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illumilu · 3 years

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there’s only one bed” - illumi zoldyck x reader

a/n: a very stereotypical cliche for fanfics, but, yk what? cringe makes the world go round. so here, have my drabbling of what would happen if you were to spend an unwanted night in the same hotel bed as the adultrio. i feel like i may have made this way too long again, but who cares?? this time it’s with illumi! aka loml ...

summary: after a lengthy car trip, you arrive at the hotel with illumi, but to your horror (wink wink), there’s only one bed. including: you dreaming abt him when he’s literally right in front of you (embarrassing). this is part two of a three-part series, with the adultrio. hisoka is already written and chrollo will be coming soon!

warnings: no particular trigger warnings, lowercase intended, a lot of fluff! and cuddling! only on your part though, since illumi is basically awkwardness personified... no nsfw <3

illumi zoldyck:

- the trip to the hotel had taken 6 hours. 6 hours in which you had fallen asleep multiple times, cramped your legs, somehow made every sleeping position dangerously uncomfortable, cracked your neck and twisted your back, possibly to the point of no return.

- for mr zoldyck, or rather, “illumi”, as he had instructed you to call him, the trip was no problem. his upbringing, which consisted of mainly torture, included staying awake for as long as a fortnight at a time. 6 hours may as well have been a few minutes.

- “the silent son of the zoldycks” was his reputational nickname, or, rather, “lifeless koi fish”, as your friend, hisoka, enjoyed calling him. either way, illumi was not going to let a car ride tire him.

- when you had first met him, he had scared you. a lot. the entire “trained dangerous traumatised assassin” storyline was one that felt like a threat. you were undoubtedly taking a risk by working with him, but it was one you were willing to; it may have been twisted, but murder was your forte, and you were searching for a partner.

- over time, you had grown to be less intimidated by him.

- you were now colleagues with him, working on a new assassination.

- shockingly, planning murder took time, and who better to plan it with than the assassin himself? you had spent the past day on a “business trip”, paid for by illumi’s grandfather, where you sized up the area and familiarised yourself with yorknew.

- all for the big night.

- tonight was the day before the murder of the ten dons.

- illumi and kalluto would carry out the murder, while you made sure everything went smoothly, via a small mic attached to his clothes. the entire operation was based on trust, and would therefore be executed like clockwork.

- you had taken the necessary mental images and kept the targets in mind; all that was left was a night at a pre-booked hotel and then it would be go-time.

- you had assumed that the hotel would be high-class, with doormen, perhaps some marble flooring and pillars - it was the zoldycks who were paying, after all, and you knew they had money to spare.

- “we’re here.” illumi stated blankly, face reflecting in the window. admittedly, he did look a little bit like a koi fish.

- you nudged past him to look out of the window, leaning over to get a good view.

- oh.

- it seemed you had made quite the overestimation. it was a simple, plain building with a few stories. no doormen or extravagance could be sighted.

- you supposed keeping a low profile was important, but the depressing accommodation was somehow making you wearier.

- the two of you didn’t exchange any conversation on the way up to your room, but you were used to that.

- you and illumi had met around 5 months ago, and most of it had been comfortable silence. you hadn’t expected it to be like that - in all honesty, you had expected him to kill you - but illumi seemed... calm around you.

- it was probably because you shared such an odd passion with him; the logistics of murder. you assumed it gave him a chance to loosen his harsh demeanour and enjoy himself. the both of you had worked on multiple murders together, focusing on theory and planning, but this was a huge assassination. nevertheless, you knew he could pull it off; illumi was smart, you had to give him that.

- finally, you arrived at your hotel room, sighing from the lengthy stairway winding up to your unnecessarily high room. you assumed it was for safety purposes, but for god’s sake; why did safety have to be so enervating?

- illumi pushed the door open, and you walked in with him. finally, you could catch some rest.

- except, you couldn’t.

- a singular bed placed in the middle of the room.

- “why.” you thought to yourself tiredly.

- you stood there silently, waiting for him to say something.

- then, you remembered that he was illumi. he obviously wouldn’t see anything wrong with the situation.

- the bastard.

- it didn’t help that he gave you no visible reaction when you stared at him with your face scrunched up expectantly, as if to ask what his plan was.

- “is there a problem, y/n?” illumi asked, his tone flat as usual.

- you took a deep, worn out breath, clearing your throat.

- after a bit, you shook your head. this was strictly professional. illumi wouldn’t do anything, because he was illumi. nothing would happen.this was an important night, where rest and a clear mind were essential. blame it on the fatigue, and nothing else. you were just exhausted. there was nothing else to it. nothing.

- “no. i’m just a little tired.” you dismissed.

- a silence skimmed past.

- “my grandfather... he often tends to be absentminded. occasionally, he forgets to do certain things, or plan them correctly, i suppose. you could say this is a prime example of such.”

- “zeno forgot another goddamn bed, hm?” you laughed nervously.

- illumi stared at you once again, blinking a few times, in a methodical manner, face neutral and robotic. you smiled awkwardly and remembered that he was not one to laugh at jokes. or anything, for that matter.

- you wondered if he laughed at bloodshed. or maybe hisoka.

- “i’m going to... go to set up my stuff now.”

- turning your back to illumi, you winced at the uncomfortable air. even after all your time with him, you never learnt to stop trying to lighten the mood. the mood was literally just always unnatural, in some way. that was another one of illumi’s specialties.

- after some time, in which you had finalized tomorrow's plan and each changed into comfortable clothes, you watched illumi tie his hair up from across the room.

- his hair had always fascinated you.

- you had always wanted to touch it. honestly, even when you had first met him, apart from his magnetic eyes, you had been drawn to his hair. you imagined it felt like silk sheets, caressing over one’s hands as smoothly as honey. you were glad he grew it out; in fact, upon seeing his teenage photos, you had laughed so hard you ended up getting a nosebleed from hitting your face. illumi had been left in confusion for a while.

- you realized how random you sounded. why were you reminiscing so much?

- shaking yourself back to your senses, you admired as he artfully twisted his hair into a loose bun, strands of hair cupping his elegant, pale face.

- what a beautiful koi fish.

- most people couldn’t compute that illumi had true, human feelings. after all, it would be hard to believe a man like him felt anything. but, of course, he did, unhealthily so. he channeled all his trauma and hurt into his villainy, and received happiness from his villainy, anger from his villainy and occasionally fear from his villainy. however, there was one emotion he could never grasp. he hated himself for it, but soon realised he could manipulate his hatred into villainy, too.

- illumi was a man who could manipulate anyone or anything he wished.

- except himself.

- internally, he had always felt at a loss whenever he confronted his emotions. but, after he had met you, something had changed. as he caught you staring at his hair through the hotel mirror, he couldn’t help but feel something small stir inside of his stomach. not evil, not happiness, not hatred, not anger. perhaps, friendship?

- this tinge of new emotion inside of him initially made him feel uneasy, but that worry morphed into giddiness, a childish high buzzing somewhere in his core.

- eventually, he stood up to face you and suggested going to sleep. you checked the time on the wall clock. 8 in the evening. well, illumi had always been particular. you agreed that rest was essential for tomorrow.

- you hesitantly took the left side, and, upon seeing your choice, illumi followed to lie on the right.

- after a few minutes, you looked back at him, noticing illumi fell asleep abnormally quickly. you furrowed your brow quizzically at the rock-like manner he was in. frankly, he looked like a plank when he slept. you almost laughed, but held it in for his sake.

- he had a very specific sleep schedule, as did the other zoldycks. he could go to sleep immediately at his own command, and stayed perfectly still as he did so. he woke up at 5 in the morning every single day, without fail, almost like he had some sort of alarm clock planted in his body.

- looking at him lying there like a block, you smiled softly. illumi was quite the conundrum to you. you often speculated whether he ever got what he deserved; love, affection, anything really. you knew about his past from when he had told you nonchalantly, within a few weeks of your acquaintance. you always hoped he’d find someone to love him, but doubted whether people would bother looking beyond his bleak surface, and into his excellent mind. lost in thought, you found yourself getting drowsier. you also fell asleep generally quickly, limbs aching from the stupid car ride.

- the night passed.

- illumi was the first to wake up at 5am, stoic and in the same place he had fallen asleep in. no surprise there.

- but you.

- that was the first thing he saw when his eyes opened.

- he did not expect you to be lying on him lazily, snuggling into his body, arm and leg comfortably wrapped around his side. you were breathing lightly, face burrowing onto the ridge of his chest.

- i suppose you didn’t expect to be there either, which he realized, but the point still remained.

- why were on you his chest.

- “y/n.”

- no answer.

- illumi could have pushed you away; in fact, he could have blown you 983 metres away (his personal record).

- but he didn’t.

- it wasn’t the thought of disturbing your comfort that stopped illumi from hurling you into oblivion. it wasn’t the fact that he explicitly enjoyed it, either. he remembered that the mission was today; if he were to wake you, and you hadn’t slept enough, you wouldn’t be at your upmost performance.

- the murder of the ten dons was his priority, right? yes. it was. there was no doubt about it. that was the only and final reason he wouldn’t wake you. end of discussion.

- so, illumi stayed there, waiting for you to wake up and get off of him. 30 minutes passed, and he watched you for every single one.

- hard as it was to admit, watching you rise and fall in sync with his chest made the spark of emotion in his core grow fervently. what had that foreign feeling been? yesterday, he had settled at friendship, but now he wasn’t so sure.

- you looked so peaceful while you slept. less confusing. he remembered the time you had accidentally complimented his hair when the two of you had first met. he had found that amusing. he remembered the time you got a nosebleed from hitting your face too hard - it was after laughing at his teenage pictures, which perplexed him greatly. he remembered the times you two had sat together, working and theorizing on missions, accidentally meeting eyes or brushing hands. one time, you had dipped one of his pins in ink and scratched his name on some paper “for fun”. you had handed it to him and, for some unknown reason, the scrap was still tucked safely in his wallet. your unrivaled intelligence, your idiotic sense of humour, your smile, your lack of common sense, your twinkling eyes that so ironically contrasted his, everything. everything crossed his mind while he lay there.

- illumi found it strange how people remembered the oddest things at the oddest times.

- why did he think of that now, as you were sleeping? even worse, on the day of a meticulously planned assassination. why couldn’t he manipulate his emotions to stop fluctuating around you so much?

- it all frustrated him.

- why had he let you call him by “illumi” so quickly? mr zoldyck would have been fine. and why had he been so lenient with your antics? no one else got to touch his pins. why did he feel like keeping you on his chest forever, and keeping you safe? most importantly, why was he thinking about you so much?

- his contemplation came to a halt when he heard you stir a little in your sleep.

- finally, you’d wake up and he could forget about this entire problem.

- he watched you, expecting you to get up soon.

- you began shuffling around, brushing against his chest, and soon your eyes fluttered open, hazy and glazed over. it almost seemed like you were still in a dream, in some sort of half-sleep.

- “huh?” you whispered quietly, still lying on illumi. you looked up lazily, meeting eyes with him.

- “oh... i get it...” you hummed quietly, falling back onto his chest.

- he furrowed his brows.

- “why are you here?” you hugged him from the side, softly laughing at your ridiculous dream. he tensed up at you embracing him, but soon relaxed after realizing what was going on.

- illumi looked at you, one eyebrow raised. did you... think you were dreaming?

- to be honest, he found it kind of entertaining, the way you were fawning over him. if he let you stay there, he could figure out a lot of things about his newly found emotion. it could be worth it. just not today.

- illumi came back to his senses fairly quickly; you were obviously awake now, so why couldn’t you get off of him already?

- “y/n.”

- “mmm? what? so serious all the damn timeee, illum-”

- “you aren’t dreaming. get off.”

- SHIT

- SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT

- you jolted off him immediately, staring down at illumi zoldyck.

- the real illumi zoldyck.

- oh my god what. what. what. what.

- every nerve in your body began to panic, and, in the stress of trying to find the correct words to say, you just ended up making some sort of incomputable “aaaahhh” noise and jumping off the bed.

- illumi had finally gotten up and was now staring concernedly at you.

- an awkward pause.

- “let me just start by saying i did not-”

- “y/n. we have more pressing priorities for today. i don’t care.”

- illumi zoldyck had lied. even to himself. he did care. and so what if he ignored it until it festered so intensely inside of him he couldn’t do anything but tell you? he cared about you. and he knew it.

- “ok. you’re right. you’re right! illumi. one question. was i like that the whole night?”

- “i don’t know. i woke up at 5 and you were there.”

- you looked at the clock. it was 6am? what had he been doing for an hour? you opened your mouth to ask but closed it soon after. you recalled your thoughts about illumi growing up void of affection, or love, or appreciation.

- some questions were best left unanswered.

- “how long was i... mumbling like that?”

- “a few minutes.”

- you gulped. there were a few things you had to come to terms with. shutting your eyes firmly, you apologised profusely, annoyed at yourself.

- “y/n. i don’t care.” he lied once again.

- “you’re right!” you rambled - “the ten dons are today! it doesn’t matter what i said... none of it matters, we can both just forget it!”

- you sounded like you were trying to convince yourself more than anyone.

- “so all we need to do is go over the plan one last time, get kalluto, and then we’ll carry it out, and soon enou-”

- “stop it. you’re wasting time. just go and get ready.”

- you sighed and smiled weakly. on the inside, you were sure your soul had died a little.

- while you left to change, overcome by embarrassment, illumi lingered by the bed for a few seconds. he tried to push down whatever he was currently feeling, but it was no use. the feeling in his core had risen up to his throat, a burst of something waiting to leave his lips.

- for the first time in a while, illumi zoldyck smiled. not at murder, or at power, or fulfillment, or achievement, or even villainy.

- illumi zoldyck had smiled at the thought of you.

- let’s just say illumi had trouble focusing on his mission.

i am honestly so fucking sorry you had to read that whole thing. the way i am literally in love with illumi zoldyck and ended up writing 2857 words bye bye bye i’m so sorry!!! PLZ what?? anyways,, i feel like i heavily underwrote hisoka now, since i did such a prologue thing for this! honestly i feel like this one came out a little boring, im sorry again AAAAA just agh; chrollo should b coming when i have time but i have exams rn so idkkkk hh

either way, likes or reblogs or whatever are super appreciated, but don’t feel forced to or anything! either way, i feel like no one’s gonna see this with my reach LMAOO but anyways thank you for reading, if you made it here! feedback and tips for writing on here are always helpful :)

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letseatprayrun · 4 years

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Huntington Half Marathon

February 2, 2020. Huntington, California

I signed up for this race very last minute. Last minute as in six days before the race last minute. There were no more bibs and I ended up posting in the Surf City Half Marathon Facebook group if anyone one was selling their bib and ended up being able to purchase and change the name of a stranger’s bib who decided to drop out. My friend Jacquie, from Adidas Runners was the reason I was drawn to this race. She posted about running it on her Instagram story and I thought it sounded fun. I messaged her and she immediately encouraged me to run it with her.

I thought it would be a great first, nice and easy race to start the New Year off right. I was right... in a sense.

Saturday morning Jacquie and I did a nice and easy three mile shakeout around Venice with AR. We took it very slow and stopped to notice the buildings and the sights we normally run straight by without taking the time to view. After our shakeout we went back to headquarters and rested our legs in the Normatech boots, foam rolled, stretched, used the Theraguns, and drank a lot of water. Then we went to our favorite pre-and post-race fuel stop, a Vegan restaurant called The Hive in Santa Monica. We got vegan, green bowls with plant protein and turmeric lattes for anti-inflammation. Then we showered, got in comfy close, picked up some celery juice, more water, coconut water, Macro bars (WHICH WE ARE ADDICTED TO) and headed down to Huntington.

On the drive down we listened to Rich Roll’s podcast interview with David Goggins. It got us so hyped for the race. I kept thinking to myself, if he can run seventy miles on two broken feet I can run 13.2 with some foot pain easily. The drive was nice and easy, we didn’t talk much just listened to the encouragement of the painfully mentally strong Goggins, and continued to down water with electrolytes. When we got to the airbnb which was a few blocks from the start line and from the Convention Center we rested and put our legs up the wall before we decided that it was time to pick up our bibs. We drove a few blocks down the very crowded PCH and walked to get our shirts, our bibs, and some samples of miscellaneous health food products we weren’t too interested in. Then we went back to the house, you guessed and it and decided to do another ab workout because, well, what else do you expect from a Yoga Barre and Yoga Sculpt teacher to do during “rest time.” Around 5:00 we were getting hungry and tired again, it had been a long day and we decided to treat ourselves to a delicious vegan dinner. We got cauliflower ceviche, and a big buddha bowl to share with rice, and grilled veggies, and had some more turmeric tea. By 8:00 we were back at the Airbnb, legs up the wall, race day outfits laid out, and were stretching and theragunning our legs again.

I felt confident, I felt tired, I felt ready. I laid out my Adidas brand new Alphaskin, 4 in booty shorts, my Believe this Sports bra, black adidas socks, my Blue Hokas which I just got new insoles for, sunglasses my friend Chloe lent me, extra rock tape, Stem Cell patches which my Acupuncturist swore would help my foot pain and overall immunity, headphones Jacquie lent me, two Chocolate Raspberry flavored Huma gels, and my coconut water with hydration tablets. I was ready to go. We were asleep by 8:30.

Before I fell asleep I listened to my Churchome app prayer and meditation and with my eyes closed before I feel asleep I had a long talk with G-d. “G-d, I know through you all things are possible.” I kept repeating to myself and to Him. I prayed for an easy and fun race. I prayed to finish with a smile. I prayed for an injury free race. I almost got all my wishes. As I reflect on this race that was over a month ago, it is important to remember that when we ask G-d for things, He doesn’t simply work as a genie. Yes he is a miracle worker, but not at the expense of our ego. And only as I type this now can I slightly piece together that my ego was in the way of this race and perhaps that is why I ended up with the injury I do now... but more on that in a different post....

We set an alarm for 4:00AM to eat our MacroBars and then would go back to sleep till 5:00AM when we would get ready, brush our teeth, go to the bathroom and foam roll, stretch and get ready. G-d honestly my favorite thing about race day is that you get woken up in the middle of the night to eat a delicious what tastes like chocolate peanut butter brownie. Did I mention how obsessed with Macro Bars I am yet? They are such a clean protein bar, all vegan, all gluten-free, clean simple ingredients. YUM! So, got up at 4, ate the bar, took tiny sips of water, went to the bathroom and went back asleep. Come 5AM we put on our sports bras, booty shorts, race bibs, and were ready to go. We stretched, foam rolled, and did some glute activation in the Airbnb. And jogged over to the start line. At the start line we went to the bathroom ( a re-occurring theme) and did 100m strides to warm up the legs, body, and glutes.

Then we got into our corrals, I prayed, listened to worship music. Prayed some more. Prayed some more and looked down out my hand. The night before at the restaurant I had wrote down on my hand a quote my dear friend Daniel Marin Medina sent me prior to this race. He was my college cross country captain and told me “Strong legs, stronger mind.” I was ready to go. I kept repeating my mantra, “It’s in the bag. This is easy.”

The race was in fact easy. I took it at my own pace, running the first ten with another girl from AR named Gabby. By mile ten I decided I wanted to pick up speed and boy did I do just that. I wasn’t sure how fast I was going in the moment, but after the race ended I checked my splits and dropped almost a minute from my 10-9:30 pace to 8:30. When I was less than a mile from the finish line I could not feel my feet. I was in so much physical pain but the high of the endurance didn’t let me feel any of it. I sprinted so fast that my phone actually flew out of my pocket and I didn’t even know till after I crossed the finish line. Someone told me I dropped my phone so I had to run back out, spot my phone trying to dodge runners sprinting towards me. I saw someone - a guy, sprint over my phone - and lets just say I absolutely need a new cellphone camera now - whoops. Maybe it was worth it. At the end of the race I found Jacquie sitting on the ground, her achilles was hurting, my feet were hurting. It was a mess. But I finished. And I was proud. I shuffled slowly behind her and our friend Gabby to find our Uber. I called my Dad immensely proud, I called my mom, also immensely proud. I was on a high from the accomplishment, but my feet were hurting and the runners high was coming down and the reality starting to sink in that maybe I did push a little too hard in my training. Maybe I did listen to my ego when instead I needed to listen to my inner voice... again, more on that later.

We stopped for some coffee and a not great acai bowl, and shared gluten free avo toast (basic, but I love it)! The drive back to Santa Monica was long and sunny, I couldn’t feel my feet and took three Tylenol which I never do but I thought it would be preventive for the aches I was already feeling. I showered at Jacquie’s apartment, threw on some comfy clothes and compression socks, went to whole foods and got vegan sushi and more macro bars because...duh, and then went to a Super Bowl party at my friend Joey’s house - another runner. Luckily for me Joey had a theragun and I laid on the floor, pretty lifeless just theragunning the heck out of my legs, calves, and feet while Joey brought me homemade delicious vegan gluten free ramen. I could only stay at the party for so long before I felt my eyes closing. It was a long 48 hours, and little did I know it would be what would turn into a very difficult season proceeding my Half Marathon.

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ginawritesstories · 6 years

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blissful affliction, concept test

Genre: New Adult | Urban Fantasy Word count: 5,943 | Three Chapters | Incomplete Rating: Strong language and references to sexual content Summary: Insomnia and running his coffee shop is all Cameron knows until he’s thrust into the lives of two preternatural enemies.

Chapter 1: give me just one taste

Reese is starving. He’s withering.

His shop doesn’t open for another eight hours and he’s not sure he can survive that long. Normally he’d go to a bar and flirt, but he can’t get past the thought of how insincere it all is. It makes him gag just thinking about it.

He keeps his hands in his pockets as he pushes past people on the dark, city streets. He’s so dizzy that walking from street light to street light starts to look like a strobe light.

Then he hears a sniffle.

There are cars driving past, horns, chatter; the city is never quiet at night. Yet he hears the sniffle like it’s the only sound in an empty room.

He hates himself. He hates himself for being drawn to it.

He peeks into an alleyway and sees a man there, maybe about his age, it’s hard to tell in the darkness.

He’s wearing pajamas with a jacket thrown over them and Reese can feel the insomnia rolling off of him.

The man paces, breathing harshly as he tries and fails to fight back tears.

Reese starts walking toward him without realizing what he’s doing.

He’s withering. He can’t help himself.

The man startles as he sees Reese walking towards him. The man glances behind himself, suddenly aware there’s no other exit to the alleyway. “Hey, what‒what are you doing?”

The man takes a step back as Reese gets too close to him.

Reese considers saying something, but he’s so exhausted.

He catches the man’s neck in his hand, fingers digging lightly into the hair on his nape.

The man swallows, stays still. Reese can feel the man’s fear overwhelm his sadness, but the sadness is still there, echoing deep below the surface.

Reese breathes it in, presses his lips to the man’s temple.

The man doesn’t move and Reese thinks for a moment that the man is an idiot. A mysterious figure in tight jeans and tattoos curling past the collar of a worn leather jacket approaches him in an alleyway and the man doesn’t run or fight?

But Reese can’t really focus on the man’s poor judgement right now because as his lips touch skin, he’s overwhelmed. The sadness and fear and curiosity wash over him like a warm blanket.

Reese sighs, sated. “Thank you.”

He turns and walks away.

The man stands there, sniffles one more time, and watches him go.

-x-

Cameron hasn’t slept.

Or maybe he has.

He’s not even sure anymore. He stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and can’t quite bring himself to recognize the face looking back at him. Forgotten meals and fickle sleep tighten his skin. He brushes a hand through his jet black hair and wonders if bleaching it would make him look more alive.

He turns from the mirror and wonders why he even bothered to look.

Trudging around the street, he drinks his ironic morning coffee as he runs some errands before opening up his coffee shop.

The cafe is small, barely functional, but it’s his and he loves it.

He tries to keep fresh flowers on the table every morning so he zips his jacket to brave the cold, winter air and leaves his apartment before sunrise to head to the flower shop.

He’s not sure why the owner opens so early, but he’s not about to complain. It works for him and the flowers aren’t insanely expensive. It’s not a fancy flower shop, just like Cameron’s cafe isn’t a fancy coffee shop. He feels a sort of kinship to it.

He’s never really talked to the owner much. He should one day, but 5am isn’t a great hour for conversation.

Cameron makes it to the shop as the sky starts to gain some color, just a hint of it.

“Why have you been up since three?!” Cameron hears a voice float through the flowers. He peaks around to spot the owner frowning as he holds his phone to his ear and waters some plants. The owner spots him and looks up with a bright smile. “Morning! The usual?”

Cameron shrugs. “I don’t know why you call it the usual. You never give me the same stuff.”

The owner laughs happily, nods as he focuses on the phone call again. “Maybe I should just leave the hoodie there then if you hate it so much.” He giggles. “I’d tell you to wear it and feed you some line about red looking good on you, but we both know you look best in pink.” More giggling. Cameron smiles to himself. Love is cute. Even at 5am, love is cute. “Hey, I’ve got a customer here. I’ll talk to you later? Go back to sleep.” He hangs up and blushes as he meets Cameron’s gaze, shy after being overheard.

Cameron hesitates. “Sorry, I know I’ve been coming here forever but…I don’t think I’ve ever asked you your name.”

The owner snorts, fully energized despite the early hour. Cameron takes a moment to actually look at him for the first time. He’s cute‒Okay, no. He’s gorgeous. And much, much too happy for 5am. He wears a bright yellow sweater behind his dark gray apron. Cameron’s trying to decide if the fucker has naturally perfect hair or if he spends time styling it into the I-woke-up-this-way look when the man breaks him out of his stupor, “I don’t know if I’d call a few months forever. It’s okay. I’m Noah. Feel free to browse around like usual.”

Cameron hums, smirking at the jab. He sips his coffee as he wanders. He drags his eyes away. Noah really is gorgeous, surrounded by his flowers. Maybe Noah’s taken, but Cameron’s just looking. Looking is harmless.

Noah’s ideology regarding his shop is a little different than most flower shops. While people tend to give flowers specific meanings, Noah doesn’t believe in that. Not really. He thinks flowers mean different things to different people. He doesn’t like enforcing ideas onto flowers if someone is struck differently by them.

For fancy bouquets, he’ll help the customer define the feeling each flower gives them and he’ll include a personal flower meaning card based on their answers.

Cameron’s never said it out loud, but he really loves the idea.

He supposes Noah must be aware he likes it here. He comes every morning to buy flowers for the cafe. He wouldn’t be back if he didn’t like it.

Noah whistles to catch his attention.

Cameron blinks himself awake and looks up.

Noah laughs across the room. “You okay? Looked like you just fell asleep for a second.”

Cameron clears his throat. “Yeah, didn’t sleep well. Didn’t sleep at all.”

Noah hums apologetically. He moves toward Cameron. “I can pick some flowers for you today if you’re too out of i‒”

As he gets closer to Cameron, he suddenly freezes.

Cameron turns to him, curious. Noah’s eyes are locked on Cameron’s temple.

Cameron subconsciously itches at it. “Noah?”

Noah drags his eyes away. His voice is quiet, far away. “You smell weird.”

Cameron snorts nervously, “Thank you?”

Noah shakes it off. “I’m so sorry. I just thought‒never mind. Flowers. How do you feel about chrysanthemums?”

Cameron shrugs.

Noah laughs. “That’s what I thought. I’ll grab you a few different colors.”

When Noah passes the flowers to him, their hands graze. In the past, he’s barely noticed it, but for some reason it catches his attention today. Noah’s never been necessarily flirty with him, but he always brushes their hands like that. It reminds him of…he can’t place the deja vu.

Cameron walks out in a daze with the collection of flowers. Two blocks down is his cafe.

He unlocks the doors and flips the sign from closed to open. He turns on the grill for the breakfast sandwiches, powers on the espresso machine, fills up the vases with water. It’s a normal morning.

But his temple still itches with a phantom touch. Maybe he did fall asleep last night. He had some weird dream…

The morning goes on as usual. Customers filter in, get what they need, and go. A few sit for a while and it’s around 10am that Peyton comes in to help.

The lunch rush comes and goes but Cameron still can’t shake the mist in his mind.

Images of a man in an alleyway continue to flash through his mind, but like shadows being obliterated by light, the memory of Noah’s smile obliterates them.

It’s odd. It’s not that he has feelings for Noah, but there was something about his energy that perfectly negated the pain he was feeling. He’d never really thought about it before, just assumed it was how his emotions fluctuate as he wakes up and his coffee settles in. Now that he thinks about it, his mood has always drastically improved after seeing Noah.

A hand snaps in front of his face and Cameron blinks.

Peyton smirks at him, only a year younger than Cameron himself. He’s Cameron’s best employee so his promotion to manager nearly went without saying. “You seem more out of it than usual.”

Cameron makes a face at that. “I’m not usually out of it.”

Peyton laughs lightly, “You daydream a lot. You were muttering to yourself for like an hour yesterday with your brow furrowed.” He pokes between Cameron’s eyebrows. “I thought your face would get stuck like that.”

Cameron swats his hand away. “I’m just stressed. I haven’t been sleeping.”

Peyton’s teasing stops instantly. “Oh. What’s wrong?”

Cameron shakes his head. “I wish this place was bigger.” He looks around the cafe. It’s cramped, always has been. It was all he could afford when he bought the place, but it’s nothing what he dreamed it would be.

He imagined an open space, shelves of books and CDs, a stage for live music. He really wanted this cafe to be an artist’s haven, but he just didn’t have the money for that. He still doesn’t.

Peyton pats him on the back. “You’ll get there.”

Cameron nods, eyes staying closed a little too long as his lack of sleep catches up with him. “You’re okay by yourself, right?”

Peyton smiles softly. “Yeah, Cam. Get some sleep. It’s past the rush. I’ll be fine to close alone.”

Cameron grabs his stuff and leaves without arguing.

His head feels heavy, so he takes a longer path home than usual hoping the cool fall air would help clear his mind so he can actually fall asleep when he gets home.

His feet stop moving.

There’s this weird feeling…he can’t place it.

He turns and looks out at the street but sees nothing.

He looks in the other direction, into the storefront he’s passing. It’s a tattoo shop.

The door chimes as it opens and he nearly jumps out of his skin at the sudden sound in the quiet street.

A young man is smiling, face red and absolutely smitten as he says goodbye and leaves the shop. The man throws Cameron a weird look and then gestures at the shop. “If you’re thinking about a tattoo, no one’s as good as Reese. He’s a good guy and he’s talented on top of that.”

Cameron blinks as the man walks away. He looks into the shop through the window and his eye focuses on a man in the shop, standing still and staring at Cameron with wide eyes.

A feeling of dread swirls in him as he focuses on the man’s silhouette.

It’s the man from his dream.

He touches his temple, steadies himself, and walks into the shop.

Chapter 2: if you’re lying i’ll listen

Reese tries to act casual, “Hey, looking to get a tattoo?”

Cameron doesn’t say anything. He uses the opportunity to get a good look at Reese.

He wears dark jeans with a black t-shirt that he cut the neck deeper on. His hair is a smokey lavender. He’s not as intimidating in the daylight as he was in the alleyway.

The first thing Cameron can manage to say is, “That wasn’t a dream.”

Reese smiles, “What wasn’t a dream?”

Cameron narrows his eyes, still tired and confused. He taps his temple, “You kissed me. Why?”

Reese laughs and throws a weird look at Cameron. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir. I’m just running my shop. Thank you for visiting.”

It almost works. Cameron starts to doubt himself. Maybe this man just looks like the man in his dream. Maybe he really is losing it.

But then Reese makes the mistake of glancing over at the chair in reception. A worn leather jacket is hung over the back of it. Cameron follows his gaze and sees it, sure of himself now. He shakes his head. “No, it was you. It was definitely you.”

Reese sighs, defeated, “Did you feel better after?”

It takes Cameron a moment to catch on as Reese actually acknowledges their interaction. “What? Better?”

Reese turns away from him, tidying up his shop, “Yeah, you were crying. Did you feel better?”

Cameron supposes he did kind of feel better. “Well you scared the sad out of me so sure.”

Reese frowns. “But you wouldn’t say you felt better?”

Cameron watches him, tries to analyze his expression. “Are you asking for a yelp review or something? Why the fuck did you walk into an alleyway and kiss a stranger?”

Reese's hands clench into fists. He turns to square up to Cameron. “Did you feel better or didn’t you? Just answer the question.”

Cameron cowers a bit at the intensity emanating from Reese. “I sort of felt nothing. All my stress evaporated for a bit. I think I managed to sleep for about an hour.”

Reese latches onto that. “So it helped you sleep?”

Cameron can’t keep up with the emotion shifts, “Well if I did sleep I was fucking restless about it and I still feel like shit today so no. No, it didn’t fucking help. Now tell me why the hell you did it.”

Reese's eyebrows raise. “No need to get defensive. Wow. You curse a lot.”

Cameron huffs, frustrated, “You just admitted to cornering me in an alley and kissing me. So yeah, I’m a bit fucking defensive.”

Reese shrugs. “You’re cute.”

Cameron narrows his eyes. “Is that a statement or some bullshit explanation?”

Reese smiles, eyes squinting it’s so wide, “Both.”

Cameron watches him, studies him. He expected something else, but…“So you saw me crying and decided you should just kiss my forehead? Who the fuck raised you to do that?”

Reese gasps, offended. “Don’t talk about my mothers like that.”

Cameron pinches the bridge of his nose. “Whatever, just leave me alone.”

Reese scoffs, “You’re the one who walked into my shop.”

Cameron grinds his teeth. He lets out a breath and releases the frustration he feels. “Whatever.” He turns and leaves the shop without another word.

As the door chimes to announce Cameron’s exit, Reese relaxes. His smile falls away.

He looks at himself in the mirror he has hanging in the front. He looks as weak as he feels.

Usually he can get by for a day or two after seeing a client, but he used up a lot of his ‘back stock’ from his encounter with Cameron and it leaves him needing more.

He sighs angrily, grabs his jacket, and switches the sign from open to closed as he locks the shop and goes out to a bar.

-x-

The loud alarm taunts him as Cameron forces himself to wake up from another night of barely any sleep.

He follows his normal routine: makes his coffee, heads to the flower shop.

Except, when he gets there, Noah’s not flitting around the store like usual. He seems to have been waiting for Cameron to get there.

Noah frowns as soon as Cameron walks in, itches his nose.

Cameron blinks. “Uh, is something wrong?”

Noah nods. “You smell weird again.”

Cameron blinks. “It’s not like I have new cologne. How can you even smell anything surrounded by flowers?”

There’s something in Noah’s tone, like he’s offended. “Have you met anyone new lately?”

Cameron’s thrown, remembers his confrontation with Reese yesterday. “I don’t know if I’d say it was something so civil as meeting.”

Noah cuts to the chase, “Who was it and where are they? I know I sound crazy, but it’s important.”

Yeah, he does sound crazy. “All this cause I smell weird?”

Noah’s resolve falters. “I know we don’t know each other well, but can you just trust me? It would take forever to explain.”

Cameron sighs, pinches his nose again. “I’m starting to feel like I’m not even awake, just hallucinating from insomnia. Whatever, some asshole. He works at a tattoo shop nearby.”

Noah nods, thinks about that. “A tattoo shop. Okay.” He shakes it off and suddenly his normal, cheerful smile is back. “So, what can I get for you today?”

Cameron shrugs and lets Noah change the topic, “The usual: whatever you feel like giving me.”

Noah smiles, nods to himself. “Sure. I’ll get that right out.”

Noah’s calm and peaceful as he rings Cameron up, but as soon as Cameron’s out the door, Noah takes off his apron.

He locks up his shop and searches on his phone for tattoo shops nearby. He makes his way to the closest one.

It’s 6am so it’s closed, but Noah figured no one would be around this early. He still gets the confirmation he was after: this shop reeks of a Toru. He definitely owns the shop.

Now that Noah knows where the Toru is, he just has to decide what he’s going to do about it.

Chapter 3: i’ll swallow your poison ‘til it runs through my veins

Reese doesn’t even realize what he’s doing before he finds himself in the alleyway he met Cameron in at 3am.

The entire time walking here, he was caught in a mantra telling himself that stories from his customers and flirting with strangers was enough, but there was something in Cameron’s eyes…

Reese is startled out of his stupor as the apartment door opens to the alleyway and Cameron walks out in sweatpants and an oversized cardigan. He’s holding a mug of tea and it steams in his hand.

He nearly drops it as he makes eye contact with Reese. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Reese says nothing as he tries to decide how to defend himself or if it’s even worth lying over.

Cameron’s expression hardens. “Look, it’s flattering that you think I’m cute, but I fucking live here and I don’t know you so this is stalker-y and I’m gonna call the cops if I see you here again.” He turns to go back inside.

That spurs Reese to say something, “No, wait!”

Cameron hesitates. He hates himself for thinking Reese looks beautiful in the moonlight. He’s a creep. A beautiful creep, but still a creep.

Reese covers his face with his hands. “I don’t sleep well either.”

Cameron blinks, hopes Reese has more to say than that.

Reese clears his throat. “I didn’t walk by that first time looking for you or anything. I was just going for a walk. You’re out here cause you can’t sleep, right? That’s all I was doing. I was sleep deprived and you were cute. This is my usual insomnia route. You just happen to be on it.”

Reese can see Cameron’s defenses drop a bit at that. “That’s…almost fair, but you weren’t walking just now. You were standing there in the alley like you were waiting for me.”

Reese curses in his head, but tries not to reveal how flustered he is. “I felt bad. I paused. I know I freaked you out. I wasn’t waiting for you. I’m just as surprised as you are. I mean, do you come out here at 3am every morning? That’s quite the schedule you’ve got for your insomnia.”

Cameron lets out a long breath. He studies Reese's face for a long time before he says anything. “Fine. Fucking fine. Sit and talk with me for a bit then. Maybe if I can see you’re not a freak, I’ll sleep better at night.”

Reese scoffs, “Wow, so you’re blaming me for your insomnia now?”

Cameron rolls his eyes. “I blame stress for my insomnia and you’re adding to it, so yeah.”

Reese hesitates as Cameron sits on the steps to his apartment building. “I don’t even know your name. I gave you mine.”

Cameron’s eyes are droopy, but Reese can feel the stress that he talked about seep out of him. “Cameron.”

Reese sits on the step beside him. He wants to sit close and touch him, but he doesn’t push it just yet. If he’s right, then waiting for the right moment will be worth it.

They sit in silence for a long time.

Wind blows through the alleyway pretty strongly and Reese is glad for his leather jacket.

He glances at Cameron’s thin sweatpants. “Aren’t you cold?”

Cameron shrugs apathetically.

Reese's bored. He doesn’t like this slow game he’s chosen to play. It’s easier with customers. He only gets a little at a time from them, but they’re there for a long time so it ends up being worth it.

He’s hoping Cameron will be the opposite. It was a lot the other night, so he’s trying to bide his time as he chases the high. It’s just so boring. “You have any tattoos?”

Cameron snorts. “That’s the best conversation starter you could think of?”

Reese nods. “Tattoos are good conversation starters. There’s always a story behind them.”

Cameron laughs quietly, it’s cute and low. He holds his mug with one hand and reaches back to push the hair up from around his ear. Right behind his ear Reese can see the word ‘forward’ written in script. It’s a beautiful, simple tattoo.

Reese nods. “So what’s the story behind it?”

Cameron tsks, “Tell one of yours first.”

Reese glances down at himself, hums as he thinks of where to start. Cameron has a small tattoo, so he tries to think of which of his small tattoos has the best story. “Ah.” He holds out his left hand and pulls his sleeve back, shows the inside of his wrist.

The tattoo looks like a doodle a kid would draw. It’s like godzilla or something, with fangs that drip blood.

Cameron snorts. “You got that shit tattooed onto your skin?”

Reese hums. “Yeah, I had this diary growing up and some kid at school found that drawing and the entry I wrote around it. It was this angsty teen thing where I called myself a monster so he started calling me that to tease me. Kids are awful, aren’t they? So you know, as a kid does, I told him I’d get it tattooed onto me cause it was a cool nickname and he laughed and didn’t believe me. I was fourteen but my friend had an older brother who had a tattoo shop and he seemed to agree it was a worthwhile investment. So I walked into school the next day with it. You should’ve seen his face. That kid never spoke to me again after that.”

Cameron’s eyes go wide through the story but at the end he snorts and controls his expression. “Wow. That’s some dedication to teen angst.”

Reese smiles widely. “Your turn.”

Cameron shrugs. “It’s not a fun story.”

Reese tsks, “My story was rooted in self hatred. It doesn’t have to be a fun story to be a good one.”

Cameron snorts, but he doesn’t seem to really be laughing. “It’s nothing cool. Whenever I stop moving I just feel useless, pointless. The world crashes down on me as soon as I feel like I’m not improving somehow so I just remind myself to keep moving forward.”

Reese hesitates. He wonders if this is his moment.

He reaches out a hand hesitantly. “Can I see it again?”

Cameron glances at Reese's hand and then at his face, judging him again before answering. “Sure.”

Reese moves his hand to brush Cameron’s hair back. At the end of the motion, he finally lets his fingers brush Cameron’s skin.

It’s as addicting as he remembers it being.

Cameron’s heart is a buffet.

Usually a casual touch like this doesn’t incite a reaction, but Cameron’s emotions are so rampant that he can feel it as they start to leave him.

Cameron jerks away from him. “What the fuck?”

Reese smiles, energized. “I told you I’m a monster, didn’t I?”

Cameron’s guard goes back up again. Reese can see it in his eyes. “What the fuck was that?”

Reese taps his own heart. “Do you feel lighter?”

Cameron tries to control his expression, but Reese can see confusion and fear in his eyes.

Reese holds his hand out, palm up. “The longer you hold on, the lighter you’ll feel.”

Cameron’s not sure what to do with that sentence. “What does that mean?”

Reese wiggles his fingers. “One way to find out.”

Maybe it’s because it’s 3am, but Cameron eventually reaches out and lays his hand on top of Reese's.

The stress and anxiety tormenting his mind seem to fly away from him. Reese breathes it in.

Cameron pulls his hand away again. He stares at Reese, stares hard. Reese can tell he’s trying to rationalize what just happened, but can’t. “That happens whenever you touch someone?”

Reese nods. “It does.”

Cameron doesn’t mean for the words to slip out, “Sex must suck.”

Reese laughs, lips quirking up, “It does not.”

Cameron barely remembers to put his mug down as he leans forward and presses his lips against Reese's hungrily. It’s stupid, stupid, stupid, but Reese is gorgeous and he makes the crazy die down and Cameron needs it.

It’s just a few seconds and they pull away, but it’s an opening. They stare at each other, waiting to see what the other will do. They could laugh it off and part ways or…

Reese is shocked that Cameron’s the one to break the silence. He was just waiting to make it seem like he wasn’t desperate, “I’m gonna break every rule about talking to strangers but do you want to come inside?”

Reese has Cameron pinned to the wall, mouth on his neck, inside of his apartment and for some reason Cameron’s first thought is I forgot my mug outside.

The rest of the night is kind of a blur.

When Cameron wakes up, it feels like he’s still dreaming.

He blinks at the ceiling.

He forgot what it felt like to be well rested.

A loud snore bursts his bubble as Reese tightens his hold on Cameron’s waist, leg thrown over him.

To say the sex was good would be a massive understatement, but Cameron’s still surprised at himself.

Just hours ago he thought Reese was a creepy stalker and now they’re tangled in bed naked, reeking of sex.

The light coming in the window seems weird too. For a moment he wonders if his eyesight has improved from actually keeping his eyes closed at night for more than an hour or two. Then he realizes just how bright it is. “Oh fuck.”

He forces Reese's arms off of him as he reaches for his phone. It’s 9am.

He tears himself from where Reese is reaching for him again and shoots out of the bed. “I’m fucking late for work. Fuck.”

Reese whines at the cold air as Cameron gets out of the bed.

Cameron’s tugging on clothes quickly, more energized and awake than he’s felt in years. “Don’t go back to fucking sleep. I’m not an idiot. We just met. You’re not staying here. Even if it makes me later, I’m locking the door with you outside of it. So get the fuck up.”

Reese rolls onto his back and pouts at Cameron as he puts his belt on. “Can’t we just have sex again?”

Cameron snorts. “No, I have to open my cafe.”

Reese raises an eyebrow. “Your cafe? If it’s yours then you can’t be late. You’re not gonna fire yourself, are you?”

Cameron glares at him. “No, and this apartment can’t pay for itself either. I’ve already lost three hours of revenue.”

Reese closes his eyes again. “I changed my mind on your forward mentality. It sucks. Don’t go forward. Stay in bed and have more sex.”

Cameron throws Reese's clothes at him. “Get dressed or I’ll drag you out of here naked.”

Reese sighs heavily. “God, you’re not fun when you talk. I thought you were boring for not talking while we fucked but thank god you didn’t.”

Cameron doesn’t even respond as he darts out to the kitchen. He’s on cruise control to make himself some coffee, but then stops.

He slept for five pretty decent hours. He puts the coffee beans back down and decides against it. He doesn’t need it today.

He’s glad when Reese grumpily walks out of the bedroom. “I’ll walk with you. I guess I can open my shop too.”

Cameron lets Reese follow him out and locks the door.

When they get out on the street, Cameron glances around a moment before he finds his mug from last night and picks it up. Then he pushes Reese in the direction of the tattoo shop. “You already know where I live, I don’t need you to know where I work.”

Reese groans. “Why are you so paranoid? I thought we bonded over tattoo stories. Besides, you already said cafe and you’re walking there so it wouldn’t take me long to find you if I wanted to.”

Cameron seethes for a moment, but he really doesn’t have time to waste. “Do whatever the fuck you want.” He takes off toward his cafe and Reese follows behind him, curious and bored more than anything.

He was also absolutely right about Cameron. He could go into isolation for a week right now and still feel sated.

Reese keeps talking to Cameron as they walk even though they’re not side by side. Reese can’t help it. He’s so hyper. All of the borrowed emotions buzzing around in his head are exhilarating. As much as Cameron feels lots of stress, there’s a quiet burning passion in him and it leaves Reese floating on cloud nine. “Can this be a regular thing?”

Cameron glares over his shoulder. “What, you stalking me on my way to work?”

Reese laughs loudly, confidently. “No, the other thing.”

Cameron shrugs without turning around again. They don’t talk again until Cameron’s unlocking the shop.

Reese follows him in and Cameron glares again. Reese holds up his hands defensively. “What? I’ll buy a coffee. That’s the least I can do for your three hours of lost revenue, right?”

Cameron wants to kick him out, but the business part of his brain won’t let him lose a sale. “Whatever.” He puts his mug under the counter since he didn’t want to take it back upstairs.

Reese laughs and sits at a table while Cameron moves around quickly, turning all the lights on. “You say whatever a lot, but it doesn’t suit you. You care too much. Your whatevers are fake.”

Cameron ignores him.

Reese just keeps talking, unbothered by Cameron’s silence now that he’s adjusted to it. “It was good last night, wasn’t it? I thought it was.”

Cameron relents since it’s clear Reese won’t stop even if he doesn’t respond. “Yeah.”

Reese whistles. “Wow, the enthusiasm. I think we should do it again.”

Cameron focuses on getting a pot of coffee ready for customers in a rush. “You said.”

“No, I asked if you wanted to do it again. You never answered.” Reese gets up and stares at the premade pastries in the display.

Cameron watches Tae, suspicious and curious as he always is. “I don’t really hook up.”

Reese laughs. “Well you did last night.”

Cameron wants to say Well that’s different but he doesn’t want to fluff Reese's ego. It was different, but he’s not sure what was so different exactly. Reese hinted at some power, and Cameron’s not sure if he wants to acknowledge it or pretend nothing happened.

Reese puts a ten dollar bill on the counter. “I’ll take a mocha latte and a pain de chocolat.”

Cameron snorts, grinning. “We call them chocolate croissants here but sure, be fancy.”

Reese nods. “Thanks. I will be.”

Cameron rings him up. He warms up the croissant without asking. He figures Reese likes to indulge. He got that sense from him last night with the lingering kisses and teasing touches. It was intense, but it was slow. They took their time.

He makes the latte in silence.

When both items are ready, he puts them on the counter.

Reese smiles, “Thank you.” He takes them and sits down.

Cameron raises an eyebrow. “I thought you were opening your shop.”

Reese talks around a mouthful of croissant. “Don’t usually open ‘til 11. Besides, this place is cute. Dunno why I’ve never been before.”

Now there were a lot of things Reese could’ve said that Cameron would’ve played off and made up some bullshit excuse as to why Reese should just leave.

But Reese complimented his store…

“Thanks.”

Reese smiles. “You’re really proud of it. Why don’t you talk about it more? You can brag.”

Cameron shrugs. “It took a lot of hard work. Not much else to say.”

Reese narrows his eyes. “I don’t believe you.” Reese holds up the pastry and the drink. “These are fucking delicious and I get the feeling you could make both of these from scratch with your eyes closed. This place is your baby.”

Cameron blushes. It’s soft and vulnerable and Reese can practically taste it from here. “Yeah.”

Reese whines and leans back in his chair. “Oh, come on, really? My dick was inside of you. How do you still not trust me enough to say more than that?”

Cameron takes a deep breath in, closes his eyes as he does, and then lets it out. “Look, if you really wanna talk, come back at 5 when we close, okay?”

A bell chimes as a customer walks in with a wide grin, “Cameron, what happened? You never open late.”

Cameron’s eyes glance over to Reese, but his expression betrays nothing. “Mental health day. Haven’t been sleeping. Sorry, Claire, I should’ve posted a notice on the door.”

Claire shrugs and sits at the bar. “Take care of yourself, man. That’s good to hear actually. You’re here practically all day. I was starting to worry about you.”

It’s strange.

Cameron falls into an easy rapport with her.

The conversation itself isn’t strange, but Reese's reaction to it is.

Maybe it’s the borrowed emotions still buzzing around inside of him, but he never quite felt like this before.

He’s jealous.

He’s jealous that Cameron is speaking easily with someone else.

He’s confused enough by his own internal conflict to throw out the paper from his croissant and take the rest of his coffee to go.

Cameron doesn’t even wave goodbye.

It’s strange.

Reese feels and it’s strange.

To make matters worse, Reese's caught off guard at his shop.

A blonde man stands out front, scarf pulled over his nose like he smells something rotten.

Reese can relate.

He’s never seen this man before, but his hackles raise with one whiff of him. He lowers his voice, deep and threatening. “What’s a fucking Ataeru doing in front of my shop?”

Noah glares over his scarf and lowers it to spit out, “Nice to meet you too, asshole.”

What did you think?

#prose #writing sample

1 note · View note

agapaic · 7 years

Text

[fic] rising upside down: middle [2/3]

he tian x mo guan shan

tags/notes: angst, swearing, allusions to sex, non-consensual kissing; inspired by “Rising Upside Down” by SYML, commissioned artwork by robnemmon, and a conversation with 19daysruinedmylife.

synopsis: jian yi disappears on the second day of high school. how does he tian tell guan shan that he’s going too?

links: part one | read on ao3

Don’t be like me, kid. Don’t turn out like me. Don’t fall in love.

Guan Shan had frowned at that last one, puzzled, not understanding. Mom? he’d asked. Mom put you here?

And his dad laughed, sad and low. Shook his head. Nah, kid. Nah, your mom is… Be good to her. Look after her for me. But don’t fall in love. They’ll wreck you for it.

Two years. The second year of high school, and Guan Shan’s fifth mistake in as many months.

It was rush hour, the subway unbearable, Guan Shan’s school shirt sticking to his back. He breathed through his mouth, and it got caught on the exhale as the crowds shifted, and he had a sudden direct line of sight to the end of the carriage. His eyes swallowed the sight of them whole: a dark head. Broad shoulders. An arrogant lean against the doors of the train carriage, leather jacket, rucksack slung over a shoulder. Earphones in.

Guan Shan didn’t remember getting out of his seat. His bag was already smacking against his shoulder blades as he pushed through the swarm of kids in school uniforms and men and women in suits, briefcases and rucksacks barring his way, someone’s bike wheel bruising his shin, a suitcase to shove out the way.

Too soon, the train was lurching, a sway of bodies, and the doors slid opened. A voice monotone over the speakers. Guan Shan looked around wildly.

Was this—? It wasn’t his stop. Three left. He looked back.

They were leaving. Slipping through the doors, dark frame heading down the underground platform. Guan Shan had to get off.

His heart was in his throat as he pushed his way through, barely making it onto the platform before the doors shut and the train slid away down the tunnel. Absently, he knew he’d be home late tonight—would have to come up with some fucking excuse that would light worry in his mom’s eyes, a low-burning flame because of him that never really went out.

He was aware of his skin, suddenly feverish and laying heavily against his bones, some suit that didn’t fit him, that felt out of place. His feet carried him down the platform, up the narrow set of stairs onto the sun-baked street, tripping over himself as his head moved about erratically.

Guan Shan saw them again, yards away and walking fast. He started running.

He weathered the curses thrown at him as he pushed past, lurching through, shoulder-shoves he would have fought over once, no apology on his lips—and then they were in reaching distance, and Guan Shan had a hand out, a fistful of PVC leather, a body spun around and—

It wasn’t him.

The eyes were lighter. Skin too pale. A wrong mouth. The long nose, that severe jawline Guan Shan traced with an uncertain fingertip, the throat that Guan Shan had pressed his mouth to a thousand times two summers ago and—

It wasn’t him.

‘The fuck, man?’ the guy said, tugging out an earbud. His voice wasn’t low and grazed with cigarette smoke. There was no lazy look of derision. Amused superiority. No spark of fondness that Guan Shan knew had only ever been reserved for him. Just irritation. A foreign look. They were strangers to one another.

‘Thought you—thought you were someone else,’ Guan Shan muttered. And then, because he was supposed to, ‘Sorry, I… got it… wrong.’

‘Whatever,’ the guy threw out, shrugging off Guan Shan’s hold. Guan Shan let go of the jacket, stepped back as they tugged it back in place and readjusted their loose earphone with a dark look, and started heading back down the street.

Guan Shan stood still, hands limp at his side, end-of-workday traffic and pedestrians swarming around him. He noticed then that the guy had been the same height as himself, while He Tian was taller; He Tian would never have cut his hair like that. He Tian never took the subway except for when he was with Guan Shan. And He Tian would be seventeen now, nearly eighteen. Taller, broader. Older. More severe.

Impossible to imagine, for two reasons: impossible that He Tian would now be possibly more than how he’d looked from that last night—neon signs and a pink dawn and birdsong at 5am, mussed hair and dark square-rimmed glasses. That smile.

Impossible that Guan Shan could have mistaken some stranger—less, in every way—for him.

Guan Shan ran his hands through his hair, close-cropped, like always. Let out a whoosh of breath that rattled its way through his lungs.

Two years.

He was still desperate. Still hoping.

Fucking idiot.

To: Zhan Zhengxi | Sent 18:54

thought i saw him on the street

5th time in 5mnths..

From: Zhan Zhengxi | Received 18:55

I haven’t stopped doing that either. Don’t know if it’s better or worse that there aren’t that many guys with blond hair in China…

To: Zhan Zhengxi | Sent 18:57

better bc it dsnt happen as often

worse bc the chance it could be jy is 10x better(worse?)

From: Zhan Zhengxi | Received 19:30

Maybe.

From: Zhan Zhengxi | Received 03:21

Question: If He Tian came back now, and turned up at your door, would you let him back in?

No questions asked?

To: Zhan Zhengxi | Sent 03:42

when he left he said he knew id wait for him w/o him even asking – if he told me to or not

From: Zhan Zhengxi | Received 03:45

…

Is that a yes?

To: Zhan Zhengxi | Sent 03:50

answer: wtf do u think

They’ll wreck you for it. They. Not a person. Not a group or an organisation. That wasn’t who Guan Shan’s father had been talking about. Years of research and internet searches and newspaper clippings told Guan Shan there could have been a ‘they’, some back-alley gang with a sordid reputation. Men with dog-tags and too many tattoos and tobacco-stained teeth.

He had to remember that his dad had gone to prison for a reason.

But they, whoever they had been—however they’d fucked his dad over—were not the they that Guan Shan’s dad had been talking about from behind a visitor screen. The plastic had been scratched and cracked and marked with oily fingertip smears. Guan Shan’s dad held a grimy teal phone in his hand, clutched in a white-knuckled grip.

A month in and his dad had already looked older, lines in his face, hair buzzcut short, a cut on his cheek half-healed that would scar.

He’d never been the philosophical type. He didn’t expend words more than they were needed, used them like a finite resource he didn’t have the money to buy more of. He valued quietness, and hard work, and a kind of sharp determination that stung. Guan Shan knew what that determination was like—he’d shaped himself in it, grown up in it, made a home out of it before he had made a home of something else. Out of someone else.

The door to his bedroom opened, halting the familiar route his thoughts were about to take, light leaking through the crack. The shadow of his mother blocked out the hallway light.

‘Are you asleep?’ she whispered.

Guan Shan pressed his cheek further into the pillow, fisted the sheets around his chest.

‘Can’t,’ he said, voice gravelly.

She shut the door behind her. Darkness fell again, the light of his Xbox blinking, his phone discordantly flashing with group messages he’d been ignoring from people he didn’t care about talking about things he didn’t give a shit about. Billboard signs glowed behind the thin veil of his curtains. Another night of not-quite-darkness.

He Tian had had blackout blinds in his apartment. Guan Shan’d never slept better anywhere but there; he hadn’t had a night uninterrupted by light and electricity since him. He remembered waking up to nothingness, having to scrabble for a light switch, blinking at He Tian in dim lamplight. He was sitting up and leaning against the wall—no headboard—with a lit cigarette and a dark smile, torso bare, while Guan Shan slept in his usually un-slept-in sheets.

‘Not sleeping?’ he’d asked.

‘You know me.’

Guan Shan did. He’d watched him blearily, the cherry of his cigarette stubbed out, fading in and out of sleep, until He Tian’s eventual movements from the bed dragged him into wakefulness.

‘Let’s go,’ He Tian’d said. ‘I need to walk.’

A glance at the clock. A groan. ‘Fuck, it’s four in the morning.’

‘Let’s go.’

They went.

Now, his mom’s slippers scuffed lightly on the hardwood floor. The bed sank slightly beneath her weight. He could smell her perfume, light and floral, and the underlying scent of disinfectant from the hospital.

‘Okay?’ she said, low. ‘Nervous about tomorrow?’

The start of his third and final year of high school. He’d forgotten. ‘Hngh.’

‘Convincing,’ she remarked.

He said nothing. Her sigh was heavy, and Guan Shan felt it shake him.

He knew her silences well—uncertain and thick with a nervous sort of energy. So used to her husband’s quietness. So used to Guan Shan’s irascibility, his snappishness. An anger like putting a hand on a hot stove.

‘It’s not you,’ he muttered.

‘What’s going on with you?’ she murmured, hand on his shoulder. ‘You know I’d never normally ask.’

He shrugged her off. ‘Nothing’s going on.’

‘I don’t like you lying to me.’

Guan Shan said, ‘I don’t like you worrying about me.’

‘I care about you and love you. If I don’t worry about you, who will?’

‘Fuck’s sake,’ he muttered, throwing off the sheets, sitting up until he could wind his arms around drawn-up knees. It was stuffy in his room, summer again pressing close on the city, no aircon in their tiny apartment. Too hot for this kind of talk. Too much like the way the night had felt when He Tian left, some endless memory on repeat—warmth on Guan Shan’s bare shoulders, a heavy arm like a blanket, the quietness of the streets, electricity charged and humming through power lines.

Guan Shan ran his hands through his hair. It was getting longer, but not enough to grab a fistful. Not enough for it to sting.

‘Shan Shan—’

‘I said I was fine, Mom. Can we just–not.’ He said, ‘Please.’

His mom’s back was straight. She kept her hands folded in her lap, kept her gaze steady on the door. ‘There was a time,’ she said, ‘at the end of middle school. Things seemed different for you. Better. Since your dad—’

‘Don’t talk about him. Just don’t.’

She carried on: ‘When he left I thought that was it. You were so unhappy and angry and, for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out where I’d gone so wrong.’

Guan Shan balled his sheets in curled fists, bitten fingernails pressing into his palms. He hated when she talked like this—self-deprecating and doubtful, thoughts said aloud. Fuck, couldn’t she see this was all him?

‘You didn’t,’ he muttered. His heart pounded in his chest. He felt it sourly in his throat. ‘Unless you think I’m wrong.’

‘Never.’

‘Then—’

‘You got better, Shan Shan. You were happy. I thought maybe it had been your age. That you’d had enough time. That your friends had brought you out of that shell you were in. And then high school started, and this whole time you’ve been… You’ve been…’

‘What,’ Guan Shan said. ‘What have I been.’

‘Is that boy—She Li—is he bothering you again?’

Guan Shan glared. ‘This has nothing to do with him—’

‘I remember when He Tian would come over and—’

‘Don’t talk about him, Mom—’

She got to her feet, a dark silhouette in his room. He could feel her stare on him, worried and confused and angry. Because that anger had never been his father’s, and it hadn’t entirely been his own. If Guan Shan was a bonfire, his mother had put in him the kindling.

‘Don’t talk about your father,’ she reeled off. ‘Don’t talk about He Tian. Can I talk about anyone? Can I even talk to you?’

Guan Shan’s face screwed up. ‘Why would you want to? If I’m such a disappointment to you.’

‘Dis—’ She sucked in a breath, let it whistle through her teeth. ‘Why do you say things like this? Do you realise how hurtful they are for me to hear?’ Suddenly, she put her head in her hands, small shoulders rounded and hunched.

Seconds ticked by, still and quiet. This was stifling. Guan Shan wanted to get out; he wanted her to leave. Maybe this was how He Tian used to feel, irritable and restless and forever awake. Let’s go, he used to say. A hand held out, palm up, for Guan Shan to take. Why couldn’t he be here and offer Guan Shan that now? Why the fuck wasn’t he offering the escape when Guan Shan needed it?

‘You don’t eat,’ his mom whispered. ‘You barely sleep. Don’t tell me your eyes are always red from smoking, because I know you hate it, and you’re just like him sometimes so I know when you’ve been crying.’

Guan Shan gritted his teeth. If she brought up his dad one more time…

‘I’m trying,’ he pushed out. ‘I swear to fuck I am trying—’

‘What’s happened?’ she asked. Jumped in like she couldn’t help herself. Like Guan Shan had offered a line and if she didn’t take it now she’d never get it again. ‘Just tell me what happened.’

He could feel something closing in on him. ‘I don’t know, I can’t explain it, I just—’

‘You just what?’

Guan Shan rubbed at the pressure at his temples. ‘I just—I miss him, Mom,’ he blurted out. ‘Fuck, I hate it but I miss him and—’

‘Who? Who do you—’

‘He Tian. It's—Mom, I miss He Tian.’

He could feel her confusion. He didn’t know what she thought he’d say. Whose name he would pluck out when he hadn’t had friends over since middle school. When he only saw Zhan Zhengxi a handful of times at school. Saw She Li where people didn’t see.

He didn’t know what could be running in her head, to hear him say those words, to talk with an honesty that felt like he’d been flayed, flesh and muscle laid bare and skin in ribbons. Everything pinkish and raw.

Shouldn’t he have healed by now?

‘He Tian?’ she said, after a moment. ‘But I thought—I knew you were friends for a time but you barely—I thought you hardly knew him.’

‘No, I know him. I knew him, Mom.’ Shit. ‘I thought I knew him, I—’

‘I understand.’

‘I can’t fucking—begin to explain—’

‘You don’t need to,’ she said, and Guan Shan looked at her. ‘I understand.’

‘No, you don’t—’ You can’t.

‘I really do,’ she interrupted.

‘How could you—’

‘Because he used to talk to me. When he was here. About you. Asked so many questions about you. About your dad. About me.’ Her gaze softened. ‘Sometimes,’ she said softly, ‘there are notes through the door. You’re asleep or out. They come just before my shifts start.’

Guan Shan was still. ‘What do they say?’

‘It doesn’t matter. But sometimes there’s money.’

‘Money,’ Guan Shan said. Flat.

‘In my account. I’ve tried to trace the transfer. But the bank said it’s offshore and…’ Her eyes flashed. ‘We know who it is, Guan Shan.’

‘Burn it.’

She looked at him, startled. ‘Burn—’

‘Withdraw the cash and burn it,’ he said coldly, and then, face screwing up, spitting: ‘We don’t need his charity. We don’t need anything from him. He left.’

His mom said, ‘He left you.’

Guan Shan felt himself still at those words—thoughts on repeat, a companion for the past two years, now said on someone else’s tongue, his mother’s tongue—while something thrashed on the inside, his body a cage that the unseen part of himself could throw itself against until he punctured his lungs on splintered ribs.

‘He left me,’ he echoed, a dull agreement. I’m not kidding myself, it said. I know my worth.

‘Because of an argument?’ his mom asked. She was moving again, settling herself back down on the space she’d left on his bed. She didn’t stare at the door this time: she twisted herself until they were facing each other. Guan Shan lay back down, a hand on his stomach, and his gaze wandered the low ceiling of his bedroom.

‘Because of something else. He wouldn’t tell me. Family stuff.’

His mom said, ‘So he left everything. And he didn’t want to.’

‘Who knows,’ Guan Shan muttered. ‘Maybe it was exactly what he wanted. Maybe it was all a front just so he could go and fuck other people.’ He dragged his fingernails across his sheets. ‘People are creative when they want to break up with someone and don’t know how to, right? They say they’re moving away. That they have commitments. It’s all just bullshit though.’

A glance at his mother, and she was frowning. Not, he realised, at what he’d said—what he’d admitted to. Had she known?

‘He didn’t seem like the type.’ Her words were honest and open and assessing. ‘And he wants to care for you the only way he knows how to. With money.’

‘Yeah, that’s the kinda guy I like,’ Guan Shan said dryly. ‘Someone who throws money at problems he can’t be bothered to fix.’

‘I think we both know there are more reasons behind He Tian’s actions than that.’

Guan Shan closed his eyes. His mom was scolding him; there was an edge of reprimand to her voice. He’d… missed this.

‘Mom, what do I do?’ he asked. ‘How do you stop feeling like this? How long does it take?’

Silence.

He swallowed, tilted his head, opened his eyes.

She was looking right at him, waiting like she knew he would ask this if she played her cards right, like she was getting where she hoped she finally would.

You’re a chess board, she’d once said to him. He was sixteen. They’d gone for dinner; Guan Shan had stood up and stormed out. Some stupid argument, wounds still fresh: He Tian; his mom re-opening old ones: his dad. She’d found him one street down on a graffitti’d park bench, his trainers digging crevices into the gravel with each sullen kick.

Because I’m always so fucking difficult to navigate? he’d asked, steeling himself for another outburst. He could already feel it building inside of himself like a supernova.

No, she’d said. Because I have to think five steps ahead of every move, so that when I make my move it’s one that matters. So I can get through to you. Bring your barriers down one by one until you’ll listen. Or until you decide you want to be honest with me and tell me what’s really going on.

Guan Shan had said, Sounds fucking exhausting.

His mom shrugged. Her expression had been wry, and it was the kind they used to share: some quiet secret. Something funny that only they could laugh at. It’s a process, she said. And I’m getting faster at knowing which move to make.

He sensed it in her now: the relief of knowing she’d made the right ones. He guessed he was like a door with ten locks, each one needing a different key, needing to be unlocked in a sequence. He Tian had been simple: open a door and walk straight in. You got what you were given.

‘It takes as long as it needs to,’ she said now. ‘Sometimes it never stops. Sometimes you don’t… ever really stop waiting, or thinking. But it gets easier. A little lighter.’

‘No, I just want it gone,’ Guan Shan said. He wanted something permanent. Something irreversible.

He watched her tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, the gesture girlish and calm. Sometimes he forgot that she was still so young. Too young to have had a kid. Too young to have gotten married. Too fucking young to have been left alone.

She sighed and said, ‘Is it easy to cut off your own arm? Or pull out a lung? This is a part of you. It doesn’t just work like that. If you want to cut out a scar, you’re going to have a bigger scar.’ She paused. ‘You can tattoo over it, or turn it into something else. But it doesn’t change the tissue underneath.’

‘I didn’t wanna hear this.’

Simply, ‘I’m your mother. I’ll tell you what you need to hear before I’ll tell you what you want.’

He rubbed at his face, felt the tiredness in his eyes. His teeth ached. His throat felt dry and dusty. He wanted to sleep, and keep sleeping, until he could wake up and it would be gone. But he knew what she would say: time just delayed the inevitable. His problems would still be there when he woke up.

‘So… nothing,’ he surmised. ‘Keep living through this.’

‘Baby steps,’ she said. ‘Play basketball. Spend time with me like we used to. Think about school. If you think about him, then let that happen. Don’t try and push it away.’

Guan Shan curled on his side, pressed his cheek into the pillow. In a cautious voice, he asked, ‘Was this what it was like with Dad?’

She was quiet for a while. He started to think maybe he shouldn’t have asked. But he knew she liked to talk about his dad, and sometimes just as an issue rather than as a person. He knew she would like that he was trying. Eventually: ‘In some ways it was worse, because I knew where he was going, and how long for. In some ways it was better, for the same reasons.’

‘You think I’m an idiot? ‘Cause I’m young. ‘Cause I don’t know what it’s really like to lose someone and—’

‘I don’t think you’re an idiot,’ she said softly. Her hand went to his shoulder. ‘It’s alright to feel what you feel. One day you might look back and you’ll wonder how it could have ever been like this. But that doesn’t make it wrong. Also you’re my son, and I didn’t raise an idiot.’

‘Say that to my teachers,’ he muttered.

She snorted. Patted him. ‘Your grades can be excused. For now, not forever, Mo Guan Shan.’

‘I wanted to make you proud,’ he told her. He didn’t know why he was telling her this. Tomorrow this bubble of honesty would dissipate, and he’d sweep up the awkward remnants like a popped balloon. ‘After Dad, I told myself that was my chance to prove myself. To do what he couldn’t. I’m fucking it up.’

‘Because you’re trying to make me proud,’ she said. ‘When I want you to make yourself proud.’

‘Is this that thing you talk about with your patients? That self-worth thing?’

She smiled at him. ‘Something like that.’

‘Do they ever listen to you? Do what you say?’

‘Sometimes,’ she said. Winked. ‘If they know what’s good for them.’

The city was different at night. Street-corners changed, took on a different shape. Lights were brighter and their hue was lurid and rich. Cars slinked and lurked through the roads; shadows stretched long and mawish. The park where She Li asked him to meet was the same: there was no romanticism about it. The city was different at night, but night carried everything the same way.

She Li was sitting on the back of a bench when Guan Shan arrived, feet planted on the seat. He was dressed in black, silver hair catching orange lamplight, rings glinting. His dog tags hung low around his neck.

A tall guy with his hood up stood in front of She Li, hands in his pockets, shoulders rounded. He rocked back on his heels while they talked, voice too low for Guan Shan to hear. To someone who didn’t know She Li, or the people he kept around him, they both looked relaxed; they could have been friends. But She Li didn’t have friends, and Guan Shan knew he was at his most dangerous when he was comfortable.

Guan Shan waited a moment, lingering by the wrought iron arch that framed the park entrance. They hadn’t seen him, but it didn’t take long for She Li’s gaze to flicker across when he stepped forward. She Li’s mouth moved, something muttered. The guy he was with turned, hood shadowing his face. Guan Shan felt himself falter.

Behind the stranger, She Li raised a hand. Hey, friend.

Guan Shan started walking at the same time the guy did, steady steps that he knew must have looked too cautious, moving like he wanted to put his back to a wall. A handful of paces and they were going to collide.

Four, three, two—

The guy veered right. His shoulder brushed Guan Shan’s. Guan Shan only saw a shadow, caught a familiar scent that he couldn’t place, lost in seconds.

Guan Shan didn’t stop, or look back. Something had settled low in his stomach.

When he stopped in front of She Li, She Li said, ‘You’ve been avoiding me since we graduated.’

‘Who was that?’

A flash of white teeth, stretched into a smile. ‘An old friend. Sends his regards.’

Guan Shan ran his knuckles along his jawline, stubble grazing his skin. ‘Yeah, he seemed real polite.’

‘It’s an off day for him,’ She Li replied, shrugging. ‘Saw some things he didn’t expect to, probably. Don’t mind him.’

Guan Shan watched him the way one would watch a snake that was eager to strike. Would it be the jugular? Guan Shan remembered that smile. No, probably the femoral. She Li had a thing for details. A flair for entertainment. Guan Shan remembered liking that about him once—maybe once admiring. She Li saw things in a way that he didn’t.

And then, after a time, Guan Shan realised that everyone saw things in a way that he didn’t, and that no one saw things in the way that he did, because he was different too. The realisation came eventually: She Li’s brand of uniqueness wasn’t something to be admired.

‘You’ve been avoiding me,’ She Li said again.

‘I’ve been busy,’ Guan Shan muttered. He shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘I got a job. You know how it is.’

She Li considered him. ‘You’re still hanging on for him, aren’t you?’

‘Huh?’

‘Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you. You know what I’m talking about.’

Guan Shan looked away. He did. Didn’t mean he wanted to talk about it. Did he have a choice with She Li? He used to think no. And then He Tian had paved a way for him with his fists and a cut to his palm and a blade at his throat.

The problem was that having someone to fight his battles meant Guan Shan was vulnerable the second they left; he hadn’t set up those defences himself. Guan Shan was down to the pawns on his chess board. Maybe a rook, if he was lucky.

‘I haven’t been… well,’ Guan Shan said. ‘I’ve been useless to you.’

‘Use?’ She Li repeated. ‘That’s low. I’m not allowed to see my friends unless I want something?’

Guan Shan, silent, gave him an even look. After a moment, She Li laughed.

‘Fair enough,’ he said, eyes eerily bright. ‘I won’t play dumb either. Doesn’t suit me, I’m sure.’

‘Sure,’ said Guan Shan. He ran his gaze across the surroundings: the group of teens on the grass verges, phones glowing, cigarette smoke drifting skyward; late-night runners wiping away sweat with a forearm; the slow roll of cars passing the park gates. He couldn’t see any of She Li’s usual friends. He wondered where they were watching from. ‘If you knew that I was–if you knew I wasn’t around, why d’you still want me?’

‘Everyone has a use, Guan Shan.’

‘You mean everyone has something you can exploit.’

She Li laughed again. ‘Fuck, someone’s feeling bitter tonight, aren’t they?’

‘I’m tired. I start early. I don’t want to be here.’

The amusement faded. ‘Yes, alright, let’s not waste both our times.’ She Li stood from the bench, a too-fluid movement, and stepped forward. It was a test of instinct, of will, not to take an answering step back.

‘What are you doing?’ Guan Shan muttered. She Li’s face was inches from his own.

‘What do you think?’ She Li replied. He dragged finger and thumb along the hem of Guan Shan’s t-shirt. ‘I’ve missed you.’

Guan Shan’s face screwed up. He bit the inside of his cheek. ‘Don’t play this shit with me.’

She Li gazed at him, low-lidded, amber eyes whorling beneath dark lashes. ‘You haven’t missed me?’ he said. ‘How things used to be between us?’

‘How was that?’ Guan Shan said. ‘Where you set me up and nearly got me expelled? That kind of thing?’

‘God, you are bitter tonight,’ She Li teased. ‘Dust off the cobwebs, Guan Shan. Why bother dredging up the old past when we can have now?’

Guan Shan let his eyes roam She Li’s face, sharper and stronger than it used to be. He wasn’t bad looking. They both knew that. But Guan Shan wasn’t dealing with a face: he was dealing with a mind, and he needed something more surface than that. Something more open, and real. Something tangible. He needed darker eyes and slow smiles and desire plain and heavy between them. It was almost funny that he could associate He Tian with something like certainty now. Like security.

‘You don’t like me,’ Guan Shan said. ‘We both know you’ve got a thing for pretty blonds with pale skin.’

She Li’s lips twitched. Something flashed in his eyes. Dangerous territory, Guan Shan thought. And then: I don’t give a fuck.

‘I’d still fuck you,’ She Li said. ‘You’d still like it.’

‘No, I wouldn’t.’

She Li made a pleased ‘hmm’ sound. ‘Want to test the theory?’

‘It’s not a fucking theory,’ Guan Shan said through gritted teeth.

She Li sighed. After a minute, he stepped away, and it was like there was space to breathe. Like the air had grown a little cleaner with the distance, less likely to jar in Guan Shan’s throat and choke him.

‘Fine,’ She Li said. ‘But you know I’ll give you what you need if you want it.’

‘I don’t want it. And I don’t know what you’ll ask for.’

‘For once: nothing. A favour for a friend in need.’

Guan Shan considered that for a brief moment. If he’d said yes, how long would that transaction stay just a favour? How long, after Guan Shan cleaned between his thighs and She Li drank the vodka from the minibar, would it take for She Li to mention the rest of the terms and conditions? The ones that had never been mentioned, and She Li would say that Guan Shan should have just known about?

‘No,’ Guan Shan said, readying himself to leave. ‘I don’t need anything. Was this all you wanted? ‘Cause I’ve got shit to do.’

‘Almost,’ said She Li, stepping forward—and then his mouth slammed against Guan Shan’s like a viper’s strike.

It happened fast and brutala tongue wound with his, a sharp taste in his mouth, something metal, cool fingers through the cropped strands of his hair, invasive and filthy and painful—and then Guan Shan was stumbling backwards, hand pressed over his mouth in defence, wounded.

‘You fuck,’ he rasped. ‘You fucking—You cunt, you—’

His voice was shaking too much; he had to stop. The violation was too familiar. Nothing and everything had been the same.

His eyes burned. His pulse was hammering under his skin. She Li was watching him. Guan Shan wanted to break his teeth.

‘Oh, sorry. I forgot you didn’t like it when people did that.’

‘Go fuck yourself.’

He wouldn’t get more than a few punches in, he knew. Rage like this only ever carried him so far. She Li would have knives somewhere.

She Li said, ‘I already offered.’ He pulled a face. ‘Twice in one night’s a little bit desperate, even for me.’

Guan Shan stared at him, wide-eyed. He didn’t drop his hand. He could taste blood in his mouth, sharp and coppery.

His or mine? And then: What’s the difference?

He wasn’t really aware when She Li left. Vaguely, he felt the squeeze of his shoulder, rings pressing into his skin, body gone cold now despite the warm night. His lips, dry and cracked, didn’t feel like his own.

His fingers were wet when he pulled them away from his mouth, eyes stinging, salt bleeding into the broken skin of his lips. Just like his dad. He pulled in slow breaths, pinched the skin at his waist like he’d been winded with a fist in his gut. The feeling was the same: a desperate drag of air into his lungs, sharp pain on the inhale, a slow ache starting to bloom.

It was just a fucking kiss, he thought, some rational part of his mind trying to scream at him to calm the fuck down. Not even that. You know what it’s like to be kissed properly.

And then an explosion: memory crawling through the walls of his brain, shooting like gunfire, kisses stolen from the corners of his mouth, lips full and swollen between his, a nose digging into the juncture of his hips, hot cigarette breath over the column of his throat, a tongue burning across his wrists. He remembered every touch dragged across his skin like creeping ivy, like wisteria, like the slow roll of a storm cloud. Knew what it was like to be kissed properly.

But the desperate realisation shuddered through him still, jagged and awful, nausea spilling over: if it had been He Tian for She Li, a second time unwilling, their ruined first kiss on repeat, Guan Shan knew he would have let him.

next >

#19 days #this got stupidly long and i'm stupidly tired #good night and sorry for the angst (lol)#tianshan #old xian #my fanfic #taking a bit of a break from this fic before i finish the final part #probably ;)#all mistakes are mine as usual #and i feel like there are a lot here #/shrug #a task for another time #my work

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reveriequill-rai · 4 years

Text

Blood Candy Chapter 6

(AH so sorry it’s been a minute lol)

Good news: I did actually wake up that morning.

Bad news: I missed the bus.

The first thing I did was check my phone. Well, this was standard procedure for me, but instead of checking Twitter, I checked my messages. My mom texted me at around 5am with this message:

“Hey, sweetheart. I know you’re probably asleep right now. I got in the house (I know you told me not to, but the cops said they’d be there around the time I would get back and I wanted to meet them there) and, of course, the first thing I did was check on you. I’m sure the relief I felt when I saw that you were alive is obvious, but that’s not the point of this message. I don’t mean to alarm you, but we got here at about 4:30am-ish and we couldn’t find Seb anywhere in the house. The police launched an investigation throughout the area.”

Before leaving the house, I took one last look around to see where Seb was.

It was only when I began closing the door to the guest room did I notice that the closet door was cracked open, the padlock released. It wasn’t broken, I noted when I went to examine it, but there was a black key on the floor next to it that I had never seen before.

I immediately grabbed my stuff, locked the door, and ran to the elevator of the apartment, checking the time. I only had a minute to get to the bus stop, so I opted to take the stairs instead. I ran down all 4 flights of stairs and made a beeline for the bus stop—only to find that it had already taken off.

I took an Uber to school that day. The entire time, my mind raced with possible theories as to how Seb had gotten out.

I hated every single one of the conclusions I had managed to come up with.

I arrived in class 10 minutes later. Fortunately study hall was my first class, so I decided I would take that time to get an extra nap in and make up for the lost hours of sleep. To hell with the Dracula essay, I thought. I can make it up later.

I looked around the classroom for a seat and found my friend Akira, the researcher for AkiSeb Theories. She was fairly easy to spot in a crowd; she always wore that same dark gray anorak jacket with a thistle-colored, heart shaped patch that she had woven onto her jacket sleeve after it got torn one day.

Thank God, I thought. I really needed someone to talk to.

I had met Akira in seventh grade. She was surprisingly social, despite having a relatively small amount of friends. We became fast friends, although we never really became too close until freshman year of high school. One day, she suddenly asked to sit with me and Seb at lunch, clearly distressed. Curious, but deciding not to intrude, I said yes.

Throughout these two and a half years of being close friends with Akira, I had eventually come to the conclusion that she was basically the middle ground for Seb and I. She was analytical, but also imaginative--the mind of an ace detective, and perfect for a conspiracy blog. She wasn’t too idealistic to the point where she would sound like a maniac trying to explain one of Seb’s theories to a normal person, but also not too logical as to rule out Seb’s theories entirely. That’s why I suggested that she join Seb as the researcher for his website when he first started it in eighth grade (my mom helped him set it up when he was over at my house one weekend).

She was tying her short, black, undercut hair in a ponytail. Her laptop was out, probably writing notes for a new conspiracy for the blog.

“Akira!” I said.

Akira turned to me with a tired smile.

“What’s up, DK?” she teased.

“I told you not to call me that,” I sighed.

“And I told you to start your essay early,” Akira retorted, finishing the ponytail and going back to her work, “but here we are. I’m assuming you stayed up till 3am working on it again?”

“For your information, I stayed up until 1am working on it. I ended up actually going to bed at 3:30-ish because Seb tried to kill me last night.”

Much to my annoyance, though I wasn’t surprised in the slightest, Akira laughed. Anyone who knew that me and Seb were incredibly close, which a lot of people did, would never have guessed that he would ever try to kill me for real--not only because he was my best friend, but because the dude couldn’t even lift his own laundry basket.

“You really let a skinny little kid like him get the best of you?” she joked. “Didn’t you tell me you always used to kick his butt when you guys were play fighting when you were, like, 6 years old?”

I shot her a glare. “I’m serious. Plus, he’s seventeen. He’s not so weak anymore.”

Akira froze, the teasing smile dropping from her face.

“Come again?” she said.

“Okay, it’s a fairly long story but…” I said, taking a deep breath, “y’know how I got my blood drawn yesterday? Yeah, I got this doctor named Jasper Kermit who gave me this red candy thing after the bloodwork to ‘keep my energy up’ but I gave it to Sebs instead because you know I’m not one for sweets but when Sebs ate it he started acting weird and his driving skills seemed impaired and he kept getting into crashes almost so I took an Uber and then he tailed us home and then when we finally got home I yelled at him and--“

“Okay, okay, slow down,” Akira said. “Breathe. Start from the beginning.”

I took another deep breath, retold the first part of the story more slowly, and then continued.

“I came to the conclusion that he may have been sick or something. There was no way he’d get us into a crash on purpose, right? Sure, Seb’s a little bit of a reckless driver, but he’s not that bad. Anyway, I went out for a walk and tried to schedule another appointment—“

“Not at the same doctor’s office though, right?” Akira asked.

I paused.

“Uhhhh…” I stammered. Akira facepalmed.

“Dakota, you know I love you, buddy, but you can be a real moron sometimes.” She sighed. “That candy was probably drugged. Actually…maybe you’re good. As long as you got another doctor.”

“That’s the thing,” I said, my voice quivering slightly. “It was Jasper that picked up the phone.”

“The one that spiked the candy? Great.”

“I asked him about it and if there were any allergens but he was being all cryptic…” I fidgeted with a pencil on the desk.

“Did anything else happen?” Akira asked, her once skeptical look turning softer.

“Yes.” I continued to fidget the pencil, only faster this time. “That night, I worked on the essay and fell asleep at midnight, and I woke up to find Sebs just…caressing my wrist with a knife in his hand…”

“…oh God…”

“…he tried to…” I took another deep breath. “…he ended up cutting my finger instead, and he…he licked my blood off of the knife.”

Akira’s dark eyes widened.

“He ended up cornering me at one point…” I continued, “…but I managed to fend him off. I ended up KO’ing him with a baseball bat, and I trapped him in the closet for the night. I barely managed to get any sleep…I’m so tired, but also still shaken up. I’m drifting between falling asleep and being unable to sleep.”

Akira stood up and embraced me in a tight hug.

“You can stay with me and my parents for the time being, if you’d like,” she offered.

I nodded, returning the hug.

“That doctor told me if I wanted to know about the candy, I’d have to go in and find out myself.” I clutched the pencil tight. “But I don’t want to face that dude again.”

“You don’t have to, y’know,” another female voice said. “At least, not alone.”

Akira and I let go of each other and turned around to face the famously lavender-clad, infamously enigmatic Kaveri Vigil.

Now, despite being in this school for four years now, she hasn’t managed to make many friends. At least…not any close ones, none except for Akira. I only met Kaveri once, and that was when I ran into her and Akira at the mall in freshman year when Kaveri dyed her hair for the first time. She was...fairly quiet around me, but as the pair of friends left, the raven-haired girl was talking up an absolute storm--though nothing bad about me, I assumed. In all honesty, if I hadn’t had Seb, then I would’ve been rather envious of Akira and Kaveri’s close relationship.

Rumor has it that she became a lot more anti-social after a ‘family emergency’ that dismissed her from school for the rest of freshman year--around the same time, actually, that Akira started speaking to me more. When Kaveri came back in the middle of sophomore year, she refused to speak to anyone unless she absolutely had to. She even cut several of her classes. It was a miracle she hadn’t been suspended, or worse, expelled. When I asked Akira about her, she refused to speak on the matter. At one point, when I tried asking her again, she seemed to have no clue who I was talking about.

To Akira, Kaveri was practically a stranger. Akira was never the type to make enemies, and it didn’t seem as if Kaveri was either--so for Akira to greet her so venomously was...more than just a little jarring.

“Vigil,” Akira hissed. “I thought you were a recluse. Why come to a pair of unknown loners now?”

Kaveri ignored Akira’s attitude and said, “Don’t get it twisted. I overheard your conversation, and I think it may come in handy for my own theory I’ve been piecing together.”

“…you think you know what’s going on with Sebs?” I asked.

“Maybe. And if we’re lucky, we may be able to save him. However, I’m going to need some help.”

Akira shot Kaveri a glare.

“Oh, now you need my help,” she snapped. “What would you know about this kind of stuff, anyways?

“More than you could ever know,” she answered bitterly.

Akira only shot a glare at her in response, looking like she was biting back the urge to say something else.

“Like I said, don’t get it twisted. I’ll go back to ‘shutting myself out’ once I get to the bottom of this,” Kaveri continued with a rather sarcastic tone toward the end.

I looked at Akira and Kaveri. What’s their deal? I wondered.

“I’d be glad to have some help,” I said. “Let’s meet after school, okay?”

Kaveri nodded, and walked away without another word. I turned to Akira, who had an annoyed expression on her face. She looked back at me, softening a little.

“Do yourself a favor,” she said, “and please don’t ask.”

I didn’t. I understood the value of privacy well.

The rest of the day, I could barely focus in class. If I wasn’t falling asleep, I was doodling stuff from last night—Seb’s spiral eyes, Jasper’s cunning grin, a couple of vampires...

All day, the same question crossed my mind:

If Jasper did, in fact, do this...what in the world did he put in that candy to make Seb want to kill me?

#blood candy #fiction #urban fantasy #original story #vampire

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coachbeckythetechie · 5 years

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It was a typical work-from-home Wednesday for me. Becky had a burst of energy and decided to go out and run some errands when her OB office called and said they’d like her to come in for monitoring due to the discharge she had reported. She hadn’t thought much of it and assumed it would be a quick visit. Fast forward to just before 1:30pm when I got the call. You know, that call that starts with “so everything’s fine but…” Turns out that discharge she had been noticing was in fact amniotic fluid slowly leaking aka her water breaking ever so slowly. And then the adrenaline kicked in. Initial thoughts were “Is this really it? A month early?” I wouldn’t necessarily say I panicked but I was thinking to myself that I needed to move fast and head over, even though she said no rush. Just didn’t want to miss anything.

I arrived at the hospital around 2:10. Luckily no traffic. I think I got the last spot in the West Entrance lot and was so glad. There’s a larger garage on the other end of the hospital but with not knowing what to expect I wanted to park closer to the labor/delivery ward. Thank god we had a tour of the hospital during our childbirth class because it’s one hell of a maze to navigate. I headed inside and up to the 5th floor, gave my name real quick, and proceeded to Becky’s room in antenatal. She was sitting upright talking to one of the nurses about what’s been going on. The nurses ran some initial tests and determined that it was in fact amniotic fluid that was slowly leaking. Ironically our OB from the practice was the on call dr that day so she got to make the call on how to proceed. How lucky! She determined because this fluid had been present for several days now that going forward with induction was the best choice.

I’ll admit this is where the sequence of events may get fuzzy as the following days tended to blur together. As Becky mentioned, ending up in this scenario was pretty funny considering her overall feelings regarding the pregnancy amidst third trimester. She was so ready for it to be over and Danny to join the world. Be careful what you wish for peeps. Anyway, the rest of day 1’s goal was to get her cervix ripened because it was not at the state it needed to be in. They gave her misoprostol every 4 hours along with penicillin on top of monitoring her. Man, what a trooper Becky is. She didn’t think anything of it but if I had to have so many fluids running through me I think I would’ve complained a whole lot. I tried to rest when I could during this 24 hr period. Thankfully I packed Becky’s laptop and there was a tv in the room so we had some distractions to pass the time. We were in it for the long haul now.

One thing that’s so wonderful about the staff at Newton Wellesley is that they really look out for the partners too. As we headed into the night they offered us a larger room with a reclining chair so I could sleep better. There was no doubt in my mind that I would be staying at the hospital with Becky. I’d be too anxious at home anyway.

Day 2 rolled in and after a cervix check we find that Becky’s only 50% effaced. So onto another ripening method for another 12 hours. The nurses continued to check on her every so often always asking if any cramping because that would show signs of contractions. And the answer continued to be minimal. Her and Danny’s vitals were solid the whole course so they were never too concerned about that. The following morning we moved into the labor and delivery wing, conveniently with the same numbered room. You would think that’s irrelevant but those hallways all look nearly identical and you’d be correct in thinking I got lost constantly trying to find my way to and from our rooms. So we settled into our new room which was quite lovely. Brighter colors, nice large windows, multiple chairs and high tech equipment. At this point in the story the doctors decided to move forward with administering pitocin to see if that would drive contractions any further. Think again.

Let’s sidebar to talk about the food situation for a moment because we both had our fair share of meals with such a long stay. Patients essentially have free room service and can pick anything from breakfast, lunch, and dinner all day. I wasn’t so lucky BUT if you play the game correctly you can have your partner order a little extra and there ya go. There is a cafeteria with all sorts of stations, very similar to a dining hall, and a couple of starbucks cafes on the main floor. Was the cafeteria food amazing? No. But very cheap compared to eating out so take your pick.

After 24 hrs of pitocin with little progress the next doctor on call decided to re-evaluate. She was a younger doctor and really great. She decided to take a step backwards and do some ultrasounds and further testing to see exactly what we’re dealing with. She again confirmed that it was amniotic fluid but found that there was even more in the sac than before. So she suggested using a balloon to stretch out the cervix which she said has a pretty high success rate. If it stretched out enough they would be able to go in and break her water completely. So they put this in and inflate it and we play the waiting game again but this time Becky’s definitely feeling cramping. So much so that she asked them to deflate the amount of water in them. Fast forward to midnight when it’s time for this sucker to come out and she’s now at just over 2 1/2 cm. It wasn’t quite the progress we hoped for but it was enough for them to break the water so we’ll call it a win.

And so the pitocin is introduced again. With no fluid left everyone was pretty confident things would move quickly now. At this point we’re heading into Sunday morning so we’re just going with the flow and hoping for anything. When the pain became too tough to handle Becky asked for the epidural. We had agreed to go this route from the get go. Honestly, and I know she agrees, I can’t imagine how anyone would endure giving birth without it. She had to wake me up just around 5am as I was pretty zoned out to warn me what was about to happen. Administering the epidural involves getting a needle fed through the back so I’m good not watching (I really hate the sight of needles and blood being drawn, to the point where I’ve gotten nauseous in the past.) It took a couple tries for them to get the perfect spot but once they did it kicked in very quickly and Becky was so thankful. And honestly I was too! If she was in that much pain at only a few cm dilated I could only imagine how she’d feel down the road. She fell asleep pretty quickly and guess what…we played the waiting game again!

So our OB was back on call at this point, joking how we really didn’t have to wait for her all this time, and assured us that baby would come today one way or the other. I think we both had that thought of “we’ll believe it when we see it” but at the same time were leaning more towards the “yes please thank god” reaction. The pitocin worked like a charm this time as she already reached 7cm early afternoon. Mind you this was also an hour into our baby shower which we obviously did not go to. It had been rescheduled from two weeks ago and our families wanted to keep the celebration alive. So I texted with parents, friends, and cousins back and forth for updates and we let them know any significant news. Just around 2pm I stepped out for a walk (there’s only so much you could do to stay active being in a hospital for 5 days). There’s signs next to the staircases that say “free stairmaster this way.” I’ll admit I quite often ran up and down the stairs for exercise to wake myself up from time to time. I headed to the cafeteria to grab lunch and then Becky texted that she was fully dilated and pushing was to begin real soon. HALLELUJAH! (Or, famous last words)

I headed back to the room with a half hour or so to spare, just in time for the puppy bowl to begin. Our nurse joked that I better eat fast and get some strength before we began. Boy was she right, but more on that soon. 3:30pm rolled around and here we go. Now, we knew that pushing with an epidural was an interesting situation thanks to our childbirth classes. You really can’t feel the contractions that strongly so they have to direct you on how and when to push. They keep telling her to push as if she’s going to the bathroom which seems like a good analogy, but man does that still sound painful. I should also note our PM nurse brought in a back up for assistance who was not a nurse we had ever met before. Nothing wrong with that but her approach was a little more firm. She reminded me of that tough gym teacher or coach you’d have on a team sport who would show no compassion about your situation. For me, I really just wanted to offer support in any way I could to help Becky relax. I know that when she gets stressed she can be real grouchy so I was very cautious. They had me assist in holding a pillow behind her head for support and that seemed like a nice touch. At one point I did try to direct her to move her head slightly so she wouldn’t hurt herself but she didn’t like that because she wanted to focus on what the nurses were saying. You may think I’d be taken aback but I was fine with it. I just kept quiet and let her focus.

It’s safe to say that all the emotions over the past week were building up in this moment which led to a panic attack of sorts as she tried pushing. I’m sure the nurses had seen such reactions in the past but there seemed to be a lot of deliberation over how to calm her and how to proceed. The nurses would tell her that she has to pull herself together and focus – understandable but not what you’d want to hear in the heat of the moment. At the same time they also said how amazing she was at pushing, given that she had never delivered before. She really was making exceptional progress in such a short amount of time. They had said pushing could take a couple of hours but given that we started at 3:30 Danny was already crowning nearly an hour later. Now initially I had no interest in seeing this happen but the nurses were excitedly urging me to look and I was basically right there so I said what the heck. It was actually a pretty cool sight. But Becky had no interest in seeing it haha. So remember when the nurse joked to gain some strength? Here’s where it was needed. Those final pushes took everything she got and the one thing she made clear before all this began is that she wanted me to hold her hand during the process. Little did I know this hand hold which I would have done regardless for support was more like a death grip as she pushed with all her might. I could hear our OB telling the nurses to prepare for Danny’s arrival. This was it.

A couple more pushes and there he was! I was overjoyed and trying to console Becky who I don’t think realized it was over. The nurses asked if she wanted to hold him. I started saying they could clean him off first as that’s what we discussed but Becky didn’t care. She just wanted to hold her baby who she just worked so hard to bring into the world. Hey, I don’t blame her. In those initial moments we noticed he had a full head of hair and an adorable face. Lots of mixed traits between us. My nose but her chin. He was then handed over to some other nurses on the far end of the room who were checking his vitals. It was determined that he had some trouble breathing on his own after the first minute. Not uncommon for an infant born early. So the nurses consoled us and told us he’d have to be brought upstairs to special care for additional attention. Because we knew this could potentially happen we really weren’t caught off guard. We had discussed that if anything were to happen where we need to be separated that I would go with him and we stuck to that. So I proceeded to follow everyone upstairs while Becky was finishing up delivering the placenta.

We get upstairs and I take a seat next to his bed while the nurses discuss their findings thus far. He was given an oxygen mask at first which was then replaced with a tube through his nose hooked up to a machine. The issue wasn’t really that he couldn’t breathe, it was that he wasn’t relieving enough pressure to sustain a breath when he inhaled and they didn’t want his lungs to collapse. Once the breathing tube was set up they proceeded to run some tests. The doctor in the unit told me that they wanted to be sure he didn’t have any infections due to Becky’s membrane rupturing so early on. She wanted to give him some antibiotics right away but the nurses had just hooked him up to an IV for fluid intake so they decided to wait a half hour. In that time another nurse tried to draw blood for a blood culture. But as we’ve said before Danny is one stubborn kid. She pricked his right arm looking for a good spot to produce enough blood. No luck. Onto the left arm. A tiny spot after the needle came out but not substantial. She moved to his right calf and got a decent amount flowing through the tube but even then it was a struggle. I’d hate to admit that I was amused, but I was.

Earlier on while I was sitting with Danny I received a call from Becky telling me that she had a lot of excess blood and was being brought to an operating room. But that was it. I tried not to panic but I was torn because I wanted to go see what was going on but at the same time I didn’t want to leave Danny. I had to trust my gut that the nurses would take good care of her and she’d update me when she could. Once Danny’s blood was successfully drawn and he was just chillin before the antibiotics were administered I asked one of the nurses with me if they had any information on what happened. They did not. The doctor advised that I go check downstairs since Danny was doing just fine at this point. And so I rushed downstairs and found a nurse who told me that she had some internal bleeding and a retained placenta but she was still in the operating room. I wasn’t allowed in there so I could either wait in the waiting room or go be with Danny until she was moved to a recovery room. I proceeded back upstairs and hung out with the little guy until I received a text from Becky that she had been moved. I went back downstairs and there she was – super drowsy, slightly frustrated due to the pain she was in, but overall she was okay. I felt so bad. Just when she thought she was pain-free and could spend time with Danny she had to go through a whole other operation. Maybe that’s what we get for her overall pregnancy being pretty easy.

Eventually we moved over to the final wing, postpartum recovery, where we settled into our final room in our stay. The only substantial difference to this one is it had a full size couch or more like a futon. I was excited in thinking I could potentially sleep better than previous nights but soon realized the cushions folded really awkwardly making it not that comfortable. We met our new nurse for the night and soon after a lactation consultant who talked to Becky all about breastfeeding and how to use a pump. Mind you it was now 10pm so we were both pretty tired but I paid attention as much as I could. Good thing because I ended up taking apart, cleaning, and re-assembling the pump the next few go arounds. She was given some more painkillers for the night to help her sleep and recover over time.

The next day was more of the same. She woke up feeling very drowsy and achy but it was her body recovering from everything. This day also brought on a lot of reflection from the past week and everything we went through. I think our go with the flow attitude was appropriate given the circumstances but we did fully intend on having a written birth plan to present to the nurses. To all you couples out there, I’d highly suggest getting one together sooner than later. If not, at least jot down the principles that are most important to you. It just allows for an easier time discussing with the nurses when they start pressing you for answers as things progress. So the nurses eventually came in to assist Becky in getting dressed and then we went back upstairs to see Danny. He was sound asleep but we got to take turns holding him and even doing skin-to-skin. Oh, this was also the morning that both my parents and hers were coming back to meet him so it was real important to us that Becky got to see Danny first. This would have been the first time since he was brought upstairs initially. Our parents came maybe a half hour later and I went down to escort them up. They had to enter in pairs of two because there’s not a ton of space which was fine. There was laughter, tears, and the like. This is the first grandchild for all so the attachment is real. Eventually we all headed back to our room where we shared stories about the experience, swapped some gifts, and found out about the shower we could not attend.

Eventually I left with my parents to head home and grab my car before Danny’s next feeding. (We had kept both cars at home to avoid high parking rates.) I was a little frantic on this trip home and back because we were cutting it close time-wise, but thankfully they didn’t start feeding without me. And Becky was actually still in the room. It was a busy morning for her between nurse visits. We headed back upstairs and saw our nurse was in the process of bottle feeding Danny. He looked so cute chugging away. At this stage he was doing much better with his breathing but they now had to focus on feeding as he wasn’t sticking to their feeding schedule and/or finishing the appropriate amount. Ultimately they ended up putting a feeding tube through his nose to administer any leftovers. If he could conquer his feeding then he’d be able to come home soon after.

In the following days we have come by to visit for anywhere between 5 and 6 hours each day. The staff is very warm and welcoming and know how hard it can be for parents to not be able to take their kid home so they have little restrictions on when you can come in. He’s now breathing room air all on his own and we’ve been lucky enough to catch him when he’s awake and play with him. (But not too much because we don’t want to tire him out so that he can’t feed.) Yesterday he made the most improvement in terms of feeding. He drank two full bottles throughout the day and breastfed with Becky for a solid 15 minutes. The nurse on call was so impressed and said he would probably end up with the feeding tube removed overnight or early today. That’s a HUGE accomplishment. She even said to bring in his car seat for the safety test which is one of the last steps. So it looks like Danny could be home with us by Monday if we’re lucky. He is so precious and loved by so many people already in his short time with us thus far.

To all you guys out there, hopefully my story can shed some light as to what you can expect. In our childbirth class it was amusing to see how we all felt similarly unprepared when it comes to giving birth. I don’t wish that on anyone. Whether you deliver at Newton Wellesley or elsewhere just remember to be supportive to your spouse, don’t panic, and trust your instincts. You’ll know what’s most important to you when the time comes.

A Shocking Turn of Events -The Husband’s Tale It was a typical work-from-home Wednesday for me. Becky had a burst of energy and decided to go out and run some errands when her OB office called and said they'd like her to come in for monitoring due to the discharge she had reported.

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