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the-storyteller-and-her-soldiers · 6 years

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In The Pits

Title: In The Pits

Word Count: 2,166

Warnings: Mild angst in the beginning but I don't believe it's too bad! (Just being salty over school) Probably a swear word or two in there, none said in malice but just to be safe! FLUFFY ENDING SO FLUFFY YOU WILL CHOKE ON THE FLUFF!! ...Not really but it is fluffy

Ship: The Storyteller and her Shield (Gladio x myself) (Golly gee, I can't even explain why I love him so much! AAA!!)

Summary: Yesterday my friends and I got to talking about school starting up and since my school is literal hell (The devil is our mascot) I kinda work myself up over it since I'm still struggling with my sickness. Well when I go outside to try and work things out all on my own, someone comes in to check on me. And let's just say it's so much easier to sort out everything with someone who cares!

Harsh rays of burning daylight shot down from the cloudless sky above right onto the wooden planks that made up the porch of the historic white house, warming them. This house that held so much unspoken history sat across from the parking lot of one of the town's oldest churches. Aside from the immense humidity that could make a person soak in their own sweat, the world outside was quite vibrant which made it the perfect destination to go try and clear one's mind.

A pair of bare feet, colored by the sun and multiple scrapes and bruises, approached the warm wood. The hushed curses and questions of why the person didn't bother with shoes went unnoticed by the nearby nature of the quiet birds and tired breeze. What could alarm them, however, was the blaring bass guitar that could be heard from multiple feet away, ringing out from tiny black earbuds. The marked-up feet hastily climbed the one stair that lead up to the porch to escape the burning concrete, a huff of relief escaping into the air as the feet settled themselves on the noticeably cooler step. The rest of the body, that of a young lady, plopped itself down on the wood, basking in the heated glow for only a moment before wrapping sun-kissed arms around wobbling knees and curling into a self-given hug. A sudden thump filled the air, earning a caw from a crow that perched itself just above on the charcoal colored roof, as the young lady let her phone carelessly fall from her hand and on to the step below her. She hadn't even reacted to the tug that her trusty little earbuds gave her when she did this, only folding her now free hands over her shaking knees to create a pillow for her heavy head.

The young woman lifted her head only a little to sweep strawberry locks from her view in order to see the familiar empty sight before her. Staring off into the winding horizon, at nothing in particular, lightened her mind somewhat. Although, the fiery-haired girl couldn't even place where her mind was, really. Sun-kissed arms curled in as close as they possibly could towards her torso in an attempt to soothe her main problem, the pit. Oh god, the pit. It felt more as if the girl had somehow swallowed a five-pound weight. It seemed to pull her to the ground and left her throat far too dry and scratchy to even cry out for some ease. Resting her cheek on her arms, the gaze of chocolate eyes fell to another direction of standard nothingness on the desolate residential street. Sitting up halfway, she thought about getting up to grab a bottle of water. The pit in her stomach instantly ate up any strength to even stand and with no motivation, fiery locks once again crashed into the pillow of her arms.

What even caused this? Were the only words of her own that she could hear over the music that had faded to nothing but muffled speech and background noise.

At the melodic ting of her phone reporting that she had multiple messages, she was reminded of the source of her sudden downtroddenness. Picking up the rough black case that enclosed her phone, dark eyes squinted at a darkened screen to view the incoming messages. She flicked through them, chuckling at a few until she reached the conversations that slapped her in the face.

“Riiight,” The girl muttered, glancing down to where she felt the evergrowing pit, “School begins tomorrow.”

Dropping her phone to the side of her, the air was filled with another thump. Hickory eyes hid behind cream lids and tanned hands, while a shiver coursed its’ way through the girl's body.

It was normal to feel nervous before the first day, but this wasn’t just nervousness. This felt more like full on anxiety, which again was normal before the first day, except she had it for all the wrong reasons. Dried peach lips pursed themselves to hold in one of many dry heaves. The girl had been in a very similar situation entering school last year, from the year before. Except for the fact that this time she wasn’t even cured of her ‘sickness’ one that still pained her to no end. That meant that putting on a brave smiling face and enduring all of the needlessly stupid questions from not only her peers but from her teachers would only be that much more difficult. Not to mention putting up with any harassment, god forbid they find her shaking body that hilarious like they did last year.

“No they did not ‘fix’ me, and no I’m not going out spending two hundred bucks of my own money to buy a wheelchair just to be able to come here. I’ve worked too friggen hard.” The young girl responded bitterly to last year’s questions that were echoing in her mind. “And no, I am not a spastic freak! My leg isn’t even spastic. It’s shakey, yeah. But I wouldn’t call it spastic. God, you’d think English would teach us about a little thing called word choice. Gah...”

The girl continued her monologue to no one in particular, only replacing her current frustrations with new ones as she recalled more and more memories from the previous year. Her monologue paused just to let out a drawn-out groan that had been bubbling up inside. Too wrapped up in trying to sort out her frayed mind, the lady with locks of crimson didn’t even hear the heavy footsteps that were coming towards her.

“Yo, Becca, thought you might be out here.” A deep voice called out notifying her of their presence.

Upon hearing a voice that wasn’t her own, Rebecca jumped slightly startled by the sound. Sitting up much straighter than before, she sent the towering brunet a wary smile. “BWAHH-- Oh, hey Sweetheart! What’s up, anything I can help you with?”

“You alright? Didn’t even notice that you left.” Gladio shot back, taking in and seeing past the facade his partner was trying to muster.

Rebecca hung her head slightly causing crimson locks to shield her eyes. “Me, I’m functioning. I just wanted to get some fresh air, can’t stay locked away in my room on a day like today.” A giggle trailed after that statement. But, like the smile she had cobbled together, that too, was rather forced. Gladio simply narrowed his own amber orbs at the girl who sat just beside him. When she allowed herself to catch a glimpse of her partner’s face, she knew that he wasn’t taking any of her crap. She let her airy tone fade into her more natural voice, the one that revealed how close she was to crying. “You’re not buying it, are you?”

Gladio only shook his head. He watched his partner cup her cheeks with her hands and physically fight with herself to keep the smile on her lips. “It’s stupid, getting all worked up over this. It’s stupid!” Crimson locks further obscured her sight while she shook her head.

“Can’t say unless I know what’s going on.”

Rebecca hummed in agreement while she edged closer towards her partner. When she was close enough, Gladio wrapped his arm around her and closed the small gap that was between them. A high pitched squeak emerged from Rebecca as she felt herself being pulled closer. Widened pools of hickory met with ones far brighter for a brief moment before hurriedly averting themselves. A small smile, however, started up its slow game of playing at peach lips. Though the smile once again faltered as she spoke of what troubled her mind.

“School. I’m freaking out over the mere idea of going to school tomorrow.” Resting her elbow on the one knee that had calmed itself and resting her chin in the palm of her hand, words continue to bubble out of her.

"I'm not afraid to go in, though I know what to expect, and to say I hate it would be an understatement. I don't want the pity, or to be someone's shot at free publicity because 'oh look at them they're so nice to talk to the sick handicapped kid.' and I know that's what they want because as soon as the teachers go away so do they.

Don't even get me started on the teachers, I've had a few treat me like a mental vegetable, instead just talking to my aide in regards to me instead of myself. No one is going to know my limits better than I do! There's a lot more but I've said my piece. Now don't get me wrong, there are good people there and I'm not trying to play the 'oh woe is me, I have no one here' because that's bull!

But you've seen my campus, meeting up with said people and friends is a rather difficult normally, let alone in my current state. Not to mention how people can get away with calling me actual slurs but if I try to defend myself, I’m the one being disciplined.

I dunno, it's just why travel through the toxic waste dump --that has been known to kill-- when there are alternative routes to get you to the goal in the same time? You see my point? I’m just not prepared mentally to handle all that without snapping at someone, and that’s the last thing I’d ever wanna do."

Trailing after this long ramble was a breath that Rebecca never realized she was holding. She picked up her head to feel the golden shine on her face while she rubbed away any tears that threatened to spill over ebony dams. Getting all that bottled up noise out had lightened the weight within her chest. But now her stomach had lightened up enough to begin flipping, because oh God, did she truly just spill out like that?! Her insides continued the scream in peril as the programs in Rebecca’s mind ceased to function. Without a proper thought, Rebecca fell over only finding a cushion in her boyfriend’s lap.

Gladio’s fingers found themselves entangled in her ruby strands, watching his partner’s shocked expression shift to one of calmer contentment. Eyes wide as small dinner plates closed and little crinkles revealed themselves at the corners and that oh-so-familiar smile began to tug at the corner of her lips.

“It’s alright if you have more to say. Better to get it all out there.”

Rebecca shifted her body to make herself a bit more comfortable as another airy hum filled the air. “Yeah, that’s true but I don’t know what else to say! Nothing that wouldn’t just sour my mood anyway. I’d rather focus on the positives since I can see them again.”

“Oh yeah? Those being?”

Rebecca opened one of her eyes and did her best to hold back a grin, “Well one of them being you and your cute face.”

Now it was Gladio’s turn to be shocked. It was obvious that he was quite attractive to most and there was never a shortage of compliments from those wanting to be with him. But cute? That was something that he still wasn’t used to since Rebecca was the only one who ever said it to his face. Chocolate eyes studied his expression while she laughed. That sweet smile and those glistening eyes that held such adoration. Rebecca was pretty sure she could feel her heart skipping a beat or two. Though she wouldn’t have long to bask in this moment since her hands flew to cover her suddenly blushing face at Gladio’s comeback. Various high pitched and embarrassed groans were sounded off as Rebecca rolled back and forth slightly.

The heat within her cheeks made Rebecca finally absorb how hot it was becoming outside. Not wanting the extreme heat to mess with her constant headache any further, Rebecca sat up and asked if they could head back inside where it was relatively cooler thanks to her air conditioning. Gladio agreed and stood up first only turning to give his hand to his partner. Glancing down, he noticed that her feet were bare and relatively cut up.

“Want me to carry you?”

Rebecca giggled as she stood up, shaking her head one more time. “Nah, I’ll be fine. It’s just a short walk after all!” Though once the top half of her foot touched the rocky concrete beneath her, her answer changed.

“Nevermind, please carry me!” Was what she sheepishly whimpered, practically leaping into her boyfriend’s open arms...

#ship: the storyteller and her shield #self insert #selfshipping #selfship #self ship #self shipping #selfship community #selfshipdom #gladio x myself #fluff #fluffy #comfort #i'm feeling so much better after writing this

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etoilesdephan · 7 years

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Ubi sunt qui ante nos fuerunt? (Chapter 14: Nec spe, nec metu)

Chapter masterpost

Chapter words: 2.2k

Overall words: 36.1k

Read it on ao3!

ATTENTION: There won't be a new chapter next week due to some life things that have come up having stalled my writing process and I would prefer to give you quality chapters <3 I hope you understand. So the next update after this will be on 28.05.2017. If anything changes, I will let you know! Hope you enjoy this chapter nonetheless!!

======

The wall against his cheek was cool, and his eyes were sore, but he refused to sleep though the majority of his limbs had gone absolutely numb already. He breathed, too much heat in his lungs that he couldn't expel no matter the amount of breaths he took and released.

His thoughts were lonesome beeps and muffled steps.

“Dan?” The voice was quiet and the touch to his shoulder was just as light as his name had been in that breath. Her touch was so light that the thick layers of the shirt, hoodie and a blanket on his shoulders made it virtually impossible to feel in his semi-delirious state that he'd fallen into somewhere along the way to the hospital. “You need to get some rest, and the doctor wants to have a look at you before that” Cornelia's tone was motherly and he was drawn to that sound though a part of him still wanted to fight, but was too exhausted to do so.

His eyes were glued to the sleeping form of Phil, hauled into the hospital bed and tucked into the white sheets. Dan counted each breath, noting it to his memory.

“One hundred ninety three,” He didn't notice when his lips moved, the breaths too hot on them still as his voice poured sound into the numbers “One hundred ninety four,” He watched the rise and fall of the chest, the way Phil's lips were slightly apart “One hundred…. Ninety five,” He felt a light squeeze on his shoulder and Dan sucked in a breath, held it before releasing “One hundred ninety six,” His voice was barely audible.

“Come on, love,” She was soft, gentle, as she slowly pulled him onto his feet and secured the blanket around his shoulders again when it began to slip off, Dan's fingers too numb to hold on.

His eyes remained on the sleeping figure, his lips pronouncing the numbers soundlessly. Dan's knees almost buckled when he began to move, each step more reluctant than the previous until they reached the door and he stopped, his neck craned to keep his eyes on Phil.

“Come on, Dan, he'll still be here later, he'll be fine,” She assured and she ran her hand over his back in a reassuring manner only for Dan to pull away a little.

“But what if...” He began and trailed off, but finally pried his eyes away from the sleeping figure when he felt his body being pulled to look at Cornelia, her hands firm on his shoulders and his heartbeat increased for a moment until he was met with the softness in her eyes.

“No what ifs. He will be fine, he's recovering, and mum will arrive soon, she'll keep an eye on him while you're gone,” The confidence in her voice rendered him speechless and he let his head bow as he nodded, his eyelids heavy and very slow to open again.

“Okay,” He mouthed and that was enough.

=====

“Now, we'll need to do some basic checkup, so if you could remove your hoodie and shirt,” The booming male voice was louder than most that Dan had encountered in hours and though he had reluctantly given up the blanket, his fingers curled into the soft material of the hoodie, unwilling to comply with the request. Instead, he shrunk in his seat, shoulders slouched and head hung low as he pressed into the corner of the seat subconsciously.

“Mister Howell?” And though there was no malice in the voice, Dan soon found himself shaking his head, slowly, but surely and he pulled his legs close, the heels clumsily resting on the very edge of the chair as he shifted.

“I'm fine,” Dan muttered quietly, curling up as much as possible for his tall form in the seat when the doctor stepped closer.

“I would like to really make sure of that, for your own sake,” The man spoke and the fight in Dan's limbs began to disappear, his head too light with the lack of sleep and the magnitude of what had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

Before he had realised it, there was a hand on his jaw, and a flash of fear ran through Dan's whole being.

“Fussy, aren't we?” A heavy voice, thick and poisonous filled Dan's ears and instantly he froze, eyes wide and frightful as he looked up at the doctor who had stopped as well.

“W-w-what?” Dan stuttered out and it was only then that he realised how much he was shaking again.

“I asked if you could open your mouth,” A much calmer and softer voice addressed him and Dan blinked, drawing in a shaky breath before complying. He couldn't stop himself from shaking though, even after the initial checks had been done, clearly skipping a couple of steps for the sake of his comfort. He felt like the thickness had settled in his own throat, bubbling in his chest with every breath he drew. The ghost of a touch on his jaw, rough fingers digging into the soft skin, was still there, when he finally was finally released, a couple of forms crumpled in his hand.

“H-hey Dan, wait up!” A hand landed on his shoulder, stopping him from walking aimlessly away from the doctor's office and he stopped, feet as if glued on the spot suddenly. The papers in his hand crumpled more when his fingers curled into them. He only released them when Martyn gently tugged the forms out of his grasp.

Martyn watched him, but Dan refused to look up, his whole frame trembling and swaying a little. The hand never left his shoulder and he didn't make an effort to shake it off.

“Let's get you home,” When he didn't say anything, Martyn sighed and briefly eyed the forms the doctor had given to Dan. He began to guide Dan ahead and Dan obediently followed the lead, feet dragging on the sterile hospital floor, head hanging low, and the world swimming before his eyes.

He was so tired, and the sleep was enveloping his mind in a similar manner that the cell walls had for so long.

Several pairs of shoes came into his blurry view and he looked up when one stepped particularly close and he saw Mrs Lester looking at him, arms open a little to offer a hug, but no matter how much he knew it would be courteous to accept, he couldn't make himself move, and she soon let her hands fall by her sides. Dan expected to see disappointment, but she only smiled “I'm so glad to see you out of that terrible place,” She spoke and Dan offered her a tired smile in return.

They held gazes for a while longer, Dan's mouth mute, eyes - unfocused as they looked at the elder woman. She never pried any answer from him.

“These were prescribed by Dr. Hoffner,” Martyn spoke up, handing the forms to his mum, and Dan was thankful when the main attention was drawn away from him. Instead, he pulled the hood back on and over his eyes, trying to block out the lights a little, the noise. His limbs were weak but there was a purpose in them.

Without minding to ask or explain it to either of the Lesters present, Dan began to walk, slowly but steadily, and the shivers were still present in his core when he arrived by the door and pushed it open. Purposefully he kept pacing on and only when faced with the sleeping expression of Phil did he finally allow himself to stop.

He watched the rise and fall of the chest as he sat down in the chair next to the bed, arms wrapped around his body, the palms hidden in the sleeves as he curled his fingers into the fabric and held on as tightly as he could.

There was finally peace, and his guilty thoughts subsided, slowly and unwillingly. They twisted and tugged at him, but he was too spent to react to it and gradually a certain nothingness enveloped him.

The life felt dreamlike, but he didn't dare to reach out, to touch Phil, in that lingering fear that the other man would disappear and he would wake up in the cell again. If this were actually dream, he'd rather sit here for the rest of the eternity, because he hadn't felt this close in far too long, and he was unwilling to lose it.

One heavy blink, and he found it hard to reopen his eyes, the picture before his eyes blurring for a second before it cleared.

Another heavy blink and there was a certain dizziness as his head nodded forward, but he tried to keep his gaze on the sleeping figure, his heart too full all of a sudden.

Once more his eyelids fell shut and they didn't reopen, the sleep taking over. Dan's neck strained a little from the uncomfortable position, but he didn't feel it anymore.

=====

The image was warping in front of his eyes, red and black, like a swirl of watered down paint and it was everywhere. It was all around him and coming closer, trapping him as he stumbled to get out of its way.

Whispers filled the air, menacing, and the hair stood on the back of his neck at the sound.

It was whispers that turned into hisses and before he knew it, they buzzed like a swarm of angry wasps, a poisonous laughter in the cacophony of millions and he curled up.

He could not fight it.

It was too close.

There were too many.

“Dan,” His eyes snapped open and he gasped, instantly looking up and a shooting pain ran down his neck, turning the gasp into a groan and his hand found the back of his neck instantly.

It took several hard blinks until he realised his whereabouts. Everything was white and pastel, soothing and healing, and alive though the liveliness was absorbed into the muffled sound. The hospital felt welcoming, warmer than what he'd learned to known, and yet there were shivers still ever as present in his limbs.

“Don't sleep t-.... There,” There was that hitch and a disgruntled sigh that followed and though when Dan looked up he saw a crease in Phil's forehead, it was still a soft regard that was offered to Dan in those eyes.

“I'm sorry,” As if a trained answer, the words fell from Dan's lips without a second thought and it took a moment until he realised that he lacked a concrete context for the apology.

Phil, however, didn't seem to mind that, and instead he held out a hand towards Dan, a small, crooked smile on his lips. ''Can I?'' He asked and the fingers curled a little to invite Dan closer, and he obeyed, pushing himself up though his joints protested and placed his hand into Phil's. It was a kind of a wonder that shone in Phil's eyes when their fingers met. Dan couldn't quite understand it.

“So I'm not dreaming,” The words said were so light that Dan almost missed them, save for that he saw the lips move and how he felt the light tug when Phil pulled at his arm to draw Dan in closer.

“I was worried…. That this is another…. Dream,” Phil spoke softly, but the sound felt too exhausted to Dan's ears, as if it took just about everything in Phil to actually form the syllables and breathe sound into them.

“Isn't it?” Dan questioned, just as quietly, inching closer to the bed more until it made sense to sit on the edge and he allowed his calloused fingers entwine with Phil's boney ones, where they felt like the perfect puzzles pieces despite how life had deformed them. “Because it sure as hell feels surreal,” He tried to smile, but his lips were too firm of a line, and he felt the heaviness pulling at the corners of his eyes still.

“You look real,” Phil, with another crease that appeared in his forehead, looked at Dan from beyond the thick-rimmed glasses. “You feel real,” Dan felt himself being tugged closer and he obliged, only to flinch away when a hand reached for his face, his eyes widening for a moment until the fingertips gently pressed against his cheekbone.

“You're warm,” Though only a little, Dan leaned into the touch, and he felt the heaviness set in his lungs again, the excruciating heat burning up each breath.

“This is a better reality to me,” Dan finally admitted after a moment, dark eyes set on much lighter ones and he came to realise, much more clearly than he had realised in weeks that had passed, how many nuances had faded from his memory, far too easily, no matter how diligently he had committed them to his memory.

This was Phil, and he was real. Softness lingering even in the sharpest of edges, and the warmth - in the coolest of tints in his irises. No matter how roughened their edges were, the touches were light and even at most angry, they hadn't turned hostile.

Dan recalled himself pushing Phil away, harsh intention in the action.

Now Phil was tugging at him lightly, to draw him in. Dan allowed him to, if only to lean down, his face hidden between Phil's arm and side.

He couldn't say no to his wishes before already, but he felt like he had no right to take things away from Phil anymore.

#myfanfic #phanfic #phanfiction #phanfic au #phanfiction au #phan angst #phan fluff #phandom #phan

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atlaswriting · 5 years

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“We can share,” says Abram. I want to argue, tell him I’ll find another room. I passed at least four more during an extra long bathroom break a few hours ago. Instead I just nod and follow him into the room. It’s one of the smallest I’ve seen and I know it was gifted to Abram for that reason. A sharp hate digs itself deeper into my stomach for Malachi Rose.

My eyes drink in everything they can—toned back marked up only by tattoos and angry bruises splattered over his ribs like some kind of f’ucked up galaxy. He turns back around and I cast my gaze away, the cheeks burning hot. “I’m sorry I don’t have my bags in here, can I borrow a shirt?”

Abram doesn’t hesitate. He lifts a shirt from his suitcase, smells it and tosses it toward me. I turn it over in my hands, about to tease him for the hockey shirt when I glance at the back: O’HAIR – 23

“Can I have another one please?”

“You don’t like the Kings? Or do you have a problem with the greatest hockey player to grace the ice?”

My hands work the shirt into a ball and toss it back at him, “Can I please have another one?” I snap, an edge to my voice I don’t mean to have. Abram’s brows knit together and he reaches into his bag.

“Is this one good enough for her highness?” His smirk makes me glare and he throws me the plain black t-shirt.

“Much better actually. Turn around please.” He listens, walking backwards toward the bed and sitting with his back toward me. When I’m confidant he isn’t looking I slip off my shoes and my dress, pulling his shirt over. “Hey!” I shout as the shirt falls against my frame, “you were looking, I told you not to.” I sit on the bed and pull the safety of the blankets over me.

Abram lies beside me on top of the blankets, “Who knew there was a girl beneath all that meanness.”

“I’m not mean.”

He squints holding his index and thumb nearly together, “A little mean.”

I have to give him that, so I shrug.

We start talking. About nothing, about everything and soon Abram knows everything from my first broken bone to having not spoken to my father since I was eight. I tell him how my body is the casualty of the war I wage on myself. And he tells me how his mother used to read to him every night, sometimes her own work but most of the time it was other poets. She would pull him into her lap, rest him against her chest and her soft voice would slowly lull him to sleep. He tells me how the nightmares come like a pack of wolves, ready to ravage everything in sight.

“What he did to you isn’t right.” We’re lying on our sides facing each other when I decide to fill the silence again. His eyes were half closed and open at the sound of my voice. My fingers move to the tender bruises that stain his skin the color of plum wine. The edges are yellowing which I knew to mean healing, still I touch him softly. “We can go,” I say, “We can leave them—Mom, Malachi. If you want to I can make it happen.” Abram offers a throaty sound, the desperation in my words going unnoticed as he drifts to sleep. I lean my forward against his for just a moment before turning around and letting sleep take me.

♡ ♡ ♡

My eyes open slowly, the sun peaking over the horizon glares at me and I try to turn around but find it difficult with Abram’s body wrapped around mine. At some point he snuck below the covers and now I didn’t know where I began and he ends.

Guilt settles into my bones like concrete and I do my best to pull back the body parts the belong to me. Slowly I stand up and leave the room, running toward what was supposed to be mine. The shower I take his hot and I try hard to scrub Abram off of my skin—both for my sake and Jason’s.

When I walk out toward the kitchen everyone with the exception of Malachi and Abram is awake. Gigi sings a song I know belongs to Billie Holiday as she sways by the stove, “Coffee’s on the counter and breakfast will be ready soon.”

I opt to keep my coffee black, hoping it’ll settle the fault lines that my stomach’s become.

“Where did you go last night?” Jason asks, sitting beside me on the table, he leans over and kisses my cheek, “I checked your room and you weren’t there.”

“Did you check Abrams?” My mother asks, her voice drowning in malice.

Jason stares back at me, “You were sleeping with Abram?”

“Sleeping,” I stress, reaching over and grabbing his hand. I give it a gentle squeeze. The reason why I care what Jason thinks escapes me, but I do. I know the horror he’s lived through and I don’t want to be another hurdle he survives, “I forgot where my room was so Abram let me sleep in his, he was on top of the blankets the entire time.” It’s a half-true which is better than a whole lie, “Besides,” I start just as Abram walks sleepily into the kitchen, “Abram’s like a brother to me.” I force the words out, tar black and heavy.

Gigi looks from her grandson toward me, kisses his cheek and makes me ‘hmph’ sound. I look away; unaware to face the lies I’ve been weaving for myself.

We eat in relative silence. Me, mostly drinking coffee and occasionally taking a few bites of my toast. When I move to stand up, Gigi’s fingers curl around my wrist, “Don’t you think you should eat more? A piece of toast for breakfast isn’t enough.”

“I think it’s plenty,” Cerise chimes from the opposite ends of the table, pressing around her eggs with her fork, “Elise doesn’t eat a lot. Small stomach.”

Gigi doesn’t bother look at my mother and I find myself jealous of her spine, how it must be made of steel, instead she gives me a look, the stern look of someone who cares. “No, you’ll sit and eat a little more.”

She uses a spoon to put some eggs on my plate, not much but enough and adds a few bacon slices to that.

Cerise pulls her sharp body up, “Elise,” she says, “le maillot de bain ne rentre pas,” she says, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“It’s a good thing—” Gigi starts, “Je me fiche de ce que tu penses.”

I stare at my mother as her face goes from tan to red to purple. She lifts her half eaten plate from the table and slams it on the counter before storming out of the kitchen.

“Now eat, sweetheart. You’ll blow away with the wind.”

I do as she says.

♡ ♡ ♡

Good morning x. I hope you slept well

Kai: I actually slept better than I have in months.

Kai: Is there anything worse than family holidays with the wannabe Brady Bunch?

Maybe being eaten by a shark?

Kai: It kind of feels like the same.

Kai: Can I call you? I have a free moment.

I can’t… I’m about to head to the gym

Back at it again with the half truths. I pull on my sneakers and leave my phone on my bed as I go out for a run. I run until the pain in my chest is subdued by the pain in my knees. I run until my lungs burn hot and I feel like I’m going to pass out. I run until the love that sits heavy starts to lighten and finally I make it back toward the Rose house drenched in sweat.

I stop at the door way to my room, watching in horror as Abram lifts my phone and stares at the lock screen. His thumb tries a few different numbers before entering the right ones and I jump toward him, in the process of trying to grab my phone both he and I fall onto the bed.

“It isn’t polite to go through someone’s phone!” I shout, tugging it away from him.

“I lost mine while I was playing with the girls; I was just trying to call it.”

Someone clears her throat and both Abram and I stop to look at it, Gigi gives a small laugh and turns away.

“Do you have some kind of gross porn on there?” I scramble to my feet, still breathing heavy from my run, “Do you have porn of you and Jason on here?” He visibly cringes.

I gauge his reaction, “As a matter of fact yes.” I pull my phone away and safely bring it with me across the room, “There are videos of Jason and I on there and I don’t think it would be appropriate for you to see. Let me call your phone.” I dial his number and we both walk toward the hail to the king ringtone.

“Seriously?”

“It’s better than what you have on yours.” He replies with a hint of bitterness.

♡ ♡ ♡

I find myself in the furthest room of the house, an office that doubles as a library. I take in the books around me, overwhelming at all the lives that sit neatly on the shelf. My finger trails over the spine of the books, stopping at one I recognize all too well.

“Do you like that?”

“It’s one of my favorites,” I look up at Gigi. When she walks into the room she lights it up instantly.

“You know that’s Abram’s mom.”

I nod, “He told me. I couldn’t believe it—I’ve been in love with her poetry for years, my mother hunted down a first edition for my thirteenth birthday. She was then given a restraining order by some agent.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Gigi looks pensive, her eyes burning into me.

“Why does Malachi have this? Wouldn’t he want it gone?”

She shakes her head, “Love is funny think like that. Despite all his flaws my son did love Emilia, but love isn’t enough and Emilia needed to get out in order to give her son the best life possible. I wish I knew she was pregnant, I would have—I would—,” Gigi stutters over her words, for the first time I see something other than perfection. Her human peaks through the cracks of her mask and I smile softly. “You and Abram?” she’s quick to change the subject, pick herself back up, “Is there…”

“No.” But I can’t hide the longing in my voice, “I—me and Jason. And Abram has someone too.”

“Sylvia?”

“You know?”

“Darling,” Gigi says, “I know everything. Abram’s very quick to talk about her, that boy can’t contain his love, it’s burning a hole in him.”

I nod slowly, “She’s a pretty young girl,” Gigi says knowingly. She takes Emilia’s book out of my hands and places it back on the shelf. She’s careful in her movements, index finger rested on her chin. “Here,” she says, pulling a leather bound book from the shelf, she places it in my hands. Sylvia Plath: Vol II. “This is perfect for you.”

“I don’t—,”

“It’s your favorite, is it not?”

♡ ♡ ♡

That night while Malachi and my mother are out meeting some of his publishing colleagues, we open a bottle of champagne after the girls are in bed. Gigi retired hours ago so it’s just Jason, Abram and myself sitting on the floor of the living room.

Like true teenagers, we decide against cups and occasionally just take drinks out of the bottle. My body is warm, growing warmer from the fire as I watch Jason and Abram swap stories of their childhood. Jason speaks of his mother much like Abram does, despite there being an underlying sense of contempt for her for getting out; he lets the memories come out with ease.

I look at him, for the first time, and I see a boy whose skin is the only protection he has. I turn and wrap my arms around him, hugging him tight.

“I should go to bed. If I don’t I’m going to end up crying and nobody wants to see that.” He tries to laugh but it’s strained.

“It’s against my religion to let a good bottle of champagne go to waste,” I tell Abram who scoots closer to me. I lift the bottle to my lips and drink until I feel numb then I set it down. My head feels heavy and I lean it against Abram’s shoulder.

He takes the bottle and drinks some, “Do you like Jason—like. Do you like him, Elise?” He asks.

I stare into the fire letting his question settle between us, I want to say yes, tell him what he wants to hear but my fingers curl between his and I offer up what little shrug I can manage, “I don’t know.” I admit.

#thread: ablise #thread: all

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