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felassan · 3 years

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Dragon Age development insights and highlights from Bioware: Stories and Secrets from 25 Years of Game Development

Some really tasty factoids here.

Cut for length.

Dragon Age: Origins

The continent of Thedas was at one point going to be named Pelledia, a name initially floated by James Ohlen

“Qunari” was a temporary name that ended up unintentionally sticking, much like “Thedas”

Mary Kirby wrote the Landsmeet. To this day, nobody understands how it works, except possibly her. If she’s “really really drunk” she can explain how it works. There’s as many words in it as Sten’s entire conversations put together

Concept art for Thedosian art - as in in-world art - draws heavily on Renaissance-era portraiture, the Art Nouveau movement, religious styles and media like stained glass, and favorite pieces from the golden age of illustrations in the early 20th century

Andrastianism in-world (art-wise) is depicted in wildly different methods depending on who in-world made the art in question. “One religion, 3 different lenses”. There’s the Chantry take, the Orlesian take and the Fereldan take; each with its own different interpretations, different mediums and different stories

The stained glass images were drawn by Nick Thornborrow for DAI, to decorate religious spaces in that game “and beyond”

irl Viking art influenced Ferelden

Greek and Italian art influenced Orlais

The book also had other insights into and anecdotes from the development of DAO, but I’ve transcribed them recently as they’re essentially the stories DG has recently been relating on the awesome Summerfall Studios DAO playthrough Twitch streams. (On those streams he provides dev commentary while Liam Esler plays through DA. The ones with DG are currently once every two weeks. Check them out! Here’s a calendar where you can check when the next one is) Instead of repeating myself I’ll just provide the link to the first transcript. From there you can navigate to the subsequent parts. Note these streams are ongoing. At this point I will also point you to a related post which is cliff notes of the Dragon Age chapter in Jason Schreier’s book Blood Sweat and Pixels.

Dragon Age II

DAO had the longest development period in BioWare history. In contrast DA2 had the shortest

Initially DA2 was going to be an expansion to DAO. A few months in EA said “Yeah, expansions like these don’t sell very well, so let’s make it a sequel.” So it suddenly became DA2 and they had to make it even bigger, although they still only had 1.5 years of time in which to do this

Production of DA2 officially lasted only 9 months, and at the time the team was still supporting live content for DAO! They finished development that January after the design team crunched all the way through the holiday period that year. Then it went to cert 9 times

The limited time they had is why the story takes place mostly in and around 1 city, and over 7 years (so it was temporal, rather than over physical distance, because a more expansive world would have taken more irl time to make)

They had no time to review even the main plot. Mike Laidlaw pitched the idea of 3 stories taking place at different points in the PC’s life, tied together by Varric’s recollections of events. DG rolled with this and made 1 presentation on the idea. This presentation was then approved and off they went

As they were writing DG realized that there was going to be no oversight and that everything was going to be a ‘first draft’. “Because nobody had time.” He sat down with the writers and said “Look, here’s the conditions we’re working under. A lot of what we’re putting out is gonna be raw. We’re not going to get the editing we need. We’re not going to get the kind of iteration we need. So I’m going to trust you all to do your best work.”

Looking back, DG has mixed feelings on DA2. “A lot of corners were cut. The public perception was that it was smaller than DAO. That’s a sin on its own.”

Despite this he thinks DA2 has some of the best writing in the series, especially character-wise. The DA2 chars are his favorite

The pace with which production progressed may in some ways have helped. “When we do a lot of revision, we often file away [as in buff off] some of the good writing as well. Somehow DA2′s whirlwind process resulted in some really good writing”

The pace meant chars landed on the writers in various stages of completion. For example Isabela was fairly defined due to appearing in DAO. In contrast Varric at the start was just that single piece of widely-shown concept art

Varric was conceived as a storyteller not a fighter. His skills are talking and bullshitting. Hence the question became, so what does this guy do in combat? The direction was to make him as different as possible to Oghren, so not a warrior. He couldn’t be a dual-wielding rogue in order to differentiate him from Bela. But you can’t really picture this guy with a bow. “For a dwarf, it would probably be a crossbow. We didn’t have crossbows, or we only had crossbows for the darkspawn. And they were part of the models. We didn’t have a separate crossbow that was equip-able by the chars. They had to like, crop one off a darkspawn and remodel it. And that became Bianca” (quote: Mary Kirby)

“Dwarven mages are exceedingly rare.” [???]

If DAO was a classic fantasy painting, DA2 was a screenshot from a Kurosawa film or a northern Renaissance painting. (Here Matt Rhodes was commenting on art style)

John Epler: “In any one of our games, there’s a 95% chance that if you turn the camera away from what it’s looking at, you’ll see all kinds of janky stuff. The moment we know the camera is no longer facing someone, we no longer care what happens to them. We will teleport people around. We will jump people around. We will literally have someone walk off screen and then we will shift them 1000 meters down, because we’re fixing some bug.” John also talked about this camera stuff in a recent charity Twitch stream for Gamers For Groceries. There’s a writeup of that stream here

Designing Kirkwall pushed concept artists to the limits of visual storytelling, because it has a long history that they wanted to be present. It was once the hub of Tevinter’s slave empire, so it needed to look brutal and harsh, but it also then needed to feel reclaimed, evolved, and with elements of contemporary Free Marches culture

The initial plan was for DA titles to be distinguished by subtitles not numbers, so that each experience could stand on its own rather than feel like a sequel or continuation. (My note: New PCs in each entry make sense then when you consider this and other factoids we know like how DA is the story of the world not of any one PC). Later, DA2′s name was made DA2 in a bid to more clearly connect the game to its predecessor. For DAI they returned to the original naming convention. (My note: so I’d reckon they’d be continuing the subtitle naming convention for DA4)

DA2 was initially code-named “Nug Storm”, strictly internally

The Cancelled DA2 Expansion - Exalted March

This was a precursor to DAI

It was meant to bridge the gap between DA2 and DAI

It focused on the fallout from Kirkwall’s explosion, with Cory serving as the villain

Meredith’s red lyrium statue was basically going to infest Kirkwall and it would end up [with what would end up] the red templars taking over Kirkwall and essentially being Cory’s army

To stop him Hawke would have recruited various factions, including Bela’s Felicisima Armada and the Qunari at Estwatch, forcing Hawke to split loyalties and risk relationships in the process

It was meant to bring DA2′s story to an end and end in Varric’s death. DG was very happy with this because all of DA2 is Varric’s tale. The expansion was supposed to start at the moment Cassandra’s interrogation of him ended in the present. “And we finished off the story with Varric having this heroic death.” It tied things up and would have broken many fan hearts, something BioWare writers notoriously enjoy. But between a transition to the new Frostbite engine and the scope of DAI, the decision was made to cancel EM, work any hard-to-lose concepts into DAI, and in the process save Varric’s life. DG has talked about the Varric dying thing before

Concept art for EM explored new areas previously not depicted in the DA universe, with costumes that reflected next steps for familiar chars. Varric was going to war, what would he have worn? With Anders, if he survived DA2, the plan was to present a redeemed Warden

A char that vaguely resembled Sera in DAI was first concepted for EM. This fact was mentioned near this concept art (see the female elf) and this concept art of Bethany with the blond bob

The writers sketched out plans to end it with Hawke having the option to marry their LI. This included alternate ceremonies for party members like Bethany and Sebastian if the player opted not to wed. There was even a wedding dress made for Hawke. This asset made it into DAI (Sera and Cullen’s weddings in Trespasser). The dress can also be seen in DAI during an ambient NPC wedding after completing a chain of war table missions

The destruction of a Chantry was explored in concept art as it might have happened in EM. This idea ended up carrying over to the beginning of DAI. (My note: Lol, the idea that DA2 could have had 2 Chantries being destroyed in it 😆)

World of Thedas

Sheryl Chee and Mary Kirby started with “a disgusting little dish called fluffy mackerel pudding”. In the middle of DAO’s busy dev period one of them (they can’t remember who) found a recipe online for this, scanned in from a 70s cookbook. “I don’t understand why it was fluffy. Why would you want fluffy mackerel pudding?” MK says. “We loved it so much we included it in a DAO codex.”

This led them to create more food for Thedas, full recipes included, like a Fereldan turnip and barley stew from MK and SC’s Starkhaven fish and egg pie. The fish pie became Sebastian’s favorite. “To me it made sense for it to be fish pie because a lot of the Free Marches are on the coast”, SC says, “It was something that was popular in medieval times, so I thought, let’s make a fish pie! I looked at medieval recipes and I concocted a fish pie which I fed to my partner, and he was like ‘This is not terrible’”

For WoT the whole studio was asked to contribute family recipes which might have a place in Thedas. SC adapted these to fit in one Thedosian culture or another, including a beloved banana bread that localization producer Melanie Fleming would regularly bake to keep the DA team motivated. “Melanie’s banana bread got us through Inquisition”

DAI

It says part of DAI takes place in or near the border with Nevarra [???]

This game was aimed to be bigger than DA2 and even DAO in every conceivable way

The first hour had to do a lot of heavy lifting, tying together the events of DAO and DA2 while introducing a new PC, new followers etc in the aftermath of the big attack. DG rewrote it 7 times then Lukas Kristjanson did 2 more passes

DG: “Our problem is always that our endings are so important, but we leave them to last, when we have no time. I kept pushing on DAI: ‘Can we work on the ending now? Can we work on the ending now? Can we do it early on?’ Because I knew exactly what it was going to be. But despite the fact that it kept getting scheduled, whenever the schedule started falling behind, it kept getting pushed back... so, of course, it got left til last again.”

“The reveal of the story’s real antagonist, Solas, a follower until the end, when he betrayed the player”. “Solas’ story remains a main thread in Inquisition’s long-awaited follow-up” [these aren’t DG quotes, just bits of general text]

Over the course of development they had 8 full-time writers and 4 editors working on it. Other writers joined later to help wrangle what ended up being close to 1 million words of dialogue and unspoken text. While many teams moved to a more open concept style of work for DAI, the writers remained tucked away in their own room, a choice DG says was necessary, given how much they talked. All the talking had a purpose ofc as if someone hit a bump or wall in their writing they would open the problem up to the room

As writing on a project like DAI progresses, the writers grow punchier and weirder things make it into the game. This is especially the case towards the end of a project (they get tired, burned out)

Banter and codexes require less ‘buy-in’ (DG has talked about this concept a few times on the Twitch streams) from other designers. DG liked to leave banter for last as a reward because it was fun. Banter begins as lists of topics for 2 followers to discuss. These may progress over time or be one off exchanges. One banter script can balloon to well over 10k words. “The banter was always huge because we were always like, laughing, and really at that point, our fields of fucks were rather barren, so we would just do whatever”

The bog unicorn happened pretty much by accident. It was designed by Matt Rhodes and was one of his fav things to design. They needed horse variations and he had already designed an undead variant which was a bog mummy [bog body]. irl these are preserved in a much different way to traditional mummies. When someone dies in a bog their skin turns black and raisin-like. The examples we know of tend to have bright red hair for whatever reason. It’s a very striking look and MR wanted to do a horse version of this as he thought it’d be neat. 5 mins before the review meeting for it he had a big ‘Aha!’ moment, quickly looked up a rusty old Viking sword, and photoshopped it through its skull like that was how it died. “And I was like, ‘I just made a unicorn. Alright, in it goes!’” It got approved. “So we built the thing. It fit. It told a little story”

With the irl Inquisition longsword, one of the objects they tested its cleaving ability on was a plush version of Leliana’s nug Schmooples

The concept art team explored a wide variety of visuals for the Inquisitor’s signature mark. It needed to look powerful and raw but couldn’t look like a horrific wound. In some cases, as cool as the idea looked on paper, they just weren’t technically feasible, especially as they had to be able to fit on any number of different bodies

Bug report: “Endlessly spawning mounts! At one point during development, Inquisitors could summon a new horse every time they whistled, allowing them to amass a near infinite number of eager steeds that faithfully followed them across Thedas. “You could go charging across levels and they’d all gallop behind you,” Jen Cheverie says, “It was beautiful.” Trotting into town became an epic horse siege as a tidal wave of mounts enveloped the streets. Jen called it her Army of Ponies”

The giants came from DA Week, an internal period when devs can pursue different individual creative projects that in some way benefit DA. They also had a board game from one of these that they were going to put in but they didn’t have time. It’s referenced though. It was dwarven chess

Josie’s outfit is made of gold silk and patterned velvet, with leather at her waist. She carries “an ornate ledger” and she has “an ornamented collar sitting around her neck, finished by a brilliant red ruby, like a drop of Antivan wine in a sunbeam”

Iron Bull’s armor is leather. His loose pantaloons and leather boots give him agility to charge

On DAI in particular, concept artists took special care to make sure costumes would be realistic, at least in a practical ‘this obeys the laws of physics and textiles’ sense. “While on Inquisition, we thought about cosplay from a concept art perspective. Given how incredible a lot of [cosplays] are, I now am not worried about them. In fact in some cases in the future I want to throw them curveballs like, ‘All right, you clever bastards. Let’s see if you can do this!’”

2 geese that nested on the office building and had chicks were named Ganders and Arishonk (it wasn’t known who was the mom or the dad). Other possible names were Carver Honke, Bethany Honke, Urdnot Pecks, Quackwall, Cassandra Pentagoose, the Iron Bill, Shepbird, Garroose, Admiral Quackett, Scout Honking, HChick-47 and Darth Malgoose

Bug report: “The surprising adventures of Ser Noodles!” DAI was the first time the series had a mount feature, meaning this had a lot of bugs. A lot of the teams’ favorite bugs were to do with the mounts. There was a period of time where the Inquisitor’s horse seemed to lose all bone and muscle in its legs. They had a week or so where all quadruped legs were broken. It was a bit noticeable in things like nugs and other small beasties but the horse was insanely obvious. “The first time we summoned the horse [for this] and started running around, the entire QA exploration room just exploded with laughter.” Its legs flapped around like cooked fettucine, leading testers to lovingly nickname it Ser Noodles. At galloping speeds the legs almost looked like helicopter blades, especially when footage was set to classic pieces such as Wagner’s Flight of the Valkyries

For DAI the artists were asked questions like “What would Morrigan wear to a formal ball? Can Cassandra pull off a jaunty hat?”

On DAI storyboarding became the norm. John Epler: “Cinematic design for the longest time was the Wild West. It was ‘here’s a bunch of content, now do it however you want’, which resulted in some successes and some failures.” Storyboarding gave designers a consistent visual blueprint based on ideas from designers, writers and concept artists

Quote from a storyboard by Nick Thornborrow (the Inquisitor going into the party at the end of basegame sequence): “Until Corypheus revealed himself they could not see the single hand behind the chaos. A magister and a darkspawn combined. The ultimate evil. So evil. Eviler than puppy-killers and egg farts combined.”

A general note on concept art:

In the early stages of any project, before the concept artists are aware of any writing, they like to just draw what they think cool story moments could be. It’s not unusual for the team to then be inspired by these and fold them into the game as the project progresses

– From Bioware: Stories and Secrets from 25 Years of Game Development

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holidaywishes · 3 years

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Dusk Till Dawn

Requested: 👍

Summary/Request: 22 of the music prompts with Matthew Tkachuk please? “but you’ll never be alone / i’ll be with you from dusk till dawn” (dusk till dawn, zayn & sia) for @chuckythepest

Warning: fluff, maybe some angst, soft smut (I’ll be honest, I changed my mind about having a bit of smut in here or not and it’s not much but it’s there, so...)

Author’s Note: I’m sorry it’s taken me a little bit longer to write but hopefully it gives you what you’re looking for. I’ve never listened to this song so much in my life; I had it playing on repeat as I wrote this so I could really get a feel of what to write. My friend is a huge Matthew Tkachuk fan, really a huge Flames fan in general, but I have to admit I had to watch a lot of interviews to get a feel for the guy. I also wasn’t sure if I wanted it to be an angsty fic or a fluffy one because the song kinda has both vibes so honestly, it’ll be an adventure for the both of us. If you enjoyed this one, here’s the entire list of prompts. Feel free to send your requests through! Stay Golden, loves <3!

masterlist

the other masterlist

You had been on a vacation with a few of your friends in Cancun for about a week when you got the news that everything was going into lockdown

“What does this mean?” your friend, Beth, asked as she paced around the hotel room

“It means that everyone has to stay inside for a bit” you said

“No, what does that mean for us?” she asked again

“I guess it means that we have to isolate when we get home” another of your friends, Jenna, replied as she dropped onto the bed

“I wouldn’t have left if I knew we were gonna come back to a total nationwide, international lockdown!” Melanie, your childhood friend shouted frantically

“Okay, everyone calm down...” you sighed, “we knew this was a possibility, as much as we might want to say that we didn’t, we knew that we could get home and everything would be shut down”

“So what do we do?” Beth asked

“We...” you stammered, not having the answers but trying your best to stay calm, “we listen. We do what we’re told -- isolate, quarantine, get tested, all of it -- and then hopefully it’ll be over soon.” Your words were like a curse because as soon as you got back to St. Louis, the world seemed crazier than it ever was. Months went by and nothing changed. People were still getting sick, still dying, and there were still people who thought it was all a hoax. Birthdays were spent apart, friends stopped making an effort to keep in touch and it made everything feel... cold and sad. The only thing that seemed to make any sense was your friendship with Matthew.

“What’s up kid?” he texted one day after a particularly hard week and you just about broke down in front of your phone screen

“I lost my job...” you sent back

“Ah shit, I’m sorry”

“It’s fine but thank you”

“It’s not fine”

“I mean, no, but it’s not like it’s just me. Half of the world has lost their jobs”

“That doesn’t mean you have to be all fine about it”

“Matt, seriously, it’s fine”

“You say that now and then two days from now you’ll get pissed about someone else getting promoted”

“I wouldn’t do that”

“Not on purpose but stress can do things to a person...”

“I’ll be fine but thank you for caring so much”

“Anytime!” you smiled at his concern before changing the subject, checking in with his family, asking him about what was going to happen with the season, “I have no idea... everything is still shut down until further notice”

“I hope things get better by Christmas”

“At the rate things are going, I don’t think they will”

“Way to stay positive, Tkachuk” you scoffed to yourself

“It’s what I do 😜” the conversation didn’t last long after that and you went on a spiral of looking and applying for jobs; everything came crashing down when you’re grandpa got sick and you couldn’t visit him. You called the hospital every day, not wanting your grandpa to be alone, but they wouldn’t let you in, ‘protocols’ they said

“I don’t know what to do, Matt” you sobbed over the phone

“Relax,” he tried, “we’ll get you in there”

“They won’t let me in!” you argued, raising your voice in anger, “he’s dying and they won’t let me see him...”

“I can make sure you see him.”

Matthew’s P.O.V

You were trying your best to get (Y/N) into the hospital to see her grandpa but it was taking a lot more effort than you thought

“Please,” you begged the doctor, “he doesn’t have anyone else. She’s not getting any answers and she just wants to see him, even if it’s to say goodbye”

“I’m sorry. I can’t break the rules for your girlfriend” the doctor replied

“No--” you stammered, trying to backtrack, “she’s not my girlfriend. She’s my best friend and she wants to see her grandfather”

“I can’t break protocols for one person. We’re doing everything we can to keep him healthy and if we invite guests inside, it puts our patients at risk,” the doctor explained, “maybe we can set up a Zoom call”

“If he dies and she isn’t there, she will blame herself for the rest of her life”

“I’m sorry. I don’t have a choice...” you angrily hung up the phone, throwing it to the side while you thought up a plan before calling (Y/N).

“The doctor said no...” you said solemnly

“What?” she whimpered, “Matt, he can’t be alone there. In a hospital, he needs to be with people who love him”

“They said they have protocols,” you added, “but we can sneak in there...”

“Sneak into a hospital?” she scoffed, “Matthew, we’re not spies. We can’t sneak into a hospital during a pandemic”

“Just trust me”

“What happens if we get caught? If we get in trouble?”

“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it”

“I can’t le--”

“Just trust me” you interrupted, convincing her that everything would be okay and ending the call. You made your way to the hospital where (Y/N)’s grandpa had been checked into and asked around about how someone could have visitors

“They’d have to be tested before they came and then retested, temperature checked, when they got here,” a nurse explained, “and then they’d have to sit behind a barrier with a mask on. It wouldn’t be any different than most other places -- we’re following the same guidelines and restrictions, we just have to be 10 times as careful because we have lives at stake”

“But if a family member did all that, the tests and followed the guidelines, they could come visit?” you asked, feeling like you might be getting close to a solution

“Hypothetically?” she started, “it’s possible but there would be a time limit. Maybe 10 minutes maximum and even that’s pushing it”

“I can work with that!” you smiled under your mask and rushed out of the hospital, texting (Y/N) about what needed to be done, the two of you rushing to a testing facility as fast as possible and waited impatiently for the results. When both of your results came back negative, you told her you’d make a call and get her in to see her grandpa; she hugged you tightly before a tear fell from her eye onto your exposed collarbone. “He’s gonna be okay” you whispered

“Thank you,” she replied, keeping her arms wrapped around your neck, “for doing all this for me”

“I know how much he means to you” you smiled at her when she finally let go of you, her eyes softening at your words. You and (Y/N) met when your dad was drafted to St. Louis and had been friends ever since, celebrating each others successes as the years went by. Her grandparents raised her after her mom died and her dad took off, she was only six years old; her grandma died two years later so it was (Y/N) and her grandpa against the world. They were inseparable and she would’ve done anything for him -- including letting you sweet talk a group of nurses to get her into a hospital during a global pandemic. You watched as she made her way down the hallway, the lack of visitors and laughter making everything suddenly feel real, she stopped in front of a large glass door clutching onto the coat that she held in her hands as she waited for someone to let her in. A doctor finally let her in but stayed close by, pulling her out after 10 minutes had passed, not a second more, “come on, man,” you begged, “let her have a little bit more time”

“I can’t” he replied before looking at (Y/N), “I really am sorry.” She nodded at the doctor before looking back toward her grandpa’s room and tucking herself into your side as you made your way out of the hospital. You started to drive her home but after miles of silence, she asked if you could take her to the park where the two of you used to sneak out to

“Yeah, sure” you agreed, keeping your voice soft and letting her rest her head against the window for the remainder of the ride. When you pulled up in front of the park and parked the car, you looked at (Y/N) noticing a stream of dried tears on her cheeks before she swung open the car door and ran to the swings. She did this every once in a while, tried to ignore her pain and focus on putting a smile on someone else’s face by pretending she was fine. You could always tell that she wasn’t fine but you couldn’t always bring her out of it, “(Y/N)...” you sighed

“Come on, Matty!” she called, pushing herself on the swing to see how high she could get, “let’s see if you can get higher than me!”

“(Y/N).. we don’t have to do this. We could just sit and talk if you wanted to...”

“Why? I wanted to come to the park to play, not to talk,” she challenged, “if I wanted to talk, I would’ve gone home or to your place...” you exhaled as you walked toward the free swing beside her, your eyes following her as they tried to catch a glimpse of her face; trying to gauge whether or not she was crying. She didn’t stay on the swing too much longer, instead choosing to jump onto the Merry Go-Round

“You’re gonna spin on this now?” you scoffed

“No,” she answered with a laugh, laying down on the cold metal, “you’re going to spin me and I’m gonna see how long it takes me to get dizzy.. Just like we used to do.” You obliged, letting the sound of her laughter fill the air while the old playground equipment squeaked below her. As you kept spinning her, you noticed that her once happy laughter had been replaced by whimpers and you fought to slow down the Merry Go-Round

“(Y/N)?” you asked as you rushed to her, “what’s wrong? what happened?”

“He’s all alone, Matt...” she cried, “you should’ve seen him, he was so weak and I just wanted to hug him and tell him everything was going to be okay but I don’t think he’s going to be okay...”

“Shhh,” you tried to calm her sobs, letting her head fall onto your shoulder, “I’m here”

“I don’t want him to be alone... I don’t want to be alone” she sobbed

“You’re not alone...” you whispered and she looked up at you, her eyes flooded with tears, “you’ll never be alone...” you could tell by the way she looked at you that she wanted you to kiss her but you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything, fearing that she was too vulnerable and you’d be taking advantage of her. So, you continued to hold her instead, for as long as she needed but when she lifted her head up from your shoulder to look at you once more, she made the first move, pressing her lips onto yours as dusk set in and the two of you were the only sound either of you could hear. Your lips moved in sync with hers as your hands laid firmly on her sides; rolling her onto her back slowly so she didn’t hit her head. Her hands roamed to the top of your zipper, pushing the slider down before you tore it off your body quickly, leaving her lips for just a second to throw the fabric behind you. As much as you wanted this to happen, you were still being careful and she could feel your hesitation

“What’s wrong?” she asked

“Nothing,” you lied, “I just want to make sure you’re okay with this. That you’re not just doing this because you’re upset...”

“I know what I’m doing, Matt” she smiled.

When Matt started to drive you home, you asked him to redirect you to the park the two of you used to go as kids; so you could feel a little less like the world was falling apart

“Yeah, sure” he said softly before your head fell against the window as you waited for him to pull up to the park. You had managed to keep your crying quiet enough that, when he saw you, Matt was surprised to see the stream of tears on your cheeks. You pressed your lips together before you rushed out of the car toward the old swing set, jumping on and trying to get as high off the ground as possible

“(Y/N)...” Matt sighed and the tone of his voice was all too familiar so you ignored it

“Come on, Matty!” you laughed when you called to him, “let’s see if you can get higher than me!”

“(Y/N).. we don’t have to do this. We could just sit and talk if you wanted to...” he tried but you shook your head. You just wanted to forget what you’d just seen, forget about what was happening, forget that you might have to be alone again and you really didn’t want to be alone again

“Why?” you urged, “I wanted to come to the park to play not to talk. If I wanted to talk I would’ve gone home or to your place...” he finally walked to the swing next to you and began pumping his legs to meet your height before you could feel him watching you, leading you to hop off the swing and head to the next piece of equipment from your childhood; the Merry Go-Round.

“You’re gonna spin on this now?” Matt scoffed as he followed you to the metal death trap that you climbed on

“No,” you replied, chuckling at his question before lying down, your exposed skin meeting the cold metal below you, “you’re going to spin me and I’m gonna see how long it takes me to get dizzy.. Just like we used to do.” He compressed his lips and did as you asked, spinning you quickly and you laughed as you got increasingly dizzy with every turn before your grandpa’s face popped into your head; tears overcoming you as whimpers left your lips. Matt quickly dug his feet into the ground to stop the Merry Go-Round

“(Y/N)? What’s wrong?” he rushed to you, pulling you close to him, “what happened?”

“He’s all alone, Matt,” you cried as you remembered your grandpa in the hospital. He was all you had and the idea of him not being with you terrified you, “you should’ve seen him, he was so weak and I just wanted to hug him and tell him everything was going to be okay but I don’t think he’s going to be okay...” you shook your head frantically at the thought

“Shhh..” he hushed you, letting your head fall on his shoulder, “I’m here”

“I don’t want him to be alone... I don’t want to be alone” you sobbed

“You’re not alone,” he whispered and you felt his body move closer to yours, just to close the space between you, your eyes continuing to brim with tears, “you’ll never be alone.” Whether it was your fear of being alone, of losing the only person who had ever loved you, or if you just wanted to be close to someone, anybody, you looked up at Matt with soft eyes, hoping he’d make a move. But he didn’t. He just held you and, as nice as it was, it wasn’t what you wanted. You lifted your head once more, this time moving your lips closer to his as the sky filled with the dark hues of dusk, his breath brushing across your skin before your lips connected with his. He pressed his hand against your waist as he kissed you slowly, your lips parting just enough for his tongue to inch into your mouth before he shifted his body to lay your back onto the Merry Go-Round, holding your head with his free hand so you didn’t hurt yourself. Your hands found their way to the zipper of his hoodie, sliding it down and pushing the fabric from his arms and he left the kiss just for a second to easily throw away his hoodie, leaning back over you while you waited for him to continue kissing you but he pulled away

“What’s wrong?” you asked, sitting up as he did and you leaned against his back

“Nothing...” he said but you could tell he was lying, “I just want to make sure you’re okay with this. That you’re not just doing this because you’re upset...”

“I know what I’m doing, Matt” you scoffed and he turned his head back to you

“I know you do,” he smiled, kissing your nose playfully, “I just want you to know that you don’t have to”

“I want to” you replied, placing your hand on the side of his face to bring him closer to you, pressing your lips against his and twisting his body back on top of yours. You melted into each other, your breathing in sync as you undid the button of his jeans, setting him free before his hands drifted to push your leggings down. His lips trailed to your neck as he pushed himself into you, eliciting a quiet moan from you and a growl from him when you dug your nails into his skin. You tried not to make too much noise, worrying that the park was still too close to the neighbouring houses, but every once in a while you whined out a curse word

“Fuck,” Matthew moaned out before you could, “oh god” he grunted against your neck as he continued to pump in and out of you, your back arching to gain more friction

“Shit,” you whimpered, “fuck.” His speed increased and you giggled when you heard the Merry Go-Round start to squeak

“Shh” he chuckled

“I’m sorry” you laughed back, trying to focus more on the pleasure than the noise and after a few minutes, Matt released inside you and rolled to the side. You curled up beside him, placing your hand on his chest before you fell asleep next to him. You woke up with the dawn, letting Matt sleep while you watched the Sky lighten

“Good morning” he cooed, kissing your shoulder as he sat up

“Good morning,” you smiled, turning to lay a kiss to his lips, “we should probably get out of here before someone rats us out” he laughed but nodded in response, grabbing his hoodie from the ground and wrapping it around you. You watched him drive smoothly through the streets and you smiled to yourself

“What?” he smirked

“Nothing,” you replied, “I just... like you a whole lot”

“That so?” He chuckled to himself

“Yeah”

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I like you a whole lot, too.” He reached out his hand to interlock his fingers with yours and a flush of heat ran through your body. He had managed to make you forget about everything for a while and you were grateful to him for that but you were still scared that you’d end up alone in the long run. “Hey,” he said, seemingly catching your eyes fall to your lap, “I meant what I said last night”

“What?” You replied, furrowing your brow

“You’ll never be alone. I’ll always be here for you”

“Thank you,” you smiled, dropping your head on the headrest, “for everything.”

“Any time” he smirked, bringing your hand up so he could kiss it while the two of you drove silently back to his house.

#Matthew Tkachuk #Matthew Tkachuk fic #Matthew Tkachuk imagine #Matthew Tkachuk request #Matthew Tkachuk prompt #Song Prompt #Music Prompt #dusk till dawn #dusk till dawn prompt #ZAYN and sia #request #fic request #imagine request #prompt request #song prompt request #masterlist #the other masterlist #hockey #nhl

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champhangman · 3 years

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Recipe for a Perfect Christmas - Part 10

Title: Recipe for a Perfect Christmas Part: 10/12 Theme: Day #10: Baking / Cookies / Gingerbread Fandom / Character(s): AEW / Nick Jackson x OFC Warnings: None. A little cursing? Word Count: 5,053 Soundtrack: Spotify Previously: Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Summary: In the space of six months, Natalie Gibbs lost her fiancé, her job, her apartment, and what little bit of cheer she had. Moving back home after being on her own for years, she hopes to get back on her feet after the holidays. But a nosy best friend, a stubborn coot of a father, and a handsome new neighbor might change her plans, her holidays, and her life. Notes: My entry for day 10 of @12daysofchristmas. ALSO THERE ARE ONLY TWO MORE PARTS AAAHH!!!

The Tag Crew: @adampage / @cowboyshit / @lilmisswhiskeygypsy / @bigpixiefoot / @mindofasagittaruis / @kalliravenne / @sadlittlecountess / @baronsbelleevangeline / @brie-mode-activated / @xbreezymeadowsx / @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch / @wardl0w / @hotyeehawman / @waywardwrestlewritingwaif / @drewshoneybadger / @mysteryoflovve / @knnyomega / @rampagewriting / @hurricanranabaybay / @linziland13 / @bastardkingbrutalizer/ @snarkandsarcasmftw / @rubyred1980 / @champnick / @edgecution / @nething4perfection / @gabbynorth98 (please drop me an ask/send me a message/reply to my post if you’d like to be tagged)

***

Part 10 – Fix This

Lift the bundle from the crock. Untie and remove cheesecloth. Brush with liquor and syrup mixture. Wrap in waxed paper. Place in box. Seal. Wrap and fasten with red ribbon. Affix tag. Add to stack.

Repeat.

The steady, repetitive task kept Natalie's mind blank. The kitchen reeked of fruitcake and the liquor and syrup. She had purposefully chosen non-Christmas music to play on her phone, though had somehow missed a couple carols on her playlist. Adding another cheesecloth to the pile, she picked up the brush and dipped it into the bowl, sweeping the syrup over the top of the cake then sliding it onto the waxed paper.

She couldn't hear anything above the music playing in her ears but knew the moment the back door opened. She wasn't sure if it was because of the cold air that slipped into the kitchen, or the shadow that moved in her peripheral vision. Pausing in her task, she held her breath, finally turning to see her father washing his hands in the sink. He didn't say a word, even after she removed her earbuds, and she felt the pain in the silence as he took another fruitcake from the large crock.

They worked without speaking. She remembered a long-ago night when they had worked in this fashion. When the air had been thick with the words she had already said and the silence had been painful. The only difference was that they were both a little older.

As he placed the last fruitcake on the counter, she felt a pang in her chest. The last fruitcake was always taken home. It was the only one he allowed himself, even though it was his favorite holiday treat and hers, too. He wrapped it meticulously in the waxed paper, as those for customers had been wrapped, then paused.

Natalie furrowed her brow when he unfolded the paper and reached for one of the knives on the magnetic strip. She wanted to ask what he was doing, but it was obvious he was going to slice into the fruitcake. Despite his self-imposed rule that it wait for Christmas Eve, when it would be enjoyed with his best brandy after getting back from the candlelight service at church. She watched the knife glide through the cake, watched the slices cascade, then watched him set the knife down.

"I don't have my brandy," he said.

"It's not Christmas Eve," she pointed out.

"Are you gonna be here then?" he asked.

Her breath caught, and she thought of her laptop, which she'd left on the kitchen table, browser open and left on the page saying her application and resumé had been successfully submitted. "I think I will."

"Then we'll take another one home for then." He picked up a slice and looked at it.

"Two fruitcakes for yourself?"

"Why the hell not."

Natalie bit her lip, waiting for him to bite into the slice. When he didn't, she frowned.

"Did I ever tell you where I got this recipe?" he asked, still staring at it.

"I don't think so."

"It was in your mother's family. Started as a Christmas pudding with her great-grandmother in England, and when they immigrated they adapted it. Her mother perfected it. It was the one thing I'd never been able to do right, and when we got married, she and your Nana showed me how to do it properly." He sighed. "It was the third-best thing she ever gave me."

"What were first and second?"

"Second was her love and partnership over the twenty-two years we had together." He turned, holding the slice of fruitcake out to her.

She took it, knowing just by touch and smell that it had been prepared perfectly. "What was the first?"

"You."

"Oh, Dad," she whispered, vision blurring with tears. She wasn't a gift. She was a nightmare. She'd left him at the worst possible time, had distanced herself for years, and had only come back because she had no choice. And her knee-jerk reaction when she got upset had been to do the exact same thing. But it occurred to her that if she got the job in Chicago and left, that she wouldn't be welcomed back so warmly. "I think you're wrong."

"I never thought I was."

"Even when I left?"

"Especially then."

"How?" she asked, setting the slice down. She didn't deserve a bite. "How could you still think I was great when I basically told you to take this place and shove it?"

"Because you're my child. And I'll always love you. I'll always be proud of you."

She shook her head. "I'm nothing to be proud of. I've had how many jobs? I either choose a place about to go bankrupt or a company I don't fit in with—"

"That's just bad luck, Natalie."

"How many punches on my bad luck card do I have to get before I get some good luck?" Natalie shook her head again and pushed away from the counter. "Ever since Mom died, I've spiraled like water in a toilet before it flushes down."

"You think you're the only one?" he asked, scowling. "You think you're the only person this world craps on? Grow up. People around the world have it worse in a day than you have in a year."

She gaped at him, not sure if she was insulted by or surprised by his outburst.

"There are folks out there who don't know where there next meal is coming from. Families that have to choose between keeping the lights on or putting food on the table for the week. People get kicked out of their supposedly loving homes because of who they're attracted to or what they do or don't believe in and have to fend for themselves. Kids that are sick and dying but can't get the help they need."

"I know," she said. "But—"

"You've never had to worry about any of that. Because of this place," he said, gesturing around them. "Because my grandparents chose this little spot to settle after they got married, and because they put years of blood and sweat and tears and love into this dump. And then your grandparents stepped in and kept it going. When prices had to go up and sales slacked off, we went without just to keep this place open. Then it was my turn, and when you came along I swore that I would do everything I could to make sure you never had to want for anything."

"Dad—"

"You're allowed to be selfish. I know when you're down how hard it is to see that it could be so much worse. But you don't have it so bad. There's a roof over your head and you didn't have to pay for your schooling." He inhaled then exhaled shakily. "I wanted you to take over for me when it was my turn to hang up my apron, because it's the family business. And yes, it hurt like hell when you told me you'd rather do anything else, but I knew I had to let you go."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. She didn't know what else to say.

"I'm sorry that you're upset because I'm selling the place. But I'm not sorry I'm doing it. You don't want it. Matt does. And he'll be successful, because he loves this almost as much as I do."

"Does he?"

"He does. I told him I'd take down all the old stuff and he insisted it stay. He doesn't want to change it. He said…" Her father paused, closing his eyes briefly. "He said there are lifetimes of memories on the walls and he wouldn't dream of wiping them away."

"He's right." Anywhere she looked she could pull up a memory. The counter, currently stacked with fruitcakes, wiped clean and being dusted with flower so her mother could teach her how to knead. The row of knives on the magnetic strip, which she had taken down once a week so her father could sharpen them. It was a physical rolodex of memories, good and bad, and so was the shopfront, where she had spent the afternoons of her childhood. "I grew up in this building."

"I know you did."

"It was the last place I saw Mom." She stared in the direction of the back door, which her mother had pushed open and then paused, unruly snowflakes floating inside as she reminded Natalie to put the chicken on for dinner. Her own bored reply echoed in her mind and she again felt the flush of guilt and shame.

"Me, too." He finally stepped away from the counter, limping over to switch on the coffeepot near the oven. He stopped, placing one hand on the door of the oven. "She was mad at me."

"She was?" Natalie frowned. She didn't recall her mother being mad. Rushing, yes, and complaining about the weather she had to drive in, but not mad. "What about?"

"I was supposed to go shopping with her. But I had to put in an order, and was running late on getting the work for morning done. She didn't like driving in the snow. I told her to stop being a baby. She told me I was being an inconsiderate ass. It was my fault she was leaving late, and it's my fault she went alone."

"Dad, no," Natalie whispered. "It wasn't your fault."

"I know the accident wasn't. Not really. But… It was. If I'd left the work for morning go until we got back, or told her to wait until the next afternoon… Or if I'd delayed her longer so she was five minutes later. Or had told her to leave earlier…" Leonard drew in a shaky breath. "She wouldn't have been in that spot when that driver hit the bit of ice."

"But it could have happened to her either way. Or it could have been so much worse." The fact that no one else had been injured or died in the accident had at first been a point of anger, but it had shifted into a comfort. Her mother would have been upset at more loss of life. "Or you could have been in the car and died, too."

"I know all that, sweetie. It doesn't make it easier."

"I know," she murmured. She hesitated, then finally closed the space between them.

"I didn't tell her I loved her."

"I didn't either."

He lowered his head and her heart broke for him. She slowly reached forward and placed her hand on his arm. He turned slightly and her breath hitched at the tears in his eyes. "It hurts every day I walk in here, because I always remember that my last words to her were 'hurry home' and not that I loved her."

"She knew you loved her. Dad, she knew."

"She knew you loved her, too." He wrapped his arm around her and exhaled slowly. "She would be so proud of you."

"Sometimes I think so." Natalie squeezed her eyes shut. "She'd hate that I'm single and childless, though."

"Yeah, she did want grandkids," he murmured with a quick chuckle. "But more importantly she wanted you happy."

"I thought I was. Then I wasn't. For a little bit when I first moved back I was. Now I'm not again." Sniffling, she pressed her face into his shirt.

"Have you talked to Nick?"

She stiffened and pulled away, brushing her tears away while turning to put the boxed fruitcakes away. "There's nothing to talk to him about."

"He didn't do anything, sweetie."

"He lied to me."

"And you've never lied?"

"Not about something this important." Picking up two boxes, she carried them to the storage rack.

"I lied, too. Be mad at me."

"I love you too much to stay mad at you," she admitted.

"I was gonna say the same thing." He got his garish mug from its hook above the coffeepot and filled it. "You love him, too."

"No I don't."

"You're lying again."

"I don't!" She set the next two fruitcakes down with more force than necessary. "God, I don't even know him."

"Well." When she glanced over, her father was twirling the coffee in his cup. "You know him pretty well, I'd imagine."

"I'd rather not talk about that."

"You never said how his scrambled eggs were."

"They were sunny side up."

He chuckled. "You do love a runny yolk."

"It takes more than sex and a good cooked egg for love, Dad."

"You know what it took for your mother and me?" He waited until she threw up her hands in silent defeat and smiled. "A laugh."

"A laugh," she repeated, blinking in confusion. "Really?"

"She was visiting her cousin over the summer. They came in one morning for donuts and I shortchanged her." His smile widened and Natalie knew he was lost in the memory. "Wish I could say it was because she was so beautiful I forgot how to subtract, but it was because I was in a hurry so I could go out back and smoke. She came back in a few minutes later and then marched right out back to tell me to give her the three dollars I owed her. Then she took the cigarette from me and threw it on the ground. Hop to it, she said, snapping her fingers. I asked her who the hell she thought she was, and when she said either my dream customer or my worst nightmare, I laughed in her face."

Natalie smiled. She'd heard the tale before, but only that her mother had come in and had thought Leonard was cute. She had only meant to stay in town two weeks to visit her cousin, then had extended her stay to last the entire summer. She'd come back over her Christmas break from college and had never left except to go get her things from her dorm.

"She told me the night I proposed that she fell in love with me right then."

"That's sweet, Dad. But it's more complicated for me and Nick."

"Because you're making it complicated."

"He doesn't even know what he's going to do after Matt and Shayna move into the house."

"So?"

"And I might be leaving."

"And?"

"I don't think Nick's the type to follow a woman to Chicago." She sighed. "He doesn't like big cities."

"There's always a suburb. And the type of work he does he can do anywhere."

"Plus he lied to me."

"Because it wasn't any of his business. It was my job to tell you, and I royally screwed that up. He cares about you."

"How do you know that?"

"I'm not blind, sweetie." He sighed and took a sip of his coffee. "Don't push him away. You know he's a good man."

"He is," she agreed.

"And I guess he's okay looking."

"He is," she said again. He was more than okay looking.

"I'm not trying to push you into a relationship with him, I just want you to patch things up. It's up to you to do that."

"I guess so."

"But do it quick."

"Why?"

"I miss Penny."

***

Nick slid the last cookie onto the platter and tossed the cooling rack into the sink. Baking wasn't his strength, but he had always heard that the scent of fresh-baked cookies made a house smell like home. He knew his brother would be slightly disgusted that he'd bought and baked pre-made dough, but it was the best he could do. Setting the platter on the island counter, he moved to rinse the racks and dried them off before pushing them into the drawer next to the stove. He wiped down the sink, slightly adjusted the platter of cookies, then did a quick look through the house to make sure everything was truly ready.

It was. He'd made up all the beds with the sheets his brother and sister in-law had brought. There was a new puzzle mat waiting for Michael in his new room. For Madison was a set of toy horses, one of which resembled Bonny and her foal. On the dresser in the master bedroom was a vase filled with purple roses and a gift certificate to the town's salon for Shayna. Next to it was the pair of sunglasses he'd purchased to replace the ones of Matt's he'd broken accidentally. Shayna's home office was ready to go except for her computer and whatever little things she wanted to place on the shelves. The bedroom he had been using was clean, his things mostly packed and ready to be loaded into his truck after Christmas when he left. He wasn't sure but he had an inkling it would soon be made into a nursery. Matt's home office downstairs was ready to go, complete with the new computer Shayna had ordered for him. The playroom was organized and neat, all the toys in their respective cubbies. The living room and den and dining room were ready, and he knew without looking that the basement was, too.

He ran his hand along the back of the couch, swallowing as his fingers traced the buffalo plaid blanket. His gaze moved to the plush rug in front of the fireplace and he tried his best to ignore the way his chest squeezed. Turning his attention to the Christmas decorations, he nodded to himself, glancing to the twinkling tree in front of the bow window. Underneath it were two wrapped gifts for Madison and Michael to open that night. Moving into the front hall, he idly adjusted the lighted garland twining down the banister of the staircase.

From the utility room behind the kitchen came a small yip, and he watched Penny come trotting through to the front hall, skidding to a stop at the front door, where she sat, tail thumping excitedly.

"They here?" he asked, bending to scratch behind her ears while he opened the door. She waited, body starting to wriggle, then darted out as soon as Matt's SUV was parked and the engine cut off. Nick leaned in the doorway, smiling, as the dog rushed around in excited circles, then zoomed to greet first Shayna and then Matt.

"Hey!" Matt laughed when Penny leaped through his open door.

"Penny," Nick called, stepping out onto the porch. "C'mon, girl."

A few seconds later she jumped out of the passenger door, and took her time to join him on the porch. Her tail wagged incessantly as Shayna let Madison out, and when they headed across she gave another yip of greeting.

"Hey," Nick greeted, catching Madison when she threw herself at him in a hug. "Good drive?"

"Mommy peed three times," the girl announced.

"Yes thank you, Madison," Shayna sighed. "I'm sure Nick needs to know about my bladder function."

He knew why already, but he had to ask. Grinning, he caught her in a quick hug while Matt carried Michael from the car. "Did Matt make you drink coffee again?"

"He knows better by now." Shayna smiled. The same smile she'd given him twice before. "I've been drinking more water today."

"Why?" he asked, making a face.

"Damned if I know." She moved inside, then turned around and grabbed his arm. "You know, don't you?"

"Know what?" he grunted, stumbling when she yanked on his sleeve. "Shayna!"

"He told you!" She glared at Matt, who was just coming up the steps. "You told him!"

"I didn't tell him a damn thing!"

"Oooo!" Michael's eyes widened. "Bad Daddy."

"Your mother drops the f-word three times a day and I get scolded for saying damn?" Matt shook his head. "What's up with that?"

"Mommy." The boy shrugged as though that were enough explanation, then tipped his head back to look at the lights crisscrossing the ceiling of the porch. "Pretty lights."

"The decorating looks great, Nick," Matt said, nodding with approval. "Your best work."

"Thanks. I had thorough instructions."

"It does look great," Shayna agreed, still holding onto his sleeve. "It looked so beautiful from the street. Did you leave—"

"Room on the main tree for the kids' ornaments, yes," Nick finished for her, nodding. "Can I have my arm back now?"

"Did he tell you?" she asked.

"No, he didn't."

Her eyes narrowed behind her glasses. "You were supposed to ask me what he allegedly told you."

Nick blinked, then slowly turned his head to look at his brother. "What'd she say?"

"You gave the wrong answer." Matt looked at his wife. "I didn't tell him."

"But he knows."

"I gotta nose," Michael announced, jamming his index finger in one nostril. "See?"

"Ew," Shayna groaned. Letting go of Nick's sleeve, she took the boy from Matt and began rummaging in her purse for a tissue. "No boogers, please, Mommy can't handle it today. Do I smell cookies?"

Madison jumped up from where she'd been lying, loving on Penny. "Cookies? You baked, Nick?"

"Uh, yeah, but—"

"Cookies!"

"They're the pre-made stuff," Nick told Matt before he could ask. "Don't judge me."

"I judge you every damn day, it's my right as your older brother." Matt grinned and headed inside. "Wow, you've made a lot of progress. All the floors are finished?"

"Yeah." Nick closed the front door while the kids ran towards the kitchen.

"Oh my god," Shayna gasped, freezing in the archway to the living room. Her hands came up to cover her mouth, and she slowly spun to stare at him.

"Surprise," he said, smiling.

"Babe, the dining room – Whoa," Matt said, joining his wife.

"You said it would be after Christmas," she said.

"I lied?" More than a little touched by their reaction, especially when he saw the glimmer of tears in Shayna's eyes, he cleared his throat. "I didn't want you to have to cram the last of the moving into those few days after Christmas, and… I wanted to give y'all a good gift. Especially with, y'know."

"What?" Matt asked, unzipping his coat.

"You know," Nick said slowly.

"Oh for fuck's sake, we all know I'm pregnant again, stop tiptoeing around it." Shayna flung her arms around Nick and squeezed. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome," he murmured, hugging her back. "You guys deserve to spend Christmas in your new house."

"The upstairs is done, too?" she asked.

"Beds made, rugs vacuumed, everything already here is put away." He smiled when she headed up the stairs. "I even put a mint on the pillows."

"You're an asshole for not telling us it was finished, but I love you," she called over her shoulder.

"Love you too," he promised.

Matt hung up his coat, then picked up Shayna's from where she'd dropped it. "When did you finish?"

"Couple days ago. I spent yesterday and today doing the decorating and cleaning up." Nick picked up Shayna's purse and set it on the console table. "I figured I could rent a van and start bringing the rest of your stuff down next week."

"That'd be great. Did Natalie help?"

Nick tried to not react to the mention of her name, but knew his brother had caught something when his eyebrows lifted. "No, she didn't."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"She found out about the bakery."

Matt sucked in a breath between his teeth. "Lenny said he was gonna tell her this weekend."

"She found something about it from a lawyer." Moving into the living room, Nick crossed to the fireplace and adjusted the screen. "She was upset. At me."

"Because you didn't tell her?"

"Yeah."

Matt nodded. "It wasn't fair to ask you not to say anything."

"If I'd told her, she still would have been upset," he sighed, staring at the fire. Not wanting to remember what had occurred in that spot the last time the fire had been going, he stepped away, pushing his hands into his pockets.

"Maybe not as bad."

Nick sighed. "Doesn't matter. She's done with me."

"Done?"

"I asked her if we could talk about it and she said she had nothing more to say to me." He shrugged, trying his best to pretend he wasn't as affected by her cold dismissal as he truly was.

"Shit, I'm sorry," Matt whispered. "It's all my fault."

"No it's not."

"I should have told her. I should have made Lenny tell her. I should have told Ashley. I should have—"

"Matt, stop. It just wasn't meant to be."

"You're gonna give up?"

"It wasn't like it could go anywhere."

"Why the hell not? You like her. She likes you. There were hearts in your eyes and music playing whenever you looked at each other."

"It's better this way," he insisted. "I'm leaving after Christmas."

"You're what?"

Nick jerked his head up at the sound of Shayna's voice. Sighing, he nodded. "I'm leaving after Christmas."

"Why? Where are you going? What are you gonna do?" she asked, glancing towards the kitchen. She squatted down, catching Michael when he toddled up to her and thrust a cookie in her face.

"Nick cookies," the boy said proudly, bringing the cookie back so he could take a large bite.

"Where's your sister?" Shayna unzipped her son's coat and struggled to get it off without making him let go of the cookie. "Madison!"

Nick watched his niece appear, coat hanging from her arms. She shook it off then dragged it to the coat rack. And, when her mother told her to go look at her room, she took off upstairs.

"Well?" Shayna demanded, straightening and looking at him.

"I'll figure something out between now and then," he said.

"I thought you were looking at the place on the edge of town."

Nick swiveled his gaze to his brother.

Matt shrugged. "I tell her everything."

"Take Michael up to see his room," she said, eyes never leaving Nick. "I've got to talk to your brother."

"Good luck," Matt whispered before scooping his son into his arms.

***

She wasn't usually one for exercise. But the day was so nice. It was damp due to the rain the night before, and the snow was still in thick drifts, but the sun was shining and it was warm enough she didn't need a thick coat. She had felt closed-up, something she wasn't used to feeling, and had finally thrown on a jacket and decided to go for a brisk walk to clear her head. At first she kept to the side streets, and after going around until she was nearly back home, she headed for Main Street and then followed it along until she reached the outskirts of town.

Stopping to unzip her jacket and consider how she wanted to go back through town, she felt a sudden prickle of awareness. She turned slightly, seeing first the 'For Sale' sign and then the little white clapboard split-level. Mr. Wright's house, she thought, recalling hearing that he had moved to the center of town to live with his sister. Her gaze moved to the truck in the driveway and her chest lurched.

Nick.

As though her presence had conjured him up, the door opened and he stepped outside, laughing. Mr. Wright was behind him, laughing as well, and the two men stood on the small porch, chatting.

Her heart squeezed almost painfully. He didn't see her. Or maybe he did and he didn't care enough to acknowledge? She wavered, unsure whether to call out a greeting or turn and go away before he could look in her direction. She hadn't yet made up her mind what she wanted to say to him, or if she wanted to say anything to him at all. She looked on as the men shook hands, and took a step forward just as Nick started down the steps.

He stopped, so she did as well. Despite the distance she saw the hesitance in his expression, and bit her lip when he pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Oh, damn it, she had to speak to him. She continued walking forward, sneakers slipping a little on the pile of snow at the end of the flagstone walk. With each step she tried to think of something to say, but then she saw that he was walking toward her. They met halfway and both stopped at the same time.

Natalie pulled her earbuds from her ears, hastily winding the cord before cramming it into the pocket of her jacket. What was she supposed to say? How could she begin to explain her outburst, her irrational anger towards him that had now faded? What could she possibly say to make it even a little bit better? There was an awkward tension between them and even though she couldn't look away from him she knew that Mr. Wright had sensed it when she heard him mutter something and go back into the house.

Nick's eyes looked a little sad and she wondered if that were her fault.

"I'm sorry," she blurted.

"I'm sorry," he said at the same time.

"I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you—"

"I should have told you when you asked—"

"It wasn't fair—"

"It was wrong to keep you in the dark—"

"I dragged you in the middle when you were just a bystander—"

"I just didn't want to upset you—"

"I blew it all out of proportion because I was hurt—"

"Especially when I realized I was falling for you so fast and—"

"I was thinking I might be falling in love even though we just met—"

They both stopped. At the same time.

Natalie blinked. So did he. She didn't know why, but she began to smile. And was relieved when he did, too. A laugh bubbled up when they both took a step forward. Slipping her hand into his when he held it out, she sighed.

"You wanna go for a walk?" he asked.

"I just did, but yes."

They strolled to the sidewalk, and his fingers slotted between hers. "Can we talk, too?"

"I think we should." She stopped, frowning. "You're just gonna leave your truck?"

"I can walk back and get it."

Resuming her steps, she squeezed his hand. "I'll walk back with you."

#aew fanfiction #nick jackson fanfiction #my fics #multipart: RPC #12daysofchristmas #late late late #also I have hit 50k with this fic now (counting bits of the next 2 parts)#and i am super proud of myself for that

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sylvies-chen · 4 years

Note

“Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can't help falling in love with you”

For brettsey 🥰

She should have seen it coming.

It isn’t a huge conversation, really. She’s sitting on a fancy chair in a fancy restaurant for what is supposed to be a nice night out for her and Matt. It’s a beautiful restaurant with dim lights that just nail the whole romantic ambiance. But then, she gets a Facebook notification while they’re waiting for their food and sees Hope’s recent wedding photos to some random guy from Fowlerton, sending her shamefully stalking her Facebook page. It’s not like she had specifically planned to bring it up with him, but just. Ugh. Hope sure does bring out the worst in her.

“Ugh, look at her stupid pretty flowers, and her stupid perfect dress,” she pouts while they sit at their table “Who has roses at their wedding anyway? Rich people, that’s who. My wedding is going to be strictly orchids.”

“Wedding?” His eyebrows raise at his question.

She backtracks as fast as she can. “Oh, I- hypothetically, I mean.”

He nods slowly, the awkwardness creeping up on them.

“I’m sorry,” she knows she should stop herself, but she can’t help it as she asks, “do you, uh… do you not want to get married?”

“Me? Uh- I mean… Well, we both have had pretty awful experiences with engagements and marriage. So… It just didn’t cross my mind.”

“Really?”

“... Nope.” She can’t tell if he’s imagining it but she swears something in his voice is off.

“Oh… ok,” she nods, blinking back tears and just. She can’t believe what she’s hearing. “I just, uh. We’ve been dating three years now and I figured it was going somewhere. I guess I was wrong.” She can’t stop the tears from trickling off her cheek as she gets up from their table and grabs her coat.

“Sylvie, wait,” she hears Matt plead as she grabs her coat and dashes. Her heart stings as she leaves the restaurant, the tears blurring her eyes as she fumbles for her keys in her purse. When she gets home, she orders a deep-dish pizza, still hungry after missing out on the food from the restaurant, and passes out on her couch almost immediately after two slices.

The next morning, she wakes up to two missed calls from Matt. She grunts and puts her phone on silent, getting up from the couch to get breakfast. The only food she has in her fridge that isn’t rotten or expired is the cold, leftover cheese pizza from the night before, so she takes a slice for breakfast and prepares herself for a marathon of Property Brothers. Her relationship with Matt might be slowly crumbling before her eyes but hey, the Scott brothers can be the reliable men in her life from now on, right?

Her phone keeps lighting up throughout the day with missed calls and texts from Matt. She doesn’t want to hear it. Not yet, at least. Working things out, if even possible, will take hard work and time, and she’s not ready for that yet. Hell, she doesn’t even know if working it out is possible. She’s got a lot of thinking to do and no willpower to do it.

Two more days pass before her next shift. The second day, Stella and Mackey come over, yanking her off of her couch where she’s been sleeping for the past two days. She had tried to go up to her bedroom the first night but was too upset by the framed pictures on her nightstand of her and Matt. Their trip to Cabo, their first date, the time they went to a carnival. The memories make her head hurt with messy confusion and heartache, so she sleeps on her couch.

Stella and Mackey drag her to a girl’s day out. They get their nails done and go out for lunch, but Sylvie can tell she’s being a drag when she keeps groaning at her phone.

“Girl, he’s been calling you all day,” Stella pouts in sympathy for her best friend.

“Ugh, I know. I miss him,” she groans. “But this is just too hard. He basically said he didn’t want to get married! I mean, I know we both haven’t necessarily had the best luck in that department but… I thought we were heading somewhere, you know?”

“I’m so sorry, Sylvie,” Mackey sighs, rubbing her shoulder tenderly. “You guys will get through this rough patch.”

Sylvie nods in an attempt to muster up some hope but is unsuccessful. She hadn’t even realized how badly she wanted to spend the rest of her life with Matt Casey until he had told her he hadn’t thought about it.

They pay for lunch an hour later, and Sylvie leaves feeling only slightly less shitty than she was when she first left the house.

The morning of her shift after the fight, she’s still asleep on her couch when she gets a knock on her door. She figures it’s Casey, as he normally drives her to work on their shifts together.

“Look, Matt, I know I haven’t responded to your calls in a few days but I really don’t—” She starts to call out to Matt as she pulls herself off the couch and stumbles on the way to the door. She opens the door though, and her prepared speech about needing more time and space is cut short when she sees Severide leaning against the doorway instead of Matt.

“You look awful,” he kids.

“Thanks,” she rolls her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Get dressed. I’m here to take you to work,” he shrugs and invites himself in.

“I thought Stella was doing that.”

“Nope. It’s me today. Special occasion.”

“What special occasion is this, exactly?”

“You’ll see when we get to work. I’m under strict orders not to say anything until we get there.”

Sylvie hesitates for a moment. The chances of this not involving Casey are slim. Whatever brought about this weird turn of events feels important, but it makes her reluctant to give in. “If this has anything to do with Matt and what happened last time we spoke—”

“No! No,” he frantically exclaims, “Nothing to do with that. Just- come on, let’s go. We’re going to be late.”

She runs into her room and throws on jeans and a t-shirt. It’s not the nicest outfit she owns but she’s going to get changed there anyways, so she grabs her bag and hops into Severide’s car.

“You know, Matt loves you. A lot,” he comments as they park outside of the firehouse and jump out of the car. They had been silent the whole car ride and Sylvie’s about 100 steps away from the firehouse as he says it. “I’m sure his priorities are more similar to yours than you think they are.”

“I doubt that but it’s fine,” she grumbles.

They walk in through the apron and into the firehouse through the doors leading to the common room. Except as Sylvie walks alongside Severide, she notices that the lights are dimmer than usual. “Are you sure about that?” He retorts as they reach the entrance to the common room and find out why.

Standing at the kitchen counter facing the entrance is Matt, surrounded by rose petals and lit candles as a soft, familiar Elvis ballad plays in the background on a radio. People are watching from the entrance in adoration, giving her encouraging nods and smiles. The scene is overwhelming and makes Sylvie tear up a bit as her bag falls off her shoulder and onto the ground.

“I wanted it to be a surprise.” Matt’s voice is low and sweet as he smiles nervously at her.

“Oh my god… did you do all of this,” she asks in a whisper, her breath watery and shaky with emotion. She’s absolutely speechless. And very underdressed.

“This was supposed to happen after our dinner the other night. It took a lot of convincing for the Chief to let me light these candles in here, what with the fire hazards and all, but he made an exception for an important cause.” She meets him halfway between the entrance and the kitchen, her heart feeling a pull towards him that’s almost magnetic. Severide and the rest of the firehouse are shuffling closer to the entrance as they watch the scene from afar.

“The cause?” She knows the cause. Knows what’s coming next. She just wants to hear him say it, she needs to hear him say it.

“Yeah.” Matt takes a deep breath in and exhales shakily before continuing. “I am so sorry, Sylvie.” Her heart is fluttering fast like a hummingbird as he takes her shaking hands in his own, his skin warm and soft to the touch. “I had this all planned out. I thought…” He starts to tear up and it makes the tears fall down Sylvie’s face even quicker as he powers through, his voice shaky and his eyes glossed with tears, “I thought that it mattered… where and when I would propose to you. I got so caught up in making everything perfect… that I nearly ruined everything. But you… you make me happier than I ever thought I could be. And, if you’ll let me, I want to spend the rest of my life doing the same. So,” he pauses as he gets down on one knee and pulls out a ring from his pocket.

“Oh my god,” she blurts. She’s a blubbering mess by now and she feels her knees give out as she lowers to the ground to meet Matt’s eyes.

The laugh he lets out is watery and shaky, and his hands fumble as he shows her the ring. “Sylvie Brett… will you marry me?”

She doesn’t believe it. She thinks she must be having some weird fever dream because this moment is so perfect and happy that it just can’t be true… but it is. It’s true, and she’s smiling like an idiot as she whispers her answer. “Yes.”

“Yes?” His wide, goofy grin matches hers.

“Yes!” She repeats it louder this time, letting him slip the ring on her finger. They both stand up as he leans in and kisses her. It’s soft and sloppy and his lips taste like tears, but it’s perfect.

Their kiss is interrupted by a roar of cheers and clapping. The whole firehouse, still watching intently, comes barrelling into the common room to congratulate them with hugs and cheers and pats on the back. They smile and accept the giant group hug from their group of friends. Even Boden comes over and hugs them, tells them he’s proud of them both before going to blow out all of the candles.

“Ahhhh!” Mackey and Stella both squeal and pull her in for a group hug. She feels bad for soaking their shirts with tears but they don’t notice as they jump up and down.

“Girl we were practically dying the other day trying to keep his secret,” Stella huffs dramatically and whacks Casey on the shoulder.

“Wait, you guys knew?”

“We’ve known for weeks, girl! We all have,” Mackey gestures to the whole firehouse and Sylvie just. Her heart feels like it’s pouring out of her eyes in the form of tears. It’s so overwhelming and beautiful and just… perfect.

Sylvie laughs, burying her head into Matt’s chest before looking back up to him. She kisses him again, this time slower and deeper, before saying the words that have turned into an instinct for her over the last three years. The words that she has to say because no other words are perfect enough. “I love you.”

Then, he smiles at her and the words come naturally to him after he kisses her forehead.

“I love you too.”

#brettsey #chicago fire #sylvie brett #matt casey #song lyric requests #yes i was inspired by mondler from friends #they had a cute ass proposal and brettsey deserves that!!

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the-digimon-tamer · 4 years

Photo

Chapter 45 - Interception is out now on FanFiction.Net and ArchiveOfOurOwn! Check them out with the links or find it after the break!

Title: The Tamer v2.0 - In HIs Name

Fandom: Digimon

Rating: T

Synopsis: In the next adventure of the Digimon Tamer, the lives of Juri, Rika, and Henry change forever when digimon begin crossing over into the human world. But it’s all just a story, right? Just a book series by an author no one has seen in a long time. Why are they here and can they save their world before something worse follows the digimon?

...

About ten minutes north of Tokyo, a flight of F-15s escorting a B-2 made its way towards Tokyo from Misawa Air Base. As the planes made their way, the pilot of the lead F-15 shook anxiously at the controls. He never thought he'd been given the order to bomb Tokyo, especially without electronic guidance. The risk of civilians casualties and collateral damage was terrifying. It was practically an act of war! He didn't even understand why they were doing it. It's not like they were at war with the Japanese.

At least, he didn't think they were. But political situations changed all the time. Yesterday's friend became tomorrow's enemy - ideals change, the mission shifts, objectives...

It didn't help that they didn't know what exactly they were flying into. Command briefing boiled down to go here and drop the bomb, although they insisted it was because the Japanese government had left them just as much in the dark as it had left them. Much more likely, it was classified behind some bureaucratic government crap. All they had been given were coordinates.

This was just a fact of the world he'd learned to accept after piloting for so many years. Suddenly, two blips flashed on his radar. He scanned the skies for whatever set it off but only saw deep blue sky. It was likely just another passenger jet that had been diverted from the city. Still, he put out the alert, "Warwolf Squadron. Bogeys on radar. Prepare to defend the bomber."

"Captain, it could just be a civilian flight," came his number two.

"I don't see any civilian aircraft," the third pilot remarked, "Besides. No way two civilian flights would fly that close together."

"I know. Stay on alert," he insisted while continuing to scan the skies. The blips were out there somewhere. They just had to keep their eyes peeled. That was when they saw a flying metal wolf followed closely by a golden bird with two sets of wings soon past them. Both were bigger than any of their planes and neither seemed particularly friendly. Already his squadron was in panic.

"Did you see the size of that bird?"

"Forget the bird! That wolf is flying!"

"It has missiles on the back!"

"Does it matter? Warwolf 3, Warwolf 4, protect the bomber. Warwolf 2, on my lead. We're going after the bird," The flight lead ordered, breaking away from their formation to turn on the bird that was circling back to fight them. His number two formed up behind him and asked, "What about the flying wolf, captain?"

"We'll worry about the it later. Stay glued to my tail. We're going after the bird. If you have a shot, take it," and ordered. He wasn't sure how those things could possibly have known about the bomb but that didn't matter anymore. What mattered was that the payload got to the target.

"Copy," the other pilot said, staying on him as they engaged the golden fiery bird. He primed his weapons and fired up the guns as it came into range, tracing the bird's path across the sky as it swerved and dodged. And as he expected, the bird turned hard and out of the way of the gunfire. Warwolf Two panicked, "They're on us!"

WHAM!

The bird's claw dug into the jet's wing, holding tight so that the two went into a tailspin in the air, "It's on me! Losing thrust. I'm going down!"

"Hang on. I'll shoot it off," the flight lead said, turning his plane to line up a shot on the bird. The two spiraled downward making it hard to line up a clear shot that didn't involve nearly shooting down his number two.

"The ground's getting close boss! Whatever you're going to do, do it quick," the other pilot said.

He took a deep breath, weighing the possibilities before them before explaining, "I can't get a clear shot."

"Fuck it. I'm going to bail out," the number two screamed back.

"Negative, Warwolf Two. Steady the plane," he countermanded. It was too late to reason with the man who was in full panic now. After all, there was no precedent or training for this specific scenario. No amount of training could prepare someone for a giant bird latching onto their plane.

"Either that thing will kill me or the ground will. I'm bailing out," the scared pilot said. There was a flash and the plane's canopy burst open. Another flash followed as the chair ejected from the jet. For a moment, it seemed he would get away until the bird grabbed him with its other claw. He screamed, "FUCK! IT'S ON ME! FUCK! GAAH!"

All bets were off now. He primed his guns and started firing at the bird, only to watch it drop the plane and zoom out of the line of fire. Warwolf Two's screams filled the radio the entire time as he cried out, "FUCK! FUCK! GET! DAMMIT! LET GO!"

Then a woman's voice said over the radio to try and calm him down, "Will you calm him down! We're not going to hurt you so stop screaming!"

"What the fuck!?" Warwolf Two's panicked voice said, "Captain! Got a woman here on the bird! Repeat! I got a-"

Then the woman's voice spoke again, "You're worse than Matt after a bad day. Just stop screaming and let us help you!"

"Who the hell is this? Warwolf Two, can you identify who that is?" he said into the radio but it was useless to even try as the pilot continued screaming in terror. All he could do was stay on that bird and try to get it to drop the chair so he could deploy his parachute. As he turned hard to continue the pursuit, he heard a roar beside him and noticed the metal wolf again. And now that he could see it so closely, he saw what looked like a man riding on its back gesturing at him. It took him a second to register the arm waving and hand gestures - friendly. It was the signal for friendly.

What the hell did that mean? Friendlies that attacked a plane carrying a bomb? He doubted it. Before he could do anything else, the metal wolf sped ahead to join the golden bird and the man riding him began pulling at something on the bird. As he did, Warwolf Two's screams got quieter, "What're you doing!? Who the hell! Hey! Get that off! Stop! Let that go! HEY!"

He went quiet and another man's voice spoke over the radio in really broken english, "Attention all American fighters. Disengage and stand down."

"Who is this?" the flight lead said over the radio, "Identify yourself!"

"Just some friends trying to stop a lot of people dying for no reason. Stand down," the man said again. It didn't take a genius to figure out it was probably the man riding the metal wolf. All the same, he wasn't about to take orders from a foreigner. He said back, "Negative. This is a military operation. Disengage or be destroy-"

He was suddenly blinded by a flash of light and felt a heavy weight land on him, "Finally! That took more tries than it should've. Doesn't help this is a very fast, moving target."

When the pilot could finally see again, he could make out a ten year old boy sitting on his lap. It took all the self control he had to not send the plane spiraling out of control as he demanded, "What the hell? Who are you? How'd you get in here!?"

"No time to answer. Need to get that bomb you're carrying but before that, I need to stop you from shooting my friends. Apologies in advance!" the boy answered as he reached between the pilot's legs for the eject lever beneath him. He realized what was going on too late to stop the boy; the plane's canopy blew open and he felt the chair rocket out of the aircraft. There was another flash as the boy disappeared from his lap but his radio was still working. Through it, he could hear the man talking to the kid.

"TAMER! What are you doing here!?"

"Sorry! When Kari said they didn't see any planes, I thought I'd come check over here. I was trying to land on Hououmon but I missed a couple of times. Not that it matters since I saw all the planes. Speaking of which, that pilot should've eje-"

Whatever he was saying was drowned out by the parachute deploying and him suddenly lurching upward. He had no idea what was happening right now. What he did know was he was never coming back to Japan once he was retired.

...

Imperialdramon suddenly stopped in the air and said, "Okay! That makes the second time we've gone around the entire Digital World. We have to scanned everyone by now!"

"All the survivors, at least. There's more of that thing than there are digimon now," Ken said grimly as they hovered over the fight going on miles below. The sky had turned as red as the ground from all the D-Reaper spread. At several points, it would expand skyward when it couldn't expand outward - turning it from an advancing sea to an advancing wall.

"I'm going to message the others now," Davis produced his D-Terminal and started typing away, "We just circled the Digital World twice. Are we ready to go ahead?"

No sooner after he sent it, The Tamer and Guilmon appeared beside them in a flash of light. As soon as they landed, Guilmon hurled all over Imperialdramon's feet and the dragon roared in frustration, "AW! COME ON!"

"I don't like this. Please stop," Guilmon pleaded painfully as he struggled to keep himself up.

"Sorry buddy," Tamer remarked, massaging his back, "You're sure this is everyone, right?"

"It's as many as we can find. We've covered the Digital World twice and the Digital World won't last much longer. We need to move this plan now!" Ken said, hoping the urgency in his voice would carry over to the boy staring back at him. Instead, he paced for a second before answering, "It's ahead of schedule but it's the best we can do. Let's go. Digiport Open!"

"Whoa, wait-"

Ken tried to protest but it was too late. In another brilliant flash of light, they were teleported away from the Digital World and suddenly found themselves in the skies over Tokyo surrounded by the other partner digimon - MetalGarurumon, Hououmon, Magnadramon, Rosemon, HerculesKabuterimon, and the rest. Ken was about to yell but Davis snapped first, "Give us some warning first Tamer! I can feel my lunch turning in my stomach."

"Tell me about it. Please make it stop," Guilmon pleaded again before retching over the side of Imperialdramon.

"Sorry, things are happening faster than I can keep up and I'm just trying to keep it all from blowing up in my face. Henry can explain the plan while I…go back to the Digital World and get that separation started. Dammit, I forgot to do that," he answered before raising up his digivice again, "Digiport Open!"

"Oh no," was all Guilmon managed to say before disappearing in another flash of light. Ken stamped his foot angrily at once again being left out of the loop while Imperialdramon groaned, "I've already been puked on. Please don't kick me too!"

"Sorry, Imperialdramon," Ken pocketed his hands quietly and turned his head in shame, "It's just…too much like old times."

"Don't sweat it, Ken. Just go with it and things'll work out," Davis said with a thumbs up, "So what's the next part of the plan guys?"

Henry massaged his neck and explained nervously, "We rescue Juri. Tamer said we drop this bomb on the D-Reaper right above where the train was and it should create an opening that'll get us to Juri. Once we do that...well, we're not really sure where to go from there."

"Got it. Wing it," Davis nodded ecstatically "But...uh...where'd you get the bomb!? And why does it have the American flag on it?"

"Let me guess: Tamer?" Ken asked, already sure he knew where the answer was going.

"Tamer," Taomon nodded quietly.

Ken buried his face into his hands, letting out a great big sigh before remarking, "Great! So besides avoiding our own government, now we have to worry the Americans are going to come after us."

Matt cracked a smile, "To be fair, that's really more a problem for Hypnos than it is for us. And since they're the ones responsible for putting us in this mess, I say we keep on going. I mean, they're the reason our partners and TK went missing for so long. Speaking of...is everything ready in the Digital World."

"Yeah...what about over here?" Davis thumbed his nose. Kari was already messaging on her D-Terminal, "I'm checking with Izzy now. Hopefully they'll be ready soon because who knows what that thing is going to do once the ball gets rolling."

"Who cares!? Can we just get back to kicking ass already!?" a leather clad digimon holding a shotgun roared. Ken looked over at Davis with a raised eyebrow, seeing the equally confused look on his face meant he was just as lost as he was. And now it was his turn to ask, "So who's this? And who's the digimon with the scarf?"

"Name's Beelzemon," the leather clad digimon grunted angrily, "Are we done talking now? I'm getting antsy just standing here."

"Name's Justimon," the scarf wearing digimon said, "Or...well...if you remember, it's me. Y'know, Ryo."

"Ryo?" Ken repeated for a moment, staring at him in disbelief until it finally clicked, "RYO!?"

"Hey Ken," the digimon waved nervously. His mind reeled at the realization that the boy he thought went missing so many years ago was in fact right there in front of him. And as a digimon. How was that even possible? Last he knew the boy had fallen into a black hole going who knows where.

"Whatever the heck is going here, can it wait until after this is all over? I'm getting kinda sick of all the warm fuzzy crap coming from those two," he gestured angrily at both Justimon and Rika, "That's right! I said it. Get a room."

Izzy and Mimi's daughter promptly kicked Beelzemon in the shin, making the leather clad digimon jump in pain. It would've been funny if the fate of their worlds wasn't at stake. Ken sighed, "So...when do we start?"

"On Tamer's signal," Henry sighed.

...

Kazu and Kenta paced the room anxiously, annoyed that they weren't able to help in any capacity while they were stuck inside the Metropolitan Building and both wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible. Their partners however, were content to simply hover over the many scientists and engineers working to get the Juggernaut back online. They watched with a fascinated curiosity, as if trying to get some kind of understanding of what they were doing.

Then a flash of light appeared followed by a yelp. Tamerkato and Guilmon appeared once again in the center of the room. Guilmon proceeded to retch onto the floor and covered a sizable chunk of the carpet with half digested bread and meat that smelled to high heaven, "Please! No more!"

"Sorry buddy. I swear there's just two more. Then we're done," Tamerkato said, dusting himself off, "Yamaki! Where's Yama-there you are! Yamaki, how much longer until Juggernaut is ready?"

His tone was grim as he answered, "Maybe another half hour? But that's making a lot of hopeful wishes and assumptions. Juggernaut is far from ready to fire and there's a good chance that all we'll do is get ourselves blown up again."

"Damn. I need to separate the Digital Worlds now. The digimon can't hold out much longer," Tamerkato said urgently, "Once the Digital Worlds are split, it'll be able to focus itself entirely on this building."

"So you're going to make us decide who's lives are on the line?" Yamaki asked.

"Not at all. I was giving you a warning," Tamerkato said with a deceptively big smile, "Because I'm making that decision. I'll do everything I can to hold it back but Juggernaut needs to be ready to fire."

"Hold on! You said our daughter is in that thing! You're not just leaving her in there to die, are you?" Juri's father jumped into the conversation quickly, "That's my little girl! And it's your fault she's even in this mess!"

"I know. And I'll do everything I can to set it right," Tamerkato added quietly, "I...I am so sorry for that. It wasn't...she wasn't supposed to get hurt."

"Wasn't...or you weren't going to stop it?" Rika's mom scoffed from the other side of the room.

He didn't look at her, keeping his eyes solely on Juri's father, "I will save her. I promise you."

"Like you saved their son?" he gestured at the Matsudas who were sitting quietly in the corner, away from all this. It was obvious to everyone that the dad wanted to get up and punch Tamerkato in the face, and it was Miss Matsuda restraining him from actually doing it. All the same, that didn't stop Tamerkato's eyes from turning to the floor, "No...not like him...Excuse me."

As he stepped away from Juri's father, Kazu and Kenta rushed over to him, "Takato! Dude! When are you going to get us out of here!?"

"Not my name," he replied dryly, almost annoyed at the way they chose to call him by that name now of all times. And the way the Matsudas eyed him bitterly made it clear that they didn't appreciate it either.

Kazu was pretty sure he knew what was going through his mind and tried to pull him away. Tamerkato barely stopped though and Kazu had to urge him, "Dude. Leave them alone."

"No...I need to say this," Tamerkato freed himself from Kazu's hold and proceeded towards his not-parents. This wasn't going to be good and he stepped back towards Kenta, "Here come the fireworks. I can't watch."

"Two rare cards says he gets punched at least once," Kenta added dryly, "Three rare cards says they swear at him too."

"That's a safe bet," Kazu added quietly. Even though he was trying his hardest to ignore it, it was all he could hear. The whole place should've been busy with noise from all the engineers fixing machines and computer programmers typing away. But it was like the whole room had stopped to watch the events play out between the not-quite a family.

Tamerkato tried to get the first word in, "I'm so-"

Mister Matsuda got up and walked away before he could finish what he was saying, leaving his wife there reaching after him solemnly. Then she looked off to Tamerkato quietly, her eyes barely restraining the pain she was feeling just by the sight of him. He massaged the back of his neck nervously, "I...I'm sorry. About everything. About lying to you. About your son. All of it. I'm sorry."

Mrs. Matsuda was quiet for the longest time, trying to find the words to say to him but it was obvious she wasn't even able to look at him. Then she asked a single question, "Does your sorry bring him back?"

"That's the worst question anyone could ask, huh?" Kenta whispered to Kenta, "I'm counting that as a hit. It's a gut punch."

"No way. She needs to actually hit him," Kazu whispered back just as Mrs. Matsuda stood up to slap Tamerkato. The sound was so sharp and the sight so painful that Kazu had to wince. Tamerkato barely flinched from the hit, but his gaze didn't go back. Meanwhile, Kazu whispered, "Okay, you win."

"Is now really the time for this?" MarineAngemon asked.

"You're right, sorry," Kenta admitted sheepishly, looking back to watching the scene unfold.

Tamerkato had stepped away and was massaging his cheek, "I'm not sure what you want me to say...or if there's something you need to hear from me. But I get it if you don't forgive me. I wouldn't forgive me either."

He paused again, seemingly considering his words carefully, "It won't bring your son, the real Takato, back. But...I think he would've wanted you guys to know that you are…were…you're great parents. And he's sorry that he didn't come home but that he was thinking of you guys…even in the end."

Then he was slapped again, "Please...just go away."

Tamerkato massaged his cheek and closed his eyes, "Don't worry. I won't bother you anymore. Guilmon, we're going."

"Coming. Please promise we're done with the digiports," The red dinosaur rushed over to his side and whined, knowing they were about to take off for the Digital World again.

Just as he was about to go, Kazu rushed in, "Hang on. We're coming too."

"Oh no you're not!" his dad protested.

"We've been stuck in here the whole time while everyone else is out there getting themselves in danger! There's no way I'm going to sit around in here one second longer!"

"Yes, you are! We're not letting you get yourself killed!" his dad insisted.

Kazu closed his eyes, "Are we going Tamer?"

"We-," he gestured to himself and Guilmon, "-are. You guys are staying here. I'm not letting anyone else's kids be killed on my watch."

"Oh, so what? You're going to let Rika and Henry and the others stay out there?" Kazu argued with him.

Tamerkato snorted at that point and remarked, "Are you going to tell her what she can or can't do?"

That was also a good point. And he hated it. He hated being stuck in here while everyone else was out there and a part of the action. How could he argue with that? Kenta and Guardromon joined him to try and make their own pleas.

"We can help!" Kenta added.

"Proposition: Victory percentages increase if we were allowed to join," Guardromon stated in his monotone.

MarineAngemon joined in enthusiastically, "I don't know what they're all talking about but it sounds like you're all in need of help and that's what I'm here to do!"

It was pointless though. It was obvious he wasn't going to change his mind. Tamerkato just sighed as he massaged his temple, "I'm not going to drag you with me to the Digital World. But there's not much I can do to stop you guys from grabbing on to me when I say-"

He paused and Kazu didn't understand what he was getting at. Annoyed, he shouted, "We'll tackle you if we have too!"

Tamerkato responded by laughing at the top of his lungs. He wasn't sure why Tamerkato found it so funny though; he was dead serious about holding him down until they were allowed to help. At least until he understood that's what Tamerkato was getting at. Just as he raised up his digivice into the air, everyone grabbed onto Tamerkato as he cried out, "DIGIPORT OPEN!"

Even though they felt a falling sensation, Kazu's spirits were sky high because he could finally get out of that building and do some real good! And that made him so happy! At least, he felt happy and it lasted all of a few minutes until they landed on another cold, hard floor made of concrete and stone.

Once Kazu got his bearings, he groaned, "What? I thought we were heading outside! What's this place?"

"Technically, you're outside the Hypnos Building so you still got what you wanted," Tamerkato remarked matter of factly on the floor in front of him, offering a helping hand. As he took the help up, he saw Guilmon run into a corner and throw up uncontrollably.

Kazu groaned, "Yeah, but we're still inside. What gives? I thought we were going towards the action. Where are we?"

"The Hallowed Bastion," Guardromon explained knowledgeably.

"Wait a second, I know this place! This is the castle Ryo took us to!" Kenta said aloud as he straightened himself out. Now that Kazu got a better look at it, it seemed they were indeed in the castle Ryo had taken them to before when they were trying to reunite with the others before. But this area was different - they'd never been here before.

"We're in a secured area of the Bastion," Tamerkato explained as he helped his poor, nauseated partner up. He rubbed the dinosaur's back to help ease his upset stomach while explaining, "Because this next part of the plan uses a technology that the Guardians only ever used in emergencies - splitting merging worlds and combining separate ones isn't exactly the safest of ideas. There's a lot of risk. One miscalculation and you could find yourself merged into a wall. Someone could blink out of existence or, worse, two people could end up merged into one. Sort of like what happened with Miss Asaji and Kari."

As Kazu's vision adjusted to the darkened halls, he noticed a large silver door before them. It was open just a crack, enough for them to slide through easily to find a large cavernous room with a single pedestal in the center. Tamerkato rushed towards it with a big smile on his face and tapped a curious device he was wearing on his ear. A screen appeared in front of them, floating in front of the boy as he began tracing his finger along the thick layer of dust that had accumulated on the pedestal.

Once the last symbol was drawn, the room came to life with light and Tamerkato gleefully said, "Alright! We're on! Now to set up the data that Davis and Ken scanned."

He poked the floating screen in front of his face and small sparks of light jumped towards the pedestal, bringing it to life with light too. Now that they could properly see the world around them, Kazu asked, "So what is this place?"

"Don't remember the name," Tamerkato answered quickly, "Do remember what it does! It splits worlds apart…usually to destroy them so utterly that nothing is left. But that's not what we're trying to do - we're trying to rip apart two merged worlds. Which is why I needed the data of all the digimon in the Digital World to safely get them to the Natural Digital World when it gets separated from the Artificial One. I'm going to cross reference that information with the information from Database from Izumi's laptop to make sure that we're only pulling apart the Natural Digital World and none of the Artificial One gets taken with it."

"What?" Kazu said, feeling like he was sitting through the most boring lecture of life.

"Would you like me to simplify the explanation?" Guardromon asked.

Kazu wasn't in the mood for more lessons or study plans and just sighed in resignation, "How do you think I would follow any of that just because you used less big words?"

"I think the biggest word in that entire sentence was 'Artificial'. Or maybe it was 'Database'?" Kenta mused quietly.

"Okay, now to message the others and tell them to get ready to attack," Tamerkato said, pulling out what looked like a radio from his hoodie, "Davis! It's The Digimon Tamer! Can you hear me? Get ready to attack. In about twenty seconds, the D-Reaper's going to be thrown off by the biggest headache it's ever felt."

"On it," Motomiya's voice echoed back dryly. Tamerkato waited a few a moments longer as the light gathered around the pedestal before beginning to trace his finger into the pedestal again. Kenta watched him carefully and asked, "What are you doing?"

"Concentrating," was Tamerkato's answer.

"Not all ancient technology works the same. Some work with buttons, others through voice command, and this operates on written language. It was their final fail safe to ensure only their kind could use their more dangerous technologies. Trace the writing onto the device to operate it. It's not convenient but some technologies shouldn't be convenient," Guardromon explained.

"And NOW!" Tamerkato declared as he finished tracing his finger along the pedestal. They felt the castle rumble as Tamerkato ran up to them, "The worlds are splitting apart and we need to get out of here before we gets mixed up in it and get split identities!"

Nobody needed telling twice as they leapt on to him and Tamerkato raised up his digivice, "DIGIPORT OPEN!"

The falling sensation returned but things were different. It was like the world was cracking around them - breaking into fragments like glass. And he could see something…starting back through the cracks at them. It wasn't a digimon…and it wasn't human. Whatever was looking at him, it was all Kazu could do to not scream.

...

Taomon carried Rika in her arm as they flew over the red mass guided by the school teacher atop her own partner Magnadramon. Despite all the danger they'd encountered, Renamon had to admit that she was enjoying herself. Between the ancient threat to the Digital World, meeting the sovereign digimon, and fighting along side the famed heroes of the Digital World; Renamon was unsure if there was anything else she specifically could ask for in the moment. Not to mention getting to help the Digimon Tamer save reality, although she was disappointed that a lot of the stories she'd learned about him in that time weren't as true as they seemed.

Least of all was the part about him being a great warrior. If any part of that story were true, it stopped being the case a long time ago.

Still, for a digimon like herself, this was a once in a life time opportunity. One she was sure she would've been deleted and destroyed long before she had the chance to ever experience it. Then again, that was nothing when compared to what must've been going through Beelzemon's mind.

When they'd first met, he was so dead set on not getting involved and letting others do all the fighting. And now? He was fighting right along side them. Even if the partnership were circumstantial, it brought a smile to her face.

"What's got you all smiles?" Rika asked.

"Just enjoying the moment while it lasts," Taomon answered.

"Really? This is the moment you're enjoying?" Rika's tone became skeptical, "We're fighting for our lives against an enemy so powerful that even a bunch of reality altering old farts couldn't think of how to kill it, and you're enjoying it?"

Taomon laughed, "Not that. This...All of us fighting together like this. It's almost amusing to think we were trying to hurt each other when we first met."

"Gotta admit, Rika's certainly not the ice queen she was when this all started," Rapidmon added with a big smile.

"Not everything's changed. You're still as much of an annoying goofball as when all this started," Henry remarked before turning his head over to Justimon, "Thing's probably changed the most for you. After all, you've been in the Digital World this entire time."

"Not really. We're still fighting for our lives every day against a bunch of monsters. All that's really changed is the location," Justimon answered pensively. He paused for a moment, his mood unreadable because of the helmet concealing his face, "Whether it's here or in the Digital World, what difference does it make? I might as well have stayed if I knew all this was going on."

Perhaps Ishida was just getting tired of all the talking but he remarked with his usual bitter tone, "You've all matured so much and you've all grown up. We're proud of you. Blah blah blah. Look, can we save all the touchy feely talk for after we've beaten the world-killing monster thing?"

"Come on, Matt. Go easy on them, they're kids. We were like that too," his wife reminded him calmly, "And don't try and tell me otherwise, mister had to go off and play his harmonica to feel better."

"Honey! Come on," the man sighed reluctantly, his head turning bright red with embarrassment.

"We're here," Kari announced loudly as they reached a part of the city that was half swallowed by the red mass - the roofs of buildings jutted out through the red sea through which they could make out the vague outline of streets and alleys.

"You're sure?" Davis asked.

"Yeah, I remember that roof top specifically! It's where Tamer and I went after the train," Kari said.

Their D-Terminals beeped at the same time and Kari read hers first, "And that's Tamer's message. It's time!"

"Okay, do your thing Matt," Ken cried out as the adult man turned behind him. He pressed a few buttons on the side of the weapon mounted on his partner's back, priming the bomb to blow. Once it was set, he patted his partner's head and the metal wolf listed to his right side so that the bomb could fall off. They all watched with bated breath as the bomb fell towards the red sea below.

As if the D-Reaper anticipated the attack, part of its form bulged upwards and opened up to swallow the bomb whole.

Everything was dead quiet as they watched the bomb disappear into the red mass.

Nothing.

Did it fail? It couldn't have! That was their one chance to save Juri.

Then a small flash inside the red sea, accompanied by a muffled boom rippled its surface. Then came the shockwave, followed shortly by the eruption of noise.

The bomb exploded with enough force to destroy some of the nearby buildings and rip open a hole in the D-Reaper's outer layer - revealing an opening below where a train car sat still on the tracks.

"There it is!" Kari cried out.

"Okay everyone! LET'S SAVE JURI!" Rika cried.

#The Digimon Tamer v2 - In His name #Chapter 45 #The Digimon Tamer #Fanfiction #archiveofourown

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starryeyed-char · 6 years

Text

Like A Star

It's the two year anniversary of Voltron, and so naturally I have to post something! And the whole thing is actually on tumblr again (though it’ll be on AO3 too, as usual). Season six comes out soon, and I wanted this to go up before that, so here you guys go! Just a heads up; I never cry writing angst, but I cried writing this. No happy endings here. So before you yell at me, I did try and warn you (even though all of you probably skipped over this anyway).

This is my personal take on Lance's whole 'let's go down swinging' philosophy, how I think he’d want to go out, and how I think Keith would react, since it’s a Keith-perspective(ish) piece that still focuses on Lance. I'm not sure if anything like this has been done before, and it probably has knowing how much people in this fandom put Lance through, but this is my take on that. I had the small idea of the title and how it would go and it just kind of... turned into this.

I’ve been wanting to post this for a while, but haven’t because it’s a bit... different than what I usually do. Still, I hope you enjoy, and I always like hearing your thoughts!

“How do you want to die?”

The question came out of nowhere, startling Keith out of his thoughts. He was even more shocked that Lance had asked this, of all people. Lance, who was smiling or laughing more often than not, asking about death?

Keith wouldn't have believed it, if they weren't the only two people standing on the bridge, looking at the star map.

“What...?” he asked intelligently, unsure what else to say. Lance huffed a short laugh.

“How do you want to die?” he repeated. He looked over at Keith this time, and met his eyes. “It's a simple question, really.”

“I... I don't know,” Keith stammered. “I've never really... given it much thought.” And he hadn't. Keith never stopped to consider that death was even a possibility. Because it wasn't an option— they were going to win.

Heroes always won.

Lance hummed thoughtfully. “Well, we're kind of fighting an alien war, but sure. Death could never touch the mighty Keith. His mullet is feared in every corner of the universe!” He broke off into laughter, and Keith shoved him lightly, forcing a smile.

“Have you?” Keith asked, genuinely curious. “Thought about it, I mean.”

“Well, yeah,” Lance said, as if it were obvious. As if the very idea of him dying wasn't... impossible. “Of course I have.”

But death could never touch Lance either. Not someone so... radiant, like Lance was in everything he did. Apparently, he didn't see it like that.

“So... how do you want to die, then?”

“Well, when I was little I wanted the end to come on a beach,” Lance began, eyes suddenly a million miles away. Keith didn't miss them snagging on a particular part of the star map. “I had all these dramatic ways cooked up in my head. Maybe I'd drown after getting swept away by a riptide, or I'd get attacked by a shark while surfing. Something really cool like that.”

Keith failed to see how dying could in any way be cool, but he didn't interrupt him.

“And then when I got older... I don't know. I've always had a big family, so I guess I wanted one in the future some day, for myself. A lot of kids, even grandkids, all that nonsense,” Lance told him, with a small smile. “Seems kinda unrealistic now, but... anyway. I think the best way to go would be surrounded by family, by people you care about, people you love, who remind you of the life you lived. You know?”

Keith didn't know, didn't understand, but he nodded along anyway.

“But now that we're here... defenders of the whole freaking universe...” Lance trailed off, sighed, then smiled again. There was something almost bitter in it. “I've had to reevaluate my plans a bit.”

“How so?”

“I want to die like a star,” Lance said, and his voice had suddenly gone so soft that Keith didn't know what to say in response.

“What, like, a movie star? Why does that not surprise me?” Keith tried for humor. The laugh died before it made its way out of his mouth.

Lance glanced at him briefly, then kept going, the words spilling out of his mouth faster and faster as he went on. As if he'd been wanting to say them for a while.

“No, like— an actual star. Shining. Like a big, supernova explosion,” Lance continued. “I want my death to mean something. I've come to terms with the fact that I'll probably die out here, but I don't want to be someone that's just... gone. I want my death to be something everyone else will remember.”

He paused to look at Keith again, who could do nothing but stare at him.

Lance brought a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “I know. It's pretty selfish of me, isn't it?”

Keith shook his head immediately, because Lance wasn't selfish at all. Anything but, really. He just didn't know why it'd taken him so long to notice.

“How...” Keith had never been good at putting his thoughts into words, but he had to try anyway. “How can you just... assume that you're going to die out here?”

You can't die, you can't leave. It's impossible.

“It seems a little unrealistic that we'd all make it out of this unscathed,” Lance pointed out, and since when was he the logical one? “And if any of us was going to be the one to bite it, it'd totally be me, right? You have to realize that.”

Before Keith could even comprehend the meaning of those words, Lance stood up. He patted Keith on the shoulder as he headed for the door, and waved goodbye over his shoulder.

“Let me know when you figure it out! I've always had you pegged for either being too reckless or sacrificing yourself in some grand hero gesture. Sound about right?”

Keith stared after him, looking at Lance like he'd never seen him before.

Months went by, and that conversation was pushed to the back of Keith's mind. He chalked it up to Lance messing with him, and everything else continued as normal.

And then it happened.

The battle was a difficult one, and one they were clearly losing. The Galra fleets just kept coming, seemingly no end to the amount of soldiers they had to fight. A few of the bigger factions after Zarkon fell had apparently teamed up, and attacked them all at once. They wound up splitting apart Voltron just to take care of them all.

It happened because Shiro and Matt had gone on a separate assignment on a podship a few days prior. Keith was, by chance, back from his latest mission with the Blade, and so had wound up having to pilot the black lion to counter the ambush.

Something he hadn't had to do in a while.

Keith was stupid. Reckless. He forgot that his connection to Black was still weak; he hadn't spent anywhere near enough time piloting the lion to really master it.

So he got in too close to the ship, and his lion froze up. Some sort of tractor beam, it must've been.

Keith was trapped.

And then the Galra began charging their ion cannon.

“Keith, get out of there!” Allura shouted. She was the first one to notice.

“I can't! It's a tractor beam— I can't control the lion! Black won't move!”

“You cannot let that blast hit you!” Pidge insisted. “If it does, it might— you might not make it!”

Keith grit his teeth, pulling desperately at the controls, but it was no use. They'd never been able to escape a tractor beam before without Voltron, or an outside force physically pushing them out of the way. He was stuck.

Stuck, right in the line of fire of something that had nearly destroyed the castle, even with it's massive size and powerful shields.

He wouldn't stand a chance.

“Can we— what can we do? We can get to him, right? We could take out the ship first?” Hunk was clearly growing frantic.

“I... I don't know if there's anything you can do,” Keith said softly.

“The Galra have us completely split up!” Allura reminded them. “We can't possibly work around all these ships and get there in time. There must be another way. Keith, can you try harder to focus on bonding with your lion? If she feels you're in danger, she should protect you!”

He was already trying to concentrate as hard as he possibly could, but nothing was working.

“This is exactly what the Galra wanted to happen,” Pidge realized. He could hear her voice shaking. “Keith— I'm trying to— I'm sorry, I—”

“It's okay,” Keith said, and was surprised to find that he meant it. “It might be too late for me to get completely out of the way, anyway.”

It was strange. Something in Keith's mind registered that this was the end, but an odd sort of calm settled over him.

Lance did say I'd die being reckless.

The thought sparked a chain reaction, and suddenly Keith's mind was reeling.

Lance hadn't said anything, even though the others were still shouting into the coms, even Coran. He looked over to where he'd last seen the red lion taking down a battle cruiser, but it was nowhere to be seen.

He... he would've liked to maybe hear Lance's stupid voice one more time, before he died. He would've liked to...

“Guys,” Keith said suddenly, feeling the need to say something to express at least some of what he felt. These guys were as good as family to him, after all. “Thank you, for always being there for me. All of you, I—”

“Oh, no you don't!” Lance's angry voice cut him off, and while Keith would normally be irritated by such a tone directed at him, now he couldn't find it in himself to feel anything but fond. “You are not dying like this!”

“Lance, I don't really think we have a choice. My lion won't move.”

There was a pause, and for a moment Keith could hear nothing save for the ion canon continuing to charge up. Then, “Mine will.”

It finally clicked in Keith's head, and he turned with horror to see the red lion barreling towards him, at full speed.

The red lion is the fastest, and most agile. It requires a skilled pilot who relies more on instincts than skill alone.

Lance maneuvered easily around the ships, ignoring the shots they took at him and heading straight for Keith.

Maybe the most reckless lion and the most reckless pilot really did go together well, after all.

None of the others would've made it in time, but that didn't matter.

Because what Lance was doing... this plan was suicidal. The red lion had the least amount of armor, and Keith would know. She may have been fast, but she took a lot of damage. Lance didn't seem to care about any harm befalling himself.

But... he'd said that Keith would be the one to make the grand hero gesture.

“No, no, Lance, you can't, you'll just get us both killed, for once in your life don't get in the way—”

“Sorry, Samurai,” Lance said, and god damn it, how could he sound so happy? “I can never resist getting in your way.”

The red lion slammed into him at the exact time the ion canon fired, and the momentum was enough to send Keith clear of the blast. He opened his eyes after his lion stilled again post-impact, and—

Lance hadn't been so lucky.

The light of the blast was like a million stars. It was too bright, too blinding.

Supernova.

“I want to die like a star.”

The words replayed in Keith's head, only to be drowned out by the screaming. So many voices, screaming. His own throat felt raw.

Lance was too, at first, the sound unlike anything Keith had ever heard from him before.

But when Lance's voice died with the light of the ion canon, leaving nothing but a silent, dark-eyed lion suspended broken in the emptiness, it was even worse.

“LANCE?!” Hunk was the first to call out, the one word already betraying his sheer panic. “LANCE!”

“You... he wouldn't... Lance can't be...” Pidge's voice shook before dying into nothing more than a whisper they could barely hear. “I can't lose any more of my family.”

Me neither.

He knew Pidge thought of Lance like a brother, and while he didn't know exactly what Lance was to him, he knew he couldn't lose it.

“Lance! Answer us! Say something!” That was Allura, trying to stay strong. Her voice broke on the last word anyway.

The coms gave them nothing but static.

“Lance,” Keith whispered. “Lance, please.”

Lance didn't respond. But Black did.

Perhaps the tractor beam was entirely out of range, or perhaps his apparent distress at Lance's current predicament was enough to make her open her mouth.

Whichever it was, Keith wasted no time in jet-packing over to Lance's lion, and Red immediately let him in. He knew she still cared for him.

Maybe that's why she let Lance put himself in so much danger, because it would've been Keith instead.

Another thing that made Red and Lance so annoyingly similar; they both threw caution to the wind to save Keith, on numerous occasions.

And Keith had... he'd missed both of them, while with the Blade. Terribly.

He could sense Red's sadness and regret as he explored their old bond. Almost like she was... mourning.

The thought did nothing to calm his nerves.

And when he got inside the lion...

Red. Much, much too much red.

Blood was everywhere.

Lance had been knocked to the floor, and was lying in a puddle of it. Keith couldn't figure out the source, but the sheer amount of it was enough to chill him to his core.

He was on his knees beside Lance in a second, and pulling him into his lap. The slight rise and fall of Lance's chest didn't give him any comfort, not with the strangled sound of his breathing.

The pulse Keith found on his wrist was too slow. Too soft.

He looked back to Lance's face, and fresh tears rolled down his cheeks when he saw that the other was awake. Pained, glossy, ocean blue eyes met Keith's.

“L... Lance.” Keith's voice desperately clung onto the word.

“Hey, man,” Lance replied, and somehow found the courage to smile. “Why're you crying?”

“Why... Why am I— Lance, you're... you're...”

You're dying. He couldn't even bring himself to say it. That would make it real.

“I know, I know, but you don't have to be sad.” Lance coughed, and a small trail of blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. “This is just how I wanted to go, after all.”

Keith shook his head, grasping for something, anything. "You... you can't die here. You just pushed me out of the way, that's not... this isn't good enough. This is reckless, this is how you said I would die, remember? You need to get that big, supernova ending, right? Like a star? It's not supposed to be my fault, I—” he stopped, choked off by a sob. “It can't be my fault.”

“It's not your fault,” Lance said, voice firm despite the pain he was feeling. “And... thats not quite what I... what I meant. I mean, d-don't get me wrong, the... explosion was n-n-nice, b-but I meant... I meant... being cr-cradled in your a-arms.”

Keith didn't understand. “...What? No. You... you wanted to go out with something meaningful, right? That's not—”

“Of course I d-do,” Lance cut him off. "And this... it is. But before... before th-that, do you... do you r-remember what I said?”

Keith blinked, the tears spilling out of his eyes. “Of course I remember.” How could he forget? “You... you said that back on Earth, you wanted to die with your family, people you care about. People you—” And Keith stopped, eyes blown wide. “No.”

“People I love,” Lance finished for him, smiling shakily. “Y-Yeah.”

“No,” Keith said again, shaking his head. “No, no, no, you can't— Lance, you can't, I—”

“Give the Galra hell from me, okay, Keith?” Lance asked.

And he was dying. Dying in Keith's arms, even if he didn't want to admit it. “Okay,” he whispered.

“And you g-guys will... you'll remember me, r-right?”

Keith's grip on him tightened, ever so slightly. He could feel another lion tugging them towards the castle, but he knew they wouldn't make it in time. “Right. Of... of course we will. I won't let anyone in this entire universe forget.”

“You'll tell... m-my family? And th-the team, too... that I l-loved them?”

“Yes,” Keith told him, pressing their foreheads together. “I promise.” And then, because he'd wanted to for so long, because he never had and he never would again, Keith kissed him. Pressed their lips together, soft and sweet and much, much too short, and then drew away, face wet with both of their tears.

Lance sighed, a soft smile ghosting over his features. “Frente al amor y la muerte no sirve de nada ser fuerte. And Keith?”

“I'm here.”

“Thank y-you. For... everything.” Lance's eyes slipped shut. “Puedo ver a las estrellas.” All the breath left him. He didn't draw in another.

Keith buried his face in the crook of Lance's neck, and sobbed.

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panda-noosh · 6 years

Note

Can you do a fluffy story based on prompt 11 or 12 on mello from death note? Pretty please mon cherie?

Prompt: 11.“I’ll always be there to protect you.”

I madethis angsty I’m so sorry I don’t know how to do fluff any moreapparently.

Livingin the same house as Mihael Keehl was difficult.

Younever knew when the next ambush would arrive. You never knew when youwould have to pack up your guns and get ready to leave, get ready tokill people, just like you had been trained to do over the past fewmonths.

Nothingwas ever easy, but you had prepared yourself for that. You hadn’tgrew up in a place like Wammy’s, with people like Mihael and Lawliet,to simply not be a ruthless mastermind.

WhereLawliet and Near had taken the more peaceful route with theirintelligence, choosing to hide behind computer screens and voicedisguises, you, Mello and Matt had taken the route you were alwaysdestined to be on – the route you were wired to take.

Growingup in Wammy’s was hard. It always had been. You had witnessed yourparents die with your own two eyes, and yet your little 6 year oldself hadn’t had the time needed to grieve their death. Yourintelligence, even at such a young age, had been heard about byWatari Wammy, and in minutes of witnessing your parents untimelydeath, you were being thrown into a place which would run you raggedfor the next 12 years of your life.

Thatwas why you were the way you are. You had gone through torturetraining, relentless hours of studying where you would get hit if youeven asked for a break, days upon days of not being allowed to eatbecause what ifyou get captured, Y/N? You need to learn how to control your urges!

Sothat you had done. You had the scars to prove it, the missing teeth,the destroyed metabolism.

Butyou also had the experience, which came in great handy when you livedin a world like this.

AKira-dominated world. The mystery person behind the deaths ofinnocent people and criminals alike had taken over Japan, and you,Mello and Matt had taken the job of capturing them.

Tonightwas the night it was all going to go down. The three of you wouldsplit up, take on the different areas of Japan, and kidnap KiyomiTakada.

Youhadn’t thought twice whenever Mello brought up the plan to you –you did what he said, got on with it and that was that. There was noneed to ask questions. Mello knew what he was going to do.

Theclock struck midnight, and you three were gone. Guns strapped to yourlegs and your arms, a knife hidden in your sleeve, you march alongthe pavements of Japan all on your own, having already said goodbyeto Matt and Mello.

Yourjob was simple – don’t let anyone past. If anyone suspiciousapproaches, you shoot on sight. No exceptions.

Withyour headpiece strapped to your ear, covered by the beanie you hadpulled on over it, you wait.

“Everyonegood?” you ask after a good ten minutes of static.

“Thiscar is incredible!” Matt hollers, startling you with the volume andsuddenty of his voice ringing in your ear. “Why didn’t you let medrive this before?”

“Matt,shut the fuck up,” Mello says. “I’m almost inside. Distract theguards, and Y/N?”

“Whatis it?”

“Meetme around the back of the warehouse. I need a get away.”

Younod into the darkness, despite Mello not being able to see you. Youset off down the pavement, hopping into your jeep and speeding offtowards the warehouse in question.

Youarrive in no time and absentmindedly wait inside of the truck,tapping your fingers idly and anxiously against the steering wheel.Time always seems to pass so slowly whenever you’re waiting to see ifyou’re friends will live or die. The anxiety crawling in your body inthis moment makes time move even slower, to the point where you’realmost certain a minute is no longer 60 seconds – you had beencounting. It was the only thing that could keep the idea of your twobest friends dying off your mind.

“ChristMello, are you done yet?” you hiss into your ear piece.

Youhear nothing.

Youraise a brow at nothingness again, turning in your seat in an attemptto get a view of the warehouse. The darkness has engulfed it justenough that you can only see the light coming from the top window,and even that is dull.

“Mello?”you repeat.

Noreply. Simply static that makes your skull ring.

Younibble on your lip and press your finger into the device, trying tocatch onto anything you may be able to hear – a whisper. A bit ofwind to tell you that they’re still connected, that they can hear youbut they just can’t speak right now.

Nothing.

“Matt?”you say. “Matt, are you there?”

Thistime, the static pauses. You hold your breath, not wanting to missthe words which are about to pass through the headset.

Andthen, “Since when were the Japanese allowed to carry guns?”followed by a rough “FIRE!” followed by gun shots.

Youfreeze up in your seat, your hand still gripping onto your head setso tightly. You can feel your world crumbling around you as you hearMatt grunt and yell out in pain, bullets no doubt littering everypart of his body in this moment.

Oh,God.

Noamount of torture training could ever prepare someone for that. Fordeath. For the sound of death, the view of it. It was inevitable, andyou knew that.

Itdidn’t take away the history, though. It didn’t take away the factthat Matt was your best friend, and now he was dead.

Youcan’t take your eyes off of your window. It’s as if you can see himright now, being shot and killed in front of you, even though he’s agood five minute drive away. Your head is too deep in the clouds. Youbarely notice Mello flinging open the car door and yelling for you todrive.

Youturn to look at him, mouth agape. “M-Mihael. It’s Matt. They-”

“Iknow!” Mello yells, his voice cracking. “I know. Just – Justdrive!”

“Where’sKiyomi?”

“She’sdead, Y/N! Now can you just do your god damn job and drive!” You slam your foot against the gas. The tires screech against themud before shooting off, sending you and the jeep onto the road. Youignore the cars honking their horns at you – you’re too far gone tocare. The ear piece is still clipped onto your ear as you listen toMatt taking his last few breaths – ragged, bubbled up with theblood no doubt emerging from his throat right now, overflowing fromhis mouth and staining that stupidstripedsweater he always wore.

Sweatlines your hands and you can’t stop yourself from shaking.

Mellotakes one glance at you and he can see how unsettled you are. Theusually business-oriented person he had grown up with haddisappeared, replaced by an anxiety ridden mess who couldn’t keep thejeep still due to their shaking.

Melloreaches over and plucks the ear piece from your ear. He could hearwhat you were listening to as well, and it was enough to make evenhim feel woozy.

“Youdon’t need to hear that,” Mello grunts.

Youblink. “He just – He’s really gone.”

“Stopthinking about it.”

“Howcan I just stop thinking about it?” you nearly yell, but your voiceis far too weak to even begin to think of raising it. “He was mybest friend, Mello! He was yours, too!”

“He’sdead, Y/N!” Mello yells back. “There’s nothing we can do about itnow, is there? We just have to-”

“Justhave to what?” you scoff. “Keep on keeping on? Get on with life?Keep tracking down Kira, huh? Is that what you want? If it was sodamn easy for Matt to get obliterated, then what the fuckarewe still doing?”

“What’sthat supposed to mean?” Mello asks.

“Itmeans, Mihael-” You tighten your grip on the steering wheel, angerbubbling up in your system. “I don’t want to die, and trying tokidnap the people working for Kira is exactly what is going to get mekilled.”

Mellofeels his stomach clench. He had just lost one of his best friends –he couldn’t lose you, as well. Whether that meant through death orfrom you simply abandoning him.

Hereaches out suddenly, his bony hands covering yours as they shakeagainst the steering wheel. Your breath hitches at the contact, notused to it from Mello but it’s welcoming. It’s a comfort during thistime.

“Don’ttalk like you’re doing this on your own,” Mello says, and his voiceis a whisper. A contrast to the night sky you are currently speedingbeneath, stars dotting it like puncture holes.

Youcan imagine Matt, standing on one of them stars now, smiling down atyou and Mello now with that shit-eating grin on his face because,“Did I notalways say you two would end up together?”

Theclouds were much too pretty and flimsy for Matt. He went straight tothe stars.

You’recrying before you can even realise you’re doing so.

“I’mjust scared, Mihael,” you whisper, eyes blurring your view of theroad. “I don’t wanna die. I thought I was prepared for this, butwe’re so in danger. Me and you. We’re so in danger. We can – Wethrow ourselves out into the action. The only reason Near isn’t deadright now is because he stays huddled up in that stupid fuckingbuilding of his.”

“Hey,”Mello says, leaning in closer to look at you. “Pull over.”

Youdo as he says, not asking questions – just like you’re used to.

Youwipe at your eyes as soon as you can, small gasps escaping you as youstruggle to find your breath. Mello rubs his hand gently over yourback, waiting for you to calm down before he continues.

“I’llalways be there to protect you. You know that, right?”

Youswallow thickly. You want to tell him no. You want to tell him thathis protection isn’t what you need – you need out of thisshit-storm you’d thrown yourself into. You need out of this case, outof this life you’d been leading for the past six months, because itisn’t right.

Butyou don’t. Instead, you nod, because as badly as you want out rightnow, Mello was your best friend. He was the man who had taken abullet for you. He was the man who you had once taken a bullet for.He was the man who cooked you breakfast whenever you were sick, onlyto drop it on your lap whenever he fell over your rug. He was the manwho had insisted you get rid of your cat, all because he knew youwere allergic to them due to him hacking into your medical recordsages ago.

Hewas the only person you had left now that Matt was gone, and leavinghim would be like chopping off your left arm just because youcouldn’t handlethe weight of it.

“Iknow,” you mumble. “I know you will.”

Mellonods, leaning forward so your eyes meet his at long last. Beautifuleyes of deep brown that were the colour of melted chocolate wheneverhe was happy, but looked like the burning coal whenever he was mad.

“Good.I’ll drive us home.” He unfastens his seat belt, pauses, looks atyou one last time. “I don’t say it enough, but I love you. I loveyou a lot, and I’m thankful that you’re still with me. Don’t forgetthat.”

Withone last grimace at his own words, he nods to himself and slides outof the car, ready to drive you home.

#death note #death note imagines #mihael keehl #mello death note #mello imagines #matt death note #matt death note imagines

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jenmedsbookreviews · 6 years

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Well this has been a week and a half. Well, technically it is a week and a day, but it one I would and wouldn’t like to repeat. It was with a very heavy heart that I had to say goodbye to poor old Mars on Tuesday. I discussed his condition with the vet and sadly she could tell the mass in his abdomen had grown dramatically in just a week. He wasn’t gaining weight even with the steroids and he was more and more tired so it was the kindest thing to do. I will miss him terribly, as does Luna who has had to say goodbye to both of her friends and really doesn’t know what to do with herself right now. I know the feeling.It didn’t make it easier that on the day in question, for the first time ever, WordPress through a wobbler and managed to delete the content of my post, a blog tour review for Louise Voss’s The Old You. A massive thanks to Jo Robertson for letting me know but I was awful rushing to prep the post while bawling my eyes out and trying to get to work. Apologies to Louise if my review wasn’t up to normal standards. I really did love the book. I was only working half a day too as on Tuesday afternoon I headed to London with Mandie for Johanna Gustawsson and Steph Broadribb’s joint book launch in Covent Garden. One moment of sun in a dark day. Well, that and the Chocolate bun from Ole and Steen. Well I was in mourning.

So, after that ordeal, I only had one more day to work last week as I was off to CrimeFest!!! Did I mention that? I think I may have … I’m not going to bore youa ll to death about it in this post, I’ll do a round up later in the week hopefully, but I will share a few book pics as I may have bought one or two whilst away.

Please note – Chris Whitaker loves me. Understandable as I am fab, but there you go. books I purchase this weekend are Big Sister by Gunnar Staalesen; Hell Bay by Kate Rhodes; Tall Oaks by Chris Whitaker; Hydra by Matt Wesolowski; Head Case by Ross Armstrong; Dark Pines by Will Dean; The Reckoning by Yrsa Sigurdardottir; and The Ice Swimmer by Kjell Ola Dahl. I also received copies of Ten Year Stretch, Hidden Killers andHer Name Was Rose and a signed copy of A Fractured Winter from the lovely Alison Baillie.

I’ll update you all on the CrimeFest shenanigans soon (ish) but I have to say one of the highlights for me was finally getting to meet Rachel Amphlett. I absolutely love her work and she so lovely. And tall. Thanks to Rachel and Nick for the photo – not embarrassing at all 🙂

When we meet again, I shall wear stilts …

In addition to the above books, I may have purchased a few and also received one direct. Books I bought are: The Taking of Annie Thorne by CJ Tudor; Cross Her Heart by Sarah Pinborough; My Husband’s Lies by Caroline England; Motherlandby GD Abson; The Watcher and Head Case by Ross Armstrong; Songs of Innocence by Anne Coates; The Echo Killing by Christi Daugherty and Murder Map by Richard Parker. I also received an advance copy of Seven Bridges from LJ Ross and Peter Ritchie’sShores of Death where I am also quoted inside.

Today I braved Ikea and went shopping for a new desk and chair. I am working from them now and am slowing building up a writing space. This is what I have so far…

I can tell you’re impressed. When I got home, I found that my certificates from my recent online courses had been delivered so I’m like a proper expert now. Or something. No – hold your applause now. This wasn’t neuro-science.

And apparently over the weekend I became the second funniest blogger in the Bloggers Bash Awards. Can’t help feeling the badge needs the world “place” in is as the wording makes it seem like a gentle put down lol. Thank you to everyone who voted for me but it is a weird category for me to be in really. I may be a funny/sarcastic Facebooker/Tweeter but my blog is actually full of really long and really boring posts. Not funny at all. Unless you’re laughing at my typos. Some of them are hilarious.

Now because of the cat and Crimefest, my reading has been pants this week. I finished Ten Year Stretch, plus I managed to read a couple of others, Murder at the Grand Raj Palace by Vaseem Khan and Seven Bridges by LJ Ross. You can read about them below.

Books I have read.

Ten Year Stretch – Crime Fest Short Story Anthology

Twenty superb new crime stories have been commissioned specially to celebrate the tenth anniversary of Crimefest, described by The Guardian as ‘one of the fifty best festivals in the world’.

A star-studded international group of authors has come together in crime writing harmony to provide a killer cocktail for noir fans; salutary tales of gangster etiquette and pitfalls, clever takes on the locked-room genre, chilling wrong-footers from the deceptively peaceful suburbs, intriguing accounts of tables being turned on hapless private eyes, delicious slices of jet black nordic noir, culminating in a stunning example of bleak amorality from crime writing doyenne Maj Sjowall.

The foreword is by international bestselling thriller writer Peter James. The editors are Martin Edwards, responsible for many award-winning anthologies, and Adrian Muller, CrimeFest co-founder.

All Royalties are donated to the RNIB Talking Books Library.

The contributors to Ten Year Stretch are: Bill Beverly, Simon Brett, Lee Child, Ann Cleeves, Jeffery Deaver, Martin Edwards, Kate Ellis, Peter Guttridge, Sophie Hannah, John Harvey, Mick Herron, Donna Moore, Caro Ramsay, Ian Rankin, James Sallis, Zoe Sharp, Yrsa Siguroardottir, Maj Sjowall, Michael Stanley and Andrew Taylor.

A cracking anthology which I have reviewed in full. You can find the links for the final few at the bottom of this post and can order your own copy here.

…

Murder at the Grand Raj Palace – Vaseem Khan

In the enchanting new Baby Ganesh Agency novel, Inspector Chopra and his elephant sidekick investigate a murder at Mumbai’s grandest hotel.

For a century the iconic Grand Raj Palace Hotel has welcomed the world’s elite. From film stars to foreign dignitaries, anyone who is anyone stays at the Grand Raj.

The last thing the venerable old hotel needs is a murder…

When American billionaire Hollis Burbank is found dead – the day after buying India’s most expensive painting – the authorities are keen to label it a suicide. But the man in charge of the investigation is not so sure. Chopra is called in – and discovers a hotel full of people with a reason to want Burbank dead.

Accompanied by his sidekick, baby elephant Ganesha, Chopra navigates his way through the palatial building, a journey that leads him steadily to a killer, and into the heart of darkness . . .

Started on audio, finished in book format, I do love an Inspector Chopra book. Murder, mayhem and missing princesses make for another cracking read. You can find your own copy here and my review will be published soon,

…

Seven Bridges – LJ Ross

Ryan’s most explosive case yet…

It’s been five months since a killer walked free and DCI Ryan is preparing to leave Newcastle to hunt him down – this time, for good.

But Ryan’s plans are scuppered when events take a dramatic turn and he is forced to stay and face his past one last time, or watch a friend suffer the consequences.

Amid the chaos, another killer is preparing to strike. When the Tyne Bridge explodes, Ryan’s team are faced with a frantic race to uncover a deadly foe who won’t stop until every bridge is burned, along with everybody on it…

Murder and mystery are peppered with romance and humour in this fast-paced crime whodunit set amidst the spectacular Northumbrian landscape.

Love this series and this is another belter but writing the review will be tough as there is too much chance of a spoiler. So I will just say – read it. It’s fabulous. And if you do then no it’s not but yes it is me. You can buy your own copy here and my review will hopefully be up on publication day.

…

And that was it. You can catch up with my daily blog posts at the links below:

Ten Year Stretch Part 4: Ten Years of CrimeFest

The Old You by Louise Voss

Ten Year Stretch Part 5: Ten Years of CrimeFest

Ten Year Stretch Part 6: Ten Years of CrimeFest

Guest Review: Broken Bones by Angela Marsons

Dying Truth by Angela Marsons

Fault Lines by Doug Johnstone

Blog Tour: The Cathy Connolly Series by Sam Blake

Freefall by Adam Hamdy

This coming week I have a few tours to take part in and possibly some reviews if I get time. Tours are for As Good As Gold by Patricia Furstenberg; It Was Her by Mark Hill; The Chosen Ones by Carol Wyer; and Songs of Innocence by Anne Coates.

So that is it for now. I am hoping for a far less problematic week this week. Thankfully only four days at work for the next three weeks and then I am on on my hols. Cannot wait. Unbelievably I also celebrate my second blog birthday on Thursday. I am beside myself with excitement. Actually, I am quite impressed. Never been able to concentrate on anything for two years before. Go me,

Have a fab week all.

Jen

Rewind, recap: Weekly update w/e 20/05/18 Well this has been a week and a half. Well, technically it is a week and a day, but it one I would and wouldn't like to repeat.

#Rewind Recap #Weekly Round UP

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krissysbookshelf · 7 years

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Enjoy An Exclusive Sneek Peek Of: I See London, I See France!

Nineteen-year-old Sydney has the perfect summer mapped out. She's spending the next four and a half weeks travelling through Europe with her childhood best friend Leela. Their plans include Eiffel Tower selfies, eating cocco gelato, and making out with très hot strangers. Her plans do not include Leela's cheating ex-boyfriend showing up on the flight to London, falling for the cheating ex-boyfriend's très hot friend, monitoring her mother's spiraling mental health via texts, or feeling like the rope in a friendship tug of war.

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LONDON, ENGLAND

The Basics: London, the capital of England, is the perfect gateway city for your European adventure. You can fly there directly from pretty much anywhere in America, it’s a five-hour time difference from the East Coast, plus the Brits speak English.

Um, most of the time. They snog instead of kiss, wear knickers instead of underwear, and spend pounds instead of dollars, so you might not always understand what they’re bloody (bloody=curse word!) talking about.

I am going to Europe. EUROPE. I am leaving the country.

I have never left the country, and now I’m going to at least five countries.

If we make it to the gate.

“Run, Leela, run! Come on! Hurry!” I yell as the two of us charge through the airport. “They just called final boarding!”

“Wait!” she calls back. “I lost a sandal!”

I turn to see her hopping on one foot. Her bright blue purse is overflowing with a black leather wallet, Vogue, People, EW, Newsweek, hand sanitizer, a small notepad, pencils, her iPhone, and an open metallic makeup bag the size of a microwave. She’s also holding a white plastic bag stuffed with chips, a vitaminwater, and a sandwich.

“I dropped the napkins!” she says. “I have to go back for the napkins!”

“Forget the napkins,” I order. “We don’t have time for napkins. Put your foot back in your shoe and keep moving! I’ll take your food, let’s go!”

I grab her bag along with mine and keep running. Instead of a purse, I’m wearing a small black backpack that’s keeping everything in place. My passport. My wallet. My guidebook. Four paperbacks—One Day, The Paris Wife, Daughter of Smoke and Bone, and My Brilliant Friend—that all take place in cities I’m planning to visit. Now that it’s summer vacation, I can finally read whatever I want.

When we get to the gate there is only one person in front of us.

The board says: London Flight: 401 Departs: 5:00 p.m. Final Boarding

“We made it!” I say, panting. “I can’t believe it.”

Our first almost-delay was when my mother nearly had a panic attack when Leela’s parents picked me up to take us to the airport. She’d come to the driveway to say good-bye, but as I was getting into the car, I saw her eyes glaze over and she seemed very far away. “Mom?” I said, freezing in my spot. “Are you okay?”

“Just a bit light-headed,” she answered, retreating toward the house. “Don’t worry about me. Go. Have a safe flight.”

I felt slightly sick as I watched her close the front door behind her. I wondered: Can I really do this? Can I really leave?

“Everything okay?” Leela’s dad asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Let’s go.”

So we went.

Traffic was miserable, costing us an extra ten minutes. Then security pulled Leela over to examine her massive makeup bag to make sure she wasn’t breaking any kind of liquids rule.

“Why do you need so many lipsticks?” I asked her.

“That’s a ridiculous question.”

“Then why didn’t you pack them in your suitcase?”

“Most of them are in my suitcase. But I couldn’t pack all of them in there. I was worried they would melt.”

The final straw was my fault. I insisted on stopping at our terminal’s Fresh Market to get sandwiches. That way we’d be able to eat as soon as we got on the plane, be done before takeoff, and could go straight to sleep. But the line inched forward and we almost missed boarding.

Yet we made it. We lost the napkins, kept the lipsticks, and we made it. Now, we’re here at the gate. Electricity and excitement rush up my spine—I’m seriously, no joke, actually doing this. I am traveling around Europe with my best friend for four and a half weeks. Holy crap.

“Boarding pass and passport, please,” the flight attendant says when it’s our turn.

“Here you go,” I say, and hand over my paperwork.

“Have a good flight, Sydney,” the flight attendant tells me, and hands back my stuff. She turns to Leela.

“Damn,” Leela says. “My boarding pass was with the napkins.”

Tip: Are you taking a late-night flight? Sleep on the plane! That way you’ll be well rested when you land and ready to hit the ground running.

Otherwise you’re totally going to be a hot mess by noon.

Somehow we make it. We spot the pile of napkins and the boarding pass and thirty minutes later, we’re in the air. I take a final bite of my Fresh Market sandwich. “Bathroom, then sleep,” I say.

“Perfect,” Leela says, still chewing. “I’ll watch our stuff.”

Her stuff is already overflowing from her seatback pocket, and covering both her floor area and mine.

As I make my way toward the back, I can’t believe I actually left. I haven’t been on a plane since I was ten, over nine years ago. I feel free, like a balloon floating through the sky.

The plane rocks to the left.

Free. And slightly untethered.

I push away any feelings of uneasiness. The next four and a half weeks are going to be amazing. Incredible. Amazingly incredible.

I smile at the passengers as I pass them. Hello, little boy. Hello, little girl. Hello, too-skinny mom. Hello, extremely sweaty dad. Hello, cute guy.

At first, I don’t recognize him.

Then I think: His shaggy brown hair, pink cheeks, and lazy smile look familiar.

Then I realize. MATT. IT’S MATT. Leela’s ex-boyfriend MATT.

I have never met Matt in person, since Leela met him in Montreal at McGill University, but I recognize him from her Facebook, Snapchat, and Instagram. Selfies of the two of them on the top of a mountain (#climbedit #MontRoyal), pulling all-nighters at the library (#needcoffee), and sharing a plate of french fries, gravy, and cheese curds (#myfirstpoutine).

Leela introduced us via FaceTime, too.

He’s definitely as cute in real life as he was on the phone.

He’s watching something on his iPad. I make a U-turn, go back to our row, and sink into my aisle seat.

“I forgot my parents’ converter,” Leela says. “To plug stuff in.”

“Don’t worry about that. I bought one and definitely packed it. We can share.” I place my hand on her arm. “But brace yourself, my friend. Matt’s on the plane.”

Leela gasps. “My Matt?”

“Yes.”

“No,” she finally says when she catches her breath. She drops the rest of her sandwich in her lap. Cheddar. Everywhere.

“Yes,” I repeat.

“Are you sure it’s him?”

“Ninety-nine percent sure.”

“What row?”

“Thirtyish. He’s wearing a McGill sweatshirt.”

She buries her face in her hands. “The jackass is on my airplane. What the hell is he doing on my airplane?”

“Technically the airplane is owned by Delta. Yet operated by Virgin Atlantic.”

She doesn’t laugh, even though it was super funny. Okay, maybe not super funny, but definitely a little funny. I would have laughed if she’d said it.

“He must be in our original seats,” she says. “Thank God I switched mine to be next to you. Thank God. Could you imagine if I had to sit next to him for the entire plane ride? I would die. DIE.”

“Can we not talk about dying when we’re on a plane over the ocean? Thank you.”

“He was supposed to cancel his ticket,” she continues. “I told him you were coming with me, and he said he’d go home and get a job in Toronto instead. So why is he here? On my plane? Why would he fly out of Baltimore? He doesn’t even live in Baltimore! I do!”

“Didn’t you buy the tickets to London together? He probably just kept his. Or maybe he likes the Orioles? I don’t know,” I say. I look out the small window by her head. All I see is blue. “Are you going to go back and yell at him?”

“Yes! No. I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to talk to him. He knows I’m on the plane. If he wants to see me, he can look for me. He’s an ass.” She jerks up. “Crap. Was he sitting with someone?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I was so surprised to see him I ran right back here. I never made it to the bathroom.”

“Did he notice you?” she asks, worried. “I’m sure he’d recognize you too.”

“No, no. He was watching something. I don’t think he saw me.”

“Please, please, please go back and see if he’s sitting with anyone.”

“Right now?”

“Yes. Please. I need to know.” She shakes her head. “No way he’s going to Europe by himself.”

“He might be,” I say. “Lots of people do.”

“No,” she says. “He’s not the solo traveler type. Oh God, I bet he’s with that chick Ava. She’s probably sitting right next to him. They’re probably feeding each other peanuts. Peanuts! I hate peanuts! Who actually eats the peanuts they give you on airplanes?”

“They don’t pass out peanuts anymore. Too many allergies. It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

“Can you just pretend you’re going to the bathroom and check?”

“I actually do have to go to the bathroom. Still.”

“Perfect. Problem solved.” Leela’s face is desperate, pleading. Her brown eyes look crazed. Even her usual sleek brown hair is mussed, adding to an overall manic look.

I unbuckle my seat belt and stand up. We’re in row fourteen. The plane rumbles beneath my feet as I carefully maneuver my way to the back. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty.

I look up. And there he is. Still in the aisle seat. Still watching a movie. There’s an older man reading a James Patterson novel to the left of him.

Not Ava. Small miracle.

Matt looks up. Notices me staring. We lock eyes. I look away but it’s too late. Oops.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hello, Matthew,” I say. Crap. If he didn’t know who I was at first, I blew it as soon as I said his name. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do, so I keep moving, using the backs of people’s chairs to wipe off my now-sweaty palms. Luckily there’s no one in the bathroom, so I quickly step in and lock the door behind me.

On my way back, I pretend he doesn’t exist.

Leela is gripping her armrests like the plane is going down.

“He’s alone. And he saw me,” I say.

“What do I do?”

“I don’t know. Go talk to him?”

“He should come talk to me! He should apologize again! He cheated on me! He’s on my plane!” Her voice is a hysterical whisper.

“You’re right,” I say. “He should come talk to you.”

“He’d better,” she says.

I take a deep breath of stale airplane air and wiggle around, trying to get comfortable. It’s tough, since the seat seems to be designed for a preschooler.

Leela combs her fingers through her long dark hair. “Do I look okay? In case he comes back?”

“You look great,” I tell her.

“How’s my lipstick?”

“Still good,” I say.

“Thank you, Bite.”

I slip off my shoes and try to stretch out my socked toes. “What’s Bite?”

“This Canadian brand of lipstick I’m obsessed with. I’m applying for an internship there next summer. I love their branding.” Leela is studying marketing at McGill.

I’m studying English lit at the University of Maryland.

I turn to her, realizing the implication of what she just said. “You might stay in Canada next summer?”

“Maybe,” she says. “If I get the internship.”

I sink back into my seat, feeling something close to relief that I came on this trip. Leela and I need this month together. A friendship can’t survive on childhood memories alone. We have to create new experiences, or the friendship will shrivel up. Like the orchids my dad sent me for my birthday that I completely forgot to water.

She points to the screen above us. “Want to watch the movie?”

“I thought we were going to sleep?”

“I can’t sleep at a time like this! Also I have to pee. And there’s no way in hell I’m going to the bathroom.”

Tip: You might want to get CFAR (Cancel for Any Reason) insurance to prepare for the unexpected.

If you don’t, you’re SOL if your boyfriend hooks up with some random girl and you want a refund on your ticket. Sorry.

Leela and I had always planned on traveling together.

We’d been best friends since the third grade. We picked matching outfits in advance and told people we were twins. Although we were both around the same middle-row-on-picture-day height, I doubt anyone was fooled; she’s Indian and has dark skin and wavy long dark brown hair, and I’m pale with curly medium-brown Jewish-girl hair.

While other kids played soccer and went to ballet, Leela and I read books. The Princess Diaries. Anne of Green Gables. But our favorite books took place in England. Mary Poppins. Matilda. Harry Potter. Peter Pan. Angus, Thongs and Full-Frontal Snogging. Thongs! Snogging! Ha!

We vowed that one day, when we were older, we would go to England and have our own adventures. London would be so much more fun than Maryland. We would have tea with our pinkies up. We’d go to Buckingham Palace. We’d fly across the city with umbrellas and broomsticks. We’d get engaged in London. Okay, not really, but Leela’s parents had gotten engaged in London and wasn’t that the most romantic thing you’d ever heard?

In middle school, we became obsessed with the Eiffel Tower. We decided we’d go to Paris and London. In high school, Leela studied French and discovered stinky cheese. I read Anna and the French Kiss, Just One Day, and a whole lot about Marie Antoinette.

My cousin Melanie actually backpacked through Europe when she was nineteen. She went for six months. She explained that backpacking through Europe didn’t mean hiking from city to city over mountains like I kind of thought it did. She took trains, and she just carried all her things in a backpack instead of a suitcase. We couldn’t imagine. How would everything fit? I wanted to travel with all my stuff in a backpack! We wanted to backpack through Europe!

Even after Leela got into McGill University in Montreal, Canada, and I got a scholarship to go to University of Maryland—which was great because I could live at home, and I felt like I needed to live at home—our plans didn’t change.

“We’re still going to Europe next summer,” she said.

“Of course,” I told her, although unlike Leela, I didn’t have a passport.

The night before she left for Canada she said, “We’re still going to Europe this summer,” as she hugged me good-bye.

I promised we would.

Leela met Matt on the first day of Frosh. That’s the week of drunken debauchery at McGill, the week before school starts. Like in Europe, the drinking age in Montreal is eighteen.

At the start of the year, Leela and I spoke or texted every day. But as the months went by and I got caught up in classes and studying and parties and driving to and from campus in addition to running around for my mother and my sister, Addison, my response time got slower and slower.

Leela: Call me when you can. I miss you! Leela: Remember me? Leela: Cough, cough, this is still your number, right? Me: I’m sorry! I suck! I’m so busy! I love you!

I missed the days when our daily lives were intertwined with school and gossip and hanging out and reading and just watching TV together.

My phone buzzed in late February.

Leela: We’re still going to Europe together, right?

I didn’t answer right away. I wanted to go to Europe. Badly.

A week later she wrote again.

Leela: Hello, stranger. What’s the story for this summer? ARE we going to Europe or not? If yes, we have to get plane tickets.

I hesitated, my hands on my phone. Our friendship needed this trip. But I couldn’t say yes. I wrote back:

I don’t know. Leela: Your mom will be fine. Me: I’m not sure that’s true.

I waited for Leela to respond. She finally texted:

Leela: But we’ve been planning this trip FOREVER!! Me: I know.

I thought about it. I missed Leela like crazy, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave my mother for the summer. She wouldn’t be fine.

My mother has a severe anxiety disorder called agoraphobia. People think agoraphobia is a fear of going to public places, but that’s not totally it. Agoraphobics are afraid of being out in public and losing control, so they prefer to stay in places they think of as safe.

That’s how my father explained it anyway.

When my little sister and I were still in elementary school, my mom always asked my dad to drive, and we were always the first to leave events, but she still came to our school plays and book fairs and teacher conferences. She worked from home since she’s a children’s book illustrator, but she still left the house. She didn’t love it, but she did it. She and my dad argued all the time. He wanted to go for more dinners, more parties, to meet more people, see more things. She wanted him to slow down and pay attention to his family. He liked to be out. She liked to play Monopoly and watch TV. He wanted to see a marriage counselor. She refused. Her aunt was a therapist, and she thought her aunt was a total kook.

So he went without her. And then when I was in seventh grade, he moved out without her. Without us.

After she and my father got divorced, everything went downhill. She was driving us to my middle school’s winter carnival when she had a panic attack. I was in the front, and my sister was in the back seat. We were at a red light when the light turned green and my mom didn’t move.

“Mom?” I said, and then noticed that her face was white and her hands were shaking. “Mom, are you okay?” She didn’t look okay. She looked like she was about to pass out.

The navy Taurus behind us started to honk. Once. Twice. Again. HONNNNNK.

What was happening?

“You have to drive, Mom,” Addison piped up from the back seat. “You can’t b-b-block the road!” Addison had developed a bit of a stammer. Stress, her teacher said. She was only in the fourth grade.

“I . . .” My mom’s voice cracked. “I don’t feel well. I think I’m . . . my chest hurts.”

Was she having a heart attack? My own heart started to race.

HONNNNNNK.

“Mom? Mom?” Addison cried out.

“Pull into the Dunkin’ Donuts over there,” I said suddenly. I put my hand on top of her arm. It was cold and clammy.

She pressed her foot lightly on the gas, crossed the lane, and drove into the parking lot, her hands still gripping the wheel. She put the car into park.

“What are you doing?” Addison asked, her voice rising. “You guys are freaking me out!”

“Does your chest still hurt?” I asked.

My mother nodded. She continued to shake. An Adele song played on the radio.

It was a heart attack. My mother was having a heart attack. I had to do something. What could I do? I needed help. We had to go to the hospital. “Should I . . . should I call an ambulance?” I looked for her purse. Where was her purse? I needed her phone!

She shook her head no, but didn’t speak.

“Mom? Where’s your purse?” I asked. “I need to call an ambulance.”

“No,” she said finally. “Don’t. I’m just . . . nervous.”

What did that mean?

“Nervous?” Addison asked, and then squeaked out a laugh. “About the winter carnival?”

My mom closed her eyes. “Syd. Run inside and get me water?”

“Okay.” I jumped out of the car and into the cold, relieved to have something constructive to do. I watched them through the store window as I waited in line. My mother’s hands were no longer gripping the steering wheel, and her door was open slightly. She seemed to be taking deep breaths.

A minute later I got back in the car, opened the bottle of water, and handed it to her. “Do you feel better?”

She took a long sip. “A little.”

“It’s for sure not a heart attack?” I asked.

“A heart attack?” Addison screeched. “You think Mom is having a heart attack?”

“I’m not having a heart attack,” my mother said quickly. “I’m fine. It’s just a panic attack. I had them when I was younger. Just give me a minute.”

We sat still, the radio continuing to play.

“Okay,” my mom said after a few songs.

“We don’t need to go to the carnival,” I said. “Do you want to go home?”

“No!” Addison squawked. “The carnival has c-c-otton candy.”

I wanted to yell at my sister but didn’t want to stress my mom out even more.

My mom’s lower lip trembled. “I wouldn’t mind lying down.”

I put my hand back on her arm. “It’s okay. It’s not that important.”

For the next few years, my mom wouldn’t drive anywhere unless I was in the passenger seat. She said she liked having me beside her. I calmed her down. Addison and I started taking the school bus to and from school, and I went along with my mom to her appointments, to the mall, to the grocery store, to the pharmacy, to wherever she or my sister needed to go. She was worried that without me there she would have another panic attack, and somehow lose control of the car. I liked knowing that I could help. That I could make my mother feel better.

When I was sixteen-and-a-half and I got my license, I started doing most of the driving. That way my mom could relax in the passenger seat and not have to worry about having a panic attack at all. I didn’t mind: I felt needed. I hated that she worried so much, and that her world was getting smaller and smaller, but I was glad I could help and I liked driving and that I basically had my own car. I got to take it to school and wherever I wanted. I also had to pick up Addison after swimming and take my mom to the grocery store.

Until we stopped going to the grocery store. One minute my mom was studying a frozen lasagna in the freezer section of Safeway and the next minute her hands were shaking and the lasagna was on the floor. She was sweating and hyperventilating, and she needed me to take her out of there, take her outside right away before she fainted. I grabbed her hands, we left the groceries in the cart and the frozen lasagna on the floor, and I found a bench outside. I told her to take big breaths, that she was going to be okay, that I loved her, and she was going to be fine.

She hasn’t been back to the Safeway since. You can order online from Safeway, and they deliver in an hour.

My mom was pretty sure she’d have a panic attack at our high school parent-teacher nights, so couldn’t my father go to those, he didn’t live that far away, and then he could tell her what they said? He liked doing stuff like that. Surely he could do at least that after moving out on all of us. He could. And he did.

He also asked her to see a therapist.

She said she’d be fine. She’d had a few panic attacks as a teenager, but they had gone away. She ordered some books with relaxation techniques.

When they still didn’t go away, I begged her to at least ask her regular doctor for help. She finally agreed.

I drove her to the appointment and read Ned Vizzini’s It’s Kind of a Funny Story in the waiting room. Her doctor told her that she had to learn to relax, and prescribed an antidepressant. My mom took it every day for a month but said it made her brain cloudy, and then she still had a panic attack when she tried to take us to see a movie. So she stopped taking the pills.

That was two years ago.

These days she doesn’t drive. Or go to the grocery store. Or to the movies. Or to shopping malls, or go on trains, or planes, or take cabs. She won’t see another doctor, or try another medication. She doesn’t want to feel drugged out. I’m not sure what else I can do to help her, but it’s hard to watch her in pain. So I do what I can to keep the panic away.

My mom will sit in the backyard, and even go for walks, but she needs me to be with her when she leaves the house to keep her calm. She doesn’t want to risk panicking and fainting and god forbid hitting her head on the concrete and bleeding all over the sidewalk without anyone to help her.

It took me a week to answer Leela’s text about whether or not we were still on. I finally wrote back:

I’m sorry. I can’t.

She wrote back immediately:

BOOOOOO. Are you sure? I really want to go with you. Me: I want to go with you too. I’M SORRY.

Two weeks later she wrote:

How would you feel about me going to Europe with Matt? I would OF COURSE rather go with you. Would you be upset? Be HONEST.

I felt terrible about it, but I couldn’t say that since I wasn’t a selfish asshole. I wrote back:

Go for it. You have my blessing. Leela: Love you. Thanks. Now I just have to convince my parents. . . They like Matt but I’m not sure how they’re going to feel about me traveling with my boyfriend.

Leela’s parents had always been in favor of our plan to go to Europe since they thought a month of traveling would be good for her. They thought it would teach her to be more independent. Even though she went to school in another country, she still never had to act like a grown-up. She lived in a dorm and had a meal plan. She went to class and came back. Plus, her older sister, Vanya, was a senior at McGill, checking up on her and paving the way. Leela was lucky.

I wasn’t sure if I was rooting for her parents to say yes or no.

Three days later Leela wrote:

They said yes! My mom says she likes the idea! She says she feels even safer knowing he’s with me. Sexist but at least they said yes.

I didn’t respond right away. She was going to Europe without me. She was going to Europe with Matt.

Leela finished her freshman year at McGill in the middle of May and came home.

At the beginning of June, she stormed into Books in Wonderland, where I work every summer, tears streaking her cheeks. “Matt kissed some girl named Ava at a bar,” she said.

I took a break and led her outside. We sat on the edge of the sidewalk, our knees hiked up into our chests. “How do you know?” I asked.

“He admitted it. I asked if something was going on, and he said yes. Claimed it was a mistake. He didn’t mean for it to happen. He was at a party, and it was an accident. He was freaked out about how serious we were getting. He said he’s still freaked about how serious we’re getting. But come on, how do you accidentally kiss someone?”

I considered. “I’m not sure. I think it’s physically impossible. You’d both have to have your mouths open, and you’d have to bump into each other at a very bizarre angle.”

She hiccup-laughed. “Exactly. So what am I supposed to do about Europe?”

“Damn.”

“No kidding.”

Matt and Leela had decided to travel through Europe together for a month. Four and a half weeks, to be exact. They were flying to London on July first and flying out of Rome on August second. They were leaving in three weeks.

“Do you still want to go?” I asked.

“With him?”

“No. Not with him. You can’t go to Europe with a guy who just cheated on you. Do you want to go to Europe by yourself?”

“No, I don’t want to go by myself! I can’t go by myself!”

“Of course you can. People travel by themselves all the time. You can go wherever you want. A bookstore in London. A beach in Italy. The Louvre! You’ll eat gelato! Macarons! Stinky cheese!”

“He doesn’t even like stinky cheese,” she said, sniffing.

“Then he has no taste.”

She turned to me. Her expression was hopeful. “Come with me.”

I laughed. “I can’t.”

“You can, Sydney. Please come.” She brightened. “Isn’t Addison working at Sunny’s this summer?”

“Yeah.” She’d gotten a job at the grill by the local pool.

“So she’s here. And she has her license now, right? She can help your mom.”

“She just got it last month. I’m not sure she feels comfortable driving yet. I think she’d be really mad.”

I’ve always tried to shield my sister from the stress of taking care of our mom. I was the one who made sure my mother left the house every day. I was the one who drove her around. In the years right after the divorce, my sister had been too young to help, and I didn’t want to worry her. Besides her stammer, she also started to fall behind in math. Luckily we found tutors and speech specialists who could come to the house.

“Your mom would be mad?”

“No, Addison would be mad. And my mom. They both would. I can’t go. I’m sorry. I wish I could but I can’t.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?” Leela asked. “Think about it. It’s the trip of a lifetime. And you deserve it, Syd, you really do. You do so much for your family. You need time off. And we never get to see each other anymore. I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” I said. And I hadn’t exactly been the world’s greatest friend this year. And Leela needed me. She really did. And she’d always, always been there for me.

Maybe my mom would be okay if my sister helped her? It was only four and a half weeks. I looked back at the bookstore. Eleanor, the owner of Books in Wonderland, wouldn’t mind. She had enough extra staff.

I blew out a breath. “How much would the trip cost exactly?”

Leela squeezed my arm. “Not THAT much. We can do it on sixty dollars a day. That’s like two thousand for the whole thing.”

“Plus the flight. How much was yours?”

“Eight hundred. Flying into London and flying out of Rome. Are you going to come? Please say you’re going to come!”

“And how do we get around?”

“Eurail. Seven hundred.”

“So three thousand five hundred. That’s a lot. But I have some Bat Mitzvah money left. And I’ve been working here for the last month . . . I think I have about three thousand dollars I could scrape together.”

“Maybe your dad has airline points?”

My dad did have airline points. He had a shitload of airline points. He never invited us to stay at his one-bedroom apartment, but he always offered us airline points.

“Take a vacation,” he’d say. “Have some fun.”

“I don’t even have a passport,” I said.

“You can get one fast. I swear. We’ll expedite it.”

Could I do this? Could I go? The possibility felt like a window being cracked open. I could practically taste the fresh air. The fresh air, gelato, macarons, and stinky cheese.

“I bet we could stay with Kat for part of the time,” I said. I’d met Kat at college. She was working at a gallery in Paris for the summer, and her parents had rented her an apartment. “That would save us a few euros.”

“Yes!” she said. “We can do this! You’re coming to Europe! Woot!”

My cheeks flushed. “Don’t get too excited. I have to talk to my family.”

That night I waited for Addison to get dropped off at home. When she walked into the foyer, her hair was wet and piled on top of her head. We both have our mother’s curly brown hair and round face and our dad’s light brown eyes. Addison’s shorter than I am and more muscular since she swims almost every day and plays third base for the JV girls’ softball team.

She wasn’t the same helpless kid she used to be. She could drive. She had a job. She had even lost her stammer.

“Hey,” I said, lowering my voice since our mom was in the kitchen. “I have a crazy question.”

She dropped her knapsack on the floor. “What?”

“Matt cheated on Leela—”

She made a sour face. “Jerk!”

“I know. But the thing is, now she wants me to go to Europe with her.”

She blinked. Fast. “Oh. Okay. You always wanted to go, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have the cash?”

“Maybe. But I would only do it if you think you can handle Mom. Could you? You can drive so I wouldn’t be leaving you stranded. All you have to do is make sure she walks around the block once a day to get some exercise and drive her around if she has to go somewhere. It’s only a month. Four and a half weeks. Would you be okay with that? In theory?”

She shrugged. “I guess.”

“Yeah? Think about it. I don’t have to go.”

“No, you should go. Sounds fun.”

“Yeah? And you’d get the car to yourself all summer. . . .”

She smiled. “I definitely like the sound of that.”

“If something horrible happens I’ll come back early. I’ll get on the next plane. Swear.”

She rolled her eyes. “What do you think is going to happen exactly?”

“Who knows with Mom? She could refuse to leave her bedroom entirely. Or stop showering. I don’t know. Something. If there’s an emergency I’ll come back. Deal?”

“Deal,” she said. She unzipped her knapsack, took out her wet bathing suit, and uncrumpled it. She didn’t seem worried at all.

Hope swelled inside of me.

“What’s Mom making for dinner?” she asked.

“Chicken stir fry.”

“Do you think it’s ready? I’m starving.” She headed into the kitchen, wet bathing suit in hand, not a care in the world.

Okay then.

My heart hammered over dinner. Could I really do this? No. Yes. Should I bring it up? No. Yes. What would my mom say?

My sister helped herself to more chicken and broccoli. “So I hear it’s just us this summer, huh, Mom?”

Shit.

“What do you mean?” my mother asked, eyebrows scrunching together.

Addison made an oops face at me. She clearly hadn’t realized I had not discussed this with Mom yet.

Now or never.

I stared at my plate and the words tumbled out of my mouth like vomit. “Matt cheated on Leela, she’s miserable and needs someone to travel with, I want to go, Dad has airline points, it won’t cost you anything, Addison will help you, is that okay?”

My mom put her fork down. “Can you repeat that? Slowly?”

I repeated it. Slowly. Her face got paler and paler with each sentence. Oh, no. Was she going to have a panic attack right at the table?

Instead of speaking, her shaking hands reached for her glass of water.

“Do you hate the idea?” I asked, my shoulders falling. “I don’t have to go. Forget it.”

She cleared her throat. “No,” she said. “You should go.” She took another sip of water. She seemed to notice her hands were shaking and hid them under the table.

“We’ll be fine,” my sister said, rolling her eyes. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

It was a big deal. But I wanted to go. And Leela needed me.

That night, I lay in my twin bed, the same bed I’d slept in my entire life, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars I’d stuck to the ceiling when I was eight. Could I really do this? My mom said she’d be fine. My sister said she could handle it. I wanted—desperately—to see Europe.

I took out my phone.

Me: OK. I’m in.

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