#oh yeah and liam and. monique? she looks like monique | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cwnerd12 · 3 years

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. David is in the council chamber, surrounded by everyone. David, “I've had the idea for a North American Union for a while. The coup attempt in Moab made me really start to think about it, and this whole mess with Mercy has convinced me that it needs to happen. Kings need to be held accountable. There needs to be a set of laws in place that mean you can’t just declare war for no reason. There needs to be a system in place that guarantees stable rule, not just a series of coup after coup. This union could be it." Abby, "David, you are going to be asking monarchies that have ruled absolute for over five hundred years to cede some of their power. It's a noble idea, but it’s going to be impossible-” David interrupts, "We've done the impossible.” Joel, “It’s not entirely impossible. We can find ways to create social pressure in other countries.” Asher rolls his eyes, “I’m not even going to get into the hypocrisy of creating a union to end coups by threatening to start an uprising.” Jack speaks up, “The heirs.” David, “What?” Jack, “We're not alone. Leon. Quentin. Maybe Iris. We can get them on our side.” Abby, "We have that big state dinner in Gath coming up. We may be able to pull something then. But even if that works, Quentin is only second in line to the throne of Edom, and thanks to my brother, that role is in question. Edom and the Merritts are entirely bound by honor and tradition, and Lawrence is very set in his ways. Honestly, I think we’ll have an easier time getting Ammon to sign on than Edom.” David, “I still want to move forward. If we can build momentum, that can still lead to something happening. I'm serious. Abby, I want you and Joel to put together a rough draft of what an agreement might look like. I know it's crazy, but crazy is nothing new." Abby sighs, “Fine. But, seriously, the state dinner in Gath is what we need to be focused on. It’s Michael's big chance to show off al the progress that's been made since the peace deal. He's going to want his ego flattered, and yes, David, you're the one who has to do it." David rolls his eyes, "Is there anything else today?” Monique speaks up, "You're meeting with Annie Leung, the documentary maker.” David, “What?” Monique, "The AFG documentary I've been trying to put together for the past three years. You’re meeting with the director to discuss things.” David, “Like being interviewed?” Monique, “We’re all being interviewed this week, you need to set something up. You knew this was coming.” David, “Yeah, I did, I just… thought it was still a ways off.” He sighs and makes a face. Jack grins at Monique, “Told you.” David, “Told her what?” Jack, “You’d be like this,” he puts on a mocking pout and adopts a low, dramatic voice, “I don’t want to talk about it.” David, "I don't like bringing up the past, all right? I do enough of that shit with my therapist.” Monique, "You were just talking all about the future a second ago. Don't you know that the past and the future are all tied up together?”

David sits across from Monique and Annie Leung. David, “You'll have to forgive me. Monique probably already warned you, I don't really like talking about the war.” Annie, "It's very important history that needs to be recorded.” Monique, "I wouldn't have brought Annie here if I didn't absolutely know that she's the right person for this job." David, "Yeah, yeah, I know. I completely trust your judgement in all of this, it's just the whole digging up the past thing. People have this image of the war and how it all went, and how it was great and glorious and a lot of fun. It… it wasn't fun. It actually sucked. A lot. And that’s the thing I don't like talking about.” Annie, “Well, that's what I'm interested in hearing. I don't want to make some big patriotic piece of propaganda. I know the war had to suck for you, but it also fucking sucked for the people who were trying just to live through it. Honestly I think the only person the war didn't completely suck for was Alek Amal. I want to tell the real truth, not just the truth we tell ourselves.” David, "Okay. I like that. I’m starting to see why Monique chose you." Annie, “ I actually spent a fair amount of time embedded with the AFG. I got some incredible footage that will be the backbone of much of the story. I've spent the past year or so conducting interviews with AFG veterans.” David, "Oh yeah? Like who?” Annie, "Adam Solano.” David, "Adam? Seriously? Jeez, I haven't heard from him since... since he left. I’ve tried to keep track of him, but he kind of went into hiding. I guess that means you've also talked to Beth, right?" Annie, "I have." David, “See, this is why I don't like talking about the past. I mean, I know it's an important part of the story, and I'm not gonna deny that it happened-” Annie, “Do you mean the affair, or the death of Ryan Hitt?” David grows flustered and shifts uncomfortably in his seat, “It wasn't an affair- I, I mean, yeah, okay, I- I cheated, but that’s all it was,” he sighs, "See, this is why I don't like talking about the past. It just makes everything hurt again.” Annie, “You need to talk about it.” David, “Yeah, I know. And I will.”

In the residence, Jack, Michelle, and Rose go through old pictures while Daniel plays happily on the floor. Rose, “I hope this documentary is fair to your father. The biography that came out last year was terrible.” Michelle, “It told the truth.” Rose, “It was very biased.” Michelle, “Has it ever occurred to you that you might be a little biased?” Rose, “Your father deserves at least one person advocating for him. I don’t want him to be misunderstood.” Michelle, “What’s there to misunderstand?” Jack rolls his eyes, “Stop!” Rose, “Do you know what you’re going to say, Jack?" Jack sighs, “No.” Rose, “You should think of what you want to say beforehand, so you can go in prepared.” Jack, “It’s a lot of talking." Rose, "Oh, please don't be like that, Jack. You've made an incredible amount of progress, and you should be proud. I certainly am, and your father would be, too." Michelle, "Do you think Dad would be happy to have Daniel as a grandson?" Rose, "Oh, what kind of question is that?" Michelle, “The kind of question that’s been bothering me since Daniel was born." Rose, “Honestly, I still don't see why you insist that Jack couldn't be a father biologically." Jack, "I don't want to." Michelle, “How many times are we going to have this argument?” Rose, “I’m not arguing. And your father would love Daniel as a grandson. He truly was changing as a person before his death. That’s what I want people to understand. Some things might have taken some getting used to, but he would be happy for you.” On the floor, Daniel starts fussing and crying. Rose goes over to him, "Oh no, what's wrong?” Michelle looks at her watch, "Almost lunch time. Abby will be here soon." Jack, "Bring him here." Rose picks Daniel up and makes a face, "Oh, he needs a diaper change." Jack, “I’ll get it.” He stands up and Rose hands Daniel over to him.

In the nursery, Jack finishes with the diaper change. Daniel squirms and fusses. Jack gently shushes him and picks him up, “I know, I know. It sucks. Can’t talk. Can’t walk. I been there.” He smiles affectionately at Daniel, and then gently kisses his forehead.

In his office, Liam finishes his interview with Annie Leung and her crew. Liam, “So that's it?” Annie, "Yes, you gave us some excellent footage, thank you." Liam, "So tell me, what did Adam Solano say?" Annie, "You'll have to watch when it airs.” Liam, “Seriously? Come on, I fought beside the guy, I want to know if he’s okay.” Annie, “If I tell you, you’ll tell David and the others, and they’ll respond to what Adam said when they tell their stories. The whole idea of telling their personal truth falls apart.” Liam, “I swear I won’t tell David.” Annie, “I’d rather not risk it.” The door opens, and Rose’s secretary, Kiera, enters. Liam keeps on with Annie, “Would you tell me if I bought you dinner.” Annie, “I absolutely do not date my subjects.” Liam, “We’re done with the interview, I’m not your subject any more.” Kiera, “Here’s today’s press report, Captain Montrose.” Liam takes some papers from her, “Thank you, Kiera,” he turns back to Annie, “Come on, we're both in the media. We’d have plenty to talk about.” Annie, “I’m flattered, but not interested.”

Annie and Kiera leave Liam’s office at the same time. Kiera glances over at Annie, "You dodged a bullet there.” Annie, “Excuse me?" Kiera, "He's banged so many secretaries around here, Queen Rose had to put a ban on it." Annie, “Thanks for the warning.” Kiera, “Hey, gotta look out for each other.”

Joel and David talk in David’s office. Joel, “It’s very rough, but there’s a declaration of human rights, the establishment of a war crimes tribunal, and a system of mutual protection against militias, terrorists, and coups.” David, “Excellent. This is exactly what I wanted.” Joel, "It's gonna get a lot more complicated once Abby starts working on it." David, "That's always what happens. But this is great. It’s definitely something we can start with." Joel, "Before I go, I have something to ask." David, "Yeah?" Joel, “The documentary. We still saying I didn't know about Beth?" David doesn’t look him in the eye, “Say whatever you want. It doesn't matter any more.” Joel, "Except it kinda does. You admitting to lying would seriously undermine this whole thing.” David, "So the only way to deal with it is more lying?" Joel, “If it means this Union goes through, then, yeah.” David stares at him unhappily.

The street of Ashdod are lined with cheering and sign-waving onlookers. In the royal limousine, David looks out in amazement, “Shit, never thought we’d get this kind of reception in Ashdod.” Jack grins in the seat beside him. David, "You know, the last two times I entered Ashdod, I was unconscious, severely wounded, and wondering if I'd ever see you again. This is a major improvement.” Jack eyes the skyline. David, “You feel that?” Jack, “Feel what?” David, “Exactly. No potholes. Look,” he looks around at the passing scenery, “Construction. When was the last time you saw construction in Ashdod? It’s all because of the economic restructuring deal.” Jack, quietly, “Hm.” David looks over at him, “You okay?” Jack, “Head hurts a little. I’m okay.” David, “You sure? We can take a break once we get to the hotel.” Jack, “I’ll be fine.” David, “When was the last time you had a seizure?” Jack, “David!” David, “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Jack gives him a dirty look. David, "Sorry. Guess I'm more nervous about this thank I thought.

The motorcade pulls up to the People's Hotel. Crowds cheer wildly as David steps out of the limo and waves. He looks up at the heavily renovated facade of the building as Jack gets out beside him. David, “Geez, guess they have made a few changes.”

The lobby inside is completely unrecognizable. Liam is there waiting for David and chatting with a pretty woman dressed professionally. There’s a hubbub outside. Liam says to the woman, "Guess he's here." The front doors open, and David enters with Jack. Liam goes up to them, “David!” David, “What?” Liam, “I have someone I’d like you to meet,” he gestures back to the woman, “This is Lisa Smith, she’s a reporter with Gath's national news service. She would like to talk to you while you tour the hotel.” David, “Tour?” Liam, “Yeah as part of the coverage for tonight’s dinner. It’s kind of a big deal. Trying to change Gath’s image and all. Show that it’s got money now and it can be glamorous or some shit.” David, “What, do you want to see where I got poisoned?” Lisa, "Yes, exactly!" David, “Michelle is here with Abby, she might be able to help you." Lisa, "I won't take too much of your time!" Liam, “Come on, a little quick publicity." David, "I can't," he glances over at Jack, "I have something I need to take care of."

In his hotel room, David meets with Abby, who has a breast pump strapped to her chest. Abby, "Joel worked the language so the human rights section is a little more binding. It’s in very good shape. Really, all it comes down to is how it's received.” David, “Excellent." Abby, "You have to be a statesman, David. Michael is probably gonna try to upset you, and you can't take the bait." David, “We’ve had this conversation before.” Abby, “And you never listen! We’re here promoting peace!" David, “I’ll behave.” Abby, “You need to especially be on your best behavior this evening. This dinner is a huge fucking deal for Gath. She glances down at the full bottles attached to the pump and mutters, “Shit.” She turns the pump off and starts un-strapping herself. She goes on, “Look, since Daniel was born, I’ve been trying very hard not to make this shit personal, but since my son is the heir to your throne, it kind of fucking is. If we can pull this off, it could be one of the greatest things we ever do for Daniel as parents.” David, “Abby, do you seriously think that I’m not constantly thinking about that? Every night when I’m trying to fall asleep, that’s all I can think about, how am I gonna fuck this all up for Daniel?” Abby, “So will you please do that?” David, “Yes, I will.”

In the hallway, Michelle talks to Lisa the reporter and her cameramen, with Liam hanging in the back. Michelle, “Really, most of the drama happened in these rooms. We did all our planning and building and training downstairs, but in our rooms, on personal time, that’s where the family really came together.” At the other end of the hallway, Shay leans slumped against a wall, staring at the floor, deep in her thoughts. Joel opens the door of his room and steps out. He sees Shay, and stands across from her, “Hey, I thought you were looking around." Shay, “Yeah, we did. Really, there’s not much to see. They completely fucking changed the place, there's nothing to see. They took the karaoke stage out, now the bar's some kind of bougie-ass bistro or some shit,” she attempts a laugh, “It's like they're trying to erase us or something." Joel, “Well, if I were Michael, I wouldn't want to remind people that revolutions can start in Gath, too." Shay, "This shit didn't start in Gath, it… got sidelined to Gath for a little bit.” Joel, "Still, mass prison break-outs, covert bombing campaigns, David partying with his shirt off, all things I’m sure the government here would rather people forget.” Shay has to laugh a little bit, and then grows sad, nostalgic, “You know, I always kinda figured we’d be back here at some point. I mean, if we’re running the Gilboan government, then, yeah, it makes sense that we’d have to deal with Gath at some point. I always kinda figured I’d make it back here as General Mendoza… I just never thought I’d be back here without Isaiah.” The door beside her opens, and David steps out, followed by Jack and Abby. David, “Hey, you guys ready?” Shay, shifting her tone, “Yeah.” David, “Let’s go, then.”

In a negotiating room, David, Jack, Abby, Shay, and Joel sit across from Michael, Leon, and a bunch of other Gath officials. David, “First of all, I would like to congratulate Gath on the incredible progress that I witnessed on the drive here.” Michael, “Thank you. The economic restructuring was very difficult to implement, and it continues to present challenges, but we’re determined to make it work. One of the greatest challenges that I've faced, however, is changing the old misconception that Gath is a military power, and a military power, only, that we can’t have the cultural and economic power that other countries have.” David, “That’s what tonight’s dinner is for. I wanted to meet with you this afternoon because I’d like to invite to join my proposed North American Union.” Michael flips through some papers, "Yes, I've read through your proposal." David goes on, "The North American Union will be bound by a body of laws that will hold each member nation accountable for preventing wars and upholding human rights. It will mean that leaders like us can no longer just declare war on a whim because we want something." Michael, "Is this inspired by what happened with Mercy Abbadon?" David, "In part, but also because of the attempted coup in Moab. During his life, King Warner frequently funded insurgent groups in both Moab and Gilboa-” Michael cuts him off, "Insurgent groups like the AFG?" David, "The NAU will also mean that leaders like King Silas can no longer just make his political opponents disappear. There won't be a need for freedom groups like the AFG." Leon, "The proposal is intriguing, but realistically, this is all going to be very difficult to impose. Edom, Samaria, Aram, and of course Ammon still have their own Ministries of State Security-” Michael cuts him off, "As does Gath." Leon goes on, “How are you going to get a country like Ammon to join?" Abby, "This is where the power of unity comes in. The more countries that sign on to the union, the more we can exert economic and social pressure-” Michael, “Societal pressure? What does that mean?” David, “It means that a lot can happen when citizens start demanding their rights.” Michael, “You aren’t going to kidnap my brother again, are you?” Leon, “Oh my god, Michael!” David, "No, we don't plan on kidnapping anybody.” Leon, quickly changing tone, “I’ll be honest with you, I like this idea, but I need to go through it all very carefully to make sure that Gath will actually benefit from this." Michael, "You are asking Gath to willingly cede sovereignty to this union. Who is going to be in charge? Who’s the king?” David, “There is no king, it’s a body of laws.” Joel, “And an independent court system.” Michael, “How is Gath supposed to defend itself?” David, “Defense is fully allowed, but, more than anything, this union is a guarantee of peace.” Michael, “Do you know how many times King Silas guaranteed peace with Gath before?” David, “The big thing here is I’m not Silas.” Michael, “And yet you’re once again trying to take over Gath.” David, “It’s not-” Leon speaks up, “I think it’s a good idea. It still needs to be looked over-” Michael snaps at him, “You aren’t premiere, I am!” he looks over at David, “This is a Trojan horse. Clearly, you want to be King of North America, and this is how you’re doing it.” David, “If all I wanted was to increase my power and conquer Gath, I’d do it. This agreement forbids war for the sake of conquest, and it holds Gilboa accountable just like any other country.” Jack speaks up, “Michael, listen,” he speaks slowly and carefully, “I get it. You’re only premiere for ten years. You want a legacy, to be a leader, more than a footnote. That’s what you're doing, right?" Michael sighs with annoyance. Jack, "You won't do that keeping Gath in the past.” Michael glowers at Jack, recognizing that he’s made a point. Jack, “Other countries won’t- won’t…” he struggles with he words. Michael smirks, “Brain still scrambled, eh?” David, “That is enough!” Leon, “Seriously man, stop it.” Michael snaps, “You aren’t the one in charge!” Abby, “Maybe we should take a break.” David, “That sounds like a good idea.”

Out in the hallway, the Gilboans discuss strategy. Abby, “Okay, we’ve got a power struggle between brothers. So now what?” David, “I think Jack is on to something. We can try offering Michael some kind of leadership role…” Joel, “Offer him too much, he’ll take it over.” David, “What can we offer him that he’ll like, that he’ll respond to?” As they talk, someone comes up the hallway and goes towards the door. David glances up at the person, and sees that it’s Gerald, “Oh, what the fuck!” Gerald, “Pay me no mind.” David, “This meeting is for sitting officials only!” Gerald opens the door, “I’m not participating, just observing!” he slips into the room and closes the door. David tries to go after him, “This isn’t part of the agreement!” Abby, “David, I fucking told you he’d show up!” David, “I don’t want him in the room!” Abby, “Then ignore him!” Jack, trying to get David back on track, “David! Michael. We’re talking about Michael” David sighs and glances back at the door, “Yeah, okay. I- I think you’re right, we should offer to make him a part of this whole process. The question is, can we give him an important role where he still won’t be able to get in our way?” Jack, “Dinner. The dinner is important.” He stops taking and looks at his hand. David, “So what do we do, just flatter his ego until we leave for dinner, and then flatter him even more?” Abby, “If it gets the job done.” Jack keeps staring down at his hand and mutters, “Aw, fuck.” David, “What?” Jack softly, “I got the lights.” David’s mood immediately shifts to concern. He puts a hand on Jack’s shoulder, “Okay, we’ll get you back up to the room, I guess we can put this meeting on hold.” Jack, “No. You- you keep going.” David, “I don’t want to leave you alone.” Jack, “No!” he waves his hand, “You keep going.” He goes over to his assistant, and then turns back to David, “You go. I’ll be at dinner.”

The Gilboans file back into the meeting room, without Jack. Gerald sits imperiously in a corner. David glances over at him. He mutters to Abby, “Can we get him to leave?” Abby, “Ignore him.” They all sit down. Michael, “Where is Jack?” Abby, “Unfortunately, while we were in discussion, Jack began to experience some pre-seizure symptoms, and had to leave.” Leon, "Is he okay?" David, "Yeah, he's got an aide who's an ex-AFG medic, so he's being looked after.” Michael, “How often does this happen?” David, bristling, “Not often.” Abby, “To get back to the subject at hand, it would be beneficial to all of us if Gath were to take a leadership role in promoting the Union. People who might not be willing to listen to David would be perfectly willing to listen to you.” Michael looks at David and says very carefully, “You know David, I do appreciate that you must be very concerned about Jack.” David, "Don't worry about it. He'll be at dinner. We're pretty used to dealing with it at this point.” Michael, "The two of you have been through quite a lot together." David, “Yes, we have." Michael, "Then hopefully you will appreciate that in matters of international politics, Gath isn't willing to bend over quite as easily as Jack does.” David gets to his feet, “That's enough.” Leon yells at Michael, “Jesus!” Abby, “If you're just going to resort to homophobic insults, these negotiations cannot go forward.” David, “We’re not going to your dinner.” Abby and Michael at the same time, "What?" David, “I understand that Gath wants to be a leading nation in international politics, but in order to do that, it needs an actual leader. Until then, the rest of the world is going to continue to see Gath at it always has: as a complete fucking dump." He storms out of the room.

Back in the lobby of the hotel, Liam still chats with Lisa. His phone buzzes, and takes it out and looks at it, "Oh, no." Lisa, "What is it?” Liam, "Dinner's cancelled." Lisa, "What? Seriously? The dinner's supposed to be a really big deal." Liam shrugs and puts his phone back in his pocket, “Eh, that's diplomacy for you. Something's always getting messed up." Lisa sighs, "I had the most beautiful dress picked out. We still don’t get many occasions to dress up here." Liam, "Tell you what. You and I can still go have a nice dinner. If that goes well, you can take me back to your apartment and show me that beautiful dress. How about it?” Lisa laughs, “Okay.”

Abby and Michelle sit in their hotel room. Abby, "I can’t believe Michael would be such a fucking dick. I mean, I can, but not in a major diplomatic meeting." Michelle, "Everything he learned about diplomacy, he learned watching Gerald and Silas. Petty insults and saying no are all he knows." Abby, “It's another night that I have to spend away from Daniel, and for what? We’ve accomplished nothing!" She sniffs and wipes her eyes. Michelle, “It’s not a completely wasted evening. You’re here in Ashdod, and this time, I'm here too, and, hopefully, this time, you won’t be too afraid to make a romantic advance on me.” Abby sighs and rolls her eyes, “Is that a hint?” Michelle, “Between my residence any Daniel, when was the last time we got a nice evening together?”

In the renovated bar area of the Hotel, Joel and Shay drunkenly karaoke “What’s Up” by 4 Non-Blondes, “HEEEEEEEY-eeeeeey-eeeeeey-ey-ey, HEEEEEEEEEY-ey ey! I said hey! What’s goin’ on?!” A small gathered crows applauds for them. Shay, “Thank you! This is for our brother, Isaiah Clemens! Who should fucking be here right now!” Joel pours out the contents of the bottle in his hands. A Hotel employee hurries up, “Sir, you’re making a mess!”

In their room, David and Jack sit on their bed, eating burgers and shakes, watching Real Housewives. Jack, with a full mouth, “Gath food still sucks.” David laughs and takes a slurp from his shake, “Hey, at least there’s no aconite this time.”

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loveinthewriteway · 7 years

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Here (Chapter 9: diction & crossfaded)

Story Index | 1DFF Louis didn’t show up to class today. This shouldn’t concern me as much as it does, but he hasn’t missed a class since school started. After Professor McGonagall (yes, I know her name, but... I’m petty) nearly cut his head off for being late on the first day, he hasn’t even been tardy. I texted him in the middle of lecture, which definitely isn’t like me, but I wanted to know where he was. I still haven’t gotten a reply, which is also out of character for him. I’ve noticed that he’s usually quick to respond to me in particular (but then again, he’s on his phone 24/7). Professor McGonagall’s mouth is moving but her words aren’t processing at all. Louis’ absence is enough of a distraction for me during class, but once my mind wanders to what I have planned tonight… well. I may as well have missed class like he did. Although I already agreed to having a threesome with Niall and Carmen tonight, I know it’s not too late for me to back out. Of course it would be best for me to be honest with them about my conflicted feelings, but knowing me, I would probably just say I started my period. That would buy me some time to rethink my decision. At the same time though, I can’t deny my desire with participating in something so… forbidden. It’s honestly quite exciting, and simply imagining the possibilities makes me clench my thighs closer together. The fact that they’re interested in me to do something like this with them is already a big deal. I’ve accepted my attraction for Carmen, and again, I can’t deny that Niall has made me feel some sort of way too. Reading about sexual fluidity for my Gender Studies class has me more confused than ever. I can’t stand not knowing the answer to something so important, so maybe something like this will help me figure it out. *** My first day at work is the perfect distraction that I desperately needed. This morning, I thought I was set on doin’ the nasty with Niall and Carmen. But all it took was me struggling for half an hour trying to find a somewhat sexy outfit, and I second guessed my decision. Do they actually find me attractive? Or am I just a perfect candidate to fulfill one of their fantasies? These thoughts legitimately made my head ache, so I took a nap before my shift. It kind of helped (despite my odd dream about Niall sitting in a cardboard box and continuously saying, “Just chillin’ out me box.”) Now I’m just here in the library, twiddling my thumbs and waiting because I’m here a lot earlier than necessary. Finally, I’m approached by an older man, “Hello. You must be…” He adjusts his glasses while squinting at his clipboard, “Ariana. I’m your manager, Boris.” I try to not cringe at my mispronunciation of my name as “air-ee-anne-nuh” and not “are-ee-on-uh,” and the fact that my manager’s name is legitimately Boris. I know I should’ve politely corrected my name, but I missed the chance when he carried on with going over my work responsibilities. His voice is monotone and dry, so I have to put in extra effort to actively listen to him. I didn’t think I would ever say this, but I’ve never been so happy to see Harry in my life when I spotted his notably tall figure. Boris says, “Ah, there’s one of your shift leads. Hello Harry, so nice to see you.” Is it? Is it really nice to see him, Boris? “This is Ariana, she’s new.” “You mean Ariana, Boris,” Harry politely corrects, while maintaining his charm with an easy chuckle. Must be nice. “We’re met before. In fact, we actually studied together yesterday.” He has a friendly grin when he hugs me, while I’m caught off guard at the sudden gesture. Harry tells our manager that a student is waiting to be helped, so I’m finally free of Boris’ dullness. Okay, maybe I’m being a little mean since he’s probably a nice guy. I’m close to falling asleep standing up though, and that wouldn’t set the best impression. “Um… sorry no other English tutor is free right now. From what I know, it’s nothing too hard,” Harry attempts to assure, even though I feel like I’m having a heart attack from my lack of direction. It’s my first job and I have no idea what I’m doing. Awesome. “Just answer the student’s questions, and make sure you stay in your time frame. Your student has half an hour.” I open my mouth to ask a question (read: or ten), but Harry leaves to help his significantly longer line of students needing help with math. Letting out a deep sigh, I nervously open the door to the reserved room with a student waiting. It certainly helps that this girl student is likely a first year, who looks just as shy as I am. I clear my throat and project my best impression of “confidence (whatever the hell that is),” “Hi there! My name is Ariana, what do you need help with?” My voice is a lot louder than I intended, so it makes her jump. “I… um. Do you mind revising my essay?” she asks in a small voice before hastily adding, “Oh and… some feedback with my ideas too?” I easily nod and throw (what I hope is) a comforting smile. Proofreading has always come naturally to me, which is why I usually don’t mind when my friends ask me to revise their essays. To be honest, I’m guilty of choosing to help them in order to put off my own homework; it just doesn’t feel like work to me. After getting through the first page of this essay about African American writer and civil rights activist Audre Lorde, my phone starts to vibrate in my pocket. I don’t allow it to break my concentration, until the sporadic buzzing becomes more audible. Although I can easily get away with checking it since no supervisor is with me, I want to stay focused on helping this student since we’re tight on time. But damn, whoever is texting me must need me to bail them out of jail or is in labor. Maybe even both. (Or it’s probably just my group chat with Liam, Zayn, and Monique. Sometimes, they have stupid ass meme battles I never partake in. I view the text thread just so to get rid of the notification of 37 texts.) “You can answer that, if you want,” the first year speaks up first. “No no, I’m working. Sorry about that,” I apologize, my ears flaming in embarrassment. Running my hands through my mess of curls, I manage to tune out the vibrations and continue revising. All of my friends tend to have the same horrified reaction when they see how much I’ve scribbled on their paper. I guess I can’t blame them. Each essay I’ve revised is splattered with red ink everywhere, as though all their hard work is nothing but a messy war zone. This is definitely the same case with this student. “Don’t worry, it’s not a bad paper. I’m just a tough grader so you can be prepared for your professor,” I reassure, but this doesn’t really change her bewildered expression. While I explain my revisions so far and provide constructive criticism, in the corner of my eye, I see frantic movement through the glass of my office. I glance over and my eyes bulge out of their sockets when I see Louis Tomlinson, obnoxiously waving his arms. What in the world?! I can’t hear anything he’s babbling, so it’s like watching the Pokemon Mr. Mime on a silent film. Although it’s hard to resist my amused grin, I try to decipher what the hell he’s saying. My tilted head and wrinkled brows in confusion clearly shows that I’m failing, so Louis rolls his eyes and points to his phone. I huff in annoyance, holding my hand up so he can just hold the fuck up. This boy’s impatience will be the death of me. “I’m so sorry about that, um… what was I saying?” She squeaks, “It’s fine. I don’t mind waiting here until you’re done talking to your boyfriend.” My lips purse, because why do people always have to assume that a boy a girl is talking to is her boyfriend? And God, why do people assume everyone is heterosexual? Zayn crosses my mind for a moment because the same thing happened with us. Wow, we still haven’t talked since then… this may have been the longest we’ve gone without talking. I quickly shake my head and insist, “He’s not my -” “You know when your phone buzzes, it means I’m trying to talk to you, right?” My eyes narrow at the very rude interruption that decided to just burst into my work, like he owns the damn place. Although, it is a relief to know that he’s alive and kickin’ despite missing his first class without telling me. A growl erupts from my lips. “You know when I don’t answer, it means that I’m busy, right?” Louis simply shrugs while cracking an amused smile. “I’ll just wait here till you’re done then.” I roll my eyes and don’t argue, because I’ve already wasted enough time. As I attempt to divert my attention back to the essay, I overhear Louis trying to start conversation with the timid student. It’s kind of sweet that he’s really trying, despite her not-so-good social skills, and how it doesn’t take long for her to ease into talking with Louis. For a second, my pen freezes with correcting grammar because I realize that that’s Louis and me in a nutshell. But clearly, he’s just an outgoing guy to everyone. I’m not anything special. My heart sinks a bit. I carry on with revising, until I hear him call out, “Grande?” Lifting my head, I simply raise my eyebrows in acknowledgement. He blinks a couple times before licking his lips and looking down on his lap. “I’ll tell you later. Sorry.” “I’m…” I begin, feeling a little bad because he did go out of his way to see me. “I’m almost done, okay? Let me just finish this up, Lou.” His face lights up and I try my hardest to not smile - his happiness is so damn infectious. I hate it sometimes. When I resume giving my feedback to the student, who looks more out of place than ever, I feel Louis’ eyes on me the entire time. This makes my cheeks redden and my words to stumble out of my mouth clumsily. It’s no secret that Louis makes me nervous, but why is the simple action of him looking at me making me feel this way? “Any questions?” I manage, despite my anxiety starting to go haywire with everything running through my mind. She shakes her head and thanks me before rushing out the door. Listen girl, I feel you. But at least you can run away, unlike me. Before Louis can say anything, I blurt out, “Why weren’t you in class today? And why didn’t you text me back?” His bright blue eyes widen a bit, shocked at my outburst. But then he grins, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “You worried about me, Grande?” “N-no, I just…” I hastily defend before huffing out in frustration when his amused expression doesn’t falter, “You should’ve told me. We’re partners.” In our project, I mean. Not like, sexual or anything… Oh my goodness, anyway. Louis’ tone softens, “I know, I’m sorry. I pulled an all nighter working on my essay. Not even sure what time it was when I knocked out, but I slept throughout our class.” My eyes fall to my feet, feeling a bit guilty for assuming the worst. I should’ve remembered how stressed he was yesterday at the library. But of course I didn’t, Niall was too damn distracting. Oh God, that just reminded me that I’m having a damn threesome in a couple hours. “And for the record, I did text back,” Louis adds before puffing his lips out into a pout, “You’re the one who’s been ignoring me.” I roll my eyes, ignoring how adorable that kind of was, “I’m working, Louis. Literally, as we speak.” “Yeah yeah, whatever,” he waves me off nonchalantly, “I just wanna know what I missed today.” I hand him my notebook from my backpack. While he takes pictures of my notes, I let my pride down for a second and mumble, “Are you… are you okay? From staying up? Do you want me to look over your essay or anything?” Louis’ movements halt for a beat before he looks up at me, his cheeks spread in a beam, “I’m okay, thanks Grande. I already turned it in, but can I take you up on that offer next time?” “Meh. Maybe,” I shrug, but he knows that I probably will. “All right, I should really get back to work. It’s my first day, I really don’t wanna mess this up.” “You? Never.” *** “Pen for your thoughts?” I blink, my deep thoughts interrupted by Harry walking into the break room. He legitimately hands me a pen (UCLA branded, of course), which makes me snort at his (somewhat impressive) pun. When he takes the seat in front of me, Harry takes a sip of his tea - looking a lot like one of my aunts who lives for drama. Nervously looking around as though this empty room is filled with people, I hesitate before finally giving in, “I’m… I’m a little stuck with something.” A second opinion shouldn’t hurt, right? Harry seems like a nice guy. “Do tell,” he murmurs against his mug as he sips again, leaning in closer in interest. At first I snicker, but then my face falls. How can I forget that - hello - Harry is Louis’ best friend and Niall’s frat brother. I can’t tell him about how I’m nervous about my fucking threesome with Niall and Carmen! Shit. “I-I don’t know if I should, uh...” I stutter a bit, but Harry waits patiently, his chin resting on his palm. He really does look like one of my gossiping aunties. “take… swing dance classes. Tonight.” Oh Jesus Christ, that is what I come up with? I guess it’ll do (even though I would never, ever take any sort of dance class - let alone for fucking swing). Harry blinks, seemingly disappointed at the anti-climatic tea I spilled, “Oh. That’s it?” “Like, okay. I want to try it, don’t get me wrong,” I begin to vent easily, my conflicted thoughts spilling out of me, “It sounds fun and exciting but… what if I’m not ready to do something like that?” Harry’s brows furrow as he slowly nods, “I take it you’re not that much of a dancer?” “No. Definitely not. I’ve only, uh, taken Zumba classes,” I attempt, really trying to get some genuine advice from him, “I’m comfortable with Zumba, I’ve never tried… any other dance classes.” I’m surprised how well I’ve been keeping this up. “Hm. Well, you shouldn’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Even if it might be too late to cancel,” he advises while casually drinking more of his tea, “But then again, you never know if you’ll like swing dancing until you try.” My shoulders relax a bit, impressed by how his feedback actually applies to my situation. Even though his thoughts aren’t really anything new, hearing it from an outside perspective is enough affirmation for me. Harry continues, “Are you going with a friend or?” I pause for a moment. “Um. Yes?” I mean, I guess Niall and Carmen are my friends. “That’s good. If you’ll be with people you trust, they’ll help you have a good time if you’re nervous.” I can’t help but snort at the relevance. “You’ll be fine. Just make sure you stretch and be prepared to move your body in ways you didn’t think it could.” I bust up laughing at the innuendo he is completely clueless about, and receive a strange look from Harry in response. “We’re still talking about swing dancing, right?” *** I’ve been standing in front of Carmen’s dorm for ten minutes, my hand hovering over the door in hesitance. My nerves are taking a toll on me, to the point that I’ve lost track over how many times I’ve rubbed my sweaty palms on my jeans. I can only hope that this shirt doesn’t show my sweat circles under my armpits. (I know, so sexy.) Although it took my entire closet exploding in my dorm, I was able to find a pretty good outfit. The best I can do, at least. I’m wearing a white over the shoulder, long sleeved crop top with a matching choker (which was probably on sale when I bought it years ago, but whatever). Monique sent me the 100 emoji when I Snapchatted her, so that’s got to mean something. Because I have no matching sets of lingerie, I figured that the next best thing would be to match colors. Although this strapless nude bra is uncomfortable and probably a cup too small (Victoria’s Secret employees would have my head, I know), I believe it’s pretty hot! Same with my nude panties (that may or may not be a couple shades off). Does it really matter though? It’s coming off anyway. Before I can consider (for the thousandth time) to retreat back to my dorm and hide under my covers for the rest of my life, my fist finally knocks on the door. It opens painstakingly slow, and I’m welcomed by a slow drawl, “Hiiii Ariiiii…” My jaw drops a bit when I take in Carmen’s appearance. Don’t get me wrong, I believe this beauty is one of those people who can look stunning no matter what. I just wasn’t expecting her to look so… comfortable? Her hair is pulled up in a messy bun, strands of hair freely falling and baby hairs curling up at her temples. She’s rocking an oversized shirt and basketball shorts, which makes me feel terribly overdressed. This look isn’t a bad thing at all; I just wish I got the memo, damn it. “Hey Carmen,” I begin, until I notice her bloodshot eyes. “Um… you okay?” A lazy smile spreads across her cheeks while she nods her head, her bun cutely bopping along with her movements. Things make a lot more sense when the strong stench of marijuana fills my nostrils once I walk in. “Ariana!” I almost fall over in surprise when Niall practically tackles me into a hug. He’s also dressed rather comfortably, which is irritating because he also looks damn good with no effort. Stupid snapback hat, shirt with cut off sleeves, and gray joggers. Niall sounds a lot more friendly and enthusiastic than usual, but his voice trails off when his eyes wander my form, “Wow… you look…” “Hot as hell,” Carmen whispers in my ear from behind me, making me almost fall over again. When she places her hands on my tense, bare shoulders, she asks if I’m all right. “Um… yeah…” I don’t sound too convincing. Niall chuckles before suggesting, “Maybe you need to relax a bit?” My eyes widen when he casually pulls out a joint, as though I asked for some damn sugar. It’s not my first time seeing weed or anything, I’ve just never smoked in my life. In fact, I’ve never been interested in trying despite the fact that all my friends do. “Yes, you definitely should!” Carmen encourages while wrapping her arm around me, “Honestly, I feel so good right now. It’s good quality shit too, so you’ll have a good ass high.” I blink a couple times, before shaking my head and declining, “I’m good, but thank you.” Awkwardly taking a seat on her bed (that’s definitely bigger than mine since she doesn’t have a dorm mate), Carmen pouts while Niall shrugs and lights his joint. I try to keep myself busy by looking at my phone, but my gaze keeps returning to Niall. Fuck, he just looks so… cool. I know. I sound like a damn freshman in high school admiring the popular senior. In a way, that’s exactly how I feel right now - an inexperienced, naive, and small outcast who is somehow hanging out with the cool kids. I’ve never been pressured to do drugs - verbally, at least. But you see, peer pressure is typically depicted in movies like this: the popular antagonist pushes the goody-two-shoes into trying something bad, the good guy is resistant at first, and they eventually give in when the bad guy calls them a chicken or something. Movies never really address how peer pressure can occur without harmful intentions. Someone can compromise their prior beliefs simply because they are outnumbered, not necessarily for the sake of “looking cool” - more so, to at least feel like they belong there. This is why I find myself asking quietly, “Niall? Uh, may I-” Despite the clouds of smoke that he exhales, his blue eyes still shine in arrogance - as though he knew I was going to ask. He uses his index and middle finger to gesture me to sit with him by the desk (which really shouldn’t be making me feel some type of way). “Yaaasss, Ari!” Carmen cheers, shamelessly sticking her tongue out. “While you do that, I’mma get some snacks. Be right back.” Before I can say a word, she hurries out the door and closes it shut behind her. I’ve never been alone with just Niall before, so my stomach is churning a bit. Even though I know he’ll probably be easygoing and flirty like yesterday, I’m still anxious over how I’m going to act towards him. Maybe I really do need to get high… hell, getting crossfaded doesn’t sound like a bad idea either. I knew I shouldn’t taken a shot before I came here. “Is it your first time?” Niall nonchalantly asks, while I’m a bit stunned at his forwardness. When he catches the look on my face, he smirks while clarifying, “Smoking. Is it your first time smoking?” “Oh!” I nervously laugh because, my God, I thought he was straight up asking if it was my first time having sex. Y’all can’t blame my mind being in the gutter; I’m about to have a threesome, okay? “Uh, yeah.” My cheeks redden a bit in embarrassment, and I expect Niall to look at me like I’m some sort of prude. Instead, he easily grins and offers, “I can help ya out if you want.” “How so?” My tone comes off as more suggestive than I intended, and Niall seems to interpret it as flirting. I’m not mad about it though. His tongue briefly runs over his bottom lip, keeping his gaze on me, “Open your mouth.” Normally I would’ve questioned this sudden command, but his husky voice and dominance proves to be persuasive when my mouth opens obediently. Niall lights another joint before bringing it to his lips, taking his time to inhale the drug. His hooded lids open to meet my curious orbs. Niall gestures me to come closer again, his magnetic pull drawing me closer. Although I haven’t even taken a hit yet, the ounce of confidence I have pushes me to sit on his lap. He’s surprised at first, but he doesn’t seem to mind when his hands hold my frame. My plump lips, still ajar, are centimeters away from his when he slowly breathes into me. His whisper simultaneously blows with the smoke, “Take it in. Slowly.” Fuck. I do what I’m told once more. My eyelids flutter to close while I instinctively adjust myself, trying to relieve the aching desire to some extent. Niall groans, which makes me realize that I unintentionally grinded on him. Again, I’m definitely not mad about it. Within moments, a rush of relaxation conquers my nerves. My tense muscles are now loose, and this new feeling of liberation has me on cloud nine. I definitely understand why people smoke weed now, I honestly feel… amazing. After vaguely hear Niall say something, I mutter not very coherently, “Huh?” His chuckle makes me laugh too, for whatever reason. “I said, you want another hit?” Niall has this crooked grin that is also very convincing, so I energetically nod like a damn bobblehead (again, who cares though). With his guidance, I take a couple hits with our shared joint. Every puff I take in seems to level up my self-esteem, especially sexually, which is what I’ve desperately needed. I’m ready to ask Niall to shotgun me again, but I perk up when Carmen walks back in. Hopping off of his lap, I gush, “Caaaarmen. You’re right, I feel so fucking good.” She beams, before finishing the last of her Snickers bar. I wish she bought me one too, it smells so fucking good. “So are we gonna get started or what?” Niall puts out the joint on the ashtray and stands up, casually placing his hands behind his head. “Can’t wait any longer, babe.” I’m sure he’s addressing his girlfriend, but my face heats up anyway. “Ariana,” Carmen turns towards me, giving me her undivided attention, “Are you sure you wanna do this?” I don’t even bother to hide my eagerness. “Yes.” Fuck reconsidering this for the thousandth time. I’m with Niall - let’s get this started already. I want Carmen, I want Niall, and I want them both at the same time. After a stare-off of what feels like ten minutes, she finally nods, “I want this too. Babe, what about you?” “Are ya kidding?” Niall stands up and wraps each of his arms around us, “Do you really have to ask? Fuck yeah.” Of course we have to ask, consent is important! We’re standing there for a couple seconds, not really knowing what to do. Carmen makes the first move and stands in front of me. My face flushes when her hands cradle my cheeks, mumbling, “I’ve never kissed a girl before.” I’m stunned in silence as she inches closer to me. The pace is too slow for me, so I decide boldly close the gap between us. Her lips are soft and full - perfect, really. I’m not sure what tastes sweeter, her or the chocolate. I run my fingers through her hair, enjoying her gasp when I tug on her bun. Her hands find their way to my hips briefly, but it’s not long before they make their way lower. My quiet moan vibrates between our mouths when she squeezes my ass. A louder moan escapes when Niall caresses my breasts from behind, while his mouth begins to eagerly kiss the back of my neck. He sucks harder before lightly tugging with his teeth, no doubt leaving a love bite as a reminder of tonight. When Carmen and I separate to catch our breath, I’m captivated by her swollen lips and pink cheeks. I’m not given much time to appreciate it because Niall hastily turns me around to face him, “I love this shirt, but you won’t need it anymore.” (I try to not think about if he intended to quote Bruno Mars’ song, “Versace on the Floor.”) His fingers sneak under my top, and it amazes me how my skin tingles at his simple touch. Niall attempts to hastily pull my shirt off, but that fails because the tight sleeves get stuck in my arms. We all laugh it off, especially when it takes a lot longer than expected to remove it. Once both my top and choker drop to the ground, Niall’s breath hitches in his throat. “Damn. Wow.” Carmen stands next to him and bites her lip, “You’re so hot.” It doesn’t take very long for everyone else’s clothes to join mine on the floor, but I’m last to strip completely. Although my high is still at its prime, I’m still a bit self-conscious since I haven’t been nude in front of someone for a long time. Carmen seems to sense my hesitance since her lips meet mine again, which easily comforts me. She wraps her arms around my chest and unhooks my bra without looking (something I’m sure Niall definitely can’t do). Shivers are sent down my spine once I’m completely exposed, especially when Niall pulls off my panties. I wonder why Carmen whines in my mouth at that moment. My question is answered once fingers brush against my throbbing center, causing me to curse. “Good thing I’m left handed and right handed, huh?” Niall teases. This cheeky remark doesn’t really fully process in my clouded mind, because my smart ass definitely would’ve corrected him. It’s called ambidextrous. “I’m sorry this is forward but um,” Carmen abruptly says, halting our touching, “I’ve always wanted to try scissoring.” Oh Jesus. I can’t say I’m surprised, this is one of the most popular ~lesbian sex positions~. In case you don’t know what it is, here’s my most simple explanation: make a peace sign with both hands and close them in together. The gap between your index and middle finger on each hand should be touching the other - like scissors (hence the name). Now... imagine your fingers are women’s legs. Know what I mean, jellybean? A bit overrated, in my opinion. “Um…” I trail off, trying to not be as blunt, “it feels good, but it’s not the most comfortable?” “Can you both just give it a try?” Niall groans close to my ear while stroking Carmen’s back, “God, it would be sooo sexy.” I make a face, hoping that he’s not expecting us to reenact some porn video. Those are incredibly exaggerated and should not be the expectation of true sex. “Mm… all right,” I decide, only because I haven’t done that position in a long time. I’ve always been on top, which I’m okay with, but I get tired easily. Since it’s Carmen’s first time, I’m assuming I’ll be doing all the work (read: won’t orgasm). Nothing new, I guess. We all move to the bed, Niall stroking himself as Carmen and I get into the position. Carmen’s mirror is close to the bed, so I see our reflection and… wow. I definitely don’t blame Niall - the sight of me hovering over Carmen’s beautiful naked form is incredibly arousing. My eyes drift down to her already staring at me, her brown eyes significantly darker as she takes me in. My dripping center meets hers, and already, her eyes are rolling back in bliss. I grind slowly at first, but I can’t help but quickening my pace. I’m normally rather quiet, but this pleasure has me letting out noises without a second thought. This doesn’t very last too long unfortunately, because my fucking leg falls asleep. I try to ignore it at first, but once it starts to affect my grinding, I speak up, “Ugh, shit. I’m sorry, my leg is asleep.” While I’m kind of embarrassed about this, I feel that communication is necessary. Also, this is probably a reality check for Niall that we’re humans - not porn stars. “It’s… it’s okay,” Carmen assures, a little out of breath. “Let’s try a different position.” I’m relieved when I finally have the chance to lie down. Geez, I need to go to the gym. “Okay, let’s plan this,” Niall speaks like he’s our damn coach or something, despite having a (quite impressive) boner (but then again, this is the first dick I’ve seen in person so I don’t have much to compare it to). “Babe, can you suck my dick?” “Yeah sure. Ari, do you mind eating me out though?” It’s getting difficult for me to stifle my laughter when we talk so casually about this, but again, communication is important. I appreciate us planning this. I stroke my chin thoughtfully, “How the hell are we gonna do that?” We lie in silence, contemplating for a couple moments. When a raunchy idea comes to mind, I’m quick to suggest it, “Carmen, you can sit on my face while you suck Niall’s dick.” Jesus. I didn’t mean to be so… crude. I surprise myself. Niall agrees within a millisecond, “I’m down. Yup. Let’s do it.” “Damn… didn’t think you got down like that, Ari,” Carmen muses slyly going on her knees, while I nonchalantly shrug. “Niall, how about you get off the bed and stand up? I’ll blow you on the edge of the bed?” He doesn’t even bother hiding his clear excitement when he hurriedly obliges. It takes awhile for us to get the hang of our placement, but we manage. A couple pillows are placed under my head to provide elevation for Carmen’s mouth to reach Niall’s length. She also has to arch her body a bit (which will probably strain her back after awhile, but she doesn’t seem to mind), while Niall holds onto her weight so she doesn’t fall over. At least it works, I think. I immediately know when Carmen starts Niall’s blowjob because, well, he’s loud as hell. It’s not a bad thing I guess, but my mind starts to wander about the neighboring students. I feel sorry for them, Carmen and Niall are probably sexually active. But anyway, back to what’s really important. Carmen was kind enough to ask if she needed to do anything, but my only response was, “Enjoy.” I truly enjoy this position (my ex definitely took full advantage of that, which is why I’m confident in my skills - lots of practice). I can tell Carmen trying hard to not place her entire weight on me, so I wrap my arms around her thighs so she can relax her muscles. My tongue circles around her clit, and I’m satisfied when I hear Carmen stop sucking Niall off just to moan my name out loud. When I begin to use my lips to suck hers, she begins swiveling her hips against me. One of the hardest things of this position is breathing, but it’s all about control. “Come for me, babygirl.” I pause for a moment, shocked that Niall is able to turn me on again. He wasn’t even talking to me! And with dirty talk? That isn’t usually my forte, but when Niall does it… My center is aching, and I’m desperate to fill my need to be touched. Still, I continue eating out Carmen; truthfully, I’m used to giving rather than receiving. Her thighs begin to quiver, and she reaches her orgasm almost instantly. “Ari baby, when can I taste you?” Fuck. When Carmen gets off of me, Niall lies down next to me. His hand rubs my inner thigh before slowly grazing my swollen sex, making me hiss. “Wanna sit on my face? Let me take care of you.” “Please.” I don’t recognize my own whimper that comes out of my mouth on its own accord. I’m pretty impressed with Niall’s idea of Carmen riding him while he does this (probably an idea from porn). Some of my confidence simmers a bit since this is the first time I’m the one receiving in this position. And my thighs are definitely thicker than Carmen’s. What if I kill Niall?! I shake my head at my ridiculous thoughts. While Niall grabs a condom (an entire pack is conveniently placed on the nearest desk - they’re definitely prepared), I clean my face a bit before smoking another joint. Although my mind gets more foggy than my first high, my body is more at ease and I feel better already. I needed that. Niall’s “come hither” gestures shouldn’t turn me on as they do, but they really do. I’m practically crawling towards him, my mouth watering at the sight of him lying on his back stroking himself. Unlike before, I’m swiftly on my knees and ready to straddle his face. My body is facing Carmen as she readies herself to ride Niall. He wraps his arms around my thighs like I did earlier, but he roughly brings me down on him. I’m caught off guard, but very turned on. Niall’s mouth is working wonders in a hurried pace, which brings overwhelming sensations everywhere. Is it the drugs that’s making me high out of my mind, or is it his fucking tongue? Niall is like a drug I can’t get enough of. He makes me want to be selfish and demand to receive, not give. Carmen’s moans aren’t even registering in my head because I’m so caught up in this boy underneath me, determined to send me over the edge. It’s not until she calls my name, in which I lazily recognize by simply opening my eyes to meet hers. My heart stops when I finally take her in. Her breasts are bouncing with every thrust while her brows are furrowed in concentration, desperate for her and Niall’s release. I whimper, short of breath, “Fuck.” “I’m close -” Carmen manages to say despite her panting, and I shamelessly watch the way her mouth opens wider and wider until she cries out. Her movements begin to slow down as her orgasm hits her, so Niall rapidly thrusts into her. His prior rhythm with eating me out gets sloppy as he reaches his high, but unfortunately I can’t say the same. Deep down, I feel like another reason Katy dumped me was because of how hard it can be to make me come. It’s shitty because I just can’t help it sometimes, and it’s actually pretty normal. Once Niall finishes, I get off of him and lie on my back. I’m a bit disappointed, but mostly relieved that I can stretch my legs (listen, this is the most cardio I’ve done in like, months). Carmen and Niall are probably that fit couple who go to the gym together to not only be healthy, but to also have bomb ass sex. Can’t relate. “You didn’t come, huh? Fuck, I’m sorry about that,” Niall genuinely apologizes before offering, “Carmen, maybe you can blow me so I can get hard, and then Ari and I can -” “No, it’s fine,” I insist, interrupting before he can finish his sentence. I think I know where he was going with it. “I’m good. You both came, and I’m okay with that.” “No!” Carmen and Niall object simultaneously. As crazy as the night has been going, this brings a sincere smile to my face because they actually care about me finishing. I’m grateful that they’re the people I’m experiencing this with. It doesn’t take long for me to give in. Sue me, I’m still pretty horny and I want my orgasm. Or five. “All right. Just… um, do you mind just fingering me, Niall?” His face falls, but he nods anyway. “Turn around for me,” Niall gently commands, which I follow despite being a bit confused over him wanting us to spoon. He begins to rub my skin slowly, sensually… almost romantically. We’re interrupted by Carmen, who I almost forgot was there for a second. “What about me?” She doesn’t sound angry at all, more so eager about the next thrilling position we’re going to try. At this point, I’m ready to literally Google the best threesome positions on my phone because I’m out of ideas. Niall sighs against my skin, almost disappointed when he proposes, “How about you lie next to me and give me a handjob while I finger Ari?” Although I’m worried about being an inconvenience to the couple, Carmen’s excitement doesn’t falter when she joins us on the bed. He resumes with his sensual touches, until he murmurs against my ear, “May I kiss you?” My arms are erupted with goosebumps, and I’m not sure if it’s his tickling breath or his request. My head turns to face Niall, who is giving me an intrigued stare. I look over at Carmen, who surprises me with a nod in approval - looking positively enthralled. “Yes,” I quietly utter, still feeling a bit ashamed about how badly I want Niall’s lips on mine. Not only is he dating one of my friends, but... he’s also a guy. Until recently, I was so sure I only liked girls. Now, I have no idea. Unlike Carmen, I don’t want to tell him that he’s the first boy I’m kissing. I don’t realize I’m spacing out until Niall lifts my chin to meet his darker blue eyes. I’m completely still, unable to kiss him first like I did with Carmen. When he closes the gap between us, my breath hitches in my throat in anticipation. His lips are rougher than Carmen’s, as well as Katy’s. He’s more eager, nibbling on my bottom lip and exploring my mouth with his tongue. Although I’m kissing back, I’m still trying to figure out if I like the way his mouth works against mine. He pulls away unexpectedly, “Carmen, babe. I’m sorry, but this position is kind of uncomfortable. Do you mind just… jacking me off after Ari comes?” The entire mood changes. Instead of sexual tension, it’s pure tension now. I feel like I just crossed a very blurry line. “Oh um… okay,” Carmen awkwardly says, “I’ll just touch myself, I guess.” “Honestly, I’m fine,” I’m quick to assert, “This isn’t even necessary -” Although Niall opens his mouth, Carmen is first to insist, “No Ari, you deserve it. You agreed to doing this with us, okay?” When I don’t respond, Niall asks, “You good? Or do you wanna stop?” I turn to Carmen, still unsure, but she smiles and nods. Well, if she’s okay with it then so am I. “I don’t want to stop,” I finally say, going back into my position. I catch the same cocky look in Niall’s eyes, the one when he knows that I’m going to give in anyway. It annoys me, mostly because he’s been right each time. His hand travels from hip up to my breasts, my nipples immediately perking at his touch. While they’re not too impressive, I appreciate that Niall is still giving my chest attention. When he wanders past my belly button, my hips impulsively jolt towards him. “Eager, are we?” His arrogant remark should piss me off, but it turns me on more than anything. He slowly brushes his fingers around my sex, his tantalizing amplifying my desire for him. I’m squirming when I groan, “Niall…” “Yes?” Niall breathes in my ear, acting like he has no idea what he’s doing to me. But he does - oh, he definitely does. “What do you want, baby?” If he thinks I’m going to participate in his dirty talk, he’s going to be disappointed. When I only mewl at his brief flick against my clit, he growls, “Tell me what you want.” In all honesty, dirty talk does turn me on. I’ve never been with anyone who talks like that though, so I’m just not sure if I’m good enough to try. “Come on Ariana,” Niall purrs, the way his name rolls of his tongue makes me lean closer into him, “I know you want it, just tell me…” My mind is moving slowly, to the point that I don’t even realize words are coming out of my mouth, “Come. I wanna come.” At that moment, Niall finally applies pressure on my aching center and I let out my loudest moan. My hips writhe until my legs spread out completely; I don’t even care that my back is basically on top of Niall. He pushes his middle finger inside of me before adding his index finger, confidently curving it to hit that spot. I’m helplessly melting into him, again, not realizing what I’m even saying, “Yes… right there, please.” He doesn’t need me saying that though - Niall is so sure of himself. When he uses his other hand to rub my clit while pumping faster, my thighs start shaking. “You like it when I get aggressive?” I’m really glad he can’t see my face in this angle, because it completely drops. Cue the sound of the record scratching and stopping. Did he mean to quote Drake’s song, “Controlla?” Or does he not think I would pick up on it? “Who’s gonna make you come, babygirl?” Because honestly, I probably wouldn’t have noticed. I never listen to the radio. In fact, I only know that song because of - “Lou-” Oh my God! Did I really just... “y-you. You. You are gonna make me come.” God bless my up to par skills of thinking on my toes and under pressure. Even though I’m about to go under cardiac arrest. Jesus Christ, how did I almost do the cliche of saying someone else’s name during sex? Louis’ name, of all people. Why does this type of thing always happen to me?! Niall is quiet for second, so paranoia hits me like a truck. I mean, Lou rhymes with you. He could’ve easily “misheard,” right? Or maybe I’m just fucked. Should I move transfer schools? Move out of the country? You know, moving back to Italy doesn’t sound like a bad idea. My plans for the future are interrupted when Niall asks in a gruff voice, “You close, Ariana?” If he did hear me say Lou, at least he’s not mentioning it right now. But I think he mistakened my heavy breathing as approaching my orgasm. Well, this is awkward - Niall, that was just my anxiety. Louis comes to my mind again, but in a different way. My heart is pounding when I think about the way he looks at me, like I’m the most important person in the room. How his eyes tend to travel around my entire face, settling on my lips a beat longer before meeting my gaze. How his face lights up when I call him Lou, because he feels special enough to be called a nickname. Just like how he calls me Grande. But on the other hand, the few times when he has a serious and tense expression. Whether it be when he’s talking about something serious, or when he’s focused on just listening… fuck. “Yes, I’m close.” My mouth is moving on its own again, but at least it’s honest this time - only because I’m thinking of someone else. My mind is all over the place, but all I know is that Louis is the only one running through it right now. I start to think about how his skin would feel against mine, how he would make me feel good - When the fingers rub me a lot more frantically, I’m reminded that the person touching me isn’t Louis - it’s Niall. Someone who doesn’t know me nearly as well as Louis, and apparently, not about how “being close” doesn’t always mean “go faster.” Just keep up what you’re currently doing, damn! Despite being under the influence, I can still recognize that I’m not close to finishing anymore. Knowing Niall, he’s not going to give up until I come - but it doesn’t seem likely tonight. I’m a bit disappointed, but mostly exhausted. So, I do the second worst (this may actually be worse) thing during sex: I fake it. My performance isn’t too shabby, but I’m not too proud of the fact that it’s because I’ve done it often in the past. I feel like I’ve let Nicki Minaj down by not demanding my orgasm, but again, I’m tired. And hungry. Maybe I’ll get a Snickers too. Niall is the first to speak up, “Wow. This was all so… damn. Craziest shit I’ve ever done.” I nod in agreement, because honestly, I can’t argue with that. I lay there in silence, trying to wrap my head around everything that just happened. Everything is still moving slowly though, and all I want to do is sleep. “Well, I’m gonna clean up.” I jump, almost forgetting that Carmen was there for like, the tenth time. When I catch the weird look on her face, my body abruptly sits up. Shit, what if she heard me say Lou? I know she wouldn’t tell him but… I do not want Louis ever finding out that this happened. There’s no way he’ll ever find out that I was thinking about him, so at least I can keep that a secret. But I don’t even want to tell him about the fact that I just had a threesome with Carmen and Niall. Why though? Asking myself that simple question makes my heart stop. What scares me the most is that I might know the answer. --- (Beyonce voice) GOD DAMN GOD DAMN GOD DAMN That happened. Told y’all it was gonna be wild. I know it’s pretty graphic, and trust me, it’s intentional. While I wanted to express how ~sexy~ it is, I also wanted to describe some realistic scenarios as well. (Tee, you probably wanna kill me for making the threesome happen. Don’t worry, Ari learns her lesson and things kinda go downhill from here lmao) Sorry this took so long! It’s been awhile since I’ve written smut, so I definitely struggled. Hopefully this is decent! I would greatly appreciate any sort of feedback: -about the smut (read: ~swing dancing~) as a whole -Niall being a horny shit (can’t blame him, he’s doin’ the nasty with Alessia Cara and Diane Guerrero like...) and stealing lines from songs (lmao pls don’t hate me but it’s kinda funny) and “just chillin’ out me box” -Ariana becoming a ~dangerous woman~ when she’s high and almost saying Louis’ name lmao bye -Harry as the auntie who lives for drama and spilling the tea -Louis visiting Ari at work -Niall’s natural brown hair and unseasoned chicken -how your day is going, the Golden Globes (can I just mention that I fucking typed Golden GLOVES at first? I’m crying), anything! Okay. Ready for the rest of my long ass author’s note regarding Here getting featured? (You don’t have to read this, but it would mean a lot if you did!) I’m gonna get hella simpy because, well, that’s me (even though I definitely screamed/cried in all caps in a Tumblr post). I am so incredibly honored that Here is December’s featured fic! Holy hell, it still blows my mind. I didn’t think I would ever get that kind of recognition, and this fic is one of the few featured fics with less than 100 reviews. I don’t have a problem with that of course; I write because it’s my passion, that’s all. But damn. That’s why I’m so damn shook lmao! Most importantly, this is one of the few featured fics that has a woman of color as the main character (not just as a face claim either - Ariana’s Italian-American culture is a component to her character). This is the main reason I’m so emotional about all of this and why it’s a huge deal. While representation in fanfiction may not be equivalent to Hollywood, I find it to still be a prominent issue. When I first got into 1DFF, I was pretty much conditioned to accepting that every main character is going to be a white, heterosexual, cis gendered, thin, able-bodied girl. But honestly? I was and still am tired of it. Since writing is an awesome platform that provides countless opportunities, I try my best to be inclusive and have diversity in my cast (especially since OT4 are white, hetereosexual, cis gendered, able-bodied, and fit the beauty standard already). In this case, I wanted to focus on a woman of color’s questioning her sexuality and bisexuality as a whole. With that said, I am grateful that not only my writing is getting exposure - but the fact that my fic with diversity is. The issues I address, the different cultures… It means so much that I’m gaining readers who (hopefully) absorb the messages, as well as women of color readers who reach out too. Thank you all so much. - Angel

#hello this is almost 8K of pure craziness #idk what this is #pls send help #i hope y'all enjoy it took me 5 million years and i'm not even satisfied with it #i'm just gonna go in a box like Niall #just chillin out me box #here #1dff #one direction #one direction fanfiction #louis tomlinson #niall horan #1d woc #woc fic

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everyonediesinalabama · 7 years

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Drawn To The Damage: by Jonathan Rutan

“Look out,” she didn’t yell. She often did, but, tonight, she had that glow. It was changing everything. “Seriously, you almost hit a mailbox.” Whimsical bemusement, that’s what Basic wanted to call it. He couldn’t stop staring. Her glow was cherry apple happy, rosy cheeks and stardust at the eyes.

Staring at her was forever getting Basic into trouble. Two weeks past, when he’d driven her to the mall to pick out the watch her parents had given her the money to buy, he’d looked over as she’d texted in the passenger seat of his truck. He’d been thinking how lucky he was that she wanted to hang out with him, and, he’d almost slipped into another lane—missed sideswiping an SUV by inches.

That had been okay. She’d hollered that time. As he’d gotten them back to where they belonged, she’d even called him the worst driver ever, and, to his heart skip delight, she’d also laughed. She’d asked what in the world was she going to do with him. That had been a good day.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. He was doing that a lot lately. Mumbling…and he used to be able to speak so clearly to her. “So, what do you think?”

“About what?”

She was cocooning. Her body tucking itself inside that glow—all the comfort it could find as she curled, back arched into his leather seat, elbows at the knees. Every so often, she happily twirled at her hair, one long white finger running loops through blond silk as she stared out his windshield.

More mailboxes, and shadowy driveway’s, raced past. She lived in the cul-de-sac of cul-de-sac’s—a claustrophobic, barely two-way, street filled with lifeless square patches of green and houses that were indistinguishable from one another. If he hadn’t known her address, the 4046 stenciled bright onto the side of her front door, Basic was sure he’d easily skip past her place only to drop her off at the doorstep of some confused neighbor.

She wasn’t taking any of it in. Sure, if he swerved hard again and crunched a few of those miserable mailboxes she might wake up, take notice enough to once more remind him to be careful. But, Basic’s soul only held a certain amount of bravery—limited stutter steps that allowed for him to do just a few of the things he was drawn to.

And, anyway, right now—as the morning stretched past one in the am. and angled towards a very early two—she was lost in the past five hours. He would have to take out half the neighborhood to make her sit up straight.

“About Paul,” Basic coughed. His throat was a vice, some closed tunnel constricting more and more as his heart raced. He’d lost, he’d seen it all night as he’d sat on the corner of a white couch trying to convince himself it was okay he wasn’t leaving. “I…so…I was asking if you think he’s interested in you?”

He couldn’t quite figure why he’d invited himself along. They’d had plans—not very specific—to get a touch religious. Just swing by a local Catholic church—perhaps walk a few steps down an aisle—simply because she’d been telling him she was going to go to hell.

It was nonchalant. A kind of, “oh, by the way, I’m doomed, nothing to be done, how are you,” statement that—Basic supposed—he should have smiled at as if it hadn’t meant a thing. She was certain she’d sinned, a lot, and there was no way out. But, she was so familiar with her sin she didn’t care. It was something else he was drawn to. January Why, all slender limbed with a sharp white face that captured her every distant, cold, stare.

Basic understood well how that could be an issue to others—still, he had that too. Not to her level, yet, he was familiar with cold as well.

And, her cold demeanor didn’t really matter, nothing did. How she could, quite frequently, abandon people to her past—discard them like tuffs of insignificance, the random flakes of annoyance that collected on her life only to be brushed off with a flick of those long white fingers. To Basic, it was merely another similarity. He discarded people too—he was sure it made his eyes just as distant as hers.

Basic adored that distance. January had Liam, Jason, Beau, and others. He had Alexa, Katie, Monique, and pornography. Sure, his list was of women he’d merely been friends with, or had been on a level with that resided in seeing them topless after a couple drinks, and hours of making out. And, sure, the last occupier of his list wasn’t even a woman—it was fantasy, and girls on the internet, images from movies that had been filmed in places like Orlando, or California. Porn wasn’t a singular person, it was so many, but it resided in the arena of use—of frigid meaninglessness because this was a girl who had just met that guy, or that other girl, or that vibrational device, and love could not be a part of that. Porn counted.

Still, Basic did know how everything would appear. January had slept with most of those she’d flicked away—everything that made her into her revolved around a life that had been lived while he’d only ever felt guilt over the potential.

Yet, that didn’t matter either. In all actuality, sleeping around was a secondary issue. He and January each had a list, that was what was important. Basic even thought of January’s list—her sin—as her bent. A bent that made her cocky, while he had only hate.

For himself, for the world, what made Basic damaged was what made him loath his very existence, and that was a hiccup. He was like her—he just had to be—yet, she loved how familiar she’d become with her bent, and he didn’t. How could that have happened?

January had revealed this herself. “I just,” they were done with a backrub, some new—awesome—tradition to their nights. Basic would stop by, they’d talk on her couch, and then he’d free the knots on her shoulders before she cat-purred relax and stretched her legs out on his lap. “I think I can get anyone I want.”

Hell, and Liam—her top number one name on that list of hers—were an hour past. They had drifted into deeper waters.

“Oh,” Basic agreed, a yes felt too spot on, too quick. He was afraid if he said that she’d stop talking and he needed to hear more. “You think you’re able to bring any guy to his knees?” She stared up at him. Her head was placed gentle, right in the middle of an ocean of blond that fell in wavy currents over the plush black of an arm of her couch. She was beautiful. He wanted to watch her like this forever.

“Who said it’s only guys?”

What? He perked up, probably did give a smile, or a deer in the head lights flinch which he often did whenever something sudden was presented his way. He could lie, but only if that was planned for—when she asks if I’m a virgin I’ll say no, I will—but when it was quick he was always this: a clear window into every flurry of emotion he’d ever had.

“Kidding,” January giggled. But, she also pulled back, her body curling tight as her feet began to slip from him. “Wow, interested in girls with girls—is that it?” “Isn’t everyone?” He wouldn’t push further, follow this intrigue beyond whatever shoreline they’d suddenly found themselves upon. He wanted back to the depths, her legs once more a comfort upon his lap. Wasn’t that why he’d said only “oh” before, to avoid this full retreat he was sure she was about to make?

“Sorry,” Basic said, “sorry, but, the guys…you really think you own them?”

“Except for Liam,” she smiled sad. Her beauty faded, but he was back in. January uncurled straight, and he was swimming. “Except for him I can get anyone. I got you, right?” So cocky, so self-assured, he should have left at that moment, taken off with a well-placed “you’re not all that,” hanging out behind his steps. But, she was right. Let her boast, crow as proud as she pleased, her self-awareness—her selfishness, her whatever—was something he couldn’t help but to also adore. It was just who she was.

“Yeah,” Basic said. Forget what she’d mentioned about girls, forget Liam, it was this truth he wanted. “You got me…you got me good.”

January Why, strong, unbreakable. She was a thousand other words—cold, kind, beautiful, and fragile—and though she was so accepting of who she was, he couldn’t help himself. He hadn’t saved his mother from his father. He hadn’t been able to save himself either. How could he not try and save her from hell?

And, asking if she wanted to visit that Catholic church hadn’t even been something that had been brought up out of nowhere. He too would talk of Liam, or of other affairs, the finest ink of her darkest past—she’d already suss out of him his porn addiction, he really did like girls with girls, or girls with guys, or girls with whatever. It was his twist, his bent, laid bare, and there was also the way he kept apologizing for that night, and what he’d done. Darkness was simply their conversation. The light a natural turn he’d thought appropriate as well.

However, long before any light was brought up, Basic had probably liked all that darkness talk much more then he should have. He kept angling back to it. How she wasn’t just selfish, or distant, she wasn’t just strong where he felt only shame, she was drawn towards her own shame—or maybe it was more of that familiar sin—just like he was. It fascinated him.

For so long, Basic had known. The real he was bent so far off normal it wasn’t even funny.

It was a truth that may have once been contemplated while drunk in a hotel room, but that had been before both his parents were gone—his father keeling over six years past from a sudden heart attack. Now, he could think about it all the time.

The guilt of watching porn had driven him to a failed suicide attempt. It was what had helped to keep him alone. Basic blamed porn for everything.

But, that didn’t mean he would stop watching it. And, there was his truest bent, the real angled far that would make him into something no one would ever want to get close to.

He understood that porn was wrong. He had even once felt the guilt of his desire—I can’t see this; I can’t enjoy that mom and son sex scene especially if my own mother could be watching me from beyond—yet, he was becoming okay with it. In fact, his okay soon took over—Harlow Tate, she looked so much like January, proved this best.

Harlow was a new addition to his fantasies, someone he’d stumbled across while typing in Mom Seduces Daughter onto Yahoo and seeing what came up. A video of a blond, with a crooked smile—like January, really, just like her—and eyes that held a touch of distant upon them as if she liked sex but perhaps she didn’t want to be on that bed.

But maybe that was just Basic projecting his own issues onto this woman he didn’t know. Maybe Mrs. Tate adored sex, and being filmed, adored whatever amount of money was being sent her way through the usage of her body that she had every right to use however she pleased. Basic only saw January, how Harlow Tate looked so much like January, and, he was drawn to whatever damage had caused her to be in porn.

Call it a salvation complex, or a touch of hero worship aimed only at making himself feel better, he wanted to save Harlow, truly, yet there was always another want that was a tad stronger. In the end, Basic only ever hit the refresh button once her movies had finished.

It was who he was. The desire to be the voyeur—the creepy vulture all eye’s wide watchful—was too consuming. He soon found himself looking up so many things.

He would type in Harlow, added on the Tate, and see. Videos of her in so much bondage, tied up, being whipped. Videos of her with large men, their hands slapping at her breasts until her chest shone a dying sunset of deepest red. Video’s too of those same men—or women, sometimes it was a lady holding Harlow Tate down—with their hands at her throat as she screamed yes and they choked harder.

Harlow liked it rough—at least she said she did—but Basic always took note of her eyes. And, it probably was just him again, how he could project so much upon this blank slate of a woman he liked to see naked. In her eyes, there was January. The little moments when he’d been with her and she’d said she was going to go to hell—a confession that was also dark contrition, as if she thought she deserved this and not going to hell would be a worse outcome.

Basic had also caught the same whenever he called January beautiful. How she would hang her head low as if he’d struck hard across her face. Harlow looked like that.

But, Harlow didn’t deserve anything rough, not at all, yet she kept making those films with those whips, those chains, and Basic kept watching. He even watched a few films—and got the same heartbreak—whenever Harlow didn’t enjoy bondage but instead was in scenes where it looked as if she was being treated nice.

It was always with an actor named Jimmy Deen. A play on the sausage company, or James Dean, perhaps. Basic had no clue how that name had come about, but he was certain that those videos with that guy looked intimate, almost passionate, as if he’d stumbled across a real couple filming real love and he hated how jealous that made him feel.

What new cringe worthy bent was this? The plead of Harlow’s eyes was weird yet at least that had made some sort of sense. That was all savior complex nonsense, and that many whips are just wrong righteous, but, this…he didn’t know Harlow, he didn’t know Jimmy, but there was something there—so much so that Harlow had filmed three different scenes with old Jim—and Basic couldn’t describe the stomach falling lurch he gained each time he watched them together.

Why was it that he wished, so badly, that it was he, and not Jim, with her? Was it because of her damage, that pain he couldn’t name but was drawn to? Or was it just her similarity to January that mattered?

In all actuality, Harlow and January weren’t carbon copies. January’s chin sharper, Harlow’s smile crooked yet fuller than January’s smile often was. But, there was a sisterhood—some similar dark contrition he supposed—and did that mean that when Basic saw Harlow make as close to love as porn would allow he was really wondering what it would be like if that happened between he and January? Was that why he despised Jimmy Deen?

Again, Basic didn’t know. He just typed in Harlow Tate more and more often, found video’s a plenty. More bondage ones, videos with her covered in clothes pins, from toe to chest covered—especially chest as if her breasts had to bear the brunt of this outrage. Ones with her and guys in a van too, or after a workout, or videos of her being a masseur at some spa who was pulled into lesbianism by two black ladies—there were videos of everything.

Harlow Tate had to be, hands down, the bravest porn star Basic had ever seen. She was quite willing to go down avenues he had never once bothered to think about viewing, yet now that he had seen he really couldn’t stop watching.

And, of course, the want remained to save. To pull himself through the computer and lay prostrate across her—tell Jim, or the ladies at that spa, that Harlow wasn’t just a body, something to be stripped and used. She was thoughts, and a mind, and so much more, but what could Basic do?

He kept typing in her name. To see what was out there, maybe more videos, maybe something else—a collection of artwork she’d painted, or grand bound novels of poetry, anything to let him know what the real Harlow Tate, not the unclothed and used Harlow Tate, might be like.

He found a FaceSpace page for her, and a Chirper site where Harlow sent frequent messages to fans. And, then, one day, it wasn’t Harlow who wrote a message. It was Harlow’s mom, her real mom, asking everyone on Chirper for help. She made an impassioned plea because her daughter was sick, was ill from drugs, and bipolar depression, and money was needed for her to get healthy.

It shattered Basic. Was Harlow Tate fully there during those scenes with all those clothes pins, her breasts pinched and red as some man attached just a few more because an inch of skin remained unmarred? Was that what she’d wanted, or were there drugs, a dash of bipolar too without any meds and this was the result—a beautiful woman who was never truly able to make a wise decision?

Or, could it have been the influence of someone else? A boyfriend, or girlfriend, perhaps just some older photographer buddy who’d once worked in the adult industry, someone who’d pimped her out because those drugs, and that illness, had made her emotionally pliable?

There were so many questions, yet the one rock solid was simply this: someone, anyone, everyone in the porn industry hadn’t cared one iota about her. Harlow was filmed. From what Basic had gathered, with lots more internet searching—man was there a lot—she’d been filmed for about three years and there was no way her issues could have gone unnoticed.

Where was Jimmy? Unless he was the best actor ever those scenes he’d had with her had tasted of connection, of he and Harlow having a moment—yes a planned for, and paid for, sexual moment but it was a moment and how could he not have seen? There were drugs, she was bipolar, yet someone—truly, anyone—had to have noticed and still Harlow had been filmed because she was beautiful and the people in that industry simply wanted to use that, use her, no matter what issues got her to them. It was disgusting.

Basic should have logged off. Turned away from this industry that could drink all that youth, and flawlessness, out of a body and then spit out the dregs once that youth became less. But, he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. He just started looking further into Harlow.

Her mother left a link on that Chirper page, just a nice bright blue line that once clicked sent one to a HelpFundMe page that had been set up to insure Harlow got the money she needed in-order-to get the help she so desperately had to have. Except her name wasn’t Harlow Tate, it was Kathryn Lex.

Basic read the entire HelpFundMe page, the short history of a woman on the verge of college, and career, of something the world would say was the normal, approved, way for anyone to be—until she’d turned left had done her stint in the adult film industry. Or maybe she’d turned onto her own personal straight and narrow and had gone into porn because that was what she’d always wanted to do. Basic had no clue. He worried only that the world would label her as wrong, bent, askew, while he just saw a woman who’d made a change. He was so drawn to that. It was even better than when he’d been drawn to her because she looked like January.

He wanted to find the moment, the one second along some internet page where Kathryn Lex posted that she’d stopped her job as a cashier and was going to go strip for a while, and then drive straight to California to find a way to get paid for having sex. He wanted something, anything, to say that here was the day when things altered, here was the moment where if he’d been around it could have been stopped.

Basic hated himself the most for that thought. Forget his jealousy over old Jim—or how he always had to hit the refresh button to re-watch all of Kathryn’s movies—this was the top disgust he had to choke back before it made him ill. If he’d been around he could have stopped her—really, that level of “I CAN BE A SAVIOR” was in his mind?

Such a thought was as messed up as the Mom Seduces Daughter line that he alone had typed into Yahoo. No matter how much of a complex he may have carried he knew, truly, that he wasn’t anyone’s savior—but he felt the need to be a savior anyway.

It was as repetitive as that. Basic wished it wasn’t but that was the case. He just hadn’t saved his mother from his father, and, he couldn’t save himself from this want of porn. The reasons behind his every action were as mundane and regular as they’d always been and they—definitely—seemed to be enough. He still hadn’t figured a way to make them stop.

Basic found Chirper sites for Kathryn. Not Harlow, Kathryn. He found her on FaceSpace too, and Bouncer, too many sites and too many blogs to count. He had to keep looking—how could he help her, worry for her—and, she was so real.

A girl with dreams. She wanted to act, be something, a girl who posted to her followers on that Bouncer site that she was going to be astonishing and—truly, this could have been the case—maybe porn was always going to be her direction, yet maybe it wasn’t.

Was there no way for her to be astonishing without using her body? Could there have been something, anything, for her to do that would have combined her stunning good looks with the use of her mind, her dreams, her heart, or was porn always it?

Basic was left only with this reality: he had no clue about Kathryn, and, he never would. But, he did know one thing—it was a second rock solid that he was ignoring with as much gusto as the people in the porn industry had ignored each of Kathryn’s issues. He really, really, really should have stopped watching her.

Basic even knew that by watching, just by surfing over to RedTube, or XHamster, he was in a way justifying the advertisers on those sites—the people whose money sooner or later got into the hands of the men that had filmed her, and had slept with her. But, still, Basic couldn’t quit the tap of his fingers as he daily put Kathryn Lex, or Harlow Tate, into Yahoo and either wished he could have saved the woman she’d been, or merely found himself resigned to his enjoyment whenever he spied her at that spa, those two black ladies convincing her to undress. He’d never felt so low in his life.

He did give money to her HelpFundMe page, however, that was something. On the Chirper site that had been all Harlow Tate official—this is the real adult star, you can talk to her yourself—there had been close to eleven thousand fans. Mostly men, but there were a few women, who often proclaimed loudly of how much they loved Harlow’s beauty, or how gleefully they adored each Chirp Harlow made where she announced she was in a new anal scene, or girl on girl action. As Harlow Tate, Kathryn Lex had had so many people waiting with fevered anticipation for her to say hello, and if they’d all just given a bit then the HelpFundMe page for her would have been filled to the brim rather quickly.

Kathryn needed twenty thousand dollars to get into rehab, to be seen by doctors who could help with her depression too, and after three months she barely had half that amount. Maybe some of the fans of that Chirper site gave—that could have happened—but it was clear that most did not. They were all cool with watching her, and with adoring each Chirp she gave of her next film, but trying to get her healthy was a tad too much. How messed up was that?

So, Basic gave, and maybe this was his maybe—his way to say that maybe he could use his savior complex to do some good though people like him, clearly, were the reason why the adult industry existed. Those who watched, yet never acted, always got off free, and in that freedom—I can click onto that, I can see as-long-as no one finds out what I’m watching—Basic truly had viewed so much. It often led to other wonderings—just when, exactly, had his want of porn started?

It had to have been early on, around ten or so. However, Basic was sure it wasn’t porn in its infancy. He was a child of the eighties, and every action film of that decade had held at least two or three scenes of naked breasts—nudity and violence were good friends back then.

A quick glimpse of the heroine getting undressed, or a fast sex scene with the hero once a motel was reached and gunfire ceased, his father never worried about such sights—he was already into much more impressive things, and, it was only a quick glimpse—but once his father was asleep, or gone, or deep into some novel or something, the house quiet, Basic would sneak out, find that scene, hit pause, and stare.

It was the only rush he had, yet, as it was with most addicts, he soon found that a quick glimpse—just like a quick hit—no longer held a thrill. Basic had to up his game. Soft core VHS tapes at first, the internet wasn’t around just yet, hard core would have to wait till eighteen. That would do.

But, once eighteen did roll over, Basic didn’t hesitate. There was a store in his town, very adult, it said so on a sign out front. He ambled in.

And, after his mother’s death—all those thoughts of saving her taken with her last breath—he’d jumped, quite willingly, into watching all those incest films. It was the same excitement his father enjoyed, but his dad had an excuse—being abused sexually was quite the valid reason—and, Basic did not.

He just adored the wrong. He may have wanted to save others—poor Kathryn, poor January, I can be forgiven for what I do by helping you—but in the end his desire to save was always trumped by how drawn he was to the desire of being taken low.

It was a revelation past its prime—porn is damage, is wrong, but, it’s also great—a revelation Basic had thought a lot about when he’d tried to kill himself. I have to go, I have to, I’ve succeeded too well to stay.

However, once he survived—his feeble attempt the equivalent of taking too many baby aspirins before he got scared and called for an ambulance—he had to face something else. Incest was wretched, porn was wrong and amazing all at once, yet, it really could—at the same time—become familiar.

It was the final key to this lock that sprung open a new world. He wasn’t only ashamed of what he watched, or drawn to it, he could also nod his head at it as if it were another part of his day. Something to slip into his schedule right next to brushing his teeth, or making dinner.

And, he had accepted porn, Kathryn Lex the icing on this bitter cake of real. He still gave money to her page, still wished with all his heart—and prayed too, expecting no response but praying—for her to stay far from anything adult, but, he always looked her up.

He no longer cared. Well, in all honesty, he cared—probably too much—but he had quit the lie that one day he would stop what he was doing. Porn was a stain upon his skin that Basic was sure everyone could see anyway. I watch this. I enjoy that. I can’t stop surfing over to videos of a girl who I’m sending money to so that I can somehow—not creepily, please let this not be creepy—save her from ever getting back into porn, but still I can’t stop staring.

It made him his bent, and, really, he still did hate himself—of that there was no doubt—yet he no longer minded that hate. And, he was so certain that January Why really didn’t mind hating herself either. See, see, they did have so much in common.

Each time she explained how she could get anyone she wanted, or when she brought up Liam, how she glowed almost as much as she was doing in his truck right now, he could tell. Her glow was a deeper burn—the damage of knowing that something wrong was about to occur, or I really shouldn’t think that highly of myself, but one was too deep into such thoughts to care.

Maybe Basic did have an excuse that explained why he did what he did. Maybe January had an excuse too. Basic watched incest sex films, and Kathryn Lex, and, also, wanted to save Kathryn Lex—and so many others—simply because it had become routine.

It was his daily “all about me” hurt—nothing else mattered, he was the center—and January loved to talk about Liam, or others, or herself, for those same reasons. She never spelled it out, it was merely buried within each “And so I emailed him, but he did kiss me first,” or, “he doesn’t stop texting, why does he like me so,” confession whenever she spoke of how she’d slept with Liam when she was fourteen, and he thirty-five, or how some new interest was already enthralled with her.

And, there were her dreams. That revelation came during an early week, their relationship just starting. She called Basic up, said she’d dreamt he’d come over, had started kissing her, taking off her clothes, yet when she’d asked—in that dream—for him to take her to bed he’d turned in disgust. She wondered if that made her odd.

Basic couldn’t understand—odd, no matter what went on in her mind how could she ever be odd? With a phone in his hand, his body reeling from her words—she’s dreamt of me, of me—he knew he should say something. Something profound, cool. A regular man, someone who could have fun with a woman and not feel an immediate sense of awful, would have raised an eyebrow, said awesome, something like “I can make that dream a reality.” All Basic had said was, “oh,”—maybe it was his favorite word—and, he’d suddenly wondered something else. Why had her dream started with passion, yet ended with disgust?

Could it not just be the way her head fell whenever he called her beautiful? Was there more…something in her that felt dirty like he could feel dirty for the things he did? An avalanche of new thoughts—I’m not consumed with myself; I’m wondering about another—had flooded Basic. He’d wanted to let her know he’d never turn from her.

But, instead, he’d left that “oh” dangling until she’d laughed and had moved the conversation on. It was so much like his porn that Basic was horrified, and delighted, by every little bit he’d already discovered about January Why.

Here it was, right before him. That young seduced by old. Basic had no clue who Liam was—he guessed friend of the family, he guessed male, but she’d only ever said Liam she never gave a last name. Her excuse was she didn’t want Basic to be able to turn Liam in, she didn’t want him to get Liam into trouble, another sign she knew that what they’d done wasn’t exactly right, yet, still, she adored it.

Basic kept telling her it was rape. Such a hard word to say, yet so easy to speak. He had no clue what it could mean for her—and, with what he’d done, was he connected to that word as well? There were too many questions—rape, truly, had so much that could be used to define it, yet he’d never bothered to grab any dictionary. He’d just thought it another thing to fix.

January didn’t like it. In fact, she professed rather loudly that she was so lucky to have had Liam, her greatest love, in her life when she was so young. Basic heard that almost every time she spoke. And, again, he knew.

It was rape. Forget it’s definition, or how it had been writ upon her, or even how he was connected to its utterance. He could just say it over, and over, make it all about his hurt since she was the personification of what he watched.

Such truth compelled him further into finding that local church. Whenever they did pause in a Liam story she’d mention how she wasn’t anything specific—maybe Buddhist, maybe nothing at all—yet the ritual and tradition of being Catholic, the steady pattern of crosses, and kneeling, somehow seemed interesting.

Going to a Friday mass, lightly attended, was something she agreed to without much fuss. He could see how her stories, and her pain—and his too, he might as well add that—would end with an appropriate hymn.

Basic swallowed, and tightened his knuckles around the steering wheel of his truck. He had to be careful with these thoughts. Even if he’d found someone who could take his mind off his own issues, he could so easily head back into other thoughts.

That hotel room, a bottle of vodka, jug of chocolate milk, and a mountain of pills that had only marked him as forever suicidal. Basic could still taste the cup of thick sludge, dark, so dark, he’d been forced to drink after five hours of vomiting had passed and he’d dialed 911. Enjoying some charcoal had saved his life, yet it had also coated his tongue, his teeth, those little spaces in his gums he didn’t even know existed, in flakes of dagger black that had left him with the lingering aftereffect of bile, and ash, for days.

Basic didn’t want to bring those thoughts back. He wanted to stay here, in this car, and figure out January Why even more—how can I save her, save me and her—so he could understand how he could remain in her life.

The church, that should have been his answer. If he’d gotten her there—let her hear something about Jesus, and death, resurrection too because that was important—things could have been his perfect. She really would have forgotten all about hell.

She’d changed her mind. All-of-a-sudden, early that afternoon, January had apologized an oops. She’d forgotten that her friend Claire—a neighbor, she lived only a few blocks from the nice house January’s parents had bought for her—had sent an invitation to watch the Miss America Pageant. Just a slip of the mind, so sorry, can we reschedule the church thing—he should have rescheduled—but instead Basic found himself wondering if he could watch too.

He’d been to Claire’s before, during the night of his mistake, the high reaching hands. January had brought him there for some laughs, a Halloween party where he’d had a couple beers, and a cup or two of homemade punch—it may have been moonshine, also homemade yet a tad more potent.

Everything had swelled a pleasant warmth. She’d talked to him, leaning up against a closed door, the rest of the party off in the living room but January and he in their own universe—her hands lacing loops around his fingers, her eyes shyly dancing up as if to ask if they could leave.

People were getting drunk everywhere, Basic was already feeling drunk as well, and so he’d asked. She’d smiled, had said let’s walk back to my place. It was then he’d formed a plan.

Already he and January had kissed, a few times at his apartment, a few more times in her car, and during each occasion there was his rush—so familiar, his heart a mile a minute thunder, his mind a sudden electric heat. But—in a devastating surprise of new—the southern regions of him stayed a revolting soft. He couldn’t lie about that. He wanted to, but it was so present how could he ever fib it away.

He couldn’t rise and enjoy. It was driving him mad. He was with a woman he adored—he really did like her distant eyes—yet, physically, it was as if she were nothing.

Walking to January’s house, he let the homemade moonshine, and those few beers, convince him he could do it. Ignore his father and how he could have never saved his mother from him. Ignore the sorrow of familiar—especially the constant mother and son porn, and Harlow Tate too who was really Kathryn Lex—and just be a man.

Of course he remembered Claire’s house. Her place was etched into his mind, probably always would be, as ground zero. This is where the real me—the coward, the damage—came out.

He remembered Claire too. She was a thick girl, brown hair, mousy eyes, and a face that could light up in an out of nowhere smile. Only January beat her, her truest smile so much better, yet Claire had a good grin too. She reminded Basic of a ready-made mother—a woman who even if she never had kids of her own would always open her door to any stranger, give them cookies, some milk, tell them they needed to sit up straight, or that they really should do something about that hair, at all hours of the night.

Basic liked Claire, he did, even if she had—during the night of that party—told him, repeatedly, he was nice. “You’re just so sweet, Ben,” she laughed—the moonshine was hitting her as well. “Way too nice for Jan.”

He didn’t get that. What did nice have to do with anything? Wasn’t it a good trait to be? And, why would January not like that?

But, weeks later, in his ruin of a truck held together by duck-tape and many wishes, Basic realized how correct Claire was. He should have seen the signs for himself.

The way when they’d first met, nights when they did talk, and kiss, at that party too, he was interested yet kept a distant. Out of fear—would she ever like who he really was—yet maybe January had thought it cocky, a far-off ice like her own layers of chill.

January could walk with chin out proud, ready to attack the world, or be attacked by it, all the time. She could tell her stories about being able to get anyone she wanted, do anything she pleased, and perhaps his fear had looked the same. Maybe he’d never realized how being scared could be taken for not giving a damn.

Basic had kept a gulf, told her he didn’t want to come over even when he did, and—when he was that jerk—she’d been more interested. Even the night of the mistake, his hands reaching to the mystery between her legs, hadn’t she sighed annoyance only when he’d instantly drawn those fingers back? Hadn’t she also risen, seconds later, to kiss him until the lack of movement in his body—why can’t certain parts of me work—became intolerable?

If he couldn’t get hard through venturing towards a spot he’d never been, what would work? His fear had rushed upon him like a biblical flood—I’m too familiar with porn, I’m awful, I’ve just been way too forward and reached for her vagina with no consent given. He had to do what he always did. He pushed away.

After that, he did try nice—the “way too” level Claire had labeled him into being, but that had just made things worse. Gifts, repeated apologizes, all of it fell only onto ears that weren’t deaf, they were simply too filled with pity, and contempt, to hear him anymore.

January liked the jerk—a fearful jerk yet a jerk none the less. Him being a coward may have been the first wedge between them, but his kindness had quickly become the better killer. It’s deft edge easily found ways to separate, and separate, each day where her body had spoken only enjoyment at his presence—all those back rubs, her feet across his lap—from the many others were her posture suddenly whispered “please, not an inch closer.”

When she told him she couldn’t go to that church, that she was headed to Claire’s, Basic knew he could find his way if only she said he could follow. He’d been thinking about that place far too much—this is where it ended, this is where I found out how coward only goes so far and nice is a murderer. He was certain he could find Claire’s place with his eyes closed.

“Paul has a girlfriend,” January said. Or was that a sigh? It brought him back to his truck. “I don’t know if he’s interested in me. And I can’t know unless that girlfriend goes.”

Girlfriend, like Paul being attached would stop January from investigating their potential attraction. Basic didn’t think that as insult, it was just something else he knew about her, and about himself.

Unless something major happened—rock bottom, a nice rehab stint or DNA removal—they both, absolutely, would forever do things for the rush of wrong. She merely the stronger, able to do physically what Basic could only watch.

And he had watched, all that night. Mrs. America had started and he’d played the ideal friend—for a while. Hung on her words, joined in on her conversation with Claire—nodded pleasure at outfits, and answer’s, she said were amazing. But, he’d also bolted, for a few minutes, went to hang with Claire’s boyfriend, the true owner of the house.

Basic had no idea why he kept thinking of everything as Claire’s place. It was just something he did no matter how many times he was in the presence of her boyfriend, a large man with eternal stubble along his cheeks, and tiny eyes that sunk into his puffy face.

Those eyes were often hidden behind thick glasses—the impressive entertainment center the man had in his bedroom probably the main reason behind his limited vision. Claire’s boyfriend had every top of the line gaming system, and an ample amount of flat screen television sets that Basic was sure weren’t televisions. They had to be portals into dimensions where games weren’t played, they were spied upon from our world into theirs.

Whenever Basic thought he was again being cool—let January see I’m not latched on too tight—he’d swing into that room, enjoy a few minutes of some game before rushing back to remind January he was still there. Then Paul came by. Mrs. America was wrapping up, the evening appeared to be about to dwindle to its close. January was an in bed by nine girl—ten at the latest—and eight-thirty was nearing. But that all changed.

Paul strolled in with short shorts on. They lay a good couple inches above his knee—Basic had only seen men wear shorts that high in documentaries about the nineteen-seventies, he was not yet accustomed to this new trend, this high fashion—and Paul wore them with such a nonchalant air. Already, he was so much like January.

Paul had on sandals too, and, it was cold, not as cold as it could get later in the winter yet a chill was around and Paul didn’t seem phased in the slightest. A touch of awesome, or maybe just a touch of that chill, wafted in with him as he didn’t knock he simply strolled inside, said hey to Claire without missing a beat, and went back to visit her boyfriend.

January followed. Basic caught it in her posture, the held breath she had when Paul ambled in and their eyes met. Paul was black, a tanned cream that fit his dark black hair, a vest and shirt he was wearing, and his shorts and sandals too as if God had whipped him up to always look perfect as-long-as he chose the right color scheme for every outfit he wore.

Basic had a touch of racism.

This too was familiar. There were those ladies that had undressed Kathryn, as Harlow, in that spa. The way their ebony perfection had mingled with her alabaster—lesbianism wasn’t the wrong there, the seduction wasn’t all that bad either, no, the real taboo was in the mix, and Basic had no clue why that would be. Interracial wasn’t a wrong, yet he felt the same kind of twist he’d had when he’d witnessed the wretched of Kathryn Lex being buried beneath all the many pinches of those clothes pins. It was as if he were spying upon something indecent.

It made no sense. Porn was bad all by itself, yet porn with white and black being together shouldn’t have made everything somehow more taboo, but it did. And it wasn’t the only issue Basic had with two races being together.

He had another list, a silly one. It was something that had grown as he’d aged, yet it was also something that really shouldn’t have been created by a man who wasn’t dating, or having sex, with anyone.

He couldn’t be with a woman who’d had sex with many partners. That was number one on this secondary, itemized, and not that long, imaginary list of his. Two partners—both male—okay. Three and four was pushing it, but five and above was a deal breaker. And, if she’d slept with a woman—and was that January, really—then this woman would be interesting but not marriage worthy. Such a woman would be too wild, something fun to enjoy but not fun enough to settle with.

Item three, however, that one was touchy. Basic had watched far too many evening news programs, and had seen endless amounts of Hollywoodized entertainment—Oscar bait movies, those very special episodes of sitcoms. He knew how cliché this was, yet he couldn’t help but to be another white male who felt this.

He could never be with a woman who’d slept with a black person. It wasn’t because that tainted her—Basic kept telling himself this. He didn’t think any black anyone made some white woman, or Asian woman, or Hispanic woman, untouchable—he just knew he could never compare. Black people were better than him—Michael Jackson an early idol of indication, Michael Jordan his biggest hero worship that sealed the deal.

They were way up there—all black man and women where. Who would ever want to be with his pasty white once they’d tasted that?

His time in the Marine Corps had helped—most every upper level enlisted man seemingly an endless supply of cool, collected, and huge, black men everyone was in awe of—and Basic could no longer deny. He judged, by color, and though his judgment never stated “I’m better than them,” the end result was still racism.

Sure, it could be considered a nice form of racism—they really are so much more awesome than me—but that was a tenuous statement to hold. He thought of them as “they” instead of as individuals—who did that—and, he couldn’t stop. He especially couldn’t stop that night when what he felt expanded and he prayed, or hoped, or just quickly thought, “please, please let her not be attracted to black.” A definite slide from the familiar as he slid straight into a brand new stink of “she’s white, surely her pale will clash with all of God’s well prepared color scheme.”

Another truth couldn’t be avoided either. January had sat up straight, and had bit her bottom lip, a moment’s hesitation Basic remembered from that night with him.

Again, it was his mistake, a defining aspect to his life so why not analyze it to death. Those hands that had cupped her panties, played along the line of her, before he’d retracted everything and had felt a return of well-known fear.

She’d been lying on her couch, staring at him, another moment’s hesitation just beginning to form upon her. It was January’s maybe face. Should she bolt, scream, should she follow, give in to some hidden desire that played a way too noticeable symphony if you knew how to catch the notes. The night of his mistake, she’d hesitated yet had given in—her lips meeting his as she hadn’t screamed, or bolted—but, with Paul, Basic prayed a different outcome.

“Let her not give in,” he silently whispered, “please, please let her not like black guys.”

She leapt to her feet. She hadn’t followed when he’d gone back to see Claire’s boyfriend, she really hadn’t moved since Mrs. America had begun, but with Paul already a voice laughing with that boyfriend about some game, she was a bolt of lightning. Basic was left alone with Claire. He should have taken off then.

“He’d be a fool to not be interested in you,” Basic said. His voice was still that squeak. He coughed again. It didn’t make anything better, but it did fill his truck rather than letting it marinate in a growing silence. “You deserve a good boyfriend…and he seemed nice.” Claire’s words. It was so great he was using them.

“Yeah,” January said, but, she was mainly staring back outside, dreamy fingers still running her thoughts through her hair. “You think so?” “Absolutely,” Basic said. It was close, near enough he could have crunched down and killed it between his teeth. He wasn’t that fast. “He’s nice, but not too nice. I guess I’m the only one who’s too nice. It’s why you like him, not me.”

Her fingers woke. She moved them out of her hair, turned her head, and glared. He still loved those icy blues—he was already coming to realize he would love them for far too long—he just wished that right now they would once more fill with excitement at his presence rather than this cold amount of miles.

“Please,” she said. This time definitely a sigh, most likely fueled by disappointment. “I don’t want to talk about this. Not again. It’s getting old.”

No, it wasn’t. Basic wanted to explain. To pull over and park and write her a nice diagram or two about how old wasn’t the correct way to describe this.

She pushed people away like he did—where was his sister exactly, how long had it been since he’d called her. She’d lived out his porn fantasy—all young girl with an older man, or some older woman, or anyone at all, taking off her clothes. She was familiar with her damage yet held a hatred towards it too—and, she had to hate it, he was sure, she kept it so far from her eyes.

January was just like him—she was everything—and, somehow, she was also peace. Basic couldn’t explain that part. In four months—just four—he’d begun to feel as if she were a hope he’d never expected to find.

He would call her up. Sure, he usually had just seen her at Noel, in-between classes, she finishing her Master’s degree in teaching, he just starting to get his Master’s in English, they would speak, or smile, or simply nod and that should have been that but he’d need a touch more. There had once been those hurried kisses in her car, she’d drive him home, he’d lean over inappropriately to say thanks, but, she’d tired of that—who wouldn’t—especially after the night of the high up hands that had led to more kissing before he’d moved away.

It was a push, yet not a push—his moving was somehow more of a pull, a way to say sorry for being so forward. It failed.

Whatever moment January had risen to create had ended right then and there and so had any ardor she’d felt for him. How could he not call, to hear her voice, to replace the heat they’d once had with lips and hands? He needed that back.

And, they would talk, that was so nice, it gave Basic more of that hope. He’d angle any new conversation into who she might be interested in. Maybe it would be him—please, please let it be him. Paul had been in the mix—Basic had heard of him long before meeting him—so had an Asian guy from the local PubClub store, any longing for his name to somehow slip in was always dashed, yet Basic kept asking.

Who do you like? Not me, right, you wouldn’t like me? The question wasn’t old, it was stale, rotten, a corpse left in humid air and scorching sun to bloat a foul stench until it burst forth a sea of worming decay.

January had used the wrong word, but Basic would never tell her that. If he did he would have to acknowledge yet another truth. No matter how buried this subject was, this was now his push-pull. He was always going to dig it up.

“Sorry,” it was the best he could do. It had been silly to think that “oh” was his favorite word. He was way more familiar with sorry.

“Okay,”

She wasn’t bringing her fingers back to her hair. If he was familiar with sorry, January was quite close with absent mindedly drawing her fingers through her blond. She could be his peace, yet that was hers. It often made him feel as if she could do a million things all at once, talk to him, straighten out a few loose ends, or bits that had gotten split, and still have enough presence of mind to watch the news, or dictate some quickly thought of cease fire in the Middle East, whatever.

Her fingers stayed stable, so no peace this night, he’d ruined that. It made sense. In these four month’s she’d become so much—something vast he didn’t want to lose—it didn’t seem right she would feel the same. Only a few more houses to go. January dug in her purse, her fingers a sudden flurry of action that made Basic hope again. He was really beginning to hate that feeling, but, he let it linger. Maybe he hadn’t made her all that upset. Maybe she would go back to her hair. She pulled out her phone.

Paul had left five minutes before Basic and January had ambled out to Basic’s beat up truck. Driving away in probably a cool Mustang, or maybe a sleek Porsche, Paul and January had talked, and talked, until Paul had suddenly realized it was after one and he needed to go.

Already, Claire and her boyfriend had stopped dropping hints that it was getting late. Instead they kept flipping through their DVD collection, picking out another movie whenever they weren’t looking at Basic, wondering why he was still there.

All Basic could do was mumble that he was January’s ride. It was the beginning of the evenings choked whispers as he tried not to listen in too intently into what Paul and January had been saying.

They were on a couch. Claire’s living room, or her boyfriend’s living room except the furniture here—and scented candles, plus a few seasonally appropriate figurines—held a more feminine touch so probably Claire’s living room, probably Claire’s place, was right after all, looked nice. It held two recliners, another—smaller—couch, and a big white one that January sat on with her feet curled beneath her as she ran those slender fingers through blond and shied her head low whenever another similarity popped up to make the night utterly terrible.

If Basic had hoped that he and January were meant to be—we have so much in common—than seeing her with Paul only made his hope into a fading star, something light years away from whatever world it longed to shine down upon. January and Paul were identical souls suddenly connecting. It was unbelievable. Paul too was just about to graduate, was going to be a counselor for youths with addictions, or maybe he was going to feed the poor, or turn water into wine, Basic wasn’t sure which one it was, probably all of them.

Sitting on the edge of that white couch, perched on one overly cushioned arm since he had become—yet again—the world’s most obvious vulture, Basic tried to pay attention to Claire’s choice of movie (Pitch Perfect, she promised it would be fun) but things kept slipping through. January and Paul both loved to garden, they both enjoyed golf, they couldn’t stop drowning in each other’s eyes, and when Paul finally said that they should just exchange numbers, Basic had leaned over—Claire was sitting close in one of those recliner’s—and had asked if this was planned. Maybe she had invited Paul to stop on by so he and January could fall in love.

“Huh,” she’d said. Her eyes were glazed, pools of pleasure over some song some actress had just belted out. “What?”

“I,” Basic said again. He wasn’t a whisper, January had to be hearing. “I was wondering, are we trying to get them together?” Are we trying, was he making himself apart of this? He had invited himself over, cajoled his way without January really handing out an invitation. And, if he was perched a ready listener, all creepy vulture as she giggled at something and taped in Paul’s digits into her newest MyPhone, maybe he was a part of everything. It did feel that way.

“No,” Claire said. Already she was back to the movie, Basic alone the only one breaking over what was happening on the couch. “He just shows up. He does that.”

Or maybe the boyfriend had sent the invite. Or maybe it didn’t matter. That had been at around ten. Basic had another three hours of them to enjoy.

He pulled into her driveway. She was scrolling away, flipping her thumb up and up as if in retracing all her past text’s she really would find that Paul had already gotten in touch though it was clear he probably wouldn’t do that until later in the morning.

“Thanks,” she wasn’t looking at him. She was reaching for the door, her phone back in her purse as she turned to leave.

There had to be something. Hadn’t he once drawn hands up her legs? Sure, that had been awful—and inappropriate, and a thousand other bad words, but it had been new. In fact, it wasn’t familiar at all.

And, it hadn’t even been the first forward thing he’d done with January. On their second date—or just second time hanging out, he’d never truly dated anyone—Basic had reached over, and kissed her. All hands up, a gentle touch upon her cheeks, he’d said he’d forgotten to do that the night before and then his lips were upon hers.

It had led to more kisses, and those high up fingers. It had led to this night, and Paul, but it had led to something. Maybe he should do it again. Maybe he should do more.

Her door was open, and a foot was on her driveway. Forget the assertions, forget the familiar and we have so much in common. Forget even trying to save her, or his mother, or Kathryn Lex. He could no longer deny it anyway—the truth of his entire life was that he’d always only been about saving himself and this would be his most perfect touch of rescue ever.

Basic had never done that either, been brave enough to say to hell with my awful I’m going for this even if I get rejected. Doing that was normally a hope, a damage, a whatever that even he wasn’t drawn to.

Basic didn’t move. January stepped off into a new day, adjusted her purse onto her shoulder, and shut the passenger door. He was alone, she was rounding his truck, his dim headlights illuminating the scant few feet she would have to cross before she was at her front door.

But…but…there had to be something, right? His heart was a wreck, an avalanche of tumbling fear and erratic sick as his palms gained a sheen of nervous. He could no longer think straight.

Basic shook his head. He couldn’t lose her, not her.

“What are you doing,” she asked. He was out of the car, January digging back into her purse and only slightly looking at him as she tried to find her keys.

“Walking you to your front door,”

He had a plan, not well formed, but it was a plan. Hadn’t it worked—slightly—once before.

January stared at him, and at her door. It was an arms-reach away. “Okay,” she said.

He strolled to her side. He was sure that even if this was all about him—and even if it was back to awful, and wrong, and all those bad words—there was no way January would mind. They were both so familiar with wrong she had to be expecting this.

January put her key in the lock, and turned it open before staring back at him. “So,” she didn’t get any further.

He leaned forward, and pursed his lips. He wanted this. He needed this. He just prayed this would work. Please…please let this kiss work.

She screamed.

#short story #fiction #savior complex #amanda tate #kathryn weiland #shotokate #lexiloon

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cwnerd12 · 4 years

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“I’ll Be Okay” David walks into a cavernous file storage room. Asher, Abby, Joel, Shay, and Monique sit on the ground, papers strewn around them reading files. David, “What is this?” Asher, “Fuckin’ files, man. We found our files. You don’t have a file, you have a box.” David sits down, Asher slides a box over to him. David opens it and thumbs through the folders in there. David, “Who else has a file here?” Joel, “Everyone. Seriously, look at this room. There’s a file for everyone the MSS has ever dealt with.” Abby reads from the file in her hands, “Franklin Hatch, Jr. Known pseudonyms: Frankie, Frank, Jr. They forgot to include ‘Dumbass.’” David, “I like Frankie.” Abby, “Okay, but seriously, if you yell, ‘Hey, dumbass!’ Frankie will turn around and say, ‘What?’” Shay, “I can’t believe this. Shay Mendoza: confirmed homosexual. I’m trying to overthrow the king, and that’s what’s important about me.” Joel, “Seriously? For you, that’s like saying, ‘Asher Levinson, confirmed Jew.’” David flips through his file, “Oh, I got a confirmed homosexual, too.” Monique, “Me, too. Apparently trans and bi people don’t exist.” David, “We’re unicorns. No wonder they can’t catch us.” Abby, “Aw, I didn’t get one, I’m sad. Especially considering the number of times I’ve banged the princess.” Joel, “Jack didn’t get one, either. You’re only a confirmed homosexual if it’s convenient for you to be one.” David, “Where’s Jack’s file?” Asher, “It doesn’t say anything about his condition. Sorry.” David stands up and begins to go down the aisle, looking intensely at the shelves. Asher, “What’re you looking for, David?” David, “I don’t know if they’re going to have his file, but I’m looking for a guy named Ivan Waters.” Asher, “Who?” Shay, “That’s Wednesday’s dad.” Asher, “The filing system here is kind of complicated, but I can find him. Why are you looking for him in particular?” David, “Wednesday doesn’t know what happened to him, just that he didn’t come home from work one day. Jesus- if we can start giving answers to families who are missing someone…” his voice trails off for a moment, “We need to start making these files public. We have to figure out a way to give them to the people who want them.” Asher, “There’s a lot of missing people in here.” David, “We can set up some tables. Get a bunch of our soldiers working them. People come up, request a file, and we send someone back to find it, and then we give it to them.” Shay, “We can do it, but it’s gonna be a fuckin’ mess.” David, “Then let it be a fuckin’ mess! Silas built his kingdom on secrets, and now we’re gonna tear it down!”

Early next morning, Monique steps out of the MSS building, and sees a line of people already wrapping around the block, with reporters and TV cameras there, too. She thinks for a long moment, and then has and idea and walks off.

Inside the lobby of the MSS building, AFG members work to set up a line of folding tables with laptops and chairs, ready to search databases and distribute files. AFG soldiers sit at the tables with helpers standing behind them. James and Ethan both help set up computers. Beth helps set up a refreshment table with coffee and snacks. Adam goes up to her, “Beth?” She looks up at him, and then quickly looks away, saying nervously, “Oh, hi.” Adam, “How- how are you doing?” Beth, “As well as I can, I guess. Been trying to keep busy. Helping out.” Adam, “Oh. Good. It’s- it's been rough for me." Beth, “Yeah, I- I mean of course it's rough, I mean..." she drifts off. Up at the front, Abby enters, with David following her. David greats James and Ethan while Abby goes to the center of the lobby, “Thanks for being here, guys.” Ethan and James, “No problem.” Abby speaks up, “We’re going to open the doors, but before we do, I just want to remind you all, some of these people have been wondering what happened to their loved one for over twenty years. They’re going to be emotional, and you need to be sensitive to that.” David steps up, “Today’s gonna be a long day, and it’s probably gonna be emotionally hard, but it’s really important that we do this.” He looks around and sees Beth and Adam. Beth smiles at him. David looks away, “Okay, so, open the doors, let’s get going.” Someone opens the doors, and people start to file in. David turns to leave. Beth’s face falls. She quickly turns to Adam, “I’m going to talk to David real quick. I’ll be right back!” She hurries off. When she nears David, she says, "David!" and reaches out and touches his arm. He turns around and then pulls away from her. Beth, “I was hoping to see you." David, rushed and nervous, "Not right now, we're pretty busy." Beth, “Can we talk later, maybe? I- I really want to talk to you." David, “Maybe, but not now." Beth, “Okay, well-” David interrupts her, “I've gotta go.” He hurries away, and Beth watches him leave. Slowly, Adam approaches Beth, “So… you've been talking with David?” Beth, “Oh, yeah. I- I’ve been talking to him about Ryan.” Adam, “When?” Beth, “What?” Adam, “It’s just that David’s been here and you’ve been at the safe house…” Beth, quickly, “Oh, we talk on the phone. I guess we got to know each other petty well being cooped up in the same house for a while. He’s a nice guy. You should talk to him.” Adam, “Yeah, I should.”

In an operating room, a surgeon performs Jack's cranioplasty. In the adjoining observation room, Michelle and Dr. Hussein watch. Michelle, “You know, for a little while, I was really jealous of Jack because he was there while David got an emergency laparotomy in the middle of the woods. But I think I’ve one-upped him, now. I’ve seen his brain.” Dr. Hussein laughs, “I’m suddenly very glad my sister is a teacher.” They both laugh. Michelle tensely watches the surgeons as they screw everything in place. Michelle, “So you’re sure, two weeks for everything to heal, and then he’s leaving the hospital, right?” Dr. Hussein, “As long as no complications develop. I can’t 100% guarantee they won’t, of course, but everything’s gone perfectly so far.” Michelle nods, “Good. I know Jack's ready to start the intensive part of his rehab. All the following orders and pushing your physical limits, it's almost like being in the army again. I’m actually pretty glad he’s gonna be at the rehab center instead of at home-” Dr. Hussein interrupts, “You mean the palace?” Michelle, “Yeah.” Dr. Hussein, “Queen Rose told me that she was bringing Jack home.” Michelle, “What? No. You told me yourself, Jack needs to go to the rehab center for the best possible outcome.” Dr. Hussein, “Yes, I explained all that to Queen Rose, but she said that Jack would be returning home.” Michelle, “Why?” Dr. Hussein, “She said something about security issues.” Michelle mutters, “God damn it,” she sighs furiously, “This wasn’t my mom’s decision, it’s Abner’s!”

Monique returns to the MSS building, which has an even longer line wrapping around it, carrying two plastic bags stuffed with cans of paint and paintbrushes. She leaves them by the front door, and goes inside. She sees David overseeing the delivery of a file and goes up to him, “David, come with me for a second, I have an idea.” David, “We’re pretty busy here, can it wait?” Monique, “Nope. Get Abby, Shay, and Asher here, as well.”

Monique, hands David, Shay, Abby, and Asher cans of paint and a paintbrush. Monique, “Every single person in that line lost someone they love. We’re going to deface this building with their names.” David, “What?” Monique takes off the lid of a can, dips a paintbrush into it, goes over to the wall, and paints ISAIAH CLEMENS, “We’re making a memorial to everyone we’ve lost. David, you can put your dad and brothers.” Asher, “Monique, this is brilliant.” He goes over to the wall and paints out LEO AND NORA LEVINSON, with a star of David next to it. Shay goes over and paints RODRIGO MENDOZA. Abby looks down at her can, “I don’t know if I want to add my dad to this.” Monique, “Then give your can to someone else.” David, “Are you sure this is a good idea? What if people start painting on the names of people we’ve killed?” Monique, “Then it’ll be a memorial to them, too. You want to convince people you should be king, right? Then why not show them a thousand reasons why Abner shouldn’t be king? Besides, we don’t kill civilians, right?” David nods uneasily, “Okay.”

Before long, clusters of people fill the wall with names. Reporters talk to people and TV cameras film it all. People take selfies by the names they’ve painted, eyes full of tears.

Inside, Liam approaches Adam, “Adam, bro, have you seen what’s going on outside?” Adam, “No.” Liam, “People are painting names on the front walls as some kind of memorial. Where’s Beth? She needs to paint Ryan’s name!” Adam, “I think she-” Beth emerges at the end of the hallway, and Liam runs over to her, “Beth! Hey, BETH!” Beth, “What?” Liam, “You need to put Ryan’s name on the wall.” Beth, “What wall?” Liam, “They’re painting names on the front of everyone’s whose died. You need to do Ryan.” Beth is taken aback, and stammers he reply, “I- I, I really shouldn’t do that, I-” she looks nervously from Adam to Liam, “You guys were much closer to him than I ever was.” Adam, “He really loved you.” Beth, “Look, I met Ryan when he ended up in the safehouse outside of Nob that I was running. We had some fun, and then the raid on Nob happened, and Ryan had to leave, and I went to another house, and we’d talk on the phone, but that was kind of it. Not much of a romance, really.” Ryan, “He talked to you every day.” Beth, “Yeah, we did, and I mean, I- I did have feelings for him.” Ryan, “Did?” Beth, “I still do, I just… You guys are the ones who were with him.” She shrugs awkwardly. Ryan, “Yeah, okay, well, come with us when we do it, anyway.” Beth, reluctant but resigned, “Okay.”

Out in the lobby, Monique talks to James and Ethan, “Where the fuck is David? He’s not answering my texts.” Ethan, “He texted me a little while ago, says he needs to space.” Monique, “Well there’s about a hundred TV cameras out there all waiting to see David paint a name on a wall.” James, “We’ll get him out, it might just take a little while.” Monique annoyed, looks around. Adam, Liam, and Beth enter. Monique sees them, “Adam!” He looks at her, “Yeah?” She goes over to him, “Have you seen David?” Adam, “No.” Monique, “Can you help me find him?” Adam, “We were going to put Ryan’s name up.” Monique, I need to find David.” Beth, “I’ll help you look,” she glances at Adam and Ryan, “You can wait a few minutes, right?”

Beth walks down an empty hallway, looking at office doors. She comes to one door that’s slightly ajar, and sees David sitting on the desk inside, deep in thought. Beth, “David?” He looks up at her, “Oh, hi.” Beth, “Monique is wooing for you.” David, “Yeah, I know.” Beth, “It’s about the wall.” David, “Yeah, I know.” Beth, Do you not want to do it?” David, “I do, it’s a great idea, I just…” he sighs deeply, “I don’t want to do it in front of a bunch of cameras.” Beth sits down on the desk next to him, “I’ll be there. Adam wants to put Ryan’s name up, and he wants me to be there.” David, “I’ll do it, I just need a few minutes.” Beth, “Okay. Do you want me to text Monique?” David, “Sure.” Monique talks to Adam and Liam as her phone dings. She looks at it, “Says he needs a few minutes,” she sighs, annoyed, “As long as he gets out here.”

Back in the office, David fucks Beth. Beth moans loudly. Davit mutters, “Don’t be so loud.” Beth, “What?” David, “Don’t be so loud!” Beth, “Oh, sorry.” She goes quiet and David keeps fucking her.

Outside at the wall, a bunch of cameras watch as David, Ethan, and James paint JOHN SHEPHERD, ELI SHEPHERD, and ROBERT SHEPHERD on the wall. A ways off, Adam and Beth stand next to where RYAN HITT is painted. They both watch David paint. Adam shifts uneasily from foot to foot, bites at his lower lip, and sighs. Beth, “You okay?” Cameras flash and David walks away. Adam watches intensely. Beth, “Adam?” Adam, “What?” he snaps at her, broken out of his concentration. Beth, “You okay?” Adam, “Yeah, I- I guess.” Beth, “I’m gonna go back inside.” Adam, “Wait.” Beth looks at him, “What?” Adam looks down at the ground, “I…. I, um…” he shuts his eyes tight, “I just… I-I have some questions. About how Ryan died.” Beth, “Why are you asking me about this? You were there. I wasn’t.” Adam, “I just… I dunno, I…. I can’t shake this feeling that maybe, somehow, it wasn’t necessary.” Beth, “Adam, that’s just your grief talking.” Adam, “I know! I know, I know! I know I miss him, and I know this is hard, and that he was a soldier, and soldiers die in battle, but…” he sighs deeply, “Ryan… Ryan got sent out to throw a grenade, and I- I just don’t think he had to. We could have taken the top floor without it. It would have taken longer, but we could have done it.” Beth, “Take it up with whoever sent him out.” Adam, “It was Joel.” Beth, “So talk to him.” Adam, softly, “I don’t think he’d tell me the truth.” Beth, “The truth? The truth about what?” Adam stares at Beth, thinking for a long moment. Finally, he murmurs, “I don’t know.” Beth, warily, “Adam, you’re traumatized and exhausted. I think we all just need to pray that David gets made king at Council, and we can finally stop fighting.” Adam stares at her, eyes full of doubt. Beth, softly, “I’m gonna go back inside. Maybe you can talk to Liam about it.” She turns around and walks toward the front door. Suddenly, Adam calls, “David really loves Jack, you know.” Beth looks back at him, startled, “What?” Adam, “Jack. Whatever decision David makes, it’s all going to come down to Jack.” Beth, unsettled, “Jack is brain dead.” Adam, “How do you know?” Beth, “Because how can he not be? David has to know this!” Adam, “Are you sure?” Beth stares at Adam, “You can’t get shot in the head and just be okay.” Adam thinks for a moment, and then looks back down at the ground, “Yeah, I guess so.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets. He glances back up at Beth, “Go back inside. I think I’ll just stay out here for a little while.” Beth, uneasy, “Okay.” She walks past him, awkwardly. He watches her go back inside.

Back in his hospital room, Jack slowly blinks awake form his surgery. He looks over and sees Michelle and Rose with their backs to him, speaking in low, furious voices. Michelle, “He won’t be able to walk on his own or speak in complete sentences!” Rose, “Yes, I know, Dr. Hussein warned me about all that. We can get all the right care at the palace.” Michelle, “That’s not enough, and you know it!” Rose, “We don’t have a choice here, Michelle.” Michelle, “You and Dad kept it covered put he first two times he went to rehab, why is this any different?!” Rose, “We could shut down any publication that said anything, and we still didn’t stop the rumors. These circumstances are very different.” Michelle, “Oh, bullshit!” Rose, “This can all change, depending on what choices Shepherd makes at Council.” Jack moans softly. Rose and Michelle both look over at him, startled. Michelle immediately puts on a smile, “Hey, metal head. How you feeling?” Jack groans and rubs his eyes. Rose get up, goes over to him, and kisses him on the forehead, “All you need to do is heal.” She steps back and heads towards the door, “I’ll go get the doctor.” Michelle, “You can’t just ignore this, Mom.” Rose, “Not now, Michelle!” She marches out into the hallway. She goes into the lobby and goes up to a doctor talking to a nurse, “He’s awake, Dr. Alexis.” The doctor looks at her, “Excellent.” Rose smiles and leads him back into Jack’s room. Michelle sits in her chair, fuming, as the doctor approaches Jack. Doctor, “Hi, Jack, how are you feeling?” Rose sits down beside Michelle as the doctor goes on, “The surgery went without a hitch…” Michelle furiously wipes tears from her eyes. Rose looks over at her, and says softly, “Nothing is settled until after Council.” Michelle, “It’s barbaric. He’s using Jack’s whole future like it’s some fucking playing card.” Rose, “I know. And I hate it, too.” Michelle stifles a bitter sob. Rose, softly, “How much faith do you have in David?” Michelle, “What?” Rose, “David. He’s given to dramatic rescues, isn’t he?” Michelle, “What, you're hoping he’ll attack the palace?” Dr. Alexis turns to them, “Everything looks good." Rose smiles, “Wonderful.” The doctor leaves.

David sleeps in his cot, but is woken up by a flash of lightning and sudden BOOM of thunder. His eyes shoot open, and he realizes it’s just thunder, “Oh, fuck.” Flash, boom. He sits up and rubs his face. Flash, boom. David goes over to the desk and begins digging around. He pulls out a bottle of meds. He opens it. Flash, boom. David jumps and accidentally drops the bottle, “Fuck!” He turns a light on and begins scooping up pills. Flash, boom. David cries out in frustration. From his sofa, Reinhardt, “Thunderstorms are a bitch, aren’t they?” David, “Shut the fuck up and go back to sleep.” He takes a pill and drinks from a bottle of water. Flash, boom. Reinhardt, “Sounds just like being under mortar fire. Took me a long time to not hate thunderstorms.” David, “What the fuck do you have to be traumatized about?” Reinhardt, “Watched half my unit die when their transport got hit by an RPG.” Flash, boom. David shudders. Reinhardt sits up and lifts his shirt, revealing two bullet wounds and a laparotomy scar, “Also, I got shot.” David lifts his shirt, “I got stabbed, by Alek Amal, no less.” Reinhardt takes his shirt off as best he can, and turns his back, revealing a long scar, “Some asshole high on angel dust did not want to get arrested.” David takes his shirt off and shows the burn scars on his shoulder, “I got bombed and then spent three days and three nights in the woods with no food and no water.” Reinhardt, “You just have to keep one-upping me, don’t you?” David, “I’m an asshole.” Reinhardt, “You never did let me sign your cast.” David, “Where are your pens?” Reinhardt, “Top left drawer.” David opens the drawer and takes out a pen. He goes over and hands it to Reinhardt. He sticks his cast out. Reinhardt signs it. He glances down at a scar on David’s ankle, “Where did you get that one?” David, “My brothers tried to run me over with a golf cart.” Reinhardt laughs, “I forget, sometimes, that you’re just a kid from Bethlehem. Honestly, I never would have guessed you were capable of getting scars from something as mundane as your dumbass older brothers.” David, “Shut up and go back to sleep.” He goes back over to his cot and lays down. He and Reinhardt both lay in silence for a little while. Reinhardt, softly, “I feel stupid asking this, but has Lydia been by at all?” David, “Who?” Reinhardt, “My outrageously beautiful wife, dumbass. You met her.” David, “Oh. I dunno. I don’t deal with that sort of thing.” Reinhardt, “I haven’t gone more than a day without speaking with her since we’ve been married.” David, “It hasn’t even been two weeks.” Reinhardt, “For two weeks, she’s all I’ve been able to think about.” David, bitterly, “At least you know she’s okay.” Reinhardt, “You’re the same way about Jack, aren’t you?” David, “Shut the fuck up.” Reinhardt, “Yeah, I figured as much. You’ve got to face Shaw the day after tomorrow, you gonna rip his throat out?” David, “Shut up, or I’ll have you gagged!” Another boom of thunder. David takes in a sharp breath, trying not to panic. Reinhardt, seriously, “If anyone did that to Lydia, and then kept me away from her, I’d kill them. No hesitation. Just fucking kill them.” David, bitterly, “You’re not leading a revolution.” Reinhardt, “No, I’m not,” he pauses for a moment, “I’d still do it, either way.”

In the morning, another long line waits outside of the building, and more people add names to the wall. At her station in the lobby, Beth works takes a family’s file request.

Monique adjusts cuff lengths on Asher’s formal uniform jacket. Shay and Joel also get measured and fitted. David comes in, looking tired, “Hey, Monique, what do you want?” Monique, “Finishing uniforms today. Do you and Abby still have yours?” David, “Yeah, I think so. Can you make three in a day?” Monique, “Four, I’m making one for me, too. I’ve been working all week, and I’ve got some friends helping me. We’ll have everything ready for Council, don’t worry.” Shay, “We’re gonna look fuckin’ snazzy.” Asher, “Have you thought at all about what you’re going to say tomorrow?” David, “A little.” Asher, disappointed, “How little?” David, “I have something in mind. Don’t worry about it.” Asher, “Abby and I both want to go over everything with you.” Monique, “I want to make sure your uniform still looks good.” David, “It’s up in my- I mean Reinhardt’s office,” he looks over at Asher, “You and Abby can talk to me in there.”

In Reinhardt’s office, David dresses up in his wrinkled uniform while Monique inspects. Abby shows Asher some papers. Reinhardt watches from his spot on the sofa. Monique, “Well, it needs to be pressed, but the fit still looks good.” David tugs on the jacket, “Good.” Monique, “Where are your medals? There’s no way in hell I’m letting you sit down without those.” David, “They’re in my bag. Don’t worry.” Abby comes over and hands David a stack of papers, “I drew up some talking points for you. You need to keep all of these in mind.” David flips through the pages, “This is a lot, Abby.” Abby, “Yeah, well, this isn’t your high school debate.” David, “I was on my high school debate team, and we were regional champions.” Abby, “I wrote my master’s thesis on Royal Council.” Reinhardt loudly snorts with laughter. David, “Ignore him.” Monique, “David, take your uniform off, I need to press it.” David puts the papers down on the desk, “Yeah, sure.” He takes the jacket off and begins to unbutton his shirt. Reinhardt, “You know I always assumed the pictures on OMGossip were carefully curated, but you really do take your shirt off more than the average person.” David, “Shut up!” On the desk, David’s phone rings. David, “Shit.” He picks it up and sees a call from Laura. Asher, “Who is it?” David, “It’s Laura.” He accepts the call and puts the phone up to his ear, “Hello?” Laura, sitting in her private jet, “Hello, David!” David, “Uh, hi, what’s up?” Laura, “I’m on my way to Council. I have some people with me that I think you’ll be glad to see.” David, “What who?” Laura hands the phone over to Jessie, “Hey, baby! I can’t wait to see you.” David, “Mom?! What- what are you doing, it’s not safe for you to come to Gilboa!” Jessie, “I have protection from Laura, and she says that with the MSS being taken over, there’s no one to arrest me. I’m perfectly safe, don’t worry.” David, “Mom, I still don’t know if this is a good idea.” Jessie, “David, it’s worth the risk if it means I get to see you and your brothers again. I’ve missed you so much! Every night, I’m scared of what I’ll see on the news. I need to see in person that you’re all still in one piece. How have you been?” David struggles to think of what to say, “I- I’m holding it together. It’s been rough, but, I’m okay.” Jessie, “You boys come to my hotel room and we’ll order room service. How does that sound?” David, “Sounds good.” Jessie, “Tell Abby her brother is coming with us. Would you like to say hi to him?” In the background, Frankie yells, “David, bro, what’s up?!” David, “I’m okay, Mom, really.” Jessie, “I’ll see you in a few hours, then, okay?” David, “Yeah, okay. I’ll see you then.” He ends the conversation, “Fuck.” Asher, “What’s wrong?” David, “My mom’s gonna be in Shiloh in a few hours, she wants me and my brothers to have dinner with her. Fuck! Do you have anything nice I can wear?” Monique, “Don’t you dare wear your uniform shirt, I am not spending all night washing soup stains out of it.” David, “I don’t want to show up to dinner wearing an old t-shirt and cargo pants.” Reinhardt, “I’ve got an extra suit in my closet. You’re free to wear it.” David, “Seriously?” Reinhardt, “I’m not using it.” Monique looks from Reinhardt to David, “Ought to fit you good, too. Get it out, I’ll press it, along with your uniform.”

David, dressed in Reinhardt’s suit, walks out into a hallway, where Ethan and James wait. David pauses and looks at them. Ethan, “Nice suit.” David, “It’s Reinhardt’s.” Ethan, “Seriously?” David, “Yup.” James, “Fitting that you’re the one dressed up.” David, “I can put something else on.” James, “Don’t. Let’s just get going.” They go out into the lobby. The file exchange is still going on. Beth still sits at her station, tiredly writing down a name. David glances at her as he passes, and she looks up and sees him. The woman Beth was talking to speaks up, “That’s G-R-E-Y.” Beth snaps back to attention, “Oh, sorry,” and writes down the correct name.

Outside the MSS building, David, Ethan and James cross the street and unlocks an SUV. As Ethan and James get in, David turns and looks at the building, now covered in names of those who have died. He stares for a moment, at the Shepherd names on there, the enormity of it all weighing down on him.

David walks down the hallway of a fancy hotel, Ethan and James behind him. David, “What room is it?” Ethan checks his phone, “523.” David spots the number, and stops by the door. He looks back at his brothers, “You ready?” Ethan and James both nod. David sighs and knocks on the door. Jessie answers. She looks at her boys for a moment. David smiles softly, “Hi, Mom.” Jessie sweeps him into a big hug. Ethan and James both go in and hug her. Jessie, “Oh, I’ve missed you boys so much!” Ethan, “We’ve missed you, Mom.” Jessie steps back, I have a surprise for you.” She swings the door open a little wider, revealing Arthur and Sean waiting on the other side. Ethan and James go over and hug them, greeting each other with brotherly laughter. David, “How?” Jessie, “It doesn’t matter.” David looks at Sean, “What are you gonna do when it gets reported to the army that you were here with me?” Sean, “Glad to see you, too, David.” David, “No, it’s not… I’m glad to see you, it’s just, I- I’ve seen people get tortured for less!” Ethan, “David, we still have Reinhardt as leverage. Nobody’s gonna mess with us as long as we have him.” David sighs deeply, “Yeah, yeah, you’re right- I’m sorry. I guess I’m still stuck in war mode.” He goes over and awkwardly hugs Sean, “I’m sorry.” Sean, “It’s all right. You’re just looking out for everyone.” David goes over and numbly hugs Arthur, as well. Jessie looks at her remaining boys with intense pride and sadness, “It’s been too long since I’ve had all my boys together.” James, “When was the last time?” Arthur, “I dunno. I think it was Eli’s funeral.” Ethan, “I dunno if it’s really fair to call that together.” Sean, “It was after you got acquitted. I remember because right after that I got sent to Shiloh. I kept trying to have you over for dinner, remember, David?” David, “Yeah, we were both always busy.” Sean, “Yeah I guess so. I guess you never expect something like that to be a last time, huh?” Jessie, “I have a room service menu right here, why don’t you boys take a look at it? Queen Laura’s paying for everything- get whatever you want.” James, “Oooh, then we definitely have to order something fancy!”

Everyone sits around a table and eats. James and Ethan eat with gusto while David quietly picks at his food. James, “Oh man, you don’t realize how much you miss eating real food until you actually eat some! I mean, no offense David, but AFG food kind of sucks.” David, “It's the best we can do.” Sean struggles awkwardly to eat with one hand. Ethan, “How’s the farm?” Arthur, “Still in Gath.” Ethan, “You had any luck trying to get back into Gilboa?” Arthur, “Margaret and the kids are free to go to Gilboa but I can’t leave without giving up the farm.” Ethan, “That’s bullshit.” Jessie, “Language.” Ethan, “I’m sorry, but it is!” Arthur, “Best we can do is keep doing what we’ve been doing all along: just keep praying something happens. For a while it looked like the Gilboan army might re-take Bethlehem, but that stalled out once the war with Ammon started.” David, quietly, “I’m sorry.” Arthur, “Don’t say sorry, David, it’s not your fault.” David, “It kind of is.” James, “Hey, don’t pay any attention to that shit that Amal said.” Jessie, “Amal? What did he say?” James, “A bunch of crap trying to mess with David’s head.” Jessie, “When was this?” James, “Don’t worry about it, Mom!” Sean, trying to change the subject, “So, David, do you know what you’re gonna say tomorrow?” David, “I- I dunno. Hey, make me king? It’s a lot to think about.” Jessie puts her hand over David’s, “Whatever happens, we’re all very proud of you.” David, “Thanks, Mom.” Sean, “Eli would be proud of you, too… and Dad… and Robert.” David tries to smile, “I’m doing my best. I dunno if it's enough, but, it’s my best.”

After dinner, everyone gives David their encouragement. Sean, “You’re gonna kick ass tomorrow, David!” James, “Yeah, kick Abner’s ass for all of us, okay?” David, “I will. Don’t worry.” Jessie, “You boys don’t go and do anything stupid until then.” All the bros, “Yes, Mom!” Jessie, “All right, good night!” David, “Night.” Jessie closes the door, and then looks over at David. She smiles at him. David, quietly, “So, what did you want to talk about, Mom?” Jessie, “Come sit with me.” She goes over to the sofa and sits. David follows her. She looks down at his hands, and takes the injured one in hers. The cast is now decorated with the signatures of all the bros. Jessie, “How did you get this?” David, “I knocked Alek Amal’s teeth out.” Jessie sighs, “Oh, David. It drives me crazy when I don’t know what you’re doing, but when I find out, I wish I hadn’t.” David, “I’m sorry, Mom.” Jessie, “You don’t have to apologize. You’re doing the right thing.” David, “Not always.” Jessie, “What do you mean?” David shakes his head, “Nothing. I just can’t remember the last time I knew what the right thing was. I’ve had to make a lot of really hard decisions, and I don’t know if I’ve always made the right choice.” Jessie smiles proudly, “That’s good. It means you still care.” David, “I’ve done some really terrible things, Mom.” Jessie, “Oh, David, baby.” He starts to cry. Jessie hugs him. Jessie, “You said you wouldn’t disappoint me by becoming a bad person. And I’m not disappointed. I’m proud. I am so, so proud of you. You are good. You’ll be okay.” David sobs into her shoulder.

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cwnerd12 · 4 years

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“Palace Magnifique” Rose stands on stage in a tastefully understated black gown, First Night, “Considerable changes have been made since First Night was last held, but Gilboa’s dedication to the fine arts remains the same. Tonight, for the first time, I am joined by a new Minister of Arts and Culture. I’m very pleased to introduce Miss Monique Broadnax.” She applauds politely as Monique makes a dramatic, sweeping entrance. She’s dressed in an elaborate gown with trains in trans pride colors. Rose maintains a tight smile as the crowd applauds wildly for Monique. David, sitting besides Jessie, cheers for her. Monique, “Good evening!” More applause, shouts of “YAAAAAS!” Rose’s smile tightens even more. Monique, “For years, the Shiloh Ballet has been a symbol of grace and culture. Tonight, we seek to continue the tradition of First Night, but to bring it into a new era. As this city changes, its culture must change along with it. Tonight, for the first time, new styles of dance will be incorporated into the performance, style of dance that have previously been considered to be less than. Tonight, we are once again blessed by angels, but we invite new ones to the table. Please, welcome our new dancers.” She and Rose graciously leave the stage to applause. Classical music plays, and ballet dancers pirouette across the stage. After a few moments of pure ballet, the music and lighting change; suddenly all colors and hip-hop. Vogue dancers appear on the stage, dancing furiously. Society people pretend not to be highly confused and/or outraged. Gays and AFG veterans finger-snap and shout “YAAAAAAAAS!” Jessie’s jaw drops in delight and David smiles and laughs at her astonishment. More fierce dancing.

(“Tomorrow Is My Turn” Nina Simone) David’s portrait hangs in the palace- bright and colorful, with a big, optimistic smile on David’s face. Monique leads a team of designers and architects, furiously taking notes, around the lobby of the palace, “There needs to be some actual life in this place, some warmth, I want plants, natural light, and some color. There should be design elements keeping in the celestial theme of the AFG, and maybe a few butterflies as a tasteful nod to history.” She turns around, “King David has stated that the most important thing is that the palace be open to all people. There should be no part of the palace that isn’t wheelchair accessible. Prince Jack lives here and he still can’t visit half the building. We’re beginning a new day!” In the council chamber, David sits and speaks into the camera, “Good evening. Today I signed into law a declaration of rights for the Citizens of Gilboa.” David has his picture taken for Elite Magazine. He smiles with brilliant charm. In his office, a reporter asks, “The impact of your kingship is being felt all across North America. Do you encourage those in other countries to take up the fight for their rights?” David, “Not unless they’re willing to go through hell for it. You think you know what the worst thing that can happen is, but then, something even worse happens, and then something even worse happens, and it just keeps getting worse and worse. If you think you can survive that, then, maybe.” On TV: David, “Citizens of Gilboa have a right to free speech and a free press.” Jack sits behind the cameramen, smiling supportively and giving a thumbs-up. At their own press conference, Adam and Liam stand behind two podiums in crisp new AFG uniforms. Adam, “With the cease-fire with Gath fully implemented, King David is beginning the integration of AFG forces into the Gilboan Army.” Elsewhere in Shiloh, buildings damaged by the Amalekites get repaired. Joel gets photographed as he holds up the declaration of rights, “I wrote this.” Asher is photographed smiling and leading a service in a synagogue. Shay is photographed smiling and standing in front of a proud group of Queens of Gilboa in their new uniforms. David breaks ground on a housing project for refugees as a crowd lovingly cheers and applauds. Abby poses proudly in her office. Jack has his picture taken. Photographer, “Can you turn your head a little bit, I want to get a better view of your scars.” Jack’s smile fades, and he turns his head. In his office, David explains to the reporter, “Being king really is exciting, I’m actually building things and getting things done.” He presses a button on his phone, “Abby, can you get me those reports I asked you for this morning?” Abby, over the phone, “Lick my BALLS, David! You aren’t the only person who’s busy today!” David laughs nervously, “We haven’t quite lost the informality of the AFG yet.” In their apartment, Jack watches an elevator being installed by the staircase. Back at Liam and Adam’s press conference, Liam says, “AFG veterans who wish to retire from combat will be given full benefits and recognition as veterans of Gilboa.” Reinhardt grins like a smug, handsome asshole as he poses in front of a display of weapons. Rose is photographed at her press podium. Monique is photographed in front of the still spray-painted MSS building, wearing a sparkly gold gown, and waving an AFG flag in the manner of Liberty Leading the People. David, “*announces equal rights, no discrimination based on religion, race, gender, or sexual orientation.*” Gay couples flood a courthouse trying to get married. One of the couples is Abby and Michelle, holding hands and giggling. Michelle wears a slinky white satin slip gown and Abby wears a feminine tux. At her desk, Rose receives a magazine: on the cover is Jessie, “Gilboa’s Mom.” Rose tosses it aside dismissively. Jack and David have their picture taken together, David standing behind Jack. Reporter, “Will Prince Jack be granting an interview?” Jack glances at David. David, “Oh, no. Jack’s made really remarkable progress in his recovery, but speech remains a real difficulty for him. I’d be glad to answer a few questions, though.” Jack tries to smile. At Liam and Adam’s press conference, a reporter asks, “Will either of you be returning to active duty?” Adam, “If King David asks us.” Liam grins, “This is a good thing because if I were Premiere Shaw, I’d be terrified to know that I had this guy coming after me.” He points at Adam. At sundown, Monique stands in front of a building, looking up at its neon sign. It flickers and lights up, PALACE MAGNIFIQUE. Monique claps and laughs with delight. Reporter, “You’ve legalized gay marriage in Gilboa. Are you and Prince Jack intending on getting married any time soon?” Both David and Jack blush and laugh. Jack looks up at David. David, “Oh, man, I’d love to, but royal weddings are a big deal, aren’t they? I’ve got a ton of stuff that I’m working on, I don’t know when I can find the time to do a wedding.” Jack, “We should.” David, “Yeah, we should.” Rose watches as the cold stone facade of the palace lobby is taken down. She stoically tries to hide her sadness. Monique saunters past, followed by architects and designers, “The new stairwell should go over here. It creates more of a natural flow, has better feng shui.”

In bed, at night, Jack wakes up, rubs his eyes, and sees that he’s by himself. Slowly and carefully, he gets himself into his wheelchair and goes out into the living area. He sees a light coming from David’s office. He goes over and opens the door. Jack, groggily, “David?” David looks up from his work, “Oh, shit, what time is it?” He looks at his watch, “Damnit, I’m sorry.” Jack, “It’s okay.” David puts his stuff away, and says, apologetically, “I swear I was gonna go to bed with you, but I wanted to take one last look at these refugee numbers, I kinda got sucked into them and lost track of time.” He goes over to Jack, “Come on, let’s go to bed.” They go towards the bedroom. They both get into bed. Jack curls up on his pillow, away from David.

Jack at physical therapy: he does exercises for balance and coordination after brain injury. It’s difficult and strenuous but Jack powers through it with intense concentration and determination. Afterwards, his physical therapist, Josh, helps him back into his wheelchair. Josh, “You’re doing really great, Jack.” Jack, “Thanks.” Josh, “If it were based on strength alone, you could run a marathon tomorrow. Your issues are all related to balance and coordination, which are trickier to address. Are you continuing your exercises at home?” Jack, “Yeah.” Josh, “Good. You need to be walking around at home. Are you using your walker?” Jack, “Yes.” Josh, “You need to start using it all the time. It’s gonna be harder moving around with it at first, but once you start improving your coordination, it’ll be no problem.” Jack, “Okay." Josh claps him on the shoulder, “You’re doing good, man. See you Wednesday.”

Jack quietly goes into the council chamber, where David sits deep in discussion with his cabinet. He goes over to the railing at the top of the gallery. He rests his arms on it, and then rests his chin on his arms, watching intently. David, “Okay, what’s next on the agenda?” Asher reads, “Mental health care for AFG veterans.” David, “In the Elite interview, I talk a lot about my own mental health and how important taking care of it has been for me, by the time it comes out, I absolutely need to make sure that AFG veterans have full access to quality mental health care.” The minister of health, Miranda, says, “I have a good plan in place, but I need to go through it with military leaders and make sure it can be implemented.” David, “Excellent, when this meeting is over, You, Shay, and Caesar can stay and we’ll hammer out the details together,” he turns to Asher, “Anything else?” Asher, “Nope, that’s it.” David, “Sweet! Let’s get to work!” Everyone but Shay, Reinhardt, Miranda, and David gets up and leaves. David glances up at the gallery and spots Jack, “Jack! Hey!” Jack smiles at him, “Hey, babe.” Reinhardt rolls his eyes. David, “Hey, you should come join us, I think you’ll have some great ideas!” He pushes Jack towards the stairs, but then stops. They both stare down at the steps. David, “Shit. I guess I really need to prioritize making the council chamber accessible, huh? Do you think you could make it down the stairs if I help you?” Jack looks at the stairs warily, and then looks up at David, “Lunch.” David, “Oh, that’s right! Shit! I’m kind of busy.” Jack, “Okay.” David, “I’ll see you for dinner, though, okay?” Jack, “Yeah.” David leans down and kisses him on the cheek, “You go enjoy your lunch.”

In the kitchen, Jack and Michelle eat sandwiches. Michelle, “I got all my textbooks today. This afternoon, I’m taking Cameron on a tour of the campus. He already says he wants to go into trauma surgery, can you believe it? Most of my classmates still have no idea what they want to specialize in.” Jack, “Cool.” Rose enters, carrying a magazine. Michelle, “Hey, Mom.” Jack, “Hey.” Rose sits down next to them and lays the magazine out, “An advance copy of Elite came today. David looks very handsome.” Michelle, snidely, “Of course he fucking does.” Rose, “I say Silas looked better on his first Elite cover, but of course I’m biased.” Jack points at the picture of David, “Second. Second cover.” Rose, “Oh, I know.” Jack opens the magazine, and starts flipping pages. He lands on Michelle’s picture. Michelle, “Oh, I like that one.” Jack smiles and flips a few more pages to find his picture. In the image, he sits in profile, the emphasis on his scars, still visible through his hair. Jack tries to hide his displeasure. Rose, “It’s a very striking image.” Michelle, “Hey, I got something for the two of you.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out two photographs, “Wedding pictures. You two can put them wherever you like.” She hands one to Rose and one to Jack. Rose looks at hers, and says with a hint of shade, “Well, you two look very happy.” Michelle, “What?” Rose, “I just imagined your wedding would be a bit different is all.” Michelle, “Was this before or after I vowed to remain a virgin and never marry?” Rose, “I was just imagining things.” Michelle, “Hey, you and Dad got married on an army base while you were pregnant. You can’t complain about my wedding.” Rose, “I’m not complaining.” Jack stares down at his picture in Elite. Rose, “What’s wrong?” Jack doesn’t say anything. Rose, “Do you not like the picture?” Jack, “Scars.” He flips the pages, and finds the picture of him and David, small and embedded into a page of text. Michelle, “Hey, that’s a nice picture.” Jack, “Small.” Rose, “Don’t fret over it, Jack, there will be other magazines in the future.” Jack grimaces. Rose, “Whatever you do, just don’t complain about it to David. Your job is to support him, not add to his worries.” Michelle, “So Jack is supposed to just be some subservient wifey now?” Rose, “He doesn’t have to be subservient, but being the king’s spouse does have its own unique responsibilities.” Jack, “Not married.” Rose, “When you are. I speak from experience. The success of David’s kingship rests largely on you keeping him happy. You have to give him everything he wants, and know what he needs before he needs it. You have to lessen his burden, not increase it.” Michelle, bitterly, “That’s how Seth was kept from us for ten years.” Rose, “That was your father, not me.”

In the evening, Jack lays on David’s shoulder while they watch TV together. David plays with Jack’s hair, “I swear, your hair is growing back curly.” Jack smiles, “Just messy.” David, “No, it’s curly. I like it.” He kisses the top of Jack’s head, and then yawns deeply, “Shit, it’s been a long day.” Jack, “Tired?” David, “Yeah, I think I might go to bed. You want to join me, or watch TV for a little bit longer?” Jack, “Join you.” David gets up, and then helps Jack up. David, “Lemme get you your walker…” Jack, “No. Myself.” David, “Come on, don't be stubborn, you need the walker.” He goes to get it, but Jack takes a few shaky steps on his own. David grabs the walker and hurries over, “Jack!” Jack keeps going, and then stumbles. David lunges and catches him, “Don’t give yourself another head injury!” He tries to get the walker again, but Jack pushes it away. David, “Jack!” Jack keeps going, walking slowly and unsteadily on his own. David gives up and hovers close behind him. Jack stumbles again, and David grabs him. David helps him re-gin his balance, and slowly, they make their way into the bedroom.

Jack and Reinhardt sit in David’s office. Reinhardt, “All right, I had my secretary draw up a report for you, everything you need to be briefed on should be in there.” Jack looks through a stack of papers. Reinhardt, “Anyway, I am BUSY-” Jack cuts him off, “Wait.” Reinhardt, “What?” Jack knits his eyebrows, “Questions.” Reinhardt, “What questions?” Jack, points to a page and slowly reads, “Arming rebels in Gath,” he looks at Reinhardt. Reinhardt, “I just thought why are we sending our troops to fight Shaw when Gath is full of rebel groups willing to do it instead?” Jack, “Terrorists.” Reinhardt, “The AFG was considered a terrorist group until you all took over.” Jack, “No… Amalekite terrorists.” Reinhardt, “The Amalekites never operated in Gath.” Jack, “No.” Reinhardt, “I mean, they blew up that one bomb but it was only so David would escape, right? And anyway, all of our intelligence says that the Amalekites died with Alek Amal, so we don’t have to worry about them.” Jack, frustrated, “No.” Reinhardt, “What? Are you saying they’re still working?” Jack, “No.” Reinhardt, “Then what the hell are you saying?” Jack sighs. He points to the list of rebels in Gath, “Bad guys!” Reinhardt, “Bad guys who are on our side.” Jack, “Can’t.” Reinhardt, “Can’t what?” Jack, concentrating to say the words, “Help… bad guys!” Reinhardt sighs with annoyance, “Well, it’s just a proposal, not a plan. Besides, you always get David to do what you say.” His voice is full of insinuation. Jack glares at him, “Done?” Reinhardt, “Yes, I’m done. And I have other meetings to get to, so if you will please excuse me.” He gets up, and leaves. Jack watches him leave, and then leaves himself.

Reinhardt walks into David’s office, “You requested me?” David, “You briefed Jack this morning like I told you to, right?” Reinhardt, “I did.” David, “How did it go?” Reinhardt, “As well as could be expected. We had a few disagreements.” David, “Disagreements? I told you, Jack is still your authority, if he gives you orders, you have to follow them.” Reinhardt, “That’s just it. Jack is not exactly the best person for conversation.” David, “What the fuck are you saying?” Reinhardt, “I can’t follow his orders if I have no idea what the hell he’s trying to say to me.” David, “Okay, before this goes any further, do you seriously not understand what he’s trying to say, or are you just being an asshole?” Reinhardt, “I need clear orders so that I don’t get blamed when they go badly.” David, “So you’re just being an asshole.” Reinhardt, "Am I supposed to be buddies with Jack now?" David, “Don't ask like you can't understand him!” There’s a soft knock on the door. David, “Yes?" The door opens and a secretary enters, “Sir, Queen Rose is here to see you.” David, “I'll be there in just a moment.” Reinhardt, “Should I leave?” David, “We will deal with this later.” Reinhardt, “Well, I’ll see you later, then.” He gets up and leaves. As he exits the room, Rose enters. Rose, “What is it, David?” David pulls something up on his tablet and hands it to her, “This.” Rose takes it. On the screen is an OMGossip headline, “Prince Jack’s Struggle.” Rose, “Ah, Andrew.” David, “I have been clear from the beginning, Jack is off-limits! There’s personal information in there! They say that Jack has migraines and seizures!” Rose, “He does have migraines and seizures.” David, “How could they know that?!” Rose, “The palace has over 5,000 employees, and this doesn’t include the employees of the hospital and rehabilitation center. Any one of them could have been paid to say something.” David, “I want it looked into and anyone who talked fired.” Rose, “Tell Thomasina.” David, “This isn’t the first time OMGossip has published personal shit. They’re the ones who published the fucking sex tape!” Rose, “So what are you going to do about it, David? This is all factual information. Under your new declaration of rights, they’re perfectly free to do it. There’s nothing you can do.” David, “The only way they could have gotten that sex tape was from Gath, this is an issue of national security!” Rose, “Then discuss it with Minister Reinhardt.” David sits back in his chair, slightly deflated, “Jack’s recovery is hard enough as it is. I don’t want anyone adding to it. Can you, like, talk to Andrew?” Rose, “Andrew learned from his father to resent anyone named Benjamin, and it’s a lesson he took to heart. The fact that Jack got CrossGen only makes it worse. He won’t listen to me. He won’t listen to anybody. And besides. This is hardly the worst thing Jack has had written about him.” David, “That’s beside the point!” Rose, “Right now, you have much, much bigger things to worry about. I have the outline of my Council testimony finished, and we’ll be meeting about it this afternoon. You need to figure out what you want to say.” David annoyed, “There’s nothing to say.” Rose, “That’s not good enough. I'll see you this afternoon.”

At speech therapy, Jack slowly reads out loud from a book. He pauses and rubs his eyes. His therapist, Zoe, say, “Hey, you’re doing good, keep going.” Jack, “Headache.” Zoe, “Ah, gee, that’s rough. You look tired, did you get much sleep last night?” Jack, “No.” Zoe, “Well, make sure you take a nap this afternoon and try to catch up. We gotta keep going, though, come on.” Jack begins reading again, but he goes slowly and struggles with the words. He squints with pain and rubs his head. He pauses again, blinking at the pages in front of him. Zoe, "Are you sure you don’t want some aspirin or something?” Jack winces and then suddenly vomits on the table. Zoe jumps to her feet, “Okay, let's take a break.” Jack wipes his mouth with embarrassment.

Outside the council chamber, David speaks in low, conspiratorial tones to Liam and Adam, “OMGossip published a story about Jack and I am not happy about it.” Liam, to Adam, “I told you man, I should have beat the shit out of that motherfucker when I had the chance!” David, “What?” Adam, quickly, “We saw Andrew Cross at Council. Nothing happened. Don’t worry about it.” David, “Sine being in touch with the press is you guys’ job, I want you to pay attention. Ask around. where's OMGossip getting its sources? Is it someone inside the palace or from somewhere else?” Liam, “You want me to deal with it when I find out?” David, “What? No! No, don’t do anything stupid. If you find any information whatsoever, tell me immediately, don’t do anything else. With the declaration of rights, I’m not supposed to be doing anything to interfere with the press, and… Look, I don’t give a fuck what anyone says about me, but I want Jack to be left alone during his recovery, got it?” Liam, “Got it.” Adam knits his eyebrows in concern. David, “Adam?” Adam, “Yeah, I guess. I… are you sure we won’t be breaking the law or anything?” David, “Hey, I’m the king, the law is whatever I say it is.” Behind them, Thomasina steps out of the council chamber, “Your majesty, we’re waiting for you.” David glances back at her, “Okay, just gimme a second.” He turns back to Liam and Adam, “Just keep your eyes open, and whatever happens, I’ve got you guys covered. Come on.” He goes into the council chamber.

In the chamber, David sits at the table with Rose, Thomasina, Joel, Abby, Asher, and a host of other advisors. Liam and Adam find a place in the gallery. Abby begins talking, “Confirmation Council is largely symbolic, in the end, David is still king of Gilboa, no matter what, but it serves the very important purpose of setting a clear narrative on what happened during the coup, and establishing why David is king. Everyone directly involved with the coup is expected to testify.” Adam diligently takes notes. Rose, “Honesty is going to be our best course of action, since we have nothing to hide, and David has built himself an image of being somewhat unflinchingly honest.” An aide discreetly enters the chamber and goes up to David, "Sir, Prince Jack has cancelled his afternoon speech therapy for today.” David, "What? Why? What happened?” Aide, “He has a migraine.” David, "Where is he now?” Aide, “He’s in bed.” David. “Shit.” He stands up, “I have to go." Abby, “David this is very important." David, "I have to go be with Jack." Abby, “David, this is when you tell everyone why you're king!” David, “I've done that already! I’ve done it like five times! If someone doesn't understand by now, that's their fault. Figure out what I need to say, and I’ll say it.” Abby, “Some of it should come from you.” David, “Then we’ll reschedule! I have to go!” Adam watches him as he hurries out.

Jack lays in bed in a darkened room, eyes shut tight with pain. The door opens, and Jack winces at the beam of light that enters the room. David steps in and says softly, “Hey, are you okay?” Jack moans. David loosens his tie and takes his jacket off. He gets into bed beside Jack and puts his arms around him. Jack, “Work.” David, “Don’t worry about that.” Jack, “No.” David, “I want to be with you.” In too much pain to protest, Jack curls up close against David, and David gently strokes his hair, “I'm not going anywhere.”

David goes into Vesper’s cell and sits down. David, “Can I talk to you?” Vesper, “I have nothing better to be doing.” David sighs heavily, “I don’t get it… you murdered your wife.” Vesper, “Yes, I did.” David, “You turned your army on your own people. You murdered thousands, maybe millions of innocent people, and you murdered the person who loved and supported you and was the mother of your children… but when I talk to you, you seem pretty decent. You’re not like Silas or Warner. You don’t seem like the kind of person who would do what you did.” Vesper, “I know what you’re trying to ask, and I’m afraid it’s a question best left to the scholars- Why did Vesper Abbadon go absolutely batshit insane? Anyone else’s guess is as good as mine.” David, “Is that what you’d tell your kids?” Vesper, “Perhaps I’d try to give them something better, but… I’ve tried to explain it to myself countless times over the years. Every time I think I’m close to some sort of rationalization or explanation, I see how wrong it is, and I’m once again left with no answers. Evil is like that. Sometimes, it just exists with no why.” David makes a face. Vesper, “What other answers are you looking for?” David, hesitant, “Is there something wrong with the fact that… I actually kind of enjoy being king? I’m helping people! I’m getting stuff done! That… that feels really good. And it’s really scary to have that power. I don’t want to end up like Silas… or like you. I’ve already done a lot of things I regret, from before I was ever even king.” Vesper, “You know your own faults, and you’ve learned from your mistakes. You’re already doing better than I did.” David, “I thought for sure, I’d hate being king, but, I’d do it because doing the right thing is hard. I thought as long as I had Jack with me, I’d be okay. But instead, the work’s making me happy, and Jack…” he grows quiet, “Jack isn’t happy. And I don’t know how to make him happy.” He shoots Vesper a dirty look, “I know what you did to gay people, so I don’t know why I’m telling you.” Vesper, “You’re seeking a connection with someone who understands what you’re going through.” David, “Laura knows, she’s given me plenty of advice.” Vesper, “But she’s a busy queen with her own life and her own problems. I, one the other hand, am a captive audience. I have no right to judge you, and I won’t share your secrets.” David, “Yeah, I guess.” Vesper, “You care about Jack, right?” David, “He’s the most important thing in the world to me.” Vesper, “Then don’t ignore his unhappiness, or pretend it doesn’t exist.” David, “I don’t know how to make him happy! That’s the worst thing about being king- I can solve everyone’s problems except for the one person I care about the most!” Vesper, “I don’t have an answer for you, David, but I think you may have one for yourself.”

Hobbling slowly on his walker, Jack gets into the finished elevator in the apartment, presses the button, and goes up to the second floor. He gets out of the elevator, goes over to the stairs, and looks down them. He thinks for a moment, and then stands up. He puts the walker to the side. He clutches the railing, and carefully, slowly, lowers himself down the first step. With slightly more confidence, he goes down the second step, and then third. On the fourth, he stumbles, and falls violently down the flight of stairs. He grimaces painfully and sits up, rubbing his shoulder. He looks around for something to help him stand up, but it’s all out of reach. Panic washes over his face, but he takes a deep, determined breath, and tries to get up. He rises a few feet, but then stumbles over and is once again on the ground. He tries to get up, again, but falls. Panting, he tries once more, and almost makes it, but loses his balance. He lies on his back, teeth gritted, breathing deeply, seething. He lets out a scream of rage, and pounds his fists and feet on the floor. When his anger is spent, he breaks down and sobs with frustration. The door opens, and David enters. He sees Jack lying at the foot of the stairs, and runs to him, “Jack?!” He kneels down beside him, “Jack?! Are you okay? Did you hit your head?” Jack, muttering, “I’m fine.” David, “What happened? Did you have a seizure?” Jack, “No. I fell.” David helps him sit up, “Do you feel okay? You aren’t dizzy or anything, are you?” Jack, “No.” He feels his head, “Did you dent your plates?” Jack grabs his hand and throws it away from him, resentful. David looks up at the walker at the top of the stairs, “Did… did you try to go down the stairs by yourself?” Jack, “Yes.” David, dismayed, “Jack, you aren’t even doing that in therapy!” Jack gives him a resentful look. David, “Are you okay?” Jack, somewhat defeated, “Yeah.” David touches his forehead, “You’ve got a bruise.” Jack turns his face away from David’s hand. David lowers it and sits quietly for a moment, “I know you’re not happy. I know you’re in a really difficult position, and…” he drifts off, “I don’t know what I can do to make it better for you.” Jack puts his hands over David’s, “You… be with you.” David, “Is that what you want?” Jack, “Yes.” David thinks for a moment, “All right. I should’ve had some time with you, anyway. Do you… want to get married?” Jack smiles a little bit, “Yes.” David smiles back, “Then we should do that. Take a couple weeks for a honeymoon. Finally take some time to be together. Does that sound good?” Jack smiles, “Yeah.” David, “Okay. We’ll do that.” He thinks for a long moment, and then smiles sadly, “I never really thought much about how I'd ask you to marry me, but I always figured it'd be a lot more romantic than this." Jack leans forward and puts his head on David’s shoulder. David puts his arms around him, “You're still what matters most to me.”

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cwnerd12 · 4 years

Text

Before long, clusters of people fill the wall with names. Reporters talk to people and TV cameras film it all. People take selfies by the names they’ve painted, eyes full of tears.

Outside at the wall, a bunch of cameras watch as David, Ethan, and James paint JOHN SHEPHERD, ELI SHEPHERD, and ROBERT SHEPHERD on the wall. A ways off, Adam and Beth stand next to where RYAN HITT is painted. They both watch David paint. Adam shifts uneasily from foot to foot, bites at his lower lip, and sighs. Beth, “You okay?” Cameras flash and David walks away. Adam watches intensely. Beth, “Adam?” Adam, “What?” he snaps at her, broken out of his concentration. Beth, “You okay?” Adam, “Yeah, I- I guess.” Beth, “I’m gonna go back inside.” Adam, “Hey, um…” Beth, “Yeah?” Adam, “I’d really like to talk to David. I keep trying to catch him, but he’s always busy. Would you mind mentioning to him that I’d like to talk?” Beth, “I really haven’t had much time with him since he moved over here.” Adam, “I really need to talk to him.” Beth, “About what?” Adam, “I just need to talk to him.” Beth, “You should probably wait until after Council. It’s only a few days.” Adam, “Yeah, I guess.” Beth, “Okay, well, I’ll talk to you later.” She steps past him. Suddenly, Adam says, “David really loves Jack, you know.” Beth looks back at him, shocked, “What?” Adam, “Jack. Whatever decision David makes at Council, it’s all going to come down to Jack. David really misses him. I can’t imagine how much he wants to be with him again.” Beth, unsettled, “Jack is brain dead.” Adam, “How do you know?” Beth, “Because how can he not be? David has to know this!” Adam, “Are you sure?” Beth stares at Adam, “You can’t get shot in the head and just be okay.” Adam thinks for a moment, and then looks back down at the ground, “Yeah, I guess so.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets and sighs, “Be really bad for us if he is.” Beth stares at him, struggling to stay composed. Adam, “Go back inside. I think I’ll just stay out here for a little while.” Beth, “Okay.” She hurries past him, awkwardly. He watches her go back inside.

Back in his hospital room, Jack slowly blinks awake form his surgery. He looks over and sees Michelle and Rose with their backs to him, speaking in low, furious voices. Michelle, “He won’t be able to walk on his own or speak in complete sentences!” Rose, “We don’t know that for sure. We can get all the right care at the palace.” Michelle, “That’s not enough, and you know it!” Rose, “We don’t have a choice here, Michelle.” Michelle, “You and Dad kept it covered put he first two times he went to rehab, why is this any different?!” Rose, “We could shut down any publication that said anything, and we still didn’t stop the rumors. These circumstances are very different.” Michelle, “Oh, bullshit!” Rose, “This can all change, depending on what choices Shepherd makes at Council.” Jack moans softly. Rose and Michelle both look over at him, startled. Michelle immediately puts on a smile, “Hey, metal head. How you feeling?” Jack groans and rubs his eyes. Rose get up, goes over to him, and kisses him on the forehead, “All you need to do is heal.” She steps back and heads towards the door, “I’ll go get the doctor.” Michelle, “You can’t just ignore this, Mom.” Rose, “Not now, Michelle!” She marches out into the hallway. She goes into the lobby and goes up to a doctor talking to a nurse, “He’s awake, Dr. Alexis.” The doctor looks at her, “Excellent.” Rose smiles and leads him back into Jack’s room. Michelle sits in her chair, fuming, as the doctor approaches Jack. Doctor, “Hi, Jack, how are you feeling?” Rose sits down beside Michelle as the doctor goes on, “The surgery went without a hitch…” Michelle furiously wipes tears from her eyes. Rose looks over at her, and says softly, “Nothing is settled until after Council.” Michelle, “It’s barbaric. He’s using Jack’s whole future like it’s some fucking playing card.” Rose, “I know. And I hate it, too.” Michelle stifles a bitter sob. Rose, softly, “How much faith do you have in David?” Michelle, “What?” Rose, “David. He’s given to dramatic rescues, isn’t he?” Michelle, “What, you're hoping he’ll attack the palace?” Dr. Alexis turns to them, “Everything looks good." Rose smiles, “Wonderful.” The doctor leaves.

In the morning, another long line waits outside of the building, and more people add names to the wall. At her station in the lobby, Beth works takes a family’s file request.

Adam waits anxiously in the hallway outside of Reinhardt’s office. He glances back at the place where Ryan was killed, and then stares at his feet. The door opens, and David comes out, carrying his uniform and Reinhardt’s suit. Adam, “Hey, David.” David, “Yeah?” Adam, “I- can I talk to you?” David, “I’m kind of really busy right now.” Adam can’t hide his desperation, “I really need to talk to someone, and I want it to be you.” David softens a little bit, “Okay, lemme get these delivered. Come with me, we’ll find some place to talk.”

David and Adam go into a small empty office. David, “This was my office when i got re-assigned here. I think I spent most of my time thinking up excuses to make deliveries to the palace so I could sneak in some fun with Jack.” He grins at Adam, but Adam doesn’t smile back. David sits down at the desk, and Adam sits down across from him. David, “So what’s up?” Adam, nervously, “Um, it’s about Ryan, and uh… how he died.” David sighs, “Yeah, Ryan, man, losing him fucking hurt.” Adam, “I-I was there when it happened. I saw everything.” David, sincerely, “I’m sorry.” Adam, “I- I um…. I can’t get over this feeling that maybe… maybe his death was unnecessary.” David, “Yeah, this whole fight’s unnecessary, if only Abner’d just let me be king…” Adam interrupts, “It’s not like that. Joel sent Ryan out into enemy fire. He said we needed to throw a grenade to capture the building, but we would’ve taken it without that. It would have taken longer, but we had the advantage, we could have done it. He sent Ryan out knowing he’d be killed.” David processes all this, thinking for a long moment. He carefully chooses his words, “Listen, Joel told me about this. He believed what he was doing was necessary, and I believe him on that. And, no matter what, Ryan went willingly, and bravely.” Adam bites his lower lip and tears well in his eyes. David, softly, “In the past couple of years, I’ve come to know a lot about grief, stuff I really wish I didn’t know. You’ll keep telling yourself, if only I did this, if only I did that, things could be different. It’s bargaining, it’s part of the process. Grief will make you think the craziest shit, and after a while, you start believing it.” Adam sobs. David goes on, “Grief fucking sucks and there’s no way to get over it but to feel it. You should talk to Dr. Othman, he can give you someone to talk to, and give you some meds that at the very least will help you sleep. They won’t make the grief go away, but they can help it feel a little less overwhelming.” Adam, “Yeah. Okay.” David, “And, trust me, man, I’m grieving with you. Ryan was a great guy.” Adam sobs some more. David stands up, goes over, and pats Adam on the shoulder, “Don’t drive yourself crazy asking questions, okay? You’re never gonna get the answer you want.”

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