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#i am so glad we get to be here together
oatbugs · 8 days
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pls i need to provide updates
#basically yesterday night was chaharshanbe suri . which is a solar new yr tradition where we let go of the past suffering in our year#and like...start the new yr w fresh vigour . anyway so my friend was at the event and we were abt to leap over the fire#and she was like bro im im glad u blocked her (situationship) etc etc . and then. my phone started vibrating. and i look at it. and my f#friend looks at it. and its her. and were both like what the fuck?? i blocked her things r Over and anyway so i pick up the phone and shesl#acting like nothing happened (bc nothing DID happen for her) and she was like ohh ur doing chaharshanbe suri im not doing anything etc what#are ur new yr plans so i jusr .IDK WHY I DID THIS . but ig i didnt wanna come off as like lonely i said probably hanging out w family and#friends maybe reading poetry together . et cetera and she was like wait that sounds so fun why didnt u invite me!#LIKE WDYM YOUVE BEEN CONSISTENTLY MAKING IT CLEAR U DONT WANT TO BE IN MY PRESENCE . and i told her that after#everything i thought she didnt want to see me again and she was like you always think that 😐 . like. ?? ok anyway so she expects me to#invite her . and like. there is an above 0% but sub-5% chance she will actually show up . but the panic that gripped me#i started making calls to my friends asking them if they can come on the 23rd bc there must be an event and also i asked my mother#and she said actually yeah i am doing a thing on the 23rd :D it involves over 16 ppl (we live in a v small flat) of which like...7 are kids#so you wont have space to be in ur own room let alone invite others. which tbh like ...being around a bunch of loud kids doesnt seem fun fo#any of my friends or me etc so i thought maybe i should arrange things so that we all go out together and if she shows up she shows up 🤷‍♀️#but . im so. WHY DID I SAY THAT . i had to panic-call my research partner and ask him to get from oxf to where i live on the 23rd#and when he heard the explanation he like. the light in his voice disappeared 💀 but he potentially agreed so idk#THE ISSUE IS. 23rd im supposed to also have . a date#w this girl that i had a huge crush on when i was 15-16 (posted abt this b4 but id get shitty black coffee in the mornings just to spend a#few more minuted w her each day and she was the cleverest girl in school and she cared abt nothing but her academics but now shes very gay#scraggly homosexual etc etc shes cute) and YEAH IDK#like id have to go there on the date come back fast meet ppl POTENTIALLY (again under 5%) meet situationship girl#like is that even doable#but the thing is it would be so so so funny bc all of my friends dislike her sooo much#.........what if i invited the girl im supposed to have a date w over to hang out w us#god that would be so hilarious and chaotic . i wont do it tho im a mature person x#but it would be soooo funny#I HAVE AN ASSIGNMENT DUE TMRW 12:30PM IT IS 10:49PM RN I HAVENT STARTED IT bc i was rotting sadly in bed#popped a ritalin pill tho so here we go x#i have found myself in a state of such sheer agony and rage and sorrow and grief over this girl that atp i feel like#its just so entertaining . like i feel vaguely over it? ik nothing will come of it so its like just . have fun . vibe
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thychesters · 7 months
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i'm excited for the one piece live action, and i think a big part of it, to me, at least, is because there's such a sense of community with it. you're not watching it alone! maybe not everyone is into it, but those who are are excited and we're excited together! i'm excited to watch it with people and experience it with people, and be a part of it with others. i hope it's silly, i hope it's goofy, i hope the cast and crew had a blast with their heart and soul. i hope arlong park and the duel with mihawk pull at my heartstrings. i hope seeing sanji, luffy, and usopp's backstories make me hold my face in my hands. it's been a few months now, almost a year, but i still feel so new to one piece in the grand scheme of things, but i'm having so much fun. i'm not kidding when i say i'm having a blast, because the people i've met so far have been so cool and so welcoming, and i don't regret a minute. i'm so excited.
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the thing about me is that having a crush is fun for the first little while and then I just slowly become more and more overcome with insecurity about it
#like yeah he's friendly and nice to me but I know there's no chance. NONE. that it means anything at all.#no way. like there's no way he'd ever see me that way. We Just Work Together#and it sucks because I genuinely do enjoy just being friends with him! like there aren't many people I've met#who I genuinely click with and we get along well like that. and we definitely clicked as friends yknow??#and I'm super glad for that. I just feel so stupid for being in love with him when I'm too loud and too awkward and i fidget too much#and I'm just. not an attractive person on ANY level#so like even having a crush is so unrealistic and I hate that. he's the only guy I've ever genuinely wanted to be with#(beyond a brief infatuation that I knew wouldn't work out i was just kinda caught up in the theater stuff yknow)#like.... UGGGHHHH this is bringing up SO many insecurities bc I genuinely want more than a friendship#and gurt called me out the other day by asking how important it is to me that this particular guy likes me back#and I had to play it down bc it's SO important to me like. WHAT am I supposed to do with this??? he's the only guy#I've ever been able to envision a life with and I KNOW daydreaming like that is probably bad and dumb and I just feel#SO stupid for how I'm feeling about this whole thing and yet. I go to church and work with him and it's just really easy and nice#and we work well together and get along and it's just GOOD#and I want that forever#and idk what God is trying to do here but it's making me feel SO STUPID all the time!!!!!! girl help!!!!!!#Lu rambles
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torgawl · 8 months
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i am so emotional with harpocrates and dion's side quest. harpocrates who blames himself for not have offered dion his friendship and support besides the knowledge he shared with him when he was once his tutor. dion who feels so incredibly guilty for having destroyed his nation, what he held the most deer, who feels deeply ashamed and scared of what the person that inspired him all those years ago might think of him and his character after his deeds. harpocrates who doesn't blame him for another's ill intent but recognizes the anguish the prince battles with everyday and who wants to atone for his sense of personal failure towards him by gifting him the flower that represents his nation and making him know he isn't defined by his roots, that he is proud of the man the prince became. dion who is so thankful for the role the loresman had in his life but doesn't feel worthy of receiving the symbol of his people before fullfiling the duty he believes he has, si he defers the flower until after he bids his life against the one who ruined his nation to atone for the crimes he committed. harpocrates who plans cultivate wyvern tails for dion's return and bids farewell with an obvious sadness in his voice. dion who's reparation of his wrongdoings has been looking a bit too much like a forever depart...
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wolfpoets · 5 months
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anyway. i'm tired of crying my eyes out so i'm just going to say that one day it will be funny that david jenkins was like oh all MY gay characters get a happy ending! except for izzy. fuck him in particular.
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Tayston =‘]
#been meaning to draw smthing like this for a minute#i.e. tayston kiss where maybe simultaneous laughing / [smiling As Good As a laugh] is getting in the way of that kiss but not a problem rly#didn't really want to have to choose between taylor smiling harder / laughing aloud Or Not so i didn't choose between them#winston billions#tayston#corned beef#why Not include affectionate touches but you can believe the hands are also included to emphasize the [heads together Heart Shape] too#yes winston's as undressed as taylor yes i included his glasses b/c i felt like it. might have put them back on after awhile w/o them; might#have only Just removed a tee w/enough room in the collar to not dislodge his glasses as he did so; or i can't stop anyone from imagining#that just out of frame on his shoulder we could see like a spaghetti strap to a tank top. god bless#i also went ''am i gonna be more like subtle/muted or w/e & Not include little sparkles / hearts'' then 5 min later was like lol as though#you Know i'm gonna do it (include the little sparkles and/or hearts)#oh my god lmfao again also with the bi palette. definitely separate pink purple blue in there. all Except the yellow highlights...#like not that that happens accidentally lol like ofc i'm selecting colors to my tastes & who doesn't love blue/pink/purple like what a team#but only after the fact do i recall the bonus lol....Could've ended up say; Not using one of those three colors....but here we are#have been working on this for....nights#me at 5am last night like haha i'm Almost done but better save it for later#and in this final stretch i have definitely been at it since uhh. well it's now two a.m. and i started in on this pre sunset est#not that it was Constant work w/o frequent breaks lol but the lack of sustained focus is itself kind of that constant factor l o l#so it goes. just glad to post it early enough for some other taystonheads to get to see it Now. happy pride
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teledild0nix · 1 year
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i love our house it makes me so happy to live here and i LOVE having my beautiful girlfriend living here with me :')
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Apparently season 3 of Mando wasn't as well liked.
It's the only one so far I've kind of enjoyed. It had a plot, for instance.
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20cm · 2 years
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♡ megbias highlight reel — heart boys, if you will . for meg @slowrabbitpd , happy birthday . ♡
#caleb.gif#i could tag all these guys but honestly this is For meg <3 :') its rly not fandom related its just going to be posted on tumblr dot com#( if anyones curious tho: changkyun + yeonjun + kang daniel / kihyun + junhyeok + taehyun / seungyeop + steve + romin )#meg!! happy birthday bestie 💕#really i hope you have an absolutely wonderful day ahead of you and are able to enjoy it w/ your People whoever they may be#and that you get to treat yourself to something fun <3 and have a wonderful meal 💖#spiritually i am making you egg on rice right now.. or go out for kbbq or w/e u kno..#truly its been an absolute pleasure to have met you and become friends outside just being mutuals on tumblr#youre such a fun and warm and funny person whos just . smart as a whip and have a killer sense of design and general eye#ur an absolute joy to talk to nd i cherish all the roller coasters we've been on together since last year .. theres no one else id rather -#be SO so normal with <3 u just Get it. and i appreciate that more than i could put into words. i love all our shared megrook bias boys +#biases in law? is that what we can call it. anyways. megbiases are treasured <3 so i wanted to include them in a little something#all for you <3 including some very special sky pics !! bc u sent them to me a while ago and i treasured them!! so. have some megbias boys#peeking into ur photos. thats the concept yup fkgjkjdgf idk i just had an idea of sort of .. flipping thru photos here.#anyways. love u bestie! very much. sending u big warm hugs#we are the [deep breath]#taejunist high school yearbook editor freshman orientation leader magic and hiyyih defense squadists kep1er detectives#the boyz gatekeepers woojinist dailytaehyun and soobinsource admin team •_• (witnesses of the horrors) + peer review service#^ that gets longer EVERY time. lmfao 💕#ill shut up now but <3 just thank u for being here and being u. i admire u and cherish our friendship + thank u for ur endless patience#bc ik the last few months i was sorta awol but u never once made me feel bad for it and its that sort of level of Comfortable that means -#the world to me<3 so im glad i have tht w/ u <3#MWAH ok [posts]
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notjanine · 1 year
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i have in-person class with that guy today for the first time since we started messing around and like. yes it will be weird to sit in a full, intimate classroom with someone who’s seen my entire naked body and pretend like we are just casual academic acquaintances and not two people who are gonna frantically undress each other in a few hours. yes i am going to be distracted thinking about previous and future activities that are much more pleasant than sitting in a cold monday morning classroom. however. i am asserting dominance by bothering him even more than i will be bothered bc ngl this man has a hair fetish and i went out of my way to make sure mine looks fantastic today, this hair is LOOSE and BIG and SHINY, the curls are DEFINED, he WILL want to touch it and he WILL have to resist and he WILL suffer 😌✨
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fceriestcrdst · 2 years
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i have done so much witchy shit in the last few days. my friend, who is also a witch, called me a practitioner and i was all "huh....i guess i kinda am aren't i?" i say as i have a chest full of my fucking crystals and shit.
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natterghast · 5 months
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i'm determined to write tomorrow. i'm home from house sitting now and am thankful to be back in my own space
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fuckyeahisawthat · 22 days
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Controversial opinion among Dune book fans maybe, but I loved the changes they made to Chani's character. Making her a fedaykin who is already an experienced fighter before Paul arrives was a brilliant choice. Dune Part Two is a war movie, and this puts her at the center of the action, side by side with Paul, and gives her a much more active role than she has in the book.
We got a hint of where things were going in the beginning of Dune Part One. The first thing we ever know about movie Chani is that she's a fighter. She serves as a voice for the Fremen, telling us the story of their struggle from her point of view. I wrote here about the difference this change makes compared to other adaptations of Dune, what a perspective shift it is to have the world of Arrakis introduced not by an outsider, describing it as a dangerous but valuable colonial prize, but by one of its native inhabitants, who tells us before all else that it's beautiful, her home that she's fighting to liberate. I am so, so glad that the second movie followed up on this characterization.
I never found Chani and Paul's love story in the book particularly convincing, because why would this woman, who already has a prominent and respected place in Fremen society, even give the time of day to her deposed would-be colonizer, let alone fall in love and have children with him? Without a compelling reason for Chani to love Paul, she ends up feeling like a prize to be won, and "indigenous culture personified as a woman to be wooed (or conquered) by the colonizing man" is a trope we've seen and don't need to repeat.
But as soon as you tell me it's a barricade romance I get it. Cool cool cool, I know exactly what this relationship is now and it makes sense. Movie Chani doesn't respect or even particularly like Paul when she first meets him, and she doesn't think he's the fulfillment of any prophecy. She comes to respect him, and eventually love him, through his actions. He's brave--sometimes recklessly so. He fights well. He's willing to stick his neck out on the front lines with the other Fremen fighters. He can (after a little help) hack surviving in the harsh desert environment. He's not too proud to learn from others. He seems to genuinely want to be her equal in a common political struggle. All these qualities make sense as things she values.
Fighting side by side as equals is just about the only way I can see movie Chani falling for Paul. And it fits perfectly with the film's pattern of reversals that Paul's capacity for violence would initially be one of the things Chani likes about him, only for her to be repelled later when she sees what he becomes.
And as for Paul, well, he's had people deferring to him his entire life. Someone who doesn't take any shit from him is probably refreshing. He seems to like people (Duncan, Gurney) who challenge him and engage in a little friendly teasing--and aren't afraid to go a few rounds in the sparring ring.
It's easy to speedrun a romance when you're spending all your time together in mortal danger fighting for a shared political cause. Especially if you then start winning in a war your people have been fighting for decades. Are you kidding me? That is the perfect environment for intense battle camaraderie to turn into romantic love, and lust.
It makes sense that this version of Chani never believes Paul is any kind of messiah. Of course a character like movie Chani wouldn't believe in or trust some outside savior to liberate them. She's been working to liberate her own people for years. The more Paul invokes the messianic myth, the more he starts sounding once again like someone who plans to rule over them, and the more uncomfortable Chani becomes. In this way she becomes a foil to Jessica, the two of them representing the choices Paul is pulled between. It's a great way of externalizing the political and philosophical debates that often happen within characters' heads in the book.
And of course this version of Chani would leave Paul at the end of the film. It's not just the personal, emotional betrayal--although that stings. What common cause does she have with someone who just declared himself emperor and is sending her own people off in a war of conquest against others? Given the important role she plays in Dune Messiah, I am super curious to see how they get her back into the story, but girl was so valid for being willing to just gtfo. Given that she has the last shot of the whole movie, I'm sure she'll be back somehow, and I can't wait to see what they do with her character in any future installments.
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foxyloueh · 10 months
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starkwlkr · 1 month
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bitch, i’m a mother! | f1
female driver x f1 drivers (platonic) the reader is around the same age as daniel. i like that almost every story i read about a female driver her team ends up being porsche and I’m not mad about it :) so for this fic, the reader is driving for porsche lol also I’m just making up names for the engineers and team principal. also because I’m in love with charlie hunnam, my man is gonna make an appearance
part 1 part 3
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Y/N BEING THE MOTHER OF EVERY DRIVER IN THE PADDOCK
“Y/n is so great, you’re going to love her. She’s the best.” Oscar listened to his new teammate as they walked into the Porsche hospitality. The rookie immediately felt out of place with him being the only one in papaya colors while Lando was in casual clothes.
“Hey, Lando!”
“Lando! How’s it going?”
“Norris, hey!”
Lando greeted most of the Porsche team with a smile while Oscar nodded at them. “I hang out here sometime if you couldn’t tell.” Lando joked.
“So if I can’t find you in Mclaren . . ”
“There’s a big chance I might be here.”
Oscar nodded once again. “Noted. Where’s Y/n?”
As if on cue, Y/n walked into the Porsche hospitality with her team principal by her side. Once she spotted Lando, she called out his name. As the Brit approached the driver and team principal, he gave her a big hug. It was the start of the 2023 season and they hadn’t seen each in a while, of course he was going to give her a hug.
“I’ll see you around, Y/n. Nice to see you, Lando, and you must be mclaren’s rookie. Welcome to F1, I’m Adam.” The Porsche team principal greeted Oscar.
“Thank you—” before Oscar could continue, Y/n cut him off.
“I’ve heard so many great things about you! And you’re an Aussie too! What is it with Mclaren and Aussies? Whatever, I’m glad you’re here, Oscar. I hope you enjoy yourself. Have you eaten yet? I was just in my way to get breakfast. Let me tell you a secret, the Porsche hospitality has the best food in the paddock.” Oscar instantly felt at home with the female driver. She had a comforting presence that Oscar immediately took notice of.
“Told you she’s the best. Just wait until it’s your birthday. She bakes you a cake.” Lando told Oscar.
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The entire grid was together for their drivers briefing early in the morning. After going over every detail of the upcoming Grand Prix, the race director decided to let the drivers voice their concerns.
“Does anyone have any questions?”
Y/n raised her hand. “I wanna know who banned the pit wall celebration.”
“Anyone else?”
“Yeah, I’d like to know as well.” Lewis added.
“We can discuss pit wall celebrations at a later time. Excuse me, I am needed somewhere else.” The race director excused himself.
“Don’t worry, I don’t care about being banned. I’ll be there like a proud mom taking millions of pictures of you when you win.” Y/n whispered to Lewis as she layed her head on his shoulder.
“And I’ll be doing the same when you win.” Lewis replied.
“What about when I win? I also want millions of pictures taken of me and the exact same chocolate cake you baked for me for my birthday a year ago. Extra sprinkles please.” Lando smiled innocently.
“Fine, win first then I’ll bake. Shouldn’t be that hard unless you got a tractor for a car.” Y/n teased. “I love you, Lando. Of course I’ll take millions of pictures of you when you win.”
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It was a perfect day to race in Silverstone. Like always, Lando had his family in attendance. He was in the mclaren garage when he spotted Y/n on one of the tvs being interviewed by Lissie.
“Hey, that’s my grid mum!” He told his engineer as if his engineer didn’t already know. His smile quickly faded when a blonde man appeared behind Y/n in sunglasses. Lando then watched as the man’s name appeared on the tv.
Charlie Hunnam, actor.
Who was he and why was he with his grid mom?
“Hey, that’s the dude from Sons of Anarchy! My wife watches that series.” Lando heared someone say. He continued to watch the screen as Lissie asked Charlie a question about Y/n.
“She’s incredible, absolutely amazing. I’m happy I finally get to see her talent in person.” Charlie replied, smiling at Y/n which made her blush.
“He’s British . . ” he mumbled.
After Lissie thanked Y/n and Charlie for the interview, the camera kept rolling on them as they walked away. That’s when Lando saw Charlie hold Y/n’s hand then pressed a kiss to the back of it.
“She’s dating a British man and she didn’t tell me?!”
Lando immediately walked out the garage and straight to the Porsche garage. He had a strong feeling Y/n would be showing her new lover around so he started there. He soon spotted the couple talking with the Porsche team principal, Adam.
“Oh, hey Lando! I was about to look for you. I want you to meet Charlie.” Y/n excused herself from Adam and introduced Charlie to her grid son.
“It’s very nice to meet you, mate. Y/n had told me a lot about you.” Charlie smiled.
“Yeah, I’ve heard nothing about you. Nada, zero, not a single thing, zilch.” Lando then turned his attention to Y/n. “I think we need to talk.”
“Okay . . ” Y/n said confused as she turned to Charlie to tell him she would be right back. Lando took her hand and dragged her to a corner away from Charlie. “Lando! What’s wrong? Are you nervous about today?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend?”
Oh.
“You always tell me everything and now I kinda feel betrayed. Especially when i also found out he’s British!” Lando said dramatically.
“Lando, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but it just sorta happened. We met a few months ago and he’s made me the happiest ever since. I wanted to introduce you properly today.” Y/n explained.
“He makes you happy? Like genuinely happy? Because if he doesn’t I will run him over repeatedly.” Lando warned.
Y/n laughed and brought Lando in for a hug. “I know you would, but there’s no need for that. I think he’s the one.”
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“Before you leave, there’s actually one more gift for you and you don’t have to guess who it’s from.”
Logan was confused, but happily accepted the gift. It was the annual F1 secret santa and he had just finished unwrapping his present. A gift wrapped perfectly with a blue bow was placed in front of him. The tag read ‘From Y/n’ in neat handwriting.
“Thank you, Y/n! I don’t even want to open it, it’s wrapped so good.” Logan chuckled.
Every year, anyone who got a nicely wrapped gift knew it was from Y/n. And any year that someone new entered the season, Y/n would give them a gift during secret santa. She did it for Lando, George, Alex, Charles, Yuki and Guanyu when they were rookies and now she was doing it for Logan and Oscar. She had even sent Nyck a present as well, she wished he was in the paddock doing secret santa as well though.
“Okay, I’ll open it, I’m too curious.” Logan finally unwrapped the present and saw it was a Miami Heat jersey singed by LeBron James. Logan almost freaked out when he saw the signature.
“Holy shit! Wait sorry, I can’t curse, but holy shit!” He took the jersey out of the box and admired it. “This is incredible.”
“You love it?” He heard the familiar comforting voice of Y/n from behind him. “I hope it’s the right size.” She joined Logan in front of the camera.
“It is, don’t worry,” he chuckled as he gave her a hug. “Thank you so much, I love it.”
“I think you just adopted another son.” The camera man told her.
“I love all my grid sons equally.”
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peachesofteal · 20 days
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Simple Math / Part Eleven
Simple Math masterlist
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Ghost/Soap/female reader 6k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Graphic depiction of domestic violence. This fic contains mature themes. Mention of pregnancy. Nurse!reader, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies. Bun is in pain, goes to a doctor. Dissociation. Lots of despair, fear, anxiety. The 141 reunites. Nightmares. Comfort. Tenderness. Angst. Welcome home.
“Knock knock.”
“Bunny.” Johnny murmurs, lifting an arm, urging you close, a moon to a tide.
“Hi.” You bend, moving into the hug, pressing your face to his neck for a quick second before straightening.
“I miss ye.” You survey him, glancing at the monitor, the brace on his leg and hip, the disconnected fluid line. He’s doing well. You’re so relieved to see it with your own eyes, ribs rattling with a long exhale. Satisfied, you smile, tension bleeding from your spine. 
“Simon says you’re terrorizing your night nurse.”
“Am not. She’s jus’ not gentle, or quiet. Wakes me up.”
“That’s her job.” He scoffs, waving you off. You settle in the chair at his side, and he takes your hand in his, lifting it to his lips, dotting kisses across your knuckles. His affection is freeing, sweet and easy, a warm breeze on a spring day. It overflows your heart with warmth until you think it might spill over, and you go with it, following his lead, even though your better judgement, the girl in the mirror, wails.
“Ye look good. Better. Swellin’ gone down?” He cradles your chin, turning your face from left to right, inspecting with a crystal-clear sapphire gleam.
“Yeah, my shoulder is still sore but… yeah. I feel better.”
“’m glad. Simon keepin’ ye off yer feet all day then?”
“Oh my god.” You laugh. “He keeps telling me to lay down. Or asking if I want to take a nap.” Johnny chuckles.
“Sounds right. He’s a bit o’ a mother hen, that one. He cares though, we both do.”
“I know.” You squeeze his hand. “And I missed you too.”
“He said ye an’ him had a nice chat the other night?” Your cheeks burn. Oh god. Did he… “I’m a wee bit jealous.” He complains, turning his nose up and away in a mock pout, and you roll your eyes.
You laid in bed all night and thought about these moments. Thought about Simon’s mouth on yours, his hand on your ass, squeezing and stroking. You thought about how he tasted, how he smelled, the way he looked at you, like you were a part of their world, a piece of them.
And you thought about Johnny. Johnny alone here, Johnny trapped in the hospital, healing, unable to leave or even get out of bed. How anxious he must be, being separated from his family, how frustrating it is to spend so long trying to get better.
You wanted to give him something. Wanted to make him feel better, see him smile.
Here goes nothing. 
Leaning, standing, you dip into his orbit, lightly bumping your noses together. It takes no time until his good hand is around the back of your neck, crashing your mouth into his, and he breathes you in, holding you steady, tongue and teeth and lips swirling together in a ubiquitous, overwhelming haze. He tastes like summer rain, the feeling in the air before a giant storm, electric and blazing, brilliant glow transferring between the two of you, lightning striking a mountaintop. He nips your bottom lip, heat flooding your stomach, and you pull away slowly, his eyes jeweled and shimmering, brilliantly blue.
“Bunny,” You try to swallow a quiet giggle and fail. “I’ll have to tell ye I’m jealous more often.”
“Don’t take advantage.” You playfully scold.
“Me? Take advantage?” He pretends to be outraged, voice piquing higher, and you laugh again. “How can I take advantage when ‘m the one stuck here in this bed while ye two are at home, playin’ house, takin’ couch naps and gettin’ butt rubs. No one cares about Johnny, no-“
“Shhh.” You press your lips to his, silencing him, remaining in the kiss that’s long and soft and saccharine. He sneaks his tongue back between your teeth, mischievous and wild, every bit the man you’re drawn to, an attraction you can’t fight.
“Well.” Simon clears his throat from the doorway, brows raised, mask snug. “Hope I’m not interrupting.” You don’t know why, but you fly backwards, nearly stumbling, cheeks on fire. You feel like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t, and that feeling, the pit in the bottom of your stomach, is all too reminiscent.
It frightens you.
“Whoa, hey.” Johnny tries to snag a finger around your wrist, but you step out of the way.
“It’s alright.” Simon moves inside fully, clicking the door shut behind him. “You’re not in trouble. Nothing is wrong, I was just kidding. That’s my fault.” You shake your head.
He’s not mad. Johnny is fine. Everything is fine. 
You’re overreacting. You’re making a mess of this. 
You shouldn’t even be doing this in the first place. What’re you doing? Who are you kidding? 
“I’m s-sorry.” You stammer, hands wringing together anxiously.
“Ye dinnae have anything to be sorry about.” Johnny protests, still trying to reach for you.
Get it together. You have to get it together. 
You close your eyes.
Deep breath. In and out. You can do it. Just breathe. 
It works. You’re steadier, and you meet their watchful gazes as your eyes open.  
“You okay?” Simon murmurs, moving very slowly to the other side of the bed where you’re standing, like he’s approaching a spooked, scared, wild animal.
“Yeah. Sorry. Just… had a moment. I’m fine.” Not entirely true, but that’s alright. You feel a little unsteady, a little unnerved, and Johnny frowns.
“Ye should sit.”
“I’m fine.”
“Bunny, please. For me?” He bats his eyelashes, and you want to groan.
But you lower yourself in the chair all the same.
Quiet falls over the room. It’s awkward and stiff, and you curse yourself for ruining the moment.
“Hey.” Simon soothes, reading your mind. “Hey, you’re alright. Everything is fine.” You nod, unsettled. He squeezes your good shoulder and dips past you, leaning to press a gentle kiss to Johnny’s brow, before dotting his nose and pushing their lips together. Their kiss is long, languid touch melting away to expose their connection, trust and love on full display. Delicate and rare, their affection makes your heart flutter, pulchritudinous whispers given to one another as Simon holds Johnny’s hand, stroking a familiar pattern into his skin, something similar to the way he touches you. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine. Wish they’d let me out of this bloody bed.” Johnny grumbles. You clear your throat.
“They’re waiting on your wrist. Once your wrist can support your weight on crutches, then you’ll be able to start PT and be released.”
“Ach. I know.” He’s frustrated, it’s clear. You know it’s not easy, being here, being separated, stuck in a hospital.
“It won’t be too long.” You try to reassure him, and he nods, still a little forlorn. “Here,” you stand with a burst of confidence, knocking his arm with the back of your hand as a direction, “scooch over.”
His eyes light. Simon laughs.
You fold yourself onto the edge of the bed, turned on your side, curled along where he’s the least banged up, careful of the sensitive graft lurking beneath his hospital gown.
“There. That better?” His good arm wraps around you carefully, settling on your ribs, a thumb tracing the wrinkle of your shirt.
“Aye, much better.” Your knees are bent, and cool air ghosts over your lower back, where your shirt has ridden up and exposed your skin. You shiver.
“Cold?” Simon murmurs, and you nod. He’s close, hovering, pulling a blanket up from the end of the bed to cover both you and Johnny. He tucks it around the two of you carefully and leans forward, pulling his mask down again to brush his lips across Johnny’s brow.
You watch in a daze. They don’t speak, but there’s something happening between them, something being said in their eyes as Simon holds his face briefly, and Johnny nods.
They both look to you, your bottom lip caught between teeth.
“Want one too?” Simon hums, cupping the back of your head. “Here.” He kisses you, lingering in it, heat of his naked mouth still a shock to your system.
Johnny is beaming, and cuddles you as close as possible, cheek resting atop your forehead.
They make you dizzy. All of it feels like some kind of dream, a world impossible, a fantasy suddenly turned real life. You’re on the verge of spinning out of control inside it, losing yourself.
It doesn’t help that everything you’ve done over these last few years, this identity, this life, the work that went into hiding and planning and saving and scraping, trying to stay unseen and unnoticed-
Was all for nothing.
“Bunny?” Johnny whispers, bringing you back to them. Simon is settled in the recliner, the same one from the ICU room, but his arm is stretched past your head, fingers playing idly in Johnny’s very long mohawk.
“Sorry. I’m here.”
“Where did ye go?” He tightens his hold, and you snuggle in closer, hiding away from everything bearing down on you, the pain and the panic and the doubt. You hide your face from it, refuse to acknowledge it, desperately trying to stay in this moment, hoping to just be… be here with them. In the sun.
“Nowhere.”  
A day passes. Then another, and another, and another. Your face nearly looks normal, puffiness and swelling practically gone, and your neck aches less and less with each passing day.
Your shoulder, on the other hand, is a problem.
It never stops hurting. You struggle to get your arm through your shirts, can barely lift it, can't pick anything up, and it’s so sore, tender, and stiff, like it’s been dislocated or worse, broken. You’re worried, worried about going back to work without a full range of motion, worried about being in pain.
Worried about being even more permanently damaged than you already are.
Just another tally mark. Just another thing you must live with now, a permanent remnant of him, a forever reminder of just how foolish you really are.
You’re weak. You’re stupid. You’re damaged. 
The pain breaks you down. It prevents you from sleeping, keeps you twisting and turning through a roil of dark dreams. It depresses you, sinks its teeth into your flesh and gnaws on the pieces touched by the sun, the parts of your heart still beating, somehow.
It reminds you of everything you’re desperate to forget.
It all comes crashing down one morning. The despair. The helpless feeling brewing in your stomach. The loneliness. It keeps you there, in bed, in agony, past breakfast.
It keeps you there, until you hear the creak of the stairs, a firm knock.
“I’m coming in.” Simon advises, trying the door, cracking it enough to stick his head through.
You’re crumpled in the middle of the mattress, pillows strewn about from trying to find a comfortable position, tears already dried. Your shoulder hurts so bad, and you don’t know why, don’t know why it’s not getting better, not healing.
“Hey, sleepyhead.” He sits at your side, hand resting on your hip, inspecting the worry lines, the frown tugging at your lips. “What’s going on?” Guilt swamps you.
“It’s nothing, my shoulder just kept me up, so I’m a little tired. That’s all.” You paste on your work smile, forced and believable, but he only shakes his head.
“Don’t do that.” He thumbs your brow. “I think you should see a doctor.”
“N-no.” You can’t. He doesn’t understand. They’ll want to take x-rays. X-rays lead to questions. 
He never takes you at face value. Always pushing. Always digging, looking you over. ��Why not?”
“It’s… it’s not necessary. I’m fine, it’s probably just a deep bruise.”
“You’d be experiencing less pain if that was the case.” You raise an eyebrow. He shrugs. “I know a little bit. We all have basic medic training, and I’ve been reading up, for when Johnny gets home.” He pats your hip. “Let’s make you an appointment.” You shake your head.
“No!” It’s too sharp, too insistent, and he freezes. You wince. “I’m sorry. It’s just-“
“You can’t go to a doctor.” He finishes, like he knows. “Tell me why, sweetheart.” You take a shaky breath.
You can’t. You shouldn’t. 
Sunlight taps against the iron that’s encrusted around your heart. It knocks, wanting to be let in. It searches for weakness, places of opportunity, slivers of space where it can find its way.
Your mouth starts moving before you give it permission, like it knows this is where you’re headed, no matter how hard you fight, no matter how deeply the survivor’s logic is ingrained in your brain.
“It… it’s not safe.”
“It creates a trail.” He surmises, and you nod. For a wild moment, you wonder if he’s a plant. If they’re a trap, designed to get you to lower your guard, fabricated to encourage you to trust, to love, just so the jaws of Philip’s cruelty can close around you at the most opportune moment.
They wouldn’t. They’re not. You’re being ridiculous. You’re paranoid. 
“We’ll make it under my name. Our primary is service member focused, and very discreet. You’ll be safe.” He makes it hard to argue, even though you want to. You should.
“I- I don’t know.”
“I can’t stand to see you in pain like this.” He rebukes, and then smiles softly, eyes lighting up. “Besides, I’m going to need your help. Johnny’s coming home on Friday.”
“He is?” You push upward. “Really?”
“Really.” He’s beaming, radiant sunshine spilling from his lips, and it makes you emotional, seeing him so happy, so weightless. “He passed a strength test on his wrist this morning. He needs a few days of PT in hospital, and then he can do it outpatient. His care team has signed off, and he’s ready.”
“Oh my god, that’s great!”
“It is. But I want both of you on the mend, not just one. Please.” It doesn’t take much more for you to concede, unable to find an excuse or a good enough reason, one he’s not able to combat.
“Alright, I guess.”
“Simon. Good to see you.” The doctor extends his hand and Simon shakes it readily, keeping his body positioned between you and the physician, one hand still on your knee.
He’s had a hand on you for the last half hour. You’ve been rattling on the exam table, shifting and fretful, disquieted energy spilling forth since he coaxed you into the car this morning.
“Dr. Fitch.”
“This is my patient?” He motions to you, and Simon stands to the side, concentrating, eyes focused above the mask. You give your name, and the provider repeats it with a warm smile.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Fitch.” You raise your good arm to shake his hand, and he pulls the rolling stool underneath him, taking a seat opposite Simon at your knee.
A warm palm flexes at your lower back. It’s soothing, comforting.  
I’m here, it says. You’re safe.
“Simon says you’ve been having some shoulder pain?”
“Yeah, I had… I had an injury. Thought there was some soft tissue damage, maybe some minor bruising, but the pain is too persistent.”
“Mind if I take a look?” He points to the side you’re clearly favoring.
“Sure.” It’s not comfortable, to have another man’s hands on you outside of your job. There’s no trust there, no familiarity like there is with Simon and Johnny, and your body knows it, practically vibrating as he walks his fingers up your scapula. Simon stays close, still with a hand at your back, watching intently.
Dr Fitch holds your elbow, and slowly lifts your arm until you’re telling him to stop, pins and needles radiating through your shoulder and up your neck.
“I think we need an x-ray so we can really see what’s going on.” Your fingers curl, nails digging into your palm. 
Fuck.  
“I… I think I just need a sling, or an immobilizer for a few weeks. Give it some time to heal.” You try to protest, but he shakes his head.
“I can’t be sure of any of that, without an x-ray.” Oh god. You think you might throw up.
He’s right, though. You know he’s right. You know no good provider in their right mind would sign off on a treatment plan without knowing the extent of an injury. He’s not going to let you dictate what you need.
“Bun.” Simon murmurs, and you blow out a rough breath.
“Okay, fine.”
Dr. Fitch is grim when he reappears almost an hour later, throwing the films up for both you and Simon to see.
You spot what’s soured him immediately, and there’s a sharp intake of breath behind you, the tell-tale sign of Simon noticing it too.
“This side of your body has seen a lot of trauma.” The doctor says gently. He’s not unkind, but still clinical. The kind of provider you’d like you work with, you think. “These old injuries, your clavicle, acromion, even this break in your ulna, make your scapula a very delicate part of your body. I think an MRI would show a fair amount of cartilage damage in these areas.” He motions around your joint, and you close your eyes.
You can’t do this. 
If Dr. Fitch sees your unease or panic, he pushes past it. “You have a rotator cuff tear. The good news is, it’s not surgical. I recommend physical therapy for injuries like these, along with activity modification and lots of rest. I want to do a corticosteroid injection for your pain as well. Today, if you’d like. You’ll need to rest your arm for twenty-four hours afterwards, make sure you’re not lifting anything or moving it…” He continues, but you lose track, lose focus, staring at the vinyl tile, weird grey and pink and green patterns all worked together to make some of the ugliest floor you’ve ever seen.
You zone out. Lose yourself. The films mock you, their ugly, horrific images hanging you out to dry, showcasing the truth, the reminders you’ll never be able to escape.
The pieces of you, changed permanently.
It’s hard to look at. Hard to think of.
You’d rather be considering survival. Counting your cash and researching new places to live. New communities to disappear inside, a new life to assume.
It’s easier to run.
You can’t look at Simon. Can't bear the shame. Can't believe he's seeing this, your nightmares on display. 
You keep your eyes fixed on the wall.
The girl in the mirror is falling apart. She despises being confronted with your failings, your weakness, the results of your stupidity.
It’s far less common now, these mistakes. These slip ups.
But before… before… they indulged Philip in a beautiful game of cat and mouse. You made it fun, made it exciting. A wolf with his prey. Playing with his food before he eats. Before he strings it up and breaks its collarbone because he likes to hear it scream.
Simon is talking to the provider, asking questions, receiving answers. You can barely hear him. You’re underwater.
The only thing that tethers you to the earth is the hand on your back, the warm, gentle, broad, grounding pressure.
There’s more conversation, and then Dr. Fitch is vacating the room.
Is it time to go? 
You try to stand on autopilot, but Simon holds you steady.
“We’re going to do the steroid, for your pain.” He drifts into your line of sight, pulling the mask down. “Bunny, look at me.”
When you can’t, he follows your gaze.
The films come off the wall within the next second, ripped down by the long reach of his arm.
Gone. 
“I have to go.” You whisper.
“You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to get this injection, and then I’m going to take you home and put you to bed.”
He doesn’t understand your meaning. 
Or maybe he does. 
Home. The word rings in your ears like a punch. It’s like you’ve been hit with it, burned with it.
Home. 
He’s not forceful, but you still feel the pressure, the insistence. You expect to rail against him. To cower.
Instead, you slip inside it. Allow him to tell you what to do, to make the decision. You fall easily into him, and he holds your hand through it all, while the injection site is swabbed, when the needle goes in. He holds your hand out to the car, holds your hand as he buckles you in. He holds your hand as he tucks you into a bed larger and softer than the one you've been sleeping in. It smells like him and Johnny, soft sheets and pillows piled around you like a wall, false sense of security building every time you twitch, testing where is he is, if he’s left yet.
The last thing you feel before you drift off to sleep is your hand, still in his.
You don't know how long you sleep. You sail in the darkness, navigating turbulent seas, waking every now and then, sometimes alone... sometimes not. 
The baby monitor blinks pale green, little circle fuzzy on the edge of your vision, appearing and disappearing throughout the day. 
Sometimes the bed is warm. Sometimes it's not. 
When it is, you seek him out on instinct, trying to crawl inside his ribs, frantic with your effort to hide, to run. He holds you through it, rocks you gently, tells you you're safe, says you don't have to be afraid anymore, he's here now. He'll take care of you. 
There's a rope around your ankle, tied too tight, tethered to the ocean floor. It drags you down, rips you away from him, fills your lungs and silences you. 
You didn't make it. 
All you can see behind closed lids is those films. All you can feel is the phantom ache in your limbs, the remnants of a shadow, still living and breathing inside of you. 
The girl in the mirror is silent. Nothing to say for once in her life, she weeps like her chest is being carved open, sobs and screams pouring out in a flood. 
I know you'll be here when I get back, won't you?
The house is vibrant today.
Lou has been here, stocking the fridge, precooking some meals, and her husband is helping Simon rearrange the living room, moving pieces of the couch to be more accessible, laughing back and forth quietly. Occasionally, he stops into the kitchen where you’re seated next to Pen in her highchair, checking in, but never encroaching.
He doesn’t get too close, right now. You’re still underwater somewhere, lost in a current. You’re here, but not really, silently drifting like a ghost, watching and waiting for something or someone to shake you out of it.
Simon hasn’t yet, but he’s watching. Always.
He’s intentionally careful, loud. Announcing himself everywhere he goes in the house, telling you everything he’s doing.
You didn’t understand why at first. Didn’t realize you hadn’t spoken in eight hours, and then ten, then twelve.
Trapped in a tomb of yourself, locked away with the girl in the mirror.
Guilt burns like a wildfire.
This should be a happy time. A wonderful time. 
But all you’re doing is making a mess of their life.  
Lou, thankfully, doesn’t push you either. She’s content to let you sit there, next to Pen. She keeps an eye out, glancing over at you occasionally, but your placating smiles seem to satisfy her.
Simon steps in front of the counter, ducking his head down to catch your eyes. “I’m going to pick Johnny up.” Somewhere, in the pits of hell, excitement blooms. Happiness tries to sprout. “Do you want to come?” Definitely not. They’ll certainly clap him out, and there’s no way you can be there for that. 
“No, I’m… okay.”
“Okay. Penny is coming with me, but John and Lou are staying here. Kyle is coming by. If Johnny’s feeling up to it, I’m hoping to do dinner all together.” Acid is tossed around, tempestuous in your stomach. Lou smiles around his side.
“Want to watch something while we wait?”
“Sure.” She disappears down the hall, saying something to John, and Simon slowly pulls Pen from her chair, kissing her cheek and nose before cradling her to his chest. She’s not a small baby, but in his hold, she’s tiny, soft and delicate, content in her dad’s arms, still a little sleepy from her afternoon nap. 
“We’ll be back soon.” He whispers, turning to go.
Your hand whips forward instinctively, out of control.
It latches onto his.
“Simon. I’m… I’m sorry.” You’re sorry you’re ruining everything. You’re sorry you’re fucked up beyond belief, you’re sorry he had to see all that in the doctor’s office, you’re sorry, you’re sorry, you’re sorry. 
He squeezes. “Shhh, hey. There’s nothing to be sorry about.” He shifts, still holding Penny, but stooping down to crouch at your knees, his own popping with effort. “It’s okay, if you have to go somewhere else for a little while up there, as long as you're not lost in it.” He motions to your head. “Nothing has changed. We’re still right here, everything is alright. Huh, Penny girl?” He bounces her, and she shrieks out a giggle, reaching for his face. He kisses her hands like he’s trying to eat them, rumble in his voice making her squeal, and he catches your faint smile. “There she is.” He kisses your forehead. “We’ll be back soon, okay?”
“Okay.”
You hear Johnny before you see him.
There’s a scrape of crutches, his voice animated, talking to his baby, Penny giggling wildly outside on the walk. Lou and John exchange a comfortable smile, and she manages to get the door open before Simon can get his key in the lock.
“Welcome home!” She exclaims, and Penny squeaks, clapping excitedly. She’s wriggly, wanting to get down immediately upon crossing the threshold, but Simon holds her firm, turned around so Lou can snap their picture.
“Ach, Price, can ye do somethin’-“ Johnny laments, but the captain only laughs and looks on.
“Hey! Come on, you’ll want this, later. I promise. Look over here.” They’re picture perfect, Penny cradled between them, Johnny’s hair moved out of his face, his posture a little slouched because of his hip and leg. His head rests on Simon’s shoulder, an arm stretched across his middle, right under Penny, who glows from her perch, the center of attention.
An ache unfurls in the middle of your chest, a sore spot, growing, spreading through your body.
They’re so lovely, it hurts. This moment is beautiful, a homecoming, a story of survival and perseverance. Johnny’s strength and determination. Doing something you know a lot of people initially doubted.  
The dark spot of pain passes, fleeting.
Johnny’s eyes find yours. “Ye goin’ make me hobble all the way over there?” He teases, and you shake your head.
The two of you can only give half hugs, but you make it work, holding onto him, fingers fisted in the back of his shirt.
“Welcome home.” You whisper in his ear, and he pulls away, notching his forehead against yours. His eyes glitter, heavy, trembling breath filtering through his nose, and he kisses you slowly, so painfully slowly it’s like you’re the only one in the entire house, in the whole world.
“You too, bunny.”
Dinner is lively. Kyle arrives shortly before it’s time to sit down, greetings and warm wishes passed around as everyone gets settled, Penny positioned in highchair between the guys with mashed potatoes and peas already scooped onto her tray. Johnny’s on your left, with Lou on your right, and Simon sits at the head of the table, across from who you realize now, is his old, or kind of still, boss. 
He looks perfect there, half turned towards Pen and Johnny, radiantly smiling at his partner and daughter, trying again and again to catch your eye. Johnny's knee stays steady against yours, fingertips occasionally brushing your thigh, and the two of them try to draw you in, pull you towards them, over and over. 
Conversation flows easily. They’re all talking, laughing, swapping stories, poking at one another. Kyle tells you about a time he fell out of a helicopter, and they all tease Johnny about nearly dying this time, or a different time, you can’t be too sure.
“Ye jus’ wish ye had the natural ability I do.” He sniffs, and Kyle chortles, struggling to swallow his food.
“I’d probably be dead, mate.”
“’Cause ye cannae handle it!” He retorts, and Simon laughs, causing Penny to giggle too, and then the entire table erupts in it, attention redirected, cooing at the adorable girl with mashed potatoes smeared on her face. Johnny and Simon fuss over her, a perfect family in unison. 
There’s a whining, buzzing noise in the back of your head. It’s an off-key tenor, annoying and coarse, like the snag of rough skin texture against a soft sweater.
What are you doing here? 
The world, this room, these people, spin and spiral around you. Talking, laughing, loving. Making connections with each other, feeling the warmth of love and friendship, of happiness.
The buzzing gets louder.
You’re vaguely in it now, still seated but not here, not anywhere. You’re drifting, falling away, slipping behind walls and layers, hiding.
The girl in the mirror approves.
What makes you think you have any right to be here? What makes you think you could ever possibly belong here? With them? With their friends? Their family? 
You’re an intruder. 
You’re risking their safety. You’re making a mistake. 
Lou boasts a sharp laugh, and you nearly flinch.
You don’t belong here. You’re supposed to be alone. It was supposed to be okay, to be alone.
You’re selfish.
Simon reaches for Johnny’s hand, stretching across Penny’s spot, eyes heavy with love. There’s so much in his expression alone, dedication, devotion, borderline obsession bleeding through, and he holds Johnny like he’s holding his lifeline.
You’ll never be loved like that, known like that, cherished and protected… like that. 
And why should you be? 
You’re standing before you announce it, trying to hold yourself together. Both guys look to you, Simon’s expression changing from amusement and love to worry and concern, while Johnny mirrors it, and tries to grab your hand.
“Ye alright?”
“Bun?”
“I’m fine, just… uh. My stomach.” You lie, motioning away from the table, like it makes any sense. You excuse yourself quickly, apologizing, and practically run up the stairs.
The guest bathroom door locks, and you slide down against the tub, slumping over to rest your cheek on cold tile. “Fuck.” You whisper, rubbing at your cheeks. What is wrong with you?
You lay there long enough that your shoulder starts to hurt. Everything aches, your heart too, and wipe your cheeks over and over, trying to regain control of a sinking ship.
God, you really, really hope they aren’t mad you bailed. 
The bed is your only option, your only salvation, and you sink into without fuss, burying yourself beneath a pile of blankets, hiding yourself away from the world.
At least when you sleep, you can’t think.
At least when you sleep, you can’t feel.
“Philip, please.” 
“You made a fucking fool of me tonight.” He grips your upper arm so tight it feels like he’s cutting into your flesh, branding you, burning you down to the bone. 
“No, I- I wasn’t trying to, I swear.” 
“I think you were, spitfire. I think you wanted to see me sweat, didn’t you? Wanted to play a little game, huh?” 
“No!” you’re crying, chest heaving with giant sobs, and his fist tightens in your hair, dragging you down to the ground. “No, Philip, stop. Stop!” 
“Shut up.” You’re crawling on your knees, trying to keep pace, trying to stay in stride with him as he tugs, practically pulling you down the hallway to the bedroom. 
Once he gets there, he jerks you upwards. 
The hardwood floor is the next thing you see as your face crashes into it. 
“S-stop.” You’re barely audible, buried in sobs. He mocks you. 
“Stoooop, babe. Stop please.” Your arms cover your head, trying to protect your delicate bones there, your skull, your nose, your cheeks. 
His foot rears back. 
The world goes cold. 
“NO!” you jerk your knees up to your chest, rolling away. “No! I’m pregnant!” 
You think he’ll be happy. You think he’ll be pleased. 
Instead, it’s raw, concentrated fury you see lining his face, lightning and thunder gathering in his eyes. 
“You’re what?”
You come to trembling, coated in a cold sweat.
It’s okay. He’s not here. He’s not. You’re safe. 
You clasp a hand over your mouth to ward off the volume of the sob, nausea rising until you’re almost gagging.
It’s okay. 
You can do this. Get it together. 
Time ticks away, but the agony of your memory, your nightmare, doesn’t fade. It settles in your bones like a sickness, infecting your mind and heart, keeping you from closing your eyes.
You can’t go back there. Not in real life. Not in your dreams. Not ever.
You would die before that happened.
Johnny and Simon sleep down the hall. You wonder if they’re wrapped up together, if Johnny is comfortable, if their room is cozy and homey, bed heavenly and full of love.
You could… 
No. 
The clock on your phone reads three in the morning. You feel like you haven’t slept at all, but every time you try to close your eyes, dread spreads, tenebrous and sticky, clinging to every synapse in your logical brain.
You eye the door.
You could… 
Should you? Would they be mad? Would they welcome you? Would they even answer?
You don’t know how you convince yourself to do it, to drag your weak will down the hall and knock on their door, but you do. You’re a child the whole way, padding up to a parent’s room in the middle of the night, looking for salvation and sanctuary, desperate for comfort.
It takes almost no time after your timid little rap for the door to swing wide, Simon standing behind it, little lamp flicked on where Johnny is half sitting up, mostly still asleep, rubbing his eyes.
“Hi.” You whisper, distracted by Simon’s naked chest. He’s wearing sweatpants, but they’re slung low on his hips, soft tummy with wispy light brown hair peeking out above the drawstring. You think you’re staring, and you force a blink, trying to appear normal.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“N-nothing, I just… I had a nightmare and…I… I can’t…” the rest doesn’t come out, laying heavy on your tongue, trying to organize itself so it doesn’t seem so intrusive, or weak.
He doesn’t make you feel bad. Or guilty. He doesn’t even ask, he just steps aside, motioning to bed, clicking the door shut behind him.
“Take the middle.” He whispers, and you crawl across the expanse, timidly smiling at Johnny, who’s still yawning. He’s got his bad leg and hip set up on a bunch of pillows, and the spot next to him is still warm.
“Hey pretty girl.”
“Hi.” He pats the empty space, shoving the blankets down to the best of his ability to let you get underneath them.
“Bad dream?” He drawls, slow and sleepy.
“Yeah.”
“C’mere.” He tries to tug you closer, but Simon scolds him softly.
“Johnny, easy. Your graft.” He turns, sliding, encouraging you to settle on your side, with him at your back. “There we go. That’s better, hm?” It is better. So much better. Warm and safe. Blocked in on either side by them, your hand resting on Johnny’s sternum, grounding yourself with the rise and fall of his breathing, Simon nestling you into his chest, heavy arm slung across your ribs to hold Johnny’s hand.
It's so nice, tucked between them like you belong there, things start to spiral a little bit, doubt and worry fueling a cycle of second guessing. You shift restlessly, and Simon rubs your hip, soothing whatever he senses amiss back to neutral, lips humming just above your ear. “Close your eyes, little bunny. We’re here. You’re safe.”
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