#in every the long goodbye fic all people gave different reasons of that denial but what if

[vbnmlpx3]

impulsive thought: ending of The long goodbye and meaning of ending of La dolce vita is the same fucking thing

#in every the long goodbye fic all people gave different reasons of that denial but what if #chandler as i understand ardent critic of society so

[peeterparkr]

The Holiday.|Tom Holland

chapter two: Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen)

↳ read Sophia’s version here and Tom’s phone call. (Tim fic) BY @jambrosemc​

There’s two sides to the story, the Tom fic written by me and the Tim fic by @jambrosemc​ for thw full experience (though you don’t need to) be sure to check out both! 

STORY SUMMARY:  Two women troubled with guy-problems, one who’s in love with love and one who doesn’t believe in it are both suffering from a broken heart, with little reasoning and nothing left to lose, they swap homes in each other’s countries for the holidays, where they’ll meet a local guy who will probably change their destiny.

chapter summary: new beginnings and first impressions pairing: tom holland x y/n | warnings: Chad word count: 7.8k

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You had gone through every single stage of a broken heart before, every single one of them. Haircuts. Wine. Clubbing. Reading. New life. Sobbing on the floor. Denial. Sort of acceptance. Working out. Eating your feelings. Coffee shops.Bars. Sleeping all day. Not sleeping at all.   But this? Exchanging homes with a complete strange and travelling to the other side of the world? This was crazy. Completely crazy, and yet, you didn’t want to back off. This was the one thing that, if it didn’t work, you were screwed. 

This was certainly not what you had imagined you’d end up doing for the Holidays, yet it was better than any other idea you’d come up with, because maybe, though you tried to avoid the thought of knowing damn well you’d feel lonelier in a foregin place, it’d help you get out of your suffering. 

“So, okay, we went through dog food already right?” You asked, as you were on the back of the Uber on your way to the airport, your dog was still your number one concern. 

You were on the phone with Sophia, the british woman who had her life sorted up. “We did, yep.” She paused, thoughtfully. “And I told you everything about the shop and it’s hours?” 

You were getting cold feet, honestly. “Yes, right, but… I don’t have to worry about opening right?” You asked her. “That guy…. what was his name?” You couldn’t remember. “Ted? Opens up right?” 

“Tom,” she cleared up. Of course, how could you forget his name, his name was the same as your damned dog. “And no you don’t. He’ll take care of it all, or should. She got off the phone for a bit but then turned back to you. “If you don’t mind, keep me updated about him though?” 

“Oh, of course, I wouldn’t trust a man either, “ you laughed. “I’ll check on him.” If you had the time, you were going to make yourself explore the city. 

“Thanks.” She sounded relieved. “And I’ll of course update you on Tommy.” 

You were so nervous of leaving your dog to a stranger, maybe you could tell your brother to go and check on him, too. Yeah, you needed to give Tim a call. “Please, I’ve never been away from my baby… “ You pleaded and then went through the basics on your head. “Uh, so the keys are under the porch thing I told you.” 

“Right, and I put mine on that book,” she recalled. 

“Right, right…. “ And then suddenly you were arriving at the airport. It had turned real. “Okay so we are doing this.”

“Apparently so… This is a good idea, right?” Sophia asked you. 

In all honesty, it wasn’t. This was one of the-if not the craziest idea you’ve ever had, but at the same time it was thrilling. Exciting and inviting and it gave you the opportunity for a story, or time to write one, if you could. 

“Having second thoughts now?” You asked, amused. “When we’re both on our way to the airport?” 

That was a lie, you were already arriving. 

“No, no. I just… I guess I’m just a bit nervous is all,” Sophia admitted. 

You chuckled, nervously. “I’m kidding, I’m terrified, too.” 

Because who wouldn’t be? This was the one thing that was incredibly terrifying. 

“Well, I’m nearly there. I guess there is no going back at this point,” she said. 

Because there wasn’t. You were having second thoughts, honestly. Wanting to give up and go back to your boring life. But then again, this was your chance to escape your boring life and this was your chance to actually make something interesting for once in your life. 

You finally looked up, the driver was waiting for you as you got out of the car. 

“I’m… actually here, so I’ll…” You paused, you couldn’t breathe, your nerves were tickling as you picked your bags and then faced the small airport standing in front of you. “I was gonna say see you on the other side but that’s stupid so… I guess this is a sort of goodbye?” You gulped. 

This was it. 

“Guess so… I’ll talk to you later?” She suggested. 

You wondered if she was losing her shit as much as you were, honestly you wanted to jump and scream. You were excited, but excitement can often be confused with being scared, and you weren’t sure how thin this line was. 

You took a deep breath. “Right, and please send me a picture of Danny so I can personally slap him,” you were only half-joking. 

“Oh of course, and you’ll have to send one of Chad so I can slap him as well,” she answered with a sort of relief. 

“Well, this is…” You were shaking, you closed your eyes. “I…”You paused again. Good luck, here’s to a well deserved break.” 

“Good luck to you too.” Sophia on the other side sounded just as scared as you were. “I hope you’re able to clear your mind.” 

You hoped so, too. You hope your mind could finally get out of the trance that having Chad was. 

“You too, well here goes,” you said before heading to the airport.

“Goodbye then.”

“...Bye.” 

You hung up, and suddenly the small airport had never looked any bigger. You were so close to changing your life. Big opportunities, big, big chances. You couldn’t possibly dare. But you were there, at the airport, so hugely standing in front of you. You felt very small, that was nothing new. You always did feel small, The world was waiting for you.

But you were not ready for it. You were going to back away, you felt fear invading your stomach, you stepped back, but then you saw a couple, kissing in the distance, you felt sorry for yourself. You couldn’t keep longing for that if you never risked anything. You couldn’t continue saying you were tired of being a secondary character if you didn’t risk doing main character things. This was just halfway to it. 

You finally stepped in and made your way across it. 

Because this was the first time you ever did anything, this was the first time you were getting lost in a dream, and letting yourself slip into time and actually going through with things. The day had been sunny. This was supposed to be your day. You wondered if people even turned to see you, you were nothing important, not really standing out from the crowds. But they didn’t know you were having the biggest adventure of a lifetime. Silly to think. 

As soon as you were sitting on the plane, you knew you couldn't back away now and this was it. This was it, a new beginning, tarnishing every single fear upon you, you tried to mingle your feelings and calm down your nerves. You knew it was the right choice, otherwise  you’d end up curled up on your sofa, digging your nose into each and every one of the books you’ve read already and staring at the ones waiting to be read, but never did for a reason or another. You couldn’t have another Christmas like that, this was it, not another one with you trying to avoid the question of why you were lonely again on Christmas and giving an excuse for each year. Sure, you’d be lonely but at least you didn’t need to answer questions about it. Besides, who knows, this was your chance, and you were already in the place so you couldn’t do much. You had an open window for freedom, for lessons to be learned and—Probably not that much, honestly. It was just a trip, how much can a trip change your life? 

A handsome man had walked in, and smiled at you. He was around your age, gentle smile and blue eyes. This was your first sign, because you did believe in them, mo matter how stupid you believed life found a way to tell us we were doing the right choices, only you’d always avoided them. Yes, it had been the right choice. Who knows? Maybe you’d end up finding love in a plane. Oh who were you kidding, you probably had no chance, and you were proven you wouldn’t right away as you saw the man’s beautiful girlfriend sitting right beside him. 

You wouldn’t find a chance like that, you were not a main character. You’d always known you were a plot device. There were main characters, secondary characters and plot devices. You were the last one. 

Your phone dinged. And the sound made you shiver. A friend of yours had once advised to give a specific notification sound for Chad, so therefore you’d avoid it. Needless to say, it had been counterproductive since you would dream with that sound and hope you’d end up hearing it every day. 

But this was different. This wasn’t him answering to another one of your lame attempts to start up a conversation. Chad had been the one who reached out to you. 

“Hey, y/n! Couldn’t see you after the party, are you up for tonight?”

You only stared at the text. This was the reason why you needed to get out. Him reaching out and your heart jumping a little. You needed some willpower. You couldn’t let yourself fall again for the lie his lips were, you couldn’t let yourself be tangled against the sheets with a man who didn’t love you as he should, who didn’t love you for that matter. 

“I’m going on vacation. London. “ you answered. 

He texted back, quickly. That was a first.  “First vacation in three years is turning point. 

It was, for sure. “Yeah.”

He didn’t answer. 

“Congrats on your engagement.” Though you did not mean it. 

“Thanks xx. So, when can we facetime?” He asked. 

With all the pain in your heart, but with the same courage you’d taken to finally go away you said: “We both know I need to fall out of love with you. Would be great if you would let me try.” 

You sent it and then turned your phone off. 

You didn’t need any more Chad. This was it, the one time you needed to escape and this was your chance. 

A chance to finally get away from him for real, a chance to forget it. And to not feel deplorable on Christmas. You needed to forget him, you couldn’t stay with someone who didn’t celebrate your love. You needed to be loved and though you knew you wouldn’t find love in London, maybe you could learn to love yourself. It was the main reason why you knew you loved Chad, because you didn’t stand up for your own. 

You slept for most of the flight, then connected to the other one and then it was real. You had left the US, and off to the other side of the water. Maybe it hit you until that point, the last person you’d ever gone on vacation with had been Chad and this--- No, this was the reason why you were leaving, your mind had to stop going back and forth with him. 

Before you knew it, you were in London, the dawn welcoming you in all your esplendor. And it felt… different, and it hit you. For the first time you’d gotten out of your little cage and this was big. This probably had been the best idea, though crazy, the best idea you’d ever had. You were out, you were in a city that was giving you endless possibilities to wander, and to explore and endless possibilities to find yourself. 

Someone had once told you that to find yourself, you’d have to be lost first, you had never felt more lost in your life, so this was your chance, to get even more lost in a city, and this was your chance, to get out there.

 It was raining as you’d arrived, and as you’d ran out of the airport, small droplets had fallen on you. You could go straight to the house, but something about trying new things had gotten on to you. 

It felt like Christmas, in a way. Everyone walked with their coats and umbrellas and scarfs around their necks, people who were busy, people who weren’t. People walking into shops, and people walking to their jobs, and drunken people walking out of the pubs, welcoming the sun. 

The city lights felt magical, and you had always loved the feeling of being away from the ocean on Christmas. But now, this was a city, full of possibilities. This was exciting. 

You’d seen places you’d seen in movies before, there was a nearby park, you thought about going there later, and exploring a nearby market. You’d be walking all day. Kensington, this place was absolutely gorgeous. And just 6 minutes away from Notting Hill, you still had the thought of the fantasy in your mind. But then… suddenly you were there, standing in front of the bookstore that would be your home for two weeks. Sophia had warned you there was a way in from the shop, and another one from the other place, but the key would be in the bookshop, inside this specific book. 

You had walked into the bookstore, a bell had rang as soon as you’d opened the door, you had looked up, it was decorated, elegantly, christmas lights hanging on the shelves, the place was small and comfortable, topped with books here and there, taken out of your dreams, it was small, but it gave a sort of feeling that it was eternal. Infinite place where you could read books over and over. You’d seen the guy-Tom, you assumed, look up and hint a smile as he was talking to an old lady about a book, he was carefully listening to her, so attentive. 

“Oh, eh, uh, morning,” he managed to say.  He had turned to give you a second glance, you locked eyes with him for a brief second, he had smiled again and then turned away.  

“Morning,” you answered. 

You’d barely looked at him, but you couldn’t help but notice he was attractive. Very attractive. Had you… blushed? You quickly shook the thought away, this was no time to crush on an english boy, besides this was the guy who probably was in love with Sophia, and you were the plot device, you knew that, you couldn’t even bother to look at him. No, you couldn’t. 

Besides, were you that desperate? So incredibly drawn to something you knew would lead nowhere. And how quick were you to jump to conclusions from barely a glance. A smile, a very pretty smile, that crinkled his eyes. No, you couldn’t keep staring 

He kept talking to the lady, you could barrel and overhear the conversation as you, still with your luggage, strolled through the places, touching the books, books you’ve read, books you hadn't. 

“Yes, I want to give this to my granddaughter, I love this book, Momo,” the old woman explained.

“Incredible read,” the british man answered with a grin. “Michael Ende is-” 

Michael, he said Michael, not ‘Michael’, he knew how to pronounce it. Like it was supposed to be pronounced. In german, not like you’d pronounce your friend’s Michael name. Mi- cha- el. Not sure why that had made him even more appealing—No, you couldn’t do this to yourself. This was old y/n kind of thinking, to get out of  a broken heart. You always did this, try to fixate on someone else to get over Chad. It never worked. But you were in London, but—No. He was Sophia’s coworker, Sophia’s friend and he was most likely in love with her. Someone like him had to love someone like her. 

However, it didn’t hurt if you looked again. Or—did it?

You decided you could look at the guy once again, his eyes brightened up as he watched the woman ramble. He was so delicate, yet bold. Handsome, very. Under his sweater he probably was hiding some well defined muscles, you could tell, not that it mattered, but it did grow something more appealing to him. He was very handsome. Not in a conventional way for your taste, so different from the guys back home. He carried a certain sensuality, but was also heavy on being adorable. A very dangerous combination. His lips were small, his jawline defined, but his sight… As if that pair of eyes could paralyze you, tender eyes with a hint of joy and innocence. He wasn’t innocent, though, he could look, but he wasn’t. He was tapping his fingers, anxiously and he took deep breaths as he listened and gave the lady wider smiles and melodious chuckles. He had blushed at the old lady’s remark that he was handsome, you agreed. His lips were dry, probably from the cold, and he licked them too much while he was speaking to the lovely lady in front of him. His eyes were surrounded by some-not so heavy dark circles, but you could tell he hadn’t probably slept. You wondered why. 

 You liked to observe people, you were a writer so you liked those little details that people didn’t stop to look at, like the way he would bite his inner cheeks while listening, or raise his eyebrows with surprise every now and then. You liked those details, thinking one day you’d have enough to build up a person, made completely out of details. 

You looked away once again, fearing he’d notice your staring and strolled through the books, the arrangement was impeccable, of course Sophia would have the place perfectly ordered. But there were some books here and there that didn’t—make sense for your taste. Or didn’t make sense at all, like an autobiography in a section that was definitely for fairytales. 

You heard the bell ring again, an old man. Early 80’s, you guessed, he used a clutch. He wore a vest, a cardigan on top, and a very nice green beret on top of his head, a grey scarf around his neck, he had a coat, still covered from the rain. He seemed adorable. 

“Good morning, Thomas!” He greeted him. 

Tom smiled. Felt weird knowing his name without having met him yet.“Henry, good morning, I’ll be there with you in a second, I’m here with lovely Doris,” he announced, still listening to the lady.

The old man, Henry gave him a smile  and then  looked at you. “Good morning, young lady, it’s pouring isn’t it?” 

“Morning,” you answered, shyly. “Seems to be.” 

“Ah, american, interesting,” he pointed out, his voice was cheerful, old but you could tell he was a lovely human being. “What brings you here to a lovely bookshop in London?” 

You smiled. “An adventure,” you said without thinking about it. It sounded better in your head. 

He smiled, “I love that answer,” he pointed out. “What kind of adventure?” 

You looked around the shop, “Don’t know yet,” you admitted. “I’m trying to find a good story.” 

He grinned, “Hm what kind of story?” 

“Don’t know,” you admitted again. “I’ll keep looking through the books.” 

“Oh,” he nodded slowly. “I thought you wanted a story for yourself.” 

“Myself?” you chuckled. “No, I’m good at reading someone else’s. Not good enough to be one myself.” 

He stared at you, kindly. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he declared, and then looked at the shelves. “What to read now.” It amazed you how big of a main character he was, too, you’d probably love to write about him. He turned to you. “You seem… Like a reader.” 

“I am,” you said. Though, lately you’d been stuck reading the same ones, never wanting a new story. 

“Do you have any suggestions?” He asked. 

You grinned, “Well, I guess it depends,” you said. “What do you feel like reading?” 

He shrugged and gave you a tender smile, his eyes were shining. “Romance, perhaps?” 

“What kind of romance?” You asked, following the same path he had when asking you questions. 

“Classic.” 

You gave it a thought, he probably had read Shakespeare already, he seemed like a connoisseur.  But, somehow,  you looked him in the eye and knew your answer. “Love in the time of Cholera, have you read it?” you asked. 

“Surprisingly, I have not,” the man seemed perplexed. 

“Gabriel Garcia Marquez, it’s… about true love that endures and overcomes adversity for a lifetime, it is a tribute to love, adventure, time, old age and death, ” you said. “It’s an ode to true love.” 

“Sounds lovely,” he said. “Well, can you help me find it, please? I’d ask young Thomas but he’s there talking to lovely Doris there.” 

“Of course,” you grinned. You proceeded to walk through the store trying to find the book, hoping they would have it. 

“What’s your name young lady?” Henry asked. 

“Y/N y/l/n” you answered simply. 

“Hm, a main character name,” he pointed out. 

You shook your head. “You’re wrong about that,” your eyes kept looking through the shelves. 

“I’m Henry, Henry Abbot,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet Miss y/l/n.” 

“Pleasure is mine.” 

You needed that book and... It was not in the poetry section, which had you perplexed, they had to have it. “Oh.” 

“Is it not here?” Henry asked. 

“It’s not,” you frowned. “It’s-” 

“Hello, Henry, hi, hello, is there anything I can help you with?” Tom had asked as he had snuck behind, you accidentally stepped back and bumped into him, causing him to knock down two books. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you said. You were an idiot. 

“No, don’t be, it’s alright, it’s my fault, I should’ve announced myself,” Tom answered with a smile, that you knew was probably a fake customer service smile, as he picked up the books. 

You then saw the old woman, Doris walk out with not only the book you’d initially seen her with, but other four, Tom was good at selling, you saw Henry had his eyes on her but proceeded to turn back at you. 

You were definitely not expecting Tom, right in front of you, you could smell his cologne, it smelled good. Why the hell had you noticed that? You shook your head, before he could notice any sign of your stupidity. 

“Oh, er-” 

He only raised his eyebrows with a smile. 

It was no secret that you were stupid around men, especially around men who were attractive. 

“The young lady, miss y/l/n here is helping me,” Henry intruded quickly. “She recommended a book.” 

“Oh,” Tom grinned. “Thanks for helping me out with Henry, did you not have trouble giving him a recommendation?” He turned to you again. “He’s read everything,” he said with complicity. 

You only smiled and shook your head. 

“She didn’t,” Henry pointed out. “Gave me an option right away, perhaps she should have your job instead,” Henry joked. 

Tom brought his hand to his chest, hurt. “Henry; now why would you say that to me? Thought we were friends.” 

You chuckled and turned to Tom, “Love in The Time of Cholera, Gabriel Garcia Marquez,” you said. “That’s the book—I thought it would be here.” 

Tom turned to you, his eyes were even prettier than you thought they were. No, you had to stop. You couldn’t be attracted to him. 

“Oh,” Tom was surprised by your statement. “Yeah, yeah, he’s… mexican, right?” 

“Colombian,” you corrected. 

“Yeah, yeah, it should be--” Tom recalled and then walked to the other side, he searched through the titles and then finally found it in the language section.  “There, this one?” 

“This is not in the right section,” you said. 

“Why not I put it there myself this morning—“Tom chuckled, handing over the book to Henry. “Another one, or shall I help you check out, Henry?” 

Henry smirked. “No, I want to know why she believes is in the wrong section.” 

“This is romance,” you cleared up, as if it was obvious already. 

“Oh?” Tom raised his brows. 

“It’s in the Spanish section,” you continued. 

“He… speaks spanish,” Tom said. 

You only stared at him, in shock. Any kind of sign of attractiveness had been completely erased. 

“Besides,” Tom smirked. “You were looking for it at the poetry section, not romance novels,” he pointed out. 

“I…” You blinked. You had said that particular book for another reason. It was the book where Sophia had told you she’d hidden the key. She told you she’d moved the book from the romance novels to the poetry section. 

Tom reached the counter, holding the book himself. You tried to reach for him, 

“Ah, er, can I see it for a second?” 

Tom furrowed his eyebrows, and grimaced. “Hm?” 

“Yeah, let me see if it’s… The one I meant,” you lied. 

He watched you skeptically. “Umm… why wouldn’t it be?” 

Henry watched between you both, humored. 

“I….please?” You begged. 

“Oh, don’t be rude to the pretty lady,” Henry pushed. “Let her see the book.” 

Tom opened his mouth but defeatedly handed you the book. You mouthed a quiet thanks and then skimmed through it, trying to find the keys. They were not there. 

Weird. There was no key. You blinked with surprise and looked up at Tom, who seemed pleased. 

“Is it?” Tom asked. 

“Yeah—It is,” you handed it over. Tom had a mischievous look on his face, he was humored by this situation. 

“She’s American, and looking for a story of adventure,” Henry said to Tom. 

“We all are, aren’t we?” Tom mentioned. 

Henry looked between the both of you. “Are you here for the holidays, ma’am?” 

So formal. “I am.” 

“Traveling with your significant other, I presume,” Henry said while Tom was checking the book out. 

“I—Well,” suddenly you felt lonely. “That position hasn’t been filled at the moment.”

Henry smirked, and then looked at Tom quickly then back at you. “With family, then?” 

“I—No, I came here alone,” you explained. “

“So, it’ll be £11.03, Henry,” Tom interrupted as he put the book in a bag. 

Henry looked at Tom, “where’s lovely Sophia?” 

“I’d like to know, too,” Tom answered. “It’s not like her not showing up. She hasn’t called me back.” 

Henry nodded. 

You were confused. Had Sophia not told Tom she’d left? It  felt like it was your time to intrude, but before you could explain, Henry looked at you and said. “Go give this young lady a story, Thomas.” 

The man left. 

“I—“you coughed. “Sorry, uh—“

Tom had a wide smile. “So… what can I actually help you with? Miss y/l/n, Any book in—“

“I well, I—“ you couldn’t speak. 

Tom chuckled. “Yeah? Or are you going to complain about another book arrangement.” 

“I wasn’t complaining, I'm just… very observant, alright?” 

He grinned. “Well, did you observe anything misplaced?” 

“Well, I did see a fairytale on the autobiographies sections,” you admitted. 

Tom blinked, perplexed. “Huh we did that yesterday,” he was surprised. “Oh right but--” He coughed. “So, well, you’re seeking for an adventure book-” 

“Not exactly,” you answered. 

“What then, romance?” 

You blinked. What did he mean by that? 

“You seem like you read romance,” he pointed out. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” You questioned him, chuckling lightly. 

He grinned. “Nothing, you just--suggested a romance book easily to Henry,” he pointed out. “It’s a good one, it broke my heart, in a good way.” 

“You’ve read it?” You asked. He didn’t seem like someone who’d read romance. He… honestly didn’t look like someone who read, at all. Of course, you should never judge a book by its cover but of course the cover always tells us a lot, a name and an author at least. You knew his name, who was the author? 

He smirked. “It’s ugly, and it’s sad-” 

“But it’s love,” you finished his sentence, quoting the book. “Yeah,” you smiled, not believing he had actually read it. “Great book. You don’t seem like someone who’d read that.” 

“I’m a sucker for those kinds of stories,” he admitted. “Don’t look like it, but I love that, soulmates and everything.” 

You chuckled. “Me too,” you said. 

“To think that two people are destined to find each other even when life pulls them apart,” he said. “And I mean he… waited 50 years.” 

“Yes, he did, even when she’d made the mistake to reject him.” 

“Sometimes that’s how love is,” he shrugged. And it was, you knew that. 

“It is,” you said. “It’s complicated.” 

“The book? Or love?” He looked into you, with a certain mischief. 

“Both, I guess,” you said,calmly. “But I mean that’s the magic of that book, love is complicated and so is the book.” 

“But also, it’s not-I mean, I loved it, don’t get me wrong but I couldn’t… I understood their love but I’ve-I mean it’s old love.” 

You laughed. “Old love?” 

He laughed softly to himself, “I mean, it’s not-Something I could relate to.” 

“Well, no, because although love is something universal, not one love can be duplicated, love is unique.” 

He watched you perplexed. You wondered if you had said something wrong, or if your way of talking about love with a stranger had bothered him. It bothered most people, most people were afraid of love and were confused by the way you saw it, and confused because you’d lost it so many times. Everyone wondered how you kept believing in it after so much pain, but that’s the thing about love, though there is one love, you can truly feel love for. 

“I’ve never heard someone putting it that way,” he chuckled. “Love being something we all feel but at the same time… it’s different, yeah.” 

Why were you talking about love with this man? 

“That’s what I’ve gathered from all the romance novels you assumed I read,” you chuckled. “Love is universal but it’s personal.” 

He chuckled and nodded in agreement. “No, I guess… You’re… right, huh, I’ve never seen it that way,” he said. “So do you want another romance novel?” 

Was he flirting? 

You shook your head. “No,” you smiled. “I’m actually-that book.” 

“No, wait, actually…” He interrupted, as he shook his head, probably backing away from flirting. “Sorry...This is bothering me, care showing me where the misplaced book was?” He asked. 

You had just told him, was he flirting? You’d never known how to flirt so you wouldn’t know. But you guessed it harmed nobody showing him, you lead the way, still carrying your whole luggage. 

But why the hell had you talked about that with a stranger. It felt weird, but he didn’t feel like one. Probably because you’d already known his name. There was something so incredibly familiar to him. So easily had you blurted out the whole love thing, and he probably was scared of it. Most people were, you would understand if he was, too. 

“So--here,” you headed and tried to reach for the misplaced book on top of the shelf, as you had some stray sticker had flown and landed directly on your eyes, for your own luck. “Ow!” You tried to get it out but you couldn't. 

“Oh, wait, wait, let me help,” he said before. “May I?” 

“Yes, please,” you said, You only looked up, he held your chin, which definitely made you nervous, but he stared into your eyes and finally got the sticker out of your eye. 

“I’m so sorry, sometimes they get stuck and we don’t see them-“ He said quickly getting his touch out of you.

“No, you’re good, don’t worry,” you said. “So, here’s the lost book.” 

He watched you with curiosity and for a brief moment your eyes were locked into one but you quickly looked away. You were not doing this. This was so stupidly cliché, the love conversation with him, having to directly look into your eyes, it was so stupidly cliché and obviously not as romantic as you thought it was going in your head.. You hated it. Because you were not a stupid main character, this was so stupid. This things, in novels, would lead to some kind of romance, but you were not the main character and this was just stupid. 

“Yeah, right,” he coughed. “But uh, wait, so for Love in The--eh, the book, yeah, how did- Why were you looking for it in the poetry section? I mean it is… very poetic but,” Tom was confused as he watched you. Felt weird he was looking at you, his eyes had this charm that made you feel like he only was fixated on you. 

“I—Well, there were supposed to be some keys in that book,” you explained. 

“Hm? Were there?” He asked with fake surprise, but he actually seemed confused. 

You frowned. “They were, in that book and it’d be on that section—“

“Hm, doesn’t ring a bell,” he shrugged with a smirk.

“Yeah, in that book, Love in The Times of Cholera,” you pushed. “So—“

“Yeah, I do remember some keys,” he coughed, shaking his head. “But I’m not giving them to you,” he mumbled. 

“Sophia told me—wait you’re not—?”You blinked. 

“Sophia?” he seemed doubtious. 

“Yeah, Sophia, your friend, right she is—in America, at my place, we—switched homes and so she left me the key there—“

“She did now?” He wasn't buying it. 

“Yeah,” you continued. “She left, we exchanged homes for the holidays.”

“I--” He chuckled. “What?” 

“Didn’t she tell you?” 

“Tell me what, exactly?” 

“She went on vacation, to my place in America, we switched homes for two weeks.” 

He laughed. “I don’t believe you, Sophia doesn’t go anywhere.” 

“Yeah, we have that in common,” you pointed out. “But—But—okay, so she’s in America, in Oregon.” 

“Why would she go to Oregon?” Tom asked. “Of all places—“

“Yeah, look,” you cleared your throat. Did seem suspicious. “I—we both needed to get away so we switched places, and well—Why don’t you give me the key?” 

“So, tell me, miss y/l/n, sorry I’m calling you that it’s what dear old Henry called you, but you’re expecting me to give you the key, to you, a stranger, to my best friend’s home?” 

“Yeah...” you heard how it sounded. 

“You’re expecting me to believe that?” 

Well, he did have a point.  “Well, yeah—I— thought she’d told you.“ 

“Sophia would never do that,” Tom said. You’d learned he was also annoying. 

“Yeah, and neither would I, but here I am in London in a bookshop talking to you while holding my luggage, you really think I’m lying?” 

He stared at you. “Yeah.” 

And there it went, the fantasy had ended. Because you were not a main character in a stupid romance novel. 

“You—Look, I know she—But look, she broke up with Danny, and she needed to get away and we—“

“Yeah but this is mental,” Tom said. 

“It is,” you admitted. “And I might regret it, alright but I’m already here, thousand miles away and please, can I just have the key? I need a break, I need to-” 

“I’m not, I can’t… I’m sorry I just can’t give it to you.” 

“Well—Why—Look, we can call her? I don’t know if she’s there yet? But she can prove we actually did this?”  

“Still I… Look, I would… recommend you a hotel, I mean-Look. There’s this hotel right beside--It’s on Notting Hill,” 

“Please, let’s just… I’ll call her,” you said, taking out your phone. This was stressful enough. 

“Oh, no, no, I’ll call her, how do I know it’s not a crazy friend of yours-” 

“Crazy?” You frowned. If you had been attracted to the man in front of you, you definitely weren’t now. 

“I’m-” He knew he had screwed up. “This is mental,” he whispered. He took out his phone, “She hasn’t answered all day- so-” 

“She was on a plane.” 

“Uh, huh, for all I know you could be a criminal,” Tom pointed out. 

Criminal, he had just been flirting with you second before. “Ah, yeah, I am a criminal,” you snapped. You didn’t like him anymore.

He seemed angry, you didn’t know why. 

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said before walking away from you to hear. Of course. You technically didn’t blame  him. Still he was rude. 

You felt like crying. Again, this wasn’t right. This was the one thing why you’d left. Was this a mistake? It probably was, why else would you feel so small. He was right, this was.. A stranger, you were a stranger. And not in the way one would think, you were a stranger to yourself. Why were you there? 

Honestly, you wanted to leave. It… was weird. You wondered why he didn’t believe it. Of course, he wouldn’t believe someone like Sophia would do this, Sophia seemed to be very calculated. Like someone who always knew what she was doing. You guessed you understood that. 

But he seemed worried about her. Really Sophia had everything, at least someone was asking her what she was doing. No one questioned you. You watched him, he was angry, or worried or upset, or everything at once. 

You could overhear him, just a few lines, you didn’t want to seem like you were intruding. 

“The—Well, y/n? I don’t know her name—” He said and turned to you, he watched you from agair and you just nervously looked away. This was unbelievably awkward. “Henry called her—Whatever, no, she doesn’t have them, I have them, who is she?”

Henry had called you ‘Miss Y/L/n”, yes. But now  he knew your name. He didn’t know you knew his. 

You overheard again. “She is a stranger.” 

And then it crossed your mind, Sophia was a stranger. Why the hell had you done this? How had you done this? And you felt it in your stomach, this wasn’t like you. You never did anything. This was risking everything. This was getting out of your shell. 

“I… I don’t trust her. I’m… tell her to get a hotel,” you heard him. 

This was just not it. You felt dizzy, and anxious and this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. This was supposed to be your fairytale and it felt like the worst nightmare. How was Sophia doing? 

At least she didn’t have to deal with anyone closing the door to your place, she’d have Tommy and you were sure the pup received her well. 

Tom watched you and turned to his phone and then you knew he was speaking at a lower volume, he probably knew you had overheard him. 

Tom was not happy, you could tell. Maybe this was his nightmare, after all, you assumed, he was in love with Sophia. 

He walked back to you, still staring at his phone. 

“Well, she’s gonna kill me if I don’t give you the keys,” he said, not still sure of it. “Look, I’m-” 

“I know you don’t trust me, I get it, but-Look, I am already here, I’m tired, I honestly feel like crap and I’m on a foreign country trying to remain as calm as I coul, look, I get it, I’m doubting it myself, but I trust her, she’s on my place, with Tommy-” 

“Who-?” 

“My dog, and I’m trusting her with that, so I know, I know, it is...mental or whatever fancy british ass word you used, and I myself can’t quite put my head as to why I did this, I don’t do this kind of stuff, I never do anything like this, and I know, it’s-Weird, and crazy but-You don’t have to be rude, alright? I’m not a criminal, I’m not- I’m just a girl whose heart was broken and needed to escape, and I-and Sophia was, too, okay? So maybe we just-I don’t know, I need to...” You knew your voice had broken a litte, and it surely pissed you off. “And Sophia, if she’s your friend, you’d understand why she’s doing this, she got her heartbroken, she was destroyed, someone made her believe it was her fault she was cheated on,” you pushed. “You know, when I talked to her-” 

“You don’t know-” 

“Maybe I just met her but I seem to understand her better than you,” you said. “And-and and before you say anything,” he had opened his mouth to complain. “I know, she is calculated, and I know she makes the right decision, but you don’t…Do you know how she feels with the breakup?” 

He didn’t answer. 

“Look, I don’t… That’s between you and her, alright-I-” 

You’d been saved by the bell, literally. A customer had walked in and Tom had to help them out. 

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and then dug in his pocket. He hesitantly handed them to you, but he didn’t let go as you had your hand reaching for them. 

“It—uh, the red one is—“

“From inside the bookshop and the blue one outside,” you nodded. “Yeah, she told me.” 

Tom sighed before finally letting the keys fall on your hand. His fingers had brushed lightly, something you would’ve noticed and dreamed about 10 minutes ago, but you weren’t so fond of him now. 

“Thank you,” you said and headed to the door where Sophia had told you it would be. At that point you realized, you hadn’t even properly introduced yourself to him. 

You didn’t want to, honestly. 

You had trouble opening the door but as soon as Tom had turned to you, you managed to open it. You walked in, and as soon as you’d closed the door, you wanted to cry, because it seemed like it was your only talent. 

But you went upstairs and found the place, it was so neat, and organized and perfect and… Very office-like. Everything was where it was meant to be, so perfectly organized. Everything had a place. It was so clean. Nothing, nothing out of place. With plants, she’d told you about her houseplants. Elegantly and modernly decorated. 

Perfect. So elegant, with a dining table that had stationery on top. Dining table that was used to work? Sophia really didn’t know how to separate her job from her life. You’d known it since she’d told you she lived above her bookshop. Which honestly, you couldn’t blame, your job was writing and you were sure all your writings were scattered around your house. Your place was a mess, really, compared to Sophia’s squared house. 

Everything was so in place. The order you needed after the mess you had of a life. Just a glance and you felt… great. You’d even forgotten the whole issue with that random british dude, who, you’d avoid. 

This was incredible. You dropped the bags in the middle of the place and ran around her house to discover every little detail, because you knew you’d get to know who Sophia was better by her place. 

Her kitchen was impeccable, and her fridge was filled not with any comfort food that you’d been having since Chad, but everything was perfect. You loved to cook, and you’d end up using this kitchen, but you saw it was barely used, you could tell. She probably didn’t cook much. 

There was another room, another office, you presumed, though the whole place seemed like an office, too formal and ordered,  so organized again, with a small bookshelf, classic books and new ones, never opened. You wondered if she was like you, that couldn’t get to read them. She was a fan of stationery it seemed, and organizers, and post it here and there, color coded. Like everything was there for a reason. 

Three pictures, one of her and her family, one with Danny and another one with Tom. He definitely was in love with her. 

You explored a bit more. You even feared to be stepping on the floor, fearing you’d ruin it. The place seemed incredibly arranged. You didn’t belong there, but at the same time it was soothing. It was bright, and it helped. As if seeing so much order would help put some order in your own life. The place felt like it was cleaning your mind. 

You headed upstairs to the bedroom, and a big bed welcomed you, with a perfect white duvet and plush pillows. You, excitedly ran and jumped to lay down on it. 

This was just what you needed. 

However, you’d noticed that even though she’d told you you lived with Danny, there was no sight of anyone else living here. It didn’t feel like a couple’s place. It felt… Lonely. There was no sign of someone else who lived there. No home. 

But her bed was comfortable. And you were so, so tired. And then again… the bed was so, so comfy. Besides if the math was right, it was 2am back at home, so a nap wouldn’t be so bad. You stared at the ceiling, waiting for an answer. This was it. No, whatever doubt you'd had before, it was erased. This was your chance, sure it was completely crazy, but this… You needed to escape, and you were in a nice place, in Kensington, London. Not in boring Oregon anymore.  What was Sophia doing? Was she going through the big mess you were going through? 

She probably didn’t feel small. But you decided this was no time to feel small. Though, you were tired, this was no time to pity yourself. So you took a shower, put in some nice clothes and decided to enjoy the day. You were away, you didn’t have to feel sorry for yourself. You’d have time for that later, you were in London, you didn’t need to cry on the other side of the world. You’d done enough crying already. Over a guy named Chad. 

You needed to explore London, for God’s sake, you were in Notting Hill, you were no Julia Roberts but who was to say you wouldn’t find your Hugh Grant? 

You were sure to bring the keys and made sure to walk out over the exit that was not inside the bookshop. You didn’t want to face Tom. But when you’d walked out, you’d seen him, not as cheerful as the first time you’d seen him. He was pinching the bridge of his nose, and running a hand through his face. He did look out when he’d seen you, you decided, once again, to ignore him. Even though you were sure he had tried to reach for you. But no, you ignored him. 

And you would keep ignoring him, this was not time to deal with a british man who was not Hugh Grant.

Timmy fic (Phonecall Tom has) 

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[hopetofantasy]

‘Wandering Romance’

- A future with child fic -

Square Filled: Future, Family, Past lovers Ship: Sander Driesen/Robbe Ijzermans   Trigger Warnings (if applicable): none applied. Created for @skamevents Summary: "A perfect, tight little family. But happy. Until one unfortunate day in May, in the year that David turned six." In the future, Robbe and Sander have a son named David. The only tie they have left with each other, actually. Because our lovers split up years ago, due to mistakes that were made in the past. So is their love strong enough to sustain a healthy friendship? Will they find their way to each other again or break all connections for good? Also available on AO3

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CHAPTER 1: 'No one knows the pain'

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“David! Your dad’s here!”

Loud thundering on the stairs, caused by tiny child’s feet, followed by a high pitched exhale directed towards the man in the door. The later one immediately wrapped his arms around his hyperactive boy. Sighing deeply. The emotion on his face revealed unconditional love, as well as a vague sadness. Hurt. Hurt for the other man standing on the opposite side.

“Papa, I missed you! OMG, did you color your hair again? I don’t see any brown anymore, I love the brown, papa, why did you change it? Oh and I -”

“David, let your father have some room to breathe, please. Go put on some shoes and bring your jacket, it’s cold out.”

The 9 year old turned towards the other part of the parental couple. The deep brown in his eyes filled with such an invigorating energy. The color was something he inherited from Robbe. The lack of stopping the chaos in his head? That was such a Sander move. David truly was a piece of both. Even though, he wasn’t truly born out of either of them, he simply belonged here.

“But, paps, I don’t want to wear my own jacket!”

“What are you going to wear then?”

“Papa’s leather jacket!” he exclaimed, like it just was as easy as one plus one. The long blonde curls bouncing off his head, while he pulled at the arm of Sander’s coat. The beach blonde couldn’t help, but laugh fondly at his son’s statement. He really loved the boy like nobody else. Well, there may be a time, where he loved someone just as much.

Gosh, Robbe, don’t think about that.

“It’s okay, Robbe,” Sander directed the flashy smile towards him, knowing all too well he couldn’t say no to the both of them if they banded together. “We’re just going to the movies anyways. The new cartoon movie is perfect for our tiny artist. Isn’t it?” A excited squeal filled the cold air between them. Apparently, he had touched David on a ticklish spot, trying to make him giggle.

Robbe couldn’t help, but feel the sting. The picture before his eyes made his heartache complete. Sander laughing along with their beautiful son, the beach blonde complementing the blond, energy matching tones, he even saw how David was starting to copy Sander’s mannerisms more and more. Reminding him, every day, of the mistake he once made.

The follow-up question made the atmosphere even more loaded. “How’s Wouter? I didn’t see his car in the driveway? I thought he wasn’t working today?”, was asked. Ah, there it was. Another cut in his heart. Exactly the question he was trying to avoid. Another crossed line through his life. Something he didn’t intended to share with his ex. Not completely, at least.

“He hasn’t been around much, lately.”, he simply stated. Knowing that Sander would probably connect the dots later, he’d rather not discuss this in front of their son. It was difficult enough to maintain relationships in these situations. Especially when you were still friends with the other dad. They needed to be. Their son didn’t ask for this, he deserved to have a strong, loving family.

Something they’d made clear from the day they signed the divorce documents.

It only took a half an hour to get David ready, which was a record in Robbe’s book. After searching the entire room for his son’s shoes and the kitchen cabinets for his backpack (don’t ask, it’ll be easier if you. just. didn’t. ask), he was finally able to hand over the week-bag, the dreaded jacket and wave them goodbye. A huge piercing smile on their little one’s face. And...

A loaded glance.

An electrified touch.

A last cheek kiss.

Before he slumped down against the back of the door.

-^-

It didn’t start out this way, you know. They were happy before. Before all the things that led up to this moment.

Wait, I’m jumping ahead.

Let me tell you a story. The story of a beautiful love shared between two boys. Boys who loved like they never loved before. They found each other, they lost each other and found each other again. Push and pull. To say that their love was a rollercoaster? That’s an understatement. It made them only stronger in the future.

Until, it didn’t.

In the week of Robbe’s 20th birthday, they decided to move into their own apartment. It was a tiny studio at the edge of the city centre. Just enough for the both of them. Their living room was filled by their bed, tossed clothes and a ratty couch, the kitchen was tiny enough to only fit a midget size refrigerator, a second-hand stove and one kitchen counter. That they didn’t use anyways. Except... for... stuff. You know.

But it was perfect.

The best time of their lives.

When Robbe came home every day after class - his last year of IT & Webdesign - he could wrap his arms around his lover, who smelled of paint, citrus and himself. Kissing Sander was like being born again. Giving him goosebumps each time. No other feeling was as fierce. This bliss, this happiness. Making love to him, was heaven on earth. Nothing could compare. Nothing ever did.

Sander was struggling to get by on an artist paycheck. He only sold one of his pieces to art collectors every other month. His talents weren’t always appreciated like they should’ve been. But he kept trying. Through his highs as well as his lows, he never gave up his two passions: his art and David Bowie. He once even made an entire collection of Bowie portraits.

Which would later caught the eye of a notorious gallery owner, asking him to join the alternative artist collective he was setting up. Filled with musicians, writers, painters. Sander’s people. But that would take at least a couple of more years of struggling. Of cheap dinners and scraping by on one paycheck. Until the year of David’s sixth birthday.

When Robbe made the mistake.

To say that their lives was perfect, was an huge overstatement though. Sander’s medication wasn’t always working like it needed to be, living together wasn’t quite the same as staying with their parents and Robbe’s studies took a lot out of him. And then came the day that Jens knocked on their door. With a statement that chilled their bones to the core.

“Noor’s dead.”

Shock.

Denial.

Sadness.

Such a beautiful soul that was lost. Never roaming the earth again. Never again her special artistic cooking, the scoffing if someone said something she considered dumb. Late night jamming sessions, wine spills on new couches, burning protests at parliaments, all saying ‘f-u society, I’m not your bitch’? All gone. The light that made all of their laughs a little brighter, was no more.

And their lives would never again be the same.

These emotions followed rapidly by anger. Because apparently, it was a drunk driver that had hit her car on the way home. On the way home to her family. A tight little group that’d only consisted of a proud surrogate uncle/roommate Jens and a small child, barely a year old. The latter one was a small detail that she’d left out of her stories of backpacking in the US of A. Something that Jens didn’t mention during the wild parties, set up by Moyo in his underground club.

The small child was already fatherless, but now he didn’t have a mom either. He had nobody to care for him. Jens had put every single cent into his new start-up in New York and was in the process of moving there. Trying to set up a different life. Possibly meeting up with Jana again. Before all of this had happened, of course. Because who could’ve know?

So the boys didn’t have any other choice.

From the moment both had seen the little, bubbly baby in his basket, crying out for his mom, they’d knew. The boy had nestled in their hearts. The sorrow was a little less harsh, when you could look into the eyes of someone so pure. Noor’s son needed them. It was what Robbe owed her. For her unconditional love. After all, she had been his voice of reason, his shoulder to cry on - even through international phone calls - when it all was too much. The harshness of life.

The Sobbe relationship rollercoaster.

So arrangements were made. A graduate job secured. A family-backed loan for a small house was asked. And the adoption process had started. It only took them a year, due to Aaron’s social work contacts, before they could call David theirs. David Ijzermans-Driesen. The only one that could call them ‘papa’ and ‘paps’. The most precious boy in the entire universe. And any other universe, for that matter. In every parallel one.

A perfect, tight little family. But happy.

Until one unfortunate day in May, in the year that David turned six.

-^-

“Schat, don’t be so nervous. It’s me who’s supposed to be nervous, right?”

Sander eyes twinkled with mischief. He was dragging Robbe along to the dress rehearsal for their ‘happening’. Yes, a happening. Like the ones in the times of hippie communes. Those kind of artsy fartsy things. The brown haired boy didn’t know what it had meant entirely, but whatever Sander was into, he couldn’t help but show it to his partner.

To be completely honest, their relationship was strained these last few months. Robbe was more tired than anything else. Their son had started his first year of primary school, so this meant that evenings were filled with encouraging to practice reading and writing, guiding through homework and all the while trying to understand the problems that had manifested into his web code. His plate was filled with more work than ever before.

He wouldn’t really blame Sander, though, since this was the first time he finally caught a break in the artistic world. Yet, unconsciously, he had counted the days that they didn’t touch each other. And they were a lot. At least, for a couple that’d got married only a year ago. They were supposed to be in their blissful period of marriage, filled with the constant desire to touch each other at any time at any place.

And that wasn’t the case.

So when he caught sight of a certain man, someone who wasn’t his husband, his heart had skipped a slight beat. His hands were starting to get clammy, his voice caught in his throat and he didn’t know how to breath anymore. Robbe didn’t remember the last time this had happened with Sander. So, his immediate next thought, was shame and disgust.

For what he felt right now.

Yet, he couldn’t seem to look away. All during the dress rehearsal, his eyes were following the beautiful man who played along with his guitar in the background. His eyes were stars of stark blue, covered by a mop of light curls. The combination of these, together with a timid, yet mysterious air around him, immediately reeled him in. Worst part? He seemed to know Robbe was staring at him. Before he exited the area, he even turned back to wink at him.

Sander, of course, didn’t caught his boy’s entire thought process that followed. He was still going on about the dynamics of the entire art installation. Even introducing his other half to a few new friends he’d made. A Spanish girl with colorful hair, a German boy with a too-cool-for-you gaze and pair of Italian guys with soft smiles. Their energy all flowed through one another, like single organism. Like they were all part of something better.

Robbe could understand why Sander was attracted to these kind of people. He however, still wanted the ask the question that lingered in the back of his mind. Who had been the beautiful model that gave him a wink? Was he still here? Did  he expect something of him? He couldn’t do anything to someone else than Sander. Right? Right. It was wrong, with the capital W. So he let it be.

At least, that what’s he thought.

All through the happenings, the same feelings manifested. His eyes pulled towards the mysterious guy, instead of what his own husband was doing. While he heard the gasps of the audience around him, he gasped at the intense stare. While the people were urging closer to see what was happening, he’d fill his mind with thoughts about what he would do with the man before him.

Laying him down on the floor.

Touching him.

Kissing him.

Making his way with him.

Sander seemed to know Robbe wasn’t really raving about the entire art thing, so he never asked why his eyes glanced over every time he brought up the performances. He seemed to wait patiently for his lover to talk about his thoughts. What seemed to bother him. But, that was the thing: he didn’t. Robbe didn’t say a word. He just... stared. Longingly.

At someone else.

On the fourth week of mutual silence, Sander spiraled. His words were reeling with pain, with agony. They still didn’t know what caused an bipolar episode. They both wished they did, though, this time even more. Because it was a really, really bad one. Never before had Sander called him names. Never before did he make Robbe cry with desperation. He didn’t even let him touch him. Sander had said about himself, that he was a waste of space, so why would Robbe even bother about loving him? Why would their son ever love him? He was broken.

And Robbe let his tears fall.

He blamed himself. Because of the thoughts he had about the unknown man. He deserved this. A loveless touch, a hollow kiss, a silenced dagger thrown at his heart. He had felt something for someone else, he deserved so much worse. This was just tip of the ice-berg. It’s what he manifested. What he cooked up in his own thoughts, that made Sander hate him. Robbe knew it was all his fault.

His rational mind knew that these feelings were ridiculous though. Sander wasn’t his MI. His lover always saw the best in him, it was just the chemicals in his brain that sometimes fought with each other. And that, was maybe even worse. Knowing that Sander would always love him, no matter what, even when his episode was at his lowest, while Robbe was looking at someone else?

It broke him.

His fault.

Toxic.

For feeling the wrong things towards the wrong guy.

Sander saw it happening. After the episode, when he climbed out of the canyon of hurt, he still tried to pull his lover out of his own spiral. He touched his cluttered mind, wanted to break through the newly built walls and screamed out in frustration to shock him. But Robbe slowly became more silent. He reverted back to his older self, his younger, less pronounced ‘me’. The one who was insecure about every step he took. About every thing he did. About their love.

And that’s when he broke them.

Fights were more the norm in their household than lovemaking. David kept running towards either of them asking if they were angry at each other. To stop crying. To stop shouting. To stop hurting each other. He wanted papa and paps to be happy again. He wanted to kiss all the boo-boos away, making their hearts hurt even more.

So, after a bunch of whispered discussions, a few stints at a crappy couples counselor - some smuck that didn’t even remember their names - and a few months of loaded silence, they knew. This wasn’t healthy anymore. Sander gave and gave and gave, while Robbe ran. He ran away from the love. They knew it had to stop. It was healthier this way. To catch a break. To breathe.

A breath that was stolen only one time more. Their lips connected, the tears flowed, their bodies felt the hurt between them, even though they were making love. For the last time. Pieces of heart exchanged, never truly whole again. Grasping at the air surrounding them. Emerald eyes lingering into brown. The touch of heaven. Never again. All over. Discarded. 

Making the biggest mistake in both their lives:

They split up.

-^-

“Don’t forget, Robbe”

“I won’t.”

“I’m serious”

“I know.”

“David won’t stop babbling on about this.”

“Yes, Sander, he’s my son too. I know this already!”

“...”

“Sorry...”

“... It’s okay.”

Robbe sighed, fidgeting with the cellphone in his hand. A headache was starting to build up behind his eyes. Why did Sander call him again? Like he didn’t know about the biggest event of the school year approaching? The school’s annual show was on Saterday, open to every parent interested in sending their kids to the school as well as the parents of attending children.

“He just wants us to be there. Maybe we could invite the rest of the boys?”

“I’ll ask them. I don’t know if Jens will get a babysitter on such short notice, though. Jana is pretty busy with her job as a lawyer, you know that.”

“Come on, try to convince them to come. Maybe Amber can babysit the kids. It’s been a while since David has seen his uncles!”

Robbe thought long and hard about this statement. It had been a while since he saw his best friends. Nowadays, their lives were filled with juggling their family lives, responsibilities at work while maintaining a healthy lifestyle with their respective partners. Not that he didn’t know how difficult it could be sometimes.

Only recently, he’d acquired the new lecturing job at the IT departement, making way more pay and significantly better hours, so he could focus his time on David. Robbe really liked this job though. Educating other young people in the world of digits and numbers, something that always made sense even if your life was insecure. Exactly why he studied IT in the first place.

“Robbe, are you there?”, Sander voice whispered soothingly. Like only an ex-lover could feel, he somehow knew every thought that passed through Robbe’s brain. “You know, you don’t have to invite them if you don’t want to. I’m sure we’ll be fine just the three of us. David will be proud to show us his performance nonetheless. He’s been raving about his Bowie song, since they made the announcement.”

“The three of us?”

“Yeah, you, me and Wouter right?”

“Ah. Yes.”

“You know, your boyfriend?”, the voice chuckled.

Since a month ago, Robbe’s free weeks were filled with unhealthy habits again. Pigging out on junk food, vegetating on the couch, binging Netflix shows. Only, his friends or Sander didn’t need to know about this. David barely met his ex-boyfriend, thank god. They didn’t need to know about the nasty fights that happened between him and Wouter.

About the black eyes, cuts and bruises.

The disgusting words.

The break-up...

But yeah,

Robbe deserved all of it anyways.

“Robbe...”, he heard the other whisper.

“You do know I don’t have a problem with him, right? I mean, it’s been ages since the two of us were ever together. You deserve a healthy love-life. Someone to call yours. Someone who loves you. You deserve someone who gives you the world. I don’t like you being alone. I want to see you happy...”

He didn’t knew why Sander said stuff like that to him. He didn’t deserve it, because all he brought upon his lovers was worry and anger. Everything he touched, would slowly turn more and more toxic. During their teenage years, Sander had said something similar to him. Right after an episode. And he didn’t believe it. He never will. Since it was him that made everything worse.

Not Sander. Not Wouter. Not any of his other previous flings.

Him.

“You know what I think about that, Sander.”

“Robbe...”

“I’ll ask the boys, okay?”

“But Robbe, I-”

“Give David a kiss for me!”

He quickly disconnected the line.

Before Sander could say something back.

He simply didn’t want to know.

Focussing his thoughts on anything else, pulling out a vague sketch their son had made. Apparently the drawing class was paying off. He’d made the outline of a tree, standing lonely in a grove. The environment around it was completely bare. No grass. Yet, at the outlines you could still see the branches of other trees. Something felt off.

Robbe shook his head. He was probably projecting his own feelings onto the drawing. It was just a grove of trees, for god’s sake. An amazing technique. Some intense colors. That truly made the sketch vibrate. Their tiny boy was filled with lots of surprises. You see, both parents still didn’t know what song he’d picked to sing for them Saturday. “Something special”, David said with a glint in his eyes, before packing his bag for his stay at Sander’s.

The co-parenting system was a bitch as well as a blessing. He’d love to see his boy more than every other week, but some ‘me-time’ wasn’t bad either. Having this free time for himself was a privilege. Time to sort out stuff in the house, work ahead for the school year or take relaxing baths. Maybe go to a bar and hook up with someone, without having a hyperactive kid bursting in.

Not that he felt up for that right now.

But he truly was happy with the 9 year old. Every moment with him was an extra day of unconditional love. A love that was consistent. A gift that kept on giving. A reflection of a beautiful soul lost. But also a mirror for Sander and him.

He was happy.

Or at least, he thought he was.

(But he wasn’t)

#wtfock #wtfam #skambingo #skamevents #part 1 of 4 #tumblr keeps yeeting my stuff