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angellesword · 3 years

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SAVE ME | KTH (08)

Summary: You were determined to kill yourself, but what would happen when instead of ending your life, you ended up summoning the devil of death?

Alternatively:

The Devil: I’m here to ruin you, I’m here to save you.

Genre: Demon au, e2l, angst, fluff, roommate au

Pairing: Devil!Taehyung x Doctor!Reader | Boyfriend!Yoongi x OC

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: drowning, mention of divorce, family drama, kissing, implied smut

SERIES: CHAPTER 7 | CHAPTER 9

If there was one thing you knew, it was this: you could never argue with the truth because even if only a few people believed it, it still didn't cease to be true.

"She didn't do anything to save her brother!" This was a classic example.

You could not go against your father when he accused you of being an evil sister.

He was right.

You didn't do anything to save Jeongguk, your younger brother, because you were busy making out with Min Yoongi.

You were more than a decade older than Jeongguk. He was only seven years old when he almost died because of your lack of responsibility and empathy.

You remembered that time vividly even though ten years had already passed.

How could you forget when it happened on your birthday, the time when everything turned upside down?

It was your fault. You were a spoiled brat. Your mother didn't hesitate to say yes when you requested a beach party for your natal day. She also agreed when you said that you were going to invite some of your friends.

You introduced Min Yoongi, your boyfriend, as your friend. Your mother wasn't strict, but you knew your father wouldn't allow you to date someone like Yoongi.

Yoongi was the kind of boy parents warned their kids about.

He was a year older than you, a typical bad boy who liked to smoke and drink. He had tattoos and piercings too.

Min Yoongi was bad for you, yet you ignored the signs.

You still agreed to sneak out with him during your own party.

You still agreed to ignore the request of your father when he told you to look after Jeongguk for a minute while he attended to whatever you wanted.

It was Yoongi's idea. He said your party was boring and that you were going to have more fun if the two of you were alone together.

You were head over heels for your boyfriend that you didn't even blink when you lied straight to your father's face just to be with Yoongi.

You knew you couldn't sneak out when he was supervising your party like a boring father that he was. The only solution you could think of was to ask him to talk to the hotel manager because you apparently claimed that their catering service wasn't in accordance to your liking.

Your father obliged, but he specifically told you to look after Jeongguk while he was gone.

"Come on. Do we really need to bring that with us?" Yoongi was pointing at seven year-old Jeongguk as if he was disgusted.

Since you were young and stupid, you also snorted while taking Jeongguk's arm.

You hated that your brother's eyes were wide and doe. It was as if it was made to guilt trip you for wanting to have fun with your lover.

"I can't leave him here, Yoongi. He's just going to annoy my friends," you said this as you looked around the whole room.

You were lying again. Jeongguk was well behaved. People liked him—your friends would like him. It’s just that...you didn't trust any of them to look after your sibling.

You only invited them to show off. You didn't really treat these people as your friends.

"Fine," Yoongi stormed out of the ballroom.

You sighed, dragging Jeongguk so you could follow your boyfriend.

The thing with Yoongi was that he was easy to please. He was pissed off, yes, but all you had to do was kiss him and everything was good again.

You were at the shore, a public place where people could see you. Despite this, you didn't stop Yoongi when cupped your ass, his mouth was hot against your lips.

You were overwhelmed with the pleasure, yet you couldn't seem to enjoy this—not when you could feel your little brother's stare.

You stopped kissing Yoongi just as when he was forcing his tongue inside your mouth.

"W-Why'd you stop?" He licked his lower lip, eyes dark while raking your figure.

He badly wanted to touch you.

"Kook," you turned your attention to your sibling instead of answering Yoongi. The latter scoff but you continued to ignore him.

You were focused on Jeongguk who was silently looking at you. You realized that he was still holding a marshmallow on stick.

"You should—" Whatever you were about to say had been cut off when Yoongi suddenly patted Jeongguk's head.

"You should stay here and wait for us," the tattooed boy faked a smile, filling in what he thought you wanted to say.

He was wrong. You didn't want your brother to see you making out with Yoongi. You were actually starting to think this was a bad idea; however, your lover didn't give you a chance to tell Jeongguk otherwise.

You just found yourself quietly following Yoongi as he dragged you away from the seven year-old boy.

"Babe, I don't think we—" You had been cut off once more. Yoongi pushed you against the trunk of the coconut tree, away from your brother’s sight.

He was kissing you and this time; you relented, indulging yourself with his soft lips, but sharp tongue.

"You like this, huh?" He chuckled when he elicited a moan from you. He was certain you loved his fingers buried deep in your cunt. It was also enough to keep your mind off your little brother.

You had other things to think about.

You loved the thrill. You loved the idea of getting off while someone watched you, but then it scared you too.

You were scared because you knew it was stupid to put your needs before your brother.

The second you reached your high, everything came crashing down.

You heard noises.

Groans. Cries. Pleas. Screams.

Screams.

You heard your father screaming Jeongguk's name.

"Yoongi—" Your eyes were blown wide because of the ugly thoughts running inside your head.

Your boyfriend shook his head. He was as confused as you.

You heard your father screamed again. This time he was calling your name.

It wasn't the same tone he used when he desperately called Jeongguk's name. The way your father called your sibling was full of worry.

But the way he called you?

It was the opposite of it.

Your father was not worried. He was mad—infuriated.

This had been confirmed when you ran towards their direction.

You ran only to stop dead on your tracks. The scene in front of you made your heart sink.

You had never seen your father cry, not even once. But here he was, bawling his eyes out as he watched a stranger trying to revive your brother.

You already knew what happened just by looking at unconscious Jeongguk and the person giving him mouth-to- mouth resuscitation.

Jeongguk drowned.

He almost died because you didn't look after him. He almost died because you were busy fooling around.

Someone almost died because of you.

It was the truth and you could never argue with it.

You deserved the nasty things your father had said to you the moment he found out what truly happened.

You deserved not only the harsh words, but also the numbing and deafening slap right across your cheek.

What you didn't deserve was the protection of your mother.

She came to know what happened to Jeongguk a short while after the ambulance arrived.

Your mother witnessed the way your father lashed out on you.

She was mad, not at you, but at your father. She said he didn't have any right to hurt you.

It was an accident. This was what your mother argued. You should be punishing me! Not our daughter! She added and your father agreed.

He started questioning her love for her children. Where were you when you're supposed to be the one looking after the kids?

Your mother couldn't answer right away. At least your father had an excuse. In his defense, he was technically taking care of you—answering to your whim just because he didn't want to upset you during your special day.

As it turned out, your mother was doing exactly the same thing. She was coaxing your male professor to give you a higher grade since you didn't do so well on your major exam.

This drove your father even madder. He thought she was flirting with your teacher (she is, but it wasn't because she liked him.) You guessed it didn't matter since it wouldn't change the fact that your father looked like he could end you and your mother—which he did.

Not literally, of course.

But he ended up cutting ties with you two. He said he couldn't stand living with vicious women.

He left that day.

He left with your little brother. Your mother didn't have the strength to chase after them because she felt like he was speaking the truth.

When your father said that your mother was unfit to care for a child, she believed him.

She was not in the mood for months after he said that. She wasn't even able to do anything when he claimed he wanted a divorce.

Your father was a cruel man. He told your mom that he would also take you away from her if she didn't sign the paper.

He wasn't rich, but he had a strong case to make your mother look like the one at fault in front of the judge.

He even said that this was a win-win situation. Your mother got a daughter and he got a son.

He was challenging your mother.

Who could take care of their kids best? Who would turn out to be the better kid?

You guessed this was also the reason why your mother tried so hard to give you the life she thought you needed. She wanted to show your father that she could raise you just fine.

This also served as a hope for her. If you became a better person, then your father might come back again.

He might change his mind and allow her to be reunited with her son.

You knew how that hope turned to ashes.

It was sad, really. Your mother died of sickness without having the chance to see the man your brother turned out to be.

Jeongguk had grown so much. He was only seventeen, but he had muscles. One thing didn't change though. His eyes were still wide and innocent.

He was sitting right in front of you, sipping on his juice like it was his first drink in eons.

"So," Jeongguk was the one who broke the silence. He figured he needed to speak before Taehyung harmed him.

The three of you were inside your apartment. You invited Jeongguk in, but it appeared like Tae wasn't thrilled to see your brother here.

Jeongguk was right to think that Taehyung might harm him. This demon was glaring at your brother as though he had done something terribly wrong.

He hadn't. Jeongguk was only smirking like a cocky teenager as he enjoyed his juice. Nothing more.

His intention also seemed harmless. He was simply asking typical questions from a brother.

"Is he your boyfriend?" Jeongguk enquired.

Taehyung's arm was resting on the back of your chair, as if he was protecting you. The way he was acting made it look like Jeongguk was going to harm you.

He wouldn't. If he was being honest, Jeongguk didn't even want to be in the same room as you.

"And if I am?" Taehyung raised his brow, challenging your brother.

"Just curious that's all," Jeongguk simply shrugged his shoulders. "I expected it. You look like a wealthy man."

Your brother was judging Taehyung based on his appearance. He was right. Taehyung always looked so intimidating, like a powerful person who had a lot of money but was hiding skeletons in his closet. This being said, he was also giving Jeongguk the impression as if he would kill people who would end up finding said skeletons.

"What's that supposed to mean?" For some reason Taehyung didn't like the tone Jeongguk used. It was as though he was mocking the devil, as if the latter was so stupid because he was 'dating' you.

"Oh, come on." The corner of Jeongguk's lip twitched. "I haven't seen my sister in years, but I know her type. My family said she only dates millionaires,"

Your jaw tensed upon hearing that. The my family Jeongguk was referring to was definitely your relatives from your father's side.

You hated them. You hated that they were feeding your brother with lies. You were many things—high maintenance—this one way to describe you, but you weren't the type of person who looked down on other people just because of their social status.

"Taehyung is a writer." You uttered, unfazed. Jeongguk would believe what his family was telling him if you showed that you were affected by their lies.

Besides, you had said the same thing to other people countless of times. You and Taehyung decided to tell others that he was a writer. This was the only plausible explanation why he was always at the hospital. You told your colleagues that Taehyung was writing a book and that the main character was a doctor. He was simply observing how things worked at Cornelia Hospital.

"That's funny," Jeongguk pouted his lips. "I like reading books, yet I haven't seen anything written by you. Are you an amateur?"

"Nom de plume." Taehyung answered.

Your brother shrugged off again.

"Make sense. Stupid me. How can you buy this big ass apartment if you're just an amateur writer?"

Jeongguk's eyes scanned your luxurious apartment. You could feel that he was testing you. He was probably trying to find out whether you bought this place or not.

"It's my apartment." You were in no mood to play games so you told him the truth.

The younger boy's eyes sparkled, as if he hit the jackpot.

"That's cool. Did you use mother's money to buy this?"

There was no mistaking the tone he was using. You instantly knew Jeongguk was mocking you. He was clowning you for still living under the shadow of your rich mother.

You wouldn't give him the satisfaction of breaking you.

"That's right. I used our mother's money to purchase this." You crossed your arms. "If only you aren't stubborn you'll have a big ass apartment like this too, you know?"

Your father and Jeongguk didn't show up when your mother's will was being discussed. You figured this would happen. Both of them didn't even go to your mother's funeral—not even when you sent written letters asking them to show up.

Since your parents were divorced, all of your mother's money went in your bank account, including insurance. Jeongguk was a minor, so his share was still entrusted to you.

You didn't plan to take his money. That was his share. You were actually fixing this issue since Jeongguk would be turning eighteen soon.

You just hope he wasn't stupid enough to waive his right of inheritance. You were aware that he needed cash. Academic life was expensive and although your father was able to provide Jeongguk a roof under his head and three meals a day, it still wouldn't be enough to get your brother through college.

"You're pretty straight forward." Jeongguk smiled, but you could tell he was still faking it. "Which means I don't have to pretend as if I like you to get what I want."

Jeongguk paused for a second just to swallow hard. There was no hint of mischief in his eyes when he turned to you.

"I hate you and mother, but I want my inheritance now."

You could tell that he was just acting tough, as if he was not affected by any of this, but he was. You knew he hated this. He hated that he needed to get something from you.

You were certain how much he despised you and your mother, it was probably because your father and their family talked shit about you all the time.

"So give me what I want, Sister. I can't stand seeing your face anymore."

The second you heard him say this, you felt as though you were about to puke. Your heart sank as tears filled your eyes.

For ten years, you made yourself believed that Jeongguk was doing fine—that it didn't matter if you tried to contact them, that he was better off with just your father by his side.

There was even a point in your life when you hated your mother because she was trying hard to show your father that she was worthy of love and her child.

She was. Your mother was your protector and you disliked that she had to appear pathetic in front of your father and sibling.

And so you started hating those two men. You tried to reason with yourself—if they couldn't see your mother's worth, then maybe they didn't deserve anything from you two.

You meant...that was the point of life, right? You made yourself believe a reason, any reason just to justify what you felt.

It was easier to lie to yourself instead of accepting things as they were.

For years, you thought it was better this way. It was better not to talk to Jeongguk; however, now that you were feeling how much he hated you, you suddenly regretted everything you made yourself believed.

Jeongguk hated you because he probably felt like you and your mother had abandoned him.

"I'll fix it as soon as possible, but it will take months, K-Kook. You're still a minor." You could no longer act like you weren’t breaking inside.

"Ah, about that..." Jeongguk let out an exhausted breath. You knew he was masking fear by making it looked like he was tired.

Some things never changed, huh? A decade had passed, but you still knew how he acted.

"You might wanna use your connection or something. You and I both know we can't stand each other. I don't want to live with you."

The hurt you felt was overpowered by confusion.

"Why would you wanna live with me?"

You were growing more curious now. Did Jeongguk run away from home? Was that it? Was this the reason why he suddenly showed up here?

Your assumptions had been debunked when your brother spoke again. His voice was void of any emotion that you thought he was fooling around.

Or perhaps you just couldn't accept what he told you.

"Because our father is dead."

#taehyung angst #taehyung x you #taehyung fluff #taehyung fic #taehyung roommate au #taehyung roommate #devil taehyung #demon taehyung #taehyung fantasy au #ficswithluv #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung x yn #taehyung x oc #taehyung x y/n #taehyung enemies to lovers #taehyung e2l

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in-tua-deep · 5 years

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So I’m curious as to how Alison is with Five in your Responsible Luther AU. Has she had Claire? And does interacting with a younger Five prevent her from rumoring her daughter or is that still the same? And is she as maternal towards a younger brother since she herself is younger? I just absolutely love this entire AU!

(responsible luther au posts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven)

Claire exists! I headcanon her as being about six during canon because that allows her the four years that Luther knew of her existence plus some extra years because I didn’t think she was four in that flashback at all SO because the responsible luther au takes place four years before canon…

Claire is in her terrible twos!! Allison is married and Exhausted and is now in contact with the squad a la skype/facetime, partially because Five absolutely insists and partially because Allison feels lowkey guilty about cutting everyone out of her life when she left home

the main difference between canon and au here is that Allison has a support network

She gets on skype and can vent and complain and ask for advice in a way that she can’t ask anyone else because her siblings know her, know her circumstances, and most importantly know her powers

I sincerely doubt that Allison confided in Patrick (their marriage had issues) and I doubt she breathed a word about her child soldier childhood with her actress friends and Allison was so very desperate to put it all behind, to be normal, that she was a ticking time bomb waiting to go off. She felt like a failure constantly because she couldn’t handle an infant child, a job that is stressful for the best of people, and she didn’t know how to ask for help or advice and what knowledge she had to draw upon of disciplining a child made rumoring sound like a merciful option tbh

but the point is that Allison gets online and calls up the family and she has people who understand that her first reaction to most things is a violent one because violence was drilled into her bones, into their bones

so when Allison complains, the squad understand and are willing to brainstorm solutions that don’t involve violence OR rumoring, because Allison would absolutely admit her desperation or admit to rumoring her daughter into not crying or silencing a tantrum and all that, and, most importantly, she has people who would tell her no while understanding why she would jump to it

there’s no judgement (well only a tiny bit) but she’s talking with the people who remember her rumoring them to do really stupid and petty shit when they were kids. Diego still has the scar on his arm after the incident where Allison’s magazines went mysteriously missing that no one speaks about since Allison still gets that slightly crazy look in her eyes when it’s brought up (it was actually Klaus’s fault but Diego will deny it to his grave due to a very particular piece of blackmail between the duo)

Luther and Allison get close because Luther’s basically raising Five right now so they both compare notes on child rearing. Like yeah, there’s some differences but actually Allison’s advice on how to help your child sleep all the way through the night/soothe them back to sleep is alarmingly applicable with a traumatized Five who frequently wakes up not knowing where he is and thinking he’s either back in the apocalypse or locked up in their childhood home. And Luther’s advice on how to deal with a picky eater is pretty applicable to baby Claire, though admittedly Five’s wariness of certain foods which spoil quickly is fairly justified (Five still accuses raspberries of going moldy overnight which I mean. Luther can’t exactly argue with because he takes his eyes off the fridge for two seconds and suddenly the berries are fuzzy)

Klaus is somehow?? A baby whisperer? Small children absolutely ADORE him (Diego says it’s because he’s a child himself and Klaus always shoots back about being young at heart) so Claire can be a sobbing mess and Allison will facetime Klaus and then suddenly Claire is cooing at the phone and babbling about her latest imaginative story she made up while Klaus offers up critiques and suggestions for even cooler ideas and characters while Allison is gently irritated that Klaus can get Claire to stop crying faster than she can (but then again she’s also just relieved)

Patrick also chats with the whole squad now that Allison is actually back in contact with the family. Him and Klaus get along well, Patrick laughs at Klaus’s jokes and comments, though Patrick has already solemnly informed them all that if it comes down to it he’s legally obligated to take his wife’s side in every argument which they all respect

Allison IS maternal towards Five, but I mean,,, all of them are protective over their smallest and youngest sibling even though Five rolls his eyes and bristles under it half the time. Five survived the apocalypse! He survived thirteen years under Reginald’s regime! Honestly Five’s mood towards his siblings general being-older-ness is somewhat mercurial - sometimes he’s perfectly fine with it and even seeks it out and other times he absolutely rejects it and gets as prickly as a hedgehog

but for the most part Five is the one prodding everyone to call Allison and being absolutely draconian about everyone sitting down for family time because so help him god he spent months trying to get back here after finding his family’s dead bodies and dealing with THAT he’s very insistent on keeping an eye of everyone’s whereabouts and health (especially Vanya’s because he never did find her body)

honestly talking to Five actually helps Allison with Claire a lot because Five literally tells Allison to ask Claire things. Why is she crying? What upset her? Why did that thing upset up? What can be done to make it not be upsetting?

Claire adores Five because he takes her very seriously whenever he chats with her. He asks her very seriously about the status of some of her stuffed animals while she giggles into her hands. Five is willing to patiently wait while Claire introduces him to every single one of her toys, and he is also willing to memorize every single name given to him.

Allison gets therapy!! Mainly because Five is in therapy, and Luther is in therapy, and Klaus is in therapy, and Vanya is in therapy, and they’re all trying to convince Diego to also get therapy (he’s actually seeing someone but hasn’t told the rest of them because he likes being a difficult son of a bitch) and so everyone is gently confronting their child soldier childhood and the shit they went through so Allison gets to go to therapy as well

and Allison gets to learn some communication skills and is encouraged to talk with Patrick so their marriage doesn’t break down the way it does it canon (though I dunno I still think they probably get divorced but more of an amicable one)

Allison probably does fly down at some point, probably after a few gentle kidnapping attempts a la Reginald/Hazel/Cha-Cha who are after Five, leaving Claire in Patrick’s very capable hands (they facetime twice a day so that Allison can see Claire, though Claire is sulky the entire time because a, her mother is gone and b, SHE wanted to go visit all her cool uncles and aunt as well heck)

Allison, showing up: oh, oh no. i’m going to get everyone a new wardrobe what do you have my baby brother wearing?

Luther: j,,jeans? t-shirts? regular people clothes?

Allison: are these from walmart? don’t answer that. everyone is getting a new wardrobe consider it payback for all the missed birthdays and christmas gifts from when I, you know

Klaus: cut us out of your life like yesterday’s trash?

Luther: KLAUS

Klaus: hey man you can keep your grease monkey shirts to yourself I for one and THRILLED to go shopping on Allison’s dime

Five: can i get a hat? I had a hat in the apocalypse and i was fond of it

aww now I want to write a scene where Allison shows up but this is already getting to be a really long post hmm

is that going to stop me though?? probably not

So Allison arrives at the door with her bags after a long day at the airport (she’d told Patrick five times that you only had to be there three hours before for international flights but he could be such a worrywart) and knocks a quick ‘shave and a haircut’ tune just like she always did as a kid.

Immediately the door flies open and there’s a breathless looking Five who clearly jumped to the door to get their first and he’s got a smile on his face and yeah, she’s seen him through a screen with great frequency but it’s not the same as seeing him in person. Folding him into a hug is the easiest thing in the world. He’s so little, and skinny. Even skinnier than she remembered him being, and Five had always been a boney little shit with sharp elbows and a willingness to use them.

“I like your hair.” He tells her, hands fisted in the back of her shirt. He’s told her that about once a day since she let Claire pick out a color and she ended up with purple hair.

She looks up and meets Luther’s eye where he’s wiping his hands on a towel and making a face that says there is probably more to this love of her hair color than meets the eye.

(”He saw us dead.” Luther tells her, later, when the rest of the house is asleep on the couches while one of Allison’s movies plays softly. “Your hair… it wasn’t purple, when you died. It makes him feel safer. He shredded Klaus’s favorite coat right after he moved in as well, almost caused world war three.”

Allison presses her hand to her mouth, feeling tears gather at the corners of her eyes as she looks over her shoulder in the direction of the teen draped across Klaus with a dog drooling on them both. He looks so carefree and innocent in his sleep, it’s so easy to forget what he’s been through. What they’ve all been though.)

“Allison!” The cheerful greeting heralds the arrival of Klaus who stumbles out of the kitchen, mouth half full of a cookie. Freshly baked, from the smell wafting around the house. It’s easy for Klaus to brush past Luther and wrap his arms around both her and Five, swaying them side to side and making Allison giggle as he lays an exaggerated kiss on her cheek with a loud “Mwah!”

“Okay okay,” Allison says, prying both of them off of her so she can fully come in the door with her suitcase.

“Let me take that for you.” Luther says, coming forward and grabbing it out of her hands. He looks good, more relaxed that Allison has seen him in years. He reaches out to ruffle Five’s hair in an affectionate gesture familiar between the two, “And why don’t you go grab our sister a cookie before Klaus manages to eat them all.”

“You’re sleeping in Klaus’s room.” Five informs her, smile quirking his lips up. The reason for the mischief on his face is quickly explained by the outraged squawk that emerges from Klaus’s mouth.

“You can’t expect Allison to sleep on the couch.” Luther throws over his shoulder as he’s already heading deeper into the house.

“I’d be fine with the couch.” Allison shrugs, half because she actually was and half to stir up shit because that’s just what their family is like.

(It used to be if they weren’t in their rooms for bedtime, they would be locked out - because of course their rooms locked on the outside and not the inside, like in normal houses. Allison spent more than one night sleeping on the hardwood floor outside of her door, knowing that to be caught sleeping on one of the couches or other soft surfaces in the mansion was to invite further punishment.)

“We aren’t making our guest sleep on the couch!” Luther calls, out of sight.

“Diego sleeps on the couch!” Klaus hollers right back in outrage.

Five tugs on Allison’s arm, “Allison! Allison come on! You have to meet Mr. Pennycrumb.”

“I’ve already met him.” Allison informs her brother, because she has. Over the phone. Luther and Klaus are still yelling at one another, but it’s in a way that everyone knows that Klaus is going to end up sleeping on the couch.

“That doesn’t count.” Five insists, tugging on her arm again. Allison allows herself to be towed towards the kitchen where there is a half eaten tray of cookies on the counter, and a dog that looks like the very picture of patience laying in a dog bed in the corner. At their entrance, Mr. Pennycrumb raises his head and gives a few thumps of his tail but doesn’t get up until Five makes a ‘come on’ gesture with a hand.

Immediately the dog is at their feet, and Five’s hand is clamped around Allison’s wrist and offering her hand for said dog to sniff. “Mr. Pennycrumb,” He says, with great gravity, “This is my sister, Allison. Allison, this is Mr. Pennycrumb.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Pennycrumb.” Allison says with equal gravity. Mr. Pennycrumb finishes sniffing her hand and immediately sits and puts one paw in her hand. Allison, never one to be caught off guard, gives it a firm shake. At least having a toddler prepared her for this - this exchange actually reminds her of introductions to some of her daughter’s stuffed animals. Though she is never going to inform Five of this fact.

Five, for his part, looks exceptionally pleased that the two of them are getting along.

There’s a new argument echoing through the house, which from a quick listen reveals that it’s because of the state of Klaus’s room. Which, thinking back to their childhood, Allison is not so surprised. Though it seems to be only about clothes on the floor, which is far neater than their youth where scorch marks were commonplace. Klaus had been quite the little pyromaniac.

“Where’s the rest of the motley crew?” Allison asks, straightening up and swiping a cookie from the tray on the counter. It’s still warm, with gooey chocolate. Allison doesn’t even hesitate to pick up two more. Self preservation, really.

“Ben’s probably with Klaus.” Five says, shrugging, apparently not even realizing that Allison is choking on her mouthful of cookie. No matter how many times she heard about their deceased brother being an active member of the family thanks to Klaus, it never got any more bizarre to her. “Diego should be here before midnight, maybe? He’s never on time for anything. And Vanya’s gonna swing by after practice but she can’t stay ‘cause she’s got a lesson with the Brat early in the morning.”

“The brat?” Allison asks, already amused.

“The brat.” Five confirms with a nod, “Vanya says she won’t tell me a name ‘cause of teacher-student privilege but she’s awful. Thinks she’s the next coming of - of - of whoever is a famous violinist except for Vanya I dunno.”

Allison elects to not inform her younger brother that teacher-student privilege isn’t actually a thing. It’s probably safer for whatever young girl happens to be both spoiled and have the luck of being taught music by Vanya Hargreeves.

“You know, you calling someone a brat is a little like the pot calling the kettle black.” Allison informs her brother with a smile, scrunching up her nose and pulling a face at him. He makes one right back, and it’s so familiar that it feels like she’s being punched in the chest for a moment.

She’s known that Five is back for months, that he’s alive for months, but it’s not the same as him being there. Solid and real. He’s skinnier, cheeks more hollow and eyes more haunted. His hair is a bit longer than she remembers, though reportedly not as long as it had been when Five had made it back.

They’d never been close, her and Five. Not like he’d been with Vanya, with Ben, with the kids lower on the totem pole than Allison had ever been. Oh, their father hadn’t liked her, but she’d completed every task he set before her with ruthless efficiency and she was rarely punished. Too good at gaming the system. She’d only ever been close with Luther, too busy to deal with the others on a regular basis. But there had been times regardless where they’d all been together, as a family.

Five had been a firecracker of a kid, always explosive where Allison preferred to skirt around the rules, bending but not breaking. They both liked the spotlight, though Five had never seemed to begrudge her for her own time shining. She’d thought he was such an arrogant brat, but he was still her brother.

It’s different now, seeing mischief light up his face. Back then she would have rolled her eyes, felt irritated, maybe even tried to rumor him into being quiet for once (though he’d gotten alarmingly good at telling when she was about to speak a rumor over the years, and gotten even better at jumping away before she could get a word out). Now though, now she just felt affectionate nostalgia. Maybe it was because she was older, she was an adult looking into the face of a child who she knew had never gotten a real childhood. It was almost a relief that Five’s spark had never managed to be stamped out.

“Hey,” Five interrupts her thoughts. He’s on the floor, rolling Mr. Pennycrumb’s head between his hands thoughtfully, “Can we watch your movies? I’ve seen a couple but Luther and Klaus are always super weird about it.”

Allison’s mind scrolls through some of her more risque movies with scenes that she would much rather none of her siblings ever witness, especially her thirteen-year-old sibling. Or thirteen-year-olds in general, truthfully. “Uh,” She starts, but is thankfully interrupted by Klaus gliding into the kitchen to sweep up three more of the cookies, pouting while he does so.

“I,” Klaus pauses, bringing a hand up to gesture dramatically, cookie still gripped and sprinkling crumbs, “Have graciously decided to allow you to use my room - ”

“Technically it’s my room.” Five interrupts.

“You gave it to me!” Klaus rebuffs. It sounds like this is an old argument between the two, “You can’t just take back a gift! That makes it my room! You’re such a little brat - ”

The argument continues and Allison eases herself back to lean against the counters and watch as her two brothers snipe back and forth at one another with a smile. It’s the kind of controlled chaos that she’s almost used to. She can’t help the smile across her face. Even though she misses Claire like nothing she’s ever felt, that hurt is soothed just a little bit by being around these losers again.

Despite everything, she missed them. All of them.

It’s good to be back.

#ask me #anonymous #tua #the umbrella academy #far tua long #responsible luther au #allison hargreeves #luther hargreeves #claire hargreeves #tua claire #patrick hargreeves #tua patrick #diego hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #number five #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves

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takemedancingmaine · 5 years

Text

Unsettled

Brian hadn’t even bothered texting me back. He didn’t even ask what happened. He did call me immediately though.

Once he found out I wasn’t in immediate danger, he told me that he would meet me at one of the cafês down the block from me in fifteen minutes. He even stayed on the phone with me the whole time until he got there.

It didn't matter what he was talking about. His presence, even through the phone, was reassuring. He ended up spending the whole time on the phone talking just to let me know that I wasn't alone. He spent the time talking about his classes at Northwestern and friends of his that I didn't know and about how ridiculous the weather was and how annoying the clearly-from-out-of-town couple was beside him on the train platform. I knew what he was doing was all just a distraction, but even still it was incredibly comforting.

I didn't realize it until he walked through the door and hung up the phone and he strode over to me, but I hadn’t managed to take a full breath from the moment I’d woken up until I saw him.

I watched as he pushed the damp hood of his rain jacket back and ran a hand through his hair to lift it back up out of his face. He didn't say anything as he sat down across from me at the small table I’d chosen. He just looked me over, as if he was studying what he saw. I didn't see pity anywhere on his face. I saw only concern. I didn't know what the difference was until I saw it.

“Okay.” He nodded.

“Okay?” I asked, confused.

“You're okay,” he clarified.

“Physically, I guess.”

“You're strong, Ruby,” he said. “You reached out when you could have hidden away in your apartment scared and alone. You didn't though. You reached out.”

“And that makes me strong?”

“Absolutely.” He smiled. He said it with such conviction that it was hard not to believe. The waiter came over then and he ordered a black coffee. I thought of Niall.

“So,” he said as he took a sip of the scalding drink that had been immediately placed at his elbow. “You can tell me about the dream, or not tell me, but I'm here for you, either way, Ruby.”

“Okay,” I said. So I did. I ended up telling him everything about the dream. He sat and listened and took it all in, let me talk it through and process what I’d seen in my mind. After I had finished, Brian was silent for a moment, probably just thinking through what to say or to force me to reflect on how speaking it out loud made me feel, but I took the opportunity to ask him a question.

“Why couldn’t I do anything? Why did I just stand there?” I asked.

“It’s like I said at your very first class,” Brian said slowly, looking up from his coffee mug to hold my gaze. “I want the moves to be so ingrained in you that nothing, not fear or circumstance or whatever, will stop you from defending yourself.”

I nodded and felt my eyes start to tear up. I refused to let myself cry though, now wasn’t the time. I was safe. I was okay.

“You’re only just at the beginning the process. The learning is ongoing. The growth doesn’t happen overnight,” he said. “And you’ve got your negative experience weighing down on you. You’re going to feel it more than anyone else, feel that fear come back to you in those situations until you're prepared until you let go of the fear.”

“Well, that blows,” I huffed out and looked down at my tea. The chamomile was only doing so much to calm my nerves.

Brian laughed at my response and oddly enough I felt it settle me down slightly. He was acting normal, laughing when he was supposed to, wasn’t tiptoeing around me. I looked up and saw him smiling down at me. Brian somehow just knew what I needed without me telling him. I thought of his sister, about what she went through, and I wondered if she knew how lucky she was to have him as her brother.

“It does blow,” he agreed with a smile. “You will get yourself back though, your confidence. Your knowledge and your ability in the classroom will make that jump to real life should you ever again need it. Plus, by talking to me--or anyone,” he gave me a pointed look, “you'll start to process the fear and let it go.”

“I don’t feel any less confident,” I said, ignoring the talking about my problems part of what he was telling me. “I still go out alone, at night even, and I don’t worry about it.”

“It’s an unconscious loss,” he said, nodding. “You don’t think about it, and you still feel relatively safe, but your dream is letting you know that you’re worried about it even if in a waking state you don’t think about it. Have you picked up any new habits or noticed you do anything differently since it happened?”

“I check the locks two or three times a night,” I said so quietly I hadn’t even realized I was saying it out loud. I didn’t think he’d heard either, but he nodded to let me know he had. “I also have a hard time falling asleep unless I do it, and even when I do, sometimes I still take forever to fall asleep.”

“You’re worried about letting your guard down,” Brian said. “You’re not thinking about it, but your body is afraid to relax. You still feel unsafe at home? Usually, that’s where victims feel safest, away from the world.”

I took a sip of my tea and kept my gaze down until Brian’s silence made me look back up and meet his eyes, which were filled with suspicion. Because even though Brian knew I had been attacked, he didn’t know anything about what had actually happened.

His silence coupled with his gaze made me squirm in my seat. Until eventually I supplied the reason.

“It happened on my front porch,” I said and immediately looked down at the wooden table, studying the grain as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, my front lock was broken, or stuck or whatever, and the key was jammed and I couldn’t get inside to get away. I literally could only just stand there and hope that the key turned as I heard him come through my gate, climb my stairs, and grab me…” I trailed off.

“Ruby.”

I looked up. I still found no pity in his gaze, just understanding.

“You’re incredibly brave, you know.” The warmth on his face as I nodded at his words, even if I wasn’t sure I believed them, made the ball of tension that had been sitting in my stomach since I’d woken up on my floor sweaty and gross an hour ago just dissipate. I felt my whole body unclench, my muscles loosen as my nerves settled.

“You know that that doesn't make your house unsafe,” Brian said after a minute.

“Even if they never caught the guy?”

“Yes.” His voice was assured, confident in his convictions. “Did you know that people rarely ever leave their doors unlocked or forget to turn the stove off. We’ve got these habits so ingrained in us that we don't even realize we’re doing them. Which is why when we do think about it, we sometimes we worry that we haven't done them.”

I nodded. I did not know that.

“Ruby,” he said, “your home is safe. I promise. And if you feel unsafe remind yourself how silly you'll feel checking your locks twice a night just to see that you remembered it the first time, when you walked through it hours earlier. Plus, you live on the second floor. No one is going to go through the struggle of getting you up there.”

He was right. I knew he was right.

“But what if I can't fall asleep unless I check the locks again?” I didn't like how small my voice sounded when I asked that.

“Distract yourself. Think about something else. Don't let it consume your mind.” He shrugged like it was that simple. “Or,” he said, “tell yourself the truth. Be honest with yourself. That you're worrying over nothing at all. That you're safe and that you should stop worrying and just fall asleep.”

I took a deep breath and looked at him evenly.

“It can't be that simple.”

“Why not?” He asked.

“I don't know,” I said truthfully. “I just don't think it can be that easy.”

“The hardest things might actually be the easiest and we don't realise it because we’re blind to the answers that lie right in front of us. We constantly think everything has to be harder than it is, and it makes us sceptical to the easy solution.”

“That sounds like some philosophy bull.” I smirked at him.

“I'm literally in school to be a lawyer and confuse people with words.” He smiled back at me.

“I don't think that's what lawyers are supposed to do, actually,” I said.

“We lawyers can be multifaceted, have many different approaches in order to get our job done, to win our case.” His smile didn't falter or leave his face.

I rolled my eyes but smiled back at him.

“Better?” He asked.

I sat on the answer for a second. I was just feeling myself out, reaching my mind into my toes and fingertips and everywhere in between. I felt my nerve endings and felt for any still tension in my body.

“For now,” I stipulated, “better.”

“I'll take that.” He smiled at me before taking a large drink of coffee.

My coffee outing with Brian had been three weeks ago. Since then I'd had the nightmare, the exact same one, four more times. It was like I was cognoscente of the fact that I was sleeping and that it was all just a dream, but that didn't make it any less horrifying.

Each time I had it, I'd wake up sweaty and gasping for air. It was exhausting. I wasn't falling back asleep after that. So each time it happened I'd just get up and shower and start my day a few hours earlier. I was actually quite proud of the fact that although the dream--nightmare--had deprived me of quite a lot of sleep, I wasn’t letting it get to me too much. I didn’t suddenly become afraid to walk home at night or anything, but I was a little upset at my inability to do anything to defend myself in the dream.

It never changed the dream. I'd just be frightened into being immobilised and I would do nothing to defend myself, like someone who was weak and ill-prepared. Like I had been the night my actual attack took place. So not only would I wake up scared, but I'd wake up frustrated with myself, disappointed for not even having used my strength and my knowledge to attempt to defend myself.

I knew it was only a dream and that even though I'd frozen as a response in the dream it did not mean that I would freeze in real life as a response. Still, if it was my only indication of how I'd handle a situation, my prospects didn't look all that great. I knew it was a process like Brian had told me, but I had my doubts.

After the first one, Brian made me swear that I would let him know if and when I'd had another nightmare. So I would let him know via text sometime during the day that I had woken up from it again. He would acknowledge what happened and then tell me to get to the gym that evening, that he would meet me there. The one time it had happened the same day as class, Thursday, he told me to get there an hour earlier than usual.

We'd only had two self-defence classes since my first dream because of Thanksgiving, for which I flew home on Wednesday night, dealt with my family well into the evening on Thursday and then flew back to Chicago to be ready for work the next day. My mother was disappointed, but she had been each of the Thanksgivings before this since I’d been in Chicago as well. It was a slight annoyance that she couldn't just accept it and enjoy our time together instead of sulking, but I'd grown accustomed to it.

The days leading up to, and following Thanksgiving, were just as chaotic and frenzied at work as I had predicted they would be. Louis and I were in the bakery from dawn until well past dusk each day. We probably put in eighteen-hour days for that entire week except for the holiday itself, and I knew Louis had snuck into the bakery late Thanksgiving night to sort things out for Friday morning because he told me how displeased his mother had been about it when he left her house and his sisters to go back to work.

As a group, we had our annual Friendsgiving the Sunday before the holiday. Harry and Ana hosted, as I’d done it last year and Cleo had done it the first year; we were rotating throughout the group. Between Louis’ desserts, Liam’s cooking, and Harry and Ana’s wine pairings, we were all heartily stuffed and blissfully buzzed. We’d all brought something though, to help alleviate some of the stress of one person doing all the cooking. I’d made mashed potatoes. Apparently, after I’d made them year one it was a requirement that I do it every year.

We all played games and ate even more food and teased Harry when he’d fallen asleep on the floor between dinner and dessert. Niall and I endured a bit more teasing, although, after some time, our friends had started to relax with the couple jokes and the we-told-you-so’s. Niall had integrated himself fully into the lot of us. Obviously, he already had an in with Louis and me, but he bonded with each of us in his own way. I think he liked getting closer to Cleo because she was very loose-lipped about embarrassing tales from my past.

Brian, when I'd walked into the gym the first time after my second nightmare experience, put me to work on the punching bags in the corner of the room and not just to work on my form, but to get out some of the frustrations I was feeling. He turned on some heavier rock music than he usually played during class as he guided me through each workout, both of us having our hands wrapped and boxing gloves on. Brian said the pair I was wearing was one of his sister’s old pairs.

That one Thursday, that we’d gotten there early and by the time actual class was set to start, both of us were already drenched in sweat and exhausted, but Brian didn’t complain and I just took it in stride. I couldn't even try to convey my gratitude for Brian’s response. Somehow he just knew what I had needed without me telling him.

He kept trying to get me to talk to someone--my friends, my sister, his sister, my parents--anyone, but I wasn't budging. I didn't see how their concerns and their pity would help my situation. It would only add stress. Once I said no once, he would shut up though and let me just punch it out, which was incredibly helpful for my mental state.

At the third session, I had stopped midway through and turned to him.

“Aren't you ridiculously busy with being a student? Don't you have more important things to be doing with your time?” I had asked over the music.

He wiped some sweat from his forehead, his hair had started to flop into his face, and he looked straight at me.

“Ruby, your well-being is important to me. I can make time for you. Now c’mon, show me that combination again.”

I had smiled and nodded, setting my feet again and getting back into it.

As it was now, I hadn’t had the dream in four nights. I was feeling steady, but I knew I would probably have the dream again in the near future. I tried to accept it while also keeping the thought out of my mind so that it didn’t drag me down and consume me.

Now that it was mid-December the cold weather had settled over the city as if it would never leave as if it would never be warm again. I was bundled up and walking to Niall's--we were doing dinner together. He was cooking.

The trees that lined the streets I was walking along creaked and swayed in the wind that came off the lake. Everything I looked at as I walked seemed like a varying shade of grey under the clouds overhead that were dark with the threat of rain.

I had made a bold choice to walk instead of taking the train. It took the same amount of time either way, and the walk didn’t bother me, but I knew my city. I was well aware of the fact that it could start pouring down rain on me at any second and I’d be trapped in the thick of it.

My face was buried in my scarf and my fingers were numb by the time I made it to Niall’s building. I had tried texting him that I’d arrived, but the tempered glass wasn’t registering my fingers as they tapped on it fruitlessly. After a minute of struggling and trying to warm my hands, I just hit the home button until the voice command came up and I told it to call Niall.

He sounded out of breath when he answered. “I’m on my way down,” he said.

I laughed a bit at his voice, the slight urgency in his tone as he jogged down flights of stairs as quickly as he could.

“Okay.” I hung up a moment later as I saw him come through the front door of his apartment building.

He didn't say a word as he came up to me and hugged me really tightly, his face burying into my shoulder as he held me and breathed deeply.

“Hey,” I said softly as I hugged him back. I didn’t want to read too much into it, but it felt like he was holding me to comfort himself and not just because it had been four days since we’d seen each other.

“Hey. Are you alright?” I asked.

He took another deep breath and nodded into me before releasing me, stepping back a bit. I realised then that he was only wearing athletic shorts and a T-shirt. He must've been freezing outside.

“Yeah, I'm good.” He reached down for my hand and squeezed his palm in mine. “M’fine.” He started guiding me inside and into the elevator. He lived on the eighth floor.

His hair looked all rumpled like he’d stress run a hand through it repeatedly, and his eyes looked tired. His shoulders were slumped as he leaned back against the elevator wall as the doors closed and we began moving up.

I didn't buy for a second that he was fine. Hypocritical of me or not, I wanted to know what was wrong.

We rode the whole way up in silence; it wasn't uncomfortable. I was just full up with questions that were trying to come out and bombard him with. When we got through his front door, we kicked our shoes off and I turned to him expectantly.

“Niall?” I asked sceptically.

“Hmm?” He hummed as he led the way into his living room. I picked my favourite fluffy blanket of his up off the chair on the way and followed him to the couch.

“What is it?” I asked.

He sat down and left a space beside himself for me. I sat criss-cross beside him, facing him, and pulled the blanket across my lap. I noticed how the apartment smelled as a result of whatever he was making. It smelled like… No. I was imagining that. I had to be.

But I wasn't. It smelled like Indian food, like curry. I wanted so badly to know what he was making for me, but that could wait. I was more concerned about the troubled look on his face.

I picked up his hand beside me in both hands and began drawing circles on the back of it with my thumbs.

“I talked to my brother today,” he said eventually, calmly.

“Greg?” I asked. He hadn't mentioned if they kept in touch regularly, so I was wondering whether it was good or abnormal to hear from him.

“Yeah,” he said and took a deep breath, looking down at his hand in mind. He looked up at me and I felt something stir inside of me. Apparently, seeing Niall upset was making me upset.

Niall took another deep breath.

“You've been really kind and patient about not asking why I went home to Ireland after college, and you should probably know why. I just don't… I just don't like to talk about it because I get upset. Being on the phone with Greg brought some of it back up. That's why I'm a little… I don't know. Whatever I am right now.”

I nodded. I was unsure of what to say, but he squeezed my hands in his. The one time I had mentioned his return home to Louis, before Niall and I even got together, he had told me it was personal and that Niall would tell me whenever he was ready. I hadn't pushed it at all, or brought it up since, to either of them. I had harboured all of my curiosity inside myself.

I was glad he was saying something about it, even if it was difficult for him, emotional for him. It meant he had trust in me. It meant that our relationship meant enough to him that he was telling me about his brother and what had happened to him when he was back in Ireland. I kept my face calm for him, in case he needed me to be steady on right now.

“Thank you for not pushing me,” he said.

“I would never.”

He gave me a small smile, all he was capable of at the moment I think, judging by his extra pale face. He looked in front of himself toward the wall and started talking.

“Just after my senior year of school my dad got sick,” he said. He took a deep breath. I watched his chest rise and fall with it. “Really sick and he didn't tell anyone…”

There was a pause as he fought to compose himself. Even though he wasn't looking at me, I could see the struggle in his eyes.

“Growin’ up it was always just me, Greg, and dad,” he continued on. “We were all three really close to each other. So it hit us hard when Greg and I did find out about it. He had cancer--it wasn't a good diagnosis, and he refused treatment, saying he wanted to go out his own way, on his own terms. And Greg wasn't supposed to find out, but my dad had passed out on him because he wasn't taking proper care of himself.” Niall’s voice broke on that last word, so I squeezed his hand in mine. His gaze shifted from the wall to our joined hands.

“Greg was pretty close to our dad, but he has a family of his own, and I had graduated and was only working an internship, so it became my responsibility to start taking care of him. I moved back a week after we found out.” I squeezed his hand again.

“So for two years I took care of my dad, giving him his shots and pills, and then,” his voice cracked again, “and then he was gone.”

I ached all over with second-hand pain at Niall losing his father. I could feel Niall’s sadness emanating from every inch of his body, rolling off of him in waves and crashing all around him, including into me. I could hear the grief as it invaded his tone. He cleared his throat.

I knew in that moment that there was nothing I could do, nothing I could say that would have any effect, soothe the ache he was feeling. It was too late for condolences and it wasn't like I understood what it felt like to lose a parent. I just wanted to make Niall forget the sadness and not feel it anymore, but I knew I couldn't. And that hurt, too.

So I reached one of my hands up and cupped his cheek. Finally, his eyes lifted to mine and I tried to convey, with just my gaze, everything I was feeling, and how much he meant to me.

I figured that because he didn't talk about why he went home, and with what Louis had hinted at, that it would be something like this, something horrible. Hearing it though, having my suspicions confirmed felt like someone was holding my heart and squeezing it tighter and tighter.

Niall’s red-rimmed eyes searched mine and stayed on mine as he kept going.

“I knew when he didn't… when he didn't turn on the radio when he woke up--he always turned on the radio first thing he did--that he wasn't… that something was wrong. So I called Greg and then I called the emergency service and I went in and checked.”

He closed his eyes and the tears fell from them, began rolling down his face. I swiped my thumb along his cheek and brushed some of them away.

“I knew right away,” he said, opening his eyes again. “I opened the door and I knew and I could only look from behind the door. Even now I can't get the image from my mind. It was… Ruby, I never felt so lost. He'd taught me everything in the world. He taught me music and about girls and helped me with my maths and always supported my writing… and he was just gone. And suddenly I was this scared little kid and I was stuck back home away from my best friend and the life I had made for myself. I was just alone.”

I struggled to keep my own tears from falling. More than anything I just wanted to make him feel not so alone.

“So I stayed. I stayed for the funeral and stayed to take care of the house and stayed because of Greg. I stayed because Greg was the only connection I had left to my dad, the only family I had left. And I couldn't bring myself to leave. Until… until Greg realised I wasn't moving on at all. He started me going to therapy and talking to someone about it and we started going through our dad's things and Greg eventually decided, when I was ready, to put the house up for sale.

“After that was decided, I called Louis and apologized for just leaving him. And you know him,” he shrugged, “he didn't even let me apologize. He told me that he'd be glad to have me back, and that I was still his best friend and that he'd always be there for me.”

“So I found the job here, and when the house sold I took my half of the sale and used some of it to buy a plane ticket and some to settle into my apartment. And just walking out of O’Hare and back into the city air I felt lighter than I had in years. I literally came straight from the airport to the bakery where I saw Louis again and where I met you.” He smiled a watery smile at me and I blushed as he leaned forward and kissed my forehead.

“When I walked into the kitchen and Louis was just… so normal, acting as if nothing had changed, as if we were still best mates I finally felt those last few pieces of myself come back to me and settle into their proper place.”

I nodded at his words and wiped my misty eyes. I hadn't even known. He just seemed so bright when we’d met that day and he was, but it was because he was being remade and given his friend back. It wasn't just because that's who he is--light and full of life. It was because he was euphoric to be back.

“I called Greg when we were walking to lunch just to let him know I'd gotten in and that I'd met up with Louis and that my stuff that was shipped was arriving soon. Even after only a few minutes on the phone, Greg could tell I was better here than I had been back in Ireland.

“He called today to tell me that he and his wife are pregnant again. That it's a boy this time around. That they've already decided to name him after dad…”

I couldn't take it anymore. I moved so that I was straddling him and holding his face with both hands as he spoke. The added contact seemed to soothe us both a fraction more. Niall took a deep breath.

“It's such good news, y’know?” He asked. “But when he said they'd already decided to name him after our dad I just kind of broke down again.”

I leaned in and placed my forehead against his.

“I’ve come to terms with everything that's happened… I really have, but I miss him every day.” He paused. “It helps that I'm back here though, with friends. With you. I don't feel lonely anymore.”

“You're not alone,” I managed to say. My voice was thick with the tears I hadn't cried.

“I know,” he said. “I know.”

I let go of his face and wrapped my arms around his back, hugging him close to me, as close as I could pull him. I buried my face in his neck and just breathed deeply.

I hadn't needed a boyfriend when I met Niall; I was perfectly content and self-sufficient. But I loved that he was in my life in this capacity now. He made me feel safe and strong and I couldn't imagine life without him anymore.

Just knowing that I could make him feel like he wasn't alone, knowing that I was someone he trusted to talk to and someone he could talk to about his dad and bond with over our dad’s mutual love of music… knowing that I was just as solidified in Niall’s life as he'd become in mine made me feel calm and content all over my body, head to toe.

Niall wrapped his arms around me then, holding me close just like I was holding him.

“I love you, Ruby,” he whispered against the skin of my neck.

I wasn't sure if he realised he had said it, wasn't sure if he intended for me to hear it. But he did, and I had.

It felt like my whole body came to life when he said those words. As if for so long I'd been feeling emotions and going around on autopilot, not knowing that there was more, that I wasn't aware of what I didn't have.

It was like when you get your first pair of glasses. Your vision had gotten worse little by little and you didn't realize you couldn't see until that moment when they slip the glasses onto your face for the first time and you realise just how much of the world you had been missing.

I didn't know what I didn't know.

“I love you too, Niall.” I was certain of it.

I felt him release a shaky breath as we both pulled back and met each other's eyes. The ocean-blue was something that I could drown in, but I never did. Instead, the blue kept me lifted up, so that I was floating blissfully on their surface.

I let out a breath of my own, a little chuckle as the tension was released from my body. Niall laughed with me.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I kind of ruined the vibe of the date with my sad story, didn't I?” He asked.

I smiled and shook my head.

“Absolutely not,” I shook my head again. I stood up off of his lap and made my way over to the corner where he had his record player. I knew that while the record player was new, a lot of the records were originally his father's.

He followed me and stood beside me as I searched through the piles of music, finally stopping on one and pulling it out. When he saw my choice he nodded his approval and wrapped his arms around me from behind. He placed his head on my shoulder as I slid the first record out of its sleeve and placed it down gently, lifting the needle and letting it land right at the start of the album.

Back in the U.S.S.R. started playing and I felt Niall kiss my neck.

“My dad's favourite song by the Beatles is on this record,” he said.

“It's mine too,” I said.

“You already know what song it is?” He asked, sceptical.

“If it's not Blackbird then I seriously question everything I thought about him as a music man.” I laughed when he squeezed my waist and lifted me up off the floor for a moment.

“It is Blackbird,” he said before spinning me around and kissing me sweetly.

“I love you.” I smiled against his lips.

“I love you too.” He smiled back at me before pulling away and guiding me to the kitchen with his hand in mine. “Also, I am apologizing now just in case I completely ruined this whole meal in an attempt to make curry and samosas.”

Standing side-by-side in front of the stove I could see the curry simmering on low before I looked sideways at Niall and then out at his apartment.

I loved his apartment. It was quite modest in size and decoration. The dark floors and furniture, the white walls--empty but for the Irish flag on the wall opposite the couch--, and the open floor plan. The small galley kitchen and breakfast bar dining area looked over the living area and on the other side fed into the hallway that led to his bathroom, bedroom, and front door. It was small but homey.

Even with a lack of wall decor, Niall had found a way to make his space his. There were a few floor plants, and more than a few succulents lined the windows that stretched from waist height up to the ceiling around the back three walls of his apartment to open the kitchen and living area up to the city. He also made sure that he always had a set of Christmas lights plugged in to make the whole area glow at night--or on a rainy day.

“You attempted to make Indian food from scratch for me.” I nudged his hip with mine. “This is one of those situations where it's the thought that counts. Even if it tastes terrible I'll still love that you tried.” He blushed. “Plus, if it really is that bad we can order takeout from the Indian place a few blocks over.”

Niall laughed and ran a hand through his hair. Seeing his smile, hearing his laugh after the heavy topic we’d just moved away from made my heart soar. I had managed to make him feel light enough to laugh just minutes after he'd been crying. It was indescribable how much that meant to me, how good it made me feel.

“Well then, I suppose we should try it all and decide on a verdict.”

“I suppose we should.” I smiled at him as he began plating the food for us and we sat side by side at the end of the counter on his small black stools to eat.

“Thank you, by the way,” I said before we started.

“Don't thank me yet you haven't tried it,” he said with a smile.

“I meant for opening up to me,” I clarified.

“Oh,” he said quietly and looked down at his bowl in front of him.

“I want you to know that you can talk to me, about anything.” I reached out and put my hand over his.

“I appreciate that,” he said with a nod.

He then waited, rather impatiently, for me to take my first bite. I took a spoonful of rice and curry and raised an eyebrow at him before he nodded to nudge me to finally taste it.

I rolled my eyes with a smile on my face, but I put the food in my mouth and under his watchful--nervous?--gaze I decided that he did okay.

“It's good,” I said.

“Good?”

“Try it.” I nodded.

He let loose a breath that I don't think he was aware he'd been holding, and he tasted his own creation.

“That's not bad!” The surprise in his tone made me laugh.

“Give yourself some credit,” I said through my laughter. “This is your first time making it, and you did well! I really appreciate you trying to make it, too. It means a lot that you took the time to learn and to do something like this. Who knows, I might even get Louis to bake a soda bread and then pretend that I made it for you.”

Niall laughed heartily at that.

#in which we get really heavy again #BECAUSE WHY NOT?!#1dff #fic: oth #fic: only ticket home #OTH13

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