#my mom is asleep still i think (she called me at midnight and left a voicemail singing happy birthday!! but her sleep schedule has been all | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kookluvre · 2 years

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gold is dull. || jjk || 01

your once-love abandoned you to chase his dreams as a boxer, leaving you and unknowingly, at the time, his son. as much as you want to forget him, you can't. you see him on the billboard, tv commercials, and in your son's room, reminding you of everything you once were.

“momma! please take me to golden boy's fight! he’s fighting here! in our hometown. please, momma. for my birthday? i wanna see him in person!”

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader

genre: boxer!jk, dilf!jk, single mom! oc, heavy angst, ex-boyfriend, eventual smut, fluff

warnings: financial struggles, mentions of off-screen death, angst, mentions of blood, mentions of fighting, mentions of pregnancy, nervousness, anxiety, hints to depression

chapter wc: 4.2k

A/N: hiiii!!! <333 this is the first ever bts series that i've ever written. pls show love and support. also give me suggestions on how to improve in my ask! thank you and enjoy the ride... also make sure to check out the masterlist! i'll be making moodboards (teasers for chapters), outfits, and you can find the playlist there❣

☆series masterlist☆

You quietly enter your apartment exhausted from the night shift in the restaurant. You always hated the midnight shift because it consisted of drunk and annoying customers that always forgot to tip you. You didn’t really like your job but you knew it made a living for you and Min-Su, your son, so you didn’t have much other of a choice other than to stay there.

You tip-toe into your apartment to make sure not to wake up Min-Su and your sister, Daeun, from the sleeping position on the couch. Every time you worked late, you begged Min-Su to sleep in his room and not the couch, but he was too stubborn and always wanted to wait for you when you came back from work, although he never made it and always ended up falling asleep at ten. You stand over them and sweetly smile when you see their sleeping faces. You were always so grateful for Daeun. Your sister helped you through your pregnancy, taking care of Min-Su when you had to take on multiple part-time jobs, and even helped you pay this apartment so you could comfortably live with your son. You were previously staying in the guest room with her and her husband’s house, but Min-Su was getting older, so you needed a place for you and him. Daeun and Seokjin were always there to support you. Seokjin was so understandable when it came to Daeun helping you out as he saw everything go down in shambles when the father of your kid abandoned you five years ago. Seokjin sometimes even takes Min-su for a “boys day out.” Seokjin serves as a father figure to Min-Su, teaching him “boy stuff” as they like to call it.

“Hey baby,” you whisper to Min-Su as you get ready to lift him off the couch onto his bed.

“Momma, you’re back.” Min-Su quietly says with a half-asleep smile that soon fades away when he returns back to his profound sleep. You lay him on his bed and place a kiss to his forehead, “Goodnight baby, it’s still early.”

“How was work?” Daeun asks as she heads to the restroom.

“You know, same as always. Drunks who forget to tip. I swear this is the last time I take a midnight shift for someone. Thinking it’ll get me more money, it just gets me exhaustion.” You run your hands over your almost closing eyes.

“Yeah babes, you have enough money saved already anyway. Why don’t you take a break from so much work?”

You let out a chuckle. “Yeah but that money is for safety. That’s for Min-Su when he goes off to college or for his first car, or for, I don’t know, an emergency or something. I need the extra money for groceries, gas, toys, clothes.” You laugh.

“Don’t worry too much _______. You have me and Seokjin to help you with anything.” Daeun assures you. They both have already helped you a lot, so you feel a bit embarrassed asking for anything more.

“You both have helped me so much already. I don’t think there’s anything left to ask! Thank you, really.” You softly smile. You know that Daeun and Seokjin would never say no if you needed help with anything, but you are not the type of person who takes advantage of someone’s kindness, less their money. You have always been one to work for what you have and only ask for help only when you truly need it. The times you asked for help were because you were in so much financial trouble, balancing college tuition, doctor appointments, and trying to find a place to live. You are grateful those struggling times are over, but you still find yourself longing for more financial security in order to keep your son comfortable and happy.

“Okay, I’m going to go now. Jin’s crazy ass wants me to be next to him when he wakes up!”

“Okay, text me once you’re home. Love ya!”

It’s a Saturday and you had no work. You usually didn’t get the weekends off, except Sunday, since the restaurant closes that day, but you called in sick, taking a medical day off. You had to act your way out of work this morning. A cough, weak voice, and a congested voice, did their job. Your boss, Hoseok, would never let you take the day off simply because it was your son’s birthday. Fortunately, your boss was a germaphobe, so the sick excuse always worked and he never asked for more information. Hoseok is strange, you always thought. He is an asshole, but a soft asshole.

“How did my favorite boxer in the whole entire world sleep?” You enter Min-Su’s bedroom with red gloves, moving towards him as a boxer usually does on a ring. You innocently attack him with kisses, cuddles, and tickles.

Min-Su loved Korea’s “Golden Boy,” also known as Jungkook, and also known as his father that abandoned you, but you had to suck it up and pretend to love Jungkook, the boxer, for Min-Su’s sake. So, you planned for this year’s birthday celebration theme to be full of Jungkook and boxing, getting him a cake decorated that read “Golden Boy” in golden letters with drawn on red gloves. Min-Su liked to believe that he himself was a boxer just like the Golden Boy, although you knew that Min-Su’s gold is way more shinier, illuminated, and radiant than that of the so-called Golden Boy’s would ever be.

Sometimes you never did understand Min-Su’s fanatics over boxing. You’d think he’d be scared over the fighting antics of the sport, however, it really seemed like he enjoyed it. Being the good mother that you are though, you’d make sure to turn off the TV once the fight started to get too violent and too much blood was being shed. Additionally, you’d also get afraid to see how being a fan of boxing might affect Min-Su’s behavior. However, Min-Su was too much of a calm kid to ever want to start a fight. So, you wondered, what is it that truly attracts Min-Su to the sport. Perhaps, the person fighting. A connection. A father and son connection.

“Momma! You look so cool! I’m finally five!” Min-Su says in between chuckles, fully showcasing his bunny smile and the endearing scrunch in his nose that results from that smile. Every time he smiles and laughs, you are reminded of the good times between you and his father. The times when you saw that same smile full of teeth plastered on Jungkook’s once-loved face.

“Yes you are my beautiful Min-Su. Happy Birthday, my love. I love you so so so much!” You exclaim grabbing him into a tight coddling hug, resembling the way you’d carry him when he was just a baby.

“Mom! Why are you grabbing me so hard!” Min-Su chuckles as he himself doesn’t even try to attempt to get out of your motherly hug. He very much loves to be around his mother’s arms as well.

“Because you’re getting so oldddddd! I don’t want you to grow up any more, my little baby!” You cutely say as you scrunch your nose and meet his.

“Hugging me won’t stop me from getting old. I’m only five, momma!” You were always amazed at the intelligence your son carries. He’s so mature and even “above average” his teacher tells you. Guess he gets it from you.

You and your son head to the kitchen where you placed strawberries, blueberries, whipped cream, sprinkles to decorate the delicious holiday pancakes you prepare every Christmas Day. Your son was born on December 25th, the most magical day of the year. So, every year, Min-Su celebrates his official birthday with only family, and no friends due to them having other arrangements on Christmas Day. He understands that, however, you never fail to make him a party before or after his official birthday where he can have fun with his school friends. He’s a lucky kid, getting two birthday celebrations and all.

You get your instant polaroid camera and set the self-timer to take a photo of you two showcasing the pancakes you decorated. Min-Su went a little crazy with the whipped cream making it seem like a humongous snowy mountain with strawberries and blueberries climbing up. You went for a strawberry-eyed, blueberry nose, and whipped cream mouth goofy face. Min-Su wears a wide smiles with his bunny teeth and the red boxing gloves, “lift one arm up baby like you just won a fight,” you tell him. You write on the picture “12.25.21. HBD BABY <3,” and place the Polaroid on the back of your phone where it is visible on the clear phone case.

“Hello stranger! I missed you.” Your dad pulls you into a deep hug. One you both needed. You’ve been too busy with work and taking care of Min-Su that you haven’t visited your dad in months. Additionally, ever since your mom passed away, it feels strange going to your parent’s house and not seeing her there. You feel selfish since your dad probably has it harder than you as he’s living in their house without her. It hurts seeing your dad skinnier with darker circles and prominent eye bags that are a result from sleepless and crying nights missing your mom.

“Cmon Dad, I’ve called! But yeah, yeah I missed seeing you, too.” You chuckle, mumbling the last part of the sentence. You’ve never been one to be affectionate towards family. You love them and can’t live without them, and they know that, but your personality has always been that way ever since you were a teenager. Not a lack of character, just simply your personality.

“How’s my birthday boy doing? I got you some gifts.” Grandpa Sung-Ho grunts and picks up Min-Su on his arms, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Your dad always spoiled Min-Su on his birthday with loads of toys, even when he was one year old and didn’t know anything other than his favorite stuffed bunny.

This year, Daeun and Seokjin would be celebrating Christmas with your family, since they alternated every year between New Years and Christmas, and this year it was Christmas’ turn. You loved it when it was their turn to celebrate it with your part of the family because it meant that you would be graced by Seokjin’s cooking skills. Seokjin blessed the evening with his signature dish: bulgogi, japchae, and kimchi. You all refer to this dish as “his signature dish,” not because it’s unique, but because when Seokjin cooks it, it tastes like heaven. The night was followed by fruit cakes, baked sweet potatoes, and of course, ramen. In between foods, you all shared your favorite stories about Mom, as it was the first Christmas dinner without her. Seokjin and Min-Su put on a “boxing show,” where of course, Min-Su defeated Seokjin and became the national champion.

“Okay let’s open the gifts. This kid won’t be able to wait any longer.” You say lifting your hands up having no choice as Min-Su keeps on asking you every five minutes if he can open his gifts already. About 90% of the gifts under the tree belonged to Min-Su, so you understand why he was so excited. Also, the gifts looked huge, with the exception of a small golden envelope placed on one of the tree branches.

“Momma! Look! Grandpa got me a bike! Thank you. Thank you Grandpa Sung-Ho!” Min-Su runs to his grandpa and hugs him. His full on bunny smile on display throughout opening all his gifts. It pulls on your heart-strings. A part of you wishes you could see the other bunny smile you once loved be by Min-Su’s side, especially today. You quickly get out of that dangerous tramp as you know it’s a destructive one. Min-Su continues to open all his gifts ranging from boxing gloves, scooter, car toys, and board games.

“What is this?” Min-Su confusedly asks when he reads the words “Monopoly.” You chuckle and turn to Daeun, “Really? Monopoly for a five year old? Just because it’s your favorite game, doesn’t mean Min-Su will love it.” You laugh shaking your head. Daeun was a master in Monopoly ever since she was a kid. You know she wanted to make Min-Su a master as well, “They start young,” she winks at you. Classic Daeun.

“Hey baby, I think you forgot one.” You tell Min-Su

“Really?” Min-su excitedly crouches down, thinking he forgot a gift under the tree.

“No, silly. That. That, right there.” You point to the golden envelope on the tree. Daeun, Seokjin, and your dad look confused. You didn’t tell them about this gift. You wanted it to be a complete surprise. It was something that you had been contemplating to do over the year, unsure if you were strong enough to go through with this, but you knew you had to. This would make your son happy, and that was enough to convince you that this was the right choice.

“I’m going to see Golden Boy in person!” Min-Su jumps up and down holding the tickets dear to his chest.

You feel the confused stares towards you. Your family worries for you because they know the mess you were after Jungkook left you and the hurt he caused you after Min-Su was born. They are afraid that you will crumble down when you see him again. It’s not like you’ll see him, though. You bought the cheapest tickets you could afford, at the very top of the arena, all you’ll see is a small object moving. You won’t even be able to recognize his face. When Min-Su is too busy reading the information on the tickets, you nod to them and mouth “it’s okay.”

You’ve finally come to terms that it truly is okay. Jungkook, the person you once believed was the love of your life, has turned to the stranger of your life. He is only the boxer you see on TV and the person your son is a big fan of. You do wish you could erase the memories you had with him and only treat him as someone you had a one night stand, but you can’t. A part of you will always dislike him for what he did to you, but you have learned to burden those feelings away deeply in your heart because your family is perfect as it is right now. Your son truly doesn’t need that asshole of a father that hurt him and you.

You sit in the living room with Daeun while Seokjin and Grandpa Sung-Ho teach Min-Su how to ride the bike.

“So, you’re okay with going?” Daeun leans in so Min-Su won’t hear. You understand her weariness. You’d be too if you were your sister. You’re taking your kid to go see his father box, where he will be cheering him on as “Golden Boy” and not “Let’s go, Dad.” You sometimes wish you could tell your son that the Golden Boy was his dad, but he was not Golden Boy’s dad.

“Yes, it’s fine. It’s just a famous boxer to him.” You reply with a sigh. Getting tired over the weariness Daeun puts over you. “But he is not just “a famous boxer” to you _______.” You know she is correct, but you also know that’s all he needs to be to you, “He’s not, but he has to be,” You sip some red wine, “Don’t worry too much Daeun, we’re all the way at the top, I won’t even be able to see him. If I do collapse, as you think I’ll do, Dad will be there. He will pick me up.” You chuckle rolling your eyes.

The thought of seeing Jungkook next week frightens a small part of your heart. You have come to terms with the feelings that might arise seeing your son next to you and his hero fighting. On the other hand, though, there is a constant fright hovering around your ego. Sometimes you feel like a failure. Being a single mom and working as a waitress on a minimum age. It’s the systemic social stereotypes that have you feeling this way, however, you blame it all on yourself, the dropping out of college and not getting the business degree you so wanted because the pregnancy and classes were too difficult to balance. You’re scared of seeing the success Jungkook has built around himself. How he made everything he dreamed possible.

“I want to be famous, ______. Rich. National Champion. Have a dozen Lamborghinis. Have 10 houses. One on the beach. One in the city. One in the countryside. Buy you all the things you want. Build you that restaurant you want. But I don’t want all this if you’re not there, by my side _____.”

He truly did have all of that. Only one thing missing from the list, you… by his side. These thoughts, though, are quickly overshadowed by the little one that rests his head on your shoulder. All those materialistic things will never top the happiness Min-Su brings you every day.

You and Min-Su decided to stay overnight in your dad’s house. It was too late to drive all the way to the city, you had been drinking some wine, and Min-Su was too tired from playing around with all his new toys. You and Min-Su stayed in your childhood bedroom, where it is filled with memories of Jungkook sneaking in through the window and you sneaking out to meet Jungkook when you were grounded.

Thinking Min-Su is asleep, you check the drawers to see if you find any old photos of you and your family when Min-Su calls you, “Momma?”

“Yeah baby,” You walk towards him and sit beside his small body.

“Can you tell me about my dad.” He asks you with a shy smile. You and Min-Su had already discussed why his family was different and why there was no dad in his life. You simply told him that his type of family is happier if it only consists of him, you, Daeun, Seokjin, Grandpa Sung-Ho and your late mother. However, you knew, that your son would be curious as to who his dad was, so you knew you’d have to share stories about him. You promised yourself, though, you would never actually tell him who his dad was, but if Min-Su would like to find out when he’s older, you wouldn’t stop him from finding that out. But right now, Min-Su was just a curious five-year old wanting to know more.

“Well, your dad, he was very athl-,”

“Momma, don’t tell me he was athletic and strong and that he really liked ramyeon. Everybody likes ramyeon.” Min-Su states with a pout. That is true. Every time he asked you about him, you were sure to keep it to a generic statement. You hated revisiting old memories with him, but for your son, you had to.

“Okay well I can tell you about the time he was super scared riding a ferris wheel.” You whisper with a genuine smile on your face. Although these memories are with a person that hurt you, they truly are happy memories that bring genuine happiness to you. A nostalgic happiness.

“A ferris wheel?! Not even I’m scared of ferris wheels and I’m five years old!” Min-Su laughs. You like this. You like seeing him this happy. It bothers you, though, the person making him happy is someone that didn’t want anything to do with him.

“I know, but that’s because you’re my brave little Min-Su,” You snuggle up to him.

“We had previously gotten on all the scary roller coasters. And he was so so brave on them. Even put his hands up at the biggest drop. The biggest bunny smile he could have. Just like yours. I thought he was a maniac. He really liked those scary grown-up rides. I didn’t. Mom was kind of a scaredy-cat when it came to big rides.” You hear him chuckle.

“Anyway, after the roller-coasters, we ate some funnel cake, snow cones, and a baked sweet potato. Played some balloon darts and shooting games. Then, I suggested to go on the ferris wheel, and his face dropped. Like if he had seen a ghost. He begged me not to. ‘No _______, Please. They’re too slow. It’s boring.’” You don’t hear any commentary or chuckles from Min-Su. When you look down at him, he’s fallen asleep at the beat of your heart and the short-told story.

“Goodnight, baby. Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas.” You kiss his forehead and lay down to him. You have trouble falling asleep as you begin to relive that cold yet warm Christmas Day.

“Cmon Jungkook. Why that scared-ass face when you think ‘it’s so boring?’” You tease him, your shoulder hitting his arm.

You had gotten in all the roller-coasters because he had proposed you too. You never really liked adrenaline rides because simply, they were really scary for you and you hated the feeling you get at the sudden drop. However, this time around, you were with Jungkook, and he made you feel safe. The feeling that you’d get with him was one of warmth and safety, that you and him were invincible. So, the rollercoaster didn’t seem too scary when you could hold onto Jungkook’s muscled arm the whole ride. You enjoyed the feeling he gave when you were with him. It felt like a drug, like you were high on Jungkook. This date was your first one. He was nineteen and you were eighteen; you were only a first-year in college. You had snuck out of the Christmas party in your house to go to the carnival with him. You’d never do that, but for him you would.

“Alright, let’s do it _______. After this, we’re going on the Zipper.”

“Okay, deal.” You smirk.

As you’re on the cart swaying around, Jungkook puts his arm around you, blocking the cold air hitting your face. You both admire the view of the city, while Come on Doom, Let’s Party plays in the background.

“It’s not too bad, huh.” You tease Jungkook as you can feel his heart beating through his puffer jacket.

“______, I’m not scared of the ride,” he turns to look at your eyes then down at your lips.

“I’m scared of… you know, being up here with you. Looking at you.”

Jungkook obviously was not scared of the ferris wheel. It was nothing compares to the Superman ride you previously went on. He was scared of being in such an intimate and romantic setting with you. Sitting next to you overlooking the city. He was a nervous and shy guy and it was clearly showing on this ride. The ferris wheel made you both finally lock in the tension that had been building for months prior to this date. The previous rollercoasters had him comfortable as he didn’t have to look at you. He could scream. Be focused on the adrenaline. But here, the ferris wheel, the only thing he could focus was having you by his side and looking at you eyes.

“I’ve never done dating before, you know. I don’t know how it works.” He nervously grabs the back of his ear. You don’t know how it works either. You’ve never dated anyone before. You were just as nervous as he was, but you did a better job at hiding it, and… you were kind of a natural at this dating thing.

You place his warm hands on your cheeks, “I’m pretty sure you place your hands on my cheeks, and then you lean in, and I don’t know, kiss me.” You smirk.

“Alright, I think I can manage.” Jungkook chuckles as he leans in to put his cold lips on yours. His lips grabbed your lower lip. A soft, yet powerful, grab that left you breathless. You felt the warmth of his breathing above your lip and he could feel your heart skip a beat as his hand rested on your neck. You wondered what his lips tasted for months, and now you had them pressed against yours. They were a feel of passion and softness that only he could give you. He pulled his lips away, keeping his hands on your face, your lips weak, longing for more. Your closed eyes opened, looking at him. There was a slight smile on his and your lips. He moves his hand from your jaw to your mouth, rubbing his thumb against your lower lip.

“What do I do now?” He says with a shy smirk.

“Hmmmm, I think you ask me if I want to be your girlfriend.” You look up as if thinking for an answer.

“Right. Right. Right,” He says rubbing his face, acting like he forgot a crucial part of a relationship, “Do you want to be my girlfriend, ______?”

“Yes, Jeon Jungkook.” You give him a small peck on his jaw.

For the rest of the ride, you and Jungkook held hands, feeling the warmth of each other’s skin.

☆ yayyyyyy!!! how did you like it? this chapter was a little slow because we have to set the mood for the rest 😍 but i promise you it will get so good, angsty, and hot. remember leave me your thoughts here ✉ !!!

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headspace-hotel · 2 years

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do... do you want to expand on whatever was up with your old roommate? because frankly at this point a) it sounds like you SERIOUSLY need to get this out into the open and get some validation in there, and b) i now really want to know wtf her problem was

I've said some things about it, but it was like...your basic common or garden abusive behavior. I can't even describe how controlling she was without writing a whole novel.

She would try to prevent me from eating "too late" at night, saying that it was "unhealthy" to eat at night and that she was "worried" about me. She would not shut up about this one. I told her, pointedly, that I needed to eat in the evenings and I could not sleep on an empty stomach, and she ARGUED with me, saying, "Well, medically, that doesn't make any sense. That shouldn't be happening."

I did actually tell her to mind her own damn business about that one multiple times, but it never fully stopped; even during finals she tried to tell me I couldn't use the microwave at like, 8:30 pm.

I told her up front, repeatedly that I was messy and that I was regularly awake until 2am. She said that was fine. Repeatedly. When we became roommates she would go to bed at 10:30pm and expect me to be either in bed or to be completely silent by then. By "completely silent" I mean more silent than it is humanly possible to be. Unwrapping any kind of package or wrapper, eating, typing on my computer in silence, taking off my jacket, or taking medication were all things she groaned and complained about on at least one occasion.

We would "compromise," repeatedly, and every time she would...not change her behavior. If I took a shower at 10:30, she would try to convince me not to take a shower. If I was awake at midnight doing homework, she would tell me that I needed to go to bed and would not listen when I told her that I was working on something that was due tomorrow. She told me many times that I needed to get up early and work on school instead, saying basically "I don't like doing it either and I still do it, why can't you?"

She tried to literally force me ("force" being her word, not mine) to go to several events on campus, because she thought I "needed" to go, and would not take no for an answer. She would tell me over and over again that she was going to "make" me go to an event, and would not talk to me at all for like a whole day except to nag me about it.

Her behavior often just came so out of left field that I was left reeling just trying to process it. I literally felt like I was losing my mind just trying to wrap my head around what would drive such behavior.

She once got so upset she nearly started crying in front of me telling me she "didn't know where I was on campus" when I wasn't in the dorm. A different time, I was working on school and she sent me literally 20 panicked texts and tried to call me at least once while I had put my phone away for literally like an hour, and when she came back into the dorm she told me she'd been convinced that I had committed suicide. (She had absolutely zero reason to think this—I was actually doing much better at the beginning of the semester than I had been in a long time.)

There was also the time she physically grabbed me and tried to drag me out of bed because she knew I had a 9:30am class and didn't think I was up early enough. At least she apologized for that one. :/

I started staying out until around 1am, just walking around campus or sitting in the library until it closed, just to avoid confrontation. Then she started complaining about me returning to the dorm and waking her up, so I ended up just lying in bed on my phone until I could safely sneak to the refrigerator for something to eat and then fall asleep.

I could go on and on. Coming back from fall break, my mom and dad were helping me carry my stuff in and she literally pulled me into the room ahead of them so we could "talk in private" for a bit, and she just??? Lectured me angrily about how a bottle of juice had exploded in the refrigerator while we were gone, and I'd said I would clean the refrigerator, and her parents yelled at her....???

Looking back on it, it feels so ridiculous that I was stuck living with such a crazy and controlling person, but at the time I couldn't imagine her motivations to be malicious. She was friendly half the time and seemed to perceive us to be more than roommates, more like best friends. She would say out of nowhere how much she "loved" me and our relationship. I also was too stressed to think clearly about it. She was acting in ways I didn't know a human being could act, actions that felt so insane I didn't know how to evaluate them.

I think she may have genuinely thought that she could "fix" me and force me to have a "healthy" sleep schedule and habits by endlessly wearing me down about it. (We see how that ended up.)

I really just wanted to be kind because I knew she didn't have very many friends and was feeling isolated, and I didn't want to be an asshole, but I wound up being a doormat. Part of why it was hard for me to be assertive with her and have boundaries was that I knew her own situation wasn't great either. Over time I realized she was basically re-enacting with me all the dysfunctional behaviors her parents directed at her. Sometimes she would act like I was ruining her life and pissing on her whole bloodline, and then would right away flip to talking about how much she "loved" her relationship with me and what good friends we were etc, and would randomly lapse into "silly" behavior and humor that seemed almost, like, weirdly childish.

From observations, her family seemed to use..."silly" stuff to cover up or defuse tension. "Silly" is the word that comes to mind, but I can't really adequately describe this behavior to you, it was a lot more unnerving than that word communicates. They had a lot of running "inside jokes" that were mostly just absolutely nonsensical, like the kind of nonsense that a four-year-old kid would find funny, and there was something very...not genuine about them.

It almost felt like silliness and inside jokes were something they wanted to have, but the context and foundation that made that kind of stuff comfortable and natural wasn't there. The actual relationship she had with her parents seemed to be one of being constantly controlled, micro-managed and shamed.

Also, she and her parents gave me all sorts of gifts. Fancy gourmet baked goods and candies, socks, jewelry, it really started to pile up after a while. It was impossible to refuse the gifts, no matter how politely, and if I hadn't eaten something she would be weirdly confrontational about it. It was Weird.

Idk. Everything about the situation was so weird. They were Christian in a Weird way. Her mom prayed that I would find a boyfriend soon?? And I had never given any indication that I wanted a boyfriend or was in search of one???

Oh yeah, and I also had to give her the sex talk, because her parents apparently had told her nothing about sex outside of the basic reproductive functions of it. (She was 20.) She asked me 1000 sex questions, which did not bother me—I like explaining things to people, and I'm incredibly hard to embarrass—but then she asked how a woman could be a top. And well. I told her. And the CONCEPT of sex toys for some reason made her really upset and she got mad at me, told me not to talk to her about anything sexual ever again, and I was left really baffled because she acted like I had violated a boundary when she had asked the questions.

#personal #abuse tw #i guess #what else do call it #suicide mention

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jmflowers · 1 year

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Week of shoots

“Day 5” I managed to sleep on and off until about 2pm, so I felt much better heading into night two of the shoot. I had to pick people up downtown again, which was an hour drive from my place in Saturday traffic, so I left at about 3pm. Managed to get everyone to location for the 5pm call time.

Almost immediately, I was sent off on driving duties to pick up a few things, and then to grab one of the actors from a train station. By the time I was back, most of the set was dressed and lighting was nearly done, so shooting started shortly after.

The first half of the night felt painful, though. Imagine that phrase “too many cooks in the kitchen” but it’s a film set and they’re directors. No one had a clear vision and it just made for confusion, which had all of the actors antsy - especially the child actor whose first ever night shoot this was. We were aiming for lunch at 11pm, but at about 10:45pm they sent the actors back to holding to warm up and the creative team all stepped outside to argue “in private”. The rest of us who were not vital unless they were rolling slipped downstairs to holding and just hung out for the longest lunch I’ve ever been part of on a set - it was after midnight before we jumped back in. And, of course, the child actor had fallen asleep in the car during that time and we had to wake her back up.

So, there was the production at like 1am - all of us standing around in an abandoned convenience store, eating expired junk food and breathing in a ton of dust, watching as an 8 year old was being coaxed awake for a scene as she cried, “I don’t want to be here, I just want to go home.” And then her mom found packs of slime on the shelf, offered her one, and kiddo woke right back up to kill every. single. take. During a fight sequence, might I add. We had to wrap her by 4am, so her death scene coverage was shot and she was out of there by 3:45am.

Crazy.

There wasn’t much to do technically between takes and the DP only needed a spotter for camera movements a couple of times (one of which included me shoved back beside a bookcase, trying to hide from being in the shot when she whipped around), so I spent most of the time catering to the actors. It was cold in the building, since the heat wasn’t on, so I took their coats every time we were about to roll and then slipped them back on them each time we cut and reset to a new shot. Thank goodness I still had my set blankets in my car from my own shoots earlier in the week, as one of them ended up being best for wrapping up our child actor like a burrito without needing to care about if it was getting fake blood on it. One of the actors ended up hugging me goodbye before she left and they both thanked me profusely for taking care of them, which felt good. I think that’s the part of set I enjoy the most - just being able to help people. There’s such a humanness to watching someone perform at the top of their abilities in a setting like that and then to see them turn around and find comfort in a jacket or a bottle of water or a joke. It’s fun to be part of that, whether it’s with actors or creators.

We wrapped officially at about 5am and headed out shortly after putting everything away that we’d made a mess of. Said goodbyes to everyone - including the audio recordist that I’d worked with on another shoot last spring. I had to drive 4 people home, so we headed back into the city and I got everyone to their doorsteps before heading back to my own city. Pulled into my drive shortly before 7am and promptly showered off a lot of dirt before crashing into bed.

Day 6 was all about sleeping, for the most part, and just getting myself back off the nocturnal schedule. Slept until about 4:30pm, ate, went for a walk, watched a livestream concert, and was back in bed by about 10pm (trying to convince myself that I didn’t need to stay up all night again). Back to regular life and 8am classes the morning after, because that’s the way it goes.

All in all, I had a blast. It feels like hanging with friends when it’s a small crew and a lower budget. We talk about life and make jokes and mix up weird food concoctions in the middle of the night (like an oat milk and expired Kit Kat “hot chocolate” I tried to make in the microwave to warm up…). Mostly it’s all about eating Welch’s fruit snacks and making a movie. Can’t wait to see the finished product.

#film and television production life #and that’s a wrap on the week #time to dive back into post production at school #first night the joke was that I was there to supply pockets and rides #because of my PA cargo pants #second night the joke was that I was vying for MVPA status

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windfighter · 2 years

Text

Home is where the heart is

”I miss home”, Tomoki said.

Everyone stopped eating and looked at him. Izumi let out a sigh.

”I wonder if they’ve noticed that we’re missing.”

”Think the police is looking for us?” Takuya asked with a grin.

Junpei looked at the apple he had been eating, but didn’t say anything. Kouji glanced at him.

”Mom’s probably even sadder with both of us gone”, Kouichi said.

He leaned back and looked at the sky.

”I miss her…”

”What’s she like?” Izumi asked.

”She’s very kind, doesn’t want to worry anyone. Constantly worries me though”, Kouichi laughed. ”She’s… sad. I think she misses…”

Kouichi glanced at Kouji. Kouji looked away.

”I miss papa’s food”, Izumi said. ”Meat apples are okay, but he makes a delicious gateau.”

”I miss my games”, Tomoki said. ”And mom and dad.”

”I have some great games”, Takuya said. ”They’ve probably given them to Shinya now. You should come over and play some when we get home.”

”What if we never come home though?” Tomoki whispered and pulled his knees to his chest.

No one answered. Junpei got to his feet and walked away from the fire while Kouji laid down and closed his eyes. The wind danced around them and they started eating again.

”We’ll have a party when we get home”, Takuya decided. ”I missed Shinya’s cake so we’ll have our own.”

”I like that idea”, Izumi agreed. ”We’ll celebrate saving the digital world and seeing our families again.”

Kouichi looked at his shoes.

”...that sounds fun”, he said quietly.

”You’re invited too, of course”, Takuya said and Kouichi looked even more intensly at his shoes. Kouji opened an eye to look at him.

”You okay, niisan?”

”Yeah, I’m just… thinking about mom?”

”Hm.”

Kouji didn’t press. He closed his eyes again.

”We’ll be home again soon”, Takuya promised.

”Can I meet Shinya?” Tomoki asked excitedly.

”Only if you two don’t gang up against me”, Takuya grinned.

”I will make no such promises”, Tomoki grinned as well.

Izumi facepalmed and shook her head with a smile.

”It’ll be nice seeing everyone again. Even my classmates.”

”Too much staring at Takuya’s face drives anyone insane”, Kouji agreed from the ground.

”Have you seen your own face?” Takuya stuck his tongue out towards Kouji. ”You’re not the face of sanity yourself.”

”Uhu. I’m gonna go to sleep, wake me up when it’s my shift.”

”Princess needs his beauty-sleep”, Takuya teased.

”If you call me princess again I’ll beat you up with your own eyeballs.”

”Okay”, Kouichi laughed. ”Maybe wait with killing each other until we get back home.”

”He raises a good point though”, Izumi said. ”Who’s gonna take the first shift?”

”Junpei”, Takuya decided with not a second’s thought.

”He hates having the first shift”, Kouichi protested.

”First shift is the worst”, Tomoki said. ”Everyone hates it.”

”If Junpei didn’t want it he should have been here to protest”, Izumi agreed. ”I’ll take the morning shift.”

”Kouji?” Kouichi asked.

”Pre-morning shift, like always”, Kouji mumbled, not quite asleep yet.

”Can I have the midnight shift?” Tomoki asked.

”You’re the youngest, you get to sleep”, Takuya told him.

”Nooo, Takuya-oniisan should sleep since he's the one fighting against the royal knights! I’ll be fine.”

”You’re still growing”, Izumi said. ”I hate to admit it, but I agree with Takuya.”

”If neither of you want to sleep, I’ll do it”, Kouichi offered with a laugh.

They argued back and forth for a while, until they managed to agree that yes, Tomoki should get to sleep, Takuya would take the midnight shift and Kouichi would take the shift between Takuya and Kouji. Kouji fell asleep listening to them and they continued talking about stuff they missed from home while waiting for Junpei to return.

----------

Kouji woke up to Junpei’s return. Junpei argued a bit with Takuya about being forced to take the first shift, but eventually the others went to sleep and left Junpei alone. Junpei put a meat apple over the fire since he hadn’t finished his dinner earlier and Kouji watched him while waiting for the others to fall asleep. Kouichi was the last one and Kouji got up, sat down next to Junpei.

”You’re not homesick either”, he said and it wasn’t a question. Junpei looked at the flames for a while before answering.

”Not really. I miss stuff from home, but I don’t miss home.” He laughed. ”Why should I? At least here I’m useful.”

”I miss Wolf”, Kouji said. ”My dog. But I came here to escape.”

”I was…”

Junpei hesitated, then sighed.

”I was running away from home. I almost returned immediately though, this world was scary at first.”

”I’m glad you stayed”, Kouji said and was surprised to realize he meant it.

They sat in silence for a while, listened to the others sleeping.

”What were you escaping?” Junpei asked. ”...if you want to tell me.”

”It’s…” Kouji had to think about how to explain it. ”My brain was ready to move away from my grief, to do what my father asked of me, but my heart wasn’t. I… guess your father was something like that as well?”

”Yeah…” Junpei scratched the back of his neck. ”He wants me to follow in his footsteps and I just… want to carve my own path? I know there’s no future in magic, but maybe there’s something else for me out there.”

”Your tricks are great. I’m sure there would be a future in that if you wanted it.”

Junpei laughed.

”You never look at my tricks.”

Kouji hugged his legs and stared at the flames.

”It’s nothing against you”, he said. ”If you ever make it as a big shot-magician I promise I’ll come watch your show.”

”I’ll hold you to that”, Junpei said with a smile. ”What’s your big dream, then? What does the great Kouji want to be when he grows up?”

”I try not to think too far ahead”, Kouji said. ”I think father wants me to be a lawyer like him, but could you imagine me in a suit?”

Junpei could, but he wasn’t going to say that out loud so he shrugged.

”Maybe like the brittish lawyers, with an ugly wig.”

Kouji laughed.

”I’d make that look Great!”

”You would”, Junpei laughed as well and nudged Kouji’s side.

They fell silent again, watched the flames dance in the night. Junpei pulled out a chocolate cake from his pocket and gave half to Kouji.

”You don’t… need to be useful to be valuable”, Kouji said after a while. He didn’t sound fully convinced. ”It’s something I try to tell myself as well. Our value isn’t just in our usefulness.”

He smiled towards Junpei and took a bite out of the chocolate.

”Just by existing you have value. I fully believe that.”

”...but not about yourself”, Junpei said and it wasn’t a question.

Kouji didn’t answer.

”Even if your dad never sees your value, we do”, he said instead. ”You’re an important friend to us.”

”He sent me a letter”, Junpei shared, ”about how disappointed he was in me. I got a B in PE so my grades weren’t up to his standards any longer.”

”I had a C in art”, Kouji admitted. ”Lowest in school. Luckily father thinks art is absolutely useless, otherwise it’d have been bad.”

”Why are parents like that?” Junpei asked but he didn’t expect an answer. Kouji shrugged.

”I don’t understand any humans even on the best days.”

He stood up and looked at the people sleeping around the fireplace.

”We’ll return home”, he said. ”Our families may still be… bleh, but at least we won’t be alone any longer.”

”You’ll all forget about me when we get home.”

”Never”, Kouji promised. ”Not even when I get old and get dementia.”

Junpei snorted and shook his head.

”Go back to sleep”, he said. ”Kouichi’ll wake you up later.”

”Yeah”, Kouji yawned and stretched. ”Don’t worry too much, Junpei. There’s nothing wrong with not being homesick.”

Kouji laid down on the ground again, fell back asleep almost instantly. Junpei grabbed another apple and put it over the fire. Maybe Kouji was right and his father’s opinion didn’t matter as much as he thought. He’d carve his own path, somehow.

#my writing #digimon frontier #kouji minamoto #junpei shibayama #hurt/comfort #sicktember 2022 #I had fun writing this #at least when I got to the second part #the first part was hard #I've never been homesick myself so I was all ??? when I saw the prompt #so I decided I wanted the two people who weren't homesick to interact x3

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amusementofaprincess · 1 year

Text

My weekend DID NOT GO TO PLAN.

The plan you ask? Friday, Saturday and Sunday- go to RI Comic Con.

Monday (today) - help my mom move

What did I do instead?

Friday - vomit everything I have ever eaten and then some more. Then from Midnight - 4 just kind of not stop.

Saturday 430am - go to the ER. Takes forever to be seen. Thank goodness for those blue/purple plastic tubes. They act like I’m dry heaving for dramatic effect. Pretty sure since I said the middle of my stomach hurt they thought I wanted drugs

I think around 730 they do a CT scan.

3.5 hours, many dry heaves and an embarrassing need for dry pants later - I see thr doctor and my nurse again. Literally haven’t seen the doctor since he looked at me 630am. Haven’t seen the nurse since he put in an iv, gave me zofran and left. (A different help with the embarrassing incident).

I have large abscess in my stomach and a perforation. They can’t do the surgery there (small hospital. Can handle like appendectomies ect. Not this) so I’m getting transferred to a large hospital in RI vis ambulance.

By 1pm I’m in RI getting prepped for Surgery. I had to get a CATHETER. And it was Terrible.

Now the timeline going forward is from my mom:

Surgery started around 2ish. Ended around 630.

I had a 3cm perforation that the surgeon said looked like it formed, accessed and oh yeah, nearly f***ing killed me in 24-48 hours.

Literally. If I had be slower going up I could have died.

My mom went home, I went to post op recovery for a while where I was in terrible pain and spiked a fever. (One is normal, pain was not cool)

Luckily my current hospital actually cares.

I was on a patient controlled pump - so it was great when I was awake. But if I fell asleep I stopped pushing it. They changed that fast to a constant low does with option to boost as needed.

Saturday night: I’m moved to a Step Down Unit. Which is like not quite in the ICU not quite general ward.

Sunday: a blur, still had the catheter. My mom visited. Pain was under control so I sat in a chair for almost 2 hours per the request of the nice PT lady.

Getting up was awful. Getting back in bed awful. Chair was fine.

Sunday night: had a dilaudid induced nightmare so bad my nurse was coming to check on me because my heart rate shot up out of nowhere. She reassured me I was awake, safe, and where I was and then held my hand and patted my head until I could calm down.

Monday morning: woke up at to a gaggle of med students around my bed. They took off my surgical binder to see my 48 stables and then squished my boobs so bad putting it back on I had to call my nurse and say “Meghan they smooshed my boobs help”

Rest of Monday: catheter out. It still hurts there because of course it was (the nurse was great. I’m not blaming her)

But I can pee!

And I have! Twice! (No food or liquids by mouth til Thursday so IV only)

Sat in the chair for 4 hours!

Had a mild panic attack (dropped my call bell and every fluid/antibiotic hit 30 min warning. I can’t yell cause of the NG tube so I just started sobbing.

Day nurse found me and saved me/hugged me/distracted me with cough drops and Netflix show.

Then! I walked from chair to door to bed.

That brings us current. I wanted to sleep but another surgeon walked in, woke me up looked at my staples, told me looks good GET SOME REST.

I’m here for like 2 weeks. Someone needs to let sleep!

#this is unedited #and written on pain meds #have fun

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ayamisc · 17 years

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.:fatigue:.

Tuesday, Aug 21 …that night i slept at 4-ish in the morn.. it tried to finish my AP Bio summer thing.. for the review the next day [or rather… later that day at 3:30pm] but failed. oh well.

Wed & Thurs… same story. if you don't know by now. i'm a procrastinator who doesn't know my priorities.

Friday, Saturday and Sunday.. ..i can't really remember what i did. but all i know is. i was busy doing my bio and english summer work.

Monday, Aug 27 i slept at 3ish in the morn… same story. [and i actually did my work this time.. obviously for the lack of time]

Tuesday, Aug 28 ..i didn't sleep. at all. i did my english essay which was due on midnight. then tried to get ready for school… all the while finishing up 3 questions i left out from my AP Bio review thing. aaaand.. well… the rest was spent reviewing for my AP Bio test the next morning. oh the joys of student life.. so much for the 1st day of school right? i finally lsept after school at 1:30pm i think… then woke up at 7ish.. and did more of my english work that is due the next day.

Wednesday, Aug 29 .. i didn't sleep. coz i thought i had a test on english the next day. well.. there was a scheduled one but we didn't end up taking it. oh well.

Thursday, Aug 30 slept around 4.. yeah.. more work.. well.. i tried to read english.. didn't finish anyway.

Friday, Aug 31 slept at 5.. i tried to read more english. again. didn't finish. and spent 3 hours doing my loooooooong french homework… oh joy.

Saturday, Sept 1 slept at 3ish. ..i slept friday afternoon and couldn't fall asleep. oh well. at 10sih.. i awoke.. or rather.. my mom woke me up since we're going to her high school reunion thing. we left at… 11am.. i slept through the trip. i don't know how long… haha anyhow. when we got there… the weather was… sizzling? and for the most part it was boring i felt like sleeping. around 6ish-7ish.. my mom's classmate's daughter and i went to her room and watched anime until 9:45-10ish.. [Yay! Ate Fatima!] then i read a comic book.. then..well.. had a nap on her bed… ehehehe >> we left at 10:30-11ish… i think. we got home past 12ish.. i slept throughout the trip again. …when we got home.. we had a midnight snack.. watched some tv.. yeah. finally fell asleep at 3ish.

Satuday. September 2 i woke up at 9:20. then i went to community service at 10. i got home at 12. ate some lunch.. when i was in community service, my friend alex called telling me of a pool party at her house. i said i'll try to come. i really did.. but i guess my memory is horrible when i'm tired… i forgot to call… actually.. i even forgot about the pool party when i got home… then slept afterwards… [and since my phone was set in "meeting" i wasn't able to hear alex's and andy's call around 2-3ish..gomen!!!] and i woke up at 6ish for dinner. [at this point. i haven't checked my phone and was still wasn't aware i missed a pool party….] then slept again 10:30pm. and this is where i am now. i just checked my phone. sorry guys.. and at this time.. it was not my habit of not answering my phone.. it's coz i was asleep.. and now.. i have a mild headache for both lack of sleep.. and too much sleep. plans for tomorrow: guess what? i'll probably NOT sleep at all again… why? coz i have a ton of homework to do… yay… ><

ah. the joys of student life, oui?

again. sorry to Mel, Alex, and Andy, for not making it…… [and sorry to whoever was there…blah blah blah]

uhm. and. thank you to Taho coz she tolerated my..uh… deafening silence… hahaha.. jk… thank you Ate! LuvU!

PS. This blog was originally posted on DeviantArt.

#life #life update #student life #high school #deviantart

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whydoesmyheartache · 6 months

Text

that night.

TW: suicide

I remember it so vividly. I really wasn't in the mood for socializing that night, but it was our turn to host Thanksgiving at our house. It was the first Thanksgiving I didn't wear a dress, and to my surprise, my parents didn't fuss about it. I remember putting on a brave smile for my family and playing with my niece. The night seemed to stretch on forever. Finally, everyone slowly started leaving. We were left to clean up, but I felt an unsettling feeling gnaw at me. Later that night, my sister got ready for bed, and I followed. I brushed my teeth, changed into my pajamas, and crawled into bed. I couldn't sleep. That night felt different from the usual insomnia episodes I experienced. Around midnight, I noticed my parents were still up, and that's when my worry started to grow. My mom must have sensed that I was awake, and she came into my room with news that would change the course of that night. "your dad and I have to go to the hospital. Amy is sick," she said. "Is she ok?" I asked. "It's nothing to worry about," she reassured me. With a heavy heart, I replied, "Ok. She smiled and left my room. She gave me a reassuring smile and left my room. I lay there, listening as they put on their jackets, turned off the lights, and quietly left for the hospital. I didn't sleep. This day felt off, and now this? I felt like something terrible was going to happen. My mind started imagining the worst. I quickly tried to shut down those ideas, but they lingered in the back of my mind. After some struggle, I finally fell asleep. I hate remembering the following day. I don't know if my memory is accurate, but I remember the day was gloomy, with little to no sunlight. My sister and I got ready and headed to the kitchen for breakfast. I asked my mom about Amy, and she gave me a faint smile and told me she'd talk to me later after we were done with breakfast. I felt my chest tighten. I finished my breakfast and waited for my mom. I could tell there was something wrong with how she avoided the topic. My sister finally finished eating, and I asked again, "So what happened with Amy?" My mom's face turned serious. She folded her hands and looked at us. "I need to tell you two because I know how much you love Amy, but this won't be easy to hear," she paused for a moment and looked at me. "Amy wasn't sick." My chest ached as I braced for her next words. "Lupita called us saying that Amy had hung herself." I couldn't feel anything. "Her step-sister found her and called 911. She was still alive, so they rushed her to the hospital. She didn't make it."

In that instance, I only remember thinking how hard this would be for my sister. How this was going to affect her. I don't remember what I said or what anyone else said. I just kept thinking about Amy. Why? I pictured her in my mind, and all I could see was her smile. How could someone so happy do that? What did I miss? Was it my fault for not noticing?

After breakfast, I don't remember what I did. I didn't want to talk or see anyone, so I decided to take a shower. I got my change of clothes and towel and headed to the bathroom. I turned on the faucet, waited for the temperature to be just right, and hopped in. I started crying, and I couldn't stop. As the warm water cascaded over me, I started crying, and I couldn't stop. My sobs mixed with the sound of the falling water. I started hyperventilating, so I quickly covered my mouth and tried to control my breathing. I didn't want anyone to hear me. I didn't want to leave the shower, but my fingers started wrinkling. I got out of the shower and looked in the mirror, trying to see if you could tell I was crying. It didn't matter.

I continued with my life, going through the motions. The memory of that night was a permanent scar, a haunting presence in my life. I hated Thanksgiving. I hated November. I hated Autumn. It gets easier to grieve each year, but when it gets closer to that day, I go back to the night when the universe warned me.

#blog

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waitingformyfavoritesongs · 1 year

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2 March 2023 Thursday 9:44 am pdt

incubus wants me to believe that Jaycee dugard wasn’t ready raped. Know what incubus? You want me to believe it I’m your wife & we have children but I don’t have any memories or proof. If she has children w/ him & she says she was I’m going to air on the side of caution & believe what she said & what she wrote & that manipulated everyone’s minds to make them robots w/o memories to make people believe you when you probably lied. Bcz the pain & suffering you caused me is not a lie. The destruction you did to my body was not a lie. So how can I believe anything you say? She said the tazer didnt hurt but the raping did? I’m going to air on the side of caution Bcz children were probably starving during COVID from empty hot pockets. 9:50 am pdt hot pockets that were given to schools for children who needed free lunch & breakfast. 9:51 am pdt

incubus wants me to believe I place money above people, even when it comes to family & friends. 😞😤🥵😤😖😭9:52 am pdt I will evaluate myself about this concern. I cannot say I’ve been 100% not condescending. Maybe 🤔 there were a few times. Bcz not a lot of people liked my dad. Maybe 🤔 it’s passed down genetically? 😞 two things I remember my dad saying, if I omit my dads speculation about my mom, we’re: if you eat vegetables you won’t be fat - the people he said this to got very upset 😠 ; & he yelled at an Asian family saying “you’re greedy!” Bcz they did not wait to let him out of parallel parking first but I don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️ if they realized he was ready to leave & if he left first it would have made it easy 4 them to leave. 9:58 am pdt my dad was thrifty but splurged on some things. My dad only physically hit me once but seemed regretful afterwards. 9:59 am pdt & never did it again. 10 am pdt

10:10 am pdt incubus is heating up my back. Last night incubus made it even more difficult to breathe after giving me more heart ♥️ pain when I was finally able to breathe 🧘🏻‍♀️ & almost fall asleep 😴. This was very late at night or after midnight 🕛? Before 2 am pdt. For many minutes I couldn’t breathe 🧘🏻‍♀️ & head more head/top of head skull 💀 pain. I think 🤔 he’s changing my head shape? 10:13 am pdt agonizing. Still coughing a lot, my mom said she can hear me down the hall of the hotel 🏨. We left more than a day ago. Bcz my aunt & cousin don’t want us around. 10:15 am pdt b4 we left my aunt said we’re not family. My aunt usually says things to people in the family a lot of comments on Facebook, too. She has many Facebooks I don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️ why. My mom has told me she usually says stuff like that to everyone. Many of the siblings don’t want to talk to her, my mom said. & also my mom says she is different. I don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️ if everyone is overly sensitive but she gave me a hard time for barricading the door 🚪 w/ a big fan & 3 step folding ladder 🪜 Bcz of fear that someone might force their way in who wants to hurt us, & she called me crazy Bcz of this & gave me a hard time no matter what explanation I gave. 10:21 am I don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️ if this is karma for something I did, but incubus made me lose my drivers license probably Bcz I didn’t let my sister borrow it for a 21+ years old event. 10:22 am pdt so I have to question incubus’ motives & dealings of karma. 10:23 am pdt b4 my aunt met her ex-husband she was convinced she was destined to have a daughter. & then she met him, married him, & only gave birth to one daughter. I p <- incubus did that 10:25 am pdt I recently gave more thoughts 💭 to this, how incubus is able to promise someone a daughter or son. Then it occurred to me Bcz man has 2 testicles, that one was for making daughters & the other sons. Last year I saw 10:26 am pdt gotta go 10:27 am pdt

10:46 am pdt...

5:45 pmpdt incubus has been attacking me with a lot of acid. Chuncks of tongue 👅 have been destroyed. Makes me think about that incubus also did many acid attacks in my throat, vag, then this evening my left eyeball 👁😒😖😭😤🥵😤🥵😤🥵😤😰🥺 5:48 pmpdt I feel not very confident about myself. I fear who I really am. I have had to fight against a lot of my own feelings a lot that it’s exhausting. 5:50 pmpdt I guess I have more confessions that I have to think about. 😵5:51 pmpdt

something that I was going to write ✍️ earlier b4 I was interrupted by my needs, I’m watching news 📰 secret 🤐 room in Giza pyramid found, tamron hall earlier said something about there are less men in college now? Trying to remember. I think I remember seeing news 📰 that many men, probably in age teens thru early 30s died of heart ♥️ complications? During COVID. Also a young male pharmacist 👨‍⚕️. That’s why I said that incubus was probably killing off good men, if he’s really a cheater/adultery/polygamist/wife beater & now we see Nick carter is suspected of being a rapist. In autocorrect I saw “fake” “rape.” Autocorrect: I Brendan A . Virgin lot very. Vertical vertical. Jv iheartradio Lyme disease. If he’s gone without notice & people close to him don’t know where he is I would be concerned. 6:02 pmpdt. I don’t want to assume that the Nick carter rape is fake. I don’t think that would be nice to an actual victim. 6:04 pmpdt

so, I am having a lot of difficulty breathing. Still. 6:06 pmpdt

6:27 pmpdt turkey found a live dog 🐶 from the earthquake ... earlier when I wrote I was watching news 📰 maybe 🤔 he wasn’t really in the original earthquake? & was wandering? I don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️

6:30 🕡 pmpdt Jewish officials in Michigan.. incubus is burning 🔥 me again. I only think my death ☠️ is coming. 6:32 pmpdt

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datemesposts · 1 year

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Dating with anxiety - Day 1

I started writing this piece in my journal when I realized that there might be other people who relate to this and so I thought I would share a tiny piece of it.

“ (…) Looking back I didn’t{t want anyone to see my weakness: My mom didn’t{t have time for me, She was focused on her goals, being a single mom with a junkie ex husband must have been hard on her.

She had something to prove to herself and to everyone else in my family, and prove them she did.

Her concept of ´being there for me ´ was for school functions, public appearances, so that ´I wouldn’t feel left out;´ she ´sacrificied´ herself for me, putting me through school and providing for the both us, while paying for a brand new house and a brand new car every single day of my childhood, she gave me everything that money could buy and more, (poor little rich girl, that´s what yoúre all thinking huh?).

I never complained, and trust me, I am not complaining now.

Now I am a hyper independent woman, who’s does not need anyone to validate her worth, I do not trust anyone to the work better than I can, so I take crazy amounts of responsibility and give it all to myself; I sacrifice my feelings and happiness so that you can feel comfortable around me and I do not bring the mood down at a party; I am a team player and go the extra mile without anyone asking me to.

I am reliable, you can always count on me to help you do your job better, while getting overlooked for a promotion or even my own job performance is at stake.

I understand if you leave me on read, I am cool with you ignoring me, that´s fine, you are probably too busy to read a text and take 1 minute to reply.

I understand if you were to ghost me, because it is likely to be my fault we could not keep a conversation going, I was probably being too basic or boring for your taste and I respect that. You were also just trying to be polite and did not want to hurt my feelings, which is why the easies way to let me down easy was ghosting me. TRUST ME, I UNDERSTAND!

But, YAY!!!! You are back now, so now what I will do in order to not be intense when replying to your text messages is that I will wait the appropriate time, since replying back immediately or within a couple minutes does not seem to be your style, I will send a good morning text, without any hope of getting a reply, that way I can really focus on my work and i will not be staring at my phone the whole time, Also that way way you will not think I am too intense by showing interest in keeping the conversation going.

This is what I think it´s considered appropriate texting editing, now that you have ghosted me before:

- You will send a “Good morning” text, I will reply with “good morning! How was your sleep?.

- Then I will pretend to be busy all day long while ignoring everyone else who is online, just so that you can really feel I was busy and do not think I was ignoring you this whole time, I will reply with “Sorry, busy day, my job is insane today! *mind blown emoji”

- You will reply, “I understand my job is driving me crazy too, then you will ask if had a lunch, to which I will not reply, because i think me eating food is really not that interesting, and you do not wanna hear about how it was awful because of my last call, and because my job does overwhelm me, i tend to eat in silence, while watching a Netflix show.

- At night, right after bedtime, around midnight ish or so, I will reply with: “Sorry! Felt asleep as soon as I got off from work, I hope you have had a great day and if not, get some sleep tomorrow will be better! *wink kiss emoji”

You will still reply on time for me to react but my iPhone is already on sleep mode and it will take me at least 30 minutes for my sleeping medication to kick in, so i will not see the message until the next day in the morning, right before my shift starts.

This is dating with anxiety, I hope some people out there can relate and if you can not relate that´s fine… I will not sweat it.

But this is me, this is my life, I guess in a way I am hoping to feel less lonely by having other people and total a transfer on the internet laughing at myself because why wouldn’t you?

#om! shall we date #anxeity #real talk #reality #the real deal #comedy #tragic #lol #viralpost #viral

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dootis · 2 years

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Obsession pt.3

It felt as if a heavy weight had been laid on my chest. I couldn’t breathe. I had to get out of my room. I had to go, now. Except there was nothing to be done as any plan of escape had been ruined long before today. My car was gone, having been in an accident 5 days ago. The car had been completely totaled.

After that my phone had been stolen when I left it in my friend's car when it fell out of my pocket after I had been in the passenger seat and didn’t notice it had fallen out; the window having been smashed.

My parents were gone too, with my father having to go on a business trip for the company he worked for as they have had problems with paperwork in another state. Mom left to reconnect with old high school friends she hadn’t seen in quite awhile. Both would be back tomorrow morning to celebrate my birthday.

What was likely to happen was that my parents would come into my room at the same time to wish me happy 18th birthday. They would then hug me and say how much they love me, and how proud of the man I've become. Then we would go out to eat at the Caliam, and I would get the happy birthday cheesecake from the staff that they had prepped before we arrived and then they would come and chat with us for a while, teasing me for how much I have grown since the first day we moved to this city. Now, I knew they would come back to an empty, cold, and lifeless room. Then the ensuing panic after calling my phone would swallow them whole. They would call the police and all of my closest friends only to find nothing. With nothing to do, the coldness of my room would eventually consume all the warmth and love of the heart of the home.

No. I refused. I want to stay with my parent’s love and warmth that they had always provided, even when I didn’t always feel like I deserved it. I refuse to go with whatever or whoever this “Dread” was.

I got up out of my chair and left my room and looked at my watch, which said it was 11:43. I had 17 minutes. 17 minutes till blood would be drawn, either my own or hers.

I hurried to my mom and dad’s room and opened my father’s closet and pulled out his handgun from the top shelf. My father had shown me where it was in case of the instance that I would need to defend myself and he wasn’t home. Now here I was holding the gun in my right hand. It was heavy, far heavier than I remembered when I last went to the firing range with my dad. Now, it had the weight of everything I was and everything I loved.

Now I had to figure out where the hell to sit and wait. The only place I could think of was the bathroom of the house. Everywhere else in my house had several doors and windows, except for the bathroom. I ran to the kitchen, got several chairs and a flashlight. All of these I then placed them to the side in the restroom, locked the door, then threw all them against it.

Then I sat down on the small bath rug in front of the door, and waited.

I checked my watch, which said it was 11:55.

The five minutes left till midnight drew on, dragging, screaming, bleeding into every sinew of the silence of the house. The silence had gained malignancy, becoming loud, smothering, and maddening. I wanted out, I wanted to leave, I wanted to run. My mind demanded I move, that waiting here would only damn me to my fate. Yet, I sat and waited.

My watch went off.

Nothing.

There was nothing in the silence. Then the lights finally flickered out. Leaving me with only my flashlight on the floor and the gun in my hands.

Then I woke up, on the floor of my bathroom. I looked up and saw the door of the bathroom was opening slowly and behind it was a gorgeous woman looking to be in her mid 30’s, incredibly well dressed and with makeup expertly applied. I watched as she continued to open the door, almost seeming to struggle.

I just sat there, dumbfounded, still processing the vivid nightmare I had just experienced. I must have fallen asleep in the bathroom. I was safe. There was no gun in my hands so I must have only been dreaming. Yet, it occurred to me that I had never fallen asleep in the bathroom. Even if I had, my mother would have woken me up. I looked back at the woman who had almost opened the door enough to fit through. I thought about it for a second when I realized I didn’t know who the woman was.

Who was this strange woman opening the door? I soon became aware of my body’s senses telling me nothing here was as it seemed, while my eyes told me nothing was wrong. Then I remembered why I had a gun in my hand in my dreams. Despair filled my heart and I looked at the woman opening the door.

The gun had returned to my hand.

I quickly aimed.

As the first shot rang out screams of rage filled the bathroom and I was returned back to reality. The beautiful woman was replaced. In its place was no longer a human. It’s small beady eyes were milky and large flat teeth with jagged edges filled her jaws. Her oily hair lay matted on her head. Everything was coated in oil. Her decaying flesh sagged off her bloated body. Her skin had a light blue tint and maggots wriggled underneath the flesh. The fists were missing, and instead were jagged bones, the marrow completely visible. Her angry eyes focused on me now, beginning to walk towards me.

I started shooting every bullet left in the gun as fast I could. Every shot knocked off more of her decaying flesh. Yet she did not stop. Drool leaked out of her mouth as she dragged her legs towards me. The sound shot filled the bathroom as I began to reach the end of the magazine. She was beginning to reach towards me. With the last two shots in the magazine, I shot her in the knee. The first shot made her stumble. The second shot crippled her leg and she began to fall towards me. I bolted to the side of the bathroom to avoid her falling on me and ran towards the door. The downed hag screamed once more and tried to struggle towards me.

I ran out the door and ran to my neighbor's house.

When I got to the closest neighbor’s house I slammed my fist on the door. It opened after what felt like a millennia, and the man who answered the door quickly looked at me with the gun, debated for a moment, and then brought me in. After sitting me down he asked why I was at his house at one in the morning with a gun in my hand.

My brain had stopped working at that point, so I simply just looked at the man imploringly, hoping in vain that he would already know what to do.

Eventually I managed to ask the man to call my parents. He walked to his room and came back with a phone, which he promptly handed to me. I quickly called my parents and told them where I was and to come pick me up.

While I waited on the sofa I flinched at everything I thought had moved. The shadows had turned malignant in my mind. My parents soon showed up and knocked on the door. When I saw them, I finally felt safe. They tried to ask me what had happened, but I could hardly comprehend it myself, much less speak of it. I simply walked to my parents and hugged them, glad to finally be safe in their arms. They looked to the neighbor for answers, but he just shook his head, saying other than the fact he had been interrupted during the best night of sleep he had had in years, and that I had shown up on his porch with a gun in my hands.

We got in the car and began the drive home after that, and I readied for the scene that was left in the bathroom. My father had taken the gun from my hands earlier.

I pleaded for him to give it back now as we pulled into the driveway. He hesitated, looked at me, then grabbed a new magazine for the gun and instead walked into the house.

We got out of the car and walked into the house, and I made straight for the bathroom. I turned the corner, and there was nothing. All the flesh I had seen fall off had disappeared, and the bathroom had been cleaned with heavy duty disinfectant, as evident from the smell.

#thriller #writing #short story #drama #paranormal #suspense

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badassbelowmaskofkind · 2 years

Text

Love is blind

Ch 5

it was the end of the day and Y/N walked home she and Taehyung had agreed to meet up at his house tomorrow since Y/N's stepmom never allows boys unless its Jimin in she lost her real dad in a car accsident.

"Eomma" she mumbled as she was thinking about her mom and everything that had happened at least she has her father who loves her but he's always busy.

Flashback (one year ago)

"Hello is Park Jimin?" an unknown caller called Y/N's brother

"yes its Park Jimin who is this?" He asked "oh I'm very sorry b-but is your mother Park Jihwa? (random name so its not his mom's real name)

"Y-yes what about her?" He said voice shaking worried about his mom "I'm so sorry but your mom she...died. She got hit by a car on the street her injuries are really bad please inform Mr. Park about it I'm sorry for your loss" the caller said and hung up.

"this can't happen!" Jimin said throwing his phone on the ground he was in tears already but calmed himself down when he saw Y/N

"Jimin?" she said "are you okay?" "N-no Eomma just-" he sighed controlling his emotions "she died" he let himself cry Y/N had ran to her room already

the door opened quickly and Jin walked in the room seeing Jimin "Jiminie!" He ran hugging him tightly "please...don't cry its going to be okay"

Flashback ends

Y/N walked in the house her stepmom was in the kitchen applying makeup "oh you're here I will be going to the party I asked Jimin to pick up some food for you two" she said

she's always leaving home. why cant she just cook like a real mom. I'm so sick of her.

"I'll go now Y/N" she said she left her in the kitchen. She sighed

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Hyejin sat on her bed listening to music. How relaxing. Texting Jungkook

InnocentlittleKookie : Can I see you soon?

HJ ❤️ : my parents aren't here sooooo lets have some fun 😏

InnocentlittleKookie : ok will be there in 10 mins

HJ ❤️ : ok want to play some fighting games? I'll beat you for sure

InnocentlittleKookie : ofc. Cant wait I'm already walking out of the house btw I'm going 2 win

HJ ❤️ : omo! never 😂

InnocentlittleKookie : already outside. open the door 😂

HJ ❤️ : k wait for a sec

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

She opened the door and Jungkook went inside "there's something I've been wanting to ask you" he said "what is it?" Hyejin asked

"I-I can we go on a d-da-nevermind lets play games" he said. Jungkook why are you so shy to ask her out on a date. He thought as they played games.

"I am so winning!" Hyejin said smiling Jungkook felt his heart go faster when she did. I will confess soon. Don't worry Hyejin I love you and I'll try my hardest if you dont feel the same way I'll be fine with that maybe a bit hurt but still. If you accept me or reject me I'll always be by your side.

Soon after Jungkook ended up winning by a point. Hyejin pouted because she lost. She's so cute. He thought "awww HJ its okay" Jungkook said "Ok fine but I swear Jeon Jungkook I'm sooooo beating you next time" she said

Jungkook left her house at midnight with a smile on his face as he walked through the park he saw Taehyung leaning against a tree listening to music and singing. I did'nt know he had such a nice voice. He thought

When Taehyung saw him he quickly stopped singing and blushed he was embarassed. He didn't like people watching him sing. "hyung don't stop it was beautiful you should sing it to Y/N" the maknae said with an evil grin.

"w-wae? I don't even like her" he said Taehyung's face took on a shade of red "oh but hyung I know you do" Jungkook said

"I thought you should be at home hyung, your mom would kill you if she sees you" Jungkook said "oh I kinda went out when she was asleep" he explained he stopped blushing, returning to normal.

"hyung. Sing." Jungkook said with a smirk on his face "I-I don't like singing in front of people" he said "you can sing in front of me hyung. I wont tell pleaseeeee?" the younger begged "ok fine" Taehyung said after awhile

It feels weird singing with someone watching but...I really like it too. he thought as he sang with Jungkook listening his smile never fading. He never heard singing like this singing so passionate. so meaningful . and beautiful .

hyung should sing to Y/N she would love that. Jungkook thought.

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lovely-keii · 3 years

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He Sees His Child Still Awake

Characters: Tsukishima Kei, Iwaizumi Hajime, Miya Atsumu, Kita Shinsuke, Suna Rintarou

Tsukishima Kei

He heaves a sigh, exhausted from practice, especially since Kyotani called in sick and wasn’t there to deal with Koganegawa, leaving Tsukki alone to keep him from getting into trouble. All he wanted to do was get in bed with you and your son, and have a well-deserved good night’s sleep.

He steps into your house and is immediately greeted by a pair of small arms wrapping around his legs. “Dad, you’re back!” He looks down to see golden-brown eyes looking up at him, red and puffy. “Hey, bud. Why were you crying?” The child’s bottom lip starts trembling as he looks down guiltily. Tsukishima leans down to pick him up and carry him.

Your son wraps his arms around his dad’s neck, nuzzling his head into his father’s shoulder. “I couldn’t sleep but I told mom I’d sleep early and when I went into the room she was already asleep and I didn’t wanna wake her up.” Tsukishima feels himself crack a smile. “Alright, bud. Next time you should wake your mom up, but I understand why you didn’t.”

He carries his son to your bedroom, gently propping his son up next to you. Tsukishima prepares himself to sleep, changing his clothes, brushing his teeth, and placing his glasses on the table by the bed. His son waits for him to get in bed before falling asleep in his dad’s arms. You wake up the next day confused as to why your son wasn’t where you left him. Tsukishima only takes your hand and gives you a kiss when you decide to ask him.

Iwaizumi Hajime

It was nearing midnight when he finally arrived home from work, clearly expecting no one to be awake. He walks in the door and what does he see? Your 4 year old daughter sitting on the couch, the television opened on a low volume, snacking on some biscuits.

He sighs, fighting the urge to give her a lecture about sleeping early. He kneels down to remove his backpack and unpack what he has to. “You have exactly 2 minutes to explain what you’re doing awake at,” he checks his watch, “exactly 11:57 PM.” Your daughter fumbles with herself, sputtering over her words. “And swallow your biscuits first, please.” She does as he says and swallows.

“Okay, so mom tucked me in but I woke up in the middle of the night. I went to check on mom but she was asleep so I decided not to wake her up again. I tried to go back to sleep but I couldn’t so here I am.” Iwaizumi sighs, reluctantly sitting down next to her. “You’re 4. You should be getting at least 8 hours of sleep.”

She leans on him as he takes a biscuit from the box in front of them. “What are we watching?” “Peppa Pig.” “Change it to Paw Patrol.” She looks at him, mouth agape. “You watch Paw Patrol?” “Just change it or you’re going back to bed.” And that’s where you found them the next morning, cuddled up, biscuit crumbs all over them, Paw Patrol still playing on the screen, both dead asleep. “So why are you two a mess here?” “Hey, Y/N. I love you.” “Morning, mom. I love you.” “None of you answered my question, but I love you two, too.”

Miya Atsumu

He wakes up groggy, getting up to get himself a glass of water. He opens the light and instantly feels awake at the sight before him. His daughter, standing on a chair, face covered in chocolate, reaching for another box of cookies. “Baby, how could you?” His daughter looked at him, alarmed, knowing she’d been caught. She takes a small step and nearly trips off of the chair she was on if it wasn’t for Atsumu who’d caught her just in time.

“Alright, little star. Let’s get you off of there first, yeah?” The small girl nods, taking her father’s hands as she hops off. “Dad, I can explain.” He playfully pouts at her. “I don’t think there’s a good reason on why you were eating cookies your mom got for us both, without me, star.” Her daughter pouts, squishing his cheeks. “Dad, I was hungry!” He struggles to contain his chuckle at the pout she was making, similar to his. “What if I was hungry too?”

“Dad, stop complaining! Just eat with me!” He turns up at that statement, reaching for the box of cookies she was reaching for earlier. “Okay, but don’t tell mom.” What they didn’t know is that you were standing by the doorway, woken up by sudden loss of your husband and the loud ruckus in the kitchen. “Don’t tell me what, exactly? That you two decided to sneak off and eat snacks?”

“Oh, hey Y/N! We were just uh..” He shoots you a sheepish grin, pushing the box of cookies behind him as a last resort. Your daughter runs up to you, taking your hand. “Hi. mom! We were gonna eat cookies!” Atsumu’s eyes widen, caught in the act. You wrap your hands around him, seemingly hugging him. You snatched the box from behind him, taking a bite out of a cookie. “You were gonna hang out without me? It’s almost as if you don’t love me anymore.” The two started whining, plastering kisses all over you, both declaring how much they love you.

Kita Shinsuke

Kita was a deep sleeper, at least he usually was. Today, he wakes up at midnight, a small feeling in his gut telling him to check in on his son. Despite the thoughts telling him it was probably nothing, he does anyway. To his surprise, his son who was usually asleep by this time was sitting on his bed, playing with toys.

“Hey, darling. Can I come in?” The child sprung up, nodding. “Hi, Dad.” Kita sent him a smile before walking over and sitting next to his son. The child moves closer to his father, a gesture Shinsuke doesn’t fail to notice and appreciate. “Why are you awake?” The child shrugs, “couldn’t sleep today, don’t know why.” Kita nods, picking up a small toy farmer from the collection of toys in front of him. “It’s okay, love. Everyone has their bad nights, the two of us included.”

Kita looks at his son, the boy looking up at him. “Come on, let’s play?” His son nods gratefully, picking up a toy plane and moving it around. Kita lets out a soft laugh at his son’s happiness and plays along. “Dad, you’re going on a trip to Countryville.” “Where’s Countryville?” “It’s a really big kingdom place and it’s the coolest place in the world!” “Really?” “Not really, it’s better here at home with you and mom, but it’s second!”

Half an hour passes, and a yawn comes out of his son’s mouth. “Sleepy?” “Think so.” Kita lifts the covers for his son, helping him get comfortable. “Want me to stay with you?” “Yes, please.” Shinsuke gently climbs in, wrapping his arms around his son’s smaller frame. “Night, dad.” “Night, darling.” Your frown from not finding your husband next to you turns into a smile the second you see the two asleep, walking over to the bedside and taking a seat in the corner of your bed. Kita gently wakes, and groggily, he shoots you his softest smile.

Suna Rintarou

Suna is tired, exhausted more than ever. So when he wakes up feeling small hands gently slapping his cheeks awake, he’s in all honesty, a little irritated. He squints his eyes open, making out the figure of his daughter. “Hey, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” “Were you sleeping?” “Mhmm.” “Well, dada, can you wake up?” “Don’t worry, I’m up.” She nods, flopping on him, short arms wrapping around his neck.

“Sorry dad, I spilled water on the floor outside when I-” He gets up, arms wrapped around her, rubbing circles on her back, hearing cracks in her voice. “Shhh, don’t cry, sweetheart. Dada’s not mad at you. You don’t need to explain yourself, I got you.” She nods, wiping her eyes and giving him a small kiss on his cheeks. “Thank you, dada.” “It’s okay.”

He sits her down on a nearby chair as he goes to mop the spilled water. He sends smiles to his daughter while cleaning, reassuring her that he wasn’t the least bit upset. “Why were you up anyways, sweetheart?”, he asks, suddenly wondering why she was up so late. “I was a little thirsty but I accidentally dropped my cup and I didn’t know how to get all of it so I called you.” He hums softly. “That’s okay. We all make mistakes, even I still spill my water. Did you know that?”

They spend a bit more time as Suna cleans the last puddles of water. When the floor dries, he goes over to his daughter and gives her a hand to take. “Let’s go to bed?” “I can go to my room, it’s okay.” He lets out a small chuckle, shaking his head. “No need to go to your room, you can sleep with mom and I, okay?” She takes his hand, leading him back to the bedroom. “Okay, dada. Let’s go to sleep with mom.”

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insomniac-dot-ink · 3 years

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Headlights Girl

Genre: Urban fantasy + wlw romance

Words: approx. 8k

Summary: The story of a girl with headlamps for eyes and the moth-girl she meets along the way.

My book 🌸 Ko-fi 🌸 Patreon

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Most humans carry the night with them. Even during daylight hours, they can shut out the sun, turn off the light, recede into themselves and into that soft secret place behind their eyes.

Did you know certain animals don’t have eyelids? Gecko’s have nothing between them and the violent sun which wishes to cook the colors of their world. They have to use their tongue. Dust and sand and rain, can you imagine? I was obsessed with lizards as a kid.

I stacked up books on snakes and lizards and skinks. I traced the way that sand snakes crested across the dunes, sideways and wrong. I put glue on the pads of my hand and tried to climb the walls of my room— I didn’t even get one handhold up. I went to the zoo and peered into their cages, up on my tiptoes, trying not to smudge the glass or breath too hard. I tried make out their triangle heads and slow tongue-flicks, but they each shrank away deep into nooks and crannies of their cages. Most things do when I look at them.

Most humans carry the night with them, right there behind their eyelids is an entire world of darkness. I have something else inside me, not quite, not soft, not secret. They called me “headlights girl” in the newspapers.

There were even stranger kids born in the Age of Spirits. I checked. Every morning of fifth grade, I scanned the papers for mentions of “oddities” growing into anomalies.

A boy who could breath fire. A girl with leaves sprouting from her head. A kid with antennae that could taste the wind. There are stranger things than me in the age of beasts and magic. My father called it the “Epoch of Bastards,” sons and daughters of flickering fire elementals and wind ghosts who seduced half-asleep ladies from their beds.

He didn’t look at me much growing up. And I knew what he meant. I knew what he was getting at by calling it the Epoch of Bastards. Growing up, I played in my little puddle of carpet on the floor as he blustered in and out of rooms like gale force winds. He’d be looking for his keys or a left shoe or wallet since he was going out, out, out. I think I missed him at first, in the way you miss strangers you’ve never met.

Later, still on my puddle of carpet, still on my island, I would glare at him with that sour, acid taste in the back of my throat. Acrid, smoky, I would barely blink as he passed; he’d jump when he turned too quickly and accidentally fell into my path. Later still, I would begin to wish they were both like that—blustery and calling people names, gone more often than not.

It sometimes felt better than hearing my mom weep to herself on the couch. I wish she’d do it in her room or outside or anywhere else than that theatrical sobbing in the middle of the house, a naked heartbeat to the place. She spoke to her friends on the phone in that same watery voice, handkerchief in hand and sniffling, she spoke to them more than me.

What else am I supposed to do? This isn’t how it was supposed to be. She’d wail, just a bit, and then find a new thing to wail over. They could barely afford to send me to That School. They could barely afford the special doctor’s appointments for my eyes. They barely knew what to do with me.

Sometimes, I wanted to shout right back: It’s not like I didn’t want to be here either!

But she wasn’t talking to me.

School wasn’t much better. We weren’t the same, not really. None of us were the same age or had the same affliction. Plus, most everyone else stayed in dorms where they bonded with secrets and whispers and hiding from matrons. It wasn’t the same.

They called me The Lighthouse and Car Face and Nightlight. Sometimes they’d give me a few bucks to close my eyes so they could see my face. I did it. They’d laugh and reassure me I was as ugly as you’d think. Or beautiful. Or perfectly average-looking or I had a pig-nose or unibrow. I’d never seen anything but the blinding light of my own eyes in the mirror so I could never contradict them.

A boy with antlers handed me a twenty for a kiss in the 6th grade. I closed my eyes for that too. It was chapped and dry and he ran away with a screaming laugh afterward. There are stranger kids than me, I reminded myself. So why do I feel so much stranger than the rest of them?

I was 16 when I heel-toed my way down the stairs toward the front door. A duffel bag slung over my shoulder stuffed with loose clothes, change, a bath towel, three books with broken spines, all the tampons in the house, and a Swiss-army knife.

I hoped to stuff as many cheddar-cheese sandwiches in my sack as possible before the midnight bus came, but he was at the kitchen table. I don’t think either of us expected it, like running into your teacher at the mart and you’re both buying the same brand of toilet cleaner. There was a beer in front of his idle hands and he still wore his rumpled work shirt. He glanced at the bag on my shoulder for a long minute.

Finally, he sighed like I cut him off in traffic.

“Gimme a moment.”

My father leafed through a wad of cash he kept in a safe. He handed me almost three hundred bucks and we nodded at each other. At the time, I thought there was a kind of satisfaction to that nod, an endnote.

I was out the door before the midnight bus arrived.

Only three people were at the terminal. None of them looked at me with my pack and my knife stuffed in one hand and my eyes glowing. They did look at the glow, but not for long.

Remote and empty like maybe the world had ended and the last bits of if were nothing but strangers not making eye contact.

Finally, I watched the headlights of the midnight bus approach through dense summer night. I was struck by the thought that it was like looking at like, the glow of my eyes against its eyes. Can a bus be your father? Can your father be a man after all this time? Will your mother come looking for you?

I got on the bus and kicked my feet up against the seat in front of me. Scrunched into a ball, crossed my arms over my chest, and watched the trees turn into flickering bodies of shadow with each passing mile. ------------- My feet moved like tides. They tossed me against nameless city streets and toward empty forested slices of land. I stumbled into the painted deserts toward the west. I dipped my toes into the neon districts of the east with lights brighter than my own. I slept on benches and in kid’s treehouses and hunched my shoulders against brick walls of back alleys.

No one touched me. Maybe they’d approach now and then, but I’d open my eyes and they’d see nothing but heaven or devils or an absent lightning-God father that would smite them. I was the daughter of spirits after all.

I found my way to the ocean; beaches where other stragglers gathered and it was easy to stretch out on empty pieces of warm sand. I didn’t talk much by then, I didn’t like to; people stared whether I was speaking or screaming and clamping down on my jaw so hard it ached. Sometimes I get yelled at: Turn that off! No phone lights in here. You’re blinding me, bitch!

I’d never seen a movie in any theatres, but I could imagine what it’s like.

It was crowded, but I liked that ocean city, despite myself. It had pale buildings built into cliffs, narrow winding sidewalks where cars couldn’t fit, reckless bikers, and crushed seashell parking lots. I liked the tang of salt in the air and the way my hair crinkled from the ocean water as it sun-dried. I camp out on beaches and bummed cigarettes and hotdogs off strangers. I was good at taking care of myself once I got into a rhythm.

I had a tent by then and even an enormous sun umbrella to keep any prying eyes away. I still liked to sleep under the stars most nights though.

I often dreamed of sinking to the bottom of the ocean. I dreamed of descending on pointed ballerina-feet to the silted black bottom. I’d be weighted down through the cold and the silence to where no human being had ever been. I’d open my eyes there, open them all the way, lightning-bright, and unflinching. In my dreams, the salt didn’t even sting. I lit up the world, the whole untouched world of whales and fish and terror and maybe I’d do something good then. Maybe I’d do something good and bring the sun to places that had forgotten it.

I hated those dreams.

I met Mags on the beach after one of those dreams. Mags had one eye and twelve teeth and carried around nothing but string and scissors everywhere. She smelled like seawater and burning kelp, dank and crusted over. Her clothes were neat despite her leather-cracked skin and arms and neck covered in tattoos of shipwrecks. We ran into each other at some bum gathering and she cackled and pulled me aside.

“What’s your name?” Her voice was old creaking wood. I didn’t answer. “I could give you one.” She offered with a grin that was more empty space than anything.

“Nana.” I gritted out. “You want something?”

“Not sure. What do you want, kid?”

I glared openly, my beam of light slanting. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come here.”

I didn’t know why I was chosen.

Mags liked me more than I deserved. I pocketed her last pair of socks when she wasn’t looking. She never mentioned it and dragged me down to the community showers to get clean with soap and shampoo. She took me to the soup and salad restaurant for something that wasn’t burnt or freeze-dried or from a convenience store. She cackled, she spat when she talked, people shot her looks as well.

I thought she was normal, not touched by the spirits, but she liked me more than most people and I didn’t know why.

“You like art, kid?”

I snorted. “No.”

“Why not? You broken?” Yeah. Probably.

“How am I supposed to know?” I snapped back.

“Lippy squirt. Come on, I’ll show you something worth your forked tongue.”

She heated the needle before she used it, red hot and untouchable. She dipped it into deep black inks, only black and sometimes red, she called them the only colors that matter. She shows me how to prick the skin and clean it. She showed me how to slowly, painstakingly etch images. I wasn’t sure I liked it, there was something so permanent and intentional about the act.

I watched her lessons though: stick and poke to her right foot, all over those fine little bones that must hurt, in and out, a little bloody.

It took her six hours to make a tiny shipwreck right above her big toe. It was a narrow schooner going under and I was the only witness. She made the waves come to life and crash against its sides and sometimes I forgot to blink. She didn’t seem to mind.

She washed another needle. She heated it red-hot. She dipped it in ink and handed it to me.

I still wasn’t sure I liked the permanence of it, but I told myself I was bored and it was something to do. I decided quickly I did like the bite of it, I liked the focus it took, and the ability to pull something from nothing.

I practiced all over my thighs first, there was enough meat there and it was easy enough to reach: a lizard design that looked like nothing but squiggles, a TV set playing static, a tiny smudged skink with its tongue out. I practiced designs in the sand and then on paper when Mags splurged on pen and paper.

Mags took me to the museum on Sundays. They were always free on Sundays.

Something stirred in my chest, even as the guards yelled at us about how flash photography wasn’t allowed in the museum. Even as I was shooed out of exhibits for ruining the paint. Still, an ache so old it rotted roared to life in my chest.

I stabbed in and out, gentle, a collection of stars right above my right knee. A winding sand snake on my wrist, and then finally, something good, something that gave people pause and reason to stare. I made it in the mirror: a ghost on my collarbone. Shadowed and intricate and yet simple, I put a ghost right above my collarbone and it bleeds more than any of the others.

That was a good year or so; one of the best I could remember.

I didn’t want to leave the ocean city though and Mags said she had to keep moving. She had places to be. She gave me a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“You're a gem, kid. You’ll knock ‘em all to the pavement.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You’ll be back?”

She cackled. “Wouldn’t miss it. You know me.” She winked as she turns to the bus, my second father. “You think I’ll miss your great becoming, kid? I’ll be back.”

I wanted to make her pinky-promise like I was a kid again begging one of the others to tell me if I’m beautiful when I close my eyes. I couldn’t do that; I waved as she tottered up the steps of the bus and was taken away with the tides of her own feet.

A had a moment of thinking it was the end then; I was ready to get back to my real normal. I was ready to disappear again. But even shipwrecks with no witnesses leave things left to be found.

------------ I got an apprenticeship. Technically, Mags talked them into it and I just followed up when I had nothing better to do.

I didn’t think I’d like it much, but couch surfing and camping out was the pastime of the especially young. And I’d lost my giant umbrella.

It was a small shop that smelled like bleach and dried flowers. A tattoo parlor in one of the steep arts districts neighbored by food trucks and beaded necklace shops.

Penguin Davies and Bitch-Annie ran it together. Davies walked like he’d never encountered land before, and Bitch-Annie had a throw-pillow embroidered with “If you don’t have anything nice to say then come sit next to me.”

Davies was covered in nothing but birds and dizzying M. C. Escher house-designs up and down his chest and arms. Bitch-Annie had topless mermaids and pinup girls across her shoulders and legs. She’d been asked to leave a number of stores before the children started staring or thinking thoughts.

Neither of them had ever met someone like me. It was not that type of town. I rankled at most their questions, a cat meeting a steel brush. Where are you from? What’s your family name? What kind of school did you go to? Is your sight better than other people you think?

I brushed off anything more personal than my favorite type of soda. Bitch-Annie called me “Shadow” probably as a joke, probably. Davies said I must be possessed by the ghost of some dead star: a blackhole that takes everything in and lets nothing out.

Neither of them let me touch a needle in those first six months. They had me practice on pig skin and trace designs and stand by their shoulders as they worked. I felt like a dental assistant except I was the hanging light shining into open mouths instead of anything with a pulse. I stood at their shoulder as they drew thick lines and thin dots and made hearts and wolves and names of dead lovers come to life.

They asked me to stand still and stop wiggling the light. I almost walked out several to find a new cliff to crash against, almost.

No one had ever expected anything of me before. They never expected me to show up somewhere or do something well. No one really cared if I went to school or if I did my homework, if I dressed well or went to bed on time. And no one kept any tabs on me at all after I took that first bus. That’s how I liked it.

I should’ve left, tattooing didn’t mean anything to me, not really. But Bitch-Annie stomped up to my attic-apartment one morning and threw pants at me.

“Get up, Shadow,” she barked. She was sterner than Mags, no hint of humor in her eyes. “I told you 9am so I expect 9am.”

“The fuck!?” I was eloquent in the mornings.

“Pants, shirt, shoes, and bra if you don’t want that desk idiot staring at something other than your eyes all day.”

“Are you serious?”

“Serious as a root canal. Mags swore up and down about what you. Let’s see some of that, up, up!”

I grumbled. I put on everything but the bra. No one ever expected me to be anywhere before and 9am shouldn’t have even been a concept much less a real thing. I told myself I hated it. I’d leave the next week. Or maybe the week after that or in just one more month. I kept a bus ticket under my pillow but every time the date arrived I shrugged and made myself busy.

There’d be no harm in having a savings too and seeing what all the fuss was about with having a dishwasher and a kitchen.

I wasn’t an artist of course. I didn’t understand what everyone else was seeing when they looked at the “old masters” paintings of water or war or lovers pulled apart. I didn’t feel anything in front of stain-glass windows in churches or mosaics on walls. Maybe there really was something wrong with me, my eyes. I didn’t let up though. I put on pants for it after all.

Penguin Davies hovered by my shoulder when I made my first real design.

“Mm.” He rumbled deep in his chest. He’d gone grey at an early age, had tired eyes and quick hands. The desk kid said he’d been in medical school once, a surgeon. It was hard to tell. Davies muttered a lot, stared off into space too much, and laughed like it was always a painful surprise

“Perfectionist,” he muttered at me as I start over on a crappy unicorn design. “That line was barely off. You’re being a perfectionist, Nana.”

I scowled over my shoulder and let the full weight of my light hit him across the face. “Got a problem with it?” I challenged. He chuckled darkly. His grin was crooked like a broken door handle. I tried to hide my work from him with my shoulder. “It’s not done yet.”

“It’s late.” The rest of the street was dark. I knew that.

“I said I’m not done yet! You can go home.”

“Hmm.” He scratched his grey beard.

“What?”

“Look at you. You know who makes the best artists, Nana?” He was always a bit of a philosopher. Maybe he used to study that before medicine.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up. I’m working on it.”

He gave my shoulder a light push. “The ones that don’t quit.”

They let me touch a needle gun after that. I told myself I’d only sign my new apartment lease as an experiment. I didn’t have to actually stay. I’d just run from the ink on paper and hope no one chased after girls with eyes that glow.

I didn’t break my lease. I drew suns and moons, trees and fireflies, hunks in speedos on tipsy college girls who swore they were sober and erotic vampires on the chests of men getting their first divorce. I had to give two refunds for a duck that turned out lopsided and a tattoo of someone’s dog which I swore really was that ugly to begin with.

There was one at the end of that next year though, another college girl with perfectly white piano-key teeth. She asked for a stick and poke, that was what I was best at anyway, she asked for a butterfly. Butterflies were easy, I could do the little ones in my sleep. She wanted one all across her back, she said I could make it look however I wanted. So I did. Wings like fringed shawls and straight heavy lines combined with wispy swirling ones. It was dark, black ink with red highlights and gray shadows under each wing to give it movement and flight.

I hid my smile when I finished and showed her the results in the mirror. She went to my bosses and jumped up and down. She pointed and babbled, ohmyspirits, the best thing I’ve ever seen! Fuck. I should pay you double! Where did you get this girl?

I held myself perfectly still and studied the ceiling until my eyes dried out.

I took the long way home that night. I stopped once, at the corner where the midnight bus arrived, and watched the the passengers trudge off. I didn’t expect to see Mags again so soon, not really, but sometimes I wanted to show her: Hey, maybe your work wasn’t all wasted. Maybe I did start to become.

---------------- “I’m getting you chocolate.” Annie spat, her thick arms flexing as she cleaned off the spotless counter. “I’m getting you fucking chocolate, Shadow, ‘less you tell me what flavor you actually like.”

I hung at the back of the shop next to the narrow window that faced the road. I let the sun warm my face in thick strips and watched the bicycles pass. “It’s not my birthday.”

“Tell us what your actual birthday is then, you sugar-toasted tart.”

I shrugged. “Not today.”

“Well happy fucking birthday. You’re turning two. You came to work for us two years ago today, washed up from the beach like a deranged feral cat, so this is your birthday now.”

I rolled my eyes which served to look like a flashlight given a shake. Annie spent another minute splashing disinfectant on anything that might have had even a passing conversation with a germ.

“You talk to Birdie?” She asked, but mischievously this time. I responded by setting my mouth in a hard line. “You’re turning twenty-something and you’re not even talking to Birdie, are ya?”

“I’m not telling you what I’m turning. It’s still not my birthday.” I dodged inelegantly.

“Birdie will give you a proper go-around. Even shadows like you must need a little rub now and then.”

“Go dunk your head, Annie.” I huffed.

“Afraid you’ll blind her in bed?”

I turned with a snarl. “I’ll start with you.”

“I’ve seen you flipping through those poetry books, every word about hands or mouths or rosebuds.” She gave me flat a once-over. “You’ve got a sweet tooth in you.”

I dragged myself over to the desk to snarl at her some more, but Annie was already putting her hand up and going toward the backroom.

“I’m getting you a chocolate cake either way.”

There must have been a proper way to get her to never look at my little leather poetry books again, the ones with watermarked pages, the spines broken-in, and words that oozed. No one had to know that I could read, much less that I read that.

The door dinged instead.

“Excuse me.” She walked in. Her. “Is someone, um, named Nana here?” I turned before I could stop myself. That was still my name. And it was still my work.

Twenty-something, curtains of straight black hair falling in her face, pinched nose, thin energetic lips, shorts that gave way to milk-dipped legs that never seemed to end. A slight girl in a university t-shirt. College kids came in often during their breaks, but this one was a bit different. My eyes dragged up and fish-hooked there.

Feathered tendrils sprouted from her head and reached toward the ceiling. Long and searching, a pearly green color that reminded you of leaves or plumage.

I knew within a moment where I’d heard of this: Antennae Girl. The newspapers ran our stories close together along with the boy that breathed fire and the girl with roots growing from her head. We were all born in the same year during the epoch of monsters and bastards.

I think she recognized me too.

We stopped like heartbeats seizing up before the ambulance could make it. A confused, unnatural silence. I glanced at the door and considered making a run for it.

She cleared her throat first.

“Someone said that Misty’s butterfly tattoo came from here?” She blinked once and I noticed how her feathered antennae seemed to twitch. I averted my eyes so I wouldn’t blind her. She took a step forward. “So are you . . . Nana?”

The door was right there.

“What do you want?” I had been spending too much time with Bitch-Annie.

“A tattoo?”

“What kind?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Then why are you here?” I grunted. Footsteps came in from the back room. I was examining the smudged off-white tiles of the floor one by one.

“I wanted to . . . hey, you can look up if you want.” She said, curiously, softly. I didn’t look up. “I’m still figuring out the design.” She trudged on ahead.

“Fine.” I pivoted away. “But we’re busy. Come back later.”

A hand slapped across my shoulder. “This is Nana.” Annie stopped me from leaving. “Don’t let her eyes fool ya, it’s her personality that’s actually the problem. You saw her butterfly you said?”

“Yes!” She gushed. “It was gorgeous.”

“It was fine,” I corrected.

“It’s her birthday today.” Annie shared because she could and because she was a failed evil villain still trying to get her kicks in.

“Oh cool, happy Birthday.” A deep pause followed that could fill oceans. “You can look up. I don’t mind.” She repeated.

I opened my eyes wide and lifted my chin in one jerky motion. A beam of fluorescent headlights hit her across the face. “Is this what you want?” Venom dripped from my lips. This was why I tried not to talk too much.

The young woman squinted for a moment before covering her eyes and nodding. “I read about you,” she stated as if it was nothing. “I’m turning twenty-two this year . . . so I guess, you are too?”

“What?!” Delight filled Annie’s entire expression. “Hot damn! Twenty-two?” I groaned deeply. “Hey, you, girlie,” she addressed antennae-girl, “you want to come out for drinks tonight?”

I tried to protest as quickly as possible, but somehow didn’t summon the words quickly enough.

“Sure.” She agreed. ----------------------

The night was humid and clung to us like a second skin. I wandered through the hilly streets with Penguin Davies wobbling beside me. The desk kid—Daft Jeff, said Davies had some inner-ear problem that made it hard for him to keep his balance. Annie said he just didn’t belong on land— he couldn’t walk straight unless something was tilting and rolling under his feet.

Davies made his way up the hill, faltering and missing the musical beats of it. He refused to let me steady him and I refused to have him sing to me. It was apparently my birthday.

“Someone saw your design.” He noted on the downhill.

“Yeah. Some college girl.” I grumbled.

“What’d you think?” He asked in his usual mysterious way.

“She just wants a good look.” I returned in a neutral tone. “She read about me in the paper. All she wants to do is look.”

“She saw your design.” He paused. “And Jeff said she was like you.”

I blinked hard so the path ahead was eaten by shadow and Davies stumbled. “Not all of us have to be friends . . .” I said sourly and didn’t fill in the rest. “I’ve met kids with antlers and frog-hands before. I doesn’t mean anything.”

“Any of them come visit?”

“They’re smart enough not to.” I snark. “But the ones who manage to be pretty don’t have the brains to stay away.”

“Mm.” He made a soft sound. “What kind of tattoo do you think she’ll get?”

“How should I know? A heart or anchor or something dumb like that.” I walked on ahead. “Maybe I’ll give her a quote from some dead poet.”

“You like poetry.”

I huff dramatically, “Not what I mean. Girls like her don’t like my type of poetry, you know I’m saying.”

“What kind of girls?” Davies was patient. I hated that about him.

I stopped at the corner to let him catch up. “Don’t play dumb. Hot ones, college ones, getting a degree in money or music. They don’t watch over their shoulders enough or know when to stay away.” I scuffed my shoe on the ground. “Whatever.”

Davies was still thinking. I considered pushing him over. He finally spoke up again as we approach the bar, “That sea witch ever show up again?”

“Mags?” I snorted. “No. Why?”

“Cause I’m sure she’d like to see this.”

I didn’t say anything else as we reached the doorway. -------------------- The bar was loud. More people than I liked came to my “party.” I should have seen it coming. If the cliff city liked one thing it was an excuse to drink.

I crammed myself up against the bar and ordered a gin and tonic before the rest of the night crowd could arrive. Birdy was holding court at a corner table and waving at me. “There she is! Someone put a blanket over Nana, lights out, party up!”

Her puns usually left something to be desired. She sang “Blinded by the Light” every time she saw me for half a year.

I drank half my gin and tonic in the first gulp as a new stream of townies burst in. They arrived to buy me birthday beers and shout their opinions on the shitty new chain restaurant on 3rd street. I was almost tasting the bottom of my second glass when someone tapped on my shoulder.

I barely looked over.

The girl with sheets of black hair and a practiced-appearance stood before me—like she was at dress rehearsal and expected everyone else to know the lines as well. She carried a baby-blue bike helmet in one hand, and I noted there were two hand-drilled holes in the top.

“You.” I was tempted to shake her hand like I might make this a transactional hello and goodbye in short order.

“Hey.” She smiled, hesitant, like maybe the food on the fork might be too hot. “Nana, right?”

“Yep.” I sighed the word real long and heavy. “Listen, I really can’t give you a tattoo if you don’t know what you want.”

“No, no, I get it. But I want you to know . . . I didn’t know it was you.”

“Uh, okay. Though I’m pretty hard to miss over here.” I was looking at the dirty wine bottles stacked near the ceiling. Her antennae hang over both of us like fern fronds.

“No. I mean, when I saw the butterfly. That’s when I wanted to come here. Not after.”

“After what?” I was gonna make her say it.

“After I found that it was, well, you know, Headlights Girl.”

“Mm.” I was spending too much time with Davies. “You want something to drink?”

She sighed as well, real long and heavy. “Sure.” She took the seat next to me. “I’m Park by the way.”

“Park.” I rolled the name around in my mouth. “And you already know me.”

“I don’t think I do.” She laughed, sharp and bristly like something you can get cut on. “And I’ll have a beer. . . but only once you look up. Come on, I’m not like that.” I looked up. Her face was bright, round like the moon, her grin was sneaky and unearned. “There we go.”

She waved over the bartender Kipp and ordered her dark beer.

“It’s not really my birthday.” I informed her, dumbly. Every word felt dumb and clumsy all at once.

“Why not?” She was teasing. I knew that.

“That’s not how birthdays work.” I informed and wished I could backtrack into hostility again.

“Oh darn,” she winked. “And here I was about to make it my birthday too.”

“Uh, well,” I really should have left when I had the chance. “It’s not too late?”

“That’s the spirit!” She laughed, fuller this time and rounded. I looked her straight in the face and then quickly looked away again. Her grin was aimed at me, somehow, and seemed to reach high cupboards inside me you usually needed a stool for.

“Park,” I repeated the name and shifted in place. “So did you go to Haveryards or Simmons?” There were only two schools in the country for spirit bastards like us. Haveryards was close enough for me to get bussed to—an hour one way and then an hour home.

“Neither. I went to public and then Bakerville Uni.” She rapped on the counter. “Hey, you want another gin and tonic? Or I’ll mix you up something.” Her eyes flickered over everything. “I bartended my way through college so I can make a mean margarita.”

“Oh, Bakerville U., yeah. That ones close.” I stuttered a bit. She was leaning across the counter and trying to get Kipp’s attention a second time. My words were feeling dumber and dumber by the moment, perhaps losing all shape and meaning altogether. “That’s where you went?”

“How’d you guess?” She said playfully and pointed to her t-shirt. She finally got the bartender over. “Right, you want something hard? Vodka maybe? A mule?”

I scratched my chin. “ . . . I don’t care. I’m easy.”

She rolled her eyes and I knew she must feel me staring. “I can’t imagine shopping for you for today then.” She snickered and climbed over the counter. “Happy birthday, how about one chocolate mule for a free tattoo?”

“You wish.” I made a face. “You don’t even know what you want.”

“And you do?” She was still grinning, somehow. “I’ve decided I’m making you the equivalent of all the soda flavors mixed together at once. Close your eyes.”

I closed my eyes and I tried to turn off my thoughts. It was bright as knives inside my skull; I carry the daytime with me. Panic threatened to rise up (for no reason of course), but a soft hand brushed against mine, soft like sheets in fancy hotels and flower petals. I peaked and Park slid a full murky glass toward me.

“Drink up.”

It was sweet. It wasn’t even my birthday. I didn’t care. She called it a chocolate-mule-Park Special and maybe chocolate really was my favorite flavor. -------------- Park started coming around. She rode a sky-blue bike with a white basket and rusting hinges. I couldn’t imagine doing all the hills in the city without any gears, but she managed. She said she was figuring things out after graduating. She said she liked it here.

I grumbled when she came by. I complained like Annie when Wicker the cat visited: Get that thing away from me. I hate that. Smells awful. I’ve got allergies. Put that away, it’ll kill me.

I never said anything when Annie left fish heads out and bowls of milk of course.

Park smelled like sunscreen and breath mints. She had strong opinions on everything from street paving techniques to which sun hats went with which dresses. She invited me on walks. She invited me to help her change a flat tire. She invited me to the corner shop to help her pick out bottle can openers.

I said no. Sometimes I said no. I started to say yes.

“Look at this,” she liked to show me things. She liked to show me pictures of squirrels on her phone and weird pieces of glass she found. She liked to point out new restaurants (that I’d already been to) and play videos of funny traffic jams.

This time she held up a seashell. It was rounded and flat with a swirl in the center.

“I’m looking.” I said carefully.

“Watch how it catches light.” I shun my eyes on it and she moved it back and forth. There were bits of silver veins caught in the cracks of it.

“There’s tons of those.” At this point, I had valiantly refused to be impressed by even her cutest squirrel pictures.

“Ugh.” She pouted. “Are you kidding? I spent all morning looking for this.”

“They're right by the surf. I could find you five bigger ones than this before sunset.”

“Alright, hot-shot.” She jut her chin out and jabbed my shoulder. “Prove it.”

I said yes to that one. I left right after my shift ended with the sun setting in the waters like a stabbed orange bleeding out. I met Park by the parking lot with drooping palms trees lining the sides and lost flipflops everywhere.

“This is where you went wrong.” I announced. I couldn’t help it. “This is the tourist beach. You have to go somewhere real.”

“Alright, alright. You’ve already established you’re the hot-shot here. Lead the way.”

She followed me. I ignored how she lingered by my side. I ignored how her hand wrapped around my arm as she stopped us to look at a tiny horseshoe crab. Her hand was soft, like velvet, soft enough to smother something in my chest.

I found two seashells with streaks of silver and rainbow through them, both bigger than my palm. The sun was a flat line on the horizon before I could find a third and Park hooted.

“You said before sunset! It’s sunset, baby, pay up.” She called. “And you were so sure you were a better seashell hunter than me.” She tsked.

I scanned the ground more quickly. “It’s barely nighttime.” I pointed to the sky. “And I can keep looking. I have the built-in equipment for it.”

“Oh I know.” She planted herself on the soggy crusted sand and sat down in a heap. “But can you find why kids love the taste of not doing that? Take it easy. Take a seat.”

“So pushy.”

“You know me.” It was fond. It had only been a few months, but there was something fond there.

I ran a hand through my short choppy curls. “Fine.” I sat next to her, not too close. “It’s your loss.” We both looked out at the gently lapping waves, foaming and anemic. She let a long breath of air and for a moment I considered brushing her hair back. It was always in her face.

It was a quiet moment, bottled, and pitching toward something. Like the the moment where you miss a step on the stairs and the certainty of the fall was right there.

I was the one that scooted a little closer.

“I’m considering getting a storm cloud,” she commented off-handedly. “Can you do storm clouds?”

I made a sound of consideration. “Sure.” I glanced toward the opposite corner of the night sky. “I think I’ve seen one of those before. Big puffy wet things?”

“Kinda fluffy? You’re getting there.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” I’m smiling, which is alright since there’s no way she could see it. She’s silent for another moment longer.

“Or would you make fun of me if I got something like a butterfly? Like your other one.”

“A storm cloud butterfly?”

“No. The cloud would it’s own thing.” She chewed on her bottom lip, ragged and chapped. “I mean, I’ve been doodling some ideas. And tattoos should be personal, right? So I thought a storm cloud might be fitting. Kids used to pay me a couple dollars to predict the weather. It could be a memorial to childhood entrepreneurial spirit.”

I watched her speak and something beat inside my chest like a second animal. I wanted to be closer. I wanted to feel velvet again.

“Why?” I rasped after a moment.

“Uh, why did they pay me? It’s just something I can do. Whenever it's going to rain or storm or be sunny out. I dunno, I don’t know why the rest of you can’t sense it.”

“And you didn’t become a meteorologist?” I smiled a bit bitterly.

She made an indignant noise. “And you didn’t become a professional lighthouse?”

I choked on a laugh. “Not yet.” A quiet consumed us from both sides, I made sure my light didn’t crash into her. I made sure to look at anything but her. She’d have to squint if I did and cover her eyes and I’d be there, ready to run her over.

“Kids in my class paid me too.” I barely realized I started speaking. “They slipped me a couple bucks to close my eyes so they could see my face.”

“You got money for that?”

“There wasn’t always much to do. Teachers were quitting all the time and sometimes it was just the TV. I dunno, they paid me. Then they’d giggle and run away afterward.” My voice sounded automated like the announcer at an airport, informing travelers their flight was canceled. “They always said I had a pig nose or a unibrow or looked like the lead singer of that Minx girl band-- super hot, but you know, it didn’t matter.” The laugh that escaped was high, girlish in a grotesque way. “Since, you know, no one would ever see it.”

“Kids are fucked up.” Park contributed simply.

“Adults are too.” I sniffed. “Everyone wants a light show.”

“Oh.” She said slowly. “Is it . . . is it bad I wanted to meet you then? I mean, I wanted to see the art first, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a factor.”

“No.” I said quickly. I lit up my own lap and empty hands. “Does it matter?”

“I never went to those schools,” she said hesitantly. “My parents fought them, said the schools were unfit. They shouldn’t be able to force us there. And that I wasn’t even dangerous since,” she gestured helplessly upward, “I just have these. So then, well, I never really met anyone else like me.”

“I mean, everyone’s different. It’s not . . . a big deal.”

“You’d think so,” she commented sardonically.

I folded up into myself like a complex origami piece. “Yeah, well, sometimes I wish I was dangerous. Actually dangerous.”

She giggled. “Didn’t you just say everyone’s different? I’d say everyone’s dangerous too. Just gotta find the niche.”

“Oh yeah,” I dared to turn toward her. “What’s yours then?”

“My danger niche? Hmm.” She was leaning now, pitching forward like a wave come to drown me. “I do have a few tricks up my sleeve I’ll admit.”

“You have a pair of wings hidden away?” I stopped breathing as her hand lifted up, strange and all at once. I wasn’t ready.

“Here.” Her skin was against mine. She cupped my cheek with one velvet-hand. It was heated cashmere, tiny feather-light hairs on her palm. “Feelers.” She whispered with a hesitancy there.

“Ah,” I was indulgent. I closed my eyes. I leaned in. “And you want to put a needle over these?” I put my hand over hers, loosely, so she could pull away if she wanted to. Tiny hairs pulsed there with some kind of life all their own.

“I wanted . . .” She paused and I peaked open my eyes. I could see every detail of her face, illuminated. “I dunno.” She finished. “I guess I just wanted whatever I saw there, before.”

“In the butterfly?”

“In the butterfly.” I turned toward the ocean, but my hand remained over hers. “I’m not sure how good it will be a second time. It’s not like I’m really an artist. . .”

“What did you want to be?” Soft.

“Who knows. I mean, I’m glad my parents didn’t try to fight the schools. Being there during the day was better than being home, listening to my mom crying all the time and my father exploding . . . They wouldn’t have wanted me home.”

Before the sunset, when I was walking over, I thought maybe we’d kiss that night. I thought I’d feel that first electric pulse and maybe we’d climb into the ocean and swim in circles, laugh until the moon rose. I thought maybe I’d get something out of my system and there wouldn’t be anything left to say or do.

I’d kiss Park, once, and she’d be satisfied. She’d understand. She’d go on her college path and I’d go on on mine.

But the words spilled out, unbidden. Park stayed in place, steady and unflinching. That made it worse, so much worse.

“My parents weren’t like yours.” There was an accusatory edge to it. Don’t you know? I wanted to shout. Don’t you know? Even without the eyes or the school bills or the bus.

“Hey,” she cradled my cheeks with both hands now and smeared the tears away from one eye. “Hey, listen, I know. Alright? I know.”

I scowled back at her feathered little feelers.

“It’s not about the damn antenna or head beams or anything else.” I tried to pull away. “Even the kid with the antler’s kissed me and I didn’t stop him. I ran away from home and my mom never came looking. It didn’t matter. It doesn’t matter! You wouldn’t even get it. You wouldn’t get it!” I squeeze my eyes closed. “You were wanted.”

Slowly, like an awkward animal burrowing into soft earth, she pressed her forehead to the crook of my neck. I could feel us both breathing in, strong and steady. She was lean and silky, and I swore I can feel her heartbeat hammering through my throat.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered. I inhaled her sunscreen scent. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know. But I could.”

“Why are you here?” It was miserable and wet, I hated that my eyes were so different and yet still the same. Could still spill over like theirs. She took a long breath but didn’t move away.

“My last girlfriend broke up with me for being . . . sensitive and I thought maybe if I got a tattoo, I’d stop feeling so much. I’d prove something. I’d feel everything less, you know? It would hurt and then it wouldn’t.”

I took that in a parsec at time. “Are you,” I sniffed. “Are you alright?” Her legs and arms were plastered over mine. “You’re so soft, but, but I don’t want to,” I wipe at my face like it didn’t matter. “Hurt you.”

“I know.” Her face was still pressed to my neck and her lips fluttered across the hallow of my skin. “I didn’t want to hurt you either.”

A stillness settled into my bones. I glanced toward the moon, and it was like looking at like, a terrible moon to another moon. I gathered myself. I took a deep breath. I flattened.

“I shouldn’t have said all that.” My voice had dried up. “We led different lives.” It wasn’t her fault if she was wanted.

“No.”

“I wasn’t thinking . . .”

Her hand wrapped around my wrist. “I talk to Annie sometimes when you aren’t there.”

“Okay?”

“And Davies. And that front desk guy.”

“Daft Jeff. Yes.”

“They all say the same thing . . .” I blinked a couple times. “That I really should wait for you to give me the tattoo. You have a steady hand and an eye for detail.”

“Alright . . .”

“That someone taught you tattooing the right way. They wanted to show you the right way to do it.”

I snorted despite myself. “It’s not that hard. Mags was batty. Who knows why she showed me how to pick up a needle.”

“Don’t you see? They say they wouldn’t know what to do without you.” She was still there. She wasn’t moving, almost in my lap now. “You were wanted.”

“Park?” My voice cracked like a question.

“And you come with me to restaurants and help me buy bottle openers. You find shells for me and help me fix tires.” Her breath was hot and dragged across my cheek. “You are wanted.”

I blocked out her face, her voice, I turned on the sharp white sun inside and for a moment I imagine never opening my eyes back up again. Maybe I could make it night forever inside myself as well. Wouldn’t you rather have something quiet inside?

She wrapped herself around me, fully, one long arm at a time until it was cocoon. Soft. “Listen, sometimes the first people aren’t the right people. Sometimes your first relationship isn’t the right relationship. Sometimes you’re sure the world is one way, and like, always one way . . . and then it rains and the whole world is different again. You know? People pass.”

“My parents aren’t the weather.”

“But they’ll pass.” I should have pushed her off. But even against that, even those words— I liked being held, indulgent as chocolate and twice as guilty. “People sometimes feel forever, especially those kinds of people.” I was off again. “But it rains. And hey, I always know when it’s going to rain.”

I hiccupped; a smile found its way uninvited onto my face, unsure and just wobbly on its feet as Davies. I glanced down after a deep breath. Park grinned back at me and it reached the highest shelves of me all over again.

“So what happens when it rains again? Do you people like you pass?”

“Nah, not me. I don’t know how.” She winked. I didn’t notice that we’re lying flat now, stars and carpet of black above. “You can’t get rid of me. You haven’t given me that tattoo yet.”

The sound of shushing waves filled the midnight air and the moon looked down like that very first bus arriving to get me all those years ago. I wrapped my arms right back around her. She didn’t seem to mind that I was sticky or strange or sometimes kept tearing up all over again even after we’d stop saying anything worth tearing up over. ------------------

It happened. I felt like I should have been more prepared, brought flowers or poetry or earned it through honored warfare. But it happened. I was wearing ripped jeans, a spotty t-shirt and my breath smelled like coffee. We were looking for Park’s lost earring along an overgrown hill she usually biked along.

I found it, one shiny red dewdrop in all that green. Park pointed at some clouds that looked like my last “abstract” tattoo. We lay back in the grass and let the sky pass overhead. She giggled and touched my wrist, side by side. I let her.

“Summer’s almost over.” I mumbled it first.

“Yeah?”

“You find your next step then, college girl?” I tried to keep my tone light. She turned to be on her side.

“Maybe.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Oh, you know. This and that.”

“That does not sound like a college-girl plan.”

“Maybe I’ve got other plans. Maybe I’ve got other priorities, huh?”

“Ridiculous.” A playfully push her shoulder. “A lousy seaside town really isn’t priority material. There’s only one bookshop you know.”

“Two thank you very much. And that’s not my priority either.” Her voice wavered.

“Are you going to share with the class?”

“Is the class ready?” She whispered and I turned toward her as well now, taking in her perfect round face and question-mark mouth.

“I have been.” I matched her whisper. I tremor from my center outward and hopes she can’t tell.

“Do you know what they say about moths?”

“What?” I gave a breathy laugh. It wasn’t what I was expecting. “I’ve heard of them.”

“They tell your fortune.” She was grinning in that way that put out a stool and reached up. “I used to cry a lot growing up, because some kids said that moths are just evil butterflies. I was sensitive and ran all the way home. I threw myself at my mom’s feet and threw a fit about how moths were just evil butterflies. They were just ugly, wicked versions of a good thing.”

“Evil? Well, I suppose you are rather sinister when you haven’t eaten.”

“Shut up. I’m telling you something.” She put a hand on my shoulder. I inhaled deeply and turned over in place to face her. Only the shallow breeze kept us apart.

“I’m all ears . . . though maybe not as many as you.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“What can I say? The sun is adorable. I take after him.”

A finger ghosted over my cheek, tracing the arc of my cheekbone. “Well, you’re not so bad behind those headlights too. Some of us have good day vision you know. And good taste.”

I wished those words didn’t make my chest do funny things. “Thanks.”

“Do you want to hear what my mom said or not?”

“That you shouldn’t worry about evil butterflies?” I wiggled closer. “Because you’ll be really hot and funny and smart one day. So who cares if you’re evil?”

“Yeah, those were her exact words.”

“So?”

“So,” a firm hand took my chin. “Look at me.” I looked at her. I was glad she couldn’t see the flush in my cheeks in any way. “Moths show good fortunes she said.”

“Right. Lots and lots of good fortune.” I breathed, dumbly, of course. She was close and sweet and there was hair in her face. The fronds of her antennae tickle right past my ear.

“They can help you find good fortune. They’re good omens. You know why?” Park’s lips were barely moving as she spoke, hypnotic and unhurried.

“Why?”

“Because they follow the light.”

It happened all at once. Like every cheesy love poem or bad lyrics I wrote in my journals at night. It was every cracked-spine of a book using words like “rosebud lips” and every overdone song about people who find their way to each other.

I kissed her, leaning in with no life vest on or readied crash-landing position. She kissed me and my chest filled with her, breathless, drowning, soft as dreams and stranger than hope. I cradled her and she dragged me closer and closer until it was nothing but floods and brimming.

I’d been nothing before I think, I’d been an island that waits, a bus that leaves, a shadow that hides. And then I had been hers. ----------------- I was strolling home from work along the main road. The thin strip of sidewalk was streaked with bleached sunlight and the salt air was thick enough to burn throats. It was the long way home, but I was in the habit of going back to this corner.

The bus pulled up with little ceremony. It was an interstate one that crisscrossed over empty bellies of land. I stopped in place to watch, just in case, as I had many times before.

A silver head bobbed down the steps and planted herself on the concrete, unbelieving. She took an enormous noisy sniff of the air. “Not so bad!” She bellowed.

“Are you?” That wasn’t meant to be my first word. She was more stooped now and wearing shiny things on her wrist that clanked. She’d lost another tooth. “Mags.”

“Eh!” She yelled and waved frantically as if I hadn’t shot up another inch since I last saw her and started wearing clothes without holes in them. Her eyes sparkled as she tottered over. “So how’d you do, kid?”

“See for yourself.” I smiled. It was nice when the tides came back in. Mags gave me a thorough appraising. “Like this I guess.” I held up my hand. I wiggled my ring finger at her, heavy with a silver band and glittering opal.

“That’s my girl! Always knew you’d find your feet.” She cackled. “Am I too late to give you away, kid?”

I shook my head. She waddled over to me so I could take her hand. I took her home to show her my art and new tattoos, I showed her our terrible one-eyed kitten, Basket (Wicker’s son), and the little house we styled ourselves. I showed her our shoe closet and our queen bed, our messy kitchen and busted screen door. I showed her the moth tattoo over my heart, and Park showed her the matching lighthouse one over hers.

I tried to thank her, of course, I tried to say I owed her more than she knew for picking up an angry, dirty kid and seeing something in her. I owed her everything. But she just patted my hand and said that it’s not about our debts in life, kid. It’s about the becoming.

-----------

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weird-is-life · 2 years

Text

When night falls, I am your escape #4

Sumarry: After avoiding her home town for a long time because of the boy who broke her heart. Y/N goes home to spend the longest time there in 15 years. The problem is that he is home, too. Daniel wants to reconnect with her, but she wants nothing more than to just avoid him.

Warnings: language, angst

Chapters: 4/12

Words: 2.2k Masterlist

(English is not my first language, so please excuse any grammar/spelling mistakes)

Ouch

Drinking that much alcohol wasn't the smartest idea. I woke up around lunch time and my head felt like somebody repeatedly slammed a hammer against it and my stomach felt like i ate one year expired food. I lost the count of how many times i sat next to the toilet that night. But sometime in the middle of night i moved myself to my room, where i eventually fell asleep.

Slowly trying to gather myself from the bed, i tried to remember what happened last night. Oh no. I met Daniel. I knew that i talked with him and then not much.

I thought about how i got home. Did Mark drive me home? No no he couldn't, he was drinking too. Did we called a taxi? I didn't think so.

Then the realisation hit me. Daniel. He took us both home. I didn't remember much, only a few glimpses. I remembered that he was the one to take me home. Fuck, so much for avoiding him. So not only being hangover but Daniel driving me home and probably even getting my drunk ass inside the house left me feeling really really embarrassed.

He saw me after so many years and i got drunk as a skunk right infront of him, nice. What did he thought about me? Great just great.

Eventually i gathered all the strengh i had to go downstairs to grab something to eat and find some painkillers for that horrible headache.

"Look who's finally awake" dad said with a big grin on his face. My head was pounding even more after spoke.

"Too loud" i said to him and he just laughed.

" Where's mom?" i asked.

"In the garden, picking up some vegetables for the lunch" he was still looking at me with this ridiculous smile on his face.

"What? Do i have something on me or... ?" i wasn't really getting why was he looking at me like that.

"Nothing, it's just that it's been a long time since i've seen you so free, you know. Going out with friends, being hangover, going surfing. I don't know, i guess i'm just happy see you happy ." wow i was not expecting that responce. I felt more free, that was really the truth.

"Thanks dad" i gave him a little smile, "and do you know where i can find the painkillers, my head is killing me" i asked.

"In the upper shelf, next to the sink" mom suddenly appeared with veggies in her hands.

" So how was the night, met anyone familiar?" like she knew that i met Daniel .

"It was fun, i mean at least until i can remember and no, nobody " i laughed.

"Glad you enjoyed your night, what time did you come home last night?" mom asked.

"Hmm i don't really know i think it was a little after midnight" i took the pain killer and took a sip of the water .

" You should go take a shower, you look messy and then come eat lunch" i just nodded my head and went to my room .

When i saw my reflection in the mirror i choked on the air. Not because i looked like a zombie but because of what i was wearing. The hoodie i had on was definitely not mine. I had to somehow get it last night. The only person that could give it to me was Daniel. I quickly took if off and threw it on my chair . I had to go meet him and return it to him. Definitely not coincidence, i was sure that he thought about that when he gave the hoodie to me. Or maybe it was just me overthinking.

Later that day i was thought about what i would do next. I thought about giving it to Michelle or his mom but they would ask question about it, so that was a no. The only other option was to go and give the hoodie back to him myself. I really didn't want to do that, but he did help me yesterday . I decided i'd just give it back to him straight away after he'd open the door and leave. Yeah that was a good plan. And yes, i did wash it for him, it smelled like alcohol so I had to.

Another problem was that i had no idea where he lived. I mean i knew it was some kind of farm but that was it. I went to ask my mom.

"Mom, i have a question, do you know where Daniel lives? " that wasn't very discreet way to ask about it.

" I do in fact, why do you ask?" she raised her eyebrows in question.

"Ah you know so I can avoid that place like it's haunted" i said the first thing that came to my mind.

"Y/N are you really going to ignore him forever? I'm sure there's an explanation for what he did, maybe you should give him a chance" she always had a soft spot for Daniel .

" Yes mom, i'm planning on ignoring him forever, so could you please just tell me the address" i said desperately trying to change the subject.

"I think it would be good for you to talk to him and find out why he did what he did. I know he wants to make things right between the two of you" she softly tried to convince me, but it wasn't working on me.

" I don't want to mom, he chose to ignore me first. He didn't want me in his life then and turns out i also don't need him in my life" after i said this she didn't say anything else and gave me the address.

On the way to the farm, GPS told me the wrong directions like two times. Lovely, right? But somehow i managed to figure out the way and in the end i got there.

The house was huge, no i meant the whole farm was huge. He is a millionaire so it was understandable. There were a few cars in the driveway, i parked the car next to them and got out of the car. My plan was to just knock on the door, give the hoodie back and quickly leave before he could try to talk or something .

I went up to the door. But i didn't knock right away. I was deciding on whether to give the hoodie back like a normal human being or to just drop it at the porch and leave. As much as i didn't want to i went for the first option. I knocked on the door and waited. A few seconds later the door opened. I held my breath as i was ready to face Daniel. But the person opening the door was not him, it was Isaac.

"Oh hi" i said very surprised.

" I remember you, you gave me the car, did you come here to see me ride the dirt bike?" i laughed at his question.

" No, but maybe next time i will come to see. Today i came because I have something for your uncle, could you give it to him? " i asked him and handed him the hoodie.

" Yes, i'm going to get him" he said.

"You don't have to, just say that Y/N is sending him this okay? Thank you. Bye for now and be careful on the bike" i said and smiled at him, he said goodbye and closed the door. I went to my car feeling good. I gave the hoodie back and didn't even have to see him, what a win.

As i was about to get in the car , the door opened again and Daniel came running out of them. Ah great, i shouldn't have said anything about being lucky.

"Y/N wait up" he said.

"What do you want?" i said little annoyed.

"Do you wanna come in and talk?" not this conversation again.

" We are not friends Daniel, i have no reason to come over and talk to you" that was maybe a little harsh, but we haven't been friends for a long time, that was for sure.

"Us not being friends is exactly why we should talk" he couldn't just let this go, could he?

"There is nothing to talk about" i simply replied.

"Nothing? Come on, you know there's more than nothing to talk about" he was really fucking resilient.

" You want to talk about you not wanting to be friends anymore? Because i really fucking don't. You made that decision and i accepted it and got over it. That's it, nothing more to talk about " i said trying to not sound upset.

"It's not like that. I-I fucked up. I... just, let me please explain" He fucked up? I fucked up a lot but i never fucked up a life long friendship.

" I don't need your excuses. You did what you did. I moved on" At that point, all the emotion i spent so many years bottling up, were trying to break free.

"You are calling avoiding me for 15 years moving on?" was he really serious?

"Yeah i do, maybe everytime i saw your face i remembered that you threw away our friendship just like it was nothing, that's maybe why I avoid you" my eyes were getting glossy.

" No Bella don't think that" he sighed, "our friendship meant everything to me, just let me explain everything" him using the nickname that he used to call me was the thing that made the tears fall out.

"Don't, don't call me that. Our friendship meant everything to you but you still broke the promise you made, along with my fucking heart" the tears were streaming down my face. Daniel had teary eyes, too.

While he was trying to find some words to reply to what i said, i got in the car and started the engine.

I didn't give him time to react. I drove out of the driveway and left. Before i left, i saw how broken he looked in my mirrors. That made me cry even more. Why did i still have some feelings for him after everything that has happened. That was what i was asking myself.

Every single memory came flooding in. I couldn't even drive anymore, so I stopped next to the beach and went to sit down on the sand. The smell of salt water and the feel of sand calmed me down.

15 years ago

It was at the time when Daniel was moving to Italy to race there. When he told me that he was going to leave, i was heartbroken. We spent almost 24/7 together. It was a big change, not having him as my partner in crime anymore. I thought about how he would surely forget about me and find new better best friend. That made me even more upset. But then he cheered me up a little. He reminded me that I wanted to go study at University in Europe, that meant i was going to be close to him or atleast closer in no time. And we would be back on our bullshit, that idea eased my heartache . He promised me he wouldn't replace me ever and that we'd call and text all the time. I still remembered exactly what he said "Of course i won't replace you, i don't think i'd find anybody as much fun as you". Liar.

We both had tears streaming down our faces at the airport. Eventually he had to leave to go to his gate, so we said our goodbyes. We were going to do what we planned, text and call until the holidays would come and he would come home.

The first few months were going great. We were in contact everyday even with the time zone differences. Sometimes we were too busy, i was working hard in school and he was working hard on his racing dream, but we still managed to send a text or call for short time .

Then it changed. I called him at the time we agreed on and he did not pick up. Couple hours later he texted me, saying sorry about not picking up, something about him not having any free time. Which was obviously a lie, i knew that now. At that time i said nothing. But when it started to happen more regularly, i confronted him about it. He still said that he had no time. But he didn't even try to call me back or anything. So eventually i stopped trying, i stopped calling him, i stopped texting him. I expected him to call me or text, asking what was wrong. But after a week passed, then two and then three, i knew that he wouldn't call.

I was so hurt, he promised me he wouldn't forget me and that's exactly what he did. I didn't even understand why. It wasn't like i asked too much from him, just one fucking text.

Naively i thought, that when he came back home, he would come up with an apology and ask me to forgive him. I thought i would forgive him if he asked. But none of that happened, he didn't even come home.

When he finally came home i was already gone. University in London, running away from the place that screamed his name. I never tried to find the answer why. I lied to myself when i said that i got past it, i never did, how could i. He was one of the most important people in my life and i loved him very much. And he hurt me like nobody ever could .

I hope you liked this. I tried my best. Feedback always appreciated. If you see some spelling/grammar mistake feel free to message me about it, i'll be very glad. I don't know if anybody would be interested in tag list, if yeah send me an ask or a message. Have a great day. Peace out :) chapter 5

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x y/n #danny ric #f1 imagines

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