step at a time kind of guy. He’s good at taking tiny, careful steps because they feel safe and require the precision he’s programmed himself to give, but those baby steps grate on him. They bring out the obsession and make him exert way too much energy for what should be easy. He becomes consumed by little details that shouldn’t matter until he can’t think anymore.

The perk of a small apartment is that it doesn’t take long to pull his body to the kitchen and drag his feet down the stairs. Carlos feels like a robot as he prepares breakfast. Prepares is a strong word for what he does, but on days like today, pulling a toaster pastry from a shiny aluminum packet counts as preparation. The treat should taste like cinnamon sugar, but it’s cardboard against his tongue. He finishes it, and then he eats its waiting twin because he knows that’s what he should do. He washes his breakfast down with instant coffee that looks and tastes like mud.

He doesn’t have to clean the dishes because he’ll use the mug for more coffee when he’s showered, but even though he ate neatly and didn’t make much of a mess, he wipes down the counters as he usually does to simulate a normal day. Because I need to act normal. You’ll never be normal. But I can try.

After he cleans up breakfast, fatigue pulls at his eyes. I could just go back to bed. I have nothing to else to do, so I might as well just give up. What else am I going to do with my time? Going back to bed won’t make him feel any less tired, though, so he decides to force himself into the shower. He stands under the hot stream, letting it purify his thoughts more than his body. He stands there until the hot turns cold, and he’s so deep in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice the change until his teeth begin chattering.

Carlos forces himself into new clothes, and he doesn’t know what to do next. He’s restless. You have so much to do. Your life is a mess. Start by trying to clean that up, and then, we’ll go from there. If you can’t get your act together, you’re hopeless. Cleaning— I can handle that.

Cleaning isn’t Carlos’ idea of fun, but it seems like the natural solution to messiness, and maybe if he can get his living space spruced up, he can sort out the clutter in his head. He’s diligent when he cleans. He doesn’t just scrub surfaces; he uses three different products to make sure every square inch is wiped off as well as humanly possible. It probably doesn’t make much of a difference, but putting so much effort into something keeps his brain from scrambling. He dusts every crevice, and he vacuums using all the attachments to make sure no corner goes untouched. He even wipes down the bottom of his table just because he can imagine how much dirtiness must be under there. Cleaning is just the right amount of mind-numbing to pass the time without making Carlos have to think too hard. Since he’s cleaning, Carlos decides, what the hell, he might as well do some laundry, knocking all the dirty details of life off his list. Getting stuff done normally feels good, but Carlos doesn’t feel much of anything.

The morning blurs into the afternoon, and Carlos only notices the difference when his mom calls just a little after one. Carlos dreads the conversation as much as he’s glad that it will give him something to do. Carlos loves his mom, but she doesn’t stop talking whenever she calls, and she usually comes to him to vent. He doesn’t think she realizes that she’s doing it, and mostly he doesn’t mind, but he’s already feeling drained. Even with tiredness pulling at his brain, he answers the phone because it’s his mother, and how can he not answer the phone? She won’t stop calling until he responds, anyway, so he might as well get it over with. “Get it over with,” what a way to talk about your mother. You can’t try to be just a little nicer? She gave birth to you. The least you can do is listen to her. How much energy could it possibly take? Suck it up and do your job as a son.

His mom’s worked up about Carlos’ brothers’ grades. She gets worked up about his brothers a lot, and it’s not so much that the twins do anything that wrong. Mostly, they’re her last babies, and Ana is having a hard time accepting that all her children have become adults. Carlos’ brothers have never been academic, and he knows no matter what Ana says to them, they’re not going to change. “There’s something wrong. They’re not as diligent as you were,” Ana complains. “I don’t know why they’re so easily distracted.” Carlos wants to tell her, Of course, they aren’t as diligent as I am. They’re not anxious nutcases who try to be angels to keep from causing any negative emotions in other people. They don’t have to be diligent because they’re allowed to be regular kids. They aren’t responsible for their mother’s emotional balance. “They’re smart kids, but they’d much rather make jokes than do their work.”

“That’s hard,” Carlos tries to sympathize, “but they’re hardly kids anymore. They’re in college. You can’t micromanage their grades. I know it’s a challenge for you, but sometimes, you need to let go a little bit. You’ll always be their mother. College isn’t going to change anything.”

Ana tuts, “They still live in my home. They’ll follow my rules. They shouldn’t disrespect their mother. I may not be educated, but that doesn’t mean I’m a fool. I know plenty. It would serve them to remember that. I’ve been on this earth over a half-century!” Carlos’ mom has always been insecure about her lack of higher education. She’d always been good in school, but going to college had not been in the cards for her, and now, she feels lesser with all her children having more education than her. She’s proud of them, Carlos knows— she’s always been so proud of her children— but he can tell that she thinks about all the things she might’ve done if she’d found a way to go to college. In most areas, Ana is confident, but in others, she’s full of insecurity. Maybe that’s how all people are. A bit of confidence and a world of insecurities.

Carlos is quick to reassure Ana, “No one thinks you’re a fool. We know how smart you are, but when you’re young, the wisdom of your mother isn’t that appealing. They’re probably just trying to find themselves. They’re testing their limits, and it won’t always turn out well for them, but they’ll learn. They’ll come back to you when they need your help.” Carlos doesn’t know that. He’s not a psychiatrist, but it sounds like the right thing to say. Ana probably won’t see it that way, though. She never sees things your way, and I don’t blame her. You’re crazy and unstable and act like you’ve got it all under control when you can’t even reassure your own mother properly. What good are you if you can’t accomplish the one thing you’ve been practicing for pretty much all of your life? Get it together Carlos.

Ana goes on, and Carlos knows the conversation has only just started, but he already wants to make an excuse about why he can’t talk any longer. But I can’t do that to her. “I’ve indulged all their interests. It wasn’t easy, but I made sure they could do all the sports they wanted. All I ask is that they keep their grades up, and I don’t like that they aren’t keeping their end of the bargain. I’ve made sacrifices, so many sacrifices.” Carlos always felt a pang of guilt for all the things his mother had sacrificed. They’d never had a lot of money, and Ana had given everything for her children so that they could have whatever opportunities they wanted.

All his life, Carlos has tried not to take too much. I need to be careful what I ask for. If I can’t get it myself, I shouldn’t have it at all. He’d gotten a job as soon as he could. He’s saved his money and paid for as many of his own expenses as possible. She’d never asked him to do it, but he knew how much she gave to her children, and he never wanted the burden of depriving his mother. He hated to see her not having the things she wanted because of her children, so he made a vow to pave his own way. Yet, she’s still given him so much that she will never make him give back. And you don’t deserve any of it. What have you done to deserve it other than being a bitter son who resents his saint of a mother?

He knows that way she makes him feel isn’t normal, and it probably isn’t healthy, but it’s too late to set boundaries, and he knows that she isn’t doing it on purpose. He feels selfish whenever the bitterness pops up. She loves you unconditionally. How can you be mad at that? What kind of a monster resents his mother who has only tried to give him the best? She’s not perfect, but no person is, so why hold her to some unachievable standard. There must be something wrong with you if you cannot accept her how she is. She’s not the problem— you are.

“I know, Mamá, but it’s normal for them to want to stray from the nest.” Ana would never be the kind of mother who took a back seat, even as her kids grew up and started families of their own. So much of her identity is centered around caring for her family, and the changing way she cares for them has made her feel like she’s lost her purpose. She’s one of the most self-sacrificing people that Carlos knows, and even when she’s given all that she could possibly give to her children, she wants to give more.

“You never did. You were always such a good boy.” At what cost? I tried so hard to be what you wanted that I forgot how to be myself. Until he had joined the police academy, Carlos had been unsure of what he wanted. What his mother wanted for him had become such a big part of his mindset that it drowned out what he wanted for himself. He became a chameleon to please her, to boost her confidence, and make her feel like a successful mother, and it was hard to learn to be himself again, which is why sometimes he feels better when he keeps a distance from Ana. He loves her, and he’ll always be close to her, but he also needs a life of his own, or he will go crazy.

“I’m a different person, so I needed different experiences. There’s nothing wrong with that. It just shows that we all have different abilities.” We all don’t feel like we have to change ourselves to be what other people want. “The twins are fine.” They’ve never been that into academics, and they are mostly still in school to continue with sports, so Carlos never expected them to get good grades. “They’re not failing, are they?”

“No, but they can do better.” Not while being happy, Carlos wants to argue. He doesn’t want his little brothers to go through the same turmoil that he has.

“You can’t force it.” Carlos knows better that the more you try to force something, the more out of control you become. Not that knowing that stops you from trying to force control. You can’t help it, can you Carlos? You keep trying to capture something that was never meant to be held. You’ll always come out a loser like that.

“I know that, Carlos, but maybe you should talk to them.” I should have known that this is where the conversation was headed. She always wants me to be the voice of reason, the cool older brother who gives them wisdom that they wouldn’t listen to if it comes from their mother.

Carlos tries to keep the agitation out of his voice. “And say what?” He shakes his head, but she obviously can’t see it. “They’re not going to listen to me either. They think I’m uptight.” Carlos’ family always jokes that he should relax a little, and he does relax. He can be spontaneous and flexible, but it’s harder to be that way in front of his family because they’ve come to rely on his rigidity, his ability to never bend under pressure. It’s all just a façade, but they don’t need to know that. They don’t need to know about the insanity in my head. They would look at me differently if they knew, and I can’t afford their perception of me to change. He’s afraid of what they would think if they knew the truth. What would his mom do if she knew that Carlos wasn’t okay all the time? She would probably blame herself, and Carlos couldn’t have that.

He imagines coming clean, sometimes. It is so lonely to handle the weight of his dysfunction on his own. He likes to fantasize about blurting everything wrong out in one go and not giving a damn what everyone thinks. It would be cathartic, and he wouldn’t feel like he has to hide so many parts of himself because that’s what he is doing. He’s hiding because it’s easy to hide than to own his imperfections. He doesn’t want anyone to see him as broken, especially when they sp desperately need him to be solid.

“They do not see you that way. They look up to you. You’re their big brother. They’ll listen to you. Just tell them to shape up. I’m worried about them.”

“That’s a bad idea. I don’t want to get in the middle of this.” As the oldest boy, Carlos usually takes his role as an older brother in stride, but he’s so exhausted, and he doesn’t think there’s anything he can say that will please everyone involved, least of all himself. He’s not up for handling this family drama, especially when he doesn’t really understand what the drama is. “I don’t think it will help for me to say anything,” Carlos adds so he sounds less defiant, but he’s got to hold his ground on this one thing or he’ll be sucked into a mindset that makes his obsessions and his worries worse.

He hears Ana sighing loudly on the other end of the phone, “Do you think one of your sisters can talk sense into them?”

“Mamá, I don’t think anyone is going to change their minds. They need to take the initiative for themselves.” But she won’t listen to me on that. She can be so stubborn sometimes, and I don’t know how to make her hear what I’m saying. You might as well give up talking because she’s never going to change.

To Carlos’ surprise, his mother laughs. “You sound so much like your father sometimes, Carlos. He always believed that you kids would sort yourselves out if we gave you the room to experiment.” He can hear her smiling over the phone. She always smiles when she talks about Carlos’ dad. “I was never able to be like that. I worry too much. You’re all my babies, you know. Even now that you’re old. I remember holding you in my arms. You were a big baby, but even a big baby is so tiny. I was afraid the world would break you.”

“I got stronger,” Carlos says,

“You were always a sensitive kid. I’m glad you grew out of it. The world is hard on sensitive kids. And foolish ones. Your brothers are foolish ones. They’ve got a lot of ambition. They’ve got good ideas, but they have no sense about how cruel the world can be. You’ve seen the bad. You saw your father’s flaws more than they did. He gave you kids your freedom, but he liked things a certain way.”

“We don’t have to talk about this.” It isn’t that Carlos minds talking about his dad, but he knows a conversation like this can cause his mother to spiral. She tries to hide her mental distress when it happens, but Carlos sees it. Like mother like son. He notices the way she becomes quiet and the way her eyes are red more than they aren’t.

“I want to,” she admits. “Your father could become… withdrawn.” Your freakshow comes from both sides then, huh? “He’d focus on one thing, and everything else would become background noise. You and Glo were old enough to see that.”

“I remember, but that’s not how I remember him. I remember him cooking us meals and running around with us at the park. I remember him reading us books and helping us imagine our futures. I remember hugs when we were scared and soup when we were sick. Everyone has bad days, but Papá’s were mostly good.” Some people are better at hiding bad days than others, but we all have them, especially in my family.

“I never told you kids how he died.” Carlos can barely stand to hear how choked his mother’s voice is. It sends a ripple of fear through him.

Carlos feels his heart skip a beat. He’s not sure why she’s bringing this up now, but nothing that she’s saying is a surprise. She’s never said the words. She’s refused to admit that their father didn’t die in his sleep, but the kids all know. There’s a quiet understanding between them that he’d drunk himself to death. Carlos had never really seen his dad his drunk. His dad had always kept his addiction secret, but there had been signs. Looking back, he always knew. Everyone around them knew, but they didn’t mutter the words. They kept what was behind closed doors behind closed doors, and that never helps anyone.

“We know,” Carlos says so his mother doesn’t have to say it. She’s been denying the true cause of death for over a decade, and Carlos is afraid of what will happen if she says the words out loud. It’s why no one in his family has ever brought it up. “Glo and I figured it out.”

“He wasn’t a bad man.” Carlos only ever saw the part of him that was good. Come on, you knew. You always knew. You pretended you didn’t, but it was clear as day that your dad had a problem, and you should have done something about it. You should put the pieces together sooner and tried to do something about it. Now, he’s not a good man or a bad man; he’s a dead man.

“I know. He was sick,” Carlos says. Just like me. Just like you. Just like all of us. “He did the best he could.”

“I wanted to protect you from it,” Ana says, and Carlos isn’t sure if she’s trying to justify the lies or is slipping back into the delusion. No, you wanted to protect yourself, he wants to shout, but he bites his tongue because he’s not going to fight with a woman who tried to give him everything in her power. Making her unhappy wasn’t going to make him happier.

“It’s okay, Mamá. You did the best you could. You don’t have to be sorry,” and just like that, he absolves her. He always absolves her, even if it means condemning himself. Isn’t that just what a decent son is supposed to do?

When his mother is done talking, Carlos hangs up the phone. He stops fighting the thoughts growing louder in his brain. He gives in to the urge he’s been resisting all day, and he goes back to bed. Because what’s the point of staying up any more. What else do I have to do? Sleeping will make the day go quicker, and right now, that’s what Carlos needs.

When Carlos wakes up, he doesn’t feel refreshed. He’s still thinking about the conversation he had with his mother, and he thinks that maybe he should call his brothers after all, but he doesn’t. Instead, he calls his oldest sister, Gloria, because as the oldest sibling, she knows very well how it feels to be given more responsibility than you are prepared to carry. “Did Mamá call you?” Carlos asks after a brief greeting.

Gloria laughs, “She called me first. It was unusual. You know you’re the favorite.” You’re only the favorite when something goes wrong and needs fixing.

“You know that’s no true.” If I am the favorite, it’s because there’s so much of me that I hide. She’s only seen the parts of Carlos Reyes that she needs to see. I’ve buried all the rest because doing so will make her happier. Carlos knows that if his mother knew that he’s not as level-headed as he pretends to be, she wouldn’t feel the same way about him. She wouldn’t turn to him for help, and she wouldn’t talk to him as openly. Telling the truth could destroy the relationship with his loved ones as he knows it, so he chooses to keep silent.

“You’re all she can talk about with her friends. She’s so proud.”

“She’s proud of us all,” Carlos assures his sister.

“That’s what favorite children always say,” Gloria teases.

“You can take a turn being the favorite, Glo. She wants me to talk to Gabe and Dave again. Their grades aren’t high enough for her liking.”

“You set the bar too high and now the poor kids are expected to be straight-A students.”

“Like you were any better.”

“Maybe not,” Gloria says, “But she knows they have trouble in school. David especially.”

“Meanwhile, Gabriel is the one who jokes through his studies.” Gabriel distracts David, who has a hard enough time focusing on his studies in the best of circumstances, so having the two boys together can do more harm than good.

“You didn’t call to talk about the twins, did you?” Gloria asks astutely.

“No,” Carlos admits. “I’m not interested in trying to get their grades up. As long as they're not failing and doing decently well, I don’t see a need to get involved.” He can be honest with Gloria because he knows that she feels the same way that he does.

“Why did you call then?” Her voice is gentle, and it reminds Carlos of when his mom used to sing him to sleep.

Carlos sighs. “I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to check-in. I’m worried about Mamá.”

“She seems okay,” Gloria reassures him.

“She talked about the way Papá really died today, Glo.” There’s a long pause, and Carlos can hear his sister breathing over the phone, but she doesn’t say anything. “Glo? You still there,” he adds to try to get her to reply.

“She actually said the words?”

Carlos’ brain sinks a little. “Well, no. She didn’t say it explicitly, but she admitted that she never told us the truth about what happened.”

Gloria sounds indignant, “As if we didn’t know. The denial has never been for us.”

“I know that.” He crosses his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

“Did you tell her that?” Gloria’s voice has raised just enough that Carlos knows this conversation has gone off course. He doesn’t know why he chose to do this to himself, on a bad day especially. He doesn’t have the energy, but since it’s too late to get out of the situation, he has to find it. When he needs to, he can always embezzle it from other parts of himself that need less upkeep. When he has bad days, sacrifices must be made.

Gloria sounds annoyed now. “Of course, you didn’t. You never tell her how you feel.”

“What does it matter to you?” It’s his life and his feelings. He can tell them to whoever he wants.

“Because you shouldn’t censor yourself anytime she has a mood. She’s not going to stop having them just because you cater to her and I know it’s a lot for you to manage. You’re not responsible for protecting someone else from themselves.” But that’s what Carlos has always done. He’s a protector by nature, and when he sees someone in trouble, he steps in.

“Be nice. She’s your mother.” Gloria’s frustration with her mother is obvious. It’s not that she’s not sympathetic, but she’s never experienced what Gloria has experienced. She doesn’t understand how hard it is to rise above your bad days.

“And I love her, but she needs professional help. Too much of her life is centered around being our mother. She can’t rely on us to fill in all her gaps. She needs a life of her own. I hate seeing her when she gets bad, and she’ll keep getting bad unless she decides to make a change.” If Ana knew that she was talking about her this way, it would devastate her, and just the thought of her overhearing this conversation makes Carlos want to end it, but he lets Gloria say her piece.

“Well, that’s never going to happen.” That’s the problem. He knows that she’s never going to seek help on her home, so it’s either he tries and fails to help her or he doesn’t try at all. Trying feels better than doing nothing.

“So what then? You have to be whatever makes Mamá happy?” Isn’t that what I’ve been? How can I be anyone else at this point? She needs me, and I can’t let her down. Carlos knows that they don’t have healthy boundaries, but that’s just how his family is.

“I don’t always choose what Mamá wants.” For as many concessions he makes with her, there are some that he is unwilling to let her cross for his own sanity. “She didn’t like the idea of me being gay.”

“She always accepted your sexuality.” That’s the simple way of putting it. His mom has never been anything but supportive. When he told her, she hugged him and said that she loved him no matter who he loved, but he had always had a feeling that her initial acceptance had been because it would make her a bad mother not to accept him, and being a good mother is the thing that she has always most wanted to be, often to the point of too closely resembling the stereotypical image of a mother.

“I know she always loved me just the same, but it took time for her to get used to it.” He doesn’t remember her saying bad things about gay people, but he had seen her smile fall just a fraction when he told her the truth.

“She’ll get used to other things, too. Your relationship with her can evolve if you let it. It might be better for everyone.”

“I can’t stop worrying about her.” The worry is lodged in his mind. It is one of his oldest friends, and no matter how far he goes, it is part of him. He’s spent so long concerned about his mother that not exhausting so much energy worrying would leave a hole in his life. As messed up as it is, he doesn’t know who he is without his fears. If he let them go, even just some of them, he thinks that things might get even worse. No one else seems to understand the way he needs to indulge the worry to feel safe.

“And I’m not asking you to, but you don’t have to deal with everything alone, hermanito.”

“Yeah maybe,” Carlos says because he’s too tired to argue with her about her. “I’ve got to go Glo,” he says as an escape from the conversation. “T.K. is calling.”

“Okay, Carlos, go talk to your man. I love you.” He’s lucky to have Glo. She’s always trying to look after him when he’s trying to look after everyone else.

“I love you too. Talk soon,” he says before hanging up and putting the phone beside him. The phone is silent now, and he misses the noise, but he is relieved that he doesn’t have to listen anymore just the same.

He lays back on his couch and flips the TV on. He turns to his favorite crime drama, the one that got him interested in law enforcement, but he doesn’t pay attention. He lets the scenes pass through his brain mindlessly without leaving a dent in his memory. He stays there for hours, only getting up when he’s hungry or needs to use the bathroom. He lets the hours blur until his mind is so numbed that he needs to do something just to remember there’s a world outside his apartment.

To find a connection to the outside world, Carlos has T.K. over in the evening because starting the next morning, T.K. has to work for two days, and Carlos doesn’t want to wait that long to see him even though he’s not in the mood to be around people.

When Carlos opens the door to his apartment, T.K. throws his arms around Carlos. He tilts his head up for a kiss. He smells sweet, and maybe time with his boyfriend is exactly what T.K. needs. “You don’t know how glad I am to see you.” T.K.’s hold is firm and the weight of T.K. against his chest knocks out the breath that Carlos has been holding.

“Long day?” Carlos asks. T.K. opens his mouth, but he looks at Carlos’ face and closes it again; T.K. swallows hard, pushing the words on the tip of his tongue down to his stomach. He can tell that something is wrong with you. Get your act together. He doesn’t want to hear about all your issues. Keep that shit to yourself and don’t bother your boyfriend about it.

T.K. says, “You look tired.” Tired was too light of a word for the utter depletion Carlos felt in his bones. You’re so whiny. Could you shut up for just five seconds? You’re giving me a migraine.

He’s not going to like that answer because for some reason he wants to learn everything about you, even the worst parts of Carlos Reyes. “That doesn’t answer my question.” They could circle like this forever, redirecting each other’s words because neither wants to burden the other with what they both try and fail to hide.

Carlos doesn’t miss the way T.K.’s eyes are overcast, but he watches T.K. tug a smile onto his face as he pulls back whatever he might’ve said if he hadn’t noticed that something was off with Carlos. Carlos feels guilty. You’re the worst boyfriend. You can’t even support him when he needs you. I’m trying. Not hard enough. T.K. pecks Carlos’ lips. “I missed you, that’s all,” T.K. adds, and Carlos can’t help but worry that there’s more to it than that. He wonders if his perception is off. Maybe he’s making a lot out of nothing. He tends to do that. You sure do.

They order pizza and put on a movie when Carlos can’t find many words. T.K. picks at the pizza and Carlos doesn’t pay attention to the movie. Aren’t we a fun pair? By the time the credits roll on the screen, Carlos has no idea what just happened as T.K. gives his impromptu review of the movie. T.K.’s excitedly talking, and Carlos doesn’t process the words he is saying, but it feels good to hear T.K. being so full of life when Carlos feels so depleted.

“Yeah,” Carlos says distractedly to something that T.K. says. “That’s true.”

T.K. gives Carlos a confused look. He chuckles. “You’re not paying any attention to me, are you?” His voice is light, but it still makes Carlos feel like shit. Guilt spikes in Carlos’ bloodstream. I should be more attentive when we get to spend time together.

“I’m sorry, Ty.” How many times can you say “I’m sorry,” before it starts to lose its meaning? It’s always the same old story with you Carlos. Try something new for once. I’m so bored.

T.K. shakes his head, “Don’t be. You know I don’t mind talking to myself.” But you shouldn’t have to, Carlos wants to say. Your boyfriend should be more attentive.

“I should still listen.” That’s right you should, but you’re so selfish. You try to do things for other people, but it’s only because you’re greedy for their love.

“Really, it’s fine. I get it.” He doesn’t get anything. “Are you okay?” T.K. asks, and Carlos knows that he should be able to talk about it— the depression, especially. He remembers T.K. telling him once about everything being gray, so he knows T.K. gets how it feels. Carlos’ depression is different than T.K.’s, though. It’s fueled by pathological obsession and worry more than anything else. Still, he thinks T.K. might understand or try to understand more than most people would. He wouldn’t be one of those people who tries to understand and then doesn’t listen. Carlos has met many of those. They hear the word depression, and they start to assume. They think depression is laziness or intense sadness after the loss of a loved one. They think it is just a feeling. “I’m depressed,” they say when they are feeling sad, but they don’t consider what it must like to have depression. It’s not a passing mood Sometimes, they have a deeper understanding, but very few can understand the nuances, and even though T.K. may get how Carlos feels, Carlos doesn’t think he can talk about it. His throat feels like it may close whenever he starts to say the words, so he shuts up.

It’s a strange role-reversal when Carlos tells T.K., “I’m fine.”

T.K. raises his eyebrows, probably because he knows that people who say they are fine are usually lying. “We’re both hypocrites, aren’t we?”

“Yeah? How’s that?”

“We both want honestly about how we are, but we both don’t want to give it.” That might be the closest thing T.K. has been to admitting he’s not fine. It might be the closest he ever will be. Carlos gets it. It’s hard to accept that you might not be okay, especially when other people need you to be okay. It seems simpler to pretend that you’re fine. The thought takes the air from Carlos’ lungs and not in the way that feels like a release.

“I’m not trying to push you to talk about anything, but you know that you can talk to me, right?”

“Of course,” Carlos lies, trying to force a smile.

“Do you need to talk now?” T.K. pushes him just a little further. Carlos shifts his body further from T.K. on the couch, and T.K. sags against the cushions. Maybe now he knows how he makes you feel all the time, the malicious part of Carlos thinks.

“No, I’m good.” He can hear the waver in his voice. I’m so tired, and I can’t shake the drowsiness no matter how hard I try.

“Carlos—” T.K. tries to say, but Carlos will have none of it. He doesn’t want his thoughts or his feelings to be dissected because they’re not something he can share with other people. They’re his alone, and he’s not going to burden anyone else with them if he doesn’t have to.

“Drop it, T.K.” Carlos’ voice is authoritative, and maybe that’s the wrong move because T.K. has never listened much to authority. But to Carlos’ shock, T.K. almost backs down. Almost.

T.K. bites the side of his cheek. “I’m just worried.”

“Well don’t be,” Carlos can’t help but say harshly, and he regrets the words the minute they leave his mouth.

He feels hopeless because he wants to make everything better, but there’s no easy fix for not being okay. There’s no way to wake up and immediately exterminate the termites that chew at the core parts of your mind. You have to swim through a boiling, sludgy roux as it begins to curdle and drag you down with its soiled weight. You have to pull back your skin to see what’s happening inside. You have to hope that something changes even when change is an upside-down mountain that you somehow have to climb.

Carlos isn’t sure he has the energy to climb, at least not right now.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” T.K. says, sounding sincere, but it irritates Carlos to hear the worry in his voice.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Carlos insists, taking on a calmer voice. Try worrying about yourself, he wants to tell T.K., I’m not the one slowly killing myself. No, you’re just worrying yourself to death.

“I’m not an expert, but that’s kind of being in a relationship, isn’t it? Worrying about the other person and wanting to make sure they’re okay.” T.K. puts his arms around Carlos and leans his head up to whisper in Carlos’ ear. “I’m here if you want to talk.” T.K.’s breath is hot in Carlos’ ear, and it warms Carlos to know that he isn’t alone, but it also doesn’t make a difference because there are some things that Carlos needs to keep to himself. He likes to think he’s saving T.K. from the pain of knowing what Carlos struggles with, but deep down, he knows that what keeps his lips pressed shut is the shame that comes with not being the strong, unwavering pillar of support that he wishes he could be. Carlos wants to be that person that doesn’t bend under pressure. He wants to be the effortless kind of okay because most of the time, he is okay, but he has to fight to be that way.

“It’s been a long week,” Carlos admits, but he doesn’t know how to explain the week wasn’t long because it was awful. It’s dragged for no other reason than there’s something off inside Carlos’ brain.

“Jenkins being an asshole again?”

“He’s always an asshole,” Carlos replies about his least-liked coworker. “But no, Jenkins hasn’t been worse than usual. It’s just been hectic,” Carlos explains because that sounds like the most normal reason for not being your normal self.

“How so?” Carlos doesn’t feel like talking, but he doesn’t want to reject the efforts that T.K. is making, so he figures he can just give a little and maybe that will create harmony between them.

“You know how you have a really busy shift and then when your mind stops being pulled in so many different directions, you get really tired, and then you don’t know what to do with your time?” T.K. nods, encouraging Carlos to go on. “It’s like that. I’m crashing after a long several shifts.”

“But you can handle it?”

“Yeah,” Carlos assures, kissing T.K.’s forehead and running a hand through his hair. “All I need is time to recover before my next shift. It helps to have you here.”

“Babe, I’ll be here whenever you need me to be.” But Carlos would never ask that of T.K. T.K. leans his head on Carlos’ shoulder. “I know how hard your job must be. You see some crazy things on patrol.” The funny thing is that it isn’t mostly the things he sees at work that get to Carlos. There will always be incidents that cut deeply, but for the most part, he’s good at compartmentalizing the bad things that happen on the job.

T.K. sits up and leans closer to Carlos, and he kisses the spot just above his collarbone. His lips are soft and warm from the coffee he’d just had, but Carlos can barely sense the warmth. “Is there something I can do to make it better?”

Carlos cannot tell T.K. how he is feeling because this mental tumult is the road he takes alone. It is a road of shame and self-doubt. It is a road of feeling unprepared for each new day. It is a treacherous road that’s just dirt, rocks, and inclines. Carlos wouldn’t want to bring anyone he loved with him down that road. Yet, he knew they would all go down it if he asked— if they knew it existed. They wouldn’t just go down it with him; they’d help him pave it. They’d help him put guardrails on the edges and streetlights in the dark corners. They’d form a community around the darkness. But Carlos isn’t ready to put his secret little road on the map, so all he can do is try to stay on his feet and continue on a lone journey down the road.

#text #my writing #elise writes #my fics #long works #8000 words #eye of the storm

7 notes · View notes

pennylanefics · 4 years

Text

Road Trip - John “Maz” Mazetti

a/n: i had this idea for another character but i haven’t written for him in a while, and i really wanted to write something for maz, so i just switched it :) also this is useless in posting bc my maz fics aren’t popular

•••

When your brother suggested a road trip to Oregon to the lake house that your family owns, you were excited and eager to go. But when he told you that his teammate Maz would be going, you weren’t as excited as you were.

See, you and Maz don’t get along very well.

There’s just something with both of your personalities that don’t mesh well, and you always end up bickering. Which seems weird because Maz is always a sweet guy with everyone he meets; you two even got along great when you first met, but over time, things went bad.

So the thought of being stuck in a car with him for two days, along with the week that you spend at the house, almost made you back out of the trip. But, Vinnie wanted you to come; Zapata and his girlfriend were tagging along, as well as Vinnie’s girlfriend, who you were good friends with.

The drive began, and of course, you and John were already fighting. It was stupid little things, like he wasn’t giving you enough room, you were playing your music too loud, you were shifting around too much. The others were already annoyed.

Two days later, after two hotel stops, a lot of fighting, and exhausted sighs from the four others, you finally made it to the lake house. It was just as beautiful as you remember it, the lake was bright blue and the mountains behind it were breathtaking, the sun setting and making it even more picture-esque.

“Shit man, this place is fucking beautiful,” Chris says as he steps out of the van. He goes to the doc jutting out into the lake and takes in the view, his girlfriend, Julia, coming up behind him.

You take this opportunity to grab your luggage from the extra trailer on the back and head inside to get a first pick on a room. You go straight to the room that you used to use and set your stuff down, beginning to unpack. The room had a perfect view of the lake, which is why you love it.

“Hey,” Vinnie says, stepping into the room. The look on his face tells you that something’s wrong.

“What is it?” You sigh, taking a seat on your bed. Vinnie rubs his hands together for a moment.

“There’s only three rooms, so you’re gonna have to room with Maz,” he delicately tells you. Your eyes widen in shock, not wanting to believe him.

“What? Why can’t you or Zapata room with him and I room with Julia or Quinn?”

“Because Quinn and I want to spend some time together, and so do Chris and Julia.”

“Fucking fifth wheel,” you mumble, crossing your arms. Vinnie chuckles and takes a seat next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“I’m sorry. But what did you expect? Going on a trip with two couples, we’re going to want to be with each other, especially after we had to separate into two different rooms along the trip at hotels.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. I guess it’s fine. But there’s only one bed…” You groan loudly when you put everything together. Maz was going to have to sleep in the same bed...with you...for an entire week.

“Yeah...good luck with that!” Vinnie shouts, jumping up and darting out of the room before you can say anything else. You lay back on the bed and close your eyes, wishing that the week would go by quick.

As you were enjoying the silence, Maz walks into the room, his bags dragging behind him. Just seeing him pisses you off, so you grab a pillow from the bed and an extra blanket from the closet.

“You take the bed, I’m not about to sleep next to you for a week. I’ll sleep on the couch,” you mutter as you walk past him, giving him a side glance. “But I’m keeping my stuff in here.” He scoffs and doesn’t say anything.

Walking into the living room, you see the four others gathered in the kitchen, talking quietly. They all shut up as soon as you walk in, letting you know that you were the one they were talking about.

“I know you guys are pissed with me and Maz. Sorry that we can’t seem to get along. I’ll try to ignore him the best I can,” you mumble, plopping on the couch. Quinn walks over and sits next to you, rubbing your back comfortingly.

“Try talking with him sometime this week and work out your differences. We were planning on going to get some groceries tomorrow morning, so you can try then? I’m not sure if John wants to come.”

“I’ll try. It’s not going to end pretty, though,” you chuckle. She sighs and stands, going back over to your brother.

“Well, we’re gonna turn in for the night,” Vinnie announces as he and Quinn disappear into their room, Chris and Julia following shortly after.

You turn the tv on and gaze outside, noticing that dark storm clouds were slowly rolling over the sky and the wind was starting to pick up. You begin to watch some film that you’ve seen many times until you eventually fall asleep in the dark room.

In the middle of the night, you are awoken by a loud boom of thunder, which almost sends you falling off the couch. You’re able to catch yourself and sit up to see that it’s storming hard outside. The bad thing is that the entire wall looking out to the lake was basically all windows. Meaning it was most likely not as sturdy.

You knew that they weren’t going to break, but the thought was there. The wind was getting stronger by the second and the trees were rustling a lot; they began to brush against the windows, making it sound even worse.

Lightning was consistent, flashing every five seconds, following with the loud thunder, of course. You slowly move towards the other end of the couch, keeping your eyes on the windows to make sure they don’t break or crack.

Tears fall down your cheeks as the storm rages on, and you don’t even realize that you’re crying until they drop into your arms. Wiping them away, you close your eyes and take some deep breaths, curling up with your knees to your chest, the blanket still wrapped around you.

Maz walks into the living room, rubbing his eyes and turning to get a glass of water from the kitchen. He doesn’t even realize you’re up until he looks towards the couch, expecting to see you asleep.

As he steps closer, the lightning lights up your face, letting him see that you’ve been crying.

“Are you okay?” His voice startles you a bit, you didn’t hear him before.

“I’m fine. Just had a bad dream,” you brush him off. He takes a seat beside you and reaches out for your hand. Looking at it, you roll your eyes and push it away.

“(Y/N), please. Let me be there for you,” he softly says. His voice is so kind and caring, nothing like how he’s spoken to you in the past two days. He then opens his arms for you to cuddle into, but still, you decline.

Just then, a branch falls right in front of the windows, startling both of you. You basically jump twenty feet and Maz ends up moving closer to you, instinctively wanting to protect you.

“Let’s go back to our room,” he whispers, feeling a little bit terrified of what just happened.

“I’m fine, Maz.”

“I don’t want you sleeping out here. You just jumped about ten feet because of that, who knows what’s going to happen?” You continue to resist his offers, when another huge branch falls right as a loud clap of thunder rings out, shaking the entire house.

Both you and Maz are up and running to your shared room. Once in there, you take a seat on the large chair in the corner of the room. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but you still didn’t want to sleep next to him.

“I’ll take the chair,” he says, motioning for you to stand.

“No.”

“It’s too late to argue. Just get into the bed and get a good night's sleep because I’m sure that couch wasn’t comfortable.”

“John, I told you, I’m fine!” He suddenly pulls your hands and drags you to the bed. You’re too exhausted to fight back, so you just lay down and sigh out contently, feeling the soft mattress underneath you.

“Mind if I sleep here, too?” He asks softly.

“What, you don’t want to sleep in the chair anymore?” Maz scoffs and slides under the covers, keeping his distance for a moment. But as soon as he realizes that you’re still shaking, he pulls you right into his arms.

You are too tired to fight back, still, and the comfort of being in someone’s arms is amazing; you forget that you and Maz hate each other for a moment.

After a short while, the storm thankfully died down a lot, so that it was just raining.

“Hey,” Maz whispers, moving to sit a little away from you, so that he could see your face. “Can we talk?” You nod and go to sit up, but he keeps you laying down.

“I want to apologize for how I’ve treated you over the past year. I’ve been so so awful and I can’t believe the things I’ve said to you, even if you were pissing me off.” You giggle and nod.

“I’m sorry, too. I never realized how sweet and kind you can be, when you’re not acting like an ass.” This time, he chuckles and pulls you a little closer to him.

“I feel so bad. I never wanted this to happen, I really liked you the first time we met.”

“Then what happened? Because one day, you just decided to hate me.”

“Yeah…” he sits up and runs his hands through his messy hair. You join him, wondering what he was going to say.

“I...realized you were too perfect for me. I don’t deserve someone like you, so I thought that being mean, hating you, pushing you away, I would somehow convince myself that you aren’t perfect. But you are.” You take a moment to let his words sink in.

“So, you were mean to me because you wanted to find something wrong with me, to push your feelings away?” Maz nods, keeping his eyes down in embarrassment.

“I know it sounds stupid, but it made sense in my head. But when you fought back with the same kind of energy, I continued to fall for you. I hated myself for being so rude to you, but I couldn’t stop.” You take his hands in yours and rub the back of them with your thumbs.

“Are you going to continue with it? Because I honestly hate fighting, and so do Zapata, Julia, Vinnie, and Quinn.” You both laugh and move closer together.

“No. I promise to not say anything rude to you anymore, or pick a fight over nothing.”

“Good,” you smile. “I promise as well. No more fighting.” You stick your pinky out for him to take. He can’t help but shake his head at you with a grin on his face, but nonetheless, he takes your finger in his, making the promise complete.

“Now,” you lay back down, pulling the covers over your bodies and curling up to him. “Let me sleep because that couch is not comfortable at all.”

“But first, can I kiss you?” His voice is so soft and filled with nerves, not really knowing if you’d be okay with it. Taking matters into your own hands, you lean forward and press your lips to his in a sweet kiss.

“Oh yeah, I can get used to this,” he jokes before kissing you once more.

“How are we going to explain to my brother and the others that we literally made up in five minutes? After we spent two days fighting in the car?” You ask, making him laugh in response.

“Who cares? They’ll just be happy we’re not at each other’s throats anymore.”

“Well, maybe in a different way,” you whisper. You move your head down to kiss his neck softly. He moans when you bite down, smirking upon hearing the exact response you were going for.

“Let’s save that for another night, yeah?”

#john mazetti #maz #maz imagines #maz x reader #john mazetti imagines #john mazetti x reader #aaron tveit #undrafted #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

40 notes · View notes

sugar-petals · 4 years

Note

I know you've been getting tons of requests for more tarot readings, but OH DEAR LORD, PLEASE MAKE ANOTHER ONE! Also, I luv ur blog have a blessed day!!!

i had a sexy idea. what about i take you to date night with SuperM 👀

Taemin: THE CHARIOT

That card has major prince in extra shining armor energy. It’s a highly decorated guy riding a star-spangled wagon pulled by two sphinxes. Pretty extravagant is an understatement. It can’t get any more glamorous and it’s perfectly Taemin. Especially because THE CHARIOT traditionally symbolizes being famous. Rings a bell right there. Date night will go down in a fancy car or limousine, or you will spend a major part in some kind of expensive vehicle getting you where you planned to go. Safe to say the overdressed one will not be you. Yep, no matter how hard you try. And it can’t be any other way. Taemin will stun with glitter, high fashion, perfect hair, jewelry, makeup, lavish fabrics, a perfect body, anyways. So expensive, lord. You date the Prince of Korea. Taemin might get into trouble with fans or frentic paparazzi when he shows up like that man. So it only makes sense the venue is likely a bit out of town because the chariot card is set with a city backdrop that fades in the distance. It’s gonna be next to a body of water which is depicted behind the chariot. Really a more secluded and remote area. That also tells me it’s you he dresses up for after all, not the public. And, either way. That the main theme of the card is the vehicle, that’s where you’ll be cheek to cheek. Driver, roll up the partition, please.

Baekhyun: KING OF SWORDS

Powerful card. Either of you, I suspect it’s Baekhyun, takes responsibility to organize everything to the very last detail. It’s more head over heart energy, a hurricane, literal brain-storm even. He will surely think it through a thousand times. You gotta be the one who says easy easy, it’s about you and me and not some management job where the setting and timing and whatnot gives you all kinds of pressure. Now you understand that Baekhyun’s serious, performance-like mode is at full throttle because he’s nervous as fuck, cares about you, and doesn’t want to make any mistakes. But that contradicts what date night is all about. It’s not supposed to be stress or a task. Rather than making a good impression and being perfect, you remind him to let go a little more and return to his goofy personality. The lesson of the card might go as far as having both of you realize that racking your brains to hard is a sign to do something else. Staying at home is not a bad thing, you might even enjoy yourselves much more because everything is already taken care of. Sword energy cuts, especially if it’s the King wielding it, in this case the cutting might refer to canceling plans short notice to pursue what you’re really in the mood for as a couple. Which in turn will be rewarding and something healthy to do because you don’t force yourselves into an obligation.

Lucas: THE LOVERS

So… to state the absolute obvious right away. Even if you aren’t too familiar with Tarot at all, you know for a fact that this card is a darn good one to pull for a relationship question. Lo and behold: Lucas is your #1 address for date night. If I were unsure whom to pick, THE LOVERS are the most unequivocal sign like, pack the condoms, bring out the perfume, feel good, make out… wait, too fast. First things first: Oh my, he’s gonna be amazing as your kind of date consort. The chemistry! Explosive. Since the card depicts Garden Eden, that’s gonna be your overarching theme if you will. Cloud nine essentially. This evening will be blessed and sheer paradise. Adam on the card is surrounded by flames on a tree so you bet Lucas is gonna be on fire. There are also quite a few fruits depicted so I guess your food will be sweet and light rather than heavy. Now, as for the elephant in the room. Adam and Eve are more than stark naked on that card. Sex will be involved 10/10, out of all member’s he’s the one guaranteed to lay that pipe. The Lovers card also symbolizes a decision. It might be the day Lucas chooses to propose to you, even. Your relationship will be bound for the next level there. The angel on the card tells me you are safe and protected.

Mark: THE TOWER

Unexpected! That card is just way too dramatic for a light romantic reading. Seeeriously. Especially with Mark as a member who’s known for being super goofy and cute instead of serene and grumpy. What it’s about is plain ole doom and destruction, bringing down the old to build and restart the new. Natural catastrophe and firestorms, even. Yeah like imagine sitting together with Mark eating chipotle and some bloody earthquake hits, that’s the scenario and… actually, no. Worry not, I think the card wants us to take the image literally. The date will be in or close to some kind of tower. Or any elevated structure for that matter. Eiffel Tower much? Tower of Pisa? Sounds very romantic to me. That we have a huge thunderstorm raging on this card tells me you’ll be inside watching the huge grey clouds and thunder which is gonna be quite spectacular. Summer might be the time of the year that date goes down since it’s the season most prone to thunderstorms. Note also how dark the tower card is, that date night will go on past midnight and it will be steamy, too.

Ten: FOUR OF CUPS

Instantly when I drew that card, I knew it’s him on it. The four of cups shows a young black-haired man with closed eyes, sitting under a tree. Whether he’s dozing, sulking, meditating, or ignoring what goes on around him isn’t entirely clear. To me, and for Ten, I feel like it’s more of a worn-out day he’ll experience. Not the date itself, mind you, it’s the social circumstances. He’s tired from dance practices and all those schedules. All the fan interactions and SNS to be taken care of. Lots of stuff going on in the group. Truth be told, the card says date night isn’t the best way to go about it. He wants to be in a state of full energy when being with you. That works best if he has a separate day planned. And not date night as an addition to an existing schedule. Cramming it in seems like deprioritizing his partner so he won’t easily consider even if you yourself suggest date night. He has his reasons but might not always care to elaborate which is interesting given how outspoken Ten is otherwise. Maybe he’s not keen to burden you with his stress and his main strategy is to stay indifferent to keep things at bay, he really values relaxation time — nothing against you, just virtue of his business.

Taeyong: TWO OF PENTACLES

Interesting and simple, beautiful card! It shows a young man juggling two pentacles inside an infinity symbol, acting as a scale. That tells me two things: a) you’ll split the bill and b) this is a long-term relationship. Random I know, but makes for interesting context. The main theme from the card is the following though. It’s gonna be a date by the sea. There are water and ships pictured. You’ll see the anchorage and freight ships, even take a trip across a river alternatively. Who knows, the River Han is a popular dating spot in Seoul, I am sure someone so fond of all things nature will gravitate towards that. Looking at the waves is like a meditative experience. I also got an idea looking at that card once more, something more small scale: A pool date, super sexy. Like, imagine that. Taeyong is just an avid swimmer in pools, we’ve seen it. A bit of refreshment, some games with a ball, a bit of accidental exercise along the way without it feeling like a chore? Sounds about right. Plus you automatically get frisky in your swimwear. He’s not afraid to show his body. Whatever it is, a body of water will be involved for sure. If it’s by the sea an not inside water: Taeyong will wear either a red or even orange suit, we’re going fashion forward tonight babey, he can pull it off.

Kai: TEN OF WANDS

When I drew this I was like oh nu why :/ But we gotta roll with it. It’s not a seriously scary thing or something, just a more strenous, not 100% smooth romance card. The Ten of Wands is more of an indicator that there’s an obstacle or strain involved. It might be the kind of date where Kai is clumsy, someone doesn’t make it on time, it’s a hassle to find the parking lot, and so on and so forth. Consistent bad luck I do not associate with the TEN OF WANDS, however! It’s more of a what effort you put in is what dictates the result energy. The card shows a hunched guy carrying ten huge wooden sticks toward a town in the backdrop. And you can really see it’s heavy and he’s struggling because he has to carry so much. So, it might be a scenario where like, say Kai and you get stuck in traffic before you arrive. Which, you know, can be super annoying but can easily turned into a perk if you know what to do with the extra time. Or, Kai takes up so much responsibility with planning that he gets exhausted with the rest of his work in the mix. Though remember, effort always comes back tenfold (it’s the ten of wands after all) so it might be worth it and be a wholesome evening after some initial stress. Something unrelated I picked up from the imagery is that the date will be in a castle, because that is pictured in the backdrop!

#this has been in my drafts forever #anon #cub mail 🐅#tarot #superm #superm tarot reading #tarot reading #valentine's reading

69 notes · View notes