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enchantestuff · 3 years

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rekindle - rbr sebastian vettel

in which after a long time apart, you and Sebastian rekindle your love for one another in the least romantic place you could think of - a sweaty, packed nightclub

NOT MY GIF!!

warnings: public sex (ofc), fingering, teasing, lowkey angst at the start, nicknames, uncomfy ex, sebastain Vettel deserves a warning himself, happy sinning

taglist: @theringers @forestviper201 @icemanhoneybadger @formulamei @findthelightinyourlife

3.1k words

You smirked as your eyes met from across the club for what felt like the hundredth time that night. You hadn't seen him in over a year, the last time you were even in the same country as him had ended up with you climbing into a taxi, speeding away to the airport and him standing half naked in his driveway, wishing for the car to turn around and end his worst nightmare.

The relationship between you and Sebastsian was a complicated one to say the least. You had grown up with each other, your families vacationed together every second summer and you spent many christmases together. It was only when you got older that you started to really appreciate Sebastian.

Daydreams of what it would be like to spend a night in bed with him began to fill your free moments. Images of the two of you tangled in bed was once something that you could only dream about, but that dream certainly became a reality one unforgettable night in Italy.

It was during a celebratory dinner after yet another win that he had leaned over to talk to you. His lips brushed against the side of your neck and goosebumps had risen all over your skin, you cursed yourself for your reaction but soon began praising your childish antics once Sebastian finally caught onto how you felt about him.

The few words of “do i make you nervous, liebe?” led to the two of you making out in the corridor. That celebratory dinner escalated to a friends with benefits situation which set off a more than complicated relationship between the two of you where feelings were of course present, but stubbornness from both sides refused to let them be out in the open.

Your feelings for one another eventually escaped when he got into a nasty crash in the middle of a race. You ran up to him the minute he stormed into the garage, tears welling in your eyes as you crushed into a hug. He held you with just as much force and whispered into your ear what you had been waiting for months to hear.

He told you that you had been the only thing on his mind when he crashed into the wall and he didn't want to go a minute longer without telling you how he really felt about you

As much as you wanted things to be great with Sebastain, your relationship was unfortunately not plain sailing from there and the media had a bring role to play in your downfall. They wouldn't leave him or you alone, constantly following the two of you wherever you went and even going as far as sending mail to your shared home. It was the media that drove you to leave the man you adored and move to another country in search for a new career and a new life away from the public eye.

You stared at him now, unable to tear your eyes away from his beautiful frame. He looked as good as ever and you knew deep down that you would probably never see him again. So against your brain telling you not to, you engraved every detail of his face into your memory, not wanting to let him go just yet.

You felt horrible for leaving him and strongly believed that he hated you for abandoning him. You wouldn't have blamed him if he did, you sometimes hated yourself for that decision. So you kept your distance from him all night, repeatedly telling yourself that if he did not harbor any bad emotions towards you, then he would approach you himself.

To tell the truth, you were too embarrassed to go up to him yourself, too full of guilt to face him after what you had done. But when he made eye contact with you as he pulled a girl into his body, something inside you snapped and you found yourself being dragged into an all too familiar game of cat and mouse with him.

Your night of teasing had officially begun the minute he kissed the brunette's neck, refusing to break your stare as his hands ran up and down her hips. You decided it was your turn to reciprocate the teasing and pulled a random, but still handsome, man towards you to dance. Holding your gaze with him, you allowed the man to grip onto your hips and sway from side to side. Your ass pressing against him with every beat of the music.

You maintained eye contact with him as he chatted with multiple women, his hands resting dangerously low on their backs as he smirked in your direction, you hated how much you loved his little games.

You decided to take a dance break and stepped away from the claustrophobic dance floor. Moving towards the less packed bar, you leaned against the contour top as you ordered yet another drink. The feeling of hands wrapping around your hips didn’t surprise you, nor did the hot breath fanning across the back of your neck. You were used to the warmth of Seb’s body by now and after so much time apart, you still recognized his touch.

“Quite a show you put on back there,” he muttered, gesturing to the bartender for another drink before turning his attention back towards you. You kept your face forward, staring at the variety of liquor stacked on the shelves as Sebastian flirted with you in your ear. He was still positioned behind you, which you saw as the perfect opportunity to press your ass against his crotch.

The tightening of his grip only fueled you to press yourself further into him in hopes that you would emit an even stronger reaction from him, and boy did you get what you wanted. One of his hands rested underneath your breast and as he emitting a small amount of pressure against you, he forced you into him.

No longer leaning against the counter, you could now feel the entirety of his body pressed against you. Every vein and muscle. Every curve and dent of his body, Still, that didn't stop you from wiggling your bum against him.

“Are you trying to turn me on right now, love, or are you really that fucking oblivous?”

You twisted your head to finally look at him, momentarily taken aback by his pure beauty before regaining your confidence again. “That depends,” you hummed, purposely brushing your lips against his neck as you spoke, “Is it working?”

His hold on you tightened and somehow he pulled you even closer to him, allowing you to feel every inch and vein of his hardened cock. “Someones excited,” you smiled, immediately freezing up when you caught sight of your ex boyfriend standing next to you.

He was the man you had been with before Seb and it was safe to say he had completely broken your heart.

Confusion immediately filled Sebs body at your reaction, fearful he had done something wrong he moved to stand beside you, holding onto your bicep as he looked you in your eyes. “Are you alright, darling?” he questioned, his eyes bouncing back and forth as he searched your face for any indication of pain.

“Yeah its - “

“Y/N! Great to see you.” Dread immediately filled your body at the infamous voice, you felt yourself go rigid in Sebastian's grip and desperately wished for your ex to leave the two of you alone.

“Who's this douche?” Seb whispered in your ear, trying to relive some of your tension and comfort you in what seemed to be a terribly uncomfortable situation.

“Brad, hey,” you muttered, you grabbed hold of Sebastian's hand that was previously sprawled on the bar countertop, using the warmth of his touch as a confidence booster to finally turn around and face the brutal ex.

“How have you been?” he asked, refusing to even glance at the Redbull driver next to you, focusing his hungry gaze on you and you only.

You sighed deeply at his attempt of small talk. Could he not just say hello and move on? Did he really need to interrupt your night.

Sebastian kept a close eye on you throughout your short conversation. A sense of protectiveness filled him at your rigid stance, he knew you could handle the situation yourself but he couldn't help but want to aid you. He felt the need to get involved. So he did.

He didn’t let you answer the man's next question of what you had recently been up to, instead he grabbed hold of the side of your face, his fingers dipping into the nape of your neck as he pulled you into him. He grinned smugly at the worried glance you threw his way before connecting your lips together.

The kiss was hesitant at first.

Taking into account this was your first shared kiss together since the breakup, it felt both natural and unusual to be kissing him again, but as the seconds passed you found yourself relaxing in his hold and began kissing him back with much more force.

You lost yourself in the moment, the idea of your ex boyfriend watching you make out with your other ex boyfriend didn't even cross your mind. You solely focused on the way Sebastian’s lips felt against yours after such a long time apart. He was addicting.

Your eyes fluttered open when he pulled away, blushing slightly at the sheepish look he threw your exes way. “What were you saying, mate?” he confidently asked.

The feeling of his palm burned against your cheek and you couldn't even bring yourself to look at Brad, but you didn't need to as he just stumbled away, clearly intimidated by Sebastian.

There was no need for you to say anything to Seb - if the way you were teasing him earlier on in the evening was of no indication to how you felt about him - then the lustful look you were giving him now certainly was.

He immediately pulled you back into him, your lips reconnecting in a lustful kiss. With no more awkwardness surrounding the two of you, you found yourself enjoying it even more.

Moving one of his hands down your body, Sebastian forcefully squeezed your bum which emitted a gasp from you, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth, further deepening the kiss. He pressed his body against yours and your hands raked across it, feeling his muscles flex against your hands.

You moaned into his mouth the minute he dug his hips into you, the feeling of his body so close to you bringing you back to when the two of you dated. Confusion filled you when he pulled away, ending your lovely make out session and disappointing you tremendously. “Don't start what you can't finish, love” he warned, leaning down to scatter kisses across your chest, nipping and licking at every exposed area.

“Who says I can't finish this?” you remarked, grinning at the way his eyebrows rose at your statement.

“Look around us, darling” he stood up straighter, craning his neck to glance from side to side, taking into account the multiple people surrounding the two of you. Hundreds of people filled the room, hundreds of eyes that could possibly witness something. Hundreds of reasons why the two of you shouldn't get ahead of yourselves. But then again, when he looked back at you and the playful pout that crossed your features - he found himself making up a hundred different reasons as to why it was such a brilliant idea.

“But then again,” he continued, leaning closer to you in order to whisper in your ear, “that's never stopped us before.”

A shiver ran up your spine at his words, images flashing through your mind of previous encounters the two of you had in the most inappropriate areas. Cutting your daydream short, Sebastian grabbed hold of your hand and guided you up the stairs to the more secluded vip area.

The bouncer merily glanced at Sebastian before lifting the red velvet rope and letting the two of you in. Nodding a small thanks to the man, he continued his journey into the dimly lit area, a content hum leaving his lips at the sight of a small booth in the corner.

He sat down on the plush seats and you fell down to sit on top of him, the lower half of your body covered by the wooden table in front of you. Sebastian wasted no time in kissing your neck, unable to detach himself from your skin for more than a few moments.

Your head fell back onto his shoulder, watching the small group of people ahead of you dancing and laughing at each other caused a blush to quickly creep up your cheeks. The thought if anyone witnessing your antics both embarrassing and exciting you.

“Are you sure you want to do this, liebe?” Seb questioned, he placed his finger on your cheek and forced you to look at him as he spoke. “Because once we start, I won't be able to stop.”

“And why would I ever want you to stop?” you shot back, pressing your bum further into him to prove your point. Sebs eyes scanned the area, having seemingly decided the risk of getting caught was worth it, he ran his fingers up your thigh, under your skirt and into your underwear.

His other hand trailed the opposite direction, moving up your body to gently squeeze your breast. You arched your back at the sensation, your ass moving further into him and a harsh squeeze being delivered as a result.

Slipping a finger into you, his hand flew away from your breast to clamp over your mouth, muffling the sudden moan that escaped you. “You have to be quiet, sweetheart. There's people around us,” he reminded.

He littered gentle kisses up your neck and you could feel his smirk against your skin at the shaky breath you let out the minute he slipped a second finger into you. “I don't think anyone else deserves to hear your moans, darling.”

You hummed against his hand, wetness pooling at his words and your eyes fluttering closed as his thumb began to circle your clit. “Move up for a second, liebe,” he demanded once he removed his fingers from you. Having no other option but to comply, you braced your hands against the table and stood up on shaky legs. You patiently waited as Sebastain undid his belt, the sound of the metal coming undone bringing a newfound wetness to your core.

“Ready?” he questioned, moving his hand up and down your thigh to comfort you. You nodded your head, biting harshly on your lip, you quickly glanced behind you and yet another shaky breath tumbled from your lips at the sight you beheld.

Sebastain was sprawled across the couch with his dick barely covered by your body. The sight of him shamelessly sitting there did something to you and before you lost your confidence, you slowly lowered yourself down onto him.

“Keep quiet now,” he reminded once you took all of him in. Your hands gripped onto the table in front of you, your knuckles quickie turning white as you used it as leverage to start moving.

The sound of your skin hitting against sebastians was muffled by the laughter of the crowd and the loudness of the msic booming across the grand club. “I'm trying,” you grunted.

You slowly bounced on him, trying to keep your movements small and inconspicuous to the people around you. But Sebastian could only last so long without needing to take over. A moan accidentally escaped you once he began thrusting his own hips upwards to meet yours. In response to your foolishness, he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking not so gently on it as a warning and forcing you to look at the dim lights hanging above you instead of the people ahead of you.

Holding onto your body he quickly steadied you, forcing you to halt your movements as a random man walked up to the two of you. You shifted in his hold and attempted to reposition yourself to look more natural towards the stranger. You just wanted it to seem like you were cuddling the driver, not bouncing on his dick.

One of your arms wrapped around his neck while the other laid on his chest. You spared a quick glance downwards, making sure your skirt covered everything before looking back up at the man. Sebastian greeted him, admittedly not poilelty, but he greeted him nevertheless. It only took a few seconds for the two of you to realise he was a fan and by the looks of it, would do anything to hold a conversation with the Sebastian Vettel.

You couldn't help but move on his lap, the need for friction overwhelming you after staying put for several minutes. You slowly began rolling your hips, your heart racing at the sudden release of pressure and also at the fact you were grinding on him with a fan of his only a few feet away.

Sebastian cleared his throat, trying desperately to pay attention to the man in front of him and not on how good you felt clenching around him. His hips unintentionally runted up into you, muttering a quick curse under his breath he grimaced at the man, cutting his sentence short as he gestured towards you. “If you wouldn't mind,” he sympathetically commented.

“Right, right sorry,” he mumbled, “Enjoy your night.”

He soon scrambled away from view and Sebastian began carelessly thrusting into you again. You returned to your original position, now resting your head against the table, thankful for the pleasure filling your whole body. You could feel a bead of sweat forming on the nape of your neck and were almost certain you looked a mess but you couldn't have cared as you got nearer and nearer to your peak.

This new angle allowed Sebastian to take control of your activities. He guided your hips back and forth, not paying attention to the movement of the table nor the attention that the two of you could possibly bring your way. All he wanted was to bring you to your release. “Are you going to cum for me, darling?” he whispered. You nodded against the table, the coolness of the wood reliving your flushed cheeks as you felt the knot begin to release in your stomach.

You moved your hand to grip onto his thigh, “I'm gonna-” you mumbled, unable to finish your sentence as he gripped onto the back of your neck and forced you to sit up straight. His fingers immediately fell down your throat in a poor attempt to muffle your moans. You whimpered loudly at his show of dominance, your attempts to keep quiet failing profusely as he hurried his movements.

His fingers moved further down your throat as your walls clenched around him. Before you knew it you were spilling yourself against Sebastain. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head and heat filling your body as he followed in your actions.

#Sebastian Vettel imagine #Sebastian vettel #Sebastian Vettel smut #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 #forumla 1 imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one imagine #formula 1 smut

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all1e23 · 4 years

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Powdered Sugar

Pairings: Sugar Daddy!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Boston didn’t come without repercussions.

Warnings: A bit angsty, but Bucky is all love sick if that helps.

A/N: It’s a shorter chapter but it’s still important and it sets up where our slightly dumb couple is headed. I tried to grab everyone who asked for a tag recently if I missed you please let me know and I’ll add you. This is the fourth part of my series Sugary Sweet. Make sure you catch up!

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!***

It felt good to be home. Every time Bucky’s left New York and came back, it made him realize how much this city really was home. Now you were part of that. You were home. It had been five days since you left Bucky to fend for himself in Boston. On the morning of your flight, he got up before the sun was and drove you to the airport. He kissed you for fifteen minutes in front of the airport security check-in and nearly made you late for your flight; he couldn't help it. He hated being away from you, and knowing it would be days before he could hold you again, he might have gone a little overboard — Bucky wanted to make sure you wouldn’t forget about him before he made it back to Brooklyn and to you.

Steve handed over three folded bills to the cashier behind the counter and took two paper cups of coffee, passing one to Bucky. It was their first day back in the office since closing the deal with Carol, and Bucky was having trouble focusing on his job for the first time in his life. He desperately wanted to ditch work and spend the rest of the day in bed with you, but he had a company to run, and he had to be a grown-up.

As Steve reminded him, all damn day.

“So, what’s going on with you and Y/n? You both were... different in Boston.”

“I don’t know Stevie. That last night…” Bucky shook his head and stared at the white plastic lid over his coffee, he couldn’t explain it — there were no words to describe how he felt about you and what happened this past week only made things more confusing.

“It was different. She said I was her stupid, and things were just different from how they usually are. The way we were with each other... I dunno, man.”

Steve was quiet for a long beat before he looked at Bucky with a small grimace he asked, “You’re excited because she called you stupid? I call you stupid all the time.”

“No, it wasn’t like that—”

“Sam constantly calls you dumb. All the time. I have to separate you two—”

“Steve!’ Bucky groaned and shoved Steve away from him. He was not in the mood. He was already grumpy because he wouldn't get to see you until the Stark Gala, and now Steve was pissing him off with the dumb questions.

“She said my stupid. It’s the ‘my’ part I was talkin’ about, dumbass. She called me hers, and it wasn’t the first time, either.”

“What else did she say?” Steve urged with a wide grin.

Bucky felt his cheeks pink, and his ears were burning. He cleared his throat and grumbled through a forced cough. “Uh, she called me her… fella.”

Steve chuckled and bumped Bucky’s shoulder with his. If Sam were there, he probably would have teased him over the pet name, but Steve didn’t. He liked seeing Bucky this happy, and Steve knew it was all thanks to you. He wasn’t about to cheapen Bucky’s feelings by teasing him over a silly name.

“You’re in deep, aren’t you?” Steve asked, already knowing the answer, and Bucky grinned and told him honestly, “Yeah, I think I am, Stevie.”

Bucky fished his phone out of his pocket, with all this talk, and he realized he hadn’t heard from you yet today. This was a sign. Boston was the push he needed. He needed to stop this nonsense, and tell you what he wanted, tell you where he wanted your relationship to go. He was going to tell you what’s on his heart at the Stark Gala — he was done playing around. You had to know he was all in, but if you wanted to keep things the way they were, he could be okay with that. He will stick around for as long as you’ll have him because he was already in love with you.

It was going to hurt when you leave him no matter what, you should at least know how he felt when you do walk away.

You arrived home nearly six days ago, and from the moment you stepped through the door, you refused to talk about the trip or Bucky. There wasn’t a moment of that trip you wanted to relive — even the good parts, it would only make the bad parts more painful. Pretending as if the terrible, awful, wonderful week never happened was the only way you could clean up the mess you made of your heart.

Of course, it would be easier to forget if your roommate minded her own business, and she wouldn’t let it go.

Every time Natasha asked you a question about Boston or Bucky, you evaded. You would change the subject back to her or offer to buy dinner, and Clint would change the topic for you — the pizza or Chinese debate always bought you an hour. Natasha would only put up with that for so long, though. There was no way you could keep that up forever, and you knew that, but you couldn’t get the words out even if you wanted to.

It hurt. You needed distance between you and the damage that was done — if you were going to find a way to repair it.

This morning, you sat at the counter spoon hanging loosely from your hand, spinning your cereal as you stared at your phone in your other hand. You had been like this since you opened Instagram, sitting and gawking at your phone. You couldn’t eat. All you could do was stare. Not after you saw what Sam posted. Most of his additions were of the boys and usually picking on Bucky, but the latest picture was what caught your attention. It looked like it was their last night in Boston, and Carol was smushed between the men.

Against your better judgment, your thumb took on a life of its own and clicked her profile. Carol had reposted Sam’s original image, but there was another photo that made a green monster stir in your chest. The look of their attire said it was towards the end of the night, jackets had been shed, and hair was let down— it was only her and Bucky this time.

Bucky had been caught mid-laugh, glowing smirk and little eye crinkles in captured in Mayfair or whatever the hell filter she deemed was best to highlight your boyfriend— Bucky. He was not your boyfriend. Carol's arm was linked in Bucky's, and she was gazing at him adoringly, but it was the caption that had your hackles raised.

Can you believe no one has snatched this man up? He’s more than just a pretty face, let me tell you. Sweet like you wouldn’t believe and knows how to negotiate. Can’t wait to start working with this stud.

“Why don’t you snatch him up?”

You jumped at the sound of Natasha’s voice coming from over your shoulder and dropped your phone to the counter, narrowly missing your bowl of milk. You hated it when she did that.

“Seriously?” You whined loudly. “I told you not sneak up on me!”

“Sorry. I said your name three times, but you were busy staring at your phone like it was going to turn into something. So, did you snatch him up?”

You shook your head, letting her know you didn’t want to talk about it, but you had to say something. It had been days since it all went down, and she would find out eventually. It was better she found out now before Bucky tired of you and found someone else. You slid off the stool to drop your bowl in the sink. Your cheerios were soggy anyway.

“No, I didn’t, and no, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Y/n, what happened--”

“He doesn’t want to be snatched up, okay? Least of all by me.”

Natasha watched you dump your breakfast in the trash and pour your glass of orange juice down the sink. You avoided her eyes, but she could still see the hurt filling them, as you explained everything that happened in Boston and everything you heard that night. None of it made any sense. Bucky told her how he felt, the whole truth, and no one lies to Natasha.

“Y/n, I know that’s not true.” Natasha pointed to where you were standing and told you what happened that morning he invited you to Boston. “He stood right there, looked me in the eye, and said you meant something to him. He said he was going to tell you in Boston how much you meant to him and that he wanted more than this game you two are playing."

"Well, he lied!” You shouted, falling back against the counter from the blowback of the admission. “Of course, he lied. You’re my best friend. You probably would have killed him and hid the body before I got out of the shower. He’s not going to tell you the truth because he knew you would tell me.”

“And why do you think he told them the truth?”

“Steve is his best friend and his business partner. They all served together, Steve, Sam, and Bucky. They are brothers, and he’s known Sharon for over a decade before she ever married Steve. There is no way he lied to them, and even if he did lie to them, it doesn’t make him any better. It only means he’s embarrassed to with me, so he lied to the people closest to him.”

Natasha wanted to argue, but she couldn’t. He lied to someone, and no matter who caught the lie and who heard the truth, none of it was good.

“You need to talk to him. Tell him what you heard and let him explain himself. Maybe it’s all a misunderstanding. If it turns out he is a total dick, you can use the moves I taught you freshmen year and give him a broken arm as a parting gift.”

A single kiss dropped to your cheek, and she left you alone to find your way through the tangled web of dark thoughts spinning around your head. Natasha was right — like always. You needed to talk to him about the trip, but first… You grabbed your phone from where it fell on the counter and pulled up your messages. Your stupid fingers were at it again. A quick screenshot of Carol’s post, you dropped into the textbox and typed furiously before your brain could gain control over your fingers.

You: Looks like you had fun. Did you finally get snatched up?

That sounded awful and jealous and childish. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to be with you, your phone mocks.

You watched three bubbles pop up right away as if he was already sending you something or at the very least, had his phone in his hand, and guilt swam up your throat, choking you. He was probably working, and you were sending him childish messages fueled by jealousy.

Fella❤: I had more fun when you were with me. I got snatched up months ago. Sorry to say. A sweet girl stole me away. Made me her fella, didn't you hear?

You hated how he could say things that meant so much to you and mean so little to him, and you really hated how much you didn’t hate it at all.

You: Did she? Really?

Fella ❤: Really and truly. She did. I was hoping she would be my date to the Stark Modern Art Charity Gala this weekend. I was about to ask her when I got your message. I haven't seen her in days, and I'm itchin' to have her on my arm again.

Of course, on his arm for show and nothing more.

You: That can be arranged. I don't have a dress, though. I don’t want to embarrass you.

Fella ❤: You could wear a garbage bag and be beautiful, and you could never embarrass me. BUT if you insist on getting dressed up. I think I have something in mind. I'll send it over.

Fella ❤: What has you thinking I could ever be embarrassed by you?

You ignored the question and hoped your answer would keep him distracted so you could have that conversation in person.

You: Okay, I’ll be your girl for the night.

Fella ❤: I hope after the gala it will be more than just one night, sweet girl.

Ordinarily, Bucky’s flirting and little sexual innuendos would make your toes curl, and those stupid butterflies in your stomach flutter — maybe even laugh if it was silly enough, but it didn’t. It left you feeling empty and… wanting. Which only made your choice easier. Of course, you were going to go wherever he wanted you to go because truthfully, five days was far too long without him. You missed him. You missed so much your chest ached, and the only thing that could ease the hurt was seeing him.

If being Bucky’s sugar baby was the only way you could have him, then you were going to take what he could give until he was done with you because you were not ready to lose him just yet.

#sugar daddy!bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #sugar daddy AU #alternate universe #sugary sweet series #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes

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heonymilktea · 4 years

Text

you make me (a teenager)

wc: 3.3k

warnings/genre: non-idol au, friends to lovers! au, angst, childhood best friends, break up, ex-lovers au, a possible part two

Preview:

“You're following your dream, why can't I follow mine?'

“Because my dream is here. Nowhere else.”

“Well my dream is there, and I'm following my dream. I didn't come here to ask for your permission Jaebum, I came here to tell you that I was leaving.”

Jaebum only silently watched as you got closer to the front door of his home— a door that you had gone through thousands of times during your friendship and relationship, stopping with your hand on the knob. He knew he was being childish— that he was being selfish, he had been so used to having you by his side every waking moment for what had seemed like his entire life, hearing that you would be leaving— to a whole different country on the other side of the world no less— had basically felt like he would be losing you.

“If you leave, don't come back.” Had been the last words you had heard your boyfriend, your best friend of basically your whole life, say to you.

You couldn’t deny the feeling you had gotten as soon as the plane had landed in the airport, the longing of your hometown had grown with each day you hadn’t been back, which meant that by the end of nearly seven years you had missed it like crazy. The warmth of the golden rays hitting your skin had only reminded you even more, missing the fact that it was sunny and warm for most of the year, adding the fact that your childhood home had been so close to the beach that the shore had practically been on the edge of your backyard.

Maybe you had to give Jisoo— your best friend and vice president— some sort of thank you present once you went back, after all it had been Jisoo who had forced you to take a vacation for the first time in your seven years of working as president of your company, but for now— you were going to enjoy the two weeks you had being here.

Your parents had been glad to hear that you were going to come back home for once, due to your workaholic tendencies it was usually them who were the ones to do the flying out to reunite as a family. As you settled back into your childhood room, your mom had filled you in on everything that had happened in the neighborhood— talking about how Mina and Jinwoo down the street had finally married and she was about four months away from from giving birth to their first baby, and how Mr. Tanaka and his family had moved away since he had gotten a promotion to a different office that would pay him much better. There had been someone you wanted to ask her about, but you had refrained yourself from even mentioning him.

She had all but pushed you out of the door once you were done, telling you to explore the town and see the changes that had been made in the time that you had been gone, though you hadn't exactly fought against it, you had been itching to become reacquainted with everything and possibly go to the beach ever since you had first step foot in the driveway.

So you did.

After a quick shower and change to more warm weather appropriate clothes. Even if spring had barely started here, it was much warmer than it had been back at— home. You didn’t really know whether you had called it your home yet, even if you had lived there for three years now, it had always felt like something had been missing, but no matter how much you had racked your brain for what that something could be, you couldn’t really place it. You know who, your heart had reminded you— maybe you had known but didn’t want to admit it just yet.

Pushing the thought away, you instead focused on the feeling of the sun against your skin, walking down the streets you remembered so easily and reminiscing about all the memories you made before you left, before things had changed. You had passed by your favorite bookstore, elated that it had still been here despite the years that had passed, the small shopping center that held your favorite arcade had expanded, new shops lined up and down the lot, you could see all the high school students that were probably on their spring break walking around with their friends— it all reminded you of when you were in their places, making you miss how things used to be before everything had changed.

But once again you had ignored the notion, changing your plans of re-exploring to finding what had once been your favorite coffee shop and spending the rest of the day at home. After you weaved through a couple of blocks having relied on your memory, you had finally made to the place you had been looking for— the quaint coffee shop had been tucked in a corner away from the overpopulated center of downtown, but it still had managed to gain its many loyal customers that dotted the patio of it, basking in the warmth of the spring day as they enjoyed their iced drinks.

A few minutes later, you had been just like one of them— minus the staying in the patio. The cool condensation of the cup felt refreshing against the warmth of your hand, and you had finally gotten the caffeine fix you had been needing all day. Though, your entire walk back home your mind had been occupied with thoughts of him— whether he had continued with his music, if his hair was still dyed light brown and styled up in a fohawk like it had been in high school when you last saw him, or if he still had those bulky headphones that had almost taken permanent residence around his neck.

Thoughts and memories had clouded your mind well after dinner, but you had told your mother it had been the jetlag finally catching up to you that caused the blank stare in your eyes. She shook her head, and ushered you to your room, that she would clean the plates with your father’s help, he only smiled at her, already taking the plates to the kitchen before telling you to wash up and sleep early.

You tried to, you really did— taking a nice bath with a bath bomb your mother had given you, placing a face mask after your extensive skincare routine, wearing your favorite pajamas that you had brung but you found yourself tossing and turning on the bed restlessly. You sat up in your bed, defeated, maybe catching up on some dramas that you had been meaning to watch could distract you (even though you secretly knew you would probably end up rewatching Goblin because it was your favorite), but before you could reach down to take your laptop out of your bag, a glimpse of your old polaroid camera had caught your eye the album where you saved all the pictures you took next to it. Climbing out of your bed, your hand glided over the leather front before bringing it with you back to bed.

Opening it, the first picture you had seen was you and Jaebum smiling up at the camera, roughly around the age of five, you had been in pigtails and a pink dress your mom picked out while he had been in a graphic t-shirt and shorts; it had been the day you met him, he had been the son of the neighbors that had just moved in next door. Like the extroverted child you were, you had immediately invited Jaebum to play in your backyard with you, his parents wanting him to settle in, pushed Jaebum to go and that had been the start of your friendship.

You stayed their in your bed, flipping through each page of the thick album binder, reliving all the memories that each and every picture brought— some had been of you, or you and your parents, a few of you and cousins, and some of your friends, but the ones of you and Jaebum had quickly outnumbered the others combined,

The last picture had only managed to make your smile falter, it had been taken right after you both had taken the CSAT— the exam that would determine basically your entire future depending on how well you did— you were both in your school uniforms, both worn out from the excruciatingly long and unforgiving exam, but the smiles of relief adorned both your faces, your arms had been wrapped around his middle as his wrapped around your shoulder. You remember that Jaebum had taken you out to ice cream not long after, also remembering that it had been taken about six months after he had officially asked you out and asked to be his girlfriend. Both of your parents had been insufferable when they found out, hounding at both of you how they had called it ever since you had become friends, that it had been only a matter of not if but when.

It only made you realize how quickly things can change, but at least you had the pictures to hold onto and relive the memories. You fell asleep with the album in your arms, even if you had wanted to move on and forget him, he was still in your heart seven years later. Instead of having a dream that night, it seemed like your mind had still been wrapped around him instead, making you relive through the last memory you had of him instead.

You had been wringing your hands for the past ten minutes, nervous about seeing Jaebum. Well not really nervous about seeing him, but having to tell him the news that you’ve had all morning and seeing his reaction to it. In five minutes, you would have to go over to his house (not like it was literally just next door or anything) and have your weekly movie night— a tradition that you had started long before you had become each other’s significant other, the only addition was that now you had been able to cuddle up to his side and sneak kisses between movies.

But instead of drawing it out further and only building up your uneasiness, you would tell him as soon as you went over. He had greeted you when he heard the doorbell ring, sneaking a quick peck before letting you come inside.

“Wait- before we sit down, I have something to tell you.”

He looked at you expectantly, letting you know that he was listening.

“Remember MILLIONS and their program I was talking to you about?”

As your boyfriend, he was probably the one that knew about the company the most out of all your friends, you had rambled about dreaming of working for them ever since the beginning of your first year of high school.

“I got accepted...”

“That’s good, but why do you look like your cat just died?”

“They offered me the scholarship and internship. The internship to work at their headquarters.”

“But their headquarters are in New York..” He had stated, though you could see the gears in his head turning as he was beginning to connect the dots.

You stayed silent, opting to look away from him as the guilt settled in even more. Though it wasn’t like you could do much about it at that point, you had been offered a scholarship and an internship to potentially become a graphic designer— at MILLIONS nonetheless which had been your absolute dream to work for, could you really give up such an offer?

“I thought you were going to stay here with me, remember the promise we made.”

“We made that promise at the beginning of middle school 'Beom, we were practically children. We weren't thinking of the future, much less of our careers. You're following your dream, why can't I follow mine?'

“Because my dream is here. Nowhere else.”

“Well my dream is there, and I'm following my dream. I didn't come here to ask for your permission Jaebum, I came here to tell you that I was leaving.”

“If you leave, don't come back.” Had been the last words you had heard your boyfriend, your best friend of basically your whole life, say to you.

You woke up to the sound of your phone relentlessly vibrating on top of your night stand, your hand reaching aimlessly til it felt the glass of the screen, your fingers wrapping around it before pulling it up to your ear, jerking away when it vibrated once again— it had only been an alarm to prevent you from sleeping the entire morning away. Now fully awake, you wished you could've completely shaken off the dream/memory— it had been seven years since it happened, it had been about five since you thought about him at all, why now?

Before you could dwindle on it further, you felt your stomach rumble, hungry to eat the first meal of the day— you were never one to skip out on breakfast since being the workaholic perfectionist you were meant that your hours at the office often meant that you’d skip a meal to get work done. Heading to the kitchen, you weren’t surprised to find your mom already there— humming to herself as she chopped some vegetables for the side dishes of breakfast, you could hear your dad humming outside the window, probably sitting on the porch reading the morning newspaper.

It had been a normal breakfast, your dad relaying the information of the newspaper he had read earlier while your mother and you sat listening and inputting your opinions every once in a while, and just like the day before she had shooed you away after you all had finished, telling you to actually visit the beach for once, since you hadn’t given yourself the opportunity to yesterday.

After having learnt that your favorite coffee shop was still open, you made your way to it first, your heart craving to have an iced matcha latte (plus you had to make the most of the two weeks you had here, you didn’t know exactly when would be the next time Jisoo would push you to take a mandatory vacation). It seemed like you were probably going to visit it every time you could, which probably meant a couple times a day if you had allowed yourself.

You were waiting inside the shop this time, opting to stay in the air conditioned room than outside on the patio in the warmth— you were going to stay in the sun for most of the day already, you really didn’t have to start now, at least at the beach you had the sea spray to help keep you cool. Your eyes wandered around the different people as you waited, startled to cross eyes with the person you had least expected to see— Im Jaebum.

You hadn’t really thought you would’ve run the possibility of running into him, even though you knew that he was still living here— but it was a big neighborhood in an even bigger city, the chances had been so slim. But here you were, your feet glued to the ground as you saw him approach you. You never really imagined what you would say to him if you ever saw him after the incident— he had made it very clear to you that he no longer wanted anything to do with you, going as far as blocking your number and all your accounts of any social media that you shared. You had stopped trying to reach him, if he really wanted nothing to do with you then you wouldn’t waste your time— uni classes and the internship had already consumed most of it. And after gaining a new friend group, you forgot about him almost completely by the end of your first year.

Now, after seven years, he was the one coming to you. It looks like all the questions you had had the night before were answered though— his hair was back to its natural onyx color and much longer than before, the ends just barely grazing his chin, the earphones were absent from their purchase on his neck, replaced with wireless ones that were in their case on his keys. You knew he had always been handsome, but you hadn’t really expected him to get this handsome, if you had known him, you would’ve probably had a crush on him. But you couldn’t let him come to you like nothing had happened, he had broken your heart twice over— as your ex-boyfriend and as your ex-best friend.

“I didn’t know you came back.” Jaebum had approached you.

When he saw you, he felt himself revert back to the high schooler he used to be, remembering all the time you both had spent together before he had gone and ruined it all. He had been selfish, he had been extremely stupid, but most of all he had been scared. Scared of losing you to people he didn’t know, that maybe you would find someone to replace him and he would be left behind without you.

He didn’t know how his messed up teen logic had come to the conclusion of pushing you away would stop you from leaving, but by the time he had realized that he had made the biggest mistake in his life, you had already gone, you had given up on reaching out to him basically disappearing from existence apart from the occasional update he got from his mother who had gotten it from your mom.

You were beautiful, much more beautiful than before— sure you had been pretty in high school, he was the lucky one to date you then, but you were shy (middle school does that to you) and cared a lot more about your studies than your looks. There had been an air around you now, you held yourself differently than the last time he had seen you— you were more sure of yourself and made your presence known whenever you came into the room.

“Why would you? You had been the one to tell me not to,” you scoffed, almost turning your nose up at him— was that really the best he could come up with?

Your words stung him, but they had been right, and as much as he wanted to go back to the past and slap some sense into his high school self, he couldn’t.

“Can we talk? Please?” His fingers reaching out to hold your arm.

“You’ve missed your chances of talking, Jaebum. You have no right to anymore,” you pulled your arm out of his reach as if his touch had burned your skin.

“I know, but I want to apologize—”

“It’s too late to. I don’t care about hearing an apology from you,” You had taken your drink and tried to leave, but he had followed right behind you.

“Please Y/n—”

“Listen Jaebum. You were the one that told me to not come back if I left. You’re the one that ignored all my calls and texts for nearly two months, you avoided me completely on social media and whenever I tried to talk to you after talking to your parents. I was the one crying and begging for forgiveness to your voicemail. All you had to do was answer, all you had to do was listen. Listen to me say that even despite going to MILLIONS was my dream, you were also my dream.

But you didn’t, so I stopped trying. You think it didn’t hurt me? To lose you? Yes you were my boyfriend, but you had also been my best friend, the one person that I had relied on through everything. I had no one there, no one to talk to, but you know what? I pushed myself to move on, I did move on. Now so should you.” You took a step back and smoothed your hair out, having finally released all your pent up feelings. “You made the decision, I only acted accordingly. So, please don’t look for me.”

And so you left.

The only thing Jaebum could do was watch as your figure disappeared down the street and around the corner, knowing that he had lost you for good.

#got7 #got7 imagines #got7 scenarios #got7 fanfic #got7 angst #im jaebum angst #im jaebum imagines #jaebum angst #jaebum x reader #jae writes

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angelruel · 4 years

Text

vintage

summary: the reader gets into an accident which causes her to lose her memory. as Ruel begins to rebuild their relationship and recall the good memories between them, some bad ones are restored as well and might threaten their future.

masterlist part 2

Word Count: 3.6 k

Thoughts of worse case scenarios and disasters clouded his mind. After getting that unforeseen phone call, there was nothing left to do except book the earliest flight and rush his way to her.

Ruel wasn’t given too many details. All he was told was that his girlfriend had a drunk Uber driver, the crash was big, and her head was hurt badly. He’d never felt more helpless in his life before. And the 16-hour flight was beginning to feel like it would never end. He never slept through flights but he also never sat up staring at the home screen of the airplane monitors, either. There was no listening to music or audiobooks when his mind provided enough loud thoughts to last a lifetime. Ruel’s head felt heavy. He kept replaying their last conversation over and over again. Guilt flooded any positive bridges he tried to aid his confidence with some hope that maybe she would be okay at the end of all this. But even if her life wasn’t ending, would she even want him to be apart of it anymore?

The piercing sounds of his mental tyranny were silenced once he heard the pilot’s announcement of a successful landing. Ruel couldn’t be bothered with the idea of getting a hotel room or even trying to see what clothes he packed in the small bag he made in his rush to the airport. He knew there was a chance that he might not be able to see her at all since members outside of the family were usually prohibited from visiting ICU patients, but none of that mattered. He just needed to know what was going on. He had tried to stay in close contact with her parents and brother during his travels but between the timezones and lack of signal on the plane, he was only informed of her need for an emergency brain surgery that night. It was almost 8 am when he arrived so he assumed that she would be asleep if she was even out of the procedure by then.

He was immediately met with Y/N’s younger brother in the lobby of the hospital. Ruel knew something was off by how quiet her brother was being in the elevator. When he saw him click one of the highest buttons on the navigation panel, he immediately questioned what the letters “SC” stood for. His suspicions were gone as soon as they made it to the floor and he read the sign ahead of him which said “Special Cases Unit.”

Her mother was more than ecstatic to see him and embraced him with a huge hug when she caught view of the two boys.

“I’m so glad you’re here…...I’m so sorry, I don’t even know what happened.” She was struggling to speak in between sobs. Ruel rubbed her back while his heart broke right along with hers. She finally pulled back to look up into his swollen eyes.

“Is she...okay?” His thick accent was amplified and Adam's apple quivered as he tried to choke back his own cries. Her mom fell back into her seat as if her body couldn’t take anymore and Y/N’s father stepped in to answer Ruel’s question.

“She’s okay, physically. She woke up about two hours after the procedure. But she’s not...there all of the way.” The concerned look in Ruel’s eyes turned into confusion and it felt as though all of the worse case scenarios that he imagined were becoming a reality.

“What-what does any of this mean? Did the brain surgery not go well? What’s wrong with her?”

“She doesn’t know who we are.”

His world seemed as if it were crashing down around him. His vision grew cloudy as it did when he initially got the phone call with the news of the crash, but he tried to pay as close enough attention to what was being told to him so that he could do whatever needed to be done. Ruel always feared losing the ones he loved, but he never imagined any of them being taken away from him in this manner. This felt all so...torturous. As if there was a higher being up above pulling the strings of coincidence and having a huge laugh at his expense.

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Everything appeared to be light when he walked into the recovery room. Like the entire room was covered in a comforting aura, not too different from the way Y/N had of making someone feel with her presence before the accident.

Her bedding was covered with her favorite blue quilt, her feet were exposed but covered in adorable fuzzy sheep socks. Ruel assumed she was sleeping by the silence in the room. He grabbed one of the couch chairs, scooted it closer towards her bedside, and decided to take a nap. Her mother had already extended an invitation for him to spend as much time as he wanted in there since they would have a lot to talk about and she could see the exhaustion worn out on his face from the sudden travels taken.

Y/N’s head was turned to the other side of the room, but he could see that it was wrapped in fresh gauze from the procedure. He didn’t want to get in her face and startle her if she woke up since she didn’t know who he was. However, Ruel found himself restless as he awaited the moment he would get to “meet” his girlfriend. Another part of him was thanking fate for granting him a chance to relive their relationship without regrets. He thought about what he would do differently. He thought about whether or not she would even want to be with him in the first place. She did before, and he was still the same person, so nothing should have changed. Hopefully it didn’t.

The back and forth in his head was hushed with the soft coo of her voice. He hadn’t even noticed that she had turned around to look at him.

“Hi,” she repeated with the same soft smile she had given him the first time they’d met. It was clear that she had no idea who he was. And by the rosy tint in her cheeks, she was still very much infatuated with him.

“...hi.” He tried to respond in an eager tone, but not too eager, as he didn’t want to freak her out or come on too strong. He didn’t want to seem like a creepy dude who waited at her bedside to speak with her, but that was exactly what he was.

She started to sit up in her bed and Ruel stood in concern with his arms out toward her.

“I don’t know if you should be doing that yet, you just had some major procedures.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” She gave him a hesitant look. She was obviously freaked out by the stranger sitting in front of her. The girl who was once so comfortable around him was now slowly backing away from him in small scoots as much as she could in the tiny hospital bed she laid in.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to scare you.” He was met with another blank stare from her.

“Just wanna make sure you’re comfortable.” Ruel smiled at her which granted him a smile back.

When she smiled back at him, she went to push up her glasses that were currently not on her face. Something she only did when she was nervous.

“Excuse my forwardness, but if you don’t mind, who exactly are you?”

Very forward.

The question didn’t hurt Ruel half as much as he anticipated it to. In reality, he was just grateful to be sat down talking with her at all. He could almost call it a miracle that she was still here with him but he refused to think how much worse her conditions could have been.

Instead, he simply smiled and replied, “I’m Ruel.”

“Ruel, Ruel. That’s a cool name. I’m Y/N.”

His smile grew bigger. He didn’t expect her to remember anything, let alone her own name. “Yeah, I know.”

“Oh, yeah. That makes sense,” she began to look down and play with the ring on her hand before looking up at him again with hopeful eyes.

“So how do we know each other, Ruel?”

Ruel hesitated to respond. How weird would it be to say ‘I am your boyfriend,’ to someone who you just met two minutes ago? Well, more like met you two minutes ago. She had two minutes of memories with him and he had two years of memories with her. He wasn’t some random guy taking advantage of her memory loss who was posing as her boyfriend to get close to her. Her family wouldn’t have let him get through to the room if that was the case. It’s not like she knew who they were, either.

“We were friends.”

“Friends, huh? Well okay. That’s cool. We must’ve been best friends since you’re up here to visit me this early in the morning.”

“Yeah, we were. I uh, actually got you that ring you’re wearing there,” he pointed to her left hand which sported the blue promise ring he gave her after some anniversary that he couldn’t even remember. He was shocked that she had it on.

“So you lied then, huh” Ruel’s expression turned to confusion and she erupted into laughter. “You didn’t tell me we were married, Ruel.” She pushed her imaginary glasses back again and tried to pull down the right sleeve of her sweater. This tone she had about her, he recognized it. She was flirting with him.

And then he laughed with her. Still a nervous laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

“Hah, yeah. See the thing is, not married but we were together.”

“Together? Like, together together?”

He could only nod in response. What was he to say to her in this situation? Her reaction to this was simply going to determine the course of their relationship from there forward.

“Like boyfriend and girlfriend? Is that so?” She joked in a matter-of-factly tone.

That didn’t sound like a positive tone.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, not at all. It’s just unbelievable.” Her face read pure disbelief.

Was she being serious? Had she no idea how crazy he was about her? Of course, she didn’t. In the early stages of their relationship, Y/N struggled with insecurities and the need for reassurance that Ruel was actually into her. He gave her all of the comfort she needed and he was more than willing to do it again. It was weird to think that she was there but not there.

“Okay well I need some proof here, Ruel.”

“Proof?”

“You can’t just hop in and say you’re my boyfriend and then not have anything to back it up on. For all I know, you could be some deranged stranger who snuck into my room and is taking advantage of my memory loss.” Huh, maybe it wasn’t as far fetched as he thought.

She ended that last statement with a proud smile which made him chuckle softly. Her expression shifted from her cheeky grin into a perplexed smirk as she hesitated to continue the conversation. He sat back down and gave her the signal to go ahead.

“Do you have any pictures of us?”

“Sure, here’s one right now,” he moved with a nervous quickness as he patted down his pants to fish for his phone out of a pocket. He motioned it towards her to grab.

It was his lockscreen. The two of them, in a room of some sort. Maybe a bedroom? He was sitting in an office chair and she sat on his lap. They were laughing at each other or something. His large hand cupped the side of her face while the other wrapped firmly around her waist. She finally looked up from the screen to take another look at him for an explanation. He was studying her intently.

“Yeah, so uh this was basically the last time you came to visit me at home. About two weeks ago. My sister took the picture. It’s one of my favorites at the moment.”

Y/N took another look at the phone screen before dropping her head low. Her eyes began to build up willowy clouds of tears and she let out a soft cry. Ruel bent his head down to meet her eyes with concern. Confusion erupted and he looked confused as to what had just happened.

“What’s wrong? Do you need me to get a nurse? What’s going on?”

Y/N sniffled and wiped her nose with the fuzzy blanket that covered her legs. When she lifted her head to meet his eyes, hers were red and puffy. Ruel stared at her with hurt in his own eyes. It looked as if he just wanted to take away any pain that she was feeling.

“I don’t remember any of it.”

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Y/N’s eyelashes fluttered open and her sleepy face morphed into a stern mug. The constant beeping from her monitors went from a soothing lullaby to an annoying alarm. She turned her head slightly to see the long haired boy staring back at her hopelessly. The fading lights from the tv in the corner of her ceiling illuminated his face. How long had she been asleep?

“you’re still here,” her voice hummed out.

He let out a low chuckle, “I am.” A clear silence hung above them. Not awkward this time, just still.

“I can leave if you want. I mean, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“-no, no. You should stay. I like the company.”

He smiled. “Well good. Because I didn’t really plan on leaving anyways.” The silence was cut by mutual laughter.

“It’s just a little weird, though.”

Ruel tilted his head in curiosity, “What’s weird?”

“Oh, you know. Spending time with a girl who doesn’t know who you are,” her face grew into a cold smile again. She may not have remembered much but she never lost her sarcasm.

“Or anything about herself,” she added and looked down again.

“I didn’t have any other places to go in mind when I bought my plane ticket.”

“You flew out here?” He nodded. “Oh wait, you said in the picture that I came to visit you ‘at home.’ Where’s home for you?”

“Sydney, Australia. That’s where I live.”

“Ohhhhh. So that’s where the accent came from. Okay. Cool, cool.” After saying that, her lips puckered into a pout. She seemed weirdly accepting of everything. Her cute reactions to learning things about him was so entertaining to him.

“Wait, how did I end up with a boyfriend from Australia?” Her fascination in him was adorable. It was also refreshing to have this new sense of discovery between the two of them.

Ruel’s exhaustion all but faded away once he got carried away with explaining the entire story of how they met to Y/N. He answered every question that she had without hesitation. He told her everything he could think of and she listened with open ears. He talked to her until the exhaustion hit and he fell asleep mid sentence. She just laid there and watched him in admiration. He had clearly used every ounce of energy left to pay her attention and his restful state was quite angelic. His arms were crossed and he sat up in the lounge seat adjacent to the bed. His head laid to the side, lips pierced slightly opened where little snores escaped. Y/N was crushing hard.

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“Guess what I did today,” she suggested eagerly as she snatched a green bear from the bag sitting in Ruel’s lap across from her and proceeded to chew the head off.

“What’d you do?” He gave her a soft smile.

Ruel enjoyed the back and forth that they were able to enjoy. Things were starting to feel normal. In a weird, very not normal way.

“I remembered my parents.”

Ruel felt himself slightly choke on the few gummy bears he had just stuffed into his mouth. He wasn’t expecting that. It had only been two days.

“What did you remember?” He managed to get out between muffled chews. He tried to hide his disbelief. It shouldn’t have come as much of a shock to him, though. Y/N was always extra resilient in difficult times.

“As weird as it is, I remembered the most random memory of them. We were all gathered in the kitchen to help my brother. Jason, no. His name is John I think. He was sick though. And we were all trying to make him take his medicine. And then, all of a sudden, I grabbed the little cup and drank the cough syrup for him. And he got all jealous that I had drank his medicine. Then they both-both of my parents-also drank a little cup full of the medicine. He drank it so fast,” she laughed and used her hands to narrate the story.

“We never had a problem with the medicine again.” Y/N turned her head back to him and folded her hands in her lap.

Ruel stood up and began pacing the room. He was excited. “That’s good. That’s so good. I wish I would’ve been here to witness it. I bet your mom cried.” She laughed in response and confirmed his assumption.

“Well, even stalkers need rest sometimes,” she joked in reference to the new nickname she’d labeled Ruel as a stalker. That was all he did after all: stare at her and break for sleep in the hotel down the street.

Ruel floated across the room and towards her bed. He pressed his hands against the rails at the end of it. “I wonder what else you could remember if we triggered it. Do you remember what happened right before you got the memory?”

“Not really. We were just talking at it all came to me. I remembered their names and everything. It felt nice.” She nonchalantly continued to steal the gummy bears from his bag that he’d left in her lap.

Ruel looked up as if he was brainstorming up a plan to jog some more memories.

“So we just need to talk more. Maybe if I bring you some items to help bring some stuff back.”

“Items?”

“Yeah, a few things I have from you. You get kind of...emotionally attached to material things. I’ve grown quite a collection over the time we’ve spent.”

“Ooh, maybe if you could bring me a few pictures to look at. That might help.” She watched him pace around the room. It felt as if they were a team working together to solve a mystery. Or find hidden treasure. The treasure in this case were her memories. They seemed so valuable and delicate since she didn’t have them anymore.

“I have to go home in a few hours. I can bring some things when I come back.”

She looked up at him as if he’d just killed her best friend. “You’re leaving?”

“Only for a while, honey. I just have to get some things in line. I kind of left without any notice. But I plan on taking more time off to spend with you.”

“Is um...Nate gonna be okay with the amount of time you took off? That’s his name, right?”

“Hah, yeah. It’s Nate. And everyone is very understanding of the circumstances. They all just want to see you get better.” He looked up at her with optimism as he sat back down. Anytime she would bring up the outside world or his very real responsibilities, he would shut her down. Ruel was dead set on focusing just on Y/N and what she needed at all times. It made her wonder about their relationship sometimes. Made her wonder if she gave him half as much love as he gave her. Trying to somehow figure out what she did to deserve such kind people to take care of her.

“Well, tell them that I appreciate it.”

He reached out to place his hand on top of hers. His fingertips graced on top of the IV coming out of her hand. His were much larger than hers. It was kind of funny to look at. “Will do,” he remarked with a smile.

“So you don’t think there will be any consequences to the sudden break you’re taking in your career? Like, won’t the fans be disappointed?” He had told her a little about his life, but not in too much detail. All she knew was that he was a singer and he was pretty popular among teenage white girls. When he showed her some of his music online, she was shocked by the amount of success he’d acquired over such a short time period. Her favorites were “Younger” and “Don’t Cry” but she really enjoyed all of it. He loved watching her listen to his music for the first time. Well, the second first time.

He took her hand in a firm grip. “They’ll all understand. They love you almost as much as I do.” She smiled back at him. The connection was obviously still there. He always told her he loved her in middle of conversations or right before he would leave, but she never said it back. Ruel told her he understood. He understood that she didn’t want to say anything she didn’t mean. But he also explained to her that even though her feelings had gone away, his never did.

“Yeah well hopefully you can last this plane ride without leaking any other cover art to them,” she turned her head at him in a joking manner.

He laughed, “Yeah hopefully.” Ruel looked back up at her. He couldn’t believe it.

“Wait, what?” The last time Ruel took the long flight from visiting Y/N, he’d been so disoriented from lack of sleep that he accidentally posted a picture of the new cover art for an unreleased song on his story instead of sending it to a friend. He never mentioned that to her.

She looked confused. “What?”

“Y/N, you remember that? You just remembered that. The thing about the picture. How’d you remember that?”

Her smile revealed her teeth this time. “Huh, I don’t know. I guess I just did.”

#ruel #oneruel #ruel van dijk #one ruel #rueledits #ruelvincentvandijk #ruel imagine #ruel imagines #one shot #ruel one shot #writers on tumblr #x reader #rueledit #ruel edits #ruel edit #ruel x reader #ruel fic

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guigz1-coldwar · 3 years

Text

'Who dares wins' : New chapter for "Redemption in a Spirit in a Cold War" is out !

"Who dares wins"

Chapter Summary : Yirina returned to West-Berlin with Garrett, allowing her to come back in Park's arms but someone want to talk.....

To read it on AO3, click here !

Words : +3300

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Finally, we were finished in Cuba after having tracked down Vargas and captured him after he told us who was helping Perseus by supplying him the russian guns and to be honest.....I never thought that this person was going to be Portnova herself. If I maybe saved Zasha from the Spandau Prison in West-Berlin, what happened when I supposely came back to Russia to take Portnova with me ? Did something wrong occured ? Did she disappear by herself ? Did I wasn't able to go back to her again and maybe I didn't go back to Russia because the next days, I was in Turkey...So many questions I just got into my mind with one word from Vargas's mouth.

Once we were done with him, we got the hell out of the place with Garcia before the police showed as our opportunity window was ending soon. We took the unconscious Vargas with us and then, we dropped him to another MI6 safehouse where he will be took in charge before being extracted in an separate plane from us back to London to face his crimes he did. For us, we parted ways with Garcia before we drove back to the same clandestine runway we arrived here to leave Cuba behind us.....for good, I hope.

The flight lasted approximatively the same time we had : almost 13 hours to come back to West-Berlin and we should be arriving early in the morning as we left the Cuban soil one hour after we got our hands on Vargas. My sleep in the plane was either troubled by thinking of Portnova or thinking about been back to West-Berlin to Park and I couldn't relive any memories during it like if I was blocked by my own mind to do so...I just want to know what happened to my friend and my brain is refusing me that access.

I slept during the entire flight, not wanting to stay awake and just to rest and trying to have something that could help. We arrived in West-Berlin at 8AM and frankly, I could say that it was literally the first and maybe only time that I was happy to be back in here once I put my feets on the Tempelhof Airport and one minute after we got out of the plane, we were already settled in car, ready to drive back to the safehouse and we arrived 15 minutes there after we left the airport.

"We're back home !" Garrett almost said loudly as he opened the front door of the house, with his bags in his hands as I was behind him, also with my bag. The only thing we hear as we enter the house was someone snoring in the living room. "Ah...it's Greta." He looked at me as I was seeing Greta laid down in one of the sofas, sleeping.

"Must be very tired to not go to her own bed." I scoffed silently as I put my bag on the table and Garrett was doing the same before he start to walk next to Greta.

"Ssshh." He told me, his index finger in front of his mouth as he put himself at her level on the sofa, ready to pull an joke on her. "Schnell ! Schnell !" He start to move her shoudler, making her woke up with an start, almost going to punch Garrett with her fist.

"Garrett !" She exclaimed as she was redressing herself in the couch before looking at us both, confused. "Already ?" She added, surprised to see us back.

"We got Vargas pretty quick thanks to Garrett and an very concerned citizen." I joked about it, looking at Garrett with raised eyebrow and with an smile, crossing my arms. "He's maybe now either still in Cuba or in London but in both ways, he's in the MI6 custody."

"What about the guy in the basement ?" Garrett asked as he moved to sit on the opposite couch of Greta's one.

"Transferred him to the BND this night." She replied in a low voice. "He didn't tell enough to have an concrete lead but since he was wanted, I gave him up."

"So, that's why you slept in that couch ?" I tried to guess and she nodded at me.

"When I got back here, I fell into the couch and I didn't move....until someone woke up me in german." She looked at Garrett with eyes that could have kill him in an instant before she rolled them in the skies. "By that, you got anything from Vargas ?"

"Yeap." Garrett was the one to talk first. "Got the name of an KGB officer called Yirina Portnova based in Moscow." He added, giving myself chills in my body, thinking of her.

"Yirina Portnova ?" Greta was sounding surprised to hear that name as she looked at us with wide eyes.

"You know her ?" I asked, curious

"She's the top cryptographer from the KGB." She responded, putting her hands on the couch.

"And apparently, she's working with Perseus." Garrett added, looking at the dashboard. "Maybe forced or in her own will."

"No, it's sure that Perseus forced her to work with him." I exclaimed, sure of my answer before the two looked at me, very curious. "Listen...I know Portnova because she's an old friend of mine and by what I remember, she despited the guy to the bones, she wanted to flee in 1981." I continued, looking down, holding back my tears to think about it. "I'm sure that we can help her from him."

"Maybe....." Greta bit her lips at thinking about it but this was the only thing we have to do....the only thing we need to do. "We'll have to see how we can approach her for that."

"Even if I had to return to Moscow, I will." I affirmed myself of doing it before I looked around. "Where's Park ?" I asked to Greta

"She's in her room, resting." She answered, having an look that could mean 'You know that I know about you' "Well, on my way to make coffee for me." She then got up from her couch, walking towards the kitchen.

"I'm coming." Garrett started to follow her too, leaving me alone in the living room.

Without any seconds of hesitation from me, I decided to join Park in our room after having spent just one day without her at my side. I think I never got up the stairs fast in my life by walking. I was more like very enthusiatic to see her again and I opened the door, seeing her under the sheets, looking lovely and she was exactly at where I was sleeping maybe to make her remember of me.....or because of her arm....anyway, she was still lovely. I decided to remove my jacket off me before I put myself under the sheets, looking at her awaiting for her to awake until she slowly open her eyes.

"Surprise, Park." I whispered with an big smile as she was opening her eyes.

"Yirina..." She also whispered, seeing me looking at her with my hands on the side of my face. "You're here."

"I told you that I will come back quick for you." I exclaimed, remembering her from my & her words.

"You were pretty quick, to say." She snorted before she slowly moved to kiss me on the lips. "How are you now ?"

"More than better now that I'm here...back to you." I responded, reciprocating her moves to her. "How's the arm by the way ?" I asked back, removing the sheets that was almost covering her left arm.

"Not hurting anymore in the inside but still hurting if I put my hands on it." She replied as we were both looking at her arm, lightly red now. "I can say that I'm back to work now." She added before she looked back at me. "About work, how was things in Cuba ?"

"Well, it went well.....if we don't count the bad memories with Lazar...." I started, sniffing as I passed my hand through my hair. "I...I relived that day in the rooftop." I breathed and our both faces, we could see that we were going sad. "I remembered Lazar's last words : Promise me....Take care of Park." I looked away from her, at the ceilling. "The person supplying the russians weapons to Perseus....is my friend Portnova."

"Bloody hell." She whispered to herself about everything I just said to her, looking shocked on her face. "I'm so sorry." She said.

"I know." I passed my hand on my face now, trying to clean some low tears that were falling from my eyes before she moved her hand to do this. "Portnova is in Moscow now."

"Moscow ?" She breathed before she grin at me. "You're surely want to save her ?" I nodded to her, sure. "We'll do it, Yiri." She affirmed to me with an smile, her hand on my face as I moved my head to get it comfy in her palm. "I've got an call yesterday."

"From who ?" I asked.

"Someone from the SAS want us to meet him in Hereford, England." She replied, making me feel surprised about it. "It's about Stone." She added before she looked at the door. "It will be only the two of us and we'll leave at the end of the afternoon."

"I just came back from Cuba this morning and you want me to move again to get to England today ?" I questioned, fainting an confusion before I slowly grinned. "Yes, ma'am....and you will be there."

"Come on, we just got the morning for us...." She smirked at me as she moved her arms around my waist to get me closer to her as I moved by myself to it. "So, let's profit." She added before we pulled for an kiss on the lips, passionally as I put my hands on her face....enjoying the moment with just the two of us.

We spent the most part of the morning in each other arms for recomfort and frankly, feeling her touch just after one day without her was so nice to relive. After that, we decided that it was better to go join the others, to try to plan our next moves. Since we got only Portnova as an strong lead, we put our efforts on her but unfortunately, we couldn't go directly there to Moscow as we don't know if she was always there and to add to that, me & Park had to go to Hereford in England to talk with someone from the SAS.

Once we have tried to make some plans about the next days, it was time for me & Park to leave the place again for me, letting Garrett & Greta to take care of the safehouse during our trip in England. We took a plane again at the Tempelhof Airport to go join the Birmingham Airport, the closest airport of Hereford as Park told me. During the flight, I was wondering who would be the one who want to talk about Stone as I remember that his ex-colleagues wasn't so willing to talk about him before....someone has changed his mind in there and it could help us.

We landed at Birmingham at 8 PM before we took a car to join the SAS base in Hereford they are calling 'Stirling Lines'. Park was the one to drive as she was knowing the way to the place and on her face during the drive, I couldn't know if she was happy or stressed to go there...something that I shouldn't try to ask for. We arrived at the SAS Barracks after dozens of minutes, showing our credentials to the guards at the base entrance, allowing us to enter and then to park our car.

"This is 'Stirling Lines' ?" I asked as I stepped out of the car, looking at the building that was in front of me, pretty big to say by the look of it.

"Yes, one of the SAS home in England !" Park replied as she stepped out of the car, looking at me. "The place was just renamed this year about the man who founded the Special Air Service during WW2." She added, giving me more informations about the place to me and I was quite impressed by her knowledge.

"Someone know History well here." I exclaimed to her. "You know, I always wanted to be an history teacher." I said, having remembered an memory I had during the last night in Paris and by hearing me, she was looking curious about it, very surprised as she put her arms on the car's roof.

"Really ?" She questioned me, raised eyebrow to me.

"Yes....if only I did opened my eyes earlier with Perseus." I whispered to her before I sniff, looking away from her, not wanting to talk about Perseus now. "Anyway, who is the man ?"

"Don't know." She told me, surprising me that she didn't know who we are going to meet in an minute maybe. "We will see about it now." She then removed herself from the car as I followed her inside the building, taking her satellite phone with her but as we approached the reception, we could see a man with a bob, dressed in military clothes coming towards us. "John Price ?" She was sounding stunned to see this man, knowing him well.

"Helen !" The man said in a low voice before he offered his hand to Park. "I'm the one who asked to meet with you two." The two shook hands as I was realizing that this man was THE John Price Sr. who talked about Stone on that report we got in the safehouse.

"You know each other ?" I asked, curious as the two were finished.

"Helen is.....William's sister." Price was the one to respond as he offered his hand to me.....William....Park's brother. "You must be Yirina Grigoriev." I nodded as we shook hands.

"Exactly." I breathed, feeling not sure of myself to stay herself, finding myself into a new world.

"Follow me, we need to talk to a more better place." He told us, gesturing to follow him. We got out of the building, getting ourselves next to a SAS training field where it was just us for the moment. "So, I heard that you're tracking Stone again, right ?" He asked us as we sit on bleachers that was overlooking a training field.

"Been almost two weeks that the MI6 asked me to form an team to neutralize him." Park affirmed, joining her hands together as we were both sit next to each other. "Why do you want to talk about Stone, John ?"

"I asked you here because I wanted to give things that you don't know about Stone." Price replied, looking away from her.

"I know exactly what Stone can do and what are his ideas, I know basically everything on him." Park exclaimed, sounding angry to talk about Stone. "You know what he did and nonetheless, people are still seeing him as the Nimrod Hero !" She added, still angry as I moved my hands to calm her down.

"Listen, Helen." He looked at her, still calm. "Everyone in the SAS is despiting him but the fault is on the man who claimed Stone as an hero."

"And who was that....." She started to said before her satellite phone start to ring, causing her to take it "Yes ?" She looked at me before getting up from her seat. "It's Woods, might need to go make an private call, will come back soon." She proclaimed before she start to walk away with her phone in hand, leaving me with John Price.

"So....uhm....Price." I breathed, causing him to look at me slowly. "What can you tell me about Stone ?" I asked as I didn't know anything more about Stone than just his picture as his records file is mostly classified.

"Stone joined the SAS at his 19th birthday but it wasn't by his own will." Price responded, somehow still calm after facing a part of Park angriness on him. "He was an thug who was arrested for an major crime : it was either the prison or joining the SAS, he chosed the latter." He added, looking from afar a group of SAS soldiers running on the field. "He should have chosen the prison." He whispered to himself.

"How he was during his days here ?" I continued in my questions and Price was willing to share more, looking on his face.

"An good soldier but very reckless and an problem with the authority. Appreciated for his work, hated for his personality." He told me, giving me a quick glare with his eyes. This man was an real tough guy, I can seem. "He was great friends with William."

"Park's brother ?"

"William Elijah Park." He exclaimed to me, giving me the name of Park's brother. "He joined the SAS two years before Stone does, they were great friends....until something happened in 1972."

"Something bad ?" I asked and he nodded to me, finally moving to face me.

"An accident in a training : Stone almost killed someone for real and after that, the two start to hate each other." He explained to me as I was very curious to learn more about Park's brother "The day William got murdered by Stone, he called me saying that he was seeing someone that told him that Stone had some connections with an mysterious group."

"Perseus." I breathed, making the link with what he just said. "Stone killed Park's brother because he was going to know about him but also because of their rivalry." I suggested and he nodded again before he took something out of his pocket : a picture.

"This was me, him....and an younger Helen....just days before what happened in 1973." He showed me the picture, seeing Park as she was 21 years old this year next to her brother, wearing an SAS uniform and next to him, Price. "She never got the picture but I think it's time that she got it." He then handed it to me. "Must be hers."

"Thanks." I was trembling as I took the picture in my hands, looking at it closely thanks to a big light pole as the night were starting to fall in here.

"As I heard from my other friends in the MI6, Helen is putting all her trust in you." He confessed to me, making me look at him, very curious about it. "I'm sure that she's proud of you."

"I'm proud of her too." I told him back with an little smile before he got up from his seat.

"Listen, I need to go see my men so if you need any help from the SAS, call us." He affirmed, holding his waist. "We'll do anything to help Helen have her revenge....goodbye, miss Grigoriev." He added before he start to walk away from the bleachers, leaving me alone with that picture as the night was falling and one minute after he left, Park came back, having finished her calls.

"So....where is John ?" She asked me, her phone in hand.

"He had to go." I replied in a low voice before I handed the picture to her, standing up. "He wanted you to have this." She took the picture to have an look on it and I could see some tears falling from her eyes, looking at that picture before I decided to move to hug her. "It's okay."

"Thanks you, Yiri." She whispered, leaving us in an hug before we broke it and then started to walk back to our car.

"So, what Woods wanted with you ?" I questioned her as we were soon arrived at our car.

"They will be at Moscow in three days because of an lead they go, meaning that we can join them at the same time." She replied, arriving next to the car and her hand on the door. "For now, you & me had to go back to London."

"London ? We're not returning to West-Berlin ?" I was sounding confused of it as we entered inside and Park only smiled at me as she was fully seated at her place in the driving spot of the car.

"No, I need to check to some old intels in my office." She reassured me as I was putting my seatbelt on and her, starting the car engine, looking at me with an smile......

"Don't worry, it's just going to be you & me."

#cod bocw #cod cold war #cod black ops cold war #cod cw #call of duty cold war #cod bell #black ops cold war #helen park #fem!bell #yirina grigoriev

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goindownshipping · 4 years

Note

‘ focus on my voice. ’ - will you please do Stucky where Steve and Bucky don't go to Wakanda after Civil War?

And time's forever frozen still

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes (Stucky)

Rating: Teen (T)

Notes: Yet again, thanks for your patience with this one, @ohwereusingourmadeupnames! This canon divergence was tough, but I so loved writing it!

Warnings: Stucky fluff and rediscovering their love post Civil War. Let’s just pretend Bucky didn’t lose his metal arm in the fight in Siberia and neither of them are too injured :)

Word count: 6.5k

Summary:

Bucky goes home with Steve after the fight in Siberia. Even though Bucky doesn't quite trust himself, something tells him to trust Steve. They learn a lot together and Bucky discovers parts of his past he never knew existed.

Leaving Tony on the cold, hard ground in Siberia was one of the most difficult things Steve Rogers had faced in recent years, but it was certainly not the worst he’d faced. The worst was when he thought Bucky had been killed in Azzano; then it was watching Bucky fall from the train and not being able to save him; then it was coming face to face with Bucky decades later only to find out he had no idea who Steve Rogers was. So yes, fighting Tony and leaving him in Siberia wasn’t his finest moment, but he was sure as hell not about to let Bucky slip through his fingers again.

Both men had been quiet upon boarding the quinjet, still shaken from the fight at the airport and then in Siberia. Bucky sat still, trying to differentiate among a plethora of memories and images flashing behind his eyes. Being back in that facility sent him deep within his own mind, flashes of atrocities reminding him of who he was. What he was.

“Where are you taking me?” Bucky asked quietly. His head was vibrating, he needed something to focus on besides the scene they left behind.

Steve hesitated. “Fury helped me set up a safe house a few years back. I haven’t needed it until now, but it’ll be a good place for us to settle down for a bit.”

“Steve,” Bucky started.

“No, don’t,” Steve said firmly.

Bucky stopped, knowing how stubborn Steve could be. That realization surprised Bucky a bit. Over the past couple of years, he’d come to trust himself little by little, but his memories were still foreign. Most of them felt like dreams that he could just barely remember the premise of. At that moment, he knew not to argue with Steve. He didn’t know exactly why, but somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, he knew the argument wouldn’t be worth it.

The realization was somewhat comforting, but he knew how easily his mind could betray him, how quickly the switch could flip on him. He let out a long sigh, knowing nothing productive would come from a fight on the jet. Bucky settled back, closing his eyes and wishing for sleep for the long flight to wherever Steve’s safe house was.

With the autopilot engaged, Steve looked over his shoulder to where Bucky was dozing behind him. He covered his mouth when a sob threatened to escape from his chest, wracking his entire body where he sat. Just seeing Bucky safe in front of him was enough to send him into a full spiral, thinking back to the number of times Bucky had protected him when they were kids. Bucky may not remember everything, hell he might not remember anything, but Steve did. Steve couldn’t, wouldn’t, forget anything.

He wouldn’t let Bucky down this time. He couldn’t fail him again. Steve finally had a chance to take care of the person that meant more to him than anyone in the world and he wouldn’t squander it. He tried not to think about all the memories that had surely been burned out of Bucky’s brain by this point. He knew his resolve would crumble the second he let himself relive those moments.

He shook his head, hoping to physically dislodge the images swirling in his head, and instead focused on how to stay under the radar when the whole world was supposedly on the lookout for Captain America and his no-longer-dead best friend. He thought about Tony and the look in his eye when Steve dropped his shield. He knew he had to fix it, he had to fix everything.

But right now, right now he had to take care of Bucky. That was it. That was his mission, and come hell or high water, he would do right by him.

Bucky managed to sleep for most of the long flight, only waking when the quinjet hit a couple unexpected bumps.

“We almost there, Stevie?” he asked sleepily.

Steve’s breath caught in his throat at the nickname and softness in Bucky’s tone.

“We still have a long way to go. You can go back to sleep Buck,” Steve managed to choke out.

When Steve glanced back, Bucky was already fast asleep again, a small smile on his face. Steve hadn’t heard that nickname in decades, and he certainly didn’t expect to hear it from Bucky ever again. Ignoring the inkling of hope in his gut, Steve refocused on their flight path, noting the several hours until their final approach. At that, he decided to get some sleep himself before landing at the house.

A while later, Steve awoke to a soft beeping from the controls, alerting him that they were approaching their landing. Quickly wiping the sleep from his eyes, Steve switched off autopilot to guide the jet down toward the massive field adjacent to the house. By the time the jet came to rest, and the engines had come to a stop, Bucky was awake and trying to get a glimpse of their surroundings.

“Where are we?”

“Home, for the time being. But specifically, we’re somewhere in Kansas. Come on, let’s get inside.”

Steve and Bucky exited the jet and made their way to a modest looking farmhouse. Steve entered a lengthy pin on the keypad at the front door before gesturing for Bucky to step inside. Bucky made his way inside, glancing around as he made his way down the front hall. For a house that had supposedly never been used, it was awfully homey. Steve seemed to notice the appraisal.

“I wanted it to feel like home if I ever came here. Besides, where else was I going to keep my things?” Steve shrugged.

Most of Steve’s personal belongings were long gone after he put the Valkyrie in the ice, but the few boxes that SHIELD managed to hang on to now lived here. He had a few family photos hanging, several of which contained Bucky. Neither man acknowledged it, but Steve noticed Bucky’s gaze lingering on a few select photos.

“Ma always wanted you in the family photos,” Steve admitted.

Bucky smiled but it didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Steve, are you sure this is a good idea? I’m putting you in more danger just being here.”

“Bucky,” Steve said slowly, stepping toward him. “Where else are you gonna go?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky admitted. “The Wakandan prince said something about his sister knowing what to do, maybe it would be best if I went out there. They can get my mind back.”

Steve shook his head violently. “No, I can’t let you do that Bucky.”

“Steve this is a terrible idea, I’m just gonna hurt you if we stay here.”

“Bucky, you’re not going to hurt me. I’m not letting you go out in the world and try to deal with this on your own again, I can’t do that.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Steve took one final step toward Bucky, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t spook him. “I know you don’t believe me yet, but we’re gonna be okay. Alright? You always took care of me when we were kids and now it’s my turn. You hear me?”

“But Steve, I don’t, I could-”

“No Buck, don’t go there. I’m not letting you go through this on your own,” Steve said firmly.

Bucky paused, looking up at Steve’s face directly in front of him. Steve’s face was hard, determined. But his eyes were wide with fear and the slightest bit of hurt. Taking in Steve’s expression, Bucky took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“Listening to you helps. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s not like I just remember things all of a sudden, but hearing you talk is safe, it blocks out the bad stuff. It was what gave me a hint that I knew you on the bridge, and then again on the helicarrier. I don’t know how, but I just knew. Even when I can’t trust my own mind, something tells me to trust you.”

“We can handle that. You just tell me when it’s getting bad and focus on my voice. Think you can do that?”

“I can try.”

“Good. Then we’re good.”

Steve gave Bucky’s shoulder one final squeeze before taking a step back.

“It’s late Buck, let me show you where the guest room is and get you settled.”

Bucky nodded and trailed after Steve like a puppy. Once again, Bucky was surprised by the sheer amount of belongings Steve had in the house. Steve got him situated with some clothes, toiletries, and towels and showed him his room with an attached bathroom. Once Steve had shown Bucky to his room, he paused in the doorway.

“My room is just down the hall,” Steve gestured to a doorway to his left. “You can always come get me if you need anything, Buck,” Steve said softly.

Steve looked conflicted, as if he was considering saying something else. His eyes flitted around, settling anywhere but Bucky’s face.

“Thank you, Steve.”

Steve’s eyes snapped up to Bucky’s. “You don’t have to thank me. This is what you do for someone you-”

Steve and Bucky just blinked at each other.

“This is what you do for someone important to you,” Steve finished quietly.

Bucky just nodded, the faintest hint of a smile on his face. “Goodnight, Steve.”

“Goodnight Bucky.”

If Bucky didn’t close the door until after he saw Steve disappear into his own room, no one had to know. When Steve pulled his own door shut, he smiled softly at the click he heard from down the hall.

What could have been minutes or hours later, Bucky awoke with a start, his throat raw, and his entire body tremoring. It took him a moment to register the hands on his shoulders, shaking him awake. Instinctively he shoved the attacker in chest, his metal arm causing enough force to create plenty of distance between them.

“Buck, Bucky it’s me, it’s Steve,” he heard through the darkness.

He took a shuddering breath, quickly remembering his surroundings and current circumstances. Steve. Steve is good, Steve helps.

“Steve,” he wheezed.

He sat up in bed, his back pressed against the headboard as he watched Steve carefully approach from the other side of the room, where his shove had thrown him.

“Can I sit next to you?” Steve asked carefully.

With his eyes now pressed shut, Bucky just nodded, trying to focus on Steve’s voice and the memories he knew were real. He thought about Steve taking him to Siberia, their trip here in the quinjet, Steve getting him settled. It was all real. He held on to those little bits of certainty with everything he had.

He felt the bed dip and assumed Steve had sat down on the edge of the bed. He didn’t dare open his eyes yet.

“I’m sorry I scared you Buck, I heard you yelling from down the hall and it scared the shit outta me,” Steve said soothingly. “I just wanted to come and make sure you’re alright, I’m sorry I scared you,” he repeated.

“It’s okay,” Bucky said tightly. “Just keep talking, please. Anything.”

“Alright, Buck, it’s alright.” Steve placed a tentative hand on Bucky’s knee through the blankets and squeezed, hoping the minimal physical contact wouldn’t be too much for Bucky.

“When we were kids, I stayed the night at your house a lot, especially if my Ma was working the night shift. Sometimes, your Ma would let us pull all the couch cushions down onto the floor and we’d make our own little fort with blankets and chairs and stuff.” Steve smiled at the memory, remembering their muffled laughter and whispered conversations into the wee hours of the morning.

“This one time in high school though, it’d been years since we’d done that, and in the middle of the night, we decided to set up camp on the floor. I guess we didn’t realize how uncomfortable couch cushions were when they were on the floor when we were in grade school, because, God, I don’t think either of us got a wink of sleep that night. At some point, we just gave up and put the cushions back on the couch and just fell straight to sleep. Your Ma came out in the morning and found us knocked out on the sofa, blankets and chairs all over the room.”

Steve looked up to find Bucky watching him with a familiar smile.

“I think I remember that,” Bucky said slowly.

“It’s okay if you don’t, Buck” Steve reminded.

Bucky shook his head and furrowed his brow, clearly focusing on something in the recesses of his mind.

“I remember that night. After we went to sleep on the couch, you shoved me on the floor at some point. I remember waking up and you were sprawled across the whole damn sofa. I must have shoved you right back so I could lay back down.”

The faraway look in Bucky’s eyes had lifted, leaving him with clear, bright, blue eyes and a determined look on his face. His lips twitched a bit, fighting a smile at the memory.

“I told you your voice helps.”

Steve smiled, grateful that he’d been able to help Bucky through whatever nightmare he faced. He thought back to that night, his face breaking into a grin. He’d never forget Mrs. Barnes’ face when she emerged that morning to find Steve and Bucky wrapped around each other on the couch. Her smile said everything when Steve and Bucky eventually roused from their slumber. They didn’t know it yet, but she did.

“I’m glad I can help, Buck. You wanna try to get some more sleep?”

Bucky nodded, “Yeah, I’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” Steve hesitated.

“You alright Steve?”

“Is it okay that I came in here when I heard you?” Steve whispered.

Bucky paused. Instinctively, he wanted to say no, to hide his pain from Steve, the one person who actually believed there was still good in him. But he also knew that he couldn’t do this by himself. If Steve was insisting on helping him through this, he had to let him.

“Yeah, Steve, it’s just fine. Just maybe don’t shake me next time? I don’t want to put you through a wall,” Bucky chuckled.

“Alright, good,” Steve sighed. “I don’t think I could’ve left you in here when I woke up.”

There was an awkward pause then, neither man quite knowing what to say. Steve wanted to say so much, reveal the cracked remnants of his heart and memories of him and Bucky. But he couldn’t do that, it wasn’t fair to Bucky to lay everything out there. So he sat and took a few deep breaths before slowly rising to his feet.

“I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Steve. I’ll see you in the morning,” Bucky said gratefully.

Steve nodded and shut the door softly before he padded down the hallway, willing the tears not to fall yet. He shut his bedroom door behind him and immediately sank to the floor, his back against the door. With his head in his hands, he let the tears fall silently, hoping his shuddering breath couldn’t be heard down the hall. The fear he’d heard in Bucky’s cries and seen in his eyes was burned into his eyes. He couldn’t bear the thought of how bad Bucky’s episodes must have been just a few years prior.

When he finally looked toward his nightstand, the alarm clock alerted him that it was still the middle of the night, no time to be awake. Dragging himself back to his bed, Steve eventually fell asleep to images of the past flashing in his mind.

Bucky woke up with a jump the next morning, startled by the unfamiliar surroundings and the softness of the bed. He took in the room and memories flooded back to him. He was at Steve’s safehouse, where Steve insisted they go after escaping Siberia. He glanced at the bedroom door, surprised to see it cracked instead of firmly shut, which he distinctly remembered doing the night before.

Suddenly, he remembered the nightmare, which must have had him screaming if Steve’s reaction was anything to go by. He took stock of everything, pleased to feel like his head wasn’t splitting down the middle, like he didn’t have another consciousness fighting to come to the surface. He sat in bed for a moment, expecting to hear Steve moving about the house somewhere, but all was quiet. Bucky wasn’t sure whether it was comforting or disheartening to think that Steve had left him home alone on the first morning.

Shaking those thoughts away, Bucky slid out of bed, the need for coffee overtaking his concern for the moment. Following the hallway to the open living room and kitchen, Bucky was again confronted with all things Steve. Photos, candles, pillows, it all screamed Steve Rogers. Bucky wasn’t sure how exactly he knew that, but he did. He could feel it.

He meandered into the kitchen, his nose leading him toward the strong coffee he could smell from his room. On the counter next to the coffee pot he found a large mug and a note from Steve.

Went into town for some groceries, I should be back in the early afternoon. There’s some food in the freezer, but not much. If you need any clothes or anything, there’s extras in my closet. Home phone is on the side table next to the couch, my cell is on speed dial if you need me.

-Steve

With a large cup of coffee in hand, Bucky headed back to the living room where a large plush sofa was calling his name. He was surprised to find that it was already almost noon, so Steve would likely be back soon. Once settled, he looked around. The cozy room was comforting, nothing like the holding facilities he was used to or the crappy apartments he’d been crashing in for the last few years. This was different. His instincts had him checking for sightlines and mapping out exit strategies, but he tried to push those away and focus on the photos surrounding him.

He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised to see himself in so many of the photos given how close he and Steve had been before the fall. Even so, he’d never come face to face with so many reminders of a life he couldn’t remember living. He wondered how many of his own photos and memories would have Steve in them if he ever got his hands on them.

Wrapping a blanket around himself, he reached for the television remote, hoping something could distract him from the sudden sadness washing over him. After scrolling through the entire guide several times, Bucky gave up, settling on drinking his coffee in silence. Once he reached the bottom of his mug, he figured it was time for a shower. He quickly realized just how much grime had settled into his skin since Siberia and he was itching for water just hot enough to burn a bit.

Upon entering his room, he realized Steve had given him towels and toiletries, but only one set of clothes. He hesitated, nervous to snoop through Steve’s space even though his note made it clear he could look for anything he needed. Glancing down at his now dirt and sweat covered clothes, he knew he didn’t have much of a choice.

Reluctantly, Bucky made his way toward Steve’s room. Upon entering, he was overcome with a sense of comfort. The whole room smelled like coming home after a long day. Bucky always knew that smells could trigger memories that he didn’t know he had, but this was different. This wasn’t a specific memory; it was this innate gut feeling that this was home. That Steve was home.

Bucky took a deep breath, soaking in the comfort, feeling the safety wrap around him. Call him crazy, but he finally found something that felt right, that felt like it belonged to the version of himself that he was still clawing his way back toward. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t connect all the dots or recall all the specific memories. All that mattered was that he finally had something to latch on to. All that mattered was that Steve trusted him enough to bring him here. All that mattered was Steve.

He shook that last thought out of his head, unsure of where exactly it came from and headed for the closet on the far side of the bedroom. Sliding the door open, he was faced with what seemed to be Steve’s entire civilian wardrobe. The shelves and hangers were full of everything from soft sweaters and henleys to fitted button-downs and khakis. The very top shelf was what caught Bucky’s attention though.

The top shelf had several stacks of thick, cable knit sweaters that looked cozy enough for Bucky to bundle up in for the next several weeks. They looked homey and warm - perfect. He reached up, his heart set on a deep blue piece, and his fingers scrabbled to secure the fabric. When he finally grabbed it and yanked it down, the angle brought down several sweaters along with the blue one he was aiming for.

Bucky shook his head at his clumsiness, knowing that was something that would never leave him. He quickly grabbed the sweaters to refold them and hoist them back up on the shelf. He was on the second to last one, a light sky-blue colored sweater when he felt something stiff inside the fabric. He reached into the sleeve to move whatever had gotten stuck when it fell and came out with a small stack of old photos, clearly printed before Steve went into the ice.

Bucky looked down and felt all the air rush out of him. He immediately fell to his knees, his entire being knocked off balance by what he saw in the photos. His eyes filled with tears against his will, but through the blur, he could still clearly make out the images.

The first one in the stack was a photo of him and Steve, clearly taken without them knowing. A young Steve, probably just a matter of months before the serum, was perched on Bucky’s knee with one of Bucky’s arms firmly around his waist. Steve’s head was resting against Bucky’s shoulder, love drunk smiles pasted across both of their faces. Steve was looking up at Bucky, Bucky glancing down at Steve and it was impossible to miss the love evident in their eyes.

Bucky collapsed down from his knees, hitting the floor with a thud, but paid no mind to the discomfort as he pulled up the next picture in the stack. The next photo was in a similar vein as the first one but must have been taken during their time as part of the Howling Commandos. How that was possible, Bucky didn’t know. All he knew was that this photo showed Steve in his Captain American uniform, covered in dirt, with his arms wrapped tightly around Bucky in what must have been a bone crushing hug. Bucky’s face was tucked into the crook of Steve’s neck while Steve pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

Bucky spread out the dozen or so photos on the floor in front of him, each of them indicating just how in love he and Steve must have been back then. In every single photo, they were touching in some way; an arm around the other person, hands held between them, a kiss on the cheek. Even in photos that included their friends or family, it was evident that Steve and Bucky were drawn to each other like magnets, always revolving around each other and finding their way into contact. It appeared that was still true to this day, given that the universe had somehow kept them both alive despite believing the other must be long dead or simply not knowing the other existed, in Bucky’s case.

He sat on the floor of Steve’s closet just staring at the photos, willing himself to remember just one of these instances. Hating himself for forgetting something so vastly important in his life and for ripping this way from Steve. God, Steve. How could Bucky ever forgive himself for depriving Steve of the love he so clearly deserved. Deserves.

Sitting there on the floor, for god knows how long, Bucky came to a startling realization. He may not be able to play back these memories like movies in his head, but he damn well knew that he could trust Steve, that he knew him when everything else was foreign and terrifying. That had to mean something right? His mind and heart hadn’t completely betrayed him if he knew that Steve felt like home, that he smelled familiar, that something within him just knew.

As Bucky crouched there, lost in thought and emotion, his well-trained instincts didn’t alert him to Steve’s arrival. He missed the loud thud of the car door, the minor tremor of the house when Steve shut the front door, and even the loud shuffling as Steve entered the kitchen.

“Buck?” Steve called loudly.

Bucky couldn’t bring himself to answer and he certainly couldn't bring himself to move from his place on the floor. He didn’t even have a moment to panic before Steve came through the door and was suddenly standing across the room, eyes fixed on the photos on the floor.

“Shit, Buck,” Steve breathed out. He quickly crossed the room, dropping to his knees next to Bucky.

“I’m so sorry, Steve,” Bucky sobbed.

“What? Bucky, no, this isn’t your fault at all. Dammit I-,” Steve took a shuddering breath in, his emotions coming to boil seeing those photos and knowing what Bucky had figured out.

“These past few years, I didn’t know, Steve.”

“I know you didn’t, and I never wanted you to find out like this.”

Bucky was still staring at the photos, unable to look up at the man next to him. He didn’t know what he’d do if he saw that same love in the photos directed at him now.

“Bucky, please, can we talk about this?”

“What is there to talk about? I ruined everything for you, I took it all away,” Bucky sobbed.

“No! God, Buck, please just come here.”

Bucky looked over to Steve, surprised to see the sheer vulnerability reflected in his grey-blue eyes. There wasn’t a hint of anger or resentment there, but maybe just a touch of fear.

Without thinking, Bucky scooted over just enough to collapse into Steve’s arms, his entire body breaking down into shuddering sobs.

“Why can’t I just remember?” he cried, desperate for relief from the constant reminders that his mind wasn’t his own.

Steve wrapped him up in a tight hug and pulled him closer, rearranging their limbs until they were in a more comfortable position on the floor.

“Shh, it’s okay Buck, it’s gonna be okay, I promise. That’s why we’re here, right? To do this together,” Steve murmured into his ear.

Bucky just continued to cry, years (decades) of emotion boiling over at that moment. Steve just held him close and continued whispering in his ear, reassuring him, letting him know it would all be okay.

“I’m not letting you do this alone, Buck, I promise,” Steve said firmly.

When Bucky finally felt like he had himself under control, he pulled back from Steve’s grip but didn’t dare move any further away. No matter what had been burned out of his head by HYDRA, his heart needed to be close to Steve. Everything from the last few years started to make more sense when he realized that.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bucky asked quietly.

“And when exactly was I supposed to do that?” Steve asked with a chuckle.

“Fair enough,” Bucky sighed.

“Let’s go into the kitchen. We should eat before we do this.”

Bucky hesitated but nodded when he felt his stomach knotting in on itself. When Steve stood and reached a hand out for Bucky, he didn’t hesitate to take it. He didn’t think twice when neither of them let go until they were in the kitchen plating up the takeout Steve had brought back.

They ate their sandwiches and chips in silence, mostly due to how hungry they quickly realized they were. Bucky was grateful that Steve also had the appetite of a super soldier and brought close to a dozen sandwiches back for them. By the time they finished stuffing their faces and Steve had cleared away the scattered wrappers, Bucky knew they were faced with a difficult conversation.

“Want to get comfy in the living room for this?” Steve asked.

Bucky nodded, “Sure.”

Steve let Bucky lead the way to the living room and waited for him to pick a spot first, not wanting to crowd his space too much. Bucky’s face pulled into a confused frown when Steve settled in the chair across from him, rather than on the couch cushion at his side. Bucky glanced at the empty seat next to him and Steve took the hint, quickly moving close enough that their thighs pressed together.

Steve’s gaze was fixed on the carpet. He could feel Bucky’s eyes boring into the side of his head, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet his gaze. The guilt was already eating away at him, making his lunch sit uneasily in his stomach. After too much silence, he took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation at hand.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Bucky. It was so wrong for me to-”

“Steve, don’t. This isn’t your fault, there’s no reason for you to apologize,” Bucky interrupted.

Steve shook his head, still staring down at his feet.

“But Buck, I-”

“Dammit Steve, will you look at me please?”

Steve lifted his head and turned slightly to face Bucky. He was met with open, curious eyes with just a hint of anger.

“You have every right to be angry,” Steve whispered.

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded. “But not at you. This isn’t your fault,” he repeated. His face softened a bit, the hard edge disappearing as he watched for Steve’s reaction.

“I just don’t know what to say.”

“Let’s start from the beginning. Can I ask a question?”

“Of course.”

“How long?” Bucky asked simply.

“What do you-”

“How long, Steve?” he repeated.

Steve sighed, his gaze quickly drifting to the several photos littering the living room walls. “Since I was sixteen, you were seventeen. That’s when things changed.”

“What do you mean, changed?”

“That’s when we finally realized that best friends don’t normally cuddle on the couch and sleep in the same bed during sleepovers,” Steve laughed.

Bucky smiled at the distant, hazy memories of tangled limbs and sleep warm touches. It wasn’t in focus, but the memory was there. Somewhere deep in his heart and mind, he knew what Steve was saying; it almost felt like his own memories.

“So, all that time? When I left for the war, when you came and found me? All of that?”

“Yeah, Buck, the whole time.” Steve had a small smile on his face, the happy memories overtaking their current situation for just a split second. “I’m sorry,” Steve continued. “It’s not fair for me to dump this on you and I really didn’t mean for you to find out. At least not like this.”

“And what do you want?” Bucky questioned.

“What do you mean?” Steve was surprised by the question, his gaze immediately snapped back to Bucky’s inquisitive face.

“Exactly what I said, Steve. What do you want to happen now?”

“I want you to be okay. I was us to be okay,” Steve murmured so quietly, Bucky nearly missed it. “I know I can’t ask you to pretend to remember it all, I know that. But selfishly, god Buck, I would give anything, everything to have it all back.”

Steve’s eyes were fixed so intently on Bucky’s, he couldn’t tear his gaze away. Hesitantly, Bucky reached for Steve’s thigh and squeezed tightly as he smiled up at him.

“You’re right. I can’t pretend to remember everything. But I do know that these distant, fuzzy memories are mine. They all involve you. All of them Steve. I know I loved you. Love you, really. I can feel it. I might not have the same memories and things certainly aren’t normal, but I can feel it Stevie, I really can. I don’t want to lose that again,” Bucky admitted.

Steve stayed silent, partially to let Bucky continue but mostly in disbelief.

“Like I said, I can feel it. The pictures, the memories, those times in high school. It’s all still there. If you want to give this a shot, give me a shot, I think that’s really all I want.”

“If I want- Buck,” Steve trailed off. He carefully placed his hand over Bucky’s on his own thigh, barely squeezing for fear of startling him. He held Bucky’s gaze, unable to look away from those eyes that held so much and yet revealed nothing. When Bucky didn’t interject, Steve continued on.

“Bucky, not a single day has gone by that I haven’t wanted you. Not once, I swear,” Steve resounded. “If this is what you want, I’m right here.”

“You’re the only thing that feels familiar, Steve.”

“I don’t want you to want this just because you think it’s what I want, Buck. I’ll be here no matter what, I promise you that.”

Bucky shook his head vehemently, immediately cutting Steve off. “No,” Bucky said firmly. “It’s not that and it’s not just because you’re safe. I just- I know we were each other’s everything and we can’t just jump back into that, but I’d really like to take it one day at a time. With you,” Bucky finished softly.

Steve raised a gentle hand to Bucky’s cheek, unable to keep himself from touching at this point. He couldn’t help the way his chin trembled or the tears that welled up in his eyes as he looked at the man he’d loved and lost so many times. Steve needed the reassurance that Bucky was actually there, that he could reach out and touch him, feel his warmth and security while keeping him safe.

“You want this?” Steve confirmed.

“Steve, I swear, if you ask me that one more time, I might change my mind,” Bucky sassed.

“Alright alright, there you are,” Steve laughed.

They sat in silence for a moment longer. Bucky’s hand still squeezing Steve’s thigh with Steve’s hand pressed over his own. Steve’s opposite hand held Bucky’s cheek as he let his eyes wander over Bucky’s face. It was the same face that Steve came home to in high school, the same one he found staring up at him in Azanno, and the same one that haunted his dreams for the years after the war. He never imagined he’d see it again; not as the Winter Solider and not as the love of his life.

Eventually, Steve let go of Bucky and slumped back against the couch, spreading his arms for Bucky to settle into. Bucky quirked an eyebrow for a split-second before folding himself into Steve’s grip, his back pressed to Steve’s front. The strong arms that wrapped around him felt like coming home. Bucky never thought he could feel like that again, he didn’t know he had a home to come back to. But this, this was it.

“When did you know?” Steve whispered against his neck.

Bucky paused for a minute, trying to comb through the jagged memories and mismatched pictures in his head. At this point, he had enough of his own mind back that he could see so many of his own experiences but didn’t quite know where they fit into his life. It was hard to differentiate among all the years that swirled in his head.

“When was the bridge?” Bucky asked.

“You knew on the bridge?”

“Yeah. Well, no, not really. But after. I started getting these flashes of what I now realize are memories. The moment I fell was just on replay in my head, I just kept hearing you yell for me.”

Steve squeezed him tightly and buried his nose in Bucky’s long hair, willing himself to stay strong for Bucky.

“I told them I knew you, but, you know,” Bucky trailed off.

“I know, Buck. I’m so sorry.”

Bucky shifted in Steve’s arms, rolling over to face him. They were nose to nose, their breath immediately mingling between them.

“Not your fault, Stevie. We’re here now, yeah?”

“Yeah, we are. But we can always talk about that stuff, whenever you need to. That’s why we’re here, remember?”

“As long as you’re here with me to figure it all out, Steve. I know I can’t do it without you.”

As Steve nodded in agreement, his nose bumped against Bucky’s causing them both to gasp at how close they hadn’t realized they were. Steve’s gaze dropped to Bucky’s lips out of habit and Bucky’s tongue swiped over his plump bottom lip on impulse.

“Buck,” Steve breathed, unable to stop himself.

Bucky stared back at Steve for what should have been an awkward length of time, but neither man noticed. After a few long breaths, Bucky nodded, signaling for Steve to go ahead. One of Steve’s hands crept up from his waist to cradle his face, his thumb dragging along his cheekbone as Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut.

Steve barely had to move with how close they already were. He merely angled his face to the right and immediately felt Bucky’s warm breath directly against his lips. Before he could do anything, Bucky closed the final hint of space between them and captured Steve’s lips in a feather-light kiss. Steve couldn’t help the rush of emotion that filled his heart the moment he felt those all-too-familiar lips against his again.

He let his lips lead him in rediscovering Bucky, pleased that the same flick of his tongue and caress of his neck brought out the softest whimpers, just like when they were in another life. When he felt tears fall from his eyes, he pulled back ever so slightly.

“Wow,” Bucky murmured.

Steve sniffled quietly but knew he couldn’t hide his emotion from the man in his arms.

“Yeah, wow is right.”

“So, we’ll figure this out?”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Just like we always have, baby.”

Bucky couldn’t help the way he burrowed into Steve’s chest, and Steve couldn’t stop the smile on his face as he felt Bucky press a kiss to his chest.

“Did you know you always used to do that before you fell asleep?” Steve whispered.

When he looked down, Bucky’s eyes were closed and his breathing was even, his face squished against Steve’s shirt. Steve shook his head fondly, and pulled Bucky even closer, silently vowing to never let him go again.

#stucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #stucky fic #mine

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allaboutthebooz · 5 years

Text

Right Girl, Wrong Time Part two

Summary: Jensen relives another memory.

Warnings: mild fluff, angst

A/N: I’m mad at myself for not getting Send My Love up, but this keeps flooding my brain and I can’t focus until it’s done! I’m sorry! But I hope you all love this part! Inspiration song.

“Cut! That’s lunch guys!” Richard calls from behind the monitors.

Jared and Jensen fall out of character and head towards the sound stage doors. Jensen pulls his phone from his pocket, checking to see if there were any missed messages or calls. Nothing. With a mental pout, he stuffs it back in his jacket pocket.

“Any word from Y/N?” Jared asks him.

“Uh, yeah. She called the apartment the other night while we were filming. She’s settled in, but missing Texas.”

“And you I’m sure.”

“Yeah.” He looks at his feet and stuffs his hands in his jacket pockets. “She wants to come home, but she knows I wouldn’t let her give up this job for me. She’s been working so hard for it.”

“It just sucks it had to be in Spain.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, talk about terrible timing.”

Jared hits his arm, causing Jensen to look up at him. “Not terrible timing. At least you got some time with her before she left.”

Jensen shakes his head. “It wasn’t long enough. I was hoping it would have been forever.”

Jared gives Jensen his sad Sam face. “Maybe it could be? You never know.”

“No, I know. It wouldn’t work. It was tough enough when she was back in Texas and I was back and forth here. At least we would see each other a couple times a month. It’s different with her being over there.”

“I’m not saying it wouldn’t be hard, I’m just saying it doesn’t have to end.”

“Can we just get some food, please?” Jensen asks him, growing frustrated.

Jared sighs, “Sure, man.” He shakes his head as Jensen stalks off.

+++

Six months ago

Jensen woke to the Texas sun peeking behind the curtains in Y/N’s bedroom. He blinked a few times, trying to ease the sleep from his eyes. Once his vision adjusts to the added light in the room, he glances over at the sleeping figure next to him and smiles. Y/N was still sleeping. She laid on her stomach, covers covering her bottom half, leaving her back bare. Her arms stuffed under the pillow. Her face relaxed and beautiful. Her hair scattered behind her and across her pillow in soft waves. Her breathing deep.

They had seen each other as much as possible since she bumped into him at Jared’s bar. When he wasn’t out of town filming, he was with her. He knew he loved her. Of course, he hadn’t told her yet. He didn’t want to scare her away, but he was going to tell her soon. He couldn’t wait any longer. Watching her while she slept, it made his chest tighten and his heart flutter. She was a sight that he wanted to wake up to every chance he got.

He turned onto his side and brushed his finger-tips along her spine and up to her hair. He ran his fingers through the long strands, scratching her scalp. She hummed, still asleep, but beginning to wake up. She slowly peeked open her eyes, her pupils wide from being in the dark of her eyelids. He sees the moment she focuses on him and she smiles a small, tired smile.

“Mornin’.” Her voice thick with sleep and her southern accent, as she blinks her eyes closed for a moment and opens them back up.

He props himself up on an elbow and leans towards her, kissing her cheek. “Morning.” He murmurs in her ear as he trails kisses down her neck to her shoulder. Pulling away enough to leave a kiss on her lips. Both of them smiling when they separate.

She sits up on her elbows and looks over at her side table, checking the clock that sits on it. “So much for getting up early to have a little more time together. I gotta get you back to Jared, so you guys can head to the airport.”

“I’m sorry, babe. I forgot to set the alarm.”

“It’s alright. I’m just going to miss you.” She leans in and kisses him.

“I’m gonna miss you, too.” He tells her, his lips still against hers. His hand finds its way to her hair again, pulling her against him and gripping her enough to make her mewl against him.

Y/N pulls away from him, “We definitely don’t have time for that. As much as I want to.” She pulls away from him and stands up from the bed. She picks up her clothes on the way to the bathroom.

They loaded his bags into the bed of her truck and then climbed into the cab. She was quiet while they got ready. Jensen watches her drive the truck around town to Jared and Gen’s. “Everything okay, baby girl?”

She glances over at him for a moment before focusing her gaze back on the road. He sees the wheels turning in her head. “Yeah, I just-“ She grips the wheel tight, her knuckles turning white.

“What is it?”

She looks at him again and pulls the car to a slow roll as she pulls it off to the side of the road. She puts it in park and turns to him.

“I got a job.”

His eyes grow wide with excitement. “You did? That’s great!”

She nods, a small smile graces her lips. “Yeah, it is. Except…Except it’s for the curator position in-in Spain.”

“Spain?” She nods again, her smile gone. Her bottom lip between her teeth.

“They want me out there in a few months. That gives me enough time to get everything settled here, but I don’t know. That means leaving everything behind. Leaving you behind. I don’t know if I can do that.” She shakes her head, her bottom lip quivering, tears forming in her eyes.

He reaches across the console and grips her face in his hands. “Hey, don’t worry about me! You’ve been working so hard for this. This is what you’ve been wanting to do.”

“But-“

“No buts. You have to do this. I love you and I’m not letting you give up your dream job, just for me.”

Her face crumbles. “You love me?”

He nods. His face growing hot, eyes stinging. This wasn’t how he wanted to tell her. “I do.”

“I love you, too.”

“But you can’t let that stop you. I’m not going to let you hold yourself back. You’re going to Spain and you’re going to live your best life.”

“What would my best life be without you? I just found you and now you want me to let you go?”

“You have to, baby. You’ve been working so hard.” Her head falls forward as more tears roll down her cheeks. He presses a kiss to her forehead before pressing his own against hers. “We’ll figure it out. We will.” She nods against him.

+++

Jensen rubs a hand over his mouth. His phone in his hand, open to a picture of the two of them. Thinking about the day she told him that their forever would be coming to an end. At the time, he didn’t think that they would have to say goodbye, but if the last few weeks proved anything to him, it was that they wouldn’t have been able to make it. The time change and constant missed calls and messages, when she first left, proved that they couldn’t make it work.

My forevers:

@gh0stgurl @pretty-fortune

#Jensen Ackles #jensen ackles x reader #Jared Padalecki #jared padalecki x reader #dean winchester #Sam Winchester reader insert #dean one shot #dean x reader #dean winchester reader insert #Sam Winchester #sam one shot #sam x reader #supernatural #supernatural series #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural reader insert #supernatural one shot

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youaretoosmart · 7 years

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girl you're murdering me today with your writing (and also your kindness I cannot BELIEVE you posted a link to my fic I'm??) anyway if you wanted to do more one shots I'd love to see what you come up with for 39 if you haven't done it already! :)

*walks in a month late without starbucks*

39: “This is very cliché.” + 69: “You’re ticklish.” (requested by @janeerikabrady on twitter) + 21: “God, I missed you.” (@lydias-martin)

(from +this list of prompts)

Under the readmore because I realize it’s long and I’m nice to my mobile-using friends and followers.

The car starts clicking and creaking on the last half hour of their trip. Lydia feels it in the wheel first, then in the rigid steering, and when Stiles finally cuts off the music to ask “What’s that noise?”, Lydia knows there’s a problem.

“Pull over,” Stiles says after the engine gives a sudden whirr, one wheel in a pothole.

Lydia complies, because even though the rented Mercedes is much newer and all around better than his old Jeep, the antic car did give Stiles more experience with faulty engines.

“Do you know what’s happening?” she asks, pulling on the side of the road.

Once the car is still, the lateness of the hour catches up with her, and she feels a twinge of irritation toward Beacon Hills. They’re barely in Beacon Hills county and so of course their car–their rental, brand-new car has to stop working in the middle of the woods on a Sunday night.

Stiles shakes his head before stepping out of the car. Lydia pops up the hood when he gestures her to, and stands a moment bent over it, hidden from Lydia’s sight by the sheet of black metal.

She waits for five, ten minutes without hearing a sound before she unbuckles and opens her door.

“You okay?” she asks as soon as she’s outside, and the wind carries out her words.

She watches the leaves rustle around her heeled boots, and a spike of panic seizes her for a hot second. It’s senior year all over again, and Beacon Hills is swept over by a cold wind that blows in the supernatural; she finds herself focusing on the distance, waiting for the tell-tale sound of hooves.

She can’t see Stiles over the hood, and she knows he could be gone in the blink of an eye–

Then Stiles slams the hood down and turns to her, blinking in the harsh lights of the car.

“You okay?” he says in a soft voice, like he knows what she’s thinking about.

How can he, when Lydia herself isn’t sure what transpires in her brain in those times? But Stiles has always been too perceptive when it comes to her, and that’s how that particular story begins.

Lydia sits back sideways in the car, legs outstretched toward him, and gently bumps her right foot to his shin.

“Better than this engine,” she says, regaining her composure and hard-won casualness. “What’s the matter?”

Stiles scowls.

“I’m not sure,” he admits. “The engine is so different from the Jeep’s–I couldn’t see anything.”

“You mean no duct tape?”

“Very funny.”

There’s a loud rumbling sound in the distance and Stiles squints at it before making his way to the passenger seat. Lydia catches on and close her door the moment the rain starts to fall furiously.

“I missed those north Californian downpours,” Lydia says darkly, watching the drops of rain smash against the windshield like pebbles.

“Makes you regret the East Coast winters.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far.”

They don’t turn on the heat, not wanting to add a dead battery to the damage, and Stiles reaches for the heavy winter coats they shed when they landed in California. Lydia slips into hers, grateful for the warmth and the smoothness of the fleece lining, and reaches for her phone. The line is busy the first time she dials the still familiar number of Beacon Hills’ towing company, and she looks at her phone in distaste after five minutes of Vivaldi’s Spring concerto.

“The odds of someone else crashing their car tonight?”

Stiles makes a disgusted noise and makes himself comfortable in the seat.

“We should call them with my phone next time,” he says. “They must still have my number in their VIP clients book.”

The truth is, Lydia wouldn’t be surprised if it was true. She slips off her shoes and turns in her seat to face him. The window is cool against her back, and she tucks her socked feet against the armrest between them.

“Home sweet home,” she sighs. “Lost in the woods at night in a broken down car. It’s high school all over again.”

Stiles’ eyes take on a different kind of mischievous light.

“You know what else we did in the car in high school?” he says playfully, grabbing her ankles to extend her legs over his lap. His fingers slip up the hem of her pants and ghost over her ankles and Lydia feels her toes curl up against his thigh.

“Stop it,” she says, biting her lips to contain her giggles.

“You’re ticklish,” Stiles realizes, his mouth already stretched wide. “How did I never know?”

She kicks at his wrists until he lets go of her ankles.

“Try again,” she says, pointing at his phone. “I’m not having car sex with you when we should be at your father’s for dinner.”

“So you’ll have car sex with me after we get dinner with my father?”

“I will consider–” Lydia pauses, enjoying the way Stiles’ lips part unconsciously. “Making out on your bed.”

Stiles snorts.

“You really are reliving our teenage years,” he says, like they’re not barely twenty and still in college.

Lydia waves the phone under his nose until he gives in and calls again. This time they pick up immediately, and Lydia isn’t surprised when she hears Stiles greet the other person by his name.

“Ah, no,” he says after a few minutes. “We rented a car at the airport. No, I left the Jeep to my friend Scott–the one with the Kawasaki bike?” He glances at Lydia when she nudges her with her foot, tapping on her wrist with two fingers, the universal sign for “hurry up”.

“An accident,” he repeats after giving their location. “Of course. How long?”

He hangs up soon after and places the phone in the cup holder between their seats.

“An accident?” Lydia asks.

“Yup. Three car pile-up. They’re nearly done, but we’ll have to wait for the tow truck for at least forty minutes.”

The wind picks up at that moment, rocking the car slightly. Lydia and Stiles stare, unimpressed, as a branch hits the window heavily.

“This is very cliché,” Lydia says, trying to see something in the darkness.

Stiles hums and picks up his phone, his fingers quick across the screen as he types a message.

“Dad can’t pick us up, he’s covering the accident.” A groan. “Fuck. I’m starving.”

They spend ten minutes in silence, three others playing I spy until they run out of things to spy (the rain, trees, the road), and by then Lydia is so cold and bored that she’s starting to imagine things out of the dark shape of the trees. Stiles’ rhythmic drumming on the dashboard is also slowly driving her mad.

Tap tap tap, and Lydia’s seeing something move between the trees; reason tells her it’s the wind, branches and bushes bent backward by the storm, but experience is pressing down on her until she fears like she’s been conditioned to.

Tap tap tap. A bird swoops down suddenly, hits their car, and Lydia jumps half a foot in the air. It rights itself as it bounces back and disappears in the storm.

“Weird,” Stiles notices. “Birds usually don’t fly out during storms.”

They share a look; even though they both live in the city, now, noticing out-of-place animal behaviors has become a second nature.

“Scott hasn’t mentioned anything weird happening lately, right?” Lydia ends up asking, just to break the silence. She turns in her seat to look out the back window, but there’s nothing to see except for dark trees and a darker sky.

“Not to me,” Stiles answers.

The reproach is clear in his voice. Even months later he’s still annoyed that they never called him when rats and wolves and people started killing each other, Lydia guesses. She reaches for his hand and squeezes a silent apology. Stiles’ phone buzzes with an incoming text at that moment, and when he brings up her wrist to his lips, leaving the ghost of a kiss on her pulse point, his attention is clearly elsewhere.

He doesn’t release her hand the whole time he frowns at his phone, but Lydia looks at him and feels like someone put her heart in the wringer and chose the highest settings; it turns and turns in her chest until she feels like she’s going to bleed for this boy sitting two feet away from her, like her love for him seeps in her blood and warms her fingers between his.

She turns her hand until they’re holding hands and laces her fingers through his. It’s a small but steady comfort, a gesture made dearer by the distance that they’ve grown accustomed to.

“God,” Stiles says suddenly, like he’s thinking the same thing. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Lydia admits with a squeeze of his hand that make him look up. “So much, Stiles.”

It’s nothing she hasn’t already thought or heard, because long distance is hard, especially when isolation, to Lydia in high school, meant driving less than an hour north to her lakehouse.

She tugs him to her with their connected hands and he falls against her shins.

“I’m sorry about Thanksgiving,” she says in his mouth when he leans forward to kiss her. “I wanted to come home–”

“It’s okay,” he reminds her, his nose brushing against her cheek. “I know that project was important.”

There’s something in his words that makes frown and lean back to look at him in the eyes.

“Not more important, though, you know that, right?”

His eyes are impossibly soft and fond; there’s her answer. It makes her feel safe that she can read him so easily before he can even speak, because if Stiles Stilinski is good with his words, he tells even more with his eyes and his hands and his actions. And now–now she has a lifetime in front of her to read each movement, his half-aborted nervous gestures and gentle looks.

Some part of her hates the lateness of the hour and the uncomfortable knowledge that the tow truck is coming, because a revelation like that deserves the shallow darkness of a bedroom at night or the casual familiarity of home.

“Say it again,” Stiles asks, so Lydia does just that until the lights from the tow truck break the illusion of solitude.

The air is still thick with those words when they step outside the car and Lydia is nearly swept off her feet by the wind, because they’re still there in the way she reaches for him when he stumbles and the weight of his hand on her back when she climbs inside the truck: You’re the most important person in my life, Stiles Stilinski.

#stydia #cave canem #lydias-martin #janeerikabrady #my drabbles #sorry this is crappy and cliché #also look at me cramming 3 prompts in 1 #i'm ashamed #you're gonna take that compliment back kaleigh i know it lol #mrtinski #answered

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defunctblogtobedeleted · 5 years

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10/26/19 2:44am - Andi 6/?

I The breakup didn’t last very long. It kind of just fell into us being open again. And then we’d hang out again. And we just still had all these feelings together and stuff.

Did we break up twice or three times? Jesus, man. This is really hard. Reliving a whole year is so daunting I can’t even begin to tell you. Especially since my primary goals during these days were 1. Learn how to do my new job as competently as possible. 2. Do as little work as possible so that you don’t fuck up and appear incompetent. A little paradoxical, I know, but I Really didn’t want to fuck up some studies and get canned completely. I was still making more money than I had before but just turning down the optional work to get paid extra, so that was fine with me. 3. Become the best magic player ever. I was doing that a lot during the times that I could be doing optional work lmfao.

I really wasn’t interested in pursuing girls anyway. Andi and I were still snapchatting a lot I think. Like all the time, probably. We’d always just keep talking when we’d break up and then we’d want to hang out and then we’d want to fuck and it was a pretty natural progression with how beautiful and fun we were, yknow?

I remember being single for New Years Eve. I went up to see the gang in DC and Andi didn’t want to come with. It was pretty whack. She was always full of excuses why she didn’t want to make trips to see my friends.

I’m gonna speed up a little bit I think here because I think I’ve already covered some of this, but after New Years we decided to get back together. It was after this weird stint where she had been fucking my buddy Jared and I was cool with it but still hooking up with her, and everything turned out way better than expected, really. He couldn’t get off fucking her lolol, I think he said he kept imagining me being so cool with them hooking up and felt weird or something? I don’t know it doesn’t matter. But basically I was still the best sexy sex man and we still had feelings for each other and decided to get together but she wanted me to quit smoking. and I explained to her my life growing up with my parents and my friends and my family and that Everyone in my life smokes and that I thought it would be very hard to do. I told her I’d only smoke on special occasions to start and that I’d try to slough off.

Well instead I just had more special occasions. Going out with Brain and Jwilli to do karaoke? hell yeah that’s special. Seeing Jimmy for the first time in a few months? hella special. Going up to visit Tony and his girlfriend for the weekend in Richmond? Fuck yeah I’m smoking all weekend.

Eventually I started smoking like every day except when I was with her. Which, to be fair, was most days. I spent 4 days off and 3 days on work, and I only smoked to go to sleep Sometimes.

But that must’ve been the end of the first time we broke up and then we broke up again before new years or something?

But Andi and I were on good terms and she offered to take me to the airport to go to Hawaii to visit my good buddy Jmell. I had a phenomenal time in Hawaii. I felt like I was really exploring the world on my own again, though I did have a bit of a fallback because I could text her a bit about what I was doing, and she was still hanging out in my twitch streams and stuff.

FUCK MAN. She was SO supportive with my twitch shit. And I was for her. We’d be in each other’s streams all the time to try to help each other out and keep each other company and shit. She really was precious when it came to nerdy shit.

Actually I can’t really get into the hawaii trip here, it ruins the flow. I’m gonna do that in the next post. But basically the bottom line of the story is that she saw how much fun I was having on my own and missed that about me and loved me and wanted me back. And I was happy being on my own and adventuring, but I missed her too and loved the comfort of being with her.

I guess this is the bad part of the relationship though, because I do kind of feel like I allowing myself to stay in the doldrums a little when I was with her. My life kind of rotated around going to visit her. I did a little bit of cool shit here and there, like went to Tato’s wedding which I didn’t get a +1 to, pretty shitty. But what I’m saying is the flip side of being content is that things aren’t that interesting. Not that I cared, I had a sexy sex monster always ready for me to give it to her. And she was kinky as hell, I could tell her about my tail fetish and everything and she was all about it. Unfortunately I didn’t really act on it a whole lot. I’m not sure why, maybe I was embarrassed or something, but we only had sex with our tails like twice. Maybe it was just so convenient that we could just pound out some good sex? Maybe I’m inherently a lazy person and she was kind of lazy too so it was just easier? I just didn’t want to push us out of our comfort zones I guess.

🎶 If I was being honest /

As long as I could fuck three times a day and not skip a meal I’m good 🎶

Life was fucking GOOD. I didn’t like that on a trip back from doing karaoke with Chi and his gf I showed her Frank Ocean and she seemed like she wasn’t really about it. lol that miffs me I love that fucking man more than anything. But you can’t love everything about a person? maybe?

But she made me happy to just eat candy again and love my life. And I love her for that.

But I guess it wasn’t really good for both of us?

One of the last trips was to her family’s in PA. I wanted to go see my grandma for Easter and invited her to come along, but at the last minute she said that her mom was starting to get sick again and asked if I wouldn’t mind going to see her family instead. I thought that was fine, her mom having cancer sucks there’s not really anything you can do about it, and I liked her family they were pretty nice from the few times I’d met them. We went up and had a pretty good time. Went to a bar and drank a little and fucked in the car in a parking lot somewhere. We had finally worked out at least THAT problem with her PTSD, though I never really made much progress helping with any of her other mental health issues. I always joked around saying that she should just try to become happy like me and just power wash your brain with 4chan shit so that you could see the humor and happiness in just being alive, but she didn’t take kindly to that. Or to me telling her that she should fix it by taking acid trips like me either.

Anyway, we didn’t really get into a fight but I think the final breaking moment in our relationship was that we were talking in the living room with her family. She had been preparing to move to a new apartment, we had gone around doing a bunch of apartment shopping the past couple weeks (much to my frustration, I was unhappy touring a bunch of places when I felt like she didn’t really care about my taste in the apartments she was looking at and more just wanted someone to accompany her, would do it but never wear anything better than sweatpants/pajamas as per usual), and had decided on a date that she’d move in. We had also talked about the weekend before, going out with Kailey and Manu and Christina and Pacos to celebrate Kailey’s birthday because she invited us to come hang out, and it was the first time we’d done anything together in a long time and Andi said she was down to come hang out with us. The conversation with her family consisted of her dad flying down to help her move, but that the new date of her move in would fall entirely on Kailey’s birthday party. I don’t know if it was a stipulation of her dad’s? Or if she had decided on that? She said she wanted more time to move? But I said well I can help you the next day and the days after and the day before but there’s no way I’m going to miss the party. She said we’re not going to talk about this right now and that was about the end of that conversation. Turns out we never really talked about it. I drove the whole way back, and we had an unrelated fight about weed consumption going to the lake which I do believe I already wrote about, and she broke up with me via text before she could move in.

I had a blast at Kailey’s party doing coke and shit but I ended up going home and sleeping instead of going to chapel hill to get more fucked up with them. I felt really awkward about where I was staying and whatnot but this story isn’t about that.

This story is the story of how we didn’t want to end up in a relationship together, and I fell in love, and how it just didn’t work out.

I don’t know what part of it made it not work out exactly. Maybe I thought she was something she wasn’t and just faked it until we made it and then we never really made it.

But I did really enjoy it. And I miss talking to her. I really thought I could be so big a person that I could keep talking to her after breaking up and not become obsessed with seeing her face in snapchats and lust after her so much that I wasn’t just praying that we’d end up back together like every time before.

Now I think I’m finally over missing her. It was a lot harder before I was getting laid consistently again, I guess. I do still miss sex with her, but I guess I miss sex with most people lmfao. I miss playing with her and her doggo. I think we could’ve been good friends if either of us had been able to show an inch of restraint and not just texting each other back and forth to oblivion.

But that’s not really who either of us were. We craved each other’s attention until I cut things off. It felt so good knowing someone wanted you so bad.

RIP Andi <3 Hope you’re doing well bruh.

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ficdirectory · 7 years

Text

Blink (An AU Fosters family fic) Chapter 35

CHAPTER 35

They don’t have much time.

In a way, that’s good, because it means Jesus can’t really drag this out. He doesn’t go home for lunch. Instead, he calls over to Grandpa’s and asks if Moms can come over for Porch Time at Pearl’s.

“Porch Time?” Pearl asks, once Moms have agreed and he’s ended the call.

“Yeah...um… It’s this thing? My moms and I go hang out on our front porch each night and I can tell them how I’m doing or if I need anything, like, accommodations-wise.”

Pearl raises her eyebrows. “That’s amazing. I’m so glad you have that.”

“I’m still kinda nervous that it’ll end up like Monday night, though…” Jesus hedges. “I know you said if we met here, you and Gracie would go, but… Could you stay? I’d feel safer if you stayed.”

“Then, I’ll stay,” Pearl nods.

They pass the time eating lunch and Pearl gives him some cookies to stash in his bag. As the clock inches toward 1:00 PM, Jesus thinks seriously about including Dr. H. in this. It would make sense. To have all of his safe people on the same page about what he needed.

He finishes the giant piece of a casserole thing that Pearl gave him and then clears his throat. “Is it okay if I call Dr. H. too? Like, on Skype? I know you said you’re not ready for therapists for yourself, but she really does help me.”

“Jesus, you do what you need to do. I want you to feel as safe as you can, so you can tell your moms what you need. And maybe your therapist will have ideas for you that we haven’t considered. Yeah, call her.”

He breathes a sigh of relief and calls Mama, asking if she can get in touch with Dr. H. on a Saturday and Skype in with them.

Pearl feels like an outsider at first. When Stef and Lena arrive, she’s sure Jesus will want to sit with them, and she’s in the chair across the room just for that reason. Until Jesus comes and stands by her.

“Will you sit next to me on the couch?” he asks lowly.

“Oh. Yes.” She moves to the couch and pats her lap so Gracie’s there, too, lying across Pearl.

“Where do you feel comfortable having us?” Lena asks.

Jesus nods at the chair Pearl had sat in moments before. She’s about to get up and move a kitchen chair in, but Stef pulls up the foot stool alongside the chair.

It feels awkward, all of them gathered around her laptop, waiting for Jesus’s therapist to call, but at least she’s timely.

While Dr. Hitchens talks to Jesus about getting grounded, Pearl can feel herself start to come apart. She’s not sure why the hand tremor is back with such a vengeance but she doesn’t like it. Gracie’s on the case, though, and Pearl’s glad her hands are hidden from the doctor’s view.

“Do you need me?” Jesus asks quietly as Dr. Hitchens, Stef, and Lena discuss the upcoming departure.

Surprising herself, Pearl nods. She holds one of Jesus’s hands in both of hers. With both Gracie and Jesus there, the tremor starts to ease. Pearl tries not to hold on too tight to Jesus’s hand, but she can’t help it. At least, Jesus doesn’t seem bothered by it. And thank God Stef, Lena and the doctor don’t comment.

“Jesus? I suggest breaking your return trip down into smaller pieces, so you have less chance of becoming overwhelmed by the scale, and you can be successful.”

“Sounds good,” he answers. “Pearl suggested having somebody with me at each different stage. Like, a buddy. We kinda did that on the way here, but I think it might help to be even more intentional about it.”

“That sounds like a sensible idea. Let’s take a breath, though. Stay with me,” Dr. H. coaches.

Jesus does.

“Now. Let’s think about this together, but Jesus, I want to hear from you. What part of leaving to come here first made you anxious?”

“Packing,” he says definitively. “Because of the bags.”

“Okay. Is there any way we can help minimize that stress for you?” the doctor asks.

“If I didn’t have to see it or hear it.”

“You’re welcome to stay here while your family packs,” Pearl offers.

Jesus breathes a sigh of relief and squeezes her hand. “Thank you.”

Dr. Hitchens checks if Jesus needs a break and when he doesn’t, she asks what the next thing that made him anxious was.

“Carrying a backpack. Seeing it. Because it was all I could leave with. But not having it would be hard, too. Because I wouldn’t want to feel like I had nothing.”

“Okay. I hear you,” Dr. Hitchens says. “Slow down and breathe. We can talk about that together. But I want you to feel safe when we do.”

This time, Pearl breathes along with Jesus. She doesn’t do any of the other things. She doesn’t focus or press her feet into the ground. But the slow, deliberate breathing is helpful.

After what feels like forever, Jesus’s doctor okays the continuation of the backpack discussion. Stef offers to carry it. He bristles. Lena. Same reaction.

“How is that resonating, Jesus?” Dr. Hitchens checks.

“It feels dominating…” he admits.

It shocks Pearl the kinds of words Jesus uses. How specific they are. And that Stef and Lena genuinely seem to be okay hearing them.

Jesus gets that this conversation is necessary, but he’s starting to hate it. It’s hard to think about every single part of what will make him freak out tomorrow. And even though he knows that talking about it will help him get through tomorrow, right now it just feels like too much.

They can’t figure out the backpack thing.

He still has to talk about why Moms offering to carry his backpack for him feels like a control thing, not like them trying to help. It’s not that Jesus is embarrassed. It’s that both options are making him panic right now. The thought of carrying the bag himself had felt so similar to when he got away, he doesn’t want to relive that again. But the idea of Moms carrying it makes him feel like they have all the control, and he doesn’t have any.

Jesus doesn’t even realize he’s at Level 1 until Pearl says, “We need a break,” and stands up with him. They walk to the corner with the swing. He gets in it and she sits outside. Headphones on.

She keeps holding his hand.

“Can you ask them to talk about themselves, not me?” he asks.

“Excuse me?” Pearl calls. “We need you not to talk about Jesus unless he’s present.” She turns back to him and passes along that Dr. H. agreed.

She’s flipped on the purple lights and they still have that perfect, calming effect. With Pearl sitting right here, too… Well, it’s all helping.

“Can I talk just to you?” he asks, easing his headphones off.

“Of course,” Pearl nods. “What’s up?”

“The backpack…”

“We will figure that out. I promise. You and me. All right?” she reassures.

“But so far all we have are two ways that won’t work,” he insists, feeling desperate.

“Do you know what that is? It’s important information. What won’t work for you is just as vital for us to know as what will. I have an idea that could work. Is that something you’re ready to hear?” she checks.

Jesus feels relief flood him. “Yeah. Please.”

“Okay. Take it easy. Focus on the lights. And the swing and how it’s holding you. Now just let yourself listen.” She pauses to let his brain catch up and then speaks again, really calmly. “Who do you trust most in your family?”

“Mariana.”

“What about asking Mariana to carry it for you? You guys stick together, right? She wouldn’t go anywhere without you. And if she had to, say, go to the restroom, then maybe you have a backup person to carry it. Or she can keep it with her, so you’ll know it’s safe.”

“Okay,” he nods. “Mariana can carry it. If she wants to.”

Eventually, Jesus is ready to rejoin Moms and Dr. H. He updates them about the backpack plan. And then they work their way through slowly picking people to be there for him in the car, at the airports, and on the plane.

By the time they’re done, Jesus is exhausted. But he feels like he might be able to arrive home in one piece. If only it didn’t mean leaving Pearl behind.

“Thanks for doing that with me,” Jesus says, once everyone is gone.

“Do you feel more comfortable having a plan? Or is it still awful?” Pearl checks.

“The leaving you part is still awful, and the traveling is gonna suck no matter what, yeah. But I do feel a little safer about it. That Moms know this time, and that we talked through all the stuff that could be bad for me.”

“Speaking of leaving - not that I want to speak of it ever - but…” Pearl lets go of Jesus’s hand and walks across the room to where she’s left her knitting. To the scarf she’s spent the majority of the last twenty-four hours - whenever she and Jesus weren’t together - trying to finish.

It’s been in plain sight this entire time, but since Jesus, Stef and Lena didn’t know to look for it, Pearl had felt confident leaving it out.

She walks back over to him, sitting down and offering it to him. “Here.”

It’s yellow. Bold. As close as she could get to the color of that blanket Jesus has with him. Pearl can tell the moment he takes it in his hands that he’s registering its softness. “A scarf? California’s not exactly the arctic…” he says gently.

“I know...but I thought...maybe there might be situations where you don’t feel one hundred percent at ease with the blanket. But a scarf? People wear those as accessories. No one would know if you had it to cope,” Pearl explains, stumbling more than she wants through the explanation.

She can see when it clicks with him. That the scarf is more than an awkward gift for a California-born kid. That it’s an accommodation that doesn’t look like one. His eyes find hers and they are so full of everything that she has to look away.

“I don’t know what to say…” he manages finally. But he’s putting the scarf on as they sit there.

“I hope it’s okay,” Pearl says, nervous now.

“Yeah. It’s awesome. Can I-- Is it okay if I give you a hug?” he asks. “You can say no.”

“No way. I’m saying yes,” Pearl laughs and opens her arms. It feels strange, but also right.

The hug is super short, but Jesus is okay with that because he wants Pearl to be comfortable. He lets her call it when she is done, because he respects her. He unwinds the scarf from his neck and holds it. It’s so soft. It reminds him of the blanket Officer Saunders gave him the day he got to go home with Stef to San Diego.

He doesn’t know if he can tell Pearl all that. But he thinks she knows it rocks all the same.

“I had a question for you, too,” Pearl says. “Can we take a selfie before, you know, tomorrow?”

That stops him in his tracks. It’s been a little bit since he’s had to think about getting his picture taken. Callie not having her phone on her cut down on his anxiety about that a thousand percent. Jesus wants to say yes. It’s Pearl. He wants her to be happy. But he has to balance that with him being safe.

“Have we talked about pictures before?” he asks, because this week has been a whirlwind. They’ve talked about so much stuff.

“Not sure. Why? Are they a thing?” she wonders.

Jesus nods. “So, I’d need us to have a kinda weird conversation about it first. If that’s cool?”

“It’s not weird,” she says, totally sure.

Laughing, he asks, “How would you know? It’s like, a legitimate boundary talk about pictures.”

“Boundaries are a part of respect, and I respect you. Nothing weird there,” she insists. “What do you need me to know?”

“That you’ll let me tell you when I’m ready for it. That I can okay it before you keep it. And after you have it, that you don’t post it anywhere or share it with people I don’t know. I don’t like the idea of people I don’t know seeing me.”

“Sounds straightforward to me. And fair. So you let me know when you’re ready.”

He does, and they take a totally awesome selfie, with their faces close, both of them smiling.

“Oh, one more question,” he blurts. “Will you send this to me when I have cell service?”

“Of course,” she nods. “Are you still okay hanging out here while packing’s going on next door?”

“I was hoping,” he admits.

Pearl gets up and goes to the freezer. “Do you feel like chicken enchiladas or cheese ravioli?” she asks holding out two frozen dinners.

“Ooh. Definitely enchiladas. Unless you want them.”

“No, I was actually hoping for the ravioli,” Pearl smiles, and sticks the enchilada in her microwave first.

“I really don’t have to learn to cook to live on my own?” he asks.

“I mean, not if you don’t want to.”

“It’s just that He always acted like I was terrible ‘cause I didn’t know how to make every single thing from scratch, when I was like, nine.”

“He obviously never learned to cook for Himself. So, the way I see it, He was in no position to judge you.”

Jesus smirks. He kinda loves how fearless Pearl is. How she says exactly the thing that’s on her mind.

“...Is that why you get nervous in the kitchen? Sorry. You don’t have to answer that,” she asks, turning away to check out the food in the microwave.

“Well, that, and the fact that He had me cleaning His house like whatever the boy-kid version of Cinderella is.”

“Ah…” she says. “In the interest of being obvious, you do not have to cook or clean here. I’m happy to do it. I like taking care of people,” she says, setting the frozen dinners down on the coffee table in front of them.

“Who takes care of you?” It’s out of his mouth before Jesus knows he’s gonna ask the question. His ears burn. It’s none of his damn business.

“Gracie, I guess.”

“I know I can’t cook or clean or whatever, but I can be there. Like, as a friend. If you need me ever.”

“I know. Thank you, Jesus.”

She scoots a bag of Sun Chips his way. He raises his eyebrows.

“For your backpack.”

#fic: blink #fosters fic

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lordraveondagooseofdolallytap · 4 years

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DOING PURGO

I wasn’t even Catholic, so it’s not like I had signed up for the whole concept.

They tell you-

You die

You get to know your ultimate destination right away. Heaven or hell

If it’s going to be heaven you may have to do time in purgatory first. It’s about getting yourself cleansed before you can enter Heaven and get The Everlasting Joy.

That’s what they tell you back in life. Especially that bit about being personally judged the minute you die so you know right off there and then where you are going to end up…ultimately. They don’t publish stats, but I’m guessing most of us end up here in purgatory for some time…except there is no time. That’s the big catch. We don’t have time here.

On the upside, it’s not like medieval paintings. Being whipped, impaled on spikes, boiled in oil…and it never has been. I’m guessing that was a case of blasting out the terror in ways that people could get and understand. Stick to the rules or you’re going to spend eternity having a great long spike hammered through your innards.

We do suffer but what they give you is endless (risk assessed) Ennui alternating with Nausea. Back and forth sometimes two nausea’s followed by five ennui but ‘overtime’ it averages out to fifty-fifty. That’s what they say. The orderlies on the desk as you come in tell you. “It’s exactly half and half”. What they don’t tell you is we don’t have time here. It’s just a kind of suspension where things come and go. No sun up or sundown. No seasons or weather worthy of the name. You can’t say “tomorrow this chunk of nausea will be completed and then I’m doing some ennui for five weeks. Then in five years I’m out and got everlasting joy”. It would be a lot easier to do if that was the case. Instead, we just have this suspension. A prorogation of living

It really cracks people up when they first come in. I saw it when we were on standby shortly after arrival and waiting for allocation. The fog and silence not yet in place. The newly arrived recently deceased asking for a statement of goals they have to achieve to demonstrate sufficient cleansing has happened and therefore progress onto the place after this can occur (that’s what we call it). The orderlies doing the induction sessions just keep saying, “it’s not like that. No one is going to give you goals. We can’t describe it, you will just have to wait and see. Then you will know”. Then we, the recently died all laugh. That’s just a habit thing. Nothing in it. Just the empty mechanics of laughter

So it goes on. Sometimes it’s the same Ennui. That night you had to spend at the airport in Toronto where nothing was open apart from the sushi bar. When you sat down for a while then walked around and sat down again. No Wi-Fi and anyway no mobiles. I get that one a lot. Other times it’s like the dismal November days you used to have when the year was almost out and any interest or energy had gone. Just sitting around and waiting. And that boredom and absence of sensation were so unbearable that the thought of twanging the back of your hand with an elastic felt attractive. You get so near going crazy that you can imagine welcoming The Nausea’s when they come round again. It’s got to be better than Ennui. But that’s just memory fooling you and you remember the instant that it starts that the nausea is much worse than the ennui. Back in life, nausea might be mainly dizziness or wanting to vomit or an intense headache but here it’s all three and all at the same time. They give me (or I select without knowing it) at that time when I went to the old cinema in Headingley in Leeds. I’d taken a girlfriend to see the film, Watership Down. Awful nausea came over me at the cinema, her as well. Both of us together while we were watching the Bright Eyes scene (where Art Garfunkel sings the song).

Heightened sensations all around. The rotation in my brain, losing all independent balance. Having to hang onto things to stay standing. Worst of all the feel of the sick wanting to come up but not being able to. Wave after wave of spasms from gut to gullet. So strong that they felt like they might turn me inside out. Guts on the outside.

We got across Leeds by bus to our flat above the hairdressers in Harehills. The pair of us lay there for days waking and sleeping, throwing up into buckets arranged around the bed and then falling back into filthy sheets and waiting for the next wave to well up. On the third day, the monster was a little subdued but I could barely hope it was over. We were so awfully weak afterwards. Lifting a glass of water seemed more than was possible. We lay propped up on the filthy pillows and gazed at the ceiling or the far wall. Awful, awful. Then inched into sleep. I get to relive that episode regularly for my Purgo but it’s not half as bad as the other one I won’t talk about.

What’s the hardest thing, and this needs some thinking about. is that there is no sense or order to anything. The episodes (I suppose torture of a kind) seemingly come and go of their own accord with seemingly not a second between one and the next. Back in life, time progressed from A to B, there were schedules and causes, now we just waft about. How much time has passed I cannot tell, No one can because there is no time only suspension, and flashes of repetitive memory and perception.

And there is no logic either. None of these ghastly things relates in any way to the bad things we are supposed to have done in life. There is barely time to think about one's supposed sins. Even when I’m on the Ennui, one would assume there would be endless opportunity to think about regrets (or indeed lack of regret, but now there is just flatness and energy absence. Your thoughts only circulate around immediate sensations… from the chair, your back and stomach. The ground under one's feet. The sensations, violent or enervating fill the space, and no greater thoughts can break through. I do want to think, to try and remember what it was that might have resulted in me being here. I’m buggered if I know.

But no, we don’t get any of that. We just hang around and sensations (dull to the point of absolute enervation or violent and convulsive pass through us). Seemingly without end.

There are other souls. We do sometimes see each other. It’s like encountering people in dense fog when you’re walking up on a high moor somewhere. A face and then a body will emerge out of the grey-whiteness and come toward you. They will say “how do” or “hello,” and you answer back the same and carry on. That’s all that is possible. It’s like our mouths are only loaded with those words and nothing else. No option for conversation.

I do have a regretful thought. One that prods me like a sharp stick. Why had I not asked more back in the induction room when the orderlies were there for us to talk to? I know what I would have said now, “Who do you have to impress to get out of here?”

It is not clear how one might impress. There is seemingly just no cause and effect and no way to anticipate the end so it’s driving me crazy. I suspect there is no structure of authority that can say “well done” and “On you go to The Everlasting Joy and Glory”. There is just me and I can’t reach myself.

It’s at this precise moment the obvious dawns on me. I am having thoughts. Proper ones and have been doing for some time (so there is time again). It’s like the last bit that realised this is the part responsible for knowing such things. The awareness has come upon me like sap rising up through a tree.

The fog blows off, and I am back in the prison library where I once worked. It’s familiar as always. The bookshelves, the library orderlies counter, the office behind me to the right. The green button on the wall we press for assistance when it all kicks off. The locked doors at either end of the room, but now there are no keys at my hip and that gives me unease.

I am not on my own. I sense a presence or three over at the orderlies counter. They speak politely, “Please come across Mr Ryan, Everything is ready, time is going on so we need to make a start. It should not take long”

The three figures are dressed in lightweight blue polyester jumpsuits that look to zip up at the front. Besides that, I cannot remark on much. They are close to amorphous. No not totally true. They are like balloon people but the balloons are long and silvery. They protrude at the point where the head, arms and feet might have been. There is nothing to discern that indicates individuality. They are Amorphoids. That’s the name I give them. The name choice came from nowhere and is a little shocking. My thoughts are flowing again and I am able to create. Wonderful.

The Amorphoid in the centre is resting a leg on the table and a voice emerges from the end of it. “Hello, Mr Ryan, and welcome. Let me say at once, Thank you for spending your Purgatory with us. It means a lot. Here at Pergo Cleansing, we endeavour to deliver a safe, effective and a truly cleansing Purgatory experience in partnership with The Universal Order and XOX. How is ya feeling?”

I move to speak but it’s hard to draw out the words. The mechanism is sluggish “I am good thank you. Just feeling a little odd”. My own sound shocks me. It’s squeaky. Bugger. This would be an excellent time to have gravitas.

“Superb, excellent. Glad to hear that. Now let’s crack on. We have all got things to do. I need to tell you upfront there has been a problem with your Purgatory. This is rare, and we are constantly working to ensure it never happens again, but it did happen in your case. But you are very rare. We lost your records, and because of that we are not one hundred per cent sure why you are here”

My innards convulse and force upwards a wretched primal wail.”OOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAA”. It’s of me but not by me. Or that’s how it feels but then the two things merge and become one. I am reconstituting.

Amorphoid Number 1, goes on like nothing happened. “We do have a tag though and that’s the most important thing, it’s just the case notes themselves that have disappeared. They give the background information, like potential exacerbating or mitigating factors and of course the judge’s directions for eternity”. My rib cage expands and contracts wildly. Forcing air in and out. I hear sobbing. That is probably me.

“And you were put into the Soul Cleansing Phase without a discharge date. This is something we call a ‘Never Ever Event’, and when such things happen they need to be investigated by senior operational managers. That does not directly affect you but I just wanted to say there will be a thoroughgoing Route Cause Analysis and a report will go to the Senior Management Team hear at Purgo Cleansing. Lessons will be learnt and memo’s circulated to be read out amongst all team leaders and front line staff”

Rage spreads up through me like leaping forest fire, I stand and tip over one of the heavy chairs and a low flat table. I am roaring like the Incredible Hulk. No one responds so I shrug lean against the wall near the True Crime Books.

Amorphoid Number 1 continues. “Given our possible mistake…we can’t at this point rule out sabotage, yes but let’s call it a possible mistake. We want to have a quick hearing now and get things back on track and operating as they should be. It’s in everyone’s best interest…yours and ours… to get your Purgatory back within the framework of the appropriate system. As The Universal Order and XOX always say “one departure from protocol need not spoil the pudding”. We need to make progress now though. There is a brief and partial summary of your sample offence on the chamber tag. The Date of the offence was the 24th of November 1978. Location: A nurse’s home at Meanwood Park Hospital. And the offence classification is-

I-Insincerity in major life decisions

1.1 Nota significatione. A lifelong tendency to imitate actions of characters in film, TV media or books

1.2 Notable instances not included in this sample charge. Thinking himself to be like Woody Guthrie, Che Guevara, Ernest Hemingway, Jack Kerouac, Rod Stewart, Paul Newman, John Steinbeck and Bruce Springsteen…and posing around like he was them.

1.3 Circumstances of the sample charge: The accused set out to replicate an e…

Okay, the tag is torn there, so we need to know what you did on the 24th November 1978 and which fictional or real-life character you were imitating when you did it. That’s what we need to know before we can dispose of your case”.

“Oh come on!” my voice sounds like the voice of XOX, which I played in a school play one time. I was a teacher of sorts for a while. I had to adopt a deep echoing voice and blast out from the wings, “Francis rebuild my church” with gravitas and force. It worked well and I got positive comments afterwards. The play was about St Francis of Assisi.

Amorphoid Number 2 slammed down his right leg on the table. “Who do you think you are talking to? We are the Purgatory Tribunal. Think for a moment about that for a moment before speaking again. Cooperate or we will bring in an administrative sentence”. No explanation of what that might be was given but I got the vibe.

“Okay, I had seen a film called ‘That’ll Be the Day’, starring Ringo Starr and David Essex. Came out in 1973. The David Essex was a bit of a wayward lad. Clever but a bit of good looking bastard and one for the lasses. Always wanting to be on the wild side of life. Worked on the dodgems at a fairground and before that as a Blue Coat or something at a holiday camp. That kind of thing. Well after living out on the fringe like that for a while his mum gets him to come back home and make a go at fitting in and being a good, responsible man. He courts a girl he knew before and they plan on getting married but on the night before the wedding he has it off with her sister or best friend or something. In the back of a van. He gets married the next day, but we know this man is never going to stick at it. So that’s what I did. I sort of felt I wanted to copy him. I was only twenty-one. I know it sounds daft but at the time it was like I was paying tribute to the character. I’m not even sure we did it, have sex I mean we were so drunk”. I laughed a bit there and looked for a sympathetic response but of course, there was just blankness.

“Had you done anything similar that same week or was it just that last night before the wedding”. These were the first words for Amorphoid Number 3. She swung her left leg over the table to speak. Why am I thinking it’s her? Do they have ‘hers’ and ‘hims’? She does sound more sympathetic though. I will concentrate on her.

“I am afraid I had been doing it all the previous week. Asking different women I knew to sleep with me, but they all said: “No, you have made a choice now stick with it”. It was only on the last night that one lass gave in. We were both very drunk. No one knew about it except the Lesbians next door. The ground floor in the nursing home was mostly lesbians, first-floor heterosexual women and top floor men (mixed).” I don’t know why but I was starting to feel good about myself, and making no effort to disguise it.

“You lack integrity and authenticity”. That’s plain and spoken from your own mouth”. Amorphoid Number 2 had a trace of a Yorkshire accent. He was good at being judgemental. He or it continued “Don’t you see how shallow and narcissistic your actions were?”

Those words cut through and shuck me up. I was in trouble, and my big mouth was giving them the ammunition they needed to bang me up in Pergo forever. I decided to try the humble tack. “Your honours I was barely more than a kid. I might have been twenty-one, but I was more like seventeen in the head. I was just experimenting with what kind of person I might be. I did become a good husband later on”.

Yorkshire Amorphoid was not having any of that. “Mr Ryan, remember this is a sample charge. We don’t have access to notes on the other instances but there must have been episodes of similar behaviour for you to come here. Now think about that and let’s get real shall we”.

Soft-spoken and possibly female Amorphoid cut across, “Mr Ryan, we are keeping in mind the errors that have occurred in your case and want to be as fair as we can, but you need to help us. We value integrity and authenticity very highly here. You are giving the impression you don’t know what those two words mean. There have been cases where we had gone easier on a murderer than someone who cheated at cards because the killer believed in what he was doing and then felt true remorse when he realised his error. Please pause and take note, you are not giving a good account of yourself”,

I am in trouble, how can I climb out of this hole and get back on track? It’s like I’m scrambling up a crumbling bank of soft earth. “I wanted to be different”. The words got out before I could trap them.

“Go on”, says softie Amorphoid, tell us how you could be different by copying others”. That stung. She was not what I thought she was.

“Okay, I take your point. This was all pretty narcissistic and shallow stuff, but I was like in a supermarket shopping around for a persona that I liked. I never told my wife what I’d done and I was never unfaithful again. She was though. Twice. Once with an Australian she met in a cinema cue, the other time with an accountant that wrote poetry”.

“Mr Ryan, stop digging”

I was directed to a cubicle at the edge of the room. The walls looked like a black and white abstract patterned Formica table my mother once had. I sat at the chair and looked into the patterns. They were reforming into musical notes. This was not in the library when I worked here. It would have been inappropriate for reasons of security. Then I was called out by the Amorphoid Tribunal Chair and as I left the cubicle I looked around and the whole library was reforming into a shoebox shape constructed of the same Formica material. “Please come back in Mr Ryan, we have a decision.

“It’s one of our maxims, here are Purgo-Cleansing. Start off with justice and then temper it. Our aim is redemption, not ruination. We don’t aim to metaphorically flog someone until they buckle at the knees and fall like a broken horse. No, we want you to walk out of Purgo cleansed and remade and ready for progression to the better place. Taking a broader view we must acknowledge mistakes as well. The loss of the case notes in whatever way it happened. The failure to follow checking procedures and the unclassified Purgo Cleansing phase. If you are happy to sign this release form we are pleased to offer you a fairly unique Purgatory package. It does the job with only the mildest of torment. Do you play the guitar?”

I was going to be a special kind of orderly. I would stand alongside the others at the reception desk where new arrivals showed up and were processed. I was to sing to them. Country and Western songs. The most insincere ones. I would literally sing the insincerity out of me. Morning, noon and night, except of course there was no time. One thing was different. I would know when I was cleansed and ready. My guitar would show it. It would turn green by degrees, and I would be summoned by a person yet to be recruited to hold my guitar against a painted deep green square upon the wall and when they matched my insincerity would be gone from me and I would be free to go.

So that’s how I got my job as ‘Country Singer in Residence in Purgatory’. Funny how things turn out. I watch the crowds roll by each day and I sing out to them.

Songs like “Will the Circle be Unbroken”

“I was standing by the window

On one cold and cloudy day

When I saw the hearse come rolling

For to carry my mother away

Will the circle be unbroken?

By and by Lord, by and by

There’s a better home awaiting

In the sky Lord in the sky”.

My songs are the last ones they hear before their torment. Despite anyone’s intentions, I can see that some people like what I’m doing and their hand goes to where their pocket once was to feel for loose change…but of course there are no pockets in shrouds.

I do maybe twenty songs in a revolving cycle and then some spot features like-

Mr Bojangles. The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band “He jumped so high” I love those words.

Hank Williams. Jambalaya. Joyful

Even some Galveston, Glen Campbell (“I close my eyes and dream of Galveston”).

I get to make all my own song choices as Pergo- Cleansing doesn’t really have a feel for the genre and I just sketch in a note or two on a song supposed insincerity in the logbook. Bit of a doddle really and I get to think clear thoughts; something I love so much now. The guitar is just a pale lime green but there is progress and it’s painless. I’m thinking of incorporating some Dylan. Maybe ‘Angelina’. It’s got a line which I think is apt.

“My right hand drawing back, while my left-hand advances”. Something like that.

Maybe we will meet one day. If we do, just shout out a request.

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#purgatory #Short story #creative writing #humour

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evnoweb · 6 years

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In the Presence of a Hero…and How it Challenged Me as an Educator

This post is dedicated to my new friend, Scott. Thank you, Scott, for challenging me to be a better educator, and more importantly, a better person.

Recently, I had an experience that I can’t stop thinking about. The more I reflect on that afternoon, the more I realize it’s likely an experience that I’ll never forget. Like many other days, I was on the go… running, running, running. Part of my world entails spending countless nights on airplanes, staying in hotels scattered around the country, while flying from place to place. That afternoon was similar to so many that I’ve had.

After rushing back to the San Diego airport, I dropped my rental car off, and hopped on the shuttle bus. The wrong shuttle bus, actually. Being at airports non-stop doesn’t prevent me from making dumb mistakes at them. Just before the driver pulled away, I grabbed my stuff, hopped off and ran to the other shuttle – this time the right one. As we pulled towards the airport, I did what I’ve done hundreds of times; I looked down at my phone, made sure I was checked in, looked at my gate, and figured out how much time I had until I boarded. A few minutes later, our crowded bus full of travelers was dropped off in what seemed to be complete chaos.

I moved through the large crowd and followed signs to Terminal 2. Upon getting there, I looked around and saw all of the airlines, except for the one I was taking – American. Taking an incredible amount of flights each year, I’m completely comfortable in airports, but for a few moments in this one, I felt alone and lost. I looked around and finally asked someone for help. An older gentleman pointed me towards the opposite end and said, “Didn’t you see it? It’s on the other side. You have to go all the way down there.” I thanked him and went on my way, walking quickly back through baggage claim and again through the masses of people towards the other side of the building.

About halfway through the crowd, I noticed a man about my age that I was walking towards. I could tell he seemed a bit lost and appeared to be looking for someone or something. He was holding a cane and was wearing unique glasses. I remember thinking to myself that he was probably trying to locate his bag. I also thought about how challenging that must be if he was alone and was in fact blind like I had assumed.

I kept walking….and eventually, I walked right by him, glancing back down at my phone.

Consumed with my own craziness, all that was on my plate, the calls I had to make, and the work I had to get done, I continued walking towards the security checkpoint. At one point, I turned back to glance at the man that had caught my attention, and noticed that he continued to stand alone. It was clear he felt lost – just as I had a few minutes prior on the other side of the terminal.

…and I started to feel sick to my stomach.

A few hours before, I had been blessed with an opportunity to encourage almost 1,000 educators who give their all for kids every day – at a Southern California opening day. In part of my talk that morning, I was challenging them on building relationships and the responsibility of building the culture in their schools. Just a few hours prior, I was pushing how even the smallest interaction can make someone’s day and be an encouragement; how showing someone you care and that they matter – can be life changing.

…and I started to feel like a complete hypocrite. Here I had just been challenging others to make every interaction count, and there I was walking right past someone in need.

So I humbly listened to that little voice inside my head and being disappointed in myself… I turned around.

I hustled back over to the man who was still standing there, looking around and it reminded me of how I had felt only moments before; only I had been able to see where I was. I walked up to him and simply said, “Hi, my name is Tom. You look like you need some help. Can I help you with something?”

“I’m not sure where I am,” were his first words to me. I asked him which airline he had just flown and if he was trying to get his bag.

“I can’t remember which one it was,” was his response. I started to realize he needed a bit more help then which direction to head or how to find his bag. I looked around and saw an information desk over by one of the exit doors figuring those at the booth may be able to help. I asked this gentlemen his name, to which he said “Scott” and then invited him to put his hand on my shoulder to go figure it out where he needed to go. As we started walking together, I began asking if he had a boarding pass or something so that we could help figure out where he needed to go.

Scott responded, “I think it started with a “U.” I don’t remember….and I came from “up north.”

Over the next few minutes, the older gentleman at the information desk helped us figure out which plane Scott came in on and which carousel his baggage would arrive. The attendant asked, “Scott, was it the United flight from San Francisco?” to which Scott responded, “Oh. Yes, sir. That’s it. Thank you.” The attendant then pointed back to the far end of the building, exactly where I had just asked for my own directions.

Scott turned to me and slowly said, “Thank you for helping me.” Having still felt bad that, like hundreds of others, I had completely walked right by him the first time, I asked if I could help him safely get down to the other end to grab his bag.

As we began to navigate the crowd, Scott paused and turned towards me. “I’m really sorry. I have a hard time knowing where I am sometimes and it’s easy to forget things. It’s not that I’m blind, my brain just doesn’t function right.” he said slowly. I said, “No problem, Scott, let’s get you there safely. Glad to help.”

After glancing at my phone to see how much time I had to get to my own gate, I asked Scott what his bag looked like. He struggled to get the word “camouflage” out. He then said, “It’s a military color.”

Having a dad that served, and having tremendous respect for those that protect our freedoms, I paused and asked, “Scott, are you in the military?”

Scott stopped walking in the middle of the crowded room and pointed to his hat. “Purple heart” was embroidered on it. I had completely missed it, both the first time I walked by him, and during our first few minutes of interaction.

Scott slowly began, “It happened in Mosul. It’s a place in Iraq if you’ve never heard of it. I was Delta force…it’s part of the Army.”

My heart stopped. I started to anticipate where he was going with his story.

He continued, “It was a beautiful day like today, except it was much hotter. Maybe 130 degrees and trust me, that’s really hot. I can still smell the air from that day. My team was helping a family in the city. We were keeping these women and children safe because there were a lot of bad guys in the area.”

I’m not ashamed to admit that it was about that moment that my tears began to stream.

“We thought the bad guys had left. A while later, I went to check if they had and walked out the front door,” and then he paused again.

“That’s when it happened. I got shot.” He turned and pointed to the left side of his head.

“We were trying to help protect them. I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t see it coming.”

As Scott relived a few minutes of a life changing day, the last day of what he always knew, I struggled to fight the tears thinking how only a few minutes prior, I was so self-consumed in all that I had to do and had walked right by this amazing man.

Scott slowly continued, “But it’s okay. I’m going to be okay. The problem is the bullet is still in my brain. It’s right there [he pointed]. The doctors say they can’t move it and can’t take it out and it needs to stay in there. But I’m okay. This is just my new life.”

The floodgates opened. My tears flowed as I stood, talking to someone who a few minutes later I had ignored.

We made our way over to baggage claim, his hand on my shoulder. As we slowly worked our way through the crowd, I asked about his story and where he was from. Scott shared that he grew up in El Paso, Texas. He talked about his family and how he joined the military to help people in need and how he always liked helping other people.

I grabbed his camouflage bag off of the conveyer belt and together we moved to the place where his dad was going to come get him. As we waited, he turned to me and said words that gave me chills, “I don’t understand why you wanted to help. Most people just walk right by.”

My heart sank. Because that HAD BEEN me. I WAS one of the people that walked right by him. I WAS the one who couldn’t make a few moments to help someone, all consumed with everything….me. I WAS the one that was too busy and too consumed with all of my needs to realize that I was in the presence of a hero.

“Hey Scott, it’s not every day that I get to meet an American hero. Can we take a picture so I can remember you and your story? I want to tell my kids about you. I want them to grow up and understand what true sacrifice means and what a hero really looks like…and it looks just like you.” I said.

He nodded and said, “I’d be honored to, Sir.”

As his dad approached, he stuck his hand out and said, “Thanks for being a friend, Tom.”

Feeling like I didn’t even deserve to carry this hero’s luggage, and with tears streaming, I could only get out, “No, thank you, Scott.”

Scott – you are a true hero. Thank you for challenging me to make sure I see other people first, put other people first, and never forget those families, and heros, that sacrifice all that they are and all that they have, for every day, selfish people like me.

If you want to see a humbled man, look at the person in the photo on the left. If you want to see an American hero, look at the man on the right.

It was truly an honor to be in Scott’s presence and have the privilege of carrying his bags while helping him safely get to where he needed to be. It was an honor that I will never forget.

As educators head back to open a new school year, we can never forget that every interaction matters. As kids walk by us in the hallway, how do we react? Are we looking at our phone, or looking into their hearts? When we see that child in need, or the one that appears to be lost, or the one that looks like they have the heavy heart, do we keep walking, like I will humbly say, I did that day? Or, do we pause our own world for a few moments to help lift someone else’s higher?

Every day is an opportunity to have an amazing impact on those around you. Even a chance interaction can be life changing… just as Scott was for me that afternoon.

All for the kids we serve, Phil 4:13

In the Presence of a Hero…and How it Challenged Me as an Educator published first on https://medium.com/@DigitalDLCourse

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zombiesurthrivalist · 6 years

Text

1.1

Nick sat in the airport, impatiently waiting for his flight from Orlando to Virginia, tapping his foot on the thinly carpeted floor and drumming his fingers on the thin metal armrest while his guitar case occupied the seat next to him. He had been waiting for an hour, having expected a much longer line through the terminal security. On any normal day he would be stopped and his case rummaged through but he suspected the uniformed woman who gave him a slight wink was working for his company, or perhaps was paid handsomely to let him through without any suspicion. You see, in this case he did not actually carry a guitar but rather a battery of items suited more for someone with highly covert technical skills. A spy of sorts.

Upon opening the case there was a thin board shaped and modelled after a real guitar. On closer inspection one would notice that several components were missing and that this musical instrument was anything but the genuine item. The tuning pegs did not actually turn and the sound hole was too shallow to produce a usable sound. The workmanship was good enough to even fool a seasoned player though. Once removed there were several compartments within the bottom, some only opened by pressing a hidden button located somewhere on the case itself. In these compartments were anything from pliers to strip wires to Gigli wire to cut through bone should an intense interrogation arise. He has never actually used the latter but his boss thought it pertinent to keep on the off chance that the mission turned south.

Nick was sent to Florida to disarm a bomb hidden in the cargo hold of this particular aircraft, supposedly left there by an unknown overseas company looking to reach Washington D.C. for a bit of chaos and panic. The end goal was never clear but Nick hardly ever got the full story but rather the mission objectives and abbreviated debriefings essentially praising him for a job well done. “Congratulations! You beat the evil men again!” This mission was to disarm the bomb mid-flight, keep all passengers safe, and return home for the next mission. He need not know more than that.

He was ready.

“Now boarding flight 972, Orlando to Dulles. All disabled and those needing assistance please board first.” He vaguely heard this over the loudspeakers as a couple nearby began arguing about something inconsequential.

Nick took a deep breath and looked at his ticket. On the top corner there was a number 3, indicating that he was probably sitting in the back of the plane and thus one of the last to board. This posed a minor problem seeing as there might not be room for the guitar case but he knew he would fight tooth and nail to keep it with him. There was no way he would part with the tools he actually needed to complete this mission. He took another deep breath and hoped it did not amount to heavy bickering or bribery. As he closed his eyes and waiting through the veterans, first class passengers, and then each number he wondered what he was going to see once in the cargo hold. There have been many bomb in his career, all easy to disarm and all roughly the same once you got through the external case holding all the wiring, but something seemed different this time. Perhaps it was the location – very odd for a bomb to be coming out of Florida – or the fact that his company seemed more cautious about giving him too many details about this particular mission, almost making certain he did not know particulars or even who would plant the thing in the first place. Normally he would at least know who was behind any attack on his home soil. On the other hand, he was probably thinking too much about the entire situation and should relax. Disarming bomb number 187 would be no different from the 186 that proceeded it.

——

When Nick was first recruited to work for CNSP Incorporated he had just finished school at West Point with a goal to eventually join the CIA as an undercover operative, exploring the world while carrying out complicated assignments. The recruiter that approached him after graduation had told him that his dreams can become a reality with an even bigger paycheck if he were to work for their company instead of joining the military and enduring several years’ worth of deployments in potential war zones. Who wouldn’t say yes to possibly avoiding an early death in a foreign country fighting for something they might not actually believe in?

His first week at the company was a mere introductory phase to get him used to the home office just outside of Washington D.C. and acquainted with the others who would be responsible for his real training. He could not even fathom what this real training would entail or what his job description actually was seeing as the recruiter was vague on certain key points. He asked several questions to which he got limited answers.

“Who ultimately controls the company?”

“An obscure branch of the government to which civilians are not privy. Hell, even the other branches know little to nothing about us or what we do.” Brian Roberts, the recruiter, looked nonplussed by the question.

“And what is it that we do?” He knew he was a part of this now and there was no backing out.

“When you acquire the skills we need that were not taught in any of your classes and are off in the field you will see firsthand what it is we do here and the driving factor behind this company.”

“Not taught in my classes? What exactly are you requiring of me?”

“Don’t fret Mr. Cummins. Simple tasks such as crowd control and bomb defusal.” Brian said this with a straight face and a calmness in his voice.

“You call disarming a bomb simple!?” Nick was starting to regret accepting the position. He was only 21 and was promised a life free of war zones only to be places directly in death’s path. This was proving to be quite opposite of what he thought he was signing up for. Danger, yes, there certainly would be danger. He was an adventurous sort who loved to live life on the edge with minor exceptions including anything that involved a premature demise. So this news came as a shock to his mental, physical, and spiritual being.

“Please remain calm.”

“That is easy for you to say! You are not the one out in the field.” He was starting to get hysterical.

“Mr. Cummins, before I was the recruiter you see before you I did work in the field doing the very job you so eagerly accepted.” Still, he maintained the serene demeanor.

“Why aren’t you still out there?”

“Old age I am afraid. My eyesight started to decline and with that certain colors, which makes finding the right wires a challenge. That, among other things. But in my career of 57 years I have defused over 650 bombs, saved several civilians and maybe even two countries.” Brian let out a slight sigh as if he was remembering all the days in the field with longing adoration.

“Why have I never heard of you before?”

“We are not allowed the recognition seeing as it would jeopardize the standing of not only this company but the government itself. Other countries are not aware of our existence and it has taken a lot to keep it that way.”

“I see …” Nick had nothing left to ask. This was going to be as top secret as it got, more so than the CIA. He took a deep breath and submitted to the idea of this life. A smirk began to start in the left corner of his mouth as he realized the immense amount of enjoyment this career path would bring.

The following week he delved head first into serious training. They expected him to be a functional field operative by the end of the year, and it was already August. He spend countless hours learning the inner workings of different types of explosives, foreign governments and their laws, and even started learning three new languages. Thankfully he had spent his time in school perfecting how to fully integrate the information he learned into his daily life whether it be history, math, or technical skills, useful or seemingly useless. Nick’s brain became a sponge for information and his comprehension speed was almost unheard of. At West Point there was only one rival, causing him to graduate second in his class but his rival was a certifiable genius and Nick could never understand why he chose a military academy over something more suited for his sheer brain power. The days went by slowly at first but as the leaves started to change from green to brilliant reds and yellows time seemed to move along at double the speed. Nick picked up Russian, German, and a small amount of Korean within two months. He could disarm a bomb in 28 seconds, seemingly running on autopilot throughout the process. By the time December rolled around he felt ready for any challenge placed in his path.

As he sat in an empty conference room, watching a short film on a projector detailing what to expect once in the field – double agents and possible loss of limbs or life from explosions or gunshot wounds – Brian walked in and told him to prepare for his first mission.

“I thought I was not scheduled to go out until next month.” Nick looked confused but relived at the same time.

“The date has been moved up. We just lost an agent over in Germany during a routine operation and we need you now. I trust that you have confidence in your ability because I sure do.”

“Confidence isn’t a problem,” Nick wavered a moment, “I’m … ready for this.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself? I need you to be on board one hundred percent. No mistakes, or it may cost you your life.”

“No, I AM ready!” Nick stood up and looked at Brian with a blank stare that did not reveal the inner turmoil. He was nervous but refused to show that to Brian for this is what he had been training for all these months. He was ready. He had to be whether he really was or not.

“You have three hours to get a bag packed. Don’t weigh yourself down so only pack essentials. Meet me on the roof at the helipad when you are done.” Brian began to walk from the room.

“Wait! Where am I going?”

Brian turned around, hand on the doorknob still, “Germany, of course. You have to finish the job.” With that Brian walked out of the room, leaving Nick to finish the video.

Nick tapped his foot on the floor rapidly during the last five minutes of the video, impatient to get up to the helipad to get some real answers. He was too nervous to ask anything other than where he was going and Brian seemed to move from the room as if on motorized sneakers.

Nick was packed and on the helipad before the allotted three hours. He found an empty expanse before him and could hardly see the company grounds below for it was dark outside and there were no lights around. It was the first time he truly realized just how secluded he was from the rest of civilization. All the windows in the building had blackout curtains so no light came in from the outside and no light escaped. He could vaguely see the outline of the buildings surrounding him. Just as his vision started to adjust, the lights illuminating the helipad flickered on and he heard a door closing behind him with a sharp click.

“The helicopter will take us to a small airstrip outside of Dulles where you will catch a charter to Germany,” came Brian’s calm voice.

“I still don’t know what I am going to be doing there.”

“You will be briefed on the mission once we are airborne. You will only know what is pertinent to you, nothing more. The other operatives in the field know you are coming so don’t be surprised if they call you by name. Please refrain from asking them any questions about their mission for theirs and yours are different. We certainly don’t need you getting side tracked on your first day out.”

“Understood,” Nick sighed too lightly for Brian to notice.

Off in the distance came the whir of the helicopter wings and with what seemed more speed than possible it landed on the helipad. Nick and Brian hopped inside and they were off again. Twenty minutes to Dulles and then aboard the charter. It all happened with such expediency. Nick was sweating and his stomach was in knots from the nerves and anticipation. Nerves from the entire scenario and the fact that a few short hours ago he was sitting in a conference room, watching a short training video, thinking he still had time on his side. Anticipation of getting to Germany, understanding the mission, and most of all putting the skills he had acquired in classes to practical use.

He was not prepared.

He was prepared.

It did not matter anymore.

Brian and Nick sat in the charter silent for the first hour while Nick took a series of deep breaths to try to calm his racing mind. When Nick opened his eyes, feigning some semblance of calm, Brian was staring straight at him, leaning forward with fingers like steeples pressed together under his chin and elbows resting on thighs. He had an air of genuine calm about him.

I don’t understand how he can just be so calm. I guess that comes in time. Nick always thought of the world in time. Too much time. Not enough time. All good things come in time.

“You understand that for decades the Germans have been working on bombs, right?” Brian finally said.

“Yes,” was all that feebly came from Nick’s mouth.

“This time they sort of got themselves into a bind. They were working on one particular bomb that would be impossible to disarm. The builder created a multi-layered defense mechanism, booby traps if you will. Our previous specialist was a savant of sorts but got caught up by one of the traps. A nail shot out from a secret compartment and impaled him in the left eye. Fortunately he is not dead but it did leave him in a lobotomized state, rendering him useless.”

“I thought you said an agent died?”

“No … I said we lost an agent. I never specified the details.”

“So why is this one particular bomb so important?”

“You don’t need to know the full details.”

“But I need to know some at least!” Nick was starting to get irritated.

“Very well,” Brian, still never wavering from his calm exterior, took a deep breath. “This particular bomb is located in the middle of a small town outside the capital. The blast radius is enough to affect the entire country and possibly the outlying regions of those surrounding. The builder died before he could tell his superior how to deactivate it to move it to an underground vault for safe keeping. You see, the builder left it active. Fortunately it does not have a timing mechanism. The group of Germans who have asked us help them in their little dilemma are allies and even personal friends of some of our operatives. We need you to deactivate it so that it can be moved. You will be saving lives.”

“Oh…” Nick knew there must be more to all of this but he knew Brian was not going to tell him so he remained silent and contemplated this mission.

Saving lives. I can do that. He finally started to feel calm.

He was not prepared, but that one statement changed everything.

He would always be prepared no matter what.

(to be continued ...)

#zombie #spy #story #fiction

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vile-allure · 7 years

Text

present

so, i was very depressed, cut my wrist down to the artery and had to go get stitches in france and blah blah blah. the program director caroline was very sweet and agreed to let me go back home for a week. wednesday night i purchased tickets to head home friday. friday came around, i got in the uber, the bus, the train,the plane, and then into the prius.. it seemed like only seconds went by when i got back in that car to head to the airport, to take a plane, then a train, followed by a bus and uber. as i arrived back in Aix, hoping out of the uber, i felt nothing. hearing people speak french in the airport just annnoyed me. i walked inside the house, and it didn’t feel like it belonged to me anymore. i dont feel like i am actually here, sitting in this bed listening to the wind rattle the window panes. it does not feel like i was just back home, it feels like it was all a dream. I saw so many familiar and welcoming faces in california. my parents, claudia, lindsay, annie, and the wormhole crew. but it feels like it was a dream. the weirdest part, is that on the plane and train, while i was napping i had very vivid dreams. i had dreams in which i was having a simple conversation with my parents, i felt myself wanting to talk back but i then quickly opened my eyes and realized it wasn’t real. it was all a dream. when i noticed that i felt so confused and lost.the dream felt just as real as the reality of me just being back in california. i close my eyes hard, squeezed them, while on the train, just praying i would open them and be looking out to a beautiful view of mt tam, i reopen them to see the flashing by french countryside. life is moving, and it is not stopping for anybody. itis a frightening feeling.

when i was back in california, i had absolutely no desire to go back to france. when walking around SF i did not miss the beautiful french architecture. it came to mind but it wasn’t a negative nostalgia. it was a faint memory associated with positive things but no desire to relive it. i am here in france but i do not feel like it. i feel like i have moved on and past it. these past 6 months, i have noticed so much. i have grown and matured in so many ways. i have learned about myself and about time and life. i have really learned that you have to live in the moment because it goes by so fast. i have learned to sit close my eyes for a few seconds, take a deep breathe and be present, control my breathe so i know i am here and in the now. I have learned what it is like to be truly and utterly alone and not have the energy to reach out. when i felt like this in california, i had at least my mom on call, and an array of friends, but here it is just me. i remember as soon as i saw blood gushing from my arm all i wanted was my mom, i jjust wanted her to hold me or sit there, or be in the other room playing covet. i just wanted to know she was there. i see this loneliness and can only imagine the pain i will feel when this lonliness is not only separated by distance, but by death itself. I have no idea what i would do if i did not have my parents.

i walk by the kitchen in this french house, and see my father sitting there having coffee and reading a book, i only saw that a few times in comparison to all the other people and actions that have taken place there, but the most comforting thought is that he was once here, his spirit has walked through here and memories were made and it gives it some sentimentality.

i really do not know what i am feeling. i know i am sad, i am extremely aware of it. I am aware of how it feels, how i react to it, how it causes me to act in different ways. I have started to categorize myself as 2 entities. Hillary and not so hillary. Hillary is a happy and sarcastic animal loving goof ball, who just wants to spend time with loved ones, do adventurous things and have a good time. Not so hillary is very contradictory, she is destructive, not only to herself but to people around her, she has no patience and no desire to help anyone, and would like to be alone and wallow in her sorrows. The two hillarys meet, but dont associate with each other. i feel as if there is a switch and sometimes it gets turned. i can go from having a pleasant experience, to have something trigger me and all of a sudden it is the devilish hillary and it is almost impossible for me to stop the transformation. it is like i am hypnotized, and certain words or topic trigger the switch, but i am not able to pin point the triggers.

i am sad, very sad. i am aware of the sadness. i manifest it as a heavy dense raincloud over my head. I want the sun to shine through, i want to be happy, but it is hard to get away from the cloud because it keeps following me. sometimes i wake up and im happy, other times i wake up and would rather just lay in bed eating snacks watching stupid shows trying to keep my mind occupied. I notice it, i recognize the familiar feeling. i feel it, i taste it, i hear it. the sadness is all around me. and i understand that i am the only person who can lift this raincloud but while im under it so drenched in tears it is almost impossible.

in order to feel better, i am going to try to change a few things.

i am going to force myself to go to the gym everyday, i don’t care how tired or sad im feeling. i feel at least a little better knowing im doing something that will at least make me look better.

I will be sure to keep my feelings and personal matters and opinions to myself. close friends and family are obviously an exception but there is no need for others to know my bussiness out of pure petty gossip.

i will read more, at leassssst 10 pages a day. i will also write more, no matter my mood, to try and track my feelings, progress, and maybe be able to identify my triggers.

i will cut out gluten and dairy once again and this time hopefully actually stick to it.

i want my body to be as healthy as possible, because that somehow might change my brain chemistry and equalize my hormones, resulting in more balanced emotions. this health will be reached, as said before, by a new diet, and daily exercise. as well as trying to get out into nature as frequently as possible.

as for my mental health, i will try my hardest to live in the moment and appreciate the now because it only happens once. if i notice something sneaking into my mind about what i will do later, as long as it is not a pressing issue i will put it aside. when at the gym running on the treadmill i will not cut my workout short just because i realized i wanted to search something or need to shower, we all sure as hell know that your fat ass is just going to sit in front of the computer screen and watch netflix. so live in the moment and dont fantasize about unrealistic or unimportant things, live in the damn moment.

you are only young once. ok now this is for future hillary. i know this is really tough right now. you are so lonely. you live alone, you have friends in class but have no real connection with any of them. you have pretty much no desire or energy to socialize. you are insecure and alone in a foreign country with nothing but two stuffed cows to cuddle. i want you, i NEED you to take advantage of this situation. when you feel the lonliness come on, write it down, try and realize what it is that is causing you to feel so lonely, and if there is anything you can do to change that. also, for motivation for the future, when you go back to california for summer you are going to see all you good friends again, who obviously saw you when you were back for week in a very negative headspace and 30 lbs heavier. so use these next few months to better yourself so when you go back, the people who you didn’t see, the people of lesser significance in your life will not see how being alone and abroad caused you so much hardship, but caused you to better yourself as a human being and cause you to come out stronger than ever thought possible. you know for a damn fact that people are more attractive when the are happy, so right now you must look like a gremlin, but that is beside the point. play the part and maybe you will get it. take the steps to be happier, smile more, exercise more, enjoy all mother nature has to offer. spend good times with good people. dont let your insecurities hold you back. if you want to say something, SAY IT, dont let your anxiety hold you back. if you want something, obtain the means to get it. be proactive hillary. no one else will ever be the root of your happiness, you will always somehow be alone. when you close your eyes to go to sleep it is just you with your subconcious, in the bathroom, when you give a presentation. there are so many examples. but basically no one person can take away your sadness and instill a strong foundation and sense of security. not all promises can be kept, due to personal changes, circumstances, or maybe death. people come and go, and if you attach yourself a little to each person, person you wont have yourself anymore because you will be so identified with other individuals. learn to be yourself. dress the way you want, do your make up the way you want, work out your body so you can shape and mould it into the shape you want. being an individual is all about following your own personal interests. so stop basing your own happiness on others. i want you to look in the mirror in 5 years and see a strong woman who no matter what is thrown her way will always stand strong. i want you to overcome this all and be so in touch with yourself that nothing will ever be able to bring you down, and no one will ever be able to make you second guess yourself. I want you to look in the mirror and see a queen. I want for you to not settle for anyone, the person you marry will be the luckiest man alive because he will be able to call me his wife. but if that man ever leaves me, he wont take a part of me with him, he can take my belongings, or partial custody of future children, but he will not be able to take my dignity or alter my self worth because it is based solely on my own opinion and perception of self. so hillary, in this time of absolute depression and upset, you can still see a bright future ahead. now i want you to reach out and get it at all costs. better yourself so that no one else in the world can even compare to you, and anyone would be lucky to have you in their lives. shape your mind in ways unspoken, obtain knowledge and experience new things. open yourself up to change. you need that right now. let this loneliness and hurt open you up to new beginnings and the development of a new a stronger you. one day people will know Hillary Perelson as a strong and intellectual woman, these people may not know your past, but will be able to tell from the way you present yourself and the demeanor of your actions that you came out on top. mental illness does not control you, you control you. so step it up Hillary. nothing is going to change on its own, you need to take initiative of your own destiny.

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