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blankdblank · 3 years

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Brother Dearest Pt 76

“There is nothing I support more than mothers caring for their children. Our Democracy is built on the combined efforts of our mothers. Baroness Bunny Pear Howlett swore before God and the world to joyously welcome every life she will be given the gift of bringing into this world and raise them in a God fearing home. I will never oppose her honoring that vow and raising more citizens of this fine country and our neighbor to the North, Canada. We have no right to lay our opinion higher in respect than that vow and her responsibility to love and cherish the precious gift those children are. That is all I have to say on the matter.” The words were a bullet to the head of any try to shoot down a try to erase your achievements for the simple stolen glimpse of your cleavage exposed to the world.

On the cusp of speechless Truman had called you and had wanted to see where you stood on the issue. All you had tried to do to mend the issue led to his argument in support of said efforts no matter what his personal thoughts of showing nursing mothers on the front page. In truth you were clearly as blown over by the story and after calls from the Brocks and even Father Thomas, who offered words of support agreeing that it was a beautiful intruded upon moment and any effort you could use to support any other struggling mothers should be acted upon.

It seemed that this would blow over and papers dug back to what they knew, it was a beautiful moment, because you didn’t have very many of those left and James was supportive to not blemish the legacy of his daughters’ mother for them to grow up aspiring to. Even Mr Yarbrough had to admit it was a bit amusing for how people had gone to such extremes in this matter and calmed after to at least a dull roar. And was all the more pleased as he sat grading your latest assignments while you sat for the exams in History, Geography and Religion to see that the issue had not thrown you off of your school work.

“Is that me?” Loki asked in his stroll into the sun lit room that had a few easels propped up and drying. From the easel you turned lowering your paint brush having painted a portrait of Loki lounged on one of your armchairs with a bouquet of fireworks hovering above his palm. “It is almost lifelike.”

“Took me a while to get the fingers right, I think I might have made Beau and Jeff’s arms go numb in letting me stare at their hands.”

Lowly he chuckled and stated, “It is masterfully done. I am flattered, thank you.” He stepped to the other easels noting the portrait of James and Victor both seated in armchairs in front of the fireplace with their children from their first marriages, Xander on the arm of his father’s chair and Victor’s children on his lap. A portrait now that they had their younger daughters would grant some proof of their elder siblings for them to grow up with that the men treasured and readied a nail in a special place to hang it when it was properly dried and framed. “This one is beautiful, more relatives?”

You caught his eye answering, “That is Xander, James’ son from his first marriage and Victor with his daughter and his son from his first marriage.” Loki’s eyes swept over your face taking in the hint of sadness in your expression. “They’re all buried in the family graveyard on these lands with their mothers. We talked about when Leanora was born having some sort of portrait for the girls to know what their older siblings looked like. The guys asked it just be the kids, didn’t want to have me and Jeanie having to peer up at our predecessors.”

“You have done them justice. Our grandfather does not have as skilled a portrait executed with such love in it.”

“They’re beautiful babies. Almost makes me wish there was easier access to cameras back then to have given them more to hold onto. Part of why they have taken trunks of pictures since we’ve met I bet. Deep down they’re making notes to hold onto for when they imagine they will have to bury me.” Loki chortled and you said, “They’re going to be so disappointed when we have to build a new house for the pictures we’ve accumulated by the time I hit a century and have still refused to die.”

“I doubt disappointment would cross their minds in reaching the first century mark on your second lifetime.” His eyes traveled to the third couple portrait that could be hung separately or together of a trio of people seated for tea, “And these?”

“Friends, Howard Stark and Ana and Edwin Jarvis. They chose some cribs for the girls for our Brooklyn home and I’m terrible at picking gifts for them. Howard is very rich and I believe Ana and Jarvis have all they could want already.”

“A gift of this caliber would be treasured.”

“What do you do for fun?” You asked making him grin at you as you finished a detail on the edges of his finely draped velvet cape down the front of the leg of his chair of a charming bit of speckled fur that he now dearly ached to have one just like it.

“I have taken up glass blowing recently. Quite agitating at first, however I am told that I am improving, perhaps a different view point of a Master Smith could see my efforts is helpful in such a discovery.”

“I could imagine burning myself rather frequently in that hobby.” You said making him chuckle again.

“The heat is rather a fickle aspect of the hobby. Remaining hydrated is key, a pitcher of water is always nearby in case of overheating.”

“Loki, welcome back,” James said carrying two of his girls with the third in a sling he fashioned across his chest. “I’ve found a way to grow another arm.” He said making the Prince chuckle again. “You are just in time for lunch, Sarah made some lemon squares, don’t know what’s in them but you look up for an adventure.”

“That I am.” He said smiling in the excited coo of the girls who saw him when he came closer. “Their curls are coming in nicely. A very good sign for healthy childhoods for my people full head of hair early on.”

“Yes, dad said I had a full head of curls by my first month too.” Drying the brush you rinsed off with a half damp and paint stained rag you left on the table to say, “Should be time to pump again, before they get fussy on you.”

“They would never,” James teased as you came closer kissing the trio on their heads and raised palms to lead the duo to the sitting room in your wing.

As the pump worked underneath your bra and t shirt against your bent legs you gave each of the girls some personal time while Victor lounged with his Petal reading her a story to Teddy and Loki’s artistic battle in making their own castles out of the hoard of colorful blocks while Marigold stretched for a nap across the Prince’s lap. The phone ringing turned your head and with a stretch of your fingers the phone floated closer so you could lift the receiver, “Hello, Howlett Pear, Creed residence.”

“Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth is calling for the Baroness,” an aid spoke through the line in a cool crisp tone.

“Oh, of course, I’ll hold for her Majesty.”

“Just a moment, Baroness.”

The line switched and her voice came through the line, “Bunny, how are you this morning? We have gotten a copy of Mother magazine it was quite a masterful spin on the hassle at hand.”

“Thank you, and we’re all doing well here.”

“And your classes are going well, the papers have all stated that your grades are pristine top marks.”

“Classes are going well, still tutors at home twice a week until next Tuesday when I start on campus.”

“We all certainly hope that you will be treated with ample respect.”

“I will be, everyone is very respectful up here. If I can how is Princess Elizabeth’s pregnancy going?”

“Swimmingly, the first trimester was rough but on her way to the third she is very strong. Thank you for asking. She has been very happy to hear that things are lightening up for you. Have your girls gained any more weight?”

Questions continued as more information was shared and eventually she had to hang up and see to other matters leaving you to return to focus on your family and keeping Teddy and Marigold from Lording over the Prince more than he could handle for as long as he could.

“We finished another bundle of the Spain trunk, did you want to give it a look?” Jeff asked and after a moment to register what he meant from the mindset of playing you gave him a nod.

“Sure, where would we have to go?”

Beau smiled saying, “The directory is in the sitting room by our room. Not far of a walk.”

Once on your feet with the whole group including the children, the elder three watched the brothers guide you to the sitting room with a bronze fountain shaped like a tree with layered branches topped with groupings of bronze leaves layered with crystal leaves settled inside of a bronze basin filled with pebbles shaped from crystals. “I’ve seen this before,”

Beau stated with a smile, “Not uncommon a reaction for the first return to using it.”

In your step closer Loki took notice of the familiar structure to the one back on the abandoned Beserker territory on Asgard that with a lift of your palm had the top of the fountain light up and release a fine mist that in the more it pooled out into the room and darkening as it did. Similar to your galaxy mist in silvery blue it chose a more silver and pink tinted hue with soft hints of cheerful chimes from the creatures who dwelled inside of it that let out in recognition of who was tapping into the hive minded database.

Jeff to the list of runes that hovered in front of your raised palm stated, “We should start here,” and showed you the meaning of the runes. “This shares the translations both in written word, spoken and in reenactments. And we can show by means of the map that will show exactly where it took place and when.”

Up to your lap when you took a seat for the replay of your history you took hold of one of your girls with James at your side treasuring the tales while holding his other two daughters while they napped. Perfectly content in knowledge of the path that helped to lead you three here to this coveted moment. Both of the brothers however took enjoyment in the end of the translated bits to hear what had been learned on their own travels before this lifetime. All of it a road map to now with details that even stunned Loki, including in his trips to Norway as a child that you had been there, a fact that stunned not just himself but his mother when he returned and as usual gave her an update on how things with your family were going.

That tv of yours however had Frigga on the visit before gather up a collection of books from their own schools for children to help advance your knowledge even more as she had grown to see how unfair it was to keep you from copies on such an ignorant planet compared to their own. Materials would be far from accessible to you but at least in time until your full power had awoken she might be taken as an ally in hastening the growth of your ever hungry intellect that scoured for more. Even she could sense that the gap in knowledge was hindering your return and when she approached Himdall his grin eased out along with his palms to accept the books bound together in a leather set of straps.

“Heimdall, kindly gift these to Mother.”

He bowed his head, “I shall, and she will be ever grateful for the gift.” She nodded and timidly turned to head back to the doorway she would transport herself back into the Palace. However she paused and looked back at him when he said, “Mother bears you no ill will, Queen Frigga. The decisions of Odin and his father long ago shall not bear down upon you or your sons and people. These books will help greatly to improve her capabilities to effect change upon Midgard as she always had. You have no reason to fear her growth in the coming years, in fact a friendship should very well grow if you would welcome it. For now, I shall deliver your gift.” There was no time for an answer as in a galaxy colored mist his body vanished to appear at the doorway of your library in a final touch up of readying the table for your tutoring the following day.

A gentle knock on the door had you look up to find Heimdall there who bowed his head and approached as you greeted him, “Heimdall, you can come in. Hope it’s nothing serious to bring you out here to our little planet.”

In a shake of his head he lifted the books on his palms stating, “Not at all, Queen Frigga sent me with these for you,”

When he came closer his eyes adoringly shifted over your girls, namely Nova in your arms who let out an excited squeal that had you and everyone around you chuckle, “Our girls have learned they can be very loud.”

“A joyful greeting, I am honored.” He said lowering the books onto the table that your fingertips smoothed across the leather bound cover of the top textbook larger than a phone book with runes you couldn’t read across the cover.

“Are these in your language from Asgard?” you asked and he nodded offering his hand to the girl who wiggled her fingers his way that wrapped around his fingers in a cross eyed awed stare.

“Yes, Ancient Asgardian.”

Elliot spoke next, “I have some ledgers that we can help teach you from when you are ready.”

And your father said next, “Those books can be quite dense at times, best to take it gradually and we will explain the lessons thoroughly as they tend to build upon the prior lessons as you work your way through in several of their subjects.”

When you looked to Heimdall you said, “I thought Asgard was afraid of me. Why would Queen Frigga give me these?”

“With aid of our Brothers in time you would have learned of these some day, Prince Loki has shared the difficulties of education here and its limits so far with Queen Frigga. Our lessons to what you are learning now would have you equal to a child’s lessons on Asgard. That is unfair, and in the coming years a great deal more to gift you would be helpful for what you might face.”

“I suppose it might help, every now and then there’s mention of the ship headed this way. Can’t help but think if they know so much more that I might be taken as an ignorant fool far below what they expected when they get here.”

Heimdall gave you a comforting grin, “This physical form of yours is merely a piece of a far more breathtaking whole. Mother is with us, always, and while you come to remember that path is all the more beautiful. Midgard is far beyond what we are accustomed, your travels and time here will gift them knowledge in their own ignorance. There is no need to fear, love is patience and trust, together we will learn and grow.”

“Thank you,” you said as Nova released his hand, “And please tell Queen Frigga thank you.”

“I am certain in time we will add a good deal more to your library and when our Brothers will arrive they will have possession of a supply of the records of our people for you to explore as well.”

He bid you and your family a farewell and Elliot called the journal he added to the books he moved to a nearby shelf to be looked over when you were ready so that the dinner your stomachs demanded could be finished and enjoyed.

Across the top of your bed James laid with view of his girls in their squirms calming down to the bedtime story he was reading to them to lull them off to sleep. They had no clue what he was saying but to every stolen kiss or nuzzle of his face against their little selves savoring their scents and tries to keep hold of his head and hands. He absolutely loved these moments and didn’t even look up when you snapped pictures of them as he loved to do when you stole your own time cuddling with the trio. The roll of film was filled and you sighed taking the camera to its usual spot on a table outside the dark room where Victor would see it and in the usual pattern develop the film to give to you later.

Along with his own pictures and those from Dawn and Eddie he savored his time in that dark room surrounded by loving moments with his ever growing family. Proud more and more on the echoes of giggles and racing tiny feet through the manor that had sat empty for so long. Stone and earth held memory and even this place in its neglect since that flood bore a depression much like their own and now seemed to glow all its own glee for the souls now claiming shelter inside its refurbished borders.

Film was bought by the barrel on top of your gifted supply it seemed and a welcome expense to have permanent copies of the gradual growth of every child and the woman he loved who had gifted him his own. Always a bit of doubt lingered he might not be the right choice as a husband but as a father he knew she treasured him for that and wouldn’t have picked another to share this with. Mixed within the pictures of the girls was one of yourself. Normally quite casual the moments James wanted to keep were tame, this one had you in just your underwear, perhaps in a try to lure a more adventurous night when he was in a late shower or changing.

Spread across the bed slumped back comfortably from an alluring pose on your side with curls sprawled about your face that widened his smile. It wasn’t just the moment he’d stumbled across to lure an intrusion but much like the photograph of James on your honeymoon the dance of flame and shadow across your skin had turned this stolen moment into art. Show of his adoration for you and a try to begin again what you formerly had to have him stumble into a far more intimate moment. He knew what his brother felt, pure love and awe at the strong force of a woman who put to test the meaning of labor to birth the girls who looked more like you by the day. A couple more weeks and far from that time in London when you walked out in the underwear gifted to you to see if it was correctly draped across your starved frame now he could see their efforts to coat you with leisurely weight to suit daily energy requirements and to signal you were well fed.

He left it to dry and carried on until he saw the image of the tiny hands tangled in James’ hair and arms holding his head down at his bend to their whim he could but wouldn’t break no matter how easily he could. Every image was left hung to dry to be handed over later and sorted to be added to the collection of others on his way to finish readying for the day trip ahead to go and visit Norma on set as you’d been promised a trip to do so and see how your project was coming about.

Economics, Government, Political science, Anthropology tests and an afternoon trip to town that ended with a rainy drive back home for an early night to cuddle in bed for the drive and flight in the morning. Norma still was on set but now that you had settled a suitable schedule for feedings the brothers zapped you all closer to the airport where Howard’s plane waited to fly you all out to the location that he was filming in today. To keep your girls safe they would remain at home and not even Leonora would be coming at Norma’s request knowing how much press was around to keep her safe from being plastered around the world more than she could manage.

Ample milk had been stored and your parents gladly took charge with Edie of the children while Elliot and the twins delved more into translations of those documents as they had daily to make use of the summer while they had it. Eddie stayed with you as you parked and the stroll over to the waiting plane while Dawn took Teddy and Marigold to her family’s home to get more work done on their paper.

“Bunny, glad to see you, today should be fun.” Howard said when he came close post stroll out of his plane from final checks.

“I’m sure it will be.” Victor said carrying the bag with the paintings in it turning Howard’s head to them.

James said, “Brought you something, Bunny made them.”

Howard said, “You didn’t have to make me anything, not even my birthday.”

“Well consider it payback for the cribs and filming my story.”

“Ooh, now I’m really curious.” He said with a smirk following you inside the plane he sealed the steps to get to his seat saying, “You can sit up front if you like, Bunny.”

Jarvis who was securing your bags gave you a nod and watched you timidly join Howard up at the cockpit to ease down onto the co-pilot seat in the Douglas DC-3 that had you tuck your legs up to sit on to be able to see over the nose of the plane. Howard chuckled saying, “I will be sure to pack a few phone books next time.”

“It’s alright, have to use them for our truck too. Nothing new, I live in the land of giants.” You said making him smirk.

He began to flip switches and start up the plane explaining what he was doing all through the roll to the runway and lift off until you were in the air. “Maybe one day I could give you some lessons. You know the time I flew Steve into enemy lines to rescue Bucky was on one of these. You been in a few in the service I bet.”

“Couple, only it’s a bit odd without the gunfire.”

After another glance your way he asked, “You still doing well? You look well fed a bit more than last time.”

“Still good, first time so far from the girls, but I suppose I have to get used to that for what class on campus start next week.”

“If I can say, we’re all proud of how you handled that press with your magazine spread. Masterful, downright masterful on the shift of it. Everyone on set agreed. You should have never had to face that but you handled it well. Hate that you have to, press can be vultures, but I imagined they had standards.”

“All spilled milk at this point.” After a moment you asked, “Would it be rude to ask if you have another Mrs Stark on the horizon to anger someone else’s dad?”

That had him chuckle again, “Not yet. Always up to help a woman out of a sticky situation if I can help it.”

While others were setting up things for the first scene and gathering the cast that gradually was getting ready your focus turned to Ana Jarvis who came into view with a wrapped bundle laid against her chest. The heartbeat inside had your smile widen and you asked, “Now where did you find this angel?” Widening her smile.

“This is our daughter, Celeste. Last year we found out we could not have children, but there was an orphanage back in New York who called us, a young mother could not provide for her child and put her up for adoption. She is beautiful and has orange hair and eyes like Edwin’s.” She said on the verge of tearing up for how fated the move turned out to be.

“Congratulations,” you said to the both of them and from the bag Victor handed you to bring out the portrait of the couple parting their lips. “If I would have known I’d have added her. A sort of thank you, for the cribs and being so kind.”

Ana said, “Oh thank you,” she said using her free arm to give you a hug that when she ended she turned to look at it again, “It is beautiful, did you paint it?”

“Yes, I have one for Howard too.”

“You have what for Howard?” He asked with a smirk on his path back on his way to check something else only to gape at the portrait and the one of him you offered him. “Bunny, I love it, thank you.”

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to hang them together or separately, however you liked.”

Howard smiled and said in collecting the both of them, “I’m going to put these somewhere safe until we get the clear to head home later, be back in a few, get comfortable.”

Sure enough like a magnet in the silent nightclub of a set to the piano as the guys took in the artwork and other details soft notes filled the air. Just a few random notes bled into a familiar tune. One that would frequent the radio station Steve tuned into at night when he thought everyone else was asleep. Without thought your fingers continued in their dance across the keys without comment until murmurs could be heard from outside the set, “Did they hire another band?”

Another said, “We aren’t even late!”

“We got a contract! They can’t do this!”

Sight of you however in a blue off the shoulder lace dress with a knee visible under the hem of the skirt on the bench had the band that you had met years prior at the White House dinner after receiving your medals. Jarvis with a grin eased into his usual fix it mode and clarified you were merely passing time. Your notice of the band as they approached had you grin and ease off the bench, “Hello.”

“Baroness Pear Howlett,” they each said offering their hands you shook then looked to their horn player who said, “We have to do a sound check and warm up before the scenes, care to play with us?”

“Don’t you need the piano?” you asked and they chuckled.

Their piano player said, “I am good on a dime, if you don’t mind that is.”

Without anything else to do again the song ‘Into Every Life A Little Rain Must Fall’ recorded by The Ink Spots and Ella Fitzgerald was what you began with after they named the tune you had been tapping out. A nod from you had the pianist sit beside you on the spacious bench ready to help you liven up the tune to give a wider range for the others to jump into. Hushed giggles and conversation on ways to shift the tune made for a smile worthy sight when Norma hurried onto set to claim a hug and kiss from Victor and cuddled with him as the other actors bled into sight to fill the seating and standing room.

Shirley Temple and her mom beside Howard’s side had him smirk at Shirley’s soft gasp and comment to her mother, “Momma, it’s really Bunny Pear,” clinging to a magazine spread on you from when you had been featured in Kodak’s magazine.

Howard’s arrival had you and the guys stop playing luring a grin from you for a slip away to his side where he said, “Aren’t you just a treasure trove of talents. Guess your Priest wasn’t kidding about those times you snuck in to play the piano.”

“Well you can blame Steve and Bucky. One would get sick or hurt and they’d play the radio or their few records all night.”

“A rude habit that comes in handy, Bunny, come meet Shirley,”

The teen’s wide smile and flash of the magazine had you smile as she said, “I always cut out stories on you.”

“Well I hope last year’s stories didn’t upset you, papers had some fun with the whole frog debacle.”

“I just knew it wasn’t true,” and she asked, “Could you sign my magazine?”

You smirked and accepted the pocket journal and pen James handed you from your purse widening her grin, “Only if you sign my book too.” She gladly agreed and you traded then traded back and the conversations and introductions continued through the rest of the main cast. Beginning with Lawrence Olivier and Vivien Leigh who proudly signed your book trading for a signature of their own to comments on favorite films as Cary Grant shyly traded his own set for yours before a group picture one of the extras gladly took on your camera James remembered to grab.

Howard however stunned you by placing your family in the crowd and had you up again at the piano for the stunning addition for the background music bits of dialog for a few takes of those scenes. However when it came time to have the band perform fully you, for giggles as Howard suggested with the band’s blessing you helped to sing along as they played, ‘If I Didn’t Care’ also by The Ink Spots. With minimal conversation between the leading men that took two takes after you had excused yourself to join the men in the audience. When the lighting and wardrobe was being shifted to move to a different scene earlier in the film for two more of the band’s own songs you accepted a bottle of apple juice Eddie opened for you Cary Grant came over to your side with a nervous glance your way.

“Thank you,” he said luring a widening grin across your lips. “Howard said you picked me specifically for this role, it’s a heck of a role. You wrote a fantastic screenplay.”

“Well you certainly were at the top of the list for who I would have chosen for Roger,” in the twitch of his brow taking the hint that he might not have been your first choice you said, “I actually had the idea from a dream I had when I was pregnant. Though I do have to admit Roger was a tap dancing rhino in my dream.” You said widening his smile again in an amused chuckle. “But outside of a horn and tail you were at the top of the list.”

“Consider me tickled pink the rhinos are all on strike,” he joked making you giggle and smile as Norma came over to help you share more on the story for the continued series of pictures an approved photographer was allowed to take for a spread on the filming so far. Namely a glimpse at the story of yours Howard was bringing to life.

Lunch however for Howard came with his flying you back for the drive home, and when you were safe on the ground again he said, “Don’t you worry. I’ll keep taking good care of your paperback baby.” He said making you grin in his move back to the steps to climb back in the plane not wanting to leave his friends just yet while also knowing that he had to get back to finish filming for the day.

Victor looped his arm around your back needing someone to cuddle with as Eddie said, “That was fun. And that much fun deserves a big lunch. Seems like they are killing the nightclub scenes.”

James smiled at you and said, “I think for certain now we’ll have a spot in the film at least. If he doesn’t put you singing in it.”

“Oh he better not, I’m not in the screenplay.”

You said and Victor chuckled out, “I highly doubt that matters. He’s got exclusive footage with Bunny singing live. Who wouldn’t buy a ticket for that and to see my Nora on the silver screen.”

“Jeanie, yes, me, no. Leave the band to the job they were hired for.” You were helped into the car for the drive back you all joked through until the excited swarm of babies welcomed you back to your home and main jobs of the summer.

Pt 77

All –

@sherala007, @mariannetora, @jesgisborne, @knitastically, @catthefearless, @theincaprincess, ggbbhehe4455, @lilith15000, @alishlieb,

Not nsfw(smut) - @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore

X Marvel-Cast - @himoverflowers, @theincaprincess

Brother Dearest - @thorinanddwalinsdwarrowdam, @swoopswishsward

#James Howlett x oc #Victor Creed x Norma Jeane #Eddie Brock x OC #Venom #Tutoring #Trip to Stark Filming Location #Howard Stark #Edwin & Ana Jarvis #Marvel #Loki

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mooncustafer · 3 years

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Recover, Regroup, Roadtrip

Agent Dale Cooper disappeared in March 1989. The case is still open. Agent Dale Cooper disappeared in October 2016. The case is still open.

for @laughingpinecone /

/ @countdowntotwinpeaks‘ WONDERFULXSTRANGE 2021

“Diane, I am uncertain of the date and time, or indeed if such concepts have any meaning in this place. Nor do I have my recorder, but I find verbalizing my thoughts helps me to resist the confusion and lethargy. As for addressing my words to you, even though you’ll never hear them— well, old habits die hard.”

It pleased Wally Brando on a profound level to discover that a few pay-phones remained in Philadelphia, that reaching out was not yet the prerogative only of those who could afford a landline or a mobile. He could also have checked his email on a terminal at one of the city’s Public Libraries, and indeed, made a note to do so within the day so that he might catch up on the news of parents and former school friends. The pay phone was also blessed with both the yellow and the white pages, and the number he sought appeared under “F.” Getting transferred to Dr. Albert Rosenfield was a more complex quest, but he was persistent as well as polite, and after a few minutes he was able to speak to Dr. Rosenfield’s voice mail, if not the man himself.

He introduced himself with salutations, and was about the explain the nature of his request when a beep signalled that the allotted time had run out.

“To listen to your message, press one. To re-record your message, press two,” said the voice of the machine.

Silently cursing his volubility, Wally pressed two. This time he simplified the introduction, and asked if Dr. Rosenfield would be good enough to meet him that evening at the Morimoto Japanese restaurant not far from the FBI offices, to discuss a matter of deep concern connected, he believed, with the little town of Twin Peaks. When the beep came this time, he listened to his message and then, satisfied, hung up. The restaurant he’d named was slightly above his means, but he was meeting a friend of his godfather, and wanted to do justice to the occasion, even if the reason for it was one of peculiar anxiety to himself.

“Diane, I have tried so many times to escape— on the last attempt I really did get out into the world, but my plans, I fear, had dire repercussions for you, and to no end— my course still led me back to the Black Lodge. Some flaw in my own nature keeps trapping me in this loop; perhaps it’s what they sometimes call Saṃsāra.”

It was Agent Tammy Preston’s custom, when scraping the internet for information relevant to one or more recent cases, to check her email inbox every seven minutes— to do so every five minutes would disrupt the flow of her work, but ten-minute gaps might let something important go unanswered for too long. Just now the inbox was due another glance, and switching tabs she saw that two minutes earlier Director Bryson had replied to Tammy’s email of that morning with an invitation to come by her desk at her earliest possible convenience.

Tammy locked her screen, paused ‘Soft Fuzzy Man’ on her playlist and removed her headphones. Picking up the folder marked Missing Persons, 1989– Palmer, she slipped back into her pumps and made for Bryson’s office. The door was open but Tammy stopped at the threshold and rapped on the wall.

“Come in,” said Director Bryson, looking up from a folder. Bossa nova music played softly in the background as Tammy entered and pulled up a chair. It sometimes puzzled Tammy that apart from herself and Director Gordon Cole, no one in this particular division of the FBI seemed to have any interest in music recorded after 1979. (The first few times she’d heard ‘Du Hast’ pounding through the walls of Cole’s office, she’d wondered if this taste for metal was the result, or perhaps the cause, of his hearing loss; but after he’d joked to an unamused Agent Rosenfield about how these were difficult times and difficult times called for Dave Brubeck, she’d looked up the reference in case it was a coded message, and then the next day had overheard Gordon whistling ‘Mister Sandman,’ a song she knew primarily from an internet meme, at which point she concluded that the ear wants what it wants, regardless of demographic.)

“You told me you’d found some serious inconsistencies in the records surrounding Twin Peaks and the Palmer case?”

Tammy nodded, hesitated:

“I believe there may be inconsistencies as well in my own perceptions of the case.”

“Well now, that I find a little harder to believe.” Bryson smiled, but then her voice grew serious: “I’ve looked over the notes you made, and it confirms my own doubts about events.”

“Worse yet— the fact that I truly left the Lodge and then returned to it, will enable the beings that inhabit this place to take another twenty-five year turn in my likeness, unleashing even more evil on the world. The only thing stalling them is the doppelgänger I had MIKE make for the Jones family, but I don’t know if he’s still under the White Lodge’s protection.”

After all these months it still surprised Harry Truman there was so little physical pain, and so much boredom, to dying. Oh there’d been pain at the beginning, when he’d started treatment and had had to stop drinking; the memory of detoxing still made him shudder. But now he only felt a tiredness too huge for sleep to make any dent in it; and since he couldn’t sleep all the time, there were a great many hours during which all he could do was lie in the hospice bed or sit in one of the hospice chairs, and think.

At this point dying didn’t even sound so bad— it wasn’t like the past three decades had been all that great. He imagined going to sleep, just filling up a big bowl of silence and darkness and sinking into it, and then he felt bad for thinking that because Frank had already lost enough people without Harry lighting out too. Anyways, with the things he’d seen over the years he’d be a damn fool to think there was anything peaceful about death and whatever came after. So he’d lie awake trying to find some other topic to ponder, and that’s generally when the boredom set in.

Right now, courtesy of the nap he’d had in the afternoon after today’s treatment had left him especially exhausted, he was lying awake in the wee small hours. 3:52 am, said the clock on his bedside table beside the stack of paperbacks Frank had brought him on his visits— Harry wasn’t afraid of e-readers the way Lucy was of cellular phones, but he found the smell of paper comforting. It reminded him of the Bookhouse. The hospice tended to smell of disinfectants and sweat and soup. The food actually wasn’t as bad as the food at the hospital in Twin Peaks used to be, not that any food could be as bad as the hospital food in Twin Peaks used to be, but it made no difference to Harry, whose appetite had been gone for months. Frank always brought a slice of Norma’s pie too, carefully sealed in an old cookie tin to keep it fresh, but Harry could never manage more than a couple of bites, and they didn’t always stay down.

Being awake in the middle of the night in a hospice wasn’t as bad as being awake in the middle of the night when you were alone at home— the occasional voices or footsteps from the corridors beyond were reminders that whatever might be happening to Harry, life went on for the staff; and the lights from the city outside showed that life went on for others outside the hospice walls. When he’d first arrived, those city lights had made it hard to sleep, but now they substituted for the starry sky above Twin Peaks. There were fewer birds to watch in the city, though sparrows, pigeons or a starling sometimes lit on the ledge outside his window and peered in at him, or maybe at their own reflections. The frequent rain pattering against the glass— well, that sounded the same here as it did in a cabin.

Frank had called to tell him about Margaret Lanterman. Harry sometimes wondered if he should have stayed in Twin Peaks and died in his own home like her, instead of lingering in this hospice like the doomed heroine of some nineteenth-century novel. Or like Annie Blackburn. Or Audrey Horne.

The rain was spattering now against Harry’s window, bending the light from the Japanese stone lantern in the pocket-sized garden below. Harry couldn’t remember what the hospice building looked like from the outside, but he guessed it was similar in style to the mid-century one next door where the day-patients came for their treatments. A flash silhouetted the roofline; five seconds later came the thunder-crack. Harry settled back and closed his eyes.

Sleep pulled him into dreams of an espresso machine, like the one in the coffee place down in the lobby next to the gift shop for visitors. This machine filled a whole room, metal pipes feeding back on themselves like some kind of espressouroboros, neither steam nor coffee escaping from the grotesque contraption. Agent Cooper stood wearily before it with two empty coffee-cups. Harry was just wondering who the second cup was for, when Coop looked up and met his eyes:

“What year is this?!”

Harry sat up in bed, listened intently for two full minutes, but he didn’t hear Coop’s voice again. He sighed. Sometimes the mind pulls imaginary sounds out of the background noise. False pattern recognition or something— Coop would have known a word for it. Harry had little hope left they’d ever find Cooper, or if they did, that he’d still be the man he’d known. Yet he’d carried on, more (he told himself) out of habit than any real hope. He’d kept in touch with Agent Rosenfield, even when it meant letting him know about the cancer— not that Albert would blab the secret to anyone in Twin Peaks.

“Hello?”

“Good, you’re still alive.” Albert’s personality hadn’t mellowed with the years, exactly, but familiarity had worn the edges off his jibes.

“Shut up, Albert. So what have you found?” Albert’s calls generally came every three months, but never at nine in the morning, and he’d last spoken to Harry only two weeks back. Something important must have happened.

“Actually, Sheriff Truman, I’m the one coming to you for information.”

“If you hadn’t noticed, it’s not easy to do investigations from a hospital bed. What can I tell you that you can’t get from other sources?”

“I need you to summarize the Laura Palmer case back in 1989, and the actions of Agent Cooper in Twin Peaks at that time.”

“Albert, is this one of your damn cognitive tests? You already know—”

“We’re both too tired to argue, just humor me.”

“How detailed do you want?”

“An outline will suffice.”

Harry took a deep breath and briefly listed the finding of Laura’s body, and the living but dazed and injured Ronnette, and the arrival of Agent Dale Cooper to lead the investigation. He skimmed over the crimes of Jacques Reneault and some of the other peripheral drama that had occurred in the town around that time, noted that Leland Palmer had murdered his own daughter, albeit while not fully himself, and was beginning to recount Cooper’s temporary suspension and Windom Earle’s campaign of terror, when Albert interrupted:

“You’ve still got the unofficial version, then.”

“Unofficial?”

“According to FBI records and your colleagues at the Twin Peaks Sheriff’s Office, Laura Palmer is an unsolved missing-person case.”

Harry began to feel sick.

“Goddammit, Albert, you did the autopsy. I punched you and you fell across her body. You found a broken poker chip in her stomach—” Albert broke in:

“I hadn’t disclosed that detail to anybody I’ve questioned about this.” His voice was a little shaky. “Listen, Harry,” he continued. “Last Friday I was contacted by a young man wearing motorcycle leathers and talking like Jack Kerouac on quaaludes.”

“Wally.”

“Naturally I supposed him to be from your iodine-deficient neck of the woods even before he introduced himself as your godson and the offspring of those lieutenants of yours. He told me he’d come because he wasn’t sure where else to turn. Apparently he keeps in touch with his parents as he rides across the continent, but in their most recent conversation he’d noticed their memories of certain events had become confused. I was about to tell him I wasn’t the least bit surprised, when he added that he’d checked with other townsfolk, including your brother, and they all seemed to have had the same— how’d he put it? ‘The walls of their memory painted over like a childhood bedroom converted to a study.’”

”That sounds like Wally, all right.”

”Eventually he got round to explaining why he’d come to me. The message that had prompted him to call home was from Lucy; she said she’d shot a suspect who was attacking your brother Frank. She’d also mentioned some FBI agents arriving a few minutes later.”

Harry swallowed. He tried to imagine Lucy shooting anyone:

“Frank never said anything about this.”

“And when Wally called home, Andy and Lucy not only denied it had happened, they had no idea what he was talking about, not that I’d guess that to be an unusual state of affairs. Anyway, after I sent your godson away, I began to have contradictory memories myself of what Cooper had told me about the case. I remembered the poker chip after waking in the middle of the night from the worst dreams I’d had since medical school. I’ve been telling myself it was a false memory, maybe a composite of all the young female murder victims I’ve had to examine in my career, but I told myself I’d make one more phone call, just to check. And now you confirm it. Also, in my recall you knocked me across Leo Johnson’s body. Thanks for the correction. Are you still there?”

“Yes,” Harry answered, glad he was already sitting on his bed.

“Now that that’s established,” said Albert’s voice on the other end of the phone: “here’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question: when do you remember Agent Cooper disappearing?”

“March 1989.” Harry tried to keep his voice steady, as though he was giving evidence in court. He briefly explained about the Black Lodge and Coop’s reappearance and unsettling behaviour and how he’d checked himself out of the hospital and was never heard from again. There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. “Are you still there, Albert?”

“According to FBI records and, up until two days ago, my own memories: Coop disappeared this past October while driving to Odessa, Texas for a case. The last record of him was a credit-card charge at a motel just outside the city.”

“What was he investigating in Odessa?”

“Missing person. I’ve tried looking into that case, but it seems to be a dead end, especially since Coop never seems to have arrived at the diner where the man he was looking for had allegedly been running drugs.”

“Sounds like the kind of establishment where nobody’d admit anything. Maybe Coop did get to the diner.”

“Gee, you’ve cracked it Sheriff, we would never have thought of that. The diner was old-school, but not so old-school they didn’t have a security camera trained on the front counter. We went over three days worth of footage. I admit we can’t be sure he didn’t slip in through the back for some reason; but you knew Coop— can you honestly picture him entering a diner and not ordering a coffee?”

“Not the Coop I knew, but— I already told you he was acting pretty erratically just before he took off.”

Harry heard Albert sigh.

“I’ve been checking with a few of my colleagues who were involved in the original Palmer investigation. I think Gordon knows something, but being Gordon he’s saying nothing, and as loudly as possible. Denise— Director Bryson, now— remembers the unofficial version, and according to her so does Agent Preston— oh right, you never met Agent Tammy Preston, the poker-faced glamazon computer hacker— I’m not sure she was even born yet in 1989, but she was on a case in Twin Peaks in October 2016, and during the course of the subsequent paperwork, she started noticing a lot of records and statements didn’t match up, and then she realized her own memories didn’t match up. Which brings up another problem with trying to reason this out by conventional methods: something in that Salem’s Pacific-Northwest Lot of yours is rewriting memories, documents, maybe the facts themselves. But so far it’s predominantly affected the people who were on the spot this past October.” Albert’s voice rasped a little from the long phone call, and he paused to clear his throat. “Unfortunately, that also means the people most likely to remember the original version of events are people who weren’t in the Sheriff’s Office during the incident that seems to have triggered the change. At the risk of sounding like one of those bullshit shows on the History Channel, we may never know exactly what happened that night.”

“Wait, what even was the case that brought you all back in 2016?”

“That’s the problem— I’m one of the people who was there, and I only have vague and disconnected memories of a British man with a gardening glove, the chorus of Guys and Dolls, Agent Cooper leaving the room with Diane, his secretary who quit the FBI decades ago, and Gordon, and only Gordon coming back.” Albert paused again. “It goes against my personal feelings and medical opinions, but would you be willing to let me visit you in person? I’ve some vacation time and enough frequent-flyer miles that the trip will probably cost less than the long-distance charges if we continue this conversation.”

Harry opened the drawer of his bedside table and took out the key to Coop’s old hotel room:

“Yeah, come by.”

“Diane, I am currently alone. I realize that statement implies that I’m not always alone here, and indeed I sometimes have a companion, who I still think of as Laura Palmer, though I don’t know if that’s her identity anymore; I’d hoped, after my last attempt, that Laura would no longer be in this place at all. She comes and goes, or perhaps we both come and go and our orbits occasionally intersect. I’ve tried to find some pattern to it, but with no reliable way to measure time, I’ve had little success.

The last time we met she told me about a room she hadn’t seen before, all white walls, in which a dark-haired woman was contemplating a mirror with a puzzled look. I can’t help but feel this parallels my own situation.”

“Frank sent me this last month. But when I thanked him the next time he called, he didn’t seem to know what I was talking about.” Albert hesitated before taking the room key:

“Great Northern Hotel,” he read, turning it over. “Twin Peaks. Isn’t the front desk going to want this back?”

“Unless I miss my guess, it’s from 1989 when Coop was staying there.”

Albert’s ears stuck out more noticeably, or perhaps it was his face that was thinner. He’d spent the first part of his visit scrutinizing Harry and questioning him about his case and what the doctors were doing for it, until Harry told him to quit it or he’d run out of time to discuss Coop’s disappearance before visiting hours ended, and anyway weren’t Albert’s patients usually dead to begin with?

The trouble with the subsequent discussion was that it went in a circle— the people who’d been present for the 2016 Unknown Event had uncertain memories of what had actually happened; and the people who clearly recalled the 1989 Palmer case as a murder hadn’t been present for the Unknown Event. The one thing that seemed likely was that there was some connection between the 1989 case and the 2016 case, particularly since both had been followed by the unsolved disappearance of one Agent Dale Cooper.

“I hate to say it, Albert, but I’ve given up hope on ever finding Coop.”

“What’s hope got to do with it?” Albert asked. His tone was not sarcastic.

“Diane, I’ve decided that, if only to keep my mind occupied, I will go looking for the white room and the woman with the mirror. I’d feel happier if I had a ball of twine or some breadcrumbs to leave as a trail back to the waiting room, but I’m coming to terms with the idea that’s there’s no advantage to remaining or returning here— it’s not as if I need food or drink in this place, and I cannot be any more lost than I already am.

So far, I believe I’ve walked down five identical red-curtained hallways, and turned left five times. It therefore seems likely that I’m following a counterclockwise, roughly spiral path, although I’m uncertain if I’m proceeding inwards or outwards.”

“If this search is going to require juggling two sets of memories, then I’d better come along so you don’t get brainwashed again.”

“Sheriff Truman, if you haven’t noticed by now, you’re in a cancer hospice.”

“I just finished a round of treatments, I’ve got a couple of weeks free.” Albert snorted and Harry added: “You can monitor my health while we’re on the road.”

“I’m already thinking of your health. You’re immunocompromised, travel is too risky.”

“We’re crossing a few state lines, not going to the other side of the world.”

Albert pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Fine. I’m driving. Which also means I get to choose the music.”

In fact, they went most of the way by plane, after Albert weighed the odds and decided five hours in a tube of recycled air would still be easier on Harry than a two-day road trip. Some of the passengers threw suspicious looks at Harry’s N95 mask, but they’d cleared it in advance with the airline, and Harry had briefly removed it when he went through TSA, and Albert was prepared to flash his FBI badge, but the flight crew were understanding.

They picked up a car at Midland International. Someone, presumably an employee of the car-rental company, had left a bundle of tourist-attraction pamphlets on the front passenger seat.

“According to these, Odessa has replicas of the Globe Theatre and Stonehenge,” Harry observed once he’d got himself settled.

“Why?” Albert asked.

“Got me there. The pamphlets don’t explain the motivation.”

Albert reached up and pulled down the car’s sunshade on Harry’s side, though the Sheriff insisted his cowboy hat was protection enough for his pale scalp:

“We’re not in the northwest where it rains every fifteen minutes,” he muttered, “and I’ve been looking up the side effects of your meds— you sunburn easily now.” Albert’s driving skirted the city, and they did not pass the Globe or Stonehenge.

The Pearblossom Motel, last recorded location of Agent Cooper, proved to be closed down. They’d noticed the papered-over windows as they pulled up, the sign unlit, not even to say NO VACANCY, but Albert got out to knock anyway. Harry watched him from the car; eventually he clambered out and slowly walked over to join him.

Albert was peering through a spot where the paper had torn away behind the window-glass. He stepped aside for Harry, and the sheriff took a look into the motel’s dim interior. He saw an ordinary, rather old-fashioned registration office, wood-grain panelling on the walls along with a few faded posters for local attractions. Rows of keys still hung on a board behind the desk, and a daily calendar read October 15, presumably the date the motel had closed, or the approximate date— Harry could imagine a concierge might not bother to keep tearing off the pages if they knew it was their last week on the job.

“I now realize that despite everything, I’ve still been harbouring hopes of finding my way back to the waiting room, hence my continual choosing of left-hand turns, as if attempting to mathematically navigate a maze. I must make a true leap of faith if intuition is to guide me, so I’ve closed my eyes and spun around several times in this corridor, first clockwise and then counterclockwise.

Now that I no longer can tell which direction I’ve come from… Diane, can you hear that? Of course you can’t, I don’t really have my tape recorder. I’m going to fall silent and listen for a bit.”

There seemed little else of interest at the motel (Harry, feeling a bit silly, had even tried the Great Northern’s room key on all the doors), so they turned back towards Odessa to look for the diner Cooper had been investigating. The motel was only a mile behind when they saw, ahead of them, a tall woman walking along the highway, her fire-engine-red hair, black t-shirt and pencil skirt out of place in a locale that was rural to the point of emptiness. Albert swore under his breath.

“This can’t be a coincidence,” he told Harry. “Roll down your window, I’m pulling over.” But the woman only threw a glance at the car as it slowed, flipped them the bird, and kept walking, though she stepped gingerly and Harry noticed she was barefoot on the asphalt. Albert leant across him and stuck his head out the window:

“Diane!”

“Fuck off, guys. I’m not Diane, and whoever she is I bet she’d tell you the same.” Harry gently pushed Albert back and leant out the window himself:

“Sorry, ma’am, mistaken identity. Are you all right though? I see you’ve mislaid your shoes.”

“Looks like somebody ran off with them,” the woman answered, her tone mocking despite the tired set of her shoulders. “I haven’t been up to anything illegal, officer. Just a bit of fooling around.”

“We can give you a ride into town,” Harry offered. “If it helps, you’ll be alone in the back seat— means you can get the drop on us if you start to feel nervous.”

The woman narrowed her eyes at the offer, then abruptly barked out a laugh and opened the back door of the car, took a seat and folded her long legs in after her. “Only because I need a lift,” she insisted, rubbing her bare feet. “I knew office romances were a bad idea, but he didn’t have to be a dick about it. Nothing to do now but go home and drown my sorrows in Hallowe’en candy.”

“You’ve still got candy left over from Hallowe’en?” In the mirror above the dashboard, Harry saw Albert raise an eyebrow and the woman in the back seat frowned, insulted:

“No! I may not have a maternal bone in my body, but I’m not going to give the trick-or-treaters candy that’s a year old.”

“Ma’am,” Harry asked, thinking about the calendar back in the Pearblossom Motel office, “what date d’you think it is?”

“Mid-October,” she began. Harry saw her reach into her purse with her black-and-white nails and pull out a mobile phone. Her eyes widened at the date: “No, it’s March. The fuck?—” She ran a hand through her scarlet hair. Harry wondered if it was dyed or a wig. Perhaps she was bald too. “Must be losing it. I was so sure it was October. And it’s not like I’ve could’ve been wandering around this desert for five months.” She tapped her phone screen. “5,230 messages?!” She looked frightened now, raising her head to meet their gaze in the mirror. “Where the hell have I been? And you guys— you’re feds, aren’t you?”

“No,” Harry began.

“I am,” said Albert. “He’s not.”

“Well, can you tell me what’s going on? Or is it classified? God, it’s not aliens, is it? I always assumed alien conspiracies were bullshit to cover up real conspiracies.”

“It’s probably not aliens,” Harry answered, unable to keep doubt from his voice as he remembered Major Briggs, “but I afraid it’s not going to sound any less weird.”

“To start with, we’re in the area investigating a colleague who disappeared in October,” began Albert, “and then you turn up, apparently amnesiac since that date.”

“And with my messages unchecked since then.”

“Yes, but there’s another detail— you look exactly like a former colleague of mine who was close to our missing man. That’s why I called you Diane when I slowed down.”

“I need a smoke.”

“No.”

“Albert,” Harry interrupted, “I’ve already got cancer, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“Do you want me to answer that in detail?”

“No I don’t.” Harry turned to look over his shoulder at the woman in the back: “Just roll down your window first.”

“We’ll pull over and she can step away from the car,” said Albert.

He stopped on a shoulder, and their passenger got out and lit a cigarette. Examining the packet, she called to them:

“Three left. That’s fewer than I remember having on me in October, but not by much.” Albert, meanwhile, had pulled a shopping bag from the back seat:

“You should eat something,” he said to Harry, producing a sealed cup of applesauce and a box of plastic spoons. Between rounds of treatment, Harry’s nausea receded, but his appetite was still pretty weak. “There’s saltine crackers, too.” Harry chuckled in spite of himself as he tore the foil off the applesauce:

“This all makes me feel like I’m home from school with the ‘flu.”

“You’ll have to watch Roadrunner cartoons on your own phone, I’m not paying for the data,” Albert snapped.

“I’m surprised we even get reception out here.” The red-haired woman had strolled back to the car with her cigarette, though she took care to stay downwind from Harry’s rolled-down window. “Guys, is it just me or is this highway really deserted— like, Rod-Serling-voiceover deserted?”

“We were just thinking Roadrunner cartoons.”

“Can’t be, there’s no weird rocks.” She flicked ash onto the pavement, “Though it does feel like if someone painted a tunnel entrance on a wall around here, you might be able to drive into it. If you weren’t a coyote.” She took another drag and glanced at the power lines humming above their heads. “Maybe it’s the hum from those wires that’s giving us brain cancer— oh sorry, dude.” She broke off and looked at Harry in apology.

“It’s all right, ma’am,” he said when he’d finished swallowing his mouthful of applesauce. “I’ve got leukaemia, not brain cancer. And the sound from those lines is unpleasant. Like the whine of mosquitoes in the woods.” As he spoke the hum intensified, becoming a loud crackle. Albert glanced up as a shadow fell over the three travellers and their car.

In the sky a dark, nebulous shape twisted, circled, formed a comma or an apostrophe, and dove towards them.

The first few grackles, out of thousands, came down on the roof and hood of the car. Harry could see one pecking at the windscreen and glaring at him with hard yellow eyes. He suddenly remembered Coop had been afraid of birds; until now, he’d never been able to imagine why. He turned and pushed open the back door as the woman dove inside the vehicle. Around them, the flock blotted out the landscape.

“Hope they don’t scratch up the finish,” Albert shouted over the sound of wing-beats, “or I’m not getting my deposit back.”

“Is this nesting season? I mean, are the grackles round here normally this—”

“Oh fuck, one got in!” came a yell from the back seat. Eardrums ringing, Harry turned to see a small black shape ricocheting around the car’s interior as the woman flailed her long, bare arms. The grackle made for the gap between Albert’s seat and headrest.

And got stuck, its beak not quite touching the back of Albert’s neck.

Harry reached for the little feathered body, thinking of how to pin the wings against the bird’s sides to avoid injury to it or the surrounding humans, but the moment his fingers touched it, it crumbled. At the same time the din outside the car ceased.

“That— that’s not natural.” Their passenger was covering her mouth with her hand. Even Albert looked shocked. Harry stared at the palmful of ash that was all that was left of the grackle.

“Let me get a sample bag,” Albert muttered. He pulled out a small clear plastic bag, and held it out while Harry poured the remains in. Then he handed him a packet of wet wipes. “You all right, Diane?” The woman in the back seat did not correct him on the name this time.

“Couple of scratches,” she said, examining her right arm. Albert passed her a mini first-aid kit. Got to give him his dues, he prepares for everything, thought Harry, adjusting the brim of his cowboy hat.

“Y’know,” he said, “This could be a good sign. In that it’s any kind of sign. There’s nothing worse than working in the dark, waiting for some hint you’re getting warmer or colder— that’s the kind of thing makes you wonder if the thing you’re looking for is even out there at all. But this—”

“Someone tipped their hand, you mean, when they tried throwing a Hitchcock movie in our faces,” Albert cut in. “But what exactly did we do to worry them?” His glance, and Harry’s, moved to the dashboard mirror’s reflection of their passenger.

“You think the birds were after me, or wanted to break up our merry band?” She raised an eyebrow. “Trouble is I know a token effort when I see one.”

“Or a warning.”

“We found the Pearblossom Motel;” Harry thought he saw the woman flinch at the name. “And then left it, to head for Odessa.”

“Are you suggesting we drive around in circles and see if they attack again?” Albert muttered.

“I think that’d be a little unfair to our passenger.” Harry turned to her: “Ma’am, I believe Albert when he says he knows you; but I also believe you when you say you don’t remember him. We can drop you anywhere you like— your call.”

“Give me a few minutes, fellas. Given all the weird shit I’ve just been through, I’ve got to think about whether I’m safer away from you two, or sticking close by. Plus I’ve got messages to check.” She took her phone out again. Without taking his eyes off the road, Albert pulled his own phone from his suit jacket, passing it to Harry:

“You’d better check mine. Maybe Tammy’s got some news—she’s been looking up everyone connected with events in Twin Peaks, but not living in the area. She even emailed some couple in Japan, though I’m still not sure what they’ve got to do with this.”

Harry peered at Albert’s phone screen, occasionally commenting if something looked to be of interest:

“Gordon’s sent a grudging OK, tells you to be careful. Also tells you to look after me. I’d always imagined he’d type in uppercase— didn’t realize it was him at first. Hm. Do you know a coroner?”

“I know lots of coroners, we get together for an annual poker tournament and lucky draw. And when I say draw…”

“Do you know a Dr. Talbot in Buckhorn?” Harry interrupted. “Autopsied a headless body last September that turned out to be Major— wait, he— is this one of those revised timeline things?”

“Not exactly.” Albert brought Harry up to date as best he could on Major Briggs’ disappearance and decades-later reappearance. “I certainly remember meeting Constance,” he added, after a pause, and cleared his throat again. “According to Tammy, I made a favourable impression on her, which is… unusual among my acquaintances, even those who share my profession. So what does she have to say?”

“Something about a wedding ring and Schrödinger’s Cat?” Harry looked at the message again. “She says Tammy spoke to her, and was going to contact you too… a gold ring they found on Briggs… sorry, in Briggs… keeps disappearing from her office’s records and the FBI’s evidence files, then coming back again?”

Albert frowned in thought as he drove: “Does it have anything engraved on it?” Harry tapped a message on the phone screen, CC-ing Constance and Tammy.

Outside the car, suburbs, or at least car dealerships and big-box stores, were beginning to sprout up along the highway.

Albert’s phone pinged and Harry read the message from Constance:

“Yes, scribbled it down last time I could find the record. This ring any (wedding) bells? TO DOUGIE, WITH LOVE, JANEY-E”

“Janey-E,” said Diane from the back seat, and Harry heard her drop her phone. Turning around he saw her wringing her hands, the nails now robin’s-egg blue. “Albert,” she gasped, “Oh, Albert, I was almost lost again.”

“I believe the change in method may have led to a breakthrough: I haven’t found any rooms leading off of the corridor I’m following, but the decor has gradually changed from black-and-white flooring and red curtains, to dark brown linoleum flooring and institutional green walls hung with large relief maps of different parts of the world. The maps appear to have been manufactured some time between 1954 and 1965, as they show North and South Vietnam as separate nations. I’m just passing the continent of Antarctica, now, and… oh. I think there might be…

Diane, I found the white room, and when I call it that, I’m not simply echoing Laura’s name for it. It was like a cross between a sanatorium and a snow cave, if a snow cave had furniture. There was a bed with white blankets and a white metal frame like a hospital bed. Audrey was sitting on one end of it, wrapped in a white bathrobe and looking at a round mirror that stood on a little white table. She turned as I entered, and her face was older, drawn and, for a moment, frightened. Then she looked at me again and relaxed, saying ‘Oh, it’s really you.’ I fear she must have met one of my nastier doppelgängers at some point.”

At Diane’s request, they stopped to eat at a fast-food chain before approaching the diner Coop had been investigating in at least one timeline.

“I’m hungry, but I’d be too nervous to eat at the place where Dale might have… well, if they’re a front for something, then the food’s either spectacular or terrible, and I’m not feeling lucky right now. I want to be someplace as bland and mundane as possible for a while, so I can regroup.”

“Well this place has a twenty-minute limit.” Albert jerked his thumb at the sign.

“That’ll do.” Diane curled up beside Harry in the booth as Albert went up to the counter to place their orders. She still wore her pencil skirt, but on on of their stops she’d purchased tennis shoes and a couple of fresh t-shirts— the one she was wearing at the moment read NOT TODAY in flowery letters. “Now he’s got two of us to worry about,” she said under her breath. Harry decided to reply:

“Someone needs to worry about him.” Diane nodded, and Harry offered his hand: “Sorry, we never did the proper introductions did we? Harry S. Truman.”

“I know.” Her expression relaxed slightly. “I see why he likes you.”

“Not sure Albert likes anybody, exactly—”

“That’s not who I was talking about.”

Albert returned with a eye-searingly-orange plastic tray:

“Mushroom burger, cheeseburger, buttered biscuit for you, Harry, because they can’t just serve toast like a real restaurant and those things they claim are bagels are made out of lies.”

“Don’t worry Albert, I’ll survive a biscuit.” Harry picked up one half of the baked item and took a bite. It wasn’t too bad, actually.

“Diane, the ring that jogged your memory—”

“My half-sister and her husband. Don’t ask me how they’d be mixed up in this though, Janey-E’s aggressively normal.”

“And her husband?”

“Never actually met him. Janey-E and I don’t talk much,” she explained. “But from her comments he’s… passively normal. Works for an insurance company, drinks too much sometimes, the whole man-in-the-gray-flannel-suit thing.”

“I’ve been talking with Audrey, or the version of her that existed in the white room. You’ll notice I use the past tense. Still sitting on the bed, she raised a finger and pointed to the mirror in front of her, saying:

‘The other me— she ran away from home, like she thought Laura had done. I’m amazed she survived her first year in the big city, but look:’

Diane, I saw Audrey searching records online, tailing suspects, testifying in civil and sometimes criminal courts. It’s a life that can make a cynic of the kindest soul, but there are situations the police don’t or can’t investigate, and those were— are, I suppose— Audrey’s bread and butter, in that mirror world. And they seem to pay well enough she can afford to do some pro bono cases.

‘I wish I were out there,’ she said, and the mirror clouded and shifted. She patted the bedspread, and I sat down beside her. ‘You know how,’ she began, ‘when you’re a kid, and you’re reading your favourite book, and a little after the halfway point, you start to think ‘I’m getting near the end of the book?’ And really, you’re not— there are pages and pages left of scenes and pictures. You’re always surprised just how much more there is. But it’s not enough to shake the feeling it’s putting off the inevitable. Dawdling before bedtime.’ She stood up suddenly, bent and kissed me on the brow. ‘Say hello to the other me, if you ever run into her.’ And then she was gone, Diane. Not in flame or fadeout, just gone.”

I look up, and Laura is beside me.

The diner, when they found it, was not what Harry’d pictured. Instead of a lonely Edward Hopper tableau, or a grimy spoon where toughs whispered to each other along the lunch counter and cast knowing glances in the direction of the men’s room, “Wispy Dreams Cafe” was a blandly cheerful donut shop, the logo rather obviously altered from that of a national chain.

“Looks like they’re under new management.” Diane observed as they got out of the car. “Or else they got tired of paying for the franchise?” The three of them made their way across the parking lot the cafe shared with the landscaping company next door. Inside, the sound of chattering customers and a hum from the coffee machine both soothed and overwhelmed. Harry steadied himself against a gleaming, cream-colored formica counter. The woman on the other side— not a fresh-faced high-school senior or a kindly-faced matron, just a woman with her hair in a ponytail and circles under her eyes, doing her best to smile— threw him a glance and Harry nodded.

“I’m ok. Albert, Diane, what do you two want?”

A couple of minutes later, they sat by the window, feigning interest in their donuts and coffee.

“Well, we’re living the cop cliché,” whispered Albert. “So, what do you think? Soulless suburban hangout, or den of villainy?”

Harry gingerly sipped the brew in his cardboard cup and eyed the other customers. You couldn’t say the place wasn’t busy; the woman at the counter had already served a family of four in the time it had taken Harry, Albert and Diane to seat themselves with their coffees, and another customer had just come in the door.

“That counter’s been installed recently. Deep-fat fryer’s been replaced too.”

“And they don’t know how to use it yet. You could wax skis with these donuts. That’s hardly a crime, though.” Diane looked around at the blue and yellow walls painted with large trompe l’oeil sprinkles. “Doesn’t seem to be anything else funny about the place— I hate to say it but this place might be legit.”

Harry watched the new customer lean in to the counter. Harry couldn’t quite make out what he was saying— presumably the man was placing his order, but it seemed to be taking a while and there was something tense in the woman’s expression. Beside him he heard Diane swear under her breath, and faster than he could turn his head, his peripheral vision took in that she was getting up. She strode towards the counter and Harry had a glimpse of the angry red scratch on her arm as he struggled to his feet.

Diane was leaning on the counter now, trying to insert herself between the customer and the worker.

“What did you just say to her?” she was asking.

“Look, I come in here all the time, we joke around. What makes you think it’s your fucking business?”

“What seems to be the trouble?” Harry loomed up behind the customer— he might have only half his usual strength but he was still a good six inches taller than the other man. Behind him, he guessed, Albert was approaching. Harry knew the agent was unwilling to use physical force and not exactly skilled at defusing situations through diplomacy, so he turned his gaze on the customer with all the quiet confidence he’d used as Sheriff. In his ear Diane hissed:

“It’s nothing to do with the case, this asshole’s just creeping on the staff.” She must’ve locked eyes with the man too, for he was staring at her now, his bland pink features shifting expression from anger to terrified fascination.

Rather an unimpressive face, thought Harry, and then, what’s Diane doing? He turned to look at her sharp, smiling profile, and saw a tear slide from her eye.

“No,” she said loudly and abruptly, and blinked hard. “Do you want us to escort him out?” she asked the woman behind the counter; but the man was already out the door and running for his car.

“Diane,” Harry whispered.

“Diane,” whispered Albert. Diane was passing one hand across her eyes.

“I could have fried him. Just now. Something wanted me to; but I just wanted him to back off.” She beamed at them as Albert held out an arm for her to steady herself. “I think I’m back to normal. Well, normal for me.”

“Are we the only two left here now?”

“I’m not even here anymore.”

“I don’t know how to get back to the waiting room.”

“It doesn’t matter, the coffee’s cold.”

Somehow, the white room has become even more featureless, despite that being both a logical and a grammatical impossibility. Only the bed, the table and Audrey’s mirror remain. A moment in the glass catches my eye, and I look to see— oh Diane, I’m so glad you escaped! I see you travelling with Albert, and… oh, Harry…

…the cafe’s fluorescent lights flickered as the background hum, noticeable since their arrival, now rose to an ear-splitting volume then died away just as suddenly. As the three of them looked on, an old-fashioned hospital bed, its steel frame painted white, materialized between the counter and the booths, replacing two unoccupied tables. At one end of it sat Agent Dale Cooper, fully dressed in his suit and tie, a look on his face of mild surprise that turned to the familiar joy as his gaze met theirs. Coop had grown older like the rest of them, sharper angles in his face, but he looked hale and well, and his eyes did not have the cruel gleam that chilled Harry’s memories of their last meeting.

“Harry,” he said, as though a quarter-century hadn’t passed. In response Harry silently doffed his cowboy hat, revealing his pallor, his naked scalp. Coop’s smiled wavered a little. “I’m sorry I was gone so long,” he whispered, and rose from the white bed. In the background, the cafe staff and patrons continued to chat and serve and drink and eat coffee and donuts as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on right in front of them. Albert made a hesitant noise in his throat and Coop raised his hand in that just a moment gesture he always used to make, and in that moment Harry knew his friend really was back from wherever he’d been all those years.

“Apologies for being brusque,” Coop said, “but there’s a family in Las Vegas who I’ve reason to believe are in danger right now—”

“Janey-E?” Diane asked.

“Right on the button. For personal reasons which I’ll explain later, I can’t get in touch with them myself. The Mitchell brothers might be able to help, but I don’t know how much they’ll be able to recall of our last meeting.”

“Tammy and Constance are already on it.”

“Good,” Coop looked relieved, and Harry stepped forward, shaking a little in spite of himself, and as if the motion had at last given him permission, Coop sailed forward and embraced him— very gently, as if he feared Harry might break. He’s gauging by touch how much weight I’ve lost, thought Harry, but it’s all right. He’d forgotten how warm Coop was. He became aware of Albert and Diane joining in, arms circling his shoulders and Coop’s. If I died right here and now, it’d be all right.

But this embrace was not an epitaph, or an epilogue. Outside, somewhere else in the city, was an imitation of an ancient stone monument; and a copy of an old theatre where real audiences watched real actors. Somewhere the forces that had sent the dark cloud of grackles prepared another attack, and somewhere Tammy Preston was moving to protect Janey-E and Dougie Jones. Elsewhere Audrey Horne walked the mean streets and was not herself mean. This was an interlude, but let them have it for a while.

A couple of patrons turned their heads to smile at the reunion going in their midst.

#wonderfulxstrange #@laughingpineapple #twin peaks #@laughingpinecone

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mjsparkour · 5 years

Text

One Last Time

show: Chilling adventures of Sabrina

pairing: Rosalind Walker/ Harvey Kinkle

description: "Baby I don't care if you got her in your heart, all I really care is you wake up in my arms." They really should've met much sooner. It's the honesty of it. They're lives intertwine in more than one way, way too often. In Greendale, a seemingly small town where everyone knows everyone, the real stories lie in the lives of the residents. The real story lies in the lives of Harvey Kinkle and Rosalind Walker. Oneshot

They really should've met much sooner. It's the honesty of it. Their lives intertwine in more ways than one, way too often. In Greendale, a seemingly small town where everyone knows everyone, the real stories lie in the lives of the residents.

It's the town where Dorothy Walker took her young daughter, Rosalind Walker to the supermarket every Sunday and the park every Friday. It's where the town folk lived their daily lives in routine and tradition, no matter how suffocating it turned out.

It's where Evelyn Kinkle found herself trapped in a marriage gone sour. So she put in energy toward giving everything to her children, putting Tommy in a shop class on Sundays and taking her youngest Harvey Kinkle to the supermarket with her. When her husbands vice grip on her was just to much, on those days she would take both boys out to the park and they'd play.

In retrospect, they should've met sooner than they did.

It's finally Rosalind's first day at Baxter elementary school that they meet. Six year old, Rosalind Walker, felt like she was going to throw up in the back on her moms new SUV. "Mommy I don't feel so good. My tummy hurts, can we go back home?" Roz says as she pushes up her small glasses with a pout that could get her out of jail if she tried.

"Baby, it's just your nerves. Don't try that pouting stuff with me, you know it only works on your father. You gotta be strong Rosalind." Dorothy says with an amused smirk painted on her lips, reflection bouncing off the rear view mirror.

Roz sucks her teeth, "But mom I don't wanna start a new school, Riverdale wasn't a bad school mommy, I had friends there."

"Well then you'll make new friends. You know your mommy had to get you here so it would be easier for me to pick you up. Mommy doesn't work at Riverdale hospital anymore, so there is going to be some changes. Look at it this way, at least we dont have to change houses, we staying right here in greendale, everyday" She mutters.

"I'm not gonna make any friends with these alien eyes and monster puffs mommy!" The child complains, arms crossing with frown settled in her face, two seen space buns settled on her head golden in the sun streaming through the car window.

Dorothy's eyes narrow and her eyes brows furrow, Roz sat up knowing her mother was upset. "Now you listen to me Rosie, if anybody I mean any body wants to tell you anything about your hair you just tell them that you got that beautiful hair passed down from a long lineage of queens! Women who mattered in this world. Your hair is who you are and that is a smart and beautiful girl, don't you forget that." Her mother rants, as Roz looks out the window to the tall trees and orange leaves on the ground.

"Yes mommy", Roz sighs exasperated as her mother pulls over.

Rosalind's bright yellow shoes reach the pavement and she hears her mother drive away. She sees the students being dropped of by their parents. Some kissing them good bye followed by kids running away and groups of friends together. Rosalind gulps and pushes her glasses up, I don't need nobody, be strong just like mommy said.

Just like that she feels her head rise up along with her chin as she hears the school bell ring and enters with everyone else to the classrooms.

***

Rosalind just can't believe her luck.

On the first day of all days she meets a really shy girl with brown hair and light freckles on her face, Susie. During snack time they promise to be best friends no matter what, pinkies tied and all.

Then a blonde haired boy with a mean glare pushes Susie as she tries to empty out her lunch tray, leaving the garbage everywhere him and his four other goons laugh.

Roz quickly realizes Susie's only shy because she gets pushed around a lot, she knows a thing or two about bullies too.

"It's okay Rosalind." Susie says from her stance in the floor picking herself up.

It's really not okay Rosalind hears herself say in her head.

Just as she feels her mouth open ready to chew them out and her glare at the boys hardening for hurting her new best friend when a voice calls out "Hey! Leave her alone." A short girl with blonde hair takes a protective stance to Susie, whose trowing the trash with a renewed hope highlighting her features and an awestruck Rosalind.

"Oh I'm so scared what are you gonna do short stack?"

"I'll tell on you Zach Feldman, I'll tell Ms. Morrison you were the one who put the glue on her seat yesterday and not Gary Truman."

"Your such a tattle tale Sabrina Spellman, that's why nobody wants to be your friend and your weird." Kids gathered around the scene playing out in front of the cafeteria, began laughing at her and just as Sabrina was about to turn around, frown on her face.

With a chin tilted upward Rosalind found herself saying, "Oh yeah? I wanna be her friend."

Finding her voice from the background a now confidently smiling Susie says, "Yeah I wanna be her friend too."

"Cool you can all be weirdos together." Zach says getting laugh out of the students once again, the crowd disperses as he walks away but they don't matter. All Rosalind sees are the smiling faces of her new found friends and the beginning of something great.

"You guys can call me Roz."

***

Then there's him.

It's the next day, Roz was dropped off again waiting for her friends in front of the court yard when she sees softest boy with the softest brown eyes she's ever seen.

***

Harvey Kinkle likes to think he's a cool guy. His older brother always tells him so, his mother always tells him too so it must be true. So as he's walking to meet his friends on their usual corner in front of the school he doesn't understand why he loses all sense of body functions at the sight of this one girl but he does.

Harvey almost trips on his way to his friends when he sees her because she's just so pretty, it's the only way to explain it other than her having superhero or villain powers and she doesn't look that cool . Two sheen puffs proudly stand atop her head and she looks at him with these round eyes that hold him. When he finally looks away and gets to the guys they laugh and tease.

All the while Roz giggles at the sight of him wondering if he's okay.

***

"Does Harvey Kinkle have a crush on the new girl?!" A voice calls out, the boys laugh.

"Keep your voice down man!" Harvey says looking around wondering if she's still around.

"Why you don't want her to hear you've got cooties?" Zach yells to the class in the yard from his spot leaning in the tree.

"Shut up no I don't!" Harvey whines at the insistent teasing and the sounds of the young boys laughter.

"Why do you like her anyway? her hair's too big. I bet you could fit two apples in those puff balls." Zach says and the boys laugh.

Harvey looks down at the ground, "Don't talk about her like that." He says weakly.

"What was that Kinkle?"

"Just-just leave her alone Zach." Harvey stutters.

"Aww Harvey likes the new girl." Another boy sang out soon everyone joined in the chant.

"Yeah Harvey likes the new girl" Zach sang, as Harvey's fist clenched.

"No I don't!"

"Oh yeah prove it? Put gum in her stupid hair since you don't like her so much." Zach says with a smirk a chorus of "ohhh" "he's not gonna do it" follows.

Harvey gulped as Zach put a stick of gum in his open palm, "What are you gonna do Kinkle?"

***

Everyone's in there classrooms and as Harvey walks up to Roz, his hand shakes.

The next thing she knows, she's got gum in her hair, Harvey's eyes are as wide as he thinks there ever gonna get and a slur of apologies follow only to be out voiced by her cries for help with the sticky assailant in her hair. She officially hates this day and Harvey Kinkle.

***

There all ten when Harvey's mom dies in a horrible car accident. The whole community shows up to the funeral of Evelyn Kinkle and to the house with every different assortment of food imaginable. Harvey is told to stand up straight and is shoved around by his drunk father. Tommy tries to distract him a couple times as he usually does with TV and errands while he cleans up after dad's messes.

In the wake, Sabrina, the pretty blonde girl from school, hugs him for the first time and he's so nervous, hands sweaty, he thinks he's gonna throw up, she gives him a light smile and leaves; a part of him wishes she didn't. Harvey's eyes are still wide and Tommy asks what's wrong when he sees him.

Harvey blinks, "Sabrina Spellman just hugged me."

Tommy chuckles and pats his little brother in the shoulder, "Girl drama already? And here I thought I was gonna have to wait a couple years."

"Shut up Tommy."

Then he sees her and the lightheartedness of the moment passes and he's filled with dread, Harvey stiffens. Noticing once again his brothers expression and where his eyes traveled to he chuckles again, murmuring to himself this time, "Ahh they grow up so fast." Harvey still hears him, his brow furrows and he shoves Tommy off. His laugh provides Harvey with a little solace on such a bleak day.

Harvey knows Tommy would rather put up a front than see how he's really grieving in some ways he's grateful for it and in others, he just wishes he could help. He can't imagine it's easy being the older brother to someone who says they see demons, Harvey shakes the painful memory away, puts the awful shade of red out of his mind.

Harvey's eyes find Rosalind's again and the stiffness of his body returns. It fades when she gives him a sad soft smile across the room that says I'm sorry, Harvey graces her with one of his own and she shrugs.

Harvey breathes, and for the first time in a while for some reason he thought things were gonna be alright.

***

Flash forward forward a couple years later, there all fourteen and fifteen, and Baxter high school was in full swing and adamant chatter filled the soon to be transformed cafeteria because of the awaiting annual homecoming dance. Three girls sitting in their usual spots in the lunchroom had a conversation of their own regarding the dance while one was in her own head, a million miles away.

"So I was waiting on him to ask me because it seemed like he was, but he just said he had to go home." Sabrina says from her seat opposite Susie and Roz, a pale hand settled under her chin.

"Maybe he was nervous?" Susie replied

"I don't know, I mean he kind of seemed like he was. What do you think Roz?" Sabrina asks, eyes narrowing at her friends unfocused gaze.

"Roz?" Susie calls to her.

"I just think that we are not doing enough for the people out there who really need our help, we are panthers baby. We should be out there doing what we need to do for the good of the people!" Dorothy Walkers voice exclaims into the void of the Walker living room. Roz sits perched at the top of her brown stair case arms loosely wrapped around her figure.

"What we should be doing is looking out for the good of this family! Of course it's important to stay woke and fight the good fight but how long until fighting costs us our lives. Things got dangerous with that life style Baby." Micheal Walker replies to his wife's irrationality, reaching out to her trying to get her to understand.

"Jesus Dorothy we aren't kids anymore, we aren't teenagers, we're raising one and you gotta be there for her."

"You don't tell me what I don't do and do for my daughter okay." Dorothy yells, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

"She's just as much mine as she is yours, don't don't do that. At least I'm acting like it."

"Micheal, I don't wanna hear another word." Dorothy warns.

"Roz!" Susie says again, worried expression on her face, "You okay?"

Roz blinks, back to reality and meets her friends concerned expressions with a complacent one of her own, she tries to tug for a smile, "Yeah guys I'm fine just tired, I'll see you guys at the dance? Yeah?"

As Roz gets up the bell rings, and her friends share a look.

***

When Roz gets home the air just doesn't feel the same, a once warm cozy place felt desolate and cold.

She's alone in her homecoming dress, awaiting her mom whose been late to just about everything recently.

The heel of her black shoe clanks against the hardwood of the floor as she paces back and forth in her red dress. She sees the bright yellow light of her mothers black SUV in the garage and she gets outside with everything.

"Finally! Mom give me the keys I gotta go." Roz breathes out, palm up awaiting the keys in her hand.

"Oh honey you look beautiful." Her mothers eyes tear up, and Roz drops her awaiting hand looking to her mother confused.

"Mom are you okay?" She asks eyes narrowed.

"How about I drive you honey? Come on get in the car." Dorothy says sniffing huddling her things back in the car as Roz looks to her confused. "Well come on baby wouldn't want you to be late to your first high school dance would you?" Dorothy says on the brink of releasing a set of tears. In all her fourteen years, Roz had never seen her mother cry; no less cry to take her to a school dance so to say she was confused was an understatement.

The car ride is spent in silence. It's composed mainly of moments her mother would look at her for long periods of time and Roz would remind her the light was green and they'd go. They finally get to Baxter high and Dorothy looks to her for what seemed like forever, and cups her cheek, "My beautiful baby, you've grown into such an amazing educated young woman." Roz's eyes widen, okay so my moms officially lost it, she thinks. "Mom what's going on?" Roz asks confused.

"Go on and have a good time, don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Make sure to get Susie to drive you home. I'll be taking the car with me."

Roz hand drifts to the door handle, and it sills when she looks back at her mom. Dorothy has tears in her eyes again, "It's alright honey go on."

Roz walks out of he car and doesn't turn back, already fearing the worst as she steps through the school doors to the gym.

***

Roz gets back home an hour later, feeling an intense aversion to what awaits her. She looks at the simple cobble stone in path and steps leading to her once cozy brick home from Susie's car window and wants so badly to be far away. Susie had been the first of her friends to get her drivers license, never mind the age limit her dad was able to pull a few strings. Most kids in green dale had been learning to drive since they were in car seats.

"Roz are you sure your okay? You've been spacing out all night. We can go to my place? I can call brina and we could have a slumber party? All you'd have to do is go in now and ask your dad." Susie asks her softly.

Roz smiles, and that's why she's the best, "It's cool Susie, I've just got some stuff to deal with my family, my mom was acting weird before she dropped me off. I think we just have to figure stuff out." She lightly smiles, hoping to death she'll believe it.

"Alright Roz but call me if you need anything okay? Also careful on those steps, cobblestones and heels do not mix."

"I will" Roz laughs as she leaves her friends car and makes her way to the door. Moms car isn't in the drive way, huh she notices.

Roz gets in the house and she's greeted the same feeling she got when she came home from school, a cold and desolate energy only thing different this time, her father was here.

That feeling she feared for the worst came back with a vengeance.

Roz rushes up to walk towards him, head in his hands, he looks up to his little girl whose not so little anymore and gives her a weak smile, "Hi honey how was the dance?"

"It was nice. Where's mom?" Roz asks, getting straight to the point. Just like her mother Micheal thought, staring off into space wondering where it all went wrong.

"She left."

"What? where?"Roz asks, a million questions springing to her mind.

"I don't know baby, I just know she isn't coming back."

Roz backs away from her father taking in the news, and walks toward the stairs to her room.

"Rosalind honey...I'm so sor-" Roz already shaking her head frantically as tears form, "No, No dad don't apologize. Its not your fault. I've just got to get to my room."

Roz locks her self in her room, breathes and cries. Cries for the woman who would take her to the supermarket on Sundays, for the woman who told her her hair was beautiful and for the woman who would take her to the park nearly every Friday, The park she thinks. She looks up from her stance on the floor and trades her heels for a pair of sneakers and makes her way out the door.

Her father paces downstairs in the living room, "Rosalind where are you going this time of night?" He says arms crossed, Micheal knows the circumstances of the night are strange but she's still his daughter, in his house.

"Dad I just need to go out for a walk please."

"Roz-"

"Bye Dad."

***

Every now and again Harvey gets a little unsettled by the noise in his house, not that there is much, but the lack of it. His mothers calming pacifying voice is gone and its been years, but his dad never lets him forget it, not that he ever would. Sometimes Tommy's ever patient smile isn't enough. He's got plans and friends and a life. So once and in while Harvey quietly leaves and walks around town, Tommy's at a party and his father is too drunk to notice.

Harvey walks for what feels like hours. He feels his feet wandering of their own volition as he thinks about where he is in life so far. With joy division blaring in his ears, he thinks of Sabrina and her friends. They've all been hanging out as of late ever since him and Susie were paired to do an anatomy project together. Since then he's been like additional member to their group, and then theirs this unspoken thing with Sabrina. He thinks back to being that 10 year old kid with his world collapsing around him, a pretty girl giving him a hug and bringing good feelings to light in a dark place. Harvey suddenly looks down at his shoes in thought, man I shouldn't have chickened out asking her to the dance, he thinks to himself, upset he doesn't know what could've been. Then his thoughts drifted again as the cold front met his face to the other girl at his mothers wake and his chest tightens. Roz forgave him all with a smile, and its not like she hated him because he put gum in her hair when she was six but it was..weird because they never were really, friends.

Suddenly his view is changed by a gate, a view of a baseball field and endless grass, with his childhood playground in sight, with out knowing it Harvey realizes he's made his way to the park where his mom used to take him as a kid. He gets this aching feeling in his chest as he makes his way to the entrance, sometimes he really misses her so much it hurts and he breathes just like she always told him to when things got to much with his father. Harvey sees his condensation from his breath and opens the gate his eyeline immediately going to the swing set, his favorite playground object as a child and then he sees her. Roz and her soft cries are heard as he hesitantly makes his way to the other seat.

Harvey notices she's still wearing her homecoming dress, a short red dress that exposes her shoulders and sneakers, Shouldn't she still be at school? Did something happen there? He wants to check his phone in case Sabrina or Susie texted him something that he didn't see about anything that might've happened tonight but he fights the urge.

"H-Hi Rosalind." She quickly faces the other way and brushes away her tears, breathing deeply she corrects him "it's just Roz, remember" She's corrected him on it during the many times they've all hung out together for some reason it never really sticks.

"Oh sorry." Harvey says more than sorry about just that, but that stupid fateful day he put gum in her hair and about never really trying to talk to her after that.

Harvey looks to her, her thick glasses are off and her face has light pink tint as the autumn breeze picks up carrying her curls around.

"You know I'm really sorry about that day with your hair, I didn't really mean to do it you know I just wanted to fit in with my friends and they're not my friends anymore they haven't for a long time. I'm sorry I let them tease Susie for so long. I-I'm just sorry." She sniffles and finally looks to him, "you don't have to worry about the hair thing I got over that a long time ago." She lets out a breathy laugh, so soft as if it was barely there at all. "But I'm really not the one you should be apologizing to for Susie, that's for her."

"Right" he says meekly as he starts to swing.

They sit in comfortable silence, enjoying the cool air, and swirling yellow and orange leaves. They're both not looking at each other when Roz sneaks a couple glances his way and tells him that her mom left and she was here because this is where she used to take her as a little girl.

Harvey looks away, "You know we really should've met sooner than we did, my mom used to come here with me all the time too." Roz looks at him as if realizing the situation, "Harvey I'm so sorry, I didn't think-"

"It's fine Roz, it was four years ago." Four years that his dad wouldn't let him forget, four years of his brother single handily trying to keep the family together, four years of burying himself in his drawings and music. His mother always loved his drawings.

Again there's a silence for a while, two figures on a swing set in the moonlight just sit. "You know some stupid part of me thought she'd come back here, that she'd just know just where I was and take me back home, take us both back home." Her face is still wet streaked with tears.

Harvey has never had to deal with a crying girl before and his palms start to sweat, he's been hanging around Sabrina more often and thus her friends because they're cool people but he's never felt really accepted by Roz yet, it was good to clean the air. He didn't want to set her off in anyway.

"It's not stupid, to want to see your mom again. It just sucks that some white dude that um..does something to the patriarchy, came in her place." Harvey knows that Roz is all about social justice, her parents especially and he's still learning. She lets out a laugh, a strong one that he can hear this time, he'll count it as a win.

"They hold up the patriarchy, Harvey."

"Oh okay cool." His eyes widen as he says it, and Roz's one eye brow raises, in amusement. "I-I mean not cool like cool but I mean- I get- I unders-" the metal chain of the swing set rattles as Roz laughs with her entire face, eyes crinkling, head tilted back hand holding her stomach.

Leaves swirl around as the cold front comes and her laugh rings in his ear like a bell. She shivers from the cold and Harvey realizes she's still in her homecoming dress, he stands takes of his jacket, Roz looks at him in slight confusion as he puts his jacket on her shoulders. She blushes and remembers the soft brown eyes when they were six. Then she remembers this morning, Sabrina talking about how she wanted Harvey to ask her to the dance. Disappointment blooms in her chest at the realization, everyone with eyes and a pulse knew that Sabrina and Harvey had feelings for each other.

Harvey softly smiles at her while she looks down. The moonlight bouncing off her caramel skin, she puts her glasses back on and stands up. That warm feeling he felt when he was ten comes back again. The one that promised everything was going to be alright. He looks up to her from his seat on the swing set.

"Why didn't you ask Sabrina to the dance?" Roz asks, holding back has never really been one of her strong suits.

It's almost comical how fast his face changes from soft to taken aback. "Well I-" he clears his throat and feels the nervousness crawl back up like a viper, he looks back up to her face, her soft brown eyes and just breathes out, "I was chicken shit." Roz's eyes now widen at his bluntness and she lightly chuckles, Harvey's sweet smile comes back with a comfortable silence.

Roz looks away from him and back at the ground,"I uh gotta go it's getting kinda late and I don't wanna worry my dad. Especially with everything that happened." Its now that she realized the state she left her dad in, head in his hands in all, thinking his wife had left him and now his daughter too? She had to make things better at home.

"Oh uh..do you want me to walk you there?" He says strangely not wanting the moment to end.

"No it's fine." She reply's with a small smile.

"Are you sure?" He inquired further, not unfamiliar to the threat of the dark. Roz's smile unwieldy widens highlighting reassurance, "Looks like Harvey Kinkle isn't too chicken shit to take a girl home and protect her from the big bad darkness." She waves her fingers around and lets out a low "oooo" she giggles as he stands from his seat on the swings and shoves her, small grin placating his features. Soon they're both laughing and shoving each other as they both walk out of the park.

Roz's laughs pan out as they reach the entrance, and soft brown met large almond brown once again, with a light smile she says "Goodnight Harvey, and uh thanks for...this." He feels his head shaking as a response,"Anytime, night Roz.", And he's rooted in the spot, he can't let him self go and they stare until Roz turns around makes her way down the familiar path to her house. Harvey still standing there, on the spot, watching her leave like a creep. He's about to turn around and scold himself when he sees her look back, soft smile still settled on her face and she looks at the ground again toward the path ahead of her.

Harvey watches until he can't see her anymore and finally turns around.

***

They spend way to much time in the library, Roz helps him with his English homework and every now and then he'll show her a drawing and she'll come up with stories for them.

"Okay so she's a zombie mom with a cookie cutter family and they all...murder people in order to give her food to survive!" Roz exclaims marveling at her own brilliance.

Harvey lightly shades a spot on the paper featuring the zombie mom and his expression becomes confused, "Isn't that a show on Netflix though? The Santa Clarita diet?"

"What? No. This is the peak of my creative brilliance is what it is. I'm insulted that you'd think I never take my job as your comic writer seriously." Roz says jokingly hurt.

"You keep stealing storylines and I just might have to fire you Roz." Harvey shrugs, light smile painted on his face as he looks down at his drawing.

"I- Wha, Susie! Is my story a rip off-" Roz starts addressing Susie on the couch a few feet from the table, reading her aunts journal.

"Yes your story is a rip off Santa Clarita diet, frankly I'm appalled. This is lazy writing at its finest." Susie says not once looking away from the book in front of her as she cut Roz off.

Roz indignantly has her mouth open in shock and Harvey laughs, it's a hearty sound she wouldn't mind hearing more often. It's almost as if it happens in slow motion, Harvey is looking at her and she can see his perfect smile, soft brown eyes and upturned lips smiling at her then she's sees those same eyes leave her and look to another pair but this one with a short blonde bob. "Hey guys." Sabrina smiles as she sits with them. Harvey's eyes shine and Roz's stomach flops.

***

"Harvey I swear on my nana if you pick a romantic comedy for movie night we're not friends anymore." Roz says, exasperated from her seat on Susie's couch, limbs flailing everywhere.

"Agreed, you've picked that genre for the past three Friday's in a row." Susie says in slight concern for her friends taste in movies, as she eats her milk duds from the recliner.

Harvey brings in the two bowls popcorn from the kitchen and smooshes himself between a sleeping Sabrina and an unbothered Roz, "Hey don't judge the superior movie genre selection that brought is us comedic gold like the proposal and couples retreat. They're classics!" He argues looking at Roz' impassive face then to Susie, and gives her a look that says back me up here. She gives one back, not fighting this one bud, good luck.

"I got news for you Harv." oh no Susie thinks, sinking back into the recliner, eating her milk duds awaiting the chaos.

"Rom coms, not better than Horror movies. Like at all," Roz says looking Harvey dead in the eye with her thick rimmed glasses and takes the bowl of popcorn right from his hands, his eyes widen at her statement.

Nope no turning back now, Susie thinks looking between them. She wonders when there gonna figure out this whole thing between them out, it's probably gonna a while, inwardly sighing.

"I'm gonna give you a minute to process what you just said and take that back." Harvey says awaiting her next words. Roz eats a kernel and replies with a confident "Nope." popping the p at the end for emphasis. Harvey nods and smiles a smile that promises mischief and makes his way toward her, "Harv what are you doing?" Roz cautiously says eating another kernel slowly.

Immediate giggles erupt from Roz as Harvey tickles her further into the couch and a lightly snoring Sabrina moves, both Harvey and Roz' heads turn to the sleeping girl, not wanting to disturb her.

"If she woke up that would've totally been your fault" Roz whispers to him, holding his forearms while his hands are still splayed on her hips, both still as to not incite the blonde to wake. "It would not" He whisper yells and their heads turn back to each other and they realize there current position and how close their faces are, Harvey can make out the almond shape of her eyes and Roz can still make out his laugh lines; she wants so badly to trace it but again she realizes where they are and clears her throat. They both look away, Harvey turns his face to Sabrina's sleeping form and says, "At least your not at Sabrina's level of love for horror movies, that would be horrible." His words just oozing fondness and affection at the sleeping girl.

"Yea, I know right." Roz says adjusting herself to the couch more, feeling a familiar swoop at the stomach.

Susie sits up setting the empty box of milk duds on the table, oh yeah were gonna have to wait years, she thinks growing tired at the thought.

***

There at their usual spot in the back table near the computers in the library, while Roz tries to decode the famous Sir Lancelot and Queen Genevieve poem to Harvey. Endless rows of books surround them and a shroud of papers compiled nicely on the edge of the hardwood brown table.

"So basically Tennyson is saying through the use of endless creative metaphors and personification that Lancelot and Genevieve would do anything for their love and each other even die." Roz sums up with finality looking to Harvey's bewildered expression. "Okay what do you not get?" She asks, a stray hair falls in front of her face as Harvey looks at her he has the strangest powerful urge to push it behind her ear. He quickly realizes that she awaiting his response, when her eyebrows raise, "I uh, Well I just think its about something different that's all." He responds, looking down toward the book.

"What do you mean?" Roz asks, curious on his outlook of the poem. "Well I just think its about finding love in whats in front of him, seeing what he has and giving everything, all of his being toward it and Genevieve receives it."

"So you think Its one sided?"

"I think Lancelot had a lot more to lose in having an affair with the kings wife, I'm saying maybe she was a little selfish."

"Wow your opinion is wrong." Roz says with an incredulous expression on her face, looking away from his gaze and back toward the book.

"What?" He asks in disbelief

"If anyone is being selfish its Lancelot, I mean sleeping with your best friends wife? Come on and he didn't even have to pay for being an adulterer and his "love" for Genevieve with his life you know who did though? Genevieve." Roz huffed.

Harvey looked at her then back down at his copy and started reading,

'She look'd so lovely, as she sway'd

The rein with dainty finger-tips,

A man had given all other bliss,

And all his worldly worth for this,

To waste his whole heart in one kiss

Upon her perfect lips.

There's a stillness after he reads it between them both, she keeps her eyes on her copy and feels as his turns from the page and makes its way up to her face, to met the tug of her gaze and feel the pull they've felt so many times before. Then he speaks, "Maybe its not about what they gave up and who did more wrong than the other but the way he remembered her before they took there last kiss and the way she embraced and accepted him for who he was when it was all said and done." Harvey breathes out, and nervousness crawls back up from his stomach, even though he'd never felt more at ease with Roz than he had with anyone else. The contradicting feelings clashed and their gazes locked again.

A ping sound went off, a notification was heard from the table and both their heads turn fast to the device, "Sorry Roz I forgot to turn it off." He admits with sheepish smile and looks down at the notification, he's never been so relieved to see that Tommy texted him a picture of the grocery list.

Harvey gets his things into his bag and looks down to his phone again careful to avoid the pit of those almond brown eyes that he could fall into, and he rapidly explains his departure, "Sorry I gotta leave but Tommy just sent me this grocery list and I need to get the stuff like now. For dinner and the week and everything. So bye." Harvey says all in one sentence and with a final wave, leaves a confounded Roz in his wake.

***

Sabrina and Harvey finally become official in the summer after sophomore year and there group has never been closer. They go to the movies, hang out at the library, the bookstore and do normal teenager things of course.

But it's the fact that there are no more secrets between them and everything is out in the open that brings them together. Roz is going blind but gaining the sight, her cunning, Susie is talking to her dead aunt, Harvey saw an actual demon and Sabrina is a witch. However nothing was ever be normal again especially after Roz was finally struck blind.

It happens in the woods when they're on there way to the mines to expel a demon ready to reign loose on the town. The colors of the leaves are just being turned back to green as winter spells it's last goodbye. The brown trails on the ground seem endless and the path toward the mine is covered in branches, "How much longer till we get there?" Susie heaves, chalking this up to bring the only exercise she'll be doing for the year.

"Susie we've been to the mines, how do you not know where we are?" Roz breathes out as they trek through the leaves at a fast pace.

"It's probably the physical exhaustion talking, don't worry we're almost there Susie." Sabrina replies leading her friends, holding Harvey's hand as he trails next to her.

They approach an array of yellow and red signs telling them to keep out, they're at the entrance of the mine. Sabrina looks up to Harvey squeezing his hand. Roz looks at Harvey's empty expression knowing that he's thinking of his brother, he's already lost so much she thinks with a sorrowful expression. Harvey looks away from the cursed entrance and kisses Sabrina's forehead as Roz and Susie gather there bearings and make there way to them.

"I'm so not doing P.E on Monday." Roz curses and Susie breathes in agreement.

They huddle together as Sabrina goes over the plan, "Okay guys so we all stick together, we all know the mine is a maze and this could very well be where the demon is and conveniently where we need to trap it so there's no means to escape." Harvey takes a deep breath and nods

along with the other morals.

"He's going to want to separate us so we're easier to manipulate, he's going to whisper certain truths to your mind but you have to ignore it so we can find him and trap him. Susie I'm gonna need you to keep a look out side the mine in case anyone else comes, Roz I'm gonna need you to touch this inscription to find out where he might be in there and Harvey," Sabrina breathes out, "just stay safe and keep next to me okay?"

He pecks her lightly on the lips, "You got it 'brina." Sabrina smiles at him, and Roz focuses her eyes on the rocks below her.

Sabrina levitates the rocks out of there path as the three of them make there way toward the core of the maze. Roz trails behind the pair, still holding hands and holding up flashlights in their other hands. Are you lost blind girl? A grim scratchy voice echoes out in her mind. "Did you guys hear that?" Roz says.

"Hear what?" Harvey replies turning toward Ros.

"Never mind."

Never mind that your in love with your best friends boyfriend, how pathetic. Roz eyes widen at the raspy scathing voice and suddenly the light of her flashlight gets dimmer and the vision of Sabrina and Harvey in front of her gets blurred.

"Remember Roz we have to ignore the voice it's just trying to manipulate us to let it out." Sabrina cautions.

"Right" Roz breathes out in confusion as her eyes begin to blur out the brown of Harvey's hair, the blue of his jacket and the white light of Sabrina's flashlight.

"Uhh guys I think I'm starting to lose my sight now, I can't see oh my God." Roz says breathing hard now, she can't hear their foot steps anymore. "Guys?!" She yells out.

Roz feels wet tears fall from her eyes, as she whips her head around frantically trying to adjust to seeing nothing in any direction.

Useless, you couldn't even follow your friends and lead them the right way

The voice returns and rings back in her head like a song, she tries to cover her ears and block the sound.

She's gonna hate you when she finds out you know, the witch. She will find out and she'll leave just like your mother and your grandmother did.

The voice brings Roz to her knees as she cries out in full on sobs. The demon is right she's gonna hate me, they all are. They're gonna leave me. She feels the weight of her glasses on her face, they're useless to her now. Just like I'am, useless.

"Roz?" She hears his voice clear ring out before her. Harvey kneels in front of her to see if she's okay as she looks up to follow the sound of his voice. "Roz..your eyes.." he says rooted in the spot at the sight of her, the soft brown he always knew becoming a startling gray .

"I know, I can't see!" She exclaims frantically. The tears roll out once again,and make there way down her cheeks.

You can't see him anymore and you never will again. You'll never see anyone you love again.

Rosalind cried out loud sobs at the insistent demonic voice, "I can't see you." She cries out.

Harvey's heart breaks at the sight of her and hearing her cries, they have to get out of here. "Look Ros, brina found a way out of here, you've been trapped here for three hours okay-"

Roz looks up from her hands and sniffles, "What? no, that's impossible I just lost track of you guys." Her breathing becomes labored again, in out , in out.

No one can save you Rosalind Walker, no one will care.

Roz' eyes shut tightly.

"No Roz listen to me," Harvey says his hands now intertwining with hers, anchoring her to his words "We found the demon and trapped it, it's just all in your head, okay? You got lost, so I came to get you and Sabrina gave me this red yarn so we can get back." He breathes out to her hoping to everything they can make it out of this.

"I need you to slow down your breathing okay? In. Out." Harvey eyes frantically watch over her face trying to calm her breathing.

Roz's greys still in his direction and they shut as she breathes, in. Out.

I'll keep you here with me where you belong, forever. The voice picks at her mind and reverbs.

"Roz..hey, you with me?" Harvey asks his breath fanning across her face, she startles at the proximity and his voice. "Do you still hear it's voice?" He asks brows furrowed, suspecting the reason for there self imposed captivity.

He will never love you the way he does the witch

More unwilling tears roll out, as Roz faces the ground and lets out a meek, "Yes" in response.

"Hey Roz just focus on my voice, just me." Soft yet calloused hands cup her wet cheeks, the red string rests on the right side of her face, tied around his index finger, she holds her breath. She wishes so badly more than ever she could see him. Read the look in his eyes, the curve of his mouth, his laugh lines. Roz wishes so badly she could see him and is at the same time, more than grateful she can no longer see what she can't have.

A beat passes and they breathe together, Harvey feels a tug on his heart and a warmth that burns from his chest to his stomach, it spreads like a wildfire. Then he feels a tug on his hand, more specifically his index finger. Sabrina his mind rings out, putting out the fire in his chest with a swift feeling of guilt taking over his gut. Sabrina had pulled on the yarn signaling the time they had left.

Harvey drops his hands from her face and pulls Roz up, and tugs on her left hand and leads them back out following the string. Roz's heart skipping a beat and feeling heavy with every passing step and turn.

They make it out of the cave and the smell of Sabrina's citrus shampoo wakes her from her spell when her best friend takes her in to her arms. The seemingly endless stream of tears roll down her face once again and her eyes shut close breathing in the scent of her. Sabrina her best friend since she was 6, was embracing her like she was her life line right after she almost kissed her boyfriend. "Its okay, Your okay, You made it out, You did it." She hears Sabrina's voice whisper and Ros feels her eyes shut tighter holding her friend for dear life.

Roz feels Susie's small arms wrap around then both, and a sad smile rests on her face. She feels Harvey's eyes on her like a ray of light, she can't see it but knows the weight of his gaze, right down to the bone, it makes her shiver, must be my cunning, Roz thinks, she hopes.

When they finally let go, and Susie asks her for the millionth time if she's really okay, Roz hears Sabrina swarm Harvey with deep kisses, the rustling of fabric and smacking of lips the main indicator. Roz's eyes find their way downward when she feels Harvey's gaze again, with Sabrina in his arms, it's almost as if the wind whispers with his eyes. A phrase finds it's way between them again,

I'm sorry.

***

"So you can see the future right?"

"Well not exclusively, sometimes things from the the past and things happening around me now that I wouldn't know about if I didn't have the cunning." Roz tells Harvey, as the sunlight glistens into his room through the cracks of the dark curtains. It's a regular Sunday morning, they had to study for an English test, a break was needed and here she was adjusting the crossed position of her leg on his bed feeling it fall asleep as he absorbs the information. Harvey's across from her on his bed, mirroring her position.

"I wanna know about my future. And I know based on what you just told me that might not be what you see, but I still wanna know." He tells her, eyes alight with a renewed hope.

Roz face contorts to one of caution, " I don't know Harvey, I mean I think letting people know they're future is kind of dangerous don't you think?"

Harvey thinks about it for a second, "Okay so how about this if you think it's something I think I can live without knowing, don't tell me." Roz snorts at his request.

"That's so general how will I know what to tell you?" She exclaims crossing her arms.

"Something I can live with out knowing Roz, hello if I die! Duh." Harvey responds, stating the obvious. He notices her persistent hesitance, "Look you don't have to do it if you're not comfortable." He says in a gentle voice.

"It's not that I just hadn't...thought about you dying is all." She says with a frown on her face.

"I was only kidding Roz, I'm only asking you because I trust you." She can feel his eyes on her again burning through her greys, shame I'll never get to see them Susie always mentions how hot they are. Roz mulls it over in her head again, the pros and cons and ultimately, "I'll do it." She nods before she can talk her self out of it.

"Really? Okay so what do you have to do? Touch me, right? Be careful Roz, I'm spoken for." Harvey says with a playful smirk.

"Famous last words Kinkle, watch it." Roz replies just about sick of him, she imagines the sunlight bounces of his brown hair and how his smile is probably that much brighter because of it and shes just about sick of that too.

She adjusts her legs again and tries to get comfortable, she takes his hand and takes a deep breath, Harvey's even closed his eyes for good measure, "Okay I'm seeing something." She says in a serious tone.

Harveys eyes pop open and he exclaims in excitement, "What?!"

Roz's eyes are still closed and her eye brows furrow, "I see...a bright light...fog...water and oh my- Harvey!"

"What?! What do you see Roz." He says grip on her hand tightening, "I see...aliens! There comin-" she's tackled by Harvey and her giggles interrupt her false proclaims.

"Aliens really Roz?" Harvey says as he sits up a soft smile resting on his features. He pokes her face until she answers, "Really?!"

Roz' giggles don't cease even when she speaks, "That's for the comment." She breathes out, readying her body for an actual reading "Okay, I'm ready to actually tell you now, sorry" Roz says reaching out her hand.

"No your not" Harvey says indignantly taking her hand with a false sour expression, Roz feels her face light up with a warm smile. "Your right I'm not." She takes a deep breath, in. Out, brushing off the memory of the soft hand on her face in the mines, she takes his hand.

"How do you know it's gonna be a girl?" Roz hears a voice echoing in her mind, it's mature and familiar. The view gets easier to see the more she focuses. There's two people sitting on a couch, a woman and a man. She's pregnant.

"Because I just know." He responds, Roz can see his face clearer now, it's Harvey. He's wearing a blue collared shirt and jeans, his brown hair is cut short and he has facial hair; scruff. He reaches out to touch the woman very pregnant stomach.

"So you had Sabrina give Ambrose a call and do his witchy pregnancy gender test thing." Roz realizes why the voice sounds so familiar it's her, Staring at her own future. What the-

"Yep. I mean no-" Harvey sighs as Roz gives him a look, "Okay so I did but I really wanted to know, I couldn't wait until after the baby was born."

"Uh yeah you could've then it would've been like we'd agreed." Roz hears her self say as she pouts at him.

"Come on babe when have we ever done something according to plan?" Harvey pouts back and they meet in the middle faces inches apart.

Roz hears herself sigh somehow in content and exasperation, "You're lucky your cute." She says and their lips finally meet, it's a sweet slow kiss, she feels she's intruding on something even though it's her.

Harvey cups her face as their lips part and looks at her like she's his world as his other hand finds her stomach, Roz looks at her self smiling so big, she doesn't even remember the last time she smiled like that and her heart feels heavy.

"No more calling Sabrina for this type of stuff okay, she's high priestess now. She doesn't have time to make pregnancy house calls." Roz says putting her pointer finger to Harvey's chest making her case known. His hands go up in surrender "okay okay. Just as long as you don't go texting Susie every time the baby kicks, she's on her book tour. She doesn't need he distraction."

"What? I don't do it everytime , I mean-" now Harvey gives her a look and he laughs at his wife's shocked expression, her diamond ring glistens in the sun as he takes her hand. "Honey she told me to tell you to slow down a little bit with the baby talk, you can still talk to her about it, absolutely. But your kinda driving her crazy. Please don't kill me." He says with a flinch proceeding with caution not wanting to test his wife's mood swings.

Roz watches herself look away from her husband in shock, still holding his hand, "well at least I got yo- woah she's eager in there." Roz suddenly feels a fluttering in her stomach and she touches the flat surface, she looks back up at the future version of her. Her and Harvey cooing at their future child, hands interlocked at the stomach.

Roz gasps, opening her eyes, waiting to hear Harvey's voice, "Roz you okay? What happened? What did you see?" He asks as she breathes deeply, wanting more than anything to see those soft brown eyes again, but I guess those eyes are gonna spend the rest of their life looking at me, Roz thinks taken back by the outcome.

She feels Harvey's hesitance to touch her again and his concern so he turns her face toward him, "What happened?"

Roz finds herself smiling, there maybe a million obstacles between them now but shes not going to add one by risking it not happening in telling him what she saw so she leaves it at, "Just something you can live without." She says as she leaves his room.

A beat passes and he jogs behind her trailing to catch up. "What the hell does that mean?"

If only you knew Harvey Kinkle, if only you knew.

#chilling adventures of sabrina #caos #rosalind walker #roz walker #harvey kinkle #susie putnam #sabrina spellman #nana walker #netflix #rosvey #ros x harvey #harbrina #rosvey fanfic #rosvey fanfiction #caos fanfic #caos fanfiction

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muses-of-ideen · 6 years

Text

Lost Lands Excerpt || The Start of War

“Welcome, honored guests of Angora,” the king boomed. The volume of the voice that sprang from the young king’s lips did not match his stature nor his age: it spoke to the many years he’d already ruled and the many years still to come, and it turned every head in the room towards the balcony at the end of the ballroom. “I, Truman, The King of Umbra, welcome you all here tonight. Tonight, feast and dance and be merry for one of our own has come back to us; one of the two strongest houses in Angora whose heir was thought lost has returned, and she brings with her the magic of her ancestors, the beauty and wisdom of her lineage, and the grace mandated by our highest standards. I present to all of you tonight, the long lost Princess Sunniva of Eules and High Magus of Terra, escorted here tonight by Crowned Prince Sean of Kaiser, His Majesty of Mercury.” Escorted by Sean with one raised hand, Sunniva stepped forward. Her deep, earth-brown hair was tied up elegantly with ornaments and jewels of the finest sort, her dress, though difficult to move in, flowed with her every step, the lush green accenting her white skin, and the gold mark set in her forehead wore like a crown. No decoration was necessary. She was still unused to the dresses, the parties, the elegance of the noble class as she had been away from them for far too long, but tonight meant too much to ruin. Yes, tonight they started their war. The whole hall seemed to stop and stare as she came forward, halting next to Truman. She opened her eyes, their emerald color more bold than ever, and lightly bowed.

“I am Princess Sunniva, rightful heir to the throne of Eules. What has been done to my people cannot be undone, however from this moment forward I will seek to piece my country back together, to make life better than it was under my mother. But tonight, all I ask if for you all to humbly accept me back into your ranks as a servant of Angora. May the Etherials bless us!”

“May the Etherials bless us,” Truman echoed. The hall followed suit along with a clinking of glasses that resounded for some time. Quietly, Sunniva tightened her grip on Sean’s gloved hand.

“Your Highness, if I were the average man, my bones would have broken already.”

“Well you’re made of water, so you can suck it up,” she whispered back. All she received in response was a chuckle. He was as nervous as she was. This had to go well. It had to. Because if this didn’t work… If this didn’t work then they had nowhere to start from. She let out a shaky breath as Truman offered her a glass of wine.

“Now, let’s get this party underway, shall we m’lady?” he said with a wolfish grin. “I’m just dying to see how this goes.”

“No one is dying tonight,” Sean spat, completely dropping the princely glamour and silently taking the wine glass out of Sunniva’s hand.

“None of us will be anyways. Now let’s see how many traitors we can pull out of the shadows,” the king replied, slipping down the stairs with another glass still in his hand.

“He’s enjoying this too much.”

“He actually gets to punch people,” Sunniva huffed. “I’d enjoy it more too if you’d just let me fight a little bit.”

“And let you take all the fun? Absolutely not. Now, if I may be so bold, may I have the first dance, Your Highness?” the prince asked, bending over to kiss her hand. She brought a hand up to her chest, squashing the fluttering of her heart before replying.

“Only if you don’t care that I’ll step on your feet, Your Highness.”

Sean laughed. “Rather, it would be an honor.” Honestly, there was a limit to how perfect a prince someone could be… or so she’d like to think but this was Sean; the phrase ‘Prince Charming’ was coined for him, and she couldn’t help but curse it a little as he lead her down the stair and onto the ballroom floor just as the next song started. No matter how hard she tried to lead, Sean always seemed to be a step ahead. He skillfully lead their dance, one hand placed gently at her waist, the other delicately holding her hand, and it was so perfect that she actually wanted to scream. Really! For all that he lacked in being able to navigate the female heart and in being dense why was he so perfect at things like this?! By the Etherials, it was reasons like this that had made him so popular with girls at the Academy, not that he’d been good at dealing with it, rather he’d always run away quite pitifully. She smirked at the memory. “You’re thinking about something ridiculous aren’t you?” he scolded.

“Only how, when it comes to women, your skill is only as good as this.” His step faltered and his face flustered.

“I-It’s not like I can help it! I have things to do! I can’t cater to every woman who seeks my attentions!”

“Oh? And just what did you have to do all that time?” she teased. He opened his mouth and she interrupted again. “If you say ‘saving the world’ then I’ll trip you.”

“I was going to say ‘protecting you’ but ‘saving the world’ sounds much better. I’ll go with that one.”

“I am going to make you fall flat on your face you ass.”

“And I’m going to rip out your tongue if you use another unladylike term again, are we hearing this?” She only responded with a tomboyish grin and a chuckle. The prince sighed, exasperated.

As the song drew to a close, Sean became more vigilant, looking carefully for those who were eyeing Sunniva for the next dance, but, as expected, picking out the difference between lust, intrigue, and murderous intent with this many people around was difficult even for him. But, regardless of whatever gaze he happened to see, he couldn’t say that any of them put him at ease. This was his best friend they were looking at after all, anyone would be nervous. The song ended, and he bowed, kissing her hand before leaving her with a warning.

“Be careful.”

“Of course.” She flashed him a cheeky grin before turning to pick her next partner. She had no shortage of those who were interested, despite her being of the Eules Matriarchy or their doubts about her royal status. He had to admit, despite her personality she was quite lovely. If he had never met her and someone told him that she was a Queen, he would have believed it without a doubt. She roughhoused and gallivanted around like a man, but she still remembered how to carry herself as a lady. Though he preferred her more lively behavior. Like this, she was a completely different person from the friend he’d grown up with. But, for now, he also needed to seek out a dance partner. A Crowned Prince couldn’t be seen without a lady at a ball; it would be suspicious. Still… as expected, this was a hurdle for him. Even at the Academy’s balls and other noble gatherings, interacting with nobles of the opposite gender was far too embarrassing for him. He wished he could just dance with Sunniva all night, but then their plans would have been ruined. He paused and searched out the nearest lady of rank. He too had no shortage of aspiring dance partners, but he wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic, after all, his job for the evening was to play the gentleman… and then the executioner. He already had noble blood on his hands though, so another drop meant very little.

Eventually he found a young woman dressed in blue and silver, beautiful, certainly, but his eyes still didn’t look to her the way they followed Sunniva. Perhaps he was just too used to this level of beauty.

“My lady, if you would honor me with a dance,” he said, bowing and offering the girl his hand to take. She lit up brilliantly with a smile, taking it, no doubt reveling in the chance to dance with one of the few unbetrothed royals in Angora, and every dance partner he had after her was the same. They were all beautiful women dressed and adorned in the finest fabrics and jewels their noble money bought them, and while their dancing was good, it was passive. It made him realize just how much he’d enjoyed Sunniva’s attempts to steal the lead. He liked that she could play on equal ground with him and that she tried even when she couldn’t. A brief thought crossed his mind as yet another song ended, perhaps the fifth or the sixth- he had lost count however the thought he had as he set his latest partner free brought a light heat to his face. He really was thinking about his best friend far too much. And to even have thought of her romantically for half a second as he had was insulting to her. She had much more important things to be doing. They all did. Freeing Angora from the puppet strings of The Castle didn’t allow time for things like what had crossed his mind. He shook it from his head, moving to find one more dance partner before he would take a break- at least that much could be allowed, right?- when the small sound of metal against metal rang in his ears. He turned his head abruptly, trying to find the source as well as his friends. He located Sunniva some distance away, however the look on her face was unexpected. She wore a sly smile that he’d never seen on her as she lead her dance partner away, slipping out of the ballroom, and then a sound rang through the shadows.

‘I’ve found one.’

Sean had to stop himself from chasing after them, and, instead, did his best to amicably excuse himself from anyone who called out to him as he slowly crossed the ballroom to follow them, trying not to raise suspicion lest any more of the enemies that were present pick up on their plan. Once he was outside the ballroom, he found Sunniva clinging to a man covered in thorns.

“Sunniva? What happened? Are you alright?” She turned to him, backing away from the trapped noble, a sudden look of shame on her face.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. My magic protected me. He had a poisoned ring with a hidden edge, but the mithril skin stopped it.

“What was that you were doing just now?” he asked at the bereft of some uncomfortable feeling in his chest.

Her eyes darted away from his, unable to meet them, and she turned unnaturally meek.

“Nothing. It was nothing. Just something to lure him out here.” She could swear her ears were burning. How shameful that he’d caught her just as she was about to pull away. She’d known using her female charm would be perfect for luring the traitors into following her, but she hadn’t wanted Sean of all people to see it. Seriously, why did he always have the worst timing?!

Freeing them from the awkward silence, Truman pulled himself out of a shadow on the wall.

“Leave your flirting for later,” he droned, approaching the struggling noble with the beginnings of a nasty grin on his face. “Now now, don’t struggle too much or you’ll be covered in blood before we even start.” The noble stopped, now too stricken with fear to move.

“You’re enjoying this far too much,” Sean scolded.

“And you aren’t?” Truman replied. Sean remained silent. To say he was displeased with what was about to occur would be a lie. Well… mostly. If he told himself that ‘it is for the good of Angora,’ any unpleasantness he had towards it would vanish.

“It’s a bit of a shame though that we have to ruin the party so early,” Sunniva said with mock disappointment.

“Well we’ll get to have our fun at least,” Truman stated. “Now, let’s begin. Sean, if you would, please?”

“Acknowledged.” Sean’s hand shot forward, grasping the noble by his face. His ice crept down the throngs of thorns and Sean pulled him away by his head, the vines shattering under the force. “You will tell us every name of every traitor in that ballroom or I will turn you to ice.”

#Lostlorn Lands #Lostlorn Lands 002 || It Comes to Fruition {First Steps}#Sean Síd #Sunniva Eules #Truman Umbra

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sicklylittlesnowflake · 7 years

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I don't know wether or not you ship bughead but here's a prompt anyway- how about one where jughead is homeless and on the street and he's really sick and there's a really big storm and the thunder doesn't help his headache and the rain gets him really wet and he ends up at Betty's window and she takes care of him. You're writing is amazing so I thought I would drop you and idea!

(Hey honey! Im sorry but I personally don’t ship these two, it’s just not for me but I do adore their dynamic in a friendship kind of way so I still wanted to write this bc I like this a lot!! Hope that’s ok with you!! While this is written to be strictly platonic I guess you could read this through ship goggles if you want tho!)

What exactly is a home?

Jughead thinks about this over and over again, hoping that maybe eventually he’ll find the answer, but the question only becomes more frustrating and probes him so much that it’s like it’s stabbing him repeatedly.

He is a Type 5 on the enneagram, he is an investigator, he needs to push the limits of understanding. Jughead craves answers and knowledge, he is fuelled by the desire to understand the world he is born to, to gain knowledge on the nature of his kind.

Jughead is plagued by this question, it stings him because he doesn’t know the answer. In the most human way possible, he cannot understand what he’s never known. Will he ever get the answer? Or is he just doomed and destined to never have a home, always a loner on the sidetracks, watching the world go by, seeing a lot but never experiencing?

Jughead had built a wall so thick around himself that he doesn’t understand his own feelings; is he genuinely this sad about life or is this just the fever that plagues his body? There is a sadness that looms over him as the cold rain splatters on his skin, soaking his skin and dampening his bones.

The rain pours harder, raining down on him hard and harsh like a waterfall, causing him to sprint towards the closest tree. He feels so miserable he doesn’t even know if the droplets on his face are his own tears or the rain. Maybe a mixture of both.

He cowers under the tree, the little bit of shelter the tree does provide a much needed change. The rain still leaks through, a lighter sprinkling of rain still hitting his bitterly cold, pale skin. He’s so cold he’s numb, goosebumps and snow white skin. He shivers and trembles violently, sniffling wetly as he rubs at his nose weakly.

It’s just his luck this is happening to him. Perhaps this was just the satirical, darkly comedic plot of his life. He often wondered if perhaps all of Earth was merely an entertainment show like some weird Truman Show type and his particular life story was created for those sadistic types who liked watching people be sad.

Sleeping on park benches was bound to get him sick. He knew it was coming, besides, even if he did have a roof to live under he would still be sick anyway because that’s the way his cruel body worked.

Being sick and homeless and having to sleep on a park bench was horrible enough, in his opinion, but of course, of course, that wasn’t enough. Of course it had to pour lashing rain.

A drop of water fell down one of the tree leaves, delicately dropping on Jughead’s already sensitive nose. His nose twitched, and suddenly his breath was hitching and he was inhaling sharply to pitch forward with an explosive, congested sneeze. He groaned, thinking he was done when a piece of his hair fell onto his nose and tickled it further, causing him to explode with two more harsh, wet sneezes. He doesn’t even care about how loud he is, he’s sick and miserable, he shouldn’t have to restrain his powerful sneezes. The universe owes him that at the very least.

Jughead pushed the hair away from his nose frustratedly, scrunching his nose to get rid of the irritating tickle. He rubs at his reddened nose, cringing as he feels a little bit of wetness in it, but hey, nobody can see how disgusting he is now. He groans, and lets out a chorus of congested little coughs that stab at his chest.

He slides down against the tree miserably, sniffling wetly as he wipes his runny nose on his soaked sleeve. He shakes violently, teeth chattering and hugging himself (wow, is that how pathetic he’s gotten?). Despite how cold he’s feeling, there’s a little bit of warmth radiating off him from a sure fever that he’s had the whole day. He feels woozy and definitely very off, very feverish and generally unwell. He just wants this night to end.

Jughead is thinking about all the happy (or seemingly happy) little families of Riverdale all bundled up in their blankets and nice heaters to brave this storm. He hopes that fantasising about it would make him feel a little warmer. After another obnoxiously loud sneeze, he’s accepted that he’s doomed to a night of the freezing cold and rain when a flash of lightning blinds him, then he hears the thunder loudly rumbling shortly after.

The sound explodes in his ears, chilling him even further than he is so he turns to ice. The lightning that flashes in front of him blinds him, leaving him petrified and paralysed, terrified.

His breathing starts to pick up, his blood running cold as his chest suddenly becomes heavy, and it’s not from his cough. He’s being suffocated, as anxiety rushes throughout his body and shutting him down as his breathing is shallow and barely enough oxygen is being supplied in his system. He feels faint.

One of the many consequences of being homeless is that Jughead is off his anxiety meds; and going through his day to day is hard enough, but something like a loud storm offsetting his anxiety? It’s cruel.

Jughead knows he can’t stay here, but there is literally nowhere to go. The strike of light flashes in his eyes and jars him, he feels faint and weak. The thunder is growling again and the explosion of sound rattles his brain and intensifies his headache. The pain is enough for him to leave the sanctuary that is his tree and he’s sprinting. Running as fast as his sick body can, letting his feet take him wherever they’re planning.

Running burns at his chest, because Jughead can barely breathe because he’s sick and anxious and he’s also incredibly unfit. He skips gym for a reason. As he runs he coughs harshly, spluttering as he runs his heart out.

Then suddenly he’s coming to a halt, as his foot miscalculates a step and lunges out too far, and he’s slipping on the slippery pavement, out of the somewhat firm grass. He slips across the road, managing to save his chin with his arms. He’s scraped, and a short sensation of pain rushes through him.

Exhausted, he is face down against the road. He’s too sick and too tired, his chest heavy from anxiety, but he can’t just sleep on the road like this. The thunder and lightning wake him up again, as well as intensify his headache.

Jughead lifts his head up, and sees two familiar houses that leave him feeling just a tad warmer.

By instinct his gaze shifts over to Archie’s house, he thinks about his best friend who he has just rekindled with, and the kindness of Fred Andrews. But then he remembers why they were split apart in the first place, Grundy, and how Archie does not need another problem right now. Archie needs time to heal.

Then his gaze pans over to the sweet, American Dream of a house. The Cooper household.

It’s not the same kind of warmth he thinks of when he sees Archie’s house, but it still warmth, and it’s just as good. And Jughead is so cold, and he needs it.

Jughead coughs, picking himself off the ground and approaching the household. He doesn’t even know what time it is, and if Betty is still awake, but his heart cannot take this storm.

He staggers and stumbles over to the Cooper house, his body racked by his violent shivering. His legs shake, barely supporting himself and he needs to take his time. He sniffles, running a finger under his nose and shuffles through the damp, glistening grass. Jughead spots a ladder just sitting outside, next to a bunch of hardware tools. He speculates it’s just Hal Cooper fixing up the house.

A thought crosses his mind and Jughead is against it, it’s awfully cliche and disgustingly Nicholas Sparks-esque and not him, he’s not into that, but there is literally no other way. He gets a grip on the ladder and carefully uproots it, and balances it on the window he knows by heart is Betty Cooper’s. He’s spent most of his life in Archie Andrews’ bedroom, he knows who the window across from his belongs to.

Once he thinks the ladder is steady, Jughead stifles a forceful cough into his sodden sleeve, it scrapes against his throats and burns. He escalates the ladder slowly, the ladder eerily shaking slightly as his body trembles from the cold, and as he is almost to the top his nose tickles, of course. Jughead is bad at stifling, and always needs his hands to do it, but his hands are firmly balancing himself on the ladder and if he lets go to stifle, he’ll fall down and cause a commotion. But if he sneezes freely, the loud sound would also cause a commotion.

Jughead can’t think of what to do because his body is bracing itself to sneeze and somehow he managed a harsh stifle that sounds so painful, and most definitely is painful. It scrapes against his throat horridly and leaves a dull ache in his sinuses. Someone stirs within the household, and Jughead freezes.

Betty Cooper makes her presence known by checking her window, and when she looks out she widens her eyes at the sight. Jughead manages a weak, sheepish but charming smile at her. He can faintly hear her soft gasp as she yanks the window open, and offers him a hand and helps him into her bedroom.

She doesn’t know where to start, whisper screaming, “Jughead?! You’re soaked!”

He smirks, “I figured you would appreciate me putting aside my pretentiousness and give it up for a more cliché, romantic Romeo type exterior.”

Betty rolls her eyes playfully, “Yuck, I don’t want a Romeo like you. I’d prefer someone who wasn’t quite a wreck, thank you very much.”

Jughead laughs a little at that, knowing full well romance wasn’t for him. It never was, and he wasn’t quite sure if it ever will. It was a funny joke though, in an ironic kind of sense.

Jughead shivers intensely, wrapping soaked arms around himself in an attempt to keep himself warm and Betty frowns.

She places a hand on Jughead’s forehead, he’s too weak to protest like he usually would, and her frown is worsened, “You’re burning up! What are you doing in the rain like this, you idiot?”

Jughead stifles a series of congested coughs into his shoulder, and looks up at her blearily and whispers, ��I promise I just need to stay here while it rains, just for tonight, I’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow morning.”

Betty looks at him with a look he can’t quite decipher–a weird mix of sympathy, confusion, heartbreak and understanding. One thing Jughead loves about her is that unlike Archie, bless him, she is less naive and is better at reading in between the lines, and doesn’t blurt out things by accident that doesn’t help. Because Betty doesn’t question him, she doesn’t say anything.

She opens her drawers and pulls out an oversized t shirt she had gotten at a camp and a big sweatshirt she got at some volunteering event, and a pair of bigger sweatpants that she wears when it’s cold. She hopes it will fit him, and passes them over to him.

“I’m going to get you some tea and medicine, get changed into these while I’m gone, you’re soaked to the bone,” She fussed worriedly, her voice low and whispery.

Jughead shakes his head violently, “No no no, you don’t have to..your parents..”

Betty lets out a fond chuckle, “Jughead, trust me, I know the ins and outs of this place. I am a pro at not waking my parents, I will be just fine.”

“Betty–” Jughead protests but Betty has already left him to his own devices.

He sighs guiltily, sniffling again and coughing chestily, feeling his lungs strain and feel blocked from phlegm. He groaned softly and quickly stripped his wet clothing off him and dried himself off with a towel. He donned the soft, warm and fresh clothing given to him and couldn’t help the soft moan of relief as his body warmed up a little. He felt comforted and warm in these new clothes.

Jughead quietly pushes the window open again, and wrings out his wet clothing out of the window–and when he finishes he folds them carefully and skilfully. He shakes his backpack out of the window too to get the water out of it, and places the backpack on the floor when he finishes. While waiting, he grabs at the towel he used to dry himself off to start drying at his dark, wet hair which was surely going to be a huge curly mess once it dried.

Betty slowly and nimbly reenters the room, a steaming cup of tea and medicine in her hands.

Jughead smiles to greet her but the smile is wiped off his face quickly as his nose twitches irritably, as he inhales sharply and buries his face into the towel he was holding to muffle two explosions.

“Bless you,” Betty chuckles and sets the tray down on a table. “You know, for a person so quiet, you really can’t sneeze quietly.”

Jughead chuckled and sniffles, his voice stuffed up and an octave lower, he sounds pathetic, “I guess it makes up for all my time sulking alone.”

Betty stifles her hearty laughter, a little upset she can’t laugh louder because she can’t wake her parents. She reaches for a box of tissues neatly placed by her bedside table and chucks it at him.

“Wow, I can’t believe you can’t appreciate the wonderful, chocolatey huskiness of my voice, do you really want to get rid of it so easily?” Jughead jokes emptily, his jokes not quite as full, feeling hollow and like he’s not even there. He’s clearly not doing too good, and Betty is only now realising that he’s shaking and his breathing is definitely very off.

She watches him worriedly as she picks up the medicine packet and opens it up and gets a pill, and she picks up the tea cup. Jughead blows his nose weakly, the sound sounding horribly sickly. She frowns again and passes the medicine and the tea.

Jughead utters a small thank you before popping the pill into his mouth and downing the pill with the tea. The warmth of the liquid is remarkably soothing against his raw throat, and the warming sensation spreads throughout his body and he feels a lot better. But Betty is frowning at how Jughead’s hands shake as he sips at the tea.

Jughead’s chest is still heavy, and it still hurts to breathe and there’s still a cold pang in the middle of his chest. He puts down the tea and his lip trembles, trying to calm himself down but then he can hear the loud crackling of the thunder again and he starts to lose control. His breathing is erratic, and he can’t hide the look of terror in his face any longer.

Betty kneels down next to him, and slowly reaches for his hands, “Is this okay?”

Jughead nods weakly, and lets her take his hands and rub little circles into them comfortingly.

This situation has happened between them many times before, but it hadn’t happened since they were children. They are childhood friends, after all, they’ve seen each other grow. Betty’s been with Jughead when he’s had panic attacks like this, and while Archie literally didn’t know what to do there was some instinct in her that somehow understood. When they were all 13 Jughead started taking medicine and they didn’t happen as much. Betty wonders why they’ve started again, and the answer her brain gives her is one that she doesn’t like.

Jughead is looking away, eyes darting to the ceiling and to the floor.

“Hey, can you look at me?” Betty says softly, and Jughead does. He looks up at her and the kindness in her eyes is enough for him to steady himself so slightly and she’s so firm and confident that he feels a little more assured. Safe.

“Can you try and copy me? Take your time,” She whispers coaxingly, taking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly. Jughead tries to copy her, he is ragged and off rhythm for a little bit, but eventually he matches with her rhythm.

“You’re doing so well, Juggie,” Betty reassures. He feels a little more alive then, now that his body was taking in the oxygen it needed to survive.

He lets out shaky breaths, concentrating on a steady rhythm, and eventually his chest hurts a lot less. He’s a lot lighter. He coughs harshly into his sleeve, restraining the sound so he doesn’t wake Betty’s parents, but it strains his throat.

Jughead picks up the tea again, and sips at it and cherishes the hot liquid that flows down his throat and massages it.

“God, Jug, you should’ve come sooner, being sick in the rain like that was a dumb move,” She whispers as she boops him on his sensitive nose playfully.

A tickle creeps up on him and he pinches his nose and stifles three sneezes, letting out a soft groan when he finishes.

“Bless you,” Betty whispers, stifling her giggles. She leans in again to for his temperature; he’s burning up, but it’s not too bad. Jughead knows if he hadn’t come at all, he would be a lot worse. Betty seems to think the same.

“I’m glad you came to me tonight,” She whispers softly, her eyes kind and genuine.

She chuckles softly, getting up to drape a blanket over him, “Knowing you, your most likely action would be to hide under a tree the whole night.”

Jughead manages a shaky chuckle, pulling the blanket closer around him, letting the warmth blanket him so he can bask in its warmth, “You know, I was going to.”

Betty smirked, “and what changed your mind?”

His eyes soften, “The storm. I..it was too loud and..uh, my heart couldn’t take it.”

He feels so vulnerable, and he detests it. He loathes being outside of the safe walls he has built for himself, as much as they make him feel stifled, being outside of them makes him feel watched and judged and so alienated. Even more detached than he already is.

“Edgy Jughead Jones can’t handle a storm,” Betty jokes.

Jughead can’t help but smile, she knows him so well. She knows that the most she can do for him is to take him away from all of this.

Betty softens a little, and sighs, “But..you do know the obligatory ‘what’s going on’ speech is going to have to happen, right?”

Jughead nods.

“So, what’s going on?”

Jughead feels a pang of pain strike through his chest, tears prick his eyes and he looks away. He doesn’t know where to start, so overwhelmed by it all because he doesn’t know what’s going on in his life. He’s never asked himself that question, he’s too scared to confront it in fear that if he lets it in, it will never come out again.

“I’m not ready to talk about it,” Jughead chokes out weakly, unsure if all the things happening to him is simply catching up to him or if the fever is speaking.

Betty doesn’t press him.

Her gaze is soft and understanding, but firm, “Alright. Okay but promise me you will, maybe not today, maybe not to me, but you will talk about this. Promise?”

She holds her pinky out just like when they children.

Jughead finds himself intertwining his pinky with hers, and he nods. Perhaps he is just looking for that relief and memory of his lost childhood, but something about how kind Betty is to him makes him genuinely promise.

Times like these make Jughead remember that his life isn’t just a Shakespearean tragedy, he has friends who love him. Friends who will always be there for him.

“Promise,” Jughead smiles.

Betty smiles at him sadly, “..So..do you know what you’re doing?”

Jughead shrugs, “I’ll..figure it out when tomorrow comes.”

This is the way his life has gone, living each day by day, any sense of security completely gone.

“..I always do.”

Betty reaches out, her hand comforting on his arm. Her smile is so warm and welcoming, “But you don’t have to do it alone.”

He doesn’t really know what to say, because a few tear spills from his eyes and he lets out a shaky breath, managing a weak smile.

‘What makes a home?’ he thinks.

Jughead’s not really sure if he’s ever going to be able to answer the question, (maybe there are some things he will never truly understand, he can only experience), but this is the closest answer he can get for now. That’s alright with him.

#jughead jones #betty cooper #riverdale #sickfic #fever #prompts #bughead #platonic bughead tho #lowkey proud of this..lmao #i think i like this writing style more??#ok i'll stfu now byee

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fakesurprise · 7 years

Text

Bends in the Road

Nothing tried to stop us from entering Oscars Bend, which was probably for the best. Noah isn’t bleeding any longer and my head isn’t hurting, but Wilbur gets slowly out of the car at the motel without trying to hide how sore he feels.

“Noah can get your things, if you want?”

Wilbur steps toward the hotel and stops as Noah moves in front of him. Wilbur lets out a gasp a moment later.

“I can help. You need to let me. And rest,” Noah says, loud enough that I catch every word.

Wilbur walks back and sits in the car again. I get my things, going to help Noah only to find he’s already getting the last of Wilbur’s bag packed.

“You didn’t unpack at all, did you?”

“No. Easier to leave,” he admits.

“Aram again?”

“No. Parents.”

I stop at that. “Noah,” I say as he’s heading to the bathroom to look for things.

“My dad burned my arm a year before they died,” he says, soft as normal. “After that, I knew things weren’t normal. I kept a bag packed. Waiting under my bed.”

He goes into the bathroom and comes out with the last of Wilbur’s things.

“You have one at Lia and Aram’s?” I ask.

Noah flinches visibly and nods, once.

I step forward, hugging him gently. I’m not a hugger by nature, and a tight hug would hurt, but he offers up a small, shy smile when I pull away.

Noah puts everything into the car as Wilbur stands, looking at the both of us, and the town. “Where to?”

“Jennifer or John. Smiths. We went there first; I imagine there was a reason?”

He nods to me, looks at Noah. “Relax it when you have to.”

Noah nods, and just walks along beside me. I look across him at Wilbur, who pretends not to notice. He’s definitely walking easier than he was earlier. It’s dinner time, so most everyone is eating in their homes. I knock on the door. This time it’s opened a crack; Noah shoves it open before it can be closed.

“Jennifer. John.” I get nothing further out, watching a grown adult collapse in a faint in front of me.

“Maybe not them,” Noah says, entirely serious. I rub the bridge of my nose.

“No vision, I think. Just terror. Bob Plint?” Wilbur offers. “If he’s hiding his son from the authorities, some talent could be part of that?”

This time, we all take the ramp to the house. Bob Plint opens the door after my knock, spots Wilbur. “You! Get off my porch,” he snaps. No magic, but expecting to be obeyed as a kind of magic all its own.

I smile. He steps back from the smile. I’ve mastered the smile no one would ever catcall, as much a part of my as my talent. “We have questions about Oscars Bend. What protects it. And why.”

He steps backward. “No. My son and I are safe here. I will tell you nothing.”

A TV is on further into the house. “Safe. You think you’re safe?” I ask, and my talent puts a dangerous purr in my voice.

Mr. Plint does not move. “I do not now what this is. I do not know what you are. But I am all my son has.”

“We’ve heard about that. Hiding him from the world,” Noah says, and there is an edge under the words.

Bob Plint moves aside, half-shoved by the air as Noah walks into the house. I follow. Bob Plint shakes off the shove and breaks free of Wilbur’s grip to enter the living room as well.

It is small. One large screen tv, a single couch, walls filled with DVDs, VHS tapes and Blu-Ray. The boy in the wheelchair doesn’t turn. His eyes are fixed on the screen, head lolled to the left. His eyes track us once he can see us, and he looks puzzled but for all I know I’m projecting. There is a catheter attached to the chair, and Alvin is wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a bib that catches saliva. He is thin, but not as thin as I expected in my head.

“I feed him often, so he does not lose weight. I look after him. This he enjoys: his movies, my voice. We visit neighbours. We bother no one.”

“And if you die?” I ask, turning to Bob Plint.

He pales. I try and tone my talent down a little, but I have a feeling my talent has nothing to do with this. “I have a will, provisions, an expensive lawyer in Appleford. But he is my son, and to be – in an institution, even one that calls itself a school, is not something I desire. It is time he would not be with us. I am likely to outlive my son, and we decided to – to spend as much time as we could with him.”

“Tina wanted him in a school. To learn what he learn.”

“She refused to believe the doctors. I believed them.” He does not ask how Wilbur knows his wife’s name.

I look at Alvin. There is pain, but for him it is a normal. A constant. I have no right to try and offer aid that would not last. I turn my gaze to Noah.

“He is pulled to his father. And the TV,” Noah adds as another fact. “We are in the way of the Little Mermaid. I think it best we move.”

I do so, and Noah turns his daze on Bob Plint. “You kidnapped your son from the world, but the selfishness turned into other things. It is still wrong, but it is – we will be back, I think, to try and help. And we are not the type your lawyers can reason with.”

Bob Plint smiles then. The smile is thin, bitter. “This is Oscars Bend. It will not bend for you.”

I let out a sigh. I can get answers, but not without hurting him. “Let’s go. Using the stairs,” I add to Wilbur, who does so without a word. Bob Plint is a monster, no matter his heart, but not our monster. Not right now.

Across the right, lights are at the McTavishes. More than were on earlier. We cross the road in silence. Noah’s talent is a humming in the air around us. The front door of the Truman residence opens and a stout, balding man in his seventies walks down the stairs and toward us. Gerry. Edith had mentioned her husband was in town getting supplies. Hopefully not for a lynching.

Gerry Truman walks spryly for his age and shakes his head as he approaches us. He has never met us, but he doesn’t bat an eye at any of us. “You do not belong here. Leave.”

“I don’t think we can,” Wilbur says. “Not without answers.”

Gerry shakes his head. “You have eaten the food of Oscars Bend freely. By that binding, I compel you.”

Something pushes into me, at me, from a direction I can’t name. Noah shakes his head slightly as if clearing it.

“I am a magician, they are my friends, and warded as well,” Wilbur says mildly. “I wondered about the food. At where the stories about fairies and food came from. I am afraid you cannot get rid of us so easily.”

The old man just looks tired at that and nods once. “They said no,” he says, not raising his voice.

Windows snap open in the McTavish household. Gerry dives to the ground. Nothing moves in slow motion like it does in a movie. One moment I am frozen, the next the world is filled with thunder.

I’ve seen guns shot, and muzzles flash. At least eight people, all firing at us. The air in front of us shimmers, and metal strikes the earth as bullets ram into Noah’s will. There is a second volley, a third and then the entire house rocks on its foundations.

For a moment I have this ludicrous notion the house is going to rise up like some kind of mecha before I realize it’s Noah telling them to stop it. I think this definitely qualifies as a shout.

Edith Truman walks out of her home calmly as her husband limps away back toward the house. The old lady with no pain, head held high. “This is my town. You will harm no one here.”

“They are trying to hurt us,” Noah says, his voice carrying in the silence empty of gunfire. “I won’t let them.”

“You were allowed to act earlier, because Mark needed to learn a lesson. I am not allowing anything now. This is my place. My home.”

“But you are no magician,” I say. “A focus of this place, yes. Something neither magician nor talent. You’ve given to the land, it has given to you.” And the words seem to be pulled out of me. “You took it’s pain. You had children, and you put the pain inside them. A sacrifice for a sacrifice. Power for power.”

“Be silent.” And even Wilbur is rocked at the force of the command. “You will depart, or feel our wrath. There is no Outsider here. I would allow nothing like that here you foolish children.”

“Shit,” Wilbur says, very softly. Being a magician. Making a connection. “This place has power to give, but this much? Against all of us? Not without being warned, I think. Who told you we were coming?” he says, and I shudder a little at the chill in his words.

“You do not know? You do not –.” And Edith Truman laughs, short and sharp, thinking she has power here.

“Wilbur. No.” Noah has one hand on Wilbur’s left arm and Wilbur grunts a little and glares at Noah. “You said your magic isn’t about the living. You could make her into a ghost This whole place? I can feel you pulling it?”

Wilbur stops dead. He whispers shit again, his voice cracking, and the air is warmer than it was moments ago.

“You think y–” and Edith Truman staggers back as Noah walks toward her.

“Wilbur may not wish to act. Anya would hurt far more than you, since you are tied to this town. You did that, as protection? I can feel the push, the pull of things. But I can push only you.”

And she hurls backwards onto her back, the same way Wilbur did outside Appleford.

Edith Truman stands, shakily, looking old for the first time. “This is my place!” she screams, and the earth itself shudders underneath us

I grab the pain she’s calling from it, shoving it into Gerry’s truck. The truck turns into something from modern art moments later.

“You cannot use ghosts here,” Wilbur says, terribly gently. “That is my place.”

“And you can’t stop me,” Noah says, and he sounds tired as he walks toward Edith again. She gestures, and Noah just walks forward. “Tell me who told you. Who warned you. Who made this happen. Tell me, and we might leave,” he says, and there is no hesitation in his voice at all, the talent speaking as much as Noah is.

Edith Truman stares wild-eyed at Noah. There is a pressure around us, like an egg being cracked, but nothing breaks. Noah doesn’t slow, and the old woman whispers something as he reaches her.

Noah stops. “Oh,” he says, loud enough that I heard it, and walks back toward us “We are leaving. Don’t try to stop us. Please.”

At the word please, every house in Oscars Bend shudders just a little.

Edith Truman just sits. Sits down in the middle of the street, whispering names of the lost. Her power isn’t broken. Not yet. And for Noah, this is done. He doesn’t like having to be like this, and Wilbur is keeping the dead at bay.

I walk past Noah, who stops and gives me a surprised stare. “This town is whole, yes. Protected, yes,” I say, threading my talent into my words. Everyone here has known pain. Everyone hears my voice, though I try and keep it from Alvin Plint. “But protection must be earned. And respected. And change with time. Some sacrifices are not worth the cost. And real power does not always require sacrifices. Sometimes you just need to acknowledge it. To become it. To be part of a place, and let it be part of you. Everything else is desperation.”

“No.” Edith Truman stands, shakily. “I gave you everything,” she says, not speaking to any person.

“Sometimes that is too much,” I say. I turn. I walk away.

“Oh,” Noah says as I reach him. “Becky?”

“A power was going to claim her. Oscars Bend, with our help, and we’ve definitely outstayed our welcome since she’s going to come into that power. I don’t think we want to be here for that.”

#writing #prose #magician series #Bends In The Road #this is a queue; I am not really here

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neverisalongtime-ja-blog · 7 years

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Chapter 31: I’ll post whatever I want

Hey everyone! I’m so sorry I couldn’t upload last Thrusday, there’s too much goin on right now but here it is!! Chapter 31!

Read chapter 30

- I missed your lip biting thing – Josh said to Anastasia while walking through a Venice square, on the way to the restaurant where a big lunch was going to be held.

- I missed your guitarist fingers – Anastasia said back to him, a little bit flushed.

- Are you blushing? – Josh asked laughing.

- No, I’m not. It’s the heat – Anastasia lied. It was actually very hot outside in that city and Anastasia had to choose a light outfit, a grey flower-printed crop top with a low cleavage, a pair of baby blue jeans, grey oxfords on her feet and a grey, wide-brim fedora.

- You look amazing, by the way – Josh said to her once again – Well, you always do. Even when dressing so sensual you have such a taste…

- Thank you – Anastasia said – Are you adulating me because I gave you the best sex of your life last night? – Josh laughed.

- The Anastasia I know is back. I’m adulating you because you’ve given me the best sex of my life in general – This was getting weird for Anastasia.

- Josh… - She didn’t know if she should ask about his girlfriend. She actually didn’t want neither if it was going to break the spell. It was obvious they were together but she wanted to know if this was just a one night stand or something more. At the same time she didn’t want it to be something more, she couldn’t go through that again – Never mind.

- No, tell me.

- Don’t worry, we are already here – She said looking at the whole travel crew sitting at a large table in the restaurant’s balcony.

They made their way there and Anastasia had a glimpse of the place, it was beautiful. You could see the ocean from the balcony and the boats riding in the back. She chose a chair next to Barbara and in front of Mandy, while Josh sat a little bit away, next to Flea. She felt Barb and Mandy’s keen eyes, so she smiled at them with a funny grin. She then could see Mandy moving her lips to her forming the words “Fuck you”, Anastasia laughed.

Lunch was amazing, everybody there got along so well. They all had crazy conversation topics, they talked about life on tour and making music, they even talked about the old times when Anthony and Barbara were a mess, way before Anastasia moved to LA, then Anthony mentioned when An moved and everything changed for Barbara, but in a good sense and how Barbara took her to almost every concert she could. An was feeling good, so well. Better than the last months. She even stopped thinking about Josh’s girlfriend; suddenly she wasn’t worried about it anymore. She was enjoying that moment, right there without any obstacles.

After lunch everybody was up for a walk, they needed it because they all ate so much pasta. They visited the magnificent Piazza San Marco, then went to the Basilica, walked through small streets and visited some local stores and then everybody wanted to do some boat rides on the Grand Canal. But Josh had some other plans.

- What do you say if we skip the boat ride and go for gelato? – He asked to Anastasia almost whispering in her ear.

- You know I’m always down for gelato – She answered smiling.

She excused herself to the group saying she was feeling a little bit sick for a boat ride, and they both walked away from them. Then they arrived to a place called Boutique del Gelato, which was pretty famous in the city.

- The people at the hotel recommend it – Josh told Anastasia – And I know how much you love it, so I wanted to bring you here.

- I want lemon and pistachio – Anastasia ordered.

- What? That’s the weirdest mix ever! – Josh laughed.

- Oh, I’m sure you are going to ask for something basic like chocolate and vanilla – Anastasia mocked him.

- No… I’m going to order chocolate and… strawberry – Josh laughed and Anastasia joined him – I’m joking, I want hazelnut and Stracciatella.

- Uh! Fancy! – Anastasia said.

- The occasion warrants it, after all I'm with one of the fanciest people I know – He said.

- Ok. Stop it, Josh – Anastasia said rolling her eyes.

- And I’ll pay for it – Josh warned her – It’s your birthday weekend.

- That makes me feel guilty – Anastasia said – I don’t like people paying for my stuff.

- You are impossible – He said rolling his eyes but with a smile on his face.

They ate their gelatos while walking around. Watching the city, avoiding the places with bad smell and just enjoying each other’s company. It was like the old days, even before they were a couple. She felt so good at that moment; she forgot everything he did, even if that was possible. It was the same old Josh, the one she met at Eric’s birthday party all those years ago.

At one moment she got lost with the view, the Venice canals opening to the ocean and then she heard a camera click at her back. She turned around fast and Josh was holding his phone and laughing.

- What are you doing? – She asked very confused.

- Taking a picture – He said smiling like a dumbass.

- Of me? – She asked again.

- Well, you were on the way – He answered – But look, it’s beautiful – He showed her the photo and indeed it was a gorgeous picture. It showed her from the back looking at the horizon – Come here, let’s take a picture together.

- Oh… that’s weird – She said smiling.

Josh got close to her and they took a selfie with the Venetian landscape in the back.

- Look at you taking selfies! – Anastasia said mocking him.

- Stop – He laughed – Gonna post this – Anastasia’s heart stopped.

- Where? – She asked – Where are you gonna post it?

- On Facebook, it’s the only social media I use – He said using his phone and she thought it was time to bring it up.

- Josh, don’t! You have a girlfriend! – She had to say it. His face changed from happiness to confusion.

- First of all, I don’t have a girlfriend – He said and that shocked Anastasia – Second, I’ll post it wherever I want to – She was about to ask “What about Lauren?” but she decided not take it further.

The flight back served as a thinking session for Anastasia. Josh denied Lauren without hesitation, and he was acting so friendly the whole weekend, he apologized for everything he did and he looked honest doing so. They even had sex, the wine had a lot to do over there, but the next morning there wasn’t a drop of shame or regret in that hotel room. It all felt so natural, like if they were longtime friends that liked each other. Surprisingly she wasn’t even confused, she had peace in her heart, she was happy, of course… and just like that Anastasia had her hopes up again.

- You need to tell me everything – Mandy took a seat in front of her at Anastasia’s booth on the plane, luckily this time Josh was far from them.

- What can I tell you? – Anastasia smiled at her friend – We had dinner and then went back to his room, we had sex, we ate gelato and then he denied the fact that he has a girlfriend.

- What?! – Mandy couldn’t scream because the plane was so quiet – Anastasia, did you sleep with him?

- You didn’t realize that I didn’t sleep in our room?

- No. I was drunk and there were two bedrooms, I thought you were inside. I can’t believe this… And he denied her?

- He said she wasn’t his girlfriend.

- Oh my God, An! – Mandy said – I don’t want to see you suffer, please, please, please, stay strong. You don’t deserve this, you deserve a man for you alone, a man that only loves you.

- Don’t worry about it.

- I’ll be here in the end, as usual. That’s my mission in this planet – Mandy said checking her phone and suddenly she had a surprised expression on her face – Look!

Mandy handled Anastasia the phone and An saw the photos Josh published on Facebook, first the one where she was alone, and then the selfie he took of them. He wrote “I wish all my trips around the world were like this” on the description box. Both friends shared a glance.

- He doesn’t have her as a friend on Facebook – Mandy said – I stalked him – She said before Anastasia could ask – Look, there’s more!

A video from An’s birthday party of her singing No Scrubs with Kelly was there too, he captioned it “Two girls who won’t take no scrubs”, a bunch of his friends left comments like “I want your life” and “I can’t believe you hang out with someone as hot as Anastasia Truman”, that one made her feel good.

- Why is he posting all this? – Anastasia asked.

- No idea – Mandy said.

- He didn’t even do this when we were a couple.

- It’s weird indeed – Mandy said – Aw, An! Be careful, please!

- How was your weekend? – Anastasia changed the subject violently.

- It was amazing! – Mandy answered with light in her eyes – I had so much fun with all the food and everyone. Josh stole you, but anyway.

- People noticed? – Anastasia was ashamed now.

- Oh yeah. Anthony didn’t stop making jokes about it – Mandy said – I’m going to sleep a little bit, try to do the same.

- You know I don’t sleep on planes – Anastasia said.

- TRY! – Mandy screamed ignoring the rest of the people that were actually sleeping.

Anastasia was confused now; this wasn’t a normal attitude on Josh. She got up from her seat and tried to look out for Josh. She saw him at her right, he was awake and she could see the reflective light on his face from his notebook. She walked towards him, he took his headphones off and smiled at her, then moved to make some room so she could sit next to him.

- Don’t you think those Facebook posts are going to get you in trouble? – Anastasia asked.

- I already told you that no – Josh answered rolling his eyes – They are great pictures and the world should see them.

- And that video.

- That video was hilarious – He said laughing – If it is such a big deal for you I’ll take them down.

- No! It’s fine… for real – She said – Don’t worry. It’s just that you used to be so private.

- I still am – He answered – And I know who I have on my Facebook page just like you know who follows you on your Instagram. You used to post pictures of me and of us, and I never had a problem with it. By the way, I noticed you never deleted them.

- Why would I? It was a great moment in my life. I’m not a teenager, Josh…

He just smiled and didn’t say anything back to that.

Back at her seat, she couldn’t help but to think about it. He wasn’t hiding her and she wasn’t sure if they were going to repeat what happened that weekend but right now she was happy, for real this time, for the first time in months, she was happy. Deep inside she knew it was a fake happiness but she didn’t mind it. All of her life she had to deal with anxiety and now she was ready to be better. Yes, Josh hurt her but also, she still had feelings for him and she could tell he still had feelings for her too. The way he made love to her the night before was filled with desire and passion. It didn’t feel like a stranger or a one night stand at all, it was two people in love giving themselves to each other.

Tour was about to start again and the future never looked so bright before her eyes.

Read chapter 32

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keepingupwiththejugheadjone-blog · 7 years

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The Family Dinner

Jughead x Reader

Summary: In which Jughead doesn’t want to go the reader’s annual family dinner.

Word Count: 1,928

Sighing, for the thousandth time, you waved your arms in front of your boyfriend’s face. “Look, I’m just asking for one family dinner. One! God forbid. It’s not like I’m marrying you into the family.” You said, snark radiating from your voice.

You watched as his facial expression changed from distracted to disgusted. Hearing the word ‘marriage’, he looked up at you and shook his head. “Gross, Y/N, you know how I feel about that word.”

Rolling your eyes, you sighed once more. “Wow, show a little more repulsion why don’t you? I don’t think you looked sickened enough at the thought of marrying me. Maybe if you bring your nose up a little more.” You told him and proceeded to reach over to his face and push up his nose.

“What are you- God stop. I’m sorry.” He said, finally giving in and acknowledging you. After he finished speaking, however, his attention diverted back to his laptop. Annoyed at the sound of his fingers rapidly hitting the keys, and him ignoring you, you promptly took his hand and then shut the laptop.

“This is ridiculous.” He said, falling back into the booth at Pop’s and sighing.

“No, it isn’t. Jughead why do you have to be so difficult about everything?” You snapped and looked at him expectantly.

“I’m not difficult about everything. Your family is literally crazy, and they don’t like me very much. Why would I be happy about going over there?” Jughead asked, like it was obvious why he didn’t like to be around your family.

This made you laugh and shake your head. “You say that like I like them. Like I don’t know they are crazy. I want you to be there because yes, I’m selfish, and I don’t want to have to go through the annual Y/L/N dinner alone. Okay? Juggie I need you.”

The idea of someone needing Jughead always made him feel special, and you knew this. Unfortunately, he also knew that you knew this.

“You don’t, actually. You’ve handled those by yourself for how many years? Right, let me count.” Jughead began to count on his fingers to emphasize his point, but you stopped him by grabbing his hands and holding them on the table.

“Okay fine, you’re right. But I want you there. More than anything. I love you and I know that you hate the conventional family, couple stuff but I hate these dinners and this one might at least be a little more bearable with you there. You don’t have to go if it’s that revolting but I know that there will be a lot of good food. So much food actually.” You told him, knowing that food would tempt him, if nothing else.

Cracking a smile, Jughead leaned forward. “Fine. I’ll go. But don’t think that this is going to be a regular thing. I’m not going next year.”

Nodding ferociously at Jughead to accept the compromise, you smiled to yourself at the idea that Jughead knew that you would be together in a year. Granted, you had already been together for two, but his hatred of marriage made you question where he saw the relationship going.

“Thank you so much. And it won’t be too bad. I mean, we could always sneak off and-” Jughead cut you off mid sentence.

“And risk any member of your family finding us together and hating me even more? Yeah, no thank you.” Jughead scoffed at your proposal and started packing his laptop into his backpack.

“Jesus, I’m not saying that we would get blackout drunk or have hot and heavy sex. I’m just telling you that if you, or I, get too overwhelmed, we could go up to my bedroom and chill out for a bit. Maybe kiss a little but-” You are cut off once again by Jughead, who had made himself comfortable, sitting on the table at Pop’s.

“You don’t get it, Y/N. They already think I’m some low life who’s using you for sex. Your father legitimately cornered me one day and told me that he wasn’t going to let you ‘be one of my conquests’. They genuinely think that I’m trailer trash.”

When you started laughing, Jughead just squinted his eyes at you in annoyance.

“Sorry” You started “It’s just that we have like, little to no sex life, so it’s really funny to think of my dad thinking that you’ve managed to get enough girls for me to be considered another conquest.”

“Gee thanks. I’d love to stay but my self esteem and overall mood is really plummeting so it’s probably best that I go.” Jughead said, hopping off of the table and swinging his backpack over one shoulder. As he started to walk past you, you jumped up and grabbed his hand.

“Jughead wait.” You pleaded, suddenly realizing how irritated and upset Jughead had become.

Jughead turned to look at you, his demeanor still radiating displeasure. He raised an eyebrow, as if to ask you what else you could possibly want. Frowning at him, you used his hand to pull his body closer to yours.

“I’m sorry for being so pushy and mean. I’m really stressed about the dinner and you are the only person that can calm me down.” You said, playing with the cuff of his coat. Jughead had only really been mad at you a few other times and it always made you especially anxious.

Exhaling, he brought his hand to your hair, and brushed it out of your face before leaning over and kissing the top of your head. “I know how much you hate these, and that’s why I am agreeing to go. But you don’t know what it’s like to have everyone always look at you like you are worthless, like you’re just filling up space in their precious world until you die or get thrown in jail or something along those lines.”

Pushing yourself away from comfort of his chest, you looked up at him with sadness. “Juggie, you know that I don’t think of you like that, right? That I haven’t ever thought of you like that.”

Giving you a half hearted smile, he traced his fingers along your palm and nodded. “That’s because you are the most compassionate, non judgemental, and loving person I know. You never look at anyone like that.”

His words melted your heart, and you couldn’t understand how anyone could view Jughead in a negative light. “But I don’t fall in love with just anyone either. I love you because of who you are, not just because I am a nice person. Trust me, if I was just being nice, I wouldn’t have listened to you talk about In Cold Blood and whether or not Truman Capote was in love with one of the killers the dozens of times that I did.”

Squinting his eyes once more, he looked shocked. “I thought you were interested in my analysis! That is a time honored book. I don’t think it’s a crime for me to talk about it.”

“Jughead, I was interested, the first time, maybe even the second time, but by the third time I was really starting to contemplate whether you were in love with one of them too. Anyway, that isn't the point.” Noticing just how far off topic you had gotten, you shook your head at your boyfriend. “Look, I understand why you don’t want to be around judgemental people. But you handle people like them everyday. I don’t understand why this is any different.”

“Y/N, this isn’t just anyone. This is your family. What do you think is going to happen to us, long term, if they don’t like me?” Jughead sat back on top of the diner table as you stood in front of him, hands intertwined with his.

“L-long term?” You asked, daring to question what exactly constituted long term in his mind.

“Yeah, like 5, 10 years down the road. I want to be able to have a life with you, without your family thinking that I’ve tarnished their precious daughter. I don’t want our kids to grow up, with their grandparents looking at them like they’re one half of a whole. I don’t want you to regret choosing me over some jock that they would approve of because it would’ve been easier.” Jughead looked so concerned, so distressed of the thought of your future, your children’s future. He wasn’t a romantic, and up until this point, you’ve never heard him even mention your future. You both had taken your entire relationship day by day, and honestly, you’d never felt like you look at anything beyond that.

“But you hate marriage. Anytime I bring the future up, you tell me to focus on right now and you’ve always said that you don’t like kids. I don’t get it.” You took deep breaths, both in confusion and fear that everything that you had just heard him say about your future together was a dream.

“I hate the idea of marriage. It’s just a product of what I saw when I was growing up. I don’t want you to think that I don’t want to be with you forever, because I do, and if marriage is what it would take to prove that to you, then I would marry you in an instant. And of course I think about our future, but I’m scared. I’m scared that talking about it will make it disappear. Or that we will get too caught up in what the future could be like that we fall out of love in the present.” Jughead stopped for a minute, bringing his hands around your neck and brushing his thumb along your collarbone. “As for kids, I don’t like kids. But our kid wouldn’t just be any kid, it would be a someone with your heart running around, a mini you. You’re the best person in my life and I don’t think anything could be better than having two of you.”

You didn’t even bother to hide how big your smile was. Jughead’s words sent you over the moon and cemented your relationship as a permanent fixture in your life.

“Is Jughead Jones talking about marriage? Kids even? Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?” You joked.

Lightly pushing against your chest he smiled and shook his head. “Shut up, okay, or I won’t bring it up again.”

Laughing you took your hands and squished his cheeks together. “Aw, is someone embarrassed?” You watched as his face turned red and he detached your hands from his face.

“No but seriously, I will never regret a moment with you. Screw my family. They have horrible taste anyway. I mean have you seen the throw rug that my mom and grandma picked out for the living room? Honestly I would be kind of concerned if they did like you.” You told him.

“That is one godawful rug.” Jughead said, smirking at you.

Pulling his arm to get him to stand up again, you wrapped your arms around him and listened to the sounds of his breathing. “Thank you for being the absolute best person I have ever met.” You tilted your head up and placed a quick kiss on his lips. “I love you.” You said, looking up at at his eyes that were framed with dark thick eyelashes.

“I love you too.” He responded. Grabbing your hand, he walked you home, saying goodbye for the last time you would see each other until the family dinner the next day.

#jughead jones #jughead x reader #jughead jones imagine #riverdale

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wellimhavinga3outof10day · 7 years

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Lost Lullabies - Chapter Twenty

Description: Mickey Milkovich, former child star turned action movie star, runs into his old co-star, Ian Gallagher, out on the street in the middle of a winter night. When Mickey takes him in, he doesn’t realize that Ian has the power to completely turn his new life upside down.

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

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Ian watched the press conference live from a diner about a block away from the studio. He watched Mickey pause in the middle of the speech, silently begged him to get back on track, and then felt his own jaw drop as Mickey told the truth. As Mickey came out on national television. The one thing that Mickey had said he didn’t want to do.

Ian ran from the diner all the way back to the studio, paced outside the front doors waiting for Mickey to come back. The moment his car stopped outside, Ian raced for the door, almost colliding with Mickey as he got out. Ian grabbed his boyfriend’s face, breathless, and said, “Say you didn’t do that for me. I don’t... you can’t do shit like that for me.”

Mickey kissed him until he couldn’t breathe. With a smile, Mickey said, “I did it for me.”

The next few days were a disaster. Shooting on the set stopped. Ian and Mickey were forced to have meeting after meeting after meeting with the producers who shifted tactics every day. Sometimes they yelled. Sometimes they cajoled. Other times they would just stare in stony silence. More often than not, Mickey laughed in their faces.

The press exploded. The pictures from the club resurfaced and painted every tabloid magazine. Svetlana came out in their favour, saying her relationship with Mickey had been a sham from the start and she had been happy to protect them. Ian and Mickey camped out in a new hotel room every night, running from the press camps outside the front door while simultaneously earning many private moments for themselves.

Eventually, the movie was cancelled. The studio decided they simply couldn’t make a children’s movie with two gay leads and ignored protests from gay rights groups calling them homophobic. Neither Ian nor Mickey cared much. They still got paid. They didn’t have to spend more time with producers yelling at them. And, when the director started coming out with set stories, no one really seemed to care.

Things died down soon enough. With celebrities, there was always another scandal around the corner. Mickey moved back into his apartment and Ian slowly started to move in with him. Mandy called every day to check in with them, to tell them about her life on Broadway – having a gay brother on Broadway really helped, apparently – and to wish them well. She was by far their most vocal supporter in the press, always mentioning how happy Mickey was and how much she loved her brother and how proud she was of him. Ian thought Mickey might have been annoyed by it if she hadn’t sounded so genuine.

Then the inevitable hit. Mickey opened a package of scripts to find sitcom after sitcom. A couple of rom-coms were mixed in. Most of the roles were straight but a few that had Mickey as a gay man were there too. Ian sat by while Mickey flipped through them, his face a mask but his hands shaking. Ian made tea. He asked Mickey to read them aloud. They laughed at some of the better dialogue and tried to find the bright side.

Ian signed with Mickey’s agent and ended up taking a lot of the roles Mickey passed on. He liked working on sitcoms. He liked playing a gay man when he could and helping out when it came to representation. Whenever he had to kiss another guy on set, he came home and peppered Mickey with kisses, begging him to pay attention to him, to get the taste of some other guy off his lips. This made Mickey laugh so much that Ian thought, no matter what, he’d never stop.

As Ian’s star rose, Mickey faded into obscurity. He stopped taking roles all together, told his agent not to send him any parts that weren’t in action movies or serious dramas. He still did commercials and print ads for a while but without him starring in blockbusters, the demand for him faded. Ian watched him as things changed, worried he might slip into old habits or fall into a depression. But Mickey was Mickey. And, even as his career disappeared before his eyes, the product of his own stubbornness, Ian swore that Mickey was happier than he’d ever seen him.

A year after Mickey had first come out, Ian got invited to the Oscars for his role in a critically acclaimed film. He held the invitation in his hand for a long while, staring at the gold writing and running his fingers over his name.

“What’s that?” Mickey asked. He rested his chin on Ian’s shoulder and landed a kiss on his neck. “Is that for the fucking Oscars?”

“Yeah.” Ian knew he should sound more excited. “Whatever.”

“Whatever?” Mickey echoed. He scoffed and took the invitation from Ian. “We’re going.”

“We’re not going.”

Mickey gave him a look. “Hollywood’s biggest star not going to the Oscars? Why? Because he’s afraid it might upset his has-been boyfriend?”

Ian laughed. “That makes you sound really fucking old.”

Mickey smiled but didn’t reply. He had his phone out and a few moments later said, “Yes, hi, I’m calling on behalf of Ian Gallagher? He would like to accept his invitation to the Oscars and tell you that he’s bringing his fiancé. Yes, that’s right. Thank you.” He hung up.

Ian raised an eyebrow. “Fiancé?”

Mickey shrugged. “I found the ring a few days ago.”

“And you’re saying yes?”

“Yes.” Mickey kissed him. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

Ian took a deep breath as the limo rolled up to the red carpet. Mickey’s fingers tangled in his and he squeezed tight. “You ready?” he asked, not sure if the question was meant for Mickey or himself.

“Ready as ever.”

Ian opened the door and stepped out. He raised one hand to wave and kept the other firmly in Mickey’s grip. Mickey stepped out after him, smiling and waving. Before the limo even drove away, Mickey leaned in and pressed a kiss to Ian’s cheek. Ian blushed hard, for a moment forgetting that the whole world knew about them, that they were essentially one of the most famous couples on the planet. He turned and planted a kiss on Mickey’s lips.

The crowd went wild.

As they walked down the red carpet, Ian never let go of Mickey. Whether their hands were clasped together or Mickey had an arm around him, they were always touching. They laughed through interviews together. Ian pulled Mickey away from reporters who asked about his non-existent career before he could punch their lights out. In one interview, before Ian could stop him, Mickey said with a completely straight face, “Ian’s my sugar daddy.” The reporter had stopped talking really fast after that.

They got inside with minimal incidents. They greeted other people they knew from this or that project and settled in their seats without much fuss. A few minutes before the show started, a man in front of them turned around and said, “Mickey Milkovich, right?”

Mickey raised an eyebrow. “Who wants to know?”

The man offered his hand. “I’m Kevin Truman. I just picked up a script today that I think you’ll be perfect for.”

Ian felt Mickey tense beside him. “What’s it about?” Mickey asked, polite enough.

“It’s an action movie about a man whose dealings with a local gang have gotten out of hand so they kidnapped his son not knowing this man was an ex-CIA operative.”

Ian looked over at Mickey whose expression hadn’t changed at all. Ian felt his heart jump into his throat. Here was someone willing to offer Mickey everything he’d lost by coming out. He squeezed Mickey’s hand tight.

Mickey smiled. “That sounds like a great opportunity and I wish you a lot of luck with the project, but I’m not Mickey Milkovich, action star, anymore.”

“I don’t care that you’re gay,” Kevin said.

If anything, Mickey’s smile widened. “Mr. Truman, I’ve been an actor for most of my life. I gave my childhood to this profession and all it did was mess me up so badly that I almost gave up the man I love to keep my reputation. I’m sorry, but I’ve never wanted to be an actor, and now that I’m out... I could never go back in.”

Kevin nodded. “Good for you,” he said and then turned back around.

Ian leaned in and kissed Mickey hard.

“What was that for?” Mickey said.

Ian shrugged. “I just love you a lot.”

“I love you too.”

Ian didn’t win that night but he didn’t care. After so long, after screwing up his life past the point he thought he could get back from, he was happy and healthy and more in love than he had thought possible. He had the world at his feet and intended to start walking.

The End

<<Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty

#gallavich #shameless #Ian Gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #mine #3outof10 fanfic #lost lullabies #chapter twenty

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neverisalongtime-ja-blog · 7 years

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Chapter 26: Seeing your face every day (Josh POV)

Some of you requested it and I deliver. I must say it was super hard for me to write the Josh’s point of view of this whole story because Anastasia is my baby and I only care for her. Haha

I hope you all like it and don’t forget to leave the feedback!

Thanks to everyone who reads the fic, much love to you all! ♥

Remember to visit Anastasia’s IG profile:

Anastasia_Truman ❤️️

Read chapter 25

“Hey, I hope you are fine. I know I owe you some explanations about New York and these past months in general and I hope we can get the chance to talk now that we are going back on tour and I get to see your face again everyday”.

Josh texted Anastasia that Monday, the last day of February, like it was an impulse he couldn’t control. Her image had not left his mind since that time he shattered her heart on the first day of the year, what a way to destroy somebody’s year. He wasn’t proud of it, his heart was broken too, he had loved that blue-haired girl for so long only to realize he wasn’t worthy of her. After seeing her again in New York, his world was upside down.

He met Lauren when he was helping his friend who was producing her first studio album. She had all this confidence and sensuality that it was impossible not to look at her. Her looks compensated for her lack of talent; she is young and vibrant and it makes him feel young too. In a way he was still young, he kept doing the same dumb shit he did back in the day, like letting people he cared about down. Lauren was so different from Anastasia. He put his phone down on the nightstand and rolled over to face Lauren, who was peacefully sleeping next to him in that hotel room in New York.

Even after looking at Lauren, he couldn’t keep Anastasia away from his thoughts. He wondered what she was doing in Los Angeles. She was probably with Mandy or making music. That was the most remarkable difference between her and Lauren: Anastasia could make great songs as fast as a finger snap, she was loaded with talent and that was something that always drove Josh crazy. In a way, he always felt jealous of what she had in Dead Curse, her own band, her own very successful band.

He felt like a coward, but he wasn’t what Anastasia was expecting him to be so it was better to end it now than later and cause less damage. He and Lauren had sex the first day they met, that was something he wasn’t proud of but he was feeling so low not being up to An’s level. Lauren was under that line, besides, it was Lauren who threw herself at him. Yes, sex was great. Her youth made her capable to do amazing things, but he had that with Anastasia too, that and much more.

He spent an hour laying there, in bed, looking at the ceiling and didn’t get a reply from Anastasia.

- Good morning, bae – He hated being called that.

- Hi – Josh said smiling, pretending he just woke up.

- Last night was amazing – Lauren said hugging him – I say let’s do it again – She started to kiss his neck – Like right now.

- I’m not feeling too well – Josh answered.

- Is there something wrong? – Lauren asked while still kissing him, now on his chest.

- No, but I’m not in the mood now, Lauren – He said, trying to make her stop.

- But bae! – She went back to kissing his neck.

- Lauren, I said no! – He said getting up from bed and walking to the bathroom.

He turned on the shower and just stood there, letting the water run down his body, hoping it washed away Anastasia from his memory but it wasn’t working. “God, she is so beautiful!” He wished she was there right now; even if to hit him like she did in the elevator almost a week ago. He definitely deserved those blows for being a total asshole, he thought. Now he had to live with his decision and Lauren was waiting outside to have another fun day around New York when all he wanted to do was to stay in bed not doing anything. He loved not doing anything with Anastasia. Another big difference between those two: Lauren needed constant activity, while Anastasia had a special love for days when she could do nothing and just sleep next to him or lay down and watch some Netflix with him. The girl worked so hard that off days were so precious to her.

He got dressed in his many layers (it was still very cold in New York), while Lauren chose to wear a tank top under a light sweater and the tightest skinny jeans in history. She looked rather hot, but she always did. That was the image she wanted to sell.

- It is really cold outside – Josh said to her.

- I’m from Texas, baby, we have hot blood – She answered lowing the cleavage of her tank top. At that moment, he missed Anastasia’s class to get dressed – You know there is this bar at the top of the Renaissance with an amazing view of Times Square that I really want to try tonight.

- I was thinking about staying in and maybe watching a movie or something – Josh said walking to the elevator.

- Really? How old are we? Forty? – Lauren said – Well, you kind of are – She laughed, Josh didn’t – Come on, Josh! In a few days you’ll be back to touring and I will have to stay here working on the record and I don’t know when I’m going to see you again. If you are nice – She put her arms around his neck – maybe you’ll get a treat tonight – She whispered.

- We’ll see how tired we are tonight – Josh said. He could control Lauren so he was sure they weren’t going anywhere that night.

- You know I’m never tired! – She said with her high pitch voice tone that sometimes bothered him so damn much.

It was a museum kind of day and they visited the MoMa and the Met (classic tourist sightings) just like he did with Anastasia when they were in Europe last year. The big difference was that Anastasia did enjoy museums and art and Lauren had a blank stare and looked so bored, she didn’t quite seem to understand some of the pieces, she just talked about fancy restaurants and bars she wanted to go the whole time. Then they went to have lunch to a salad place because Lauren didn’t eat much (another reason to miss the midnight blue-haired girl), and they spent the rest of the afternoon shopping. Well Lauren did, he just felt miserable waiting for her to try all those clothes he was going to pay for. But he liked it, he was taking care of her, giving her what she wanted and that made him feel good.

- You know, I think I saw a jacket like this at your place once – Lauren was trying on a Gucci green bomber jacket.

- Yes, it’s Anastasia’s – Josh remembered that An never went to pick up her stuff from his place, he didn’t want her to, though.

- Truman? – Lauren asked with a confused expression.

- Yes – Now he had to lie again because he never told Lauren that he and Anastasia had been in a relationship – She is always wandering around and she leaves things everywhere. I’m pretty sure she left it there and forgot about it.

- Oh, I see – Lauren said – You two are good friends, right? Because to leave her jacket at your place and not worrying about getting it back it means you two must be very good friends.

- Mm… yeah, I think – He lied again – What were you doing snooping through my things in my house anyway?

- I wasn’t snooping, I just saw it – Lauren said going back into the fitting room – And I don’t see any problem with it since I’m your girlfriend – Josh opened his eyes big,

- Woah, woah! Hold on there, little lady! – He said shocked – We never talked about that.

- But I thought I was, since we’ve been kind of living together and all.

- Yes, because I’m spending this time off in New York and because the label paid for an apartment you don’t want to use.

- It’s in a horrible location!

- I’m leaving in a couple of days and you are going to live there – He said – Truth is, Lauren, I don’t like to put on labels – He lied once more.

Lauren took his answer really well; he felt she actually didn’t even care as long as he paid for all the clothes. He won that night and they didn’t go to that fancy bar, instead they stayed in the hotel room, he ate a pizza, she had a salad. “If Anastasia could watch her she would be laughing right now,” he thought. After watching a boring movie with Channing Tatum on Netflix (Lauren’s pick), they had sex until he fell asleep.

He really wanted to go to Los Angeles, he was so bored, so he made up a stupid excuse to Lauren and brought forward his flight back home. How could somebody make New York boring to him? A city he loved so much. He missed Anastasia again and remembered the last time they were there together last year, and the long, crazy road trip to Chicago. He wasn’t sure on how to ask her, since he thought she liked to travel comfy in first class flights although she hated flying, but she was so excited to do it and he got a glimpse of her musical taste which was so wide, from Britney to Metallica. She was crazy and he missed her. There was one consistent taste in her: her love for Fleetwood Mac, so in her honor he decided to listen to them on the flight to LA and had a crazy idea.

Josh checked his phone for the tenth time that day and yet no message from Anastasia. He knew he did the same days ago, when she congratulated him for the album but he knew she was going to listen to it and was so scared to say anything to her, cowardice ruled his life again. He understood why she didn’t reply to his text but it made him so angry. Instead, Lauren didn’t stop messaging him saying things like “I miss you”, “I hope I get the chance to see you soon” and more inappropriate things, but he liked that about her. He didn’t love Lauren, he was sure about that, but he felt undeniably attracted to her and the way she made him feel. Lauren made him feel so good about himself, out of the fact that he was giving her everything she ever wanted. He couldn’t do that with Anastasia, she already had seen the world and she was very capable to get everything she could ever want by herself. Even his dad said it once: Anastasia didn’t need him. However, Lauren did. He took her to fancy restaurants and bought her amazing things, and that made him feel so almighty.

He landed at LAX, took an Uber to his house in El Sereno and suddenly felt so alone. He hadn’t been on his own since he broke up with Anastasia, he missed her again and that made him look at his phone screen only to see that she hadn’t replied to his text, so he decided to go for the usual ex-boyfriend move: to check her Instagram profile. Josh sometimes used the Dot Hacker Instagram page. He followed most of his friends from that profile and the rest of the band’s friends. He also followed Anastasia’s profile from it. He saw that she had posted some pictures from New York with her brother, friends, bandmates and his sister. They had so much fun in the city while he had to deal with Lauren and his parents. Anastasia hadn’t posted much since that New Years’ Eve party at Eric’s house, an evening Josh decided to spend with Lauren when he should have been with An. She called him so many times that night, he felt ashamed. Checking further, he noticed she hadn’t deleted the pictures she took of him: she had some of him playing onstage and others backstage, another one of him hugging her that Mandy took when they were in Berlin, another one on the road trip to Chicago; him playing the piano and some more on private planes. He had always been OK with it. Anastasia’s Instagram account was private and all the people that she allowed to follow her were people she knew well. She was very private after all, and Josh didn’t realize that before. The fact that she hadn’t deleted him from her social media must mean something beyond and Josh held on tight to that thought.

He kept checking her pictures, seeing how beautiful and joyous she looked in every single one of them. Suddenly he thought about calling her but deep inside he knew she wouldn’t answer, so he decided to call his sister instead. She was younger than him but much wiser.

- Hi - She picked up her phone with a low voice.

- �� I’m already in LA, can we catch up? - He asked her.

- Wow, what happened? I didn't expect you here until next week! - Kelly said with evident surprise in her voice.

- Nothing happened, why would it? I just wanted to come back early to have some rest before the tour starts again - Josh said.

- Sure? I know you.

- Damn, Kelly, can you come or not? - Josh said frustrated; there was something about siblings that couldn’t hide anything from each other.

- Well, not right now, I'm at Anastasia's place and we are about to have some girl time and drink mimosas.

- Wow I didn't know you were that close to her.

- I know what happened between you two but she is so nice, Josh, and I don't have a lot of girlfriends and sometimes I need them. I really like her. Does it bother you?

- No, it’s OK - He said, not really convinced of his words but he couldn’t keep Kelly from having any friends she wanted even if it was Anastasia - Talk to you later, then.

- Sure, bye!

She hung up before he could say goodbye. He wasn't sure how to feel about this, about Kelly being friends with his ex-girlfriend, an ex-girlfriend he couldn’t get out of his head yet. He started to wander around his house. He walked to the living room, his kitchen, his backyard… Every place had a memory attached to Anastasia. He swore he could still smell her essence. He saw her lying in his couch, sitting at the backyard, cooking something in his kitchen, even though cooking wasn’t her forte.

He needed to get out of there so he called Eric, the only one who knew everything and had a glimpse at Anastasia's version too.

- Dude! - Josh said when Eric picked up his phone.

- What’s up? Are you back in LA? - Eric asked.

- How do you know? - Josh asked back.

- I sensed it! - Josh laughed.

- Are you busy right now?

- Not at all, Hannah is at Anastasia's house having a girl's afternoon, whatever that is.

- Guess she's gonna be part of my friend's group, huh?

- Anastasia was part of your friend's group way before you two were together - Eric laughed.

- Do you want to go to the bar down the street? - Josh asked - The usual place? - The two lived near each other and that sport bar had became an usual place for them to have good nights and they could come back drunk after walking home.

- See you there in 30! - Eric said and hung up.

...

- Josh! You fucked it up big time! - Eric said while drinking a pint of Irish beer.

- I know, believe me, I know - Josh said drinking his beer.

- The bad thing is that once Anastasia is over you, it’s over! - Eric said, making emphasis in the last "over" - There's no turning back at that point.

- I made my decision and I have to live with it - Josh said, showing the sadness in his eyes.

Eric just confirmed what Josh was already thinking, if Anastasia forgot about him it was over. He knew her, he knew so well, after New York she probably wasn’t thinking about him anymore. She was so angry in that elevator and at the Madison Square Garden, and even in that state she gave such amazing performances, he watched them all partly because he wanted to see her and the way she moved on stage, and partly because Lauren was a big fan… How ironic!

He got really drunk that night, it was a good way to forget everything. Reality hit him next morning and it was hard for him to even open his eyes so he decided to sleep in the whole day and the next one too. Then he woke up feeling disoriented. He walked to his kitchen to have a bite of something, anything; he realized that his fridge was empty and then thought of calling Anastasia to go and grab some food, and he stopped sharp, his mind had to get rid of all the things he used to do with her. He felt so stupid. He wanted to be with her but couldn’t, he was with Lauren now and his brain needed to stick to that.

Days passed by and now it was time to go back to touring. Josh was excited; he’d be getting to see Anastasia every day again, but he was scared because she never answered his text and the two hadn’t spoken since New York, she probably hated him and he knew it was his fault.

As a magical move from the Universe, the first person he ran into when he arrived to the Staples Center that morning was Anastasia. She was wearing a t-shirt with the phrase “There is a light that never goes out”, she even liked The Smiths, how more perfect could she be? He admitted to himself that it was a much better t-shirt that the one she wore in New York with the words “Players only love you when they’re playing”. He knew how much she liked Fleetwood but he was also aware that it was a message for him. He got really angry when he saw her wearing it; he wasn’t a player, he didn’t play with her! He broke up with her because he didn’t want to hurt her.

Anastasia walked by without even looking at him once. He was devastated, so he ran to his dressing room to set everything to get ready for that night. He was happy to play at the Staples, though. Playing in Los Angeles had always felt special to him no matter if it was for twenty people or twenty thousand, LA was home and he embraced it, besides, some friends and family were going to join him there. After a couple of hours at the dressing room he decided to take a walk around the venue, he liked to do that, it helped him to start catching the energy of the place; he gave a few steps and ran into another person he actually didn’t want to face: Mark, Anastasia’s brother.

He met Mark years ago at a New York bar when he was touring with Gnarls Barkley, Mark was a DJ at the place and Josh was there with Eric and Clint having some drinks. Josh was amazed by the mix of rhythms and sounds Mark was throwing that night so they started to talk and a great friendship developed when they went back to Los Angeles. Funny how life joined them again.

- Man! – Mark was the first to talk.

- Hey! – Was all Josh could say.

- How’s everything? – Mark asked.

- Well… you know. Trying to carry on – It was an awkward way to reply to that, and Josh knew it.

- I can imagine – Mark said realizing it was an uncomfortable situation.

- I’m a little bit nervous about tonight, to be honest – Josh tried to carry the conversation.

- You? Nervous? Yeah, right. You have played so many shows, Klinghoffer!

- Yeah, but, you know. It’s home.

- Are you sure you aren’t nervous by a certain Truman?

“Does everybody have to mention her?” Josh asked himself.

- Yeah, about that…

- Don’t worry, Josh. It’s not me you have to give explanations to – Mark said and Josh was shocked by his laid back reaction – You’re still my friend – It was nice to hear that.

- Is she alright with that? – He had to ask.

- Anastasia is a very mature woman – Mark laughed – She knows you are on her circle and yes, she is OK with it.

- Everything feels weird right now – Josh said looking at the floor.

- I can imagine – Mark said – You look confused and I understand that. I was confused once about Stephanie and look at me now, I’m going to ask her to marry me.

- What?! – Josh said shocked and couldn’t hide the smile.

- You are the first to know, actually. Don’t tell my sister, that would be something she won’t forgive me for.

- Man, I’m so happy! – Josh hugged Mark – And don’t worry, I won’t tell her. We aren’t communicating much right now.

Josh was happy for Mark, indeed, but it was a low blow. A good percentage of his friends were married by then or had babies and he felt left behind. He wanted that, a family he could go back to after the touring madness but now, more than ever, he was far from that. Anastasia was very clear she didn’t want children anytime soon and that was another thing that made him walk away from her. On the other hand, Lauren wasn’t going to give him a child soon neither, she was so, so, so young and starting her career. But, to be honest, he didn’t want Lauren to be the mother of his kids; she could barely take care of herself. That place belonged and still belongs to Anastasia in his heart, until his mind decided it was time to move on or until he met someone else, which was going to be really hard since he kept comparing every woman to her.

Josh saw Anastasia again, and this time she saw him too, so he walked up to her without even thinking about it. It was like if his legs knew exactly where to go. She was alone, wandering around the venue too because she also like to catch the vibe of the place before a show, they were so alike. She got nervous, he could tell, he knew her so well; he was nervous too, more than he would like to admit; it was like every time he ran into her in the past, at a party or event, she always made him feel nervous but in the good sense.

- Hi! – She said without hesitating.

- How are you? – Josh asked smiling.

- I’m a wreck right now, I never thought I would sing in a sold out Staples Center – She said scratching her left arm with her right hand and he noticed something different.

- Look at that! – He said – New tattoos! – They made her look even better.

- Oh, yeah – She showed them to him. He first saw the two circles that belonged to the Dead Curse logo, and then she showed him the little heart on her ring finger – This is for Mandy – She clarified before he could even ask.

- They are amazing! – Josh couldn’t stop smiling, looking like a maniac – And the heart is extremely cute.

- Mandy got one too, but her heart is blue – She was hardly looking at him.

- You two are crazy! I like your t-shirt too! – He was running out of conversation topics but he didn’t want to let her go.

- Oh, thanks – She said looking at the t-shirt and then at him. He could see her eyes and the world stopped spinning for those seconds: How much he loved those giant turquoise eyes. He loved to get lost in them just like he was now… But she took him out of his reverie with only a few words.

- I’ve got to go – She said and she turned and left him there standing, alone again.

Josh couldn’t speak to An again neither that day nor the next. But he could watch her splashing sensuality and elegance on stage, breaking the silence with her melodious and powerful voice. She was wearing a long purple Lakers t-shirt with embroidered fishnet stockings and some black vans. Her stage outfit choices were always diverse and you never knew what she was going to wear but she always managed to look amazing on them. The second night she chose a black light short dress with dark blue thigh-high boots, seeing her in those boots always drove him crazy and that night wasn’t the exception. She even played guitar in some songs and then he remembered, Anastasia’s birthday gift, it was something he sent to be custom made for her last December and now he didn’t know what to do with it.

Read chapter 27

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